Chapter 43 (Patreon)

Kushina was stationed at the foremost defensive line, where her only immediate concern was guarding against Kumogakure’s strongest shinobi and the bounty hunters lurking around the battlefield.

Shikaku and the Anbu assigned to protect her, however, had far more to worry about.

They were especially concerned that someone might slip through the perimeter and attack Kushina while she slept. Because of that, the four Anbu divided themselves into two groups and took turns standing guard outside her tent throughout the night.

Inside, Kushina lay quietly on the narrow bed.

Her consciousness, however, had already entered the sealed mindscape within her.

“Roy-kun, after spending the whole day here, were you able to absorb any soul energy?”

“A little.”

His calm reply told Kushina everything she needed to know.

It could not have been much.

She remembered what Roy had previously explained about souls. In the shinobi world, the souls of the dead would depart for the Pure Land soon after death, while whatever residual spiritual energy remained behind would rapidly disperse.

They had already spent an entire day on the front line, yet neither Konoha nor Kumogakure had suffered any casualties in the areas they had visited.

Had this not been the most fiercely contested part of the border, Roy might not have absorbed anything at all.

To satisfy his needs, the energy had to come from souls that had only recently left the body.

Killing enemy shinobi from Kumogakure did not trouble Kushina.

But if she rashly launched an attack and caused Konoha shinobi to suffer deaths that could have been avoided, she would never forgive herself.

She held deep resentment toward certain members of Konoha’s leadership, but she bore no hatred toward the ordinary shinobi serving beneath them.

If anything, because of Minato, she felt an even stronger responsibility to protect them.

That left her torn.

Before arriving at the front, she had assumed shinobi would die here every day. She had believed that once Roy reached the battlefield, obtaining soul energy would be easy.

Now she realised that war was not quite as simple as she had imagined.

Under normal circumstances, a war between shinobi villages truly would have resembled what Kushina expected.

Genin would die in large numbers. Chūnin and even jōnin were merely more valuable pieces to be expended when necessary.

This conflict, however, was different.

Kumogakure had not launched its invasion with the intention of fighting Konoha to the bitter end. The Hidden Cloud merely hoped to exploit the chaos caused by Minato’s death, seize whatever advantages it could, and then withdraw before the conflict became too costly.

They had not expected Shikaku Nara to assume command of Konoha’s forces.

Unless the Fourth Raikage was willing to escalate matters into a full-scale war and order both of Kumogakure’s jinchūriki to break through by force, Shikaku’s strategies were enough to keep the entire Cloud army pinned in place.

Kumogakure also possessed a capable strategist in Dodai.

His ability to read the overall flow of the battlefield might have been slightly inferior to Shikaku’s, but when combined with the Hidden Cloud’s superior offensive strength, he was more than capable of matching Konoha move for move.

The result was a strange stalemate.

Both armies held their respective defensive lines, yet neither possessed a reliable method of defeating the other.

Dodai, however, believed the opportunity Kumogakure had been waiting for was almost at hand.

Over the past several days, bounty hunters had repeatedly harassed Konoha’s positions.

Konoha could not afford to dismiss any of those attacks. No one could guarantee that the next seemingly disorganised assault would not conceal an elite shinobi or a carefully prepared trap.

Once Konoha’s forces became exhausted from remaining constantly alert, Kumogakure would launch its full-scale offensive.

Roy stood beside Kushina within the sealed mindscape and explained his own assessment.

It was almost identical to Dodai’s.

“The stalemate should break within the next day or two,” Roy said. “But Shikaku has probably already anticipated that. There has to be a reason he’s willing to keep Kumogakure tied down here.”

Had Kushina not arrived, the two armies would most likely have clashed, suffered some losses, and then withdrawn behind their defensive lines once again.

After that, the stalemate would simply continue.

“Are they really going to keep fighting like this indefinitely?” Kushina asked. “The cost must be enormous.”

“Probably not. Konoha is spending a great deal to maintain the front, but Kumogakure can’t afford to drag this out forever either.”

Roy looked thoughtful.

“Neither village can forget that the other Great Shinobi Villages are watching for an opportunity to strike.”

From what Roy remembered, this conflict between Konoha and Kumogakure had continued, at least officially, for two or three years. During that same period, Iwagakure had also launched an offensive against Konoha.

However, Roy suspected that after the first few months, the so-called war between Konoha and Kumogakure had become little more than an armed standoff.

The majority of both armies had likely returned to their villages, leaving only enough forces behind to maintain pressure while their negotiating teams argued over the terms of a ceasefire.

Otherwise, if Konoha and Kumogakure had truly remained fully mobilised for three consecutive years, the other villages would never have remained so restrained.

Ōnoki’s behaviour supported that conclusion.

The old Tsuchikage had waited until the year before Konoha and Kumogakure formally reached a ceasefire agreement before launching his own attack on the Land of Fire.

That suggested neither village had actually exhausted itself as severely as outsiders believed.

Roy suspected that information from the ceasefire negotiations had leaked.

Because Hiruzen had repeatedly compromised and offered concessions despite Konoha not appearing to be at a disadvantage, Ōnoki may have concluded that Konoha was close to collapse.

That would explain why he acted so boldly.

Unfortunately for him, he charged directly into a Konoha army that remained in excellent fighting condition.

The moment Ōnoki realised he had misjudged the situation, he immediately sought a ceasefire.

It was exactly the sort of decision expected from a cautious and calculating old fox.

Had Hiruzen taken a firmer stance from the beginning, Iwagakure might never have dared to invade.

Ōnoki was ambitious, but unlike the Fourth Raikage, he rarely allowed anger or pride to dictate his decisions.

He would never launch a war simply because his temper got the better of him.

Kushina released a long sigh.

“Politics is far too troublesome.”

She crossed her arms and frowned.

“If a leader appears weak, everyone tries to take advantage of them. But if they act too forcefully, the other villages might unite against them instead.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Why can’t everyone simply live in peace?”

Roy did not know how to answer her.

The situation throughout the shinobi world was far too complicated.

On the surface, the great wars appeared to be nothing more than conflicts between villages competing over territory, resources, missions, and political influence.

In reality, Black Zetsu—the self-proclaimed embodiment of Madara’s will—had almost certainly been manipulating events from the shadows and quietly encouraging conflict whenever it served his purpose.

And Black Zetsu was not the only factor.

The daimyō of the various nations were undoubtedly entangled in the wars as well.

Shinobi possessed overwhelming physical power. Even a competent genin could slaughter dozens of ordinary civilians with little difficulty.

Yet despite that strength, the people who held true political authority were still the nobles, with the daimyō standing above them all.

Even the Kage of a major village needed the recognition and financial support of their nation’s daimyō to secure their position.

The daimyō possessed wealth, land, and political power.

Would such rulers truly be comfortable watching the shinobi villages grow stronger, wealthier, and more independent?

Directly suppressing a hidden village would risk provoking rebellion.

Allowing the villages to exhaust one another through war was far safer.

The daimyō could provide selective financial support, present themselves as generous patrons, gain the loyalty of the shinobi, and preserve their own authority—all while watching the villages weaken each other.

From their perspective, it was an ideal arrangement.

Therefore, anyone who genuinely wished to bring peace to the shinobi world would need to eliminate Black Zetsu’s influence.

They would also need to deal with the daimyō, who appeared to stand apart from the wars despite benefiting from the system that sustained them.

Only after that could they begin resolving the hatred accumulated between villages and the conflicts caused by their unequal access to land, wealth, and military strength.

But explaining all of this to Kushina now would accomplish nothing.

She had been born and raised within the shinobi world.

The hierarchy between nobles and commoners, nobles and shinobi, and shinobi and civilians had existed for so long that most people accepted it without question.

Those divisions had become deeply rooted in the way they understood society.

Even someone as ambitious and ruthless as Danzō only dared to pressure the Fire Daimyō from the shadows for greater military funding.

He had never seriously considered overthrowing the daimyō, seizing political authority, and establishing a government of his own.

That alone demonstrated how deeply the existing social order had been carved into the minds of the shinobi.

Kushina herself came from a prestigious bloodline.

But the Uzumaki were only nobility within the shinobi world.

To aristocrats such as the daimyō, shinobi were ultimately tools to be hired and used.

Their social standing could not even compare to that of certain wealthy merchants.

If Roy told Kushina now that the daimyō should be overthrown and the distinction between nobles and commoners erased, she would struggle to understand what he meant.

And even if the nobles were removed, the hatred between the villages was erased, and the entire shinobi world was somehow united beneath a single authority, would lasting peace truly follow?

As long as people possessed ambition and desire, a new ruling class would eventually emerge.

Division would give way to unity, and unity would eventually fracture into division once more.

Human nature ensured that no peace could remain eternal.