A Difficult Road Home

Tetsuma lay on the cot in the Hidden Anbu Base, his body still aching despite Kaori's medical expertise. The low hum of chakra lamps flickered against the cavern walls, casting long shadows that stretched like specters in the dim room. The pain in his wounds had dulled, but his mind was sharper than ever. He couldn't rest. Not when Konoha was on the brink.

The war had escalated beyond anything they had prepared for.

Iwagakure and Kumogakure were pressing hard on two fronts, their armies stretching Konoha's defenses dangerously thin. The sheer numbers of Iwa's rock-nin and Kumo's lightning-branded shinobi made it impossible to hold the lines without heavy casualties.

But the real problem wasn't just the battlefield.

Sunagakure wasn't wasting its forces in direct confrontation. Instead, their shinobi had turned into bandits with headbands, raiding the rich in neighboring countries. While Konoha fought and bled, Suna grew richer, stockpiling resources. When the time was right, they would strike, fresh and well-supplied, against an already exhausted Konoha.

And then, there was Kirigakure.

Unlike the others, Kiri wasn't sending armies. They were sending ghosts. S-rank hunter-nin, the same kind that had ambushed him. They moved behind enemy lines, assassinating commanders, cutting off supply chains, and spreading terror among the ranks.

Konoha was at war with four villages at once.

Tetsuma clenched his jaw.

"Tobirama-sensei saw this coming."

The Second Hokage had always warned them. Konoha had too many enemies, too much power, too much land. The other villages would never allow them peace.

And yet, despite everything, Tobirama Senju still lived.

It was his presence that kept the village from crumbling under pressure. His strategies were the backbone of Konoha's war effort. But even he could only do so much. The strain of command was showing—Tetsuma had seen it in his former master's eyes, the weight of leading an entire village through fire and blood.

If the enemy thought Konoha would simply defend until it collapsed—

They were mistaken.

For three days, Tetsuma rested.

The Hidden Anbu Base was well-secured, but he hated staying still while the war raged on. His wounds had closed, his chakra reserves had recovered, and the sharpness in his movements had returned. The Silver Blade of the Leaf would not remain idle any longer.

As he stood by the exit, strapping on his gear, Kaori—codename "Verdant"—watched him with her usual piercing emerald gaze.

"You're still healing, Tetsuma-sama."

He rolled his shoulder, testing his arm. "Good enough."

Kaori sighed, shaking her head. "You're impossible." Still, she tossed him a set of sealed scrolls—medical supplies, chakra stimulants, and additional kunai.

"Try not to get yourself nearly killed again before you reach Konoha."

Tetsuma chuckled. "No promises."

With that, he turned toward the rain-soaked path leading south. As he adjusted his **Anbu mask—white with a fierce dog's visage, lightning bolt patterns streaking down each cheek—**a sense of calm settled over him.

His war was far from over.

Beyond these mountains, Konoha still bled.

Iwa and Kumo pressed the front lines.

Suna was growing stronger in the shadows.

And Kirigakure's assassins were still hunting.

Tetsuma tightened the straps of his silver-plated bracers and sprinted into the storm.

It was time to return.