While Naruto, through the aid of his Shadow Clones, was soothing Sasuke's shaken heart and directing Tenzo to retrieve the machine he needed, Konoha's war machine began turning. It was the first mobilization of the restructured Root organization since its surrender and integration a year ago. Yet even as these quiet gears shifted into motion, in the Hokage Office, the Third Hokage set aside his work and turned to the crystal ball resting on his desk.
"…So he's not even coming to me first. He's already lost his cool."
His gnarled fingers wove through precise seals. The swirling mist within the crystal ball clarified, revealing the scene of Naruto issuing rapid-fire orders to Tenzo. The Third Hokage clasped his hands before him and watched in silence, his expression heavy with worry, tinged by a certain affectionate resignation.
"Looks like our future Fifth Hokage has reached his breaking point…"
What surprised him wasn't that Naruto was furious. It was that Naruto—normally so composed and calculating—had let that fury take over. That was rare.
And in that moment, as he observed Naruto's face twisting in rage, the old man's mind conjured another face from long ago: Orochimaru.
The once-golden student he had nurtured, destined—originally—to become the Fourth Hokage before Minato Namikaze was chosen instead. The image of Orochimaru's gentle smile, from a time before loss and darkness took root, surfaced unbidden.
The Third Hokage closed his eyes and sighed, laying a frail, withered hand atop the crystal ball. His touch ghosted over Naruto's contorted expression on the glass, as though hoping to soften it.
"Orochimaru… I hope I'm just being paranoid…"
Because he remembered. He remembered the boy who once smiled like the sun, who risked his life for comrades, who would've given anything for the village.
And he also remembered how it all fell apart—when Orochimaru lost his parents and drowned himself in forbidden arts, unable to let go.
If I had just paid more attention then, the old man thought, if I had stepped in before it was too late… maybe it would be his face carved into the mountain now, instead of Minato's…
But regret had no cure. He'd watched Jiraiya chase that ghost for years, full of hope, only to return empty-handed every time. The Third Hokage had long since accepted the painful truth:
What's lost, can't be brought back.
And that was why he treasured Naruto so dearly—not just as the son of Minato and Kushina, not just as Konoha's future, but because in Naruto, he saw a second chance.
In Naruto, he saw Orochimaru's potential—that razor-sharp mind, that natural talent.
But Naruto had something Orochimaru never did.
Unyielding will.
Boundless empathy.
Resilience that refused to shatter.
There was a reason the old man sometimes woke from dreams smiling, just from remembering Naruto's kind-hearted maturity, his concern for others, even after discovering the truth of his birth. It wasn't just pride—it was relief. Naruto hadn't turned away from the village. He hadn't turned bitter.
But now… now the old man feared that might change.
Even if it was just a vague sense, an omen with no evidence—he couldn't shake it:
If Hinata didn't come back safely,
Naruto might never be the same.
And the village couldn't afford to lose this Naruto. Not again. Not another one.
So when Naruto began mobilizing Root operatives without approval, the Third didn't stop him.
Instead, he moved in silence. Discreetly, he sent word to Jiraiya—who had been doing "field research" in the women's bathhouse district—and instructed him to shadow the infiltrators from the Hidden Cloud, and above all else:
Protect Hinata.
This was the true test—not of power, but of heart.
I hope you know what you're doing, Naruto, the Hokage thought. I don't have the time left for second chances.
He stroked the crystal ball again, watching Naruto's face—feral and fuming—before whispering:
"Orochimaru…"
His hand dropped. The view shifted.
The image now displayed Hinata's unconscious form in the arms of the disguised Cloud-nin—the one masquerading as Hyuga Hiashi. The Third Hokage's eyes narrowed into thin slits.
"…Hidden Cloud… You've crossed the line again. Again and again, you test Konoha's patience…"
His gaze flicked toward the corner of the room, where an ornate set of combat armor gathered dust.
"…And now you think we're weak. That we're prey."
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"If you think four corpses will be enough to cool Naruto's fury… then pray your gods are listening."
A thin smile curled his lips. His voice was calm.
"Because if not—then this war you've asked for won't cost you just four lives."
Meanwhile…
Konoha's long-dormant war machine had awakened. In swift silence, elite forces moved to intercept. Hyuga Hiashi had been impersonated. Hinata had been taken. And even if the enemy didn't realize it yet, they had struck a nerve that ran through every major clan.
The Hidden Cloud infiltration team, still oblivious to the full scope of Konoha's mobilization, continued down their path.
"…Huh. Is it just me, or are there fewer villagers around than before?"
Still wearing his Hiashi disguise, the team leader adjusted Hinata's unconscious body in his arms—drugged, limp, posed to look like a sleepy child being carried home by her father. Casually, he turned his head to scan the surroundings.
"This is odd… even if it's exam day, the streets shouldn't be this empty."
"Maybe there's another event we didn't know about," said one of his teammates, also disguised—this one acting as Hiashi's elite bodyguard. "Something that's drawn people elsewhere?"
"Whatever it is, works out for us. Fewer eyes, fewer problems. A few more blocks and we're at the forest. After that, not even Konoha's best trackers will stop us."
"…Heh. If you say so."
The leader's eyes twitched at the man's carefree tone, but he said nothing.
He knew better.
And so did two of his more experienced teammates. While they played their roles outwardly—calm, confident, disguised—they were already preparing to fight.
It was only the fourth member, the "noble heir," whose idiocy burned through the tension like a torch in a powder room.
"Pff. You guys are way too paranoid. You're acting like we're walking into a trap."
"…We are possibly walking into a trap," grunted the third teammate, his tone cold. "And if you had half a brain, you'd realize that."
"Wha—?! I knew that! I was just trying to lighten the mood!"
"Oh, so you thought now, while we're in enemy territory with a kidnapped heiress, would be the perfect time to crack jokes? Amazing. You're a genius."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"Exactly what it sounds like. If you didn't get it the first time, then I've clearly overestimated your intellect."
"You—!"
"I'm not wasting time arguing with a moron. If your brain didn't make it to the mission, then keep your mouth shut and your feet moving."
The noble idiot bristled, turning red with embarrassment—but said no more.
And yet… in that moment, a flicker of clarity crossed his eyes. His indignation faded, replaced by a cold glint, and a brief, strange expression of pity. But no one noticed.
Because the mission leader, despite finding his teammate's idiocy annoying, was also aware of the clan politics behind him—and thus couldn't scold him too hard. So he just sighed and redirected the conversation.
"Let's not forget, based on our last mission, we know Konoha's clans don't exactly get along. Worst-case scenario, we'll have to face the Hyuga clan alone."
But oh… if only he knew.
What they'd triggered wasn't just the Hyuga clan.
The Uchiha.
The Aburame.
The Inuzuka.
The Root revival.
The Hokage's personal ANBU.
Even Jiraiya himself…
They'd awakened a storm.
And so, unknowingly, their leader's final words took on a chilling echo—like a self-written curse.
"Worst-case scenario… just the Hyuga."
No.
This wasn't just a clan's retaliation.
This was the fury of a village.
This was the future Hokage's private war.