As Second Tsuchikage 43

Chapter 43: The Army Marches on the Land of Fire

News of Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha’s deaths spread like wildfire across the entire shinobi world. Nowhere was the reaction more intense than in the Land of Fire itself. For a time, every corner of the nation, be it among commoners, merchants, samurai, nobles, daimyō, or shinobi, fell into a stunned silence. No one could believe what they were hearing.

After all, many had seen those two monsters clash with their own eyes.

They were not human. Not in any sense that mattered. They radiated a dark, oppressive aura that stripped away all signs of life, like walking cataclysms. Whenever they fought, the violent energy from their clashes could be felt for kilometers. The shockwaves alone had the power to obliterate an entire squad of jōnin without effort.

And now... they were dead? Killed? By whom?

It didn’t take long for the details to emerge. The announcement sent fresh waves of disbelief through the shinobi world.

Apparently, five individuals had joined forces to bring down Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha.

Five.

Everyone was speechless. Was this some sort of raid on a world boss? The Four Great Nations had actually teamed up?

But then came the real kicker. When the identities of the participants were revealed, the shock only deepened.

Mū. Gengetsu Hōzuki. The Second A. Shamon. And... Kakuzu?

Wait, hold on.

Kakuzu?

People squinted at the report as if something had crawled in and rewritten it mid-print.

A villager gripping a newspaper with both hands gawked at the text. "I mean, I’ve heard of the first four, sure. But who the hell is Kakuzu?"

His neighbor leaned over and pointed to the article. "It says right here, he helped take down Hashirama Senju."

"No way. You serious?"

"It’s in the paper! The Second A himself confirmed it!"

"...Well damn, if it’s printed, guess we can’t argue with that!"

…

“Aye-sama, may I ask, did this shinobi named Kakuzu really take part in the battle against Hashirama Senju?”

As the news rippled across the nations, reporters from every corner of the world rushed to track down those involved. The Second Raikage found himself quickly surrounded, caught in a circle of eager journalists.

He didn’t flinch.

"Yeah, it’s true," he replied curtly.

The Second Raikage’s expression tightened the moment Kakuzu’s name came up. But he didn’t deny it. No smirks, no dismissals. Just a nod.

In truth, he respected Kakuzu.

Any man crazy enough to try assassinating the God of Shinobi for the sake of his village... that kind of guts deserved acknowledgment, no matter the outcome. That kind of conviction couldn’t be faked. So the Second Raikage kept it simple and confirmed the story, letting Kakuzu take his share of the credit.

It wasn’t hurting anyone. And it was a hell of a tale.

Fortunately, Gengetsu Hōzuki wasn’t present.

If he had been, there was no doubt he would’ve dragged Kakuzu straight through the mud. That man wouldn’t have let it slide for a second.

“Oh my God!”

“Seriously?! It’s real?!”

The reporters were stunned for a moment, but only for a moment. Then they swarmed the story like a flock of vultures, spinning the tale into something even bigger than it already was.

And just like that, the legend of Kakuzu, the fifth man who helped slay two gods, was born.

…

In Takigakure.

Inside a dimly lit tavern, the scent of roasted meat and cheap sake filled the air. Kakuzu sat at the center table, surrounded by a crowd of eager, low-ranking shinobi from the village.

“Kakuzu-senpai! Is it true you fought alongside the Four Great Lords?!”

“Yeah! We heard even those four couldn’t get close to Hashirama Senju, but you actually did!”

“Unbelievable! Who would’ve thought a tiny village like ours could produce someone like you, Kakuzu-sama? Our ancestors must be smiling down from the afterlife!”

Kakuzu nodded slowly, his expression calm and composed, though inside, he was still trying to figure out how exactly this misunderstanding had snowballed so fast. Regardless, he wasn’t about to ruin a good thing. Bathed in admiration, flattery, and sake, he decided to lean into the role fate had thrust upon him.

“Hmph! Of course, I fought alongside them,” Kakuzu declared with a smirk, lifting his cup. “We joined forces to bring down the God of Shinobi!”

He threw back the sake in a single gulp and puffed out his chest. “Even Mū-sama himself praised me, said I was someone to watch.”

The surrounding shinobi gasped, their eyes practically sparkling.

“Alright! That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Someone bring out the top-shelf sake! Fill this man’s mouth until he drowns in it!”

Kakuzu opened his mouth wide and pointed inside, laughing as the drinks kept coming. He was reveling in the attention, soaking up every word of praise.

Just then, a sudden gust of wind swept through the tavern. A Takigakure jōnin appeared beside him in a blur of movement, the telltale sign of the Body Flicker Technique.

“Kakuzu, the leader wants to see you,” the jōnin said, expression unreadable.

Only leaders from the Five Great Nations were called Kage. For a small village like Takigakure, the head was simply referred to as “leader.”

The moment he heard that, Kakuzu straightened up. His heart surged with anticipation. The fame of those four had lifted him by association, now it was time to reap the real rewards.

After all, hadn’t he technically played a role in defeating Hashirama Senju?

From where he stood, the mission was a success.

He felt sure the leader would reward him handsomely. Maybe even appoint him as Takigakure’s next leader.

“Mm! Not bad,” Kakuzu thought with satisfaction, hiding a grin.

He followed the jōnin out of the tavern and toward the leader’s mansion.

As they moved through the village, Kakuzu began to notice something strange. Many of the shinobi they passed were casting him odd glances, cold, distant, even hostile, but he brushed it off. Jealousy, no doubt. Not everyone could handle another man’s rising star.

He stepped into the mansion with confidence and dropped to one knee before the raised platform.

“Leader-sama!”

The Takigakure leader sat high above, arms crossed, expression like ice. His eyes locked on Kakuzu, unreadable yet heavy with something darker. Deep in his heart, a flicker of regret surfaced.

This man... was meant to be dead. That was the whole point of the mission.

They had deliberately sent Kakuzu to die, framing it as a suicide assignment no one could return from. And yet here he was, standing tall, very much alive.

If Kakuzu didn’t want to die on the battlefield, then they would see to it that he died another way.

“Hmph! Kakuzu failed to complete the mission. Negligence,” the leader said coldly. “Detain him at once.”

Before Kakuzu could process the words, two Takigakure jōnin closed in from either side. He barely had time to react before they struck, forcing him to the ground with brutal efficiency.

“Ah!!”

Kakuzu was stunned. He looked up, eyes wide with disbelief. This couldn’t be real. His own village, his own comrades, had turned against him?

He had risked his life, faced the strongest shinobi in the world, and somehow returned alive. And this was the thanks he received?

In that moment, everything clicked.

He had been used.

The mission had never been meant for success. It was designed to bury him quietly under the illusion of duty and sacrifice. From the start, they had wanted him dead.

“Damn it!!! I was set up by the rich and powerful! I hate the wealthy!”

“AAAHHHHH!!”

Kakuzu screamed as he struggled against the hands dragging him away, his furious gaze fixed on the Takigakure leader seated above. His teeth clenched so tightly his jaw trembled. Burning with rage and betrayal, he was hauled off toward Takigakure’s prison like a criminal.

…

Meanwhile, the Shinobi Allied Forces had finished assembling. After a brief period of rest, reorganization, and supply distribution, the four-village coalition now stood ready for war.

The four Kage had returned to their respective villages, leaving command of the operation in the hands of their successors.

“What a sight... just like the Allied Shinobi Forces during the Fourth Great Ninja War I saw in those memories...”

Mū took a long breath as he stood atop a ridge, overlooking the endless ranks of shinobi stretching out before him in formation.

“Alright, enough sightseeing,” Gengetsu Hōzuki grumbled beside him, arms crossed impatiently. “Let’s get moving and invade the Land of Fire already!”

Mū lifted a brow slightly, then stepped forward. Beneath him, thousands of shinobi stood in perfect rows, waiting silently.

He slowly raised one arm.

“Advance on the Land of Fire!”

Boom!!!

The earth-shaking roar of battle cries echoed as the Allied Shinobi Forces surged forward like a tidal wave, their unified march shaking the very ground as they stormed toward the Land of Fire.

Morale soared among the alliance. But in Konohagakure, the atmosphere was completely different.

Grief hung in the air like a suffocating fog.

The entire village had gathered in the cemetery to mourn the deaths of Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha.

Tobirama Senju stood at the front beside Mito Uzumaki and Hashirama’s young son, all three draped in black. Mito’s face was pale, her lips trembling as she held the boy’s hand. Grief consumed them.

The rest of the village mirrored their sorrow. Clan leaders, prominent shinobi, civilians, children, all had come to pay their respects.

Hashirama had been a good man. He gave the village more than anyone ever had. He built homes for the people, created welfare programs to care for the poor, and occasionally even handed out money on the spot, though more often than not, he lost it all gambling.

His death left a void too large to fill.

“Aniki... I’ve failed you...”

Tobirama stared at the two large portraits at the front, eyes rimmed with red, fists clenched so hard they trembled.

He never imagined this outcome. He had believed too much in Hashirama, thought his brother could handle anything.

He should have stayed, but it was already too late.

To the people of Konoha, he had already delivered the official story: Hashirama and Madara had died heroically, protecting the village from an assault orchestrated by the Four Great Nations.

There was no way he could reveal the truth.

He couldn’t tell them that Hashirama had gone to protect a rogue ninja like Madara, that they had both left the village of their own will to fight the world, and died as a result.

And yet, Madara’s portrait stood next to Hashirama’s.

Why?

Because Hashirama was gone, and without him, the balance within Konoha had become unstable. If he continued to vilify Madara, the Uchiha would rebel.

Displaying Madara’s portrait was a calculated move. It was a way to appease the hardliners in the Uchiha clan, to stop them from rising up during this moment of weakness.

“Right now, we must unite the people of Konoha,” Tobirama murmured, brows tightly furrowed. “We must stand together and prepare to face the Four Great Nations if they dare to attack.”

His instincts told him that war was approaching. And no matter what, he wouldn't let the village his brother built fall.