---Third POV---
Each promotion represented not just recognition of skill, but a calculated deployment of village resources.
Sakumo's son has earned this, Hiruzen thought.
With a broad stroke of his pen, he directly signed the chunin promotion for Kakashi.
However, when it came to Ryouma, he paused, hesitating for a moment. This wasn't mere indecision—it was strategic calculation.
Finally, instead of writing chunin as initially intended, he changed it to special jonin.
A special jonin was defined by Konoha's standards as someone whose skills in certain areas reached the jonin-level, but their overall capabilities fall short of qualifying as a full-fledged jonin, making it a rank between chunin and jonin.
That, at least, was Konoha's official definition of the rank. In practice, it often served as a diplomatic solution to thorny problems of talent, politics, and timing.
Hiruzen's decision to appoint Ryouma as a special jonin wasn't because he believed Ryouma's abilities matched that level. Rather, it was due to Konoha's strict requirement that every ninja must pass the jonin exam to be formally recognized as a jonin.
Even during times of war, the Hokage could not bypass the special jonin assessment and directly appoint someone as jonin. After all, jonin was the highest public rank for a ninja, entitling them to participate in major village meetings.
Even as Hokage, he couldn't arbitrarily assign someone the title of jonin.
With a soft tap of his fingers on the desk, he summoned an ANBU with a dog-faced mask. The ninja appeared instantly in the Hokage's office, materializing from the shadows as if he'd been part of them all along.
"I'll leave it to you."
"Yes, Hokage-sama," the ANBU responded with a bow.
He then took the two promotion letters from Hiruzen, stepped back a few paces, and vanished without a sound.
With Kakashi and Ryouma's promotions handled, Hiruzen rose from his chair and walked to the window of the Hokage's office, his thoughts drifting to other matters.
Wars don't truly end. They merely hibernate, waiting for the next generation to awaken them anew, he thought, gazing over the village he'd sworn to protect.
How many of his citizens understood the precarious balance that maintained peace?
In his view, Suna was nearing its breaking point.
This wasn't just his personal opinion but an observable fact, confirmed by multiple intelligence sources and plain military logic.
During the Second Great Ninja War, Suna had suffered a devastating defeat at Konoha's hands. Not only did it bear significant losses, but even Chiyo's son and daughter-in-law were killed by Konoha's White Fang.
The wounds of that conflict had never truly healed—merely scabbed over, waiting for the slightest provocation to reopen.
And not long after that war, Suna accused Konoha of assassinating the Third Kazekage, tore up the peace treaty, and initiated another conflict.
At that time, even Konoha, the victorious nation, hadn't fully recovered, let alone the resource-poor Suna.
Thus, Suna had fought the war relying on sheer morale, bolstered by the villagers' firm faith in their Kazekage and the ninja leadership. This determination allowed them to hold their ground against Konoha's scattered forces. For months, perhaps even years, sheer will had compensated for material disadvantage.
But that was history.
Now, with Minato and Ryouma dominating the battlefield, Suna's hard-won front lines in the Land of Rivers had completely collapsed.
Hiruzen was confident that the war with Suna was entering its final decisive phase, with Konoha highly likely to emerge victorious.
However, unlike Suna, which had nothing left to lose, Konoha was the wealthiest and most powerful ninja village. Its enemies extended far beyond just Suna. Vultures circled, waiting for signs of Konoha's exhaustion or vulnerability.
Winning the war wasn't the challenge. The real issue was how to achieve victory against Suna at the smallest possible cost. This was a matter that had been troubling him for some time.
Every ninjas lost against Suna was one fewer defender against Iwa or Kiri. And every resource expended was unavailable for the other fronts.
Suna was like a cornered, starving wolf, baring its fangs for one final, desperate attack on the hunter. The most dangerous moment in any conflict was not the beginning, when both sides were strong, but near the end—when one side realizes it has nothing left to lose.
"Hoo—"
Hiruzen exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it curl and dissipate.
"Bring Danzō and the elders here."
A cat-masked ANBU appeared instantly, replying, "Understood, Hokage-sama."
Time to see if my old teammates still remember how to think beyond their own interests, he thought as the ANBU vanished to carry out his order.
Pride and vengeance made poor military advisors.
---
Danzō, Koharu, and Homura walked side by side. Decades of service had weathered them differently. Danzō hardened like stone, Koharu tempered like steel, Homura worn like old leather.
Finally, they arrived at the door of the Hokage's office. Danzō's shadowed eyes swept over the emblem on the door, and the corners of his mouth subtly lifted in a barely perceptible cold smile.
Koharu appeared more composed, but her gaze carried firmness and decisiveness. The years had not softened her pragmatism.
Homura, on the other hand, looked serious, his expression suggesting he was deep in thought about pressing matters.
With a creak, the door opened, and they stepped into the room.
The Konoha Council had gathered.
Danzō was the first to sit at the desk. Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning slightly back, he scrutinized the other two with a probing gaze.
Koharu and Homura followed suit, taking their seats. The atmosphere instantly grew heavy.
No one spoke. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the faint sounds of breathing. It was an old game between them—who would speak first, who would reveal their thoughts, who would control the direction of the meeting.
Homura glanced at the others, who remained motionless. His old teammates had grown increasingly stubborn with age, and it seemed he was the one expected to break the ice.
"Ahem—so, Hiruzen, you must have had something important to call us together today."
"It's about the situation in the Land of Rivers, isn't it?" Danzō narrowed his eyes as he spoke. "Root has received intelligence that Suna is preparing to make a desperate move."
"That's correct," Hiruzen replied, refilling his pipe with tobacco. "Although the exact timing is unclear, it will likely be before the end of this month."
Koharu lowered her head in thought before speaking. "Should we send reinforcements to the front lines? If it's truly a decisive battle, our current forces in the Land of Rivers won't be enough to match a full mobilization by Suna's forces."
Homura, concerned by her analysis, added, "But the village doesn't have enough ninjas to spare right now. The battles with Kiri and Iwa aren't going as smoothly as those against Suna. If we divert a large number of troops to the Land of Rivers, I fear..."
His voice trailed off, but his meaning was clear: strengthen one front, weaken another.
His point was valid.
Hiruzen shared their frustration. Konoha was currently engaged in a three-front war against Suna, Kiri, and Iwa. It was a nightmare scenario for any military commander—resources stretched thin, attention divided, vulnerabilities multiplying with each passing day.
Kiri posed its own challenges due to its offshore location. Controlling the ports of the Land of Water was critical, but Konoha had no means to deploy a large number of troops there. Since the fall of Uzushio, Konoha was like a lion blinded in both eyes. Though mighty, it struggled to effectively counter Kiri's infiltration efforts across the sea.
As a result, the battlefront against Kiri had stagnated along the coastal regions of the Land of Fire. Elite forces from Kiri frequently bypassed Konoha's defenses to wreak havoc inland.
It was worth noting that this front was primarily manned by the Uchiha and Hyūga clans. While the situation was far from ideal, the involvement of Konoha's two great noble clans reassured the village that manpower wouldn't be a significant concern on this front.
The situation with Iwa, however, was much more problematic. The Land of Fire and the Land of Earth were separated by numerous small buffer nations, the largest border area between any great nations. This made the Iwa front particularly grueling.
As a traditional warzone, this front demanded the highest number of Konoha's troops.
The Iwa battlefield was under the command of Orochimaru. While his exceptional talent and prowess were undeniable, his opponent was no less formidable. During the Second Great Ninja War, Ōnoki's cunning and tactics earned him a fearsome reputation.
Thus, although Orochimaru hadn't faced outright defeats, his forces frequently found themselves at a disadvantage.
Out of three fronts, two were unfavorable for Konoha.
Given these circumstances, Konoha had no spare capacity to send reinforcements to the Land of Rivers. The equation was brutal in its simplicity—nowhere to borrow from, no reserves to deploy, no easy solutions.
For what felt like the umpteenth time, Hiruzen packed more tobacco into his old pipe.