The eastern wall of the capital was never meant to see real battle.
Ren stood on the cold stone parapet, his cheap leather armor feeling heavier than usual. He was twenty-seven, but tonight he felt ancient.
His spear shook in his hands no matter how tightly he gripped it. He wasn't a warrior. He had never wanted to be one.
He had taken this job four years ago because the pay, though small, meant his six-year-old daughter could eat every day instead of going to bed with an empty stomach.
Tonight, that same daughter's face was all he could see.
The commander had just finished his speech. The western wall was under heavy attack. They were being sent as reinforcements. Ren's stomach had dropped the moment he heard the order.
He wasn't built for this. The only thing he had ever been good at was standing in formation and praying nothing happened.
Beside him stood his three closest friends — men who had joined for the exact same reason he had.
Kenta, tall and lanky, kept wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.
Hiroshi, the shortest and sharpest-tongued of them, stared at the distant western sky with a grim expression.
Daichi, usually the quiet one, was openly shaking.
They had grown close over the years. All four came from the southern slums. All four had taken dangerous jobs because their families needed to eat. None of them had ever wanted to hold a weapon in war.
"I heard the western side is already burning," Kenta muttered. "How are we supposed to help with that? We're not even real soldiers."
"We're not supposed to help,"
Hiroshi said flatly. "We're the ones they throw in first to test how bad things really are. If we die, they know the enemy is strong."
Daichi's voice was barely above a whisper. "My little brother is still in the South district… What if the fighting spreads there?"
Ren swallowed hard. His daughter lived in those same slums. The commander had said the southern sector hadn't been attacked yet.
But if they were being sent west, he might never see her again.
"I keep thinking about running," Hiroshi admitted quietly.
"Just slip away in all this chaos. Head south through the slums. The capital is going to be destroyed anyway. With so many people dying tonight, they'll probably think we died in the fighting too. Our families might even get some compensation money."
Daichi's head snapped up. "And leave them behind? If we get caught deserting, they'll kill our entire families. You know that."
"I know," Hiroshi snapped, but there was fear in his voice. "But staying here means dying for sure. At least if we run, there's a small chance they survive."
Kenta shook his head. "There's no good answer. We're all going to die tonight, aren't we?"
Ren didn't answer. He was thinking about the small wooden doll he had bought his daughter with his first proper salary. He remembered her smiling so brightly that day, hugging it like it was the most precious thing in the world.
He had felt like the strongest man alive back then.
Now he just felt like a fool.
A strange, heavy chill suddenly swept across the wall.
Everyone stopped talking at once.
It wasn't normal cold. It was something deeper — a pressure that made their skin crawl and their stomachs twist.
Even the commander, who had been checking equipment, froze. His hand went to his sword.
"…Something's coming," the commander muttered, voice tight.
"I can feel it. Something terrible."
The four friends looked at each other. Ren felt his legs go weak.
They climbed the narrow stairs to the top of the wall, shoulders bumping in the tight space.
When they reached the parapet and looked west across the city, they saw it.
Massive plumes of smoke rose into the night sky. Bright flashes of jutsu lit up the darkness like lightning.
The western wall was already breached. They could see entire sections of the outer districts burning. The sounds of distant screaming and explosions carried on the wind.
Kenta's voice was barely a whisper.
"What the hell is happening over there…?"
"I don't know," Hiroshi said, all sarcasm gone. "But it looks like the entire western side is on fire."
Daichi stared at the distant flames. "Do you really think we'll survive tonight?"
No one answered.
Then Hiroshi spoke again, quieter this time. "We could still run. Right now. While everyone's distracted. We slip away south through the slums. By the time they notice we're gone, they'll just assume we died in the fighting like everyone else. Our families will still get the compensation. No one would know."
Daichi's face twisted. "And what about our families if we get caught? They'll be executed."
"What choice do we have?" Hiroshi shot back. "Stay and die for certain, or run and maybe give them a chance to live?"
Ren's mind was spinning. He thought about his daughter's smile when he gave her that doll. He thought about never seeing her again.
He thought about how easily the army would write his name on a list of the dead and move on.
Before anyone could answer, the air changed again.
This time the chill was sharper. Heavier. It felt like the entire night was holding its breath.
Then they saw it.
From far across the city, coming from outside the capital from the eastern side, a massive wave of fire was rushing toward their section of the wall.
It wasn't a normal jutsu. It was something far worse — a colossal, roaring flood of flames created by combining Fire Style and Wind Style on a terrifying scale.
The wave was already destroying everything in its path. Buildings hundreds of meters away collapsed in seconds. Entire rows of homes in the outer districts were swallowed by fire.
Civilians — families, children, old people — were running through the streets only to be overtaken and burned alive.
A mother carrying her young son was caught mid-run. Her scream lasted less than a second before the flames consumed them both.
The heat hit the eastern wall before the fire even arrived.
Ren felt it first on his face — a blistering wave that made his skin feel like it was melting. His knees buckled. He dropped his spear and fell to the ground. His arms had no strength left. His entire body went numb with primal terror.
The massive fire wave was coming straight for their section of the wall.
"No… please…" Ren whispered, voice cracking as tears streamed down his face. "Please… I have a daughter… I just want to go home to her…"
He could see everything in those final moments.
The fire consuming street after street. The South district slums — where his daughter lived — already beginning to burn in the distance.
People screaming as their homes collapsed around them. Children crying for parents who were already gone.
His last thought was of his daughter's smiling face when he gave her that small wooden doll.
Then the wave hit.
The combined Fire and Wind Style technique Minato had unleashed didn't just break the eastern wall.
It erased it.
Stone melted. Bodies were incinerated where they stood. The four friends — Ren, Kenta, Hiroshi, and Daichi — were gone in an instant, their final desperate conversation cut short forever.
Behind the wall, entire sections of the South district slums were consumed in seconds.
Hundreds of civilians died in the span of a single breath — burned alive in their homes, in the streets, clutching their children as the fire took everything.
This was the cruel reality of their world.
Normal men who only wanted to feed their families were nothing more than fuel for wars between those who held real power.
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