Shota's back scraped against the rough boulder as he slid down. The rock was warm from the fire, but he felt cold inside.
His eyes burned worse than his skin. It might be due to using his Erasure for so long without blinking but that was only half the reason.
He blinked hard, trying to push the tears away, but they kept coming.
He saw faces in his mind.
The puppeteer, old man Taro who had split his last rice ball with Shota two nights ago.
"Eat up, kid. You're growing."
Anither Jonin Ryu who had shown him a card trick with a kunai and a grin. "Watch the hand, not the blade."
The chunin, Hana who had promised to take him to a secret hot spring inside Suna's walls. "After the mission, we'll soak till our fingers wrinkle."
He had talked about his dreams of living a lazy life with all of them.
They were gone. And Shota was still breathing.
The mission was done. Kurogiri was dead. Iwa's Explosion Corps were crippled. No one in the Stone Village could make clay bombs like that for years.
Maybe decades, they would need to groom up someone with Explosion release.
Iwa was fighting three wars at once: Konoha in the forests, Kumo in the mountains, Suna in the sand. Losing their best bombers meant they had to pull back. And they'd pick the weakest front.
Suna.
Not because Suna was easy. No. Suna's or rather Land of Wind's land was desert. Sand and sun and nothing to farm. The only treasure was deep under the dunes, rare metal ores. Iwa wanted those. But taking desert cost more than it gave. So Iwa would chose to leave.
There would be no more raids in the land of Wind. No more bombs in the night.
The war was over for Suna. This would effectively end the third great shinobi war for Suna. Suna already had a ceasefire agreement with Konoha. Kumo and Suna were too far apart to fight against each other. Kiri had fought Suna in the earlier stage of the war but retreated once they picked up fights with all the great villages too.
And with Iwa backing off, there would be no more villages attacking Suna.
This would mean that in the land of Wind kidds could play outside again. Mothers could stop hiding their sons. Fathers, Brothers could come home after fighting for both The village and their lives. The village could heal from all the deaths and they could moan from the death of their loved ones.
Shota had ended the Third Great Shinobi War for Sunagakure.
'Then why does this win feel so hollow?'
He pressed his forehead to the boulder.
A shadow fell over him.
Sōshi stood there, limping, one arm in a sling made from his own torn sleeve. Blood crusted his beard, but his eyes were sharp.
The old puppeteer knelt beside Shota without a word. He saw the burns, the blood, the shaking.
"You should've run, kid," Sōshi said, voice low. "When you got hurt like this, you should've left. You're more important than the mission."
Shota shook his head. His voice came out cracked. "How could I leave? This mission… it ends the war. No more dying. And you all… you'd be in danger without me."
Sōshi sighed. He pulled a roll of bandages from his pouch, rough cloth, stained with old blood. Their medical ninja was dead. This was all they had.
"I respect that," Sōshi said, wrapping Shota's arm tight. "But assets like you? They are rare. Suna doesn't throw away such miracles."
Shota flinched as the bandage pulled. "Asset?"
"Yeah. Your eyes. Your dojutsu. That Erasure. It's not just an ability, kid. It's a weapon. A very good weapon."
Shota stared at the ground. His voice was small. "So… I'm just a tool? The village doesn't care about me. Just what I can do?"
Sōshi paused. His fingers were gentle as he tied the knot. "No. That's not it. But this is war. We protect what keeps us alive. Konoha learned that the hard way. You know Sakumo Hatake?"
Shota nodded slowly. Everyone did.
"The White Fang," Sōshi said. "Fastest blade in the leaf. Saved thousands and killed even more enemy shinobi. But on one mission, he chose his team over the goal. Konoha shamed him. Called him a failure. He took his own life. A hero of their village, gone. Because they forgot he was human."
Shota's throat tightened. "So… I'm just the dojutsu? The eyes are the asset. I'm just… carrying them?"
Sōshi looked at him. Really looked.
"No, kid. You're Shota Aizawa The boy who shared rice. Who learned card tricks. Who wants to sleep all day and pet cats. The eyes are yours. The power is yours. I believe you to be Suna's own Hashirama senju in the future. Besides, You can't stop here right? What about your dream?"
Shota closed his eyes. Tears slipped free.
He thought of the academy. Mae, who always followed him every morning to do pranks. Shizu, his little sister in all but blood, who dragged him to the roof to watch stars. Yorii, the fat cat who demanded belly rubs at 3 a.m. with murder in her eyes. The matron, who threatened spankings for sleeping late but always left extra rice in his bowl.
They were why he fought.
Not for glory. Not for his pleasure. Not for being an asset of Suna. Not because the elders or anyone in Suna asked him to.
He fought for them.
"And above all of that," Shota mumbled, a weak smile cracking his face, "I'm doing it to protect my future lazy life. I just want to nap without Yorii using my stomach as a trampoline."
Sōshi chuckled. The sound was rough, but real.
He finished bandaging Shota's chest, then stood. "Come on. Time to go home."
In the distance, the surviving Suna shinobi worked in silence. They sealed the bodies in scrolls, friend and foe alike.
Kurogiri's body got special care. No one touched the clay bombs. They sealed them in a storage scroll first. Then, gently, they rolled the villain into another scroll.
His body was valuable. Explosion Release kekkei genkai? Any village would kill for a sample.
Shota watched and shuddered.
'Yeah, no thanks. I'm not dying anytime soon. Don't want some creepy scientist cutting me open like a frog in biology class. "Subject exhibits rare ocular mutation—let's see if the eyes still blink when we poke them!" Nope. Hard pass.'
Sōshi moved his fingers a little. His giant snake puppet slithered over. He lifted Shota carefully like a father with a child and set him on the puppet's flat back.
"Rest, kid," Sōshi said. "You earned it."
Shota leaned back. The puppet was warm from the sun. The sky was clearing. Smoke still rose, but the clouds were breaking. Blue peeked through.
Sōshi walked beside the puppet, one hand on its side. His voice was soft.
"And don't you dare disrespect the ones who fell by crying over them. They chose this. They believed in the mission. If they could see you now, sad, broken, they'd kick your butt. They'd say, 'We died so you could live, idiot. So live. Laugh. Sleep in. Pet that dumb cat. Make the village strong. That's how you honor us.'"
Shota closed his eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips.
-------Author Notes---------
Thankyou Matthew Gonzales and Thomas Hendrix for supporting me!
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