As the saying goes... When the masses see it, it's real.
The Fourth Mizukage, Yagura, had no will left to fight. Even if he had, Kirigakure's frontline was in no state to continue. The Genin corps had been devastated; first by the Tailed Beast Ball's bombing, then in the pursuit that followed.
In any shinobi village, genin were the lifeblood of the military, much like foot-soldiers in an army.
If the common soldiers are slaughtered, what use is it that the captains remain? Unless Yagura was prepared to strip every genin from the Hidden Mist itself to replenish the line, the war was finished.
But this was not the Yagura under Obito's control. He would not bleed his village dry, nor destroy its future for pride's sake.
So, once he'd gathered the surviving Mist-nin in eastern Whirlpool Country, he sent envoys to Konoha's frontline camp to discuss peace.
Yagura still entertained a fantasy that Kirigakure might keep the slice of Whirlpool territory it had seized.
Konoha crushed that notion without ceremony. The terms were clear: both sides would return to the pre–Third War borders. No garrisons in Whirlpool. No indemnities.
The agreement was sent back to the Hokage. Sarutobi Hiruzen accepted immediately. With Konoha bloodied and weary, it could not afford to linger here.
The treaty returned to the front. Yagura signed, stamped, and the order to withdraw was given.
The Third Shinobi World War was over.
Of course, peace was only a pause. Both sides slipped spies into Whirlpool territory before their troops had even cleared the border. In the shadows, a different war had already begun.
Konoha's shinobi began the long journey home in batches.
Uchiha Gen did not rush to join them. Instead, like his teacher Orochimaru, he chose to be in the last group.
To outsiders, it looked like a dutiful disciple following his master. In truth, Gen was buying himself time, time to deal with Uchiha Yuichi and Uchiha Mori without the rest of the clan's eyes on him.
The last batch to return would be replaced by the first batch, who would now man the border.
The composition of such garrisons was no secret: clan heirs and well-connected shinobi rarely found themselves posted to these tedious, low-prestige assignments. Civilians and the unconnected filled the ranks, people who valued the decent pay and the chance to earn jutsu rewards.
Like any world, the shinobi world had classes. They were simply more… polite about it.
Gen approached Orochimaru with a request, two days' leave to 'relax' in a nearby town.
Orochimaru granted it without hesitation. Officially, such leave was against regulations during a border posting. Unofficially, neither master nor disciple had ever been sticklers for rules when they got in the way.
Minato Namikaze would never have agreed to such a thing.
Gen reflected on that with quiet satisfaction. A man like Minato, so steeped in the 'Will of Fire', wouldn't abuse authority and wouldn't violate the rules.
If Gen had continued under him, projecting a grand, selfless image, Minato's trust might have grown… but so would the burden of that mask.
Better to have realized early that 'noble self-sacrifice' was not in his nature.
Leaving the shrunken Konoha border camp, Gen formed a shadow clone, using the dispersing smoke as cover to sink his true body underground. The clone would head toward the town, providing a false trail. Orochimaru was busy shoring up defenses, but Gen preferred caution.
No one could know he'd taken his own clansmen, least of all those he intended to use for his Sharingan evolution research.
When the terrain was clear, Gen emerged from the soil and moved at full speed.
Forty minutes later, he reached the nameless mountain.
He transformed his appearance, pulled a cloak around himself, and approached the cave entrance, but stopped short. Best not to startle them. He made deliberate noise in the brush.
Inside, the two wooden homunculi stirred, rose, and crept toward the entrance.
"Master," they greeted, relief in their voices as they spotted him.
"From now on," Gen said evenly, "call me 'sir.'"
Small details mattered. If Yuichi or Mori overheard them calling him 'master', they might start piecing together things they shouldn't.
These two would be his assistants until the experiments succeeded. Sloppiness now could breed disaster later.
"Yes, Master.."
Gen's eyes narrowed.
"...Sir," they corrected quickly.
Inside, the dim cave smelled of damp stone. Uchiha Yuichi and Uchiha Mori hung bound to wooden crosses, one-tomoe Sharingan gleaming crimson in the gloom.
"Who are you?"
"Let us go!"
Mori's voice was sharp. "What are you planning to do to Yuichi, you bastard from Hidden Mist?"
The wooden homunculi bristled. "How dare you speak to sir like that!" They moved to strike Mori, but Gen lifted a hand.
"It's fine." His voice was altered, not his own.
He strode forward, handkerchief in hand. Yuichi tried to speak, but the cloth clamped over his mouth and nose.
"What are you doing, you...!" Mori's snarl was cut short as he received the same treatment.
The drug worked quickly. One by one, they slumped into unconsciousness.
Gen pried open Mori's eyelids, Sharingan spinning as he layered an illusion over the drug-induced sleep. Yuichi received the same drug and neither would be waking prematurely.
"Move them out," he told the wooden men.
"Yes, sir."
Outside, he glanced at Shuryu. "Burn the cave."
The little fire dragon leapt skyward, exhaling a torrent of flame that devoured wood, stone, and every scrap of evidence.
Then Gen's lips curved. "Largest form."
Shuryu's body swelled, scales stretching as his frame expanded from barely a foot long to a ten-meter, bucket-thick dragon wreathed in heat-haze.
Majestic and dominant. The kind of sight that would linger in memory, if anyone survived to tell it.
Gen hoisted Yuichi and Mori onto the dragon's back. The wooden men looked on, their cloaked figures taut with yearning.
He almost laughed. Shuryu wouldn't allow such indignity. High-level Homies had pride; they wouldn't carry lesser creations.
"Sleep for a while," Gen murmured, stripping their souls and lifespans with a casual gesture.
The bodies collapsed; And Shuryu's breath reduced them to drifting ash.
"Well done," Gen said. "Let's go."
The fire dragon's roar split the sky.
Clouds like molten gold bloomed beneath each claw, and with a surge of power, Shuryu climbed toward the sky, carrying his master and his silent prizes into the clouds.