The Third Shinobi World War had, for the most part, indeed come to an end.
In the following days, according to intelligence reports, Iwagakure and Kumogakure both withdrew.
The battle between the Tsuchikage and the Raikage ultimately produced no meaningful result—one moved too fast to be hit, the other flew too high to be struck. It was just damn awkward.
The Five-Tails and the Eight-Tails appeared to be fighting fiercely on the surface, but while carrying their respective jinchūriki on their backs, they had privately set up a chat group.
There was no real grudge between the two of them. Unlike the One-Tail, which found all the other tailed beasts displeasing—especially that fellow with nine tails, who was the most detestable of all.
The Fourth Raikage, unable to take revenge, had a belly full of anger with nowhere to vent it. He wanted to charge in recklessly, but Dodai held him back. The Third Tsuchikage was displeased as well—he had not let the dark-skinned brute gain any advantage, but his own jinchūriki had been lost.
He immediately wrote to the Third Hokage, promising to initiate peace talks at once and end the war, on the condition that Konohagakure would not conduct any messy experiments on their jinchūriki.
The Third Hokage agreed. This was precisely the outcome he had hoped for. At the same time, he mentally gave Jiraiya and Makoto a thumbs-up, acknowledging that they had done well.
Danzō looked at the tailed beast that had already fallen into the pot, yet he could do nothing. Hiruzen understood his old friend far too well and strictly forbade the Root shinobi from coming into contact with Iwagakure's jinchūriki.
Rōshi had not even seen what the gate of Konohagakure's Torture and Interrogation Department looked like. After being brought to Konohagakure, he had been arranged to stay in a hotel, well fed and well treated the entire time.
Danzō was disgusted to the extreme, but he was merely the Hokage's advisor, not the Hokage. After several days of persuasion—both gentle and forceful—he achieved nothing. Even Koharu and Homura did not stand on his side.
In the end, he could only vent all his anger on the door of the Hokage's office.
"You've wronged me, my Hokage!"
But in the end, Mr. Door silently bore everything.
Iwagakure did not delay this time. After all, Rōshi was in Konohagakure's hands. They withdrew decisively, eager to negotiate with Konohagakure, leaving Kumogakure alone on the battlefield, sword drawn, looking around in confusion.
Yet asking them to face the powerful Konohagakure alone was something they absolutely did not dare to do. They were arrogant, not foolish.
Helpless, the Raikage could only order a retreat.
Thus, the Third Shinobi World War was, at last, brought to a close—at least on the surface. Each village left only a portion of shinobi stationed at the borders as a precaution.
Sunagakure, Kirigakure: Hey—We're still fighting down south. Isn't it a bit too casual to draw conclusions like that? We're one of the Five Great Shinobi Villages too, you know. Don't we get any face?
But in truth, neither of them could keep fighting anymore. Kirigakure had suffered enough from Scorch Release; in their hearts, they hated Sunagakure's Pakura to death. Fight? They couldn't win. Withdraw? They weren't willing to accept it.
Kirigakure's upper ranks quietly passed Sunagakure a little note. They knew Sunagakure was worse off than they were, and even more eager to end the war, so they seized the opportunity and made outrageous demands—the conditions they proposed were downright rude.
What if those sand-playing guys suddenly had a screw loose and agreed?
With Iwagakure and Kumogakure formally withdrawing their troops, Konohagakure began doing the same.
The war was already over. The village had to adjust out of its wartime footing as quickly as possible and restore its usual, normal operating procedures.
On October 10, the Uchiha clan was the first to be reassigned back to the village.
On October 15, the unit Makoto belonged to, along with a batch of shinobi such as Mimura Hamaki, also set out for home. Only Jiraiya remained at the front, leading a portion of newly reassigned shinobi in garrison duty.
Now that the war was over, that old lecher only promised to return at some critical moment—but before that, he wanted to go to the Land of Hot Water to investigate the damage the war had done to that country.
Mainly the damage to hot spring inns and izakaya. He believed that because of the war, quite a few young ladies had lost their husbands and relatives, and needed him to comfort them with his broad shoulders.
In addition, intelligence indicated that Tsunade had recently been spotted at some casino in the Land of Hot Water. That made it even more unavoidable for him to go.
That was what a high-level simp was like—not some ordinary loser. The goddess had to be worshipped, and the young ladies had to be comforted too.
At 10 a.m. on October 17, inside and outside Konoha's main gate, the wide road on both sides was packed with people, banners fluttering, firecrackers exploding, gongs and drums roaring.
The final batch of troops from Konoha's northern front had returned to the village. They carried victory with them, proudly holding their heads high as they stepped through Konoha's gates.
The residents on both sides immediately erupted into cheers, welcoming the heroes' return.
People searched through the crowd for their loved ones—and also for the heroes who had shone with dazzling brilliance in the war.
What could draw people more, or stir the village's spirit more, than the image of a genius hero who made a name for himself at such a young age?
Konoha's upper ranks understood this perfectly, and naturally made a point of publicizing Higashino Makoto's exploits.
Now, in Konohagakure, he could more or less be considered a celebrity.
"Hey, could that be the one…?"
"Yes, that's right. I watched the third match of the Chūnin Exams—it was him."
"Is that so? As expected, geniuses are all quite handsome."
"Isn't he a bit young? He's just a little kid! Could someone like him really defeat the Raikage? Could it be fake?"
"Baka, what little kid? That's Higashino Makoto-sama!"
"The Raikage himself admitted it personally. Do we need a bastard like you to question it?"
"Exactly, exactly. Is 'little kid' something you get to call him? That's our 'Shield of Konoha.' Go kneel before the Memorial Stone and repent, you bastard!"
Quite a few people pointed at Makoto in the crowd, discussing him excitedly.
Makoto thoroughly enjoyed it in his heart, but his face showed no expression. He maintained the persona of a cold expert steadily. Silently, he noted down those who praised him, temporarily crossing them off the list of Konoha rabble and reclassifying them as ordinary villagers.
As for the few who doubted him—there was no doubt they were Konoha rabble. If he encountered them in the future, they would receive special attention.
Hayate felt envious, but he was already a mature shinobi and could not say it aloud.
Yūgao said happily, "Hey, hey, Makoto-nii, they're all looking at you."
Makoto patted the little girl on the shoulder. "Yūgao, stay calm. This is small stuff."
Hayate: "…"
He had learned something, learned something. As expected of his close friend, Makoto—facing such praise from the villagers, he could remain as calm as still water. Truly a model for him to follow.
In the crowd, Higashino Megumi and Uzuki Sakura stood together, crying tears of joy.
They had every reason to be happy. The war had ended, and the child who had gone to war had returned safely. As for achievements? Those were not important. In their hearts, it was enough that their child was safe. Having understood the cruelty of war, they knew that being alive was more important than anything.
What? Their husbands had also returned safely? Oh—then they would be happy about that as well, incidentally.
They pulled the child who had come before them into their arms, and at once felt incomparable reassurance and reality.
Megumi smoothed her son's now-longer hair. "Makoto, you've grown taller, and your skin isn't as fair as before. It must have been very hard on the battlefield."
"Mom, is it possible that this is just your illusion? I've only been away for a little over half a month."
"But you really have grown taller."
That part was not wrong. Because he had been nourished by white natural energy, Makoto's body had developed faster than others. Although he was only ten by nominal age, he was not shorter than those thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boys like Kakashi.
Jirō felt the same. "Makoto has indeed grown quickly. But, Megumi, have you noticed? His hair seems much darker than when he was little—more and more like my hair color."
Megumi glared at him. "What, Mr. Higashino? Do you have an issue with my brown hair?"
"I don't, I didn't, don't wrong me."
The three families immediately burst into cheerful laughter because of Jirō's flustered reaction, filling the surroundings with a lively atmosphere.
Kumomi said, "You two, I have fulfilled the trust placed in me. I brought your children back safely."
"Thank you for your hard work, Kumomi-aniki!" ×2
Jirō and Yūya protested, "We worked hard too! Is there no one who cares about us at all?"
Megumi and Sakura exchanged a smile and each reached out to stroke her husband's face. There was the mark of wind and frost upon it, and scars left from injuries that had not received timely treatment.
"Yes, you worked hard too."
Watching his teammates return and instantly become the treasures of their mothers' hearts, Hayate admitted he wanted that as well, and secretly glanced at the father beside him.
A jōnin was very sensitive to others' gazes. He looked at his son and said, "If you want that too, I can remarry."
"Father, you can decide that yourself."
Konohagakure encouraged widowed shinobi to remarry ten thousand times over. If they did not have more children, what would become of Konoha's future?
However, the happiness in a small corner could not conceal the widespread sorrow.
The final decisive battle on the northern front had been too brutal. Too many shinobi had died. More families received not lively loved ones, but a corpse.
War in the shinobi world was no different from the wars of Makoto's previous life.
One relied on torrents of steel and firepower; the other relied on powerful ninjutsu. For the fragile human body, neither could be endured.
In his previous life there had been ultimate weapons; the shinobi world likewise did not lack things capable of destroying heaven and earth.
The source of chaos had never been weapons or ninjutsu—it was human ambition.
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