Chương 110: Put Some Respect on the Name, You Bastards

The Third Shinobi World War was, for all intents and purposes, drawing its final breath. In the days that followed, intelligence reports confirmed the inevitable: both the Stone and the Cloud were in full retreat. The duel between the Tsuchikage and the Raikage had ended in a farcical stalemate—one was too swift to pin down, the other flew too high to reach. It was an exercise in tactical frustration.

Meanwhile, the Five-Tails and Eight-Tails had put on a spectacular show of violence for their hosts, while secretly maintaining a private mental back-channel. Unlike the One-Tail, who harbored a pathological grudge against anything with more tails—and especially against a certain nine-tailed narcissist—these two had no personal quarrel. They were merely going through the motions.

The Fourth Raikage, his vengeance unfulfilled and his fury simmering, had been poised for a suicidal charge until Tutai dragged him back to reality. On the other side, Onoki was equally miserable. He had successfully repelled the "barbarians," but he had lost his most prized asset: his Jinchuriki.

The Tsuchikage immediately penned a missive to Hiruzen Sarutobi, guaranteeing an immediate ceasefire and the commencement of peace talks—on the condition that Konoha refrained from performing any "unsavory experiments" on Roshi. Hiruzen agreed instantly. It was the outcome he had prayed for. In the privacy of his office, he offered a silent commendation to Jiraiya and Zhen Dongye. They had played their hands perfectly. Danzo Shimura, however, was apoplectic.

He watched a Bijuu—a weapon of mass destruction—sit within their borders while he was forbidden from lifting a finger. Hiruzen knew his old friend too well; he had placed a total embargo on Root, banning them from coming within a mile of the Stone's Jinchuriki. Roshi never even saw the inside of the Torture and Interrogation Force's cells. Instead, he was sequestered in a luxury inn, treated to fine dining and hospitality that bordered on the absurd.

Danzo spent days trying to persuade his old teammates, but even Koharu and Homura refused to back him. Ultimately, the "Shadow of the Shinobi" had to vent his rage on the Hokage's office door. You'll regret this, Hiruzen! The door, as always, bore the brunt of his unspoken prophecy. The Stone didn't linger. With Roshi as leverage, they retreated with uncharacteristic haste, eager to finalize the negotiations.

This left the Cloud standing alone on the battlefield, swords drawn, looking around in a state of bewildered isolation. They were arrogant, yes, but they weren't fools. They had no desire to face a resurgent Konoha single-handedly. Reluctantly, the Raikage ordered the withdrawal. The curtain had fallen on the Third Shinobi World War. At least, that was the official narrative. Small garrisons remained at the borders, eyes peeled for the slightest tremor of movement. The Sand and Mist: "Hey!

We're still killing each other down south! Are we a joke to you? We're Great Nations too, you know!" But even those two were running on fumes. The Mist had suffered enough under Pakura's Scorch Style; they loathed her with a burning passion, but they lacked the strength to finish the job. They wanted to fight, but couldn't win; they wanted to retreat, but couldn't swallow their pride.

The Mist leadership began slipping "anonymous notes" to the Sand, hoping the desperate desert-dwellers would accept their outrageous peace terms out of sheer exhaustion. As the Stone and Cloud vanished over the horizon, Konoha began its own de-escalation. The village needed to pivot from its war footing and return to the rhythms of civil life. On October 10th, the Uchiha clan was the first to be recalled. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

On the 15th, Zhen's squad, alongside Mura Hamaki and several other units, began the trek home. Jiraiya remained behind with a fresh rotation of shinobi to oversee the border. The "Toad Sage" promised to return eventually, but first, he had an "investigation" to conduct in the Land of Hot Water. He needed to assess the "damage" the war had inflicted on the local bathhouses and taverns.

Surely, many young women had been widowed or displaced by the conflict, and they required the comfort of his broad, scholarly shoulders. Furthermore, rumors placed Tsunade at a nearby casino. That settled it. A high-tier paramour like Jiraiya knew his priorities: the Goddess was the goal, but the common folk needed "consolation" in the meantime. At 10: 00 AM on October 17th, the road leading to the Great Gate of Konoha was a sea of humanity.

Flags fluttered, drums thundered, and the air crackled with the concussive pop of firecrackers. The final contingent from the northern front had arrived. They marched with chests puffed out, wearing their victory like a second skin. The crowd erupted. Families scanned the ranks for loved ones, but they also looked for the icons—the legends born in the crucible of war. Nothing galvanized a village quite like a "Child Genius" archetype.

The higher-ups had made sure Zhen's exploits were well-publicized; he was now a household name.

"Is that him? The one in the middle?"

"That's the one. I saw him in the third round of the Chunin Exams. He's the real deal."

"He's so young, though! Just a kid. Are we sure he really faced the Raikage? Sounds like propaganda to me."

"Shut your mouth, you fool! That's Lord Zhen Dongye!"

"The Raikage admitted it himself! Who are you to doubt a Kage's word?"

"Exactly!

'Kid'? You're talking about the 'Shield of Konoha'! Go kowtow at the Memorial Stone and repent, you bastard!" Zhen maintained a mask of cold, professional detachment, playing the "stoic elite" to perfection. Internally, however, he was reveling in it. He began a mental tally, marking the admirers as "Valid Citizens" and the skeptics as "Problematic Dissenters" to be dealt with later. Hayate looked on with envy, though he tried to maintain a mature ninja's composure. Yugao was less restrained.

"Look, Brother Zhen! Everyone is cheering for you!" Zhen patted her shoulder.

"Stay calm, Yugao. This is just a minor formality." Hayate: "..." The master speaks. To remain as calm as still water amidst such adulation... truly, Zhen is the ultimate benchmark. In the crowd, Hui Dongye and Sakura Uzuki stood together, weeping with joy. Their children were home. Their husbands were alive. In the hearts of these mothers, medals and glory were secondary to the simple, profound fact of survival.

They gathered their children into their arms, the warmth of the embrace grounding them in a reality that had felt so fragile for so long. Hui ran her hand through her son's hair.

"Zhen, you've grown so tall. And you're tan! It must have been so difficult out there."

"Mom, is it possible you're imagining things? I was only gone for two weeks."

"Nonsense. You've definitely hit a growth spurt." She wasn't entirely wrong. Nourished by a constant influx of natural energy, Zhen's physical development outpaced his peers. At ten, he was already rivaling thirteen-year-olds like Kakashi in height. Jiro Dongye nodded in agreement.

"He is growing fast. But Hui, have you noticed? His hair is getting darker. It's starting to look exactly like mine." Hui shot him a sharp look.

"Oh? Is that a problem, Mr. Dongye? Do you have an issue with my brown hair?"

"I—no! Not at all! Don't put words in my mouth!" The three families dissolved into laughter at Jiro's frantic backtracking. For a moment, the air was light and festive.

"Gentlemen," Gekko said, stepping forward.

"As promised, I've brought your children back in one piece."

"We are in your debt, Brother Gekko!" the two fathers replied in unison.

"Hey! We worked hard too!" Jiro and Kazuho complained.

"Doesn't anyone care about us?" Hui and Sakura shared a smile, reaching out to stroke their husbands' faces—faces weathered by wind, grit, and the faint scars of untreated battlefield wounds.

"Yes, yes. You worked hard too." Hayate watched the reunion, then looked at his own father.

"If you're feeling lonely, Father, I wouldn't mind if you remarried."

"If that's what you want, son, I'll take it under advisement." In Konoha, the remarriage of widowed shinobi was highly encouraged. Without a steady birthrate, how else would the village secure its future? Yet, the pockets of happiness could not mask the wider shroud of grief. The final clash on the northern line had been too costly. For every family greeting a vibrant hero, ten more were receiving a casket. The wars of the ninja world were no different from those of any other.

Whether fought with iron torrents of artillery or high-yield Ninjutsu, the human body remained equally fragile. The source of the chaos was never the weapon—it was the ambition.