The morning mist clung to the mountain ridge as Akari descended toward the valley, his thoughts heavier than the air around him. Behind him lay the rebel camp—still silent, still waiting. Ahead, the forests of Hi no Kuni stretched toward Konoha, and with them, his duty.
But for the first time, his steps lacked certainty.
Kuroyama's words echoed with every footfall:
"Let the world burn slowly under a peace that only serves the powerful."
Was that what Konoha had become?
Akari stopped at a creek, crouching to wash his hands. The water was cold, clear—untainted. As he stared at his own reflection, he couldn't help but see the split in himself: soldier and thinker, weapon and man.
He was born to serve—but what if the system he served was no longer just?
---
By midday, Akari returned to the village gates. The guards recognized him immediately and waved him through, though their eyes lingered on the faint smell of smoke that clung to his clothes.
Inside, Konoha bustled as always. Children ran laughing between merchant stalls. Young Genin trained in the distance. Nothing here hinted at rebellion, or shadows.
And yet… it was all too pristine.
In the Hokage's office, Madara was waiting. Not on the throne Hashirama used to occupy—but standing, arms crossed, near the window.
"You're late," he said without turning.
"I observed as long as I could," Akari replied. "Kuroyama has a camp in the western highlands. Forty shinobi. Well-trained. Quiet."
"And?"
Akari hesitated.
"They believe in what they're doing. It's not just revenge or greed. They want change."
Madara turned, his expression unreadable. "Change always comes with blood."
"I know," Akari said. "But if we strike now, without understanding what drives them… we'll only feed their cause."
Madara studied him for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"You're not wrong. But if we hesitate too long, we risk Konoha bleeding instead."
There was a pause. Then Madara added quietly, "I need you to be the bridge here, Akari. Not just the blade."
That surprised him. Coming from Madara, it felt like a rare glimpse into something deeper.
"You trust me with that?"
"I trust you to see what others can't," Madara said. "That's why Hashirama always believed in you. And why I do, too."
---
Later that night, Akari sat atop the Hokage Monument, watching the stars shimmer over the dark trees. He drew his blade, not to use it, but to look at his reflection in the steel.
Could he truly be both?
A loyal son of Konoha... and a seeker of truth?
He remembered Kuroyama's face. Calm. Passionate. Dangerous.
He remembered Madara's eyes. Cold... yet searching for something greater.
And then he looked to the stars.
If I'm the bridge, he thought, then I must be strong enough to carry the weight of both sides.
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he would return to the highlands. Not to fight.
But to speak.
To offer a chance.
And if they refused… then the blade would decide.