Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Hiruzen Sarutobi murmured under his breath, as though explaining to the empty air—or trying to convince the younger version of himself who had once been forced to make impossible choices.

”I… I had no choice…”

His voice was filled with bitterness.

”The Uzumaki clan… in name, they were Konoha’s allies. But in truth, their ties were far more closely bound to Lord First and the Senju clan.”

”When I inherited the title of Hokage, Konoha was beset with both internal strife and external threats. The major powers were watching us closely. As the Third Hokage, my position wasn’t yet secure. Many did not accept me…”

He began listing the difficulties of that era: tangled internal factions, constant friction among the Great Nations, a village in desperate need of stability.

Any large-scale foreign intervention could have dragged fragile Konoha into the quagmire of war.

And yet—

All those reasons seemed unbearably pale before the image of Karina collapsing after her life had been drained away.

In the end, all that remained was a long, weary sigh.

He closed his eyes slowly, as if unwilling to face the double reckoning of past and present.

But while he could close his eyes, Konoha’s younger generation could not.

These were shinobi who had grown up in relative peace, still carrying idealism and an untempered sense of justice in their hearts. Karina’s fate and the decline of the Uzumaki clan shook them to their core.

They could not understand.

They would not accept it.

”Father! Weren’t the Uzumaki clan our strongest allies? That’s what the books say! Then why—why didn’t Konoha help when they were attacked and wiped out?!” a young shinobi demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.

”Grandfather! You lived through that era. Tell me—why did we stand by while our allies were destroyed? Is that what an alliance means? Brothers in peace, but silent in crisis?!” another youth challenged, speaking sharply to his elder for the first time.

The older generation looked troubled.

They tried to explain with the language of harsh reality.

”You don’t understand… Konoha was struggling too…”

”The war had just ended. The village needed time to recover…”

”The political situation was too complex. We couldn’t risk igniting another war…”

But these explanations, once sufficient to soothe internal doubts, rang hollow in the face of blood-soaked truth.

”Struggling? Is that an excuse to abandon allies?!” one hot-blooded youth shouted, fists clenched, eyes blazing.

”If protecting an ally means paying a price, then I’d rather die in battle than live with the shame of betrayal and cowardice!”

Another pointed toward the Heavenly Curtain, voice shaking.

”No wonder Uzumaki survivors like Karina would rather wander the world in misery than seek help from Konoha! They hated us! They didn’t trust us!!”

These heartfelt accusations struck like heavy blows against those who knew the truth.

Amegakure – The Tower

Nagato gazed at the final image of Karina collapsing.

Within his Rinnegan, a rare trace of profound sorrow flickered.

”Karina…” he murmured hoarsely.

He, too, carried the blood of the Uzumaki.

His mother had come from that same fading clan. She had wandered in war and persecution—only to die tragically.

Karina’s suffering felt like a reflection of his own mother’s fate… and of every Uzumaki forced to survive in the cracks of the shinobi world.

This brutal reality poured fuel onto the fire of his already extreme conviction.

”This world… should not be like this.”

Nagato clenched his fist. The cold resolve returned to his eyes.

”Pain. Plunder. Betrayal. Endless sacrifice. That is why absolute pain is necessary. Only when the world experiences equal suffering will it understand the value of peace. My path… is not wrong.”

His determination hardened.

Through Akatsuki, he would impose peace through fear and destruction.

In his mind, only that could prevent tragedies like Karina’s from happening again.

Elsewhere, watching from the shadows, Uchiha Itachi felt unprecedented turmoil within.

”So… was I wrong?”

The terrifying thought resurfaced, unbidden.

Itachi’s long-held logic had been clear: sacrificing the Uchiha clan would preserve Konoha’s stability, prevent civil war, and protect more lives—including Sasuke’s.

Between ”one village” and ”one clan,” he had chosen the village.

Now the Uzumaki clan’s fate stood before him.

”Without the protection of a village and clan… even a once-mighty clan like the Uzumaki ended in misery, bullied and extinguished…”

His thoughts spiraled.

”What if that had been the Uchiha?”

He imagined Sasuke wandering the world as a fugitive, branded a traitor’s kin.

The forces coveting the Sharingan would swarm him.

His eyes gouged out.

Reduced to a test subject.

Hunted endlessly until a miserable death.

The imagined vision suffocated him.

That—he could never accept.

”So was my choice… right? Or wrong?”

Itachi found himself wavering more and more often.

He had always been decisive—willing to sacrifice everything for what he believed was the greater good.

But now, the doubts he had buried—the guilt toward his clan, the fear for Sasuke’s future—were resurfacing under the Heavenly Curtain’s relentless revelations.

He did not realize it.

When someone once unwavering begins to hesitate, it often means that deep inside, they have begun to deny the very self they once defended at all costs.

Once cracks form in the foundation of belief, collapse may only be a matter of time.

And the scales within Uchiha Itachi—once cold and precise—were quietly tilting.

On the Heavenly Curtain, the image shifted back to that cold, dilapidated house.

Young Karin sat curled in a corner.

Her head buried deep in her knees.

Her thin shoulders trembled violently with silent sobs.

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