Ling leaned against the broken wall, breathing heavily. The wound in his left arm still throbbed despite the makeshift bandage, and the weakness brought on by his nearly depleted chakra battered his will like a rising tide. Every breath tasted of blood, but his dark eyes remained clear as he fixed them on the battle in the distance.
He saw Shukaku's rampaging chakra falter strangely under Gamabunta's suppression and Naruto's hoarse cries. Amid the sand beast's roars, there seemed to be a faint, pained whimper that belonged to a human.
"That idiot..." Ling muttered. A pebble seemed to have fallen into the icy lake of his heart, sending ripples too faint to notice. He had never understood Naruto's stubbornness and almost foolish kindness, but he had to admit that sometimes, such strength could work miracles.
Just then—
"Dead Demon Consuming Seal!"
An old yet resolute roar rang out from the rooftop, like the tolling of a final bell, drowning out all the clamor of the battlefield!
Ling jerked his head up. The Four Violet Flames Formation around the rooftop shattered with a thunderous crash! The Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi hurtled backward like a kite with its strings cut, a Kunai buried in his chest. His life faded rapidly, like a candle guttering in the wind. He slammed into Kage Rock in the distance and lay still.
Nearby, Orochimaru—a twisted shadow—let out a shriek that sounded less than human. His arms hung limp at his sides, as if some invisible force had severed them. He cast a venomous glance toward the spot where the Third Hokage had fallen, then the space around him warped, and he vanished in an instant.
For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.
"Old man!!!" Jiraiya's anguished roar tore through the brief silence.
Ling felt as though an invisible hand had clenched around his heart, squeezing it with a faint ache. The old man had always tried to keep the village in balance through gentleness, and had shown complicated concern for both him and Naruto. In the end, he had still taken this path of no return, burning himself away for Konoha. Had it been a foolish sacrifice? Ling didn't know. He only knew that something holding the fragile balance together had been irreparably broken when the Third Hokage fell.
As if to prove him right, Shukaku began changing again!
Perhaps the Third Hokage's sacrifice had shaken everyone, or perhaps Naruto's words had finally chipped through the ice. Shukaku's enormous body began to tremble violently. Tears slipped from the tightly shut eyes of Gaara, perched atop the sand-covered head, and mingled with the grains. The immense chakra, full of hatred, receded like the tide, rushing back into Gaara's body!
"Seal!" Jiraiya cried, forcing himself to form Hand Seals through his grief.
Gamabunta cooperated by spitting out a huge scroll. Inscribed chains wrapped around the shrinking Shukaku, eventually dragging him completely back into Gaara's body. The sandstorm died down, leaving only the unconscious red-haired boy lying amid the wreckage.
With Orochimaru defeated and fleeing, Shukaku sealed, and their commander Baki dead, the resistance of Sunagakure and the Sound Ninja collapsed completely. The surviving enemies scattered in every direction, like flies without a head. After their initial shock and grief, Konoha's shinobi began organizing rescue and cleanup efforts on their own.
The clamorous battlefield was gradually falling silent, at a terrible cost.
Ling forced his nearly exhausted body upright, bracing his uninjured right hand against the broken wall. He had to make sure Naruto was safe.
He dragged his heavy steps through the drifting smoke and shattered ruins toward Naruto. Every step tugged at the agony in his left arm and the exhaustion weighing down his body.
Naruto stood dazed beside the unconscious Gaara, his small face streaked with dust and tears, burdened by an expression far too solemn for his age. Temari and Kankuro rushed over and hurriedly shielded Gaara. Their looks toward Naruto were complicated, a mixture of wariness, gratitude they could hardly put into words, and lingering fear.
Ling walked up behind Naruto and gently rested a hand on his thin shoulder.
"Big brother!" Naruto spun around. When he saw Ling's pale face and bloodstained bandage, worry flooded his blue eyes. "You're hurt!"
"It's just a flesh wound." Ling's voice was painfully hoarse. His gaze swept over the unconscious Gaara, then returned to Naruto. "I'm just glad you're all right."
His reassurance eased the tension in Naruto's shoulders a little. But as the boy took in the devastation around them, especially the silent figure on Kage Rock, his voice caught in his throat. "Grandpa Third..."
Ling said nothing. His hand on Naruto's shoulder tightened slightly. Some pain had to be borne alone.
Yet the illusion of peace did not last long.
Several figures radiating Root's distinctive chill suddenly burst from the shadows in different directions, like hyenas catching the scent of blood. They had a clear target: the unconscious Gaara!
Danzo really hadn't given up! The moment the situation had begun to stabilize, he had rushed out, eager to seize the biggest prize!
"Watch out!" Temari cried. Kankuro had already sent Crow into their path.
A flash of fury crossed Ling's eyes as he prepared to move, but a white figure was faster, sweeping into the fray like a whirlwind!
"Shikotsumyaku: Dance of the Seedling Fern!"
Countless sharp bones burst from the ground like a forest of death blooming in an instant. They pierced the two Root shinobi at the front and pinned them in midair! Kimimaro stood in front of everyone, his face pale from chakra exhaustion, but his back ramrod straight. His green eyes held nothing but icy killing intent.
At almost the same moment, Haku appeared from the other side and formed Hand Seals, frost spreading around him. "Ice Style: Ice Rock Dome!" A curved wall of ice sprang up, further blocking the Root shinobi's path.
Uchiha Izumi arrived close behind with several surviving Uchiha from Dawn Wind. They quickly took up advantageous positions, Kunai and shuriken trained on the sudden intruders, forming a solid defensive line and a tense standoff with Root.
"Shimura Danzo!" Jiraiya's roar cracked like thunder. His enormous chakra burst forth, locking onto Danzo as he slowly emerged from the shadows of the distant ruins. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Danzo leaned on his cane. His single eye swept over the devastated battlefield, pausing briefly on the Third Hokage's "corpse" before settling on Naruto and Gaara, sheltered behind Dawn Wind. His voice gave away nothing. "Jiraiya, the war is not entirely over. The One-Tail Jinchuriki is an extremely dangerous threat. Root should take custody of him to ensure he can never endanger Konoha again."
"Save that bullshit!" Jiraiya snapped, his face flushed with anger. "The battle is over! Danzo, drop those high-minded excuses! I'm in charge here now. Take your people and get the hell out!"
The standoff between two of Konoha's strongest shinobi made the air, which had only just begun to ease, turn heavy again. It was even more suffocating than the blades and jutsu that had filled the battlefield. The surviving Konoha shinobi stared at this sudden infighting, their faces full of confusion and unease.
Ling stood in front of Naruto, shielding him completely, his cold gaze dissecting Danzo like a scalpel. Blood still seeped from his left arm. His body was exhausted, and his chakra almost gone, but his will was tempered steel.
His eyes settled on Danzo's right arm, always wrapped in bandages. The Sharingan and Hashirama Cells hidden beneath them put him on the highest alert. For the sake of power and what he called "Konoha," the old bastard had long since abandoned all scruples. The Third Hokage's death might have suited him perfectly.
The physical storm seemed to have passed, and the threats from Sunagakure and the Sound Ninja were temporarily over. But the cracks within Konoha had been torn wide open by this catastrophe, laid bare for all to see. A vacuum of power, conflicting ideals, and Danzo's unfathomable ambition...
Ling knew the real struggle was only just beginning. He and his Dawn Wind had already been swept into the very heart of the whirlpool.
He drew a quiet breath, suppressing his weakness and the agony in his left arm. His gaze sharpened, turning deep and keen once more.
The road ahead was long, and covered in thorns.
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