Freed from Orochimaru's control, Mito Uzumaki stopped where she stood.
The Third, who had been fighting her, breathed a sigh of relief.
But the moment he relaxed, all the fatigue, pain, and immense chakra depletion he had endured while forcing himself to fight surged through his body like a flood bursting through a dam.
The old man, nearly seventy, swayed. Had his summoned companion Enma not reached out with a strong arm to support him in time, he would likely have collapsed.
With Enma carefully supporting him, the Third practically shuffled over to a relatively level stretch along the edge of the roof and sat down.
He hunched over, bracing both hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. Fine beads of cold sweat covered his forehead, and his lips were frighteningly pale.
He lifted his heavy eyelids and looked past the shattered walls on the rooftop, surveying all of Konoha below.
Devastation filled his vision.
Burning houses billowed black smoke. Craters, cracks, and bloodstains that had yet to dry littered the streets. Villagers or shinobi who had not yet been rescued might still be buried beneath the collapsed buildings. Scattered sounds of fighting and the groans of the wounded could still be faintly heard in the distance.
Gamabunta and his two brothers, who had defeated the Three-Headed Giant Snake and carried it out of Konoha, had already reached the village walls.
In such a short time, peaceful, prosperous Konoha had suffered a devastating blow.
Looking at it all, the Third's wrinkled face clouded with sorrow, his brows drawn into three deep furrows.
Guilt, anguish, worry for the future... the weight of those emotions nearly suffocated him.
As Hokage, he had failed to prevent this disaster or better protect the villagers and the village. He felt he could not