Shinobi World No. 1.
Autumn, Konoha Year 43.
Southern Army, temporary headquarters.
Danzo stood before the map, his single eye bloodshot. The war had ended for the moment, but the war within him had never stopped. Sunagakure, the Jashin Cult, the Land of Rain-every direction held enemies he had to face. And his Southern Army had already been crippled.
The flank defenses had collapsed, the main force had pulled back, the reserves were exhausted, and reinforcements were nowhere in sight. All told, he could muster fewer than four thousand combatants. Across from him, Sunagakure fielded fresh recruits every day, seemingly without end; even after a ten-thousand-strong unit of the Jashin Cult's Faithful Legion was crippled, its ranks were soon replenished.
"I understand now."
Danzo's voice was hoarse, carrying a cold clarity he could not suppress.
"I lost because of my capacity for wartime mobilization."
He turned and looked at the enormous map of the Shinobi World on the wall. The Land of Rain could easily field over ten thousand fighters; Sunagakure brought in fresh recruits every day; yet the number of combatants he could mobilize had always remained below ten thousand.
"Why?"
He answered his own question.
"Because Konoha's ninja require talent, bloodlines, and years of training. For a commoner to graduate from the Ninja Academy, become a Genin, then a Chunin, then a Jonin-it takes at least five to ten years. And during that time, the resources he consumes would be enough to support ten Sunagakure recruits."
"Sunagakure doesn't care about quality. It cares about quantity."
"One Genin can't beat a Jonin, but what about ten Genin? A hundred? Throw enough lives at you, and they can bury you."
A cold light gleamed in Danzo's single eye.
"The Jashin Cult in the Land of Rain is even more ruthless.