"Smack!"
A rotten egg, half-rotten, flew through the air and landed precisely on Hiruzen Sarutobi's forehead.
The thin, brittle brown eggshell shattered, releasing a foul-smelling, greenish egg yolk.
The soot Hiruzen's face.
The fluid trickled down his eyebrows and smeared onto his bloodshot eyelashes. A drop of yellow liquid fell into his eye, stinging so badly that the muscles around his eye twitched.
Hiruzen knelt on the rough cement platform, his hands bound behind his back with steel wire.
He was sobbing and hiccuping.
He couldn't catch his breath, and his chest heaved violently twice.
His chapped lips were wide open, only able to emit intermittent, whistling sobs.
The jeers from tens of thousands of workers in the audience were like a tsunami.
Rotten vegetable leaves, torn straw sandals, and stinking tomatoes rained down on us like hail.
"Bang." Half a hard, dark cornbread bun hit his shoulder and bounced to the ground.
He was once the most prestigious young clan leader in Konoha.
He was a distinguished guest at the Daimyo's banquet. He was a genius who was designated as the successor to the Hokage.
Now, that pride has been completely drowned out by the villagers' spittle.
Not even a crumb was left.
Shu Shiraishi raised the metal microphone in his hand.
"The public trial is over."
Four words, spoken in a voice that drowned out the clamor of the entire venue, echoed through the enormous speakers.
He casually tossed the microphone behind him.
The microphone hit the metal sheet of the electrical distribution box behind it and fell to the ground with a clatter.
"Take it away. Take it to the roof."
Shu Shiraishi turned around, his military boots crunching over the rotten vegetable leaves scattered on the ground as he walked down the cement steps.
Two Uchiha Jōkan wearing red armbands strode forward.
One of them grabbed Hiruzen's shoulder and lifted him up.
Hiruzen's legs were like rotten noodles; he couldn't stand up at all.
He was forcibly lifted up by two burly men, his toes dragging on the concrete ground.
The tattered soles of the cloth shoes had worn two wet streaks into the ground.
The smell of rotten eggs, mud, and the sour stench of not having showered for months mingled together, making one feel nauseous.
The Jōkan on the left turned his head away in disgust.
With a burst of strength in his right hand, his fingers dug deep into the flesh below Hiruzen's collarbone.
Hiruzen gasped in pain, but couldn't utter a complete cry of agony.
Walk through the angry crowd.
Several civilians who were crowded at the front spat several mouthfuls of yellow phlegm at Hiruzen's trouser leg.
They dragged them all the way into the Hokage Building.
Black rubber-insulated electrical wires had just been installed in the stairwell.
Incandescent light bulbs hung overhead. The light was somewhat glaring, casting a stark white glow on the corridor.
The Jōkan dragged Hiruzen towards the stairwell.
This is an emergency staircase welded from cast iron.
Hiruzen's toes struck the iron steps, making a dull "bang" sound.
His right toenail split open. Blood seeped out, leaving a red mark on the metal plate.
He didn't cry out in pain. He was numb; all that remained in his mind was an endless buzzing.
After going up to the fourth floor, there's an iron gate leading to the rooftop.
The door hinges were out of lubrication. The Jōkan kicked it open.
It made a strained "creaking" sound.
A cold evening wind swept over us.
The wind carried a heavy smell of coal smoke and a hint of burnt engine oil.
It was getting dark. The clouds on the horizon hung low.
Hiruzen was forcibly dragged to the edge of the rooftop.
A row of rusty iron railings, about half a person's height, has been installed here.
The Jōkan officer pressed down with both hands, pinning Hiruzen's upper body firmly against the railing.
The rough rust scraped the skin on Hiruzen's chin.
The cold wind blew through his tattered Mabui.
He shivered from the cold. His teeth chattered softly.
Shu Shiraishi stood to the side, his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Open your eyes. Look down," Shu Shiraishi said, his voice slightly distorted by the wind.
Hiruzen his head bowed tightly.
Chin resting on collarbone. Eyes tightly closed.
He dared not look. He was afraid to see what kind of grotesque state this madman had turned Konoha into.
He still stubbornly clings to the memory of that quiet village filled with wooden houses.
Shu Shiraishi withdrew one hand.
He reached forward and grabbed the tangled, dirty hair at the back of Hiruzen's head.
With a sudden burst of force, he pulled his wrist back.
"Well!"
Hiruzen a tightness in his scalp. Large clumps of hair, still attached to his scalp, were being pulled painfully, as if they were being ripped off.
He was forced to tilt his head back.
My eyelids were forcibly pulled open by the scalp.
Hiruzen's gaze passed over the rusty iron railings.
It crashed straight down towards Konoha.
He was stunned.
Breath caught in my dry throat. Tears clung to my eyelashes, forgotten to fall.
The old Konoha was a cluster of low wooden houses.
The Hokage Building was the tallest building. At night, only a few scattered kerosene lamps lit up the entire village.
It's like a quiet country town.
The current Konoha is a colossal steel beast lying on the plains.
It has completely changed.
Wide, smooth asphalt roads divide the village into neat squares.
All the streetlights on both sides of the road were lit.
It wasn't a dim oil lamp; it was rows of glaring incandescent bulbs.
The halos of light merged together, drawing several straight white lines in the night.
Several steaming Chakra transport trucks roared past on the road with their headlights on.
On the open ground to the south.
Several high-voltage power towers Chakra, tens of meters tall, rose from the ground.
Thick, insulated cables, like black spider webs, covered half the sky.
From time to time, bursts of blue electric sparks erupted from the insulating porcelain insulators at the top of the tower, accompanied by a crackling sound.
The heavy industrial area to the west.
The chimneys of three giant blast furnaces pointed straight into the night.
Thick black smoke billowed out. The red light emanating from the furnace turned half the sky a dark orange.
The corrugated iron roof of the factory building reflected a cold light under the Kakkō.
The heavy steam press slammed into the steel plate.
"Clang!"
"Clang!"
A dull, metallic clanging sound traveled along the earth's crust to the rooftop of the building.
The shock made Hiruzen's feet go numb.
The civilian residential area and family compound to the north.
Rows of newly built red brick buildings have sprung up.
The leaky thatched huts of the past are gone.
The windows of every household were blaring bright electric lights.
They form a continuous expanse, like stars on the ground.
There was no darkness. There was no decay.
This is a cyber city of heavy industry that never goes out.
Wild, violent, yet brimming with incredible vitality.
Shu Shiraishi released his hand.
He rubbed his coal-dust-covered fingers on the railing a couple of times.
Hiruzen's head did not droop.
He seemed frozen in place, his neck stiff and rigid, staring intently at the sea of light below.
"You saw it?"
Shu Shiraishi put his hands back into his pockets.
"This is the village you Tenten talking about saving."
Hiruzen his mouth.
A piece of dried eggshell fell from his cheek into his mouth. It tasted bitter. He didn't spit it out.
His Adam's apple bobbed violently, but he couldn't utter a single sound.
"What good is your hypocritical Will of Fire, other than sending Genin to their deaths and letting your clans pocket the profits from the rear?"
Shu Shiraishi sneered.
He raised his chin and pointed to the steel mill spewing flames in the distance.
"Now, the common people of Konoha eat meat at every meal."
"Once our mechs are deployed, even the samurai of the daimyo can't get close to our border."
" The Third Raikage of Kumogakure is currently acting as a battery in the generator set."
Shu Shiraishi turned his head to look at Hiruzen's dirty face.
"Without you."
"Without your father, there is no council of elders."
Shu Shiraishi paused for a moment.
The night wind whipped his black hair into a wild frenzy.
" Konoha is now the strongest and richest empire in the Shinobi World."
This sentence is like a heavy hammer.
It slammed solidly into Hiruzen's skull.
Hiruzen's eyeballs trembled wildly in their sockets.
He looked at those incredible skyscrapers.
Looking at those steel behemoths spewing steam.
Looking at the myriad lights shining as brightly as day.
That was a world he didn't know.
It was a power he could never have imagined, achieved with just a few Explosive Tag and Shuriken.
Even if you gathered all the Ninjutsu in the Shinobi World, you still couldn't build these towering electric towers.
The last thread in my mind.
That string of belief that sustained him through the mine and helped him escape.
With a "bang".
Completely crushed.
His proud Ninjutsu system.
His self-righteous political shrewdness.
The remnants of the daimyo army that he longed for.
Compared to this thunderous, invincible machine, even a rusty screw is nothing.
He finally realized.
What I lost was not just the position of Hokage.
He lost to the entire era.
He and his old Shinobi World, which only knew how to throw Kunai at each other, were ruthlessly crushed and eliminated by this bulldozer.
A deep sense of powerlessness seeped from my very bones.
Hiruzen closed his eyes in despair.
Two lines of clear tears squeezed out from the corners of her eyes, mingling with the mud and flowing down her neck.
His legs went weak.
He slid down the iron railing, like a boneless lump of mud.
He slumped onto the cold concrete floor of the rooftop.
Head bowed, he could no longer muster even the slightest thought of resistance.
Shu Shiraishi looked at the trash on the ground.
He twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a cold, emotionless smile.
He turned around.
Military boots clattered on the concrete as they walked toward the iron gate to the rooftop.
"Send him to the sewers."
Shu Shiraishi didn't even turn his head. His voice was cold, crashing directly into the wind.
"To keep Danzo."
He yanked open the rusty iron door.
Let him spend the rest of his life with it.
"Behold my glorious era."