Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 22: A Complete Defeat

The crowd had reached a boiling point, but somehow they still held back from throwing actual punches. Words were their weapons now—sharp, cutting, and meant to draw blood.

"You piece of shit!" A glob of spit flew through the air, striking a well-dressed civilian square in the chest. His clean robes darkened with the moisture, and his face twisted in disgust.

The man had come here out of respect—Lord Hatake had shown him kindness once, and he'd never forgotten. He wasn't the type to curse or brawl, but after being spat on twice, something snapped inside him.

"Bastard! Take this!" He hawked up a thick wad of phlegm—greenish and vile—and launched it back. The color alone was enough to make nearby onlookers gag.

What started as a spitting contest between two men quickly spiraled. Innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire joined the fray, and soon enough, shoving matches broke out across the square. The Konoha police moved in, grabbing the worst offenders and dragging them away. The sight of uniforms and the threat of jail cells cooled tempers just enough to prevent a full riot.

---

From his office window, the Third Hokage watched smoke rise from the square below. Sarutobi Hiruzen's weathered hands clenched into fists.

"Damn you, Danzo. Still won't let this die, will you?" he muttered. "Fine. If you want to escalate, I'll bring in the retired shinobi."

Earlier, he'd made the mistake of sneaking down to the square himself, wanting to hear the arguments firsthand. What he'd heard made his stomach turn.

A defender had shouted, "The Third Hokage never punished Hatake-san!"

An attacker fired back, "But he never said Hatake was right, either!"

"You're slandering a good man!"

"If Hatake Sakumo did nothing wrong, why didn't the Hokage stop us from the beginning?"

That last question hit like a kunai to the gut. Hiruzen's face had burned with shame as he'd slipped away, realizing his own cowardice had fed this monster. He'd thought Danzo just wanted to humble the White Fang—he never imagined the man intended to destroy him completely.

Now, back in his office, Hiruzen made his choice. This farce ended today.

---

Across the village, Danzo paced in a shadowy chamber, his single eye gleaming with desperation. Root operatives knelt before him, delivering reports that made his jaw tighten with each word.

"More supporters keep arriving for Hatake Sakumo," one masked ninja reported. "Retired veterans, mostly. They're calling for the blood of whoever's behind this."

Danzo's hands trembled—not with fear, but with rage. These weren't just any retirees. They were the broken remnants of the Second Great Ninja War: men missing limbs, blinded by enemy jutsu, scarred inside and out. They'd served under Hatake Sakumo, and their loyalty ran deeper than bone.

At first, they'd stayed away. Root agents had whispered in their ears, telling them their former commander had disgraced himself, that it was better to let things settle quietly. But when word spread that their beloved captain was being slandered by lies, nothing could hold them back.

The defenders in the square suddenly swelled by hundreds. Three veterans for every attacker now, and the tide turned brutal.

"You village parasites!" screamed a one-legged man from his wheelchair. "How dare you speak ill of Hatake-sama!"

A scarred veteran with one arm pointed at a cowering civilian. "Hey, isn't that the eternal genin from the war? The one who pissed himself on his first mission? You've got some balls talking shit about the man who saved your worthless life!"

A blind retired ninja, guided by his faithful hound, spat in the direction of voices. "Where are you, you rats? Come closer so I can smell your cowardice!"

The Root team leader saw the writing on the wall and sent an urgent message to Danzo.

---

When the report reached him, Danzo was in the middle of negotiating with the village advisors, promising them chunks of the Shimura clan's wealth and influence. Now he had to play two games at once—pressuring Hiruzen to remove Hatake from his position while simultaneously unleashing his final, most disgusting weapon.

The special jōnin appeared as if summoned from hell itself.

"Hatake Sakumo abandoned his duty!" the man shouted, his voice cutting through the crowd's roar. "He's a traitor to Konoha! Why do you defend him?"

The square fell silent. Veterans who'd been ready to fight froze in shock.

"From the day I became a shinobi, I was prepared to die for this village!" the special jōnin continued, his voice dripping with false righteousness. "Why did you save me, Hatake? Why did you damn us all for one worthless life?"

---

Inside his home, Hatake Sakumo heard every word. His heart shattered like glass. The sake cup in Jiraiya's hand slipped, shattering on the floor.

"Am I... am I really wrong?" Sakumo whispered, his voice hollow.

Young Kakashi appeared in the doorway, his small frame trembling with rage. "Father made the right choice. His only mistake was saving that ungrateful bastard." The boy's voice was steady, far too mature for his age. "Remember what you taught me—those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash."

Sakumo's eyes widened. His son was right. Even knowing the consequences, even if it were a stranger, he'd make the same choice again.

---

Outside, the attackers sensed victory and pressed their advantage.

"See? Even the man he saved calls him a failure!"

"Hatake Sakumo is garbage!"

"You defended a criminal!"

Their celebration lasted exactly forty-seven seconds.

"There he is!" A voice cut through the crowd like a blade. "That bastard slandering Hatake-sama—kill him!"

The crowd turned as one, a predator recognizing prey. The retired veterans moved with the fluid coordination of soldiers who'd bled together.

"So you're the one."

"Finally showing your face."

"I've been waiting for this."

"Someone give me a senbon."

"Take my shuriken, you piece of shit."

These were men who'd watched friends die, who'd crawled through blood and mud for their village. Their patience had limits, and those limits had just been crossed.

The special jōnin's eyes widened in terror as he realized his mistake. He tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. Senbon pierced his legs. Shuriken opened gashes across his back. Then the real beating began.

The crowd became a living thing, thousands of fists and feet seeking justice. The attackers scattered like leaves, outnumbered and outmatched. The police tried to intervene but were swept aside by the tide of rage.

Only when the Third Hokage arrived with a full company of ANBU did the violence stop. Shadow clones separated the combatants while the real operatives formed a protective barrier.

---

"Stop!" Hiruzen's voice boomed across the square. "We are all children of Konoha! We must stand together!"

What followed was two hours of political theater—speeches about the Will of Fire, about protecting comrades, about the bonds that held their village together. Hiruzen publicly vindicated Hatake Sakumo, declaring his choice to save a comrade the perfect embodiment of Konoha's ideals.

When it was over, the retired veterans received little more than verbal warnings. They were heroes, after all—men who'd given everything for the village.

The special jōnin wasn't so lucky. By the time the medics reached him, his shinobi career was over. Broken bones would heal, but shattered nerve clusters were permanent. He'd spend the rest of his life as a cripple, a living reminder of what happened to those who betrayed their saviors.

---

From a rooftop six hundred meters away, Rei watched through his Sharingan as the drama unfolded. He'd expected political maneuvering, but this level of violence surprised even him. History had taken a darker turn than he'd anticipated.

As the crowd began to disperse, he allowed himself a small smile. The disguise had worked perfectly—a simple transformation jutsu to look like some random villager, just long enough to point out the special jōnin and slip away before the ANBU arrived. He'd counted at least fifteen Shimura clan members among the beaten attackers.

Danzo's network was bleeding tonight.

---

"Sir, there was a riot," the Root operative reported, kneeling before Danzo's desk. "The Hokage deployed the ANBU and ended it."

Danzo's remaining eye closed. Too late. The game was over, and he'd lost everything.

The village advisors entered his office, their smiles predatory. "Elder Danzo," one said sweetly, "do you still require our assistance in impeaching Hatake Sakumo?"

"Not today," Danzo replied, his voice like grinding stone. "But there will be other opportunities."

The advisors left, already planning how to divide the promised rewards between themselves. They'd won without lifting a finger—Danzo's desperation had made him generous with promises he could no longer keep.

Alone in his office, Shimura Danzo stared at the reports scattered across his desk. Names of the injured, casualty counts, damage assessments. The cost of his ambition, written in blood and broken bones.

He'd lost this battle, but the war was far from over. In the shadows of Konoha, patience was just another weapon, and Danzo had plenty of both.

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