The Conqueror of The Shinobi World

Leaving Konoha

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Is this really Konoha? Konohamaru wondered as he looked around. He wasn't sure what he was seeing anymore. This place—ruins everywhere. He felt like he was walking through a graveyard.

Ruins were everywhere. The once-familiar streets were now tangled with debris, and the air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of smoke. He felt like he was walking through a nightmare. Other people moved around him—shinobi, their faces grim and determined as they searched desperately through the rubble for any sign of life. But every time they pulled out a body, it was cold and lifeless.

He watched as a fellow shinobi gripped a massive piece of fallen rock, half-sunken into the ground and stained with dark splatters of blood. Konohamaru stood in silent horror as the rock was lifted, revealing a grotesque sight—a mangled mess of blood, skin, bones, and organs. The sight was so visceral, so raw, that it barely seemed real.

Was that... a person? he wondered, his mind struggling to comprehend the scene before him. He couldn't tell; it didn't look like anything human anymore. Just then, a firm hand rested on his shoulder.

Startled, Konohamaru looked up to see a Jonin standing beside him, his face etched with sorrow and exhaustion. The man's mouth was moving, forming words that seemed distant and muffled as if coming from underwater. His gaze drifted back to the mutilated remains for a moment before the Jonin gently turned him away. Another shinobi produced a body bag from a seal on his shoulder, and they started collecting what was left.

Konohamaru began to walk aimlessly. He didn't know where he was going; his feet just moved on their own. Soon, he reached the main crossroads of the village, near where the Hokage's office once stood—a proud symbol of their strength and unity. Now, it was reduced to rubble and ash.

The area was filled with people, all moving with a haunted emptiness as they sifted through the debris. Konohamaru stared numbly at the carnage before him; body parts were scattered amid the wreckage. The sheer scale of the devastation was overwhelming.

So much blood, he thought. He knew that the human body carried about five liters of blood, but seeing it pooled and smeared across the ground was something else entirely. The earth itself seemed to bleed, turning dark red under the fading light.

His brown eyes drifted downward, catching sight of something near his feet. Lying on the ground was a severed hand, eerily pale against the dirt and debris. A simple ring adorned the index finger, its metallic surface glinting faintly. The sight sent a cold chill down his spine, rooting him to the spot.

"Konohamaru!"

The voice pierced through the haze. Konohamaru turned toward the sound, his eyes meeting Moegi's frantic gaze. She was sprinting toward him, her face flushed and streaked with dirt and tears. She skidded to a stop in front of him, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath.

"Moegi?" he uttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. There was a numbness in his tone.

"Konohamaru, I can't find Udon!" she cried, her eyes wide with panic. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers digging in as if he might slip away. "Please, tell me you know where he is!"