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Shuuzawa activated his sensory abilities as he spoke in a low voice, quickly scanning the area around them.
"Change requires proof. Anyone who tries to prove that change has occurred must convince others that they have the power to do so. Otherwise, it ends up like I said before. But the moment power is revealed, the consequences become far worse."
"This kind of jutsu is terrifying. Everyone will begin to fear whether they might be affected by it. In the story I told you, the second type of people, those who initially chose to believe, would begin to distance themselves."
"The seed of mistrust would already be planted. And the first type would become obsessed with obtaining that power to prove their prophecy right. In the end, nothing would change."
"H-How can that be?" Shisui's face darkened. He hadn't expected the situation to be this severe.
He had considered using Kotoamatsukami to influence things, but now he realized that doing so might push the Uchiha closer to the edge.
Still, he was unwilling to give up. He asked hesitantly, "What if the person with that ability promised not to use it carelessly?"
Shuuzawa let out a soft sigh. He raised his head and calmly looked at Shisui, checking to see if any chakra was affecting his thinking.
"If such a jutsu exists, then people will instinctively fear and be wary of them no matter who wields it. Loyalty, kindness, even solemn vows—none of that will matter. No one wants their will to be altered. No one wants to become someone else's puppet.
I hope you can understand that."
Shisui pressed his lips together. This time, he understood. But along with that understanding came a deep sense of despair. If what Shuuzawa said was true, then wasn't all this headed toward inevitable destruction?
Was there no way to save it? Shisui clenched his fists. This wasn't the outcome he wanted, but he started feeling powerless.
"Is everything... already fated?" He gritted his teeth, unable to form a clear thought amidst the storm of emotion.
"Maybe not." At that moment, Shuuzawa shook his head gently. "Do you remember the idea I brought up in that small town in Sugi Village? The one about covering up the truth?"
"Huh?" Shisui lifted his head, puzzled. Of course, he remembered that idea—it was far too extreme.
"I spent a long time under Lord Danzō," Shuuzawa said with a wry smile. "Some of his ideas were extreme, but that doesn't mean they weren't effective."
He patted Shisui's shoulder with a half-joking expression. "If I were that child in the story, I'd probably do two things. First, find the right opportunity… and eliminate everyone from the first group."
Shisui's pupils widened in shock. "W-What kind of solution is that?!"
"I'd make sure not to leave any evidence behind. I'd remove those who spread those rumours and insulted and lured me into that trap."
Shuuzawa still spoke in a light tone, as if joking. "As shinobi, we know that when facing an enemy squad, they prioritise taking out their captain."
"It crushes their morale and breaks their coordination. Besides that, I'd focus on changing myself, getting rid of every flaw."
"I'd become my master instead of letting others lead me by the nose. I've said it before—adults need to think for themselves. If you can't even decide your path, you might as well be a puppet."
Shisui fell silent. He didn't know how to respond—Shuuzawa's thinking was undeniably extreme. But when he thought it over more carefully, he realized this path… might work. It's risky, but it could pull everything back from the brink.
Still hesitant, he asked, "But wouldn't that have terrible consequences? We all live in the same village. Even if the first group is hostile, actually killing them…"
"You really should've spent some time in Root," Shuuzawa cut him off with disdain. "Why are you still so naïve?"
He shook his head and sighed. "Remember Sunagakure? They were willing to sacrifice their own village's hero for the sake of political gain."
"Now that kid in the story is facing life or death. Either he lies down and gets executed by the first group, or he figures out how to save himself. Some change requires blood—that's been true since the beginning of time."
"Even when the First Hokage founded the Hidden Leaf, how many people do you think died to make that happen?"
He paused, watching the wind blow fallen leaves across the ground. With a soft sigh, he said, "I gave these same words to the Fourth Raikage before—I think you should hear them too."
"People who chase after perfection are the most likely to lose themselves. Their vision gets clouded, and their hearts fall into chaos."
"Listen—can't you hear it in the wind? Like the Fourth Raikage, it's the voice of those who longed for something they could never reach."
He patted Shisui's shoulder again, then turned and began walking away. "That's far enough. I've walked you to this point and said everything I needed to say.
I don't think we need to talk about this anymore."
Without waiting for a reply, Shuuzawa left, his figure quickly fading into the distance.
Shisui stood frozen in place. After a long silence, he finally lifted his gaze to the setting sun. His eyes lingered there as his thoughts slowly shifted.
.....
-Iwagakure, inside the Tsuchikage's office-
"Shimura Danzō… I understand now."
"Wood Release. Flying Thunder God Technique. And…"
Ōnoki stared at the scroll in his hands, his expression heavy with thought.
"Mangekyō Sharingan?"
Reading through the list of abilities, Ōnoki couldn't help the discomfort rising in his chest.
Each power stabbed at his nerves. Once upon a time, two figures had wielded powers that struck fear into the entire ninja world.
Now, they were legends. Their tales are considered exaggerated myths by the younger generation.
But Ōnoki had lived through that era. He was even seven years older than Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Hiruzen Sarutobi had seen many things, but Ōnoki had witnessed just as much. He understood all too well how terrifying those two truly were.
Because of past hostilities, he had even experienced it firsthand. He still held a certain level of respect for Hashirama Senju—after all, the current order of the shinobi world only existed because of him.
But respect didn't mean Hashirama was some kind of saint. His power was monstrous. Without it, he could never have enforced that new shinobi order.
Then there was the Mangekyō Sharingan… "Damn it!" Just thinking about those eyes made even a man in his seventies, like Ōnoki, break out in a cold sweat.
That night would never leave his memory. A lone figure standing tall in the distance, arms folded, surrounded by a massive blue chakra avatar.
Blood-red, ominous eyes glowing in the dark, and that voice—arrogant and commanding them to kneel. It had haunted him for decades.
Sometimes, those nightmares were so vivid they'd jolt him awake.
As for the Flying Thunder God Technique might not be as infamous in his eyes compared to Wood Release or the Mangekyō Sharingan, but for Iwagakure, it was nothing short of a nightmare.
During the Third Great Ninja War, Minato Namikaze used that jutsu to cut down fifty enemy shinobi instantly. Their strength varied, sure—but that only made it more terrifying.
Because to Minato, it didn't matter how strong or weak they were. Once he struck, they were nothing but corpses left in the wake of his lightning-fast assault.
Now, with all three terrifying powers reappearing without warning, how could Ōnoki not be on edge?
"What the hell is going on in Konoha? Why are these powers showing up again?"
Ōnoki was fuming. But it wasn't just frustration with Konoha's resurgence but also a bitter reflection on Iwagakure's decline.
Damn it, the Fourth Hokage was dead, yet Konoha still managed to produce more prodigies?
Meanwhile, he was over seventy and still hadn't found a suitable successor. Why was fate always so kind to Konoha?
"Father, Lord Tsuchikage!"
As he was stewing in frustration, his son Kitsuchi suddenly burst into the room. But the moment he stepped in, he stiffened—realizing his mistake.
The old man hated being addressed informally during official business. It was disrespectful.
"Hmph."
The Third Tsuchikage was already in a foul mood. Seeing his useless son barge in only made it worse. He snorted coldly. "If you've got something to say, spit it out. If not, get out!"
"Uh…"
Kitsuchi winced. What was with the old man today? But he didn't dare argue. "We've confirmed it—the Sugi Village was mostly destroyed."
"Kumogakure might offer compensation. Also, the ANBU found witnesses at the scene."
"They confirmed a wooden dragon, a massive slug, and a green chakra giant appeared."
"The one they were fighting was a heavily built man wearing a lightning cloak—likely the Fourth Raikage. This intel came directly from Kumo. That's the situation."
"Hmm."
Ōnoki nodded slightly. Some things were becoming clear. "Looks like those bastards in Kumogakure want to pit us against Konoha."
"Pit us… like dogs?" Kitsuchi blinked, then muttered, "Tsuchikage-sama, that comparison sounds a bit…"
"Shut it. You think I don't know that?"
Ōnoki snapped, his irritation bubbling over again. If not for the setting, he'd have smacked his idiot son then and there.
Kitsuchi had strength and courage, sure—but no political sense. And he couldn't even learn Dust Release. Without it, he'd have no advantage in major conflicts.
In addition, his incompetence in administration and handing Iwagakure over to him would be suicide. "Why are you such a disappointment…"
Ōnoki sighed. He'd long since given up on Kitsuchi inheriting his legacy.
Thankfully, the village still had promising talents—his granddaughter Kurotsuchi was much smarter. And then there was that brilliant but troublesome brat… Deidara.
"Forget it. Getting mad at an idiot like you is pointless." Ōnoki waved a hand, and Kitsuchi stood silently, not daring to breathe too loud.
"Kumogakure's plan is obvious. Konoha may be helping spread the word of the Raikage's nobility, but both sides are giving each other a graceful out."
"Kumo won't start a direct conflict, but they've seen the potential in Konoha's new generation. They're not going to let that go. That's why they've come to us."
"Is that so…"
Kitsuchi scratched his head. He wasn't fond of all this political scheming, but he still asked, "Then, Tsuchikage-sama, what should we do? Ignore them?"
"Ignoring it would be foolish. We still need more intel."
Ōnoki shot his son a glare but explained patiently. "But if we respond too directly, we'll play right into Kumo's hands. So we'll take a more balanced approach."
"Balanced?" Kitsuchi seemed to catch on. "You mean… send someone to probe?"
"Exactly."
Ōnoki nodded, picking up a scroll and tossing it at him. "The Land of Grass has been running secret experiments for years."
"As long as their people don't die, they always make it back alive. Whether it's medical ninjutsu, forbidden arts, or strange, twisted jutsu, anyone would be curious about that kind of thing."
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