Extinguish the flames?
Shihouin Naraku studied Dodai with genuine curiosity, noting the bitter expression that had settled on the Cloud diplomat's face.
Since the birth of what people had begun calling the "Flame Mountain," this miraculous—or cursed—landmark had captured the attention of the entire ninja world. Even before the war's official end, tourists had begun flocking to witness the perpetual inferno.
After Shihouin Naraku's name spread across the continent as the creator of this phenomenon, the stream of visitors became a flood. Within days, the Flame Mountain had transformed into the ninja world's most popular destination, with people traveling from every nation to witness the impossible flames that never died.
The Hidden Cloud Village and the Land of Lightning, however, found little joy in this newfound tourism boom. Despite the substantial revenue from visitors, they desperately wanted the mountain's fires extinguished. The reason was simple and terrifying—they had discovered that the Flame Mountain erupted periodically, each time with devastating force.
The Land of Lightning had already been forced to relocate every village and town within fifty kilometers of the mountain. The logistics alone had strained their resources, but they had no choice.
Most concerning was the uncertainty. No one could predict whether the current eruption intensity represented the mountain's limit, or if future eruptions might prove even more catastrophic. If the volcanic activity increased, the losses to the Land of Lightning could exceed even their defeat in the war.
The abandoned lands, the displaced populations, the constant threat—by their worst-case projections, maintaining the Flame Mountain might cost more than the reparations they'd paid for losing the war.
The flames had to be extinguished.
The problem was that neither the Land of Lightning nor the Hidden Cloud possessed any means to accomplish this feat.
In their desperation, Cloud leadership had even considered using a Tailed Beast Bomb to obliterate the entire mountain. Better to have a crater than an eternal volcano. Unfortunately, this option was also denied them—the Two-Tails' jinchūriki had died in battle, while Killer Bee remained comatose from his injuries.
This impossible situation had driven Dodai to swallow his pride and approach Shihouin Naraku. Even if it meant additional concessions, Cloud Village would pay to have this threat removed.
Everything for the Land of Lightning's future.
"I see..."
Shihouin Naraku's understanding dawned as he casually rubbed his thumb and index finger together. A tiny flame sparked to life between them, quickly taking the shape of a thumb-sized phoenix. The miniature firebird spread its wings and took flight, its cry surprisingly clear despite its diminutive size.
The tiny phoenix circled Naraku once before alighting on his shoulder, where it began preening its flame-formed wings with delicate precision.
Everyone present found themselves mesmerized by this casual display of impossible fire manipulation.
"I'm afraid I can't help you with your volcano problem," Naraku said with finality.
Of course he could extinguish the Flame Mountain—but he had no intention of doing so.
Dodai's mouth opened as if to plead further, but something in Naraku's expression made him reconsider. Whether the young man truly lacked the ability or simply refused to help had become irrelevant. The rejection was absolute.
"Let's go."
Naraku turned and led his forces away, the tiny phoenix chirping melodiously from its perch on his shoulder.
The war had finally ended.
The Konoha forces began breaking camp with practiced efficiency, while Cloud shinobi formed an escort to see them to the border. Both sides maintained a careful distance—close enough to observe, far enough to avoid incidents.
The Cloud escort halted precisely at the Land of Lightning's border, watching in stony silence as the last Konoha shinobi crossed into the Land of Hot Water.
The Leaf forces maintained their quick pace through the smaller nation, only relaxing once they crossed back into the Land of Fire. On home soil at last, the urgency left their movements, and they proceeded toward Konoha at a more comfortable pace.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Grass...
Third Tsuchikage Ōnoki flew through the sky at reckless speed, pushing his flight technique to its absolute limits. Upon receiving intelligence about the attack on his forces, he had departed immediately, not even pausing to gather his usual guard detail.
"Haah—Haah—"
The elderly Kage cut through the air like a missile, burning through his chakra reserves without regard for the consequences. Only one thing mattered—reaching the battlefield.
"That's—"
Even from kilometers away, Ōnoki could see the massive semicircular crater scarring the landscape.
A Tailed Beast Bomb?
A meteorite impact?
What could have caused such devastation?
"Whoosh!"
Ōnoki's form materialized on the ground beside a makeshift medical camp. His heart sank as he took in the scene—Rock shinobi moving with the mechanical motions of the traumatized, tending to countless wounded.
"Lord Tsuchikage!"
"Report! Tell me everything!"
Ōnoki's arrival sparked the first hope these shinobi had felt since the attack. Their shattered morale began to reassemble itself in the presence of their leader.
The ranking captain delivered his report with military precision, each word another dagger in the old man's heart. The complete annihilation of the front-line forces. The confirmed death of his son, Loess.
The news struck Ōnoki like a physical blow, leaving the weathered leader momentarily stunned. To lose one's child in old age—no parent should endure such pain.
His composure cracked further when he found Kurotsuchi among the wounded. His beloved granddaughter lay on a crude stretcher, her face gray with shock, her right leg ending in bandages just below the knee. She stared at nothing, responding to nothing, lost in a trauma too deep for tears.
Yet despite his personal anguish, Ōnoki remained the Tsuchikage. Though small in stature, his will was as unyielding as the stone he commanded. These consecutive disasters could not break what decades of war had failed to destroy.
After one final, lingering look at Kurotsuchi's broken form, Ōnoki forced himself to turn away and address the larger crisis.
"Where are Konoha's forces now?"
"They've withdrawn to the Black Rock Forest, Lord Tsuchikage!"
The information crystallized Ōnoki's understanding of the situation. If Jiraiya had wanted to press his advantage, nothing would have stopped Konoha from marching straight to Iwagakure itself. The fact that they'd withdrawn meant the Toad Sage was offering terms.
Considering the intelligence from the Land of Lightning and Jiraiya's known character, Ōnoki allowed himself a bitter smile. He should be grateful that Shihouin Naraku hadn't commanded these forces. That young monster would have shown no such restraint.
"Send messengers to Konoha immediately," Ōnoki commanded. "Inform them that Iwagakure accepts a ceasefire and is prepared to begin peace negotiations."
"Yes, Lord Tsuchikage!"
It was the only rational decision. Even if Ōnoki himself joined the battle, he couldn't reverse Iwagakure's catastrophic losses. Better to salvage what remained through diplomacy than lose everything through stubborn pride.
Jiraiya received Ōnoki's peace overture within hours.
Rather than wait for formal negotiators from Konoha, Jiraiya and Ōnoki met directly to hammer out terms. Both leaders wanted this war ended quickly, which lent unusual speed to their discussions.
As Tsuchikage, Ōnoki possessed full authority to negotiate on Iwagakure's behalf. Jiraiya's reputation and status granted him similar freedom. Within a single day of intense negotiations, they had reached a comprehensive ceasefire agreement.
Since Jiraiya hadn't pressed into Earth Country territory, Konoha's position for demanding concessions was limited. However, the massive number of Rock prisoners captured during the battles provided significant leverage. Iwagakure paid dearly to ransom their captured shinobi—resources that would take years to recover.
Though many details remained to be finalized, the war between the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth had officially ended.
News of the peace spread across the ninja world with lightning speed.
Many had predicted Konoha's decline following the Third Hokage's death. Instead, the Leaf had emerged victorious from simultaneous conflicts, proving not just their continued strength but their dominance.
From the moment of the Konoha Crush, the Hidden Leaf had stood alone against three of the five great villages—Sunagakure, Kumogakure, and Iwagakure. Though they had suffered losses, they had achieved decisive victory against each opponent.
One village had challenged the ninja world and emerged triumphant.
Konoha's supremacy stood unrivaled!
The other villages could only watch and wonder—if this was Konoha wounded and without their Hokage, what would they be capable of at full strength? The question haunted military planners across the continent.
In the Hidden Leaf itself, preparations began for the returning heroes. The village that had sent its shinobi to three different fronts would soon welcome them home as victors. Though scars remained from the Konoha Crush, though they still lacked a Hokage, though many families would have empty seats at their tables—they had won.
And much of that victory belonged to one man whose name now inspired equal measures of awe and terror throughout the ninja world.
Shihouin Naraku—the shinobi who had single-handedly tilted the balance of power among the great nations.
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