Chapter 165: Shadows of Triumph
Ōnoki's frown deepened, the lines across his weathered face cutting like fissures through stone.
> "What do you mean?"
His son, Kitsuchi, leaned forward, his voice steady but thoughtful.
> "I think… it's possible the Fifth Hokage realized he couldn't defeat the Fourth Raikage head-on. But as the new Hokage, bowing down so soon would destroy his authority. So—he may have led his forces around the Raikage's position, striking deep into Kumogakure itself, to force him to retreat."
Ōnoki's eyes narrowed, the old strategist within him turning that explanation over.
> "Hmm… what you said makes some sense,"
he admitted,
"but you haven't thought deeply enough."
He straightened slightly, preparing to lecture his son further—when the council doors burst open.
A masked Iwagakure Anbu rushed in, dropping to one knee beside the Tsuchikage.
He whispered something quickly into Ōnoki's ear.
The old man's face froze.
His brows knit together, expression turning grave.
The Anbu bowed and withdrew.
Every elder in the room could feel the shift in the air—something serious had happened.
Ōnoki sat in silence for several heartbeats before speaking.
> "We've just received new intelligence,"
he began, his voice deep and cold.
"Fresh traces of battle were discovered near one of Konoha's border outposts in the Land of Fire—no more than a week old. There are signs of extremely intense Lightning Release techniques at the scene, suggesting a clash involving the Fourth Raikage himself."
The chamber grew still.
Ōnoki paused, then continued heavily,
> "And according to the blood samples left behind… the defeated party appears to be the Fourth Raikage. Based on the volume of blood loss, he is either dead or severely wounded."
The elders erupted into gasps and murmurs.
It didn't take a genius to guess who the Raikage's opponent was—there was only one likely group in that region: Konoha shinobi.
But how?
The Fourth Raikage, famed for his speed and raw power, was in his prime. Even Ōnoki himself had once admitted publicly that if they fought, it would be a close battle—six parts in the Raikage's favor, four in his own.
Yet the Raikage had been defeated.
The idea was almost unthinkable.
Had Konoha birthed another monster?
Each time the Leaf Village had faced destruction, a prodigy had risen from its ashes.
During the Second Great Ninja War, there was Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha, who carved his legend in blood.
During the Third Great Ninja War, Minato Namikaze, the Yellow Flash, had appeared—his speed so terrifying that nations whispered his name like a curse.
Was it happening again?
Surely it couldn't be Uchiha Fugaku, the newly appointed Fifth Hokage.
They all knew his record—his fearsome eyes, the Sharingan of the Fierce Gaze, and his mastery of Fire Release during the Mist front of the Third War. Impressive, yes… but not on the level of legends.
> "There's no way,"
one elder muttered,
"Konoha can't have produced another monster already… can it?"
> "Even if they did," another added, "could anyone truly defeat the Fourth Raikage? That's impossible!"
The murmuring grew.
Then someone said, more solemnly,
> "If the Fourth Raikage really was taken down by Konoha, then their Fifth Hokage might already be attacking Kumogakure itself."
A sharp hiss of realization swept through the chamber.
> "It's possible,"
another elder said,
"If they took down the Raikage, then storming Hidden Cloud isn't unthinkable. That village may be well-fortified, but with enough force—and the will to sacrifice men—it could fall."
For Iwagakure, long-standing rivals of the Cloud, this should have been joyous news.
Yet Ōnoki's face only darkened further.
Logic told him he should celebrate.
Emotion told him something else.
If Konoha truly had the power to annihilate Kumogakure, then that same power could one day turn toward Iwagakure.
It was not joy he felt now, but unease—a creeping sense that the balance of the shinobi world had begun to tilt.
The Raikage had been his equal in strength.
If Konoha possessed someone—or something—capable of killing that man, then even Ōnoki's mastery of flight would no longer guarantee safety.
His jaw clenched. His cheek twitched.
And an image flickered across his mind: a white-haired man, eyes cold as frost, standing above the battlefield.
Senju Tobirama.
Ōnoki cursed aloud, slamming a fist against the table.
> "Damn that Senju Tobirama! Why did he have to create so many cursed Forbidden Techniques!"
His words dripped with both resentment and awe.
Iwagakure had spent decades perfecting a single advanced kekkei tōta—Dust Release.
Meanwhile, Konoha had an entire library of forbidden arts, legacies of that accursed genius of the Senju Clan. Techniques that warped life and death themselves.
Ōnoki couldn't help but feel envy twist inside him.
If only Tobirama had been born in Iwagakure… perhaps the world would already have been unified under his stone banners.
That had always been one of Ōnoki's dreams—to end the chaos of rival nations, to bring stability through a single, unshakable rule.
He wasn't sure if he would live to see it, but he believed one day, Iwagakure would rise high enough to achieve it.
He looked around the table at the shinobi he had raised over the decades—Kitsuchi, Mahiru, Kakō, Roshi, Han, and countless others—warriors of immense strength.
Together, they had kept Iwagakure alive through every storm.
Still, Konoha's growing shadow could not be ignored.
Ōnoki tapped a finger against his chin, his voice heavy.
> "Enough speculation. The facts are clear—there's a ninety percent chance that Kumogakure has fallen.
That means the Land of Fire will soon expand its borders."
His sharp gaze swept across the council.
> "The question before us is this:
Do we strike first—seize the Land of Lightning's territory before Konoha annexes it?
Or do we take the opposite path—extend goodwill to Konoha, and seek an alliance while they are still consolidating power?"
The room exploded into argument.
Some slammed their fists on the table, shouting that Iwagakure should not let Konoha grow unchecked. Others insisted that peace and diplomacy would buy them time to prepare.
Amid the chaos, Ōnoki leaned back, resting his chin on his hand.
His eyes were half-lidded, thoughtful.
He was used to this noise.
Used to the endless debate of men who had forgotten what true power cost.
Beside him, Kitsuchi sighed quietly. He had never liked these meetings.
He could only watch as his father, the great Tsuchikage, sat in silence—calculating not the next move, but the price of survival.
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To be continued…
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