High in the sky, Mū's clone drifted back slowly, carrying two hundred tons of timber, the piles of money, and stacks of ninja tools.
From a distance, he looked like some airborne merchant king hauling half a nation's wealth.
Landing softly, the clone dispelled itself, and the treasures were sealed neatly into scrolls.
Ōnoki, still buzzing with awe, turned to his teacher.
"Sensei… is that really it? Just like that, it's over?"
"Sensei, we had such a good chance. Why… why did you let Madara go?"
Mū's eyes snapped wide, staring at Ōnoki with a look that said are you insane?
Why did I let Madara go?
Kid, do you really think I could have killed Madara?
Your teacher nearly threw his life away just to stand tall for a moment of dignity. And you want me to gamble everything in some reckless death match?
But Mū quickly caught himself. Ōnoki was still young, still too naïve to understand the world.
After all, if you're beaten, humiliated, and then compensated with mountains of wealth, while your enemy walks away unscathed, of course it feels hollow.
Of course it feels like dignity was lost.
But this was the shinobi world, cruel and bloody.
When the weak kill the weak, punishment awaits.
When the strong kill the weak, it's little more than a toast of three cups.
Better to live, take the compensation, and grow stronger, than to die for pride and leave nothing behind.
Mū placed a hand on his student's head.
"Ōnoki, I know you're unsatisfied. But you must judge the time and the situation."
Ōnoki clenched his fist around a small stone, frustration leaking through.
"But Sensei… didn't you always tell me, never bow to power, never give in to the strong?"
Mū didn't scold him. Instead, he chose patience.
"Enduring isn't surrender. Endurance itself is a belief. A conviction."
"As long as we live, the day will come when barren trees bloom again, when the dignity we lost will be reclaimed."
Ōnoki's stubborn eyes wavered, still not convinced.
Mū chuckled softly. He picked up a stone, then pointed at a willow tree nearby.
"Ōnoki, tell me, which is greater? This willow tree, or this stone?"
Ōnoki hesitated, then spoke firmly.
"The willow, of course. It's tall, beautiful, graceful. Anyone passing by would notice the tree first, not the stone."
Mū nodded, then held up the stone.
"And yet… this willow will live forty years at most. This stone can endure ten thousand, even a million."
Ōnoki's eyes flickered with realization.
Mū's voice carried on like flowing water.
"Rivers don't rush to be first. They endure, flowing on forever. Outlasting your rivals... this too is a form of victory."
Ōnoki's gaze brightened.
Slowly, he began to understand. The Will of Stone was not merely about stubbornness. It was about patience, about knowing when to stand tall and when to endure. To bend today, so that tomorrow you could rise unbroken.
"Sensei, lately… every word you speak feels like a proverb."Ōnoki bowed his head, full of reverence for his teacher's boundless wisdom.
Mū only smiled beneath his bandages.
"Heh…"
Mū only chuckled, giving no direct reply.
Together, he and Ōnoki moved swiftly, passing from the Land of Fire into the Land of Grass, then finally crossing into the Land of Earth.
He know the story ahead of time. That means he'll never follow the original path. After all, the shinobi world doesn't belong to Konoha alone.
His thoughts were calm, steady.
First of all, he would never throw his life away like in the orginal story. He intended to live, and to grow stronger. To survive long enough to steer the fate of the entire world himself.
But to live, he needed a body that could endure.
That was why he'd asked Hashirama for wood. Not for construction, but for research.
Compared to the Otsutsuki cells, Hashirama's cells were far easier to acquire. With enough samples, perhaps he could study and recreate them, gaining new strength for himself. Still, before anything else, his priority was to strengthen the village.
The First and Second Great Ninja Wars loomed ahead, conflicts that would reshape history. Yet in the "memory" he carried, the spark that ignited the First War was never revealed. Not the cause, not even the nations involved, only a few details.
Tobirama and the Second Raikage's deaths, and his own "mutual destruction" with Gengetsu.
Mū's brow furrowed.
"Such an important war, and yet the memory leaves out the cause entirely…"
The thought unsettled him.
But he steadied himself.
No matter. For now, he must focus on building up Iwagakure.
His strength has reached its ceiling, unless he find another extraordinary chance.
He knew the truth: without the blood of the Sage's line, his potential was capped.
Dust Release itself had been a miracle, a fluke of fate that carried him higher than most Kage could ever dream. But beyond that, there was no more growth left, unless destiny offered him something rare.
By the time the two returned, dawn was breaking.
Ōnoki, so used to Konoha's bustling prosperity, glanced around at the barren stone village that was their home.
A pang of inferiority flickered in his chest.
Mū laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't fret. Today it looks like nothing but rock and dust. But in time, this village will rise. It will become one of the greatest in the shinobi world."
Ōnoki straightened, reassured, nodding with determination.
Since it was late, they didn't disturb the sleeping Tsuchikage.
Instead, they entered the village quietly.
---
The next morning, Mū was already at his desk in the Iwagakure administration hall, handling duties like always. Though Ishikawa still bore the title of Tsuchikage, more and more affairs were falling onto Mū's shoulders. He was the de facto "acting Tsuchikage."
Sorting through the morning's letters, he found several sealed envelopes from the Land of Water.
Opening them, his face twitched.
"Oi, Mū! How was that last fight? Pretty damn exhilarating, wasn't it? Don't you miss my Water Cannon jutsu? Want another taste?"
"When are we gonna clash again? It's been too long! Why won't you answer me?!"
"Mū, don't tell me you died, huh?"
"Hey, hey, hey! Stop ignoring me! You better not have croaked on me already! Didn't we swear to go down together, as equals, as rivals?!"
One after another, every letter came from the same sender, Hōzuki Gengetsu, the Mizukage of the Mist.
While Mū had been away in Konoha, he hadn't replied. Now, dozens of these ridiculous letters had piled up.
"Damn that mustached fool…" Mū muttered darkly.
Just remembering their last fight made his blood pressure rise.
They fought to kill each other, but always with the unspoken promise that if one fell, the other would fall too. To die together, both wearing the title of Kage. That was their bond.
But Mū had no intention of dying now. Not when he knew how much more the future had in store.
He would live. He would live brilliantly. He would live long enough to witness it all, even Boruto's era.
Taking up a brush, he wrote his reply.
"Still alive."
Folding the paper, sealing it with wax, he smirked beneath his bandages.
That would be enough.