Iwagakure.
Onoki slammed the report onto the table, his brow furrowed so tightly it looked carved into stone.
"Tell me," he growled, glaring at the council of jōnin around him, "what are we supposed to do about this?"
Konoha had birthed another monster.
The White Fang of Konoha—Sakumo Hatake.
The man's sword could cleave through mountains. It carried faint echoes of Hashirama's overwhelming might. But unlike the First Hokage, Sakumo had also collapsed with grievous wounds afterward—clear proof he wasn't some new god of shinobi. A true god didn't fell a mountain and then fall over.
Still, another terrifying name had entered Konoha's roster.
Onoki rubbed his aching head, looking around at the pitiful collection of so-called "elites" seated at the conference table. Three melons and two dates, he thought bitterly. Not a single genius to rival even half of White Fang's caliber.
"If we had someone like him," Onoki thought grimly, "I'd pour every ounce of this village's strength into raising them."
The room buzzed with nervous voices.
"White Fang's power could tip the balance.""If he shows up on our battlefield, we'll suffer massive losses.""We need a countermeasure against him, something—anything!"
They went on and on, offering no solutions. Onoki's temple throbbed. His palm slammed onto the table with a crack.
"Enough!"
The chatter died instantly.
"I asked for strategies, not whining about how terrifying White Fang is."
His head pounded. These were supposed to be Iwa's elite—his sharpest weapons. Instead, they had neither strength nor brains. Without him holding everything together, the whole village would've crumbled long ago.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then gave his order."If White Fang appears on the battlefield, retreat. Abandon the mission and fall back."
Yes, Sakumo's sword could cut mountains. But if Onoki went all out, he could do something similar. Destruction wasn't the same as lethality. No one had died when Sakumo split that range, so Onoki wasn't about to lose sleep. Not yet.
Of course, he hadn't stood in front of that blade himself. If he had, he might've thought differently.
Damn it. Other than him, no one in Iwa could match White Fang. At least the Kazekage had died first—so if Onoki stepped onto the battlefield again, it wouldn't seem excessive. But if he moved, Hiruzen Sarutobi would certainly appear. And though the Third Hokage wasn't quite his predecessor's equal, he was still on Onoki's level. Add Shimura Danzō to that equation… Onoki couldn't win. Not with White Fang waiting in the wings.
Iwagakure was boxed in. If not for Sunagakure splitting the pressure, Onoki would've avoided this war entirely.
"But our losses will pile up," one jōnin muttered.
Onoki's eye twitched. He turned his stony glare toward the speaker. His son, Kitsuchi.Fine. I'll deal with you at home later.
"Which of you can defeat White Fang? Hell, forget defeat—who can even stall him?"
Silence. Shifty glances. No one answered. Not unless they unleashed one of the unstable Jinchūriki. But those time bombs couldn't tell friend from foe once they snapped.
Onoki sneered. "Exactly. None of you. But don't worry—White Fang's biggest enemy isn't us."
He let the words hang, savoring their confusion.
"It's Sarutobi Hiruzen."
Gasps.
"As strong as White Fang is, he now overshadows even the Hokage. And Hiruzen…" Onoki chuckled darkly. "That monkey won't give up his hat easily. He'll smother Sakumo before letting him rise too high."
Still, a jōnin spoke up uneasily. "Even so… Konoha's power keeps growing. Their shinobi on the battlefield are improving at an insane rate. Orochimaru's crushing us in the Rain, Jiraiya's blocked our advance completely, and every month their forces only get sharper. If this continues—"
Onoki's scowl deepened. The man wasn't wrong. Konoha's momentum was terrifying.
"We can't face them alone. If we fight Konoha and other villages at once, we'll be crushed. The only path forward…" He exhaled slowly. "Unite. With Sunagakure. With Amegakure. And call on Kumogakure and Kirigakure for aid."
"Rain?" one of the jōnin blurted. "Lord Tsuchikage, that's… it's just a small village. They're not worth—"
"Silence!" Onoki's voice cracked like thunder.
"Stop your arrogance. Amegakure has strength. And worse—a man who makes even me wary."
He let the name fall like a hammer.
"Hanzo of the Salamander. The so-called Demigod of the Shinobi World."
Kumogakure.
"White Fang, huh?"
The Third Raikage, A, laughed thunderously as he scanned the report. "Finally, a worthy opponent."
"Lord Raikage," his sharp-eyed secretary asked, "shall we enter the war?"
A paused, then shook his head. "No. Not now. If we throw ourselves in prematurely, it'll do us more harm than good."
It was frustrating. Kumo had bled too much in the First War. Their best veterans were gone, their next generation only just taking shape. Only A himself stood tall, and Killer B was still unstable. One reckless move could cripple their future.
"Hold back," A rumbled, his gaze drifting out the window to the storm clouds swirling over the mountains. "Kumo needs time to rebuild. Our day will come."
Kirigakure.
In the Mizukage's office, the Third Mizukage calmly signed papers beneath the brim of his bamboo hat, robes draped heavily across his frame.
In the shadows behind him, a pair of scarlet Sharingan gleamed.
An ancient man stepped forward without fear, lifting a Konoha dossier straight from the Mizukage's desk as if he owned the place. The Mizukage didn't flinch, didn't acknowledge him at all, as though the figure were no more than a shadow.
The old man's voice was low, almost amused."White Fang…?"
If Onoki had been there, he would've recognized him instantly.
The Shura of the Shinobi World.The man who lurked in the darkness, unseen, untouched.
Uchiha Madara.