"Wood Release, the Flying Thunder God Technique… and—"
Iwagakure.
Inside the Tsuchikage's office.
Ōnoki stared at the scroll in his hands, his expression sinking into deep contemplation.
"…the Mangekyō Sharingan?"
Just seeing these abilities listed together made his temples throb. Each one felt like a needle stabbing straight into his nerves.
The two figures who once terrified the entire shinobi world had long since become legends. To the current generation, their stories were nothing more than embellished myths.
But Ōnoki had lived through that era.
He was seven years older than Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Everything Hiruzen had seen—Ōnoki had seen too.
And worse, he had experienced it personally.
Toward Senju Hashirama, he still held a measure of respect. After all, it was Hashirama's existence that forged the current order of the shinobi world.
But respect didn't mean gentleness.
The First Hokage's power was monstrous beyond reason. Without such overwhelming strength, he could never have imposed a new world order.
And the Mangekyō Sharingan…
"Damn it!"
Even now, well into his seventies, that night still haunted Ōnoki.
A distant figure standing high above them, arms crossed—
A towering blue chakra giant surrounding him—
Crimson, demonic eyes burning with disdain—
And that arrogant voice forcing them all to bow their heads.
It had become a lifelong nightmare.
Even today, he still woke from dreams drenched in cold sweat.
As for the Flying Thunder God…
Compared to Wood Release and the Mangekyō, it might not sound as infamous—but to Iwagakure, it was a technique of pure terror.
During the Third Shinobi World War, Namikaze Minato had slaughtered fifty Iwa shinobi in an instant using Flying Thunder God.
Strong or weak—it didn't matter.
That was what made it horrifying.
To Minato, they were all the same.
Just corpses left behind after a flash of yellow light.
Now all three powers had resurfaced at once.
How could Ōnoki's nerves not be on edge?
"What the hell is going on in Konoha…? Why are monsters like this appearing again?"
His anger wasn't just fear—it was bitterness.
Konoha's Fourth Hokage had died, yet instead of declining, another generation of freaks had risen.
Meanwhile, he was over seventy and still couldn't retire.
No suitable successor.
No peace of mind.
Why was the world so generous to Konoha?
"Tsuchikage-sama!"
The office door burst open.
Ōnoki's good-for-nothing son, Kurotsuchi—no, Kitsuchi, stormed in.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he realized something was wrong.
A chill ran down his spine.
"…Ah."
He scratched his head awkwardly.
He'd forgotten again.
His father hated being addressed informally during work hours.
"Hmph."
Already in a foul mood, Ōnoki snorted coldly.
"Speak. If it's nothing important, get out."
"Uh… yes, sir."
Suppressing his nerves, Kitsuchi hurriedly reported:
"We've confirmed that the town in the Land of Cedars was mostly destroyed. Cloud Village will likely compensate them.
ANBU agents also located eyewitnesses. They confirmed the appearance of a Wood Dragon, a massive slug, and a green chakra giant.
The opponent was a heavily built man clad in lightning armor—almost certainly the Fourth Raikage.
This intelligence came directly from Cloud Village.
That's the situation."
"…I see."
Ōnoki nodded slowly.
"So that's how it is."
He sneered.
"Those Cloud bastards want us to clash with Konoha."
"…Clash?"
Kitsuchi blinked.
"Sir, that wording is usually used for dogs—"
"Shut up!"
Ōnoki nearly exploded.
If this weren't an official setting, he'd have smashed his son into the floor already.
Strong? Yes.
Reliable in battle? Sure.
But politics? Strategy? Zero.
And Dust Release?
Not a shred of talent.
Without Dust Release, Kitsuchi would never stand at the pinnacle of the shinobi world.
Handing Iwagakure to him would be suicide.
"…Why did I raise someone this hopeless?"
Ōnoki exhaled heavily.
Then waved dismissively.
"Arguing with an idiot is pointless."
He leaned back.
"Cloud Village's intentions are obvious. Publicly praising the Raikage's 'benevolence' is just posturing.
But they've seen Konoha's rising talent—and they don't want to let it grow.
So they dragged us into it."
"…So what do we do?"
Kitsuchi scratched his head.
"Ignore it?"
"Impossible."
Ōnoki glared at him.
"We need intelligence—but we can't fall for Cloud's trap.
So we take the middle path."
"…Test them?"
Ōnoki nodded.
He tossed a scroll over.
"Grass Village has been running secret experiments for years.
As long as the test subjects survive and return alive, they somehow recover completely.
Medical ninjutsu, forbidden techniques, heretical arts—who wouldn't be curious?"
Kitsuchi nodded slowly.
"But how do we ensure Konoha reacts?"
Ōnoki snorted.
"Simple.
Spread rumors.
Say Grass Village captured members of the Uzumaki or Senju clans for human experimentation.
Add one more detail—
Say I am interested."
He smiled thinly.
"I refuse to believe Konoha will stay silent once they hear those names."
"…Understood."
Kitsuchi nodded.
"And who handles the job?"
Ōnoki tapped the desk.
"Akatsuki.
They've already done plenty of dirty work for us."
"Then the mission goes to them."
"Dinner's ready!"
"Thanks for the hard work, Shizune, Yugao."
Konoha.
The Senju ancestral residence.
Ren stepped out immediately, exhaustion written on his face—but the moment food was mentioned, he was all smiles.
For a veteran like him, food and desire were life's immutable truths—encoded straight into DNA.
Reproduction and survival.
The will of life itself.
"…Not bad."
Tsunade emerged, eyeing the spread approvingly.
Then she frowned.
"Shizune. Yugao. Didn't I say I wanted alcohol?"
"It's ready, Lady Tsunade," Yugao replied helplessly.
Tsunade's face lit up.
"Good! See? Taking you as my disciple was the right choice!"
"…?"
Ren stared at her, speechless.
How thick-skinned can one person be?
He still vividly remembered her reaction back then.
"You just want to push your little girlfriend onto me, don't you?"
"I don't take disciples without talent and grit!"
Then—
"I converted my mission reward into cash. The Hokage approved five million ryō. Sensei, weren't you being chased for debts recently?"
"…The town was destroyed! My debt was cleared!"
"And the others? Towns don't rebuild themselves, you know."
"…"
"Five million ryō, Sensei."
"…Deal!"
Now she had the audacity to say it was her decision?
That was money, not fate.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Tsunade sat down cross-legged.
"Eat. Or do you want me to chew it for you?"
"…That's not impossible."
Ren muttered, then promptly sat beside Yugao.
She handed him chopsticks, her cheeks still flushed.
She hadn't expected Ren to truly make her Tsunade's disciple.
This was the Tsunade—one of the Legendary Sannin.
How many dreamed of this opportunity?
She looked at Ren with gratitude she couldn't put into words.
Tsunade clicked her tongue.
"Disgusting."
Then asked casually,
"So, what have you been working on lately? Your chakra feels… different."
"Some insights."
Ren nodded.
Since binding the Fourth Raikage, Hiruzen had been terrified of letting him leave the village.
So Ren had time.
Researching Senju records.
Refining Yang Release Chakra Mode.
He didn't want simple stacking.
He wanted integration—like Naruto or the Raikage.
A body wrapped in chakra.
"I was thinking… if I face someone like the Fourth Raikage again, pure Wood Release won't be enough.
So—why not combine Wood Release with Flying Thunder God?
Mark every corner of Tree World Descent."
Silence.
Tsunade froze.
Wood Release.
Flying Thunder God.
Her grandfather's techniques.
Combined.
She finally understood why this boy terrified the world.
"…Eat."
She downed her drink.
Then muttered darkly:
Why does this brat only inherit my grandfather's abilities…?
Rain fell endlessly over the Land of Rain.
Atop a tower, Pain opened his eyes.
"Is everyone present?"
The meeting began.
"Iwagakure has issued a new request."
"Another purge?" Kakuzu grinned.
"No."
Pain shook his head.
"Konoha has produced interesting talent.
Wood Release. Flying Thunder God. And possibly… Mangekyō."
Silence fell.
Black Zetsu stiffened.
"…Ren. And Uchiha Shisui."
"…You know them?" Kakuzu asked.
Black Zetsu nodded.
"They're dangerous."
Pain's voice hardened.
"Then mobilize everyone."
And somewhere far away—
the storm began to gather.
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