"I have a message for that brat Ohnoki," Ikki said, looking down at Kitsuchi.
Despite having the lower half of his body pulverized, the man's vitality was remarkably stubborn. He wheezed, clenching his teeth against the agony that threatened to pull him into unconsciousness.
"Lord... Ikki... please," Kitsuchi managed to rasp out. "If I survive to see my father again... I will deliver your words exactly as you say them."
Ikki crouched down slowly. His tone was conversational, almost flat, but it carried the weight of an absolute, unquestionable command. He wasn't asking for Ohnoki's cooperation; he was dictating terms to a subordinate.
"As far as you're concerned, this war is over. I don't want to hear another word about Iwa shinobi setting foot in the Land of Fire. If there is a next time, I won't bother waiting for you in some valley. I'll walk straight into the Tsuchikage's office and settle the matter with Ohnoki in person."
Ikki leaned in, his shadow engulfing the broken man. "Do you understand me, son of the Tsuchikage?"
Kitsuchi looked into Ikki's eyes and felt a primal, suffocating fear. He wanted to be angry; he wanted to scream at the man who had just slaughtered his army. But facing that gaze was like staring into the crushing depths of a dark ocean. The fire in his heart was snuffed out instantly.
As long as Ikki drew breath, as long as the 'Iron Fist' remained untouched by time, Iwagakure was nothing more than an ant beneath his boot.
"I... I understand," Kitsuchi whispered.
Satisfied, Ikki stood up and glanced over his shoulder. "Little Tsuna, patch him up. Don't let him die in this hole."
"Of course, Uncle Ikki," Tsunade replied.
In front of her teammates, the usually fearsome and temperamental Sannin was acting like a well-behaved student. Though she harbored a deep resentment for the man who had nearly killed her friends, she didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, her hands glowing with the soft green light of medical ninjutsu.
Kitsuchi's lower body was a lost cause—crushed into a red slurry by the impact of Ikki's mountain-toss—and even the world's greatest healer couldn't knit shattered bone back into existence. But she stabilized him, sealing the ruptured vessels and ensuring infection wouldn't claim what was left of him. Once the immediate danger of death passed, she let the glow fade.
"It's done, Uncle Ikki," she said, standing back up.
"Then let's move," Ikki said, patting her ponytails with a fatherly grin before turning his gaze toward the horizon—specifically, toward the Land of Lightning.
Tsunade blinked in surprise. "Aren't you coming back to Konoha with us?"
Ikki paused, his back to the Sannin. "Later, maybe."
"Is it because of the war?" she pressed.
"Partly. To be honest, I have no interest in you kids' little games of 'make-believe war.' But that brat Hiruzen... he's a bit too clever for his own good." Ikki held up two fingers, a tiny gap between them. "If I go back now, he'll just try to point me at another battlefield, and I'll end up doing this all over again anyway. I'd rather deal with the problem at the source."
"Senior... are you heading for the Land of Thunder?" Orochimaru asked suddenly. He had been quiet until now, his serpentine eyes tracking Ikki's every move with a dark, hungry curiosity.
"Too many questions, kid," Ikki waved a dismissive hand, not even turning around. "Get your wounded friend back to the village."
With a single step, Ikki's massive frame blurred and vanished from their sight.
"Orochimaru, take Jiraiya back to Konoha," Tsunade said immediately, her eyes bright with excitement. "I'm going after him!"
Orochimaru's brow furrowed. "And why should I be the one to do it? You're the medic."
He looked at the unconscious Jiraiya with blatant annoyance. He didn't want to play nursemaid; he wanted to follow the legend. He wanted to see what happened when a force of nature like Ikki collided with the Hidden Cloud.
"Did you not hear him?" Tsunade said with a smirk. "Uncle Ikki told you to take him back. Are you really going to ignore an order from a man who just bench-pressed a mountain? You want to follow us and risk getting slapped into the next province?"
She gestured meaningfully at the massive, kilometer-wide basin surrounding them—the graveyard of a hundred Iwa shinobi.
Orochimaru's jaw tightened. A cold sweat broke out on his pale forehead. He was many things, but he wasn't a fool. He knew that while Ikki looked at Tsunade with affection, he looked at him and Jiraiya as nothing more than annoying gnats. If he pushed his luck, he might not survive the encounter.
"Fine," Orochimaru hissed, his voice dripping with frustration. "Go. But don't expect me to cover for you when the Council asks where you went."
He hauled the dead weight of Jiraiya onto his back and vanished into the trees toward the border.
Tsunade didn't wait. She laughed and sprinted into the dust, following the trail of the giant who walked like a god.
In the center of the silent, ruined valley, Kitsuchi lay alone. He stared up at the sky, his breath hitching in his chest. The grief and the powerlessness finally broke through his shock, and he let out a long, ragged howl of despair.
"Why..." he choked out. "Why is a monster like that still alive? This era... this era shouldn't belong to him!"
He knew then that there would be no vengeance. Not today, not in ten years, not in fifty. He was alive, but the legendary 'Will of Stone'—the pride of Iwagakure—had been ground into the dirt along with his men.