"I have to admit, A," Ōnoki spoke, his voice carrying genuine surprise, "I never thought you'd possess the nerve to stroll into the heart of my country without an army at your back."
The Tsuchikage floated a few inches off the ground, a habit born of both comfort and caution, and regarded the mountain of muscle before him. The Third Raikage, A, stood with his arms crossed, his presence very intimidating.
A simply snorted. "Hmph. In this world, there isn't a man alive who can stop me."
His confidence wasn't mere bravado; it was a solid, immovable fact in his own mind. It was rooted not just in his infamous resilience, but in logistics.
Apart from Konoha's blasted spatial techniques, no other village could teleport an army. And for him, personally, they only had one man fit for the job of moving him at all.
Ōnoki could practically see the gears turning in the Raikage's head. He felt a petty urge to poke a hole in that impenetrable ego.
Don't get too cocky, he wanted to say. Remember that time a single Konoha Jōnin called Sakumo had you wrapped up tighter than a present?
The words were right on the tip of his tongue. But then, a different memory surfaced. A memory of him and the Kazekage, two Kage, flailing uselessly against a girl made of fire.
A memory of himself, the mighty Ōnoki, too terrified to even let his feet touch the ground. His mouth snapped shut.
Some rocks were better left unturned.
For his part, the Raikage, as dense and direct as a lightning bolt, saw no point in trading barbs. A waste of precious breath.
Instead, he let his gaze sweep over the landscape—the jagged peaks, the dust in the air, exactly as one would expect of the Land of Earth.
His eyes then settled on the delegation. For a hidden village supposedly on high alert, only Ōnoki was visible.
A knew better, of course.
He could feel the thousands of eyes on his back, the chakra signatures buried in the rocks like ticks, ready to swarm the moment the old man gave the word.
His gaze finally landed on a small, distinct group. Suna-nin. Their desert robes looked absurdly out of place in this rocky wasteland.
A's lip curled in a faint sneer.
"It seems the Kazekage's courage is as brittle as his village's walls," he rumbled, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt. "Sending his underlings while he hides behind his desk."
The disdain was for Satō, a man who, despite having Ōnoki as an ally, had managed to get himself carved up by one girl.
A single girl.
It was, in A's eyes, a stain on the very title of Kage.
Ōnoki, who had spent a good portion of that humiliating fight trying to keep the Kazekage's head attached to his shoulders, felt no urge to defend him.
In fact, he decided to add a little kindling to the fire. "Hmph. From what my little birds tell me, he's too busy playing shadow games with Hanzo of the Salamander to worry about courageous entrances. What they're scheming, your guess is as good as mine."
At this, both Kage's attention zeroed in on the Suna delegation with the focused weight of a collapsing mine shaft.
Ebizō, the Kazekage's representative and the group's leader, felt a cold trickle of sweat trace a path down his spine. He was a seasoned ninja, a strategist, a man used to pressure.
But being the sole focus of two Kage from rival villages, who were now openly radiating waves of casual malice wasn't even pressure. That was the kind of experience that gave impressionable young genin nightmares for the rest of their lives.
He maintained his composure, but internally, he was already composing a very strongly worded letter to the Kazekage about the hazards of this particular diplomatic assignment.
Calm down, Ebizō, and breathe. They can't touch you because the situation's too delicate, too much of a powder keg. You just gotta stand your ground and not blink first.
Probably. He mentally crossed his fingers. Hopefully.
He really, really hoped it wasn't the kind of bluff that got him turned into a fine red mist.
Summoning every ounce of political backbone he possessed, he straightened up.
"I'd appreciate it if the two Kage refrained from disparaging our leader," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.
The Suna ninjas flanking him weren't exactly known for their sense of humor or loyalty; they'd absolutely sell him out for a slightly better seat at lunch if he let insults to the Kazekage slide. "Suna has a few more... immediate concerns than Konoha's seating arrangements at the moment."
He didn't need to spell out Hanzō's name. The Salamander's recent 'negotiations' had been less about diplomacy and more about seeing how many enemy nin he could personally drown before breakfast. It was getting excessive.
Did the man think that, because there were Four Hidden Villages now, he had a chance to rise?
Apparently, this was not a concern that kept Onoki or A up at night, especially A.
"Suna envoy," the Raikage's voice boomed, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in Ebizō's bones. "Respect is earned. It is not a participation trophy handed out to a Kage who's too scared to leave his own office, let alone his village."
Ebizō opened his mouth, ready with a retort that was absolutely brilliant and would definitely not get him killed, but A wasn't finished.
"If it weren't for this 'current situation' we're all so fond of," A continued, each word a tiny hammer blow, "someone like you wouldn't have the guts to stand in front of me and breathe, let alone say such nonsense as respecting the Kazekage."
With A staring at him with eyes that said, I dare you to say something, Ebizō felt his brilliant retort shrivel up and die a sad, quiet death in the back of his throat.
His silence was apparently the correct answer. A just grunted, a sound of pure contempt, the pressure in the air dropping from 'crushing' to merely 'deeply unpleasant.'
For a long, excruciating moment, nobody spoke and it started feeling awkward.
Here was the Raikage, who clearly felt he'd already martyred his pride just by showing up. There was Onoki, the human vulture, circling for scraps and waiting to see how much he could squeeze out of everyone else's misery.
And then there was Ebizō, trying his absolute hardest to maintain a poker face while internally screaming, Why couldn't I have been born a farmer? Farmers are nice. Farmers have peace.
"You know," the Third Raikage finally rumbled, his voice cutting through the awkward atmosphere. It was almost conversational. Almost. "This is probably our last, best shot to ever put a dent in Konoha's ego. We let this slide, and it's not a question of 'if' they'll dominate the future—it's a question of how they'll do it."
It clearly pained him to admit it, but the Raikage was many things—loud, intimidating, prone to solving problems with his fists—but he wasn't an idiot. He could accept a crappy reality when it was staring him in the face.
Konoha, hell, the Uchiha, the Senju, and the Uzumaki collectively decided to yoink the Mizukage's hat and run Kiri themselves, and they did it.
And that's not even counting the actual Konoha forces.
And these three clans? They're basically Konoha's founding fathers, minus the Uzumaki who decided to build their own property instead. But even then, Uzushio was basically Konoha's cool cousin who lived by the sea and sent really angry letters if you messed with them.
So when you add in the Hyūga, the Ino-Shika-Chō trio, the Sarutobi, the Aburame, the Shimura, and literally everyone else who decided to call that one forest home? Yeah.
Looking at the full Konoha roster was like staring at an all-you-can-beat buffet of elite shinobi. It was honestly depressing to think about.
And standing there, in the middle of this realization, A suddenly felt a weird regret, the kind where you realize you just sent your elite Kumo-nin on a field trip to get folded like origami at Uzushio.
Yeah. That was a bad call.
But in a twisted way, if that hadn't happened, Konoha might've just kept playing nice, stacking power like they were hoarding ramen coupons in the shadows. Nobody needed A to spell it out.
The terrain was full of people who could read between the lines of a disaster.
Onoki sighed loud enough to sound very envious. Hiruzen, you lucky old bastard.
He turned to A, eyebrow raised like a bored cat. "So, Raikage. What's the brilliant suggestion?"
A didn't even blink. "Wrong question, Tsuchikage. It's not what I suggest. It's rather what we do and how we don't get dominated next. You've already got a sketchy plan cooked up, don't you?"
When it came to sneaky, under-the-table, "I-didn't-see-that-coming" tactics, A would happily hand Onoki the gold medal. And yeah, the old man had plans.
He always had plans.
Onoki's grand scheme was simple and, well, a little bit evil—so much so that anyone with a brain could guess it: letting Konoha and Kumo beat the crap out of each other.
Sure, Konoha was stacked like a clan reunion brawl, but Kumo, especially with A in charge, wasn't exactly a daycare.
The dream scenario was for Konoha to push Kumo to the edge, A does his dramatic 'I'll take you all with me' move, blows up half a battlefield, and dies like the legend he thinks he is.
Kumo's headless, Konoha's bruised and limping, and suddenly they're not so eager to pick a fight with both Iwa and Suna at the same time.
Because let's be real—if Kumo started crumbling, Suna would come running like a scavenger with a sand gourd, ready to grab a slice of the pie.
And with Iwa and Suna holding hands in mutual benefit, Konoha would just have to sit there, watching from the sidelines as their victory lap got hijacked.
It was beautiful, flawless, and practically poetry.
But.
There was one terrifying variable.
Konoha had an Azula Uchiha.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
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