Envy, jealousy, resentment… it wasn't because of the Yellow Flash's youth, handsomeness, and brilliance—though those qualities alone were enough to draw hatred. No, Ōnoki was the Tsuchikage. His heart was not so shallow. What he truly envied, what he resented, was the endless stream of talent that seemed to emerge from Konohagakure!
Top-class shinobi sprouted up like stalks of chives—one crop after another.
Once there had been the White Fang, the Sannin…
Now, the Yellow Flash.
And when he looked back at his own Iwagakure… he could not say that talent had completely withered, but nowhere could he find a successor to rival the brilliance of the Sannin or the Yellow Flash. At sixty-two, Ōnoki often found himself lying awake in the dead of night, unable to sleep, his mind clouded with worry for the future.
He did not even dare to hope for a once-in-a-generation genius who could innovate and surpass. He wished only for a disciple who could inherit his mantle.
Yet even that modest wish… remained unfulfilled.
To this day, not a single shinobi had managed to inherit the Kekkei Tōta—Dust Release—that he had learned from his master, the Second Tsuchikage. In earlier years he had not fretted, believing time was still on his side. But now, past sixty, his body beginning to falter, he could not help but feel the creeping anxiety of Iwagakure's uncertain tomorrow.
"Tsuchikage-sama, to your left—!"
Suddenly,
Schist's urgent voice rang out from above, where he crouched on the ceiling.
Yet such a warning was hardly necessary.
Ōnoki was no greenhorn lacking battlefield experience, no fool who would let his guard down mid-fight. From beginning to end his vigilance never wavered. Though he was no sensory-nin, he had already caught the killing intent from his left, along with the faint traces—scent, sound—that no technique could truly erase.
The moment he sensed the anomaly, he was ready. He needed no warning.
Earth Release: Rock Fist Technique!
His left arm hardened instantly, encased in a thick layer of stone. Without even glancing, he swung a mighty fist into the seemingly empty space to his left. A sharp clang! rang out. Sparks flew. A kunai, half-revealed, was knocked spinning into the open.
"…Camouflage Concealment Technique?"
Ōnoki's pupils contracted sharply.
As Tsuchikage, he was all too familiar with this secret art. It was the very technique his master, the Second Tsuchikage, had developed. Ever since his master's death in battle, the scroll containing its secrets had remained in his keeping. Which meant… anyone who learned this jutsu had done so only with his permission.
At present, among the tens of thousands of shinobi in Iwagakure, only two were known to wield this art. One was the jōnin Dani, stationed at the Land of Grass front. The other was Keiseki, who served within the ANBU. Beyond those two… no third user of the Camouflage Concealment Technique should exist.
So then—
Was it Dani who stood before him? Or Keiseki?
Ōnoki could not decide. Either way, neither had any conceivable reason to raise a hand against their Tsuchikage. Yet the reality was undeniable: only they possessed this art. And Ōnoki had never heard of another technique in the shinobi world that could render one so completely unseen. The contradiction nagged at his thoughts.
But he did not allow it to break his focus.
As long as he captured the one cloaked in camouflage, the truth would reveal itself.
"Schist! Mark the attacker's position!" he barked.
He himself was no sensory-nin. When the camouflaged assailant kept his distance, Ōnoki had no way of tracking him. But he was not alone; he had come with subordinates. And Kanyan, as fortune would have it, was a sensor-type.
Shhhk, shhhk, shhhk!
Shuriken cut through the air, hurled by Schist toward the empty ground.
Earth Release: Earth Dragon Bullet!
Almost in unison, Ōnoki finished his hand seals. A dragon's massive head, wrought from mud, rose at his feet. Its maw yawned wide, and with a thunderous roar it spat a hailstorm of stones, like falling sleet, saturating the marked area.
"Damn! As expected of Tsuchikage-sama…"
A voice rang out from the emptiness.
A moment later, the Camouflage Concealment fell away—revealing Kyoichi of the Koeda Clan.
His body was sheathed in black, blending almost seamlessly with the night—were it not for the firelight flickering nearby, he might have been indistinguishable from shadow itself. Arms crossed before his chest, he stood firmly, the unyielding defense of the Earth Spear allowing him to withstand the storm of stone.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The crisp crack of impact echoed across the training field.
Kyoichi slid backward nearly two meters, his feet carving deep grooves into the earth. His sandals were ground to tatters. Without the Earth Spear's full-body hardening, his legs would already have been shredded to bloody pulp.
"…Earth Spear?"
Ōnoki raised a brow.
The Earth Spear Technique—one of the most advanced hardening jutsu of Earth Release. Unless countered by a lightning technique of sufficient level, almost no ordinary attack could hope to pierce its defense.
But Ōnoki's interest in the jutsu lasted only an instant. His focus sharpened on the man before him. First the Camouflage Concealment, now Earth Spear—both high-level techniques. Within Iwagakure, among the jōnin, this was a shinobi of the highest caliber.
"Koeda… Kyoichi?"
He said the name slowly.
Among the tens of thousands of Iwa shinobi, he could not know them all. But the jōnin and special jōnin—he knew every one of them, their names, faces, and basic records. As a jōnin of the Koeda Clan, Kyoichi was no exception.
"Tsuchikage-sama. We meet again," Kyoichi said, smiling lightly.
"…What are you doing here? If I recall, you should be serving at the Land of Grass frontlines right now… Has the Koeda Clan truly decided to betray the village?" Ōnoki's gaze hardened, his voice cold.
"Yes."
Kyoichi nodded without hesitation.
Word by word, he declared:
"Either way, loyalty means certain death. But betrayal… betrayal at least carries a sliver of hope. We may die, yes—but we might also find a chance to live. So why should we resign ourselves meekly to fate? Why let Tsuchikage-sama toss us like kindling into the flames? Better to rebel, to gamble everything. Who knows? We may yet carve out a brilliant future!"