The council chamber fell into a heavy silence. One by one, the elders of Iwagakure weighed the Tsuchikage's proposal. At last, heads began to nod.
The last time they'd lured an enemy into the Land of Earth, they'd cut down the Third Raikage himself. Losses had been heavy, but the result had been a victory worth the cost. Kumogakure had mourned its leader for years afterward.
"And Sunagakure?" one elder said, breaking the silence.
"They're still limping from the Third Kazekage's disappearance. That civil strife gutted their strength. Their attempt to carve a share from Konoha only drained them further."
Another snorted. "After the beating they took this time, do they still have the strength to provoke Iwagakure?"
"If we want to be thorough," a third elder suggested, "we could send an envoy to Kirigakure. The Land of Mist has little direct conflict with us. With Sunagakure, however, they've clashed more than once — over Tea Country, for example. That gives us room to cooperate."
Nods circled the table.
"That means," another added, "we could pull troops from the Sand front as well. Combined with a levy from the village, we could muster… perhaps a thousand more."
"I know it's a gamble," Ōnoki said, voice calm but eyes sharp. He hovered just above the floor, his short frame casting a long shadow over the table. "If we win, Iwagakure's future will reach heights never before seen. If we lose, we'll be the first to withdraw from this war... and gain nothing."
He let the silence stretch. Then his gaze swept the room. "I've decided. I'll take the gamble. What about you?"
The elders hesitated only a moment longer before the replies came — first a mutter, then a chorus:
"Bet."
"Agreed."
"Let's fight."
Ōnoki's mouth curved in satisfaction. "Good."
He turned toward the large map hanging on the wall, floating closer until he could reach out. Stone formed at his fingertip, shaping into a slender pointer. He tapped a mark. "If we open a new front, we need a new supply route. Once we cross into the Land of Fire, our lines will be stretched thin. Our logistics will decide whether we win or lose. There can be no mistakes here."
The elders leaned forward to see. The name beside the mark read: Kannabi Bridge.
The geography made the choice obvious. In the Land of Grass, this crossing was unavoidable for any large-scale supply line. The elders murmured in agreement.
"Then we'll refine the plan from here," Ōnoki said, drifting back to his seat.
They began discussing details — and for anyone wondering why a single bridge could matter so much, the reasons were not hard to grasp.
The river under Kannabi Bridge wasn't wide, but its current was swift. Not all shinobi could walk on water; that technique required fine chakra control, a skill most genin lacked. Even for trained ninja, fast-moving water was far trickier than a calm pond.
Sasuke Uchiha, in another time, had needed days to master it under peaceful conditions — and that was with elite schooling, a prestigious clan name, and Kakashi's personal guidance.
Most genin were nothing like that. Across the great nations, the average low-ranked shinobi knew little more than the three basic techniques. They fought with taijutsu up close, threw kunai and shuriken from range, and hoarded explosive tags as rare trump cards.
In wartime, armies swelled with barely-trained recruits, lowering the average skill even further.
For Iwagakure, a land of mountains and rock, with scarce rivers, water-walking was a skill most soldiers never learned and never would.
If Kannabi Bridge fell, chunin and jonin might still cross the river, but the main force, the genin, would be stranded. And in war, without the bulk of your soldiers, even the strongest elites could do little to hold ground.
Could they simply rebuild the bridge with Earth Release? Not so easily. Even jonin found large-scale stonework across open water taxing. Without terrain to shape, the chakra cost and control required were immense. Small bridges were possible; a span like Kannabi was another matter entirely. In truth, Wood Release would suit such a task far better — but Iwagakure had no such bloodline.
Perhaps Ōnoki himself could do it. But as Tsuchikage, his place was not standing guard at a half-built bridge in enemy territory.
That was why, for Iwagakure, Kannabi was not just a crossing. It was a lifeline... and losing it was not an option.
Meanwhile, back in Konoha, Uchiha Gen received no new orders. With the front quiet, he remained in the clan compound, training.
As one of the clan's rising talents, Gen didn't lack for ninjutsu.
When the war began, the previous clan head had opened the entire collection to any member who had the strength to learn — an unprecedented move.
With the skill of a Special Jonin, Gen qualified for B-rank techniques. The Uchiha vault contained far more than just Fire Release; wind, earth, lightning, even water styles lined the shelves. It was a treasure trove no one outside the clan could touch.
Opportunities like this didn't come twice. After the war, any new learning would require service and contribution to the clan. Gen intended to make the most of it.
His rapid progress soon caught the attention — and disbelief — of Uchiha Yashiro, the acting head.
"You learned a B-rank fire jutsu and a B-rank genjutsu in a single day?" Yashiro asked, skeptical.
Gen simply demonstrated both. The older Uchiha could only shake his head and hand over broader access.
For genjutsu, Gen's talent was genuine, perhaps aided by two lifetimes' worth of experience and the strange resonance of his Soul-Soul Fruit. Fire Release was another matter. There, he quietly relied on Shuryu's power, hidden within his flames, to push range, heat, and control beyond his current skill.
With Yashiro's permission secured, Gen copied every fire, wind, and earth technique within reach. Mastery could come later. For now, it was enough to have the knowledge — and the time to turn it into power.