— One Month Later —
Somewhere southeast of the Hidden Hot Springs Village, a lonely stretch of coastline met the restless sea. A single, struggling city lay here, its port half-forgotten beneath endless sheets of mist. Normally, the town's quiet hum was barely worth noting—today, though, its streets throbbed with the heavy presence of shinobi. Hundreds of them, draped in the banners of different villages, stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the thin veil of an alliance.
Ōnoki watched from a distance, arms folded behind his back."Temporary alliances… built on nothing but fear and greed. How long before it shatters?"
A short walk inland revealed a sprawling sea of tents, thousands of bunting fluttering under a gray sky pregnant with rain. At the heart of the camp stood the largest command tent—no guards patrolled its entrance, for within sat Kage-class warriors powerful enough to deter betrayal by their mere presence.
[War Council]
Ōnoki stepped forward, meeting every gaze without a flicker of hesitation. "Morning is our best chance," he declared quietly. "We board the ships at dawn, cross to the Uzumaki island, and by noon we strike at their heart. Our numbers will overwhelm them before they can mount a proper defense."
No plan survives first contact, he thought, but crushing strength might bury their will to fight.
The Third Mizukage leaned in, voice measured. "Most of these ships come courtesy of my forces and the Land of Hot Water's daimyo—greedy fools expecting profit, not wrecked vessels. A night strike spares us needless losses."
Ōnoki's eyes narrowed. Protecting assets over strategy… predictable.
The Hidden Hot Springs Village Leader—ambition burning in his gaze—spoke next. "We have over six thousand ninja here. Victory is assured. We do not risk our troops or our ships on a rash daytime assault."
A low rumble shook the tent as the Third Raikage rose to his full, towering height. "Our true threat is the Hokage," he growled. "If Konoha intervenes, we'll bleed. We must finish the Uzumaki fast it is the only way."
Slicing through the tension, the Hidden Waterfall Leader's voice cut like steel. "Strike now, while they scramble for defenses. Every moment we wait, they learn our plans."
Ōnoki tapped his fingers against his arm, patience fraying. "It seems we're deadlocked. Very well—let's vote. Night or day?"
The Mizukage's cool nod was all the permission they needed. Hands rose for a night attack—the Third Mizukage, the Hot Springs Leader, the Frost Village Leader, and the Valley Village Leader. Ōnoki then raised his own: "For a daylight assault—myself, the Third Raikage, the Grass Village Leader, the Rain Village Leader, and the Sound Village Leader."
Five to four.
Ōnoki's voice rang out: "It's settled. We attack at daybreak. If anyone objects, speak now."
A dismissive shrug from the Mizukage closed the debate. "Let's end this."
Ōnoki inclined his head once. "Good. Tonight we prepare; tomorrow, we sail at first light. Are the ships ready?"
The Mizukage's thin smile was all the answer needed. "They'll float—and carry our victory."
As the council dissolved, each leader melted into the night, their uneasy alliance held together only by mutual distrust. They're all sharpening their knives already, Ōnoki mused. Once the Uzumaki fall, the real war begins.
[Later — Ōnoki's Tent]
Ōnoki slipped back into his own tent, where a handful of jōnin waited in the dim glow of lanterns. Among them stood Azora, her ANBU mask tucked under one arm, eyes ever-watchful. Han and Yusu had been dispatched on separate missions, leaving her alone at Ōnoki's side.
Azora offered a curt nod. "How did it go?"
Ōnoki sank into a worn chair with a grunt. "They agreed. Dawn attack it is."
A slow smirk curved Azora's lips. "And our next move?"
He leaned back, gaze lost in swirling shadows. "For now, we prepare. Once the Uzumaki fall, we seize their sealing techniques—and every treasure they leave behind. There's no point in infighting until then."
He makes it sound so simple, Azora thought, but when blood spills, alliances burn faster than paper in flame.
Azora's quiet affirmation—"Understood. I'll see to the troops"—hung in the air like a promise. With a swift, formal bow, she slipped out of the tent, the other jōnin fading behind her into the night's shadows.
Ōnoki exhaled, the sudden stillness pressing in on him. Moments passed before he sank deeper into the chair, the canvas walls creaking softly around him. He reached to a small box at his side and lifted out the syringe, its liquid shimmering with an unearthly glow.
He held it between thumb and forefinger, watching the light dance within the glass. They say it will extend my life… sharpen my reflexes… make me stronger. But at what cost?
He set the syringe down gently, hand lingering over it. Not yet. There was no need to rush.
Outside, the camp buzzed with whispered orders, the scrape of blades being sharpened, quiet prayers to gods long silent.
Ōnoki closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "Tomorrow, the blood will flow. And from that blood… a new future will be carved. No matter the cost."
Hello , yes it's been a long time