CHAPTER 152: THE KAGE'S GAMBIT
"Tailed Beasts!"
Upon hearing Ōnoki's intent to escalate the conflict to that level, Onihira's face paled. Instinctive fear twisted his features.
"Lord Tsuchikage, the Tailed Beasts are too volatile! If one were to go berserk, our village… Iwagakure itself could be doomed!" In his mind, the bijū were cataclysmic forces of nature. Each one was a walking apocalypse, synonymous with death and calamity, far beyond the realm of mortal shinobi.
"Hasn't Konoha been implementing their Jinchūriki program since the First's era?" Ōnoki snapped, his voice sharp with impatience. "We hold the Four-Tails and the Five-Tails. For years we have followed Konoha's lead, cultivating our own vessels. If these ultimate weapons are not to be used in war, then why do we keep them? As mascots?!"
Onihira bowed his head under the reprimand, shame burning in his gut. If not for his failure, the Tsuchikage wouldn't be resorting to this.
"Do you think our losses in the Rain Country are the end of it, Onihira?!" Ōnoki's voice rose. "This war was initiated by us. We sought to carve the Rain's resources for ourselves. Now, not only have we failed to establish a foothold, but every scrap of land we took is likely back in Konoha's hands!"
He floated closer, his diminutive form radiating immense pressure. "Furthermore, Iwagakure must remain vigilant against Kumo and Kiri. We cannot strip the village bare. At least five, six thousand shinobi must stay to defend our home, our borders. Scouts, assassins, patrols—all require manpower."
His gaze was flint. "If we do not deploy the bijū, what alternative do we have? Tell me. Will the clans accept this defeat? Will the villagers? What will the Daimyō of the Land of Earth say when he learns an entire army was wiped out and we did nothing?"
Ōnoki took a deep, controlled breath, floating to the window. He said nothing more, but his eyes held a cold, calculating light. The decision was made.
"It… it is my failure, Lord Tsuchikage," Onihira whispered. "But… the power of a Tailed Beast must be handled with the utmost caution. Do you… have a candidate in mind?"
"The Five-Tails," Ōnoki stated flatly. "Compared to the Four-Tails' vessel, our Jinchūriki for Gobi has made partial contact with the beast. He can harness its power. It is not a perfect symbiosis, but the power it grants is beyond any ordinary ninja. It will be enough."
SCREECH.
The heavy door to the Tsuchikage's office groaned open. The sound of thick, interlocking plates of armor grinding together preceded the figure who entered.
Onihira turned. A man encased head-to-toe in crimson armor, like a warrior from an ancient iron-age legend, stepped inside. A wide bamboo hat shaded his face, and the lower half was wrapped in dark cloth, leaving only a pair of calm, utterly deadened eyes visible.
"Lord Tsuchikage." The armored man's voice was a hoarse scrape, unused to speech. He gave a slight, stiff bow.
"Gōki. You are here," Ōnoki said, his tone devoid of warmth. To him, this was not a person; it was a piece of artillery. "How is your… rapport with Gobi?"
"Reporting to the Tsuchikage," Gōki replied, his voice monotone. "Communication has been established. I can channel its power."
"Good. I assume you are aware of the situation on our Rain front. The time has come for your service. You will accompany Onihira back to the front lines. Your objective: break Konoha. Restore Iwagakure's honor."
"Understood." Gōki offered no other words, simply a nod. Most Jinchūriki shared this temperament—withdrawn, taciturn, islands of isolation. The exceptions, like the boisterous Eight-Tails host in Kumo, were rare.
"Dismissed. Await mobilization orders."
With another stiff bow, the Five-Tails Jinchūriki, Gōki, turned and clanked from the room, the sound of his armor fading down the stone corridor.
Once he was gone, Onihira let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "The presence of a Jinchūriki… even dormant, you can feel the malevolent, suffocating weight of that chakra." A flicker of unmistakable disgust passed through his eyes before he could mask it.
Such revulsion was commonplace. In any shinobi village, to be identified as a Jinchūriki was to be marked. An object of fear, of suspicion, of ostracism. A living bomb no one wanted to stand near. Their lives were uniformly tragic.
Ōnoki saw the disgust. He said nothing. In the calculus of war, the comfort of a weapon was irrelevant. Its utility was all that mattered.
Sunagakure. The Kazekage's Office.
The Third Kazekage stood before a detailed sand table, his fingers tracing the miniature flags representing troop deployments in the Land of Rain. Suna was fighting a war on two fronts: against Hanzo's Amegakure and against Konoha.
Amegakure, though a minor village, was a powerhouse under the "Salamander" Hanzo, a force nearly rivaling a Great Village. Pinning him down was consuming significant resources.
His strategy had been simple, agreed upon with Ōnoki before the first clash: combine Suna and Iwa forces to crush Konoha's contingent first, eliminating the greatest threat. Then, they could turn their full attention to carving up the Rain between them, or dealing with Hanzo.
Of course, the alliance was paper-thin. The Kazekage had sent forces against both Konoha and Ame, hedging his bets. Hanzo was a tough nut, but surely the combined might of Suna and Iwa would make quick work of Konoha's defenders?
He just needed good news from Elder Chiyo. Surely, Konoha couldn't withstand the focused assault of two Great Villages.
His mind was already plotting Suna's post-war ascension, the resources they would secure, the weakened state of their rivals…
The office door slammed open. A shinobi, his face a mask of shock and panic, stumbled inside without protocol.
"Lord Kazekage! Urgent report from the front!"
"Compose yourself!" the Kazekage barked, irritation flashing across his stern features.
The messenger didn't calm down. His words tumbled out in a rush, laced with horror. "Lord Kazekage! The joint forces with Iwagakure… they were defeated! Decisively! Casualties… they are catastrophic. Initial scout reports indicate we have lost at least two thousand shinobi!"
He swallowed, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "And… Lady Chiyo's son, Lord Akahoshi… he fell in the battle."
The Third Kazekage froze. The words didn't compute at first. Then they hit him like a physical blow. He took an involuntary step back, the blood draining from his face. His heart plummeted. The room seemed to tilt.
"WHAT?!" The roar was pure, undiluted fury and disbelief. "Decimated? HOW? What of Konoha? What are their losses?" A desperate hope clung to the last question. If the battle was that fierce, Konoha must be bleeding too.
The messenger trembled, unable to meet his Kage's eyes. "Konoha's casualties… are estimated to be… nearly zero."
WHOOSH.
A wave of pure, incandescent rage, mixed with the icy shock of strategic disaster, surged through the Third Kazekage. His vision swam with black spots. The carefully laid plans, the dreams of expansion, the alliance with Iwa—all of it shattered in an instant, replaced by the image of two thousand Suna sons and daughters turned to ash.
The pressure was too much. The young, proud Kazekage felt a metallic taste flood his mouth.
SPLAT.
A spray of crimson erupted from his lips, painting the pristine sand table a vivid, shocking red. Reality, it seemed, was full of the most unpleasant surprises.
(End of Chapter)
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