Chapter 73: Ripples Across the World
Iwagakure Village, Tsuchikage's Office.
Ohnoki stared at the intelligence report in his hands, his wizened face a landscape of deep grooves. A flicker of pure, visceral fear—a relic decades old—passed through his eyes.
He would never forget. Following his teacher, the Second Tsuchikage Mū, to Konoha for that long-ago summit. The overwhelming, crushing presence of Uchiha Madara. A single, dismissive glance had frozen the young Ohnoki in place, rendering him a statue of terror. That memory was a wound that had never fully healed, a demon he carried in his soul.
"Uchiha Madara… the Rinnegan… Konoha… Heh…" he muttered, the words tasting of old dread. Then, unexpectedly, a dry, rasping laugh escaped him.
The tall, blocky form of his son, Kitsuchi, looked on in confusion. His father had seemed genuinely frightened a moment ago. Why the laughter?
Ōnoki spared his son no explanation. Uchiha Madara returns, and the Fourth Hokage dies because of it. That monkey, Sarutobi Hiruzen, must be feeling a fear ten times greater than mine. As a Konoha ninja who had lived through that era, Hiruzen understood Madara's true scale of power better than anyone. The one lying awake at night, truly terrified, should be the Hokage of the Leaf.
And he hadn't returned alone. A Rinnegan wielder, an enemy of Konoha, stood beside him. Two existential threats aimed squarely at the Leaf.
The thought brought a grim schadenfreude to Ōnoki's heart. His brief moment of pleasure faded as he looked at Kitsuchi's uncomprehending face. Capable, but so blunt. Not yet fit to bear the weight of the Tsuchikage's hat.
"Is Orochimaru still deployed at the border?" Ōnoki asked, shifting to business.
"Yes, father. Our intelligence confirms he remains stationed on the border between the Land of Grass and Land of Taki."
Ōnoki stroked his chin. "Have our agents… stir the pot a little along that border. Apply some pressure. Let's see how that old monkey handles the strain." A thin smile touched his lips. "And tell Intelligence to prioritize everything on this 'Nagato.' I want a full profile."
Once Kitsuchi left, Ōnoki's expression turned grave again. "The Rinnegan… the eyes of the Sage, appearing in this age… Does that mean another being like Hashirama Senju will walk the earth? If so… Iwagakure must be prepared. We may yet witness the fall of a Great Nation in our lifetime…"
Kumogakure, Raikage's Office.
"WHAT? Say that again? That bastard Minato Namikaze is DEAD?!"
The Fourth Raikage, A, slammed his fist on his desk, the sound like a thunderclap. He stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at his blonde secretary, Mabui.
Mabui sighed patiently. "Lord Raikage, according to all verified intelligence, the Fourth Hokage and his wife perished last night during the attack."
"Impossible! Who could kill him?" A shook his head, his disbelief absolute. He thrust out a hand. "The report. Let me see it. I want to know what monster managed it."
He scanned the pages. "Uchiha Madara? A corpse walking?!" For a moment, he wondered if his famed speed had finally broken his eyesight. He glared at Mabui. "You're sure this isn't some Chuunin's prank?"
"Lord Raikage," Mabui said, her voice firm, "I do not bring you pranks."
"So… a ghost really did crawl out of its grave." A grunted, his brow furrowing as he read on. "The… Rinnegan? That fairy tale is real?" The pieces clicked. "If that's what he was up against… maybe it's not so unbelievable the Yellow Flash fell." He finally, grudgingly, accepted the fact. If anyone could kill Minato, it would be legends made flesh.
He leaned back, a new thought occurring. "If the Rinnegan is real… then the legends of the Sage of Six Paths hold weight. Which means the stories about Gold and Silver Brothers having his bloodline…" His mind, tactical and ambitious, began to race. "Mabui! Order Intelligence to dig up everything on this 'Nagato.' I want his childhood, his favorite food, his chakra nature—everything!"
He stared into the middle distance. "A dead legend returns. A god's eyes appear. The world is tilting." A competitive fire, undimmed by Minato's death, sparked within him. Minato is gone… perhaps it's time to refine the Lightning Armor further. To push beyond where even he could reach.
Kirigakure, Mizukage's Office.
The Sandaime Mizukage's laughter boomed through the building, so loud and unrestrained it spilled out onto the mist-shrouded streets below. It was a sound of pure, vindictive joy.
No one hated Konoha more than he did. The Seven Ninja Swordsmen—six of them slaughtered by Konoha hands. The Three-Tails and Six-Tails, lost. The coveted Byakugan, snatched away at the last moment. A river of Kiri blood and broken prestige separated the two villages.
Hearing of Konoha's calamity was the best news he'd received in years.
"A good death! A wonderful death! HAHAHAHA!" His mirth echoed down the corridors.
Outside, the one-eyed survivor, Suikazan Fuguki ("Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish Ghost"), hefting the living sword Samehada, glanced toward the office. Beside him stood the short, composed figure of Karatachi Yagura. "Yagura, what's got the old man cackling like a sea witch?" Fuguki grumbled.
Yagura, as a Mizukage confidant and rising power, knew the details. He offered none. "Who can say? But if the Mizukage is this pleased, it must be favorable for the village. We'll all know soon enough."
"Tch." Fuguki shot him a sidelong look of distrust and lumbered off into the thicker fog, Samehada whispering on his shoulder.
Yagura watched him go, his placid expression giving way to a cold, minute smirk. Soon, he thought, his ambition a silent undercurrent beneath the Mizukage's noisy glee. Soon, this 'Bloody Mist' will end. I will set this village on its proper course.
Sunagakure, Kazekage's Office.
Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, allowed himself a rare, genuine smile as he read the dispatch. The Third Great Shinobi War had been a humiliating disaster for Suna, culminating in the loss of vital mission contracts to Konoha. Seeing the Leaf bleed was a balm to his wounded pride.
"Excellent… Why couldn't a few more have died? Only the Fourth and his wife… it's a wound, but not a mortal one. A pity." His voice was a low, satisfied murmur. Konoha's pain was Suna's fleeting gain.
In the days that followed the Nine-Tails' Night, the news acted like a stone thrown into the pond of the shinobi world. The ripples were immediate and turbulent. Border skirmishes, long held in check by the威慑 of Konoha's Yellow Flash, suddenly flared with new intensity. Diplomatic missives carried sharper tones. Hidden villages recalibrated their strategies, their eyes on a weakened Konoha and the terrifying new variables of "Madara" and the Rinnegan.
The undercurrents of tension, held back since the war's end, now surged toward the surface.
Three days after the funeral, in a move born of necessity and grim tradition, the retired Sarutobi Hiruzen once again donned the Hokage's hat and robe. The Third Hokage had returned to lead a wounded village into an uncertain, newly dangerous world.
(End of Chapter)
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