Chapter 490: Uchiha Akira Takes Action to Capture Ōnoki
Nara Shikaku paused, his gaze dropping to the tactical map spread across the table before he continued. "When our pursuit forces encountered the samurai group, they chose to bypass them entirely. There was no interception. No attacks."
"As of our latest intelligence, Mifune has gathered the surviving samurai and is currently retreating toward the Land of Iron at maximum speed."
Uchiha Akira sat behind the commander's desk. For a brief second, a flicker of surprise crossed his composed features. Then, a low, quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "Bypassed them?"
Shikaku nodded, shifting his stance. "The frontline commander made a tactical judgment. Although the samurai faction boasts significant numbers, their actual threat level to Konoha forces is negligible. They do not possess chakra. On a battlefield dictated by high-level ninjutsu, their strategic value is practically zero."
"Our primary objective remains the absolute destruction of Kumogakure and Iwagakure's military capabilities. The commander saw no reason to waste valuable chakra and time slaughtering what amounts to remnants of a bygone era."
Shikaku hesitated, his eyes darting toward Akira's face before he lowered his voice. "More to the point... the men seem to feel that slaughtering ordinary swordsmen offers very little in the way of a challenge. There is no glory in cutting down men who cannot even mold chakra."
"Fascinating." Akira leaned back in his chair, his laughter echoing against the canvas walls of the tent. "If that stubborn old fool Mifune knew he only kept his head attached to his shoulders because my men deemed him too pathetic to kill, he would likely draw his blade and commit seppuku right there in the dirt."
Akira waved a hand dismissively, his amusement fading into cold indifference. "Let them run. A pack of obsolete relics abandoned by the times cannot alter the course of this war. Once the Five Great Ninja Villages are thoroughly crushed beneath our heel, the Land of Iron will have no choice but to bow."
His demeanor shifted, the casual amusement vanishing entirely. Akira rose from his seat. He stepped past the desk, his dark eyes fixing on the narrow gap in the tent flap, staring out toward the distant northern horizon. "And what of Ōnoki?"
"The main force of Iwagakure is currently retreating toward the Land of Earth at maximum velocity," Shikaku reported, his tone strictly professional. "Due to the heavy obstruction tactics deployed by their rearguard, our pursuit units have fallen behind the main body of their army. At this current pace, I am afraid we will not be able to intercept them before they cross the border."
Akira remained silent for a long moment, the gears of his mind turning. A dangerous, predatory glint flashed in his eyes. "They marched into our territory. They do not get to simply leave when the tide turns against them."
He stepped toward the exit of the tent, the heavy fabric brushing against his shoulder. "Since that muscle-brained brute of a Raikage is already enjoying our hospitality as a guest..." A cruel smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "How can we possibly leave the Tsuchikage off the guest list?"
Shikaku stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he snapped his head up. "Hokage-sama, you cannot possibly mean to..."
"I am going to drag Ōnoki back here myself." Akira stepped out into the biting wind of the encampment. "For a dignitary of his immense stature, it is only proper that I extend the invitation personally."
Before the final syllable even left his lips, the earth beneath his boots violently caved in.
A concussive blast of displaced air shattered the silence of the camp. Akira's figure erupted into the sky like a fired artillery shell, instantly tearing through the cloud cover. A deafening sonic boom echoed in his wake as he streaked toward the northwest, leaving nothing but a crater behind.
Deep within the ancient, sprawling forests bordering the Land of Fire, a heavily armored contingent marched in absolute disarray. The metallic clanking of their armor rang out like a death knell through the trees. Mifune led the desperate retreat, his breath ragged, his grip white-knuckled around the hilt of his katana.
Only moments prior, a high-speed pursuit squad of Konoha shinobi had blurred past their right flank. The samurai had drawn their blades, bracing for a bloody last stand. Yet, the Konoha shinobi had not even spared them a second glance. They had simply vaulted over the canopy, completely ignoring the armored warriors to chase down the fleeing Kumogakure forces further ahead.
The realization forced a heavy sigh of relief from Mifune's lungs, but the relief was instantly swallowed by a suffocating, burning wave of humiliation. His jaw locked so tightly his teeth ground together. The proud samurai of the Land of Iron were not even considered worthy of being slaughtered. They lacked the basic qualifications to be recognized as enemies.
"General..." Okita, his loyal adjutant, pushed his exhausted legs to catch up. The younger man was panting heavily, his voice trembling beneath his heavy faceplate. "Are we... are we safe?"
Mifune ground to a halt. His calloused hand slowly released its death grip on his sword hilt, his fingers numb. He stared blankly at the path ahead. "We are safe." His voice was hollow, stripped of all its usual commanding authority. "Because in the eyes of Konoha, we do not even qualify as prey."
Okita froze. The sheer weight of those words slammed into him. A dark, ugly flush of shame and furious indignation crept up his neck, coloring his face. As a sworn protector of the Land of Iron, a man who had dedicated his entire existence to the way of the sword, being utterly disregarded by an enemy force was a disgrace far worse than having his throat slit on the battlefield.
"But..." Okita choked out, his fists trembling at his sides.
"There are no buts!" Mifune barked, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the despair like a razor. He turned to face his broken men, his eyes burning with a desperate, unyielding fire. "Survive! Swallow your pride and survive! As long as we drag our bodies back to the Land of Iron alive, the spark of the samurai will not be extinguished!"
He drew his blade, pointing it toward the northern mountains. "Full speed ahead! We return to our homeland!"
Far to the northwest, deep within a desolate stone forest inside the borders of the Land of Earth.
The terrain here was a treacherous maze of jagged, towering rock formations, casting long, dark shadows that provided natural concealment. Beneath the overhang of a massive, monolithic boulder, a battered, bloodied, and utterly exhausted army had collapsed into the dirt.
This was the main force of Iwagakure. The grand, unstoppable army that had marched out with dreams of conquest had been butchered, reduced to less than half its original number. The shinobi sat in suffocating silence. Blood crusted on their flak jackets. Their eyes were hollow, staring blankly at the rocky ground, entirely consumed by despair and directionless confusion.
Ōnoki hovered silently above the highest boulder, the wind whipping at his tattered robes. He looked down at the broken remnants of his forces. A heavy, agonizing weight pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. These were the absolute elites of the Hidden Stone. Just days ago, they had marched out with heads held high, roaring their vows to trample Konoha into dust.
And now? They huddled in the shadows like a beaten pack of stray dogs.
"Father." The deep, gravelly voice broke his bitter reverie. Kitsuchi approached, his massive frame moving with heavy, sluggish steps. He reached up, offering a Military Ration Pill in his dirt-caked palm. "Eat something. You need your strength. We still have to keep moving."
Ōnoki stared down at the dark, bitter pill. He slowly shook his head, refusing the meager offering. "How are... the men holding up?"
Kitsuchi fell silent. His jaw tightened, the muscles ticking beneath his bruised skin. "Morale is shattered," he admitted, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "The men are terrified. They keep asking where exactly we are fleeing to. They are asking... if the Land of Earth is even safe anymore."
Ōnoki's gnarled hands began to tremble violently. He clenched them into fists, hiding them within his sleeves. Where could they flee? Konoha had not just defeated them; they had demonstrated a level of absolute, suffocating dominance that defied logic. With the monstrous power Uchiha Akira wielded, he could march into the Land of Earth and wipe Iwagakure off the map entirely.
The legendary Will of Stone suddenly felt as fragile as dry clay in the face of such absolute, godlike power.
"As long as the people remain..." Ōnoki murmured, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He spoke them as if trying to convince his son, but mostly, he was desperately trying to convince himself. "As long as our people draw breath, Iwagakure will not perish. We will retreat into the deepest mountains. We will carve new homes deep underground. Even if we must live as rats in the dark for the rest of our lives, we will ensure the legacy of the Hidden Stone survives!"
He suddenly snapped his head up, a fierce, desperate ruthlessness igniting in his bloodshot eyes. "Survival is our victory now! As long as we are alive, there is hope! Someday, Uchiha Akira will die. Someday, Konoha will weaken. And when that day comes, we will—"
Right at that exact second.
The howling wind whistling through the stone pillars abruptly died.
An unnatural, suffocating stillness slammed into the canyon. Ōnoki's pupils contracted to pinpricks. Every single hair on his body stood on end as a primal, screaming instinct of pure terror flooded his veins.
The atmospheric pressure plummeted. The air itself grew so heavy it felt like breathing water. Ōnoki's neck cracked as he stiffly, mechanically tilted his head toward the sky.
"Impossible..." he wheezed, his voice cracking. "How... how could he possibly arrive so fast..."
Kitsuchi felt the killing intent crush down on them a fraction of a second later. He whipped his head around, following his father's terrified gaze.
High above the distant horizon, piercing through the clouds. A single black dot was rapidly expanding. A terrifying, oppressive aura washed over the canyon, paralyzing the exhausted shinobi below. Then, the delayed, thunderous roar of a sonic boom finally ripped across the sky, shattering the stone pillars around them.
"Enemy attack!!!" A desperate, piercing roar tore from Kitsuchi's throat.
But it was already far too late.
Uchiha Akira hovered effortlessly in the sky directly above the stone forest. His arms were casually crossed over his chest, his dark, merciless eyes looking down at the panicked Iwagakure shinobi as if observing a colony of scrambling ants.
"You ran quite fast," Akira's voice echoed, amplified by chakra, rolling over the canyon like a physical weight. "Ōnoki."
He tilted his head, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Is this your vaunted Will of Stone? Scurrying into a pile of rocks to hide like a cornered rat just to buy yourself a few more breaths?"
Ōnoki floated higher into the air, his aged body trembling so violently his joints ached. The sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from the man above him was paralyzing. Yet, he bit his lip until it bled, forcing himself to fly to the very front of his broken army, placing himself between the monster and his men.
He was the Third Tsuchikage. He could not retreat.
"Uchiha Akira!!" Ōnoki roared, his voice cracking with a desperate bluster meant to mask his overwhelming terror. "What more do you want from us?! We have already retreated! We have conceded the battlefield! We have admitted defeat! Do you truly intend to slaughter us all to the last man?!"
"Slaughter you?" Akira uncrossed his arms, slowly shaking his head with a look of mock innocence. "No, no, no. You misunderstand my intentions entirely."
He extended a single, open hand toward the floating old man.
"I am simply here to extend a formal invitation." Akira's smile widened, though the coldness in his eyes remained absolute. "The Raikage is already enjoying his stay as an honored guest in Konoha. As his old friend and fellow Kage, it would be terribly inappropriate if you did not accompany him, wouldn't it?"
Hearing those words, the blood drained entirely from Ōnoki's face, his heart plummeting into a bottomless abyss of despair.
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