Chapter 84: The Weight of a Name
Akatsurugi stated the facts with a chilling, matter-of-fact finality. He had set his sights on the Third Raikage, and the Third Raikage was dead. The unspoken question hung in the air, heavier than any direct threat: Does Iwagakure wish for me to set my sights on them?
This was no boast. The list of Kage who had fallen by his hand was a grim testament to his power: the Second Kazekage, the Third Mizukage, the Third Raikage. Was the Third Tsuchikage to be the next name added?
The Iwa envoy stared at Akatsurugi, his throat working soundlessly. The Blaze God wasn't even releasing killing intent; he was merely looking at him with a flat, dispassionate gaze. It was enough to make the man's hair stand on end, his skin prickling as if he were sitting on a bed of needles.
"W-we were merely here to... inquire about the situation," the envoy finally managed, his voice stiff.
"Oh? And what is there to inquire?" Akatsurugi's tone was deceptively light. "I think you should return and ask Ōnoki whether he owes me an explanation."
The point was devastating. The other two Kage who had participated in the ambush were dead. Ōnoki, who had orchestrated part of it, was still alive. Instead of seeking atonement, he had the audacity to make demands?
The Iwa envoy bowed his head, not daring to meet that gaze any longer. Akatsurugi shifted his attention to the Kiri representative.
"As for you, from Kiri," he began, his voice hardening. "You were a willing blade in the dark. You came for me without provocation. When you draw your sword against someone, you must be prepared for them to draw theirs in return. You earned your fate."
Seeing the bloodshot intensity in Akatsurugi's eyes, the Mist envoy felt a wave of guilt and fear. Kirigakure was in a dire state. With no suitable candidate, they had been forced to install the Three-Tails Jinchuriki as their Fourth Mizukage—a desperate, unprecedented move. Many of their elite had been slain by the man before them. Beyond the rebellious, insular clans with their Kekkei Genkai, Kiri's strength was a hollow echo. The new Mizukage's hold on power was tenuous at best; if he declared a war nobody wanted, his own people might not follow. This diplomatic gambit had been a mere Hail Mary.
What if... they had thought.
But facing Akatsurugi's unwavering resolve, their courage withered.
Now, only the Kumo envoy remained. Akatsurugi fixed him with a cold sneer.
"My Ryūjin Jakka has been feeling rather... feverish lately," he stated calmly. "I've been considering where to let it cool off."
The Kumo ninja paled. They knew the intelligence. They knew the sword in his hand was named Ryūjin Jakka, and that it was the key to the village-annihilating technique that even the Third Raikage had feared. This wasn't a subtle hint; it was a direct, blatant threat. If he made good on it, Kumogakure would be set back decades. Morale would shatter completely. And how did one stop a man who could fly?
Seeing the writing on the wall, the Iwa envoy saw his chance to escape. "Ahem! I'll be taking my leave now. My apologies for the disturbance!" He fled, the fragile alliance crumbling with his departure. They would only follow Kumo into a war they were sure to win. This was not it.
The Kiri envoy, seeing the last of his support vanish, slunk away soon after. Konoha would not be intimidated.
Left utterly alone, the Kumo representative could only let out a defeated sigh. The game was over. He had no choice but to retreat from Konoha in disgrace.
Watching the entire confrontation, Sarutobi Hiruzen felt a surge of pride. "Well handled," he said, his voice firm. "They will not dare to speak of war now."
Akatsurugi nodded. "Our Konoha is more prosperous than theirs. If we are still recovering, they are in an even worse state. They cannot afford it."
After Akatsurugi left, an ANBU operative detached from the shadows of the Hokage's office and made his way to the Root headquarters, delivering a full report to Danzō.
Danzō listened in silence before dismissing the operative with a wave of his hand. The envoys' capitulation proved they lacked the stomach for a real fight. A flicker of disappointment passed through him, but it was quickly replaced by cold calculation. No matter. This simply gives me more time to strengthen Root.
The envoys returned to their villages with tales of Akatsurugi's unshakable defiance. The Fourth Raikage, Dodai, could only sigh in resignation. The plan had been only half-successful; they had sown discord within Konoha, but failed to isolate their primary target. It was a bitter consolation.
Time flowed onward, swift and relentless as a mountain stream. Five years passed in the blink of an eye.
During that time, Akatsurugi took no missions, remaining within Konoha in a state of deep, focused training. The title of "Mission Nut" was firmly held by another: Hatake Sakumo, now famously known as Konoha's White Fang.
A new generation had risen to prominence: Tsunade, Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Kato Dan were now famous names in their own right. The saplings of Konoha had grown into a formidable forest, and the village's strength was at an unprecedented peak.
But Konoha was not the only village to recover. Iwagakure, under Ōnoki, had pursued a different path. It was a village that prized raw military might above all else, but this single-minded focus had created a critical weakness. With so many shinobi dedicated to combat and missions, and too few involved in agriculture and industry, their economic foundation had grown increasingly unstable. The sheer number of ninjas had outstripped the village's capacity to support them, straining resources and lowering the quality of life for all.
Faced with this mounting internal pressure and resource scarcity, Ōnoki made a decision. He would export the problem. Iwagakure began to aggressively invade and annex smaller, weaker ninja villages, plundering their resources and wealth to feed its own insatiable needs.
Many small villages fell, unable to withstand the might of a Great Village. But this expansionist policy did not go unnoticed. The nations bordering the Land of Earth watched with growing alarm, their fear a binding agent. A coalition was beginning to form, a silent pact against the rocky behemoth to the north. The fragile peace, it seemed, was once again beginning to crack.