Standing atop the ruined remains of Uzushiogakure—grass choking broken stone, scorched traces of annihilation still visible—
Honda Denjirō felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Peace.
"Honda… your expression is lighter," one of the group said, approaching. "Why?"
Denjirō turned to Inoue Nobuhiko, his stiff face twisting into a smile that looked more like a threat than warmth.
"I found… a little comfort here," Denjirō murmured. "From the past."
"Comfort?" Inoue narrowed his eyes. "Were you here when Uzushio was destroyed?"
"I was," Denjirō said, lifting a hand to point at a corner of the ruins. "I was just a kid in ANBU back then. No right to handle the negotiations that gathered the coalition."
"But on the final day…"
"I saw the Uzumaki fall with my own eyes."
His voice carried a strange pride.
"The Uzumaki were powerful. Powerful enough to build a village and a nation with a single clan."
"They produced sealing masters… including Uzumaki Mito—Konoha's first Nine-Tails jinchūriki."
"They signed an alliance with the Senju of Konoha… and Konoha even stitched their crest onto jōnin uniforms."
Inoue exhaled slowly, understanding what Denjirō meant.
"Back then… everyone thought the Uzumaki would endure like the Senju."
"They looked unstoppable."
"And they were close—too close—to Konoha."
Denjirō's voice turned sharper, more brittle.
"But when Uzushio was destroyed…"
"Konoha never came."
Not a single shinobi.
"The Uzumaki were hunted like animals. Forced to scatter and hide."
"And Konoha?"
"Konoha took only the children suitable to become the next Nine-Tails vessel."
"And offered the rest… nothing."
Denjirō's breathing quickened, the mania surfacing.
"With how close the Senju and Uzumaki were, they could watch them die… then turn around and claim Uzumaki sealing for themselves."
"So I don't believe…"
"I don't believe they can stay calm if Wood Release—the power they once held—ends up in the hands of the Uchiha."
Inoue frowned. "So what are you planning?"
Denjirō's eyes blazed.
"I'm going to spread the truth—through the underground markets—across the entire shinobi world."
"Konoha has raised a shinobi who possesses both Mangekyō Sharingan and Wood Release."
Denjirō snapped his head up, panting, eyes bloodshot.
"I don't believe Cloud will dare sign peace if they hear that!"
"I don't believe Ōnoki can keep his balance if he hears that!"
"I don't believe Sand won't react when they hear that this monster saved the White Fang's son!"
"I don't believe the Third Mizukage won't see the opportunity!"
"I don't believe the smaller nations—Rain, Waterfall, Grass—won't fear Konoha resting and restarting a war meant to wipe them out!"
"I don't believe Konoha itself won't have factions terrified of being crushed under the Uchiha forever!"
His voice rose into a near-hysterical roar.
"I'm going to make Konoha into the next Uzushio!"
When he finished, Denjirō exhaled like someone unloading a lifetime of weight.
He turned and reached a hand toward Inoue, smiling wide.
"You'll help me, Inoue."
"Won't you?"
"You were the only one who supported coming here when all four of us were lost and terrified."
Inoue clenched his jaw.
Then, reluctantly, he shook Denjirō's hand.
"I will," he said hoarsely. "But… how do we make the underground believe us? How do we make them spread it?"
"You do intel," Denjirō said, grin sharpening. "You know the kinds of organizations that can extract information even from a dead man's brain."
Inoue's blood ran cold.
Denjirō lifted two fingers.
"We still have two 'companions,' don't we?"
"The ones who saw everything that night."
"We'll use them as sacrifices."
"To give our information credibility."
Inoue's stomach sank.
He understood then—he'd stepped onto a ship that wouldn't let him climb back off.
But… better a pirate ship than drowning every day in fear of that Uchiha monster.
"I know a few organizations," Inoue said quietly. "The closest operates mostly in the Land of Fire. We'll have to go back."
"Fine," Denjirō waved it off. "We escaped once. We can do it again."
"Call them back," Denjirō added. "Let them kill a few rogues if they want, I don't care—but if they kill too many, we'll draw attention."
Inoue nodded, pulled a special flare, and fired it into the sky.
Then he formed seals rapidly.
"Water Release: Black Storm Cloud!"
A patch of dark cloud formed abruptly above them, out of place in the bright sky. Ten seconds later, low thunder rolled outward—carrying the signal far.
Inoue lowered his hands, forcing a casual tone.
"We haven't been apart long. They should arrive within ten minutes."
"Do we ambush them as soon as they arrive, Honda?"
"No," Denjirō said. "Not until we're inside the Land of Fire and standing in front of the black market group."
"We left too many traces when we ran."
"Until we spread the news… we still need them to help us survive any pursuers."
"Oh?" a young voice cut in, smooth as a blade sliding free. "Pursuers?"
"Were you… thinking about me?"
Denjirō and Inoue jerked violently, throwing kunai and shuriken toward the voice on instinct as they leapt back.
Metal rang—sharp and bright.
And then they saw him.
ANBU armor.
Mask.
Calm.
"Kaguya Ren…"
Ren casually tossed two severed heads onto the ground.
"Yeah. It's me, Honda-senpai. Inoue-senpai."
His voice was almost cheerful.
"Seeing me show up this lively… makes you even a little happy?"
On the ground, two heads stared lifelessly at the sky—
Eyes full of terror and despair—
And, strangest of all…
A hint of relief.
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