Chapter 495: Absolute Dominance
Two days later.
Inside the main tent of the Konoha front-line camp, the heavy scent of burning wax and iron lingered in the air. A massive, detailed map of the Ninja World dominated the center of the long wooden table.
Konoha's high-ranking officials lined the sides, their postures straight and their expressions hardened by recent victories. At the very end of the table, however, sat several shivering figures. These were the temporary representatives of the minor hidden villages: Kusagakure, Takigakure, and Shimogakure.
To call them representatives was a generous courtesy. In truth, they were merely a handful of terrified survivors whose spirits had been utterly broken. The actual leaders of these small villages had either perished in the crossfire of the recent war or had been ruthlessly purged by Konan of Amegakure when they dared to resist her bloody suppression. Their souls had already been sent to the Pure Land.
At the head of the table sat Uchiha Akira.
His dark, indifferent gaze swept across the room. The air in the tent seemed to thicken, pressing down on the chests of the minor village representatives. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and their eyes darted nervously, terrified to meet his stare.
"Everyone is here." Akira's voice was calm, yet it carried an obvious weight that commanded absolute silence. "Then let's begin."
He stood up, a slender wooden pointer appearing in his hand. He stepped toward the map and lightly tapped the parchment. The territory of the Land of Fire had already been shaded in a striking, dominant red. Surrounding this massive crimson expanse was a dense, unbroken ring of gray regions.
These were the buffer zones. The Land of Waterfall, the Land of Grass, the Land of Frost, the Land of Birds.
"Today's agenda is very simple," Akira stated.
The hearts of the foreign representatives skipped a collective beat. A cold dread pooled in their stomachs.
Akira's pointer moved in a sharp, sweeping arc, drawing a definitive circle around every single gray area bordering the Land of Fire.
"From today onwards, these countries will all be incorporated into the territory of the Land of Fire." He let the words hang in the air for a fraction of a second before delivering the final blow. "As for your hidden villages... they are to disband on the spot."
A suffocating silence fell over the end of the table.
"All active shinobi will undergo strict screening and assessment," Akira continued, his tone entirely devoid of sympathy. "Your independent organizations will be dissolved, and your forces will be integrated directly into Konoha's combat sequence."
Even though they had anticipated harsh terms, hearing the words 'disband the hidden village' spoken with such casual finality sent a wave of dizziness crashing through the representatives. This was not a treaty. This was the complete eradication of their heritage, the severing of their roots.
"H... Hokage-sama!"
The representative of Takigakure pushed his chair back and stood up. His legs trembled violently, and cold sweat dripped from his chin onto his collar. "Is... is this not a bit too..."
"Too what?" Akira shifted his gaze.
The Takigakure representative froze. It felt as though an invisible, icy hand had clamped shut around his throat. The words died on his tongue, and his face flushed a mottled, suffocated purple. He gasped for air, entirely paralyzed by the sheer killing intent bleeding from the Uchiha's eyes.
"I am not negotiating with you," Akira said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. "I am informing you."
He turned his attention back to the map, dismissing the trembling man entirely. "I have already sent word to the Daimyo of the Land of Fire. Within three days, officials and administrators from our capital will enter your respective countries to take over all administration, logistics, and finance."
A faint, contemptuous smile tugged at the corner of Akira's mouth as he looked back at the minor village survivors. "Now. Who is in favor, and who is against?"
Against?
The thought was a dark, bitter joke. The mighty Raikage and the ancient Tsuchikage had been captured alive. A coalition army of tens of thousands of elite shinobi had been crushed into the dirt. What could a handful of broken, leaderless minor villages possibly do to oppose Konoha? Fight back with their bare hands?
"W... we, Kusagakure, resolutely support Hokage-sama's decision!"
The representative of Kusagakure was the first to break. He threw himself out of his chair, his knees hitting the wooden floorboards with a heavy thud. He pressed his forehead against the ground, his voice cracking as he loudly declared his submission. "Everyone in the Land of Grass is willing to serve Hokage-sama as your loyal hounds!"
With the first domino fallen, the remaining representatives abandoned whatever fragile pride they had left.
"Takigakure seconds that!" The previously choking man dropped to his knees, gasping.
"Shimogakure seconds that!"
"We are willing to follow Hokage-sama's orders!"
In a matter of seconds, the end of the conference room was filled with kneeling, groveling figures. Dignity, history, village pride... all of it was meaningless dust in the face of absolute, overwhelming power. Surviving to see tomorrow was the only thing that mattered now.
"Very well." Akira nodded, his expression returning to a cool mask of authority. "Shikaku, I will leave the specific integration and handover logistics to you."
"Understood, Hokage-sama," Nara Shikaku replied respectfully, his mind already calculating the massive administrative workload ahead.
The wooden pointer in Akira's hand drifted past the newly acquired buffer zones, gliding across the parchment until it landed firmly on the northeast corner of the map.
The Land of Lightning. Kumogakure.
"Now that the small fry have been dealt with, what remains is the main course." Akira shifted his gaze down the table. "Jiraiya."
Jiraiya leaned forward, the usual playful, perverted grin entirely absent from his face. The seasoned Sannin looked every bit the veteran commander he was, his eyes sharp and serious.
"You will command the main vanguard," Akira ordered. "The target is the Land of Lightning. I want you to flatten Kumogakure and incorporate their territory into our own."
Jiraiya stared at the map, his brow furrowing as he studied the jagged, mountainous borders of the Land of Lightning. "Akira, those barbarians of Kumogakure will not be easy to break. Yes, the Raikage was captured and their main force suffered catastrophic damage... but Kumogakure relies heavily on their treacherous terrain. It is a fortress built into the peaks, easy to defend and a nightmare to attack."
Jiraiya crossed his arms, his expression grim. "And you know their tempers. They are notoriously stubborn, proud to a fault. They will fight to the last man. It will likely be a brutal, grinding battle."
Akira sneered, a cold, sharp sound that cut through the tension in the tent.
"Stubborn?" Akira tossed the wooden pointer onto the table. It clattered loudly against the wood. "Then crush their heads."
He leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the table. "No matter how desperately they resist, there is only one outcome. Either submit, or perish. There is no third option. As for the specific siege tactics, you are the veteran expert. I do not need to teach you how to wage war, do I?"
Jiraiya took a deep breath, the fire of battle igniting in his eyes. He gave a firm nod. "Do not worry. Since you have entrusted the vanguard to me, I will deliver a beautiful victory. I am quite curious to see just how long Kumogakure can hold out without their beloved Raikage leading the charge."
At that moment, Shikaku, who had been silently analyzing the map, spoke up. "Hokage-sama."
He reached out and pointed to the far western edge of the map, tapping the brown expanse representing the Land of Earth. "What about Iwagakure?"
Shikaku looked up, his tactical mind running through worst-case scenarios. "In this recent coalition defeat, Iwagakure's main force suffered heavy casualties, but their core foundation remains intact within their borders. If Iwagakure decides to mobilize and stab us in the back while our main force is bogged down attacking Kumogakure..."
It was a valid, pressing concern. "Although Ōnoki was captured, the village structure still exists. Kitsuchi managed to flee back to their stronghold with several thousand surviving remnants. They are wounded, but not dead."
"Do not waste your breath worrying about them," Akira interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. His tone carried the weight of absolute, unshakable confidence.
"Iwagakure?" Akira scoffed softly. "Right now, they are likely too terrified to even close their eyes at night. When I ripped Ōnoki from their ranks, I already delivered my final warning."
Akira paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked toward the western border on the map. "Compared to those calculating, cowardly old foxes of Iwagakure... the muscle-brained brutes of Kumogakure are the only real nuisance left."
Jiraiya caught Akira's line of thought and nodded in agreement. "Exactly. The people of Kumogakure are hot-tempered, and their heads are filled with rocks. They will fight out of pure spite. As for Iwagakure... they are the ultimate opportunistic fence-sitters."
Jiraiya tapped the map. "As long as we march on Kumogakure and crush them with thunderous, overwhelming force, those cowards in Iwagakure will watch the slaughter from afar. Once they see what remains of the Land of Lightning, they will make the 'right' choice, if only to save their own skins."
"Then it is settled," Akira declared, his voice ringing with finality. He straightened his posture, looking at the assembled commanders.
"Assemble the army and prepare for war. The vanguard sets out in three days. Target: Kumogakure!"
"Yes, Hokage-sama!" The high-ranking officials shouted in unison, their voices echoing in the tent, thick with killing intent.
Far to the west. The Land of Earth, Iwagakure.
Unlike the proud, unyielding fortress it had been for decades, the entire hidden village was now suffocating under a thick blanket of gloom and misery.
In the massive stone plaza near the village entrance, the air smelled of dried blood, sweat, and despair. Thousands of ragged, heavily wounded Iwagakure shinobi sat dejectedly on the cold stone ground. Their flak jackets were torn, their bandages soaked through.
These were the 'lucky ones' who had managed to return alive.
Yet, looking across the sea of faces, there was not a single hint of relief or joy at having survived the slaughter. There was only hollow numbness and a deep, lingering terror that haunted their eyes.
"Where is Tsuchikage-sama?!"
"Why are you the only ones who returned?!"
A frantic group of elders and high-ranking officials who had stayed behind to manage the village pushed their way through the sea of wounded. They rushed toward the massive figure of Kitsuchi, grabbing the front of his torn uniform with trembling, desperate hands.
"Speak! Kitsuchi!" an elder screamed, shaking the large man. "Where is Tsuchikage-sama?!"
Kitsuchi did not resist. He let the frail elders shake him, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His eyes were entirely vacant, staring blankly at the stone ground beneath his feet.
After a long, agonizing silence, Kitsuchi finally opened his mouth. His voice was raspy, broken, and devoid of life.
"The coalition... was defeated."
He swallowed hard, the memory of the battlefield flashing behind his hollow eyes. "My father... in order to buy us time to retreat... he was captured by Konoha's Fifth Hokage. Uchiha Akira."
The grip on Kitsuchi's uniform loosened.
The lead elder stumbled backward, his legs giving out beneath him. He slumped onto the hard stone of the plaza, his eyes wide with absolute horror.
That living fossil of the Ninja World. The man who had led Iwagakure through decades of war and bloodshed. The legendary 'Ryōtenbin'... captured?
"Impossible..." the elder whispered into the dead silence of the plaza.
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