Chapter 184: Under Currents Surge
Inside the Tsuchikage's office in Iwagakure, Ōnoki was buried behind a mountain of documents. From the outside, one couldn't even tell whether he was working or simply lost beneath the stacks.
Bang—
The door was suddenly flung open as Kitsuchi rushed in, his face filled with urgency, all composure gone.
"Father—no, this is bad! Really bad!"
"Bullshit! I'm perfectly fine! And in here, call me Tsuchikage!"
A loud smack echoed as Ōnoki slammed the desk and raised his head angrily.
From Kitsuchi's angle, however, all he could see was that bald scalp and the tiny tuft of hair at the back. The tension in his chest instantly eased, and his lips twitched involuntarily.
Ōnoki carefully pushed aside the piles of documents, glaring at his son's barely suppressed reaction. Irritated, he grabbed a pen and hurled it at him.
"You brat! What did you come here for?!"
That snapped Kitsuchi back to reality.
"Tsuchikage-sama, our forces in the Land of Wind… have been defeated. Yesterday they were driven out completely. The survivors are now being reorganized by the border troops."
"What?!"
Ōnoki shot to his feet in shock—only to hear a crisp crack from his back. His expression twisted as he clutched his waist, groaning in pain.
Kitsuchi immediately stepped forward, supporting him back into his seat, ignoring formalities.
"Quick—tell me everything. In detail," Ōnoki urged, ignoring the pain.
Kitsuchi relayed everything he had learned from the retreating shinobi.
"The Fourth Kazekage personally led a surprise attack… The front collapsed before they could properly organize."
"Preliminary estimates put the casualties at over eight hundred."
His usually honest, round face now carried a rare trace of anger.
"What should we do next? Mobilize and strike back?"
Ōnoki shot him a sideways glance. By now, he had already accepted the defeat. What mattered was how to handle the aftermath.
"Strike back? For what?"
He straightened his posture slightly, eyes narrowing.
"It seems you still don't understand why we attacked the Land of Wind in the first place."
Kitsuchi frowned. "Wasn't it because the Third Kazekage disappeared, leaving Sunagakure leaderless? We wanted to take advantage and seize territory."
Ōnoki's forehead twitched.
He raised his hand as if to smack his son—but the sharp pain in his back stopped him halfway.
"That was only part of it," he said through gritted teeth. "Even if we couldn't hold territory, we could still plunder their resources during the invasion—especially their concentrated mineral deposits."
Kitsuchi nodded in realization. So that was why so many supplies had been sent back recently.
"Then… are we just giving up now? What about those who died? Are we not avenging them?"
"Revenge will come," Ōnoki replied calmly, floating slightly into the air before settling back into his seat. "But there's no need for a large-scale counterattack."
"When I learned they had already chosen a Fourth Kazekage, I considered withdrawing our forces. I just didn't expect them to collapse so quickly. That frontline commander was utterly useless."
Kitsuchi ignored the complaint and pressed on. "Then what now? Our border forces should already be in the Land of Birds, regrouping the survivors."
"Send orders," Ōnoki said decisively. "Have the border troops establish camp in the Land of Birds. Focus on regrouping. No need to actively engage Sunagakure for now. Await further instructions."
Kitsuchi frowned. "You mean…?"
Ōnoki spread out a map of the shinobi world and pointed to a central position within the Land of Birds.
"The Fourth Kazekage is no simple man. If I'm right, they're currently stationed here."
Kitsuchi stepped closer, still confused. He couldn't help but think—why couldn't these people just speak plainly instead of going in circles?
Ōnoki sighed inwardly. His son was capable—but far too straightforward.
"The Kazekage doesn't want to continue this war either," he said finally, dropping the pretense. His finger jabbed sharply toward the center of the map—the Land of Fire.
"The real prize of this world… lies here."
Kitsuchi's eyes widened. "You mean—Sunagakure plans to attack Konoha? But they just signed an alliance!"
"Alliance?" Ōnoki snorted. "That's nothing more than a piece of paper."
"Just wait. It won't be long before Sunagakure sends someone to negotiate with us."
His tone was absolute—like a man who had already seen the future.
---
A week had passed since Sunagakure's victorious counteroffensive.
During this time, Taichi had been like a diligent bee, moving tirelessly across the Land of Birds.
But even the hardest-working bee couldn't produce honey without flowers.
After the counterattack, Iwagakure launched two probing offensives, but Sunagakure—fully prepared—gave them no opportunity.
Both sides tested each other briefly, then withdrew almost simultaneously, barely leaving behind any casualties.
In the following days, Iwagakure seemed to receive new orders. Even their probing attacks ceased. Across the entire Land of Birds, both sides limited themselves to routine patrols.
The battlefield fell eerily quiet.
And that left Taichi with a headache.
If neither side was fighting—
How was he supposed to fish in troubled waters?
Sitting down with his lunch, Taichi pondered his next move. It seemed unlikely that anything more would happen here.
Should he move into the Land of Wind or the Land of Earth to stir up trouble?
But doing so—even in disguise—would be far too easy to expose.
And if he couldn't maintain the illusion—
He wouldn't be able to manipulate both sides against each other at all.
Just as Taichi was racking his brain, a sudden disturbance came from behind him. Acting on instinct, he drew his blade and turned, slashing in one fluid motion—only to forcibly stop the strike halfway.
"Minato-senpai—it's you. You nearly gave me a heart attack," Taichi said, exaggerating as he wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead before sheathing his blade.
He was about to joke further, but when he saw that the usual warm smile on Minato Namikaze's face had vanished—replaced by a rare trace of concern—Taichi's expression turned serious as well.
"Sorry, Taichi," Minato said in a low voice, unusually heavy. "I just came back from the north. Something feels off."
Taichi's heart stirred. So it wasn't just his own intuition.
"You noticed it too?" he said quickly. "Iwagakure has completely changed. They've barely sent out scouts these past few days, their patrol routes are rigid and predictable, and after those initial clashes, even their patrols and Sunagakure's no longer come into contact."
"Exactly." Minato frowned, his blue eyes sharp. "I've been observing their outposts and supply lines. Their logistics look purely defensive—there's no sign of offensive preparation at all."
He paused, then added, "What's even stranger is Sunagakure. They've gained the upper hand and secured their foothold in the Land of Birds, yet they're also holding back. No attempt to expand their advantage."
"It's completely abnormal," he concluded. "Nothing like the bloodbath from a few days ago."
Taichi stuffed the last of his rations into his mouth, chewing as his mind raced.
"When something's off, there's always a reason," he muttered. "Between them, casualties must be nearing three thousand. And now suddenly they're… peaceful?"
He glanced at Minato, lowering his voice. "Do you think it's possible…"
Minato finished the thought, his tone even quieter, edged with caution.
"You mean… the two of them… have reached some kind of understanding? Maybe even a temporary agreement?"
Their eyes met—both filled with shock and unease.
Sunagakure had just dealt Iwagakure a heavy blow, yet instead of retaliating in fury, Iwagakure had withdrawn calmly.
Both villages were full of schemers—Ebizō was notoriously cunning, the newly appointed Rasa clearly no simple opponent, and Ōnoki was infamous for his craftiness.
Konoha had sent them here to sabotage, assassinate, and deepen the hatred between the two sides—to keep them locked in mutual conflict and prevent them from turning their attention toward the true prize: Konoha.
"That's it!" Taichi clapped his hands, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "Sunagakure was ready to wipe Iwagakure out just days ago, and now they've suddenly stopped. Iwagakure invaded without hesitation, all for resources and weakening Sunagakure."
"If both sides now think the war isn't worth continuing, then the most likely explanation is—they've found a bigger target."
"They're turning their blades elsewhere."
"That's the worst-case scenario," Minato said decisively. "If they've reached any kind of tacit alliance or ceasefire… then their target is almost certainly us."
There was no need for further discussion.
They understood immediately.
Minato's gaze sharpened. "This changes everything. Staying here to harass them is pointless now. We end the mission and return."
"Understood," Taichi replied, his expression darkening. If their guess was right, what awaited Konoha wouldn't be minor skirmishes anymore.
Without hesitation, the two of them set off at full speed toward the main camp in the Land of Rivers.
---
One day after their departure from the Land of Birds, the silent probing between the two villages finally reached its conclusion.
Both sides understood each other's intentions—
Neither wanted to continue the war.
That day, for the first time, their frontline commanders met face-to-face in the central region of the Land of Birds.
The number of accompanying shinobi on both sides was small. After all, they were still technically enemies, and the lower ranks on both sides would have gladly killed each other on sight.
A dry wind swept across the scorched land, stirring dust over terrain ravaged by countless jutsu.
The two groups stood twenty meters apart—
An invisible yet unmistakable boundary between them.
On Sunagakure's side, Ebizō stood slightly hunched but sharp-eyed, accompanied by elite jōnin.
Opposite him stood a broad-shouldered Iwagakure commander—Mahiru—his face carrying the hardened resolve of a battlefield veteran, along with a hint of impatience.
The air was thick, heavy with tension.
This war—devoid of real gain—had dragged on for nearly a month. Both sides had suffered heavy losses.
The very fact they stood here now sent a clear message—
Continue fighting, and they would only bleed each other dry.
Ebizō stepped forward, his hoarse voice breaking the silence.
"Mahiru, we both know this war has reached its limit. Continue, and we only drain the blood of Wind and Earth alike."
"The true prey… is not here."
Mahiru remained expressionless but nodded slowly. If he didn't understand that, he wouldn't be here negotiating.
"They call you the Desert Fox for a reason," he said evenly. "If we keep fighting, we only let others reap the benefits. The Third Tsuchikage shares this concern."
A faint smile touched Ebizō's lips—confirmation.
He stopped circling the issue.
"Then Sunagakure proposes a ceasefire. We halt hostilities, maintain current territorial control, and redirect our strength toward… the real target."
"A treaty?" Mahiru's brow creased slightly, his tone turning firm. "No need."
Everyone knew Sunagakure's reputation—treaties were little more than scraps of paper to them.
Ebizō's eyes narrowed, waiting.
Mahiru continued, his voice steady and heavy with intent.
"Treaties won't bind you. And I don't trust them."
"We only need the current state."
He met Ebizō's gaze directly.
"From this moment on, as long as Sunagakure does not attack our bases, outposts, or supply lines, Iwagakure will not advance westward."
"And the same applies in reverse."
"Everything… waits for the right time."
Ebizō fell silent for a moment as the wind brushed across his aged face. He understood perfectly—this was Ōnoki's intent.
No written agreement.
No evidence.
Just mutual understanding.
A tacit accord.
Clean. Efficient. And leaving no leverage for future betrayal.
"…A prudent approach," Ebizō finally said, nodding slowly. "Sunagakure accepts."
"From this moment, hostilities cease. Boundaries remain as they are. Neither side crosses the line."
Mahiru's tense expression eased slightly.
"Good," he said. "We wait… until the fruit ripens."
With that, both sides exchanged one final cold glance.
No handshakes.
No ceremony.
They turned and left, returning swiftly to their respective camps.
Because what came next—
Would not be a war between two villages.
But the beginning of something far greater—
A true war of the shinobi world.