As people grow older, sleep naturally grows lighter. Even for a seasoned shinobi, control over the body dulls with time.
Ōnoki was seventy now. Normally, even with a few troublesome matters weighing on him, falling asleep wasn't that difficult.
But the words he'd heard tonight refused to leave his mind.
This "new order," this "new path"—Ōnoki had first heard those words two years ago. Since then, he'd watched them put into practice. To be honest, he was deeply envious of how easily Konoha had handled things this year.
No matter what happened, they kept the current joint framework running, forcing the Five Great Ninja Villages to move in step with each other.
Ōnoki, who had fought through three Shinobi World Wars, knew better than anyone what a mess Kumogakure, Kirigakure, and Sunagakure became whenever they tried to cooperate.
For years, everyone had ganged up on Konoha. Aside from those occasional monsters of talent they produced, the real reason they'd survived was that every other village had its own agenda. Even if one of them was willing to withstand Konoha's attacks at the front, the rest would just do as they pleased.
If there had been the kind of unspoken coordination they showed this year, Konoha would have been wiped out at least eight years ago.
Ōnoki turned over on his bed.
Rōshi had always carried himself like an exemplary shinobi—yet he chose to leave just as the village was finally stabilizing.
Under constant pressure just to survive, Iwagakure's younger generation had always been outstanding. But what about the future?
Not a hundred years from now, not a thousand. Five years. Ten years.
Konoha was strong. Roshi was nineteen this year; he could maintain the current situation for a long time—thirty, even forty years.
What kind of shinobi would grow up in that kind of era?
And then there were the mission commissions… Countless thoughts crashed together in his mind as the night outside faded from pitch black to deep blue, then slowly to a dull gray-white. Only then did Ōnoki sit up.
—
Any village capable of hosting a tournament now had its own attached venue district for entertaining spectators.
Iwagakure was no exception, though until recently it had never set aside an area specifically for visiting shinobi.
It wasn't until last year, after Ōnoki returned from Konoha, that he deliberately copied their approach and set up a district dedicated to the major ninja villages.
Roshi was the first to make use of the Konoha district.
In the early morning, the Venue District was still quiet.
Ōnoki found him sitting on a low stool at an open-air food stall.
The stall was as plain as they came: a large iron pot on a stone stove, a few rough wooden tables, and stools. Its only signboard was the steam that billowed out whenever the lid was lifted.
"Lord Tsuchikage, morning."
Roshi looked up from the table, wooden spoon still in hand. He actually looked well‑rested.
Ōnoki drifted over to the stool across from him and settled down.
"The mutton in the Land of Earth is delicious," Roshi said, scooping up a spoonful of soup and blowing on it before taking a sip. He let out a pleased breath. "It was a real shame I didn't get to eat it yesterday."
"You're complaining about Iwagakure's poor hospitality, aren't you?" Noki snorted, floating a little to the side as he sat and motioned for a bowl of his own.
"If you could be a bit more warm and extravagant," Roshi said with a faint smile, "I would be truly grateful."
"Someone who only brings trouble shouldn't expect to ask for such things."
Ōnoki hadn't slept all night. The warmth of the mutton soup seeped through his body, taking the edge off his fatigue and giving him a bit of strength back.
Roshi ate at an easy pace, and Ōnoki didn't rush him. Only after he drained the last of his soup did the Tsuchikage feel his body fully warmed and his mind beginning to clear.
"Since you don't want to return to Konoha yet," Ōnoki said, setting his empty bowl down and fixing his gaze on Roshi, "then take a good look at the Land of Earth."
He rose—more accurately, he let his body float a little higher. Roshi understood and stood up as well.
"Aren't you going to settle the bill?" Roshi asked, pulling some money from his robe and placing it on the table. "I'm only paying for my share."
"Naturally, someone will settle my bill." Onoki didn't bother to turn around. "As for you, kid, make sure you leave enough."
—
Ōnoki didn't take Roshi anywhere particularly special. After leaving the Venue District, he flew straight toward a nearby, isolated hilltop that offered a broad view of the surroundings.
"One mountain yesterday, another mountain today. Lord Tsuchikage, you're using practical action to prove that the route I chose for this mission was correct," Roshi said. "No matter how magnificent the scenery, see it two days in a row, and the novelty wears off."
"I haven't slept all night. Did you expect me to arrange a song and dance and a hot spring banquet for you?" Ōnoki floated at his side, tone irritated. "Watch if you want to watch. Otherwise, shut up."
But the earth at daybreak was, after all, different from the earth at dusk.
Morning light surged up from the eastern horizon, first washing the sky in pale gold, then slowly pouring down to dye the reddish‑brown land below.
The rock layers showed fine textures under the growing light. Shadows retreated from the depths of the canyons, and the thousand‑meter‑high natural rock wall in the distance stood silent between heaven and earth.
The wind here was strong. Roshi narrowed his eyes against it, with no trace of dissatisfaction toward the view unfolding before him.
"Alright, kid," Ōnoki said, "say something practical. Those grand propositions are all too far off. What exactly do you plan to do?"
"If I have to name a final goal, it's to strip the traditional Ninja World away from the national systems that use it," Roshi said.
"Strip it away?" Noki frowned.
"Assassination, war, espionage, sabotage… those parts."
Ōnoki's frown deepened. "Then what are ninjas supposed to do? What is a ninja village supposed to be?"
"Isn't 'figuring out what ninjas should do' exactly what every ninja village is doing right now?" Roshi replied.
"Commercialized martial arts tournaments can absorb a large number of combat-oriented ninjas. Beyond that, even if it wasn't their original purpose, Sunagakure is experimenting with how to preserve their country's oases."
"Yugakure has practically turned itself into a tourism-based village."
"Lord Tsuchikage, 'How to survive after leaving war behind'—every village is answering this question in its own way. It's just that most of the time, we're used to seeing these attempts as 'side jobs' or 'supplements' instead of…"
Roshi paused, searching for the right words.
"…the true face of the future."
Ōnoki fell silent.
"You're saying," he said slowly, "that ninja villages should transform?"
"What a ninja village really represents is a collective of 'people with power' within a nation," Roshi said. "It's a symbol of that region's desire for stability and security—but stability and security don't have to come from war and slaughter."
A thunderous explosion suddenly echoed from the southwest, shaking the air. Onoki's expression darkened at once.
At this timing, with that kind of noise—Deidara again.
He shot Roshi a look. "Even power like that?"
Roshi nodded. "Even power like that."
Only then did Ōnoki speak. "I'm afraid things won't go the way you envision."
"I know," Roshi answered calmly, without the slightest frustration. "That's why I came this time—hoping that, in a future proposal from the Joint Bureau, Lord Ōnoki can convince the Land of Earth's Daimyō."
Ōnoki narrowed his eyes. "What proposal?"
"To formally outlaw all unofficial life-and-death gladiatorial tournaments that use ninjas as disposable pieces," Roshi said. "As a first step—to clearly draw a line: what Ninjas must not do and which fields even the nobility must never touch."
"Hmph, I knew you had another agenda, brat."
But he didn't refuse. He simply floated there in midair, looking down over his village.
Having laid out his purpose, Roshi had been planning to leave.
He had already seen enough mountain scenery in every season and eaten his fill of mutton. Unless he intended to climb a third or fourth peak, there was no real reason to stay.
However, just as he was about to depart, Ōnoki formally invited him to the Tsuchikage Building.
The office windows were flung wide open, framing the tiered stone terraces of Iwagakure outside.
"I have no reason to stop you from doing as you please," Ōnoki said from behind his desk, still floating in the air. "Right now, Konoha holds the greatest power and influence among the Five Great Ninja Villages. For Iwagakure, there's nothing to lose in cooperating with a proposal from the strong."
"Even if we end up clashing with the Daimyō, we can just use Konoha's pressure as an excuse and push the responsibility onto them."
Roshi frowned slightly at that. "Lord Tsuchikage, you said before that you wanted to build a closer relationship between Konoha and Iwagakure. Does that no longer count?"
"I didn't even go to the Hidden Cloud Village," he added. "I came straight here to bare my heart to you."
"'Bare your heart'?" Ōnoki chuckled. "Next time you've got such troublesome business, go straight to the Raikage. That guy might just slam the table and agree the moment he hears it. Then you won't have to waste your breath dancing around the subject with me."
Roshi could only smile and hold his tongue.
Ōnoki drifted back behind his desk, opened a drawer, and drew out a document, setting it down with a soft thud.
"Also," he said, his tone turning more casual, "it's about time you headed back. When you go, take this group of Iwagakure exchange students with you. The timing works out—they can get familiar with things early, and we won't have to send a separate escort later."
Roshi stepped forward, letting his eyes run down the list. After scanning a few lines, his gaze halted.
"Deidara… He's ten this year, but he graduated long ago and should have obtained his ninja status early on, Lord Ōnoki."
"He even attended the Five Kage Summit as part of the delegation and listened in on the proceedings."
Ōnoki's expression did not change. "Because of recent misconduct and repeated violations of village regulations that caused a negative impact, I've revoked his official ninja status."
"Let him go to Konoha to study for a while. Maybe a change of environment will teach him some restraint."
Roshi's eyes dropped back to the list. After Deidara's name, there was another that stood out: Kurotsuchi.
These two… "I understand," Roshi said. "I'll take responsibility for escorting this batch of exchange students safely to Konoha."
—
In the underground base, the lighting was dim. Only the experimental apparatus and rows of cultivation tanks cast a cold, ghostly glow across the laboratory.
Zetsu emerged wordlessly in a shadowed corner.
He turned his gaze to the tall, slender figure in a white research coat standing at the workbench.
"Orochimaru, your research… is truly astonishing."
The man at the bench did not look back, his attention fixed on the slide under the microscope as he adjusted the focus with precise movements.
Zetsu went on, "It seems the organization's decision to support you was the right one."
He was referring to the results Orochimaru had produced in such a short time after receiving a tilt in resources—the former Eight-Tails Jinchūriki, Blue B, summoned through Edo Tensei and actually able to wield the Eight-Tails' chakra.
"An incredible technique, Orochimaru," Zetsu praised. No emotion showed on his black half, while the white half wore an inquisitive look. "If this technique can be perfected, would it be possible to use Edo Tensei to summon the Tailed Beasts of the past…"
"Heh..."
A low chuckle cut through Zetsu's speculation.
At its source, Orochimaru was leisurely wiping his hands with a soft cloth, movements unhurried.
"Unfortunately, Zetsu, your hypothesis rests on a false premise."
"Only the Jinchuriki dies, not the Tailed Beast. The Tailed Beast itself doesn't truly die; it's merely extracted or sealed away. So in most cases, Edo Tensei can only bring back the Jinchuriki who acted as the vessel. It can't simultaneously recreate the full chakra of the Tailed Beast."
Zetsu said nothing. His white half looked puzzled, while the black half grew even more grave.
"Then, Blue B…"
"The reason Blue B can use the Eight-Tails' power," Orochimaru cut in, "is because I happened to preserve an active tissue sample from the Eight-Tails itself in my previous collections."
"So, Zetsu," Orochimaru's golden, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto him, "if you want me to reincarnate more individuals with Tailed Beast powers, what you need to bring me is not information on past Jinchuriki."
"But rather, people who were deeply fused with a Tailed Beast while alive—whose cells and genetic structure were already saturated and altered by Tailed Beast chakra. Or, to put it more bluntly, tissue taken directly from a Tailed Beast's body."
"Only with such 'materials' can Edo Tensei reproduce that power."
Digging up graves, scouring the land for remains… This sort of work was perfectly suited to White Zetsu.
"I'll keep an eye out for suitable materials," Zetsu finally replied.
"Excellent." Orochimaru smiled, clearly pleased. "If there's nothing else, I'll be returning to my experiment."
He turned back to the workbench and bent over the microscope again.
"One more thing," Zetsu's voice sounded once more. "The recent expansion of the organization's business seems to have run into some obstacles."
Orochimaru's hands never stopped as he adjusted the slide. "Is that so? Hardly surprising. The people of the Hidden Cloud Village were never going to ignore someone competing with them for clients."
"However, part of the sea now lies within the Organization's sphere of influence. To protect their main interests, the Five Great Ninja Villages don't dare recklessly commit their forces beyond their own borders. The only choice they have is to strike at the source."
"Are we doing nothing, then?" Zetsu asked.
"Once my experiment is complete," Orochimaru replied without turning, "the Organization won't need to lift a finger to accumulate sufficient power."
"What's happening now is just a game to wear them down."
Only then did Zetsu withdraw. "I understand. I'll hurry with the search for materials."
When the plant-like man had completely vanished, Orochimaru's smile faded.
He set down his tools and walked to the laboratory's "window"—though it was hardly a window at all, just an observation port looking out onto a bare stone wall.
With each new deal struck with Zetsu and each batch of resources he received, Orochimaru had, naturally, begun to notice a few things.
Among them were the relationships within the organization—seemingly simple on the surface but, in truth, a tangled mess of chaos.
None of that, however, had anything to do with him.
With movement between the Five Great Nations growing more and more restricted, his only goal was to make use of the organization's opportunities and resources to complete his own work.
"Roshi-kun…" he murmured to himself, "if I'm not mistaken, this is a racing game."
"You, who seemed to have played such a brilliant game of chess—if you're not careful, I'm afraid you'll end up falling behind."