At first glance, the issue before Menma seemed critical.
Yet in truth, it was not.
What truly mattered did not lie in surface-level assurances or diplomatic phrasing. The core of the matter was far more fundamental credibility… and integrity.
Although Menma had been young in his previous life and possessed little practical social experience, he was by no means naïve. He understood the nature of human interaction, especially in environments driven by survival and ambition. This was not a peaceful civilian society governed by etiquette and moral virtue. This was the shinobi world a realm defined by shifting interests, calculated risks, and the ruthless pursuit of advantage.
Trust, in such a world, was never granted freely.
It was measured.
Weighed.
Tested.
The answer that the Third Tsuchikage might give him was indeed important. However, it was not decisive. What Menma required was not blind faith but reference data indicators that could help him evaluate the old man's true intentions and future reliability.
Onoki showed no sign of surprise at Menma's doubts. On the contrary, he seemed almost relieved by them. To him, such caution was the most natural response imaginable when a powerful outsider found himself entangled in high-level geopolitical maneuvering.
He had come prepared.
When Menma finished speaking, the Tsuchikage responded immediately, his gravel-like voice steady and unhurried.
"The first concern you mentioned is hardly an issue at all, Menma-kun. Relations between the Five Great Shinobi Villages have long since deteriorated to their current state. Do you truly believe further provocation is necessary to anger Konoha?"
A dry chuckle escaped him.
"In the eyes of an old man like me, such a possibility is almost laughable. Let us not even discuss whether Konoha possesses the courage to initiate a full-scale conflict. Even if they did… compared to the value you represent, any so-called threat of war would be little more than background noise."
Ōnoki's eyes sharpened slightly as he continued.
"You need not fear that I would hand you over to appease them. Value is one factor but reputation and authority are equally significant. If I were to betray a guest who placed his trust in me, what credibility would remain for the Tsuchikage of Iwagakure? I did not reach this position through foolishness… nor will I govern like Sarutobi Hiruzen."
His words were blunt.
Direct.
Unapologetic.
From his perspective, Menma as the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails possessed strategic value that could reshape the balance of power between nations. Even the risk of war with the Hidden Leaf Village might be justified if the potential rewards were sufficient.
After all… this was the Kyūbi.
A force that had once laid waste to Konoha itself.
Moreover, Ōnoki had long regarded the leadership of the Leaf with a measure of contempt. Decades of conflict had forged his belief that the so-called strongest shinobi village lacked the resolve to make uncompromising decisions. In his mind, history had proven this repeatedly.
He deliberately invoked the name of the Third Hokage not merely as criticism, but as a calculated signal an attempt to demonstrate that he himself would never allow external pressure to dictate his actions.
In the Tsuchikage's view, surrendering one's own people to avert war was the gravest form of political weakness. Such an act would shake the very foundations of a village's authority. Even if a clan member committed grave mistakes, responsibility should be resolved internally. To deliver them to an enemy was to undermine the legitimacy of the entire shinobi system.
Having expressed his stance on the first issue, Ōnoki addressed the second without hesitation.
"As for your concerns regarding my sincerity… the fact that I stand before you today should serve as the clearest answer. Given your identity and the actions you have taken thus far, I believe you are not a man who relies on deception as his primary weapon. Therefore, I am willing to extend you unrestricted trust. This is the greatest form of goodwill I can offer."
His gaze remained fixed on Menma, searching for even the slightest reaction.
After a brief pause, he added one final clarification.
"Regarding your last question understand this: every decision I make will ultimately serve the interests of Iwagakure. That is the responsibility of a Kage. I trust you comprehend what that means."
Menma's brows lifted slightly.
Silence followed.
It was not the silence of hesitation, but of evaluation a moment in which invisible calculations unfolded beneath his calm exterior.
At length, he nodded.
"Of course I understand. Your foremost identity is that of the Tsuchikage of the Hidden Stone Village. Acting in its best interest is not only natural… it is inevitable."
Ōnoki laughed softly, folding his hands behind his back. Outwardly he appeared composed, yet inwardly his nerves tightened. Before arriving, he had been confident in his ability to persuade Menma. Every word he had spoken was rooted in genuine intention. He had not come to deceive or manipulate he had come to recruit.
In truth, he had even considered extraordinary possibilities. If Menma's potential truly surpassed that of the younger generation within Iwagakure, then elevating him to positions of unprecedented authority might not be impossible.
After all, power reshaped tradition.
And necessity rewrote precedent.
However, after meeting Menma face to face and engaging him in direct conversation, the Tsuchikage had gained a clearer understanding of the young jinchūriki's character. This was not someone easily guided by promises or prestige. His independence was absolute.
Hope still existed.
But it was far more uncertain than Ōnoki had initially believed.
As expected, Menma did not deliberate long.
Almost immediately after the Tsuchikage finished speaking, he shook his head.
"I regret that I must disappoint you. At present, I have no intention of joining any shinobi village. However… there may still be room for cooperation between us, Lord Tsuchikage."
For a brief instant, Ōnoki felt his heart sink. He had already begun reconsidering alternative strategies containment, surveillance, perhaps even elimination for dealing with the unpredictable Nine-Tails jinchūriki.
Then the latter half of Menma's statement registered.
The old man blinked.
"Cooperation?" he repeated, interest rekindling. "What exactly do you mean by that, Menma-kun?"
At the side, Orochimaru revealed a faint, knowing smile. The atmosphere reminded him strongly of his own first encounter with Menma in the Forest of Death months earlier the same calm posture, the same unsettling clarity of purpose.
Menma met the Tsuchikage's gaze without wavering.
"It means precisely what the word implies. I propose that you and I form an alliance."
He paused deliberately.
"The target of that alliance… will be Konohagakure."
The Land of Fire.
For decades, its prosperity and central geographical position had made it both the envy and the primary strategic objective of rival nations. While conflicts among the other Great Villages were frequent the brutal clashes between Iwa and Kumo being a prime example more often than not their hostility ultimately converged upon the Hidden Leaf.
Menma understood that alliances built purely on trust were fragile.
But alliances forged through shared interests… were far more durable.
There were countless methods by which contradictions between powers could be suppressed or redirected. The most effective of all was to introduce a greater contradiction one that promised tangible benefits and a realistic path toward victory.
When such an opportunity emerged, former rivalries could be set aside.
At least temporarily.
And Menma was certain that, barring unforeseen upheavals, the Third Tsuchikage would not refuse such a proposition.