Chapter 392: The Ambush on Roshi and the Resurrected Kage
Shikaku drew a slow, heavy breath. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed darker than usual against the dim light of the Hokage's office. "Kumogakure and Iwagakure have completely lost their minds."
He placed a thick scroll on the desk. "They are absolutely convinced that Konoha orchestrated the abductions. Raikage Ay and Onoki are currently holding an emergency summit in the Land of Iron. They have just issued a joint declaration to the entire Ninja World. A formal call to arms for the subjugation of Konoha."
Uchiha Akira leaned back into the plush leather of his chair. The rhythmic tap, tap, tap of his index finger against the mahogany desk echoed in the quiet room.
"Edo Tensei..." he murmured, his tone laced with cold amusement. "A vile technique that desecrates the souls of the dead. Aside from Orochimaru, no one else possesses the obsession or the means to weaponize it on such a scale."
His finger stopped tapping. "As for the Wood Release..."
A sinister, blood-red light flared to life within Akira's eyes, the tomoe spinning lazily. "Uchiha Obito."
"It seems the rat hiding in the darkest gutters of this world has finally decided to scurry into the light."
Shikaku nodded, the deep lines on his forehead pulling tight. As Konoha's premier strategist, the underlying logic of the enemy's movements was as clear as glass to him.
"It is a blatant frame-up."
"The enemy's objective is entirely transparent. They want to muddy the waters, forcing Kumogakure and Iwagakure into a direct collision course with us."
Shikaku looked up, his gaze meeting the glowing crimson of his leader's eyes. "Hokage-sama," he began tentatively. "Should we issue a formal statement?"
"If we clarify that Konoha had absolutely no hand in the Jinchuriki abductions... while it may not entirely erase their suspicions, it would at least grant us the moral high ground..."
"A statement?"
Akira's low, mocking chuckle cut Shikaku off instantly. The Uchiha rose from his seat, his dark cloak billowing slightly as he approached the massive floor-to-ceiling window. Rain battered against the reinforced glass, blurring the sprawling, neon-lit expanse of Konoha below.
It was prosperous. It was invincible. This was the absolute apex of the Ninja World, an empire forged by his own two hands.
"Shikaku." Akira did not turn around, his gaze fixed on the glowing streets of his domain. "Do you believe an apex predator needs to explain its dietary choices to its prey before tearing out its throat?"
Shikaku froze, the words dying on his tongue.
"In our current political climate, do you truly believe the truth holds any weight?" Akira asked, his voice chillingly calm. "None at all."
"What use is a piece of paper?"
"Shall we beg them to believe we didn't capture their Jinchuriki? Cry that we were framed by ghosts? Do you expect that muscle-brained Raikage to listen to reason? Or that treacherous old fox, Onoki, to accept our innocence?"
Akira turned, pacing slowly toward the massive tactical map mounted on the wall. He raised a hand, his fingertip lightly striking the mountainous terrain of Kumogakure, then sliding over to the rocky expanse of Iwagakure.
"They won't believe a single word," Akira stated, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Or rather, they dare not believe it."
"The Konoha of today is simply too powerful. Having annexed Sunagakure and completely absorbed the Hidden Mist, our military might already eclipses their combined forces."
"To them, Konoha's mere existence is a mortal sin."
"Maintaining that fragile, superficial peace until now took every ounce of their restraint. And now, Obito and Orochimaru have graciously handed them a knife."
"They will snatch that blade without a second thought. Even if they know it is a trap, they will willingly hurl themselves into the abyss. Because if they refuse to jump, they know exactly what awaits them: being slowly, agonizingly devoured by Konoha, like frogs boiled alive in a pot."
Shikaku fell into a heavy silence. His brilliant mind processed the brutal reality of Akira's words, the pieces clicking into place. It was the ultimate, inevitable stress reaction. When two inferior beasts faced a true leviathan, panic dictated their every move.
"Then..." Shikaku swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "War is upon us?"
"Precisely."
Akira turned fully, his piercing gaze locking onto his strategist.
"The Fourth Great Ninja War."
"And our enemies will not be limited to the fools in Kumogakure and Iwagakure. We must prepare for Orochimaru's Edo Tensei army, alongside the legions of White Zetsu under Obito's command."
"These vermin will empty their coffers and exhaust every hidden resource they possess. This is the desperate, thrashing counterattack of a dying era against the dawn of the new one."
A cold sweat broke out across Shikaku's skin. Two Great Ninja Villages mobilizing their entire military infrastructure. The legendary powerhouses of history dragged back from the pure land via Edo Tensei. And an estimated one hundred thousand White Zetsu drones.
The sheer scale of this conflict defied all historical precedent.
"Hokage-sama, our active troop numbers..." Shikaku began, his mind already calculating casualty projections, but Akira silenced him with a single, raised hand.
"Do not fret."
Akira offered a smile of terrifying, absolute confidence.
"They are nothing more than a disorganized rabble. Let them bring their thousands. Let them bring their dead. In the face of absolute, overwhelming power, numbers are merely statistics on a casualty report."
"I will take the field myself."
"And I will crush them all."
Those few words, spoken with such unshakable certainty, acted as an anchor for Shikaku's racing mind. The anxiety gripping his chest loosened. He was right. As long as Uchiha Akira stood at the helm, the sky above Konoha would never fall.
"," Akira continued, the harsh edge of his voice softening just a fraction. "I am not marching into this slaughter alone."
"You have done exceptional work, Shikaku. The Medical Ninja reforms we pushed through are about to prove their true worth."
A spark of pride flared in Shikaku's dark eyes.
"Indeed. Ever since Lady Tsunade assumed her duties, her rigorous training regimens have produced extraordinary results. As of today, every active combat squad is equipped with at least one operative fully proficient in basic Medical Ninjutsu."
", we have finalized a complete, heavily fortified logistical supply network. Compared to the archaic structures of the other Villages, the baseline survival rate of a Konoha shinobi has skyrocketed by at least thirty percent!"
This was the bedrock of their empire. Wars were not won solely by flashy jutsu or individual heroics. They were won through logistics, unbroken supply chains, and the rapid recovery of wounded assets. With Tsunade's expertise and a flawless medical infrastructure, Konoha had already evolved an entire era beyond the rest of the Ninja World.
"Excellent." Uchiha Akira nodded slowly. "Pass down the order."
His demeanor shifted, the air in the office growing heavy with suffocating killing intent.
"The entire Village is to enter Level-One Combat Readiness immediately. Reinforce all border defenses to maximum capacity."
"If they are so desperate to bleed..." A cruel, predatory grin stretched across Akira's face. "Then we will give them a slaughter!"
"In this war, I will shatter their spines! I will break their spirit so thoroughly that from this day forward, the Ninja World will only ever have one voice!"
"The voice of Konoha!"
Shikaku bowed deeply, a sharp, crisp motion of absolute loyalty. "Yes, Hokage-sama!"
He turned on his heel and strode out of the office, his mind already drafting deployment orders.
The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving Akira alone in the quiet expanse of his domain. He stood by the glass, watching the torrential downpour swallow the city. A jagged fork of lightning violently tore through the black clouds, casting a stark, blinding glow over Akira's sharp features.
"Obito..." he whispered to the glass.
"Since you went through the trouble of setting the stage..."
"I suppose I can humor you for this final act."
"Do try not to bore me when the curtain falls."
...
Far beyond the borders of the Land of Fire, a different storm raged.
Deep within a jagged, desolate valley in the Land of Earth, the rain fell in punishing sheets. The deluge battered against the towering gray-brown cliffs, washing away the loose topsoil and gathering into thick, murky mudflows that snaked through the gorge.
Beneath the meager shelter of a massive, protruding boulder stood Roshi. The Jinchuriki of the Four-Tails crossed his arms, his weathered face etched with deep lines of irritation.
He glared down at the squad of Iwagakure Anbu kneeling in the mud before him.
"I already gave you my answer. I am not going back." Roshi spat, his gruff voice cutting through the roar of the rain. "Go back and tell that stubborn old fossil, Onoki, that I have zero interest in getting dragged into the Village's political filth."
"Roshi-sama, please!" The Anbu captain lifted his masked face, desperation bleeding into his tone. "This time is different! Han, the Jinchuriki of the Five-Tails, has vanished without a trace! Even the Raikage's younger brother has been abducted! The entire Ninja World is on the brink of—"
A ghastly, blinding flash of lightning ripped across the heavens, the deafening crack of thunder swallowing the Anbu's desperate plea.
Roshi ignored the man entirely. He snapped his head toward the mouth of the valley, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the dense, gray curtain of rain.
The atmosphere around them had suddenly shifted. The very air grew thick, viscous, and suffocatingly heavy—as if an invisible mountain was slowly pressing down upon their shoulders.
"What the..." Roshi's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Beneath his sandals, the thick mud began to violently tremble. Slowly, defying the very laws of gravity, tiny grains of earth began to float upward into the torrential rain.
But it wasn't just ordinary dirt. Catching the dim light of the storm, glittering specks of heavy, metallic powder swirled through the air.
Gold dust.
"Look out!" Roshi roared, his battle-honed instincts screaming danger.
The fiery, boiling chakra of the Four-Tails erupted from his core in a blinding flash. In a fraction of a second, a searing, crimson Lava Release Chakra Mode ignited, encasing his entire body in a molten, impenetrable armor of liquid rock.
He was barely in time.
The very next second, a monstrous, glittering wave roared out from the depths of the storm. It was a tsunami of pure, condensed Gold Dust, moving with the speed and devastation of an avalanche. It crashed down upon the kneeling Iwagakure Anbu before they could even twitch.
There were no screams.
The sheer, crushing density of the metallic wave pulverized their bodies instantly, burying them beneath tons of shifting gold.
"Gold Dust..." Roshi hissed through gritted teeth, the intense heat of his molten armor vaporizing the rain before it could touch his skin. He stared intently at the shifting golden dunes. "A Magnet Release of this scale... only that dead Kazekage could wield something like this!"
As if responding to his words, the massive golden wave slowly parted down the middle.
Two figures emerged from the heavy rain, their footsteps silent against the metallic earth.
The man on the left wore the tattered remnants of a Kazekage's robes. His skin was pale and flaking, his eyes hollow voids of black sclera, and deep, unnatural cracks lined his face—the obvious hallmark of the Edo Tensei.
The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa.
But it was the figure on the right that made the breath catch in Roshi's throat. Wrapped entirely in decaying bandages from head to toe, the man hovered silently a few inches above the ground, his chakra signature utterly nonexistent yet overwhelmingly oppressive.
Roshi took a staggering step back, his molten armor flaring as pure dread gripped his heart.
"The Se... Second Tsuchikage-sama?"
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