The battlefield shook under Onoki's presence.
Shanks exhaled slowly, red hair swaying as he stepped forward again. His legs trembled—not from fear, but from the pressure. Onoki's Dust Release had already carved three trenches in the earth. One wrong move and he would become a fourth.
"Still alive… impressive for a brat," Onoki muttered, floating weightlessly above the shattered ground. "But strength like yours… it's dangerous. Children aren't supposed to hold power like that, specially if they are not born in Iwa"
Shanks wiped a thin line of blood from his cheek.
But Shanks kept his face blank, expression unreadable.
He leapt in again. His blade met Onoki's stone-hardened arm, but the old kage didn't budge. Instead, his knee shot forward, slamming into Shanks' ribs and sending him skidding across the dirt.
"Guh—!"
Shanks rolled, coughing, ribs burning.
Onoki raised two fingers.
"Dust Release—"
A hand slammed down between them.
"Enough, old man!" Jiraiya landed in a crouch, hair whipping behind him. "Pick on someone your own size for once."
Shanks smirked weakly. "Late as always… aniki."
Jiraiya grinned. "I like to make dramatic entrances."
Onoki clicked his tongue. "The Toad Brat? Konoha is truly desperate."
"Yeah? Then let's make you regret coming here in the first place."
Jiraiya darted forward, forcing Onoki to drift back. The ground cracked beneath each blow they exchanged—Jiraiya keeping his distance, Onoki turning the battlefield into floating rubble.
Shanks tried to stand again… but his vision blurred.
Damn. I used too much. I need one minute—just one.
Konoha — Hokage Office
Hiruzen's pipe fell from his hand.
"Onoki… personally?" His voice trembled—not from fear, but from the gravity of the situation.
"Confirmed, Hokage-sama," the messenger said. "Shanks, Jiraiya, and Minato are engaged."
Hiruzen leaned forward, mind racing.
If Onoki is there… this is no longer just a frontline clash.
He turned to another ANBU.
"Send word to the Uchiha compound. Tell their clan head he is to replace Sakumo immediately on the Suna front."
The ANBU disappeared.
Hiruzen closed his eyes for a second… then opened them with resolve.
"And send for Sakumo. He moves to the Iwa front at once."
He muttered under his breath:
"Shanks… hold on."
Back to the Battlefield
Jiraiya was breathing hard now. Even he couldn't clash with a Tsuchikage for long.
"Tch… he's heavier than he looks…" he muttered, blocking a technique that pulverized the boulder behind him.
Onoki didn't even look winded.
"Give up, boy. My Dust Release can erase anything. Even your silly hair."
Shanks pushed himself up again, staggering slightly.
"I'm back…"
Jiraiya didn't even look at him—just smirked.
"Knew you would be."
The two charged.
Onoki's hands blurred. "Dust Release:…"
Shanks' eyes widened. He flickered forward, blade clashing against Onoki's wrist, diverting the full technique—but the resulting shockwave blasted him into a pile of broken debris.
His left arm went numb. He glanced at it.
A chunk of flesh had been eaten away—skin, muscle, even a bit of bone exposed.
If not for Haki reinforcing the limb…
My entire arm would be gone.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself back to his feet.
Jiraiya was panting now, sweat dripping down his face.
"Shanks… we're not winning this. Not like this."
"Yeah," Shanks murmured. "I know."
"Then run," Onoki said calmly, raising both hands. "Because next time, I'm not aiming for a limb."
A flicker of yellow light cut between them.
Minato landed, kunai in hand, eyes sharp despite his age.
"Jiraya-sama… Shanks… step back."
Jiraiya blinked. "Minato, what are you doing—"
"I'm not strong enough to beat him. I know that."
Minato raised his kunai anyway. "But I can hold him for a second."
Shanks felt a cold prick in his chest.
He's still a kid…
Onoki scowled. "Annoying little pests… all of you."
He floated higher—much higher—until he stood far above the treetops.
Shanks' muscles tightened.
Why is he flying that high?!
Onoki's hands formed the familiar shape.
But this time… it was different.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique…"
The air vibrated.
"…Octagonal Prism Variant."
A massive geometric construct appeared between his palms—bigger than any he had used before.
The center sphere glowed like a dying star.
Jiraiya's eyes went wide. "T-That size… that's not meant for a person—Shanks, Minato, MOVE!"
The construct suddenly expanded—doubling, then tripling in size—its edges distorting the air as it grew.
And Onoki released it.
The Prism shot toward the battlefield, roaring like a collapsing mountain, engulfing everything—Shanks, Jiraiya, Minato, the entire frontline—
—then detonated.
A blinding flash.
A consuming white.
Silence.
Everyone is dead.
The end...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
…Stop. Rewind.
Shanks blinked.
The world snapped back.
He stood exactly where he had been a few seconds earlier—Minato still stepping forward, Jiraiya still catching his breath, Onoki still floating above them preparing to rise.
Shanks exhaled sharply.
Future Sight.
He stared seriously at Onoki, jaw tightening.
If he uses that technique… everyone here dies. Jiraiya, Minato… me… the entire frontline.
His pulse quickened.
"Damn it…"
For the first time since the war started, Shanks felt a chill run through him.
"…this is bad."