…That's it?
Ōnoki stared, a little dazed.
It all felt too easy. Like a meat pie falling from the sky and hitting him in the face. His small eyes were wide with surprise, the expression on his craggy features bordering on stupid.
He hesitated, still not quite believing it, and ventured carefully:
"I can really… join? Just like that? You don't need me to, ah… do something for you first?"
"There will be opportunities," Sogetsu—Adam—said with an easy smile.
He leaned back in his chair, hands resting loosely on his knees, posture relaxed and utterly at ease. The golden halo in his eyes dimmed to a soft glow.
"But not now. Time doesn't mean much to a Spectator. All we need to do is… wait."
"Spectator" again.
This was the fourth time today Ōnoki had heard that word.
His instincts nagged at him. This "spectator" was not what it sounded like on the surface. There was something deeper tucked behind it—a meaning he couldn't quite reach with the scraps of information he had.
He pushed that aside for the moment and chose his next words with care.
"Forgive my impudence, but… how should I address you?"
His gaze stayed respectfully low, never quite rising to truly look at the being across from him. In front of something that had made his soul scream, he wasn't going to risk careless eye contact again.
"Adam," Sogetsu said.
Once again he borrowed that particular name.
He'd used it enough times that it fit his tongue comfortably now—and in the world of shinobi, there were no Outer Gods to notice or complain.
"Lord Adam," Ōnoki said after a brief pause, adding the honorific on pure instinct.
"May I ask… the other members. Who are they?"
Before something like this "god," even someone as wily as Ōnoki didn't dare be anything but cautious.
Every sentence had to be rolled around in his head a few times, checked for hidden offense, tested, polished—then spoken aloud.
And the members of this Twilight Hermits Society were, at this moment, the thing he most wanted to know.
The shinobi world wasn't huge.
In his mind, there were only a handful of people who might qualify for something like this. Knowing who not to provoke would be… useful.
"You'll see the others in time," Sogetsu said, seeing straight through him and not particularly bothered by it.
He chuckled softly.
"As for their identities, I can't tell you. They asked me to keep that from one another, to let everyone use codenames instead. You're no exception."
"Codenames…"
Ōnoki exhaled, tension leaking out of him.
"Then I thank you for your consideration. In that case, my codename will be… 'Rock.'"
His status as Tsuchikage was simply too conspicuous. If it could be hidden, all the better.
And "Rock" carried all the implication he needed: a strong hint, not a confession. Enough to make other members guess he belonged to Iwagakure without him ever truly saying it.
"I'll pass it along," Sogetsu said.
A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes; his spirit was starting to throb with fatigue. That was his warning bell.
Time's about up.
"Let's end today's little chat here," he went on. "While there's still a bit of time, I can answer one last question."
Ōnoki still had a mountain of questions, but he swallowed them back.
He picked the one that mattered most.
"Lord Adam," he said, "when… will I see you again?"
"Oh, right. Keep that oil lamp."
Sogetsu paused, then added with a faint smile:
"Fate guided you to it. As for our next meeting—you'll know when the time comes."
"I will obey your will," Ōnoki said, bowing low.
The bone cathedral began to sink, melting away like ice in deep water.
He felt himself rise—light as breath, like a balloon drifting upward. Darkness washed over him again, mist rolling in like a tide, swallowing his consciousness and carrying it through a sky pricked with distant, flickering stars.
He didn't know how long he drifted.
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the ceiling of his inn room.
The instant his mind cleared, he jolted up with a start, leaping straight off the bed to hover in the air. His gaze swept the room like a startled leopard's.
On the table, an old, brass-colored oil lamp sat quietly, its flame gone out, a thin thread of pale smoke curling toward the ceiling.
"It wasn't genjutsu… and it wasn't a dream."
Ōnoki's eyes locked on the lamp, his voice a whisper.
"So that future… is really going to happen?"
He'd seen it with his own eyes—one broken, blood-smeared corner of what was coming.
His rational mind still wanted to doubt. But the name Uchiha Madara had stabbed into him like a spike. For decades that terror had never fully faded.
No one who hadn't lived through Madara's era could understand how truly monstrous that man had been.
So even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance…
Ōnoki would still move to stop it.
His gaze hardened.
"Since you're already dead," he growled under his breath, "then stay in the Pure Land where you belong."
—
The next day.
At the time arranged in advance, Ōnoki and Tōjiki set sail and reached the Land of Water's coast.
On the very day the Third Mizukage died, the man in charge of sealing the news—Hōzuki Hazuki—had seized power with lightning speed. With the backing of the bloodline clans, he took control of most of the village's upper echelons.
Acting as temporary Mizukage, he'd sent a message inviting the Tsuchikage to meet and discuss their "next move."
Now, as the ships drew closer across the grey waves, Hazuki narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice.
"Remember," he said to the Mist-nin behind him, "our goal this time is to join forces with Iwa and launch a surprise attack on Konoha. Whatever demands he makes, we swallow them if we possibly can."
He'd seized most of the authority—but the word "acting" still sat on his head like a rock.
Kiri was riddled with factions. The bloodline clans carried enormous weight. As they'd lifted him up, they could just as easily throw him down.
Every decision he made had to pass their judgment.
"Fine if his conditions are reasonable," the head of the Kamizuki clan said with a scowl. "But what if he goes too far?"
"Do we still have the luxury of choice?"
Hazuki's voice flattened.
"Don't forget—even if we wanted to back down, Konoha won't pass up a chance like this."
His words sank in.
Faces darkened with barely contained fury.
Kiri had already been pushed to the cliff's edge. Even if they tried to bow their heads, Konoha wouldn't necessarily let them slink away. To everyone else, Mist right now was the perfect slab of fresh, juicy meat.
"…We understand."
Led by Kamizuki, the bloodline clans swallowed their anger like poison. No matter how much it chafed, all they could do was lower their proud heads.
A ripple of chakra touched the air.
Ōnoki arrived.
A short, elderly man, hands folded behind his back, floated over the sea as if the water were solid stone. No guards. No escort.
Alone.
"What nerve," Kamizuki hissed, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
"He's mocking us. Coming alone like that—doesn't he think we can kill him?"
Hazuki shot him a hard look, then shook his head.
"You stay here. I'll go alone."
If the Tsuchikage had chosen to come by himself, then he had to show a matching "sincerity."
He stepped forward, molding the seawater beneath him. The waves rose to carry him up until he stood at eye level with the floating man.
"I am Hōzuki Hazuki," he said, calm and formal. "By order of the Mizukage, I hold full authority for these talks. It is an honor to meet you, Tsuchikage Ōnoki of the Two Scales."
"Where is he?"
Ōnoki's brows twitched, displeasure flickering across his face.
"For something this important, he sends you?"
"The Mizukage was injured during the last resealing of the Tailed Beast," Hazuki replied smoothly. "He entrusted me with full negotiating authority."
He held the Tsuchikage's gaze.
"You can rest assured: he's empowered me to lead these discussions as I see fit."
"Fine," Ōnoki said. "If you're the one making decisions, I'll get straight to the point."
He had no patience for wasted breath—and his mind was already elsewhere.
"Fifteen days from now, Iwa and Mist will launch a pincer attack on Konoha from east and west. I'll reach out to Kumo and Suna as well. If we can get them on board, we'll add a north-south squeeze on top. The goal is simple: wipe out Konoha's main force before they even understand what's happening."
Hazuki went completely blank.
He'd come armed with carefully prepared arguments, ready to spend hours pushing the Tsuchikage toward war, easing him past every hesitation.
He hadn't used a single sentence.
Ōnoki had just… agreed.
More than agreed—he'd upgraded the whole plan.
A moment ago, the map in his mind had only two countries: Stone and Mist.
Now lightning and sand had joined the board.
What in the world…?
While Hazuki was still reeling, Ōnoki was… sneering, quietly, in his own head.
Uchiha Madara, is it?
Konoha, is it?
You didn't need a genius to connect the dots.
In the future, Madara comes back. That meant Konoha had resurrected him.
"Hmph. Necromancy, jutsu that yanks the dead out of the Pure Land…" Ōnoki's teeth clenched. "Only Konoha's Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, ever created such techniques."
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
"We'll see about this," he muttered under his breath.
"This time, with four great villages allied… I want to see how exactly Konoha plans to resist us. Uchiha Madara—"
His eyes flashed with hard, stubborn light.
"You're not coming back. Not if I have anything to say about it."
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