Chapter 483: Darui's Humble Stance During Negotiations
Nara Shikaku bowed at a perfect, respectful angle, waiting in absolute silence for Uchiha Akira's decision.
To grant an audience, or to leave them to rot?
Akira leaned back into the depths of his wide, high-backed chair. His fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the wooden armrest. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound echoed in the quiet command tent like a countdown.
After a long moment, a low, dark chuckle slipped from Akira's lips.
"There is no harm in seeing them." His crimson eyes glinted with cold amusement. "I am quite curious to see what sort of tricks these beaten dogs can bark out now that their spines are broken. Let them in."
A masked Anbu operative bowed low, flickering out of sight in a swirl of leaves.
Outside the main command tent, the atmosphere was thick with suffocating hostility.
Darui and Kitsuchi stood rigidly, enduring the undisguised, malicious glares of the surrounding Konoha shinobi. The hatred was a physical weight. It was especially heavy from the Uchiha clansmen forming the inner perimeter. The eerie, blood-red glow of their Sharingan cut through the dimming light, tracking the envoys' every twitch. The Uchiha looked like starved wolves, practically vibrating with the urge to draw their blades and tear the Kumogakure and Iwagakure ninjas to bloody shreds.
A sudden gust of wind signaled the Anbu's return. The masked operative materialized before them, his tone entirely devoid of warmth.
"Go in. Hokage-sama summons you." He raised a gloved finger, pointing sharply at Darui, then at Kitsuchi. "Only the two of you. The rest of your escort stays here."
The Anbu's hand drifted toward the hilt of his ninjato. "If you dare make a sudden move..."
He left the threat hanging in the air. He did not need to finish it. The simultaneous, metallic hiss of dozens of swords being drawn an inch from their scabbards across the camp communicated the message perfectly.
Darui forced a slow, measured breath into his lungs. He raised a hand, gesturing for his tense subordinates to stand down and remain absolutely still.
"Let us go."
He exchanged a grim, heavy look with Kitsuchi. Together, the two elite shinobi parted the heavy canvas flaps and stepped into the lion's den.
The moment the tent flaps fell shut behind them, the ambient light seemed to die.
The air inside the tent was unnaturally still, heavy with a scent of ozone and iron. Then, it hit them. An indescribable, apocalyptic wave of chakra crashed down upon their shoulders. It was not mere killing intent; it was the physical manifestation of absolute dominance.
Darui's vision swam. A violent buzzing erupted in his ears. His knees buckled instantly as every single bone in his body groaned under the crushing, invisible weight.
"Ugh..."
Beside him, Kitsuchi let out a strangled, muffled grunt. The massive Iwagakure shinobi's face rapidly darkened to a bruised shade of purple. Despite being renowned as a top-tier powerhouse of the Earth Country, a man who literally shaped mountains, Kitsuchi felt as though the entire sky had collapsed onto his back. His thick, muscular legs shook violently, the floorboards beneath his sandals beginning to splinter.
"Kneel."
The command drifted from the shadows ahead. It was not a shout. It was quiet, indifferent, and utterly absolute.
Darui's willpower snapped. His trembling legs gave out entirely, and his knees slammed into the hard ground with a sickening thud.
A split second later, Kitsuchi followed. The giant of a man collapsed beside him, hitting the floor just as heavily.
Two Elite Jonin. Two commanders famous across the entire Ninja World.
Upon their very first meeting. Before a single demand could be made, before a single term of negotiation could be uttered, they were forced into a humiliating, prostrate kneel at Uchiha Akira's feet.
Cold sweat beaded on Darui's forehead, dripping rapidly onto the floorboards as his frame shook uncontrollably. He was the Raikage's right hand. He was the pride of Kumogakure, a master of Storm Release. When had he ever been subjected to such degrading humiliation?
His pride roared in his chest, screaming at him to stand, to draw his cleaver sword, to fight and die for the dignity of the Hidden Cloud.
But his body completely betrayed his mind.
Trapped beneath Akira's suffocating aura, every instinct, every nerve ending, every cell in his body screamed a single word: submit.
Is this the true monster known as Uchiha Akira?
"Strong..." Darui gritted his teeth, the friction grinding his jaw as he forced the words through a constricted throat. "So strong... it is terrifying..."
Whatever resentment and burning anger he had carried into this camp dissolved, replaced by a deep, hollow helplessness. This was a gap in power that sheer willpower could never bridge.
As if finally bored by the sight of their wretched, trembling forms, Akira blinked. The oppressive crimson glow in his eyes dimmed a fraction.
Instantly, the crushing gravity vanished, receding as quickly as a retreating tide.
Darui and Kitsuchi collapsed forward onto their hands, gasping violently. They sucked in huge, greedy lungfuls of oxygen like drowning men breaking the surface of the ocean. Their tactical vests clung to their backs, entirely soaked through with cold sweat.
"Since you went through the trouble of coming here, do not just sprawl on my floor." Akira's voice was smooth, cutting through their heavy breathing. "Stand up. Speak."
Darui pressed his palms flat against the wood, his muscles burning as he forced his spine straight. He and Kitsuchi staggered to their feet. They did not dare meet the Hokage's gaze, keeping their heads bowed low, their posture stripped of all former arrogance.
"Speak." Akira picked up a delicate porcelain teacup from the small table beside him, swirling the warm liquid inside with casual indifference. "What exactly did Ōnoki send you here for? To seek death? Or to beg for mercy?"
Darui took another deep, ragged breath, desperately forcing his hammering heart to slow its frantic rhythm.
"Hokage-sama." His voice was hoarse. "We... are here to sue for peace."
"Sue for peace?" Akira paused his swirling. A dry, mocking laugh escaped him. "Is it not a bit late to suddenly discover a love for peace? That was certainly not the tune you were singing when you amassed an army of tens of thousands at our borders, aggressively threatening to flatten Konoha into dust."
Darui flinched, his shoulders stiffening.
He offered no defense. He could not. In the Ninja World, the winner took all. They had gambled everything on destroying the Leaf, and they had lost spectacularly. Now, they had to bare their necks and take the beating.
"Kumogakure... admits total defeat." Darui bowed deeper, staring at the toes of his sandals. "We are willing to take full responsibility for the damages and losses inflicted upon Konoha during this campaign. We will pay heavy reparations. Money, vital supplies, secret Ninjutsu scrolls... whatever Konoha demands, Kumogakure will provide without a single word of haggling."
"Is that all?" Akira asked, his tone dangerously flat.
Darui's chest tightened. He knew the next words could easily cost him his life.
"Hokage-sama..." He braced himself, steeling his nerves. "We have only one request in return."
Darui finally lifted his chin, a desperate, pleading light visible in his dark eyes. "Please. We ask that Konoha release the Raikage. And... we ask that you return the Eight-Tails Jinchuriki who was captured on the battlefield. Return Killer Bee."
Hearing the words 'Eight-Tails', Akira paused, the teacup halting halfway to his lips. He slowly lowered it, raising a single, dark eyebrow.
"The Eight-Tails? Are you under some sort of delusion? That fool Killer Bee is not in my custody."
Darui froze, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief.
"Not in Konoha? That is impossible!" Panic flared in his chest, overriding his caution. He instinctively took a half-step forward. "During the battle, our scouts saw it with their own eyes! The one who abducted Lord Killer Bee was the reanimated Third Raikage! And the entire world knows that only Konoha possesses the Edo Tensei technique!"
The moment the accusation left his mouth, the temperature in the tent plummeted.
A razor-sharp, freezing killing intent locked directly onto Darui's throat. The Kumogakure shinobi violently shuddered, stumbling backward three rapid steps to put distance between himself and the desk.
Akira sneered, his lips curling into a cruel, mocking smile. "What was that? Are you accusing Konoha of stealing your precious Eight-Tails?"
"I would never dare..." Darui choked out, immediately snapping his head back down in submission.
"That was the work of Uchiha Obito, colluding with Orochimaru," Akira stated, his tone dripping with disdain. "They were the ones who controlled the reanimated Third Raikage to ambush and capture the Eight-Tails. Konoha's forces were also attacked by their Edo Tensei pawns on the front lines. A fact your intelligence division should be well aware of."
Akira leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his piercing gaze boring into Darui's skull. "You want to find your Eight-Tails? Go hunt down those two rats and ask them where they dragged Killer Bee. Do not attempt to pin every stinking mess in this world on Konoha."
Uchiha Obito? Orochimaru?
Darui's mind practically short-circuited as a wild, hysterical rant exploded within his thoughts.
'Dammit! Are you kidding me?! Isn't Uchiha Obito a member of your own damn clan?! Isn't Orochimaru one of Konoha's legendary defected Sannin?! Every single apocalyptic scourge plaguing the Ninja World crawled out of your village! And now you sit there with a straight face and tell me this has absolutely nothing to do with Konoha?!'
Despite the ten thousand curses screaming in his head, Darui did not dare let a single muscle in his face twitch out of line. He swallowed the bitter bile in his throat.
"I... see. So that is how it is," Darui managed to say, his voice painfully dry. "We deeply misunderstood the situation."
Since the Eight-Tails was not in Konoha's custody, he had no choice but to set the matter aside. The absolute top priority was securing the Raikage's survival. As long as the Fourth Raikage lived and breathed, Kumogakure would retain its central pillar of support. They would survive this disaster and eventually find a chance to rebuild.
"Since the Eight-Tails is not in your possession..." Darui took another deep breath, forcibly composing his shattered nerves. "Then I humbly implore Hokage-sama to at least release the Raikage. On this basis, Kumogakure is prepared to sign a permanent, binding peace treaty with Konoha."
He lowered his head again, trotting out the standard, high-sounding political rhetoric. "For the sake of lasting peace in the Ninja World, and to prevent any further needless bloodshed... Once the Raikage is safely returned to us, Kumogakure will immediately withdraw all remaining troops. We swear to never set foot within the borders of the Land of Fire again."
Seeing his counterpart making headway, Kitsuchi hurriedly stepped forward, his massive frame still trembling slightly as he spoke in a thick, muffled voice.
"Me too!" He caught his clumsy phrasing and quickly corrected himself. "Ah, no... I mean, Iwagakure is also fully willing to negotiate for peace with Konoha! As long as Konoha is willing to spare the surviving remnants of the Allied Forces, Iwagakure will pay whatever reparations you demand! Tsuchikage-sama explicitly stated that as long as there is peace, absolutely everything is negotiable!"
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