A ground his teeth.
His massive chest heaved with suppressed frustration.
If he sounded the retreat now, he would be betraying his father, the Third Raikage, who had entrusted the vanguard to him.
He would be spitting on the sacrifices of the Kumogakure shinobi who had already bled into the dirt of this valley.
But if he gave the order to attack, he would be betraying the ghosts of a future that hadn’t happened yet.
The phantom weight of the Allied Shinobi Forces pressed down on his shoulders.
In his newly inherited memories, he had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the shinobi across the trenches.
They had bled together, fighting the Ten-Tails, Madara, and Obito Uchiha.
They were his comrades-in-arms.
He could not force his brothers to slaughter each other.
Trapped between his present duty and his future bonds, the usually decisive future Fourth Raikage paralyzed.
He roared, channeling his explosive rage into his right arm, and slammed his fist down.
The heavy timber of the tactical table shattered, his fist punching a jagged hole straight through the center.
Dodai opened his mouth to speak, then wisely snapped it shut.
Even Killer B stood silently in the corner, offering no rhymes.
Suddenly, the air in the center of the command tent screamed.
The space twisted into a violent, spiraling vortex.
A second later, three figures spilled out onto the dirt floor: Minato Namikaze, Obito Uchiha, and Onoki.
Obito collapsed instantly.
His limbs gave out, his face completely devoid of color, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.
Minato dropped to one knee beside his student, his hand checking Obito’s pulse.
Finding the boy merely suffering from catastrophic chakra exhaustion, the Yellow Flash let out a quiet breath.
“That ocular jutsu of yours is terrifyingly convenient, boy,” Onoki muttered.
He floated slightly above the dirt floor, adjusting his robes.
He glanced at the ruined table, then locked eyes with the towering Kumo shinobi.
“You’re still as hot-headed as ever, A.
Decades of future memories, and you still smash the furniture the second you get frustrated.”
A’s eyes darted from the Tsuchikage to the Yellow Flash, and finally landed on the gasping Uchiha on the floor.
“Obito Uchiha!” A bellowed.
Lightning cracked across A’s skin.
He lunged forward.
Dodai moved to flank him, his own hands flashing through seals.
In the corner, Killer B shot forward, grabbing Dodai by the shoulder and hauling him backward with a firm shake of his head.
Onoki drifted directly into A’s path, planting himself between the raging behemoth and the exhausted Uchiha.
“Get out of my way, Onoki!” A roared, his fists crackling with ozone.
“Calm down, brat,” the Third Tsuchikage snapped back, crossing his arms.
The shouting breached the tent flaps.
A dozen Kumogakure Anbu swarmed into the command center, their unsheathed blades catching the dim light.
They froze for a fraction of a second upon seeing the Third Tsuchikage and Konoha newest rising star, but their lethal training took over.
They fanned out, surrounding the three intruders.
Onoki ignored the drawn steel entirely.
He kept his eyes locked on A.
“Is this how you greet your brothers-in-arms?”
A glared down at the old man.
The lightning armor flickering across his skin slowly died down.
He shot a look at the Anbu captain.
“Stand down.
Get out.
This doesn’t concern you.”
The captain hesitated, his eyes darting to the future Yellow Flash.
“Lord A, it’s not safe—”
A’s fist came down again.
The rest of the splintered table caved in completely, collapsing into a pile of ruined timber.
“I said get out!”
The captain flinched.
He threw up a hand signal, and the Anbu vanished from the tent as quickly as they had arrived.
The oppressive killing intent in the air slowly evaporated.
Onoki looked around the barren tent, eyeing the pile of splinters.
“Your camp is pathetic.
You don’t even have chairs for your guests.”
A didn’t press the attack.
He had fought alongside the Five Kage for years in the future timeline.
They had survived the apocalypse together.
That bedrock of trust remained.
He didn’t know why Onoki was defending the war criminal, but he trusted the old man’s judgment.
“You’re lucky I didn’t snap his neck before you could blink,” A growled, rolling his massive shoulders.
“And you have the nerve to complain about the hospitality.
Talk.
Why are you traveling with Obito Uchiha and the Yellow Flash?
If this is a peace summit, where is Tsunade?
Where is Kakashi?”
Hearing the genuine curiosity beneath the anger, Minato and Obito exchanged a look of profound relief.
Obito stared up at Onoki’s back, a silent debt of gratitude etched into his features.
“Everyone step back,” Onoki ordered, waving his hands.
“Give me some room to work so we can sit down and talk like civilized people.”
A grunted, taking two heavy steps backward.
Dodai and B followed suit.
Onoki extended his hands toward the ruined timber.
A semi-transparent, glowing white cube expanded from his palms, enclosing the debris.
Particle Style: Dismantling Jutsu.
A blinding flash illuminated the tent.
When the light faded, the wood had been atomized entirely.
The ground was spotless.
Without missing a beat, Onoki slammed his palms together.
Earth Release.
The dirt groaned and shifted.
A smooth, heavy stone table rose from the floor, surrounded by several sturdy stone stools.
Onoki floated down, taking the seat at the head of the table.
A walked over, a begrudging smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You always were a flashy old bastard, Onoki,” A said, pulling out a stool.
“Going to all this trouble just to sit down.”
“I have to do it myself because Kumo lacks basic manners,” Onoki retorted.
“You expect an elder to stand around in the dirt.
Thankfully, my spine is a few decades younger today, so the jutsu didn’t throw my back out.”
Minato offered a polite, diplomatic smile.
He hauled Obito to his feet and draped the boy’s arm over his shoulder, dragging him to one of the stone stools and helping him sit.
Killer B sauntered over to the table, adjusting his dark glasses.
“Life needs a little rhythm, a little ritual, a proper seat to make it official, oh yeah!” he rapped, dropping onto a stool.
Dodai remained standing, taking up a guard position directly behind A’s shoulder.
Onoki eyed the veteran shinobi.
“Sit down, Dodai.
There are no outsiders in this tent.
No need to stand on ceremony.”
It was a quiet acknowledgment of their shared status as survivors.
A glanced over his shoulder and gave a short nod.
Dodai bowed slightly and took the final seat at the table.
Once the dust settled, A leaned forward, planting his massive elbows on the stone.
“Talk.
Tell me exactly what the hell is going on.”
“Before we explain our side of this,” Minato said, his voice calm and measured, “I need to establish a baseline.
What exactly did you see in your memories, A?”
A didn’t answer immediately.
He looked at Onoki.
The Tsuchikage gave a slight nod of confirmation.
“I remember the aftermath,” A said, his voice dropping into a low rumble.
“I remember the Five Kage Summits.
We spent years tearing down the old borders, building communication networks.
I remember handing the Raikage mantle over to Darui.
And I remember attending that Akimichi kid’s wedding with Karui.
Beyond that…
nothing.
The memories just cut off.”
Minato absorbed the intel, then turned his gaze to the Jinchuriki.
“And you, B?”
Killer B tapped a rhythm on the stone table.
“I remember visiting the blonde kid with my bro.
Naruto was missing his arm, fools.
That’s where the beat drops for me.
Nothing after that.”
“My timeline matches,” Dodai added quietly.
“The memories end shortly after the war.”
Onoki rested his chin on his hands.
“It seems my situation mirrors the Raikage’s.
I spent the post-war years navigating the peace treaties, working myself to the bone.
Eventually, I passed the Tsuchikage hat to my granddaughter, Kurotsuchi.
After she took the seat, the memories stop completely.”