Minato cataloged the fragmented memories of the Kumogakure shinobi.
He had his own theories about the mechanics of the time-space transfer, but he needed to cross-reference his intel with the resurrected Konoha forces before drawing any concrete conclusions.
“Alright, Minato,” Onoki said, breaking the heavy silence in the tent.
“Lay your cards on the table.
Tell us what you know.”
“Yes, Tsuchikage-sama,” Minato replied.
He looked across the stone table at the imposing Kumo vanguard.
“As you likely suspected…
the shinobi who cast the kinjutsu to resurrect us in this era was my son, Naruto Uzumaki.”
Onoki simply stroked his beard.
Obito stared down at his hands.
Both had already deduced the truth.
A, Dodai, and Killer B, however, stiffened.
Disbelief washed over A’s hardened features.
To warp time, space, and the souls of an entire army required a chakra reserve that defied human comprehension.
Had the knuckleheaded Jinchuriki of the future truly reached the realm of gods?
“Naruto had no other choice,” Minato continued, his voice dropping an octave.
“After the Fourth Shinobi World War, the world finally began to heal.
The Five Great Nations tore down their walls.
We understood each other.
Guided by the Kage, the hidden villages shared resources, culture, and even bloodlines through intermarriage.
It was an era of unprecedented prosperity.”
Minato’s eyes darkened.
“But the peace was fragile.
The Otsutsuki clan— Otsutsuki Kaguya’s kin—descended upon our world.
They sought to harvest our planet, to transform the ninja world into a nursery for their Divine Tree.”
Minato outlined the apocalypse.
He detailed the sheer, insurmountable power of the Otsutsuki, the desperate last stands of the Kage, and the utter annihilation of their homes and descendants.
A’s massive hands curled into fists, the knuckles turning white.
Dodai’s jaw locked.
Even Killer B’s constant rhythm completely stilled.
The phantom grief of a murdered future hung heavy in the tent.
Silent, blood-sworn vows to rewrite history etched themselves into the minds of every man present.
“When all was lost,” Minato concluded, “Naruto used a forbidden resurrection technique, burning his own existence to cast our consciousnesses back to this era.
He gave us a second chance to prepare.”
Minato fell silent.
He let the apocalyptic truth settle over the stone table.
Onoki was the first to speak.
The old man leaned forward, his eyes burning with tactical fire.
“If we are going to change this timeline, we have three immediate objectives.
First: we must halt the Third Shinobi World War immediately.
Second: we must forge an ironclad alliance between the Five Great Nations to consolidate our military strength.
Third: we must hunt down the Otsutsuki clan’s earthly roots.
That means uprooting the hidden Kara organization, hunting down Black Zetsu, and dealing with Madara Uchiha.”
Onoki tapped a gnarled finger against the stone.
“Now, as the standing Tsuchikage, I hold absolute authority over Iwagakure.
But what about the two of you?”
Minato and A exchanged a grim look.
Neither wore the Kage hat yet.
They commanded armies, but they could not dictate national policy.
“There is a way.”
The rough, grating voice drew everyone’s attention.
Obito sat slumped on his stool, his breathing still shallow, but the Mangekyou pattern had faded back to the standard dark onyx of the Uchiha.
“First,” Obito said, his gaze fixed coldly on the center of the table.
“We capture the Third Raikage and the Third Hokage.
I will pull them into my Kamui dimension.
With the current Kage removed from the board, Minato-sensei and A can rally the veterans whose gotten the future memories in their respective villages, stage a bloodless coup, and seize power.
Once you both wear the hats, you stabilize your villages and sign the peace treaties.”
“Impossible!” A roared.
He kicked his stone stool backward, the heavy rock shattering against the ground.
“I will not raise my hand against my own father!”
“We aren’t going to kill him,” Obito shot back, his voice flat and practical.
“We just detain him.
With your battlefield reputation, the Kumogakure council will crown you the Fourth Raikage by default.
It’s the only tactical move that ends the bloodshed immediately.”
A bared his teeth, ozone crackling around his wrists.
Obito didn’t flinch.
“I know exactly what you’re planning, A,” Obito sneered slightly.
“You want to march back to Kumo, tell your father about your magical future memories, and pray he orders a retreat.
But your father is just as hot-headed and stubborn as you are.
Will he listen?”
Obito leaned forward, fighting through his exhaustion.
“The Third Raikage ordered the invasion of the Sand!
He started this war.
You expect him to order a full retreat with zero strategic justification?
How is he supposed to look his frontline shinobi in the eye?
How does he explain the retreat to the families of the Kumo-nin who died in the trenches yesterday?
And the Daimyo of the Land of Lightning—do you think the Daimyo will accept an anticlimactic surrender?”
A’s jaw muscles bunched, his teeth grinding audibly.
Neither Onoki nor Minato intervened.
The political lines were drawn; intervening in a plot against the Third Raikage constituted an act of war.
Furthermore, Minato watched his student with a profound sense of sorrow.
Obito had engineered the Fourth War.
He possessed the most intimate knowledge of how to manipulate nations.
But more importantly, Obito was deliberately offering himself up as the scapegoat.
If the Kamui coup failed, A could pin the entire treasonous act on the Uchiha rogue, completely protecting his own reputation.
He’s pulling an Itachi, Minato realized, drawing upon his future memories of the tragic Uchiha prodigy.
He’s trying to bear the hatred of the world alone as his penance.
It was a self-destructive, agonizing path.
Minato silently vowed to break Obito out of that mindset the moment they had breathing room.
A towered over the table, vibrating with suppressed fury.
He couldn’t refute a single word the Uchiha said.
If he marched into his father’s office preaching about the end of the world, it would be a political disaster.
But a coup?
Letting his father ‘disappear’ solved the geopolitical nightmare.
Sunagakure was desperately searching for the Third Kazekage; they had zero appetite for war.
If Kumo stood down, Iwa had no strategic reason to fight Konoha.
Kirigakure, manipulated by Madara, wouldn’t dare wage a solitary war against the continent.
A could release his father from the Kamui dimension after the treaties were signed.
He could explain the truth in peace.
It was a flawless tactical maneuver.
But A was fiercely, fiercely loyal.
The memory of Sasuke Uchiha capturing Killer B in the future timeline flared in his mind; he had been ready to rip his own arm off to avenge his brother.
To ambush his own father?
To strip the proud, invincible Third Raikage of his command and his dignity?
Even if his father eventually understood, the betrayal might permanently shatter their bond.
A stared at the stone table, utterly paralyzed.
Minato recognized the agonizing deadlock in A’s posture.
The slate of the future had been wiped clean, but the burdens of the present remained impossibly heavy.
“Let’s put a pin in this,” Onoki commanded, shattering the tension.
“Both of your armies will withdraw from the active engagement zone and fall back to your respective borders.
A, take some time.
Return to Kumogakure.
Test the waters with your father, or formulate a different strategy.”
The Tsuchikage knew better than to push a cornered bull.
Minato stood up.
“Wait here for a moment.”
A flash of yellow light illuminated the tent, and Minato vanished.
The four remaining shinobi sat in absolute silence, the weight of the incoming apocalypse pressing down on them.
Thirty minutes later, the air rippled, and Minato materialized back in his spot.
He didn’t look out of breath.
“I have ordered the Konoha vanguard to fall back to the Land of Fire’s defensive perimeter.”
A gave a stiff, heavy nod.
“Then we are done here,” Onoki said, floating up from his stone stool.
“I have my own village to manage.
Iwagakure forces have already been ordered to the border.
Do not drag your feet, A.
Persuade your father quickly, before this war spirals into something we cannot fix.”
“I will,” A rumbled.
He turned his intense gaze away from Onoki and locked it onto the exhausted Uchiha.
“And you,” A said, pointing a thick finger at Obito.
“I’ve heard your tactical assessment.
On behalf of Kumogakure, your status as a Class-S war criminal is officially shelved.
We are staring down the end of the world, and your visual prowess is a devastating asset.
We need your strength, Uchiha.
Do not let us down.”