One of the Iwagakure Jonin stepped forward, brows furrowed with confusion and disbelief.
"Akatsuki? But... I thought we had a working relationship with them. Why would they target Kurotsuchi?"
Inoiki didn't flinch. His eyes, still glowing faintly, locked onto the Jonin like steel.
"I don't know what kind of arrangement you think you have with Akatsuki—and frankly, I don't care."
He paused, letting the silence hang for a second.
"What I do know is this: to Konoha, Akatsuki is an enemy. We've fought them. We've bled because of them. And after capturing one of their members—Deidara, who I believe you all know quite well—we learned exactly what their objective is."
The room went still. Inoiki continued, his voice cold and steady.
"They're collecting Tailed Beasts. Every single one. Not for balance. Not for peace. But to forge a weapon of mass destruction—something even we don't fully understand yet. But the threat is real. And Konoha has already warned Iwagakure about this."
Kitsuchi stiffened slightly but said nothing.
Inoiki's tone turned sharper.
"Still wondering why I'm telling you your Jinchūriki is in danger? Think. Akatsuki orchestrated the abduction of Kurotsuchi, the granddaughter of your Tsuchikage, by using rogue ninjas. Why? Because it guaranteed your village's focus would zero in on this crisis. You pulled your forces inward. You chased the bait."
He glanced around the tent, meeting the eyes of every Jonin.
"That gave Akatsuki exactly what they needed—space and time. And who's vulnerable right now? Han. Your Five-Tails Jinchūriki. He's often outside the village, alone, unguarded. If they haven't already captured him, they will soon."
A heavy silence followed.
Then Inoiki added, voice grim:
"And if we're being honest, your Four-Tails Jinchūriki has already been missing. If Akatsuki made a move on him too... then he may already be dead."
Murmurs rippled through the Jonin. Doubt hung in the air like smoke, but no one spoke. Because beneath the disbelief, something deeper gnawed at them:
The fear that Inoiki might be right.
Kitsuchi remained silent for a long moment, stroking his chin in thought.
Unlike the younger Jonin who had questioned Inoiki, Kitsuchi wasn't naive enough to believe that Iwagakure and Akatsuki were allies in any real sense. Akatsuki had been treated as a mercenary group—an elite one, capable of accomplishing high-risk operations most shinobi wouldn't dare attempt. Iwagakure had used them, as many villages had, for their utility. And in return, Akatsuki had acted like professionals—taking jobs, completing missions, no questions asked.
But there had never been trust. No allegiance. No true partnership.
Inoiki's deduction hit uncomfortably close to the truth. Kitsuchi couldn't ignore it.
Without hesitation, he turned to the gathered Jonin.
"I'll send word to the Tsuchikage immediately," he said, voice firm. "Inoiki's assessment needs to be relayed up the chain. We'll wait for official orders before moving on anything more."
The Jonin in the room nodded in unison. Kitsuchi was their commander, and more importantly, he was right. This was the only reasonable course of action under the circumstances.
Kitsuchi then turned to Inoiki.
"Thank you for bringing this to me."
Inoiki gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.
"Just doing my job. Akatsuki is our enemy too. But for the next few days, I'd like to remain here at the camp."
He paused briefly.
"Don't misunderstand. I have no interest in your politics. But if your Jinchūriki is captured... it means Akatsuki is one step closer to their goal. And that concerns all of us."
Kitsuchi considered it, then nodded.
"You can stay."
A murmur rose among the Jonin—one of them opened his mouth to speak.
"But—"
Before he could finish, Kitsuchi raised a hand.
"I know what I'm doing," he said sharply. "Don't interrupt."
The room fell quiet again.
Kitsuchi turned to Inoiki, his tone softening slightly.
"I'll have someone guide you to an empty tent. You've traveled far from Konoha and fought hard today. You should rest."
Inoiki gave a silent nod. The earlier tension in the room didn't concern him—he wasn't here for approval. Kitsuchi then called to one of the guards stationed outside.
A young Chunin stepped into the tent, standing at attention.
"Take him to an unoccupied tent," Kitsuchi instructed. "See that he gets what he needs."
"Yes, sir."
Without another word, Inoiki followed the Chunin out into the night, the faint gleam of his floating swords fading into the darkness with him.
The moment he was gone, the room stirred again. Several of the Jonin who had held their tongues earlier finally voiced their concerns.
"Commander," one began cautiously, "was it wise to let someone from Konoha stay in our camp—especially someone as dangerous and well-connected as Inoiki?"
Another added, "If our Jinchūriki really has been captured... then Konoha will know Iwagakure is weakened. That's not something we want spreading outside our borders."
Kitsuchi held up a hand, silencing them.
"I hear your concerns. Believe me, I've thought about all of them," he said, voice firm. "But let's be realistic. If I had asked Inoiki to leave, do any of you honestly believe he would've just walked out of the Land of Earth?"
The room went quiet.
"He wouldn't have. He would've stayed, watching us from the shadows. And most likely, none of us would have even noticed. He has the skill—and the will—to do it. You've heard the stories. You know his reputation. That man doesn't wait for permission."
Kitsuchi let the words settle before continuing.
"His request to stay here was just a formality—an act of courtesy, not necessity. He didn't need our approval. And if he's decided to stay, nothing we say will change that. Only a handful of people in the world can influence him, and none of them are in this room."
There was no rebuttal. The Jonin looked at one another, nodding slowly.
They understood now. Kitsuchi hadn't made a tactical misstep—he had made the only possible choice under the circumstances.
––––
Inoiki finally allowed himself to rest.
It was still the middle of the night, with several hours left until dawn. But now that his mission was complete and Kurotsuchi was safe, there was no more reason to push himself. He slipped into the tent that had been assigned to him and laid down, enveloped by the silence of the camp.
He didn't worry about an ambush or infiltration. A psychokinetic barrier surrounded his body even in sleep—silent, invisible, and absolute. No one could get near him unnoticed.
He hadn't slept in days, driven by the urgency of his mission and the long journey from Konoha. But now, for the first time in what felt like weeks, he could finally rest. And he did—without dreams, without interruption.
––––
Morning came.
Inoiki stepped out into the camp, refreshed and alert. His expression was calm, his eyes scanning the early light spilling over the mountains. Ninjas moved about with renewed energy, and for now, the camp felt... still.
That's when he saw her.
Kurotsuchi, now recovered from her ordeal, walked toward him. There was a spring in her step, and though the trauma hadn't vanished, she wore a strength in her posture that reminded Inoiki of the kunoichi she truly was.
"How was your night?" she asked, stopping in front of him.
"I slept well," Inoiki replied simply.
She gave a short nod, then tilted her head with a half-smile.
"Come on. Let's get some breakfast."
Inoiki smirked slightly.
"You're not planning to charge me this time, are you?"
Kurotsuchi let out a laugh, the tension in the air breaking instantly.
It was a callback—three years ago, when Inoiki had captured her and brought her to Konoha, he had taken her to a ramen shop. Later, when Iwagakure came to negotiate her release, he'd casually requested that the village cover her food bill. An absurd request—but one that somehow stuck.
Inoiki smiled too, a rare expression softening his usually guarded face.
Some things had changed. Others hadn't.
----
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