"What's the meaning of this?! Konoha is intervening in Kirigakure's affairs? Aren't you afraid of starting a shinobi world war?!" a Mist ninja barked, voice fierce but hollow.
By now the rebels, facing Konoha's elite, were losing ground—if the foe were merely Kage-class, numbers could still stack in your favor.
But Uchiha Yorin had already pushed into beyond-Kage.
While he butchered the Kaguya, the Yuki and Hōzuki had held on—perhaps even edged ahead now and then.
But when the Kaguya's hundred-odd elites lay annihilated and Yorin, soaked in blood, turned those eager eyes on them, a chill went bone-deep.
Neither the Yuki nor the Hōzuki—nor any small Kiri clan—wanted to be culled to the last by Konoha's Flame Claw.
No—"Flame Claw" no longer fit this man. What was he now?
Thunder God.
"Th—Thunder God."
When Yorin swung both blades and lightning tore outward, he was Zeus descending, Thor reborn.
Friend and foe alike found the same name forming unbidden: Thunder God.
Uchiha Yorin—the god of thunder who brought victory to his own and death to his enemies.
"Intervening in Kiri's affairs? Weren't you the ones who invited us?" Yorin looked at the speaker with a half-smile and lobbed the question back.
The only real problem—the Kaguya—was solved. If possible, he'd rather settle the rest peacefully.
People called him unhinged, manic, "beautifully deranged," but Yorin knew himself. He was, in fact, very gentle and kind.
New Konoha Times said, "The Uchiha are a clan of love," and Yorin felt born to love.
As he spoke, Terumi Mei slipped off the Kiri Anbu mask and showed that signature beautiful face.
"It was I who invited Konoha to intervene and set things right!"
"What—Terumi Mei! Traitor!?"
"Damn it—!!"
"No—then where is Yagura—the Fourth, did you kill him?!"
Yorin couldn't help snorting. "Hey—you are the rebels. Do you truly care whether Yagura lives or dies?"
"One thing has nothing to do with the other! No matter what, Konoha has no right to meddle in Kirigakure! If you know what's good for you, leave!"
Faced with that hollow bluster, Yorin nearly laughed.
Leave?
What a joke.
We're the ones on top, you idiots.
"…Surrender, clan head." Hōzuki Mangetsu spoke next. "The era has changed. Kiri has lost its chance—but the Hōzuki still have one." He looked his elders in the eye.
"If you yield now, the Hōzuki or even the Yuki will still have a seat in the new Kiri.
Under the banner of Ninshū (the Ninja Sect), we will build a more open, healthy Kirigakure.
Everyone can live well.
We will no longer be fodder, no longer cold tools—we will be living people. Isn't that better?!"
"…"
At his words, and at the radio's drumbeat of justice and we will build a new Kiri, many rebels wavered.
When the station broadcast the Fourth Mizukage's edict of abdication, not only the rebels but many ordinary Mist shinobi sagged with grief, even crying, "Why is it like this?!"
Shinobi were simple. In an age with almost no communications, what the radio said was truth.
So—
It was over.
Kiri had lost…
Having held out through the Third Shinobi War, Kirigakure—undone by its own strife—had finally been beaten by Konoha…?
Would they truly build a new, better village where everyone could live in peace?
If that was so—shouldn't we just… surrender?
Feeling the crowd's tilt, Mangetsu pressed on: "This isn't surrender; this is merger. Konoha hasn't devoured Kiri; Konoha and Kiri are rebuilding the Ninja Sect together.
In the Sage of Six Paths' era, all shinobi—all people—were one family. Under his rule, we lived in peace beneath the Ninja Sect's banner!
Today's Kiri and Konoha are merely returning to the correct road of the past. This isn't betrayal, and it isn't surrender—it's fine!"
He shouted Yorin's theory back at the shinobi.
Though most shinobi barely had primary schooling, nearly everyone had heard of the Sage of Six Paths.
Believe it truly, or accept it as a fig leaf—either way, in this moment many rebels let go.
One weapon hit the floor. Then another. Kunai and blades clattered. Shinobi slumped, defeated, resigned to fate.
Not all.
More Hōzuki held out; fewer Yuki, but some. Among clans and common shinobi, the hardened fanatics stepped forward, weapons in hand, facing Yorin. Foremost was Hōzuki Nuritsuki.
"You speak well," he said, voice calm. "Happiness, peace, openness, inclusion—it all sounds nice.
You even hauled out the Sage's name to bluff—hm…"
Yorin: "So even now, you insist on fighting to the end?"
"This isn't stubbornness. It's conviction," he said evenly. "If we don't fight, what is the value of a shinobi?
We—we—we shinobi—from the day we're born, a shuriken is in our hands. From the time we understand anything, it's killing!
If we don't kill, don't wage war—what are we?
If you insist on changing the era—then we will stop you. And if we can't stop you, then let us madmen be buried alongside the old age!!!"
With that roar, Hōzuki Nuritsuki charged. Behind him, over forty jōnin, tokubetsu jōnin, and elite chūnin surged at Yorin.
They were Kiri's most fanatical warmongers—the old era's last scream.
Uchiha Yorin: "As you wish!"
The merit-wheel fanned, lightning chakra armor melded with Susanoo, Sharingan flared.
With the utmost respect, he would send these men on their way.
~~~
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