Perhaps weighed down by guilt, Ōnoki avoided making eye contact with Rōshi.
He averted his gaze and spoke in a low, heavy voice.
"You've all read the letter."
"If you have any thoughts, speak now."
Ōnoki put on a neutral, businesslike expression, as if he were genuinely open to discussion.
But everyone in the room knew the truth—Ōnoki had never been one for democracy.
Iwagakure wasn't quite a dictatorship, but it was close enough.
"Lord Tsuchikage."
"Fugaku Uchiha has a personal grudge against Rōshi."
"There's no reason to believe a word he says."
"This is nothing more than a vague promise of 'talking to the Hokage.' We have no guarantee that Konoha will actually withdraw."
"Don't you think this demand is absurd?"
When no one else dared to speak first, Kitsuchi stepped forward.
He didn't even address Ōnoki as "Father." Instead, he stood firmly by Rōshi's side.
Seeing Kitsuchi speak up, Rōshi felt a rare warmth in his chest. His clenched fist, which had been crumpling the letter, relaxed slightly.
"I understand your concerns."
"Does anyone else have anything to say?"
Ōnoki's expression remained unreadable as he gestured for Kitsuchi to sit.
His gaze swept across the room, carrying an unspoken message.
"Kitsuchi is right."
"Fugaku Uchiha's demands are ridiculous—we have no reason to entertain them."
With no way to avoid the topic, others reluctantly voiced their agreement, each taking turns.
"But if we go to war, can we really stand against Konoha?"
"Isn't having a chance better than having none at all?"
A rare dissenting voice broke the silence. Rōshi turned toward the speaker, but the man had already lowered his head.
"The best outcome would be for Konoha to retreat."
"I don't think it would hurt to at least try."
This man, too, quickly bowed his head, avoiding Rōshi's gaze entirely.
"Hah, easy for you to say."
"You're not the one being sacrificed."
"If it were your life on the line, let's see if you'd be so eager to agree."
A scoff came from the other side of the room, thick with sarcasm.
"I'm just stating facts."
"If it's for the village, I'd step forward willingly."
The man straightened his back, speaking with the air of someone prepared to make a noble sacrifice.
"Pathetic posturing."
"Who are you calling pathetic?"
The tension in the room spiked as the two men squared off.
Just as their argument threatened to escalate, Ōnoki cut in.
"Enough."
"Do you think shouting at each other will solve this?"
At his command, the room fell into silence.
Rōshi, however, was already growing restless. Every passing second felt suffocating.
"We must prepare for the worst."
"Even if we surrender Rōshi for the chance to negotiate with the Hokage…"
"What happens if Konoha refuses to withdraw?"
"We'll have lost one of our strongest fighters, leaving us even more vulnerable."
"We need to consider every possibility before making a decision."
After a brief pause, a more level-headed voice finally broke down the situation.
"Well said."
"There's no doubt that Rōshi is one of our key assets."
Ōnoki nodded, his inner turmoil evident.
If the decision were easy, he wouldn't be struggling this much.
"A key asset?"
"Heh~"
Rōshi let out a quiet chuckle, but it was quickly drowned out by the voices around him. So, that was all he was to them—just a piece on the battlefield, nothing more.
"My stance hasn't changed."
"The Daimyō has agreed to gather all necessary supplies."
"But it will take time."
"If Konoha is set on war, then no matter what we do, it won't matter."
Kitsuchi had secured a favorable outcome with the Daimyō, but time was not on their side. In the blink of an eye, Konoha's army had already arrived at their doorstep.
"Konoha isn't giving us a chance."
"This fight is unavoidable."
"Lord Tsuchikage, there's no need to hesitate any longer."
"If worst comes to worst, we'll take them down with us."
There was no shortage of intelligent people in the room, but most of them valued their lives too much to speak.
"With what?"
"We both know Konoha hasn't even revealed its full strength."
No one wanted to admit it, but facing an unwinnable battle, hesitation was only natural.
"So what?"
"If I have to die, I'll make sure to take a piece of Konoha with me."
Compared to this man's unwavering resolve, many of the high-ranking Iwa Ninja suddenly looked like fools.
"Enough for today."
Ōnoki knew this discussion wasn't going anywhere. He had no interest in dragging it out.
"I'll take all of your opinions into consideration."
"But since Fugaku Uchiha's demand specifically targets Rōshi, I will respect Rōshi's decision."
"Whatever the outcome, I don't want to hear any complaints."
"Understood?"
Ōnoki's words sounded reasonable, but everyone could see the truth—he was throwing Rōshi straight into the fire.
"Yes, Lord Tsuchikage."
The voices of the others echoed through the room, but Rōshi remained silent.
Respect my decision?
What decision?
Am I supposed to offer myself up?
"Hahahaha~"
Laughter burst from Rōshi, sharp and hollow, echoing through the chamber.
Ignoring the stares, he stood up and strode out. The shredded remains of the letter fluttered to the floor behind him.
Ōnoki's expression darkened at the blatant disrespect, but before he could react, Rōshi was gone.
Only Kitsuchi followed after him, but by the time he stepped outside, Rōshi had already disappeared.
...
In a secluded corner, Rōshi slumped against the wall, his eyes dull and unfocused.
He let out another laugh, low and hoarse, completely devoid of joy.
He had been chosen as a Jinchūriki as a child, forced to endure years of pain and isolation.
As an adult, he had proven his strength time and time again. Despite his disagreements with Ōnoki, he had never done anything to betray the village.
In missions and during the Second Shinobi World War, he had fought as a hero of Iwagakure.
Even killing the previous Uchiha Clan Head—that had been a victory, an accomplishment for Iwagakure.
And now, they expected him to "make a decision"?
It was laughable.
Was he nothing more than a disposable pawn?
What was left in this village that was worth staying for?
Clarity washed over him.
No—this place was no longer worth his time.
Casting aside his resentment, Rōshi pushed himself up and smiled. He had made up his mind.
...
Back at camp, he gathered Kitsuchi and the few others who had spoken on his behalf, bringing several jugs of good sake.
"Thanks for today."
"I'm not great with words, so let me just drink first."
Rōshi raised a full cup of sake, stood up, and downed it in one gulp.
"There's no need to thank us."
"We just did what we thought was right."
"Konoha's intentions are as clear as day—I don't even know why this is still up for debate."
"Just don't do anything stupid and hand yourself over."
Kitsuchi was the last to speak, patting Rōshi's shoulder firmly. His words carried genuine concern.
"Don't worry, I'm not that stupid."
Rōshi laughed, his mood seemingly lighter than before.
Everyone assumed he had simply come to terms with things. None of them realized he had already made a different choice.
"Good."
Satisfied with Rōshi's response, Kitsuchi finally let go of his worry.
The group drank deep into the night, enjoying the brief escape from reality.
Only when the food was gone and the sake dried up did the gathering finally come to an end.
Bidding farewell to Kitsuchi and the others, Rōshi staggered back to his tent.
He collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed, as if he had truly drunk himself into oblivion.
...
But when midnight came, he quietly slipped out.
There was no trace of drunkenness in his steps.
Moving under the moonlight, he expertly avoided the sentries, leaping through the shadows.
Within moments, Rōshi was gone from the Iwa camp.