Chapter 158 – Echoes of the End

The Valley of the End was still.

The ripples of chakra that had shaken its legendary lake had finally calmed, and the thick mist that had concealed a battle unlike any other began to recede, revealing the scars of combat. The water shimmered with reflections of broken Jutsu, shattered pride, and the iron will of a group that had defied expectation.

Near the waterfall, Kuro stood tall, his fur bristling slightly, alert and still. On his back, Lady Hinata Gin sat in silence. Her blind eyes gazed toward the horizon as if reading something beyond the veil of vision. Perched delicately around her shoulders, Mitsue remained in her small serpentine form, watchful.

Jiren stepped from the mist with deliberate calm. The battlefield's energy was no longer hostile—merely heavy with consequence.

"Lady Hinata," he announced, inclining his head, "the second team of infiltrators has been neutralized. My formation performed as expected. They were trapped in the water, their chakra suppressed and rendered unconscious. They now rest in suspended containment. What would you have done with them?"

Hinata did not turn her head. Her voice was calm, formal, but carried the weight of steel.

"These shinobi are yours to interrogate and manage. Determine their village of origin and request ransom for their release. I'm sure their handlers will find the proper value in coins to regain their soldiers."

A faint hiss signaled Mitsue's approval.

One of the captured ninjas, held still in Mitsue's coils, trembled faintly. His eyes betrayed his shock—he hadn't even known there were two teams involved. That knowledge, now obvious, shattered any illusion of superiority they may have clung to.

Hinata turned slightly toward Jiren. "Among the injured on the field, some are in grave condition. Would one of your medics be able to stabilize their wounds?"

"Of course," Jiren replied without hesitation. "We'll ensure none die needlessly."

There was a pause. Then the inevitable question.

"And those who fought us directly? The survivors."

Hinata inhaled slowly. "Once their wounds are tended and their lives are no longer in danger, we release them. There's no need for further bloodshed. Let them return and carry a message: that the strength of the Land of Iron has changed."

The mist thinned further, and above the water, several shapes began to move—the bodies of shinobi and samurai alike, tended by careful hands or protected by summoned creatures. Somewhere nearby, Souta still searched the lake for Ayaka, his armor soaked in blood and silence. Emi knelt beside Masaru's still form, his own shoulders hunched beneath the weight of victory.

And Hinata sat, serene and resolute, framed by the carved faces of Madara and Hashirama in the cliffs beyond. Their stone eyes watched the next generation make war, make peace—and begin to change the world.

The battle had ended. 

<<<< o >>>>

A short distance from the battlefield, Jiren stood over the limp, soaked bodies of the unconscious Konoha operatives. Each had been subdued without a scratch—caught in the trap of the misty formation he had crafted.

"Six of them," Jiren murmured to himself. "No insignias. But their movements... their formation..." He narrowed his eyes.

He turned toward his lieutenant. "Keep them bound and unconscious. We'll determine their affiliations after careful extraction. If they are from Konoha—"

"They are," the lieutenant interrupted. "I recognized the hand signs. Subtle, but Leaf-style."

Jiren exhaled. "Then Hinata was right to expect a shadow strike. Danzo, perhaps..."

He glanced up at the cliffs, where Hinata still stood over the battlefield. His voice was low, cold.

"I'll send word to the appropriate channels. And see what these rats are worth on the diplomatic market."

He motioned with his hand. The mist thickened around the prisoners, isolating them once again.

"If Konoha wants their ghosts back, they can pay the toll."

<<<< o >>>>

The wounds of Ayaka Fuyutsuki and Lord Masaru Ishida were stable, but neither was in any condition to ride. This reality shifted their traveling arrangements: Emi and Kenshiro were dispatched to a nearby town to procure a sturdy cart, a pair of horses, and enough supplies for the road. Kenshiro sealed the food and water in scrolls for convenience. While the new setup meant they would no longer pause in every small village along the way, it also meant their pace would slow. To Emi, this was an acceptable trade.

The day passed quietly. None spoke much, each person lost in thoughts of the recent battle. When night fell and a fire crackled gently under the stars, Hinata finally broke the silence.

"Kenshiro," Emi asked, leaning forward with interest, "those stone pillars during your battle—were they yours or your opponent's?"

Kenshiro exhaled. "My opponent. A talented young man. He summoned those pillars directly from the lakebed. His name was Nibari Kenzan. A name I won't forget easily. Had I held back, I wouldn't be here now."

Hinata bowed her head slightly. "I'm grateful all of you survived. Watching you fight from the sidelines was… difficult. When all of you l asked me to stay out of the combat, I feared for each of you. I didn't want to lose anyone."

"Please don't worry, Lady Hinata," Ayaka said, her voice tired but firm from within the cart. "I lost my fight, but I learned more than I expected. I now understand what I lack—and I won't make the same mistakes next time."

Souta sat close by, holding Ayaka's hand gently. "When I saw you fall into the water, bleeding... I lost myself," he admitted. Then, turning to Hinata, "I'm sorry. I didn't hold back in that moment."

Hinata offered a small, knowing smile. "That's why I warned you. Defeating a capable opponent without killing them is a difficult thing. If you cannot hold back, then fate will decide. As long as you don't strike down the fallen, that is enough."

Masaru chuckled from the cart. "No regrets here. That bastard earned his fate when he insulted our princess. I'd do it again, and cleaner if I had the chance."

Everyone nodded silently in agreement.

He continued, this time in a lighter tone. "Though the woman who followed him caught me off guard. She was smart—used her environment well. I don't know how I could have beaten her. Maybe I'm getting old."

Kenshiro gave him a dry look. "You've improved more than you admit. A year ago, you couldn't have split that first ninja the way you did. Talk about being old when you're my age."

Masaru laughed. "If I'm half as capable as you are by then, I'll consider it a grand success."

The younger members of the group looked at the two older men with mild confusion—except Hinata, who understood perfectly. The Uzumaki's reputation for longevity wasn't just legend.

The rest of the night passed peacefully.

By the following midday, they had crossed the border out of the Land of Fire and stepped officially into the Land of Rice.

<<<< o >>>>

The sky above the Land of Rice was muted, filtered through a thin layer of mist that seemed ever-present along the winding valleys. The journey from the Valley of the End had been cautious, measured. Hinata Gin moved with calm purpose, her companions staying alert but relaxed. There was no sense of panic—only intention.

She rode atop Kuro, his obsidian fur blending into the low shadows of the forested road. Mitsue, now coiled lightly around her shoulders, hissed softly every so often, scanning for movement. Kenshiro and Emi rode on horseback ahead, their gazes sweeping the horizon in disciplined intervals. Souta Kanbe drove a sturdy cart behind them, reins steady in his gauntleted hands. The cart held their injured—Ayaka Fuyutsuki and Lord Masaru Ishida—resting under secured coverings, their wounds bound tightly.

Their course had begun to curve toward a known location: a small, nondescript village aligned with Otogakure. Not the hidden village itself, but one of the "satellite mouths" through which Orochimaru extended his influence. Hinata's goal was clear: make contact, and await a reply.

They arrived at dusk.

The village was quiet—too quiet for its apparent population. The people watched from behind shutters or under lowered hoods. No guards stood openly, but presence was felt everywhere. Her arrival had been seen.

Hinata dismounted slowly. "We wait," she said. "They already know I'm here."

Within minutes, a figure stepped from a side street—a shinobi in a pale grey robe marked subtly with the Oto sigil. His eyes bore no surprise, only a calm recognition.

"Lady Hinata Gin. Your arrival was expected," he said, bowing slightly. "Orochimaru-sama was informed the moment you crossed the valley line. He has extended an invitation. If you will accompany me, I will take you to him."

The others tensed briefly.

Hinata raised her hand gently. "I will go with him. Alone."

"Lady Hinata—" Kenshiro began, but she turned toward him and smiled.

"He will not act against me. He has too much to gain, and even more to learn."

She turned back to the Oto-nin. "Lead the way."

As they departed into the misty forest trail leading to a deeper stronghold, her companions remained behind, forming a quiet perimeter. Mitsue remained wrapped around her, silent and vigilant.

The road ahead twisted.

Somewhere in the depths of Otogakure, Orochimaru waited—and perhaps, Sasuke Uchiha too.

The meeting had begun.