Ōnoki: How Are We Supposed to Fight This War?!

"Play it again."

In the Tsuchikage's office, candlelight flickered deep into the night.

Ōnoki slammed the battle-loss scroll, its edges frayed, back onto the desk. His thin, withered fingers tapped the armrest again and again.

In the footage, the Konoha ANBU's movements had been slowed to a tenth of their original speed.

The hot tea at the corner of the desk had long since gone cold. Cold sweat seeped from Ōnoki's forehead, ran along his brow, and dripped onto the desktop.

"Stop."

His withered palm pressed against the chakra projection, freezing the image at the instant a Konoha guard threw a punch and formed a hand seal.

"Look at that hand position. The space between the thumb and forefinger in his Tiger Seal is completely empty!"

Ōnoki turned to stare at the Jonin behind him, his chest heaving.

"And look at how slowly he forms the seal. It's absurd. That's only Chunin level!"

The room fell deathly silent. The Jonin exchanged bewildered looks.

The footage resumed. Wind Release and Fire Release slammed into Konoha's armored formation.

Flames engulfed the entire snowfield, but the techniques failed to tear through the armor plates.

Chakra flowed along the armor's etched patterns into the breastplate's core. The blue glow brightened, and the wearer actually used the enemy's ninjutsu to replenish his own depleted chakra.

In the next scene, brown vines erupted from the frozen ground, and a wooden wall blocked the wind and fire.

Ōnoki recoiled into the back of his chair with a dull thud.

"Wood Release without hand seals, absorbing ninjutsu and converting it into power..."

A bitter taste filled Ōnoki's mouth.

"Those grunts didn't even move their hands!"

One Jonin swallowed. "Lord Tsuchikage, could there be something wrong with the recording...?"

"Shut up. These eyes have watched ninjutsu for sixty years.