A cold wind howled through the snow-laden landscape of the Land of Iron, its icy tendrils slipping beneath the thick layers of Tadashi's fur-lined cloak. The world here felt suspended between night and day, a cold, silent realm untouched by the fiery tempers of the shinobi world.
Flakes of white drifted lazily from the overcast sky, settling over the sturdy wooden gates that marked the entrance to the neutral samurai territory.
It was noon—or so the clocks within the fortress read—but without the sun to measure time, it felt as though the world was trapped in eternal twilight.
Tadashi stood close to the gates, his sandals half-buried in freshly fallen snow, his breath escaping in visible puffs of vapor as he exhaled slowly. He clenched and unclenched his fingers beneath his gloves, trying to will away the lingering tension in his body.
Today was the day.
The day when the strongest warriors of the shinobi world would step foot in his backyard.
The Kage Summit.
A prestigious gathering meant to foster diplomacy between the five great nations. But in reality? It was more akin to an arena of veiled threats and political maneuvering. It was far from the Peaceful endeavour it pretended to be, both literally and figuratively.
Tadashi was not a man easily shaken. As the leader of the Land of Iron, he had stood at the helm of his people for decades. Yet, even he could not deny the sheer weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and his homeland would become the battlefield of Epic Proportions.
Sensing his unease, the man standing beside him cleared his throat softly.
"You seem tense, Lord Tadashi," his aide, Hoshiro, remarked, his voice calm yet respectful.
Hoshiro had served him for years, acting as one of his right hand in both governance and military affairs. A sharp-eyed, steady-handed man, Hoshiro carried himself with the discipline befitting a samurai of the highest rank. His long black hair was neatly tied at the nape of his neck, and the faint scar across his cheek was a testament to his experience in battle.
Tadashi sighed, another cloud of misty breath escaping him.
"Can you blame me?" he muttered, his tone edged with dry amusement. "We are hosting the most powerful shinobi, well alive, in the world under one roof. If tensions flare, the Land of Iron may not survive the aftermath."
Hoshiro remained unfazed. "Everything has been arranged with the utmost care. We will ensure that no unnecessary conflict arises."
Tadashi turned his head, meeting Hoshiro's sharp gaze. He took a slow breath before nodding.
"Let's go through the arrangements again," he said. "Starting with accommodations."
Hoshiro inclined his head. "The Kage and their entourages will be housed in separate lodgings to minimize friction. As per your orders, Konohagakure and Kumogakure will not be placed in proximity to each other. The same goes for Sunagakure and Iwagakure, as well as Kirigakure and Kumogakure."
Tadashi hummed in approval. "Good. Those particular combinations would be disastrous."
With history rife with conflicts and betrayals, putting any of those villages near each other would be akin to tossing oil onto an open flame.
"Next, food preparations."
Hoshiro gave a barely perceptible smirk. "We made sure to stock an ample supply of sake. Specifically, the variety preferred by the Raikage."
Tadashi let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.
"That man could probably drink an entire river dry," he muttered.
Hoshiro continued, "Other than that, meals will be prepared according to each village's dietary preferences. The chefs have been briefed on potential food allergies or taboos among the guests."
"Excellent," Tadashi said. "And security?"
Hoshiro's expression hardened slightly.
"We have stationed Mushakōji—the samurai equivalent of Jonin—throughout the main halls and around the Kage residences. The highest-ranking Mushakōji, known as the Ōban, will personally oversee the safety of the summit hall. Additional samurai units are on standby should anything occur."
Tadashi exhaled, his stance relaxing ever so slightly.
"This security isn't for the Kage," he murmured, more to himself than to Hoshiro. "It's for their villages."
Hoshiro nodded in understanding.
"The Kage can defend themselves," Tadashi continued, his voice edged with weariness. "It's their Pride and egos that are the real threat. Hosting the Daimyō of the great nations is easier than handling five Kage in one room."
Before he could elaborate, both men felt it.
A shift in the air.
A pulse of chakra—vast and overwhelming.
The approaching presence was impossible to mistake.
Tadashi and Hoshiro turned toward the gates just as a tall, imposing figure emerged from the snowy landscape.
The Third Raikage.
A, the monstrous warrior of Kumogakure, strode forward with the raw presence of a storm given human form. His massive frame radiated sheer power.
Behind him, his son Ay walked in measured steps, the resemblance was uncanny and his youthful face set with quiet determination. A third shinobi, likely a high-ranking bodyguard, trailed behind them.
Tadashi stepped forward, inclining his head in a polite yet firm greeting.
"Lord Raikage," he greeted, his voice carrying across the cold air. "Welcome to the Land of Iron."
The Raikage grunted in acknowledgement.
"We appreciate the hospitality," he said, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder.
Tadashi gestured to an awaiting attendant. "Your quarters have been arranged. This attendant will lead you there."
The Raikage nodded in approval, signalling to his son and the other shinobi. As they followed the attendant, the air they left behind still crackled with their presence.
Hours passed.
The snow continued to fall in a slow, ceaseless drift.
By the time the next delegation arrived, the sun was well on its way to setting, though its light barely pierced the clouded sky.
The Mizukage had arrived.
Hiroshi, the Third Mizukage, was a far different presence from the Raikage. Where A carried himself like a living fortress, Hiroshi moved with the fluid grace of an assassin. His eyes—cold, calculating—swept over the surroundings before settling on Tadashi.
"Lord Mizukage," Tadashi greeted.
"Tadashi-dono," Hiroshi replied smoothly.
After brief formalities, the Mizukage and his two attendants were led away, disappearing into the fortress halls.
As night crept closer, a golden flash illuminated the snow-covered entrance.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, Minato Namikaze, and Renjiro Uzumaki had arrived.
Tadashi turned to greet them, his expression neutral.
"Lord Hokage," he said. "Konoha honours us with its presence."
Hiruzen gave a small smile, the kind worn by a man who had seen too much yet endured.
"I trust the arrangements have been made?" Hiruzen inquired.
"Of course." Tadashi gestured toward the fortress. "Shall we?"
As they made their way inside, Renjiro suddenly stiffened.
A prickling sensation crawled over his skin, sending an instinctive warning through his nerves.
His instincts screamed at him.
His dark eyes flicked upward, scanning the rooftops, the shadowed corridors, the barely visible figures behind paper-thin walls.
Someone was watching him.
The feeling sharpened.
Then, almost immediately after, another presence pressed against his senses—this one from the opposite direction.
The second presence was milder, yet no less significant.
Renjiro didn't need his chakra field to realize what was happening.
He was being watched.
And the weight of their chakra told him all he needed to know.
Two Kages.
Watching him.
But why?
Renjiro's gaze lingered on the horizon, unreadable.
He didn't know which camps they belonged to.
But one thing was certain.
This summit would be anything but peaceful.
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