Interlude. Nara Sora
After several hours, the delegation's vessel nosed into the marshy shore and came to a halt. They had arrived at the Land of Water's closest island to the mainland.
A narrow strip of viscous "beach" immediately gave way to a more or less flat clearing that stretched a couple hundred meters inland. Beyond it sprawled a murky green forest of thin trees, unfamiliar to Leaf shinobi.
The Konoha team, along with the swordsman and his partner, gathered on deck. One small leap, and they stood on solid ground.
A group of shinobi immediately moved to meet them. A typical Kiri squad from the revolutionary era: swamp-toned clothing, darker armor layered on top, striped leg warmers, arm guards.
When about ten meters remained between them, two figures stepped forward from the revolutionary ranks. The first appeared ordinary enough: tall, solid build, chestnut hair pulled back, sharp black eyes. The second looked alien by comparison: nearly two meters tall, broad, muscular, bluish skin, gills beneath his eyes. He wore no armor, just a dark blue sleeveless bodysuit that clung to his frame, somewhat reminiscent of Sarutobi's gear but more exposed. Two swords were strapped to his back, each one a two-handed weapon for any normal person, their blades curved toward the tips.
Sora stepped forward. Ai moved in sync beside him, along with… Zabuza.
The pineapple-haired shinobi wanted to sigh.
Did Momochi even understand what kind of status he'd just demonstrated with that move? Well, too late now.
"Greetings, shinobi of Kiri," Sora began, adhering to protocol. "Nara Sora, head of the delegation, representative of the Hidden Leaf Village and the Great Third Hokage." A formality, but there was no getting around it.
"Pleased to welcome you in return," the chestnut-haired man responded, taking a few more steps forward. His friendly smile looked… too alive to be entirely fake.
While Sora spoke, Zabuza and the second swordsman exchanged brief nods.
So they know each other. That must be the Hoshigaki clan bastard, Sora noted mentally.
"Call me Iwamoto Natsuo. I handle diplomacy for our humble coalition," he said with a slightly wider smile. "Remarkable to see that the previous leader of our struggle for justice has arrived with you. Welcome, Zabuza-sama!"
Momochi gave a curt nod but remained silent.
Sora didn't know all the details, but he was glad they had convinced the swordsman back in the Leaf to keep his mouth shut and not interfere with his work.
"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting," Sora continued. "We come with good intentions. Konoha seeks peace across the entire world. To that end, we offer you our assistance."
Natsuo paused for a second, then gave a warm nod.
"That's wonderful. We'd be happy to discuss it. Let me take you to the rest of the Liberation's leaders. They've gathered not far from here."
"Of course," Sora waved, beckoning the rest of the delegation. Haku took his place beside Zabuza, and they moved toward the revolutionary shinobi.
"How was the journey?" Natsuo asked the most obvious question imaginable once the distance between the groups shrank to a couple of steps.
"Comfortable," Sora nodded. "Thank you for asking. While we walk, let me introduce my team…"
After a brief exchange of names and titles on both sides, they broke into a run and plunged into the forest. The first contact inspired cautious optimism. They'd been received rather warmly, which would have been hard to expect from the Kiri shinobi Sora had read about in reports from fifteen years ago. Back then, peaceful negotiations were out of the question. Now they were calmly following their hosts to a place where negotiations would take place… if this wasn't a trap, of course.
But an ambush would have made far more sense right on the shore, where there was more water and the shinobi of Water would have had the advantage. Counting on guests from Konoha letting their guard down along the way would have been too naive. They weren't genin, after all.
With each passing minute, the sense of immediate danger receded. But dropping one's guard was not an option. After twenty minutes of easy shinobi-pace running, they reached their destination.
A short while earlier. Same location
In the middle of the foggy forest, a fairly spacious clearing had been carved out. A large tent stood at the center, with several smaller ones nearby, almost hidden by the trees.
Shadows of shinobi flickered along the perimeter, nearly blending into the surrounding gray-green mass.
A bit further out, a second ring spread in a loose chain, a squad with no identifying marks. They'd been entrusted with the outer perimeter. Their task was simple: let through only those who were supposed to be here.
These were some of the revolution's best. Most had already survived more than one wave of uprisings. And today, maybe, as they so desperately wanted to believe, a new wave would gather enough force to become a tsunami that would wash away Yagura's bloody regime. Flush the blood that had soaked into the fog.
Hope had flared and faded before, more than once. In the shinobi world, darkness stubbornly crawled from every crack. Maybe they were paying for their ancestors' karma. But those who had survived to this day clung fiercely to one simple thought: the darkest hour is just before the dawn. The only question was whether they'd live to see it.
Two guards stood by the entrance to the main tent. Against the grim focus of everyone else, they were chatting almost casually, though they wore the same Kiri-revolutionary standard: swamp tones, armor, headbands.
"Hey, Kaito," the chestnut-haired one with a short sword on his back turned to his partner.
"What?" answered the black-haired one with two massive shuriken strapped across his shoulders.
"What do you think they're like? The Konoha people."
"Normal. People are people. Maybe wearing brighter rags," Kaito shrugged.
"I'd love to see other countries…"
"I'm fine right here."
"Boring. Just imagine: a village in the Land of Fire, all covered in green leaves…"
"Where you'll be digging latrines for the locals if you don't shut your mouth," a rough voice came from inside the tent.
The guards flinched and straightened up almost in unison. A tall, middle-aged man in a blue-green kimono with beige trim stepped through the flap. Light blue hair was swept upward, and large earrings shaped like paper fuin-talismans dangled from his ears. Swollen veins crossed the right side of his face, and beneath his forehead protector, a black patch was tied over his right eye. Under it: a Byakugan.
Ao squinted for a second, staring through the trees.
"Hmm. So he's here too," he muttered under his breath. "Delegates will be here in seven minutes. While the negotiations are underway, I don't want to hear a sound from you."
Nod.
Nod.
Without further explanation, Ao peered into the distance for another moment, then ducked back inside. A narrow passage led him into a slightly dim space with a large oval table. A detailed map of the Land of Water was spread across it. Like the rest of the "furniture set," the table had been brought in using spatial fuin-seals. Nobody had been stupid enough to haul it all on their backs.
"Ao-sama, are they coming soon?" an anxious voice pulled his attention.
A teenager with a short crop of blue hair stood before the table. Straight-rimmed goggles sat on his head, protective earmuffs over his ears. A blue, form-fitting uniform, camo pants. But the main thing was this: on his chest, in the form of a black flak vest, sat a harness system for one of the seven legendary Swords of the Mist. Behind his back, wrapped in bandages, the twin blades of Hiramekarei curved toward their shared hilt.
"Chojuro, show some restraint," Ao grumbled, walking to his chair. "You're a man."
"Um…" The swordsman's hands dropped helplessly.
"In my day, someone with your personality wouldn't have survived. Real men should be tough and decisive, not—"
"Ao, don't start. My ears are wilting from your lectures," another man drawled lazily from three chairs to the right.
He was wrapped in dark, loose clothing: a black cloak with camouflage inserts, a high collar, dark pants to match. Black hair reached his shoulders. His gray, washed-out eyes stared into nothing, pupils nearly merging with the irises.
"Mittei, don't interrupt the educational process," Ao waved him off, tying the patch back over his Byakugan.
"Educational process," the man named Mittei snorted. "What would you know about teaching anyone? You're always going on about how your teachers beat the hell out of you your whole childhood."
"Hey! Don't make it sound dirty."
"Right, right, there are children present." The corners of his mouth stretched into a smile far too wide for those dead eyes. In the shadow of his face, it looked… unsettling.
Chojuro still stood there, looking sullen, until the sound of the tent flap being thrown open made him turn.
"Lady Mei," he breathed with reverence.
A woman entered, tall for this world, slender. Her long dark auburn hair cascaded to mid-thigh; part of it was gathered into a tall vertical bun on top. Several lush strands framed her face in front and converged above her impressive bust; one strand covered an eye the color of glaze. A blue dress with a high slit revealed black shorts and dark stockings, and the bodice featured a deep neckline.
Mei pressed a finger with a blue nail to her painted lips and tilted her head slightly.
"Did I interrupt something?"
"No, we just finished," Ao answered curtly.
"Hmm," she surveyed those present. "I heard they're getting close. Shall we go meet them at the entrance?"
"But, Mei-sama," Ao's voice remained firm. "We have already shown them sufficient honor. By sending Natsuo and Josame to meet them, we demonstrated respect. For you, as the future Mizukage, it would be beneath your dignity to personally greet ordinary shinobi. It would look as though we're groveling before Konoha."
For a moment, heavy silence hung in the tent. Mei's face twitched almost imperceptibly. For a second, something dark and predatory seemed to radiate from her, then vanished just as quickly.
"This meeting could prove very important for Kiri," her voice went cold.
"It could. But you must not appear beneath them."
Mei knew protocol no worse than Ao. She had learned all those rules in her clan, back when it still existed… And formally, she was right: a Kage was indeed not supposed to greet a foreign delegation all the way at the entrance, but simply stepping outside was fine. However… these negotiations were secret, and while the Kage title wasn't officially hers yet… she decided not to create unnecessary conflict within their ranks.
Still, even though Konoha was a massive player and had to be treated with extreme caution, Mei remembered who she had to rely on first and foremost. And if her inner circle was calmer, the chances of them making a scene during negotiations would drop too.
"Fine. Have it your way," the woman walked to her chair in the center, facing the entrance.
A few minutes later, Natsuo's voice came from outside as he exchanged a few words with the guards, and the tent flap was thrown open again.
"Please, come in."
Continuation. Nara Sora's Interlude
Sora entered first, followed by the rest of the Konoha shinobi, then Zabuza and Haku. Josame came in after them, Natsuo last.
Natsuo turned around, ready to open the official proceedings, but was cut off by the high, slightly cracking voice of the teenager who had jumped to his feet.
"Zabuza-sama?!"
Every pair of eyes in the tent locked onto Chojuro. The displeasure in them was obvious.
"Sorry," the swordsman sank back guiltily.
In truth, most of them didn't really care about the boy's outburst. They were all here for something else entirely. Only Ao's face showed real irritation, and Sora's seemed to turn to stone for a second before smoothing back to calm.
Well then. If Kiri's shinobi want to speak first that badly, be my guest, Sora noted mentally.
Everything that happened here would go into his report. And it would influence the future deal. Five and eight are different numbers, right? Or maybe go straight to ten?
"Do I know you?" Zabuza spoke for the first time in a long while. And with that, he pushed the start back even further, while also showing disrespect to both the potential partners and the revolutionaries themselves, which made Mei's face twitch.
"He's my student, Chojuro," Josame answered for him as he walked past and sat down next to the boy. "Talented kid. More talented than either of us."
He nodded at an empty seat, and Zabuza, with a grunt, sat down beside his student. Haku took the seat on the other side.
Iwamoto held his gaze on Ao for a moment and grimaced almost imperceptibly. He was nearly certain whose initiative it had been to meet the Konoha delegation here rather than at the entrance, and how this looked right now. His eyes flashed with anger in Ao's direction, then he took a deep breath, pushing the displeasure out with the air, and put the friendly smile back on his face.
"Dear guests, please, have a seat," Natsuo hurried to take his own place and, once they had all settled in, continued. "Before such an important event begins, I would consider it an honor to introduce the rest of the revolution's leaders. To my left, Lady Terumi Mei, commander of our army and future Fifth Mizukage. To her left, Ao, head of intelligence and future advisor. Between Josame-san and Zabuza-san sits one of the Swordsmen of the new Mist, Chojuro, wielder of the legendary twin blades Hiramekarei. And finally, to my right, Mittei, head of sabotage operations."
He caught his breath, surveying them. Ai listened with open interest. The rest of the Konoha faces were blank. The Aburame scratched his nose under his hood, and that was about it.
"In turn," Natsuo gave a slight bow, "allow me to introduce our guests…"
After another brief exchange of names and titles, the floor passed back to Sora.
"As stated, I represent the Great Third Hokage and the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Konoha has long pursued the ideal of peace. We abhor Yagura's brutal regime, and we sincerely grieve for what your country is going through. I'm glad to see we are not alone in our opposition. In our world, humanity has become too precious a luxury. No matter how strong we may be, none of us can achieve a truly worthy goal alone. Therefore, we offer you our assistance. And we hope for future cooperation."
Thus spoke Nara, a master of political ass-kissing. Though by the standards of a certain other world, this was still tame.
"We are pleased to host a representative of the honorable Hiruzen and his companions," Mei took the floor, continuing in the same tone. "Sarutobi-sama is known as a wise leader. We greatly value your desire to help us achieve peace. We fight for justice and freedom. Unfortunately, the Fourth Mizukage has forgotten what those words mean. But let us clarify," her lips curved into a soft smile, "your offer of assistance doesn't contradict our goals?"
"No," Sora replied. "We seek an equal partnership."
At the word "partnership," her expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Something painful, something deeply personal twitched inside her, but she forced herself to return from it to the real world. Sora noted it at the edge of his awareness but continued:
"Allow me to explain how we see this. We know about the primary threat: Karatachi Yagura. And we are proposing our assistance in his elimination."
Natsuo's and Ao's eyes widened. Chojuro's mouth also fell open. The rest kept their composure, though the internal reaction bled through in barely perceptible movements.
"We are prepared to send you two shinobi worthy of being Kage," Sora continued. "One of them is known to you, at least by reputation: one of the Legendary Sannin, Jiraiya. The second is one of the last living representatives of the Uzumaki clan. He is… an exceptional and highly influential individual among us. Believe me, there's no reason to doubt his prowess."
At the brief mention of the Leaf's loosely known jinchuriki, Zabuza's shoulders twitched, which didn't escape the other revolutionaries' notice. They weighed the implications, nodded. And, having no doubts about the named shinobi, moved on to the main questions:
"What exactly," Ao began dryly, "do you value your services at?"
"And do you understand all the risks involved?" Mei clarified, earning a disapproving look from Ao but an approving one from Natsuo. Their reactions perfectly illustrated their attitudes toward revealing what the woman was leading to.
Sora turned his head toward her.
"Is there something we should know beyond the fact that Yagura is the Three-Tails' jinchuriki and an extremely powerful shinobi?"
"…The revolution once attempted to secure support. For his elimination. But that organization refused us."
Hearing this, Sora's eyebrows rose. So the revolutionaries, at least their leader, knowing about certain nuances, had chosen not to use the Leaf blindly. He appreciated that. He gave an authoritative nod. After all, he knew far more about the topic at hand than anyone else present.
"You're referring to the Akatsuki?" he clarified, prompting a wave of surprise from the revolutionaries. "According to our intelligence, they have a hidden leader. And it's precisely this leader who made Yagura what he is."
A few sentences, and a storm of shock swept through the tent. Thanks to Ao's Byakugan, they knew their Mizukage was being controlled. But they'd never known where the roots grew from.
Sora deliberately didn't reveal that Konoha had a spy inside the organization, nor that this hidden leader was an Uchiha, meaning, most likely, a former Leaf shinobi. Revealing that could both compromise the spy and slam the door on further negotiations.
"Does that mean they might interfere?" Mei asked anxiously, voicing the most critical concern.
"There's that possibility…" he drawled with a hint of hesitation, as if trying to reassure them. "But the Akatsuki's goal, as far as we know, is the collection of all the tailed beasts…"
What followed was a rapid-fire Q&A about the Akatsuki, which ultimately strengthened the bond between the two sides. It turned out both would be opposing this organization of elite mercenaries. So things weren't so bad after all…
And only later, having reached a mutual understanding, did they all circle back to the question of price.
"Come now," Sora smiled for the first time since the negotiations began. Judging by the revolutionaries' faces, the smile inspired nothing but suspicion. "How could we demand payment from future allies? But, like any friends, in return for our gift, we would be delighted to receive yours."
The revolutionaries looked at him as though he'd just said the word "hypocrisy" out loud.
Sora pulled a small scroll from his vest, unsealed several larger ones from it, then formed the seals for Shadow Clone on objects. A moment later, each of the leaders had their own identical set before them.
"So as not to waste time reading aloud," he explained, "we've prepared a rough list of what we'd like to receive. For the next ten years: sixty percent of the tariffs from the trade route between the Land of Noodles and the Land of Water. Plus a list of plants from your climate zone that are rare for us, corals and marine plants, as well as important minerals and ores. Details are in the corresponding sections. Long-term, we are also interested in fish supplies, particularly from the eastern coast."
Ao opened the first scroll, skimmed the lines, snapped it shut, and fixed Sora with his one exposed eye.
"Are you trying to rob us?" he asked with restraint. His tone made it painfully clear that his first impulse had been not to "ask" but to scream.
"Don't rush to conclusions," Sora replied, his tone unchanged. "Everything is negotiable. We're entirely willing to adjust the terms to satisfy both sides."
Natsuo's eyes raced across the text. The document was long, packed with petty, unpleasant details. But those were exactly the kinds of details diplomats fought over.
"You're talking about ten years," Mei said thoughtfully, closing her copy. "You do understand that will only become possible after we restore order?"
"Of course. We believe in answering a gift with a gift. Someone has to start the cycle. Incidentally, as far as I know, Kiri still has strong fuinjutsu specialists? Your swords," Sora nodded at Zabuza's Kubikiribocho, making the swordsman's eyebrow twitch, "turned out to be quite fascinating. We're willing to replace some of our requests with an exchange of corresponding knowledge."
"How do you view the Three-Tails question?" Mittei's voice came from Sora's right.
He turned his head, and for a split second flinched internally. A cheerful, almost boyish smile radiating genuine enthusiasm. And gray eyes… completely dead. Two empty voids. He had to admit: an unsettling combination.
Sora returned to a neutral expression.
"Pessimistically," he answered honestly. "Our analysts doubt we can take Yagura alive. And I don't have the authority to decide such an important question on my own. But if we reach an agreement, Jiraiya-sama will arrive in approximately two to three months. He's a fuinjutsu master. The second shinobi we're sending is a respected member of the Uzumaki clan, also a master. I'm confident that if you prepare a worthy 'present' for them, they'll find the time to address this issue following your personal negotiations."
"Dear friends," Natsuo interjected, accidentally cracking a joke, "I regret to inform you that some of the plants on your list have already disappeared from Kiri's territories. But the good news is, we can offer other, equally interesting species in exchange."
"Well then," Sora straightened up in his chair even more. "As I said, we're open to dialogue."
Then the real bargaining began. For five hours, shinobi played tug-of-war, haggling over every single point, every percentage, deadline, guarantee, and phrasing.
The negotiations resulted in the following: instead of ten years, Kiri agreed to eight and a half. The start of supplies was pushed forward by a year and a half. Most of the clauses had to be rewritten practically from scratch, and this was only the first stage. The revolutionaries currently lacked a full picture of their own resources, meaning more of these councils awaited them.
Kiri, for its part, managed to secure food supplies for the coming year, not for free, of course, but disguised as a "reciprocal gift" in exchange for additional resources and chakra-related intelligence.
Everyone was thoroughly drained. But they were all especially grateful for one thing: the soft chairs. It was terrifying to imagine what would have happened to their asses after sitting that long without them.
When everyone finally rose from the table, dusk was already noticeably settling outside.
"Thank you for the warm reception," Sora said, turning to the assembled revolutionaries with only a faint shadow of sarcasm in his voice. Practically everyone looked ready to faceplant into the nearest cot. He looked at Mei, standing at the front. "I hope it won't take more than a couple more rounds of negotiations before we're addressing you as 'Mizukage-sama.'"
"Of course. We couldn't have done otherwise for such valued allies," Mei forced out a smile.
She wasn't just dead on her feet from the multi-hour tug-of-war between Sora and Natsuo. Deep inside, she was also gnawed by a sense of shame over how it had all started. One absurd "greeting"… What would it have cost them to go outside and meet the delegation properly? But yeah, yeah, revolutionary solidarity…
And then anger piled onto that murky cocktail. That careless banter between Josame and Zabuza at the very start, as if everything around them, both revolutionaries and Konoha shinobi alike, was nothing. This despite the fact that he'd been brought here as a gift! Terumi was convinced he thought far too highly of himself. Those two and their manners. For the sake of team cohesion, the kunoichi absolutely had to put them in their place…
During the previous wave, Josame hadn't been big on respect during negotiations either. But one fight, his pride drowned in magma, and for the past year he'd called her nothing but "Lady Mei." Time to refresh his memory. And the new swordsman needed to be properly introduced to the circle and put in his place.
Meanwhile, Sora felt a slight movement at his shoulder. The Aburame, who'd been practically silent until now, stepped closer and quietly whispered something in his ear.
"Are you absolutely certain?" Sora couldn't stop himself from asking.
The Aburame simply nodded.
"Mei-sama, forgive me if my words seem harsh," Sora's fatigue vanished in an instant. "My colleague has detected the familiar chakra of a Stone shinobi. He encountered him eleven years ago…"
He pointed at an unremarkable bush nearby. The instant his finger locked on, the bush jerked, and a shadow burst from it, bolting into the forest in the opposite direction.
Without wasting a second, Mittei launched from his spot, vanishing in a blurred Body Flicker. Almost immediately, other previously hidden shinobi emerged from behind tree trunks and rushed after the spy.
"…Thank you, Aburame-san, Nara-dono," Mei's smile became painfully strained. A spy who'd wormed his way into their trusted circle, right when Konoha had requested complete secrecy. Another blow to the revolution's pride.
"Happy to help," Sora nodded. "And… I have to say one last thing. The shinobi who'll be arriving later might not be as… understanding as our delegation," he spread his hands, indicating those standing behind him. "So next time, please, prepare better."
"Of course," Mei's voice dropped even colder. Sora could almost physically feel her rope of patience stretching to its limit, but it hadn't snapped yet.
"Then we must take our leave," he gave a slight bow of the head.
"I'll escort you," Natsuo volunteered immediately. More nervously than usual. As if he wasn't just being hospitable, but suddenly felt a strong urge to be as far from here as possible.
"We'd be grateful," Sora nodded and cast one final glance at Mei. She simply watched them in silence. Together with Iwamoto, they moved off, first at a walk, then picking up speed.
For a full minute, the revolutionary shinobi kept staring at the spot where Konoha's shadows had flickered one last time between the trees. The forest around them seemed to thicken, saturated with something anticipatory and ominous.
The silence was broken by a cough. Zabuza cleared his throat and lazily turned toward Mei.
The swordsman looked relaxed, but clear displeasure was written across his face.
Everyone in the large clearing sensed it: this was heading somewhere bad…
_____
You can support me and read up to 20 upcoming chapters ahead of release at –> patreon.com/Welydora