Abe cleared his throat, the sound like stones grinding. "Hmph."
He avoided Tsuji's gaze, "Fine words, Yamada. Fine words about… efficiency."
The word tasted like ash. "We'll take your proposal back. To the Tsuchikage. Let Onoki-sama weigh the… obligation… against the current… situation."
Tsuji shifted, his vulpine features tight. He didn't look at Abe, but his sharp eyes fixed on Yamada. "The Kazekage will hear of this… alliance. He is a pragmatic man. He understands leverage… and history."
He spat the last word with a bitterness that wasn't solely directed at Yamada. Bringing up the Uzushio Incident seemed to work in Kumo's favour as the ghosts of Uzushio were now unwanted chaperones in this subterranean negotiation.
"But the message alone won't be enough to salve decades of distrust. We need substance. Assurance."
"He's right, for once," Abe rumbled, a spark returning to his eyes.
"We need to discuss the spoils now. Before we crawl back to our Kages like beggars with only promises. Konoha's forests, Kiri's coastal riches, their jutsu archives, their bijuu containment research…"
He leaned forward, "How do we divide it? Equally? By contribution? Kumo brokers the peace, but Iwa provides the hammer, Suna the scalpel? We need a framework. Makes the proposal… tastier for Onoki-sama."
Tsuji recoiled as if stung. "Spoils?!" he hissed, his voice regaining some of its strident pitch.
"You truly are a rock-brained fool, Kamizuru! You talk of dividing the feast before the boar is even cornered!"
He slammed a small fist on the table, "Konoha is not some minor clan to be ransacked! They have the Yellow Flash, the Sannin, Hiruzen Sarutobi himself! And Kiri? They drown their enemies in mist and blood! Remember Uzushio? It wasn't easy! Containment was bloody, costly! We bled for every inch! And that was just Konoha, one village, isolated!"
His dark eyes flickered with the memory of desperate Uzumaki sealing flares and brutal close-quarters fighting in collapsing streets. "Assuming victory is arrogance. Assuming easy victory is suicide. We need strategy, not shopping lists!"
Abe's face purpled again. "Arrogance?! Coming from the sand-rat whose village can barely hold onto its own oases?! We crushed Uzushio's defences! It was Iwa's stone that broke their walls! Your 'scalpel' just picked over the pieces!"
He surged to his feet, the hum returning to his robes, louder, angrier. "And don't lecture me on cost! Iwa knows the price of war better than anyone! But war without profit is just slaughter! We need the promise of gain to justify the blood to our people! Or are Suna shinobi content to fight for… honour?"
The last word dripped with sarcasm.
"Honour is knowing when not to count unhatched lizard eggs, you greedy bee-lover!" Tsuji shrieked.
"My pragmatism prepares Iwa for the future! Something your sand-addled spies, too busy eavesdropping on merchant gossip, might fail to grasp!" Abe shot back.
The fragile truce was crumbling faster than sandstone in a sandstorm. Yamada pinched the bridge of his nose, the throbbing behind his temples intensifying.
'Sand fleas and rock lice,' he thought with profound weariness. 'Arguing over treasure maps while standing on a powder keg.'
He was about to intervene, to try and wrestle the discussion back to strategy, when a soft shuffling sound sounded from the passageway.
A Kumo shinobi materialised silently beside Yamada's chair. He leaned close, whispering urgently into the Yotsuki elder's ear.
Yamada's posture, usually impeccable, stiffened almost imperceptibly. The storm-grey eyes, fixed on the squabbling delegates, clouded over, then darkened like the sky before a tempest. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He listened for only a few seconds, then gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod.
Without a word to Abe or Tsuji, Yamada stood. Both representatives froze, mid-insult, staring at him.
"Forgive the interruption, gentlemen," Yamada's voice was clipped, "A matter requires my immediate attention. I shall return shortly. Please… reflect."
He didn't wait for a response, turning on his heel and striding swiftly towards the passage, his robes swirling. The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed sharply, then faded, leaving Abe and Tsuji alone in the heavy, suddenly charged silence.
They stared at each other across the scarred table, and the abrupt departure of their level-headed mediator felt ominous.
"…What in the name of the shifting dunes was that?" Tsuji muttered, his earlier fury replaced by wary suspicion.
Abe grunted, "Kumo business, no doubt. Probably some Lightning Country lord complaining about trade routes."
He tried to sound dismissive, but his eyes, narrowed, darted towards the passage. "Or maybe the Raikage stubbed his toe."
The attempt at sarcasm fell flat, but the tension was still palpable.
"Or maybe," Tsuji countered, "it's something about us. About this… alliance."
He tapped his fingers nervously on the armrest. "Yamada looked… troubled."
"Troubled? He always looks like he's contemplating the weight of the mountains," Abe scoffed, "Unlike some, who look perpetually constipated."
Tsuji opened his mouth for a retort, then snapped it shut, realising the futility. They lapsed into an uneasy silence, the dripping water and crackling torches the only sounds.
Suddenly, Tsuji hissed, a sharp intake of breath. His eyes snapped down to his feet. Beneath the hem of his robe, on the bare stone floor, intricate black lines flared into existence – a complex fuinjutsu seal.
"Fwoomph."
The air was displaced and a small, tightly wound scroll materialised on the floor where the seal had been.
"What—?" Abe started, his senses tingling at the sudden chakra pulse.
Tsuji snatched up the scroll, his movements a blur. Without hesitation, he bit down hard on his thumb.
"Crack."
A bead of crimson welled up. He smeared the blood swiftly across the scroll's seal. The seal glowed briefly, then dissolved. Tsuji unrolled the parchment, his eyes scanning the coded script with desperate speed.
As he read, the colour drained from his face once more, but this time it wasn't shock or guilt; it was dawning horror, cold and absolute. His hands began to tremble, the parchment rustling softly.
Abe watched him with unease. "Hōki? What is it? Bad news from your precious dunes?"
Before Tsuji could answer, Abe himself stiffened. A single, fat, iridescent bee crawled out from beneath the collar of his robe, up his neck, and onto his forehead.
"bzzzzzz…"
Abe's eyes glazed over slightly, his focus turning inward. He seemed to be listening to the insect's silent communication.
After a few seconds, he turned his attention not to Tsuji, nor to the passage, but to a seemingly unremarkable patch of stone floor a couple of meters behind his chair. He raised both hands, palms facing downwards.
From the sleeves of his robe, a dense, swirling cloud of bees erupted – hundreds, maybe thousands – not attacking, but flowing like a living, buzzing river towards the spot he'd focused on.
"BZZZZZZZZZZZZ…"
Tsuji looked up from his scroll, "Ugh! Must you?!"
The bees didn't land; they swarmed over the stone floor, vibrating intensely. Dust puffed up. Within moments, the bees had excavated a small, neat hole. As quickly as they had emerged, the swarm reversed course, flowing back up Abe's sleeves and vanishing into his robes, the humming subsiding to a faint, residual buzz.
From the freshly dug hole, a sleek, brown-furred badger poked its head out. It held a small, earth-stained scroll clamped in its jaws. It scrambled out, deposited the scroll at Abe's feet, then turned and vanished back into the darkness of its tunnel.
Abe bent and retrieved the scroll, brushing off loose dirt. He broke the simple wax seal and unrolled it. As he read, a slow, incredulous smile spread across his weathered face, replacing the suspicion and anger with something akin to grim triumph.
His eyes gleamed.
At that precise moment, Yamada reappeared in the passageway entrance. His face was carefully composed, but the storm in his eyes hadn't fully abated. He took in the scene: Tsuji pale with his blood-sealed scroll, Abe smiling darkly with his earth-delivered message, the fresh hole in the floor.
"I assume," Yamada stated, "that we have all received… similar tidings?"
Tsuji looked up, "Yes. Our Daimyos… they could not reach an accord. Could not agree on condemning Konoha."
Abe chuckled, "Expected. Each Daimyo has his own interests."
Tsuji stared at Abe, "Why are you smiling? This is a setback! Without the Daimyos' unified political pressure, Konoha remains insulated! The Fire Daimyo protects them!"
Abe's smile widened, showing yellowed teeth. **"Setback? You see shadows where there's sunlight, Hōki! Think! If the Daimyos could have agreed to condemn Konoha to impose sanctions, they would have done so months ago! The war wouldn't have started!" He leaned forward, "Their failure to agree now… it means they lack conclusive proof!"
"Enough!" Yamada's voice cracked like a whip, "Speculation is a luxury we cannot afford! The facts remain: The Daimyos have failed to act. The political path is blocked."
"We have done our part here! We have negotiated a framework! A possibility! Now, it falls to you to take this word back to your Kages! The Raikage will reach out directly to Onoki and Satetsu within the cycle of the moon to finalise terms."
His eyes held no warmth now. "I beseech you both… be honest in your representation. Be clear about the proposal, the reasoning… and the imperative."
It wasn't a request; it was a veiled threat, a reminder of Kumo's power and the debt invoked.
Abe met Yamada's gaze. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "The Tsuchikage will receive a full… and accurate… report, Yotsuki."
Tsuji Hōki said, "The Kazekage… will be informed."
=====
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