The war council chamber in Kirigakure was less a room and more a pressure vessel carved from damp, black basalt. High, narrow windows, glazed with thick, greenish glass, admitted only grudging slivers of the perpetual, pearl-grey twilight that clung to the Village Hidden in the Mist.
Mizukage Hiroshi sat at the head; his face, beneath the distinctive, horned Kage hat, was gaunt, etched with lines of strain that hadn't been there a year ago.
"...confirmed skirmishes intensifying along the Earth Country border. Iwa probes grow bolder, testing our garrisons near Tanzaku Pass," droned a grizzled commander, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.
"Sunagakure raids continue along our southwestern coast," added a sharp-faced kunoichi, her fingers tracing a line on the large, illuminated map dominating one wall.
"Their hit-and-run tactics are disrupting supply lines. Minimal losses on our side, but significant delays."
"And Kumo..." Hiroshi's voice cut through the reports, "Their alliance with Iwa holds firm. Their pressure on Konoha's northern front is… immense." A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face – not satisfaction, but grim acknowledgement of the strategic reality.
"Which is why our operation must succeed. We cripple their logistical heart in the Land of Lightning itself."
His gaze swept the room, icy and demanding, lingering on each council member. "No errors. No delays."
The final word hung in the damp air like a guillotine blade. Chairs scraped on stone, scrolls were gathered, and sandals echoed as the council members filed out, their expressions a mixture of grim determination and weary apprehension.
The heavy, iron-bound door thudded shut behind the last, sealing Hiroshi in a sudden, profound silence broken only by the relentless drop of the leaking water.
Hiroshi didn't move immediately. He leaned back in his high-backed chair, carved from the same dark oak as the table, the Mizukage hat casting his upper face in deep shadow. The silence stretched, thick and heavy as the mist outside.
After several long minutes, Hiroshi raised a hand. A subtle flick of his fingers. No words were spoken, but a shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom near a ceiling beam. An ANBU shinobi landed silently a few meters away, kneeling instantly.
"Summon Matsui," Hiroshi commanded, "Immediately."
The ANBU vanished as silently as it had appeared. Hiroshi remained still, the weight of the village, the war, the delicate, dangerous alliances pressing down on him.
The heavy door opened again, quieter this time, and a woman entered. Matsui. She wasn't tall, but carried herself with a coiled grace that spoke of lethal efficiency.
Her Kiri flak jacket was worn but immaculate, her dark hair pulled back in a severe braid that emphasised sharp cheekbones and intelligent, guarded eyes the colour of deep kelp forests. She wore no mask, but her expression was carefully neutral, only a slight tightening around her eyes betraying her confusion at the direct summons.
She bowed formally.
"Mizukage-sama."
Hiroshi didn't return the bow. He studied her for a moment, then gestured dismissively towards the ANBU unseen around them.
"Leave us."
The masked figures heeded and vanished from around them.
Matsui straightened, her confusion deepening. "Is that necessary, Hiroshi-sama?" she asked, the formality slipping slightly to use his name, a mark of their long history. She had been his student, once, before politics and war had reshaped their roles.
Hiroshi's icy gaze met hers. He didn't answer her question directly. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, the light from the map catching the hard lines of his face.
"You know who heads the ANBU now."
Matsui's neutral mask cracked. "I knew you two didn't exactly share tea ceremonies, but why in the name of the Tailed Beasts did you appoint him?"
She trailed off, the unspoken criticism hanging heavy in the damp air.
Hiroshi sighed, a sound like wind sighing through a rocky crevice. He rubbed his temples, the gesture uncharacteristically weary.
"Reigning in this village for a war of this scale, Matsui… it is like trying to hold a live eel coated in grease. The old clans, the reformers, the militarists, the bloodline purists…" He gestured vaguely, "Compromises. Necessary evils. He commands loyalty from… significant elements."
The Mizukage paused, his gaze hardening. "It also didn't help that certain influential voices bypassed me entirely and went whimpering directly to the Daimyo about indecisive leadership."
The bitterness in his voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
Matsui watched him, "I don't know what's worse," she murmured, "You making Yagura the head of the ANBU as a 'compromise', or the fact that you genuinely seem to have had no other viable choice."
Hiroshi's jaw clenched visibly, but he forcefully steered the conversation away from the precariousness of his own position.
"The operation," he said, his voice regaining its clipped, authoritative edge. " Do you have any updates?"
Matsui shifted, her posture becoming more professional. "The last confirmed signal was eight hours ago, Mizukage-sama. Since then, they have been no more communication, but they should be nearing the extraction point within the next twelve hours, assuming everything went according to plan."
Hiroshi's eyes narrowed, "Eight hours ago? And the mission duration projection for that specific deep-strike insertion was…?"
"Ten to Fourteen hours for exfiltration to the primary rendezvous, Hiroshi-sama," Matsui confirmed, a slight frown now creasing her brow.
"They're pushing the window, but not catastrophically. Terrain in that sector is brutal, Kumo patrols were likely intensified after the strike…"
"Pushing the window?" Hiroshi interrupted, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous.
"Or caught in it? Honda is capable, his team is elite, but these many hours of silence? Renjiro is volatile. Konoha's objectives might diverge. Kumo's reaction…"
He drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Do you believe something has gone wrong?"
Matsui met his intense gaze. She saw the genuine concern beneath the strategic calculation. Honda was one of Kiri's best, and the unit included valuable specialists. "It's a possibility, Mizukage-sama," she admitted carefully, "but not yet a probability. Renjiro Uzumaki, for all his… volatility… is terrifyingly effective. If they encountered resistance, he is uniquely equipped to handle it brutally and swiftly. Premature communication risks detection. Silence could simply mean they are deeply navigating hostile territory with extreme caution."
Hiroshi held her gaze for a long moment. Finally, he leaned back, the tension in his shoulders easing fractionally, though the worry remained etched around his eyes.
"Perhaps you're right." He sighed again. "Contact Konoha. Use the secure channel established for joint operations. Request an update on Renjiro's unit. They utilise faster communication methods than our deep-cover pulses. If anyone knows their status ahead of our signal, it will be Konoha."
Matsui nodded sharply. "Understood, Mizukage-sama. I'll dispatch the request immediately."
"Good." Hiroshi seemed to gather himself, the mantle of the Mizukage settling more firmly on his shoulders. "Is there anything else requiring my immediate attention?"
Matsui hesitated for a split second, then shook her head. "Nothing critical enough." She turned to leave, the tension in the room seeming to lessen slightly with the shift towards action.
"Matsui." Hiroshi's voice stopped her just as her hand touched the cold iron of the door handle. She turned back, her expression questioning.
He held her gaze, his storm-sea eyes suddenly intense, piercing through the dimness.
"Be vigilant," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, yet carrying perfectly in the silent room.
"With all communications. Not just the Konoha channel. Every dispatch, every report, every whisper carried on the mist. Assume every channel is compromised until proven otherwise."
Matsui's carefully maintained composure was shattered. Her eyes, those deep kelp-forest eyes, widened dramatically, pupils dilating. The blood drained from her sharp features, leaving her pale. The implication was staggering, terrifying. It wasn't just about Kumo interceptors. He was talking about internal threats. Threats possibly led by the very man he'd just compromised with to lead the ANBU.
"Hiroshi-sama…?" Her voice was barely a breath, laced with dawning horror.
Hiroshi didn't elaborate. He simply held her gaze, the weight of his unspoken suspicion, his profound fear, pressing down on her.
"They might be planning something."