Finally, when the Daimyo of the Land of Hot Water arrived at the Land of Uzumaki for the grand celebration, Shanks himself came forward to personally greet him. With a composed smile and respectful gestures, Shanks led the distinguished guest (Daimyo) toward the main celebration hall — a vast, elegant chamber that reflected both the pride and rebirth of the Uzumaki clan.
Inside the hall, dignitaries from various lands were already seated around a large circular arrangement of tables, their formal robes and emblems representing the many nations gathered for this historic occasion. The air carried a soft hum of conversation, mingled with the faint notes of ceremonial music echoing through the hall.
At the center, the main seat — slightly elevated and symbolizing authority — still stood vacant. As Shanks approached, the murmurs in the room gradually quieted. He ascended the dais with a calm and dignified expression before taking his place on the central seat.
To his immediate right sat the Daimyo of the Land of Hot Water — a gesture of both honor and gratitude. It was only fitting. Not only was the Daimyo a man of equal stature, but he had also been one of the strongest supporters of the Uzumaki clan's re-establishment. His resources and political backing had played a crucial role in rebuilding the village from ruins. Shanks deeply respected that and, in appreciation, had ensured that the Daimyo received the most distinguished seat beside him.
On Shanks's left sat the members of the Uchiha clan. The one nearest to him was an elderly man, his hair streaked with silver and his expression carrying the calm wisdom of age — likely in his early sixties. Next to him sat Mikoto Uchiha, who greeted Shanks with a warm, familiar smile, one that conveyed her feelings. Beside her sat another clan member whom Shanks recognized immediately. He was Yashiro Uchiha — a man Shanks had previously met in the capital of the Land of Hot Water. Their brief encounter back then had left a polite impression, but seeing him now among the honoured guests brought a sense of continuity to this moment of reunion.
When all the invited guests had finally arrived—or at least, most of them—Shanks slowly rose from his seat. A few of the invitees had yet to make their appearance, but their absence didn't concern him. The atmosphere was already brimming with anticipation, and the moment felt right to begin.
Standing tall, with a calm yet commanding presence, Shanks glanced around the grand hall. His gaze briefly met the eyes of several important dignitaries, nobles, and clan representatives seated across the room. Then, in a firm but composed tone, he began to speak.
"Thank you all for coming to this celebration," he said, his voice carrying clearly through the chamber. "Your presence here today honors me and this village. I hope that, moving forward, we can continue to build strong and meaningful relations with one another—relations that will help us all prosper together. May there be no animosity between us if it can be avoided."
The speech was brief, but its sincerity resonated. The audience responded with nods of agreement and a round of respectful applause. Every person in the hall knew the truth—that in a world ruled by ambition, alliances, and power struggles, the absence of animosity was little more than an ideal. Yet, they also understood the value of striving toward that ideal. The applause was not merely for his words, but for the spirit behind them.
After a modest bow of acknowledgment, Shanks returned to his seat.
Moments later, the Daimyo of the Land of Hot Water turned toward him with a smile that held both warmth and formality. "Allow me to offer a toast," he said.
Shanks inclined his head in silent approval.
The Daimyo gracefully stood, lifting the delicate sake cup from the table. His voice carried a dignified authority as he raised it high. "To the prosperity of the Land of Uzumaki," he declared.
A unified chorus echoed through the hall as everyone repeated his words, their voices blending into one. "To the prosperity of the Land of Uzumaki!"
The sound of cups clinking followed, and with that, the celebration truly began. Servants moved swiftly between tables, presenting dishes of freshly prepared food and pouring refills of sake. Laughter and conversation slowly filled the air again, as the grand feast commenced in earnest.
Inside the grand celebration hall, nearly everyone of importance was present—everyone except for few of the Uzumaki siblings. Their absence did not go unnoticed, though those who knew the Uzumaki clan well understood why.
They were scattered throughout the village, performing an equally important duty—guarding their home.
Despite the festive atmosphere that filled the hall, Shanks and the rest of the clan knew better than to let their guard down. Today was a day of pride and renewal for the Uzumaki, but such occasions often attracted envy or hostility. There was always the risk that someone—perhaps from one of the major hidden villages—might attempt to disrupt the celebration, tarnish the image of the clan, or sow chaos in their newly rebuilt land. The Uzumaki siblings were determined not to allow that to happen.
From the outer gates to the rooftops, watchful eyes observed every movement. The Uzumaki siblings who were sensory-type shinobi stretched their awareness across the village, while patrol teams remained stationed at strategic points. Every precaution was taken so that, should any disturbance arise, they could respond instantly.
Fortunately, the hours passed peacefully. The celebration unfolded in full glory—filled with laughter, music, and the soft glow of lanterns that illuminated the rebuilt Uzumaki village. By the time it drew to a close, there had been no attacks, no suspicious activity, and no disturbances of any kind. The event ended exactly as the clan had hoped: a flawless success.
As the guests began to disperse, many dignitaries took their leave that very night, returning to their respective lands with smiles and kind words. Yet, not all departed. A number of visiting nobles, lords, and envoys chose to remain, accepting the Uzumaki clan's hospitality. Guesthouses had been prepared in advance, complete with attendants, fine meals, and warm accommodations—each detail reflecting the clan's commitment to courtesy and honor.
By the time night fully descended, the village had grown quieter. It was around ten o'clock when the warm lanterns flickered in the guesthouse area, casting long shadows across the courtyards.
In one such residence—specifically the quarters assigned to the delegation from the Land of Sea—a hushed but serious discussion was taking place. Inside a spacious room dimly lit by an oil lamp, four ninjas sat in a square formation on separate chairs. Between them lay a low wooden table, and upon it was spread a rough, hand-drawn map of the Uzumaki village. The men leaned forward, their eyes fixed on the map, their voices low and deliberate. Whatever they were planning, it was not part of the celebration's joy.
…
Among the four figures gathered in the dimly lit guestroom, one of the ninjas finally broke the silence. His voice was low but firm, carrying a sharp edge that cut through the still air.
"During the day," he began, "while accompanying the Daimyo of the Land of Sea around the village, we marked every key location belonging to the Uzumaki clan. Their temple, their administrative halls, the academy—everything. Tonight," he said, leaning slightly forward, "is the perfect time to strike. We'll hit them at their core and remind them of the true might of Kirigakure and Land of Water."
The moment he finished speaking, the other three nodded in unison, their expressions cold and resolute. The way they responded made it unmistakably clear that these men were not loyal to the Land of Sea. They were infiltrators—ninjas of the Hidden Mist, working in secret under the guise of foreign guests.
The same man continued, a faint, cruel smile curving on his lips. "Our target will be the Uzumaki temple. Once the preparations are complete, we'll blow it sky-high. That sacred monument will turn into a pile of ash—and that will be our gift from Kirigakure to this so-called reborn Uzumaki village. When the Daimyo hears of it, he'll be pleased. Very pleased."
A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint crackle of the oil lamp on the table.
The Daimyo he referred to—the Daimyo of the Land of Water—had long desired to bring the Uzumaki under his control. Ever since the Uzumaki clan had reclaimed their ancestral land, which had once fallen under the dominion of the Land of Water, he had sought to turn Shanks and his people into his vassals. But the Uzumaki were proud, and their leader even prouder. This land had been theirs long before any treaty or conquest, and now that it was reclaimed, they had no intention of surrendering it again.
And that defiance, it seemed, had provoked the vengeance of Daimyo.
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