The thunder rolled low over the peaks of Kumogakure, deep and grumbling like a beast disturbed in its sleep. The storm outside the Raikage's Tower had lingered since dawn—unnatural in its patience, as if waiting for the village to move first.
Inside, the halls were quiet but tense. Every shinobi stationed near the administrative wing had noticed the arrival of the messenger hawk an hour earlier. And now, the Raikage's office doors were sealed shut.
A sat behind his desk, arms crossed over his chest like a stone monument. The red-sealed scroll from Konohagakure lay unopened between him and his chief attendant, Yujirō—Karui's uncle and Omoi's elder cousin. A quiet, disciplined man, Yujirō stood like he had for years: straight-backed, unreadable.
A hadn't spoken since the scroll arrived.
When he finally did, his voice was low and heavy. "Is this official?"
Yujirō nodded once. "It bears her seal. The chakra signature is intact. Direct from Tsunade-sama—no intermediaries."
Ay's jaw tightened.
"Open it."
Yujirō obeyed, cracking the wax and unrolling the scroll onto the polished desk.
A leaned forward and read silently, line by line. His brow furrowed deeper as he read.
To the Raikage of Kumogakure,
This letter is not a request.
You will send your highest-ranking jōnin representative to Konoha immediately to account for the actions of your men within a neutral province. We will conduct questioning under Leaf jurisdiction.
If you refuse, the incident will be made public—every detail. From the suppression cuffs to the Caged Bird reconnaissance. There will be no more shadows for you to hide behind.
I will not let my shinobi bleed for your ambition.
Test Konoha's will again, and you will learn the cost.
—Tsunade Senju, Godaime Hokage
A didn't look up. The only sound in the room was the steady tapping of rain against reinforced glass.
"She used the title," he murmured.
"She did," Yujirō confirmed. "She's not making this about politics. It's personal."
"She's calling us out."
"And she's within her right."
He stood up slowly, walking to the wide window overlooking the cliffs. The rain etched slow streaks across the glass.
"We haven't given approval to anything," he said. "No active deployments in the Land of Hot Springs."
Yujirō nodded. "Not officially. But if someone from one of the old field teams went rogue—or was given a standing order that was never revoked…"
A didn't respond right away. His reflection stared back at him from the window—scarred, older, and tired of cleaning up after other people's ambitions.
Years ago, it had been Kushina Uzumaki.
After that—Hinata Hyuga.
Both times, they'd underestimated the Leaf's reach. Both times, they'd been forced to negotiate under pressure.
"It seems that the Hyūga girl survived," Yujirō added. "It's already trickled out of Konoha's field channels. They're holding the captured operative."
And now, Tsunade had sent a warning, wrapped in a formal letter, dipped in venom.
"And now that they have caught one alive," A murmured. "By the mention of it, she's waiting to see how we respond before pushing further."
"She's playing this carefully," Yujirō said. "Giving us one chance to act like it wasn't sanctioned. Quietly, if we cooperate and loud if we don't."
A turned back to the desk.
"Then we should't insult her intelligence by pretending."
He rolled his neck once, the cracking sound sharp in the quiet office. "Send for Darui. I want him here within the hour."
Yujirō bowed. "He is preparing a genin team for rotation.. I'll pull him out."
Yujirō moved to the door, then paused. "And the captured shinobi?"
"If he's ours," A said, pausing, "we'll answer for it. But only if Tsunade plays this clean. No public announcements."
When the door closed behind Yujirō, the Raikage returned to his desk and stared at the Hokage's message again. No soft language. No diplomatic veils. Just fury, tightly coiled behind a call for accountability.
He didn't hate her for it.
He respected it.
She'd lost family to war. Lost comrades to schemes like these. If she was writing in blood, it was because she'd already bled. Not when that Hyūga girl was almost dragged across a border for her bloodline.
A turned to the chakra-locked cabinet and opened it with a press of his palm. From the middle shelf, he pulled a scroll bearing no name—just a simple, stark insignia.
Deep-action unit.
He unrolled it slowly. Seven names. Six accounted for.
One listed as "status unknown."
A muttered the name. "Jiro Kanzaki. Last deployment logged two years ago. No withdrawal order ever issued."
The name matched the description in the summary that had been tucked into Tsunade's message. Height. Build. Skillset. One of the Raikage's old wolves—someone handpicked for missions where the chain of command had to remain deliberately vague.
Someone A had once trusted to disappear into the dark and come back with information. Or bodies.
But not this.
Not after the Hinata incident.
A rolled the scroll and sealed it tight. Konoha might not let them near the prisoner—but if they do allow, this was how they'd confirm it.
Because despite his fury, A wasn't stupid.
He couldn't accuse Konoha of lying unless he was sure. And if Jiro had acted outside orders, it would be better to punish him himself than let Tsunade drag him through a diplomatic battlefield.
His office door opened again without a knock. Darui entered with his damp cloak, blade strapped to his back. And his face unreadable as usual.
"You called, Raikage-sama."
A turned and tossed the sealed scroll onto the desk.
"I need you in Konoha by dawn tomorrow."
Darui's brow arched faintly. "Diplomatic Mission?"
"Not quite."
A didn't elaborate. He didn't need to. Darui walked forward and picked up the scroll.
"What's inside?"
"An old name. Someone who might've gone rogue. Someone has just put this village under Hokage's scrutiny."
Darui didn't blink. "And I'm the apology?"
"You're the answer," A replied. "Tsunade wants a jōnin commander present. I'm sending you to listen, assess, and deliver a message of our own."
Darui inclined his head.
"And what message is that?"
Ay crossed his arms.
"That we're not playing dumb—but we're not admitting anything either. You go, you look her in the eye, and you tell her if one of ours acted without orders, we'll handle it. But until we see him ourselves, we don't dance to their rhythm. Also.... remember, don't speak unless she gives you the floor, she's The Sannin for a reason."
Darui hesitated only once before turning. "And what if he was ours?"
Ay's voice dropped. "Then we struck him out, from our books. Not reassigned. Not protected. Gone. Like he never existed."
He simply nodded and left without another word.
The door shut behind him.
And he left alone, stared at a sealed scroll and a storm that showed no signs of passing.
He hated politics.
But he knew a threat when he heard one.
And this one didn't come from a blade.
It came from a kunoichi who had once lost everything.
And wasn't about to lose one more.