The storm over the Cloud Village had not broken yet, but the air was heavy with it. The mountains of Kumogakure jutted like black spears into the gray sky, thunderheads gathering in the distance as if waiting for the command of their Raikage.
Inside the tallest tower, Ay, Fourth Raikage of Kumogakure, slammed a scroll down on his desk so hard the ink jar toppled.
"Yagura is dead," he growled. His voice carried like distant thunder through the chamber. "And the Mist is in chaos."
His aides flinched but did not speak. C drummed nervous fingers against his clipboard while Darui leaned lazily against the wall, eyes half-lidded but alert. Samui, cool as ever, adjusted the strap of her sword.
Across from Ay, his younger brother Bee stretched, yawning loudly. "Yo, bro, sounds like trouble in the sea, but don't lose your cool—just follow my beat!"
Ay shot him a glare sharp enough to silence even Bee's rap. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the storm rumbling beyond the walls.
"Speak," Ay barked. His gaze cut to Mabui, the efficient secretary who stood with her usual calm poise.
"Our intelligence confirms it," Mabui said, sliding another scroll onto the desk. "Yagura Karatachi, the Fourth Mizukage, has been overthrown. Rebel factions rallied under a kunoichi named Mei Terumī. The transition was swift and brutal. Reports suggest she has already declared the Bloody Mist era finished."
Darui raised an eyebrow. "That's quick. Too quick. A coup that clean leaves questions."
C nodded. "The Mist has been unstable for years under Yagura's regime. But this… it feels too sudden. Someone must have orchestrated it."
Ay's eyes narrowed. "Names."
Mabui hesitated only a moment. "There is mention of a boy. Clanless. Kozan."
Bee let out a low whistle. "Kid shaking up the system, huh? Sounds like a storm in the mist!"
Ay ignored him, his massive hand curling into a fist. "What do we know?"
"Little," Mabui admitted. "Rumors only. That he defeated opponents in their academy trials without killing. That the mist itself moves for him. That he stood against Yagura… and lived."
Darui finally straightened, pushing his hair from his eyes. "Sounds like ghost stories. But ghost stories don't spread this fast without a spark."
C frowned. "If he truly commands the mist, it could be a kekkei genkai we've never seen. Dangerous."
Ay paced behind his desk, the wooden floor groaning under his weight. "So the Mist bleeds, and in the blood, a shadow rises. Mei Terumī is no fool; she must see this Kozan as a weapon—or worse, as a symbol."
He stopped suddenly and slammed both hands on the desk. "We will not sit idle while another village grows bold."
Mabui inclined her head. "You wish to send observers?"
"Not observers," Ay growled. "Envoys. Strong ones. We'll measure this new Mizukage with our own eyes. And this boy—Kozan—if he is real, I want to know what he bleeds."
---
The chosen envoy gathered at dawn the next day.
Darui, with his languid drawl, volunteered—or perhaps was ordered despite his grumbling. Samui joined him, blade gleaming in the early light. Atsui, her younger brother, tagged along, eager and loud. They were escorted by a squad of disciplined Kumogakure shinobi, their flak jackets crisp, their pace relentless.
From the cliffs, Ay watched them depart. His arms folded, chest rising like a mountain against the storm wind. Bee stood beside him, unusually quiet.
"You think it's wise, bro?" Bee asked at last. "Sending them straight into a mist we can't read?"
Ay's jaw tightened. "Wise or not, it's necessary. If the Mist rises again, we need to know how high the tide will go. If it falls, we'll be ready to claim what's left."
Bee hummed, half-serious, half-song. "Storm meets fog, lightning in the cloud—someone's gonna burn, someone's gonna drown."
Ay did not reply. His eyes were already fixed on the horizon, where thunder rolled toward the sea.
---
The voyage was harsh, as all voyages across the sea to the Land of Water were. Rain lashed the deck of their ship, waves breaking like the roar of a thousand beasts. Atsui cursed every time the deck tilted, while Samui remained unflinching, arms crossed, eyes scanning the mist that seemed thicker with every passing mile.
Darui, as usual, appeared half-asleep, though his hand never strayed far from his blade. "Figures," he muttered one evening, "the moment Yagura dies, the weather decides to act like him."
Samui didn't smile. "Stay sharp. Mist isn't just water. It's a veil. And veils hide knives."
By the fourth day, land appeared—a jagged outline of cliffs and forests wreathed in endless fog. Kirigakure.
Their ship eased into a harbor lined with stone piers and shadowed by watchtowers. Kiri shinobi stood waiting—alert, armed, their faces unreadable behind the mist. The air smelled of salt and steel, and something else beneath it: the faint, lingering iron of blood.
"Welcome to Kirigakure," their escort said, voice flat. "By order of Lady Terumī, you will be received at the Mizukage Tower."
---
The streets of the village were quiet, but not dead. Children walked with their parents, vendors called in low tones, shinobi moved with deliberate purpose. And yet there was a tension in the air, like a village holding its breath. The Bloody Mist had ended, but its memory lingered in every cautious glance, every scarred wall.
Samui noticed it first—the way some of the people whispered at their passing, not at her or Darui, but at the very idea of foreign shinobi walking openly here. It was unheard of only months ago.
Atsui leaned close. "They're staring."
"They're wondering," Samui corrected.
Darui yawned, though his eyes missed nothing. "Wondering if we're vultures or lambs."
The Mizukage Tower loomed above them, pale stone rising into the fog. Guards lined its steps, and at the top stood Mei Terumī herself—tall, striking, her hair a curtain of fire against the gray mist. Her smile was warm, but her eyes… sharp enough to cut.
"Welcome, honored guests," she said, her voice carrying easily. "I am Mei Terumī, Fifth Mizukage of Kirigakure. You've come a long way through dangerous seas. I hope the voyage wasn't too cruel."
Darui inclined his head politely, though his tone was dry. "Cruel seas, cruel skies. We're used to storms."
Mei's smile widened. "Then you'll find yourself at home here."
Her gaze flicked across each of them, measuring, weighing. When her eyes met Samui's, something unspoken passed between them—two kunoichi who knew the burden of reputation.
But it was when Mei spoke again that the room shifted.
"I imagine you've heard rumors. Of a boy. Of Kozan."
Darui's casual demeanor faltered, just a flicker. Atsui perked up, curious. Samui's expression did not change, but her hand twitched on her sword.
Mei let the pause linger. Then she tilted her head, her smile enigmatic.
"Tell your Raikage," she said softly, "that the Mist no longer bleeds children. Kozan has ensured it. And as long as he walks in my shadow, Kirigakure will rise—not fall."
The words struck like lightning.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Darui exhaled slowly. "Guess the storm's already here."
---
That night, in the quarters prepared for them, the Kumo envoys spoke in hushed tones.
"She's dangerous," Samui said flatly. "Not just because of her jutsu. Because she believes in what she's saying."
"Yeah," Atsui agreed, unusually serious. "And the way the villagers look at her… it's like they've already decided she's right."
Darui leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Which means Kozan's not just a rumor. He's a banner. A reason for them to believe."
Samui's eyes narrowed. "If that's true, the Mist isn't weak. It's reborn."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crash of waves outside.
---
Far away, in his tower, Ay listened to their coded report the moment it arrived. His jaw tightened.
So. Mei Terumī was no puppet. And Kozan… was no ghost.
The Raikage turned to face the storm brewing outside his window. Lightning split the sky, illuminating his scarred face.
"Then the world has shifted," he said, voice rumbling like thunder. "And Kumogakure will not be left behind."