The twilight sky over Akagakure draped the pier in a golden sheen, the salty breeze carrying the scent of the sea. The wooden planks creaked softly underfoot.
Kushina Uzumaki stood at the pier's edge, flanked by Nagato and Akinari, her most trusted allies. The wind tugged at their cloaks. Her sharp blue eyes tracked the approach of a grand ship, its dark silhouette slicing through the fading light.
It was a grand ship- though not in the ostentatious way of the Land of Tea's gaudy crafts. This was more like a warship. Its dark hull bore scars from countless voyages, reinforced with steel plates and special wood. Every inch of it radiated practicality: built to endure storms, to carry troops in droves, and to cut through the sea with speed.
In many ways, Kushina should have considered the sight insulting. Using such a vessel to enter her village's harbor was like declaring, "We come not as guests, but as conquerors." But to her surprise, she didn't care. In fact, she was in an unusually good mood.
But her appearance reflected none of that levity. She wore her usual shinobi uniform- black attire trimmed with the crimson Uzumaki spiral, and a plain black cloak. She didn't have the fancy robes or hats of the other Kage, but she was never a fan of pageantry.
She presented an image of ice and steel, her presence honed with malice. Yet beneath it all, her heart thrummed with anticipation, a mixture of excitement and readiness for the inevitable confrontation.
This was no ordinary envoy or merchant. These were not some disposable caravan of courtiers and messengers that had come to her shores. The ship before her carried the Five Kage themselves, each accompanied by their strongest subordinates. A diplomatic party representing the full might of the Five Great Villages: Konoha, Kumo, Iwa, Suna, and Kiri. The leaders of these villages had gathered here, in her village, to stare her in the eye.
Typically, such meetings were handled by advisors or subordinates sent to negotiate in the Kages' stead. But these were extraordinary times, and the Kages' presence was meant to signal sincerity, a gesture of respect toward Kushina and her resurgent Uzumaki clan. They had said the matter of peace was too delicate for lesser hands.
Kushina almost laughed at the thought again. It was such an obvious veil. They weren't here to honor her; they were here to surround her. She saw it for what it was, a threat.
When she first read the letter proposing this summit a few weeks ago, she had indeed laughed, thinking they were naive for chasing after peace, but the humor died quickly when Kurama's rumbling voice cut in. "Naive? They want your head- along with the rest of your clan."
And now, as the warship loomed, the malice she sensed rolling off its deck confirmed every word.
If the talks failed, they would attack. Here and now.
Once, the notion of such treachery might have stunned her. Attacking at peace talks was something only scum did. That was the idea built up by centuries of shinobi tradition. But those same Kage had torn down Uzushio and slaughtered her kin. What was tradition to murderers? What was honor to hypocrites?
Their plan was almost clever. Attack her in her own land, where she would be forced to protect her people and worry about collateral damage. Overwhelm her with their elites, while denying her the chance to unleash Kurama's full fury without risking Akagakure itself. On paper, the scheme was good, and two years ago, it might've ended her.
But that was no longer the Kushina of today.
Her lips curved into a defiant smirk, her red hair catching the twilight's glow.
She was stronger than she had been before. She studied Fuinjutsu constantly over the years, unlocked both of her clan's Kekkai Genkai, and brought her physical capabilities to the next level. And she was not alone. Her clan had clawed its way back from ruin. She had faith in them.
Nagato, with his piercing Mangekyo Sharingan, could match nearly any foe. Akinari, with his overpowering Kenjutsu, was just as formidable as Sakumo Hatake. Either could take on a Kage-level shinobi like Jiraiya.
As for the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist? They were strong, yes, but only at the level of Elite Jonins. Her Uzumaki jonin could meet them head-on. From everything she could see, her enemy had miscalculated.
The scrape of the ship's hull against the dock snapped her from her thoughts. A gangplank lowered with a heavy thud, the sound reverberating across the pier.
The first figures emerged, their presence intimidating. Sakumo Hatake, his white hair glinting in the twilight, led the group, his White Light Chakra Sabre sheathed. Tsunade followed, her strength evident in her poised stance, followed by Chiyo and her brother Ebizo, their faces weathered by the cruel environment of Sunagakure. The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist were next, but they were so insignificant, she didn't even bother learning their names.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, pipe in hand, exuded a calm authority, but it was Danzo Shimura's presence that caught Kushina off guard. She'd always pegged him for a coward, a schemer who sent others to die while hiding in Konoha's shadows. His appearance here was a bold move.
Next came a man in an all-green jumpsuit, his bushy eyebrows and wide nose sparking a vague memory. Then it clicked: Might Duy, Konoha's "Eternal Genin," a man who'd never risen beyond genin rank. Kushina remembered seeing him a couple of times before she defected.
She nearly scoffed, amused at his inclusion- until Kurama's voice cut through her thoughts. 'Be careful. That one's dangerous. He uses the Eight Gates, and he's far better trained than Shinno."
Her amusement vanished instantly, replaced by a wary respect. Might Duy seemed to sense her gaze, a shiver running down his spine, though he didn't meet her eyes.
The Eight Gates had given her a little trouble when Shinno wielded them. If this goofy-looking guy could use them at an even higher level, here, with so many enemies, the threat was amplified. Might Duy was no joke.
Next came the Jinchūriki. Four out of the remaining seven. The presence of so many Tailed Beasts seemed to weigh down the air. There was Bunpaku of the Sand, carrying Shukaku. Han and Rōshi of the Stone, vessels of Kokuō and Son Gokū, respectively. And finally, Bee of the Cloud, who was the Eight-Tails' host. The only one besides Kushina who could claim to be a perfect Jinchūriki.
The other Jinchūriki were not stable enough to be of any use in battle, or so she guessed.
Kushina exchanged glances with Nagato and Akinari, their silent astonishment mirroring hers. This was the shinobi world's elite, save for hidden threats like Orochimaru or Madara, who stayed in the shadows. She'd underestimated their desperation, believing their political divisions would prevent such unity. Yet here they were, leaving their lands undefended to confront her. It was almost flattering.
"Lady Kushina…" Akinari's voice was low, strained. "Are we truly prepared to… deal with all of them?"
Nagato leaned closer, his jaw tight, his eyes betraying the same doubt. "There are so many…"
Kushina didn't fault them. If they were any less powerful, just the weight of so many powerhouses would probably disable them immediately.
"Leave it to me, dattebane," she said, her tone crisp, slicing through their unease.
Her confidence steadied them. Akinari and Nagato both stepped back, their trust absolute.
The Kages disembarked last, their presence exuding authority: Kohaku Yuki, poised and icy; Takumi, shrewd and weathered; Ōnoki, floating with grim determination; Ay, radiating barely contained fury; and Jiraiya, solemn as the Fourth Hokage.
They formed a disciplined group, the Kages at the front, and their subordinates standing silently behind them. Ōnoki stepped forward, his voice smooth despite their enmity. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lady Kushina."
One by one, the others did the same, though Ay's was stiff and Jiraiya's solemn. Kushina returned a slight nod, her expression cool but calculated. "Yes, it is." She paused, her voice firm. "I'm called the Akakage now."
"Red shadow…" Ōnoki murmured, a faint smile on his lips, though his eyes betrayed no warmth. "A fitting name."
His tone was polite, but the air crackled with tension, their intentions a barely veiled threat.
Kushina said nothing. Formalities were smoke and mirrors; she had no patience for them. Her gaze swept the crowd instead.
Sakumo's eyes met hers, and in them she saw sadness- regret, even- but also resolve. The malice rolling off of him told her exactly what it was for. Once, she had thought of him as a friend, almost an uncle. But that time was gone.
Jiraiya's eyes followed. His change surprised her. There was no levity or lightheartedness, only a man hollowed by tragedy and hardened by his duties.
And Tsunade. She felt complicated emotions seeing her again. Once, Tsunade had been like an older sister to her. But Kurama's whispers still rang in her mind from that night. It was likely this Senju who betrayed her. Kushina's gaze sharpened. The warmth of old bonds burned to ash.
"Let's talk somewhere else," Kushina said at last.
She turned on her heel, her cloak blowing in the wind. Nagato and Akinari fell in beside her.
The Kage nodded silently and followed, their footsteps heavy on Akagakure's pier. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the tension to reach its climax.