Hey guys, here is the new chapter hope you will liked and read thru everything.
If we hit 400 PW I post a extra chapter you been hitting all the goals to get more chapters
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The desert wind blew with unusual ferocity, lifting clouds of sand that danced around the walls of Sunagakure. For Daigo, that return journey hadn't been the triumphant return of a conqueror, but the tactical retreat of a man who felt fragmented inside. The victory against the Nanabi and the capture of the swords should have been moments of absolute celebration, milestones that would mark his legacy as the youngest and brightest Kazekage in history.
However, in his mind, the only thing resounding was the echo of Pakura's slap on his cheek and the coldness of her words. The pressure in his chest didn't diminish; it was a constant oppression, an invisible chain that seemed to tighten every time he thought about the responsibility imposed on him by destiny and his own ambition.
As soon as he reached the threshold of his office in the central building, Daigo tried to find a moment of peace. His body screamed for rest, his muscles were tense, and his mind was saturated with strategies and disappointments. But fate, or rather the village's bureaucracy, had other plans. Before his fingers could even touch the noble wood chair behind his desk, a disturbance in the air warned him of an intruder.
Without warning, an ANBU appeared out of nowhere, kneeling with silent agility before him. The animal mask hid any expression, but his rigid posture was enough to convey the urgency of the message.
"Kazekage-sama," the ANBU said in a monotonous and emotionless voice. "The members of the council have requested an urgent meeting. All the councilors are present and require your immediate presence in the main boardroom."
Daigo let out a long, heavy sigh, a sound that carried months of accumulated fatigue. Sasori, who was walking behind him with his usual lethal lethargy, stopped and observed the ANBU with a raised eyebrow, before looking at Daigo.
"Do you want me to accompany you?" Sasori asked, with a calm voice but laden with an offer of unconditional protection. "If things get difficult or if they need a hard hand to understand reason, I can be there with you. You know my position usually helps clarify the elders' ideas."
Daigo shook his head, sketching a tired smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"No, Sasori," Daigo responded, trying to sound firmer than he felt. "That would only fuel the fire. I prefer to face this alone; it is my responsibility as Kage. But do me a favor; take Karinna to the new house we prepared in the residential sector. Make sure she settles in well and that she lacks nothing. She deserves some stability after all the chaos. I will deal with the fossils of the council."
Sasori nodded, understanding Daigo's intention. "As you command. I'll be close if the situation spirals out of control."
Daigo was left alone again. He forced himself to straighten his back and recover that mask of authoritative serenity that had cost him so much to perfect. He walked through the hallways, listening to the echo of his own feet against the stone floor.
Upon arriving at the heavy double doors of the boardroom, an ANBU guarding the entrance opened them wide. Upon crossing the threshold, the air changed instantly. The room was impregnated with a smell of old parchment and incense, and the silence that received him was dense, almost palpable. All eyes were on him. Wrinkled faces, weathered by decades of politics and wars, observed him with a mixture of judgment and expectation. Daigo walked with a slow pace to his chair at the head of the table, the chair that symbolized the absolute power they had granted him.
He sat and looked at each of those present, from the oldest to the most recent, waiting for the silence to settle.
"I am back in Suna after so long at the front," Daigo said, his voice resonating with a controlled calm that disguised the storm occurring in his head. "So take this opportunity now to let out everything you have to say. I know you have many things built up."
In a corner of the table, Chiyo was silent, observing. She, more than anyone, knew the ins and outs of the ninja soul. She looked at Daigo and, although she didn't say anything, her eyes narrowed slightly. She knew something was wrong with him; she noticed the shadow in his gaze, the tension in his jaw. She listened as the other councilors began to speak, first in whispers and then in raised voices, complaining about his absences, his unilateral decisions, and how, according to them, he was putting Sunagakure's political stability at risk.
Daigo responded to them with a parsimony that left them disoriented. He didn't defend his actions with passion, but with cold facts. And then, he decided to drop the bomb.
"I have acquired the Seven Swords of the Mist and I have the Seven-Tails Bijuu under my absolute control," Daigo said, releasing the words as if he were commenting on the weather.
The effect was immediate. The room split into two colliding worlds. On one side, those who were scandalized by the danger of having such an arsenal and such destructive force under Suna, and the diplomatic problems it would bring for having stolen a Bijuu from another village. On the other, those who were intoxicated with happiness at the idea that their village finally had enough military power to dominate neighboring nations. During the rest of the meeting, Daigo simply let the voices mix into a constant buzz. His mind wasn't there. He was analyzing every phrase, every complaint, seeing how corruptible power and petty politics intertwined. He just remained there, expressionless, until the meeting ended with a "we'll keep talking tomorrow" that left everyone unsatisfied but unable to force him to stay.
He used a shunshin to appear instantly in his office, wishing the empty space could absorb the pressure he felt. He sighed deeply and headed to the balcony, observing the village under the moonlight. Sunagakure stretched out before him like a living organism, full of houses, lights, and lives that depended on his decisions. He felt alone, incredibly alone.
"Pretty village, isn't it, Daigo?"
The voice didn't startle him. It was familiar, warm despite the years. Daigo didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.
"Gran gran Chiyo," he said, greeting her without looking into her eyes. "How are you?"
The old woman approached the balcony, resting her hands on the railing.
"As well as age allows," she replied with a small smile. "And you? You look like you've carried an entire mountain on your shoulders all day. Don't lie to me, kid, I've known you since you were a brat."
Daigo finally looked at her, and the shell he maintained before the councilors cracked a little.
"Is it that noticeable?"
"It shows in your posture, Daigo. You have always been too honest for your own good," Chiyo said, her tone becoming softer. "If you need to talk to someone, I'm here. Sometimes, even the strongest warrior needs to unload the weight."
Daigo nodded, unable to maintain the facade any longer. He sat next to her on the small office sofa, and for the first time, he let out the whole torrent of emotions. He told her about the months of struggle, about how, despite achieving incredible victories, the dissatisfaction of the councilors ate away at him. He confessed the argument with Pakura, the fear of turning into someone he didn't want to be, and the constant doubt of whether he was really capable of being the Kazekage the village needed.
Chiyo listened in silence, with infinite patience. She waited for him to finish, letting silence fill the room when Daigo finally went quiet, asking for advice.
"Pakura was right," Chiyo said, surprising him. "But not in everything. You have a lot to learn, Daigo, but that doesn't mean you don't have potential. You are young and you will learn a lot along the way."
Daigo looked at her, confused and frowning. "Can you be more direct, please? I don't understand why I feel this weight if I am doing the right thing."
"The weight is not because of your actions, it is because of your isolation," Chiyo explained calmly. "That is why the council was created. I know you see them as fossils, as people who only want to put brakes on your progress. But their function is important: they are there to carry part of that responsibility with you. You don't have to be the only one who decides, nor the only one who carries the weight of mistakes. If you try to carry everything alone, you will end up crushed, Daigo."
Daigo reflected on her words. "Not everyone would agree with me, grandmother. If I involve them, my movements will be slower, and Suna cannot afford the luxury of slowness in these times."
Chiyo gave him a look of understanding, almost maternal. "That is another one of your big problems. You are in too much of a hurry. You want to do everything fast, you want to build an empire in days, you want immediate results. Things, if you plan them and do them with patience, will end up being done well and will last forever. Hurrying is the father of mistakes, Daigo."
Daigo nodded, feeling something inside him relax slightly. It was true. He had tried to run before knowing how to walk in this position. "How can we start to let things move slower? How can I trust them?"
Chiyo smiled, a genuine and comforting smile. "First, start by going home. Forget the council, forget the swords, forget the Bijuu. Enjoy a meal with your family. You need to remember who you are before being Kage. Then tomorrow, after a good rest, go see the Third; he can help you more than I can."
Daigo accepted the advice without hesitation. He left the building and walked to his house, a structure humble but full of memories. Upon entering, he expected his parents to bombard him with questions about the village, about the dangers, about politics. But it didn't happen. His father, Haru, and his mother, Ilsa, were there, and dinner went by in a wonderful normality. They avoided talking about ninja stuff, focusing only on Daigo, on how he was, on anecdotes from his childhood, and on having a good time.
All that made Daigo feel, for the first time in a long time, lighter. However, an uneasiness persisted inside him. Later, he sat on the roof of the house, his favorite place since he was little, the site where he used to take refuge to escape heavy training. He looked at the stars in the infinite sky, feeling the immensity of the universe and how small his life really was, and at the same time, how big his impact was.
He heard soft footsteps behind him and turned around. It was his father. Haru sat next to him, calm, without saying anything for a long while, sharing the silence that only people who really love each other can allow themselves.
Daigo, looking at the firmament, broke the silence with a question that burned his throat. "Did you ever think, Dad, that your son would end up being the Kage of Suna?"
Haru shook his head, sketching a nostalgic smile while looking toward the horizon of the village he knew so well. "I never thought so, son. I remember once I took you as a baby to the wall so you could observe the village, and I swear that my only desire was never for you to rule anything. I only wanted you to be safe, to grow, to have a quiet life."
Daigo nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. "I have been in many things these days, Dad. And the truth is, I am happy that you treat me as if I were still that child you both watched over so I wouldn't train too much. It's a relief not to be the Kazekage for a moment."
Haru stood up slowly, putting his heavy and warm hand on Daigo's head, tousling his hair a bit with a paternal gesture that transported him to his childhood years.
"Stop carrying everything," Haru said, with a firm but love-filled voice. "You have friends, you have people who love you, and you have an entire village that believes in you. If you are the Kage of Suna, it is because the people believe in your vision, so don't disappoint them by believing you have to be a martyr. You are human, Daigo. And that is what makes you a good leader, not your power."
Daigo remained in silence, letting his father's words settle deeply into his being. The clarity he had sought in the council, in war, and in power, was there, on the roof of his home, under the stars. He didn't need to be a god, nor a dictator, nor a lone wolf. He just needed to be himself.
The fatigue finally reached him, but this time it was a sweet fatigue, the kind of someone who has unloaded a weight that didn't belong to them. He settled on the roof, closing his eyes while the cool breeze of the night caressed his face. He fell asleep there, finally at peace, with the conviction that tomorrow would be a new day, and this time, he wouldn't walk alone.
The village rested, his father rested, and the young Kage, at last, could allow himself to dream without the weight of the crown on his temples.
The silence of the night was his best counselor. The stars, mute witnesses of so many past and present leaders, seemed to watch over his sleep. Daigo, in the safety of his roof, forgot for a few hours the secrets of the swords, the danger of the Nanabi, and the political discussions that awaited behind the doors of the Kazekage's office.
In his dream, there were no ninjas, no villages at war, nor councils questioning his authority; there was only an open path, an infinite horizon, and the certainty that, although the weight was great, he would have the necessary strength if he learned to share it.
Daigo's life was about to change, not because he was going to become physically stronger, but because he was beginning to understand that true power resided in connection, in patience, and in the humility of recognizing that, sometimes, being strong means being brave enough to ask for help. The child he once was, the teenager who now ruled, and the man he would become, all merged into a moment of absolute stillness. Tomorrow he would wake up with a new perspective, ready to start planning everything calmly with a glass of tea.
The moon hid behind a hill, letting darkness cover the roof where the young leader finally found the rest that had been so denied to him. Everything was calm. Suna breathed, Daigo breathed, and the future, although uncertain, seemed a little less terrifying under the light of a sky that didn't understand politics, only eternity.