Mabui pressed her forehead, her dark eyes clouded with worry.
"Fretting won't change anything," Samui said, settling into the seat across from her. "Would you like some tea?"
"You have it."
Mabui sighed. "I can't stomach anything right now."
Samui lifted the cup without comment. The bitter taste filled her mouth as silence settled over the room again.
They'd been in Konoha for nearly a month, each day consumed by the same question: what would Konoha demand?
Today, finally, they had their answer.
A knock interrupted the heavy quiet.
"Enter," Mabui called, her shoulders tensing.
A young Cloud ninja handed over a scroll with both hands. "Lord Mabui, this was just delivered from Konoha."
"Thank you. You're dismissed."
The moment the door closed, Mabui stared at the sealed scroll like it might bite her.
"Open it," Samui said quietly.
Mabui's hands trembled slightly as she broke the seal. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face drained of color.
Samui stood and leaned over her shoulder.
The moment she saw the first condition, her breath caught.
Four demands. Four impossible demands.
First: All ninjutsu and secret techniques of the Hidden Cloud.
Second: Hidden Cloud surrenders Turtle Island and the methods for cultivating perfect jinchuriki.
Third: Konoha ninja may accept missions from the Land of Lightning.
Fourth: War reparations—reconstruction costs and pensions for fallen shinobi.
Samui sank back into her chair.
The fourth condition was negotiable. The others? They were asking the Hidden Cloud to dismantle itself.
Ninjutsu and secret techniques were the lifeblood of any village. Handing them over meant Konoha would know every move before they made it.
But Turtle Island—that was the real knife to the throat.
The waterfall there was essential. Without it, cultivating perfect jinchuriki became nearly impossible. And without perfect jinchuriki, the Hidden Cloud lost the very advantage that kept them competitive with Konoha.
"How do we even respond to this?" Samui asked.
"We negotiate," Mabui said, though her voice sounded hollow. "These are opening positions. There's room to move."
Samui wanted to believe that. But they both knew the truth: the Hidden Cloud had no leverage. Two tailed beasts captured. The Fourth Raikage imprisoned. A military force shattered.
What did they have to bargain with?
"Send this back to the village," Mabui said, rolling the scroll with mechanical precision. "Tell Darui to convene a council. We'll need a full delegation."
After Samui left, Mabui covered her face with both hands.
The weight of it all pressed down like a physical thing.
---
The jonin conference had sent shockwaves through Konoha.
The village's entire leadership had been reshuffled. Old guard demoted. New blood promoted. The message was clear: Tsunade was cleaning house.
And there were still positions to fill.
Hokage advisors. Guard rotations. Plenty of opportunity for ambitious ninja.
The mood in the village had shifted from war-weary to hopeful.
---
By a pond in the Sarutobi compound, Hiruzen sat with a fishing rod, watching the water with the patience of a man who'd learned to enjoy retirement.
Footsteps approached. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.
"Hiruzen, you're remarkably calm," Utatane Koharu said, her voice tight with disapproval.
Mitokado Homura stood beside her, both their faces dark as storm clouds.
"Retirement suits me," Hiruzen replied mildly. "You should try it."
"This is intolerable!" Koharu snapped. "Tsunade is your student. Will you truly do nothing?"
Hiruzen finally turned to face them. "What would you have me do?"
They had no answer. They couldn't fight Tsunade through normal channels—she was Hokage now, with all the authority that entailed. And they certainly couldn't fight her through other means. Not against her and Hanekawa both.
"I won't interfere," Hiruzen said simply, turning back to his fishing. "You're welcome to leave."
"You'll regret this!" Koharu said as they departed.
Hiruzen didn't respond. He'd already heard that threat once. The man who'd made it was dead.
Asuma arrived at midday, peering into the empty bucket with suspicion.
"No fish today?" he asked.
"I was in a good mood. Released them all," Hiruzen said without missing a beat.
"You didn't catch any, did you?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Anyway, tell me about the conference."
Asuma grinned. "Sakumo-sensei's been made an advisor. So has Jiraiya, though he's still at Mount Myoboku."
Hiruzen nodded, unsurprised.
"But here's the thing—the Uchiha clan agreed to take over the Police Department. How did Tsunade manage that?"
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly. The Uchiha wouldn't accept such a position without significant compensation. Which meant Tsunade had promised them something substantial.
Something like a future shot at the Hokage position.
It was bold. Reckless, even. But then again, Tsunade had always been bolder than him or Danzo.
And she had Hanekawa.
Perhaps that made all the difference.
---
Time moved forward, as it always did.
A year of war became history. The new year arrived.
January 1st should have been a celebration. Instead, Mabui and Samui stood at Konoha gates in tense silence, waiting.
"They're coming," Samui said, spotting movement in the distance.
A white-haired boy with a sword across his back approached. Darui. The successor to the Third Raikage's Black Lightning, the Fourth's personal guard, and—though he didn't know it yet—the future Fifth Raikage.
"Darui?" Mabui's frown deepened. "I told you to stay in the village."
"I couldn't sit still," he admitted sheepishly. "Since I'm here, I might as well help with the negotiations."
"The talks aren't scheduled until Sunday," Mabui explained. "There's no need to alert them yet."
Darui nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken truth: the losers didn't set the pace. Konoha would decide when they were ready.
After they left, a branch in a nearby tree trembled slightly.
Hanekawa watched the Hidden Cloud delegation disappear down the road, his mind already moving ahead.
The Hyuga incident. In the original timeline, the Hidden Cloud had kidnapped Hinata during these negotiations, leading to Hizashi's sacrifice. But that wouldn't happen this time. Not with him watching.
Still, the year ahead would be eventful. Ten of Konoha's Twelve Young Warriors would be born this year. The village was about to become very crowded.
He dropped from the tree and picked up a kunai from the ground—not an ordinary one, but a Flying Thunder God kunai he'd left here weeks ago.
After months of study, he'd finally mastered it.
The notification had been satisfying:
[S-Rank Ninjutsu Entry: Flying Thunder God Technique]
[Trigger Condition: Successfully perform this ninjutsu]
[Effect: Proficiency automatically reaches mastered level]
He'd spent the last few days spreading Flying Thunder God seals throughout Konoha. No more walking. No more wasted time.
Just instant teleportation.
He ran north, testing the limits. After ten kilometers, he stopped and focused on the nearest seal.
The world shifted.
One moment he stood in an empty field. The next, he was back in his ANBU office, slumped in his chair, breathing hard.
Roughly one-fifth of his chakra reserves. He could work with that.
The maximum distance would increase as his proficiency grew and his chakra pool expanded. For now, this was more than enough.
A knock at the door.
"Come in," he called.
Aoi entered, her expression serious. "We've received intelligence. The Hidden Rain has severed its alliance with Konoha. They're returning all supplies and monetary aid."
Hanekawa's eyes narrowed.
That was... unexpected. And troubling.
His first instinct was Uchiha Madara and Obito. But how? And why would they help the Rain Village?
Unless they were using this as cover for something else.
"Check recent expenditures," he ordered. "Focus on Hidden Mist, the Hidden Sand, and the daimyo of each country. Look for large transfers of money or resources."
If Madara and Obito needed funds quickly, they'd use the Mangekyō Sharingan to control key figures. The other villages and their daimyo would be easy targets.
Aoi nodded and left.
Hanekawa leaned back in his chair, mind racing.
The game was getting more complicated. And he had a feeling the year ahead would test everything he'd learned.