A Game of Lies
Blood. Death. Screams.
Karin had only ever known those things.
Her mother’s body had withered away before her eyes, her once vibrant red hair dulled, her life force drained until there was nothing left but a husk of the woman who had given Karin life. All for the sake of others—shinobi, warlords, people who saw them as nothing more than tools. They had tried to do the same to Karin, pressing her into the same mold, forcing her to become a replacement for the mother she had barely had time to love.
But Karin had not been weak. She had snapped.
The village that had caged her, that had bled her dry—she left it in ruins, her hands stained with the blood of those who had sought to use her. The scent of iron had filled her lungs, her vision had been painted crimson, and when she had finally stepped out of that ghost town, she had not once looked back.
And then he had found her.
A man unlike any other. Nagato. He had seen her for what she was—an Uzumaki, like him. But more than that, he had seen someone who had been crushed by the world, molded into a survivor by pain and betrayal. He had offered her a place among them—his Akatsuki, a collection of people who had been broken by the world and sought to reshape it. To create a world where children like her, like him, would no longer be tools.
A world where the strong would no longer devour the weak.
She had accepted.
And that was how she had ended up here.
Sitting in a dimly lit hideout, lazily cleaning her sais, while an absolute buffoon babbled nonsense in her ear.
“Oi, oi, Karin-chan!” Tobi sing-songed, crouching beside her, his spiraled mask tilted in an exaggerated manner.
Karin sighed, exasperated, and continued wiping down her weapon. “What do you want, Tobi?”
“Just checking in on my favorite little redhead!” Tobi chirped. “Did you finish your assignment?”
Karin’s fingers twitched against the handle of her sai. The assignment.
The Wind Daimyo.
It had been almost too easy. Disguising herself as a mere maid had required minimal effort, and once she had gained access to his estate, all it took was patience. Waiting. Watching. Striking when the moment was right.
He hadn’t even seen her coming.
A single, well-placed blade to the throat. Swift. Silent. Surgical.
She had ended an entire political dynasty in one night.
Her red eyes flicked toward Tobi. “…Yes,” she said simply, setting her cleaned sai aside. “Didn’t take much effort.”
Tobi clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the hideout. “Yay! Our little Karin-chan is becoming such a fine assassin!”
Karin deadpanned. “Don’t patronize me.”
Tobi wagged a finger at her. “That attitude, Karin-chan! You’ll never make friends that way.”
Karin stared at him. “If my only options are people like you, I’ll pass.”
Tobi gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch! My fragile heart!”
Karin pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling slowly. “Tobi.”
“Yes, Karin-chan?”
“Why are you really here?”
“Oh!” Tobi perked up. “Right! You’re being sent to the Hidden Leaf soon!”
Karin blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “…Huh.”
Tobi tilted his head, his tone shifting just slightly—barely perceptible, but there. Darker. “You’ll be converting four people to our side.”
Karin narrowed her eyes. “…Four?”
A shinobi team typically had three genin, not four.
Tobi, as if remembering something, made a noise of realization and rummaged through his cloak. “Ah! Almost forgot! Silly me, silly me! Here ya go, Karin-chan~”
He pulled out a small photograph and handed it to her.
Karin took it and glanced down.
It was a picture of four genin.
Four faces.
One, a blond boy with bright blue eyes and whisker-like scars on his cheeks—Uzumaki, she realized instantly, her heart stuttering at the sight of the familiar clan features.
The second, a boy with raven-black hair and onyx eyes, his expression stoic and sharp.
The third, a girl with vibrant pink hair and a thoughtful, intelligent look in her eyes.
And the fourth—him.
Wild black hair, unnaturally green eyes, something eerily intense in his gaze despite his otherwise relaxed expression.
Karin made a small, thoughtful noise. “…They look powerful.”
Tobi nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, they are! More powerful than a bunch of regular ol’ genin!”
Karin continued studying the photo. “And you want me to convert them?”
“Bingo!” Tobi chirped. “You have one job—reveal the dark secrets. The truth.”
Karin’s lips pressed into a thin line. She had no idea what that meant, but she knew better than to press Tobi for answers when he wasn’t in the mood to give them.
Instead, she asked something else.
“…What the hell is pie?”
Tobi paused. Then shrugged. “Foreigner food.”
Karin stared at him blankly. “That tells me nothing.”
Tobi waved her off. “Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter! Just think of it as something easy. Easy as pie~!”
Karin sighed. She genuinely couldn’t comprehend how this idiot was supposed to be on the same level as Nagato and Konan.
But she didn’t question it.
Instead, she glanced down at the photograph one last time, memorizing the faces.
Harry Potter. Naruto Uzumaki. Sakura Haruno. Sasuke Uchiha.
Her new assignment.
Her new targets.
And if Tobi was to be believed…
Her soon-to-be allies.
The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays casting a warm glow over the quiet village streets. It was a rare moment of peace, a lull in the storm that had been their lives ever since the invasion. For once, there were no high-stakes battles, no political crises looming over them, no threats to their existence.
Just a simple, mundane, almost boring D-rank mission.
And, oddly enough, none of them minded.
“Ugh, how did we go from fighting actual S-rank threats to this?” Naruto groaned, dramatically tossing his head back as he hoisted a wooden crate into his arms. “We’re literally just moving boxes for some random shopkeeper!”
“Shut up, Naruto,” Sakura said absently, though her voice lacked real bite. “For once, this isn’t life-or-death, so just enjoy the break.”
Harry, who was balancing a stack of books in one hand and a broom in the other, smirked. “You say that, but I can see the vein twitching in your forehead. You hate this.”
Sakura bristled. “I do not hate this! I just… prefer missions that aren’t glorified house chores.”
Sasuke huffed, his hands tucked into his pockets. He wasn’t even carrying anything—Naruto was doing enough complaining for the both of them. “Tch. At least it’s not another cat retrieval.”
“I’d rather deal with the cat,” Naruto shot back, scowling. “At least that’s kinda fun. This is just—ugh, I dunno. Feels wrong, y’know?”
Harry nodded, adjusting the books in his grip. “After everything that’s happened, going back to these low-stakes missions feels... surreal.”
In the background, Kakashi leaned against a nearby wooden post, seemingly lost in the pages of Icha Icha Paradise. He was so still, so relaxed, that anyone who didn’t know better would assume he wasn’t paying attention.
But he was.
His lone visible eye flickered briefly toward his students, observing them with a quiet sort of fondness. They’re right, he mused. The past few months had been anything but normal. Their mission to find Tsunade had been a whirlwind of chaos—facing Orochimaru, watching Sakura wrestle with her emotions and the cursed seal, witnessing Naruto and Sasuke push themselves harder than ever. Harry had adapted to the shinobi world as if he had always belonged in it, and Kakashi had no doubt he’d be surpassing his peers soon.
After all of that, this—a simple errand mission—felt almost too quiet.
“Oi, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto called, squinting at their so-called leader. “When are we training again?”
Kakashi didn’t even glance up from his book. “Hmm? Oh… some time soon.”
Naruto scowled. “That’s not an answer!”
Kakashi lazily turned a page. “It is. You just don’t like it.”
Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Some time soon usually means whenever you feel like it.”
Kakashi didn’t deny it.
Before Naruto could start another rant, voices echoed from down the street.
“Oh? Well, look who it is,” a familiar, teasing voice rang out.
Team 7 turned just in time to see Team 10 approaching.
Ino Yamanaka smirked, hands on her hips, her long blonde ponytail swishing behind her. Shikamaru trailed beside her with his usual lazy expression, while Choji popped another handful of chips into his mouth. Behind them, Asuma Sarutobi followed at a more relaxed pace, a cigarette tucked between his lips.
“Back from your oh-so-important mission to find the Fifth Hokage, huh?” Ino quipped, her sharp blue eyes zeroing in on Sakura. “What, did you guys actually find Tsunade-sama, or did you just wander around and hope she showed up?”
Sakura crossed her arms, a smug look on her face. “Hah! Of course we found her. It wasn’t even that hard.”
Naruto snorted. “She’s only bragging ‘cause she wants to impress you, dattebayo!”
Sakura’s face immediately turned red. “Shut up, Naruto!”
Harry smirked. “No, no, I think he’s onto something.”
Sasuke—shockingly—joined in. “Hn. If she brags any harder, we might have to start calling her ‘Sakura-sama.’”
Sakura’s blush deepened, but she quickly covered it up with an indignant huff. “Oh, please! I don’t need to impress her!”
Off to the side, Shikamaru and Choji exchanged knowing looks.
“Well,” Shikamaru drawled, “considering how much Ino complained while you were gone, you might be onto something.”
Choji nodded sagely. “Yeah. She wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Ino whipped around to glare at them. “EXCUSE ME?!”
Shikamaru sighed. “You did whine about it a lot.”
“I did not—”
“Oh, you definitely did,” Choji added, popping another chip into his mouth. “It was kinda funny, actually.”
Ino’s scowl deepened, her face heating up. “I was not whining! I was just—concerned!”
Sakura, still blushing but looking slightly hopeful, muttered, “Concerned, huh?”
Ino turned back to her, spluttering. “That’s—! I just—! Ugh, whatever!”
Naruto cackled. “You totally missed her, huh, Ino?”
“Shut up, Naruto!”
As the genin bickered, Kakashi and Asuma stood off to the side, watching the exchange with mild amusement.
“You have an interesting team,” Asuma commented, exhaling smoke.
Kakashi chuckled, flipping another page. “That’s one way to put it.”
Asuma hummed. His expression, while still relaxed, shifted into something more serious. He lowered his voice. “You heard the news?”
Kakashi’s eye flicked toward him. “Depends on which news you mean.”
“The Wind Daimyo,” Asuma said quietly.
Kakashi’s posture didn’t change, but his grip on his book tightened just slightly. “…I heard something, but not much.”
Asuma nodded, taking another slow drag from his cigarette. “Neither did I. Only bits and pieces. But from what I did hear… it wasn’t pretty.”
Kakashi exhaled through his nose.
The Wind Daimyo’s assassination—it wasn’t just unexpected. It was unprecedented. Political figures didn’t just die in their own homes, not with that level of precision.
And if the rumors were true, then this wasn’t the work of a rogue shinobi or a Hidden Village.
No.
This was something else. Something new. Dangerous.
Kakashi finally closed his book, his visible eye darkening.
“…Looks like our peaceful days are numbered.”
Asuma took another drag of his cigarette, watching as Team 7 and Team 10 continued their banter, blissfully unaware of what was to come.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “They really are.”
The large double doors of the Kage summit hall loomed before them, heavy and imposing, guarded by masked ANBU operatives from all five villages. A lingering tension hung in the air, thick like the scent of ink on old paper, marking the gravity of the situation.
As Tsunade stepped forward, her sharp amber eyes flicked to Jiraiya, who was strolling beside her with an easygoing gait, hands tucked into his robes as if he were simply out for a casual evening stroll.
“…Why are you here again?” she asked, her tone half-dry, half-exasperated.
Jiraiya shrugged. “Extra protection, of course.” His voice was light, but there was an underlying seriousness to it. “The ANBU are trained, sure, but let’s be real, they wouldn’t cut it if this turns into a real problem.”
Tsunade huffed, crossing her arms. “Hmph.” She didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.
Shizune, ever composed, walked slightly behind them, her gaze flitting between the guards lining the hall. She held Tonton in her arms, the small pig letting out a quiet oink, as if sensing the tension in the air.
At the end of the hallway, a final set of doors was opened by stationed guards, revealing a grand, circular chamber, dimly lit with a massive stone table at its center. The insignias of the five Great Nations were engraved upon its surface, and around it, the most powerful figures in the shinobi world sat, their expressions unreadable.
Tsunade immediately noted the unfamiliar faces.
Shizune, as if sensing her thoughts, leaned in slightly and whispered, “The Fifth Mizukage is Mei Terumi. She took over after the Fourth Mizukage mysteriously died. Rumors say it was Zabuza Momochi’s doing—something about a rebel faction called The Dagger’s Veil.”
Tsunade’s gaze flicked to the stunning red-haired woman at the far end of the table. Mei sat with elegant posture, her teal eyes watchful yet unreadable. Two men stood behind her—one, a tall, grizzled shinobi wearing an eyepatch (Ao, if she remembered correctly), and the other, a timid-looking boy gripping a massive sword (Chojuro).
Shizune continued, her voice low. “As for the Kazekage… well, that’s the interesting part.”
Tsunade glanced to her left—and almost did a double take.
A boy sat in the Kazekage’s seat. Young—too young. He looked to be the same age as Naruto and his team, with blood-red hair and dark-rimmed eyes that gave him a perpetually exhausted look. But unlike the unstable, murderous aura she had heard about, this boy was… composed. Controlled.
“…Gaara,” Shizune murmured, answering her unspoken question. “Jinchūriki of the One-Tail. He took the position after the Fourth Kazekage’s death.”
Tsunade noted the two figures standing at his back—one a stern-looking blonde girl, the other a boy with painted markings on his face. Both had the look of shinobi who had seen war, despite their young age. The tension in the room was thick. Of course, Tsunade wasn’t surprised. Since when have the Hidden Villages ever truly gotten along?
A single second passed.
Then, the meeting began.
The Raikage, a towering man with muscles that rivaled boulders, was the first to speak. His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder.
“We all know why we’re here,” A interjected, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “The assassination of the Wind Daimyo has destabilized the balance between the Five Great Nations. This isn’t just a village matter. It’s a world matter.”
Mei Terumi crossed her legs, her expression smooth as silk. “There were initial reports suggesting this was the work of an organization,” she said, her voice sweet but sharp. “But the new intelligence suggests otherwise.”
Gaara spoke next, his voice calm but firm. “It was not a group.” He paused. “It was a single person.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
Tsunade leaned forward, her brows furrowing. “A single assassin got past an entire estate of trained guards and shinobi?”
Gaara gave a small nod. “Yes.”
A low growl left the Raikage’s throat. “You mean to tell me that one person infiltrated the Wind Daimyo’s home, killed him in broad daylight, then eliminated every bodyguard without making a single mistake?”
Gaara didn’t waver. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Tsunade exhaled slowly, her mind already forming theories. If they snuck past all the security… they must have disguised themselves.
“Do we have any leads?” she asked.
Gaara nodded to one of his guards, who turned and gestured to a shinobi standing at the entrance. The doors opened once more, and a weary-looking man in light armor was led inside. His hands were clenched at his sides, his shoulders stiff with unease.
“This is one of the guards stationed outside the estate,” Kankuro informed them. “He saw something before the attack.”
The guard stepped forward, bowing stiffly. “Lords and Ladies,” he greeted. His voice was hoarse. “I was stationed at the outer gates that night. Everything seemed normal until…” He hesitated. “A girl approached.”
Mei raised an eyebrow. “A girl?”
“Yes,” the guard said grimly. “She had striking red hair and red eyes. Dressed in a maid’s uniform. She claimed she was a new hire. Had all the identification papers—everything checked out. I let her inside.”
Silence fell over the chamber.
Tsunade’s stomach twisted. Red hair.
“…And then?” she prompted.
The guard swallowed. “A few hours passed. Then I heard a scream.” His jaw tightened. “I rushed inside, but by the time I got there… every single guard and shinobi were dead. But the servants were left untouched.”
Another ripple of murmurs spread through the room.
“The Wind Daimyo?” Tsunade pressed.
The guard’s face paled. “His throat was slit. A clean cut—done with a simple knife. No signs of jutsu, no traces of chakra. Just a blade.”
There was a long pause.
Tsunade leaned back, fingers steepled beneath her chin.
A knife? No jutsu?
That took skill. No—it took mastery. Anyone could use a knife, but for an assassin to rely solely on one when they could have used chakra-enhanced strikes, poisons, or jutsu? That meant they were confident in their ability to kill without fail.
“…Did the servants see her face?” the Tsuchikage asked, breaking the silence.
The guard nodded. “They did.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a rolled parchment. “A sketch artist worked with their descriptions. This is what we have.”
He unfurled the paper.
And every eye in the room zeroed in on the image.
Tsunade inhaled sharply.
There—drawn with painstaking accuracy—was the face of a young woman with red hair and red eyes.
A silence heavier than steel fell over the room, because in a world where the Uzumaki Clan had been wiped out decades ago…Their features stood out like a damn beacon.
Tsunade clenched her jaw.
This just got a whole lot more complicated.
The weight of the revelation settled upon the room like a dense fog. The leaders of the Five Great Nations, seasoned in war and bloodshed, had seen assassinations before—but this was something else entirely.
An Uzumaki.
Tsunade’s mind raced. The Uzumaki Clan had been eradicated decades ago, their homeland reduced to rubble. Only a handful of survivors scattered across the world, and most of them—like Kushina—had been taken in by other villages.
So where the hell had this girl come from? Had she been living in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike? Was this revenge for her lost clan? Or was it something more?
Tsunade wasn’t the only one thinking it.
The Raikage exhaled sharply through his nose, his massive arms crossing over his chest. “An Uzumaki assassin,” he muttered, voice thick with skepticism. “That’s a damn problem.”
“We don’t even know if she’s acting alone,” Mei Terumi pointed out, tapping her manicured nails against the table. “It’s unlikely a single person would carry out a political assassination without some kind of backing. If she has supporters—”
“She doesn’t,” Gaara cut in, his voice smooth yet absolute. “We investigated every known mercenary group, criminal syndicate, and independent contractor. No one was hired. No one took credit.” His pale green eyes were sharp as steel. “She did this of her own free will.”
That made things worse. If she was acting out of personal motivation, it meant there was no one to negotiate with—no demands to meet. No way to stop her.
Tsunade exhaled slowly. “If she did this on her own, then we have to ask: why?”
The answer was obvious: revenge.
The Uzumaki had been wiped out. Their people slaughtered. Their homeland destroyed because the other nations feared their power. And now, decades later, a survivor had reemerged, cutting down one of the Five Great Daimyo as if it were nothing.
A quiet declaration of war.
“The Wind Daimyo was just the first,” Tsunade said grimly, voicing what everyone in the room already knew. “She’s not going to stop here.”
Another silence followed.
Mei’s gaze flicked toward her, unreadable. “You believe she’ll target the other Daimyo?”
Tsunade nodded. “If she killed the Wind Daimyo, she likely sees all the Five Great Nations as responsible for the destruction of Uzushio.” Her fingers tightened against the table. “That means her next target will be another Daimyo.”
A frowned creased Onoki’s wrinkled face. “The Earth Daimyo rarely appears in public,” he muttered. “It would be difficult to get close to him.”
Mei hummed. “The same goes for the Water Daimyo.”
A scowl crossed the Raikage’s face. “The Lightning Daimyo has tight security—no one gets near him without the Kumo council knowing about it.”
Tsunade inhaled sharply. “But the Fire Daimyo…”
The words hung in the air like an ominous shadow.
The Fire Daimyo was different. Unlike the others, the Fire Daimyo regularly appeared in public. He attended galas, festivals, and political events, mingling with nobles and commoners alike. His movements were predictable, his routes well-known.
He was exposed, an easy prey.
Tsunade gritted her teeth. “If this girl truly intends to wipe out the Five Daimyo, the Fire Daimyo will be her next target.”
The room tensed at the implication. Unlike the Wind Daimyo’s death, which had shaken the balance of power but left the Land of Wind’s government intact, the assassination of the Fire Daimyo would be catastrophic. The Fire Daimyo was the single most influential political figure in the Elemental Nations. His death wouldn’t just destabilize the Land of Fire—it would send a ripple effect through the entire world.
Wars had started over less.
“We can’t let that happen,” Gaara stated firmly.
“No,” Tsunade agreed, straightening her back. “We can’t.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then the Raikage slammed a fist onto the table. “Then we take her out now.” His golden eyes burned with intensity. “Send tracking teams, kill squads—whatever it takes. If we let her slip away, we’re handing her the next target on a damn silver platter.”
Mei folded her hands beneath her chin, expression thoughtful. “And if we can’t find her before she moves?”
“Then we reinforce the Fire Daimyo’s security,” Tsunade answered without hesitation. “From now on, he’s not allowed anywhere without a full ANBU escort. He doesn’t leave the capital unless necessary, and we double-check every damn servant and guard.”
Onoki grunted. “That won’t stop her forever.”
“No,” Tsunade admitted, “but it’ll buy us time.”
Time to figure out who this girl really was, to understand her next move, and to stop her before she shattered the world order.
Another heavy silence followed, but this time, there was an undercurrent of unspoken agreement.
They were all shinobi. They knew what needed to be done. This wasn’t just a political crisis anymore, it was a hunt.
And the game had already begun.
The heavy atmosphere of the Kage Summit shattered as the massive double doors to the chamber slammed open, crashing against the stone walls. A battered and bloodied guard staggered inside, his breath ragged, his uniform stained with crimson. “T-There’s someone—”
He didn’t get to finish. A sickening shnk echoed through the chamber as a gleaming metal sai plunged through his skull. His body convulsed, blood splattering across the stone floor, before he crumpled in an unceremonious heap.
The room froze.
Then—
A second sai cut through the air like a streak of silver lightning.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A series of gruesome sounds followed as the weapon embedded itself into one guard after another, each death instantaneous, unceremonious. Blood spattered across the pristine floors, pooling beneath the bodies of the fallen. Some had barely turned their heads before they were silenced forever.
The Five Kage and their personal bodyguards remained untouched.
And then—soft, measured footsteps echoed from the darkened corridor beyond. From the shadows, a figure emerged.
A woman.
She was young, maybe in her late teens, with wild crimson hair cascading down her back, striking red eyes that gleamed behind a pair of rectangular glasses. Her expression was unreadable—calm, collected, and yet carrying a faint amusement, as though she had simply walked into the wrong meeting by accident. But what stood out most wasn’t her hair, her glasses, or even the casual confidence she carried herself with. It was the robe she wore. A black cloak, adorned with red clouds. A symbol of a name that had once been dismissed as a rumor.
Tsunade felt a chill crawl up her spine.
Akatsuki.
The room tensed instantly. Hands ghosted over weapons, bodies shifted into battle stances. The air buzzed with restrained killing intent, but the girl barely reacted. Instead, her crimson gaze lazily swept across the room before she let out a relieved sigh.
“Well, that makes things easier.” She tilted her head, a smirk playing at her lips. “Everyone important is here.”
No hesitation. No fear. No sense of urgency despite the fact that she stood in a room filled with the five most powerful shinobi in the world.
Gaara’s piercing green eyes locked onto her. “Who are you?”
She smiled, all teeth.
“Karin Uzumaki.”
Silence.
Then:
“Uzumaki?” Tsunade’s breath hitched for half a second.
The girl grinned, her posture casual, as though she were introducing herself at a dinner party rather than standing in the middle of a bloodbath. “Karin Uzumaki of the Akatsuki.” She twirled a loose strand of red hair around her finger, gaze flickering toward the bodies on the ground. “I’d apologize for the mess, but I figured this would be more… effective.”
The Kage remained silent, watching. Calculating.
“Akatsuki…” Onoki muttered, his wrinkled face twisting in disdain. “The mercenary group?”
Karin hummed. “Once upon a time, maybe. But before that, Akatsuki was something greater.”
She took a slow step forward, her presence almost lazy, yet her movements betrayed a deeper confidence—controlled, intentional.
“They used to be a peaceful organization,” she continued, voice almost wistful. “Protesting the wrongness of this world. A world that forces children to kill before they even understand what life is. A world that builds itself on the blood of the innocent. A world that decides who lives and who dies based on power alone.”
Her red eyes darkened.
“But the world doesn’t like change. So the Akatsuki was crushed—forgotten, erased.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, I suppose that’s not entirely true. We were never gone. We were simply… waiting.”
Another silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.
It was Mei who finally broke it. “And what exactly is your purpose here?”
At that, Karin’s lips curled into a smile—a smile that made Tsunade’s stomach twist. Because for a split second, it was so uncannily familiar.
The same sharpness as Naruto. The same wild confidence as Kushina.
It was like seeing ghosts.
Karin’s grin widened.
“I’m here to warn you.”
Mei narrowed her eyes. “Warn us?”
Karin nodded. “The next Daimyo will be dead by next week. Let’s say… on a Saturday.”
The room exploded in tension.
The Raikage’s fists clenched, his muscles flexing with raw power. “You’re declaring war.”
Karin shrugged. “Oh, no. Not me.”
Her smile turned razor-sharp.
“I’ll be busy with something more important.”
Gaara’s voice was quiet but firm. “Then who?”
Karin’s gaze flickered toward him, and for the first time, a sliver of amusement entered her tone.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”
The air in the room crackled with restrained violence, but Karin simply continued, unfazed. “My bosses wanted you to know,” she said casually, “that the shinobi world—its system, its society—will be crushed.”
She lifted a hand, gesturing as if painting a picture in the air.
“No more Hidden Villages.”
Her fingers curled into a fist.
“No more Daimyos.”
Her voice dipped into something soft, almost reverent.
“No more Kages.”
The words settled heavily into the room, sinking into the very bones of those present.
Karin’s grin widened, almost gleeful.
“There’ll be no more careless wars. No more children forced to be soldiers. No more unfairness. No more injustice.”
She exhaled, and for the first time, her voice carried something genuine—something hauntingly sincere.
“It’ll be a world of peace.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if envisioning it.
“And it will be…”
Her crimson eyes snapped open.
“Beautiful.”
Tsunade spoke, her voice sharp. “You call this peace?” She gestured to the corpses littering the floor, the blood still pooling beneath them.
Karin didn’t even glance at them. “Sacrifices have to be made,” she replied simply.
Mei’s eyes narrowed, voice as sharp as a blade. “This isn’t peace. It’s slaughter.”
Karin let out a short laugh, high, sharp, and undeniably cruel. “And what do you think your world is built on?”
The words stung because they weren’t wrong. Shinobi built their world on slaughter. On death. On war. And for the first time in decades, the Five Kage found themselves staring into the face of something they couldn’t quite define—something new.
Something terrifying.
“You should prepare yourselves,” Karin said lightly, taking a step back toward the shadows. “Because once all the Daimyo are gone…”
Her voice dipped into something almost gentle.
“We’re coming for the Hidden Villages next.”
In a blur of motion, she vanished.
The only thing left behind was the scent of blood, the sound of the doors creaking in the aftermath, and the unshakable feeling that something irreversible had just begun. The room was thick with tension. The scent of blood still clung to the air, iron-rich and heavy. The corpses of the fallen guards remained where they had collapsed, their bodies cooling against the cold stone floor. No one spoke. No one moved.
Then—
A long, slow exhale.
Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut as she fought the pounding headache threatening to form.
Why? Why did this have to happen now? Why the hell did the world decide to fall apart the moment I took the Hokage title?
First, she had been reluctantly dragged back to Konoha. Then, the Wind Daimyo was assassinated, an event that shook the entire political balance of the continent. Now, an Uzumaki—an Uzumaki—had waltzed into the Kage Summit, killed her guards like they were nothing, and casually announced the impending collapse of the shinobi world.
Great. Fantastic. Just perfect.
Tsunade exhaled again, rolling her shoulders before setting her hands firmly on the table. Her golden eyes, sharp and unwavering, flickered to the other Kage.
“Well,” she muttered, “I think we can all agree on one thing.”
The other leaders turned their attention to her.
“The Five Great Nations can’t afford to play politics anymore,” Tsunade said flatly, her tone carrying the weight of undeniable truth. “We need an actual alliance. Not some weak, fake peace where we smile and shake hands while plotting each other’s downfall.”
She straightened, looking each of them in the eye. “This is war. Not just any war, but one that threatens to end the shinobi world as we know it. If we want to survive, we need to be ready.”
A moment of silence.
“…Agreed.”
The voice came from the left.
Gaara, the youngest Kage, yet perhaps the one who understood this situation best. His pale green eyes were unreadable, but his expression was set in stone. “The Akatsuki have been moving in the shadows for years. If they’re finally revealing themselves now, that means they believe they have enough power to execute whatever plan they’ve been preparing.”
Onoki grunted, his gnarled hands tightening into fists. “Tch. To think those bastards were biding their time, waiting for the right moment. Damned cockroaches.”
Mei leaned forward, her teal eyes dark with thought. “If what Karin Uzumaki said is true, then the Akatsuki isn’t just targeting the Daimyo. They’re targeting the system itself. The villages, the leaders, everything that holds this world together.”
Tsunade nodded grimly. “Which means they won’t stop at just assassinating the feudal lords. They’ll be coming for us soon enough.”
The words settled into the room, heavy and unspoken.
Jiraiya, who had been silent up until now, crossed his arms, his expression unusually dark. “There’s something else.”
All eyes turned to him.
Jiraiya exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Before his passing, the Third Hokage told me something concerning. He suspected that Orochimaru had a wary alliance with the Akatsuki.”
Tsunade stiffened. “Orochimaru?”
The other Kages expressions darkened immediately.
Jiraiya nodded. “Hiruzen wasn’t certain of the details, but he believed that Orochimaru had, at the very least, some level of contact with the Akatsuki. It wasn’t a comfortable relationship—more like two venomous snakes circling each other, waiting to strike. But it was an alliance nonetheless.”
Raikage A’s fists clenched. “If Orochimaru, a rogue-nin, has ties to the Akatsuki, that means others might as well.”
Onoki scowled, deep in thought. “Which means the Akatsuki might have informants inside our own villages.”
The weight of his words settled like a lead weight in the room.
Spies.
The very idea sent a chill through Tsunade. If the Akatsuki had spies within the Hidden Villages, that meant nothing was safe. Every battle plan, every diplomatic move, every countermeasure they tried to take—could already be compromised.
“…This just keeps getting better,” Tsunade muttered bitterly.
Gaara remained eerily calm, his gaze calculating. “If they have spies, that means they’ve been gathering intelligence for a long time. They know our strengths. Our weaknesses. They wouldn’t declare war if they weren’t already confident in their ability to win.”
It was a terrifying realization.
Mei tapped her fingers against the table, thinking. “That girl—Karin Uzumaki—she was confident. Too confident. She knows something we don’t.”
“She was mocking us,” Raikage A growled, his muscles tense with suppressed rage. “That brat thinks she’s already won.”
“No,” Tsunade said quietly.
The others turned to her.
Tsunade’s golden eyes narrowed. “She wasn’t mocking us. She was giving us a warning.”
Mei frowned. “A warning?”
Tsunade exhaled, her mind racing. “Think about it. If the Akatsuki really wanted to take us all by surprise, she wouldn’t have said anything. They could’ve assassinated every Daimyo without warning. They could’ve let us walk into this war blind.”
Her nails tapped against the table, a rare sign of unease.
“But they didn’t.”
She looked up, her expression grim.
“They want us to know.”
Jiraiya’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying they’re provoking us on purpose?”
Tsunade nodded. “They’re forcing our hand. They want us to react. And that means whatever plan they have—it’s already in motion.”
Another heavy silence.
“…Then we don’t have time,” Gaara said simply. “We need to act now.”
Onoki grunted. “We need a strategy first. If we rush in blind, we’ll be playing right into their hands.”
Mei crossed her arms. “Agreed. The first thing we need to do is root out any spies. If the Akatsuki has informants in our villages, we need to find them before we make any large moves.”
Raikage A slammed a fist against the table. “And we need to reinforce our defenses. If they’re coming for the Hidden Villages next, we can’t afford to leave anything unguarded.”
Tsunade nodded, standing up fully. “Then it’s decided.” Her gaze swept across the room. “No more political games. No more grudges between villages. If we want to survive, the Five Great Nations need to stand together—as one force.”
She exhaled, steadying herself.
“If the Akatsuki wants a war…”
Her golden eyes burned with unshakable resolve.
“Then we’ll give them one.”
The room was silent.
Then—one by one—the Kage gave their assent.
The real alliance had begun. And war was coming. The room was still thick with tension, the weight of war settling into every corner. The scent of blood clung to the air, but no one paid it any mind now—not when the stakes had just skyrocketed. Amid the hushed conversation, a single voice cut through the silence.
“…Wait.”
Temari.
The Sand kunoichi, who had been silent until now, suddenly straightened, her teal eyes sharp with realization.
Something wasn’t right.
“What is it?” Gaara asked, his attention shifting immediately to his sister.
Temari’s fingers curled into her sleeves as she forced herself to think rationally. She glanced at each Kage, her mind putting the pieces together rapidly.
“That girl—Karin Uzumaki,” she started, her voice carefully measured. “She gave us a date.”
A beat of silence.
Raikage A narrowed his eyes. “And?”
Temari exhaled sharply, feeling frustration bubble beneath her skin. “Think about it! She said the next Daimyo would be killed next weekend. That’s a specific timeframe—one she made sure to tell us.”
She turned her gaze to Gaara. “What’s happening next weekend?”
Gaara’s brow furrowed. “Nothing of immediate concern comes to mind.”
Temari grit her teeth. “The festival.”
At that, the room tensed.
Onoki grunted, his expression darkening. “You mean the biannual festival?”
Temari nodded. “Every other year, the festival gathers everyone—nobles, political figures, feudal lords, clan heads. Everyone important will be in one place.”
Silence. A heavy, horrible silence.
Raikage A clenched his fists, his muscles flexing in barely contained fury. “You’re telling me that security at this festival is weak?”
Temari exhaled sharply. “Yes. It always has been. Nothing has ever happened at the festival, not once in recorded history.” Her voice was tight, controlled. “There’s never been a reason to worry about security because no one has ever dared to attack it.”
Onoki’s expression twisted. “Until now.”
Tsunade scowled, a vein twitching at her temple. “Son of a—” She exhaled sharply, rubbing her forehead. “That girl didn’t just give us a warning—she practically handed us a death sentence.”
Mei hummed, her arms crossing as her expression turned contemplative. “She never specified which Daimyo would be the next target. That alone should have raised suspicions.”
Gaara nodded in understanding. “If all the Daimyo are in one place, then the Akatsuki has the perfect opportunity to eliminate all of them at once.”
Jiraiya let out a low whistle, his frown deepening. “Damn. That’s not just an assassination—it’s a coup.”
Raikage A slammed his fist into the table, cracking the wood. “They’re aiming to decapitate the entire political structure of the shinobi world.” His voice was filled with rage. “No Daimyo means no funding, no military orders, no economic backing for the Hidden Villages.”
Onoki exhaled sharply. “It would collapse everything.”
Tsunade clenched her jaw. “They wouldn’t even need to fight us directly. If they kill the Daimyo, the villages will tear themselves apart from the inside.”
A suffocating silence entered the room.
“…We don’t even know who will be carrying out the assassination,” Mei murmured. “Karin Uzumaki made sure to let us know it wouldn’t be her. That means there’s another operative—perhaps several—already prepared for the attack.”
“And we don’t have the slightest idea who they are,” Jiraiya muttered, scratching his chin.
The weight of their predicament settled onto them like an iron cage.
Then, Gaara spoke.
“There’s only one way to gain the upper hand.”
All eyes turned to him.
“We need to find someone who knows the Akatsuki’s plans.”
Tsunade’s gaze sharpened. “And you have someone in mind?”
Gaara nodded once, his pale green eyes filled with grim understanding.
“Orochimaru.”
A ripple of tension coursed through the room.
Jiraiya frowned deeply. “Orochimaru?” He sounded almost disgusted at the suggestion.
Gaara remained firm. “The Third Hokage suspected that Orochimaru had ties to the Akatsuki, even if it was a wary alliance. And unlike the Akatsuki, we know where to find him.”
Temari exhaled sharply. “If Orochimaru is connected to them, then there’s a chance he has intelligence on their movements.”
Onoki clicked his tongue. “And if he doesn’t?”
Raikage A scoffed. “Then we kill him. Simple.”
Tsunade rubbed her temples again, feeling her headache worsen. “You people just love making my life difficult.”
Jiraiya sighed. “There’s another issue.”
Tsunade turned to him, already dreading what he was about to say.
“If Orochimaru is in his usual hideout—the Sound Village—then he won’t take us seriously if we just send a team. Even if it’s an elite one.” Jiraiya crossed his arms. “The only way to get him to cooperate—or take us seriously—is if we go ourselves.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“…You’re joking,” Onoki deadpanned.
Jiraiya gave him a flat look. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
Raikage A scowled. “So we’re just going to march into the Sound Village?” His tone dripped with disbelief. “You do realize how insane that sounds, right?”
Tsunade exhaled heavily.
“…Sadly.”
The room turned to her.
Tsunade’s expression was blank. Completely, utterly blank.
“…That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
A long, stretched-out silence filled the room.
Then, Onoki groaned, shaking his head. “This is the worst Kage Summit I’ve ever attended.”
Jiraiya let out a humorless chuckle. “Tell me about it.”
Tsunade sighed, already regretting everything.
“…I should’ve stuck with gambling.”
The journey to the Sound Village had been unsettlingly short.
Too short.
The five Kage stood before the so-called “village,” though calling it a village was a gross exaggeration. There were no homes, no markets, no children running through the streets. Instead, they saw tall, fortified hideouts, scattered bases, and unnerving, unnatural structures that pulsed with an eerie chakra. This was not a place where people lived—it was a labyrinth of experiments, filled with twisted projects Orochimaru had abandoned or perfected over the years.
The moment they arrived, two shinobi barred their path.
Tsunade narrowed her eyes as she studied them.
They were... wrong.
Both shinobi bore grotesque signs of experimentation, their bodies altered in ways that made their existence seem like an unnatural struggle. One’s arm was elongated and pulsing with muscle, the other had eyes that flickered in and out of different shapes—Byakugan, Sharingan, something else entirely. Yet despite their unnatural appearances, they remained disciplined, standing tall before the five most powerful figures in the world.
“State your business.” The taller of the two, the one with the shifting eyes, spoke first. His voice was calm, devoid of hostility, as if he were merely following protocol.
Tsunade sighed, already exhausted. “We’re here to speak to your leader.” Her voice was clipped, blunt. She had no patience for theatrics. “Take us to Orochimaru.”
A flicker of something passed between the two shinobi. They exchanged a glance, then vanished—only to reappear moments later, slightly bowing their heads.
“The Five Kage have been granted entry,” the taller shinobi declared, stepping aside. “We will take you to Lord Orochimaru.”
The Kages followed, though none of them were at ease.
Raikage A scowled, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I don’t like this.”
“You don’t like anything,” Onoki muttered.
“This place reeks of blood,” Mei murmured, her usually sultry tone laced with caution. “He’s been busy.”
Indeed, as they were led through the corridors of Otogakure, they were forced to witness its horrors.
They passed by glass tubes filled with living subjects, suspended in an eerie green liquid—some were shinobi, others... unidentifiable. Rooms filled with half-human, half-serpent monstrosities twitched as they passed. A child with pale skin and glowing, hollow eyes sat in the corner of a cage, watching them too intently.
It was unnerving, even for seasoned shinobi.
Tsunade gritted her teeth. How many lives had been ruined here?
But she forced herself to focus. This meeting was necessary.
Finally, they arrived. Two large doors swung open, revealing a dimly lit chamber.
And there, sitting behind a massive stone desk, was Orochimaru. His arms lay uselessly at his sides, still dead weight, a mockery of the power he once held. Yet despite his clear disadvantage, he looked utterly unbothered, his golden, slitted eyes gleaming with amusement. Beside him, Kabuto Yakushi stood, ever loyal, ever watchful. The Kages entered the office. The two shinobi who led them here bowed once more, then exited, closing the doors behind them.
A pause, as Orochimaru's expression flashed with distaste at the sight of the 5 Kage.
“My, my,” Orochimaru drawled, leaning back in his chair. His voice was silken, edged with amusement, but his eyes narrowed as he studied them. “To what do I owe the... pleasure of hosting all five Kage in my humble little home?” His lips curled slightly, revealing a flash of serpentine teeth. “I must say—it’s terrible to see you here, truly.” His tone was lighthearted, mocking. “But what can I do for you?”
A beat of silence.
Then Tsunade stepped forward, her arms crossed, her expression blank.
“We need to talk.”
Orochimaru tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips.
“…Oh?”
Kabuto pushed his glasses up, his expression unreadable.
“About?”
Tsunade’s next words were careful, measured.
“…The Akatsuki.”
Orochimaru stilled. The amusement didn’t leave his face—but his eyes sharpened, just for a fraction of a second. Then, his smile widened.
“…Ah.”
His golden eyes flickered to each Kage, reading them.
Then, he chuckled.
“Well then,” Orochimaru said, his voice silken, dangerous. “I suppose we do have something to discuss.” Orochimaru sighed, the sound low and drawn out, as if this entire conversation were nothing more than a tedious chore. He leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxed, golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
“So,” he drawled, lips curling in amusement. “You’ve finally met the Akatsuki.” He tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, or at least he tried to—his limp, dead arms barely twitched at the attempt, a grim reminder of his current condition. He let out another exaggerated sigh instead.
“Which one was it? They have so many, after all.”
Tsunade’s eyes narrowed. “A girl.”
Orochimaru’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes.
“Her name,” Tsunade continued, “was Karin Uzumaki.”
Orochimaru’s lips twitched.
“Ah,” he hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Yes, Karin. Quite the powerful young lady, isn’t she?”
There was something in his tone. A mix of genuine interest and something else, something unreadable.
“You know her?” Mei Terumi asked, watching him carefully.
Orochimaru’s smirk widened. “Of course.”
Tsunade’s fingers twitched. “How?”
Orochimaru’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. Then, he gave a slow, deliberate nod. “She is Pain’s student.”
“…Pain?” A’s voice rumbled through the room, deep and dangerous.
Orochimaru blinked at their collective confusion. Then he let out a low, mocking chuckle.
“Ah,” he mused, his voice smooth as silk. “I see. You didn’t even know his name, did you?”
The air in the room shifted.
“Who,” Onoki said, voice sharp, “is Pain?”
Orochimaru simply smiled.
“The Leader of the Akatsuki.”
The room stilled.
For a moment, no one spoke. No one breathed.
Then, Mei’s voice broke the silence. “If he’s their leader, then we’ll find out everything we need.” She crossed her arms, her teal eyes narrowing. “What’s his real name?”
Orochimaru tilted his head. Then, to their surprise, he shrugged.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
A muscle in A’s jaw ticked. “You’re lying.”
Orochimaru’s golden eyes gleamed. “Am I?”
Tsunade stepped forward, voice firm. “You expect us to believe that?”
Orochimaru let out an amused hum.
“Oh, believe me, Tsunade,” he murmured, voice dipping into something serpentine, dangerous, “I have tried to uncover his identity myself.” His smirk remained, but his gaze darkened slightly. “And I found… well.” His eyes flickered across the room, taking in their expressions.
“I found nothing.”
A long, tense silence followed.
The idea that Orochimaru, of all people, couldn’t find something was disturbing.
“How is that possible?” Mei muttered, brows furrowing. “You have spies everywhere.”
“I did,” Orochimaru corrected smoothly. “And yet, Pain’s real name? His true identity? A ghost. No records, no history, no weaknesses to exploit. Whoever he is, he doesn’t exist—not in any way that can be traced.”
That wasn’t just troubling. It was terrifying.
Onoki grunted, floating slightly higher. “And you just accepted that?”
Orochimaru gave a slow, elegant shrug.
“I found it rather intriguing.”
A let out a low growl, clearly losing patience. “Enough of this. Why the hell did you align yourself with the Akatsuki?”
Orochimaru blinked at him, then tilted his head, as if the question was almost... stupid.
“Why?” He smiled, voice light. “Because it’s useful, of course.”
No one spoke, but the weight of the room changed.
“…Elaborate.” Tsunade’s voice was careful, measured.
Orochimaru sighed dramatically, shifting slightly in his seat.
“They wanted a scientist,” he explained lazily. “A doctor, if you will. And in return, they gave me subjects.”
His golden eyes gleamed.
“Rare ones.”
There was a beat of horrified silence. Kabuto, standing ever faithfully beside him, pushed his glasses up his nose, saying nothing.
“You experiment for them,” Mei said slowly.
“Indeed,” Orochimaru answered smoothly. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“And in return,” Onoki said, his voice heavy, “they give you people to use.”
“Oh, not just people,” Orochimaru corrected pleasantly. “Information as well. Secrets.” His voice dropped slightly. “Everything I’ve ever wanted to know.”
A’s fists tightened. “You’re disgusting.”
Orochimaru’s smile widened.
“How flattering.”
Tsunade exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. “You’re unbelievable.”
Orochimaru chuckled. “I try.”
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Then, finally, Tsunade lowered her hand and fixed him with a serious, steely gaze.
“…What does the Akatsuki want, Orochimaru?”
Orochimaru smiled.
And this time, it was sharp.
“…That,” he murmured, his voice silky, low,
“—is the real question, isn’t it?”
Orochimaru’s smirk never faltered. His golden eyes gleamed, sharp and unreadable, as he let the tension in the room hang—thick, suffocating—before finally speaking.
“The Akatsuki,” he said, voice smooth as silk, “wants to tear the shinobi world apart.”
The Five Kages remained silent, their expressions dark, unreadable.
Orochimaru tilted his head, his smirk stretching. “It wants to destroy it. Everything that comes with it.” He leaned forward slightly, his dead arms limp against the chair, his gaze glinting with something akin to amusement. “They want to build a new world,” he continued, his tone almost mocking. “A new society. One without the system that has ruled us for centuries.”
His eyes flickered across the Kages, studying them, reading them.
“But tell me,” he mused, voice laced with false innocence, “you were told that already, weren’t you?”
Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “Karin Uzumaki said something along those lines.”
A let out a low breath, arms crossed over his chest. “We don’t need to hear their philosophy,” he said darkly. “What we need is their plan.”
Orochimaru chuckled. “Ah. Now that is what you truly came here for.”
Tsunade’s patience was wearing thin.
“They’re going to kill again,” she said, voice firm. “Next weekend. On the day of the festival.”
Orochimaru’s gaze flickered.
“We know they’re targeting someone, but we don’t know who or how they’re going to do it.” Mei crossed her arms. “We came here because we assumed you would.”
“Hmm.” Orochimaru tapped a single limp finger against the armrest.
Tsunade exhaled sharply. “Tell us what you know.”
Orochimaru chuckled softly.
“Ah, Tsunade,” he murmured, golden eyes gleaming, “you know me better than that.”
There was a beat of silence.
“…You want something,” Onoki said, voice flat.
Orochimaru’s smirk widened.
“Of course,” he said, ever so pleasantly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
A scowl formed on A’s face. “You expect us to bargain with you?”
Orochimaru let out a mock sigh, tilting his head.
“Oh, Raikage,” he said smoothly, “let’s not pretend you didn’t expect this.”
A muscle twitched in A’s jaw, but he said nothing.
“You want very important information,” Orochimaru continued, his voice silky, dangerous. “Information that could very well determine the fate of the shinobi world.”
He tilted his head slightly, golden eyes gleaming.
“…And you want me to just give it to you?”
The room was thick with tension.
Tsunade’s eyes remained hard, calculating.
“…What do you want?” she asked.
Orochimaru smiled.
His sharp, wicked grin widened.
“Oh,” he murmured, voice practically dripping with amusement, “I’m so glad you asked.”
Orochimaru’s golden eyes flickered—calculating, expectant—as he finally leaned forward in his chair.
There was no need to say it aloud.
It was obvious what he wanted.
His arms. He turned his gaze to Tsunade, eyes gleaming with thinly veiled demand. Tsunade, in response, remained utterly impassive. She didn't move, didn't blink—her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, measured voice, she said:
"My healing skills may not work on your arms."
The air in the room shifted.
Orochimaru’s smirk twitched—for a moment, just a fraction of a second, his mask slipped. And then, he hissed. A low, guttural sound, unlike his usual amusement-laced tone—this was genuine anger. "You're lying," he snapped, his voice a touch sharper, a rare show of frustration.
Tsunade tilted her head, eyebrows raising in mock surprise.
"Am I?"
The smirk on her lips was taunting, calculated.
Orochimaru’s fingers twitched against the chair's armrest. He knew she was playing with him—but at the same time, the doubt had been planted.
Tsunade leaned back, folding her arms over her chest.
"Your arms were sealed away," she said, her tone casual, almost lighthearted in comparison to the gravity of the situation. "By the Reaper itself, no less. What makes you think my healing skills would be able to fix something that was taken by Death itself?"
There it was. The subtle pause. The small twitch in Orochimaru’s expression.
The room was silent for a beat.
Then—Orochimaru leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes narrowing, calculating.
Tsunade’s smirk widened ever so slightly.
"Face it, Orochimaru," she drawled, "you're stuck with no real options."
The other Kage remained silent, watching the exchange unfold—until realization dawned on them.
Tsunade was trapping him.
Manipulating him.
Forcing him to overthink.
She could heal his arms—that much was obvious. But she was casting doubt in his mind, forcing him to question it.
Would it actually work? Was she telling the truth? Could she be lying?
It was a brilliant tactic—one designed to make Orochimaru desperate enough to reveal what they wanted.
And the Kages, seeing her game, joined in.
Onoki let out a gruff snort, folding his arms.
"She has a point," he said, voice gravelly. "The Third Hokage didn’t just seal them with any ordinary technique. We’re talking about the Dead Demon Consuming Seal here. A jutsu that calls upon the Shinigami itself."
Mei gave a mock sigh, shaking her head.
"And even if she could heal your arms," she mused, tapping her chin, "there’s no telling if they’d even work properly." She smirked slightly, her tone almost sympathetic. "Imagine that. Going through all the trouble of restoring your arms, only for them to be—oh, I don’t know—useless?"
Orochimaru’s eyebrow twitched.
The Raikage let out a low hum, nodding along.
"Tch. Seems like a gamble," he said gruffly, shrugging. "Not sure if it’s worth it, honestly."
There was a moment.
A long, tense pause—Orochimaru’s eyes flickered between them, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Tsunade’s grin was unrelenting.
She had him.
He knew it.
And worst of all he knew they knew it too.
A sharp exhale. A slow, calculated sigh. Orochimaru’s eye twitched, his frustration slipping through the cracks of his normally composed demeanor. He tilted his head, studying them—then, as if deciding that the game had gone on long enough, he huffed.
"Fine."
His golden eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned forward, resting his chin against his limp, dead arms.
"The Akatsuki isn’t sending any of their members to the festival."
The room was silent.
"Nor are they using assassins."
The Kages frowned.
Tsunade’s eyebrows furrowed, sharp golden eyes narrowing.
"Then how do they plan on killing the Daimyo?"
Orochimaru’s smirk widened.
"Poison," he said, voice smooth, almost amused at their reactions.
The Kages all went still.
A pause.
A realization.
Orochimaru’s lips curled, enjoying their brief moment of shock.
"The food and drinks served at the festival—every dish, every bottle—will be laced with a very special poison."
Tsunade’s hands clenched into fists.
Mei’s eyes narrowed, a sharp breath escaping her lips.
Onoki's brows furrowed, and he let out a deep, gravelly grunt.
The Raikage's jaw tightened, his usual scowl deepening.
Jiraiya's normally relaxed expression hardened into something grim.
Orochimaru, relishing the reaction, continued,
"Sasori is quite the artist, truly," he said, his voice lilting with mock admiration. "His poisons work so effortlessly, so efficiently, that one mere taste would be enough to kill every single person attending the festival."
Tsunade’s face darkened.
"Sasori…?" she echoed.
Orochimaru nodded, his golden eyes glinting.
"A master of puppetry and poison-making. He created a toxin so potent, so deadly, that the moment it touches the mouth, the victim dies almost instantly. No symptoms, no time to react—just death."
Silence.
A massacre. That’s what this was. Not an assassination or a covert mission. It was a massacre, carefully crafted and painted as an accident. The poison wouldn't be smuggled in. It wouldn’t require spies or infiltration. It would be distributed directly through the chefs preparing the festival’s food—chefs who had no clue that the supplies they were receiving were already tainted.
"It’s simple. Effective," Orochimaru mused, sounding almost impressed. "A grand-scale massacre—without the Akatsuki ever having to step foot in the festival themselves."
The room was thick with tension.
Onoki let out a sharp, gruff exhale, rubbing his temples.
"This means we have to stop the supplier," he muttered.
Mei folded her arms, lips pressing into a thin line.
"And we only have a week."
The Raikage let out a low growl, his fists clenching.
"Where do the festival supplies come from?"
Orochimaru’s smirk returned.
"Ah, now that is valuable information," he purred, his eyes flicking back to Tsunade. "And if you truly want that answer…"
He tilted his head.
"You know what I want in return."
His arms.
The air turned heavy again.
Tsunade exhaled slowly, her expression neutral—but there was a flicker of something dangerous in her golden eyes.
A pause.
Then, finally—
"You can suck my di—"
She didn’t get to finish. Because the moment the words left her mouth, the room exploded into chaos.
"TSUNADE!"
The Raikage’s eyes widened, and he choked on his breath.
Jiraiya’s head snapped toward her, his face a mix of horror and amusement.
Mei let out a startled cough, covering her mouth with her hand—though her shoulders trembled, betraying her barely contained laughter.
Onoki, despite everything, closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head in resignation.
The tension in the room snapped like a brittle wire, the political weight of the situation momentarily thrown off course by Tsunade’s… creative eloquence.
Orochimaru blinked, then chuckled.
"My, my, Tsunade," he purred, his smirk widening into something truly amused. "Still as crass as ever."
Tsunade merely huffed, arms crossed, scowling.
"What? It's not like he doesn't deserve it," she muttered.
Jiraiya pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.
"We’re in the middle of serious negotiations, Tsunade."
"And?"
"And maybe don’t tell Orochimaru to—"
"I didn’t even finish the sentence."
"You didn’t have to!"
Mei, finally regaining her composure, let out a soft, mirthful sigh, shaking her head.
"Regardless," she said, her tone returning to serious, "we still need that information. If we don’t stop the supplier, the entire festival will turn into a graveyard."
Orochimaru sighed dramatically, tilting his head. "So, do we have a deal?"
Tsunade, scowling, turned her gaze back toward him—eyes calculating. The other Kages watched silently, waiting for her answer.
Another tense pause. Then—
Tsunade grinned, slow and deliberate.
"Let’s negotiate."