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A stood alone before the floor-to-ceiling window in the Raikage's office, staring out at the village below.
Roshi had no reason to lie.
That guy had built the blockade plan in from the very start. Everything he did afterward—bringing in Sunagakure's Aerial Force, personally taking the field—was just to prove that Konoha was truly willing to fight for the Hidden Cloud.
But for the Land of Snow, a blitzkrieg wasn't the right answer. That wasn't the enemy's real stronghold. Charging straight in like that would only mean swinging hard at empty air.
In the end, it all circled back to the proposal that had been on the table from the beginning: tighten the blockade, share caravan intelligence, and use time and supply lines to slowly strangle the Land of Snow.
And in this plan, the one who would bear the greatest burden would be Kumogakure.
Because the village with the most to lose from the Land of Snow's rise was precisely the Hidden Cloud.
To push this plan through, there were two major obstacles: Iwagakure and Kirigakure.
Roshi had already gone to deal with one of them. As for the remaining, more troublesome one… A turned away from the window.
"Mabui."
"Yes, Raikage-sama."
"Prepare a letter. In my name, invite Ōnoki… to a meeting."
—
Ninja had become performers, and the village was constantly expanding its "venue district." The change had come almost overnight. After decades of playing the game of confrontation, Ōnoki had suddenly started taking part in these new ways of doing things.
Rōshi, the four-tails jinchuriki, wasn't used to it, but he didn't exactly hate it either.
Still, he was already in his forties; it was only natural that some doubts would surface.
As a Jinchūriki, he had become the vessel of a Tailed Beast—tying his life to that colossal creature inside his body, drawing on its power, enduring its fury, and, in the end, the two of them acknowledging each other's existence.
Day after day. Year after year.
Was that really the entire meaning of his existence?
"What nonsense are you spouting? Training like that—you can do it anywhere."
"Do you have any idea what's been happening lately? The Land of Snow suddenly jumped out to challenge the Land of Lightning's position. Things aren't nearly stable enough for you to go off indulging in 'leisurely activities.'" Ōnoki flatly rejected Rōshi's request.
"I'm here to submit an application. Whether you approve it or not is your problem," Rōshi replied irritably.
He'd heard too many excuses—this reason and that one. The conflict with Konoha was over, and the standoff with Sunagakure had ended long ago.
As for the Land of Snow—what was that, really?
He was willing to fight for the village. But now, the Old Man was just using pretexts like this to keep him chained to it.
Ōnoki snapped, furious, "I absolutely will not allow you to do this, Rōshi!"
Rōshi set down the application form, the final procedure completed.
With a wooden staff in hand and his belongings on his back, he walked out of Iwagakure. No orders. No mission.
The instant he stepped beyond the village gates, even the sky seemed different.
"Are you leaving, Roshi?"
The muffled voice came from the side. Han stood there in his heavy Steam Armor—the Jinchuriki of the Five-Tails, and one of the few people who truly understood him.
"It's just training."
"Me and the Four-Tails," Rōshi added.
He had barely gone a few steps more when a short figure descended from the sky in front of him.
"Leaving the village without permission—do you understand what kind of crime that is, Rōshi!" the Third Tsuchikage shouted, voice harsh. "As a Jinchuriki, have you forgotten your duty?"
"Find a successor before you kill me." Rōshi didn't even look at Ōnoki. "Without that kind of resolve and preparation, you won't be able to bring me back, Ōnoki."
Then he walked past him.
Ōnoki hovered in the air, face flushed with anger, hands clasped behind his back as he watched Roshi's figure grow smaller with each step.
He stayed furious for a long time, then realized it was meaningless.
On his way back, he didn't return straight to the Tsuchikage Building. Instead, he diverted to a cliff overlooking the village.
Deidara was there.
The blond youth sat on the cliff's edge, left eye narrowed, right eye closed, his gaze fixed on a distant tree.
Ōnoki floated nearby, quietly watching his disciple train with rare seriousness.
After observing for a while, the Tsuchikage's anger slowly dissipated. At the very least, Deidara had grown more dependable.
Back at the Tsuchikage Building, he first updated Rōshi's file, adding the note: "long-term external training." Then he summoned the Anbu and ordered a team to shadow Rōshi from afar and report back once a week. Only after that did he sink into his chair, rubbing his stiff lower back.
He pulled out this year's tournament schedule. Just as he opened it, a knock sounded at the door.
"Tsuchikage-sama." A shinobi pushed the door open, holding a scroll. "Urgent dispatch from Kumogakure. The Raikage wishes to have a meeting."
—
The sea.
An endless, deep blue expanse, with fine golden scales of light shimmering under the afternoon sun.
A small wooden boat rose and fell gently with the calm waves. It had no sail, no oars, no visible means of propulsion.
Roshi lay at the bottom of the boat, hands pillowed behind his head, savoring a rare moment of leisure in the middle of a mission.
Alone on the boat, without even needing to row—the hull would grow and shift on its own, drifting with the ocean currents toward his destination.
By the time his voyage ended and he reached the coastline that was perpetually veiled in mist, dusk was already settling in.
The setting sun tinged the fog with a faint golden-red glow. The pier lay deserted, save for a tall figure standing alone at the end of the jetty.
Long, dark chestnut hair stirred lightly in the salty wind.
Green eyes watched the small boat as it drifted toward the pier.
Mei stood silently, gaze following the craft as it bumped lightly against the pilings. The man inside slowly sat up, movements lazy and unhurried.
"Roshi-kun, you look like you've had a very comfortable sleep." She let out a soft chuckle. "You did say you'd arrive by boat, but I didn't expect it to be like this."
"After trying it once, I think traveling this way is actually pretty good."
Roshi rose to his feet and stepped onto the pier. The old planks creaked faintly under his weight.
"After I retire, I want to drift around like this for a while."
"That sounds enviable."
Mei crouched, resting one hand on the edge of the pier as she peered down at the small boat.
"If I get the chance, I'd like to try it once too."
Roshi stretched lazily, joints making a faint clicking sound, then shifted aside to give her space.
"Please, be my guest. But it'll be quite cold."
Mei landed lightly in the boat.
She lay down in the exact spot where Roshi had been. A trace of warmth lingered on the wooden boards. Her long, dark chestnut hair spread across the bottom of the boat, fanning out like scattered seaweed.
She closed her eyes.
Water murmured in her ears. Gentle waves tapped against the hull in a soft, steady rhythm.
"Are you using a mission as an excuse for a trip like this?"
"There is official business."
"Don't think I'm being rude, but please just say it."
The sea breeze passed over them. The mist thickened, swallowing the last light of the setting sun and smearing it into a hazy ring on the horizon.
"If it won't ruin your mood," Roshi said.
"Your Mizukage was controlled once, wasn't he? By the Sharingan."
Mei opened her eyes.
In the deepening mist, her green irises seemed to shine even more brightly. She didn't rise at once; she simply lay there, staring up at the sky as it slowly darkened overhead.
After a long silence, she sat up.
Her hair slid from her shoulders, a few strands dipping into the damp marks along the gunwale.
"Roshi-kun, I was mistaken—this really isn't a matter of rudeness."
The languid ease vanished from her voice, replaced by a calm, cutting edge.
"This is something that needs to be discussed elsewhere."
Ever since Hiruko had crossed paths with Roshi and been forced to retreat, Obito had been waiting.
Since Obito had appeared in person, his goal clearly wasn't just to cast a single ninjutsu. Whether he planned to keep pressing forward or to gather more power, he was already prepared.
By moving in the Land of Snow ahead of schedule, Dotō Kazahana had always been a sacrificial pawn—nothing more than bait to draw the attention of Kumogakure and even Konoha. It didn't matter even if the Five Great Ninja Villages chose to deploy large forces here.
The current situation felt wrong.
The naval blockade itself wasn't the real problem; what bothered him was that the supply routes running through the smaller nations were grinding to a halt one after another. Everything on his procurement list was becoming harder and harder to move.
Only the channels secretly passing through the Land of Rain were still functioning smoothly.
But that very concentration of traffic would only speed up Amegakure's exposure. So much movement couldn't help but interfere with the village's usual methods of staying isolated and off the grid.
On top of that, with Nagato and Konan both away for the time being, control over Amegakure was being maintained entirely by the personnel they had left behind.
Which meant that route wouldn't remain usable for much longer either.
The feeling creeping over him was all too familiar.
There was no large-scale attack, yet it was like sinking into deep water—pressure hemming him in on all sides, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs until it felt suffocating.
It was so familiar that he immediately understood.
"Exposed."
"The only one who's made a move is Hiruko. There shouldn't have been any intel leak from his side… Is it because of Biwa Jūzō? He is an old member who once operated using the organization's identity, after all…"
Even so, it didn't really matter. The main reason he had chosen the Land of Snow—and laid his groundwork here even before the geothermal generator went online—was because of its location.
Since he couldn't lure major targets here on his terms, and couldn't, for now, use this place to pressure Kumogakure or sabotage the alliance forming between the Five Great Nations while quietly building up his strength—
He would just change his method.
—
Nautical charts covered the entire conference table, every inch crowded with markings: the latest joint patrol routes, primary blockade sectors, and suspicious chakra signatures reported by the Sensory Unit.
A stared down at the map while listening to the day's briefing.
His conversation with Ōnoki had not gone well. The stubborn old man didn't accept the claim that Uchiha Madara was the force behind the Land of Snow.
Ōnoki had actually seen Uchiha Madara with his own eyes and experienced his methods. How could someone like Madara be the leader of Akatsuki—a group that, in the past, had acted as mercenaries under his pressure and manipulation?
Unlike in the original course of events, not nearly all the Tailed Beasts had been captured yet. Back then, no matter what Obito called himself, Ōnoki would still harbor doubts. And as for taking action against Akatsuki, there'd been no hesitation at all: his village's Tailed Beasts had truly been lost, his own disciple kidnapped and then killed.
Even so, he had at least grudgingly agreed to one thing: Iwagakure would cooperate in monitoring the end destinations of large-scale shipments.
That much had been approved, if only barely.
On Kirigakure's side, ever since Roshi had gone there, their response had been relatively quick. The official pretext used was an order from the Daimyō of the Land of Water, declaring Dotō Kazahana a usurper.
Because of this, they were willing to submit reports on the status of escort missions involving certain sensitive materials and fully cooperate with any maritime operations.
With Konoha and Sunagakure also agreeing, that made four parties on board. For the sake of exchanging information on bulk and sensitive goods, Ōnoki had no reason to oppose it just for the sake of being difficult.
"...That concludes today's summary. In addition, the Third Sensory Unit has detected intermittent, faint, abnormal chakra fluctuations approximately seventy nautical miles to the southeast. The source is unknown. The location has been designated 'Observation Point No. 9' and is under continuous surveillance."
A gave a brief nod, his eyes still locked on the nautical chart.
"Hmm... A net of blockade, waves of suffocation, oppressive drumbeats crashing in my heart...hmm" came the low, fragmented muttering from off to the side.
A's temple twitched.
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