Land of Wind, Capital City.
The air was thick with swirling yellow sand. Rasa, wearing the Kazekage robes and sporting deep dark circles under his eyes, followed an attendant through the winding corridors of the Daimyo's estate.
Soon, they reached a courtyard filled with the fragrance of flowers and the chirping of birds. In this fortress surrounded by desert, there existed a hidden paradise that rivaled the lush landscapes of the Land of Fire.
In the center of the courtyard, behind swaying bamboo blinds, the lavishly dressed Daimyo of Wind was absentmindedly tossing feed into a pond. Golden koi churned the water, sending tiny droplets glistening into the air.
"Lord Daimyo!" Rasa stood outside the pavilion, offering a formal greeting.
He waited for a long time. The figure behind the blinds did not turn, nor did he speak. The only audible sound was the rhythmic splashing of the fish.
Only when the feed was gone did the Daimyo slowly turn around, feigning surprise. "Oh, Lord Kazekage! Why didn't you say you were here? Come in, come in. You look quite weathered by the dust."
The Daimyo snapped his folding fan open, concealing half of a face that wore a faint, mocking smile.
Though Rasa was irritated by this deliberate play for dominance, he suppressed his frustration and entered the pavilion, taking a seat across from the Daimyo. A servant promptly poured him a cup of tea.
The political structure of this world was peculiar. Shinobi possessed god-like power yet operated as mercenaries for hire. Even the appointment of a Kage required the recognition of a Daimyo. The Daimyo of Wind held the economic lifeline of Sunagakure, frequently slashing funds to the point where Rasa had to spend his days in the desert using Magnet Style to sift for gold just to keep the village afloat.
The relationship between a Kage and a Daimyo was a fragile tightrope walk—part subordinate, part ally. It was a tradition born in the Warring States period that had taken deep root in the hearts of the people. Even the strongest shinobi hesitated to cross that line.
But now, that line had been ruthlessly trampled.
"Lord Kazekage, what is your understanding of the situation in the Land of Bears?" The Daimyo took a shallow sip of tea.
"I have dispatched a squad led by a Jonin to investigate..." Rasa, never a good liar, stated the facts plainly. "However, there has been no word from them for quite some time."
"Look at these tea leaves. They are premium grade from the Land of Demons," the Daimyo remarked pointedly. "Since the rebellion in the Land of Bears, even the price of tea has skyrocketed."
Rasa remained silent, not quite catching the drift. The Daimyo sighed at Rasa's stoic nature and decided to get straight to the point.
"If we were to suppress the Hoshigakure rebellion, how many shinobi would it take?"
News of the rebellion had spread throughout the ninja world. Surrounding small nations were terrified, and the nobles of the Great Nations feared this "spirit of revolution" might spread.
Rasa analyzed the situation. "To launch a war against Hoshigakure, we must be prepared for the intervention of the Land of Earth's Iwagakure. Our village has yet to recover from the last Great War; I fear we cannot..."
Mentioning Iwagakure made the Daimyo's wallet throb. He remembered the last war—the Land of Wind had lost miserably and paid exorbitant reparations.
"Can't you just send a few powerful shinobi to capture the ringleader?" the Daimyo asked, snapping his fan shut.
Rasa shook his head. "I apologize, my Lord. We lack intelligence. We don't even know who the leader is."
Pakura's squad had been missing for days; the outlook was grim. Suna lacked both intel and top-tier manpower. Most importantly, the Daimyo hadn't mentioned a single word about funding the operation. You want us to fight a war, but you won't pay for it? Rasa thought bitterly.
In the end, the meeting yielded nothing. The stingy Daimyo of Wind had no intention of paying for another country's peace. As long as the rebels stayed in the Land of Bears and didn't cross his borders, he didn't care.
A similar scene unfolded in the Land of Earth.
The Daimyo of Earth summoned the Third Tsuchikage, Ohnoki. Similarly, because their reconnaissance squads had failed to return, Ohnoki had no desire to jump into the Bear country's quagmire, fearing Sunagakure might take advantage of the opening.
Both Great Nations settled on a policy of appeasement. They locked down their borders, stationed small groups of shinobi to maintain patrols, and engaged in minor skirmishes with Hoshigakure scouts.
Under this umbrella of inaction, time drifted into Konoha Year 55.
The ninja world remained uneasy.
Konoha Village.
It was the dawn of the New Year. Menma sat on the engawa (porch), listlessly watching the night sky. Occasionally, fireworks streaked across the darkness, blooming into colorful patterns.
Beside Menma sat a fruit plate filled with candy and snacks. A mini-Kurama was perched next to it, about to take a bite out of a large cracker when it sensed something and dove into Menma's scarf.
"Come out. I see you," Menma said, tilting his head toward a shadow by the courtyard wall.
Naruto hopped out with a grin, jumping down from the wall. Though he was only four, his physical constitution was already far superior to an average child; he could leap several stories and knew basic throwing techniques.
"Menma-niichan... I just... it's New Year's, and I... I wanted to say..." Naruto stood in the courtyard, scratching the back of his head, looking both excited and shy.
Seeing the young Naruto's awkwardness, Menma smiled.
"Happy New Year, Naruto."
Menma patted the spot beside him, inviting the boy to sit. Naruto, experiencing a companionable New Year for the first time, sat down with a wide grin. Together, they watched the fireworks, a warmth blooming in Naruto's heart that he had never felt before.