The neutral ground chosen for the summit was a remote, snow-capped plateau bordered by pine forests and ancient stone pillars. Once a sacred training ground for monks, now it would host leaders capable of shaping—or destroying—the shinobi world.
As Konoha's envoy approached the summit site, Akari's eyes scanned the horizon. Iwa's banner flapped in the icy wind, followed by the dark cloaks of Kiri's shinobi. Suna had already arrived, their delegation waiting with stillness that felt unnatural. Kumo's group stood apart, as always—unpredictable and unreadable.
Madara's expression was unreadable. Tobirama, beside him, carried tension in his shoulders like a drawn bowstring.
Akari broke the silence. "We walk into a hall of lions."
"And we brought our own teeth," Madara replied with a slight grin.
They entered the stone hall. No banners were hung, no symbols flown. Only a circular table, and seats carved from the mountain itself. The atmosphere was thick with distrust. Every movement, every glance, was measured.
The first to speak was the Tsuchikage, an older shinobi with a voice like cracked stone. "So… Konoha arrives last. As expected."
Madara didn't flinch. "We arrive prepared. Unlike some."
Before tensions could rise further, Akari stepped forward. "We're not here to measure insults. The world watches us from the shadows. If we leave divided, we leave it to burn."
His voice was calm, but carried weight. Some heads turned. Some scowled.
The Mizukage leaned back in her seat, narrowing her eyes at Akari. "You speak well for someone so young. But peace is a word often used by those with full bellies and quiet borders."
Akari held her gaze. "Then perhaps it's time to share the table—and the burden."
Tobirama raised a scroll, unrolling it onto the center of the table. "These are the proposed lines of alliance. Territory divisions. Non-aggression clauses."
The Raikage gave a harsh laugh. "Clauses can be broken. Words burn easily. I trust actions."
Madara's chakra flared—just slightly. "Then trust that we've already acted with restraint. Konoha could have taken more. We chose unity."
Tension returned, sharper now. Hands moved subtly toward weapons.
Akari raised one hand. "We didn't come to threaten. But we won't kneel either. If there's to be a future, it must be shared—not ruled."
There was silence.
Then the Kazekage, who had remained quiet until now, spoke softly. "If we do not unite, another war is inevitable. And next time… it may not end at our borders."
His words fell heavy.
The meeting adjourned hours later, no final agreement reached—but no blood spilled either. In this world, that counted as progress.
That night, Akari stood outside the summit hall, the moon high above him.
Madara joined him, silent at first. Then he said, "You surprised them. You carry the fire of battle, but you speak with the calm of a diplomat."
"I learned from the best," Akari replied. "But words only go so far."
Madara nodded slowly. "Then we sharpen both—words and steel."
The wind howled through the pines, and far in the distance, thunder rolled.
The summit had begun. What would come next—peace or storm—remained to be seen.