The council room in Konoha was quiet—too quiet for what had just been reported.
Madara sat with his arms crossed, eyes half-lidded yet burning with focus. Across from him, Tobirama flipped through the sealed report scroll Akari had returned with, every line deepening the crease in his brow. Hashirama stood in the center, hands behind his back, his posture calm, but Akari could sense the weight behind his silence.
"I'm not saying we panic," Akari said, voice steady. "But we're not dealing with remnants of a fallen village. Something survived in that desert. Something that's been feeding, slowly, for centuries."
Tobirama scoffed lightly. "And you say it spoke to you."
"Not in words," Akari clarified. "But in thought. As if it was measuring me. As if it knew… something about what I carry."
Madara's eyes sharpened. "Did it mention the flame?"
Akari hesitated. "Not directly. But it called me 'the heir of stolen fire.'"
Hashirama stepped forward. "Could that mean the Uchiha Flame Technique you've been refining?"
"No," Madara said, almost too quickly. "It means something else. The old texts mention the Fire Heirs—shinobi who could manipulate not just flame, but the will behind it. It's a dangerous title. And a dangerous invitation."
Tobirama closed the scroll and exhaled. "Regardless of poetic omens, the chakra traces are real. We need to secure that site."
Madara nodded slowly. "And we will. But not just with soldiers. I'll lead the next operation personally."
Akari's eyes widened. "You? That place—"
"Called to you," Madara interrupted, voice like stone. "Which means it may call to me as well. Whatever sleeps there, I want to know its name before someone else awakens it."
Hashirama placed a hand on Madara's shoulder. "If you go, I go too."
For a heartbeat, the two legends stood eye-to-eye. There was warmth in the moment—but something colder beneath it. Trust, yes—but not blind trust. Not anymore.
Akari stepped between them. "If you're both leaving the village, then I'm going with you."
Tobirama's jaw tightened. "That leaves Konoha without two Hokage-level forces and one of our elite commanders. What if it's a trap?"
Madara smirked faintly. "Then it's a trap we'll burn from the inside out."
Hashirama added, "If we show unity, it may give us a better chance to reach whatever's behind this without violence."
Tobirama shook his head but didn't argue further. "Fine. But we prepare thoroughly. No surprises. No arrogance."
Later that night, under the dim light of a lantern, Akari stood in his quarters, staring at a sealed scroll. Inside were fragments of the runes he had copied from the desert. He couldn't stop thinking about the voice. That strange pull that felt almost… familiar.
He unsealed the scroll, ran his fingers over the inked characters—and for a split second, the ink pulsed beneath his touch.
The flame within him flickered.
He closed his eyes and let the chakra flow through his fingers, gently testing the markings. They didn't resist. They welcomed him.
He could feel the shape of a gate, hidden behind thought. A whisper in the back of his mind.
"Break the circle. Step into the memory."
A knock shattered the trance.
"Akari," came Madara's voice from behind the door, "we leave at first light. Don't bring doubt with you. Only fire."
Akari smiled faintly. "I'll be ready."