The council chamber at the heart of Konoha had never felt more like a battlefield.
The room was silent, save for the low creak of the wooden floor beneath Madara's sandals. He stood at the head of the long table, arms folded into the sleeves of his black and crimson robes, his expression carved in stone.
Opposite him, Kuroyama entered without hesitation. Though flanked by two guards, his presence was unwavering—neither submissive nor defiant. Merely... present.
Between them stood Akari.
He had brokered this. And if it failed, he would carry the weight of both sides.
Madara's gaze flicked to him once.
"You've brought him," he said, voice deep and unreadable.
"I promised he would come," Akari answered calmly.
Kuroyama sat without waiting for an invitation.
"Let's be clear," he began, "I am not here to surrender. I am here to see if your dream is more than vanity."
Madara's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "You mistake unity for pride. I do not ask obedience—I demand order. Because chaos costs blood, and I am tired of graves."
Kuroyama's hand tapped the table once. "You speak of peace, but Konoha expands like a fire through dry grass. You're building an empire, not a home."
Akari raised a hand, cutting through the rising tension. "Then speak of what peace would mean to you, Kuroyama. What does your rebellion fight for?"
Kuroyama's eyes flickered, just briefly, toward Akari.
"I fight for the clans without a voice," he said. "For the families who did not choose this village but were told they were now part of it. For shinobi who were warriors, not walls to protect your ideals."
Silence settled. Then—
"You want autonomy," Madara said. "But not isolation."
"Yes."
"And you're willing to stop attacking Konoha's supply lines? Kidnapping merchants? Burning fields?"
"If Konoha stops planting banners on land that has not sworn allegiance."
A beat.
Then Madara sat.
Akari held his breath.
"What you're asking," Madara began slowly, "is dangerous. Weakness invites enemies. But…"
He folded his hands on the table.
"…so does arrogance."
Kuroyama blinked. "That sounds like an agreement."
"It sounds," Madara said, "like a beginning."
---
Later that evening, Akari stood beneath the Naka Shrine, looking out toward the Hokage Monument. The stone faces were still incomplete—Hashirama's eyes half-carved, Madara's not yet begun.
"I never thought I'd see it," came a voice from behind.
It was Tobirama. His tone was cautious, but not unfriendly.
"Neither did I," Akari replied. "But we've opened a door."
"Let's hope it doesn't become a grave."
Akari didn't answer.
Because he had seen the look in Kuroyama's eyes—and something told him this peace… was not yet peace at all.