The council chamber had never felt colder.
Akari stood in the center, the masked man's words still echoing in his mind as he recounted everything—every movement, every veiled threat, every unspoken promise of conflict.
When he finished, silence followed.
Hashirama closed his eyes. Tobirama leaned forward. Madara, arms folded, stared into Akari's eyes with unnerving calm.
"They're testing our limits," Tobirama said eventually. "Probing for weakness."
"They already believe we're vulnerable," Madara added. "That's the only reason they dared approach."
Hashirama opened his eyes, a hint of sadness flickering behind them. "We formed this village to end war. Not to dominate."
Madara didn't flinch. "Then perhaps it's time we accept that to end war, one must have the strength to prevent it… forever."
Akari remained silent, watching how old friends carried different visions of peace in their hearts. Neither wrong. Neither innocent.
"We can't ignore them," Akari finally said. "We can't let their message stand unanswered. But we also can't plunge into war over shadows and riddles."
"Then what do you propose?" Tobirama asked.
"We expand—not with swords, but with unity. Bring the smaller clans closer. Show strength through alliance, not fear."
Madara raised an eyebrow. "And when unity fails?"
Akari's voice was steady. "Then Konoha will remind the world that peace was not granted—it was forged."
---
Later, in the training grounds, Akari stood alone beneath the moon, wind brushing against his long black hair. Rui approached quietly, holding a small folded note.
"From the border patrol," she said. "There's movement—Land of Earth. Minor, but unusual."
Akari took the note, eyes scanning the message before tucking it away.
"They're all watching each other," he muttered. "Like fire waiting for the spark."
"Do you think… war is coming?"
He turned to her, not with fear—but with tired honesty. "I think the world never really stopped burning. We just covered the ashes."
Rui looked down. "And what will you do if it starts again?"
Akari gave no answer.
Instead, he walked toward the edge of the training field, unsheathing his blade. The steel hummed faintly.
Peace, after all, required more than hope.
It required readiness.