The summit had been called for seven days from now, but the weight of it was already pressing down on Konoha like a storm cloud hanging low above the mountains.
Akari stood on a narrow cliffside overlooking the village. Below, Konoha bustled as it always had—children ran through the streets, shinobi trained in the yards, and merchants called out their prices. Yet something was different. There was tension even in the laughter, and uncertainty beneath every smile.
Madara approached, his steps quiet despite the stone path. "You don't have to carry it alone."
Akari didn't turn. "It was easier when strength was the only measure of peace."
Madara let out a soft breath, stepping to his side. "And now it's politics, alliances, reputations. A different battlefield—but no less bloody."
Akari finally looked at him. "You've changed."
"So have you," Madara replied. "We're both trying to protect what we believe in. But the more power we gain, the more it demands of us."
A silence passed between them. Not uncomfortable—just heavy with understanding.
Down below, in the council chambers, Hashirama and Tobirama reviewed the summit preparations. Invitations had gone out to Iwa, Kiri, Suna, and Kumo. Some responded with cautious acceptance. Others, with silence that spoke volumes.
"Do you trust them to show?" Tobirama asked.
Hashirama's eyes held hope—but also shadows. "I trust that they'll come. Not for unity, but to test us."
Tobirama folded his arms. "And what if they push too far?"
"Then we show them that Konoha is not divided. That our peace is backed by strength."
That strength, however, was not just the Senju name or Madara's presence—it was Akari. His reputation had grown like wildfire in recent months. Missions completed in silence. Conflicts resolved without unnecessary bloodshed. Even among the elders, his words were beginning to carry weight.
That evening, Akari visited the armory. He ran his hand along the hilts of his old blades, memories buried in each one. He chose none. The summit wasn't a battlefield—yet.
At dawn, he stood with a small envoy, Madara and Tobirama flanking him as they prepared to leave for the neutral grounds chosen for the summit. Hashirama stayed behind—for now. His trust lay with them.
Before departing, Akari paused at the gates of the village and looked back. The wind rustled his long black hair, and the light caught the violet hue of his eyes.
"This is no longer just about Konoha," he said, voice low. "It's about the world we choose to leave behind."
Madara smirked. "Then let's make sure it's one worth remembering."
And with that, the envoy departed—three powerful figures heading toward the unknown. Allies. Enemies. Unstable truces. The summit would test them all.
And in its shadow, the seeds of a new order—whether forged in peace or ignited in war—were already beginning to grow.