Land of Wind, Sand Ninja Village.
The desert wind and drifting sand formed a relentless chorus, a familiar roar to those who eked out their lives in the Land of Wind's harsh embrace.
Within a circular, ochre-walled hall—part council chamber, part audience room—the Sand Village's two elder advisors awaited their Leaf Village counterparts. Chiyo and Ebizo, sister and brother, held court beneath woven tapestries depicting swirling dunes. Their guests, Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, stepped across the threshold, clad in scroll-laden travel garb and masks half-lifted to reveal sharp eyes wary of old politics.
Silence stretched, broken only by Chiyo's soft sip of steaming tea. Koharu's lips tightened; memories of her village's stinging loss in the Third Great War flickered in her gaze.
"Recently, one of our border patrols near the Land of Fire was ambushed," Koharu began, voice low but steel-edged. "We retrieved identifiably Sand-crafted weapons—kunai stamped with our crest."
Her words cut like a kunai thrown in anger. Ebizo's fingers drummed the table. Chiyo's gaze stayed serene as she set down her cup, amber tea staining her lips.
"Huh. That sounds like someone wants discord between Sunagakure and Konohagakure," Chiyo said, voice warm as clay. "These are tense times—ambitious minor villages sometimes cloak their provocations in another's colors."
"But how do you explain the evidence?" Koharu's tone bristled. "Sand shortcuts near the Fire border, footprints matching our academy drills—"
Chiyo laughed, not mockingly but with gentle amusement. "I, too, would be curious which ragtag faction fancies donning our attire. Please, Leaf shinobi: find these impostors. Deal with them—no mercy—and share what you learn."
Koharu's nostrils flared. She recalled the Third War's carnage—friends turned to brittle bone dust under the Nine-Tails' shadow and Hiruzen's faltering command. Yet Chiyo's mask of calm betrayed nothing.
"Sunagakure stands by Konohagakure as steadfast ally," Homura interjected, voice a balm. "Our arrival is to reaffirm that bond. If discord exists, we intend to mend it."
Koharu's shoulders eased—but only slightly. "Allies protect each other. Our borders strain under constant raids. We hope the Sand Village can aid us."
An unspoken challenge glowed in her eyes. Chiyo's knuckles whitened around the teacup—but her lips curved.
"Ah." She set the cup aside. "With Kaze-land's budget cuts, we're launching a new elite training program here in Sunagakure's mold. If supplies dry up…" Her voice trailed as if weighing a dark alternative. "We may even resort to a Blood Mist policy, like our neighbors."
Her confession rippled through the table. Ebizo forced a polite cough. Homura exchanged a worried look with Koharu. Chiyo's next words dripped honey and venom together.
"It may ease your burden, dear friends, if Leaf shinobi lent an elite detachment to bolster our border posts—your finest, of course."
Homura's hands clenched. Koharu's jaw tightened. They both remembered how Konohagakure bled in the last war—Senju, Uchiha, Sarutobi's best… so many gone. Still, dignified restraint remained their creed.
"Kazekage Rasa and his council will consider it," Koharu said through gritted teeth. "But for now—"
At that moment, the door shivered on its hinges. Maki—young, earnest, eyes wide—slipped inside. He removed his hood and bowed to Chiyo and Ebizo, then whispered urgent words to Chiyo alone. Her stern mask cracked; surprise bloomed, then relief, then warmth.
"I see." She rose, joints creaking with age. "Lord Kazekage will meet our Earth-land envoys shortly. I apologize for the delay—please, follow Maki to your quarters. Tomorrow, we'll share our local customs and hospitality."
Homura bowed once. Koharu offered a curt nod. Both masked politeness hid swirling doubts. Their hostage to fortune: whatever the Earth envoys brought, it would set the next move.
Sand Village, Kazekage's inner chamber.
Rasa sat upon stilted cushions beneath ochre lantern light, eyes reflecting flame. Beside him, two elders leaned forward as a cloaked envoy from Iwagakure entered.
"Kazekage Rasa," the envoy began, voice silken, "our Tsuchikage Onoki respects Sunagakure's ancient bond with Konohagakure. Yet we see your village unfairly pressured by recent border skirmishes."
He let the words hang, then poured more flattery: "You once held the second seat among the Five Greats, guardian of Shukaku's tail. None forget that era of strength."
Chiyo's wrinkled brow lifted. Ebizo's smile never reached his eyes. Rasa inclined his head, letting the praise settle before he spoke.
"Your courtesy honors us," Chiyo said, voice whetted steel. "Yet words alone do not feed our starving sands. Konohagakure asks too much, takes too freely."
The envoy stayed smiling, passing parchment sealed with Iwagakure's symbol. "We propose a private alliance—your interests secured, Konohagakure's demands tempered. In return…" He paused, letting ambition bloom. "A modest share of your mission quotas."
Both elders stiffened. Rasa's dark eyes narrowed. Ebizo shifted uneasily. Chiyo's gnarled fingers drummed the scroll's seal.
"Speak plainly," Chiyo said. "What price pays for this 'aid'?"
In the hush that followed, the envoy's mask slipped. "We risk Konohagakure's ire—twenty percent of Sunagakure's C-rank missions seized without remorse. We stand ready to press back, but we cannot act for free."
Q uiet tension crackled. Onoki's words—delivered by proxy—laid bare the bargain: help us curtail Konoha, and give us tribute.
Chiyo leaned close, voice barely above a breath. "No free lunch," she rasped. "We survive on harsh measures. If you wish our solidarity, you must stake equal sacrifice."
The envoy's smile wavered. He bowed deeply. "Understood. We shall refine terms. May our villages prosper together."
As he left, Rasa exhaled. Ebizo's lips twitched in a bitter smirk. Chiyo tapped her fan against the floor.
"Time to remind Konohagakure's puppet-masters that our sands bite," she murmured.
Night deepened outside. Lanterns swayed in the desert breeze. Within the Sand Village's walls, alliances were reforged, debts tallied, and the ancient game of politics pressed onward. Tomorrow, the Land of Wind would awaken to shifting sands—and new alliances born of hardship, ambition, and the enduring will to survive.
Read advanced chapters on patreon // -- // patreon.com/Neon007