The summons came swiftly. Not long after their arrival, word was sent: Lady Hinata Gin was to be received in the audience by the Tsuchikage.
Preparations were simple. Lord Masaru ensured Hinata's attire was impeccable—a formal but functional robe of the Land of Iron, silver accents gleaming subtly. Ayaka and the others remained alert; even within these walls, they trusted little.
Kuro would not accompany her—a silent agreement that his presence might provoke unease. Mitsue, however, rested light across her shoulders, still as silk.
Escorted by a pair of Iwagakure shinobi, they passed through narrow stone corridors into the heart of the village—toward the austere hall where the Third Tsuchikage awaited.
Ōnoki's chamber was like the rest of the village: carved of stone, sparse, heavy with age. No needless ornament adorned its walls. The Kage's seat was simple but elevated—a throne of old rock worn smooth by time.
Upon it sat Ōnoki, as formidable in presence as the mountain itself. Small in stature, hunched with age, yet his eyes were sharp—piercing.
As Hinata entered, the old Kage's gaze swept her and her escort in one breath.
"Lady Hinata Gin," he began, voice roughened by years. "You come far for one so young. Speak your purpose."
Hinata bowed with flawless grace. "Tsuchikage-dono. I thank you for this audience. As I have said in other lands, I seek to understand the great nations—to learn their people, their ways. Such was the wish I placed before my father, and with his leave, I now travel."
Ōnoki's gaze narrowed slightly. "Nations are not courted with kind words alone, girl. They are courted with interests. What is it your land seeks?"
Hinata met his gaze evenly. "Understanding first. Cooperation may follow—but no chains, and no masks."
A faint grunt escaped the Kage.
"Hmph. And yet your artisans' works now flood certain markets. The Daimyō may smile at his profits, but others here do not." His tone was edged.
Hinata inclined her head. "Progress often brings discomfort. But if it offends, I can offer only respect to those who choose to grow with it."
Ōnoki's eyes narrowed again, but he made no rebuttal.
A shift in tone followed—calm, but pointed.
"Your priestess walks our lands. Will her words seek to plant roots where they are not asked?"
Hinata answered without hesitation. "No root is forced. Those who seek the path find it of their own will."
The old Kage studied her for a long moment.
Then, after a pause: "And should one of ours seek such a path—what would your answer be?"
Hinata's voice remained soft, but firm. "That every soul deserves a place where it may breathe freely."
A grunt again—neither assent nor dismissal.
At this, Hinata took a small step forward, her tone shifting.
"If I may, Tsuchikage-dono—I bring no grand tribute. Only a small offering, crafted with care. That it may serve where stone often burdens."
From within her sleeve, she withdrew a scroll, bearing no crest, simple and refined.
With practiced ease, she summoned forth its contents: a chair—of elegant, thoughtful design. The woodwork was polished but understated; the cushioning designed with subtle contours—supporting a frame weary with years.
As the chair settled upon the stone floor, Hinata's gaze softened—a flicker of memory passing through her mind.
She remembered the day Michel had first crafted the design within the Silver World—a gift for Takama, to ease his own lingering wounds. How the artisans of the Land of Iron had marveled at its construction, at its purpose. How she had quietly commissioned a second, for this very journey.
A small smile touched her lips—but she said nothing of its true origin.
Ōnoki eyed the chair with visible skepticism.
"Hmph. A seat? You think you can soften an old back with trinkets?"
But despite the grumble, curiosity flickered in his gaze.
After a moment, with a gruff sound, he shifted—and sat.
A long pause followed.
And then—subtle, but clear—Hinata saw it: a flicker of relief. A softening of tension in the old Kage's frame, a breath that eased more deeply.
She could see it in his soul as well—a brief stillness, a rare peace beneath the weight of stone.
Yet, of course, his words remained gruff.
"Hmph. If it proves useful, so be it. Do not think it buys favor."
Hinata bowed once more, her tone serene.
"I ask for none. Only that it serves where it may."
The air between them remained taut—respectful tension finely balanced.
And beneath it all, seeds had been sown.
<<<< o >>>>
Hinata had no intention of leaving things to chance.
Long before her journey to Iwagakure, she had prepared. Discreet private inquiries to the few shinobi of Iwa who had been touched by Yumegakure had yielded valuable insights—small, but sufficient.
One detail in particular had caught her interest: a certain shop in the artisan district, known for its finely crafted ninja tools, run by the family of both Jinchūriki of Iwa—a subtle blend of reward and control.
During her first days in the village, through quiet sessions in the Silver Stage, she had observed patterns of presence. More than once, she had sensed Rōshi's chakra tracing a path to that very shop, always around midday.
Today, she sensed, would be no different.
Thus, with discreet intent, she approached Lord Renji that morning.
"Lord Renji," she began softly, "I would like to explore more of your village today. Perhaps visit some artisans and merchants. Your perspective would be most valuable."
As expected, Renji smiled—perhaps imagining the chance to proudly escort her through his city.
"Of course, Lady Hinata! It would be an honor. You will see—Iwagakure's products are unmatched."
And so they went.
Accompanied by a minimal escort, they wound their way into the stone-clad artisan district of the lower terraces.
The shop appeared modest from the outside: a place of function, not ostentation. Yet within, the craftsmanship spoke clearly—weapons, seals, scrolls, precision tools, all crafted with care.
Behind the counter, a broad-shouldered young man greeted them with respectful ease—sharp eyes, deliberate movements.
"Welcome. Lord Renji, it is a pleasure to see you again. How may I assist you?"
While Renji eagerly inspected a display of chakra-conductive blades, Hinata's gaze drifted to a side table where several glass bowls rested upon carved stands. Nearby sat containers of finely ground polished stone, marked with subtle runes.
She stepped closer.
The shopkeeper noticed. "Ah, you have a keen eye, my lady. That is our chakra affinity test. Developed here in Iwa—more precise than the old foreign paper method. The stone is placed in water; when one channels chakra into it, the reactions reveal elemental affinities."
A flicker of memory stirred in Hinata.
A younger self, seated beside Kurenai-sensei, watching a simple sheet of wet chakra paper for the first time. A warm, calm memory.
"Would you care to try?" the shopkeeper asked politely.
Before Hinata could reply, Renji interjected, eager.
"Come now, Lady Hinata! It would be fascinating! You'll see—our methods are superior. I'm certain you will be impressed."
Hinata smiled softly. "Very well. It would be an honor to try."
With smooth movements, the shopkeeper prepared the test.
He added the stone to clear water; then, gently, Hinata placed her fingers upon the rim of the bowl. Her breath steadied, chakra flowing.
For a moment—stillness.
Then—movement.
Ripples spread outward, patterns forming:
Cool spirals of deep blue—Water.
Sharp tongues of faint crimson—Fire.
Subtle dark strands coiling at the edges—Yin.
Faint shimmering pulses of light—Yang.
The shopkeeper blinked, brows lifting.
"Such breadth… remarkable," he murmured.
Even Renji stared, expression faltering. "Four chakra traits? That is… exceedingly rare."
Hinata's gaze remained serene, though inwardly, she acknowledged the change. Her path had indeed evolved greatly since that first test.
Before further comment could be made, the door's bell chimed softly.
A new presence entered—heavy, steady.
Hinata sensed it before turning: Rōshi.
His chakra was unmistakable—dense with earth and flame, tempered by years of restraint.
He paused upon entering, gaze flicking first to his son, then to the unfamiliar noblewoman at the test table.
Hinata turned, bowing with respect. Renji, recognizing the newcomer, straightened.
"Rōshi-dono," Renji greeted firmly. "An honor."
Hinata offered a gentle inclination of her head. Within, she knew: the moment she had prepared for was now at hand.