Nono Yakushi's breath frosted in the morning fog, but the chill biting her bones came from somewhere deeper than winter.
"With respect, Lord Sogetsu… tailed beasts are disasters with legs," she said, jaw set. "If we involve Isobu, one misstep could trigger a war. We should—we must—seek the Hokage's direct authorization."
Sogetsu blinked at her as if she'd suggested writing a letter to the wind. "I don't recall granting you the option to refuse." His tone stayed mild. "The curtain rises whether we tug it or not. Better that I decide when."
Her pupils clouded—focus slipping like a lantern light in heavy rain.
A feather-soft cadence threaded his words, the Rank VI Hypnotist's steadying current brushing the shore of her mind. No ripping, no theft—just a nudge, a calm anchor set where panic had been.
"I… understand, Lord Sogetsu."
A quiet tink sounded in his head—one more mind gently re-anchored instead of shattered.
White Zetsu budded up from the soil like a pale sprout, four oversized blades clattering on its back—Shibuki, Hiramekarei, Nuibari, Kabutowari—stuck at odd angles around its leaf-green mop. It looked like a scarecrow that had mugged an armory.
"U-uh… so these are mine now?"
"Yours," Sogetsu said, thumb and forefinger pressing the bridge of his nose. "Try not to stab yourself while celebrating."
"Hee-hee. Thank you, Lord Sogetsu!" White Zetsu beamed, wobbling under the weight.
Sogetsu unrolled a salt-stained map. "Next stop—Kirigakure. Time to say hello to their Mizukage."
White Zetsu actually sweated. "A-are we, um, maybe being a bit too bold? Also, telling that woman to track Isobu… won't that announce our goal to half the country?"
"Who said anything about collecting beasts?" Sogetsu glanced over. "I told you already: I'm obeying orders—the Hokage wants me to 'make a scene.' I intend to make a good one."
"Pretty sure the Hokage didn't mean, you know, that scene," White Zetsu mumbled. "Feels like you're using the order as a… shield."
"There's a difference?" Sogetsu's glasses flashed. "He permitted me to act. If someone dislikes my interpretation, they can lodge their complaint upstairs."
White Zetsu shivered. "I hope Madara-sama is watching his blood pressure."
On an obsidian desk in a fog-wreathed tower, paper tore under a hand that had forgotten restraint.
"Enough!" The Third Mizukage's palm reduced the rest of the desk to splinters. Pomaded hair had come loose; the veins at his temples beat a drumline. "Konoha mocks us. Sarutobi thinks we're children."
The report lay open where he'd dropped it. Four names. Four swords. Four stains on the village's pride.
The last of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen still breathing—Fuguki Suikazan, Jūzō Biwa, Kurosuki Raiga—stood in a line, eyes on the shredded wood because eye contact might be taken as challenge and no one wanted that today.
"This blood-debt will be paid," the Mizukage said, each syllable hammered flat. "This is a threat, not a skirmish. We answer in kind."
The three exchanged the kind of glances men shared at the edge of cliffs.
Fuguki cleared his throat. "…Biwa. Earlier you said your blade was 'thirsty.'"
Jūzō folded his arms. "It's feeling hydrated now. Raiga, your turn to be heroic."
Raiga's brow twitched. "If we go, we go together. That Uchiha isn't a normal jonin. He outpaced three swords in tandem. Unless we field four to six jonin and hit once—hard—we're just lining up heads for his belt."
Silence stretched. The Mizukage's glare could have cut wire. Then, slowly, he exhaled, anger cooling, logic reclaiming old ground.
"Approved," he said at last. "Assemble two strike cells. And should you require it…" His gaze flicked to the seal-stamped scroll in the lacquer tray. "You are authorized to draw on Isobu."
A hush climbed the walls.
Fuguki's jaw set. Jūzō's eyes narrowed. Raiga rolled his shoulders once, like a man putting on iron.
"It will be done."
In the damp heart of the Water Country, fog braided with the sea breeze. Sogetsu tucked the map away and started walking.
"Come on," he told White Zetsu. "Let's go knock on a village's front door."
"We're not… sneaking?"
"Who said anything about sneaking?" Sogetsu smiled. "Sometimes the loudest entrance opens the quietest rooms."
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