—TETSU NO KUNI —
—4 DAYS AGO—
Tetsu no Kuni was a world made of white snow and black steel.
The wind howled through the mountains of the Three Wolves, carrying a cold that could freeze a man's breath before it left his lips.
Everything there was hard and sharp. The sharp peaks reached into the grey sky like the teeth of a giant beast, and the ground was buried under a thick, heavy blanket of snow that never seemed to melt.
In the center of the village, the iron-walled buildings stood tall and strong. They did not look like the wooden houses of the leaf village; they looked like fortresses.
Near a large gate, a group of commoners moved quickly through the narrow streets.
They were wrapped in thick, heavy wool furs and dark cloaks to keep out the biting frost. Their boots made a rhythmic Crunch, Crunch, Crunchsound as they stepped through the fresh snow.
A young woman carrying a basket of coal paused to adjust her scarf. She looked up at the sky, her cheeks red from the cold.
"The storm is getting worse.." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.
"It always does this time of year." an old man replied, leaning on a wooden staff. He wore a heavy hat pulled low over his eyes. "But as long as the iron stays warm, the heart of the village beats. We just need to stay off the streets when the sun goes down."
Further down the road, a blacksmith's shop was a glow of orange light in the white world. The sound of Clang! Clang! Clang! rang out as a hammer hit hot metal. A group of children ran past the shop, laughing as they threw snowballs, their colorful scarves flying behind them. They didn't seem to mind the cold at all.
Standing at every corner were the protectors of this land—THESAMURAI.
They were covered from head to toe in heavy, silver-grey armor that reflected the dim light. Their helmets had sharp horns, and their eyes were hidden behind metal holes. They stood perfectly still, like statues made of ice.
"Check the travelers at the north gate." one Samurai said, his voice muffled by his helmet.
"No one enters without a permit. The neutrality of our land depends on our eyes being open."
His partner nodded, the metal plates of his neck armor scraping together with a sharp, grinding sound. "Understood. The resthouses are full tonight. Many strangers have come seeking shelter from the wind."
The snow continued to fall in heavy, silent flakes, piling up against the stone walls of the houses. The wind was so cold that people kept their heads down, their faces buried deep in scarves made of thick, scratchy wool.
In a small corner of the market, a group of workers huddled near a steaming tea stall. They held their ceramic cups with both hands, trying to soak up the heat.
"Did you hear the latest gossip from the Frozen Crane?" a merchant whispered, his voice low and sharp.
He adjusted his heavy bear-fur hat. "They say a group of kids is staying there. Not just any kids... children from the Uchiha and the Hyuga clans."
A man standing next to him let out a loud, mocking laugh that turned into a cloud of white mist in the air. "Uchiha and Hyuga? In our neutral land? Please. Those Konoha ninjas are probably too busy fighting each other to send their precious 'prodigies' out into a real storm like this."
"It's not a joke!" a woman replied, her face pale as she wrapped her dark cloak tighter around her shoulders.
She looked over her shoulder towards the iron gates. "If the Great Clans are sending children here, it means trouble is following them. Konoha has always been a magnet for war. I don't want their mess spilling into our streets."
"Hmph!!" an old blacksmith grumbled, spitting into the snow. "Let them come. If those Konoha brats think they can act like masters here, they'll learn that iron is harder than any fancy eye-technique. But still... if it's true, the Samurai will be crawling all over that resthouse by dinner."
Nearby, a younger boy who was sweeping snow off a doorstep stopped to listen, his eyes wide with fear. "But if they are here... does that mean the war isn't over? My father said the Yondaime Hokage brought peace."
"PEACE is just a word ninjas use between fights." the merchant muttered, taking a long sip of his tea. "Whatever they're doing at the Grand Pavillion of the Frozen Crane, it's going to bring a cold wind with it. More than this storm, I'll bet."
"It is more than just children staying there." the woman whispered, her hands shaking. "I heard about the manager at the Frozen Crane. He collapsed out of nowhere! They had to rush him to the hospital two days ago."
A man leaning against a stack of coal nodded grimly. "I know that man. He is my friend's relative. The doctors at the hospital were silent, but the word is out now—it was Genjutsu. His mind was scrambled like an egg."
The crowd around the tea stall went silent. The thought of an invisible attack made them pull their fur cloaks closer.
"Genjutsu?" the young merchant asked, his voice cracking. "Then the rumors are true. It's the Sharingan. One look into those cursed red eyes and your soul belongs to them. How can we be safe in our own beds if those Uchiha are walking our halls?"
"Safe?" The older man let out a harsh, mocking laughter. He kicked at a pile of snow.
"We aren't safe because our border guards are fools! How did they even let a group of Konoha ninjas pass the gate? They probably saw a few shiny coins and forgot all about our neutrality. Those guards at the border are either blind or they've been bought."
"They should all be arrested." The butcher snapped, waving a heavy knife for emphasis.
His thick leather apron was stained with frost. "The ninjas, the manager, and those useless guards! I'm going to the police headquarters right now. I'll tell the Samurais to drag those brats out into the snow where they belong!"
He turned to leave, but a hand caught his arm. It was the tea shop owner, a man with a tired face and eyes that had seen too many winters.
"Sit down, you hot-head." the owner muttered. "You'll go to the police with what? Rumors? My friend's cousin said a man fainted isn't evidence. If you go screaming about Uchiha and Hyuga without proof, the Samurai will arrest you for disturbing the peace."
The butcher grumbled but stopped. "But the Genjutsu..."
"Could be a fever. Could be the cold." the owner replied, pouring a fresh cup of steaming water.
"In this land, we survive by minding our own business and staying warm. Until someone actually sees a red eye or a white one, it's just talk. Besides, who would be stupid enough to bring the two strongest clans in the world into a tiny resthouse in the middle of a storm? It makes no sense."
The group moved apart as a squad of Samurai movedpast, their silver armor looking like ice in the dim afternoon light.
The commoners quickly returned to their work—hauling coal, sweeping snow, and tending fires—but the whispers about the children in the resthouse stayed in the air, heavier than the falling snow.
The morning sky over Tetsu no Kuni offered no sun, only a heavy, suffocating grey that made the world feel like it was trapped inside a cold stone.
While the Frozen Crane stood only a few metres away, glowing with lanterns and buzzing with the nervous energy of Samurais and travelers. Beside it, The Three Wolves Inn seemed to be sinking into the shadows.
It was a smaller building, narrow and rough, looking like a tired old animal huddling against the storm. The wooden floor was almost completely buried under the thick, white snow that no one had bothered to sweep away.
A single, rusted iron sign hung from a chain above the entrance, creaking and groaning as the wind battered it back and forth.
Creak.
Snap.
Creak.
Inside, the light was even thinner. The main hallway was a forest of dark, heavy beams and low ceilings that trapped the smell of old, damp wood and the metallic cold iron. Unlike the Grand Pavilion, there was no warm music or loud chatter there.
A few lonely travelers sat in the corners, their faces hidden behind high collars and thick hoods.
They sat in near-perfect silence, watching the tiny flames of a dying lantern that struggled to keep the frost from creeping across the floorboards.
The only sound was the occasional pop of a burning log and the muffled, distant shouting of the Samurai from the street outside.
Every window was covered in a layer of thick, crystalline ice, blurring the view of the village. It was the kind of place where people came to be forgotten—a quiet, dim place that felt miles away from the chaos next door, even though only a thin alleyway separated them.
In the deepest corner of the room, far from the flickering firelight, the shadows felt heavier, as if the darkness itself were waiting for something to happen.
Upstairs in The Three Wolves Inn, the air in the room was freezing. The walls were thin, and the sound of the wind whistling through the gaps in the wood was the only rhythm.
Inside, five figures were buried under thick, heavy blankets, looking like small hills in the dim, grey morning light. They lay on thin futons spread across the floor, huddled together for warmth.
In the center of the room, one man lay perfectly straight. He didn't move at all, sleeping with one arm draped over his eyes to block out even the faint light from the window.
In a far corner, a woman lay turned on her side, her breathing slow and deep as she remained lost in a heavy sleep.
Across from her, another man was sleeping in a strange, tangled way. His legs were twisted in the blankets, and his head was hanging halfway off his pillow. Every few seconds, he let out a soft, wet snore that ended in a muffled sneeze.
He shifted uncomfortably, his body reacting to the cold that seemed to seep into his very bones.
Near the frosted window, the last two figures were huddled close. One man lay completely still, his body curled up tightly under his blanket. He looked like a stone, facing away from the rest of the room as if he were trying to disappear into the shadows.
But the person sharing the futon beside him was anything but still.
He was tossing and turning constantly. First, he shifted to the left, the heavy fabric of the blanket rustling loudly.
Then, he kicked his legs and turned to the right, his elbow nearly bumping into his neighbor. A moment later, he flipped onto his back, the wooden floorboards beneath the thin mattress letting out a sharp, rhythmic Creak.
The man who had been lying perfectly still suddenly turned his face into a mask of pure irritation. His brow furrowed, and his jaw tightened even as his eyes remained shut.
Finally, unable to take the constant movement, he let out a long, exhausted groan. His voice was thick with sleep, but it was sharp and heavy with annoyance.
"Stop moving..." he muttered into his pillow, his voice sounding tired and deeply irritated.
He shifted just enough to pull the blanket higher over his shoulder, his voice trailing off as he whispered a single name into the cold air.
"Minato..."
The silence returned to the room, leaving only the sound of the wind and the restless turning of the man by the window.
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⚡ NEXT CHAPTER ⚡
The cold morning finally breaks... but not all ice melts with sunlight.
A restless night. A quiet conversation.
And a weight neither of them can Ignore.
As old fears begin to surface, two figures step out into the frozen streets-toward a place that might hold answers... or something far worse.
But they are not the only ones watching.
Patient. Curious. Dangerous.
And as the wind carries whispers from the past...
the next move may change everything.
👉Chapter 16: WHEN THE WIND CARRIES OLD FEARS
Some silences speak louder than battles.
SNEAK PEEK LINES 💬
"You are surely going to break my back one day, I swear..."
"She has everyone by her side to protect her. You know her strength better than anyone."
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—With love, one forehead poke away from collapse,
Sakura Shinomiya 💫
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