"Welcome to Ame, Lord Fourth Hokage." Hanzo stepped in the moment he sensed the mood settle into something workable. He never imagined a single offhand comment of his would nearly set off a chain reaction like that.
'Not bad. But definitely nowhere near the title of demigod.' That was the conclusion Azula reached in about two seconds, just by stacking Hanzo's chakra up against her own, Tsunade's, the tailed beasts, and her rough estimate of Hashirama's.
If they were just talking raw chakra, Tsunade, who'd been training alongside her since childhood with Senju and Uzumaki blood running through her veins, already had a little more at fifteen than Hanzo did in his prime.
But Azula kept that to herself. "I've been to Ame a few times before. First time we've met face to face, ninja demigod. But I'll admit, I never thought a Kage Summit would be hosted here of all places."
'What is it with everyone and my title?' Hanzo wondered, exasperated. First Azula, then A, even Ōnoki. It seemed like every single one of them had some kind of issue with his title.
As for Azula having been to Ame before, that wasn't exactly shocking. The Land of Fire and the Land of Rain shared a border. It was practically next door.
Still, no matter how much he believed they held the upper hand, Hanzo couldn't afford to look arrogant. "It is indeed an honor for Ame to host a summit of this magnitude. But the Kage found me trustworthy and deemed Ame up to the task."
The pride was right there in his voice, unmistakable. The man had been called a demigod since the end of the First Shinobi War. How exactly was he supposed to be humble about it?
Azula just looked at Hanzō and was already calculating how to use him. She hadn't expected much from the man in the first place.
Someone who could be manipulated by Danzō that easily, who folded the moment he ran into a real threat like Nagato and spent the rest of his life as a coward? What kind of expectations was she supposed to have?
"The Kage chose you, did they? I don't recall casting that vote, but fine. Let's see Ame's hospitality. Or are we all supposed to stand here admiring the territory and the rain?" As she spoke, Tsunade, who knew her better than anyone, caught the utter lack of interest behind her words.
Hanzō didn't even register.
Tsunade, on the other hand, was a different story. She knew what had happened in that other future Azula had told her about, the one where she, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya got completely crushed by Hanzō together.
That timeline was dead and buried now, but it didn't stop her competitive spirit from flaring up. Hanzō felt it. He didn't know why she was looking at him like that, but Tsunade's reputation for killing the Third Mizukage preceded her. He didn't dare underestimate her.
Hanzō, Ōnoki, and Satō exchanged a quick glance before Hanzō dipped his head. "Of course. Welcome to Ame. A grand banquet awaits you."
•••
•••
How to say, the banquet hall didn't really meet Azula's expectations.
She knew by Ame's standards, the height of luxury. By Konoha's standards, it just is.
Hanzo, in fact, had spared no expense, which meant the tables were groaning under the weight of dishes that could only be described as aggressively ambitious.
"Lightning-Cured Thunderfish," the servant announced, placing a platter in front of A, the delicacy of Kumo. The fish was still twitching.
A ate three pieces without blinking. "Good texture."
Ōnoki, seated across from him, looked faintly ill. "It's moving."
"That's how you know it's fresh." A grumbled, not even wanting to bother with Onoki who had provoked him earlier.
Further down the table, Akiko stared at a gelatinous lump of something that had been introduced as "Mist-Fermented Eel" that jiggled when she breathed near it and seemed to stare back.
She did not scream, because Yuki do not scream, but her fingers tightened around her chopsticks until the wood creaked.
"Is it alive?" Tsunade who has been paying attention to this Mizukage asked, with morbid curiosity.
"No," Akiko said, her voice as flat as frozen glass. "I believe it is simply... disrespectful to the concept of food."
Tsunade was amused by Akiko's way of complaining. "You're funny."
"I am not."
"That's what makes it funny."
Azula, meanwhile, was prodding at a dish called 'Lava-Roasted Boar'. She'd taken one bite and immediately set her chopsticks down, she refused to acknowledge it.
Tobirama, standing guard behind her in his rat mask, noted the slight tremor in her hand and filed it under reasons this trip is worthwhile.
"Iwa's contribution," Ōnoki said, not bothering to hide his smugness. "The peppers are grown in volcanic soil. Quite mild, by our standards."
"Mild," Azula repeated, her voice perfectly level. "Yes. I can tell."
Tsunade reached for a piece. Azula caught her wrist without looking. "No."
"I can handle spicy food." Tsunade's combative spirit was immediately fired up.
"You can't. You cried last week when I put ginger in your soup."
"That was different. Ginger is an abomination."
"The boar is worse."
Tsunade ate it anyway. Her face went through five stages of grief in rapid succession.
She refused to give Ōnoki the satisfaction of a reaction, which meant she sat there, eyes streaming, chewing with the grim determination of a woman who would rather die than admit defeat.
A watched this with the vague approval of a man who respected stubbornness in all its forms. "The girl's got spirit."
"She's an idiot," Azula corrected.
"She is courageous."
Hanzo clapped his hands. He'd been hovering near the head of the table with the nervous energy of a man who'd planned a wedding and was watching the best man set fire to the centerpieces. "Perhaps now would be a good time for the cultural showcase!"
"The what?" A asked.
"A celebration of our nations' traditions! Each delegation will present a performance representative of their culture. I assumed word had reached you..."
Word had not reached anyone. Hanzo had, in a fit of optimism, 'forgotten' to tell his guests they'd be expected to perform.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Tsunade muttered.
•••
•••
Kumo went first, because A had no shame and no hesitation. He called up two of his guards, and together they performed what could only be described as a war drum routine, except the drums were infused with lightning chakra.
The sound was thunderous to say the least. One of the drumsticks flew out of a guard's hand and embedded itself in the ceiling.
"Magnificent!" Hanzo declared, his face was still the usually stoic one but then, he was clapping with perhaps too much enthusiasm.
Iwa followed with a traditional dance. Six shinobi arranged themselves into a human pyramid while Ōnoki floated above them, reciting what he claimed was ancient poetry but what sounded increasingly like a list of military victories.
Suna sent up a sand artist. Satō didn't perform himself, he simply gestured, and one of his guards sculpted a delicate, shifting landscape out of sand that told the history of Sunagakure in miniature.
It was genuinely beautiful and definitely required a fine Chakra control added with Sand Release. Tsunade tried to lean closer to look and accidentally sneezed, which her body did sometimes when she was drunk, and half the sculpture collapsed.
The 'guard' stared at her with the hollow eyes of a man who'd just watched three hours of work vanish.
"My bad," Tsunade said.
Kiri's turn. Akiko rose with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who had been raised in a clan where composure was survival.
She didn't speak though it was obvious that the Mizukage would be representing Kiri itself.
She raised one pale hand, and the air around her crystallized. Ice bloomed across the ceiling in intricate patterns, frozen mandalas that caught the candlelight and scattered it into rainbows.
It was definitely cold, very precise and well, over in thirty seconds. She sat back down without a word.
"Beautiful," Hanzo breathed.
Akiko acknowledged this with a single nod, the barest dip of her chin. She had performed her duty. She would not speak again for the rest of the evening unless absolutely necessary.
Then Azula stood.
"Konoha will present a traditional tea ceremony." She smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Performed by my personal guard. Tobio."
Tobirama did not move.
"Tobio," Azula repeated, and her fingers twitched in a subtle hand seal.
'You wouldn't,' his silence said, roaring from the inside.
'I would,' her smile answered, very sure that if he was an Uchiha, the outburst in his mind would definitely make him awaken the Mangekyō.
But she knew to tame a man like Tobirama, this was necessary.
The standoff lasted three full seconds before Tobirama obviously lost as she just controlled his body.
He walked to the front of the room with the measured steps of a man approaching his own execution.
Every movement was precise and controlled. The movements of someone who had once been the fastest shinobi alive and was now being asked to pour hot water in a circle.
"Does he even know how to do a tea ceremony?" Tsunade whispered, very interested.
"No idea," Azula said. "That's what makes it exciting."
Tobirama picked up the tea bowl. His hands were perfectly steady. His chakra was perfectly concealed and his hatred was perfectly infinite.
Then he performed the single most flawless tea ceremony anyone in that room had ever witnessed.
Every motion was textbook level.
The whisking, pouring, rotation of the bowl as he moved with the economy of someone who'd learned every traditional art the Senju clan had to offer and had been very, very good at all of them, and hated that he'd been very, very good at all of them, because it meant he couldn't even fail on purpose.
The room was dead silent. Even Ōnoki looked grudgingly impressed.
Tobirama finished. He set the bowl down with a soft, deliberate clink before he walked back to his position behind Azula.
"If you ever do that again," he murmured, so quietly only she could hear, "I will find a way to die a second time."
"Worth it," Azula murmured back.
"Are all Konoha guards that intense?" Satō asked, somewhere between admiration and concern.
"No," Tsunade said, staring at "Tobio" with renewed admiration. "No, they are not."