As night fell, the Root base welcomed an unexpected guest.
"Ebizo. If you've come to offer an apology at this hour, I'm afraid you're far too late."
The visitor was none other than the envoy from the Land of Wind—the very same man who had spent the entire day during negotiations pointedly antagonizing Danzo.
"Heh. Danzo, it seems today's events failed to teach you any semblance of a lesson."
Faced with Danzo's high-and-mighty attitude, Ebizo couldn't simply ignore him as he had earlier that day, but the mockery and disdain in his voice remained as sharp as ever.
"Do you truly believe your status as an envoy makes me hesitate to kill you?"
For a man as narrow-minded as Danzo, Ebizo's repeated provocations were more than enough to ignite a murderous rage.
"You wouldn't dare," Ebizo replied, completely unfazed by the death threat.
"Heh... hehe!"
Danzo's eyes instantly flushed a deep, bloody red. Watching Ebizo's petulant, clownish display—like a small man jumping and shouting for attention—he let out a rasping, terrifying laugh that chilled the air.
"It seems there are some things you've forgotten."
Even as Danzo's eyes flared with unrestrained killing intent, Ebizo showed no sign of fear. He even began to pace leisurely toward Danzo's desk, reaching out to pick up the man's brush.
"In that case, I shall be kind enough to remind you."
Under Danzo's furious gaze—a look that suggested he wanted to devour the man whole—Ebizo dipped the brush and wrote a single name. He then thoughtfully rotated the paper 180 degrees so Danzo could read it clearly.
Nawaki Senju.
Danzo's eyes instinctively swept over the text. His pupils dilated instantly before snapping into needle-thin points. He slowly looked up at Ebizo.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"Haha! At a time like this, do you really feel the need to keep up the act?"
Seeing Danzo playing dumb, Ebizo let out a loud, mocking laugh.
"Don't pin your hopes on luck, Danzo. Do you think I would have come to find you if I didn't have absolute certainty?"
Danzo didn't respond. In truth, from the moment he saw the name "Nawaki Senju," his mind had been racing, desperately calculating how the Hidden Sand could have discovered that secret and exactly how much they knew.
"Hmph. Danzo, I suggest you drop the arrogance. The Senju brothers are dead, and the clan has faded into obscurity. Not long ago, even Mito Uzumaki—their last pillar—passed away.
"But you know better than I do that the Senju influence won't vanish that easily. Perhaps you and that monkey, Hiruzen Sarutobi, can eventually scrub the Senju name from the village's history—but right now, between you and the memory of the Senju, who do you think that monkey would choose?"
"Hmph. Everything I do, I do for the sake of Konoha! For the—"
"You're doing this for Konoha right now, too," Ebizo interrupted with a smirk.
"I trust the Root's capabilities. You must already know that the Hidden Stone has begun mobilization. The Daimyo of the Land of Earth has started massing supplies. As for their target... there are only two of us in this room. Let's not insult each other's intelligence."
At this point, Ebizo's voice dropped an octave, tinged with a self-deprecating bitterness.
"The Land of Wind is a vast expanse of shifting sand and barren earth; it has always been unfit for life. Because of that, the Hidden Stone has nothing to gain from us aside from mission quotas. Their true target is obvious."
Danzo finally fell silent.
Despite the fact that he still couldn't fathom what "hard evidence" the Sand might actually possess, Ebizo was right about the geopolitics. The Land of Wind was impoverished, and the Hidden Sand was broke. He had even heard rumors that the Wind Daimyo was complaining about the massive financial support he'd given the Sand, only for them to suffer defeat after defeat. The Daimyo had even threatened to cut off their funding entirely.
Deep down, Danzo knew that no matter how hard a line he took, there was very little "profit" to be squeezed out of the Sand.
The reason he had been acting so stubbornly—insisting he would never sign the treaty unless the Sand made massive concessions—was largely a performance to contrast himself with Hiruzen Sarutobi.
He knew that Hiruzen, as Hokage, would eventually make compromises to end the war quickly. When that happened, Danzo could wave the banner of the "unyielding hardliner," attracting all the shinobi who were dissatisfied with the "soft" diplomacy to join his faction and expand his influence.
Perhaps he had simply stayed in character too long. Combined with Ebizo's deliberate goading, he had reflexively tried to maintain his "tough" persona even when they were alone.
But now that Ebizo had systematically peeled back his layers of pretension to expose the ugly reality underneath, Danzo was forced to seriously consider the terms.
"I can agree," Danzo finally spoke, breaking a silence that had stretched long enough to nearly exhaust Ebizo's patience. "But I have one condition."
"Speak."
"I need the Hidden Sand to provide a suicide agent. They will do one thing for me—a private matter that will in no way compromise the interests of your village."
"Deal."
Ebizo agreed without a moment's hesitation. The Hidden Sand leadership—the same group that would eventually betray their own hero, Pakura, without blinking—had always been remarkably consistent in their pragmatism.
"Good," Danzo nodded. "Tomorrow, I will arrange for the intelligence regarding the Hidden Stone to be delivered. I will exaggerate the speed of their war preparations to pressure Hiruzen and the others into a quick decision."
He paused, as if feeling that he was letting the Sand off too easily, and added one more thing.
"However, to give Hiruzen a way to save face, the Hidden Sand had better make at least a small concession."
"Don't worry."
When Hatani woke up again, he was starting to suspect that his self-created jutsu, Wind Style: Powershot, might be cursed.
Otherwise, why was it that every time he used it in an emergency, he ended up unconscious immediately afterward?
Fortunately, compared to the last time, he seemed to have built up some resistance—or perhaps the chakra drain wasn't as severe. His head didn't feel like it was being split open by a cleaver this time.
"Otouto! You're finally awake!"
...Then again, the moment he heard Minato's overly enthusiastic voice, his head started aching for a different reason.
He really wanted to step outside and see if the rain had finally stopped and the sky had cleared.
"Where are we?"
Ignoring the "Little Brother" title that grated on his nerves, Hatani sat up and scanned his surroundings, his brow furrowing. He was lying in a military tent, not the small, secluded cottage where Jiraiya and the "Orphans" were hiding.
"This is the field hospital for Konoha's border forces."
Just then, the tent flap was pushed aside, and Tsunade—wearing her standard flak jacket—stepped inside.