The air in the chamber, once thick with ceremonial incense, was now thick enough with pure, unadulterated rage to choke a summoning beast.
Karuku Uzumaki shot to his feet, his vibrant red hair seeming to crackle with fury.
"Shinki-sama," he began, his voice a dangerously smooth prelude to a volcanic eruption, "With all due respect, explain to us why we have been sitting on this precious information like treasured heirlooms while our enemies sharpen their blades? Every day you held your tongue was a day we could have spent forging our defenses. A day of preparation, wasted!"
He wasn't alone. The faces of the Uzumaki clan's most influential members had collectively curdled. The news their leader had just dropped on them was the political equivalent of a live scorpion in a sleeping bag.
The Four Kage—the shadow of Cloud, Mist, Stone, and Sand—had been caught in a secret meeting to collectively decide how to turn the Land of Whirlpool into a ruined nation.
At first, it sounded like a bad rumor. But then the Raika Chi no Sanjin—the now legendary Three Blades—had exposed the secret summit. The entire ninja world had been buzzing: Were they planning a new war? Targeting Konoha?
The grim reality was so much worse. They were coming for them. And the results? Clan Leader Shinki had received an anonymous tip, a letter a full fortnight ago and had only now, with the wolf not just at the door but almost already picking the lock, decided to mention it.
Shinki Uzumaki spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness that fooled absolutely no one. "My friends, my family! You think I just spent the last two weeks after receiving the news on fun? I had to confirm this!"
The silence that greeted him was deafening, and the fifty pairs of eyes staring back conveyed a single, unified thought: 'Well, actually, yes. That's exactly what we think you were doing.'
Shinki's own temper, notoriously shorter than a kunai blade, finally snapped.
He slammed his palm on the table with a CRACK that made everyone jump, the wood groaning a protest against its own imminent destruction. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THOSE JUDGY FACES? I am your patriarch! The Daimyo of this clan! Do I look like a man who prank-calls his own clan with news of their impending annihilation?"
He took a sharp breath, composing himself. "The moment I got that little note, I sent the information to one person. Mugetsu-sama. Who then personally went to the Land of Water to do some fact-checking."
At the mention of the Mugetsu—the de facto Kage of Uzushiogakure and the man who looked like he was born with a scowl—the crowd's collective expression shifted.
The judgy stares morphed into looks of genuine, wide-eyed surprise, as if they'd just discovered their clan leader had a delicate brain for thinking.
(Now, a quick primer for the uninitiated: The Uzumaki clan's political structure is what you'd get if you threw a feudal government, a ninja village, and a family business into a blender. The Daimyo (Shinki) is also the clan patriarch, and he can stick his nose into any village affair he wants. The Chief of Uzushiogakure (Mugetsu) is basically the Head of Military Operations and Angry Glaring. It's complicated, it's messy, and it gives bureaucrats in other nations a migraine.)
All eyes swiveled to the corner where Mugetsu stood, arms crossed, radiating an aura of 'I've already killed everyone in this room in my mind'.
He gave a single, grim nod.
"It's true," Mugetsu's voice was like gravel rolling downhill. "I traveled to the Land of Water. I captured a Kiri Jōnin, drained his chakra with a sealing art, and wore his identity like a cloak. I walked into the heart of their beastly conclave."
His eyes, sharp as shards of ice, scanned the room. "The Mizukage himself is eager to lead the charge, offering the largest contingent of shinobi. They are still haggling over the spoils like vultures over a fresh kill, but the pact is sealed in silent agreement. They are coming. For us."
A nervous murmur rippled through the room. This was the Uzumaki's A-team—fifty of their strongest, from fresh-faced prodigies to elders who looked like they'd personally trained with the Sage of Six Paths' slightly older cousin.
A wave of murmured horror swept through the assembly. Here were the fifty strongest, wisest, and most vital souls of the Uzumaki clan, from prodigious youths to elders who had seen the blood-soaked era of the Sengoku era.
The Land of Whirlpools, nestled between the Land of Fire and Water, knew the Mizukage's reputation all too well. For a master of Water Release to lead an assault on their island nation… it was a perfect, terrible storm.
From the elders' section, a wry, weathered voice cut through the chatter. Murasake, a man of eighty years who had seen the blood-soaked Sengoku Era and apparently found it slightly less irritating, gave a dry chuckle.
"Well, isn't this a fine mess," he croaked. "It appears we are about to face the most dangerous confrontation since our clan's records began."
Of the crowd, ten individuals stood out—folks about his own age, each bearing the title of Sage of the Uzumaki. They were the real deal, genuinely respected by the entire clan.
One of them, a wizened elder, cracked a dry smile. "We survived the blood-soaked Sengoku era, where you could count on a clan getting wiped off the map every year. Who'd have thought our biggest headache would come in this so-called peaceful age?"
For old-timers like them, death just wasn't that scary. Sure, the Uzumaki were famous for their crazy longevity—easily hitting a century wasn't unheard of.
But anyone in the shinobi world who'd made it past eighty was just… tired. The weariness was deeper than bone.
The elder's calm voice was like a bucket of cold water, dousing the rising panic. Seizing the moment, Shinki spoke up. "I've already dispatched a covert team to Konoha to request aid. I've also made contact with our clansmen there. By now, Mito-sama should know of our situation."
A collective wave of relief washed through the room. Konoha was, without a shred of doubt, the strongest of the Hidden Villages.
And the Uzumaki had been instrumental in building it, from its very founding to the last Great Shinobi War where it stood against a united front of four villages.
They held onto the belief that Konoha, bound by honor and old alliances, would surely come to their aid. With the Leaf Village stepping in, the other villages might just lose their nerve to attack.
Seeing the room settle down, Shinki let out a quiet breath of relief. The last thing they needed right now was to lose their heads. Panic would snuff out their last hope.
He understood Elder Murasake's point, even if it was a bitter pill to swallow. The current generation was a far cry from the battle-hardened Uzumaki of the Warring States Period.
But could you really blame them? This was an era of peace. It was like a kunoichi who hung up her kunai to raise a family—she'd inevitably get rusty.
Without life-or-death struggles being a daily occurrence, it was only natural for them to feel jittery at the first sign of real danger.
"How about this," Shinki said, his voice cutting through the murmurs and drawing all eyes to him. "We go into our highest state of alert and prepare for war. At the same time, as a contingency, we send a small group of our clansmen to Konoha. A precaution, just in case the worst should happen."
He stood a little straighter, his presence becoming awe-inspiring. This was the man who had been the strongest Uzumaki after the legendary Ashina's passing, a shinobi whose power was said to be on par with the Second Hokage himself.
"We Uzumaki have never been a clan that fears a fight! Once we've sent our young and vulnerable to safety, with a capable few to guard them, the rest of us will stand our ground. We will face this coming calamity together. Our clan survived the most chaotic era in shinobi history. It would be utterly ridiculous for us to falter now."
Karuku, the one who had panicked and shouted at Shinki earlier, flushed with embarrassment.
"My apologies, Shinki-sama, for my earlier outburst. I still have much to learn." He bowed his head. "I agree with Shinki-sama. At a time like this, we Uzumaki shouldn't be pointing fingers or succumbing to panic. I will do everything in my power to protect my clansmen, no matter what."
He was one of the youngest elders, recently married and blessed with a baby daughter. The memory of the first time he held her, so small and fragile, flashed in his mind. He had sworn then to protect her.
The news of the four villages conspiring to destroy them had sent a primal fear through him.
He knew the fate of clans that were eradicated—their members became commodities, slaves, subjected to fates worse than death.
He couldn't bear the thought of that happening to his little girl, who was already said to possess the most vibrant life force among the newborns.
But no one blamed him. The situation was as dire as he feared. In times like these, blaming each other was a luxury they couldn't afford. Every second counted, and they had to use that time to prepare every defense imaginable.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
Honestly, we didn't even reach the 500 Power Stones but then again