The Hidden Mist clung to its namesake—a perpetual haze that diffused the afternoon light into something pale and ghostly. Hanekawa moved through the streets with practiced ease, his face altered by transformation jutsu into something forgettable. Reputation was a liability here. The last time he'd visited, he'd killed their Mizukage. The locals hadn't forgotten.
He paused at shadowed corners, marking each with a Flying Thunder God seal. Paranoia kept you alive. Even if Hidden Mist's ninja couldn't threaten him, escape routes were never wasted.
By noon, the sun had burned through enough mist to cast actual shadows. Hanekawa settled into a tree across from a modest house and pulled out a scroll of Fire Style techniques. Reading was a convenient excuse to watch the entrance.
The footsteps came eventually—confident, unhurried.
Mei Terumi emerged in a tube-top dress cinched with a white belt, the fabric clinging to her frame in ways that made her status as a future Kage seem almost incidental. Her reddish-brown hair fell past her shoulders, one strand artfully covering her right eye. The dress split at the thigh, revealing black fishnet stockings and thigh-high boots.
"Little maid," Hanekawa called down.
Mei's entire body went rigid. She looked up, disbelief written across her face.
"Don't recognize me?" He dropped from the tree, canceling the transformation jutsu.
"I'd recognize you if you were ashes, you pervert!" Her voice could have cut glass.
"And yet you're the one becoming Mizukage. Manners matter, you know."
"Not to you, they don't." She turned away sharply.
Hanekawa stepped closer. "No?"
Mei backed up instinctively until the door stopped her retreat. "What do you want?"
"A maid dress would suit you. I could teach you proper etiquette."
"You're dreaming!"
He leaned in slightly, catching the faint scent of her perfume. "Seems like you're about to refuse."
Something flickered in her eyes—calculation, wariness, and something else. Mei took a breath. "Fine. I'll change."
Interesting. She'd caved faster than expected. Then again, she knew what he was capable of. Capturing the Two-Tails and Eight-Tails alive wasn't the kind of resume that invited defiance.
She emerged minutes later in the cat-ear maid outfit from their previous "transaction," black stockings pristine against her skin. Hanekawa settled onto the sofa and closed his eyes.
"What should you call me?" he asked when she returned with tea, her movements stiff with indignation.
"Master," she said through gritted teeth.
"Better. Pour the tea, little maid."
"You!" Her hands trembled—whether from anger or something else, he couldn't quite tell. But she poured anyway. The bet they'd made before still held weight. More importantly, Konoha's strength made any retaliation suicidal.
"Master, please have your tea," she finally managed, the words dragged out like they tasted of poison.
Hanekawa sipped slowly, savoring both the tea and her irritation. "Why did you come to the Hidden Mist?"
"To help you become Mizukage."
"I don't need your help!" She said it with absolute certainty. "I'll become the Fifth Mizukage myself."
Smart. She knew his help always came with a price. Becoming Kage was too important to mortgage away.
"I have information about your Fourth Mizukage, Yagura Karatachi," Hanekawa said, setting down his cup. "Interested?"
"What kind of information?"
"The kind that determines whether your village survives."
Mei's laugh was sharp. "The Fourth Mizukage is in his prime and a jinchuriki. How could he threaten Hidden Mist's survival?"
"Why would I lie to you?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. He had a point.
"Is Konoha planning to attack us?" Fear crept into her voice.
"Come here."
She stepped forward automatically, and Hanekawa's hand connected with her thigh—a sharp slap that made the black stockings ripple. "Why are you so stupid, little maid?"
"What are you—" She jumped back, face flushed. "Stop that!"
"If Konoha wanted war, we wouldn't have negotiated an alliance first. We keep our word." He let that settle. "The threat isn't from us."
"Then who?"
"That information has a price."
Mei's eyes narrowed. "I can't judge its value without knowing what it is."
"Fair point." Hanekawa leaned back. "I'll tell you first. You can't run anyway."
She wanted to argue but knew he was right. With his strength, escape was fantasy.
"Do you know Uchiha Madara?"
"The ninja from the Age of Warring States? He died at the Valley of the End."
"He didn't die. He's been alive, and he's been controlling your Mizukage through genjutsu."
Mei's face went pale. "That's impossible. The Mizukage is a jinchuriki—"
"Madara's Sharingan isn't ordinary. There's a level above the Three-Tomoe that can control even the Nine-Tails. Your Three-Tails jinchuriki never stood a chance."
The color drained from her face. If true, it meant everything—the village's stability, her future, all of it rested on a lie. But it also meant opportunity. "How can we be sure?"
"Sharingan control is genjutsu. You know how to break genjutsu." He smiled slightly. "You have genjutsu specialists. Get one close to Yagura, disrupt his chakra flow, and the illusion breaks."
Understanding dawned. She turned toward the door.
"Little maid," Hanekawa reminded, "you're still wearing the maid outfit."
Mei froze mid-step, then hurried back to change. When she returned in proper clothes, she headed straight for the door again.
"I'm coming with you," Hanekawa said, standing.
"Why?"
"Because someone needs to explain where this intelligence came from. Unless you want to claim you figured out a centuries-old conspiracy on your own?"
She wanted to argue but couldn't. Reluctantly, she led him toward Elder Genji's residence.
The elder's eyes widened when Hanekawa appeared beside Mei. He gripped his snake-headed cane like a weapon. "Hanekawa. From Konoha."
"The same." Hanekawa smiled pleasantly. "I'm here to discuss cooperation."
Mei recounted everything—the intelligence, the theory about Madara, the possibility of control. Genji's expression shifted from skepticism to alarm.
"If this is true..." he began.
"It is," Hanekawa said simply. "When you break the genjutsu, Madara will know. I'll handle what comes next."
"We can manage our own affairs," Genji said firmly. Pride, Hanekawa recognized. The old man didn't want to owe Konoha anything.
"Of course." Hanekawa inclined his head. "Though if you do manage to kill him, I'd like to purchase the body."
Genji's expression suggested he found that request deeply unsettling.
But he didn't refuse.