---
The council chamber was dim, lit only by a pair of hanging lanterns that swayed slightly in the night breeze. Around the table, faces were grave.
"The militia," said Tobirama, tapping the scroll Akari had brought in. "They're not just former shinobi. We've identified missing-nin from multiple clans. Organized. Armed."
"Do they have a leader?" Hashirama asked.
Akari answered, "A man named Shidan. Former Cloud shinobi. Charismatic, skilled, and disillusioned. He's gathering the dissatisfied—those who see our unity as domination."
Madara scoffed. "So what if it is? Better one strong hand than a thousand broken fingers. Let me take a squad—"
"No," Hashirama interrupted gently but firmly. "We won't escalate without understanding their intent."
Akari nodded slowly, but Madara's stare burned into him. "You brought this to us. You know how this ends if we hesitate."
"I do," Akari replied. "But I also know how it ends if we strike too early."
Tobirama folded his arms. "Then what's your proposal?"
"Let me go alone. I'll speak to Shidan. See if this can be stopped before it spreads."
Madara laughed without humor. "You think words will reach him?"
"I think mine might," Akari said quietly.
Hashirama met his eyes. There was silence in the room. Then a slow nod.
"Go."
---
Two nights later, Akari stood at the edge of the forest near the Lightning border. Behind him, the last lights of Konoha glimmered like fireflies in the dark.
Ahead, shadows moved through trees—watchers. Scouts. He stepped forward anyway.
He made no move for a weapon, only raised his hand.
"I'm not here to fight," he said. "I'm here to speak."
The forest remained silent, but he knew he was being heard. Eventually, a figure stepped out.
Shidan was taller than he expected, wrapped in tattered robes bearing old Cloud insignia, eyes sharp with distrust.
"You've got nerve," the man said. "Walking in here like you're not part of the machine choking the world."
"I'm part of Konoha," Akari said, "and I'm here because I believe we can avoid another war."
Shidan laughed, bitter. "War's already here. You just haven't admitted it."
"But you haven't declared it either," Akari said. "Which means you're still waiting for something."
A pause. Shidan studied him.
"I'm waiting to see if the so-called village of peace is just another empire in disguise."
"Then come see it," Akari offered. "See the schools. The children. The way we've ended clan feuds. Talk to those who once saw each other as enemies."
Shidan's jaw tightened. "And what if I do? What happens when I say no?"
Akari's voice lowered. "Then I return alone. And I tell them we tried."
He didn't say what would happen after.
He didn't have to.
---
That night, Shidan let him live—and gave him until dawn.
As Akari returned through the trees, thoughts churned. Diplomacy had always been the thin blade he carried—one too easily snapped.
But there was still a chance.
A slim, flickering chance.
And as long as it existed, he would guard it.
Even if it cost him everything.