While Senju Tobirama faced the scorching winds of the desert, the other Konoha envoys—Hyūga Tennin, Sarutobi Sasuke, and Uchiha Nao—arrived at their respective destinations in the Lands of Lightning, Earth, and Water. Each walked into the halls of another nation's First Kage, each expecting a negotiation.
They all found the same thing.
A wall.
The Desert Talks
Tobirama sat opposite the First Kazekage, Liedō, in Sunagakure's audience hall. The tension felt like dry sand scraping across steel.
"So," Tobirama said coolly, "Lord Kazekage insists One-Tail belongs to the Land of Wind?"
His tone was polite.
His eyes were not.
Yes, Tobirama had ambition.
But he wasn't stupid enough to weaken Konoha just to advance his own plans.
Liedō smiled, as if stating something obvious to a child.
"I've said it many times. Shukaku is a creature born from this land. The First Hokage took it from us by force."
"You—"
Tobirama's jaw tightened. The retort died in his throat. He couldn't start a war here with one sentence.
Liedō leaned forward, voice soft but razor-edged.
"Last time the First Hokage invaded our borders for One-Tail, my country lost hundreds of shinobi and civilians. Therefore, Konoha must compensate us. We want the Yellow Sands territory to the south."
The audacity was blinding.
Tobirama barked a short, incredulous laugh.
Konoha had sent him to negotiate.
He had expected stalling, maybe threats.
Not this level of open greed.
"Konoha has nothing further to discuss," Tobirama said coldly, rising to his feet.
Liedō didn't even flinch.
"Lord Tobirama," he said calmly, "don't forget—not only Sunagakure seeks the tailed beasts."
The implication was clear.
The world had united against Konoha.
And Konoha stood alone.
Tobirama left without another word.
The Kazekage's Real Play
As soon as Tobirama's silhouette vanished, Liedō waved to an attendant.
"Prepare the border forces. Increase our presence along the Fire Country frontier."
Sunagakure wasn't just bargaining anymore.
They were sharpening their kunai.
And they weren't the only ones.
A Failed Mission
Tobirama's escort looked uneasy as the desert winds howled behind them.
"Lord Tobirama… are we really returning already?"
"Do you want to stay?" Tobirama snapped.
The poor chūnin shook his head so fast he nearly dislocated something.
The negotiations had lasted barely three hours.
In diplomatic terms, that meant:
This wasn't a negotiation.
It was an ultimatum disguised as hospitality.
Tobirama's mind raced.
The First Kazekage wasn't strong enough alone to threaten Konoha.
Not even close.
Which meant—
"They've joined forces," Tobirama muttered under his breath. "The Five Great Nations… and even the smaller ones. They've aligned their demands to corner us."
It wasn't paranoia.
It was deduction.
If Konoha refused to surrender even one tailed beast, the united pressure could collapse the village before it recovered from Raizen's disappearance.
He closed his eyes.
"Do we really have to surrender the tailed beasts…?"
Giving them up meant handing over nuclear weapons.
Keeping them meant facing the rest of the world.
This wasn't a decision a single envoy could make.
"…Big Brother will have to decide."
He hoped Hashirama could save the tailed beasts.
But even Tobirama knew the truth:
This time, the Five Great Nations weren't bluffing.
The Storm Rolls In
News spread back to Konoha like wildfire.
Not a single envoy succeeded.
Every First Kage demanded the same things:
Hand over a tailed beast.
Hand over resources.
Or face war.
Worse, within days, shinobi from multiple nations began moving toward the Fire Country border. Tens of thousands.
Encampments rose like iron thorns around the Land of Fire.
Lines on the map turned into armies.
And the message was unmistakable:
Hand them over, or we march.
Konoha erupted in anger and fear.
The strongest village in the world…
surrounded on all sides.
And without a Hokage in place, without Raizen's overwhelming presence, the village suddenly looked very small beneath the shadow of war.
Even veteran shinobi felt it:
If Konoha lost this next battle,
the village wouldn't just weaken—
It might cease to exist.