The forest east of the River Shōji was heavy with fog, thick enough to muffle even the crunch of leaves beneath careful feet. Akari crouched beside a moss-covered boulder, his eyes fixed on the flickering campfire ahead. Four shinobi sat around it—none from Konoha.
Their headbands were foreign. Land of Lightning.
He had no orders to kill, not yet. This was reconnaissance. But that didn't mean he would leave without a message.
From the shadows, he stepped forward silently, placing a single kunai into the bark of a tree just within the camp's view. It gleamed ominously in the firelight. One of the enemy shinobi stood and narrowed his eyes.
"Someone's watching."
The others immediately reached for their weapons, forming defensive stances. But by the time they looked toward the trees, Akari was already gone.
Farther into the forest, he leapt between branches with practiced ease, his long black hair trailing behind him like a silk banner in the night wind. The crescent-shaped seal on his shoulder shimmered faintly beneath his kimono as chakra pulsed beneath his skin.
By the time he reached the hidden relay station, a hawk had already been dispatched back to Konoha.
He pulled off his mask and entered the small underground room. It was lit by dim lanterns and smelled faintly of parchment and ink. A woman with short-cropped hair and sharp eyes looked up from the scrolls.
"You're back early," she said. "That's either very good or very bad."
"I found a forward unit from the Lightning clans," Akari said. "They're scouting near our border."
She frowned. "That's not good. Madara and Hashirama need to see this."
"They already suspect," he replied calmly. "But now they'll have proof."
**
Meanwhile, back in Konoha, the great hall of the Senju compound was unusually quiet. Hashirama stood at the central table, hands pressed against an open map marked with colored pins and thin red lines. Madara leaned against a pillar nearby, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"They're probing our defenses," Hashirama said.
"They're waiting for weakness," Madara added. "But they'll find only steel."
Tobirama entered the room, scroll in hand. "Akari just sent confirmation. The Lightning clans have positioned scouts across three different routes."
Madara's eyes narrowed. "Then it begins."
Hashirama looked up. "We act swiftly, but not rashly. We give them a warning. One strike, precise and loud."
"And who delivers that strike?" Tobirama asked, though he already knew the answer.
Madara glanced out the window, toward the village walls, where the forest began.
"Who else?"
**
That night, Akari stood alone beneath the open sky.
He tied back his long hair, adjusted the blade at his back, and slipped the mask back onto his face. His orders were clear.
But this wasn't just another mission. This was the start of something larger.
Not open war—not yet—but something far more dangerous: the first act of dominance, the first shadow cast across the fractured nations of shinobi. And Akari would be the hand that carried it out.
He vanished into the trees, a whisper between the leaves.
The crescent moon was nearly full.