One Week After the End of the War Between Iwagakure and Konohagakure
The sun was beginning to set over Iwagakure, casting a soft amber hue over the stone-covered village. The war was over… or so the people hoped.
But not everyone in the village welcomed peace.
In the heart of Iwagakure, nestled between ancestral walls and sealed streets, stood the district of the Shorihana Clan—one of the wealthiest and most politically influential families in the entire Land of Earth. Their power had been built over generations: through business, through marriage, through blood.
And tonight… through conspiracy.
Within the estate, a large single-story traditional residence stretched around an inner courtyard filled with trimmed bonsai trees and a koi pond that shimmered beneath paper lanterns. Sliding wooden doors separated each room, and the scent of incense drifted softly in the air. But beneath its peaceful appearance, the compound was brimming with tension.
Behind a heavy sealed door, reinforced with chakra-infused seals and guarded by elite clan shinobi, four individuals sat around a low wooden table in a quiet, dimly lit chamber.
This was no ordinary gathering.
At the head of the table sat the Patriarch of the Shorihana Clan—a sharp-eyed man in his late fifties. Though age had silvered his hair, his voice still carried the weight of command. Once a renowned jonin, he now ruled from behind closed doors, wielding influence like a blade. His eyes burned with quiet fury.
Beside him sat Kuzuki Shorihana, his niece. Once a promising candidate for the role of Tsuchikage, she was now a respected jonin whose strength remained unchallenged. Calm and intelligent, Kuzuki observed the room with a narrowed gaze, analyzing every movement, every silence.
Across from them sat the Patriarch of the Dorohai Clan, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stone-like presence. His expression was unreadable—only those who knew him well could see the flickers of calculation behind his stoic mask.
Standing beside him was Nakabe Dorohai, his personal guard and one of the most feared shinobi in Iwagakure. Nakabe had no seat at the table, but his presence spoke volumes. The room was sealed, but even here, danger hovered like smoke.
There were no greetings. No formalities. The Shorihana Patriarch broke the silence with steel in his voice.
"The Tsuchikage has ruined our village," he said flatly. "We lost too many shinobi… and for what? Nothing. No land gained. No honor restored. Only graves. It's time we replace Arano."
The words struck like a kunai through silk. Even the unshaken Dorohai Patriarch slightly raised an eyebrow. Yet no one showed overt emotion. In political war, emotion was weakness.
Still, the directness was bold—even for a Shorihana.
"You don't waste words," the Dorohai Patriarch replied. "But I'll ask you to be more specific. You know as well as I do that a Tsuchikage is not easily removed. Traditionally, they step down only in death or abdication."
The Shorihana elder leaned forward, hands clasped.
"Everyone in this village knows the truth. Arano's pride cost us the war. He overextended our forces, used tactic that costed our ninja their lives, and clashed directly with Konoha's Yellow Flash. Now we owe the Daimyō a fortune we cannot repay. When Arano inevitably loses the Daimyō's support, we strike. With your clan, mine, and the growing resentment in the village… we can pressure him to step down."
Kuzuki remained silent, her eyes observing the Dorohai leader for any reaction. None came.
"An interesting theory," Dorohai finally said. "But flawed. You assume Arano will step down because of political pressure. But I remind you… Arano is no fool. He's survived assassination attempts. Defeated entire enemy squads himself. You think he'll simply walk away because people whisper behind his back?"
"Which is why we must be subtle," the Shorihana Patriarch countered. "We don't attack him directly—not at first. We start with the Daimyō. Quietly. We inform him that Arano cannot fulfill his obligations. That his leadership is destabilizing the village. If we spread enough doubt… he may cut off support."
"And after that?" Dorohai asked, his voice lower. "What then?"
"We spread rumors—targeted, believable. He's already unpopular with some of the elders and civilian . Add pressure from the minor clans, and we tip the scales. If we can bring the Kentori Clan to our side, we'll have three major clans supporting change."
The Dorohai Patriarch scoffed faintly.
"The Kentori walk the path of safety. They are cautious, neutral. They rarely act unless they know the outcome. You may waste your time courting them… but I won't."
"We'll see," the Shorihana said. "But once the groundwork is laid, we force a decision. Either Arano steps down peacefully… or he stands alone."
There was a long pause.
Then Dorohai leaned back, arms crossed.
"You talk of plans, but we are playing with fire. Even if you succeed, you risk splitting the village. If your ambitions backfire, I won't sacrifice my clan for them. Let that be clear. If my people are threatened… I will cut ties immediately."
"Understood," the Shorihana Patriarch replied. "But think of the reward. If we succeed, the next Tsuchikage could come from our side. Or at least… be married into our clans. Imagine the strength of such a union."
"Let's not talk of marriage before the war begins," Dorohai muttered. "Win first. Then we'll speak of the future."
Their conversation continued deep into the night, the glow of the lanterns flickering like dying embers as plans were whispered and alliances weighed. Eventually, the Dorohai Patriarch stood, giving a simple nod before turning.
Nakabe silently followed him into the corridor, both vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had come.
Now alone, the Shorihana Patriarch remained seated. He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a scroll and brush. Carefully, he wrote something brief—just a few words.
Then he rang a small chime.
Moments later, a masked shinobi of the Shorihana clan entered the chamber and knelt.
"This order must be carried out," the Patriarch said, handing over the note. "Swiftly. And with absolute discretion."
The ninja took the scroll, bowed, and disappeared without a sound.
The room fell silent once again.
Arano had ended one war.But now… another war—one of clans, of influence, and of power—had just begun.
And this one would be fought in the shadows of Iwagakure itself.