The corridors of Kirigakure's Mizukage Tower were quiet at this hour, the kind of silence that spoke louder than footsteps. The storm earlier in the evening had washed the mist clean, leaving only a thin veil curling over the stone streets below. High above the village, behind walls of carved obsidian, Kozan moved with a soft precision that made him almost part of the fog itself.
He had not been summoned to this meeting yet Mei's summons had found him without explanation. She rarely called him for idle talk. When she did speak to him directly, it was always because something was shifting. And Kozan had learned to read those shifts better than most.
The chamber was warm with candlelight, its windows framed by heavy drapes embroidered with Kirigakure's crest. Mei Terumī sat at the far side of the table, her posture relaxed but her gaze fixed on an open scroll. Beside her sat an aide, who quietly stepped back as Kozan entered.
"Ah," Mei said without turning her head. "There you are."
Kozan stopped at the threshold, silent. "You summoned me."
"I did." She folded the scroll with deliberate slowness. "Sit."
He did, sliding into the opposite chair with the same grace that concealed the weight of his years in war. For a long moment, neither spoke. Outside, the wind tapped softly against the window, as though aware this conversation was not for the common ear.
Finally, Mei spoke. "Our enemies are talking about you."
Kozan did not react. He only inclined his head once.
"They've given you a name," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Not 'the shadow in the fog' anymore. They call you Kozan."
Her voice was measured, but there was a weight in it. Names mattered in war. Names became banners, or curses.
Kozan said nothing. He folded his hands on the table. His pale blue eyes reflected candlelight like still water.
Mei leaned forward. "Iwa. Konoha. Even Land of Stone whispers your name now. A curiosity. A weapon. A warning. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes," Kozan replied quietly. "It means they notice."
"And that means?" she pressed.
"They fear." His voice was low, almost an echo. "But they don't know what to fear."
A small smile touched Mei's lips. "You understand better than most. That is why you are at my side."
She unfurled the scroll. A series of reports lay before her fragments of Iwa intelligence, intercepted letters from Konoha, coded messages from distant agents. Each one spoke of Kozan in the same hushed tones: "Mei's shadow," "Nameless guardian," "The Mist's edge," and finally, a name.
Kozan scanned them without emotion. He knew they existed before rumor and report were tools of war. But to see them written down, bound in parchment and ink, gave the rumors a permanence.
"Names," he murmured, "are easier to target than shadows."
Mei's gaze sharpened. "That is why we use them both."
There was a silence between them, but it was not uncomfortable. Kozan's stillness was not hesitation it was resolve. He knew what his name now meant. Not power alone, but responsibility. Not safety, but exposure.
"And yet you do not seem disturbed by it," Mei said softly. "That is not the way of most."
He looked toward her, unflinching. "I am not most. Names change. Shadows endure."
Her lips curved. "You speak like you have already chosen your place in this war."
"I have." Kozan's voice was calm, almost reverent. "I am your shadow. The Mist has not yet learned who I am, but they will."
The aide who had stepped away earlier returned quietly, placing another scroll before Mei. She glanced at it briefly and then looked back at Kozan.
"They speak of you as if you were a myth. But myths shape reality. Every name is a story, Kozan. And the story they are telling will shape how the world treats us."
He nodded once. "Then I will ensure it is the story I want them to tell."
Mei regarded him for a long moment. "You are more than a blade, Kozan. You are a symbol. That is a dangerous thing to become."
"Symbols outlive warriors," he replied simply. "Let them name me, Mei. I will own it."
Outside, the mist curled higher, slipping past the windows and into the chamber like smoke. It wrapped itself around him, and Kozan felt the truth of his place settle in his chest. Names carved stone. Shadows shaped destinies. He was both now.
Mei rose, folding the reports carefully. "We will let the world whisper your name for now. But soon, Kozan we will make them remember it."
Kozan rose as well, his expression unreadable. "Then we will be ready."
She inclined her head once, a gesture of quiet approval. The air between them was not filled with noise or heat it was something sharper. A promise.
He turned toward the door, but paused. "Mei."
"Yes?"
"When the world speaks of Kozan let them understand this is no boast. It is a warning."
She smiled faintly, the candlelight catching in her eyes. "A warning, indeed."
As he left the chamber, the wind outside carried their words into the night. Somewhere in Kirigakure, the mist deepened. Somewhere beyond its borders, the name Kozan was already beginning to take root.