A few eagles flew just beneath the grey blanket that floats above the hilly terrain. Playfully chasing eachother while noticeably dodging the rays of sunshine poking through the thick clouds and the mountains piercing through them too.
Now, as some of you reading may know, birds happen to fly pretty close to the ground unless they are migrating or avoiding other animals. So...
Why are there birds so high up in the sky?
Sadly, your inital assumption is false. The clouds in this country are much closer to the ground than in other countries, though the Land Of Water does have some clouds that are much closer to the ground.
Instead of consistently raining, like in the Land Of Water, the clouds here were seemingly always charged with an electric anger and had a tendency to release this fury upon the terrain, giving it it's name: The Land Of Lightning.
Rumours say the reason the reason the top of the mountains are flat is because that used to be the ground level and the constant strong thunder storms whittled away at most of the ground.
Needless to say, the first inhabitants of such a place were deemed crazy. Fortunately for them they had lightning affinities and for generations they learnt how to focus lightning into specifc areas using chakra, and later on, metal. Unintentionally giving them one of the largest headstarts in technological field and allowing their leader to deem this a habitable environment to settle.
Though, due to the people's concerns of lightning strikes ontop of other tribes and wild animals attacking them, the predecessor of the first Raikage used this country's unique geography and diplomatic tactics to unite multiple different tribes into joining forces and safely live to be on a mountain range that pierced the clouds. Intentionally creating a village, that the passage of time and multiple wars would mould into one of the Five Great Villages. The Village Hidden In The Clouds or Kumogakure.
Unfortunately, a seemingly small disagreement would lead to one of the biggest blunders for Kumo. Despite the vast majority of people going with their leader's train of thought, not all the tribes agreed with this move. Instead, they felt it would be better to go where ever the ore deposits take them. Later, this small group would form the greatest trading countries in the whole shinobi world due to their monopoly on Ore: The Land of Iron.
-~
In the present day, the sun sprayed the Village Hidden in the Clouds with a golden wave of almost ever present sunshine against the ever‑present chill. Cold zephyrs wound between narrow streets and market stalls, tugging at cloaks and carrying the scent of steel and incense from the Raikage's tower.
From that very building, a small figure strode swiftly - beige tunic, brown cloak, baggy trousers tied at the ankles like any Kumo academy student. To onlookers, he was just another child: late for class. But what they didn't know was, his gaze cut sharper than any blade.
Between vendors selling roasted chestnuts and arrays of polished kunai, he caught sight of two Jōnin. Beige flak jackets, loose trousers, forehead protectors gleaming with the triple‑oval emblem. He fell in behind them, casual, careful to stay within earshot.
"…they're still alive?" one murmured, voice low.
"Resilient," the other replied. "An Uzumaki, even sedated, have more physical energy than their captors combined."
"They were rumored to be hard to kill," the first said.
"Who would've thought they were this hard to kill off." The other ninja stated.
He had eavesdropped on these specific ninja to know that their convo would only derail from here. So, the 'kid' didn't miss a beat.
When the pair turned into a side street, he veered off through a narrow alley. Shadows swallowed him. His small form shimmered, rippling upward into a taller silhouette. The beige tunic vanished, replaced by a dark cloak falling to his calves.
A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips. "No kidding."
He knelt, producing a tightly rolled scroll from within his sleeve. In brisk, precise strokes, he scrawled the final characters. He nicked his thumb with a kunai's edge, breifly pressed his eyelids shut in concentration before pressing his palm to the wall. A ring of glowing kanji flared out, then winked away.
In the next instant, a hawk materialized in a puff of smoke, its feathers ruffled by the cold. A green ribbon bound one leg—marked with a simple, hand‑drawn leaf.
The spy met the hawk's keen gaze. He tied the scroll to its leg. "To Konoha," he whispered.
The bird dipped its head, then leapt into the sky. Its silhouette vanished over the rooftops.
The spy took a deep breath as their height slowly morphed back into their previous form. He sighed deeply before opening his eyes and shouted, like any worried kid, "I'm going to be late!"
-~< A Week Later >~-
The air was thinner this high up. Mist clung to the top of the mountain like ghostly fingers, whispering secrets while the sea of grey clouds warned him of danger. The elevation would have pulled on every breath, but this silver haired shinobi wasn't bothered by it. Not through his mask nor under the weight of what he was about to do.
He's doing something for the betterment of the village his friends, sensei and dad... gave so much for. Getting his hands dirty to get this mission completed, isn't an issue. Though...
He crouched behind a jagged outcrop, one eye closed beneath his forehead protector, the other scanning Kumo's outer watchtowers - glimmering faintly with chakra‑detection fields. Their radius left blind spots wide enough for a trained shinobi. An obvious blunder, but it's to be expected in peace time.
Behind him, his ANBU squad of three held their positions. One had slipped off to mark exfiltration routes. Another sustained a sensory barrier that would twitch if patrols closed in. This was no frontal assault. It was surgical.
Kakashi unrolled the mission scroll, not to remind himself but to refocus:
Target: Uzumaki captives in Kumo
Objective: Extraction, dead or alive (priority: alive)
Secondary: Destroy any research or experimentation data
Rules: No engagement unless compromised. Silence above all.
He let the parchment's edges curl in his fingers, breathing in slowly. Kushina always longed for her fellow uzumaki's, it's to be expected of the heiress of an exterminated clan.
Sadly, neither sensei (her husband) nor the Legendary Sannin and Toad Sage: Jiraya the Gallant could find one. Though she never stopped searching in her free time.
Thankfully, her longing was focused onto her child with her husband, Minato. Kakashi's eyes gained a thoughtful tint as he remembered his sensei's (and father figure) family.
This is more than a retrieval.
It was fufilling a promise he made to her.
A familiar spike in chakra warned him of his chance. He slipped through a dead zone in the perimeter seal. Two more steps, and he vaulted a detection wall. The storage compound came into view—a squat building of reinforced concrete, minimal guards, and glowing kanji that spoke of chakra suppression.
Perfect.
He crouched in the shadow of its eaves. Exhaling his thoughts and steadying his heart till he was ready to disappear into its depths: what the ANBU were famous for.
...
The cold air inside the storage compound thickened with silence as Kakashi pressed his back against the wall, eyes scanning the dim corridor ahead. A bead of condensation traced the side of his porcelain mask, disappearing into the wool of his cowl.
Beneath his fingers, the stone wall pulsed faintly—a chakra barrier, interlaced with suppression runes. Kumo had not been careless, just confident. A subtle arrogance born from decades without direct confrontation. Kakashi didn't blame them.
He followed the inner hall deeper, each step absorbing sound like moss underfoot. The deeper he went, the more the air staled—stolen of wind, warmth, and time.
A curved stairwell yawned ahead, spiraling into the mountain's roots. Seals glimmered faintly along its arch, etched deep into stone like the bones of some forgottenbeast. The script was old. Not native. And unmistakable.
UzumakiFuinjutsu, though poorly replicated.
A crude echo of a lost city's craft - Uzoshigakure, once proud and secretive, now buried beneath salt and sea.
Kakashi paused, knelt briefly, pressing two fingers to a seal near the base of the arch. The ink didn't bite—it pulsed. Defensive, not active. He could almost feel the frustration of whoever carved it, trying to mirror something they didn't understand. Trying to copy the genius of a clan they couldn't conquer.
He exhaled.
"Down we go," he murmured, voice barely audible even to himself.
The spiral descended into a throat of silence, stone pressing close, the steps narrowing, shadows growing darker with each coil downward. Every few meters, the air cooled further, a stillness settling over his shoulders like frost.
Somewhere beneath him—inside the mountain—were the captives.
And a chance to make things right