The cemetery of Hidden Sand Village lay in a canyon at the village's eastern edge.
Whether because of the terrain or the tombstones, the place always felt cold and gloomy.
Four-year-old Sasori sat on the frigid ground, staring blankly at the photographs on the grave marker, his small body trembling.
All year, he had clung to every possible fantasy, watching the horizon from the village gate, waiting for his parents to return.
He refused to go back to the empty house; at night, when darkness swallowed him after he flicked the switch, he could not stop the tears.
"They'll be back very soon," everyone told him. But even if it were a lie, he wanted to believe it.
"All I needed was that one sentence—why did you have to tear it apart!"
Sasori remembered the Chunin Instructor's roar that morning: "Your parents are dead! My son died because of your grandmother—why aren't you dead too!"
Why had the kind teacher suddenly become so cruel?
Sasori did not know, nor did he want to. The only words echoing in his mind were: your parents are dead.
Gazing at the icy grave, his nose stung; heat clogged his throat, his chest ached, and tears welled up. He pressed his palms tightly against his eyes, but the tears slipped through regardless.
Suddenly, he stood and slammed the faded Assembly Puppet he had been clutching against the ground.
The puppet hit with a splat, shattering into pieces scattered in every direction.
The next second, regret washed over him. He bent down to collect the shards, but his foot slipped on a stone, and he crashed to the ground.
Ignoring the pain, he scrambled for the pieces, but eventually gave up and sat wailing, broken and small against the expanse of the graveyard.
From nearby, Ebizo watched silently, sighing softly before approaching.
"Grand-uncle, is Grandmother dead?"
"No… she was taken to Konoha; she should return in a few days."
"…Mm." Sasori rose slowly.
"Don't tell her I already know my parents are dead," he said, his tone stiff, devoid of feeling.
"…I… I understand," Ebizo whispered, sighing deeply. Sister, come back soon… he prayed silently.
Meanwhile, Hidden Sand Village's negotiation party finally departed for Konohagakure.
The venue was not in the Hokage building. Though impressive, it stood at the village center. If anything went wrong, Hiruzen Sarutobi would face censure from every faction—and outrage from the villagers.
Thus, the meeting was placed on Konoha's eastern edge, near the prison, convenient for the Anbu to escort the Third Kazekage and Chiyo Iwakura.
When Hayashi, Jiraiya, and the others arrived, many Jonin were already waiting outside. After greeting the guards, the four walked toward the center of the hall.
The Sand envoys had not yet arrived. Inside, besides the Hokage, sat several Konoha elders.
"You're here," Hiruzen Sarutobi nodded to the four, speaking little on such a solemn occasion.
Utatane Koharu shot a glance at Hayashi, silently telling him to find a seat.
Seeing Jiraiya, Sakumo, and Orochimaru take their places, Hayashi knew better than to sit alone. A mascot must know its place—even standing like a lackey was part of the role.
He politely declined Aunt Koharu's offer and took his corner.
"That's Kagami's son, Konoha's youngest Jonin?"
Quiet whispers reached Hayashi's ears.
"Yes," Utatane Koharu murmured to the elder beside her. "He distinguished himself in the Land of Rain and the Land of Rivers—impressive, isn't it?"
Her pride was clear; a stranger might have thought Hayashi was her own son.
"Ahem," the Third Hokage coughed lightly, eyes forward, but the message was clear. After his cough, the elders fell silent, though a few curious glances still swept toward Hayashi's corner.
Had it not been a political compromise, Hiruzen Sarutobi would never have formed the Elders' Council.
One village was hardly enough for him and his three senior advisors, let alone a council drawn from every clan.
All authority now rested with the Third, yet who could guarantee the future—or the Fourth—would face no problems? Not every Hokage possessed the strength of the First and Second; the Third's political skill alone was formidable.
Watching the elders, the Hokage's gaze turned cold. Five more minutes passed before a Konoha ninja entered.
"Lord Third, the Suna envoys have been brought through the side gate, as you ordered, avoiding the main entrance."
"Good. Bring them in." Hiruzen nodded.
Moments later, five Sand envoys, escorted by two Konoha Jonin, entered the hall.
"Third Hokage, after so many years, you remain as distinguished as ever." The Sand leader removed his straw hat, revealing an aged face.
"Had I known Elder Masa himself would come, I would have greeted you at the gate," the Third Hokage replied, chuckling and tapping ash from his pipe.
"Spare me the courtesy."
Elder Masa of Suna cut straight to the point.
"Where are our Third Kazekage and Elder Chiyo?"
"No rush; we have much to discuss, such as how much you are prepared to offer for their release."
The Third Hokage responded with his kindly, amiable smile, concealing the weight of the situation perfectly.