Leveraging the Crisis at the Border and the Paper Release Emissary's Concession

The air in the Hokage's Office seemed to solidify into amber that instant, sealing the three of them in their respective places.

Shikaku Nara stood by the door, one hand still on the doorknob. The usual laziness on his face had vanished completely, leaving behind only the stiffness wrought by the sudden turn of events.

The woman made of paper, the emissary of that "god," had begun to dissipate, but her body solidified once more. Her pupil-less eyes looked past Baishi toward Shikaku Nara at the door, as though assessing the truth and weight of this intelligence.

Baishi did not move.

He did not even look at Shikaku Nara.

The tearing pain rising from the depths of his Meridians, carrying the scent of sand and stone, grew sharper with the arrival of this urgent military report. Yet he merely shifted his gaze slowly from the paper woman opposite him to the cup of tea on his desk, long since gone cold.

On the water's surface lay the reflection of the stark white light from the ceiling lamp.

"Interesting."

Baishi spoke softly, but his words were like a stone cast into a deathly still pond, sending ripples through the stalemate.

Shikaku Nara froze. He had anticipated the Hokage's shock, anger, or immediate decisiveness in entering a state of war. The one thing he had not expected was the word "interesting."

The paper woman opposite him also stirred ever so slightly. Several sheets forming her shoulders curled unnaturally.

Baishi paid no heed to their reactions and leisurely turned his gaze back to the paper woman.

"Madam Emissary, do you see it?"

"A chaotic, disorderly Land of Rain is like an unlocked granary. It will always draw hungry neighbors."

His tone was as calm as if they were discussing the weather, but the