It was a dark, windy night.
The Sunagakure delegation had already settled into the residence Konoha had arranged for them.
Pakura had just finished bathing. She hung the Kazekage Ceremonial Robe on the wall and sat at the desk in her lodgings, writing furiously in nothing but a black, sleeveless, backless bodysuit.
After briefly recording the events of her meeting with Hiruzen Sarutobi that day and the matters they had discussed, the Acting Kazekage rose, washed her face, and stretched languidly.
The motion showed off every graceful curve of her figure beneath the lamplight. Her bare back gleamed with an ivory sheen, as pleasing to the eye as a jade sculptor's finest masterpiece.
However-
Pakura was not in a particularly good mood.
Her talks with Hiruzen Sarutobi that morning had not gone very smoothly.
She had expected that result.
After all, Konoha was strong, while Sunagakure was weak. They might talk about forming an alliance of equals, but everyone knew that true equality rested on strength. Konoha would naturally try to drive down the price, while Sunagakure would have to fight for its interests through several rounds of wrangling.
The problem was-
On formal occasions like these, so many things could not be stated outright. Everything required roundabout remarks and diplomatic maneuvering. It took far more mental effort than fighting someone.
Of course, things had been much the same back in Sunagakure. Most of its elders were old fossils left over from the Second or even the First Shinobi World War, all deeply calculating. Beside them, Pakura was like a raw recruit, often having to ponder their intentions over and over.
And so-
Pakura often found herself missing the days when she had been an ordinary Jonin.
No, wait-
Rasa had plotted against her back then too. Once, she had