You Fat Bastard, You Really Deserve to Die

The secret envoy delivered the letter and withdrew.

Rasa clenched his jaw and forced down the curse that had risen to his lips.

"Well, well. Lord Kazekage's self-control is truly something else."

A folded his arms and sneered, his voice shaking snow from the roof.

He pointed at Rasa. Tea was still dripping from the back of his hand, which had turned bright red.

"Calm even if a mountain collapses in front of you?"

A flashed a broad grin.

"The back of your hand's nearly cooked. How about changing color for us?"

"Shall I call a medical ninja for you?"

Ōnoki hovered in midair, stroked his beard, and added lightly,

"Sunagakure may be poor, but surely you can afford ointment for a burn."

Rasa's face turned livid, and the corner of his eye kept twitching.

He slapped the ornate letter onto the ironwood table. A searing pain immediately shot through the red patch on his hand.

How the hell am I supposed to answer that?

All that swagger I put on just came back to slap me in the face.

Rasa simply shut his mouth and acted as though he had heard none of it, no matter how the other three laughed.

Yagura took the long hooked staff off his back and set its tip on the table with a crisp tap.

"Enough. Save your breath."

He pursed his lips, his boyish face turning grim.

"This isn't the time to laugh at him."

"This letter from the Daimyō of the Land of Fire is clearly a massive problem."

A slammed a palm onto the table, sending several teacups jumping.

"It's definitely a trap!"

"That fat bastard of a daimyō normally won't even look us in the eye."

"And now he suddenly wants an alliance?"

A's booming voice made everyone's ears