Chapter 210: Five Kage Summit [2]

The high-class inn reserved for the foreign Kages sat on the quieter northern edge of Konoha, far from the festival noise. Lanterns still glowed along the stone path, but the laughter from the main streets felt distant here. The building itself was old Leaf architecture reinforced with modern seals—dark wood, paper screens, and enough space between rooms that private conversations stayed private.

Kael walked the upper corridor alone. He had changed out of formal guard clothes into something simpler: black shirt, open collar, the kind of outfit that made him look less like Tsunade’s shadow and more like a man who had somewhere else to be. He already knew which door belonged to the Mizukage. The two figures standing outside it made that obvious.

Ao stood with his arms crossed, the single Byakugan eye fixed on Kael the moment he turned the corner. Chōjūrō hovered half a step behind, hand resting near the hilt of Hiramekarei even though the blade was sealed. Both of them tensed.

“State your business,” Ao said. His voice was flat, the kind used on people who were about to be turned away.

“I need to speak with the Mizukage.”

Chōjūrō’s fingers tightened. “Lady Mei is not receiving visitors from the Leaf tonight. Especially not unannounced ones.”

Kael stopped three paces away. He kept his hands visible. “Tell her Naruto Uzumaki is here about the matter raised in the summit. She’ll want to hear it.”

Ao’s good eye narrowed. “The jinchūriki thinks he can walk into a Kage’s private wing and demand an audience? You’ve got some nerve, boy. The Hokage may let you stand behind her chair like a pet, but that doesn’t give you free run of this place.”

Chōjūrō muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Leaf arrogance.”

Kael let a thin thread of Kurama’s chakra slip into the air. Not enough to transform. Just enough for the temperature in the hallway to drop half a degree and for both men to feel the pressure against their skin. Ao’s Byakugan flared instinctively. Chōjūrō’s hand fully gripped the sword hilt.

“Remember who you’re talking to,” Kael said quietly. “I’ve killed things that would make your village’s strongest look like genin. I’m not here to fight you. But I will walk through that door one way or another.”

The door slid open before either guard could answer.

Mei Terumī stood in the frame, barefoot, still wearing the formal kimono from the summit but loosened at the collar. Her red hair was down, falling past her shoulders. She looked from her guards to Kael and back again with an expression that mixed mild amusement and warning.

“That’s enough,” she said. “Both of you. Step aside.”

Ao did not move at first. “Lady Mei—”

“I said step aside.” Her voice stayed pleasant. The order underneath it was not. “If the Leaf’s jinchūriki wants a private conversation, I’ll decide whether he gets one. Not you.”

The two men exchanged a look, then moved. Kael walked past them without another word. Mei slid the door shut behind him.

The room was large and carefully lit. A low table sat near the open balcony screens. Two cups of untouched tea waited on a tray. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and something floral. Mei did not offer him a seat right away. She simply turned and studied him the way a kunoichi studies a new technique—looking for the weak point.

“You’re bold,” she said. “Walking into my wing after the way that summit ended. Most people would have sent a formal request through proper channels.”

“Proper channels would have given ōnoki time to poison the well,” Kael answered. “I don’t have that kind of time.”

Mei walked to the table, poured tea for herself, and left the second cup empty. “Sit.”

He did. She remained standing for a moment longer, looking down at him, before finally settling across from him. The kimono shifted just enough to show the line of her collarbone.

Kael started the way he had planned. “Kaguya ōtsutsuki isn’t a story. The girl who spoke today is telling the truth about what she saw. That woman doesn’t conquer villages. She harvests them. Every living thing becomes chakra for her. If she reaches the point of full revival, none of the five nations will matter. Not Mist. Not Leaf. Not anyone.”

Mei cut him off with a soft laugh.

“Spare me the apocalypse speech. I’ve heard enough of those for one day.” She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, chin resting on one hand. “I’m more interested in something else. How exactly did a boy your age put the Godaime Hokage on a leash?”

Kael kept his face still, but something cold slid down his spine. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t insult me.” Mei’s smile never reached her eyes. “Tsunade has always been stubborn, proud, and impossible to push. Today she spoke like someone reading from a script. Every argument, every concession, every carefully chosen word. That wasn’t the Tsunade I remember. That was someone else’s strategy coming out of her mouth. And the someone else was standing right behind her chair the entire time.”

She tilted her head. “So I’ll ask again. How did you do it?”

The room felt smaller. Kael could hear the distant festival music through the open screens, cheerful and completely out of place.

“She listens to good advice,” he said carefully.

“Does she?” Mei’s gaze dropped, slow and deliberate, from his face to his chest, then lower. “Or does she listen to something else entirely?”

Kael didn’t answer. Mei watched the silence stretch, then let out a quiet, satisfied hum.

“Interesting. You don’t deny it.” She sat back. “I respect that more than empty protests. Let me be clear about my position, Naruto Uzumaki. I have no interest in saving the other villages. If Stone falls, if Cloud burns, if even the Leaf turns to dust, as long as the Mist remains standing I will consider it a victory. My people come first. Always.”

She paused, letting the words settle.

“But I do have a personal goal. One I’ve been failing at for longer than I care to admit.” Her eyes locked onto his. “I need a husband. Someone strong enough to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who won’t break the first time the real pressure comes.”

Before Kael could speak, Mei rose in one smooth motion, rounded the table, and stopped directly in front of him. She reached down without warning and cupped him firmly through his pants.

Kael’s breath caught. Her hand was warm, confident, and completely unapologetic. She squeezed once, testing, then again more deliberately. Her eyebrows rose a fraction.

“Well,” she murmured. “That’s… more than I expected.”

She kept her hand there, palm pressed against the growing hardness, while she looked him in the eye.

“Do you honestly think you could satisfy a woman like me? I’ve had people who talked the same way you do. Most of them failed to even show a bit of that confidence in front of me. You’re young. Tsunade may be soft for you, but I’m not her.”

Kael met her gaze and did not pull away. “Try me and find out.”

Mei held the contact a moment longer, feeling the full size of him, the heat, the way he didn’t flinch. Then she released him and stepped back, the same half-smile returning to her face as if nothing had happened.

“Tempting,” she said. “But not tonight. There are two more summit sessions left. I’ll listen. I’ll watch. And I’ll decide whether your side has anything worth aligning with.” She walked back to her side of the table. “If you can make the other Kages useful to the Mist, I might reconsider my neutrality. If you can’t…” She shrugged. “Then I’ll protect my own borders and let the rest of you deal with your goddess.”

Kael stood. His pulse was still elevated, but his voice came out steady. “Two sessions. I’ll make them count.”

Mei poured the second cup of tea at last and held it out to him. “For the road. And Naruto—”

He paused at the door.

“Next time you want a private audience, send word first. My guards are loyal, but they’re not patient. And neither am I.”

Kael took the cup, drained it in one swallow, and set it down. “Understood.”

He slid the door open. Ao and Chōjūrō were still there, both looking like they wanted an excuse. Kael walked past them without a glance. The corridor felt colder than before.

As he descended the stairs and stepped back into the lantern light, the pieces clicked into place. Mei didn’t care about the world’s survival. She cared about strength, about legacy, about a man who could match her. The summit arguments would never be enough on their own. He needed to give her something more personal. Something that made choosing his side feel like winning rather than compromising.

He already had the outline of an idea.

By the time he reached the street, the festival music had grown louder again. Kael didn’t look back at the inn. He simply started walking, mind already turning over the next move.

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