Anyone alive today would tell you that the Land of Iron was home to a pragmatic and simple people. Guided by a strong, courageous military, the country was, ironically, devoted to a peaceful way of life. The history of this land is not relevant to shinobi culture and therefore not integral to the stories of the seventh Hokage, of Gaara and Ai, of the founding of the Hyuuga clan or other stories which are often deemed as the most interesting in all of shinobi history. However, a very interesting part of the country's history is the creation of The Iron Vault for it is key to understanding current affairs in the land of the Samurai.
Almost a thousand years ago, the land was ruled by a vicious and unjust King; he was as greedy as he was cunning, and he had cunning laced in his veins. It was rumoured that he was the reason for the snow in this part of the world; his cold soul turned water to ice. He taxed his people far more than they could afford, he gained new wives by the day and consumed the mineral-rich, fertile soil for his own profits. He had three sons, affectionately known by their people as 'The Three Wolves', a name taken from the three mountains that surround the Land of Iron. The youngest son, Kumo, was assigned position as General of the country's army.
Tired of seeing his mother, his people, his home mistreated, the soldier led a military coup to overthrow his own father and eventually began a seven year-long war. He even went as far as to destroy the palace in a fiery blaze that tore down the old to give way to the new. In his rampage against the King, the Prince seized hold of all precious artefacts that were housed in the palace. The King's throne, for example and the Queen's crown, other artefacts from around the country that played a part in the monarchy were transported to the palace shortly after the war. Gold statues, gem-encrusted chairs from the Summer Palace, iron wreaths for the Prince's head, were all taken to the palace which now lay in ashes.
And so, to house these artefacts and to act as the headquarters for the new military power, the Prince built the Iron Vault. An impressive pyramid-pagoda, the tallest building in the country, was built by supporters of the Prince. Soon after its completion, the man renounced his title and continued to rule as General of the Samurai army. He was succeeded by his son after death, a bittersweet irony that the Land of Iron overlooked; their rulers from then on were fair and just, so further combative action seemed unwise. The Iron vault does not rust, it houses treasures and power, precious things and secrets. This evening, it was playing host to the Five Kage.
"Hokage, Kazekage, Raikage, Tsuchikage, Mizukage, welcome to the Land of Iron." Gaara glanced around Temari and Kankuro quickly. His guards were stood either side of him but he managed to catch a glimpse of the other Kage as they all stood, waiting to be addressed by the General of the Samurai. He felt Kankuro shift uncomfortably beside him as both boys caught the eye of the Hokage; Danzō Shimura was an unnerving and eerie character. He was a known elder in Konoha, an advisor to the Hokage and founder of Root, a subdivision of Konoha's Anbu. The elder man had often been in meetings Gaara had with the fifth Hokage, Senju Tsunade and, when he would leave the meetings, it often felt as though he left his shadow in the room behind him. He was a suspicious man and a notorious shinobi, skilled in both politics and war. The other Kage Gaara knew very little about but he also knew that looks can be deceiving. Temari had been right when they had left Suna; Gaara should be wary of all of their comments and attentive to their actions.
Currently, the five Kage and their ten guards were stood in the entrance hall to the Iron Vault. The building gave a perfect impression of what it was like on the inside; from the outside it was cold, brittle and dark looking. Now they were all pretending not to shiver and not to squint in the dingy darkness of the place.
"I am Mifune, General to the Land of Iron and representative of the neutral nations. I am sure, at this late hour, it would be a good idea to eat and rest," the General, an older man with a long grey beard and matching hair, his skin sagging in the candlelight, spoke in a serious manner. "At the request of the diplomats that dictate our international relations," Kankuro started to snigger as the man was talking; he sounded simultaneously bored and angry, "dinner shall mark the beginning of the Kage summit, our gift to you."
"Perhaps that will break the ice," the Mizukage said in her sweet, melodic voice before turning to the group and narrowing her eyes on the largest of the people gathered. "I can feel your eyes boring into my skull, Raikage."
"Ice is not the only thing that needs to be broken, Mizukage." Almost as wide as he was tall, the dark skinned Raikage towered above them all and lifted a hand to point at the only female Kage in the group. "Try and convince me the Akatsuki was not founded in your village!" His deep voice rumbled in the back of his throat and echoed out into the hall. Gaara watched closely as a vein in his temple as though fit to burst. a large, golden vambrace was fastened to his wrist, glittering in the candlelight.
"Please," Mifune began, the exasperation in his voice clear for everyone to hear, "let us save the accusations for the formal meeting," he ordered. "Mizukage, Raikage," the two turned from each other and looked at the old samurai, "you have both traveled the furthest, the Land of Iron is honoured to have you as our guests. Do not sour the welcome." Temari raised an eyebrow; this old man spoke with such authority, a hint of venom and a pinch of wisdom; how would the two Kage take to those sharp words? To her surprise, the Raikage stepped back in line with the others and waited for Mifune to guide them to dinner.
As they walked down the dark corridor, something, or rather, someone, caught Kankuro's eye. Angled green eyes sparkled as he walked past, from behind dark blonde curls, a smile shone in the darkness. A girl was stood in a grey dress, looking plain and maid-like, at a door on one side of the hallway. It was not so much her attire that was strange, but her actions; she looked like a chamber maid but was stood outside a door that led to the Iron Vault's archives. More than that, she did not look as though she were working at all, she had the sly look of someone trying not to be seen as she fiddled with a piece of paper in her hands. In the split second that they were side-by-side, Kankuro raised an eyebrow as he had the faintest feeling that he recognised her. But as they passed her, Mifune seemed to pay her no attention so Kankuro shrugged off the strange feeling and continued to escort his brother.
Of course, Kankuro should have recognised her. Months ago, he had gone Koto on a mission to convince Ai to speak with Gaara. When he had first entered the building, this green-eyed beauty had been making tea in the kitchens. She had caught his eye then with her beautiful face and sultry, come-hither stare; it was not easy to forget a girl like Lena.
Her task tonight was something different to her usual errands at Koto or at the Marble Palace. Tonight, she helped the Akatsuki to infiltrate of the Iron Vault. She had been given parchment with Ai's scribbles of the dead language and was charged with placing them strategically around the building. She had been acting as a maid to the General's children and, when no one was looking, placed Ai's scribbles in corners and spaces hidden in plain sight. This was the last piece to Ai's puzzle and Lena smiled to herself as she placed it gently on the floor. The dancer did not agree with Madara's plans but she trusted Ai, the woman was a born leader, a presence, a goddess. She knew what was right. The girl tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and walked away hurriedly; the performance was set to begin in five minutes time.
***
Made of gold ribbon and star dust, the room the Kage entered stunned them to silence with its beauty. Even the Raikage stopped in awe and looked up to the domed ceiling in fascination; every inch of the room was made of glass and marble, both materials twisting and winding around each other to produce geometric art. As warm light from crystal chandeliers caught the glass in the marble, it glittered like gold, sparkled in the distance, catching your attention, making you wonder if you just glimpsed a shooting star. There was the sound of tinkling chimes as a teasing breeze fluttered through the room and swayed the chandeliers which hung low from the ceiling. The smell of rose and a sweet, warm wood, floated through on the air. Hidden in arched alcoves, behind beige linen curtains were tied back with gem-encrusted ribbons, were low seats and tables lining the side furthest from the doors through which the group had entered. It reminded Gaara of the room Ai had first danced in at the Tea House; circular and impressive, it rivalled any palace the man had stepped into.
Gaara was set apart from the other Kage not only by his age but his upbringing. Kage are men of action and war, usually their lineage is that of great warriors and, while there may be a familial link to the seat of power, it is not guaranteed. This is because villages were formed very recently in the history of the world and were done so without the formation of a leading or royal family even though many shinobi have aristocratical ancestry. Suna, however, existed before the founding of the Hidden Villages and was ruled by a great family of which Gaara, Temari and Kankuro are descendants. The Palace of Sunagakure is testament to the royal blood that used to rule over the village and, whilst there is no familial claim to the title of Kazekage, it just so happened that this family produced some of the best shinobi over the last century. So Gaara grew up inside the beautiful walls of a palace, his sister had the upbringing of a warrior princess and his brother enjoyed the spoils and riches of a king.
But even the Kazekage and his guards looked around the room in awe; even the Tea House, which was world-famous for its stolen architecture, was not this beautiful! The marble shone so brightly you could see your reflection in the ceiling and the floor. The symmetrical pattern of glass flowers was climbing up the walls towards a starry-studded dome. It truly was spectacular.
"So this is where all the spoils of the war are kept?" Ōnoki, the Tsuchikage chuckled to himself as he looked around the room.
"This is the pride of The Land of Iron," Mifune informed him and moved forward, beckoning them all to join him. The group moved forwards slowly, taking in the heady scent and the smooth feel of the marble beneath their feet. "It has been almost 900 years since the war and these artefacts," as he gestured to the walls, the group could see treasures kept safe on display behind glass, "are reminders of an older time." Approaching the arched alcoves, the group was guided to sit together on cushions.
"Sure you can manage, old man?" A young girl from Iwagakure, asked the Tsuchikage teasingly as the Kage gritted his teeth and took a seat. Hanging on the wall behind them were banners embellished with each village's crest. The groups of three took a table each and sat in the cosy alcoves. Silence ebbed away gently as each group began to murmur to themselves, not in the usual suspicious way Temari had been expecting, but in a pleasant, casual manner. The blonde haired shinobi felt her back arch a little as she relaxed; Mifune was a smart man, getting them all to drink sakē before the actually discussions were to begin! The woman almost smiled to herself as girls in white dresses came out to serve hot sake. The sand siblings even shared smirks as the Raikage exclaimed his relief to be served something hot after the cold they had to endure to get here; the group from Suna had never experienced such cold in all their lives!
"Ah!" The Mizukage gasped as a large drum was struck, signalling the beginning of performance. The chatter died down immediately as the doors through which they had entered, opened once more.
Even Temari, who was often found in a state of moral discomfort when it came to the subject of Geisha, had to stop, place her cup down on the table and stare in awe at the spectacle that entered the room. A procession in white entered, men carrying lanterns, women throwing deep pink rose petals into the air, accompanied by the quiet chanting of a poem, a beat provided by anklets tinkling as they all walked in unison. Girls hoisted banners with the village's symbols painted on them. People on balconies high up were cheering and chanting, throwing down confetti, putting the procession in a whirlwind of colour and sound. As a breeze lifted up the banner with Suna's symbol, the material curled away to reveal what was behind it, in the middle of the procession. It was at that moment that Gaara's heart stopped.
A girl in a mask. His eye was drawn to her not for her elaborate costume of white pearl and antique-gold ribbon, not for the moonstone mask she wore over her eyes, nor the curve of her bare waist clearly visible through her veil which wrapped around her. No. He was drawn to the way she walked; the swing of her hips, the smirk in her pout, the delicate dangle of the bangle on her wrists. It was so…familiar. It seemed Kankuro noticed the same thing:
"Gaara, do you think-?"
"No," the Kazekage whispered to his brother slowly, "this girl's hair is brown, not black. It's shorter. And Ai did not dress in that fashion-"
"That's traditional attire for hacinosu (A/N: honeycomb, this is the kind of House that Koto was) girls outside of Suna," Temari whispered to them both. As the procession came to a halt in a beautiful semi-circle before the gathered Kage and their guards, the sand siblings relaxed a little. It was not Ai. It could not be. "Even if it is," Temari continued in a low whisper, "it has no bearing on our presence here. She is a court dancer, this is merely performance." Gaara nodded, Temari was right; if it was, for some unfathomable reason, Ai, then their relationship would be entirely professional. A slight pang twanged in Gaara's stomach as he remembered Ai's profession. He stole sideways glances at the men in the room before looking to the cup in his hands. His grip on the clay mug was increasing as he considered the men's lustful stares, nervous smiles. How dare she dance for others? How could she be reduced to this? But Gaara had to shake his head; it was not her. It could not be Ai.
The girl lifted her hands into the air, twisted them into position and awaited the drum beat. "A caged songbird, I sang to you, beloved. What was it you heard, what was it that called you to me?" Gaara looked up again as she sang; that voice! He tried to squint in her direction to make out the colour of her eyes but behind the mask, but it was difficult to discern anything confidently. "Like a hunter's arrow, your gaze found its mark. Your beautiful eyes showed me you too were waiting in darkness for a love unknown."
The girl was twirling, women were dancing with her, the men were swinging the lanterns, throwing the confetti. The entire hall was a mess of colour and music and jubilance. Even Temari was smiling as the confetti reflected in the marble, sending the room spinning in a frenzy of pretty colours and glitter.
"Like a flower chain, we became tied to one another," Gaara was trying desperately to see the eyes behind the mask. Were they that shade of azure blue he knew so well? The girl began to walk towards him, swaying her hips in the manner that made his mouth dry, that made him more aware of the lustful stares of the audience. "Like the night to the sky: inseparable," she sang to him as she approached and just as she came close enough for Gaara to see a familiar shape to her lips, a curve to her smile, the girl twirled away. "My very being began to twirl, you began to spin. Our souls melded in heat."
Kankuro jumped a little as the beat in the song changed. From the previously happy, relaxed melody, something sinister sounded in the bass, something foreboding echoed in the plucked strings of the Koto. The main dancer, the layers of her dress which were once twirling like delicate ruffles of white smoke, suddenly stood still. The Layers of her dress becoming motionless. "But a whisper in the distance told you: what we have created cannot remain." The hands of the koto player spun something magic from his fingertips, something that sounded enchanting, mesmerising, hollow, hurt and beautiful. "I am no longer in my own keeping but you, you belong to someone else."
Gaara looked away. His eyes were stinging, there was a lump in his throat. He wanted to drown his sorrows in the cup in his hand but he knew he shouldn't. The young Kazekage wanted, so desperately, to clamp his hands to his ears and be rid of her beautiful voice forever. But the eyes of the other Kage were everywhere, all around him. He had to remain strong.
"In a universe of unhappy endings, you and I made our bond. In a world of treacherous stories, you and I became a thing of legend. And in a moment, you chose another." The Mizukage, an older woman with a beautiful face, shook her head in sympathy for the dancer. Even Temari shifted uncomfortably; it seemed this girl was getting closer and closer to the vision of Ai that they knew. "Those dreams in which you promised me your love, tell me their meaning. The sunlight is fading on me, beloved, tell me before nighttime falls." The beat was building, threatening with an almighty crescendo, the women were spinning out into the room, their feet thumping hard against the floor with the sound of anklets shattering against the marble. T"hose moments in which you threw the world away for me, tell me its worth!" The dancers hands were moving faster, keeping up with her feet as they followed the rhythm of the drum. "Rain over me. Stain me with your colour." Like a dark wave, realisation crashed all around the Kazekage as he looked up to face the dancer once more. "I am your undoubting follower," the drum beat stopped. The dancer bowed to him. The dancers all ceased their movement. "Teach me, you heartless storm, how it is she loves you!" The girl removed her mask.
The vision of red lips, blue eyes, dark hair and an unreadable look of grief and defiance shocked the group of gathered Kage and their guards into silence. They were so shocked by her sudden appearance that they did not even register what happened next. On the inside of the Ai's mask were the scribbles of a language unknown to any of them. In less than a heartbeat, the courtesan bit her thumb, swiped the blood across the mask and held it to the floor.
It was like everything slowed down for Gaara, but he was immobilised, unable to move at all, unable to barely breathe. He watched as, in slow motion, a dark, inky spider's web, erupted from the mask as the writing expanded on the floor. The usual summoning circle the shiobi were accustomed to emerged but the scale in which it did so was incomprehensible to the Kage; the ink spread out across the floor as fast as water over ice. The dancers around Ai all shouted out in fear and scrambled towards the doors as the girl stood there, utterly defiant of the fact that the five strongest shinobi were stood before her. The woman looked completely irreproachable in her rebellion, as she stared down the Kazekage with a daring smirk.
Everything seemed sluggish, like the world slowed down to make these few seconds last a lifetime. The Kage were just rising to their feet with shouts to Mifune for better security measures as the old samurai attempted to call for the rescue or capture of the performers. Kankuro had to pull Gaara by the elbow to get him to stand up but his legs seemed weak with shock, his hands numb with disbelief. He had to shake it, get it out of his system.
He caught sight of Ai's smirk and suddenly a fire blazed inside of him; what was she thinking!? The fool! The reckless, beautiful, savage, thoughtless, rogue of a woman! Without his consent, sand erupted from his gourd and sped towards Ai with unprecedented velocity.
By now, only a few moments had passed since Ai had performed the summoning technique. As Gaara's sand sped towards her, it was met by a puff of dark smoke from the summoning circle. In the confusion of sand and smoke, no one could see quite how it happened, but once the darkness ebbed away, once the sound of the scrambling performers left the room as everyone escaped, the sand moved away from the figure in the centre of the room and Ai was no more. Instead, a tall man in an akatsuki cloak and an orange mask appraised them all with a sinister snigger.