Chapter 195: The Negotiation for the Future of Iwagakure
Malik settled comfortably into his seat, his gaze shifting to the Kamizuru siblings. "I would love to explain everything, but first, Suzumebachi and her brothers should give their report. Without them, none of this would have been possible."
Ōnoki, the Third Tsuchikage, nodded slowly, his eyes flicking to his younger clan members. His wrinkled face softened slightly, and his intense gaze shifted toward Kurotsuchi, who stood nearby with her arms folded. Despite his glance, she made no effort to leave, clearly unwilling to be excluded from whatever important matters were about to unfold.
Suzumebachi stood up first, taking a deep breath. Her brothers followed her lead, standing beside her. She began to recount their mission, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Lord Ōnoki, we spent years tracking down the bikōchū beetle and searching for our grandfather's scroll, which we believed could help restore the Kamizuru Clan's honor. But despite all our efforts, we couldn't locate the scroll, nor could we get the beetle to memorize the scent we needed." She paused, her fists clenched. "In truth, the mission was a failure."
Jibachi cut in, his voice laced with bitterness. "We found the bikōchū, but it was more elusive than we thought. We thought we'd make the Leaf shinobi do the hard work, but that plan didn't work out. Even with the beetle, we failed to track the scroll."
Kurobachi, the eldest and quietest of the three, spoke softly. "We could not recover what we sought, but... we learned a great deal. It was a long shot, but we believed it was worth the risk."
Ōnoki listened in silence, his expression unreadable, though Malik could sense the weight of disappointment on the old man. The Third Tsuchikage, once a man of boundless ambition, now sat as if every word weighed on him more than any mountain.
When Suzumebachi finished, she bowed her head in regret. "I'm sorry we failed you, Lord Ōnoki."
Ōnoki sighed deeply, the sound heavy with resignation. "I've searched for that scroll myself in my younger days, and I too could never find it. You were not wrong to try, but I knew it would be a long shot." His old, wise eyes softened. "It seems even the strongest bloodlines lose their way in time."
Malik remained silent, observing the heavy atmosphere between the elder and his younger clan members. He glanced briefly at Kurotsuchi, who had been glaring at him the entire time. When he winked at her, her scowl deepened, and she crossed her arms even tighter, clearly not amused by his attempt to lighten the mood.
After a few minutes of somber reflection, Ōnoki turned his gaze to Malik. "No more stalling, kid. Why are you really here?"
Malik leaned forward slightly, sensing that this was the moment to get to the heart of his mission. The tension in the room had shifted—gone was the fire of the Third Tsuchikage, replaced by the weariness of an old man weighed down by the failures of his past.
"Lord Ōnoki," Malik began, speaking gently but confidently, "I know the loss of the scroll is a heavy blow. But Suzumebachi and her brothers did not fail entirely." He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Because they found something far more impressive—me."
Ōnoki narrowed his eyes, skeptical but listening.
"I promised them—and now I promise you—that I, Malik, will restore the Kamizuru Clan to its former glory. Not just back to where it once was, but beyond."
Ōnoki's expression hardened, and he shook his head. "Empty words. You might have more money than most Daimyō, but the Kamizuru Clan has never been poor. Wealth will not restore our glory. What do you really offer, Malik? I've seen your bakeries spread like wildfire, and I know our Daimyō wants to speak with you. But you don't understand the true depth of our losses."
Malik smiled, but it wasn't a smile of arrogance—it was one of understanding. "You're right, Lord Ōnoki. Wealth alone is not enough. It never is. But it's not about throwing money at the problem—it's about resources, leadership, and most importantly, love."
Ōnoki's brow furrowed. "Love?"
"Yes, love," Malik said, standing up and pacing as he spoke. "You see, Daimyōs hoard their wealth. They control the resources of their land, treating their hidden villages like guard dogs instead of partners. They give you scraps when they could be giving you stakes. They don't see the strength of the villages—they see the cost." Malik's voice grew firmer. "The Daimyō of the Land of Earth has stripped this village of its resources, slowly bleeding it dry. And what has he given you in return? More empty promises. I'm here because I want to help restore the pride of this village, its economy, and its strength. Not for myself, but for all of you."
The room was deathly silent. Even Kurotsuchi, who had been skeptical of Malik from the start, was now staring at him with something akin to curiosity.
"So what, Malik?" she asked, her voice sharp but less hostile. "You want to be our new Daimyō? Turn our village into one of your playthings?"
Malik met her gaze, his expression serious. "No. I want to help your village stand on its own two feet. Not as a subordinate to a Daimyō but as an independent, self-sufficient power. The people here are strong, Kurotsuchi. The Hidden Stone has always been known for its resilience. But right now, you're suffering—just like the Sand and the Rain. You need more than just money. You need resources, industry, trade. And I can give you that."
Ōnoki leaned back in his chair, his old eyes scrutinizing Malik. "Why?"
Malik smiled softly, his tone calm. "Because I can. Because I want to. This world is brutal. It's filled with pain and suffering, and most of it comes from those who've been hurt themselves. I'm here to heal, to build, and to cook."
He reached out, taking Suzumebachi's hand in one of his, and then Kurotsuchi's in the other. "I know I'm not a fighter, and if I were, you never would've let me into your village. But I am a healer. I am a builder. And with your permission, I'll help restore the Kamizuru Clan—and this village—to the glory it deserves."
Suzumebachi blushed deeply, her cheeks turning a bright pink as Malik squeezed her hand. Kurotsuchi, on the other hand, remained silent, though she did not pull away.
Ōnoki watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and contemplation. After a long pause, he spoke. "You'll have to convince more than just me, Malik. The Kamizuru Clan isn't the only one in need of help. But... I'll admit, there's something different about you."
Malik nodded. "I'm here to help, Lord Ōnoki. You'll see that soon enough."
Ōnoki leaned forward slightly. "You have my attention. Now, let's hear the specifics of your plan."
Malik smiled. "With pleasure."
The old Tsuchikage knew that this boy—this man—was unlike any visitor the village had ever seen. But could he truly help restore the pride of the Stone? Only time would tell.
Malik remained standing after his heartfelt declaration, hands still gently holding those of Suzumebachi and Kurotsuchi. He noticed the flicker of emotions passing between the siblings and their great-uncle. The Kamizuru Clan had endured too much disappointment to be easily swayed by mere words.
Malik stepped back to let the siblings speak again, offering them the floor.
Suzumebachi exchanged glances with her brothers, exhaling deeply before addressing Ōnoki directly. "Great Uncle, we have given everything we had to complete this mission. For years, we tracked down the bikōchū beetle, combing through ancient forests for the chance to retrieve what was lost. But we failed." Her voice cracked slightly, the bitterness unmistakable.
"The scroll," she continued, "is lost, and we don't know if we'll ever find it. Without it, the future of the Kamizuru Clan looks grim. Even with the bikōchū beetle, we couldn't recover it. Our clan's glory, buried under years of failure, can't be restored with brute force alone."
Jibachi cut in, scowling. "The Aburame humiliated us. Even after all this time, their victory hangs over our heads like a curse. Our numbers have dwindled to twenty, perhaps more, but only a handful of us remain in the village. The others live outside of Iwagakure, scattered across the land, trying to survive." His fists clenched, the years of frustration bubbling to the surface. "The Aburame won, and we were cast aside."
Kurobachi, who had remained quiet throughout most of the discussion, added softly, "There are fewer of us every year. The rest of the village sees us as relics, as if our techniques are nothing more than old memories. We came to you for approval to search for the scroll, hoping it could reignite the spark we lost... but now, even that dream is gone."
Ōnoki sighed, leaning back in his chair. The weight of their words settled over him like the stones that defined his village. "I know. I always knew this quest was a long shot. Even in my prime, I couldn't recover that scroll. It is likely lost forever. But we've tried, and... sometimes, trying isn't enough."
He turned his gaze to Malik, the doubt still lingering in his tired eyes. "And now you arrive, with promises of glory and restoration. But money and kind words won't change the way this village sees the Kamizuru Clan. You talk about love, boy—but love won't make a weak clan strong."
Malik smiled softly, sensing the old man's skepticism. "You're right. Money and words won't be enough. That's why I offer more than wealth. I offer opportunity."
Ōnoki arched an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.
Malik continued. "Your clan's strength isn't just in your techniques. It's in your identity. I know that the Kamizuru were once renowned for their mastery of insects—particularly bees. But your current leaders—your grandchildren—have distanced themselves from these abilities. They've chosen a different path, a different kind of strength. And in doing so, they've allowed the legacy of your clan to fade."
Kurotsuchi crossed her arms, watching Malik with sharp, calculating eyes. "So what's your plan, Malik? You think you're going to restore our clan's reputation just by opening more bakeries? We need strength, not pastries."
Malik chuckled softly, his warm gaze turning toward her. "Strength comes in many forms, Kurotsuchi. And you're right—bakeries alone aren't the answer. But what they represent is community. Trade. Stability. The lifeblood of any village." He glanced around the room, making sure everyone was following his line of thought. "Iwagakure has the strength of its people, but it lacks economic independence. Right now, your Daimyō holds the purse strings, bleeding your village dry. My goal isn't just to make the Kamizuru Clan strong again—it's to make Iwagakure self-sufficient."
Ōnoki leaned forward slightly, his weathered face unreadable. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
Malik clasped his hands behind his back, taking a step closer to the old Tsuchikage. "First, we establish industry—starting with my bakeries. We funnel most of the profits directly into the village treasury, bypassing the Daimyō. That way, the village benefits directly from the trade. Next, we introduce sustainable farming practices. I have connections with agricultural experts from the Land of Snow who can help increase crop yields in your rocky soil."
Kurotsuchi interrupted, her skepticism still evident. "And what about the Kamizuru Clan? How do they fit into your grand plan?"
Malik smiled at her, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "I have something special in mind for your clan." He turned toward Suzumebachi, his gaze softening. "The Kamizuru Clan has a unique gift—the ability to control insects. But it's more than that. You have the potential to become master pollinators, the backbone of an agricultural revolution. Imagine entire fields blossoming under your care, your bees ensuring abundant harvests. Not just in Iwagakure, but across the Land of Earth."
Jibachi scoffed, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "You're saying you want us to become farmers?"
Malik shook his head. "Not just farmers—guardians of the land. Imagine using your bees to cultivate rare plants, medicinal herbs, and luxury crops that can only grow under the care of the Kamizuru Clan. You would be indispensable—not just to Iwagakure, but to every village that values trade and agriculture. And in time, your techniques will evolve, making your clan more powerful than it's ever been."
Suzumebachi stared at him, her steel-grey eyes wide with disbelief. "You really think we could pull that off?"
Malik gave her a reassuring smile. "I know you can. With the right resources and support, you'll build something that even the Aburame Clan will envy."
Ōnoki rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "It's an ambitious plan, I'll give you that. But it will take years to see results. Decades, even."
Malik nodded. "That's why I'm offering more than just a quick solution. I'm offering a future. One where the Kamizuru Clan isn't just remembered—they're respected."
The room fell silent, the weight of Malik's words settling over everyone present.
Kurotsuchi broke the silence, her voice quieter than before. "You really believe in all of this, don't you?"
Malik met her gaze without hesitation. "I do. And I believe in all of you."
Ōnoki exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. "You've given us a lot to think about, Malik. But this isn't a decision I can make alone. The council will need to discuss it."
Malik nodded, understanding the weight of the decision. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
Ōnoki gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You're a strange one, Malik. But perhaps... that's exactly what we need."
Malik grinned. "I like to think so."
With that, the meeting came to an end, but the future of Iwagakure—and the Kamizuru Clan—had only just begun.