Event Sunagakure Presents: Two Kings Part 3 - The Obsidian Table

[Sand Event]

The upper levels of the Golden Sanctuary were a world apart from the bustling marketplace below. Here, in the administrative heart of the Baron Twins' empire, silence was enforced by thick stone walls and the ever-watchful eyes of elite guards. The air carried the scent of aged whiskey and tobacco smoke, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood that never quite seemed to wash away from places where power was truly wielded.

Captain Zahir stood at attention outside the heavy ironwood doors of the primary conference chamber, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Even he—head of security for the entire compound—was not permitted inside when the Barons held their most sensitive meetings. He had learned long ago not to question such restrictions. Men who asked too many questions in the Golden Sanctuary had a habit of disappearing into the Diamond Ocean, their bodies left for the sand wyrms.

"No interruptions," he said quietly to the pair of guards flanking the door. "I don't care if the entire Sanctuary is on fire. No one enters until they emerge."

"Yes, Captain," both guards responded in unison, their faces hidden behind burnished steel masks shaped like desert predators.

Inside the chamber, six figures sat around a table of polished obsidian. At the head sat Lord Treasurer Hideaki, the Barons' chief financial advisor and the man responsible for managing their vast oil fortune. His fingers were steepled before him, his expression cold and calculating behind wire-rimmed spectacles.

"The tunnel assault was a failure," he stated flatly, his voice carrying the weight of disappointed expectations. "One hundred mercenaries, equipment worth nearly half a million yen, and all we accomplished was killing twenty-three shinobi while losing our entire force. The Barons are... displeased."

To his right sat Mistress Yua, the Sanctuary's chief of intelligence operations—a woman whose network of spies and informants stretched across the entire Land of Wind. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her dark eyes glittered with barely contained frustration.

"The intelligence was good," she insisted, her voice sharp. "We knew their location, their numbers, their defensive capabilities. What we didn't account for was their willingness to sacrifice themselves to prevent the collapse. They fought like cornered animals."

"Then perhaps we shouldn't corner them," Hideaki replied coldly. "Perhaps we should eliminate them."

Across from Yua sat Commander Brick, a mountain of a man who led the Sanctuary's standing military force—three hundred trained soldiers, not counting the mercenaries they could hire. He was missing two fingers on his left hand, souvenirs from a fight with a Sunagakure jounin years ago. The memory still burned.

"Eliminate them how?" he growled, his voice like grinding stone. "They're mobile now. Underground. We can't pin them down long enough for a proper assault, and every time we try, they make us bleed for it."

"Which is why we need to draw them out," said Hideaki, pushing a document across the obsidian table. "The Barons have authorized a new operation. Code name: Scorched Earth."

The room fell silent as the others leaned forward to examine the documents. Even through the thick doors, Captain Zahir could feel the shift in atmosphere—something significant was being discussed.

Minister Gozen, the Sanctuary's liaison to the Daimyo's court, broke the silence. He was a thin man with calculating eyes and the soft hands of someone who had never worked a day of manual labor in his life. "The Daimyo has granted us full authority to operate without restriction. After we convinced him that Sunagakure represents a threat to the stability of Wind Country, he's given us carte blanche. We can move openly now."

"What exactly are the Barons proposing?" Yua asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected the answer.

Hideaki's expression didn't change. "We strike at their supply lines. Their water sources. Their informants in the villages. We make survival in those tunnels impossible. And if civilians get caught in the crossfire..." He paused, adjusting his spectacles. "Well, the Barons consider that acceptable losses in service of securing Wind Country's future."

"You're talking about poisoning wells," Commander Brick said, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been reluctant respect or disgust—it was hard to tell. "Burning supply depots in neutral villages. Killing anyone who might be feeding them information."

"I'm talking about ending a threat to our operations," Hideaki corrected. "The Barons have invested too much in bringing Wind Country under proper control. Sunagakure is a relic, a lawless military state that refuses to acknowledge legitimate authority. They must be brought to heel or eliminated entirely."

The fifth figure at the table finally spoke. Dr. Masashi, the Sanctuary's chief medical officer—though his skills extended far beyond healing. He ran the forced labor operations, ensuring that workers remained productive through a combination of medical treatment and chemical dependency. His voice was soft, almost gentle, which made his words all the more chilling.

"I can provide compounds that would contaminate water supplies without immediate detection. The effects would appear natural—disease, dehydration. By the time they realize what's happening, it will be too late to save most of them." He smiled thinly. "I've been developing these formulas for some time. The Barons were wise to request my research."

"And if Sunagakure traces this back to us?" Yua asked.

"They already know we're their enemies," Hideaki replied. "What matters is that they can't prove anything to the Daimyo or the other nations. As far as the official record shows, Sunagakure is suffering from unfortunate circumstances—banditry, natural disease, the hazards of living as nomads in the desert."

The sixth figure, Magistrate Sato—responsible for maintaining the legal facade that protected the Sanctuary's operations—nodded slowly. "I can ensure the paperwork supports that narrative. Trade disputes. Resource conflicts with local tribes. Nothing that points directly to the Barons."

"Then we're agreed," Hideaki said, not bothering to make it a question. "Commander Brick, you'll coordinate the military operations. Mistress Yua, your network will identify targets. Dr. Masashi will provide the necessary materials. Minister Gozen will maintain our cover with the Daimyo. And Magistrate Sato will ensure we remain legally protected."

He stood, and the others followed suit.

"The Barons want this resolved within three months. Sunagakure will either surrender and accept integration into our management structure, or they will be destroyed. Those are the only acceptable outcomes."

As the meeting concluded and the heavy doors began to open, Captain Zahir straightened. He caught only a glimpse of the obsidian table and the cold faces of those within before the doors closed again and the council members began to disperse.

"Captain," Lord Treasurer Hideaki said as he passed, not bothering to look at him. "Triple security on the medical wing. Dr. Masashi's laboratory is now classified as highest priority. No unauthorized personnel within fifty meters."

"Understood, Lord Treasurer."

As the officials disappeared into various corridors, Zahir remained at his post, his jaw tight. He had served the Barons for fifteen years. He had done things that would haunt lesser men. But even he recognized that something had shifted today. This wasn't just business anymore.

This was war. Total war.

And somewhere in those tunnels beneath the sands, Sunagakure had no idea what was coming for them.

---

Three levels below the conference chamber, in a section of the Sanctuary that didn't appear on any official maps, a different kind of meeting was taking place.

The archives were carved from solid stone, protected by seals that would trigger a cave-in if tampered with. Here, the Barons kept their most sensitive records: ledgers detailing every illegal transaction, contracts with assassins and slavers, correspondence with corrupt officials across the continent, and detailed intelligence on anyone who might pose a threat to their operations.

Archivist Tomoe, a wizened woman who had served the Barons since before they were "the Barons," moved through the shelves with practiced efficiency. Her assistant, a young man named Kenji, followed behind her with a lamp, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls.

"Find the Sunagakure files," Tomoe ordered, her voice raspy with age. "Everything we have on their leadership, their capabilities, their known agents. The council will want updated intelligence packages within the hour."

"Yes, Archivist," Kenji replied, moving toward a section marked with the symbol of Sunagakure—a stylized hourglass. "Should I also pull the files on the failed Steward? Chikamatsu Wei?"

"Everything," Tomoe confirmed. "If the Barons are escalating operations, they'll want to know every weakness, every potential traitor, every secret that can be exploited."

As Kenji pulled files from the shelves, a particular folder caught his attention. It was marked with red wax—indicating highest classification. The label read: PROJECT HOURGLASS - VILLAGE INFILTRATION ASSETS - ACTIVE.

"Archivist... we still have active agents inside Sunagakure?"

Tomoe's expression didn't change. "The Barons always have insurance, boy. Now bring me those files. We have work to do."

The lamp light flickered as they worked, and in those shadows, the true depth of the Baron Twins' conspiracy against Sunagakure began to reveal itself. This wasn't just about oil or money or political control anymore.

This was about the complete annihilation of everything Sunagakure represented—and the archives held every weapon needed to make it happen.

 

[Sand Event]

[ 02:00 HOURS // GOLDEN SANCTUARY: LOWER PERIMETER // STATUS: LOW ALERT ]​

The desert night was a cold, suffocating weight. High above the marketplace of the Golden Sanctuary, the wind howled through the jagged rock formations of the Obsidian Ridge, sounding like a dying animal. Two figures were tucked into a shallow crevice, their silhouettes nearly indistinguishable from the stone.

Gengyo, the senior scout, lay flat on his stomach. He adjusted the focus on a set of brass long-range binoculars, the lenses coated in anti-reflective film. Below them, the "Predator Mask" guards paced the perimeter of the Sanctuary’s upper tier with mechanical precision.

"Rotation’s slowing down." Gengyo murmured, his voice barely a rasp. "Zahir just swapped the south gate team. They’re moving like they expect a storm or a riot.... Either way, the tension’s thick enough to choke on."

Beside him, Ume sat cross-legged, her eyes closed and her palms pressed firmly against the cold stone floor of the ridge. A thin, glowing seal was etched into the rock between her knees, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic blue light. She wasn't seeing a map; she was feeling for vibrations in the dark.

"It’s not a riot they’re worried about..." Ume replied, her voice strained from the effort."There’s a cluster of heavy chakra signatures in the heart of the upper floor. It’s dense, like a knot of vipers. I can’t tell who’s who from this distance, but they’re not moving. It’s some kind of meeting."

Gengyo shifted his weight, his eyes tracking a searchlight as it swept across the sand. "The Barons?"

Ume shook her head slowly, her brow furrowing as she leaned into the stone."The upper levels are still heavy, totally packed with chakra..." Ume whispered, her fingers twitching against the stone. "Those two signatures we saw enter... they’re still there, right at the peak. It’s a massive amount of pressure, like they’re just sitting and waiting..." Ume took a break, closing her eyes for a moment to refocus herself.

"But I can’t get a clean read on anything else through the stone of the lower floors." Ume's eyes strained, she was trying to make out just what was in front of her. "There’s just a flicker of something... erratic coming from the medical wing. It’s faint, but it feels wrong, like a pulse that keeps skipping."

"That’s enough for now. Don’t burn yourself out before the team gets here." Gengyo said, pulling a charcoal pencil from his vest and marking a rough parchment map pinned to a board. He’d sketched out what he could see, but large sections of the interior remained a series of educated guesses and question marks. "Our job’s to provide the door. We give 'em the layout we’ve pieced together, give 'em the timing, and pray they don't trip the sound-seals on the ventilation grates. If that alert goes off, Zahir’ll have this entire mountain sealed in ninety seconds."

Ume opened one eye, glancing toward the dark horizon where the Sunagakure dunes met the starless sky.

"They should’ve been here by now." she whispered, her hands tightening on the stone. "The wind’s changing. If they don’t arrive before the moon hits the zenith, the guard rotation doubles. We’ll be burned before we even hand over the briefing."

Gengyo didn’t look back. He just kept his eyes on the ironwood doors, waiting for a flicker of movement in the dark that didn’t belong to the wind.

"They’ll be here..." he said. "Shinobi of this caliber don’t miss a window. Keep your sensors open. I want to know the second their boots hit the sand."

Spoiler

OOC: Hello, thank you for continuing the participation in the Two Kings Part 3 - The Obsidian Table and for allowing me to be your mission moderator. If you have any questions or concerns please DM me. Good Luck! Suna depends on you!

 

[Toraono Michino]

The desert night air cascaded over the couple's bodies as he soared above the landscape, keeping himself close to the budding storm clouds that churned overhead. The dunes below whipped claws of grain-laden winds at the duo in the sky as they soared past, missing them by mere meters. Sand particles caught the faint moonlight, creating an ethereal dance of shadow and illumination across the empty wasteland beneath them.
The 13th had more than ample time to prepare for this mission, but truth be told, stealth had never been a significant part of his own skillset. Combat? Absolutely. Direct confrontation? Without hesitation. But infiltration required a different mindset entirely; one that demanded patience and precision rather than power. He found himself overthinking much of what he was planning to do, scrapping ideas, and then finally deciding on just winging it, before starting back over on yet another 'what if' scenario. He replayed multiple contingencies with only the intelligence he had gathered, running through each possibility until he could chart a path to victory with just that limited information. The rest of the team waiting for them at the rendezvous would hopefully make the execution easier, filling in the gaps his planning couldn't account for.

Nothing he could foresee was going to be easy about this operation, but neither was Sunagakure going to back down from the challenge. The Barons had kicked a veritable hornet's nest with their aggression, and Michino, being one of the 'drones' sent in response, was not going back home without drawing blood. This was personal now. Not just a mission, but a message that needed to be delivered with absolute clarity.
His tailwind fluttered unexpectedly, disrupting his concentration. The ex-Kazekage tilted his slightly curled hands with practiced precision to adjust the currents of air carrying anyone else who had decided to come by sky with them. It was the quickest route based on the given timeframe, as other teams had already departed to counter different elements of the war machine working against their village. A single night, a few hours at most, to accomplish what needed to be done. Yet there was a tight, almost constricting feeling in his chest that persisted no matter how thoroughly he mapped things out. There were simply too many variables, too many unknowns that could unravel even the most carefully laid plans.

As their destination began to rise on the horizon, a dark silhouette against the storm-heavy sky, Michino tilted his palms upward and shifted his body to swing his legs beneath him. The winds responded to his will, gently lowering the team down toward the whipping dunes below. Sharp golden grains blasted against his exposed skin as he descended, but he maintained a small barrier of compressed air around the others to protect them from the worst of the sandstorm's fury. His own discomfort was irrelevant; their safety was paramount.

Once they all landed safely behind a large outcropping of rock, worn smooth by centuries of desert winds, he canceled the technique to minimize their chakra signature. The storm was a blessing in and of itself; natural cover that no amount of planning could have guaranteed. Part of him desperately wanted to manipulate it further, to whip the winds into an even more chaotic frenzy that would give them additional concealment; but that risked chakra detection, and stealth was the entire foundation upon which this mission's success depended. They couldn't afford to announce their presence before they'd even breached the perimeter.
"Remember," he reminded the group, his voice barely audible above the howling wind, "no chakra unless absolutely necessary. We stay low, move fast, and make our way to the entry point in two minutes exactly. Cloaks on, masks up: let's make history tonight."

From behind the protective shelter of the rock formation, the shinobi burst forth like shadows given form, using every last bit of their physical strength and training to beam across the dunes in a quick, desperate sprint toward the waiting Sanctuary. Beneath the crashing waves of sand, Michino led his fellow sand ninja in using the undulating terrain to mask their movements as they quickly advanced toward their intended first objective: the South Gate.
A quick glance down at a rare accessory hanging from his wrist, a simple watch, told him that a shift change was happening right on schedule. One minute had already passed since they'd touched down thought, and time was becoming their enemy. His hand reached out through the stinging sand to tap his fiancée on the shoulder, a silent signal they had practiced dozens of times.
They would need a touch of the temporal; her specialty.

The 13th had hoped to wait and employ such a technique when they were closer to the wall itself, to maximize its effectiveness during the most critical phase of infiltration. Temporal chakra was fleeting and nigh impossible to detect, appearing to even the most sensitive of scanners as nothing more than a glitch in their perception. Something that could easily be written off as a lapse of focus, a moment of fatigue, or even an awkward tweak in their neck that caused them to blink at precisely the wrong moment; but it was something that quickly became conspicuous if used repeatedly. They'd have one shot at this. Three seconds of frozen time to fly across the remaining dunes and scale the fortified wall. With chakra focused minimally on only their feet for the wall-running technique, the group should, theoretically, go completely unnoticed.

Once slipped past the Southern Gate guards during the controlled chaos of their shift change, that blessed window of distraction when discipline momentarily wavered, Michino led the group through the labyrinthine maze of rooftops with as little chakra expenditure as possible. Instead, they relied on the old shinobi fundamentals: rope for gap crossings, metal claws for grip on smooth surfaces, and raw agility honed through years of relentless training. The Uzumoreru clan members among them would be absolute professionals at this type of infiltration, operating on a level that Michino could only imitate despite his considerable skills.

However, his innate mastery over the wind element was incredibly astute, nigh supernatural in its precision. It was as if he simply asked the air itself for assistance, and natural currents would respond, carrying him in silent glides from one rooftop to the next. Each movement was economical, purposeful, whisper-quiet. The team progressed through the compound like ghosts, and with any luck, they would make it to their final rendezvous point without encountering any complications.

The real mission was only just beginning.

 

[Toraono Ryota]

Ryota had to make sure to prepare... so no joking around this time, no panda suit, no funny things. Serious mode. In his home, he started to get ready. The first layer of clothing was the base. A matt-black, moisture-wicking bodysuit that sealed against his skin from neck to ankles. It was seamless, soundless... He smoothed it over his shoulder, the material first cool and slowly warming up to match his body temperature. Next came the second layer. Typical Sand bits and on top, reinforced kneepads and elbow guards, which clicked in place with soft, magnetic snaps. The belt he wore had a pouch, which he checked. Kunai, med kit, signal flare, antidote, smoke bombs... Plexistim and soldier pills... Yup, it was all there.

His fingers, steady and sure, checked the fastening on his boots. The soles of these boots were designed for silent traction on many, if not all, surfaces. From glass to gravel, you would barely hear him. He flexed his feet, making sure that the boot wasn't too tight or too loose.

The final piece waited on the table, the mask... It was not a mask to hide in, but to see. He lifted it off the table, the feeling of lightweight materials and the smooth edges made him smile. He put it on and made sure to go like this to the meeting point.

---

The barrier kept most of the sand out... on this he was aware, but he wasn't so sure that his brother was using so much chakra already, he should preserve it in case needed and just let all of us walk with goggles on, scarf up... and go. Sand would get everywhere you did not want it, that was never a problem. Behind the rock he adjusted his scarf a little and kept silent. He would nod on the words of Micchi before doing the final check on his gear. Then the signal, it was official go time... No chakra, no eyes... He followed the group as best as he could, as silent as he could.

 

[Chiyo]

Riding the winds alongside Michino, the world felt deceptively calm though the tension coiled through herself and their comrades at her back told a different story entirely. None of them harbored any illusions about what they were flying toward or how much hung in the balance on the edge of this operation, but they were ready. Contingencies upon contingencies had been layered into place like folded steel, and the Uzumoreru had an answer for any wrench fate might choose to throw. This was what she had been forged for. What her father had carved her into, painstakingly and without mercy. A knife kept in darkness. The whisper of wind threading through a crack in a door that no one thought to check.

Tonight, Chiyo was firmly in her element, and every fiber of her being hummed with a quiet, razor-edged excitement as the Golden Sanctuary crept into view on the horizon. She let a thin trickle of chakra-laden blood bleed into her eyes, just enough, and the world drained of color around her, leaving only a scatter of shifting red shapes that pulsed and warped with unnatural rhythm against the grey wash of the desert. Whatever barrier the Barons had conjured to blind their surveillance was thorough. The air around the compound seemed to breathe wrong, warbling at the edges of her perception no matter how she strained to push through it. Two sharp blinks yielded nothing better, and she let the attempt go without frustration, redirecting her focus to the compound walls themselves. There, she found what she was looking for; several tight clusters of figures spaced at deliberate intervals along the perimeter, each one cycling chakra in careful, overlapping rotations. A living seal, maintained by bodies instead of brushwork.

She filed it away and released her Jōmyaku the moment their feet sank into soft sand. The landing was silent. One quick sweep of her surroundings as she moved to Michino's side, then her hands rose with practiced efficiency; drawing the loose fabric draped around her tall collar up across the lower half of her face until it sat snug over her nose and mouth, dark against her pale skin. A breath, steady and even. The cloth hood followed, unrolling from beneath her collar to swallow her long silver braid and the rest of her white hair in a fall of black fabric, leaving little more than a pair of sharp golden eyes catching the faint ambient light of the desert night.

She listened as Michino's voice carried low and even through their formation - a brief, grounding address to steady nerves that didn't need much steadying - and fell into step without a word, slotting herself into position with the fluid ease of someone who had rehearsed this particular kind of silence her entire life. When the signal came from her lover, she answered it with a single nod and the barest curve of a smirk hidden behind her mask. She set her feet, gathered herself inward, and then pushed. A thin, deliberate veil of chakra unfurling outward from her compact frame like smoke finding the shape of a room, spreading to envelop their comrades in something imperceptible to any eye but the most practiced. Three seconds, carved out of the flow of the world around them. A bubble of borrowed time, stretched just wide enough to let the right people slip through the wrong gaps unnoticed.

[[Activated and Deactivated Byakugan | Using World Standstill]]

 

[Harorudo]

Today was the day as I was running with the others towards our destination in the hopes of turning this conflict with the Golden Sanctuary and the Baron Twins in our favor. We had been given a short debriefing prior to our mission and I knew as we were heading to the Golden Sanctuary that many of our friends and allies in this group were going to make the ultimate sacrifice today. Others would be forever scarred by what we would need to do and see; unfortunately, this would lead to lasting effects that may result in more losses after the mission from injuries mentally or physically. It was a part of the cycle of life for better and for worse - some lives ended abruptedly or young like my children while others sadly dragged out and you saw them suffering like my wife. Life was precious, but also for some a cruel mistress.

As we kept heading to our destination, I was near the front to middle part of the pack as I likely was placed there due to my age and limitations as a shinobi. I was in my 60's after all and I could not keep up as well as shinobi half my age or even younger; I also was not as skilled as others on the mission as I wore a plain white mask due to my title as an ANBU in Training. This would have discouraged many people, but I knew I had a late start in the field and I would need to catch up to my peers to become a full ANBU which was fine as nothing was ever given to me in life before and I did not want sympathy now because I was old enough to be a grandpa to some of these people I was working with.

Everyone was in sync and the tension in the air was thick as there was silence from all of us. While I knew I would not be useful in the frontlines as my reactions and movements were slow, I was prepared with my various weapons of choice from afar when the time called for it. It was very likely that I would be one of the people that made the ultimate sacrifice if things fell apart, but I knew that my time would come one day. When it does, I will be back with my family again and not be suffering from joint pains and flare ups like I was now.

---

MFT: 418 Words