Summit of the Shadows

The rain poured relentlessly onto the country, every drop struck the outside walls with conviction. Tap, Tap, Tap. Shikaniku followed that pattern with the very ends of his fingers as he casually pressed them on the wooden countertop of the bar. The bartender picked up the empty glass, "Do you want another one?" the woman inquired. He nodded his head: "Some orange juice though, that'd be nice." She nodded in confirmation and went behind a closed door, presumably to get the ingredients or to spit in his drink. Shikaniku hoped it was just for the ingredients. In the corner, he recognized faces: waitresses, servers, other people getting drinks. They nodded, and gave pointed looks to others resting in the other corner. Their eyes, like the other groups, were glued to the counter top. But not to himself, but rather another. Shikaniku turned his head:

A man with golden locks of hair, dressed in elegant robes of the finest silks rested to Shikaniku's left just a few stools down. He recognized him; Shikaniku never forgot a face. He had been with the Kazekage, as a bodyguard, but that's not where the Nara knew him from. They both had been at war with one another for as long as they could remember: The roots of the leaf vs the silver sands of the wind. Never had they met face to face with one another, but their faces were etched into eachother's mind. You never forget your enemy. "Never expected you to be here, but well, I guess fucking the Kazekage has its benefit.." Shikaniku uttered.