Chapter 52: volume 2, chapter 3: the departure and arrival of Lady Uzumaki.
Politics.
I had been a poor student in this field; it was the first academic endeavour that I struggled with in this life. My gifts just didn't lend themselves toward it. It wasn't a challenge that I could beat with memorisation, creativity, or out-of-the-box thinking. The crux to being politically savvy—apart from charisma and attention to detail—was developing a sort of sixth sense for the ebbs and flows of the political world. An instinct for human desire and intention, and how it moved those who felt them.
I lacked those instincts.
Naruko also seemed to lack those instincts. In theory, at least. I had a feeling her natural charisma would make up for any deficiencies when rubber met the road.
I, on the other hand, had a much easier time understanding static systems with stated rules, but people were much more mercurial. This meant that Ebisu did not have the best time trying to instil these instincts into me.
Yet, even I could tell things were not supposed to be this… hectic, were they?
I stood by my sensei's side at the central gate of Konoha, surrounded by very important people. Multiple clan heads, individuals that I recognised as heads of departments—all of them lined up formally to send off their leader. Which, in a normal scenario, wouldn't be so strange, but this wasn't a normal scenario.
We were shinobi. We didn't do show-and-tell unless it was to send a message to someone in particular. What message would be sent by such a public gathering of Konoha's top brass? And to whom?
I had no fucking idea.
I taxed my considerable brainpower and came up empty. I just couldn't figure it out. I didn't even know where to start. It was a strange sensation—I wasn't used to that.
"A whole month! This sucks. Why can't that Daimyō guy mind his business?" Naruko pouted by my side, at least attempting to whisper her disrespect for the sovereign of our nation. Ebisu's lessons had managed to teach her to show at least this level of propriety, though given we were surrounded by the most capable people in the village, I would be surprised if there was a single person who didn't hear her.
"Don't worry, Ko-chan. We'll be back before you know it," Kuro comforted Naruko, though her expression was currently her public persona of ladylike grace. We weren't in a Ninshū bond right now, the cloud of chakra that Naruko used to do so too conspicuous for such a public and high-status gathering, but I could tell that Kuro's mask still weirded Naruko out—not in a way that put her off from Kuro, but in a sort of sympathetic discomfort.
Naruko was very familiar with wearing a mask, after all. It made her strangely adept at socialising with Kuro, where she seemed to awkwardly or brashly flounder with everyone else—signified by the way she leaned over to bump shoulders with Kuro as she spoke.
"You're just saying that 'cause you get to go," she pouted at Kuro.
"I may be going with Ku-kun, but I will be leaving the two of you, and I will miss you dearly," Kuro said, some of that mad affection managing to bleed past her façade and into her gaze for a brief moment before she reined it in. And, of course, being as mentally warped by our time around the hidden Uchiha as I was, both Naruko and Hinata blushed at her words.
"I will miss you as well, Kuro-chan," the bluenette promised, her face a warm red. She was dressed in a set of formal robes in her signature colours of white, blue, and purple. Her hair had grown longer over these months, and she held it up in a set of intricate buns with an elaborate pin. Kuro was similarly well dressed in the exact same style, except in her own colours of red and black. Naruko mirrored their fashion, but in a vibrant orange interspersed with the red of the Uzumaki swirl.
I was aware that the formal, coordinated dress—the strange insistence on propriety, that even Naruko adhered to by not being openly affectionate with me right now—was some sort of political statement about our relationship status. A very effective one too, given how all the young girls from minor clans who just happened to attend this send-off were avoiding looking in our direction—orchestrated and carried out by Kuro for reasons I honestly could not be bothered to consider.
More politics.
I was aware that these kinds of games were what ensured peace by creating thousands of little conflicts instead of one big one, but I was a gods-be-damned wizard!
Look at this drip!
Spoiler: Wizard Drip
I was meant for flinging fireballs and casting esoteric spells that bent reality over my knee and made it cry uncle—not philosophising about what the implications of my girlfriends' dresses had on our political standing!
Wizards aren't meant for that!
And I know what you're thinking: but Izuku, what about Merlin? And I would ask you if Camelot had a happy ending.
No, a wizard was meant to stay in their lane—learn magic and blow up or otherwise incinerate trespassers, maybe with the occasional cryptic phrase thrown at the plucky hero—not prance in court, making plots and dodging assassinations that usually lead to becoming a Grand Vizier.
Nobody wanted to be a Grand Vizier. Not even the Grand Viziers.
Sadly, I was not a classical wizard, neither did I have the tools to act like one. I was a punch wizard—less than that, I was a punch wizard in training—so I had to play these games, or at least let the people I trusted play them for me while I got an education in such matters. All with the hope of achieving wizardhood and doing away with these games entirely.
"I know! I could send a shadow clone!" Naruko exclaimed mid-conversation, cutting through my thoughts, her eyes lighting up at the idea—an idea I would have to reluctantly shoot down.
"It would have to last a month, Naruko. The kind of chakra it would take would be crazy, and almost fatal, even for you," I told her, as gently as I could.
"That's not a problem," Naruko said with a sly smile, her eyes shutting and her hands coming up to form the Tiger seal. In my spiritual sight, her chakra formed a faint swirl in her abdomen, gathering at her command for unknown purposes.
Then I saw a hint of red in her golden blue.
"No, wait—" I said as I realised what she was doing, too late.
A hush fell over the crowd.
The gate area was blanketed in the malicious red of Kurama's chakra, caustic and boiling with hate as usual. Many reacted negatively—almost everyone reaching for their weapons or falling into a stance, some going so far as to focus killing intent onto Naruko—but the place was simultaneously coated in my sensei's killing intent, laden with the promise of death to anyone who even telegraphed violence toward his ward, forcing the gathering into a strange stalemate.
It didn't last long, Kurama's chakra leaving as swiftly as it arrived, heralded by the distinct puff of a clone being made.
A clone that glowed in my spiritual sight with enough chakra to last a month easily.
"Tada!" Naruko said, presenting the clone, who puffed out her chest in pride. Then she noticed the strange silence of the area.
Her face grew confused for a moment, then she locked eyes with her clone and the pieces visibly fell into place.
"Oops? Hehehehe," she laughed awkwardly while scratching the back of her head.
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The time of our departure approached, and the crowd dispersed after paying their respects to my sensei, though many also introduced themselves to me. None of them outright fawned over me, but they were strangely deferential.
The last of those present to leave was Lord Hiashi, and his last words were to me.
"You go now to a place where power has reigned for over a thousand years, Hanama-san," he began. "Learn. Learn well. The burdens you have chosen require it." Then, without waiting for a response—or a word or glance to anyone else, including his daughter—he just left, without a backward glance.
Like a boss.
Sorcerers, in general, were douchebags, with few exceptions. But if there was anything I had learned in my time dating a few and interacting with some others, it was that they all had a certain gravitas to them—an instinctual charisma.
Probably why they could get away with being douchebags. I bet Neji would get punched in the face more often if he wasn't so damn pretty.
My thoughts were interrupted by a flare of sadness in my chakra sense. I turned to Hinata, who remained otherwise composed, but whose chakra was melancholy at Kuro and my impending departure.
I gave her a concerned look, restraining the urge to reach out and hold her so as not to ruin whatever scheme Kuro had going—but Hinata still caught the concern I sent her way.
"It is fine, Izuku-kun," she said at my open concern. "Despite what distance separates us, I will continue to hold you in my heart." She paused, her hands coming up as she pressed her index fingers together uncertainly. "J-Just like I hope you will hold me in yours," she said with a hesitant smile and a sweet blush.
It tested my restraint. I almost said screw these political games and pulled her into an embrace.
Naruko beat me to it.
"Awww, I love you too, Hinata-chan," she said, picking her up in a bear hug.
I blinked and glanced at Kuro, who looked a bit disgruntled but let it go with an exasperated sigh before turning to me.
"The message has been sent. I guess we can drop the formalities now," she said before sidling up to the two and joining the hug.
"I will miss you too, Ta-chan," she whispered to the bluenette in their embrace, who seemed on the brink of flustered unconsciousness but whose chakra was exultant with happiness.
I watched the three of them for a moment and wondered how I got so lucky, though the cynic in me said that the scales would balance out eventually—so best to enjoy my life while I could.
I approached them as Kuro and Naruko pulled away from Hinata.
"I will hold you in my heart, Hinata," I promised, placing a kiss on her cheek before pulling her into a hug. I wasn't at all surprised when she went limp with unconsciousness. With a chuckle, I handed her to the original Naruko, who would be staying. She took her with a giggle and held her in a bridal carry.
"Izuku, it is time to leave," my sensei said as he approached, done with his own farewells, my two senpai a step behind him.
"Goodbye for now, Naruko," my sensei said, stopping in front of our group and addressing the original.
"Goodbye, Jiji," Naruko said, unable to hug him due to having her hands full with Hinata.
My sensei replied with a smile and a ruffle of her hair, messing up her complex braid, but that only earned a big, lopsided smile from Naruko.
He turned to Jiraiya and Tsunade.
"You are more than capable of carrying the burden of leadership in my absence, and you are not alone," my sensei said to Jiraiya, giving him a pat on the arm and a smile to Lady Tsunade, who stood beside him, before walking toward the carriage that would be taking us on our journey.
"Well… it's not really goodbye since you're coming with us," I said to Naruko.
"You bet!" her clone exclaimed from her side.
"I'm so jealous," Naruko said, and her clone pulled down her eyelid and stuck her tongue out at the original before skipping away to the carriage after my sensei.
"You better make some kick-ass memories!" Naruko shouted after her clone.
"Will do, boss!" the clone called over her shoulder.
Naruko huffed and turned to me, her eyes going a bit glassy. I smiled and leaned forward to give her a hug, sandwiching Hinata between us.
"I'll be back before you know it," I assured her.
Naruko didn't reply. She just nodded into my shoulder.
I pulled back and gave her one last smile before following sensei into the carriage, Kuro on my arm.
So began our journey to the capital—though I had some questions for the occupants of this shared space as we pulled out of the village.
"Why all the show?" I asked Ebisu, given his role as my political instructor.
Ebisu visibly sagged with relief at my inquiry.
"Thank God you noticed. If you had simply assumed this was the normal state of affairs, I would have thought you a lost cause," the spectacled special jōnin said as he composed himself, adjusting his glasses.
"Wait, this isn't normal?" Naruko asked.
Ebisu stiffened like he'd taken a physical blow.
"No, Uzumaki-san. It is not normal," he said through gritted teeth.
"Then why did we do it? Was all that for nothing? Kuro said the boss couldn't even kiss Izuku goodbye because of that stupid get-together," Naruko complained, sharing her original's grievance.
"Hidachi-san is aware of propriety and the importance of reputation," Ebisu said, giving Kuro a respectful nod, his tone returning to his usual professional neutrality—if a bit condescending.
"The dresses and the manners we put on during Izuku's send-off are generally reserved for the betrothed of those in higher-status positions. It was essentially staking our claim before we arrived at the capital," Kuro explained, her chakra giving off a brief burst of territorial bloodlust.
I was still technically a peasant, so I didn't know if staking a claim was necessary per se, but I would pay extra attention to Kuro just in case.
You know—so she didn't kill anybody.
"As for the gathering," Ebisu began, "information travels fast, and such a public and rapid response to the Daimyō's orders will unruffle any feathers and soothe any grievances that awaited us in the capital."
"Grievances?" I didn't remember having done anything to offend any nobles.
"I have been very thorough in my search for your attempted kidnapper's master," sensei stated in lieu of an explanation.
The brief burst of killing intent when he said the word master painted a clear enough picture.
"Thorough enough to piss off the Daimyō?" I asked with trepidation.
"Quite," my sensei confirmed without hesitation.
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Miles and miles of golden wheat waved in the brisk, warm wind, the dancing grain glowing like golden flame in the midday sun—the staple food of our nation and the origin of its name: the Land of Fire.
These fields belonged to the many agrarian villages that orbited our destination, requiring us to cut through this sea of gold to reach it.
Ōijisama City was the seat of power in the Land of Fire. It was over six centuries old—a relatively new capital in comparison to the royalty it housed—built after the last capital was lost in a civil war that shook the Land of Fire during the nebulous period of history known to shinobi as the Warring Clans Era.
The history of the capital wasn't widely known in Konoha. History in general was poorly documented in the Elemental Nations beyond the founding of the hidden villages, likely due to the instinct to hoard power and knowledge that came so naturally to the inhabitants of this world.
Despite how vague that history was, and how little was commonly known about the time, I could still guess that the event which led to the destruction of the previous capital was most definitely martial in nature.
Why?
The walls.
The capital was surrounded by towering fortifications—brown stone ramparts that rose over thirty feet into the air. Only a city that had met a violent end could motivate a ruling family to build a new capital with walls this high.
"We have arrived," my sensei said to no one in particular, his pipe dangling from his lips, still lit. It hadn't gone out once in the six days we had been on the road. The storage seal in his robes must be bursting with pot.
"You will have to disguise yourself," he added, this time directing his gaze at Naruko.
Ah. I had a feeling this would come up.
"Huh? Why?" Naruko asked from her seat between Kuro and me, the leaf stuck to her forehead fluttering free as her concentration broke.
"There are those here for whom your features may harken back to times better left buried—for now," my sensei said.
Translation: there were people here who would recognize her father's face.
Naruko caught on immediately.
"So I have to dress differently or something?" she asked, scratching the ovoid patch of pale skin on her forehead—the mark left behind by countless hours of leaf-sticking exercises.
"Changing your hair and eye color should suffice," my sensei corrected.
"Hmmm… so I'm basically pranking them?" Naruko asked, a mischievous glint creeping into her expression.
"Genuine deceit is ill-advised, but some misrepresentation would be optimal," my sensei clarified.
"So I have to prank them without lying," she translated, her voice vibrating with the excitement of a challenge.
"Yes," he said with a chuckle. "Prank them without lying."
Naruko took Kuro's hand, and in my spiritual sight I watched their chakra intermingle where their palms met, forming a Ninshū bond. From the fluctuations in their spirits alone, I could tell they had launched into an intense exchange.
I left them to it and turned back to the window.
We were inside the capital now, and it was gorgeous. Most of the buildings were timber-framed, their roofs tiled with slate. Konoha was far more modern in its construction, given how recently it had been founded, but Ōijisama was old—and it showed. The farther we traveled into the city, the more traditional the architecture became.
It was also full of civilians, yet interspersed among them were beacons of mystical energy in my spirit sight.
Samurai.
The law enforcers of the noble class, and the far more straightforward magic-wielders of this world, complete with a code of honor. In short: magic knights. They were said to be superior to the average shinobi in open combat.
And yet, as I watched them, a question surfaced—one that had been following me since we received this summons.
"How are you not in charge?" I asked my sensei, watching the samurai patrol. They were capable—many with chakra reserves comparable to a chūnin—but I had never heard of a samurai who could rival a Kage in battle, let alone the monsters of the Warring Clans Era. How did nobles rule anything with shinobi around?
There was a lot of subtext left unspoken, but my sensei didn't ask for clarification. He didn't answer either—at least, not directly.
"Ebisu-san," my sensei deferred.
"The answer to that question is a phenomenon summarized by a single term: the Heavenly Mandate," Ebisu began, adjusting his glasses. "How many rebellions have occurred since the founding of Ōijisama?" he asked.
"Six," I replied easily. Public history was sparse, but the Sarutobi clan archives recorded major upheavals. Rebellions were significant—and profitable—enough for shinobi to remember.
"How many succeeded?" Ebisu asked.
"None," I answered.
"Three," he corrected, leaving me blinking in surprise.
"But it's the same ruling family," I said—the same dynasty that had ruled for over a millennium.
"Exactly," he replied, opening his mouth to continue—
—when the carriage came to a stop.
"We will expound on this later. We are here," my sensei announced as he stepped down first.
I followed him, only to be met with the sight of a grand flight of stairs ascending a slope—hundreds of steps leading to a sprawling palace, decadent with wealth. The stairs themselves were carved with iconography depicting tales I couldn't recognize at a glance.
"Welcome, Hokage-sama," greeted a bald, middle-aged man at the base of the stairs. I could only tell he was male by the cut of his robes; his high-pitched voice and androgynous features told me the rest.
A eunuch.
He was flanked by dozens of servants, all of whom dropped to their knees as my sensei approached. The eunuch himself bowed deeply.
"And you as well, Hanama-sama, Hidachi-sama," he said as Kuro and I stepped down, surprising me. I hadn't realized Kuro was so recognizable.
I wondered why he hadn't addressed Ebisu—until I glanced around and realized he was gone.
Ninja doing ninja stuff, then.
"I am afraid I am not familiar with you, my lady," the eunuch said, turning to the last member of our group.
Naruko stepped down from the carriage and what I saw stole my breath away.
Her bright gold hair had become a deep scarlet, her sky-blue eyes shifted to evening purple—like the transition from blazing noon to a quiet sunset. Even her demeanor had changed to match. I could tell it was a Transformation Jutsu, but the only differences were her colors: hair, eyes, and clothing, with the orange and red of her robes subtly inverted.
"Naruko Uzumaki, my lord," she said softly, her voice low and demure. The usual scratchiness added a strange texture to the whisper of her tone, her expression a perfect mirror of Kuro's ladylike mask.
[Not exact but close enough]
https://pin.it/7Hn2nRR0d
https://pin.it/1ZQ33dcZ0
So that's what they were planning.
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Watching the Fire Shadow—the Lord of the Honourless—be welcomed into the palace with such ceremony and reverence reminded Tano just how meaningless it all was. The banners, the bows, the practiced awe of the crowd. All of it hollow. All of it distant. His dream, too, felt just as empty in that moment. As empty as his stomach. As empty as he was.
Yet he pursued it regardless.
The air was warm, as it always was at this time of year, heavy with the scent of cooked grain and spiced oil drifting from nearby stalls. Still, Tano shivered. Hunger carried its own cold, a gnawing chill that crept beneath the skin and settled into the bones. He was bone-thin now—cheeks hollowed, collarbones sharp beneath threadbare cloth. His stomach yawned with a constant, biting ache. Three days without food had reduced him to a dull, trembling thing held upright by stubbornness alone.
He stood in one of the capital's outer streets, surrounded by life that barely acknowledged him. Merchants hawked their wares from wooden stalls, shouting prices over one another. Peasants brushed past him carrying baskets of rice, bolts of cloth, cheap charms, and bundles of firewood. Laughter broke out nearby—short, careless, cruel in its abundance. No one looked twice at the starving boy with the wooden sword.
So, driven by hunger, Tano turned his eyes away from the shinobi lord and the palace gates beyond. He angled himself toward the glow bleeding into the street from farther down the road—a wash of red lantern-light marking the district where honour was traded cheaply for warmth and food.
The red light district.
There, he would sacrifice what little dignity he had left to live another day in dishonour, all in the vain hope of one day earning honour worth keeping.
With his wooden blade clenched in his thin, trembling hand, Tano stepped forward into the street—warm with bodies and noise, cold with indifference—and walked on to sin for another day.
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A/N: into the belly of the beast!
Hiruzen flexed his power but he is not the only giant and now the world responds!
Naruko never turns down the opportunity for mischief!
World building intensifies!
What awaits in the palace?!
Where is Ebisu?!
.…Who is young Tano?...