Sakura had come to a horrible conclusion.
Ino had won.
Somehow, when Sakura wasn't looking, Ino had found a way to become Sasuke's… something—she wasn't sure what. All she knew was that it was a position much more important than whatever space Sakura or anyone else seemed to hold in Sasuke's esteem.
She found that out on a seemingly normal school day, when she came to class only to find that both Sasuke and Ino had arrived early. Ino was seated beside him with an unusually pensive yet dreamy look of contemplation on her face.
Of course, Sakura had no intention of letting Ino take the lead so blatantly and cozy up to her Sasuke. She made that known by marching up to them and declaring as much.
"Ino-pig! What do you—" she was interrupted.
By Sasuke.
"Shut up," he said, not even looking at her. Sakura flinched at his cool tone.
"You're annoying. Leave," he continued, his voice as monotone as ever.
"But Sasuke—"
"Leave," he said, this time deigning to look at her. Sakura was treated to the sight of Sasuke's beautiful onyx eyes lighting up as though a fire burned behind them, revealing crimson orbs glowing with power and a tomoe orbiting each pupil. It was beautiful, the way they spun and bore into her soul—looked at her, yet looked through her, as though discerning all the truths of her life. Of her soul.
It was like falling in love with Sasuke all over again.
She found herself almost gasping for breath to get a word in—anything to keep those eyes on her—but alas, Sasuke looked away with a dismissive snort.
"Ino is mine now. I have no use for you, so your rivalry has ended. Do not bother me again," Sasuke said, and Sakura felt like her whole world had ended, like the breath had been stolen straight out of her lungs.
Tears pricked at the edge of her eyes and she looked around the class to see everyone staring at her.
Mocking her.
The pity that shone in Ino's eyes only made it worse.
She ran out of the classroom and didn't come back. She skipped all her classes that day.
XXXXXXXXX
Coming to school the next day was terrifying—but it was much less terrifying than sitting back and letting whatever was going on between Sasuke and Ino play out. For the dream of one day being with the one she loved, she would endure anything.
She entered the classroom and was greeted with an identical scene as yesterday: Sasuke seated at his usual spot, and Ino beside him, leaning just a bit too close. Sakura gritted her teeth and approached.
"Sasuke… I… I—" she began, then Sasuke looked at her and her tongue gained a thousand pounds.
"Stop," Sasuke said, his voice harsh. Then she saw him flinch and glare at Ino. Sakura caught Ino's hand retreating from his side under the table—had she pinched him? Touched him?
Jealousy burned in her stomach, green and ravenous.
"I… apologize for the tone I took with you yesterday," Sasuke gritted out, and Sakura felt like the sun had suddenly risen just for her.
"But I will not be taking back the intention behind those words. Your childish squabble with Ino is over. I now require her attention for other things."
Then she came crashing back down to earth, into the cold truth of reality.
Was this it? Was it over? After—after everything, Ino won?
…No.
"No?" Sasuke asked, and it took Sakura a moment to realize he was talking to her. That she had spoken out loud.
But did she want to take it back?
"No," Sakura confirmed, the flame of determination burning in her chest.
"You said that Ino is useful. Would you keep me around if I was useful too?" Sakura asked, her spine straightening and her eyes glaring at his stupid, handsome face.
"How would you be of any use to me?" Sasuke asked with genuine curiosity, and that took a bit of the wind out of her sails as she scrambled for an answer.
"…I know a lot! My grades are really good!" Sakura said.
"You would make a useful secretary, I suppose…" Sasuke said with a contemplative hum.
"But I have no need for one right now," he dismissed—only to grunt again and glare at Ino, who was innocently inspecting her nails. "I will keep you in mind if a position opens itself."
Sakura was not stupid; she could tell that, for some reason, Ino was forcing Sasuke to let her down softly.
It infuriated her.
"What does Ino do that I can't?" Sakura asked, doing her best not to beg—and failing.
"That is between me and her, Haruno," Sasuke said in a tone that made it clear his patience was failing, punctuated by Ino yelping as she received a taste of her own medicine.
Sakura was too devastated by his rejection to focus on how cutesy that was.
Who was she kidding, of course she noticed, she noticed and it burned. Oh, how it burned.
She trudged away in defeat when the words of a smug lecher echoed in her thoughts.
You're too weak. The way you are, Naruko's got a better chance with him than you do.
If anyone had ever told her that Naruko was more of a catch than her, she would have laughed in their face. She had learned over the past few weeks that Naruko was not as bad as she thought, but that didn't change how boyish she was—and boys didn't like that, right?
Still, given that Naruko was with a boy that a lot of girls would say was only a little less—or even better (lies)—than Sasuke, it was getting very hard to hold on to that opinion.
But what could she do about that?
…Hanama-san had also said that Sasuke would want a capable kunoichi.
…Then she would become a capable kunoichi.
The following days proved her right in her hypothesis. Ino was better at sparring. She was put up against Kiba and actually managed a decent fight before losing.
That had to have something to do with her getting close to Sasuke.
Sakura had to get stronger too—but the question was how?
XXXXXXXXX
"I am not a lord, my lady," the eunuch replied to Naruko.
"Oh, I apologise. How would I refer to you?" Naruko asked, the noble bent of her low and demure voice compounded by the natural warmth that Naruko always carried around, coming together to form a regal bearing that felt overwhelmingly charismatic.
An opinion the eunuch shared by the way his chakra glowed under Naruko's attention.
"This one is known as Tamuro, my lady," he said with a warm smile.
"A pleasure to meet you, Tamuro," Naruko replied with a quiet one, while her chakra all but howled with amusement. She was having a lot of fun with this.
The sound of a throat clearing drew the eunuch's attention to my sensei, who watched the interaction with a raised eyebrow.
"Ah, yes, forgive me, Hokage-sama," my sensei waved it off. "The Daimyo awaits," he said, and began to ascend the stairs, the servants falling into step behind us. I inspected them with my chakra sense, keeping my eyes forward, not wanting to make them nervous. Their emotions were surprisingly placid despite my sensei's presence, almost bored. That made sense; this was their job after all. They must have a lot of experience escorting important people.
Not just anyone could come see the Daimyo.
I focused forward on the eunuch that was leading us.
A eunuch; what an uncomfortable staple of this time period—children mutilated in service to the nobility. In our culture—that of the Elemental Nations—your body was considered a gift from your ancestors, and any act that permanently tarnished it was considered a wrong against them.
Of course, there were degrees to this, and generally speaking most tattoos and piercings were overlooked. Yet even the most depraved bandit would tell you that taking a man's manhood was a step too far. That was the major consensus.
With one exception.
The Severed Sons.
An order of eunuchs composed of the second sons of noble families, sent to the Daimyō to serve as his will and administrators. A position of the highest order. An honour, if you could believe it.
Why this particular instance of castration was not only condoned but celebrated, while every other form was despised, I didn't know. Ebisu hadn't gotten to that part yet, but I had the feeling it had something to do with the "Heavenly Mandate," whatever that was.
As we approached the doors of the temple, I noticed many figures standing under the eaves of the palace, covered in armour, katana strapped to their hips—samurai.
Unlike the ones we came across on the way here, none of those present had a chakra signature lower than low jōnin, not to mention the monoliths that awaited us within.
Two towering red doors were at the top of the stairs, and two servants slowly pushed them open. The massive doors made nary a sound as they swung open.
We came through those towering doors into a hall that looked to be no less than three football fields long. The sides of the hall were interspersed with towering red pillars. Enthroned at the end of this grand hall, on an elevated platform, was the Daimyo.
He was not an impressive man to look at. A bit younger than my sensei but still greying at his temples and a little overweight, his expensive robes not doing anything to make him more striking. He wore no jewellery.
His chakra, on the other hand, looked very different. His chakra was minuscule, undeniably civilian in its proportions, but also incredibly stable. I wasn't sure of any effects—if any would exist because of this stability—but it was a strange sight.
Then I looked at him with my spiritual sight and was almost blinded.
The Ajna chakra gave True Sight. In my time learning from Lu Ten, I had not made much progress in divination in regards to seeing through time, but my True Sight had grown by leaps and bounds, allowing me to see through the physical world to the symbolic and metaphysical underpinnings of reality.
And that sight was showing me that the Daimyo was not simply a man, but a load-bearing point. A golden pillar rising out of the earth in a mirror of the ones that filled this very room—connecting to the heavens and upholding the world.
Unmovable, immutable, and eternal.
The Daimyo was eternal.
I flipped off the sight before I was blinded.
"Hiruzen, it's been quite some time," the Daimyo said with a warm smile as we approached the dais. I noted the lack of visible guards, though the massive chakra signatures that loomed in the shadows told me otherwise.
"Daimyo-sama," my sensei said with a light bow.
"Hmm, and this must be Izuku-kun," he said, turning his gaze toward me, his face calm and nonconfrontational. I still couldn't help but straighten after witnessing the strange state of his metaphysicality.
"It is an honour, Daimyo-sama," I greeted with a bow.
"This one has manners. The last two were much more rambunctious," he said with a chuckle.
"He is a better actor than they had been at the same age," my sensei said with a chuckle.
"Hah, that reminds me of my granddaughter. They might get along," the Daimyo said with a casual bark of laughter, but even I wasn't dense enough to miss the undertone of that statement.
Based on the way Kuro's chakra flared, she didn't miss it either, though her mask remained perfectly intact.
"Maybe," my sensei said with a smile.
"And who might you be?" the Daimyo said to Kuro and Naruko.
"Hidachi Kuromaru, Daimyo-sama."
"Uzumaki Naruko, Daimyo-sama."
"Uzumaki?" the Daimyo said with a raised brow.
"Yes, Daimyo-sama."
"I've known a few Uzumaki in my day," he said with a smile, yet that placid chakra of his churned with calculation.
Though his interest was only passing and only seemed to gain a bit of permanence when he turned to Kuro.
"Hidachi-san, I have heard much about you even here in the capital. You honour your father and betrothed," he said with genuine respect.
"Thank you, Daimyo-sama," Kuro replied.
"If only I could converse with such vibrant and gifted young people. Sadly, I must speak to the Hokage," the Daimyo said with a gentle smile that I couldn't tell if it was fake or not. His chakra barely reacted to his emotions.
"Thankfully my grandson is holding a small gathering nearby. Go and mingle. Who knows? You could make a connection you might need one day," he said, his voice genial yet somehow conveying the order with the authority of a man used to being obeyed.
We bowed as we left through a side door that led into a corridor that was itself adjacent to an open-air garden.
"This way, please," Tamuro said, directing us down the hall toward a rice paper door covered in intricate ink designs.
He slid the door open, and we were welcomed by the smell of food and the low sounds of chatter. Chatter that ceased as soon as we stepped through the door.
The hall was filled with low tables and young men and women at these low tables. Though there was a clear divide between young men on one side and young women on the other, with a series of paper fold-out screens with wooden frames dividing them.
"Tamuro! I see you brought guests!" a young man that looked between seventeen and twenty years of age got up from a particularly large table and approached us. He shared features with the Daimyo.
"My name is Taizen, grandson of our lord Daimyo, and welcome to our humble gathering," he said with a bow. At the same time, a young woman who was between the ages of fifteen and seventeen approached us.
She approached in a controlled glide, her noble bearing enhanced by a fan she used to cover her nose and lips. She had dark brown hair held in an elaborate bun and green eyes. Unlike Tamuro, who shared his grandfather's placid chakra, Yoshiko was an open book to me, and if the way her chakra flared pink as she closed in on us was anything to go by, she was very happy with Taizen.
"This is my fiancée, Yoshiko," Taizen introduced with a smile that I could see mirrored in Yoshiko's chakra even if it remained hidden behind her fan.
"A pleasure," Yoshiko said with a slight bow.
"Ladies, this way please," Lady Yoshiko said, walking away with Kuro following immediately, Naruko following in tow despite her confusion at their sudden departure. A confusion I shared.
I could only guess this was some sort of noble etiquette about separating males and females. I kept my question to myself; I could ask Ebisu about it later.
I put those thoughts aside as Taizen himself began to walk back to his table with the silent expectation that I would follow.
I followed and was seated beside the prince, where he began introducing me to his fellow nobles, all names that I recognised from my lessons with Ebisu. With some trepidation, I began the dreaded dance of socialising.
It went surprisingly well. Everyone in my immediate surroundings was polite, if not kind, and treated me with decorum despite the age gap, or more likely it was the strange culture of child independence shining through and they didn't see me as a child the same way teenagers and young men from Earth would.
As time passed, the sake began to flow, and while I didn't partake, others did and they loosened up as a result. Conversation flowed much more smoothly after that, leading to this exchange.
"Hanama-san? We have heard of your business exploits even here in the capital," said another nobleman who sat beside me, his voice a bit slurred with sake.
I blinked in surprise, and glanced at the shape of Kuro through the paper divider. I knew we were doing well, but not that well.
"Thank you, but Kuro is much more responsible for any financial success than I am," I said.
"Kuro?" he asked in reply.
"I mean, Hidachi-san," I clarified.
"So informal! You must be quite enamoured with her!" he exclaimed, earning wolf whistles from the table.
Despite myself, I couldn't help but blush at that.
Though not everyone was happy.
A snort from across us drew my attention to some well-built young men that side-eyed me and my place beside the princes.
I had not paid them any outward attention, but I was aware of them. I could feel the low-level disdain and antipathy they held for me.
"Don't mind them, Shimazu-san and his cronies are brutes, one and all."
Shimazu. I recognised that name. A house of samurai that have owed fealty to the Himori for generations. His animosity made sense now; shinobi and samurai did not get along well.
"But don't worry about him," he said, leaning in and giving me a blast of his beer breath. I restrained a flinch as he whispered lowly.
"This may be somewhat crass, but I cannot restrain my curiosity, Hanama-san."
"I must know… what is Maiten-sama like? Is he as wise as his writing suggests? Is he of common or noble birth? Is he even a he?"
He bombarded me with questions, yet all I had to say was, "Who?"
"Maiten-sama?" he insisted.
I stared blankly at him.
"Joruru Maiten-sama? The author of A Song of Ice and Fire?"
It took me a moment to realise he was saying J.R.R. Martin in horrible engrish. The name I used to have Kuro publish the Game of Thrones books in as a bit of a private joke.
"Oh! That's my pen name," I told him, not really seeing the harm in it.
"What?" he said, his sake slipping from his hand and staining his clothes.
"That's my pen name," I reiterated.
I did not expect his reaction.
"You're Maiten-sama?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, drawing everyone's attention toward me.
The sense of awe and hostility that filled my chakra senses told me I probably should have kept that to myself. The flare of frustration I felt from Kuro's familiar chakra signature agreed with this theory.
Oops.
XXXXXXXXX
"Leaving so soon, little bird?"
The sultry voice of Madam Hakane called to him as he pulled on his clothes.
He didn't respond.
What could he say? That he wished to escape his shame, to escape her? He held no anger in his heart for her. She provided the means for him to feed himself; the fact that she did so by purchasing his dignity felt irrelevant. He did not owe her anything. He had given her her money's worth, but she also did not deserve hatred for a choice he had made.
He could have committed seppuku after all. Better men than him would not have hesitated under such circumstances.
He did not respond, pulling his coat over his shoulders and preparing to depart.
"You could leave and spend that coin, or you could stay and have a free meal."
Tano froze at the door.
"At what cost?" he asked.
"Some conversation."
She rose from the sheets, exposing her pale and nubile flesh, a river of glossy black hair flowing down her back. Tano could not fathom what a woman of such beauty—whore or not—found so appealing about his sickened frame, enough to pay to lie with him.
His rumbling stomach answered for him.
He followed her through a side door to a room he had never been to before and saw a table covered in food. He would like to say he showed some decorum, but he practically threw himself at the meal.
For a time he ate in peace, the yawning pit in his stomach finally appeased, while Madam Hakane sat back and watched him, swirling a sip of sake in one hand.
"Do you still pursue that foolish dream?" she asked between his bouts of gorging.
"Is it foolish to wish to one day be a man of honour?" he managed to mumble between mouthfuls.
The raised eyebrow and glance toward the bed and its ruffled sheets said what she did not: You are not using very honourable means to accomplish this goal.
Tano bowed his head in shame but did not stop eating.
"Why?" she asked with genuine confusion.
"You could be mine. We could have each other every night. A different beauty to entertain us every evening." she inquired, finally sipping on her drink.
The temptation existed, but he overcame it easily. Tano wanted to be a warrior. He wanted to be a man of honour—not for anyone else, but for himself. He wanted to be something other than the no-name orphan he was, and he had decided to do that by becoming a samurai.
Nothing would change his mind.
He suddenly lost his appetite.
"Thank you for the meal, Hakane-sama."
She watched him silently, and for a moment he feared she would call in her guards, have him restrained, and keep him here.
Instead, she waved him off, and he left.
"Till we meet again, little bird," he heard over his shoulder.
XXXXXXXXX
A/N: Sakura feels the sting of Sasuke's decisions!
We meet the Damyo!
MoRe WoRlDbUiLDiNg!
What is the heavenly mandate?!
What reputation does Izuku's books command?!
Who is Tano and what drives him?!
FIND OUT NEXT TIME, ON FOR THE LOVE OF KUNGFU!