This morning, Tsunade had a vaguely bad premonition, a feeling that something unpleasant was about to occur. It was a sensation she knew well—much like the feeling she got just after winning big at the gambling table.
But after spending the entire morning on edge, she found that nothing had happened. Her mood gradually relaxed, allowing her to focus on Konoha's affairs.
There was plenty to do today. Besides handling routine matters, her orders had brought a number of Konoha shinobi to the Shadow Leaf Stronghold. Arranging for these ninja and getting them integrated into the construction work here was also part of Tsunade's responsibilities.
One key task was the renovation of this circular building. By now, Tsunade had commandeered the top two floors of the six-story structure. The sixth floor served as her private living space, while the fifth floor became the core Hokage office area. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy—Habara surely hadn't expected his "10 Shadow Leaf Street" sign to become literal truth.
Look at that—the work ethic of someone truly dedicated: moving her home right into the office.
This Building 10, alongside Building 9 across the way, might potentially become the future nerve center of Konoha… or so Tsunade thought at the time. What she didn't know was how near that "future" was, and more importantly, that this place wouldn't just become the center of Konoha, but the center of the entire Land of Fire.
Around noon, Tsunade decided to skip lunch and went up to the rooftop alone to clear her head and catch her breath. It couldn't be helped; sitting rigidly in a chair for hours, dealing with headache-inducing documents, was enough to make her stomach churn unpleasantly. Eating right now seemed worse than not eating at all.
The lush, towering tree canopy blocked the overhead sun, casting dappled sunlight that danced with the gentle, swaying breeze. It was the kind of atmosphere that inevitably induced drowsiness. Tsunade sat on a wooden bench, and just as she was about to drift off, someone approached and draped a blanket over her shoulders.
She startled awake instantly, the hazy sleepiness vanishing in a flash. The person always taking care of her like this—who else could it be but Shizune? No one else could approach her so easily.
Tsunade didn't know whether to complain or not. She could have had a nice few dozen minutes of shut-eye, but now it was forcibly interrupted.
Shizune looked slightly sheepish, offering a cup. "Lady Tsunade, tea."
Whatever the situation, the Great Feeding Jutsu was never the wrong move.
Tsunade accepted the cup, moistening her throat with the warm tea. "Shizune," she asked, "did you feel like some of the ninja were acting strangely this morning?"
"Strange? Strange how, Lady Tsunade?" Shizune was a bit confused; she hadn't sensed anything unusual.
"Specifically, everyone seemed normal early this morning, but after a while, things felt… odd. I felt like people were constantly glancing my way, with some unreadable meaning in their eyes. I didn't sense any malice, but something just felt off."
Shizune mentally rolled her eyes. Isn't it normal for people to sneak glances at you? That face, that figure—aren't they practically screaming 'All eyes on me!' every second? People naturally appreciate beauty, and overwhelming beauty can make one feel inadequate. Combine the two, and isn't sneaking glances the only option left?
Tsunade frowned. Though Shizune hadn't spoken, Tsunade could clearly read her thoughts. Annoyed, she snapped, "It's not like that… Never mind, it was probably just my imagination. Let's get back to work."
Shizune still didn't dare voice her thoughts, but she remained convinced it was like that.
Unfortunately for Shizune's assessment, Tsunade was correct; it wasn't like that. Her intuition remained sharp. According to the legendary scripts, stories like the "Yellow Robe being placed upon the body" were always initiated by underlings acting presumptuously, disregarding their superior's wishes and turning a perfectly loyal subject into an emperor… Clearly, before the drama unfolds, the protagonist is kept completely in the dark.
And this story was indeed following the standard script. Thanks to the news relayed by Habara, a considerable number of ninja were already aware that the Fifth Hokage was about to become the new Daimyo of the Land of Fire. After all, when the play begins, the extras over there need to be ready, and the stage over here needs to be set as well.
So, apart from Tsunade and Shizune, who were left uninformed, everyone else had accepted this shocking reality and begun preparing to push the Hokage one step further. No one would be foolish enough (possessing negative IQ) to spoil the surprise by telling Tsunade beforehand.
Leaking the plan prematurely would only force Tsunade to refuse, making the leaker a traitor to Konoha for all eternity. The "Yellow Robe" scenario wasn't entirely without justification; the underlings involved were undoubtedly exercising their initiative. After all, when the leader advances, the subordinates stand to advance alongside them.
If someone were plotting against the Hokage, Konoha ninja would certainly not help conceal it. But wasn't the current situation the exact opposite? Once everyone understood what was about to happen, a tacit understanding quickly formed.
After all, the benefits to Konoha if Tsunade became Daimyo were plain for everyone to see.
Thus, the strange looks were understandable; not everyone is adept at hiding their emotions.
The afternoon remained calm, almost unnaturally so. This was supposed to be a major construction site, usually filled with the sounds of drills and hammers. Yet now, it was eerily quiet.
As evening approached, however, chaos suddenly erupted outside. The clamor made it impossible for the Hokage to concentrate on her work.
"Shizune, what's happening out there?" Tsunade asked, dropping her pen.
Shizune went to the window and saw the street below was empty. Then she stepped outside the office and found that the ninja who had been guarding the door were gone.
Shizune immediately sensed something major had occurred, even suspecting the entire stronghold might be a trap, that all the ninja had betrayed the Hokage.
"Lady Tsunade, please leave quickly! The Konoha ninja outside have all disappeared!" she urged anxiously.
Tsunade frowned, listening carefully to the sounds outside. "Don't panic," she said. "There might be some unforeseen developments, but things aren't as bad as you imagine."
Tsunade still had faith in her subordinates. How could everyone she brought with her possibly betray her? Besides, Kushina Uzumaki was here too. Kushina, at least, would never commit treason; otherwise, why would they have gone to such lengths to bring Tsunade back to Konoha in the first place?
It couldn't be coercion. But why would her ninja abandon their posts and disregard orders? At this point, Tsunade found herself growing curious about what would happen next.
She glanced at the empty view outside the window, then said to Shizune, "Come with me, Shizune."
They went downstairs. Upon exiting the building, they found two ninja still guarding the entrance, though Shizune didn't recognize them. These weren't the original guards… They were old, too old to look like active-duty shinobi.
While Shizune didn't know these two elders, Tsunade found them familiar. If her memory served, they were ninja active before the Third Hokage's era. They hadn't achieved any particular renown but had always been staunchly loyal to Konoha. If they differed from ordinary ninja in any way, it was probably their longevity.
Just as Tsunade was about to ask the old ninja what was happening, a noisy crowd appeared at the other end of the street, slowly making their way towards them. The words caught in Tsunade's throat.
As they drew closer, Tsunade realized the crowd consisted entirely of harmless, ordinary people—more importantly, they were all elderly.
Honestly, Tsunade was somewhat bewildered at this point. And it was this bewilderment that cost her the final chance to halt the unfolding drama, making its performance unstoppable.
Once the group of elders reached Tsunade, they didn't give the Hokage a chance to speak. They immediately prostrated themselves fully, limbs touching the ground.
Tsunade: "..."
What is the meaning of this?Who am I? Where am I? What are they doing? What am I supposed to do? The feeling was uncannily familiar; Tsunade's reaction mirrored that of the Konoha ninja in the Fire Capital the previous night.
After completing the grand kneeling ceremony, the leading elder knelt upright, holding aloft a long scroll, gesturing for Tsunade to take it.
Habara, hidden within the crowd, felt his eyelids twitch uncontrollably upon seeing this.
Under a peculiar pressure she couldn't quite describe, Tsunade involuntarily accepted the scroll. This involuntary action was only human; seriously, some of these elders before her looked like they were about to drop dead any second, while others looked like they'd just been dug out of the ground. Faced with so many kneeling elders at once, anyone's brain would short-circuit.
Tsunade took the scroll, not out of carelessness, but because her intuition already told her these people posed no threat. Simultaneously, she was intensely curious about what exactly they were doing… After all, up to this point, they had been performing a mime show.
She unrolled the scroll slightly and saw it was an ancient map depicting the territory of the Land of Fire. It included written documents ceding power from the First Hokage to the Fire Daimyo, bearing the First's personal signature. Additionally, it detailed the lineage of the Land of Fire's Daimyo. Only then did Tsunade notice her own name signed in the final, most recent position.
At that moment, the kneeling elder finally spoke. "Last night, calamity struck from both nature and man. The Fire Daimyo's fortune came to an end; he tragically perished. His entire lineage died with him. The position of Daimyo hangs vacant, leaving the citizens of the nation like rootless duckweed adrift on water! What have the common people done to deserve this? How can the affairs of state continue? At this critical juncture for the Land of Fire's survival, only if Lady Tsunade succeeds as Daimyo can the various conflicts and chaos be brought to a peaceful end."
Then, the two old ninja standing behind Tsunade also half-knelt in salute. "We implore the Fifth Hokage, Lady Tsunade, to succeed as the Daimyo of the Land of Fire!"
Watching this scene, Habara couldn't help but shake his head inwardly. Honestly, this entreaty is highly unprofessional. Everyone's being forced into this unprepared, their actions lacking genuine emotion. Look, there isn't even a single person weeping dramatically.
But it couldn't be helped. Where could one find so many professional actors on such short notice? Besides, events like these often happen hastily and conclude imperfectly.
It didn't matter that the persuaders were unprofessional; fortunately, the person being persuaded wasn't exactly a seasoned professional in this area either. They were evenly matched, somehow managing to cooperate.
At the very least, the people kneeling before her were genuine ordinary citizens brought from the Fire Capital. In some way, this could be considered the will of the people.
Tsunade finally understood what these people were doing. Naturally, she felt no joy, only the sensation of old blood choking her, trapped in her chest—unable to swallow it down, unable to spit it out.
A thousand words could be condensed into just two: AGAIN?!
Seriously, she thought, I never should have returned to Konoha. If I hadn't returned, I wouldn't have become Hokage. If I hadn't become Hokage, I certainly wouldn't be becoming Daimyo…
After the common folk and old ninja finished their plea, it was the turn of the Land of Fire officials and Konoha's high-ranking members to step forward and continue the persuasion. Tsunade, feeling like a marionette, was ushered back into Building 10. The citizens who had traveled from afar waited outside, necks craned in anticipation.
The overall situation was half-decided. Even Tsunade would find it incredibly difficult to refuse now. If she did, countless people would be heartbroken and likely choose to die dramatically right there on the spot to prove their sincerity.
Habara let out a small sigh of relief and quietly slipped out of the crowd. He moved to a slightly distant spot, observing the reactions around the office building.
After a while, someone emerged from the building and made an announcement. The crowd erupted in cheers. There was a surprising amount of genuine emotion in the sound; after all, for ordinary people, a nation without a Daimyo was unthinkable. A new Daimyo was absolutely necessary, and the high-born Lady Tsunade was indeed a suitable candidate.
Tsunade's acquiescence came faster than Habara had anticipated. Perhaps because she had already accepted the first time (becoming Hokage), refusing the second time was even harder?
Just then, Tenzo appeared behind Habara. "Was it successful?" he asked.
Habara nodded. "It seems to have been successful."
Tenzo remained silent for a long moment before speaking again. "Habara, don't walk Danzo's old path."
Habara turned, slightly surprised, glanced at Tenzo, then smiled. "Those who know me say my heart is troubled; those who don't know me ask what I seek. Tenzo, I know some things aren't glorious. However, once you involve yourself in this thing called 'politics,' whether you do nothing, try to make positive changes, or enact negative ones—once you're in the game, you inevitably get covered in shit. And shit, naturally, stinks to others."
"But sometimes, that's just how it is. One needs the courage to jump headfirst into a cesspool, even knowing full well what it is… In fact, I feel I've made a tremendous sacrifice for the current situation. You should know, I'm something of a psychological mysophobe."
Habara certainly wasn't the type who enjoyed scheming and plotting. He'd much rather be holed up at home researching chakra.
Honestly, Tenzo didn't quite grasp all of Habara's words, but he could vaguely understand what Habara meant by "jumping into the cesspool."
"Rest assured," Habara added. "This was a one-time thing. It won't happen again."
If you'd just said that last sentence, I would have understood perfectly, Tenzo thought. Was the preceding explanation really necessary? A bit redundant, wasn't it?
However, realizing Habara wouldn't fundamentally change, Tenzo's mood improved considerably. "So," he asked, "you just did a butterfly stroke in the cesspool and hopped right out?"
Habara: "...Why specifically the butterfly stroke?"
"Uh," Tenzo offered, "doesn't it highlight your graceful style, your outstanding ability?"
"..."
Habara felt like he had just received a compliment, yet it also vaguely sounded like an insult. It was hard to say. But would Tenzo insult him? Probably not. So, he decided to take it as a compliment.
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