Lelouch had always known that power did not rest in thrones. Thrones were symbols, fragile chairs for men who mistook furniture for authority. Real power lay in narratives — in who wrote them, who told them, who was believed when the fire died down.
And now, in Fire Country, a new story was being written.
The Daimyo's letter had reached Wave at dawn. Lelouch read it once, twice, then a third time, memorizing every stroke of ink. The nobles of Fire, desperate for stability, had named the Uchiha child who fought with Eclipse Order as their Hokage candidate. It was not Ren's name — not yet — but it was close enough. Close enough to terrify Konoha's council, close enough to send Danzo into the shadows with knives in hand.
Ren had read the parchment in silence, eyes half-lidded, Sharingan glinting faintly like coals banked under ash. "Not yet," he had said, folding it aside. "I will not take a hat I cannot hold."
Lelouch respected that. But he also knew something Ren did not yet say aloud: once a story spread, it could not be unspoken. The nobles had placed Ren's name on the board. Whether he wanted it or not, the game would turn.
That was why Lelouch turned his mind to the next move.
The council in Konoha would resist. The elders would shriek about Uchiha curses, about shadows ruling from Wave. Danzo would sharpen his plots. But the Daimyo's letter had already given Eclipse a foothold. All that was needed now was a weight heavy enough to tip the scale fully.
That weight had a name.
Senju Tsunade.
The last of the Senju line. Granddaughter of the First Hokage. A sannin whose healing jutsu could turn a war. A woman who had refused Konoha, wandering from tavern to tavern with dice in her hand and bitterness in her veins.
A broken queen who hated the very title of Hokage — and therefore, the perfect piece.
Lelouch saw it clearly: if Konoha reclaimed her, they would try to put her in the chair, binding her legacy to theirs. But if Eclipse reached her first, if she entered their chain willingly, then when the Daimyo crowned her Hokage, she would not be the council's puppet. She would be Eclipse's.
And Ren would gain something even he had not asked for — legitimacy without lifting a finger.
Lelouch stood on the balcony above Wave's harbor, watching torches move with purpose across the docks. Soldiers in black cloaks unloaded crates beside villagers. Gojo leaned against a mast, laughing at some joke no one else found funny. Escanor read by lamplight in his tavern, pride muted under moonlight. Ren, somewhere below, walked the streets quietly, his presence a gravity that drew others into orbit.
The Order was already a kingdom in all but name. What it lacked was a crown the world would recognize. Tsunade could be that crown.
Lelouch's violet eyes narrowed, the city lights mirrored in their depths.
"She will resist," he murmured to himself. "She despises the very name they want to give her. But she is not the kind to turn her back forever. Not if given a cause. Not if reminded that running doesn't erase the graves she carries."
He remembered Nunnally's smile, the weight of loss that had carved his own path. Survivor's guilt was a chain stronger than any Geass. He could use that. Not cruelly, but with precision. To show her that her ghosts did not need resurrection — only vindication.
Behind him, the door creaked.
Haku entered with quiet steps, scrolls in hand. "You've been staring at the harbor for an hour," he said gently. "What piece are you moving?"
Lelouch turned, his expression as calm as ever. "The most important one on the board." He took the scrolls, scanning the reports of trade, patrols, and whispers from Fire. His lips curved faintly. "Tsunade."
Haku's brow furrowed slightly. "The sannin?"
"The sannin," Lelouch confirmed. "Konoha will send for her. They need a Hokage to fill their void, and she carries the Senju name. But if they bring her back, she becomes their answer to us. If we bring her first—" He let the thought hang, like a blade balanced on its tip.
Haku nodded slowly, understanding dawning. "Then when she takes the chair, it will be with our chain around it."
"Precisely." Lelouch's gaze sharpened. "Ren doesn't need the title. He only needs its shadow. With Tsunade as Hokage, the council believes it has won — while every decree she signs strengthens the Order that holds her loyalty."
Haku was silent a long moment. Then he inclined his head. "You'll go yourself."
"Of course," Lelouch said. His tone made it sound obvious. "She is not a piece to be moved by soldiers. She is a queen. And queens must be courted."
From the harbor, Gojo's laughter rang out, careless and bright. Lelouch's eyes narrowed slightly at the sound. Perhaps the blindfolded man would be useful here — irreverence against cynicism, chaos against bitterness. Or perhaps he would simply irritate her into listening.
No matter. Lelouch would choose his companions carefully. And when he sat across from Tsunade Senju in some smoky gambling hall, he would not see a drunk or a coward. He would see a broken queen who could still move the board.
He folded the Daimyo's letter once, then tucked it into his cloak.
"Prepare a list of her haunts," he told Haku. "Taverns, gambling halls, clinics. Wherever she runs, we will already be waiting."
Haku bowed slightly. "And when you find her?"
Lelouch's eyes gleamed like amethyst in the dark. "I'll remind her that running doesn't stop the world from breaking. And then I'll offer her a place where she doesn't have to run."
He turned back to the harbor. Lanterns burned steady, their light mirrored on the black water. Beyond them lay Fire Country, and beyond that, a woman who had sworn she would never wear the hat again.
Lelouch smiled faintly, the kind of smile that came before a checkmate.
"We'll see, Lady Tsunade," he whispered. "We'll see if you're ready to play again."