When I stepped out of the infirmary, the world felt… off.
Two months shouldn't change much, but everything looked too perfect. The Kurosawa compound, once buzzing with the sharp tang of ink and burnt paper, was clean. Organized. Even the training yard's cracked tiles had been replaced. Someone had painted the boundary walls white again, as if trying to bleach out the memory of the explosion.
I paused under the eaves. The air smelled of sterilized ink, not soot. No wild experiments, no laughter, no burnt seals stuck to the walls. Just… compliance.
-----
Emiko found me there, arms folded.
"Feels strange, doesn't it?"
"You've been busy," I said.
"We had to be. The Board made its first inspection a week ago. We passed. Barely."
"Congratulations," I muttered. "They make you hang a certificate, too?"
She frowned. "Don't do that, Lord Ren. People are tired. The Board brings order. Funding. Respectability."
"Respectability," I repeated. "A fancy word for chains that will become the noose on which we hang."
She sighed. "Just… don't start a fire yet. We only just put them out."
-----
The clan had grown. Especially the commanders. They were more mature. More decisive. More opinionated. I guess being really in charge changes things. Before if something was going wrong, all they had to do was stall till I showed. That wasn't an option for them anymore.
Later that day, I walked through the village streets. Market stalls were selling "Board-Approved" sealing ink now. The vendors smiled wider than I remembered. Maybe it was easier this way — obey, adapt, survive.
Two Chūnin walked by, arguing about research licenses.
"Hey, at least we get standardized rates now," one said. "You know how much Kurosawa charged for custom tags?"
The other laughed. "Yeah, but his tags worked."
"Did they? Heard he blew himself up."
They both laughed.
I kept walking.
-----
That evening, I sat in the clan hall. Half the seats were filled — the other half empty, like old teeth missing from a jaw. I hadn't thought it wise to disrupt operations just because I woke up. We'll meet at the clan meeting anyway.
Rina presented the week's report.
"Funding's stable. The Summer Legion finished their free medical camp. Good turnout. Even the Hokage sent a note of appreciation."
There were nods all around. For once, no arguments. I should've felt proud. I didn't.
I leaned forward. "Any progress on the experimental seals we were working on before my… nap?"
A brief silence.
Then Hina spoke. "The Board requested copies of all formulae involving explosive tags and chakra amplification. We… complied."
I froze. "You what?"
Rina glanced at me, her expression tight. "Ren, refusing would have meant a shutdown. They framed it as a safety audit."
"Did you give them the black box too?" I called the clan's aces the black box.
"No. According to your instructions. The armor research was hauled into the box and stored away. But we lost everything else."
"Good." I looked around the room. "That concerns the survival of our clan. If you had given it away. We would have been set back years."
A few nervous laughs. More silence. But the message landed.
After the meeting, I caught Haruto alone.
"You could've waited for me."
His voice softened. "You weren't waking up, Lord Ren. Someone had to lead. The Board came with authority and the Hokage's signature. What were we supposed to do—defy the village while our head was in a coma?"
I exhaled slowly. "No. But next time, stall them. I can deal with the rest."
He looked at me. "You think you can still stop this?"
"I can try."
"Then try quietly. The clans are watching, the civilians are applauding, and the Hokage is pretending he isn't smiling."
------
Over the next few days, I saw what he meant.
Every Sunday, the Summer Legion held free medical checkups in the outer ring. Civilians loved them. Even the shopkeepers donated supplies.
The Fall Legion repaired houses and helped old ladies cross the street.
The Spring Legion worked with orphans.
All noble things.
But every time a Kurosawa seal was used, the Board's insignia was inked next to ours.
We were becoming a footnote to our own creations.
------
The sabotages had become bolder. A random inspection happened.
In the morning, when I checked, my storage scrolls wouldn't open. The chakra matrix was slightly distorted — not enough to destroy the contents, just enough to render the seals unreadable. A bureaucrat's kind of attack. Inconvenient, deniable, efficient.
I fixed it in ten minutes.
But when I checked the inner lining, one scroll was missing entirely — my research notes on stabilized feedback tags.
By evening, I found a Board publication was already circulating:
"New Prototype Tag Achieves Stable Output Through Fuinjutsu Board Supervision."
They hadn't even bothered to change the name. Our research was being disseminated using the board's name over the months. Collecting praise, credit, and credibility.
-----
A few days later, I met with Haruto at a teahouse near the east gate. He looked older, calmer.
"You're making people nervous," he said, sipping from his cup.
"I just woke up."
"That's the problem. They got used to you being gone. You showing up again reminds them who the work really belonged to."
"You sound almost happy about it."
"I'm tired, sir. Some of us just want a stable paycheck."
I leaned back. "So you're with them now?"
"I'm with whoever doesn't blow holes in the village walls."
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. When I left, he didn't stop me.
-----
That night, the Yamigami spoke faintly.
"You seem… unsettled."
"Just observing," I murmured.
"The world keeps moving. You cannot control every shift."
"I don't need to. I just need to steer it a little."
------
Three days later, Rina invited me to a private dinner — a small gathering of sympathetic clan heads.
There were polite toasts, vague words, and the kind of empty political conversation that makes your teeth itch.
The Aburame envoy mentioned quietly,
"They say the Board's next reform involves licensing. Only approved seals can be used for missions."
"Approved by whom?" I asked.
"By the Chairman, of course."
The Hokage.
A low hum filled my ears.
Licensing meant a monopoly. Monopoly meant control.
Someone mentioned that the Daimyo's cousin had been seen at the Hokage's office again. The room pretended not to notice.
-----
On our way back, Rina walked beside me.
"They're calling this a golden age, Ren. Peace through structure in Fuinjutsu."
"Peace through fear, Mind my words, Rina, I know what the Hokage has in his heart. No clan is safe. It's mine today. But he will not stop till all of us are Sarutobi or Shimura or the like." I said.
She didn't reply.
We passed by a new mural painted across the outer wall of the administrative wing — a hand holding a sealing brush, surrounded by chains made of ink strokes. At the bottom, the words:
"Order Through Knowledge."
People clapped as they passed it.
-----
Back at my workshop, I found my missing scroll lying neatly on my desk.
The seal had been re-copied with a neat stamp: Property of the Fuinjutsu Board.
I didn't even get angry. I just stared at it for a long moment, then fed it into the burner.
When the flames died, I sat down, unrolled a blank parchment, and drew the first schematic line of the SS Tag.
"If they want regulation," I whispered, "We'll give them something they can't regulate."
The ink pulsed faintly, alive.
And for the first time since waking up,
I smiled.