Morning sunlight filtered through the garden leaves, dappling the stone path with soft gold. Arata sat on a wooden bench, his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. Breakfast with the Daimyo had ended twenty minutes ago—another silent meal, another series of curt nods and empty pleasantries.
He was trying to feel the warmth on his face. Trying to let the calm of the morning settle into his bones.
And yeah, It wasn't working.
His mind kept drifting back to Yamiko's report yesterday. The Daimyo, his predecessor's father—the stern, cold man who ruled the Land of Grass in name only—sitting across from Elder Hina, nodding like a well-trained dog. Agreeing to every plan, every operation and every instruction.
Subservient, Yamiko had said. An in and out puppet.
Arata exhaled slowly.
The content of the meeting had been exactly what he expected. Plans to accommodate the two great villages—Hidden Leaf and Hidden Stone—when they brought their war to Grass territory. Supply depots, staging grounds and evacuation routes for the border villages.
Nothing about protecting the people and nothing about preserving the land's sovereignty. Just damage control and survival. Anyway, he understand it as the hidden grass village and state is too weak.
So it is normal for the Daimyo to say yes to all of it, Arata thought.
He shook his head. There was no point lingering on it. The states and the village ninja weakness was a fact, like the color of the sky or the weight of the air. He needed to focus on what he could control.
First, he thought, I need to know who the real players are. Who is genuinely trying to protect this land? Who is just using it? Who is white and who is black, and who is just gray like everyone else?
He couldn't make any real moves until he understood the board.
A snicker broken the chain of his thoughts.
Arata looked up. Standing a few feet away, at the edge of the garden path was a boy about his age—eleven or twelve years old maybe? He wore expensive silk robes, dark blue with silver threading. His hair was black and slicked back, and his lips were curled in a smirk that made Arata's teeth itch.
The boy's eyes were cold and disdainful.
Arata searched his predecessor's memories. The face surfaced quickly, accompanied by a wave of unpleasant associations.
Reiji. Youngest son of Elder Mura.
The Shiba clan. One of the oldest noble families in the Land of Grass. Elder Mura was a quiet man, rarely speaking in council meetings, but when he did, people listened. His son, however, was anything but quiet.
Arata rose from the bench, forcing his expression into something neutral even bland. He inclined his head slightly.
"What brings the young master of the Shiba clan to our humble place?"
Reiji's smirk widened. "What? Is the prince not welcoming my presence here?"
Yes, Arata thought.
But he didn't say that. He turned to a nearby handmaid and gestured.
"Prepare tea and refreshments for our guest."
The handmaid bowed and hurried off.
Arata gestured toward the garden pavilion, a small-shaded structure with cushions and a low table. "Please, sit. The garden is pleasant this time of morning."
Reiji strolled past him without waiting, as if the invitation were his due. He dropped onto a cushion with all the grace of a sack of rice and immediately began talking about himself—his father's influence, his clan's wealth, the new sword his older brother had acquired.
Arata sat across from him, nodding at appropriate intervals, making small sounds of agreement. His mind, however, was elsewhere.
A faint ripple passed through his own shadow. A voice—flat, neutral, barely a whisper—spoke directly into his ear.
Master. Elder Mura and the head maid made contact just now, after meeting with the Daimyo. The content is still under observation and recording.
Arata's expression didn't change. He smiled at something Reiji said about a horse he had recently purchased.
After pondering a bit he commands silently, Place two shadow spies on Elder Mura!
As you command.
The ripple faded.
Arata picked up his teacup and took a slow sip, letting Reiji's boasting wash over him. The young master of the Shiba clan was insufferable, but he was also a potential source of information. And more importantly, his presence here, at this exact time, meant something.
Elder Mura just met with the head maid, Arata thought. And now his son shows up at the palace? Coincidence?
He doubted it.
He smiled again, wider this time. "Tell me more about your father's estate, Reiji-san. I've heard it's quite impressive."
Reiji puffed out his chest and launched into another monologue.
Arata listened and feel amuse to Reiji's story.
In a small, windowless room at the edge of the palace, the head maid knelt on the cold stone floor.
Her name was Akane, she had served the royal household for twenty-three years. She had watched the current Daimyo grow from a boy to a man. She had held the late princess's hand as she died in childbirth.
And now she knelt before Elder Mura, shaking.
The old man stood over her, his face expressionless. His hands rested on the top of a polished wooden cane—a simple thing, unadorned, worn smooth by decades of use.
Akane's voice was barely a whisper. "The poison did not work, my lord. He should have died. I even confirmed a weak heart when he is on his deep sleep but he woke up the next morning as if nothing had happened."
"Then you failed."
"Y-yes, my lord."
Elder Mura calmly raised his cane.
It moved like a snake—fast, fluid, almost alive. The first strike landed across Akane's shoulders. She did not cry out. The second strike caught her ribs. The third, her thighs. Each blow was precise, controlled, delivered with the exact amount of force to cause maximum pain without breaking skin.
Akane endured. She had endured this before, her body knew the rhythm—the cane biting into muscle, the fire spreading through her flesh, the silent scream trapped behind her teeth.
Fifty strikes.
Then, as suddenly as it began, Elder mura stopped.
The elder lowered the cane. His breathing was steady, as if he had just taken a short walk. There was no sweat on his brow. No flush on his cheeks.
Akane lay on the floor, every muscle screaming. Her clothes were intact—no tears, no blood. But beneath the fabric, dozens of muscles had been torn. She would move sluggishly for days.
"This is your last failure," Elder Mura said, his voice calm. "The next one will be your life."
He turned and walked toward the door.
"Stop the assassination on the prince. It doesn't matter anymore. Your next mission is to plant evidence of corruption in the Daimyo's place. Documents. Ledgers. Anything that suggests embezzlement of state funds. Do not disappoint me."
Akane pushed herself up onto her elbows, then her knees. She bowed her head until her forehead touched the cold stone.
"Yes, my lord."
Elder Mura walked out without looking back.
The council chamber was warm.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the long wooden table where seven elders sat in their designated places. Tea had been served—green, fragrant, poured by silent servants who then retreated and closed the doors.
One by one, the elders had arrived. Shida first, as always, settling into his seat with the careful movements of an old man protecting aching joints. Moss next, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. Hana, graceful and composed, her diplomatic mask already in place. And elder take was practical and brisk, nodding at everyone as he sat.
And finally, Mura.
He walked to his seat with measured steps, his cane tapping softly against the floor. He did not look at anyone. He simply sat, placed his cane against the table's edge, and folded his hands.
Shida cleared his throat. "Let us begin."
The meeting proceeded as it always did—reports, updates, suggestions, arguments. Shida ensured that every piece of information was in its proper place, that every plan aligned with their goals. Moss distributed papers detailing the movements of neighboring states, the skirmishes already breaking out along disputed borders.
"The Hidden Stone and the Hidden Leaf are already assessing each other's defenses," Moss said. "Small clashes, nothing more. But the frequency is increasing."
Hana spoke next. "The deal with the Land of Waterfalls is sealed. We will provide the agreed-upon herbal plants and in return, both hidden leaf and hidden stone villages have accepted the eastern part of our land as a suitable location for their… operations."
She said the word carefully, as if it tasted bitter.
Take leaned forward. "I have assembled the shinobi forces. They will be positioned along the eastern border within the month. Logistics are in motion. I estimate we have four to five years before the war reaches our doorstep. Perhaps less, if the skirmishes escalate."
Shida nodded slowly. "The bridges must be protected, both of them. If our supply lines are cut, we lose the ability to feed the capital. Prioritize their defense."
The meeting continued. Plans were refined. Orders were given. And throughout it all, the elders remained unaware that eight small shadows now clung to their own—one per elder, hidden in the folds of their robes, the darkness beneath their chairs, the dim corners of the chamber.
Listening.
When the agenda was exhausted, Shida prepared to close the meeting, but before he could speak, Mura raised a hand.
"Elder Shida. If I may."
Shida paused. "Speak."
Mura's voice was soft, almost gentle. "I propose a change. Not now, but in the near future. A change in leadership."
Hana frowned. "The Daimyo?"
"The Daimyo's position," Mura corrected. "We already hold the power that is not in question but the title itself—the symbol of authority—would be better placed in our hands than left outside them."
Shida's eyes narrowed. "The royal bloodline has ruled the Land of Grass for generations, I still hold respect for that tradition."
"Respect is not power, Elder Shida." Mura's tone did not change. "I am not suggesting immediate action only that we consider the possibility when the war begins, the people will look for a strong leader. The Daimyo is not strong and do not have any quality it should have as a leader. We are."
Hana shook her head. "The Daimyo is already a puppet, what difference does it make if we put one of our own in his seat? It would only create unnecessary instability."
"Perhaps," Mura said. "Or perhaps it would give us the legitimacy we need to act without restraint."
A murmur passed through the table. No one agreed and no one disagreed.
Shida held Mura's gaze for a long moment, then looked away.
"We will discuss this another time. For now, the meeting is adjourned."
The elders rose. Chairs scraped against the floor. Conversations broke out in small clusters. No one noticed the shadows that clung to them as they left the chamber—eight silent witnesses.
Back in the garden, Arata finally managed to extricate himself from Reiji.
The young master of the Shiba clan had talked for nearly an hour—about his father, his brothers, his horses, his swords, his opinions on everything from tea to foods. Arata had smiled, nodded, and said almost nothing.
Now, as Reiji's carriage rolled away, Arata let his smile drop.
"Yamiko," he said quietly.
She emerged from his shadow, kneeling at his feet. "Master."
"How's the council meeting?"
Yamiko's golden eyes were calm. "The elders discussed the upcoming war. Plans are in place. Elder Hana secured a deal with the Land of Waterfalls as well to the two great villages – hidden stone and hidden leaf village. Elder Take has positioned shinobi along the eastern border. Elder Moss reported skirmishes between the Hidden Stone and Hidden Leaf."
Arata nodded. "I see, anything else?"
"Elder Mura proposed replacing the Daimyo. Not immediate but during the war. He argued that the people would need a strong leader and elder Hana opposed. Elder Shida was hesitant. No decision was made."
Arata's jaw tightened. Replace the Daimyo. Removing the royal family entirely.
"Did the other elders agree?"
"No, Master but they did not disagree either."
I think that is bad indication, Arata thought.
"Send two more shadow spies to Elder Mura," he said. "I want to know his plans, everyone he meets, every word he speaks."
"It is already done, Master. I ordered the infiltration during the meeting. Two more shadows are now attached to him."
Arata allowed himself a small, grim smile. "Good."
He looked up at the sky. The morning sun had climbed higher, burning off the last of the dew. Somewhere in the palace, the head maid was nursing injuries she couldn't show.
I guess I need to hijack one of the pawn of elder mura here in my place, Arata thought.
He rose from the bench and walked back toward the palace, Yamiko dissolving into his shadow behind him.
The game was just beginning.