Chapter 288: Beheading
Land of Fire — Konoha
The Daimyō's residence sat within a stretch of forest inside Konoha, hastily built for the occasion — though "hastily" hardly showed, given shinobi efficiency. The construction looked more polished than its rushed timeline would suggest.
Still, by a Daimyō's standards, it was clearly far too modest.
"Lord Musashi is actually living somewhere this plain?"
"That Hokage really is..."
In a hallway inside the residence, a procession of richly dressed nobles — young lords, ladies, older men — walked together, unmistakable displeasure written across their faces.
"Quiet."
"We're in Konoha."
The young woman leading the group, dressed in blue brocade, turned back to look at the noble from the Land of Waterfall who'd just spoken.
"Yes, Lady Ryūzawa."
At Ryūzawa Kasumiōji's reminder, the man from Waterfall seemed to remember, belatedly, that this wasn't his own territory — and that this particular Hokage's temperament was, by all accounts, dangerous ground to tread on.
"Lord Musashi claimed illness and refused to see any of us until now."
"Why the sudden summons?"
A stocky man in white brocade — a noble from the Land of Lightning — spoke up, brow furrowed.
No one else said anything. They all understood perfectly well what was going on.
A cold?
Please.
This was a Daimyō, residing in Konoha, home to the finest medical ninjutsu in the entire shinobi world. What kind of cold could possibly drag on this long under those conditions?
Clearly, that wicked Tobirama Senju had been turning them away in the Daimyō's name.
And now, suddenly, word came that the Daimyō had recovered and was ready to receive visitors — which almost certainly meant the Hokage had already worked out how to handle them.
Having gotten nothing out of his opening jab, the Land of Lightning noble fell silent, following the attendant's lead deeper into the residence, toward the receiving hall.
Trailing quietly behind the group of nobles the whole way, Himura said nothing at all.
Compared to this crowd, he was nothing more than a Daimyō's retainer. Dispensable, if it came to that.
And he already knew exactly what the Hokage was planning. He just didn't dare say so.
Given the gap in status, it wouldn't have mattered even if he had.
He was a retainer. The Hokage was the Daimyō's own right hand.
Was the Daimyō really going to cut off his own arm over a single retainer's word?
Before this Fifth Hokage, something like that would have been unthinkable. Even now, it wasn't going to happen — not yet, anyway. The Hokage hadn't officially broken with them. Not yet.
As the group reached the receiving hall, the first thing that greeted them was the young Daimyō seated at the head of the room, visibly uncomfortable.
And beside him, to his left, sat someone else.
A young woman in the red-and-white robes of the Hokage, long pink hair.
The Fifth Hokage of Konoha.
"How dare you!"
"Carrying a blade in the Daimyō's own presence!"
One of the nobles immediately spoke up, furious.
But his target wasn't the Hokage herself — it was the figure standing behind her, a woman with long purple hair, a shinobi blade at her hip.
Yūgao Uzuki, the Hokage's personal ANBU escort, never went anywhere without her sword.
"Guards! Seize this person at once!"
The noble who'd spoken wore green brocade — clearly a representative from the Land of Wind.
But as his words fell, the guards stationed on either side of the hall didn't so much as twitch.
"Ah, Uncle, please forgive me — this shinobi is Lord Hokage's personal guard. She's carried a blade at all times for years now."
At this point, before anyone else could speak, Musashi — sitting somewhat stiffly at the head of the room — jumped in to explain on the noble's behalf.
Meanwhile, the young Hokage seated beside him seemed entirely unaware of the exchange, calmly lifting the teacup in front of her for a slow sip, before finally, unhurried, calling out a single name.
"Yūgao."
Behind her, Yūgao's expression didn't shift at all. She simply unbuckled the sword from her hip.
That put the noble's mind briefly at ease — right up until, a moment later, his expression soured entirely.
Rather than placing the blade in the weapons rack outside the hall, Yūgao turned toward the Hokage, dropped to one knee, and presented the sheathed blade to her with both hands.
And the Hokage simply reached out with one hand, accepted it, and set it down on the tea table in front of her.
The sheathed blade sat there, quiet, resting before the Hokage, as if it could be drawn in an instant, gleaming cold the moment it left its sheath.
What was that supposed to mean?!
Every noble in the room felt a cold sweat break out at the gesture.
This person...
Isn't even bothering to keep up appearances anymore?
Every instinct told them to turn around and walk straight back out. Forget probing for the Hokage's intentions.
It couldn't have been clearer.
But they'd already come this far, and hadn't even said more than a few words yet. Turning to leave now, with that blade sitting right there in front of her — who knew if it would be drawn the second their backs were turned.
"Ha— ha ha. Everyone, please, sit."
Musashi, at the head of the room, looked deeply uncomfortable, forcing out the invitation to gather the room and take their seats.
But—
No one moved.
Every noble present sat frozen, staring silently at the Hokage, who looked for all the world like she was simply enjoying a cup of tea.
"Didn't you hear the Daimyō ask you to sit?"
"Or does his lordship need to escort each of you to your seats personally?"
Her narrow, faintly slanted green eyes flicked open, sliding almost carelessly across the assembled nobility.
"Yes. As the Daimyō commands."
Only then did the nobles come to their senses and take their seats.
But even seated, no one spoke.
The Hokage's mood, right now, was the only thing that mattered in the room.
A long silence stretched on, until finally, a soft, gentle voice broke it.
"I've heard of Lord Hokage's reputation for a long while now, though I've regretted never having the chance to meet you in person. Seeing you today, I can say — your presence is every bit as commanding as they say."
The words landed like a jolt, and every noble in the room turned, startled, toward the speaker.
A striking young woman in blue brocade sat before the tea table, poised, elegant, an air of refinement about her.
The Hokage glanced up at her and spoke.
"You're Lord Musashi's betrothed, I take it?"
Ryūzawa Kasumiōji smiled lightly.
"That's correct. I never imagined someone of your standing would already know of me — that's genuinely gratifying to hear."
"Before meeting you, hearing of your accomplishments — cutting down three Kage before you were even twelve — I confess I imagined someone rather... imposing. Broad-shouldered, forbidding. Someone with achievements like that couldn't possibly be an ordinary person, could they?"
"But seeing you today, in person — you're so refined, so far from what I expected. It's a little humbling, honestly, little sister that I am."
Ryūzawa's eyes carried a faint smile as she looked at the Hokage, and within just a few sentences, she'd already slipped from "this humble one" to "little sister."
As if the sheathed blade sitting on the table in front of her simply didn't exist.
The Hokage's expression stayed calm as still water, and she let out a quiet laugh.
"Well then. I'm afraid I must be a disappointment."
The noble girl's mood didn't waver in the slightest at the Hokage's cool response. A trace of genuine regret crossed her face instead.
"Such a shame, though."
The Hokage: "What's a shame?"
Ryūzawa continued.
"It's a shame the world is so full of petty jealousy — that people can't stand to see someone as accomplished as you, Lord Hokage, and so they've spread these absurd rumors about you assassinating the Daimyō."
"It genuinely infuriates me. I could tear those slanderers' mouths off with my own two hands."
At that, Ryūzawa seemed to catch herself, and gave a light, embarrassed laugh.
"Forgive your little sister for such coarse language, sister — I hope you'll pardon me."
The hall fell into total silence at that. No one dared respond. Even Musashi, seated at the head of the room, swallowed hard.
He looked at the Hokage below him, expression complicated.
He wasn't a fool. Merely mediocre. In a royal bloodline, a genuine fool didn't tend to survive childhood.
Mediocrity, sometimes, was simply the skill that kept you alive.
When his father's dying decree had named him Daimyō, panic had driven him to cling to this Hokage as the only lifeline he had.
But who could have predicted—
Danzō Shimura might have been wrong about many things, but—
"Ha. You really don't hold back, do you. Speaking so plainly, right to my face."
The Hokage seemed to take no notice of Musashi's gaze at all, only laughing quietly, looking at the noble girl.
"And what do you think should happen, then?"
Ryūzawa gave a light smile at that, then let a flicker of genuine indignation cross her face.
"Slander against a loyal servant of the crown deserves nothing less than the arrest of the true culprit — and the extermination of their entire family line, as a warning to others."
"That should silence the world's idle gossip, and prove, once and for all, that you've remained faithfully loyal to the Daimyō's true line, sister — never once someone who'd raise a hand against their lord."
Ryūzawa's light, breezy words left the surrounding nobles frozen with dread.
None of them knew, exactly, who had first spread the rumor accusing the Hokage of assassinating the Daimyō and rising above her station.
But there was no mistaking it — that rumor had already spread widely enough among the nobility that if handing over one "true culprit" and their family could buy back this Hokage's supposed loyalty, that was an extraordinarily good trade to make.
"And who, exactly, do you believe the true culprit is?"
A flicker of barely-visible malice glinted in the Hokage's eyes, watching the performance unfolding before her.
"This man, before entering the hall, spoke recklessly — his words gravely disrespectful toward you, sister. He should be the first executed, to put the matter to rest."
"And given his open disrespect toward you, it seems only logical that the Land of Waterfall behind him is the true source of these slanderous rumors."
"After all, if such rumors continue spreading, the world at large will inevitably turn against you, sister."
"Who knows what might happen then."
"Even Konoha's reputation, formidable as it is, wouldn't be enough to withstand the entire world turned against it."
"A villain like that deserves nothing less than destruction."
"Don't you agree, sister?"
Ryūzawa pointed, without a moment's hesitation, straight at the noble from Waterfall who'd voiced his displeasure earlier — her expression full of such earnest concern that anyone watching might genuinely believe she was the Hokage's closest confidante.
"Wh— what?!"
"Lord Musashi, spare me!"
"This is baseless slander!"
"How can you condemn a man on nothing more than idle speculation?!"
The Waterfall noble who'd complained earlier shot to his feet, panicked, trying to argue his case.
But—
His eyes met Ryūzawa's, meaningfully, and whatever protest he'd been building collapsed mid-sentence.
If sacrificing my life — and my whole family's — could actually placate this Hokage, then...
The Waterfall noble's expression cycled through several emotions before settling into something like grim resolve. He dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Musashi.
"Lord Daimyō, this is all my doing."
"Takigakure's failure to properly contain the Seven-Tails jinchūriki allowed it to rampage across the Land of Fire and caused the previous Daimyō's death."
"I'm willing to trade my own life for the previous lord's."
"Please, spare my family — my wife, my children."
"I am Fūtarō Uesugi of the Land of Waterfall. I ask you now."
"Take my head."
By this point, this Waterfall noble had fully understood exactly what the Daimyō's betrothed was after.
The previous Land of Fire Daimyō was already dead. What further value did a dead man's cause have?
The only remaining priority was silencing the rumors and dragging this Hokage back under the nobility's control, harnessed to their carriage once more.
And if sacrificing one man could get the Hokage to back down in time, and preserve the nobility's dignity as a whole—
And besides, the previous Daimyō had technically died at the Seven-Tails jinchūriki's hands. And who controlled the Seven-Tails jinchūriki?
Takigakure, in the Land of Waterfall.
Which made Takigakure the perfect "true culprit."
"Ah... well, in that case..."
Musashi, at the head of the room, looked pained — but before he could finish, a voice cut in from below.
"Since that's how it is — take him out. Execute him."
The Hokage glanced at the man prostrated on the floor and said it, offhand, without any weight behind the words at all.
The moment the words left her mouth, the shinobi who'd been standing guard at the door — who'd shown no reaction to the nobles at all until now — stepped forward and dragged the man from Waterfall out of the hall.
A single scream rang out, and moments later, two shinobi walked back into the hall, carrying a severed head, blood still steaming from the wound.
Blood dripped, steady, off the head onto the polished floor, filling the room with a sharp, sickening scent that left more than a few of the assembled nobles pale as ash.
"Lord Hokage. The traitor has been dealt with."
The shinobi tossed the head onto the gleaming floor, blood splattering everywhere, and it rolled to a stop directly in front of Ryūzawa Kasumiōji — its wide-open, unseeing eyes staring straight up at her, making every hair on her body stand on end.
However sharp her mind, she was still only twelve years old.
Facing a scene like this, her composure shattered entirely, panic rising in her chest — and beneath that panic, something else, sinking, cold, all the way to the pit of her stomach.
Nobility had their own way to die. Even granting that she'd needed this Waterfall noble to serve as her sacrifice, she'd never imagined he'd be dragged out and beheaded on the spot, over nothing more than a single accusation, like some stray dog put down in the street.
A death befitting his station should have involved a properly prepared, solemn setting. White ceremonial robes. A respected witness to serve as the second, delivering the final blow with dignity. A fine blade for a ritual seppuku.
Instead, this nobleman — someone who should have stood so far above her — had died as crudely as any common criminal. It terrified her. Genuinely, deeply terrified her.
"How dare you."
"The Daimyō himself and every noble here present, and you carry on so recklessly?"
"A month's pay docked, for the both of you."
"Now get out of here."
The Hokage glanced, briefly, dismissively, at the severed head on the floor and delivered the reprimand almost lazily.
"Yes, Lord Hokage."
The two shinobi's expressions never shifted. They bowed and withdrew.
Not once did either of them so much as glance at the assembled nobility.
Ryūzawa's face had gone pale, cycling through emotions she couldn't quite settle on — she opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, saying nothing.
The Hokage, meanwhile, looked at the noble girl and let out a light laugh, as unbothered by the severed head on the floor as if it weren't there at all.
"Since this is such a rare occasion, I actually have a gift I'd like to give you."
(End of chapter.)
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