HOME | DD

Description

In the icy Land of Iron, the bundled inhabitants rarely witnessed the sun set behind frosted mountain peaks before it was engulfed by the billowy, evening storm clouds. Like sentries, the clouds surrounded the capital city, stalling intruders until the light of day returned. To the samurai guarding the great city wall, their arrival signaled a changing of the guard, the impenetrability of the opaque mist rendering their service unnecessary. And while the samurai guards were thankful for the relief these storms provided, they were no less thankful for shelter to escape them. Therefore, when evening fell and the winds rose, all guards manning the gate to the Land of Iron retreated inside, save for one.

Noting the absence of his third-in-command, Lord Tokugawa, leader of the Land of Iron, headed upstairs to the wind-blasted city wall. “Mifune, come down. You’re wasting your stamina needlessly. Our guests have now all arrived.”

“All but one have arrived,” the grey-haired samurai corrected, keeping his eyes locked on the nearly obfuscated road.

Tokugawa counted off each guest in his head. All ambassadors, kage, and daimyo from the Land of Fire, the Land of Earth, and the Land of Wind were now present. That left . . . “Oh, I understand now. You’re still waiting on your old friend.”

“I doubt he thinks me his friend,” Mifune chuckled within his armor. “I doubt he thinks of me at all. That was twenty-five years ago. Doubtless he’s forgotten our insignificant duel.” Though decades had passed since he last laid eyes upon the Amegakure village head, he remembered their battle as vividly as though it had been yesterday. For years, he’d longed for a second encounter with the living legend; a second chance to test his sharpness.

“While I would encourage you to reintroduce yourself, unfortunately I’ve received word he will not be joining us this week. He has sent his wife, Lady Shiori, in his place.”

“Another time then,” Mifune sighed heavily in disappointment.

“And if it’s any consolation,” his superior offered, “perhaps Lady Shiori can entertain you in his stead. I hear things are never dull when the Fire Daimyo and his sister are under the same roof.”

“We’ll soon find out,” Mifune squinted as a small object in the distance emerged through the snow flurry. “She’s arrived.”

_____

In the carriage below, Kyo defrosted the glass pane with his sleeve and gazed out the carriage window in relief. “Mom! Rika! I think I see it!”

“Oooo, let me see!” Shiori’s bodyguard shoved the young boy’s face aside with her green head.

“Careful Kyo,” Shiori reached for her son’s blond hair in a final effort to flatten his unwieldy cowlicks before arrival, “if you dampen your sleeves, they’ll freeze the moment we step out of this coach.” Inclining her head to sneak a peek out the window, Shiori heaved a sigh of relief. With the violent snow storm clipping at their heels, they hadn’t arrived a moment too soon.

Once the icy gates gave way to the cavernous opening of the capital, a small fleet of armored samurai surrounded the carriage. As Kanzo leapt down from his post to open the door for Shiori, the men parted way for their leader. “Lady Shiori,” Tokugawa took the blonde’s hand from Kanzo and ushered her forward, “welcome to the Land of Iron. But please, let’s continue these pleasantries inside. This weather threatens to undermine your warm welcome.” Inside the warmth of the Spartan but comfortable compound, Tokugawa and his men escorted the party through a series of rooms, each brimming with guests for the meditation. Though practically already at war, the representatives from each nation greeted one another and Shiori with bright smiles and good spirits hoping perhaps a few friendly words could make all the world’s problem’s disappear.

To Shiori’s satisfaction, she could see that her young son was also serving to lessen tension with his artless charm. His genuine awe of the present kage flattered the foreign shinobi into letting down their guard around the small Amegakure party. With any luck, he would have the same effect on her brother, the one daimyo she had yet to encounter.

“Young master Kyo appears to be warming our frozen hearts,” Tokugawa motioned to the boy who was now throwing the Tsuchikage’s palm his best punch. “Perhaps there’s still hope for peace yet.”

“Perhaps,” Shiori halfheartedly agreed. “But I fear my brother’s heart will not be so easily softened. Where is the Konohagakure party? Have they arrived? I am anxious to introduce my son to his uncle.”

“They are in the east wing,” one of Tokugawa’s men interrupted. “I would be happy to escort you there, my lady.” Following the armored escort with party in tow, Shiori arrived at the wing where Konohagakure had quarantined itself only to shrink backwards in shock. The room contained many familiar faces, among them her brother, Ayame and the current Sandaime Hokage. Their presence, however, nearly escaped her notice as her eyes were instead drawn to a third figure she had not seen in decades. Though his face was weathered and now framed by deep frown lines, he was still unmistakably Danzō Shimura. Sensing her lady’s unease, Rika stepped beside Shiori and appraised the middle aged shinobi with catlike curiosity.

“Shiori,” Ayame frowned at her entrance, “what a surprise to find you here. I’m sure it was considerate of you to come, but your presence here is unnecessary. You can trust that Konoha and the other great nations will consider Amegakure’s welfare in whatever decision we reach.”

“I cannot trust that,” Shiori tore her eyes from Danzō to address her brother. “To date, Konohagakure has failed to uphold any agreement with Amegakure. This pattern is likely to persist without our interference.” Things were not going as planned. Danzō’s reappearance had shaken her and clouded her objective. Now was not the time to incense the Fire Daimyo. “But let us save this conversation for the mediation tomorrow. The reason I’ve sought you out this evening is to introduce you to someone,” she beckoned her son forward and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Your youngest nephew, my son, Kyo.”

“Violet eyes, like yours and your father’s before you,” Danzō spoke for the first time. “An anomaly in your children, I believe.” Her old adversary’s observation frightened Shiori and caused her to grip on Kyo to tighten. When had Danzō ever had the opportunity to observe her children? Let alone the color of their eyes? Evidently, time and distance had not deterred the sinister man’s surveillance. Danzō’s revelation of this now was clearly an intimidation tactic. And an effective one at that.

Meanwhile, Ayame inspected his nephew in silence before nodding in terse approval. “You bear the outward appearance of your Konohagakure heritage. May your character be equally representative.” Uncertain how to respond, Kyo gazed at Rika in silent plea who responded with a wink and tip of her hat. Catching her drift, Kyo bowed lowly and retreated behind his mother.

First objective accomplished, though unsuccessful, Shiori initiated their retreat. “You, like ourselves have traveled all day and must be tired. We will leave you now and greet you in the morning.” Withdrawing from the room as quickly as politeness permitted, Shiori and her company were once more joined by their samurai escorts.

“Your quarters are this way. Please follow us.” After ushering the Amegakure party to their quarters and ensuring arrangements for their security, all but one samurai departed to report to their master. “My lady,” the remaining samurai spoke, removing his horned iron helmet to release a cascade of long, grey hair, “may I have a word?”

Curious at what the foreign man could possibly have to say to her, Shiori readily agreed. “Of course, sir.”

“I am Mifune Toshirō,” he kneeled, lifting Shiori’s hand for a kiss. “Many years ago I fought your husband, Lord Hanzō.”

“I have heard of you, Lord Mifune,” Shiori’s eyes widened in surprise. “You must be as great as the rumors suggest to have survived an encounter with him. I rarely encounter my husband’s former opponents, for most of them cease to exist.”

“It is only thanks to his mercy that I and many of my friends stand before you today.”

“Then you must be someone he greatly respects,” Shiori’s eyes softened. “Occasionally I hear an adversary survived, but never have I heard one was spared.”

“It is an honor I endeavor to earn to this day. I wished to tell you that should you ever have need of anything, I will always be at your service. Paltry as it may be, I can think of nothing else to repay your husband for his kindness.”

Detecting an opening in the exchange, Kyo wriggled his way forward and into the conversation. “Are you really Mifune Toshirō? The Champion of Wakkanai?”

“Why, yes,” the samurai blushed, humbled that his fame had reached the foreign ears of an Amegakure child.

“The Roamer of the Ice-bound Lands?”

“The very same.”

“Is it true that you can stop a shinobi in his tracks before he can even use ninjutsu?!”

“Would you like to find out?”

“YES!”

“But not,” Shiori warned, “in this hallway.”

“Of course. If you would like and if your mother permits, I would be happy to show you in our gym.”

“Mom!” Kyo spun to his mother in a flurry of excitement, “may I please?!”

“Of course. That would be very useful for you to see. Thank you for the opportunity, Lord Mifune. Would you mind if my friend Kanzo accompanies you?”

“Of course, m’am.”

As a gleeful Kyo sprinted down the hallway ahead of Mifune, Shiori pulled Kanzo aside and whispered into his ear. “Kanzo, that man from before, you know the one.” Kanzo, understanding her allusion to the shady Konohagakure shinobi, nodded in understanding. “Don’t let him near my son.”

Still disturbed from her encounter and anxious to clear her mind for the following day, Shiori retired to bathe while Rika guarded their designated wing. As soon as she secured the corridor, however, she began to grow uneasy. Without a thorough inspection of their apartment, Rika could have overlooked vulnerable points of entry. Deciding it better to guard Shiori from within the apartment, Rika flagged two samurai patrollers down to man the door while she assumed her new post from within. As she slid open the heavy panel, light from the hallway illuminated a sole figure pouring tea at the living room table. Alarmed by the intruder, Rika quickly drew her kunai in preparation for attack. “State your business here, Danzō Shimura.”

“How do you know I haven’t already accomplished it? Judging from the color of my tea here,” Danzō peered into his cup, “I’ve sat here for about three minutes now. You’re clearly no sensor shinobi. You were completely oblivious to my presence this whole time while your mistress sat completely naked and defenseless two rooms away. I find it hard to believe Hanzō let his wife loose with such a poor excuse for a bodyguard.”

“That’s pretty tough talk from someone with a bullseye carved on their face,” Rika studied Danzō’s scar as her face hardened into an angry smile. “While you’re here, maybe I’ll tear you a new one.”

"Inept and crass. The residents of Amegakure must be as barbaric as I feared. How has Shiori endured your company this long? It looks like I can ask her myself,” his attention turned to a new feminine figure entering the room.

As soon as Shiori had heard Rika’s voice, she had risen from her bath and reached for her robe, only to freeze in her tracks once a lower, masculine voice responded. Danzō had infiltrated her apartment the very moment she was most vulnerable. Incensed by his underhanded and successful attempts to unnerve her and concerned that conflict could erupt, Shiori donned her silk robe and exited her bathing room to disrupt the standoff. “Danzō, what is the meaning of this?”

“Your guard practically welcomed me in by the front door. I recommend you find a replacement before someone with less honorable intentions stumbles upon you in the bath.”

“Answer my question or leave,” Shiori’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

Danzō took a slow sip of his tea, unaffected by her efforts to expel him. “It’s been nearly twenty years since we last spoke. Wouldn’t you like to catch up?”

“Not in my bathrobe.”

“There will be time for that later then,” Danzō took one last sip and rose from his seat. “Your brother asked me to deliver this,” he reached within the fold of his coat and handed Shiori a sealed letter.

Snatching the letter from his calloused hands and lifting the seal with one swift flick of her nail, Shiori’s eyes darted over the contents. As soon as they reached the bottom line dotted with a bolded ryo character, her brows furrowed in anger. “This is a bribe.”

“Not at all. This is a generous offer of reparation for the damages Amegakure has incurred from Konohagakure in exchange for your immediate departure and promise not to interfere with this summit.”

Shiori balled the letter in her fist without a moment’s hesitation. “No amount of money could ever be a worthy exchange for Amegakure’s rights. Konohagakure’s continued indifference to their promises is nothing short of an attack on our freedoms.” With a small burst of chakra from her hands, Shiori incinerated the letter to ashes in her palms.

As Danzō watched the display, a darkness spread over his features. “You know, when I placed those seals on you, I left them reversible in hopes you’d one day use your gift for the sake of your homeland.”

“The homeland I knew and loved was a lie. This incident,” she motioned to the ashes littering the floor, “as well as countless before it have proven that time and time again.”

“If that’s true, then the Shiori I knew and loved was also a lie. I once thought your love and loyalty towards Konohagakure rivaled my own. How foolish of me,” Danzō turned from her and headed to the door. “I will relay your refusal to your brother and reiterate your need to hire better security. If you continue to resist our advice, you’ll need it.”

Description

In the icy Land of Iron, the bundled inhabitants rarely witnessed the sun set behind frosted mountain peaks before it was engulfed by the billowy, evening storm clouds. Like sentries, the clouds surrounded the capital city, stalling intruders until the light of day returned. To the samurai guarding the great city wall, their arrival signaled a changing of the guard, the impenetrability of the opaque mist rendering their service unnecessary. And while the samurai guards were thankful for the relief these storms provided, they were no less thankful for shelter to escape them. Therefore, when evening fell and the winds rose, all guards manning the gate to the Land of Iron retreated inside, save for one.

Noting the absence of his third-in-command, Lord Tokugawa, leader of the Land of Iron, headed upstairs to the wind-blasted city wall. “Mifune, come down. You’re wasting your stamina needlessly. Our guests have now all arrived.”

“All but one have arrived,” the grey-haired samurai corrected, keeping his eyes locked on the nearly obfuscated road.

Tokugawa counted off each guest in his head. All ambassadors, kage, and daimyo from the Land of Fire, the Land of Earth, and the Land of Wind were now present. That left . . . “Oh, I understand now. You’re still waiting on your old friend.”

“I doubt he thinks me his friend,” Mifune chuckled within his armor. “I doubt he thinks of me at all. That was twenty-five years ago. Doubtless he’s forgotten our insignificant duel.” Though decades had passed since he last laid eyes upon the Amegakure village head, he remembered their battle as vividly as though it had been yesterday. For years, he’d longed for a second encounter with the living legend; a second chance to test his sharpness.

“While I would encourage you to reintroduce yourself, unfortunately I’ve received word he will not be joining us this week. He has sent his wife, Lady Shiori, in his place.”

“Another time then,” Mifune sighed heavily in disappointment.

“And if it’s any consolation,” his superior offered, “perhaps Lady Shiori can entertain you in his stead. I hear things are never dull when the Fire Daimyo and his sister are under the same roof.”

“We’ll soon find out,” Mifune squinted as a small object in the distance emerged through the snow flurry. “She’s arrived.”

_____

In the carriage below, Kyo defrosted the glass pane with his sleeve and gazed out the carriage window in relief. “Mom! Rika! I think I see it!”

“Oooo, let me see!” Shiori’s bodyguard shoved the young boy’s face aside with her green head.

“Careful Kyo,” Shiori reached for her son’s blond hair in a final effort to flatten his unwieldy cowlicks before arrival, “if you dampen your sleeves, they’ll freeze the moment we step out of this coach.” Inclining her head to sneak a peek out the window, Shiori heaved a sigh of relief. With the violent snow storm clipping at their heels, they hadn’t arrived a moment too soon.

Once the icy gates gave way to the cavernous opening of the capital, a small fleet of armored samurai surrounded the carriage. As Kanzo leapt down from his post to open the door for Shiori, the men parted way for their leader. “Lady Shiori,” Tokugawa took the blonde’s hand from Kanzo and ushered her forward, “welcome to the Land of Iron. But please, let’s continue these pleasantries inside. This weather threatens to undermine your warm welcome.” Inside the warmth of the Spartan but comfortable compound, Tokugawa and his men escorted the party through a series of rooms, each brimming with guests for the meditation. Though practically already at war, the representatives from each nation greeted one another and Shiori with bright smiles and good spirits hoping perhaps a few friendly words could make all the world’s problem’s disappear.

To Shiori’s satisfaction, she could see that her young son was also serving to lessen tension with his artless charm. His genuine awe of the present kage flattered the foreign shinobi into letting down their guard around the small Amegakure party. With any luck, he would have the same effect on her brother, the one daimyo she had yet to encounter.

“Young master Kyo appears to be warming our frozen hearts,” Tokugawa motioned to the boy who was now throwing the Tsuchikage’s palm his best punch. “Perhaps there’s still hope for peace yet.”

“Perhaps,” Shiori halfheartedly agreed. “But I fear my brother’s heart will not be so easily softened. Where is the Konohagakure party? Have they arrived? I am anxious to introduce my son to his uncle.”

“They are in the east wing,” one of Tokugawa’s men interrupted. “I would be happy to escort you there, my lady.” Following the armored escort with party in tow, Shiori arrived at the wing where Konohagakure had quarantined itself only to shrink backwards in shock. The room contained many familiar faces, among them her brother, Ayame and the current Sandaime Hokage. Their presence, however, nearly escaped her notice as her eyes were instead drawn to a third figure she had not seen in decades. Though his face was weathered and now framed by deep frown lines, he was still unmistakably Danzō Shimura. Sensing her lady’s unease, Rika stepped beside Shiori and appraised the middle aged shinobi with catlike curiosity.

“Shiori,” Ayame frowned at her entrance, “what a surprise to find you here. I’m sure it was considerate of you to come, but your presence here is unnecessary. You can trust that Konoha and the other great nations will consider Amegakure’s welfare in whatever decision we reach.”

“I cannot trust that,” Shiori tore her eyes from Danzō to address her brother. “To date, Konohagakure has failed to uphold any agreement with Amegakure. This pattern is likely to persist without our interference.” Things were not going as planned. Danzō’s reappearance had shaken her and clouded her objective. Now was not the time to incense the Fire Daimyo. “But let us save this conversation for the mediation tomorrow. The reason I’ve sought you out this evening is to introduce you to someone,” she beckoned her son forward and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Your youngest nephew, my son, Kyo.”

“Violet eyes, like yours and your father’s before you,” Danzō spoke for the first time. “An anomaly in your children, I believe.” Her old adversary’s observation frightened Shiori and caused her to grip on Kyo to tighten. When had Danzō ever had the opportunity to observe her children? Let alone the color of their eyes? Evidently, time and distance had not deterred the sinister man’s surveillance. Danzō’s revelation of this now was clearly an intimidation tactic. And an effective one at that.

Meanwhile, Ayame inspected his nephew in silence before nodding in terse approval. “You bear the outward appearance of your Konohagakure heritage. May your character be equally representative.” Uncertain how to respond, Kyo gazed at Rika in silent plea who responded with a wink and tip of her hat. Catching her drift, Kyo bowed lowly and retreated behind his mother.

First objective accomplished, though unsuccessful, Shiori initiated their retreat. “You, like ourselves have traveled all day and must be tired. We will leave you now and greet you in the morning.” Withdrawing from the room as quickly as politeness permitted, Shiori and her company were once more joined by their samurai escorts.

“Your quarters are this way. Please follow us.” After ushering the Amegakure party to their quarters and ensuring arrangements for their security, all but one samurai departed to report to their master. “My lady,” the remaining samurai spoke, removing his horned iron helmet to release a cascade of long, grey hair, “may I have a word?”

Curious at what the foreign man could possibly have to say to her, Shiori readily agreed. “Of course, sir.”

“I am Mifune Toshirō,” he kneeled, lifting Shiori’s hand for a kiss. “Many years ago I fought your husband, Lord Hanzō.”

“I have heard of you, Lord Mifune,” Shiori’s eyes widened in surprise. “You must be as great as the rumors suggest to have survived an encounter with him. I rarely encounter my husband’s former opponents, for most of them cease to exist.”

“It is only thanks to his mercy that I and many of my friends stand before you today.”

“Then you must be someone he greatly respects,” Shiori’s eyes softened. “Occasionally I hear an adversary survived, but never have I heard one was spared.”

“It is an honor I endeavor to earn to this day. I wished to tell you that should you ever have need of anything, I will always be at your service. Paltry as it may be, I can think of nothing else to repay your husband for his kindness.”

Detecting an opening in the exchange, Kyo wriggled his way forward and into the conversation. “Are you really Mifune Toshirō? The Champion of Wakkanai?”

“Why, yes,” the samurai blushed, humbled that his fame had reached the foreign ears of an Amegakure child.

“The Roamer of the Ice-bound Lands?”

“The very same.”

“Is it true that you can stop a shinobi in his tracks before he can even use ninjutsu?!”

“Would you like to find out?”

“YES!”

“But not,” Shiori warned, “in this hallway.”

“Of course. If you would like and if your mother permits, I would be happy to show you in our gym.”

“Mom!” Kyo spun to his mother in a flurry of excitement, “may I please?!”

“Of course. That would be very useful for you to see. Thank you for the opportunity, Lord Mifune. Would you mind if my friend Kanzo accompanies you?”

“Of course, m’am.”

As a gleeful Kyo sprinted down the hallway ahead of Mifune, Shiori pulled Kanzo aside and whispered into his ear. “Kanzo, that man from before, you know the one.” Kanzo, understanding her allusion to the shady Konohagakure shinobi, nodded in understanding. “Don’t let him near my son.”

Still disturbed from her encounter and anxious to clear her mind for the following day, Shiori retired to bathe while Rika guarded their designated wing. As soon as she secured the corridor, however, she began to grow uneasy. Without a thorough inspection of their apartment, Rika could have overlooked vulnerable points of entry. Deciding it better to guard Shiori from within the apartment, Rika flagged two samurai patrollers down to man the door while she assumed her new post from within. As she slid open the heavy panel, light from the hallway illuminated a sole figure pouring tea at the living room table. Alarmed by the intruder, Rika quickly drew her kunai in preparation for attack. “State your business here, Danzō Shimura.”

“How do you know I haven’t already accomplished it? Judging from the color of my tea here,” Danzō peered into his cup, “I’ve sat here for about three minutes now. You’re clearly no sensor shinobi. You were completely oblivious to my presence this whole time while your mistress sat completely naked and defenseless two rooms away. I find it hard to believe Hanzō let his wife loose with such a poor excuse for a bodyguard.”

“That’s pretty tough talk from someone with a bullseye carved on their face,” Rika studied Danzō’s scar as her face hardened into an angry smile. “While you’re here, maybe I’ll tear you a new one.”

"Inept and crass. The residents of Amegakure must be as barbaric as I feared. How has Shiori endured your company this long? It looks like I can ask her myself,” his attention turned to a new feminine figure entering the room.

As soon as Shiori had heard Rika’s voice, she had risen from her bath and reached for her robe, only to freeze in her tracks once a lower, masculine voice responded. Danzō had infiltrated her apartment the very moment she was most vulnerable. Incensed by his underhanded and successful attempts to unnerve her and concerned that conflict could erupt, Shiori donned her silk robe and exited her bathing room to disrupt the standoff. “Danzō, what is the meaning of this?”

“Your guard practically welcomed me in by the front door. I recommend you find a replacement before someone with less honorable intentions stumbles upon you in the bath.”

“Answer my question or leave,” Shiori’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

Danzō took a slow sip of his tea, unaffected by her efforts to expel him. “It’s been nearly twenty years since we last spoke. Wouldn’t you like to catch up?”

“Not in my bathrobe.”

“There will be time for that later then,” Danzō took one last sip and rose from his seat. “Your brother asked me to deliver this,” he reached within the fold of his coat and handed Shiori a sealed letter.

Snatching the letter from his calloused hands and lifting the seal with one swift flick of her nail, Shiori’s eyes darted over the contents. As soon as they reached the bottom line dotted with a bolded ryo character, her brows furrowed in anger. “This is a bribe.”

“Not at all. This is a generous offer of reparation for the damages Amegakure has incurred from Konohagakure in exchange for your immediate departure and promise not to interfere with this summit.”

Shiori balled the letter in her fist without a moment’s hesitation. “No amount of money could ever be a worthy exchange for Amegakure’s rights. Konohagakure’s continued indifference to their promises is nothing short of an attack on our freedoms.” With a small burst of chakra from her hands, Shiori incinerated the letter to ashes in her palms.

As Danzō watched the display, a darkness spread over his features. “You know, when I placed those seals on you, I left them reversible in hopes you’d one day use your gift for the sake of your homeland.”

“The homeland I knew and loved was a lie. This incident,” she motioned to the ashes littering the floor, “as well as countless before it have proven that time and time again.”

“If that’s true, then the Shiori I knew and loved was also a lie. I once thought your love and loyalty towards Konohagakure rivaled my own. How foolish of me,” Danzō turned from her and headed to the door. “I will relay your refusal to your brother and reiterate your need to hire better security. If you continue to resist our advice, you’ll need it.”