Chapter 57: Volume 2, chapter 8: Duels, books & Assumptions. .
Jonin and Jo level samurai were not the same thing.
It was the difference between a level ten rogue and a level ten warrior. They happened to be the same level but they were in no way the same type of combatant. In straight combat a samurai of similar capability would always beat a ninja, sadly straight fights were very rare in real life, and deception and dirty tricks could carry one far. Not to mention good ole assassinations. So while Samurai were technically stronger in practice, eight out of ten times a ninja won a real fight simply because they lacked the scruples of bushido and much greater versatility.
A duel was not a real fight.
Shinobi tactics that I could have used to even out the fight against an opponent as superior to me as a Jo-samurai was were not allowed in said fight and if I did use them that could be a license for my opponent to stop holding back and if half of what I had read about Samurai were to be believed I was going to need him to hold back.
"Can he do this?" I asked Akuro as we approached the sands of the dueling ground.
"Yes, he may designate a Yogo-sha as someone of noble birth." Akuro replied.
"Let me guess since I'm technically not ennobled I can't do the same." I said
"I'm afraid not," Akuro confirmed.
"Is there a reason I can't just refuse?" I asked
"You can but the injury to your reputation and that of those who associate with you would be enormous." Akuro replied
"Of course it would be, dammit. Do I have to win?" I asked
"Against a Jo? No I don't think so, but a certain level of competence would be expected," Akuro replied.
"Why even do this?" I spoke out loud as I went through the trouble of scouring my mind lake for the memory of where I met this guy and what I did to earn his ire. A brief search took me back to my first night in the capital, Prince Taizen's gathering and the nobles in attendance. Shimizu, that was his name. His antipathy had been clear for me even then but why do this? it would accomplish nothing but stroke his ego and create an enemy for him. Could he be that stupid?
I glanced at his smug face and the subtle dullness to the spiritual aspect of his chakra and came to the horrifying conclusion that he could in fact be that dumb.
"Many reasons, Izuku-sama, though I imagine none of Shimizu-sama's motivations possessed significant…depth." It seemed Akuro shared my assessment.
"Shimizu-san." I said as I reached him on the other side of the arena.
"So you remember me now, do you?"he said with a smug smile.
"Is there a reason for a senior samurai being present at our duel?" I asked.
"He will be representing me."
"Can't fight your own battles?" I asked in a last ditch attempt at some provocation, of course it didn't work, I had always been shit at shit talking.
"I am simply too highly stationed to bother with riff raff like yourself Hanama." he said, his face grim. "Unless you intend to flee with your tail between your legs." he continued his smile back with a vengeance.
"May the best man win, Samurai-san." I said ignoring the noble brat and giving respect to the warrior who was just doing his duty. Only to blink in surprise when he completely ignored me though I still caught the flare of contempt in his chakra.
With a furrowed brow I strode to the other side of the arena. What was that about?
"Fighters ready?!" An older eunuch exclaimed from the edge of the sand pit, his voice high pitched and commanding.
I abandoned all other thought and focused on the moment, the low boil of nervousness that I felt at facing such a capable opponent fell to the wayside as I reached for that precarious equilibrium that I had managed to achieve in my time under Lu Ten.
The words of the Budha to the monk Sona came to me at that moment.
"Sona, when the strings of your lute were too tight, was it in tune and playable?"
"No, Lord."
I beat one half of my mind lake into a frenzied whirlpool, my battle lust riding high, turning that half into a typhoon of emotion.
"And when the strings were too loose, was it in tune and playable?"
"No, Lord."
The other half settled into a placid glass like surface without a ripple in sight.
"But when the strings were neither too tight nor too loose, but tuned to a balanced pitch, was it in tune and playable?"
"Yes, Lord."
The two sides crashed into each other and a balance was reached.
"So too, Sona, over-aroused energy leads to restlessness, and slack energy leads to laziness. Therefore, resolve upon a balance of energy, and establish evenness of the faculties. Thus you should train."
My mind became a placid glasslike screen of still water, yet within that still pond a whirlpool ravaged beneath the surface. My internal fury focused and contained turned towards my purposes.
"Hajime!"
That focus allowed me to instantly cast my mage armour—just in time for it to be shattered to pieces. The air was blasted from my lungs as the sheathed blade of the samurai folded me in half, his charge and attack so quick that I didn't even see him move.
Despite the brutality of the blow that easily bypassed my mage armour, all the remaining force behind it vanished as it met my robes and was instantly converted into chakra. Even so, I leapt, allowing myself to be carried with the strike to put distance between myself and my opponent.
My staff appeared in my hands in a puff of smoke.
Natural energy purred under my fingers as they tightened on the wood. In my studies of natural energy, I had learned there was a way to use it that was more than just mystical PEDs. These uses were called sage arts. How to use them—and how they functioned—was a fascinating topic, one that was completely irrelevant right now. This fight was far too fast-paced for the single sage art I had managed to devise.
So, magical PEDs it was.
"Katon: Fireball Jutsu!"
The chakra structure formed in my stomach, flowed upward, and poured through my palms into my staff. There it was bathed in senjutsu chakra, attuned to my own, binding itself to the structure of the jutsu and filling it with power. As it reached the tip of my staff and met reality, it erupted into a bus-sized ball of fire that burned a bright gold.
It streaked across the sand, glassing the floor all the way.
The samurai cleaved it in half.
With his sheathed blade.
I had already been moving after I cast the jutsu. Despite packing jōnin-level power, Samurai were not considered our superiors in open combat for nothing. He closed the distance.
I parried with my staff.
He held his ground, expecting to meet me strength for strength—only for the force of my blow to send him skidding backward through the sand. His face remained stoic, but his chakra flared with surprise.
He should be surprised. I was a bit surprised myself.
Working with kinetic-to-chakra conversion and the Flying Raijin had taught me a lot about space–time and force. I applied this knowledge to my first combat-applicable three-dimensional seal, placed in my staff. I called it the Kinetic Accelerator Seal.
It was a transformation matrix that altered the physical laws around my staff. Force was mass times acceleration—but with this seal active, I could add a modifier. A multiplier.
So when I swung my staff, the rules of physics became:
Mass × acceleration × two = force.
Of course, the chakra cost increased the higher the multiplier went, but the samurai across from me was effectively serving as a battery for all the fuinjutsu on my body by hitting me.
Even so, I could feel the fuinjutsu in my robes strain under that single blow.
Jō were no joke.
I used the brief opening created by his surprise to pass another jutsu through my staff.
"Suiton: Water Ball Jutsu!"
He cut straight through it and charged again.
But I hadn't been idle.
Using the momentary obstruction of his vision, I scooped up sand and hurled it into his face just as he closed the distance. His response was immediate—a sharp grunt as his blade lashed out at where I had been.
I was already gone.
A quick Body Flicker carried me to his flank, and I surged back in an instant later, swinging for his shoulder. I pushed the multiplier to three. The time between my dodge and my attack was measured in milliseconds.
He reacted anyway.
Staff met sheath with a thunderous crack. A shockwave rippled outward, blasting sand into the air and stripping it away to reveal the stone floor beneath. I rolled with the recoil as the winds from our clash slowly died down.
Silence fell over the arena.
Dust drifted lazily back to the ground. I kept my eyes locked on the samurai. He stood perfectly still, one hand wrapped around the hilt of his blade, eyes closed tight. If he reached up to clear the sand, that moment would be enough for me to strike.
But if I rushed him now, blinded or not, I had no confidence I'd survive the counter.
An elite samurai was still an elite samurai.
Fortunately… I had jutsu.
Without hand seals, I coaxed chakra into the ground. An earth spike rose a few feet away, emerging slowly, deliberately—like something trying not to be noticed.
He obliterated it instantly.
That was all I needed.
I crossed the distance in a blur, pouring chakra into my staff and pushing the Kinetic Accelerator to its absolute limit. I swung for his head with everything I had—
—and stopped.
The sudden halt detonated the air itself. A concussive shockwave exploded outward, gale-force winds ripping his hair free from its bun and sending it streaming wildly behind him.
The blow never landed.
With perfect control, my staff came to rest gently against his neck.
"Stop!" the eunuch cried. "The winner is Hanama-sama!"
The samurai's hand was still on his hilt. His blade had slid free of its scabbard by a single inch, revealing a razor-thin line of gleaming steel.
In a real fight, he would have cleaved me in half before I could blink.
Thank every god it wasn't one.
I had won.
I calmly withdrew my weapon, sealing it away with a thought.
The samurai silently retied his bun before wiping the sand from his eyes. When he looked at me, his eyes were red and bloodshot, but they were still clear and without anger. The contempt in his chakra remained—if anything, it had grown—but it was now accompanied by a sliver of respect. With a nod in my direction, he turned away and walked back to Shimazu, who watched with wide eyes.
It took all I had not to gloat, though I feared that after that kind of exertion my willpower wouldn't hold out long enough to remain restrained. So, with a bow to the crowd that had gathered, I left the grounds with Akuro in my wake.
"Izuku-sama, this is not the way to your apartment."
"No, it's not."
I had already had my ass kicked all over a field. I wasn't going to be cockblocked on top of that for the second day in a row.
I was entering that library.
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"I have never seen a shinobi cast a jutsu through a tool," Akuro said as we approached the looming doors of the palace library.
"It's something I made, and the requirements are a bit steep, so it's not widely used," I replied, taking in the towering doors and the dark wood that made them up.
"Yet?" Akuro asked, his voice eager with curiosity.
"Answering that would not be very shinobi-like, would it?" I said, a smile curving my lips.
"You are not very shinobi-like in general, Izuku-sama," Akuro said, unable to hide the slight disappointment that tinged his chakra.
"I feel like I should be offended by that," I rebutted.
"By that I mean you are honest and kind, Izuku-sama," he said sincerely.
"Now I feel like I should be insulted on behalf of my fellow ninja," I replied.
Our conversation was cut short as we reached the massive doors of the library. The building itself was integrated into the palace's immense structure, not its own distinct shape. The doors were guarded by two young eunuchs, as were most major entrances in the palace.
The doors opened into what I could only describe as heaven.
The hall was—at a conservative estimate—fifty to sixty feet high, and so wide I struggled to see where it ended. Within this colossal space stood a forest of bookshelves: row upon row of wooden edifices so tall they required not only ladders, but balconies placed at intervals along their heights.
I stared, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing.
"It is said to be the second largest repository of knowledge in the history of the Elemental Nations," Akuro said at my side, gazing upon the library with as much reverence as I did, despite likely having been here before. I understood— even if I lived here, I doubt I would ever grow accustomed to this.
"And the first?" I breathed, unable to imagine anything larger without reinventing the internet.
"The Uzumaki records. Said to be missing to this day."
That didn't surprise me. Storage seals probably solved the space issue.
Naruko would love the idea of that. Not the reminder of her extinct clan, but the thought of a hidden trove of knowledge created by her family, still out there somewhere.
I would definitely tell her about it. But for now—
"Point me to the sections on history and medicine."
I was painfully ignorant of this nation's history. Ebisu had helped, but only minimally—he was my political instructor, not my historian. The subjects overlapped, but not enough for comprehensive understanding. And as Ebisu-sensei himself said: no action exists in a vacuum.
The medicine was for another perspective, and to continue my studies while my sensei was unavailable and Tsunade-sama absent. There was also Tano's condition. Perhaps I'd find something here that could inspire a solution.
Akuro nodded at my request, and I followed him through the maze of shelves. We passed the occasional older eunuch who spared us only a glance. Soon, we arrived at an enormous section of shelves.
"So? Where is it?" I asked, gesturing at the vast collection.
"You are looking at it," Akuro replied.
"All of it?"
"Indeed."
"…Well. I'd better get started."
I joined him in selecting books and settled onto one of the lower reading platforms—the ground-level counterpart to the balconies above. Akuro soon did the same.
We had been there for what felt like minutes, though it must have been longer—I was halfway through a book when we were interrupted.
"That was a good showing."
Akuro jumped at the sudden voice. I, on the other hand, had sensed him as he approached. Ebisu was good, but I had been playing hide-and-seek with the God of Shinobi for months now. He would have to significantly up his game to get the drop on me.
"He would have killed me in a real fight, but yeah, I think I did okay."
The silence that followed—his failure to respond—drew my gaze from the book in my lap. Ebisu was watching me with the same familiar stare he always reserved for me. As though, if he simply looked long enough, knowledge might be drilled directly into my skull past my towering walls of ignorance. It never seemed to work.
"What did I miss now?" I asked with a sigh, setting aside the treatise on Herbalism in the Land of Fire, written by a Severed Son—like most of the books in this massive library.
"What is the first—" he began, voice taking on the droning tone of repetition.
"No action exists in a vacuum," I replied before he could finish.
"So," he continued, unfazed, "what is the result of your actions?" He took a seat across from us.
"Shimizu leaves me alone?"
Ebisu sighed.
"What do you believe is the source of young Shimizu-san's hatred for you?" he asked, seemingly changing tracks.
"I don't know. Jealousy?" I replied, closing my book and settling back for what was clearly going to become a lesson.
"That is one factor," he allowed, "but shallow, don't you think? He is surely jealous of many others. Try again."
"Because he looks down on me?" I offered.
"Why does he look down on you?"
"Because I'm not a noble."
"In part," he said. "What else?"
I thought for a moment and still came up empty.
"I'm stumped," I admitted with a shrug.
Ebisu studied me for a long moment.
"You are a shinobi," he said at last.
"…And that matters because?"
"The relationship between shinobi and samurai has always been volatile."
"The code of bushidō imposes order and honour upon samurai, while shinobi act without consideration for honour—at least, not in any manner a samurai would recognise."
"This schism has fostered a rivalry that persists to this day, sublimating into a silent competition within the capital. A quiet battle in the shadows over who will serve as the blade of the ruling class."
"Wait, I thought shinobi fought wars." I interrupted.
"We do. But internal disputes among the nobility are still largely resolved through samurai duels, fought in their lords' stead."
"So?"
"There has recently been discussion of shinobi acting as yōgo-sha. The idea gained traction following Asuma-san's performance and moral fortitude. The primary objection was the supposed lack of a shinobi's might in open combat."
"…An objection I just put in jeopardy by beating a jō samurai as a neophyte."
"Yes."
"Can't they just, I don't know, gather together and talk this out?"
Ebisu looked at me with the closest thing to pity I had ever seen on his face.
"Most people are far too attached to appearing powerful to do something as humiliating as admit ignorance or request parley."
"So what does this mean for me?"
"You? Nothing."
He continued calmly, "This is merely one incident in a debate that—though exacerbated by recent events—has been ongoing for decades. Your reputation will improve, but Konoha will neither gain nor lose anything of substance from this."
"With that lesson imparted, I must be off," he said, rising to his feet. The abrupt movement sent his scent drifting toward me.
"Is that women's perfume?" I asked as the subtle, undeniably feminine fragrance reached me.
"I have no idea what you speak of."
He vanished in a shunshin, though not before I caught the briefest flicker of perverted pink in his chakra. I was beginning to reconsider the validity of Naruko's accusations.
"Ebisu-san is… eccentric," I muttered with a snort. That was certainly one way to put it.
"Hey," I added, turning to Akuro, "you said you're studying medicine, right? Can you explain this to me?" I pointed out a section detailing a complex chain of herbal reactions in the book I had been reading. He obliged without hesitation.
After a moment, he asked quietly, "Izuku-sama… why are you so fervent in your pursuit of knowledge?"
"Don't have any guesses?" I asked as I went over what he had shown me.
"Power, perhaps. But now that I have met you, I cannot imagine greed is your primary motivation."
"Well, I suppose I am greedy, in a way. It's just… nice to know things, isn't it?" I asked, looking up at him.
"Yes. I suppose it is." he replied blinking as though he had not been expecting this answer.
"The world feels safer when you understand it. When you know what's going on. Like it's… not so terrifying."
Akuro nodded, listening as though every word mattered.
"I'm grateful to every mind that ever made the world less frightening by sharing what they knew. By passing on their wisdom. I suppose I want to do the same someday. That's one of the reasons, at least."
The other reason was wanting to be a wizard—but Akuro had no frame of reference for that. Still, what I had already said seemed to inspire more than enough emotion. His chakra swelled with something deeper than simple admiration. It was layered, complex, as though there were hidden depths within him—and from those depths flowed a reverence that genuinely flustered me.
"It's getting pretty late, isn't it?" I said, standing. "Let's get out of here."
I turned to leave, and Akuro followed without hesitation. Conspicuously silent throughout our walk back.
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Honoka's time in the capital had been… pleasant.
More pleasant than she had ever expected.
She could not yet call the girls she had met friends, but she had shared many agreeable conversations with them. With time, perhaps, some of them would become friends. For now, she supposed acquaintances was the correct word.
One of those acquaintances was Hidachi-san.
She was, by far, the most beautiful girl among them—at least in the classical sense. Uzumaki-san possessed a different sort of charm: unorthodox, bright, impossible to ignore. Hidachi-san's beauty was quieter, subtler. And she was kind. Not with Uzumaki-san's open warmth, but with a reserved attentiveness that felt deliberate.
Honoka was not an outgoing person. That made her easy to overlook.
Hidachi-san had never overlooked her.
Given the reputation surrounding Hidachi-san's betrothed—and the books he had written—many would have called her foolish for associating with someone so dangerous by proxy.
Honoka thought those people superstitious. Foolish.
Just because a man wrote disturbing things did not mean he was disturbing. Second-hand accounts painted Hanama-san as principled and courteous, as one would expect. And in the short time she had observed him, she could not imagine someone of poor character earning the devotion of someone as kind as Uzumaki-san.
All in all, she held Hanama-san in fairly high regard.
…His beauty played only a minimal role in that opinion.
At least, that was what she told herself—and she was committed to believing it.
How foolish she was.
They sat in one of the palace's open-air gardens, blankets spread across lush grass still cool from morning dew. Delicate porcelain cups rested on lacquered trays. Steam from the tea curled lazily upward, carrying the faint scent of jasmine. Sweet cakes and sugared fruits were passed around while polite conversation drifted like birdsong.
Honoka was not participating as she should have been.
Her father would have scolded her for her timidity, had he been present.
She could not help it. It was simply her nature.
Instead, she sat quietly beside Kuromaru-san, content in her silent companionship.
Then a eunuch came running into the garden.
Sweat shone on his brow. A folded paper trembled in his hand as he delivered it to Yoshiko-sama.
The princess read it once.
Then again.
Her eyes widened, irises darting as she reread the contents with growing intensity. Slowly, she lifted her gaze—and for a brief, horrifying moment, Honoka thought that gaze was meant for her.
Her heart lurched.
Only after a heartbeat did she realize Yoshiko-sama's attention was not on her, but slightly to the side.
Honoka turned.
Hidachi-san was meeting the princess's stare with serene composure. Her polite smile did not falter. If anything, the longer the silence stretched, the more uncomfortable Yoshiko-sama appeared.
At last, the princess looked away.
She dismissed the eunuch with a sharp gesture. He fled.
As protocol demanded, a second wave of servants immediately poured into the garden, distributing slips of paper to each lady present.
Honoka spotted her maid scanning the crowd for her. She snapped her fingers to catch the girl's attention—sharper than she would normally allow herself. Something in her chest twisted with premonition.
The maid approached with a face drawn tight with fear.
Honoka nearly tore the paper from her hands.
Her eyes raced across the words.
Her heart sank.
Her idiot brother had challenged Maiten-sama to a duel.
And he had lost.
The world tilted.
Her mind spiraled instantly through consequences—political, social, personal. Every angle of vulnerability. Every way an absolute master like Maiten-sama could exploit such a disgrace. What it meant for her family's standing. Their alliances. Their future.
Then she remembered who sat beside her.
Honoka turned slowly.
Hidachi-san met her gaze with the same placid calm as before. Unshaken. Unbothered. As though the chaos unfolding around them did not concern her in the slightest.
And suddenly, a terrible thought took root.
Was her brother's impulsiveness truly impulsive?
How convenient that the political genius who had arrived in the capital with little power now possessed a perfect opportunity to insert himself into court politics—on his third day.
And how convenient that the catalyst for that opportunity was the brother of the girl who had been spending so much time beside his betrothed. Beside his right hand.
A chill crept up Honoka's spine.
For the first time since arriving in the capital, she did not feel safe.
Something told her she never had been.
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A/N: Izuku shows his stuff!
He visits the library with Akuro!
He bonds with the plucky Eunuch!
Abrupt Ebisu interrupt! MoRe PoLiTIcS!
Misunderstandings abound!
Sage art? What are those?!
Will the budding bromance last? Or will the waves of the capital come between two young nerds?!
Who is Ebisu porking?! And why?!
Why does everyone keep assuming Izuku is some sort of machiavellian intellect?! And how will Kuro be taking advantage of it?!