Chapter 58: volume 2, chapter 9: Misconceptions, Corrections & Perfidy.
Kuro had learned enough at this point to at least try to restrain the pleasurable shiver that went down her spine at the look of unadulterated terror on Honoka's face. She didn't have much success, but she did try.
A brief flicker of her dōjutsu over one of the girl's shoulders allowed her to instantly memorise the letter's contents and learn of recent events. Honoka's less-than-bright elder brother had pulled Izuku into a duel—not only installing a yōgo-sha to fight in his stead, but having that champion be a jō-level samurai. Kuro felt a brief fissure of killing intent at the thought of Izuku having to face such a dangerous opponent just to stroke some lordling's ego, but she put it away and revelled in how useful this was.
Both Ku-kun and Ko-chan had neither the taste nor the sense to acquire soft power—at least, not intentionally. They were far more focused on hard power, like jutsu. Ta-chan was better educated, but she lacked ambition beyond maintaining and repairing relations within her clan. That left Kuro as the only one among them with both the desire for and appreciation of social affluence and all its uses.
They were going to be a family—a big family—and big families had needs. She intended to make sure they lacked for nothing. Besides that, she was the dark shadow to the lights of her loves, and that role required subtlety. Subtlety that trips into the dark mind of Danzō had taught her.
Say what you want about the man, but he knew how to infiltrate a political system.
Kuro intended to do much the same.
"Honoka-san?" she called gently. The girl's gaze snapped up from the paper in her trembling hands to stare at Kuro as if her life were in jeopardy. Honoka needed to get her actions under control—Kuro hadn't tortured anyone in weeks. Honoka shouldn't tempt her.
"Would you like to speak privately?" Kuro asked with a small smile, standing to leave the hall without waiting for a reply.
The sound of Honoka's gulp of terror as she scrambled to her feet to follow her was music to Kuro's ears.
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Kuro seemed to be in a particularly good mood today. Yesterday was very eventful, so it should be no surprise that as soon as I got back to the apartment I hit the bed and was out like a light. I woke the next morning to a very chipper Kuro. A quick glance at Naruko informed me she was not aware of the cause for this rise in mood. Of course, that glance led to a very enthusiastic interrogation about my fight with a jonin and a ninshu-enhanced retelling of the events, but I wasn't opposed to it.
Our time was interrupted by the arrival of Akuro with an invitation to attend another social event held by the prince. I know that being on the cusp of adulthood, in the strange space between a completed education and not having many duties, they had a lot of free time — but social gatherings every day was a bit much, wasn't it?
Regardless, we dressed up, Naruko put on her transformation, and we made our way toward another large hall where the gathering was being held.
There was a brief moment of silence and tension as we stepped through the doors, but it was short-lived and conversation continued unabated. I felt multiple gazes watching us now — to be expected, I guess. I did fight a duel yesterday. That was an exciting thing to consider. Many present were probably curious about how it happened.
I half expected someone to walk up to us and request a retelling. Someone did walk up to us, but it was not who I was expecting.
"Hanama-san." Shimizu approached, sounding much more respectful than I had ever heard him before. There was a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to him on his arm, as if Shimizu's features were made more feminine and set in a prettier cast.
Both of their chakra boiled with anxiety, but the girl was the only one who seemed to be experiencing actual fear. I smiled at her to offer some comfort and her fear spiked along with a bolt of… arousal?
Okaaaay. Ignoring that, I turned away from who was presumably his sister to address the man himself.
"Hello, Shimizu-san. How may I help you?" Something about what I said put him on the back foot. The slight tenseness in his chakra — as though he had been bracing for a blow — was replaced with hesitation and confusion. He glanced at his sister, who stood beside him. Her chakra seemed not just unsurprised but vindicated, though that vindication only resulted in more fear and more… you know what? I'm just going to ignore her.
After a few moments of wordless conversation with his sister, Shimizu turned to me.
"I would like to commend you for your performance yesterday," he said through gritted teeth, the words feeling more unsure than reluctant — in a way that showed he meant them, he just wasn't sure if he should say them. I found whatever antipathy I had held for him drifting away.
"I see. Thank you," I replied, a bit surprised at this turn of events but always happy to bury a hatchet. Don't hold on to grudges, kids — they take too much time and energy. If someone is worth the effort just kill them and be done with it. At least that's what my sensei tells me.
"I would like to apologize for my abrupt actions yesterday. I hope my conduct has not created enmity between us." He said it more easily due to my lack of open hostility. Easier didn't mean easy — I could sense the sting to his pride — but this, like everything else he had said so far, was sincere.
"Of course not." Sure, having my butt handed to me by a Jo was a bit on the spot and kind of embarrassing, but Ebisu-san said it would not have had any effect on Konoha if I had lost, and left to me I wouldn't have turned down a fight against a Jo Samurai anyway.
My words drew a wave of approval from Kuro — something that felt intentional. Given she knew I could sense her emotions, it probably was. I glanced between her and Shimizu's sister and noticed the covert glances the girl had been sending Kuro this whole time.
Oh. I see what's going on. Social networking.
"Why don't you sit with me today and we can get to know each other — really put this behind us." I said to Shimizu, offering my hand to shake with a smile. I was aware that Kuro had been making moves in the background of the capital while I was doing my own thing. If this was part of one of those moves, I wasn't opposed to helping.
The feline satisfaction I felt coming from her was answer enough.
Shimizu hesitantly gripped my hand. The girls took this as some sort of silent signal to depart, never having said a word the whole time. It was strange to be around women who spoke so little. I was aware that it was part of the traditional gender roles among the nobility, but I had grown used to shinobi and civilian women who were just as — if not more — talkative than men.
Though one could say the silence was warranted from a certain angle. Female politicking was much more subtle, and words were weapons not to be thrown around carelessly — at least that was what Ebisu said. I thought Naruko would have more issues with this, but it seemed she found it hilarious. I had the faint premonition she would be using this to her advantage at some point for some bit of mischief.
With the girls gone, we moved to the male side of the hall, to Shimizu's table, which was a bit away from the prince's table. It also wasn't receiving too many letters. What letters, you might ask? Well, instead of talking to each other during social events, men and women sent letters between sides of the gathering. Why do this, you ask? Don't look at me — I was just as confused as you.
The table was full of the scions of samurai clans like Shimizu himself, and while they were initially hesitant to speak to me, they warmed up as we got to know each other.
I learned that Shimizu-san wasn't that bad — a bit spoiled and with a bit of an ego — but not actively malicious. I also learned that the samurai clans weren't doing well. The ongoing struggle between samurai and shinobi as the blades of the noble class had already been settled among the lower noble class — those who couldn't afford to have a live-in samurai and could just hire a ninja when they needed one.
This led to many samurai clans falling out of grace, and this table was full of the sons of such clans. It was a dour topic, so I turned it toward something else that interested me — their histories and their combat methods.
They were a bit cautious about their techniques, but they were more than happy to talk about their histories — a bit too happy.
At the end of the gathering, as we went our separate ways for the evening, I was now aware of at least three generations of great warriors from all of their families, and I was positive a few of them were tall tales. Still, we left that table more cordial than adversarial, so I would call it a win.
The ladies weren't done. It seemed that just like the men had done a day ago, they were going out to town — specifically to see a play. Feeling a bit cheeky, I wrote a few lines of Shakespeare on some papers and had them delivered to Naruko and Kuro before leaving the hall, Akuro and Tano falling into step behind me as I left.
The day wasn't over and the library wouldn't be closed yet. One more trip would not be remiss. Maybe I—
My thoughts were interrupted by a wave of envy that came off Tano. I followed his gaze and saw that we were walking by an open courtyard on the way to the library. In that courtyard, a group of young boys were being led through a set of kata by an older man wielding a wooden sword.
Tano had stopped without noticing and was watching them intensely, his hands tightly wrapped around the hilt of his wooden blade. I watched him for a moment — his slim face and the sad yet impotent rage that swelled in his breast. Rage at what exactly? His life? His body? The samurai that rejected him? All of the above?
I wasn't sure, but suddenly I wasn't so keen on going to the library.
"Hey, you know I haven't seen you use that sword before," I said to Tano, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"I would just embarrass myself, Izuku-sama," he said.
"Or you might impress me. We don't know unless we try. C'mon, Akuro — why don't you take us somewhere out of the way where we can spar a bit without drawing attention?"
Akuro looked between us for a moment but nodded and led the way without complaint. I followed, and despite his earlier hesitation, Tano followed as well.
The courtyard we came to wasn't any different from the rest in the palace — stone-tiled floors and a few statues of fu dogs at the edges of the open space.
"Akuro, on your mark," I told the young eunuch while taking a stance at the other side of the courtyard. I didn't summon my staff. I assumed Tano would be more insulted if I summoned it only to hold back preposterously anyway.
"I'm not sure about this, Izuku-sama," Tano said as he unsheathed the wooden blade at his waist.
"It's just a spar, Tano." I gave him a reassuring smile.
His hesitation did not vanish, but he focused on the moment, getting into a low stance with both hands wrapped around the hilt of the blade pointed at me.
"Hajime!" Akuro announced.
Despite his earlier reluctance, Tano was the one to advance. He was slow — not as slow as a civilian — but barely genin level. When he reached me, I waited for his strike and almost got hit in the head. I stepped back in shock, dodging the blow that had come seemingly out of nowhere, only to see him whip his blade back overhead and strike again.
Despite how slow he was, his technique lacked excess movement and telegraphing. Even with the disparity in our capabilities, I was almost hit simply because of how smooth his blows were — the kind of smoothness that could only come from hours upon hours of repetition.
It showed in every aspect of his movement — his footwork, his breathing, his grip. It reminded me of Rock Lee, and that instantly raised him a few notches in my opinion.
Speaking of minds, Tano's was almost devoid of emotion at that moment. His chakra glowed with deep serenity, every motion patient and mindful. In this moment — swinging his sword at me — he couldn't have been more at peace. I found myself being pulled into this serenity, and our spar became more of a dance than a true fight.
A dance that came to an abrupt end when Tano collapsed like a puppet that lost its strings.
"Tano!" I exclaimed, kneeling to check on him.
He had fallen face-first on the floor. I turned him over. His eyes were blank and a little drool leaked from his mouth.
My hand lit up with medical ninjutsu as I began to scan his body while Akuro ran up to us.
He was running low on chakra — not empty, but low enough that he couldn't enhance his body anymore, and enhancing his body with chakra was the only reason someone in his condition could move at all.
There was a festering self-hate in his chakra. I looked up from his chest to see tears running down his face, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing as he tried to speak, but no words came. His body was so weak he couldn't even summon the strength to speak.
I looked away and began to use the chakra transfer technique. It took a few minutes for his reserves to recover, but when they did he didn't gasp or do anything dramatic. He rolled over and got to his feet in a manner that suggested this wasn't the first time it had happened.
"Forgive me for my lapse, Hanama-sama. This is what happens when I exert myself," he said, eyes on the floor, face blank.
"I am… I am weak." The self-hatred in his chakra burned like a bonfire.
There was fear there too — a familiar shade. I had been around Naruko long enough to recognize it.
The fear of abandonment.
"Tano." I placed a hand on his shoulder and made him meet my gaze. I considered my next words. Promises that I would never abandon him might work on my girlfriends, but I got the feeling Tano needed something different.
"You will become a Samurai, Tano," I said firmly, the promise behind the words clear.
He stared up at me in disbelief, but something in how I said it must have reached him. He nodded hesitantly. Doubt and despair still lingered in his chakra, but now there was a small beam of light — a slight hope in all that darkness.
I intended to meet the expectations of that hope.
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The paper of the meter-long scroll I had acquired crackled as I spread it across the wall and pushed pins into it to hold it in place. I took a paintbrush in my hands and wrote two large words across the material.
Muscular Dystrophy.
"Okay… how do you cure something like that?" I asked myself while staring at the words.
"The question, Izuku-sama," Akuro answered from his seat at a table covered in scrolls we had commandeered from the library, "would be what is muscular dystrophy?"
We were back in the apartment. Tano had gone to bed as soon as we returned, and I had decided to hold a brainstorming session to figure out how to help his condition. I didn't expect to find a cure tonight, but having a general outline of a plan would be nice.
"It's a disease where a person cannot properly grow muscle, which leads to constant muscular deterioration," I replied, writing the definition beneath the title.
"That sounds more like a disability than a disease, Izuku-sama," Akuro said mildly. "Disabilities can't be cured—only managed."
I found that doubtful. We had magic. There was no such thing as impossible—only unlikely.
"Unless you can permanently change the way a person's body behaves on a cellular level," I countered, drawing a column labeled Solutions and writing it down.
"That sounds dangerously close to bloodline research," Akuro said cautiously. There was something strange in his tone.
"I'm not advocating dragging people into basements and cutting them open against their will," I replied. "But can you imagine the kind of help that could be provided with a technique like that?"
He flipped through one of the anatomy books we'd taken from the library before looking up and offering an encouraging smile. "It is a worthwhile endeavor, Izuku-sama. My expertise is limited, but I will provide whatever help I can."
"Great. Then let's get to it."
Chakra healing largely depended on the body's inherent ability to heal itself. You could alter a body, but once it was injured and healed, those changes would revert. If I forced Tano's body to develop muscle, those muscles would eventually deteriorate unless I taught him the technique himself—which wasn't viable. As my sensei had drilled into my head, just because I could do something didn't mean other people could.
That meant I'd need to create a technique capable of altering someone on a genetic level.
This was where Akuro and I disagreed.
He insisted—insisted—that permanently changing a person's biology without a corresponding reinforcing effect was impossible.
I disagreed. I also wasn't willing to tie Tano's continued health to an external factor that could be disrupted or destroyed. When I made that reluctance known, Akuro flatly stated it couldn't be done, and the discussion became circular—me proposing ideas, him dismantling them.
It was frustrating… and incredibly stimulating.
It was a mental tug-of-war I hadn't experienced anywhere else. My teachers were either too experienced, too entrenched, or simply uninterested in pushing back hard against my ideas. I usually ended up right in the long run—but it was becoming clear that I would have reached those conclusions faster if I'd had someone willing to lock horns with me.
And that was exactly what we did.
We argued deep into the night, voices rising and falling as we meandered from one line of reasoning to the next.
We were debating the relationship between mitochondria and physical output—how that influenced chakra formation and enhancement, and whether any permanent alterations could affect the process—when Akuro made a statement with surprising consequences.
"If only there were a technique that altered the regenerative properties of a body long-term," he muttered, sitting on the floor beside me, legs splayed, leaning back on ink-stained palms as he glared at the wall of notes that had expanded far beyond the original scroll.
"I've heard Tsunade-sama can heal lost limbs," I said absently, inspecting a diagram of skin-shedding Akuro had drawn beside our notes on hypertrophy.
"The Byakugō Seal just accelerates normal healing, she doesn't—" he began, then stopped.
It took a moment for me to realize what he had said—and why he had stopped so abruptly.
I slowly turned toward him.
He was pointedly avoiding my gaze, eyes fixed on the scroll.
"…Akuro?" I said, dread pooling in my stomach.
He wasn't supposed to know that.
"Dammit," the young monk swore—the first time I'd ever heard him curse.
I was already rising to my feet to put distance between us, but he was faster. Much faster than I had ever seen him move—and far faster than a civilian should have been able to.
He slammed his hand into the floor.
Fūinjutsu spiderwebbed outward, covering the entire room in moments. He shoved his wrist toward me.
The last thing I saw was the darkness inside his sleeve—and the swarm of snakes that poured out of it, coiling around me as my world went black.
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A/N: …..Did you see it coming?
Anyways!
Izuku himbos himself into the beginnings of a political base!
Kuro likes this!
We learn some more about Samurai clans and their current state!
We see the fruits of Young Tano's determination and a compact is made!
Akuro reveals himself to not be who we thought he was!
What other relationships will young Izuku make in the capital?!
What does Kuro plan to do with those relationships?!
Will young Tano ever reach his goals?!
And what the heck is going on with Akuro?!