Chapter 37 — The Sorrow of Small Nations
Why did Oda Nobunaga's single sentence make Yuki drop to his knees in terror?
After all, the Cloud shinobi had come here specifically to cause trouble.
They had even egged on the Grass shinobi as their blunt instrument.
Yet this—this was the twisted tragedy of the ninja world's political system:
the dual-authority structure of Daimyō and Shinobi Villages.
In a way, it was no different from the "court and shogunate" model from the Eastern islands of the Blue Planet.
The difference?
In the ninja world, although the Daimyō no longer commanded armies,
they still held their noble status and retained absolute control of the nation's finances.
Enough power remained to check their own shinobi villages—
not like their Blue Planet counterparts who had to worry whether eating one extra fish would count as wasteful luxury.
Even though every major shinobi village held the real military and diplomatic power,
no Daimyō had ever given up the dream of reclaiming control over their ninja.
This was precisely the leverage Oda Nobunaga exploited.
Because in the Five Great Nations—even the mighty Kage must bow to their Daimyō.
Each new Kage must ceremonially submit their nomination and receive an official endorsement.
So even though Nobunaga was "only" the Daimyō of a minor nation—
and certainly not the Daimyō of Lightning Country—
Yuki was still an envoy, not a Kage.
If he dared be disrespectful to Nobunaga here…
what would stop him from disrespecting his own Daimyō tomorrow?
And once a mere jōnin dares lift a blade against a Daimyō,
how long before the Kage overthrow the Daimyō system entirely?
Despicable!
A moment ago, Yuki was gleefully waiting for the Grass shinobi to humiliate Nobunaga.
Now he was prostrated on the floor like a scolded dog.
His head burned with rage, his nails dug into the tatami—
but he could not rise.
To do so would ignite a political crisis between Daimyō and shinobi—
and he, a mere envoy, could not shoulder that consequences.
So kneel he must.
---
But the most embarrassed man in the room wasn't the Cloud envoy…
It was the Grass envoy chief.
Just moments earlier, he had been preparing to molest one of Nobunaga's maids right in front of the daimyō.
And now?
His greatest backer had been flattened with a single line of Nobunaga's calm rebuke.
If even Cloud's envoy was kneeling…
What should he—representative of a minor, insignificant Grass Village—do?
Nobunaga was a walking BUG, a man occupying two political identities:
He was not only the leader of Otogakure…
but also a true Daimyō of a sovereign nation.
If Nobunaga had met them only as the leader of the Sound Ninja,
there would've been no need for such formalities.
No ninja would kneel to another village's leader—not even a Kage.
But a Daimyō?
That was different.
After a long, painful moment of internal struggle, the Grass envoy chief glanced at Yuki—
still kneeling like an overgrown rodent, backside in the air.
A deep sigh escaped him.
He finally understood…
And just like Yuki—
he began bending his knees, ready to kneel as well.
The Grass envoy chief never wanted to carry the blame for provoking an open conflict between Daimyō and shinobi…
But whether he wanted to or not didn't matter—
Yuki was not about to let him off the hook.
Just as the Grass envoy chief was about to kneel,
Yuki let out a heavy, deliberate cough.
The meaning was crystal clear:
"I can kneel. You cannot.
If someone has to carry the blame, that someone is you."
Hearing the cough, the Grass envoy chief's bent knee froze mid-air.
He stared at the Cloud envoy—his supposed ally—who was now blatantly pushing him into the fire pit.
Then he glanced at Oda Nobunaga—calm, smiling, radiating the dignity of a daimyo.
What the hell did I do to deserve this?!
He forced out a smile uglier than crying.
He couldn't kneel, couldn't stand.
So he remained stuck in a humiliating half-squat—
as if sitting on an invisible stool.
---
"Heh."
Nobunaga let out a soft laugh,
his gaze cold as he looked upon the Grass envoy chief—
a fool who thought he could hide behind Cloud Village's shadow.
He said nothing further.
Ninja physique or not, sitting on an invisible stool for a few minutes was nothing for a shinobi.
But Nobunaga wanted him to stay that way—
to understand that being someone else's attack dog is not a comfortable job.
Still trapped in his awkward pose, the Grass envoy chief was ready to cry.
But Yuki, who was still kneeling, was done being quiet.
His eyes shifted, and suddenly he had an idea.
Nobunaga wanted to use "Daimyō authority" to pressure him?
Fine.
Then he would use "ninja village rules" to counter-pressure Nobunaga.
If Nobunaga insisted on breaking those rules—
Cloud Village would gladly amplify the resulting chaos.
He lifted his head with calculated confidence.
"Respected Daimyō Oda Nobunaga," he said suavely,
"Since the founding of the shinobi system, there has been one universally accepted rule:
'The affairs of a ninja village belong to the ninja village.
The affairs of the Daimyō belong to the Daimyō.'"
"Since Uzumaki Shion and her daughter are now registered as Grass shinobi,
their lives and deaths fall solely under Grass Village authority.
Even as a Daimyō, you cannot break this rule."
The Grass envoy chief felt Yuki's icy gaze drilling into him.
This was it—
a moment to show loyalty,
a moment to prove himself a useful pawn.
So he gritted his teeth, snapped upright, and jabbed a finger toward Nobunaga's nose.
"Oda Nobunaga! You may be a Daimyō, but rules are rules!"
"Uzumaki Shion must be returned—whether you want to or not!"
"And you must compensate us for the Grass shinobi you killed outside our village!"
"Our demands aren't high:
Disband your ridiculous Sound Village,
and hand over all missions from your country to Grass and Cloud!"
"If not—your entire Land of Rice Fields doesn't deserve to exist!"
His voice grew more arrogant by the second.
Without waiting for Nobunaga's reply,
he pulled from his robe a document Cloud and Grass had already agreed upon.
He lunged forward, shockingly fast—
so fast even the ever-alert Zamaike with his hand on his sword couldn't react.
He reached out, intending to grab Nobunaga directly.
Seeing the Grass envoy leap forward, Yuki stood up as well.
He dusted off his clothing—though no actual dust was there—
and smirked confidently.
In his mind, strength made right.
A Daimyō was only as respected as others decided he was.
If Cloud refused to recognize Nobunaga's authority,
what did his "Daimyō status" matter?
"Oda Nobunaga-dono," Yuki said with mock courtesy,
"I advise you sign the contract."
He held up another scroll.
"This one states that from today onward, Cloud Village will assume complete protection of the Land of Rice Fields."
"Isn't it because you lack strength that even Grass dares threaten you?"
"With Cloud's protection,
I swear—on Cloud Village's honor—
no such disgrace will ever occur again."
"As long as our Cloud shinobi are stationed in your mansion,
you'll never have trash like Grass shinobi barging in again."
He said this right in front of the Grass envoy.
The Grass envoy froze mid-air, inches away from grabbing Nobunaga.
Slowly, he turned his head toward Yuki,
eyes wide with disbelief:
"This… this isn't what we agreed on!!"
Yuki blinked once.
He had indeed jumped the gun;
the plan was to humiliate Nobunaga more thoroughly
before introducing this "protectorate treaty."
Why had he revealed it early?
He wasn't sure himself—
he chalked it up to being irritated by Nobunaga.
But earlier or later—
what difference did it make?
He shot the Grass envoy a contemptuous look.
"I sold you out—so what?"
"Trash is trash.
You're as useless as Oda Nobunaga."
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