----Lord Koza Kubasaki's pov--------
It was a mess. A complete mess.
Not just the ruins left behind in the courtyard, or the blood-soaked remnants of what was meant to be a quiet evening. No, the real chaos was what followed—the rumors that bloomed like mushrooms after rain. Whispers in the market. Gossip in the retainers and the merchant cicle. Even the couriers shared mutterings about the "explosion without sound" and "insect swarms" that haunted the night.
And me? I was stuck handling two sets of shinobi locked in my cells like prized war trophies.
Thankfully, security wasn't an issue. The Fuinjutsu chains, imported directly from the Land of Whirlpools at a cost that would make most lords flinch, were holding firm. I'd have to send Shiromari a thank-you gift. Maybe a cart of bees—his damned Chameleon boss summon had a taste for honeyed bees that would put a royal chef to shame. An expensive diet, but worth it.
Summoning jutsu had always fascinated me. In the shinobi world where most of them twisted chakra into fire and lightning, summoning stood apart— ancient, co-operative and regal. Just the image of me standing atop Shiromari as he went through his transformations filled me with happiness akin to a child.
It was the one shinobi art I admired. I even travelled to the Land of Whirlpools to study it once.
But now? I found a second art I respected just as much.
Medical ninjutsu. True, surgical, life-saving healing that could be systematically taught.
Despite Kirito Kyudo weaponizing it, it was a truly beautiful and lovey art. A jutsu style that focused on giving life, rather than taking it. Even the samurai discipline who believe in protecting the life, couldn't accomplish the same.'
WHOOOSH
The moment I stepped into the underground holding cells—cold from the damp, dim corridors—my eyes were drawn past the Aburame agents still rolled up like captured worms, immobilized beneath layers of shimmering seals. The elite insect-wielders hadn't moved an inch since capture. Not like I allowed that, especially when considering their threat level.
My real interest lay beyond them.
Through the open gate of the secondary cell, I saw them—not as prisoners but working. The seals on their shackles had been released but the shackles remained.
Considering the sheer amount of skill they showed in Fuinjutsu last night, It was not surprising they managed to break the fuin seals.
The surprising point was that they didn't run despite my hostile imprisonment of them. Of course, the imprisonment was for valid reasons.
As much as I want to question them, I waited when I saw the sight in front of me.
Inside the cell, Karui, the Kyudo girl, led a team of young shinobi. They were patching up their wounded. Specifically, their leader—Kyudo Kirito—who lay shirtless on a table, his torso marred with fresh lacerations and burns. Around him, the injured boys—Kenta, Kyu, and Ryu—were propped on makeshift mats, flesh seared, and arms twisted unnaturally from whatever jutsu they had thrown themselves into during the fight.
But they were healing. Fast.
Muscle knitting. Skin reforming. The faint green glow of medical chakra shimmered around Karui's hand as she reattached nerves with precision that rivaled any court healer I'd ever hired. No chakra overuse. No hesitation.
The last time I saw healing like this was from one of the Uzumaki's "special medics"—rumored to possess a Kekkai Genkai passed down for generations. But this?
This was from training. Systematic. Learned.
Hence, it became another shinobi art I now respected.
I should've felt gratitude. Relief, even. But as I stood there watching, all I could feel was irritation. Boiling frustration. These were the same shinobi that dragged me into this mess, even if unintentionally. Because of them, assassins had crossed the border into my town. Because of them, the biggest inn complex of my town was in shambles and my people were in panic as a result.
And now?
Now, I had to ask for their help.
I cleared my throat, just loud enough to draw attention without barking like a commander. Momosuke turned his head first—dark eyes narrowing, spine stiffening like a trained soldier.
"My Lord," he said evenly. "You've arrived earlier than expected."
"Is it?" I said, voice clipped as I stepped forward. "I wasn't sure if I'd be walking into a cell or an ambush. Apparently, it's both."
Karui didn't pause in her work despite my acquisition of ambush. Good girl. Disciplined. A trait common in samurai but rare in young shinobi like her. A trait that I was starting to notice all the shinobi from this clan.
I turned my gaze back to Momosuke, the second-in-command, clearly holding the group together in Kirito's absence. From what I had seen, this one was a sharp kid.
"We were poisoned," I said bluntly. "My samurai and I. And not mildly."
A pause. My voice echoed against the stone.
"The court healers worked through the night. Their only response was a list of rare herbs, imported reagents, and a recovery window spanning weeks." My eyes hardened. "Unacceptable."
Momosuke nodded once. "Understood. It must have been difficult considering the spread of poison due to combat. Slow-acting, chakra reactive poison that was bane of shinobi who thrive on combat. That sums up the poison bugs of Aburame. Despite the short time of fighting you did, it was enough."
"Seems like you know it well?"
"We were trained to deal with it. Kirito taught us how to purge it efficiently."
"Taught you?"
It meant he was prepared for fight, atleast with the Aburame for some days. Good to know.
He didn't even hesitate to reply. "Yes."
I hated how professional and cooperative they were. Even the most skilled and honourable samurai had their pride, and it made things difficult for me. But, the shinobi were truly different. Especially these Kyudo clan shinobi who seemed to be trained in the art of conversation. Despite the current imprisonment or my pressure, they didn't show any signs of their nervousness, fear or anger. It was to the point that made me wonder if they even felt them or had they lost them like the few cynical and war mongering shinobi clans like Shimura.
But, looking at their protective formation around Kyudo Kirito, I understood that they felt the emotions, but they had the mental discipline to hide them in front of outsiders like me.
"I need it gone. All of it. From me. From my men."
Momosuke nodded as if expecting that and said, "There were two paths. One, you allow us to do detoxification procedure using our chakra which will be sent into your-"
"Rejected!"
My tone left no argument about my thoughts regarding the proposal. Yesterday clearly showed me how easily these shinobi could break a human body. The flashes of green chakra construct still passed through my mind. According to Kyudo Kirito, it was an incomplete jutsu but nonetheless destructive. In a single use, he crippled multiple shinobi.
I couldn't imagine the complete version of that jutsu.
A heartbeat passed since my stern rejection. Then Momosuke turned to Karui and said, "We'll stabilize Kirito-nii. After that, Karui, prepare a purging solution."
Karui's eyes flicked toward me, then nodded respectfully.
I hated how impressed I was. Especially at this conversation, despite my attempts, I didn't gain any useful information. An impressive fact when I was used to wordplay with nobles and greedy merchants since I could first remember.
But, the lack of experience showed when they revealed things unintentionally. From that, I could form a basic opinion about this clan.
These weren't mercenaries who hunt for money or status.
No—these were soldiers. They had a clear organizational structure like the army and a complete chain of command. Since I stepped into the cell, not once did someone else interrupt Momosuke, much less go against his words. They were the kind of shinobi who didn't want wealth, but something else.
Fighting for something else. Perhaps, revenge or something else entirely.
Troubled by the number of questions I had, I decided to get the answers for at least some of them.
Curious, I asked them my first doubt of the day, "So, why didn't you leave the cells? Considering how you managed to break the Fuin shackles and retained your capacity to use chakra."
Momosuke shook his head wearily and said, "The same reason why you dared to walk into the cell with complete confidence. It was not just due to your strength but due to your summon."
I couldn't help but say, "It seems my doubt was confirmed. Kirito's actions said that much but it seems your information gathering capabilities were truly strong. Especially since you managed to find out Shiromari's transformation."
RUMBLE RUMBLE
The cells rumbled as to signify Shiromari humming. The moment I mastered summoning jutsu, I started using Shiromari's partial summon to imprison rogue samurai and nukenin.
His transformation into the cell block made things easier to hide himself. So, when the foolish prisoners tried to escape, they regretted it.
Shaking my head, I asked Momosuke, "So, Momosuke Kyudo. How about you and your clan serve me? You were truly competent and unique. I saw your leadership and felt that such a clan led by you would be a boon to my territory."
Momosuke didn't outright agree with me or dismiss me. No, instead he seemed to cut through the words and asked me, "Me and my clan, led by me. So, you mean that you don't want Kirito-nii. Now, that's surprising and foolish."
I snorted at that comment.
"Sure, from the information I gathered from the Land of whirlpool, underworld and personal experience, I could say wholeheartedly Kyudo Kirito was the most talented shinobi I met till now. But, it also means that he was a good shinobi. I don't understand his motivations and can't trust him. Unlike you, I don't think I can rein him down if he crosses the line. So, shed him and serve me. Under me, you and your clan would prosper. On that point, the moment you agree, land will be granted for your clan and it's services."
I noticed one fact yesterday. The Kyudo shinobi seems to respect and trust Kirito, but they seem to love this brat- Momosuke. Not that Kirito wasn't beloved but not to the extent of this brat. It was as if I was looking at me and my retainers when I watched Kirito and his clanmates.
An oddity when you consider how most of the shinobi consider the clan to be a big family. It was as if there was a barrier between them.
"You know."
Momosuke's words turned my attention to him. My excitement clear on my face. Their skills were really useful for a Daimyo.
"Kirito-nii was an entirely different person before the original Kyudo clan's eradication. I still remember him jumping around and using ninjutsu to entertain us with funny stories or his battles. He laughed with us and encouraged me to pick up shogi. He helped Yoshime with drawing. Bought custom silk clothes for the girls. On and on, I could say countless things. But, he changed after that."
I found with surprise that all the Kyudo shinobi were glaring at me while they surrounded the unconscious Kirito and the trio of boys.
"He changed. I still remember the choice he gave us. Walk the path of shinobi or settle for peaceful and happy citizen life. We choose shinobi life. Since then, he maintained a distance with us. Only interacting with us for teaching. Only teaching. Despite the sheer amount of effort, wealth and care he put into our growth, he didn't get involved in our personal life. Such a drastic change had made us question him once. But he gave the answer hundreds of times over the years. The exact number of times should be known better by Kirito-nii's freakish brain. But, the point is that the answer didn't change, only the place, situation and manner of in which it was given changed."
'""I don't expect you guys to survive till the end. It is the fate of the shinobi in this era. Rather than experience more pain when you die, I rather not get close to you. Hence, I would be able to use you as efficiently as possible, without our closest relations hindering me. Until the day we find our safe home, I could only treat you like a fellow shinobi. When we do reach that safe home, I will spend the rest of my life with the survivors, grieving for the dead I couldn't know as much as I wish. But, I can promise you with all my being that the next generation would be safe, away from the disgusting violence and brutality of this era."""
Momosuke took a deep breadth and said, "You can give us land or wealth my lord, but I don't believe you can give us a home. A home must be built with our hands, only then it could be called a home. And to make it safe, I am sorry to say this my lord, but I don't think you can be better than Kirito-nii on that aspect. Considering the only one in this room who know most of his thoughts and plans, I can say that I believe in Kirito-nii's vision and dream, which will give us something never seen before. I had seen his relentless efforts in achieving it. He was cruel both to himself and us for achieving that. For better or worse, you are the most crucial key in taking the first step forward to achieving his plans. That's why I hope you forgot this conversation, Lord Koza. Forget your offer was ever made."
With a deep breath he turned back and walked towards his patient leaving a single sentence, "Give us a day, we would prepare the antidote."
Now, that was a rejection as clear as the sky on a sunny day.
I nodded and stepped out of the cell compound towards my court. I signalled for one of my guards to collect the medicine at night.
Meanwhile, I focused on the only useful information I got from the entire conversation. Kirito Kyudo needed me.
Whatever his plans or dreams were, the fact remained that he needed me. That much was clear from the words of the emotional Momosuke.
My aim of this entire scenario succeeded. I managed to get some form of information, but it was interesting that the offer to betray Kirito provoked such intense reaction. I don't if he was tempted or completely averse to the offer, considering the outburst.
Anyways, it helped me.
Looking at my hair on my hand that stood up, I snorted. If they did betray him, I planned to clean my hands of the Kyudo clan and treat them the same way as the shinobi from Land of rice. Now, the loyalty they displayed was cute and helped me decide in favour of listening to Kyudo Kirito's offer. Backstabbing traitors were never allowed in my land. Perhaps, it was a trait from samurai education but I would not allow that.
Besides, I was never in danger considering my ability to summon Shiromari. As for their crude decision to force me, into involving myself in their fight, I could punish them some other way. They were useful and worthy enough to used as a means to achieve my dream.
"LORD KOZA KUBISAKI, LORD OF TOKA, MASTER SAMURAI OF IRON STYLE SWORD SCHOOL, IS ENTERNG THE COURT."
The cold stone beneath my boots echoed with each deliberate step I took toward the dais. My court, still shaken from the previous night, was silent. Whispers halted, scrolls paused mid-unfurling. All eyes were on me.
I sat down heavily on the seat that crowned the room—less a throne, more a symbolic statement of order. But, I hoped to change that soon. A real throne would be my seat. The same throne that haunted my family due to the paranoid nature of our Daimyo cousins.
For a moment, I let the silence stretch.
Kuroba, my master-at-arms and head of the Toka Guard, stepped forward. His armor clinked with each step. His expression, as always, was unreadable.
"My Lord," he said, voice like cut granite, "what of the shinobi?"
I didn't blink. "They will remain imprisoned. All of them."
No reaction from Kuroba. No surprise either. Just the barest incline of his head. He would've likely executed them if it were up to him, but I knew he saw the practicality in my choice.
"Ensure they are treated properly," I added, voice even. "Especially the Kyudo shinobi. See that they're fed, monitored, and informed I expect to be notified the moment Kirito Kyudo awakes."
"Yes, my Lord."
In fact, I felt that he approved in silence. Now that was surprising, it made me curious about the reasons behind his approval. That was a talk for later, in the privacy of our quarters. For now, I turned toward my civilian advisor, Councilor Natsume.
Unlike the warriors lining the court, Natsume was a man of scrolls, ledgers, and wordplay. A master of ink and influence through words. A man I would make minister once the Daimyo seat was mine.
He bowed shallowly and began his report, concise and clean like always.
"There are already rumours," he said, "that the shinobi from the Land of Rice tried to assassinate you. Your retainers are stirred, and the merchants are whispering chances of war. I am afraid the situation would be the same for the rest of nobility in the land."
I gestured for him to continue.
"We estimate the rumours will reach the Land of Rice within a week. That includes the version claiming you survived thanks to an alliance with the Kyudo clan—a narrative gaining popularity due to the witnesses at the inn and the damage contained to the exact perimeter of the inn's plaza."
He lifted another scroll, marked with clan seals.
"Additionally, I've received letters from the three clans—one of them directly delivered through an ambassador shinobi. They state clearly that their members acted on personal vendetta or there was a mission mistake. They renounce the attack as unauthorized. Standard damage control."
As expected. Clans always detached themselves from political failures. Smart of them.
I tapped the armrest, thinking.
"What would be the reaction," I asked, voice low, but unable to hide the excitement and eagerness since I heard the idea last night, "if we declared war? If we claimed this was an act of aggression from the Land of Rice?"
Natsume's eyes flashed with calculation. Surely he had to known about the whole talks from last night. My 54-year-old advisor who navigated politics most of his life was the best in foreseeing the possible scenario.
"There would be protests from the neutral lords," he said, "but few would act against the idea of war itself. The Land of Rice is considered weak militarily. Their reliance on shinobi clans over organized samurai force has long been criticized. If you frame this as retaliation and self-defence—particularly if backed by key testimonies—you'd have the pretext."
The captured shinobi from the 3 clans. It left a bad taste in my mouth that once more Kyudo Kirito foresaw this and requested me to capture them. They would be useful testimony.
"And the chance of victory?" I leaned forward slightly. No matter where the idea came from, I needed to know if it was possible.
"With proper support?" Natsume allowed a thin smile. "Eighty-five percent. If you mobilize now—before they rally allies or hire powerful mercenaries—you could win in under a season."
I allowed myself a rare grin.
It was never about the Land of Rice. It was about the timing. About what a war would do to consolidate my power, silence opposition, and elevate me beyond a regional Lord to the one who commands armies of land of Hot water.
"Very good," I told Natsume. "Draft a preliminary declaration. Keep it vague. Defensive, but stern. I want it to arrive just as the rumours of the incident reach land of rice."
Natsume was skilled enough to achieve that.
Now, I need to prepare for war. The moment the reply from Land of rice came, no matter if it was refusal or acceptance, I could declare war legitimately.
Politics made the situation quite ironic. Declaring the war now, would make it warmongering. Like how I planned to start the war the moment I got the chance. But declaring war after the reply, criticizing it with various rebukes no matter how childish or minor they might be, would make it a justified act of war. After all, suing for peace before war would be an shining example of good conduct of war.
Such was the way of the world for hundreds of years.
Now, I just need to make the 3 shinobi clans from the land of rice accept the charges of assassinating me.
I had just the person in mind for the task. He better wake up fast.
The same confidence in his ability and his vision made my mind wonder and a thought grew in it- I need to find a way to tie a leash around his neck.
"Hopefully! Natsume and Kurabo could think up a way to achieve that."