------Daimyō's POV-----
The Daimyō of the Land of Fire sat in his opulent chamber, the golden glow of hanging lanterns illuminating a stack of reports on his lacquered desk.
His face, usually calm and regal, twisted into a scowl as he read the latest scroll—a detailed account of an assassination attempt on his grandson Kenta during his birthday celebration a year ago.
The culprits? A major noble house, loyal to his scheming brother, with ambitions to topple his lineage. His fingers tightened around the scroll, crumpling the edges as fury boiled within.
'These treacherous dogs!' he thought, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth ached.
'A noble house—an aide to my own brother—daring to strike at my heirs? They wanted either Kenta or Ikkyū to die during the banquet and then kill the other at a later time—paving the way for that snake's brat to steal my throne!' His eyes blazed, the room's silence broken by a low growl. "Cowards!" he snarled aloud, slamming the scroll down.
"Plotting behind silk curtains while I've kept this land prospering—they think they can gut my family like fish? I'll have their heads—brother or not!" His advisors, seated around the chamber, flinched at the outburst, their usual composure shaken.
One advisor, a wiry man with a pinched face, cleared his throat nervously. "My lord, the assassinations won't stop here. Your brother and this noble house—they'll keep targeting the young masters until their line succeeds yours. Young Master Kenta is now an easy target since he no longer has the noble status. But… we also lack hard proof to arrest them. Suspicion alone won't hold in court."
The Daimyō's scowl deepened, his voice a hiss. "No proof? Then find it! I won't sit here while my grandsons dodge blades—do your jobs, or I'll replace you with men who can!"
The advisor shrank back, bowing low, as another spoke up—a stout man with a sharp beard. "My sources have confirmed the attacker's identity, my lord. The shinobi who struck Young Master Kenta was trained by the Hōjō clan—a minor shinobi clan in Konoha, subordinate to the Uchiha. He was an under the box shinobi who apparently turned rogue two years back."
A third advisor, a plump woman fanning herself, huffed indignantly. "The Uchiha again! Can't they leash their dogs? First they let their brats run wild, now this—Hōjō shinobi attacking nobles? Disgraceful!"
"Enough!" the Daimyō barked, his voice cutting through the squabble like a katana. The room fell silent, advisors freezing mid-argument. "This meeting's suspended—bring me proof, solid as stone, before we reconvene. Out!" He waved a hand, and the advisors scurried out, bowing and muttering apologies. Alone, the Daimyō summoned his head samurai, a towering figure in gleaming armor. "Deliver a message to Sayaka, Kenta's maid and protector in Konoha," he ordered, voice low. "Tell her to watch the Hōjō clan and the Uchiha—trust no one, guard my grandson with her life. Go, now." The samurai bowed and vanished, leaving the Daimyō to his thoughts.
He picked up another report—this one on Kenta's exploits in Konoha—and a smile tugged at his lips. "Beating everyone in taijutsu, eh?" he murmured, pride swelling as he read of Kenta thrashing classmates with claws and swagger. "That's my blood—Madoka's fire, unquenchable!" But the smile turned wry, then faltered, as he scanned further. "Blackmailing his teacher? Insulting classmates? Calling Lady Mito… an 'old lady'?!" His eyes widened, a shiver racing down his spine. "Oh, kami—Mito Uzumaki! That woman's a terror—Hashirama's wife, Nine-Tails' jailer! If she hears this, she'll storm here, chains rattling, laughing that awful laugh—'Hahaha! Your brat needs manners, Daimyō!'" He clutched his head, imagining her towering over him despite her small size. "She'd spank me for not raising him right—me, the Daimyō, cowering like a scolded kid! Kenta, you little menace—what have you done?!"
He groaned, sinking into his chair, muttering, "I'll send him an etiquette scroll—or ten. Maybe a nanny. Kami help us if Mito knocks on my door!"
---
Meanwhile, in a shadowed corridor beyond the Daimyō's chamber, the stout advisor with the sharp beard slipped into a secluded alcove. His face, once animated with concern, turned cold and emotionless as he pulled a small scroll from his sleeve. Dipping a brush in ink, he scribbled a terse note:
"Lord Danzo, the net is cast. The fish is hooked—squirming, but caught." He sealed it, handing it to a silent figure cloaked in black—a Root agent—who vanished without a word. The advisor's lips twitched faintly, then stilled, his mask of loyalty sliding back into place as he rejoined the bustling palace.
---
Far from the capital, in a sprawling merchant estate, Shizuka Madoka sat at a desk piled high with ledgers and letters, her elegant kimono slightly askew from hours of work.
Kenta's mother was filled with determination, her sharp mind racing to fulfill her son's latest requests.
'My baby boy, a shinobi—out there dodging kunai and insults!' she thought, clutching a letter he'd sent:
"Mom, get me some cool shinobi stuff—Konoha's too cheap to have it. You're rich, make it happen!" Her heart swelled, a goofy grin spreading. "Oh, Kenta, my little warrior—Mommy's got you covered! Anything for my precious sprout!"
The first request was done—a sensei for advanced chakra control and sensory skills. She'd scoured the Konoha shinobi, bribing informants and charming traders, until she'd snagged a jonin civilian shinobi talented in sensory.
The second item? Trickier. Kenta hadn't specified, but Shizuka knew it was big—a guarded secret from one of the great shinobi villages.
"Whatever it is, it's for my baby's safety—war's brewing, assassins are lurking, and my Kenta's too cute to die!" She'd gotten a lead: a rogue Jonin from Suna, rumored to possess what Kenta wanted, hiding in the borderlands. "Cost me a fortune to track him," she told her assistant, fanning herself dramatically. "He's slippery—keeps demanding more gold, says I'm 'milking his secrets dry!' Ha! I've got coffers deeper than his ego—I'll buy his whole village if it keeps Kenta safe!"
She flopped onto a cushioned chair, clutching a tiny Kenta portrait—a chubby toddler version—cooing, "Oh, my little mochi king, Mommy's working overtime! You'll get your shinobi thingy, and I'll throw in a lifetime mochi supply—gotta keep those teeth sharp and that tummy full!"
Her assistant coughed, hiding a grin, and Shizuka waved him off. "Laugh all you want—I've earned mountains of ryō for my babies! Ikkyū's safe in the capital, but Kenta's out there being a hero—Mommy's gonna arm him to the teeth!"
She scribbled a note to the Suma rogue, her tone syrupy yet steely: "Double the gold if you deliver by next month—my boy's waiting, and I don't like delays!" Sealing it, she sighed dreamily. "Oh, I'd hug him if he weren't so far—maybe I'll visit, smother him with love 'til he begs for mercy!" She giggled, imagining Kenta squirming under her doting, then sobered. 'Anything to keep him alive—war, nobles, whatever. Mommy's got this.'
--------Author Notes------
Y'all can read 15 extra chapters of the novel on my pat*reon.
https://pat*reon.com/BoogieWoogie266
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