Marked for Death: A Rational Naruto Quest

"Well, would you look at that?" Hazō exclaimed in exaggerated disbelief. "Snake eyes again! Any more, and Orochimaru will accuse me of stealing his collection!"

There was a series of chuckles from around the gambling table, if slightly subdued ones—even now, months after the advent of the Final Gift Programme, Orochimaru's name continued to strike fear into the hearts of many clanless ninja. Hazō made a mental note not to use the joke again.

Since he was playing with the house dice, Hazō could lose exactly as much as he liked, as often as he liked. Card games were harder, because a surprising number of the visitors frankly outclassed him, but he'd found a way to capitalise on that as well. He played high-risk, high-reward, meaning his victories were few but spectacular, and nobody came under the illusion that he was losing because he was incompetent rather than because this was all a highly-enjoyable sham.

Behind him, in a booth, Kadokura Ruri waited. He'd banked on her arriving early out of respect for her host (and social superior, though not as much now as a few days ago), but unfortunately, she'd not taken the opportunity to join in the gambling with him. Instead, she sat there, politely waiting for him and also studying him with clear blue eyes that seemed like they missed nothing. He extricated himself from the game as soon as he could.

He slipped into the seat opposite her. "I'm sorry for making you wait. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Not at all," Kadokura said, brushing back her hair as she straightened in her seat. "I came here prepared for games, Lord Gōketsu."

"No need for that," Hazō told her. "You and I are two of a handful of people who get to stand on the threshold between two worlds and influence them both. I'd say that makes us equals in a way Leaf politics can't encompass. Call me Hazō."

She considered for a second. "I'd like that."

Hazō opened his mouth to ask for permission to use her own name, but she cut in.

"But not just yet," she said lightly. "First names are a privilege for friends and lovers, and we've only just met. Something to look forward to."

The smile that followed her last few words made Hazō feel slightly dizzy. Right, seduction training. Mari had wasted no time making inroads with her Leaf counterparts, and had had no trouble recognising Kadokura's name and providing urgent warning. Kadokura wasn't a specialist the way Mari was, but had reached jōnin level by dipping her toes in many pools over the course of her career, meaning she got the most out of every natural talent rather than abandoning whatever didn't fit her primary path. Then Asuma must have decided to augment the generalist with a specialist's worth of firepower, resulting in something potentially terrifying.

Hazō considered flirting right back, but his brain gave him an immediate "ABORT ABORT ABORT" in bright red letters. He knew from painful experience with Ami that he was not (yet) equipped to play that game against seduction-trained jōnin of unknown intentions.

"Something to look forward to," he agreed neutrally. "For now, let me congratulate you. Only the best of the best get chosen to be summoner. The Hokage must think very highly of your abilities."

"I'd like to think so," Kadokura said. "Not that he exactly had the luxury of choice. But I appreciate the compliment. We're going to have an interesting time trying to catch up to the previous generation of summoners."

Like Jiraiya of the Three.

Hazō nodded sympathetically, keeping his more personal feelings from his face. "It's a massive victory for the KEI, and that's something I want to congratulate you on as well. You're all long overdue that kind of respect."

"I wonder," she said thoughtfully. "Can I speak plainly with you?"

"Always."

"It'll take more than this"—she waved in the direction of the gambling tables—"to win us over, Lord Gōketsu. A year ago, you'd have been a hero for spending your own clan money to help the clanless. The full third of Leaf would have been queuing up to become Gōketsu-lite. But we're not a year ago.

"No one condemns the people who come here to take your handouts. Every one of us has been in a position where we had to bend the neck or go hungry—that was what being clanless was—and there are far worse people to bend the neck to than you. But no one's under any illusions. If a clan's being generous, it's because it wants something, and what you want is to buy our loyalty. It's a good play, and frankly it tells you everything about the other clans that in seventy years not one of them has thought to try it.

"But we're not a year ago. We're not clanless; we're the Konoha Enlightenment Initiative. We're not scrounging for resources to survive; we're fighting to be recognised as equals. We know you're not trying to undermine the KEI—Ami has never let us forget that you were the first to speak up for us with the Shimura Law. But since then, we've lived in a world of campaigning to prove ourselves, and you've lived in a world of offering us charity. It's the act of a friend, but it's not the act of an equal."

Kadokura's assessment was biased, and not a little cynical, but it brought up points Hazō hadn't considered. The KEI were campaigning for freedom from clan control, while what Hazō was offering was informal clan adoption. He'd considered the two approaches complementary, but to Kadokura and those who thought like her, they could easily be exclusive. A clanless ninja could join the KEI and become a KEI ninja—which came with an ideology, mutual support, and the coordinators' informal leadership. Or they could join the Gōketsu—which came with a different ideology, top-down support, and Hazō's informal leadership. It was only a matter of time before some irreconcilable difference had turned up, though he'd never have imagined it to be the simple act of giving people things they wanted.

"You've given me some things to think about," he said after mulling it over. "But no matter how it comes across, I do consider the KEI ninja equals. I don't know how much you know about me, but for most of my life, I was effectively clanless myself. My mother sewed chūnin jackets for sale on the grey market."

"I know," Kadokura said.

"It never occurred to me to begin with that clanless ninja shouldn't deserve equal treatment," Hazō went on. "I think the KEI is vitally important, not just for Leaf, but as proof to the wider world of what clanless ninja can accomplish when given a chance to do so. I also think the Gōketsu are in a unique position as clans go. We have no traditions. We have no secret lore. We have no deep coffers passed down by our ancestors. We do have bloodlines, I'll admit, but they're random things whose higher secrets our birth clans never taught us. We're no Hyūga or Ino-Shika-Chō. That's something to bear in mind before you decide to lump us in with the clans that have always discriminated against you."

Kadokura gave him an amused look. "You have the fortune, sealing notes, and general fifty-year legacy of one of the greatest men in history. You have the same combat and diplomacy Bloodline Limit that got Kurosawa Ren chosen as the Mizukage, the summoner's dream Bloodline Limit with potential applications that make any halfway intelligent ninja drool, and Ami and Lady Keiko's powers speak for themselves. To say nothing of the bloodline Lord Kagome's hiding.

"The fact that you're not one of them doesn't mean you're one of us, Lord Gōketsu. That you can remember being clanless doesn't mean all that much when you're standing in the middle of your own compound, pouring out money like water while waiting for reports on a dozen world-changing projects nobody at these tables even has the education to imagine."

"My point," Hazō said doggedly, "is that we're on the same side. The Gōketsu aren't fighting to protect privilege that would be wiped out if more people started living decent lives. We're fighting for a world of genuine equality. If everyone is rich and powerful, then no one is—and the Gōketsu are OK with that, so long as that world of equality is also a world of happiness. If you want our credentials, don't look at what we own. Look at our goals, and whether we're working to fulfil them, because I assure you, we're giving them everything we've got."

Kadokura chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, Lord Gōketsu: a lot of us have high hopes for you. You're part of the wind of change that's sweeping Leaf after generations of stagnation. But so far, while the Hokage and the coordinators have been reshaping the fabric of society for the KEI, all you've been doing is creating dependants. You can do better. I personally believe that you will."

She rolled her shoulders as if releasing tension.

"I think that's enough of that, don't you? If you wanted to talk about the KEI, you'd have invited your sister, not me. Would you like to make your offer, Lord Gōketsu, or give it a little more time first?"

"My offer?" Hazō asked, not entirely surprised but curious about the reasoning.

She pointed at him. "Clan head." She pointed at herself. "New summoner. The timing isn't exactly subtle. It would be flattering to think you were interested in me for me before you even met me, but sadly, this is business. I don't think I have anything for you right now, Lord Gōketsu, so what is it you want to offer me?"


"I'm in."

The decision came within seconds of Hazō finishing his explanation.

"As easily as that?" he asked.

She nodded, as if surprised at his surprise. "Large amounts of money for minimal effort, obvious benefits to Leaf, and another thing to take to the Condors so they don't peck out my liver during negotiations. What kind of lunatic would refuse?"

Hazō laughed. "Then let's hope I don't meet any lunatics, because I still have a few people to talk into this. I'll be in touch with more information as I get it."

"I'm sure you know where I live," Kadokura responded. "Since we're here, though, why don't you show me what you can really do?" She gestured towards the gambling tables.

"It would be my pleasure." And he was going to play as if his life depended on it, now he knew how Kadokura felt about his deliberate losing.

Kadokura took his hand, pulling him towards the most popular tables.

"I'm glad I did my research," she said off-handedly, turning back to him. "You're exactly how Ami said you would be."


The Minami compound was a very different place when it wasn't in mourning. There was a sense of animation in the air, people bustling to and fro in the corridors, civilian servants scrambling to get out of his way as his host led him to a waiting room, and in one case a pair of children being pursued by what appeared to be a wrathful tutor with an enormous splodge of ink across his chest. For pre-teens competing with an adult ninja, they were leading him on quite the merry chase.

"Please, take a seat, Lord Gōketsu," Minami Aika invited him, waving over a servant to order tea. "My condolences with regard to your sister."

There were two ways to read that statement: one referring to the rumours flying around Leaf in the aftermath of the concubine laws vote, which had developed with curious speed and ranged from the unthinkingly bigoted to the outright vile, and another which risked getting him angry enough to make this meeting difficult. He decided, for now, not to ask for clarification.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Hazō said instead. "My congratulations on the Porcupine Scroll. Your cousin died saving my life, and I've been trying to repay that debt ever since. It's a joy to hear that the scroll we brought ended up in your hands."

"You've done Leaf a great service," Minami said. "More, I suspect, than you know. My aunt also speaks highly of you. She asked me to remind you that you are welcome to visit her for tea at your convenience."

"I'm happy to hear that," Hazō said honestly. "I hope the invitation I'm bringing today will be another small step towards paying back what you've already given. How have you been finding the Porcupines?"

Minami gave a small smile. "Rambunctious. Their leader, Yamaraja, has me playing with their young. It is a trial of both patience and agility, since their quills are already alarmingly sharp, but they do not yet have an adult's control. It is, of course, also a sign of trust, so I am optimistic about my chances of acceptance.

"They are also," she added quietly, "impossibly cute."

"I've been working on transportation systems for puppies," Hazō said. "I don't know if that's better or worse."

"Indeed," Minami said after a second's thought. "Have yours offered you their traditional cuisine yet?"

Hazō shook his head. "But they're Dogs, so presumably it'll just be some kind of meat."

The servant finally returned with two cups of tea, as well as a selection of cookies, and, curiously, a blank scroll and writing implements. He bowed to Minami, then to him, before placing the tray on the table and beating a hasty retreat.

Hazō eyed the cookies curiously.

"Aunt Karen made inquiries about your tea preferences," Minami said. "As to the Dogs, I can only urge caution. The Porcupine old-style herb salad is a thing of unfathomable terror."

"I'll bear it in mind."

Hazō tried a cookie. It was honey-flavoured, and a little too sweet.

"Please write your impressions on the scroll there, in as much detail as you can. Some people prefer a numerical score, but I tend to find them hard to interpret."

"I'm sorry?"

"My aunt asked me to find out how you liked your cookies," Minami said matter-of-factly. "I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing properly."

"You know, Minami," Hazō said with his most genuine smile of the day, "I think we may be of a like mind. Are you familiar with the concept of a post-interaction survey?"


"…haven't got back to me with their projections yet, but Shikamaru is optimistic, so I'm expecting good news. What do you think, Minami?"

Minami's expression shut down completely, like an iron wall uncompromisingly repelling Hazō's goodwill.

"As a shinobi of the Minami Clan, I am unable to accept your offer."

"I don't think I understand," Hazō said cautiously. "This plan doesn't affect your clan directly, but even as far as it does, it just means getting you more money and influence. What's the problem?"

Minami stared at him. Slowly, her expression softened. "Forgive me. I realise you meant no offence. Tell me, Lord Gōketsu, how familiar are you with the history of my clan?"

Hazō had a sense that wording was important here, and therefore it was safest to say less rather than more. "I know that your founders were Hyūga with a different Bloodline Limit, and your clans were at war before the Hokage gave you official recognition and stopped the Hyūga from attacking you."

"You are not incorrect," Minami said, "much in the way as describing a summoning scroll as ink on parchment is not incorrect."

"Then could you enlighten me?" Hazō asked.

Minami took a slow, deep breath in. "Our ancestors were the children of a particular set of siblings within the main family. When every one of them failed to develop the Byakugan at the appropriate age, they were naturally deemed defective. They were treated almost like civilians"—she spat the word—"and shunted off into the side family, tolerated only because they still had the blood and so their children might be proper Hyūga again.

"But they weren't defective," she said, her voice strengthening. "They were superior. They had a new bloodline, bestowed by the Will of Fire to meet this new age with its greater challenges. The Hyūga, of course, could never accept that, so when the children began to manifest new powers, the Hyūga declared them tainted, contaminated by the venom of the Chaos Snake that dwelled in the north-west where the clan originated. That alone made their lie obvious—the Will of Fire protects us all from the caprice of the kami. That is why, after Leaf was founded, there was no more need to worship or placate them.

"Do you know what they did, Lord Gōketsu, after they concocted that excuse?"

"They drove the children out," Hazō said.

"The children escaped," Minami corrected. "Their parents weren't willing to see them culled, and fought back. Not all of them survived. After that, the Hyūga hunted us. Like animals. We weren't even a threat to them—nobody could extract clan secrets that we didn't have. They hunted us, and we fought, and we were nearly wiped from this world.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of Sōdai?"

"The Minami Bloodline Limit is called Sōdai's Prism, isn't it?" Hazō asked.

"Sōdai was the clan's hero. He'd been refused apprenticeship by Orochimaru over ethical differences, but it had only made him more determined to unlock the mysteries of the human body for the good of Leaf. When the purge began, Sōdai abandoned all of his projects in favour of research on our Bloodline Limit. He was the one who gave us the power to fight back. He also worked with… well, that's not relevant here.

"He didn't have the temperament to be a leader, and the second oldest, Hanae, had died taking a stand against ten Hyūga assassins after they discovered our underground hideout. But the second daughter, Yūna, took charge and persuaded the Hokage that we were worth more to him than the continued goodwill of the Hyūga. Yūna named us the Minami, after the first generation's grandmother who had decided to stay and intercede on their behalf instead of fleeing, and who died a martyr's death as the 'source' of the 'cursed blood'.

"Lord Gōketsu, the Hyūga never withdrew their declaration of war. We have never stopped being at war, except insofar as the Hokage promised consequences if either of us tested his tolerance too far. His death was a catastrophe for the Minami, and you would sleep better not knowing what was happening in the shadows of Leaf during the Chūnin Exams. When the Sixth came to power, we feared the end of the clan, and praised the Will of Fire when he died without ever having had the time to pursue the vendetta to its logical conclusion. It is only now the Hyūga are weaker than ever, and the Seventh has tacitly renewed our covenant with the gift of the scroll, that we can breathe easy again.

"With all that in mind, how willing do you think I am to take the hand of Hyūga Neji, cousin to the clan head, the degenerate who tried to corrupt my own innocent cousin, for the sake of personal enrichment?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Hazō choked.

"What part of what I said is at all surprising?" Minami asked. "You should know the Hyūga as well as I."

"No, the cousin thing. What are you talking about?"

"The piece of filth tried to get his claws into Nikkō's sister, Minori, before she was even out of the Academy," Minami hissed. "He had his cousin Hanabi lure her in with pretences of friendship so they could play some kind of twisted 'roleplaying game' together. I don't want to imagine what might have happened if she hadn't mentioned it to one of the older children, who went straight to Aunt Karen."

…

Hyūga. Roleplaying games. Hyūga.

…

No, he had to focus. Maybe this situation was salvageable.

"Minami," he said, "a roleplaying game is a perfectly innocent hobby for all ages. My family plays them all the time, often with friends from other clans."

He could see Minami pause to update, frowning slightly.

"It doesn't matter," she decided. "Tell me, Lord Gōketsu, would you play a roleplaying game with Akatsuki?"

If he thought it wouldn't get him killed, brainwashed, or executed? In a heartbeat.

There was almost certainly something wrong with Gōketsu Hazō.

"Exactly," Minami said with the air of a woman making an incontrovertible argument. "He is the kind of man who preys on innocent children in order to strike at his enemies. It doesn't matter if the tools he uses are wholesome or not.

"Let me amend my statement, Lord Gōketsu. As a shinobi of the Minami Clan, I will gladly participate in your project—if Hyūga Neji does not."

You have received 3 + 1 + 1 = 5 XP and 1 FP.

Fun-to-write bonus included.

Asuma has been informed of Sadaharu's disappearance, and is preparing to field angry inquiries from the Mizukage about Leaf's failure to secure its part of the route between the two villages. He anticipates demands of reparations on behalf of the Wakahisa, which he has no particular interest in granting.

The basic construction work for the koi pond will be done soon, but you really need a Wakahisa expert. For obvious reasons, it's a highly specialised job which Noburi, a disfavoured genin, knew precious little about. Wataru is dragging his feet, as he is clearly terrified of making a mistake which will kill off the entire school before a new expert can arrive, for which he will then be held personally responsible by both clans.

The rest of the plan has yet to be implemented.

What do you do?
Voting ends on Saturday 22nd of August, 9 a.m. New York Time.