Morning came. Regrettably. The pain came with it. What more proof was needed of the irrational structure of the world that Kei, the injured party, was the one compelled to feel pain after that confrontation?
Her vengeance had been necessary. Just. The only option left to her after it had become apparent that Mari had no interest in facing justice. She was no saint, no kami of judgement to awaken a sense of morality within Mari's heart and force her to confront her sins from a place of honesty rather than self-flagellation (an art Kei knew all too well, just as she knew its self-centred nature). Yet it was necessary for balance to be restored, and Kei knew of no other path left to her.
Kei had spent so long wracking her brain. How was it possible to take proper, proportionate revenge on someone she still loved, and someone whose suffering would be mirrored in their other loved ones? How could she repay monstrous deeds without herself becoming a monster? Where could she even find the initiative? She had no one to confide in, no way to seek advice. Hazō and Noburi would only seek to dissuade her, having somehow forgotten—or been manipulated into forgetting—that Mari had cost them everything, had saved them only by coincidence while sacrificing every other person she had brought to the Swamp of Death, and then slept soundly, troubled only by thoughts of missing-nin threatening her own precious survival. They had not even sought an apology for destroying their lives.
Akane was incapable of understanding true evil, and would likely struggle with vengeance as a concept to begin with. Kagome she dismissed from consideration. She did not dare consult Ami. Ami had, for reasons Kei did not understand, not moved to take vengeance of her own, and if she were to change her mind, Kei could not imagine the scale of the destruction. It was
very rare for Ami to commit to anger. Shikamaru could not be involved—he was more protective of her than anyone realised, and it would be disastrous for this to become in any way a Nara-Gōketsu matter. Tenten… Tenten might perhaps counsel forgiveness, for Kei to be the better person, if only for the sake of her own soul. But Kei was not a better person. Nor was Snowflake, but she possessed no insight unavailable to Kei.
And then, before Kei ever found any answers, Mari laid her true feelings bare and Kei did not have the strength of will not to respond in kind. Even in the middle of a mission. Even in front of an outsider. Even in hostile territory where they were doubtless being spied on by their hosts.
They would all side with Mari. Of course they would. Yuno had no voice in this matter, but Noburi—assuming he had survived—would have sympathy for Mari's fresh pain, not for what Kei had carried with her all these years. Kei could not guess what had happened to his own. Hazō would seek to mediate, as if the two sides of the scale were equal. Anyone else? Well, Kei was the aggressor now.
Still, there was one consolation. Today, Hazō's plan proposed, she would attempt to secure Takahashi-sensei's cooperation. It would be a balm to her soul to speak with her old master, and a contribution she could make to the mission as herself rather than as a false hero from a faith she even now despoiled.
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Takahashi-sensei's home had not changed at all. There was the rack of scrolls from which he would pull forth some work of wisdom, present it to her, then despair as she stumbled over the archaic script, and recite it word for word for her, from memory, in that rich baritone voice. There was the alcove with the ancient ritual tools that she saw in a new light now that she was intimately familiar with the T&I catalogues available on request from the main office. There was the table at which they would sit, sipping bitter Isanese green tea during breaks as she narrated the mediocre story of her life while he listened, nodded, and made occasional incisive comments. There was… there was
not his daughter, waiting dutifully to welcome her in with a whisper about Takahashi-sensei's mood. Kei hoped she was not unwell.
And there was Takahashi-sensei himself, and he had aged. In less than two years, it seemed as if he had gained ten or more. Still strong, still upright, still the image of a powerful shinobi, yes, but the Takahashi-sensei before her was weary where before he had been merely serene.
She bowed deeply. "I have returned, Takahashi-sensei."
"Welcome back, Keiko."
With his permission, she seated herself at the table. A servant was already bringing tea, because of course Takahashi-sensei had anticipated her visit.
"I apologise for taking so long to come pay my respects," she said.
"Not at all. I understand your hesitation. Speaking with me is unlikely to reflect well on you in Azai's eyes."
"How are you, Sensei?" Kei asked.
"Like a man who, in his hurry to lance a boil, ended up cutting off his own foot," Takahashi-sensei said. "You have had time, now, to see Azai's Isan for yourself. What are your impressions?"
Kei took the time to consider the question. The tea was even more bitter than she recalled.
"It feels more vibrant somehow, more alive. Yet something about that aliveness troubles me. Those who were once apathetic and relaxed now labour driven by religious fervour. We visitors are no longer suspicious curiosities. We are either friend or foe, depending how much trust a villager possesses in the Pangolin Summoner and her retinue. People congregate in groups much more than they did before, yet in some sections of the village I hear only a deathly silence. And the patrols… the patrols remind me of Hidden Mist. Is Isan truly so rife with crime now that bands of shinobi bearing the ruler's mark must prowl the streets ensuring compliance with the law?"
Takahashi-sensei gave a dry, humourless chuckle. "The law, is it? Many would say that the village has no need for law as long as tradition is upheld, that Ui's wisdom contains all the guidance we need in our daily lives. How convenient it must be, then, to be Ui's wisdom made flesh."
"I must infer, then," Kei said cautiously, "that you are not a supporter of the High Priest's regime?"
"How could I not be?" Takahashi-sensei said wryly. "I am, after all, the man who brought it into being. I am the one who ensured you would take the scroll, and I am the one who stood by and allowed Azai to take power when decisive action might have taken history down another path. The Aida and the Inoue were fragile and easily shattered. The Kannagi lacked foresight. Tsukiko could not help playing games, even given the stakes, and Azai was the better player. And me? I played peacemaker when what was needed was immediate, overwhelming force."
"You blame yourself," Kei concluded with her power of insight that shamed the most brilliant of sea slugs.
"You did not come here to bathe in an old man's self-pity," Takahashi-sensei said. "I am not a subtle man, and do not exhaust myself attempting to conceal my positions, but Azai has found use for me nonetheless. Those few others who share my cynicism insist on gathering around me, believing that I must possess some wisdom that could undo the victory Azai has already won. Thus, he may monitor them freely, and should he sense brewing rebellion, he may strike them all down at once. I believe it is for that reason that he has not acted against the Takahashi."
"Would you undo that victory," Kei asked, "if you were provided with the chance? Would you rebel if you believed you could succeed?"
"Tell me, Keiko," Takahashi-sensei said suddenly, "why are you here? Did you come here as Isan's Pangolin Summoner or as the agent of a colonial power that seeks to add this village to its collection?"
Startled by the question, Kei took a few seconds to gather her thoughts.
"I have come here as Nara Keiko," she told him. "I owe Isan a great debt, and its repayment must involve securing Isan's welfare. I also sincerely believe that the best way to do so is for Isan to ally with my village, the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Leaf possesses the best medical ninjutsu in the world. It possesses—"
Takahashi-sensei raised a hand, cutting her off. "Spare me the propaganda, Keiko. I am quite certain that you have a beautiful and persuasive speech ready for me—you always excelled when given time to prepare—and I am also quite certain that any delegate from Cloud or Mist, or perhaps Rock or Sand, would have one just as fine. Azai, with his outsider contacts, may have some way to judge the truth of such claims. I do not.
"No, my interest remains focused on you. You call yourself a Nara now. You have joined a
second of the Five Forbidden Clans. I would not have imagined such a thing possible, much less permissible."
"What exactly do you know of the five clans?" Kei asked warily.
"Legends. Idioms. Vague yet dire warnings in the oldest scrolls. You, with your more sophisticated culture, would doubtless dismiss such things as primitive superstition. But as I doubt you are here to cause the end of the world, I do not wish to waste this limited time we have together speaking of them."
Takahashi-sensei set down his teacup, and his gaze sharpened to pierce her.
"What is your status in Leaf, Keiko? Without modesty or exaggeration."
What was her status? Her status was ridiculous. She would not condemn Takahashi-sensei if he refused to believe it.
"After we left Isan," Kei said, "we eventually joined Leaf, where we founded a new clan, the Gōketsu, under the leadership of the now-departed legendary shinobi Jiraiya. That clan sits on Leaf's Clan Council, and while it is small, it is influential, with two summoners other than myself, and two sealmasters. I partake in that influence as sister to Hazō, the head of the clan, although my participation in the clan's daily affairs is limited.
"I then married into the Nara, of whom it seems you know. I am consort to Shikamaru, head of the Nara, and informal leader of the Ino-Shika-Chō clan alliance, also all with seats on the Clan Council. With the clan's senior population depleted by an enemy assault, I serve as second-in-command de facto as well as de jure, attending to those facets of clan rulership for which Shikamaru does not have the time or energy.
"Finally, through the political machinations of my birth sister, I have found myself one of the triumvirate that leads Leaf's clanless ninja, a previously disunited collective that comprises a third of the village. That collective also holds a seat on the Clan Council."
Takahashi-sensei's expression had changed subtly, but Kei lacked the capacity to interpret it.
"It seems you have accumulated a remarkable amount of power for your young age," he said.
"On the surface, certainly," Kei acknowledged. "Of course, my activities have always been primarily administrative in nature. It is generally the others who initiate projects and make decisions, since given the limitations of the Frozen Skein, I have always…"
She had always… Always…
The realisation was blinding. It was less like being struck by a thunderbolt than like being immolated in lightning. Here, in another land, with her ordinary life suspended, she looked back and saw the unbearably obvious.
Always was over. Always had been over ever since she reconciled with Snowflake. There was no need for her to remain in the clerical, facilitatory role Ami had granted her within the KEI, where Ami wove plots, and Naruto took action, and Kei sat in the background and managed the parts for which they lacked either time or interest. There was no need for her to merely organise and maintain the clan so that Shikamaru's policies could be implemented smoothly and efficiently.
The sudden rush of freedom was absolutely terrifying.
"Yes," she corrected her past self. "I do appear to have a certain amount of power."
"Hypothetically," Takahashi-sensei went on, "how many votes do you believe you could command within Hidden Leaf's clan council?"
They had performed this calculation previously, for the Concubine Laws. Assuming her intent did not run counter to the interests of the KEI or the Ino-Shika-Chō…
"On an issue of importance, more than a third," Kei concluded. "Less than half."
"I believe that is a stronger argument for an Isan-Leaf alliance than any grandiose speech you could make," Takahashi-sensei told her.
"What? Why?"
"Because I have the measure of you, Nara Keiko," Takahashi-sensei said. "You are intelligent, loyal, and hard-working. You fear and hate betrayal, and are helplessly faithful to those who show you acceptance. Perhaps more importantly, you acknowledge your debt to Isan, and I suspect you cannot stand the thought that Isan's corruption, and the coming end of our centuries-old way of life, has its roots in nothing more than your selfish desire for power."
Kei bowed her head.
"I have no reason to trust the distant powers of Hidden Leaf," Takahashi-sensei said. "But I trust your loyalty and your guilt. If you can swear that you will protect Isan from those in the outside world who would exploit us, with all the power at your command, then I will consent to an alliance between Isan and your adopted home."
It was not a decision.
"I so swear."
"Good," Takahashi-sensei said, and smiled warmly. "Now, Azai's spies will soon have recovered from their distractions. I shall call for more tea and sweets, and you can tell your old summoning instructor all about the Seventh Path, as you have been doing this entire morning."
And with that, Kei allowed herself to relax in the only safe space she would have for the remainder of her stay in Isan.
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