Shikamaru closed the door behind him as he left the room. Hazō waited the extra few seconds for the thunk of the red plaque outside sliding into place. This was more symbolic than anything else, given that he'd requested the kind of privacy where nobody else would be so much as allowed inside the building (and Shikamaru had rolled his eyes at the implicit insult to Nara discretion but complied without further comment), but every little helped when it came to calming Hazō's nerves in advance of this dangerous conversation.
"Keiko," he began, "suppose there were a new Gōketsu clan secret. A Super Ultra Gōketsu Clan Secret that, potentially, could be bigger than skywalkers."
Keiko carefully set her cup of Nara-brand green tea down on the coffee table between them. "You have my wary attention."
"Suppose there would be catastrophic consequences if anyone outside the main Gōketsu family were to find out, and it was the kind of secret where you'd have to take active steps to conceal it once you knew, rather than just not bringing it up in conversation. Given that, and the fact that you're constantly surrounded by geniuses who can probably deduce an espionage mission's worth of secrets from a single careless sentence, would you want to learn that secret if I told you that you'd stand to gain something from knowing it?"
"Yes," Keiko said with startling speed, not even taking a moment to think.
"Are you sure?" Hazō asked. "I am serious about how important this is. I'd really rather you took a little time to think about it."
"What is there to think about, Hazō?" Keiko asked. "My entire life, I have been the sole confidant to a woman whose mildest daydreams would set the world aflame. While I am indeed surrounded by geniuses who force me to cringe at my own inadequacy on a daily basis, I am also the Nara second-in-command, with the authority to punish or swear to secrecy as I will. Per Nara consort laws, I report only to Shikamaru, and you may have gathered our marriage has an unconventional balance of power, insofar as I am not only his wife but a leader of a separate power bloc capable of forcing unprecedented concessions from the Hokage and striking fear into the heart of great clans. And while he theoretically has absolute authority over me in non-political matters, he and I both know that I can make his life a living hell should he choose to exercise it in a way that denies my agency. In the utmost extremity, I can divorce him and return to the Gōketsu—we both researched the legal procedures extensively during our engagement—and it is a fact that there is no other woman in Leaf twisted in ways that so finely complement his own.
"If I implement whatever security procedures such a cataclysmic secret requires, suffice to say they will be respected."
Hazō considered. Based on observation, he found it hard to deny that Shikamaru was whipped as husbands went, quite an accomplishment given that Keiko was legally required to obey literally any order he gave (Nara arrangements with the Gōketsu and the KEI notwithstanding) on pain of literally any punishment he chose to mete out (ditto). On the other hand, if Shikamaru found out
anything about FOOM, and realised its value, he would probably judge it important enough to the clan to accept certain sacrifices in his personal life for his greater good. Would Hazō reluctantly accept a divorce for the sake of godhood for himself and his loved ones?
Akane's face flickered through his mind. They still hadn't had that conversation—he'd been busy, and maybe a little afraid of the future, now the initial drive of righteous anger had worn off, and Akane was naturally sensitive enough to give him space even though part of him wished she weren't. Would he be able to completely break his bond with her for the greater good?
And then there was the idea of Keiko, his sister, a Gōketsu who'd made a greater sacrifice than any of them when the clan was founded, being left out in the cold while the rest of them won the power to change the world…
"Supposing there was a way to get the benefits without knowing the details…" he began.
Keiko sagged back in her seat ever so slightly, enough that someone who hadn't spent so long around her might not have noticed.
"You'd have to trust me," he pressed on, "to do things without knowing why you're doing them, but I think it would work. And it would definitely be worth it."
Now Keiko fell silent, and thought. She didn't meet his eyes.
"Assuming your guidance falls within the bounds of sanity," she said quietly, "it would be an improvement on not being trusted at all."
Hazō inwardly winced. That hadn't been the impression he'd meant to give, not at all, though on reflection, "Here is a thing I could tell you, but I won't even if you tell me you want it" wasn't his most tactful moment. Still, he'd come to this meeting precommitted not to tell her the full truth, at least not yet.
"If you go ahead with this," he said, "your priorities are to train up the Shadow Clone Technique, to the point where you can have clones up for at least a few hours, and work on your mental fortitude for reintegrating the information. It won't work without both of those things.
"Oh," he added, "but I know the Shadow Clone Technique means more to you than it does to us because of Snowflake. If this gets in the way of that, then maybe you should put it off for now. There's no great hurry."
Keiko shook her head. "Extending the duration of the technique has been my highest training priority, since it determines the length of time Snowflake can spend in this world. But if you will allow me a moment…"
She closed her eyes. Her hands folded in her lap as she entered the characteristic mildly unnerving stillness of the Frozen Skein.
"I see," she said a little later. "Your secret is centred on the Shadow Clone Technique, which would be absurdly powerful, as Naruto demonstrates, but for its three limitations: duration of use which limits out-of-combat applications, chakra capacity which limits the number of clones and recasting ability, and mental resilience which limits both the duration of use and number of clones. Of these, you have not instructed me to train my chakra capacity. The Gōketsu competitive advantage of chakra transfusion would indeed potentially eliminate the need, leaving the other two as limitations to be addressed with training.
"However, secrecy implies that Noburi would not be purchasing chakra from out-of-clan ninja as he typically does. Assuming your plan is not mere redistribution of chakra within the clan, which would hardly have impact worthy of a Super Ultra Gōketsu Clan Secret, you would need a non-shinobi source. The Wakahisa chakra koi we negotiated for alongside the clan's influence on Ami's fate—of which, incidentally, Ami detected none—would fulfil that role nicely."
Hazō was becoming increasingly aware that one of his worst habits, and perhaps the most likely to someday get him killed, was underestimating ninja more intelligent than himself.
"Hazō, it would take years to approach Naruto's level, even with total investment of time and effort. During that time, it would be trivial for someone to notice the clan using more shadow clones than anyone ever has before. Even if you managed to keep training on that scale completely concealed, they might simply notice power growth wildly inconsistent with the passage of time and training resources available. Recognising power levels is, of course, a basic shinobi survival skill. From there, the erudite would assume shadow clone use was involved, if only because it is the most efficacious method of accelerated training known, and everyone in Leaf witnessed Naruto's rise to power firsthand. In fact, I imagine it would be a common assumption even if in reality the method used was completely unrelated.
"Noburi's basic abilities are public knowledge. Anyone whose inferences reached that far would seek out the Wakahisa, or another clan with similar capabilities. There are, after all, plenty of bloodlines across the world that manipulate chakra in one way or another. Given time, Orochimaru could probably jury-rig the process on request, or on his own initiative, assuming he does not already possess the capability. Nor would I be surprised if there were researchers out there who were his equal in at least one related field. I could continue, but I believe the point is clear. Which is not to say I do not sympathise with the very Jiraiya-like desire to bring Uplift to the world at the end of an unstoppable fist."
She held up her hand before Hazō could comment.
"Do not take it as criticism. I am not so naïve as to believe that grand ambitions can be accomplished without trampling over the wills of multitudes. History is silent as to how many independent-minded clans were massacred so that the nascent Leaf could have absolute dominion over the Fire Country, but double figures are a safe assumption."
"There might be kinks to work out," Hazō agreed. "No one's ever done anything remotely like this before, so it's not like there's a model to follow. But I don't know if I'd ever forgive myself as a ninja if I saw a path to power—an ethically-neutral, rational path to power—and turned away because of hypothetical risks instead of facing them head-on and finding ways to overcome them."
Keiko nodded, but didn't reply.
They sat there in a silence that gradually grew more awkward.
"Are we too far gone?" she asked suddenly, as if forcing out the words.
Hazō stared at her blankly. "What do you mean?"
"Have we drifted too far apart to be the family we believed we were?"
"Keiko, what do you—"
"There was a time," she said, "when whenever you had one of your brilliant new ideas, you would seek me out, and I would explain to you, with much sarcasm, the countless reasons why it would never work, and then bring forth writing implements and spend hours optimising until the final product was ready to see the light of day without bringing unbearable shame on all who so much as considered being involved in its implementation. That time is gone. Today, the plans are developed and finalised by the true Gōketsu, and you hesitate to so much as share them with me lest doing so imperil the clan.
"I recognise my culpability," she said heavily. "I was too preoccupied with proving to the Nara that I was more than a mediocre foreign curiosity, and when the crises struck, I recognised that I could be
needed, and took advantage of the opportunity to become as close to indispensable as my capabilities would allow. I was too invested in my role with the KEI, and the longed-for opportunity to prove to my sister that I was more than a child in need of guardianship. It is I who turned away from my first family for greener pastures, to people who 'recognised my worth' instead of loving me for who I was.
"Is it too late, Hazō?" she asked. "Is this the distance between us now?"
Her words stabbed at Hazō like knives. Was she right? Was there a distance? Was it her imagination, or was it something he'd allowed to happen without realising it? Had
he failed to find the balance between treating her as a Nara and treating her as his sister?
"It's never too late," he said with total confidence summoned because there were some things which
had to be said with total confidence. "It's my fault too, Keiko. There's been so much to do, and… well, I'm still learning the clan head thing. I know Shikamaru wants to keep the Gōketsu at arm's length because he thinks we're politically unreliable, but I'm not a born clan ninja. I have no sense for how close allied clans are supposed to be, or allowed to be. No, you're not supposed to be a ninja of another clan in the first place. You're a Gōketsu, and I should have trusted you to be no less of a Gōketsu just because you're married to a Nara."
Keiko shook her head. "No, I am the one who undermined that trust. I have been acting like a Nara. I believed that it was necessary, that if I did not make a sufficient effort, I would be judged only on my intellectual merits, and therefore rejected as I was by the Mori. When the opportunity came to be needed by Shikamaru, not merely as a friend but as a source of competence and support, I seized it like a drowning woman seizing a Hoshigaki rescue shark. The Gōketsu, after all, were untouched by the disaster. You did not need me, and it did not occur to me that perhaps you might desire me anyway.
"I am only now realising the depths of my failure as a sister and as a friend. I will not ask whether you still want me in your life, for the rolled-up broadsheet is a mighty teacher, but I do not know whether there is still a place for me to return to, or whether this is who we are now, for time without end."
Hazō suppressed a groan. "Keiko, you have not failed anyone at anything. It takes two people to decide what shape a relationship will have—more, if it's someone's relationship with their family. If we're growing too far apart, then there's still plenty of time to fix that. Think about how long it took us to grow this close in the first place. This time, you don't even have to tell me and Noburi that you kissed a girl."
"No, I believe you are quite well aware. As is the entirety of Leaf, now. I have not… enjoyed leaving the compound.
"But forget that. Do you mean it, Hazō? You believe, in the face of all the evidence, that there remains room for recovery?"
Hazō nodded. "I don't think we've grown as far apart as you think. The shadow clone thing… I just got my priorities wrong. But can you honestly tell me that it's a sign of dramatic change in our relationship that I've put my foot in it and offended you because I got too excited about my latest idea?"
Keiko gave a small smile. "Touché."
There was another silence, but this one more peaceable. Hazō sipped his tea, which had gone stone cold. Keiko helped herself to a biscuit.
"Hazō…" Keiko said cautiously, "in the extreme hypothetical, and not without your explicit consent…"
Hazō tensed.
"If Ami were to gain access to the Shadow Clone Technique, would it be possible for me to involve her in your plan?"
The idea had, of course, crossed Hazō's mind, complete with a dozen alarm seals blaring cacophonously.
"Setting aside the absolute impossibility of Ami learning the Shadow Clone Technique without getting executed, together with whoever taught her… I'm sorry, Keiko. I don't know if I could entrust that kind of power to someone whose motivations are so opaque."
"Does that mean you might reconsider if you were persuaded that your goals were not incompatible?" Keiko asked keenly.
"I don't know, Keiko. It's not something I can offer a commitment on."
Keiko nodded. "I will ask her to speak with you. For the general purposes of greater mutual understanding, of course."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Hazō asked wryly. "But Keiko, she's not going to get the Shadow Clone Technique. It's not happening. It's one of Leaf's greatest secrets. In fact, please tell me you're not thinking of teaching her."
Keiko arched an eyebrow. "Hazō, my desire to re-embrace my Gōketsu roots does not extend to the newly-popular hobby of treason. As you yourself observe, it would not be a net positive to her odds of survival. Unless, of course, she were to defect to Leaf."
"You're not serious."
"She has not spoken of the possibility herself, though of course it would be suicide to do so where she could be overheard. But her relationship with Mist has changed. The Mizukage, whom she previously saw as a fellow player, has acted like a despicable thug, so desperate to assert her authority that she would destroy all loyalty from her most powerful potential ally save the Hokage. In my judgement, the present situation, where Ami's survival depends on suppressing everything that makes her Ami and hoping that this is enough to keep an irrational dictator placated, is untenable in the long term."
"The Hokage couldn't take her," Hazō objected. "It would destroy the alliance."
"Yes," Keiko said with a smirk, "no Hokage would ever court the Mizukage's wrath by inviting in a renegade Mist jōnin.
"The pros for the Hokage are obvious. Considering what Ami has accomplished on foreign ground in less than half a year, he must by now have wondered what she might be capable of if her talents could be turned towards his own objectives, and her betterment of Leaf given motivation beyond her personal profit. He would certainly rest easier than he does now, when at any moment Mist can order her to secretly use the influence she has accumulated against Leaf's interests—assuming it has not done so already."
"Mist would be losing a jōnin," Hazō objected. "That's an unacceptable hit in military terms
and a massive security leak."
"Insofar as Ami was Mari's junior—and, she suspects, planned replacement—they would have had clearance for approximately the same materials, and while the information being leaked would be more up-to-date, it grows less so with every month Ami spends in Leaf. As to the military terms, Ami's jōnin powers do nothing for Mist while she is here, and the Mizukage seems in no hurry to call her back. In practical terms, it would be closer to Leaf
gaining a jōnin, which would be no source of joy for the Mizukage, the nature of shinobi alliances being what it is, but less of a deal-breaker than it might be if the defector were, say, Hōzuki Mangetsu. Additionally, I do not believe the Mizukage would be heartbroken at the damage done to the AMI by its leader's prospective betrayal, or at the opportunity to humble the Mori."
Hazō shook his head. "I don't know…"
"This is all an exercise in hypotheticals, of course," Keiko said, "but what I would ask is whether the loss of Ami would be worth losing the alliance—or, rather, whether Asuma would believe the loss of Ami to be grave enough for Mist to abandon the alliance in response, rather than merely demand reparations.
"In any case, it is a consideration for another time. For now, I shall arrange another meeting with my sister for you. May you be more successful in determining her motivations than any other shinobi in human history."
-o-
Shikamaru is mildly intrigued by the Seventh Path trade plan, and will run projections. Keiko gave you a look of the purest ice when you mentioned ferrying seals across the Seventh Path, but did not object to the proposal overall. You suspect that a Conversation on the topic of acceptable trade goods lies in the future.
The Nara engineers are happy, indeed excited (by Nara standards, which is to say they briefly stopped slouching) to collaborate on such a unique engineering project. Since it has no "real-world" implications whatsoever, Shikamaru handwaved it and immediately lost interest in favour of another biscuit. Keiko gave you a second look of the purest ice at your appeal to emotion. According to her, she has no investment in your relationship with the Dogs, but you and she both know that invasion is the last thing on the recently-occupied Hyenas' minds, unless it is of the Pangolin Clan.
Keiko mentioned off-handedly that if you happen to come across anyone in need of textiles, you should most certainly direct them to the Hagoromo workshops in the near future, especially if the people involved are influential and/or high-profile.
-o-
You have received 4 - 1 = 3 XP.
-o-
What do you do?
Voting closes on Saturday 15th of August, 9 a.m. New York Time.
