The Kei Clan compound was nothing like Hazō had ever seen before. Rather than the chunky main building and array of haphazard single-storey houses that defined the Gōketsu estate, the Kei had eschewed a central keep altogether in favour of a series of irregular towers, patterned after trees rooted in the earth, and connected at various heights by bridges that looked light enough that a strong wind would blow them away. It made Hazō think of Sanctuary, the Arachnid capital.
"Enjoying the architecture?"
Once, Hazō had assumed that Mari's tendency to sneak up on people when they were distracted was just part and parcel of her trickster tendencies. Lately, however, he'd started to wonder whether it was a general jōnin thing after all, and if so, whether it was a way to keep one's skills sharp, a way to position yourself advantageously in case of a confrontation (paranoia was
definitely a general jōnin thing), a way to test and evaluate other ninja, a way to assert dominance, or something else still. When asked, Mari, of course, had answered with "yes".
"It's certainly unique," Hazō said. "If you were trying to make a point of rejecting tradition, I think you got what you wanted."
Kei Ruri gave a satisfied smile. "It's inspired by the Spirit Soaring, an old Condor temple high in the mountains that's currently serving as the Condor Queen's base of operations. They don't have much flat land to build on up there, so it's all vertical enough to make your head spin. The bridges weren't my idea—Suguru's cousin's wife's brother is an engineer who specialises in bridge construction, and Ebisu's uncle's friend's old drinking buddy's son was an architect involved in renovating Tanzaku Castle several years back, and we got them to put their heads together and figure out a way to substitute for the fact that we aren't condors."
"His uncle's friend's old drinking buddy's son?" Hazō repeated. "I tried drawing a chart of the Gōketsu and their main relationships once, and that was bad enough. I dread to think what yours must be like."
"We don't have decades' worth of investments and ancient clan coffers to draw on," Kei said, "but, being who we are, we have the closest ties to the civilian world of any clan, to say nothing of our old friends at the KEI. If we make an effort, we can get a family discount on just about anything—it's the only way we can afford a compound this big in the first place.
"But let's not stand out here in the cold. I believe there is a hot kettle with your name on it in Asuma Tower."
-o-
"You know," Kei said after a while of chit-chat during which Hazō both learned and shared a variety of disturbing things (he couldn't decide which was worse: that there was now a Kei Ibiki, that he was learning to make cookies from his civilian girlfriend and at some point in the future Hazō would be offered some and it would be rude to refuse, or that the term "OPSEC cookies" had made its way here via some unknown vector), "you haven't called me by name once this entire conversation. Is it that inconvenient?"
"Not at all," Hazō lied. Leaf culture was notable for how uncommon it was to stumble across multiple people with the same name, with one or two tradition-mandated exceptions—something which Ami had almost certainly had in mind when laying the foundations for the nightmare of the Kei/Kei/KEI. As a result, it was difficult to address Kei as Kei without simultaneously evoking his various mental associations with Kei, which was hardly fair to Kei given how different Kei and Kei were. Worse, it was a problem that applied to all the other Kei he had reason to talk to or about, with the sole exception of Lady Kei, and he could expect up to five more shinobi of note to turn Kei with every passing year.
"Then perhaps we should move to a first-name basis," Kei said smoothly. "We may not know each other all that well yet, but we can think of it as an investment in a closer future relationship… if you are willing."
Hazō wasn't completely sure whether he was being offered overtures of friendship or being subtly seduced, but by this point, he'd take anything short of physically cheating on his girlfriends just for the sake of his own sanity.
"It would be my pleasure, Ruri."
"Thank you, Hazō," Ruri said. There was no way growing closer to a silver-tongued jōnin who was close to Ami and might or might not be her part-time apprentice (the way she had been Mari's) could go wrong, right?
Maybe he should play it safe and retreat for today, once he'd accomplished his actual mission.
"It's not that I haven't been enjoying your company," Hazō said, "but there was actually something specific I wanted to talk to you about."
"Do tell."
"Kei has a mission coming up soon," Hazō began.
Ruri nodded. "And what would you like me to tell them?"
Definitely Ami's part-time apprentice.
Actually, this one wasn't so bad. Kei's missions wouldn't be relevant to Ruri unless they were joint missions (in which case she'd know before Hazō did) or they were Condor-related, and presumably Ruri had some reason to believe that she wouldn't be able to intervene to help her on the Seventh Path directly (which itself was a subtle message to Hazō).
"That it's a trap," Hazō said. "Or will be a trap, rather—I don't know how much they already know. They can't be obvious about it, though. Kei's sympathetic to the Condors, given her role in what's happened to them, and she wants to see them free, but if the Pangolins find out she's leaking information, that'll be the end of that. So it won't work for them to just pick a different target using the intel. Please make that clear."
"I see," Ruri said. "I'll pass your message on during the next check-in… but, Hazō, I can't make any promises. To the Condors, Lady Nara is the root of all evil—she's the one who caused their ruin, not out of hatred, but through sheer monstrous greed. She's someone they can blame for their troubles that isn't the unreachable, invincible Pantsā or the faceless occupation regime. I've even had offers.
"Don't misunderstand," she added. "Both as KEI and then as Kei, I owe Lady Nara enormously. Besides, to anyone who spends time around her, it's easy to deduce her actual role in the process.
"Still, reality doesn't care about intentions. Have you ever heard condor music?"
Hazō shook his head.
"It's alien, awful, and entrancing. It would probably pop a shadow clone. Instead of birdsong, they have ugly, visceral noises. Without hands or lips, their musical instruments look like a biosealer's failed attempts to recreate the Wood Element, and the sounds they make are blessedly beyond description. And yet, where the Pangolins have the Pantokrator, "the All-Powerful", the Condors have the Conductor, who wove the Six Pure Tones together into a Seventh, and then gave the Condors the freedom of the skies so they could dance to the music of the Paths.
"Ninja don't really have to take responsibility for what we do. Our enemies and our targets are too dead to reproach us, and the faces in the nightmares all blur together after a while, and they were only enemies and civilians anyway. There are ripple effects that destroy families, businesses, even the occasional government, but no one demands that we worry about hypothetical people far away whose lives don't affect Leaf's safety or interests. This is natural, or at least, it's the only way we as a culture can exist.
"But that healthy way of living can run up against something that's just the wrong order of magnitude. For the weak-willed, that could be perpetrating a massacre, or assassinating someone they'd grown too close to. I once heard a story about a genin who killed himself after murdering a family with young children, though it's probably apocryphal. Whatever it is, there will be some action with consequences that stop you dead in your tracks.
"I think you should find time to visit the Condor lands, Hazō, even if you don't listen to their music. Not because I want you to suffer, but because the powerful have a responsibility to be ready for the consequences of their actions, and with the scale of your ambition, if your next 'wrong order of magnitude' blindsides you, that could go very badly for a lot of us."
Hazō sat in silence for a while, taking in this advice. He had to admit that he'd never found himself drowning in guilt over the Condor genocide the way Kei did. Certainly, the Condors were suffering, and that was bad, and in some ways his fault, but ultimately, a lot of intelligent beings were suffering in a lot of places, and he was already dedicated to fixing this as effectively as he could. Would it be meaningful for him to go see the Condor lands for himself the way Ruri thought it would, when he already had the theoretical knowledge? Even if it would, was it realistic for him to find the time?
"Thank you, Ruri," he said finally. "I'll bear that in mind. Please let me know if the Condors say anything about the message."
"I can convey the information," Ruri said. "I just don't have the power to make sure it's taken on board."
-o-
You have received 1 + 1 (Brevity) = 2 XP.
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This update took up the morning. The rest of the plan has yet to be implemented.
What do you do?
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