"As a child,
You would wait,
And watch from far away,
But you always knew that you'd be the one to work while they all play,
And you've,
You'd lay awake at night and scheme,
Of all the things that you would change but it was just a dream,"
-Warriors, Edda Hayes
Nagato watched Maho squeeze a small rock, soaking it in his chakra, and considered whether Yahiko and Oka found Sana by now.
He crouched in front of a hole in the sand, sandal-less, and Maho knelt on the other side of it.
They'd left a week ago, and it'd been four days since Rokujo came. Three since Matsu came and asked him about the rain.
Maho sighed tiredly and dropped the rock into the hole. Nagato started counting, eyes on the faint orange-red glow. One, two, three—
The rock exploded, and Maho raised a hand to protect his face from the burst of sand.
Nagato stared into the hole as Maho laid on his side, sweating, and closed his eyes. He thought of how shocked he'd been when Namekuji nonchalantly told him he'd missed the person he and Yahiko had been so worried about.
"Turns out look-a-like isn't as useless as he looks."
It almost made him smile because that was it. That was all Namekuji would tell him about what happened.
"I can't—" Maho panted. "I can't do that again."
Nagato, admittedly, didn't know how to help him. His explosions always went off after three seconds, not matter how much or how little of explosion-style he used.
Maho had no control, and while Nagato had done his best stumbling through teaching him how to use his chakra efficiently to make bigger or smaller explosions, the time had never changed.
He could explain how much chakra he started to waste the more tired he was, but nothing he said or tried had helped with this.
"Sensei," Maho added, an afterthought.
It made Nagato shake his head, because sometime between going to Yugakure and being co-Taiyokage, Joji-sensei had stolen his student from him and never said a word to him about it.
He was only supposed to teach Maho to swim.
But then it turned into defensive combat underwater, offensive combat, and now he didn't know what Maho had learned from him.
The only reason he still taught Maho medical-ninjutsu was because Joji-sensei didn't know how to do it. Not that was a bad thing.
Nagato watched Maho catch his breath, still couldn't think of a way to help him, and admitted to himself that being Nagato-sensei had been a distraction.
The Iwa-taijutsu-style Maho first learned had him tucking his arms and legs in close during spars and focusing his strength in his feet so he couldn't be moved, but it hadn't mixed well with the bastardized Konoha-style taijutsu Nagato knew.
Meaning that Maho had to re-learn how to fight and Nagato had been too busy to stop and think.
He couldn't think about Konan when Maho picked up medical-ninjutsu slowly and had to be watched more closely than Tsunade ever watched him. There wasn't time to think about their flooded warehouse, his ruined textbook, or how Etsudo never stopped shaking as he checked her for injuries when he was using Sage Mode to make his little sister faster.
But now Maho didn't need to meet with him that often anymore and deserved more than being his distraction. And, well, he found he didn't want to be anyone's sensei anymore.
It was odd to think, but he'd grown out of it.
Nagato was drawn out of his musings when he sensed Hidan coming towards them, and Maho sat up fast at the sound of footsteps. He didn't turn around, but only thought of what he'd told Yahiko the night before they left.
Remember what I told you.
It embarrassed him, if only because it felt like something he'd never be able to shake off.
"Hidan," he sighed in greeting, and the footsteps stopped.
Hidan tch'ed at him, "You're the most irritating sensor-nin I've ever met."
Nagato didn't respond because every word he said was bait. He hadn't forgotten the last time he sensed Hidan listening to them talk outside the main room.
"What do you do all day?" Maho muttered, scooping up sand and watching it fall.
Nagato stood and saw Hidan's slow grin.
"I eat babies," he drawled.
Maho stopped and looked up.
Hidan's grin widened. "I kill little old ladies and snack on babies when I'm bored. That answer your question, cash cow?"
"You forgot I was there when Oka asked you why you wanted everyone to be afraid of you," Maho said neutrally.
Hidan squeezed the handle. He shook his head and lazily waved his words away. "Say all the shit you want, but it doesn't change the fact that you always find somewhere else to be when I'm around," he said back. "That sounds like fear to me."
Maho shoved his hands in the sand but met his stare. "You're so desperate for someone to be afraid of you. No one is."
Amusement shone bright in his eyes. "Show me your hands, cash cow."
"Stop calling me that."
Hidan chuckled. "I bet they're shaking. You're about to piss yourself, aren't you?"
"You're an asshole. That's why I don't want to be around you."
"Your voice is trembling," Hidan pointed out, scythe sliding off his shoulder. "I had to be sure, you see. If I gave Lord Jashin another half-assed sacrifice—"
Nagato spun, drove his elbow into Hidan's stomach, and he gagged on the rest.
Hidan dropped to his knees. "You won't always have a bodyguard with you, cash cow," he said, and laughed wheezily as he clutched his stomach. "We're gonna have a good time one day, just you wait."
"It wasn't for him," Nagato mused.
He did it because Hidan never listened when asked to stop, and only ever fell for Yahiko's distractions. Nagato wasn't fluent, but he knew how to speak in violence, too.
Hidan's eyes flicked to him, and Nagato watched his grin fade, because he wasn't afraid of him. He'd dealt with meaner looks from his own sister.
Hidan sat back after a second and covered his eyes. "You're both so fucking annoying."
Nagato ignored that bait too. "You came here for something," he prompted.
Hidan wiped blood from his mouth without looking. "I want your dumb ass to train me," he finally said, subdued.
Nagato paused, surprised, and Hidan glared at the sand.
"You trained that other dumbass, right?" Hidan asked through his teeth.
Nagato considered what Hidan said he wanted, and what he hadn't, but could've done while he was off on his own. "I don't have time—"
"I'm not asking you to be my teacher, shitface," Hidan interrupted him, rubbing the back of his head. "Fuck you for even having the thought. You still spar with those other assholes, don't you? Just fit me in or some shit."
Nagato looked at him, but Hidan wouldn't glance up.
"Why would he teach you skills you'll just use on the rest of us?" Maho asked derisively, sand squeezing through his fingers.
Hidan stuck his pinky in his ear. "Dumbass," was all he said.
Nagato looked between them and shook his head, "I'll spar with you when I can, if you can beat Maho without killing him."
"The fuck?"
"What?"
Nagato only took a few steps back and sat. He leaned an arm on his knee and waited.
Maho glanced uneasily at Hidan. "Nagato—sensei," he hastily corrected. "Why?"
"What a pain in the ass," Hidan said over him, eyes shut.
"No fatal injuries either—"
"Shut the fuck up," Hidan growled. He stood and dragged his scythe up with him. "Get your ass up, cash cow."
Maho tensed, and Nagato ignored his confused stare. "We both know I can't win."
"Then sit the fuck there and take it," Hidan yelled, already moving, scythe swinging behind him.
Maho's mouth fell open, but he still rolled as Hidan carved up sand where he'd been. Maho was slow as he pushed himself up, his footing unsure, and Nagato caught the quick flare of chakra under his feet.
Hidan lifted the scythe and let it fall against his shoulder. He grinned. "I'm glad you moved. You would've ruined your potential."
Nagato didn't move.
Maho scrambled to throw himself out of the way as Hidan swung at him again.
"I don't have a weapon," he blurted out.
"How the fuck is that my problem," Hidan said back, and laughed at him.
His younger self had made the mistake of training Maho like Tsunade trained him. He'd had Maho memorize the same chapters he did, had him focus on making his control better, and taught him to dodge and block, but Tsunade had Jiraya to teach them ninjutsu and taijutsu, and he'd only had himself.
He hadn't stopped Maho from underestimating himself, or from seeing himself the way his team had. He couldn't then, not without confronting everything he'd been avoiding.
Maho's pained hiss drew him back to the fight, and Nagato caught his wide, suddenly terrified eyes as he stared down at the blood on his palm, and then at the red tear across the front of his shirt.
He didn't fully cut through the skin layer, Nagato guessed. It seemed deep enough to need stitches, but the only real danger was if the bleeding wasn't stopped.
But Maho's attention was on the blood glistening off the longest blade of the scythe.
Hidan didn't react as blood stained the sand at his feet red. "You're such a shithead," he said, tilting his head back. "You knew that watching you hold back would piss me off, didn't you?"
Maho took a step back. "I'm—I'm not."
"No ritual?" Nagato asked.
"If I wanted to insult Lord Jashin, I'd just draw His symbol and then shit on it," Hidan said, head tilting towards him. "What the fuck is the point if I can't kill him?"
Nagato conceded the point by not answering.
Maho shook his head. "I'm not holding back. I don't even want to do this."
Hidan eyed Maho for a second, and then dropped his scythe. "Fuck this," he said, and closed the distance between them.
Maho took a quick step back, twisted his foot when he almost stepped into the hole, and groaned as he hit the sand.
Hidan was on top of him in an instant, hands around his throat, laughing and laughing as Maho gagged and kicked.
"How the fuck did you survive this long?" Hidan asked, incredulous.
"Get off," Maho managed, clawing at his fingers.
Hidan pinned Maho's arm with his knee when he tried to make hand signs and dug his fingers into his throat.
Nagato caught Maho's desperate gaze as he shoved at Hidan's face and tried to wedge his legs between them. He didn't move to help him.
Nagato looked at Hidan, and had the thought that even as he laughed, it didn't look like he was enjoying this at all.
Maho's eyes widened at his inaction, and for a moment he seemed to forget that Hidan couldn't kill him. His eyes started to roll up as gasped, his body relaxing against his will, and his unpinned hand missed Hidan's arms once before he managed to brush his fingers against his wrist.
He'd barely touched Hidan, but his skin glowed orange-red.
Hidan stopped mid-laugh, and then his wrist exploded, splattering blood across the ground.
Hidan leaned back to stare at his arm. Maho coughed and sucked in as much air as he could, quickly shoving shaking, bloodstained hands against his neck. His hands flickered green.
"Do you have any idea how awful this feels?" Hidan asked, humored as he waved his limb at him. "Seriously, what the fuck? I'm right-handed you dick."
Maho stopped trying to twist away as Hidan threw blood all over, and looked up in slow, dawning horror. "I did that to you," he realized. "I—"
"Oka shouldn't have told you it was useless," Nagato told him, quieter. "I get that it makes you feel better to think of it that way but treating explosion-style like it's not part of you doesn't change that it is. Your first instinct is to use it when you think you're about to die. You spent the entire fight trying to find a way to avoid using it so much that you were forced to. If you're ever paired with someone equal in strength to you or less, you'd get them killed."
Maho flinched hard.
Hidan stood, more interested than finding all his fingers than listening to them.
"Maybe you can't admit it, but you want to live," Nagato continued. "If Iwagakure did somehow capture you and tried to torture you into being an Iwa-nin again, I think you'd hurt them more than you think Oka can, and no one here knows enough about explosion-style to train you out of that instinct. If someone wakes you from a bad dream, you could kill them."
Maho covered his eyes and shuddered.
Hidan dropped a foot on Maho's chest. "You yield, or do I have to kick your ass again?"
Maho's fingers dug in the sand, but he didn't speak. He grimaced as Hidan pressed down, and then threw sand at his face.
Hidan glanced at the glowing particles, and then back down at Maho. "Such a fucking—"
Nagato didn't watch the explosion, but stood as Hidan's legs buckled, and caught his arm before he hit the ground. Missing skull fragments, damage to the cerebellum—
Nagato averted his eyes as he laid Hidan on his back.
Maho's hands shook again. "He's such as asshole. He didn't have to do that."
Nagato couldn't help checking if he was breathing, even knowing that whether he was or not didn't make a difference.
"Are you still going to train him?"
"If I have free time," Nagato answered.
He inspected the third-degree burns to Hidan's face and neck and pretended not to see Maho scrubbing blood off his face.
ゼロ
Nagato shaded his eyes as he left the hideout and stepped out into a wave of heat.
Amegakure being closest to Wind and River country meant that the weather was most influenced by the weather they had, because whatever natural weather the village had, if it ever did, had been disrupted by the rain.
The wind currents that came up from River weren't strong enough to be windy here, but it lessened the heat and pushed it back west. But when the currents were weaker, there wasn't much to stop the heat that came from Wind.
At least the swamps in Rain country had enough trees to absorb some of it.
Nagato spotted Mamoru-sensei first, standing to Itsuki's left—
He stopped and looked back.
"Lord Taiyokage," Itsuki greeted. He didn't bow, but Nagato would've stopped him if he tried.
He had scars around the right side of his mouth that resembled scratches, like he'd tried to hold an ally or an enemy down and paid for it. He didn't have the weapons pouch or pack he'd left with, his dark hair was hastily tied, and he looked exhausted.
A dozen questions bounced around in Nagato's head, what happened, why haven't you sent a message, what did Iron say about—
"He has a message," Mamoru-sensei said, glancing at Itsuki. "And is used to not speaking until given permission to."
Itsuki looked briefly surprised, and chuckled. "Right," he said. "Sukehito Miyashita of Watamura came back with me, and he brought some of his attendants with him. He was waiting in his carriage when I left, south of here."
Nagato went still, and it took him an extra second to process what he'd said. Here?
"He's a samurai?" Mamoru-sensei asked.
"He is," Itsuki said.
"Sukehito Miyashita?" Nagato repeated. He wasn't one of the aristocrats Joji-sensei taught him about, the samurai directly under the shogun, or what he remembered of Emperor Ohta's family.
"He bring any with him?"
"One I know of. Hangaku. She goes everywhere he does."
"Why south?" Nagato finally asked. Iron was to the northeast.
"His carriage had no trouble coming down from the mountains but had to be turned around a quarter of the way through the Land of Rain," Itsuki answered. "If we hadn't gone the long way around through the Land of Rivers he'd still be stuck in the swamps."
Nagato paused. Someone he hadn't wrote to and didn't know. Someone who came all the way here because of his message.
"Tell me what happened, as short as possible," Nagato said absently.
"The quickest answer is that I'm not made for politics. I played courier, as asked. They stopped me at the border, took me in for interrogation, all the expected stuff," Itsuki told him, and sighed. "What wasn't expected was them making me wait for so long. I expected to leave empty-handed after the first two weeks of silence, but instead I had visitors. Nobility-types, mostly. I didn't have any answers for them about what you said, but that didn't stop them from asking."
Nagato almost winced. "I didn't mean to throw you into the middle of that."
Itsuki stared at him, and then he half-scoffed, half-laughed. "You and Lord Yahiko are like no leaders I've ever served or reported to," he said. "It's one thing to talk so casually around others, but it's completely different when no one's watching."
Nagato considered that, "You're one of my shinobi, aren't you? I don't feel like I have to pretend to be someone I'm not around the people here."
Itsuki's eyes widened, and then he started to laugh. "Just like that, huh?" he asked. He shook his head and glanced at Mamoru-sensei. "You've really changed, eh, Mamoru?"
"Your first mistake was thinking that my being here meant anything," Mamoru-sensei said.
"As short as possible," Nagato repeated, and Itsuki laughed outright.
"Sure, sure, where was I?" he asked, then continued before Nagato could think to answer, "I was kept in a border town and told little to nothing. Least they gave me sake when I complained enough. Miyashita was a visitor, didn't tell me where he came from until later, and was persistent. I wasn't there for an escort, and told him so, but I came to realize after a while that I didn't want to come back empty-handed, and he was the best I could do."
Sukehito Miyashita of Watamura.
"Did you learn anything else about him?" Nagato asked.
Itsuki frowned. "Not as much as I'd like, no. He didn't stop talking after we left samurai territory, but he never let anything of importance slip after he told me where he was from."
Nagato paused, thinking. Was Miyashita sent by Emperor Ohta? Or could important people leave on their own if they wanted?
"I'll go and meet him," he sighed. He looked at Mamoru-sensei. "Sensei—"
"You don't have to ask," Mamoru-sensei said. "I'm coming with you."
Nagato felt warm. "Show me where he is."
.
.
.
Nagato had only seen a closed carriage in books before. The closest to them he could think of were the supply wagons in Fire, and those were pulled by people, not horses.
Both were a dark shade of brown and didn't seem to like the sand, if the way they fidgeted told him anything. An older man in plated armor whistled to himself as he patted one.
Nagato caught the sharp stare of a woman leaning against the side of the carriage. The sheathe at her side looked longer than Yahiko's, and made of old wood, personal in a way sheathes carried by ninja never were.
If he was either Joji-sensei or Yahiko, he might've been able to tell what it held.
Her kimono was the color of the sky, and she had the same armor plates over her shoulders and around her waist as another man with his hair in a top knot.
Nagato stopped on the sand as he opened the carriage door. Mamoru-sensei stayed behind him on his right, and Itsuki stood to his left.
He could tell, before Miyashita stepped out, that he had more chakra than the others. It didn't pool in his middle, like every ninja he ever met, but was concentrated in his arms and legs. It flowed down to his core instead of up from it, and Nagato tried not to be distracted by it.
"You came a long way from Iron to see me, Miyashita of Watamura," Nagato said, more confident than he felt, and he added it to the mental pile of favors he owed Ren.
The other potential samurai or servant closed the door and dipped his head as Miyashita passed him and walked leisurely down the sand like he was from somewhere with a coastline. His smile was slight and his dark hair was unbound.
"Why, of course I did. You left me with little choice. I had to meet the ninja who not only addressed the Son of Heaven properly, but was audacious enough to write directly to him in the first place," Miyashita told him, eyes flicking down to the Akatsuki robe tied around his waist, the sleeves tucked in to look less casual.
Hangaku wordlessly moved away from the carriage and followed a step behind and to his left. Pins kept her hair tied in a bun.
Nagato didn't freeze outwardly, but suddenly felt like he'd crossed some social line he hadn't known about. He quickly went back over what Itsuki told him about all the attention he'd gotten in Iron, and it made a lot more sense if his letter was a bigger deal than he realized.
Nagato kept eye contact and didn't look at the two blades as Miyashita's side, one longer than the other, with more decorated sheathes. Both were dark gold.
"I wanted to make an impression, and show that I meant what I said about an alliance," Nagato finally said.
It felt a little like Joji-sensei had tossed him unexpectedly into the sea and told him to swim without using his arms and legs. But, he realized, this was exactly why Joji-sensei hadn't told him he had other options.
If he hadn't been so 'audacious', what were the chances he would've gotten any attention at all?
"So you did," Miyashita said, half-amused.
"I don't have anything prepared to host you. Forgive me," Nagato told him.
"I wanted my arrival to be a surprise," Miyashita dismissed. "But while we're speaking of surprises, I'd like you to write on this, if you'd humor me." He reached into his collar and pulled out a square of browned paper and an odd-looking brush.
Nagato took them, and it only took him a second to realize why.
"If you wanted to make sure I was who I said I was, you could've just asked," Nagato said, handling the 'brush' awkwardly and hoping Miyashita didn't notice. The ink that came out of the tip when he pressed down on the paper confused him, but he didn't let it show as he signed, Nagato of the Akatsuki.
Miyashita looked over the page as Nagato handed it back. "I was warned by many that this whole charade was an elaborate ploy, or a deliberate and misleading trick," he said. "And I suppose it still could be. But you have my curiosity, Nagato of the Akatsuki."
"I'd like to know what they call you in Iron first, if you don't mind," Nagato said.
Miyashita tucked the page away. "To ninja, I suppose you'd name me a Daimyo of the region of Watamura. Is it that important? It doesn't matter here, does it?"
"It does," Nagato disagreed. "I want to call you by your proper title in Iron, and not what you'd placate ninja with."
Miyashita's eyes widened, just slightly. "Baron Miyashita of Watamura," he said after a second. "Hangaku—" he nodded at her, then turned to the carriage. "Eito is my long-time driver, and Waraine is his apprentice. What do the people of Rain refer to you as, then?"
"Taiyokage," Nagato answered honestly. "Mamoru-sensei taught me almost everything I know, and you know Itsuki."
"Taiyokage, you say?" Hangaku asked softly, staring intensely at him.
Miyashita didn't speak, but Nagato saw the same question in his eyes.
"It's not widely recognized. At least, not yet," Nagato admitted.
And Miyashita looked fascinated.
"Since you've read my missive, Baron Miyashita, I have to question your intent," Nagato said carefully.
"Oh?"
"I intend to ally with all of the Land of Iron, but—" he paused. "Can I assume that, since you've come alone and without any samurai from any other region, my missive wasn't well received?"
Miyashita didn't answer for a long second. "I'll tell you this," he said, more seriously. "In Iron, ninja are either not well-liked or ignored as if they don't exist. Our isolationism has lasted for so long because of this. We do not need ninja, and the only reason ninja have ever wanted us is for war. It's only added to the disdain."
"You didn't know that, and I know you didn't, because what you wrote bordered on disbelief. You wrote directly to the Son of Heaven at a time when ninja had recently found peace, and all you wanted was our metals and ore. You didn't want to study samurai for our chakra, or use us for your own power. What an odd ninja, I thought," Miyashita told him. "I expected to find someone here twice, or three times my age, or you would be dishonest. Kita refusing to speak on you only made the entire thing more mysterious."
Nagato didn't look at Itsuki, but he was suddenly hyperaware of how little he knew about what happened in Iron.
Miyashita shook his head. "And yet, defying all expectations, a young man stands before me, sounding both like what I'd expect of a ninja and not."
Nagato didn't respond, surprised. Joji-sensei told him to be direct, and he was trying to be, but he'd also been trying not to let Miyashita lead their conversation, too.
Nagato shook his head at himself. "I'm only doing my best," he admitted. "I'm not a politician like others in my position are."
Miyashita stared at him again and Hangaku scrutinized him, but he'd told the truth.
"Your strangeness knows no bounds," Miyashita said, and he sounded half-confused. "I only said what I did to tell you that if you truly want to be allied with all of my homeland, I'm the foot you need in that door, as ninja say. But only If you can convince me why Watamura would need your funds when your currency is worth far less than ours."
Nagato stilled. Because Amegakure has nothing else to offer, he thought. Because Iron doesn't need our clothes or tools or anything else, like you said.
But he could already see Miyashita turning to leave if he said that, and this was the only chance they had.
He tried not to let the silence linger, tried to think fast about what Joji-sensei told him about Iron, about what they could give—
He remembered that, when Joji-sensei told them about Hoshigakure, he'd said that ninja had a different version of what happened to them than samurai.
"You don't need our funds," Nagato agreed. "But I can offer you information."
Miyashita paused. "What convinces you that knowledge is enough for me to agree to an alliance with Rain?"
"With Amegakure," he corrected. "Just as you only represent Watamura, I represent Amegakure. Nowhere else."
Miyashita didn't say a word, but his gaze was suddenly more careful.
Nagato didn't look away from his appraising glance, because if Lord Yodogiri did find out, there was no risk to Miyashita.
What was the worst a Daimyo could do to Watamura, being in an isolated land that disliked ninja?
"You reminded me that the Land of Iron is an isolationist country," Nagato said carefully. "The information you'd have on ninja would only be from what smugglers brought in, and it would only tell you so much. Or someone the Son of Heaven sent to do it, but they wouldn't know what to look for. I can give you up-to-date information on what ninja are doing and help Iron stay ahead of them."
Miyashita's smile was thin. "How does that help the people of my region?"
"That's not what you asked," Nagato said. "You asked why what I offered is enough, and I answered. It's enough for you because you didn't tell me the whole truth."
"The whole truth?" Miyashita repeated, amused again.
"The only way the Son of Heaven would let you come here was if he personally gave you permission," Nagato pushed on. "If anyone could leave Iron when they wanted, more people would, even if it's only to see what ninja are like for themselves."
Miyashita looked at him, but he didn't speak or smile.
Never mind that he only knew that because they'd labeled Joji-sensei a betrayer for leaving—
"It doesn't matter to me who you really are, Baron Miyashita," Nagato sighed. "But to ninja, intel is more valuable than lives. If what I tell you could keep Iron as an isolationist nation, I think samurai would see it the same way."
"You truly are the most intriguing ninja I've ever met, Nagato of the Akatsuki," Miyashita said, shaking his head slightly. "But I never lied to you about my identity. I am Sukehito Miyashita, Baron of Watamura, and it would be dishonorable to claim a name that isn't mine, even under pure intent."
"But that's not all of it," Nagato pointed out.
"So be it," Miyashita sighed. "He's not my father, if that's what you were thinking. To ninja, our relation is much more simply put. My uncle, you'd say, in this land where the social status of a parent affects a child far less. Though I supposed you'd also call my being here a form of favoritism."
"I see," Nagato said, but didn't. He only had a vague, basic idea of how the social hierarchy of samurai worked. "Did I convince you, Baron Miyashita?"
Miyashita paused. "Never in the present or future would I have expected to be impressed by a ninja, but I think you've managed it—"
"Not yet," Hangaku spoke softly. "Agree to a duel with me, Nagato of the Akatsuki. You can think of it as your final test."
"That wasn't the deal," Itsuki spoke, but Nagato glanced at her.
"I have to win?" he asked.
Hangaku glanced at Itsuki, but Nagato only waited for her answer. "No. It's not about winning or losing. Your words are pretty, but the best way to gauge the true nature of a person is by crossing blades with them."
Nagato thought it over. The true nature of a person?
"I see you still lack any and all manners, Kita," Miyashita said mildly, with an undertone of begrudging familiarity.
"And yet here you are, responding to me," Itsuki said back.
"I accept," Nagato said, practiced in ignoring bickering. "I'll come back tomorrow at the same time. You've been traveling for a while from what I've heard."
Hangaku looked briefly surprised, and it felt like even Mamoru-sensei was looking at him.
"If I offered you my support now, would you take it?" Miyashita asked, watching him cautiously. "Kita, unfortunately, spoke the truth. You will earn no more than you already have by going through with this."
"I won't," Nagato said, and Miyashita looked stunned. "I might've convinced you, Baron Miyashita, but that doesn't mean you trust me. And she wouldn't have asked if you weren't friends."
How many ninja refused because she spoke out of place, would've sided with Itsuki that it wasn't what they agreed on, or wouldn't have thought it important to earn the favor of Miyashita's comrades, too?
"And what if we are?" Miyashita asked.
Nagato met his eyes. "I meant what I said before. I want to be allied with all of Iron, and if I treat the comrades of someone I want to impress badly, what does that say about how I treat my own?"
Miyashita's eyes widened.
.
.
.
"You kids scare the hell out of me sometimes," Mamoru-sensei said, a little later, eyes closed as they walked back across the water.
Though he sounded more fond than resigned, and Nagato smiled.
Itsuki clapped him suddenly on the back, right between his shoulders, and Nagato couldn't help wincing.
"I don't think I've ever been so impressed and terrified by a kid so young in my life," Itsuki told him, then paused. "Using words, anyway. Good job."
"That terror doesn't seem to be stopping you," Nagato said darkly.
Itsuki laughed and clapped him again, harder.
A/N: ゼロ - Zero
ft. a naginata, wakizashi, and a katana, in that order. and a sprinkle of Europe because I wanted a different word than daimyo and Edo Japan gave me none.
Oculos in Tu Omnium - All Eyes on You