Double chapter upload alert! This is chapter 1 of 2 uploaded 12/10/23. Enjoy :)
Three factors determined whether or not a shinobi village could be considered "great," each of them interconnected. The first was wealth. Shinobi villages were typically self-sufficient, but they still received a great deal of funding from their respective Daimyo. And five Daimyo stood head and shoulders above the rest in terms of what they could afford to part with—I'll let you guess which ones those were.
Second was population. Once again, five nations dwarfed the rest in this area, which was to be expected when taking into account said nations' sizes. More land equaled more people to settle it, which equaled more taxes returning to the Daimyo that could theoretically be funneled into their hidden villages. It also meant more immigration to the most populated centers of each nation, and while the hidden villages were always second place to the nations' capitals in terms of size, second place was quite substantial in and of itself. More people in the hidden village meant more potential shinobi.
Finally, there was prestige. Once the warring clans era came to an end, said warring clans were faced with two choices. Band together, or leave themselves at the mercy of those who did. Historically, strong clans, with some notable exceptions, hated one another. They were rivals, both in matters of pride and money, so the idea of banding together was almost laughable. If not for one particular incident, the scales may have been more balanced, leaving the nations with fewer (or more—matter of perspective) superpowers.
However, the Uchiha and the Senju did unite under one banner, and so that ship sailed. If two of the strongest clans in the elemental nations joined forces, despite being the bitterest of enemies, every other clan's hands were tied. The Bakuhatsu and the Konjiki hated one another almost as fiercely, yet they joined forces in Iwa. The Hyuga joined Konoha despite their pride and their own bad blood with the Uchiha. Even the Kaguya, who everyone hated, joined Kiri. And so, the prestige of each of the great nations surpassed that of the minor nations by far, and they were granted the right to name their leaders Kage as a sign of respect.
That was what I had been taught in the Iwa academy, but I had never been to a minor nation's hidden village before. Once my team finally reached Keikokugakure, the Village Hidden in the Canyon, I could point out several other distinct differences, though only time and experience would tell if they were universal.
One was the relative lack of population density. Compared to Iwagakure, buildings were quite spaced out, and almost everyone had a moderately sizable yard. Many even had gardens, and there even seemed to be a considerable amount of vacant or undeveloped plots. I had been forced to memorize the general population sizes of each hidden village (Keikokugakure was estimated to host nineteen thousand people, with about seven thousand of those being shinobi), and those numbers didn't line up with what was before me. Iwagakure (and the other four great nations, which had mostly equivalent sizes, war-influenced devastation notwithstanding) had over four times that population, but the village proper didn't seem much more than twice the size of this place. I wondered if this characteristic could be found in other minor villages as well.
The people here also seemed to be more social, though I somehow doubted that would last if we weren't henge'd into Shinobi from the neighboring Land of Mountain Streams (transforming into civilians wasn't an option, since leadership was expecting our arrival—still, discretion was advisable when you were hated by most and in the process of sabotaging the efforts of another great nation). Villagers talked and laughed more freely with one another; a phenomenon I hadn't witnessed since I was reborn. It should have brought me comfort, but for some reason it did the opposite.
Keikokugakure had another distinct feature, though this one I doubted was shared by any other shinobi village. Every structure here was all but underground. Buildings sat at the bottom of wide crevices that must have been formed from a long-since dried up river, which had carved a network of gouges into the earth deep enough to completely disguise the village itself until you were essentially right on top of it. Traditional architecture was elevated on stilts, which must have hoisted the buildings high enough to escape flooding after rainfall, but many many were crammed right up next to one or multiple massive cliff faces. When we descended into the village itself, I soon felt claustrophobic despite how spread out everything was.
If this were my old world, there was no shot that anyone would live here. It would have been walled off and declared a national park or something, because wow. If there was ever a testament to nature's power and elegance, it was this.
"Interesting, isn't it?" Jin-sama asked.
"Doesn't seem very…defensible," Iwao offered, which was true. A single earth or water jutsu could cause catastrophic infrastructure damage.
"They have some tricks," Jin-sama said, not elaborating. "It is a ninja village, after all. You'd do well not to underestimate them."
Due to the unique structure of the village itself, there was no wall or gate. There was no one to speak to other than civilians, and it almost seemed like there was no security. But I felt eyes on me, and eventually we were indeed stopped. The Hidden Canyon ninja wore sleeveless gray flack jackets, which helped blend in with the shadows cast by the titular surrounding cliffs, and their pants were mahogany brown. Many wore long sleeves the same color, and their headbands resembled an upside-down trapezoid.
They conducted their business like I expected them to. They were thorough and professional as they spoke to Biwa-sensei (Jin-sama was the client, but it was the duty of the security head to handle this sort of thing), and they asked much the same questions as the main gate guards did back home. They even produced a scroll for us to sign in on.
"The Daimyo has not yet arrived," we were informed, and we were all too well-trained to let our annoyance show. We were dignitaries from a great nation, and the figurehead should have been waiting to receive us. But whatever.
"Do you know when he will arrive?" Biwa-sensei asked, his face a mask. The gatekeeper had no answer, but another shinobi melted out of the shadows. This was obviously a jonin, and one who was likely partial to the nature of their visit.
"The country is small, and the capital isn't far," he answered, a hint of apology in his voice. The Daimyo's tardiness must be a chronic issue. "A number of our forces were sent to retrieve him. Frontrunners from his entourage have already cleared their route and returned, so I know the main party has already left. A day, two tops."
Sensei nodded in gratitude. "Is there a place we can stay in the meantime?"
"Of course. Lodging has been arranged in the Daimyo's second palace, which is where the meeting was slated to take place. Please, follow me, and do not wander."
No need to tell us twice. We walked at a sedate and frankly aggravating pace (I felt like I was following an NPC in a video game), and soon came upon what appeared to be the most extravagant building in the village. Stilts thicker and higher than any I'd seen before hoisted the multileveled structure high above its surroundings (but not above the canyon walls), and a massive stone staircase led to the first level. It was meticulously picked clean of moss and lichen, but the same care had not been afforded to its back side.
This was also the moment I first experienced the fabled shinobi/samurai rivalry. Four armed guards were posted in the doorway, clad in distinctive armor and bearing impressive katana. They didn't look like the Land of Iron samurai shown in the anime; their armor was painted deep blue, and the insignia of the Fang Daimyo was emblazoned on each of their breastplates.
"Welcome, honored guests," the apparent…captain? Greeted us. I just realized I'd never been taught about the samurai hierarchy. Actually, they hadn't taught us much about samurai at all, which was strange because of how otherwise complete our instruction was. We were told not to underestimate them, but that claim was immediately countered by the dismissiveness with which all shinobi, even Yoshiro-sensei, spoke of them. I wondered what they were actually capable of.
"We humbly ask that you remove all weaponry upon entry," he continued, his face the picture of distrust as he moved back to make room for a fifth who wheeled a ceremonial cart of some kind.
Both of my teammates glanced at sensei for guidance, but I wasted no time in unstrapping my weapons pouch. Its emptiness wouldn't be suspicious because very few ninja actually physically kept weapons within their pouches—most had basic storage seals inscribed on the inner lining which held their surplus. An obvious in retrospect explanation for how shinobi never seemed to run out of weapons to throw in the anime, despite how their weapons pouches didn't appear bulky. The tactical advantage was that basic storage scrolls that a neutralization matrix could be attached to could only take in one type of item, with very little margin of error for variation. Kunai, shuriken or any other weapon would need different seals, and if said seals were inside a receptacle that blocked an enemy's line of sight, it was harder to predict which weapon they would withdraw.
I knew sensei had no reason to object to the samurai's demands. Ridding us of sharp objects didn't make us much less dangerous—not like it would with samurai or ronin. Sure enough, he was only half a beat behind me, and the rest of my team followed suit. And that would have been the end of it. Could have been the end of it. Should have been the end of it?
"Imai," sensei cued. "Your other storage scrolls."
I froze in confused betrayal, but only for a moment, because anything longer would make me look worse. Avoiding the samurai's glare, I quickly set to work unwrapping my bandages, which was hard to do without taking my clothes off, though I still managed it.
"You'd do best to not underestimate samurai, child," he told me. "We are a match for your ninja arts. Thinking us unable to detect tools as common as storage seals, no matter how hidden they are, is folly."
I nodded my head, abashed. It was obvious in retrospect that they'd have some means of detecting seals—clearly, sensei knew, or he wouldn't have called me out on it. I just wish he told me before I could paint myself as suspicious.
"I didn't intend anything nefarious," I lied. "These do not contain weapons, so I forgot about them for this purpose."
If called out, I could demonstrate by withdrawing food. The common single item restrictions were well known, so to a layman the claim would be substantiated.
The captain regarded me with a glare as I placed the neatly wound bandages upon the cart. Then, I unbound my hair and picked out the tightly rolled explosion tag before setting that down as well.
"That one I just forgot about," I said, sheepishly. "I have some more storage built into my sandals. I would be happy to give them up once we change into the uwabaki." Those were indoor shoes, which all polite households in this Japan-like society expected you to change into upon entering a residence.
"Very well," he said, poking my rolled up exploding tag warily with an armor-clad finger. "I hope you do not have any more of these hidden on your person. For your own sake."
"I do not," I said, assuredly.
That little phrase was more telling than the samurai intended it to be. I knew of the common security systems used to identify smuggled seals; Aimi had relayed Atsuchi's instruction on the matter. The for your own sake led me to believe they were utilizing a forced activation approach, which, as its name suggested, would pulse chakra to activate seals once they came in close physical proximity. When used on storage seals, their contents would be expunged, damaging what was inside and/or whatever container the seal was in. If an exploding tag was triggered…well, it certainly wouldn't have been good. Especially if said exploding tag was hidden atop my head. I had faith in my ability to get it off by the time the fuse expired, but in my haste to do so something or someone would probably be caught in the blast, and it would probably cause an international incident.
So it was a really good thing sensei made me fork over my hidden seals. Even if, unbeknownst to him, the ones he was concerned about would have been safe.
Because there were, in fact, several weaknesses to this security system. The most commonly utilized was keying, which was a feature that could be added onto seals with a neutralization matrix. As its name suggested, it allowed people to key their chakra to (most commonly) an exploding tag, making it so that only their chakra signature could trigger it. However, that wasn't as universally useful as it sounded, because keying was only an effect that could be applied upon activation. It was like pulling the pin on a grenade but continuing to squeeze the lever; you could sneak something past some security measures by doing so, but you couldn't keep holding it down forever. And active chakra could be sensed by anyone with honed senses, a category which this samurai almost definitely fell in. Really, its utility only shone in trapping or arena prep.
But that didn't even apply to my Inventory port seals, because they were wholly unaffected by this particular security measure. The biggest, albeit far rarer, weakness of this security system was seals that didn't bear a neutralization matrix couldn't be activated by chakra with a signature that didn't align with what was used to imbue the ink.
Seems like a pretty big hole, doesn't it? However, likely over ninety-nine percent of seals utilized in the Elemental Nations bore a neutralization matrix, because almost no one in this world was more than passable in the art of fuinjutsu. If a person wanted to activate a seal without a neutralization matrix, the creator would have to be present. And the overlap in a Venn diagram of people who can: A, create stage two or above seals, B, not be entirely useless in the field, and C, be expendable (or capable) enough to be let out into missions that bore significant risk, was incredibly slight. It was undoubtedly the reason Jiraya was such an effective spymaster—one of them, anyway.
God I wanted summons.
Very few fit into this category, and right now, I was among their number. Therefore, almost no one was prepared for me. I should better take advantage of that. First thing I would do after this mission was replace my emergency exploding tag with one that didn't bear a neutralization matrix. Adding one of those was habit at this point, because it didn't limit functionality and only gave me more options in its use.
Except, of course, in this one instance. The last thing I needed was another tag blowing up in my face (damn, I'm really getting my mileage out of that joke).
Finally satisfied, the captain led us through the doorway and into what I assumed was the Daimyo's summer home. It was as grand as I expected, with beautiful paintings lining off-white walls, and ceremonial suits of samurai armor displayed on stands at consistent intervals along the wall. I wondered if their purpose was simply for aesthetics, or if they were there to deter anyone peeking in through the massive windows.
"Due to the nature of your visit, the Daimyo asks that you do not leave this premises for the duration of your stay," the captain said, not even bothering to hide the distaste at the mention of our mission. I could guess why—honor was the core tenet of the samurai, and what we were setting out to do was as far from honorable as it could possibly be. No doubt, if any of his retainers had any say in the matter, they would be counseling the Daimyo to reject our proposition.
"Of course," sensei said, as a servant approached to receive us. She was slight and elegant, but her posture screamed submissiveness in a way that left a sour taste in my mouth.
"Additionally, we must ask that you refrain from venturing to the higher floors," the samurai said in parting. "Your rooms are on the second level; do not attempt to ascend any higher than that."
We gave our assent and the woman took us on a brief tour. I had never encountered this degree of luxury in this life so far, and my teammates were even more mystified by it than I was. Fresh baths had been drawn, which I was looking forward to enjoying if sensei would let me, and the futons in our room were thick and soft. There was also a tea room, where we were treated to some approximation of lunch (though it was nearing the time of day that I'd consider eating dinner). Jin-sama excused himself to his room early, telling me we'd touch base the following morning to discuss our upcoming meeting with the Daimyo.
"It should go without saying, but do not use any jutsu while here," Biwa-sensei told us. "Your training will have to be put on hold until our return trip."
We had spent one night in the tunnels, and camped out an additional night after we left them. In that time, we each had been working to perfect our chosen jutsu, and with two jonin as resources, we all made significant headway. While Iwa was weird in that shinobi weren't allowed to intentionally teach each other new jutsu, jonin sensei were expected to help their students perfect the jutsu they had bought with Merits. It was one of the many benefits of personal instruction afforded to jonin-led teams.
Little development had been put into my Shunkan Iaku no Jutsu before it fell in my hands, and what little variations that had been created didn't focus on increasing defensive capability. Seriously, the people here had no sense of creativity. So, I decided my first step was to perfect its base form, even though I doubted I would use it quite as much. I was in the process of dropping or combining hand seals, so I could cast it quickly in combat. A process that was more frustrating to me than most, because I could literally see what position my chakra needed to be in in order to make the technique succeed. I was just physically incapable of contorting my fingers properly to make what I envisioned reality. But I would get there, eventually.
Or I'd just write my wildest fantasies for this jutsu in seal form. Fuinjutsu was the best.
"Hai," we all agreed, softly.
"Just so you know, sensei," I said, drawing his attention. "My storage seals can't be activated by anyone else. So the particular security system I have reason to believe they're utilizing wouldn't have exposed their presence. However, there may have been redundancies, so it was best to err on the side of caution anyway." I pursued my lips. "Though I wished you would have told me to expect something like this before I made a fool of myself."
"I didn't think of it," he said, blandly. "I'm not used to having to account for someone without my knowledge base. If I run missions with anyone else at all these days, it's with people who already know what we're getting into."
That was fair.
"In a different kind of mission, you can utilize my unique storage system to smuggle weapons, or anything else that's best left hidden," I told him. "Again, provided there aren't any additional security measures."
"Noted," he said.
"What should we do with our time?" Iwao asked. Out of the three of us, he seemed most high strung about our mission. Not because of its contents—I think I was the only one here with notable moral objections. He was just twitchy because he wasn't used to being out of the village, or having to keep his game face on at all times.
"We wait, of course," Biwa-sensei said. "I cannot teach you anything of substance at this time. It's unlikely anyone here has the ability to eavesdrop without alerting me to their presence, but it's the principle of the matter."
Daigo nodded in acceptance, but Iwao didn't seem thrilled. His nerves, while easily overlooked by someone who didn't know him as well as I did, were apparently difficult to ignore.
"Chill, Iwao-kun," I said. "No need to be so on edge. You might as well take this moment to enjoy some relaxation, without having to worry about exams or training for once. Soak in some peace and quiet—who knows when you'll happen upon some next."
"You?" he deadpanned. "You're telling me to relax, and not worry about training?"
"Uh, yeah?" I said, matching his tone. "Believe it or not, I can relax. I just haven't gotten the chance to in, say, six years." Not since I first found myself under Gari's thumb.
"You couldn't even sit still in class without multitasking on some other project of yours," he recalled rightly.
"That was due to situational stress, not a shortcoming in my personality," I told him. "I'll have you know, I'm quite fond of meditation."
"If you can meditate for more than five minutes straight, I'll bite my own leg off," he said, and I almost laughed.
"Better start gnawing, then," I said. "Because I guarantee you I can meditate for far longer than you can."
"Care to wager? I'll put a ream of shuriken on it."
"I'll ante up some exploding tags," I replied. "Let's do this in my room."
Once we had privacy, I crossed my legs and sat on the tatami as I heard Iwao follow suit. With practiced ease, I slipped into my canals, losing myself in the current of my chakra. At long last, my entire body was mapped; now, I was going even smaller, navigating my submarine through tributaries so miniscule that I couldn't even pulse chakra through them before. But as the years passed, my control grew even greater.
When I finally opened my eyes, the room was dark and I was alone. I took that to mean I won the bet.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
AN: Hey y'all! To make up for my break, I'm publishing another two-fer. I had the first of these chapters done last Sunday, but after thinking about it for a while, I decided that I'd rather just save it. This chapter on its own wasn't very exciting; it's mostly just setup. I thought it would be a cock block for you readers if I published it on its own, so I decided to take another week to work on the next. Tell me, do you prefer that, if it happens in the future? Or would you rather me strictly do a chapter a week?
After I was halfway through writing this chapter, I looked online to find more canon information on samurai. Narutopedia states that samurai only live in the Land of Iron, which was weird to me. In many fanfic that I've read, there's been an understanding that samurai are the private army of all the Daimyo (like they were in the real world), and I just assumed that was supported by canon. Guess not, but I'm not going to change my story after the fact just to support something I find less interesting anyway, so the samurai are here to stay in the Land of Fangs, and in every other country with a Daimyo.
Anyway, keep reading! This next chapter is extra long, as an apology for the break. Enjoy!