Sakura, the Mitokado cousins, the Utatane, and her nephew all kneeled around one of the low tables provided for them.
It was empty; all their papers were sealed away.
This was not a question of theory, or of communicating that theory.
This was a question of how to convince the Advisor to follow their instructions.
When Konoha was founded nearly 39 years ago, there had been 'disagreements' about how the village should be run.
Most famously, that had led to Madara being killed by Hashirama.
Less famously, that had led to factions of several major clans, Inuzuka, Mitokado, and even a portion of branch Hyuuga to break away, to attempt to make it on their own. The rebelling Inuzuka now had their own minor nation, the Mitokado were primarily from their merchant section and now ran a rather large trade caravan through the eastern islands, and the Hyuuga… were not successful, to put it lightly.
(That had been a huge scandal, too, but nothing had come of it. Clan politics were their own, even when others found them distasteful.)
(Sakura hated that, actually, hated the Hyuuga brands and the Uchiha perfectionism and the Yamanaka torture training. She tried to avoid thinking about it, but it was yet another vast difference between her world and Arden's—something the latter would never be able to understand.)
When Konoha was founded, then, the disagreements which were inevitable when founding a new village—particularly of the size of Konohagakure—were not as simple as a democratic vote or an authoritarian command. Individuals agreed or disagreed on their own, chose to react as part of a family or clan or alliance or alone. Many argued their points vehemently, held grudges to the modern day if their side didn't win. Many others chose one key issue and conceded anything and everything else to get their major goal accomplished.
It had been a messy beginning, full of power struggles and proxy-battles and politics and charisma and threats and so, so much more.
It had to be, with the number of players at the table.
Dealing with a single Advisor should have been simpler.
In truth, the table was far larger.
On Sakura's "side" was the whole of Konohagakure and the various and often contradictory viewpoints touted there. On Sakura's side was Arden and her completely novel and almost utopic view of how sapient creatures could coexist (it still had flaws, was still miles away from perfection, and yet it was so much better that Sakura couldn't help but push to it, dream for it.) On Sakura's side were her own opinions, different from Arden's and Konoha's, and those of her Delegation. On Sakura's side was the theory and evidence she had to back up her arguments.
On the Advisor's side was the whole of the Land of Mushrooms, war-torn and tired of it. On the Advisor's side was his political ambitions and shaky control over his position, and his genuine love of country. On the Advisor's side was his belief in their comparative intelligences—his astronomically higher because of his gender and age—and his relative power (she could suggest, but not mandate.) On the Advisor's side was the history reliant on economic theories nothing like Sakura's, and the theory and evidence which could be used to back each up. On the Advisor's side was the risk of change, the risk of everything getting even worse. On the Advisor's side was history—it was hard for any nation to forget, after all, that it was shinobi who had defeated their Box of Ultimate Bliss so many centuries ago.
What Sakura and the rest of her Delegation had to figure out, what they'd spent the whole week trying to figure out in between meetings with not only the Advisor but also the Daimyo and countless nobles and rescheduling their departure and reviewing theory and information gathering, was how to make the odds just that bit less even. Make it just a hair more likely than before that the Advisor would opt to take the risk and listen to her.
They'd considered going over his head, first of all, but all counts had the Daimyo even more sexist than most of his Advisors, even more certain of an inherent imbalance between men and women.
They'd considered playing up their power as Konohans, but threats had a habit of backfiring when one wasn't completely sure of them.
They'd considered using one of the other nobles—some were quite smitten with the idea of shinobi in general—but Hisa made it very clear that doing so carried significant risks given the ongoing political battle between those pro-samurai and pro-shinobi. (Their Advisor was not, as of yet, considered part of either camp, despite being a former Samurai himself, but Sakura was sure it was only a matter of time.)
The only idea that seemed to work, really, was by promising certain material and monetary benefits to the Land in exchange for their policy shift, but Sakura was leery of that.
"Why not?" Rento asked—he'd gotten better at speaking up, now, but that also meant he never shut up.
"If I overpromise, either on what Konoha is willing to deliver or on what they believe the agreement is worth—though those values may be one in the same—then it's my head."
"You are the leader." The elder Mitokado said. (She knew that she knew his name, both of theirs, in fact, but she could never convince herself to refer to them as that. They seemed too… stolid, she supposed, to even in one's mind be referred to by their first name.) "It comes with the territory."
"I know—"
"And sometimes you will have to bargain with the country's dime—you can't just hold back because you don't want to risk it." Added Aiko.
"I know—"
"Wait." That was the younger Mitokado. He'd been about to add something in addition, had just opened his mouth to do so, then froze. Everyone else stopped too.
It took mere seconds for their ears to tune in on the sound.
Sakura stood, shoving out her sense as she did so. "Mitokado cousins, perimeter check. Genin, secure our items. Aiko, with me."
The men left immediately, the tweens nodded and rushed to pack up what little they had lying around—a shinobi must always be ready to move—and she and Aiko raced out towards the sound, mere footsteps behind their older compatriots.
The walls surrounding the Capital had been manned and arrows whirred from above at the call of one of the battle masters. Samurai, young and retired alike, streamed out of doorways with half-put-on armor and swords at the ready.
In one window of the palace a very pregnant woman stood, cackling wildly.
The Land of Claws was attacking.
In the days past, the Delegation from Konoha had kept busy, but not so busy that Hisa wasn't able to slip away and regularly help with the laundry of the Palace.
From them, she'd found that the daughter-in-law of the Daimyo, already unhappy from the arranged marriage and the commodity-like way she'd been treated, had seen her overall temperament worsen with the progression of the particularly difficult pregnancy.
The augur predicting a female baby to her father-in-law's fury was, if anything, the last straw.
She'd begun attacking her husband and anyone from his family whenever they'd come within range of her, screaming that she wouldn't take a single indignity more, and refusing treatment from the royal doctor—believing him to be incompetent due to his ties to the family.
She had, however, supposedly been prevented from contacting her home—the family (and her doctor) claimed that this was merely a bout of pregnancy-born hysterics and would soon pass.
Given how easily Hisa had slipped the information out of their walls (the Daimyo was actually rather popular among many men, and apparently quite charismatic when he wanted to be, but he held no such charms for women), it was little surprise that the news had escaped local efforts to keep it in.
The ninja had predicted it, even. They'd spent some time considering the implications, but—damningly—hadn't considered an outright invasion by the Land of Claws' samurai, ostensibly to rescue their princess.
It had seemed madness to attempt such a thing when every Great Nation surrounding the Land of Claws was at war with each other, when Claws itself was fighting its neighbor Fangs, when risk of local upheaval was greatest, the economy was at its worst, and Konoha expected Iwa to at any moment launch an attack through Claws' territory.
But then, the Land of Claws wouldn't know that.
They would know of the war, of course, as well as their own, but they wouldn't be kept up to date on the internal politics of Earth and weren't reported to have nearly the talent at information gathering to figure it out themselves.
Sakura hadn't factored that in.
It was still unwise for them to attack, of course, but apparently without the added risk of imminent invasion not so unwise as to convince them not to do it.
Which left the Konohans in a rather precarious position: should they help, and if so, who?
Aiko frowned. "The wall guard looks worried, and that thumping—a battering ram, do you think, being set up?"
Sakura hadn't heard one before either, but she knew the principle well enough. "Probably." She slowed to a stop, glancing about. Aiko stood beside her. Within moments the first of the Mitokado was on her other side—the other would have doubled back to help the genin.
"Orders?"
Helping the Land of Mushrooms keep the clearly manic and outraged woman felt like the morally repugnant thing to do, but then they were allied with Konoha and, moreover, they'd just finished having a week-long discussion about how to get the Land in their debt.
On the other hand, helping the Land of Claws seemed like the obviously right call, and might even mean that they don't aid in a possible excursion from Iwa into Wind, but… well, they were officially Earth's vassals. Technically, Sakura was at war with them, and she doubted that any favors would change that.
They could also sit out—let the lesser nations figure it out themselves and lose most of the risk of acting, but also all of the awards.
"Sakura?"
Sakura closed her eyes. She took a breath, then opened them. "Follow me. We're guarding the Advisor."
The Advisor's residence—at least the one within the Capital walls—was one of the smallest noble houses in the area. He lived alone there, his family having chosen to remain in the countryside, and he had a team of servants to keep the place running at all times.
It—or at least the front rooms, where guests were received—had become very familiar to Sakura in the past days.
"Genin, on the Advisor. Explain what's happening to him and guard. Aiko, round up all the other servants and bring them to the Advisor. Mitokados, you and I are on active guard duty."
Everyone nodded.
Sakura swallowed.
Sometimes, when Taiki was training her, she could still feel the assassin's blade stabbing into her, the pain she'd felt that, once the adrenaline wore off, seemed to consume her entire body. She wouldn't flinch—that had been trained out of her—but she'd want to, and suddenly her tempo was gone and Taiki was coming in for the kill.
She could not let that happen today.
There was shouting at the gates—shouting from within the estate—shouting on the streets. People were running everywhere, anywhere that they could; Aiko was shepherding as many as possible into the estate (hopefully the Advisor would be understanding), but there was still panic; no one thought there was risk of invasion from anyone but Earth, and Fire was keeping Earth at bay.
They did, as it turned out, have a battering ram.
Everyone's attention turned towards the gates, even if they were well out of sight, when said ram began crashing into them, attempting to force the way in for Claws.
The cackling princess was gone, had disappeared from the windows. Sakura wondered if the person who took her was friend or foe—and to whom.
The doors held strong, specifically meant to withhold sieges, but one never knew how long that would last.
The streets had emptied.
They must have come from the south, Sakura reasoned, through Storms. The border with Iwa was simply too carefully watched, and while Storms did not like foreign soldiers in their borders, they'd always had a good trading relationship with Claws; under the right conditions, Sakura was sure the latter could be granted passage.
Were granted passage, in fact.
The shinobi and samurai of Fire had no doubt already noticed the entrance of the (enemy) force, but now the question was what to do.
Claws hadn't been—still weren't, when taking into account their actions—providing Earth with human help, merely with food and the like to tide them through the plague and the war.
Konoha didn't want to change that, to have Claws suddenly playing a much larger part—traditionally, minor allies and vassals were depended on for just about everything but manpower, and changing that balance had risks.
Additionally, Konoha wouldn't want to risk removing anyone from their frontlines, and the samurai would have to wait for an official directive to intervene—theoretically faster now, with the long-distance communication, but that didn't take into account the politicking that would have to happen before anything was done.
The battering ram continued its messy work. From as far back as she was, she couldn't quite see the gates herself, but the shouting of Mushrooms' samurai made it very clear it wasn't looking good. They really hadn't been prepared.
And then a flood of shinobi arrived.
Sakura knew they had, everyone knew they had, because they were on the walls, they were at the gate, they were racing across the city to the enemy and everyone could see them, could watch them using chakra to appear nearer and nearer to the enemy with every heartbeat.
Sakura could just about feel the palpable relief from the Mushroom residents, from the Mushroom samurai.
She didn't let her guard down—Claws, unlike Mushroom, had a shinobi village to carry out more discrete operations too—but she did smile.
The prompt response of the Konoha samurai? Her and her team's immediate move to protect the Advisor?
Sakura had no doubt that the Advisor would have a hard time not feeling indebted to Konoha after this.
Nearly two hours later, Sakura stood in the Daimyo's throne room. She and several other shinobi team leaders—the ones who had led the counterassault—kept still and silent as the older man ranted and raved at his samurai, completely ignoring the standards of decorum to make it clear exactly how upset he was that, while everyone focused on the frontal attack, the Claws' shinobi had stolen back their princess—and his grandchild—right under his nose.
He'd meant, it had been clear at first, to wait until the Konohans left. They'd been invited to his throne room to be formally thanked and pressed for information, acquiesced easily, and found themselves dealing with a man nearly apoplectic with rage. The royal oracle also stood across from them, shrinking into his robes with every intonation his ruler made.
Just about the only people that weren't miserable were the ninja: everyone else found themselves somewhere between furious, guilty, fearful, indignant, and uncomfortable.
Sakura and her fellow Konohans mostly just watched.
It was uncomfortable, it was true, but it also wasn't targeted at them, and it meant that their neighbor nation was even more indebted as a whole than before, staving off Mushrooms' claims that they deserved some form of restitution for putting up with the Great Nations' Second War. They would still get it, of course—that was what Konoha was here for, how they built up their reputation—but now it seemed like even more of a favor and less of a transaction, thereby making the relationship even more imbalanced.
It wasn't all good news, of course; every shinobi in the room would find themselves spending most of the night writing a report on what they saw and heard and Sakura's would have to include a fairly long treatise on the possible results of the day (the Daimyo's support wavering, the internal struggle between samurai and shinobi having a new and persuasive argument added to the mix, the question of inheritance, the position of Claws in relation to the Second Great War, and so on) but it was better than actually being on the receiving end of a wrathful superior.
So mostly, they just waited.
Sakura practiced moving her chakra around her body; many others did the same.
Some—including the Nara beside her—used surreptitious hand signs to make bets on how often certain words would appear, the next color the Daimyo would turn, and if the oracle would actually be successful in his attempt to sneak out of the room before the Daimyo once again remembered he'd received no warning of the impending invasion.
She even considered participating, but some of the hand signs were ones she didn't know, which was a rare occurrence indeed considering her time spent learning cryptology.
She wondered if the Nara was ANBU.
She wondered why ANBU would be in Mushrooms.
At last, the Daimyo seemed to realize he was airing his dirty laundry, so to speak, in front of the shinobi of a different, stronger, nation.
They were escorted out.
The Nara beside her lasted until they'd exited the front doors of the palace before snorting. "Well, that's never happened to me before."
"You've been on a lot of diplomatic missions?"
"No, but it's still—well, that can't be normal, can it?"
"No." Sakura admitted. "Hasn't happened to me before either. He wasn't thinking clearly, though, and no one wanted to risk trying to correct him."
"Well, the reports will be interesting at least."
"Long, though."
"There's always a downside."
"Guess I'll get started immediately."
The Nara grinned. "I've got something I have to get done first. But hey, now I get to think of it as a chance to avoid paperwork!"
They split, Sakura to go back to the guest house and the Nara to exit the city entirely.
Opening the front door proved that, if anything, she'd been the least busy of them all—
The place had been flooded with paper and people.
"Leader Yamanaka!" Aiko called. She waved her friend forward, then made a gesture meant to encompass the whole of the room. "Advisor Saigo has asked us to work with several of those in his employ on addressing the changes to the tax law, trade laws, and monetary policy."
"It was very kind of him to offer us the chance to work with each other directly. Welcome, everyone. My name is Special Jounin Yamanaka and I am leading this diplomatic mission. I apologize for my late arrival; I was at the palace."
The various men—all older, all blatantly samurai, all with far more respect than she suspected she would have seen the day before—nodded. She took her seat next to Aiko and met eyes with her nephew across the room. He looked shell-shocked more than anything, and was racing about transferring papers from one person to another while Hisa kept the tea flowing and writing utensils on hand. Both Mitokado and Aiko were embroiled in conversation, using the notes they'd made in the days before to try to explain various concepts. The Advisor himself was not there—all Advisors had been called together shortly after the attack, so he must have put this together quickly—but Sakura strongly suspected that everyone he had dominion over was.
Sakura took a second to adjust herself to the flow of conversation, then dove in.
She'd talk to the Advisor more the following day, but for now, she was more than pleased at her relative fortuity: she had not been looking forward to opening Konoha's purse strings.