Chapter Text
Kakashi scents Tenzō and Genma before he ever spots them: together, they’re wood, earth, and poison. Between two craggy outcroppings and safely shrouded by mossy malm, Genma steps out of their approximate rendezvous point with a senbon tucked into the corner of his smile. Tenzō, it seems, chooses to remain disguised within the gnarled bark of a nearby tree. Despite the rush of the nearby wide, sparkling Shouhei River, Kakashi performs the signs for a silencing seal.
“Hatake Kakashi,” Genma drawls, rolling his shoulders back. “Should’ve known it’d be you.”
Though Kakashi doesn’t detect derision, per se, the exasperation he feels in response to anything Genma says always drains him. In this case, it saps the last of the reserve energy left from his long trek to this distant nation from a brief pit stop back home in Konoha. He’s tired. And Genma is annoying.
“The transfer went smoothly, I presume?” Kakashi replies around a stifled sigh. “No issues?”
Genma eyes him, clearly miffed that Kakashi won’t rise to the bait. “What do you take me for?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Kakashi doesn’t dignify that with a response. He swears he can feel Tenzō’s silent laughter.
With a sigh, Genma finally relents, muttering, “Jeez, no wonder he picked you for this one,” under his breath. A bit louder, he says, “Yes, the asset was safely dropped. Iruka’s been—”
Iruka.
Iruka.
The name bounces around inside Kakashi’s skull like a particularly nasty version of pachinko, deafening him to half of what Genma’s saying as Kakashi realizes that he’s—that they are about to be partners for the next four weeks. A week for each of the long years it’s been since Kakashi has heard his laugh or seen a dimpled smile directed at him.
Hope flutters in tandem with dread in Kakashi’s stomach.
No wonder Lord Third had kept saying ‘your partner’ rather than giving Kakashi a specific name. It’d struck him as odd at the time, but the mental pin he’d stuck in it must’ve been made of little more than mist, because he hadn’t been at all compelled to ask it within the flurry of questions he’d posed to ensure the preparation for his cover persona was airtight.
“—duck to water, I swear. Weird to see him without the scar, though,” Genma’s saying as Kakashi hones back in on the present. “Anyway, you’re expected in Ōzora by sundown. You’ll meet your ‘employer’ at the big fancy government-building-palace-thing. It’s mostly made of rocks; you can’t miss it.”
“Okay,” Kakashi says, “I’ve got the gist.”
Genma flicks his senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other, unfazed. With a roll of his shoulders, Genma eyes Kakashi up and down and then says, “Suppose you do.”
He heaves in a breath and sighs it out, ruffling his hair before he reaches back behind himself for his ANBU mask. It’s standard issue white with two wisps made of red paint overlaying dozens of thin black lines protruding from the eye holes. With it perched akimbo on the top of his head, Genma fixes Kakashi with a shit-eating grin.
“Your chariot awaits, Harada Kanato-sama,” he says before properly affixing his mask, “Clothes are inside.” Then, as if finally remembering who he’s speaking to, Genma adds: “Taichō.”
Kakashi barely refrains from rolling his eye. Instead, he steps back as Tenzō finally makes an appearance with a bashful, “Senpai,” and a flurry of hand signs that draw forth a veritable army of wood clones who file into the space between the crags. It’s not quite a cave, but the drape of the moss hanging between them is thick enough to obscure the entrance. Within it, an ornately carved norimono painted with shiny golds and brightly lacquered reds sits, not a scuff mark to be found.
“Make sure they’re all unique when you initiate the henge,” Kakashi instructs Tenzō as one of the wood clones opens the screen door. He climbs in, glad to have some sort of barrier between himself and Genma. “And be sure to cycle through them at the inn. Don’t just keep them all in the room or people will get suspicious.”
The door slides shut with a click and Tenzō’s, “Yes, senpai,” sounds only marginally exasperated.
Kakashi trusts him—more than Genma, to be sure—but their many missions together over the past few years have given him the unique insight of his individual strengths and weaknesses, opportunities for growth and improvement, and potential threats to their missions. He wouldn’t nitpick if it weren’t necessary. And Tenzō knows this.
But that doesn’t stop Genma from sucking at his teeth and groaning, “Give it a rest, Kakashi.” His sigh is audible even through the norimono walls. “Such a fucking nag.”
Again, Kakashi doesn’t deign to respond. Instead, he sifts through the wooden trunk filled with a mix of all types of formal and business wear, toiletries, and a framed picture of two random dignitaries from the capital who are, supposedly, Harada Kanato’s parents. He selects a carefully folded suit—charcoal gray, boxy, cut in the most fashion-forward style found in the Land of Fire’s capital city—along with a subtly patterned green tie, and some shiny black loafers to complete the look. It’s weird. Stuffy. But at least it’s spacious enough to store quite a few weapons.
It’s a bit of a risk, wearing this instead of a more formal kimono, but Harada Kanato is a businessman turned politician, and businessmen in the capital have taken to wearing them with gusto. So, Kakashi shoves his tired limbs into the suit, fastens all of the fussy little buttons, ties his feet into uncomfortable shoes, gels his hair down into something manageable, then clears his throat and gives a, “Ready.”
Genma sighs audibly again and says, “Alright,” before slapping one of Tenzō’s clones on the shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up, kid.”
ANBU, as a rule, don’t fuck it up, but Kakashi lets the statement slide, knowing that Tenzō is more than capable of picking his own battles.
“You either, Tenzō,” Genma adds, a shit-eating grin audible in his voice.
“Oh, fuck off,” Kakashi snaps—allowing himself one final moment to be himself before releasing the silencing seal and starting the process of deep, even breaths to help him find Harada Kanato within him. Two more breaths, and some distance from Genma, and the contents from Lord Third’s dossier flash before his mind’s eye in perfect clarity:
Harada Kanato, twenty-three, an up-and-coming ambassador’s son and newly appointed consul to be seated within the Land of Canyons. Believes this to serve as a stepping stone toward a seat in the Land of Wind. Served as an ambassador in the Land of Waterfalls and Land of Grass for some time before returning to the Land of Fire to receive his most recent appointment. Owns a successful, diversified holding company. A keen business sense and shrewd mind contrast his kind, curious, laid-back demeanor. Enjoys the arts, drink, and debauchery. Prefers to spend evenings in brothels, bars, or gambling halls networking, socializing, and flaunting his connections among his close compatriots more than actually spending money.
Overall, it’s a pretty simple cover.
Aside from finding a voice for this man, it really doesn’t require much in the way of creativity on Kakashi’s part, so he spends the first leg of the journey in Genma’s repurposed norimono doing vocal exercises and intermittently asking for Tenzō’s opinion as he’s jostled to and fro. Between the, “No, you sound like a tool,” and, “Eh, that’s closer to pretentious douche,” Kakashi finds something that’s amiable and Tenzō-approved.
There’s force behind it. Some substance. It’s not quite as breezy, coming from the chest as it is, but, as he does a few more exercises, Kakashi finds that it doesn’t strain his throat. Good.
“How about this one, Tenzō?” Kakashi asks, feeling the weight of Harada Kanato settle in. “Not too bad, is it?”
From outside the screen, Kakashi hears Tenzō make a considering noise. “Act surprised.”
Kakashi feigns a gasp: “Is that for me?!” He grins, drawing his hand to his mouth, and says, “Tenzō, you shouldn’t have!”
Tenzō gives a snort and says, “Mad.”
“Oi, asshole,” Kakashi says, jutting out his jaw and putting more force behind the rolling way, ‘asshole,’ falls off his tongue, “I suggest you return the kind lady’s purse.”
Snickering, Tenzō says, “Alright, now disappointed.”
Thinking for a second, Kakashi drums up an old memory of his father, trying to capture the essence of Hatake Sakumo. He gives a deep sigh and says, “Ah, seriously? I left my wallet. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s the one,” Tenzō says, amusement still coloring his voice. “You’re so good at that, senpai.”
Normally, Kakashi would dismiss it, but he tests out Kanato, giving a bit of a smirk and asking, “You think so?” Playing into it feels right for him. It’s not smug or intentionally superior, thanks to the softened quality of this new voice. “You’re too kind, my darling little kōhai.”
Tenzō sounds like he chokes on the other side of the wood, but after a beat or two, he quietly says, “Yeah, that’s a keeper.”
Smiling softly to himself, Kakashi gives a more sincere, “Thanks,” and clears his throat. After another klick, he suggests, “How about we take a break for lunch? We’re getting pretty close, yeah?”
In answer, the norimono is lowered to the ground and the screen door slides open to reveal Tenzō’s wide eyes and blank expression. “I’m going to do some repairs on one of my clones,” he says, accepting the food pill that Kakashi tosses to him. He doesn’t spare a single secondary glance at Kakashi’s bared face. “This thing is heavier than it looks.”
“Hey,” Kakashi says softly, pulling a frown and grabbing for Tenzō’s wrist. He manages to snag it, drawing Tenzō in closer despite the knowledge that Tenzō could easily attempt to throw him. Maintaining his cover’s voice, Kakashi says, “Be quick about it, if you could. It’s no fun to dine alone.”
Despite the subtle flush to his cheeks, Tenzō somehow manages to convey disgust with a single blink and an, “I’m afraid that would be impossible, Harada-sama.” He wriggles his wrist free from between Kakashi’s fingers and says, “I don’t believe there is room beyond your massive…ego.”
Shocked and delighted at Tenzō’s surprising display of cheek, Kakashi damn near laughs. “No, wait, for real,” he says, “was that good? Or over the top?”
Tenzō sighs from deep within his chest. “No, it was good. Maybe play it a bit less like a womanizer and more…” he trails off, humming.
“Sincere?” Kakashi asks. He pauses, just long enough to clear his throat and await Tenzō’s nod, then says, “Tenzō, I would be truly honored to share a meal with you.” The smile he affects is slower, almost teasing, but more sincere.
And apparently, it does the trick, because Tenzō groans and shuts the door to the norimono with little ceremony.
In truth, Kakashi just wants a little more time to adjust to this new persona. Given the estimated amount of time he’ll be spending undercover, Kakashi will need someone to tell him where the lines and boundaries are. There’s only so much he can do, drawing on distant, bleary memories of his father, of Minato-sensei, or the more recent but significantly less applicable examples of Tiger-san, or Gai, or Genma. Gai’s an idiot, Genma’s a bit of a sleaze, and Tiger-san is…well. A lot. At least when he’s on the prowl, anyway. Any other time and…
Ah, Kakashi muses to himself as Tenzō attends to his clones, Actually, that might work.
A dash of Tiger-san, a tiny sprinkle of Genma, a little bit of dad, but a veritable heap of Minato-sensei mixed with the leading love interest in Kakashi’s favorite non-Icha Icha series and there it is: the perfect Harada Kanato. He’s kind and empathetic, yet warmly observant, stoic only when necessary. His focus sharpens most when he’s got an objective in mind, whether it’s a conquest for his bed or his business. He’s young, but for what he lacks in wisdom, he makes up for with cleverness and the ability to quickly diffuse tension and charm his targets into giving him a listen.
A genjutsu tag up Kakashi’s sleeve makes it appear as though they’re sitting to have a leisurely lunch by the riverside once he feeds it a thread of chakra, and another silencing seal obscures their true conversation from any errant passersby. It’s lavish—essentially a conjured feast and not at all the two separate food pills and quick, semi-helpful conversation Kakashi drags out of Tenzō.
Thankfully, Tenzō (now Kaito) had heeded Kakashi’s advice to use a henge on the three clones (now Haruki, Riku, and Syouma) and has even agreed to be as hands-off as possible without even asking a single question. Though Kakashi’s gratitude goes unsaid, he squeezes at Tenzō’s shoulder in thanks before he stuffs himself back into the narrow norimono, dissipating the seals as he settles in for the final leg of the journey. The silence dissolves and in flows the rushing river, the chirping of birds, and the rolling drone of cicadas.
Kakashi threads his fingers together, settling them on his crossed knees. He rolls his shoulders back, closing his eye against the light filtering in through the slats in the screen before taking a deep, steadying breath. The henge he builds to cover the scar through his eye takes little effort and even less chakra. It converges upon the Sharingan, dyeing the crimson a deep, dark grey to match his own. It’ll be much easier to maintain, thanks to the stinging reminder of its strain as time wears on.
As long as I have at least a few hours to rest it each day, Kakashi thinks, everything should be fine.
Depending on sleep to recover chakra can be dangerous. But Kakashi will have Tenzō somewhere nearby, so…yes, that’s perfect. Tenzō can surveil Iruka, Kakashi can sleep, the mission will go smoothly, and they’ll all be back in the village in no time, memories erased or altered with no one will be the wiser.
*
It’s only after Tenzō knocks twice against against the frame of the norimono that Kakashi realizes that the gentle sway of steady movement has stopped.
“We have arrived in Ōzora, Harada-sama,” drones a deep, raspy baritone. It’s Tenzō, of course, but still it nearly makes Kakashi freeze to hear a voice so unlike his friend’s.
“Ah,” Kakashi intones, straightening as best he can in the cramped space.
As the screen slides open with a grating creak and the sunlight magnifies by volumes, Kakashi steps out and inhales the sweetly spiced air balanced by the crisp, earthen scent of the Shouhei River that’s carved its way through the canyon. The entrance to the town features a wide, towering arch that looks to have been painstakingly carved into the mountainside itself.
Most of the structures, actually, appear to be made of stone as far as the eye can see, but off in the distance, Kakashi’s gaze snags on an unnatural red jutting from between the lush trees and dull stones. It’s wooden, the outer facade, tall, harsh, and rigid in comparison to the almost artistic flow of the rest of the buildings along either side of the river down below. The painted arches and peaks, the points and pillars—it’s all such a stark contrast to the flow of the rest of the town’s stone infrastructure.
“Ah,” a soft voice intones from Kakashi’s right. I’m so pleased to see you’ve arrived safely in our humble village. You must be the esteemed Harada Kanato.”
Kakashi neatly bows, matching the angle offered to him. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he says before righting himself, “Though, I do hope you’ll forgive me…?”
“Amagi Kousei,” the man fills in, smiling with a few too many teeth when Kakashi finally takes him in and sizes him up. “And, please, there’s nothing to forgive. I apologize for jumping the gun, so to speak, but I had it on good authority that you would be arriving soon. I do hope you’ll forgive me for being so forward.”
Amagi Kousei. A very typical politician type, at first glance: average height, average build, and a lukewarm, polite expression tell Kakashi just about everything that he needs to know. He is exactly what he presents himself to be—the type of man who has charmed others do to his bidding and conned his way out of lifting a finger to earn any of the rewards he’s reaped. Expensive clothes, neatly styled hair, but otherwise bland, there’s no telling just yet if Amagi Kousei truly is the candidate that should be backed by the Land of Fire.
He hopes this man will prove his worth. Wouldn’t that make things nice and easy?
Kakashi dons a smile, a sly, slow thing. “As you say: there’s nothing to forgive.” He makes a show of taking in their surroundings, borrowing a bit from Genma to emulate understated admiration. “I’ve got to say…this place really does live up to its moniker.”
Amagi’s grin softens with his pleasure. “‘Little Oasis,’” he says, gesturing to the left where the river spills and falls from a great height, casting a delicate mist that illuminates a double rainbow. “I truly believe I was blessed to have been born here. It’s the only true mountainous region between great sand plains of the Land of Wind and the arid expanse of the Land of Earth, and it’s thanks to those sacred mountains that we’ve received the blessing of the Shouhei River. ”
There’s great pride in his voice, something genuine.
That’s promising.
“But, that’s quite enough of that,” Amagi says, gesturing toward his right. “Please, if you’ll allow me, I can take you to the Palace. Your attendants are more than welcome to lodge your norimono—beautiful piece of craftsmanship, I might add—at the wheelhouse with the guards.”
Kakashi makes eye contact with Tenzō and nods. “Kaito,” he says. “I’ll be in good hands with Amagi-san, here. Feel free to get some rest at the inn.”
“Yes, sir,” Tenzō says, affecting a deep, gracious bow.
The clones can carry the chest of all of Harada’s belongings, but Kakashi’s sure that Tenzō’s grateful for Amagi’s suggestion: the path before them is long and winding. There are no rails for this steep descent along the river which, tactically thinking, is a great deterrent for any invading forces, but part of Kakashi can’t quite quell the little flutter of panic at the thought of plummeting either down the innumerable stairs or over the side and into the quickly moving current. And that’s only if he doesn’t break bones or brain himself on the way down. Simply drowning, in comparison, would be a boon.
“If you would,” Amagi says, maneuvering to Kakashi’s left so that he can take the side closest to the plummeting falls and winding river, “It’s custom for guests to take the side closest to the mountain when walking the promenade.”
“Ah,” Kakashi says, as he takes his first step of many alongside Amagi, now safely fended by the towering cliff above, “That’s quite altruistic.”
“Yes, well, if there’s one thing to remember about Ōzora, it would have to be that it is deeply steeped in tradition,” Amagi explains, gesturing out confidently with one hand. He then clasps them together against the small of his own back, meandering down each step with the practiced ease of familiarity. “Which is, incidentally, why you’re here, I presume.”
Kakashi gives a nervous laugh, pretending as though he’s been caught out. “What makes you say that?”
Amagi considers him with a gleam in his eye. “You appear to be a man with similar tastes as myself, if I may be so bold,” he says, “and make an assumption based upon your suit—quite smart, by the way.”
Kakashi’s curious to hear where this is going: “By all means.”
“Men like myself believe that there is tremendous value in tradition, yes, but that adhering to it in all aspects, all the time, can only lead to stagnation,” Amagi explains. They near another steep drop in the canyon, the falls to their left nearly deafening. As he continues, Amagi raises his voice to be heard. “It’s through innovation, through progress, that we begin to see people and places thrive.”
He looks to Kakashi, expectation written all along the lines of his face. “The Land of Fire always strives for balance,” he says as neutrally as possible. “Innovation is all well and good—especially in areas such as trade or technology, as streamlining processes enhances production—but some might argue that things that are not broken should not be fixed.”
Amagi’s brows rise, a small grin tucked into the corner of his lined mouth. There are pucker marks present, commonly seen in those who frequently smoke pipes, cigarettes, or otherwise.
Kakashi tucks away that little nugget of information.
“Quite true,” Amagi agrees, “If I might be vulnerable for a moment…I must say that what I truly fear is a world in which Ōzora, and thus all of the Land of Canyons, is left behind.”
Crafting a sympathetic expression isn’t all that difficult: Kakashi’s brows come together, his mouth puckering slightly in a frown. “I understand,” he says, “And I appreciate the sentiment. It seems as though I’ve arrived just in time. The Land of Fire would love to facilitate the longevity and prosperity of Ōzora, in whatever shape that may take moving forward.”
Amagi’s smile becomes a bit more genuine. “That’s a relief to hear,” he says, gesturing for Kakashi to slow when they come to a bridge—that finally has some rails—about halfway down the path toward the village center. “You know…I had some reservations about Yuzuki-sama—the former Sentō heir—bringing in outside counsel, but…well, it seems our objectives align quite well, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m only here to help,” Kakashi says, eyes crinkling with a genuine smile.
He casts a look out over the rail and takes in the majesty of cascading falls, the spray of mist revealing innumerable fractals of colors in the fading daylight. Amagi looks pleased when he notes the apparent wonder in Kakashi’s expression, and the Sharingan is quick to relay all of the micro expressions as truth: this man is already displaying an eager fondness and lack of apprehension. Already, to some extent at least, he trusts Harada Kanato.
Only time will tell if that fondness remains genuine or takes on the ugly tinge of manipulation.
“To be honest, we will need all the help we can get,” Amagi says, almost a sigh. “Half of the Council supports me, but the other half…well, I fear that my opponent’s approach would be a break from tradition in a way that won’t benefit Ōzora.”
“Ah,” Kakashi intones.
Amagi straightens, lifting his hands up to wave them in front of himself, saying, “Ah, but forget all of that.” He laughs a bit awkwardly, almost boyish in his mannerisms. It’s jarring, but the Sharingan detects nothing facetious about it. “It’d be better for you to form your own opinions.”
That’s true. But it doesn’t mean that Kakashi doesn’t want to glean more than just the information itself. Seeing Amagi’s thoughts and opinions thus far has proved enlightening; if he can see how the man functions under pressure, or around someone who he loathes, then all the better.
“Would you mind explaining some of Ōzora’s traditions to me, Amagi-san?” Kakashi asks, gently accepting Amagi’s silent plea for some grace.
Amagi paces forward, his hands once again tucked neatly at the small of his back, and Kakashi follows, propelling them into the next phase of their descent into the town.
“Of course,” Amagi says, his shoulders straightening just a bit as he clears his throat. “Ōzora, as you likely saw during your journey here, is the only city near the source of the Shouhei River. There are several small settlements, of course, but many are inaccessible to those who don’t know how to navigate the canyons, the sands, or the river itself. Many of our ancestors were driven from the heat and hunger of the Land of Wind’s northern sands, or the similar arid desolation in the southern reaches of the Land of Earth.
“Our people believe that the great God of Water, Suijin, met and fell in love with a maiden at the top of that mountain,” Amagi says, gesturing toward the towering peak to the west. “It’s said that from their love sprang forth the great pool that they named Shouhei, and within this pool was born their lovechild—a young boy by the name of Itsuki, with the meaning, ‘first hope.’
“Itsuki-sama, being the son of Suijin-sama and half-mortal, spent almost all of his time in Shouhei’s waters,” Amagi continues, one hand leaving his back to gesture up toward the peak of the highest waterfall, “but, when he would surface and reveal himself to his mother’s people, they would weep with awe. Their tears mingled together, poring forth with such might over the months and years and decades to form this very river that we see here today.
“Eventually,” Amagi says, almost conspiratorially, “Suijin and his love, Itsuki’s divine mother, Sentō, left this canyon to Itsuki. He took the name Sentō to honor his mother and passed this name on to his descendants.”
“’Sentō,’ as in the late Sentō Hiroto?” Kakashi asks, pretending to buy into the conspiracy. “As in Sentō Yuzuki?”
Amagi’s grin goes sharklike with his glee. “Precisely,” he says, “Each year, a festival is held in which our leader and his or her heirs make an appearance outside of the palace in honor of Itsuki-sama.” His grin softens a bit. “I suppose it’s both a blessing and a curse: you’ve arrived in time for what could be the very last Nakikawa festival.”
Kakashi considers this for a moment, allowing them to walk together in silence through a narrow stretch. Eventually, the roar of the waterfall dulls and Kakashi can make out a bit of the village noise from further down the path.
In the distance, the temple bells chime.
“I suppose it truly is a bit odd that the heir apparent has chosen to abdicate,” Kakashi points out, digging for a bit more insight into the man’s character. “For a country so deeply rooted in this tradition…”
“Yes, well,” Amagi says, expression tightening minutely with discomfort, “It’s hard to say what any one of us would do in the face of such a tragedy.”
Kakashi, when truly curious, might tilt his head, but Harada Kanato is a man who doesn’t give much away unless it will benefit him. So instead, Kakashi quietly intones, “Tragedy?”
Amagi’s expression shutters a bit, his eyes wide and dark as he says, “Our dear heir’s…lover…was murdered.”
Harada Kanato isn’t supposed to have any knowledge of this. Harada Kanato would be frightened for his own life, wondering why in the hell his advisors hadn’t warned him of potential danger. Harada Kanato would freeze, show fear, then show sympathy.
Stopping in his tracks, Kakashi relays Harada’s shock with a stuttered, “M-murdered?”
Solemn, Amagi nods and then looks out toward the river again, following its path with a pinched brow and tired-looking eyes. “I assure you that it is being thoroughly investigated,” he says, “and I can guarantee your safety. While you’re in the city proper or on palace grounds, we will have our finest officials escort you between buildings and remain posted nearby so that they can come at your immediate call.”
“I—that’s much appreciated,” Kakashi says, mind running at top speed to figure out the best ways to deal with his impending babysitters. He straightens, smoothing out the lapels of his jacket before taking the next set of steps down. “Do you know what happened?”
“Ah,” Amagi hedges, “I’m afraid what details I do know have not yet been confirmed…”
Kakashi looks at Amagi over his shoulder, taking an unsteady step to test the bounds of this fresh camaraderie and is relieved when Amagi’s hand darts out to quickly clasp his elbow, ensuring that he’s righted, surefooted, before they continue their descent.
“I will say, however, that this is precisely the reason those of us on the Council have graciously volunteered to run an election. In the face of such a deviation from tradition, we figured it might be best to afford the good people of Ōzora some familiarity, at the very least.” He sighs. “Yuzuki-sama is in no state to rule, after all.”
“I understand,” Kakashi says.
As they near the bottom of the canyon, the sunlight—while it should be blazing overhead now that it’s midday—is partially concealed by the towering rock face. Kakashi’s never been in a canyon of this depth before, so he’s a bit taken aback by just how much cooler the temperature is now that they’ve just about made it to town.
The hubbub of markets reach their ears first and as Kakashi looks ahead, he notes the way that Amagi takes a moment to turn toward the massive staircase to give a bow of gratitude. Kakashi’s unsure if he should follow suit, so he abstains, but instead turns to Amagi to say, “Thank you for keeping me safe during the trek down.”
Amagi grins softly and says, “Any other Ōzoran citizen would’ve done the same, I assure you.”
Kakashi knows this to be untrue, but simply smiles in response before looking out toward the nearby sprawl of market stalls. The closest one appears to be a shop selling Ōzora branded gifts and items, likely marketed towards tourists given the, “I Survived the Canyon Climb,” t-shirts on display. He hears the shopkeeper call out, “Blessed by the Temple of Truth! Buy now and you’re guaranteed a safe trip back up the canyon!”
He smiles softly, wondering how Gai might react if Kakashi brought one to him and said something offhand like, “I guess you had to be there.” There’s no way he wouldn’t challenge Kakashi to return, just to see who’s faster at climbing it one-handed.
Amagi’s disdainful scoff tugs him out of his reverie. “A tourist trap,” he says as he ushers Kakashi forward past the stall, “Pay it no mind. If you’d like souvenirs, there’s a shop in the interior that sells…much finer goods: tea sets, pipes, knife sets, and the like. Nothing at all like these cheap daruma and kokeshi dolls. Or—if you’re a fan of consumables, there’s a lovely selection of sake available for sale at the very inn you’ll be staying at!”
The nervous chatter takes Kakashi a bit by surprise. Something about the ‘Temple of Truth’ makes Amagi uneasy and, before too long, Kakashi would like to find out what.
“Oh, now, you’re speaking my language,” Kakashi says, his tone sly, “I do enjoy a crisp sake every now and then.”
Amagi’s tense shoulders relax a bit, his smile a bit less frantic around the eyes as he gestures forward. “Then allow me to be the first to pour you a drink,” he offers, “I will give you a true Ōzora welcome!”
Kakashi follows, perking up a bit, “And what all does that entail?”
“Drinks, smokes, gambling, women…men, if that’s what you prefer,” Amagi says breezily, “Ōzora is renowned for more than just its scenic beauty, after all. Whatever your heart so desires, you’re sure to find it in Ōzora.”
“You mean to say I could find a spouse and finally put a stop to my parents’ incessant nagging?” Kakashi jokes, grinning easily. Every bit of that is right up Harada Kanato’s alley. “It seems as though I couldn’t have asked for a better guide.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t count it out!” Amagi says, much more at ease as he laughs along with Kakashi. With a wink, he says, “But no promises.”
They wind through a few stalls before they’re deposited on the main road at the city’s center. Kakashi had thought the bustling stalls were busy, but they have nothing on the comings and goings of citizens making their way around a towering fountain built in the shape of Ōzora’s largest waterfall. It’s buffeted by lush, bright flowers, and smooth stones worn down by the river’s ceaseless flow in a very natural-looking swirling pattern.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Amagi says, voice laced through with pride.
Just beyond the fountain lie the palace walls—but what’s startling, is the way that the outer façade itself seems to just melt into the canyon. It’s…ingenious, really. It reduces the amount of entry points which makes it highly defensible, yet it still holds a level of class and elegance like any other palace Kakashi’s seen.
“Quite beautiful,” Kakashi agrees, his eyes wide with wonder. The Sharingan picks up a few routes that would be quite easy to scale between the guards stationed at different points along the walls. “I can see how the tradition you’d mentioned was able to take root.”
Amagi grins and leads Kakashi to the moss-covered gates where two guards stand at attention. He announces their arrival and, when Kakashi hands over the wood-carved invitation tablet with the Sentō seal seared into it, they’re permitted entry. The doors creak open, revealing a wide courtyard filled with more of those smooth stones and water features outlined by flowers that Kakashi identifies to be medicinal in nature.
“Those chrysanthemums and peonies are especially beautiful,” Kakashi says, “Such a sweet scent.”
“Ah, yes,” Amagi says, “Yuzuki-sama is quite fond of them, as was her mother before her.”
Just as Kakashi’s opening his mouth to ask of the late ruler’s wife, the spanning palace doors creak open to reveal several individuals with a range of curiosity written in their expressions. The majority of them are firmly on the broad side of middle-aged. One of them, wrinkled all to hell, even sports the blue-gray, wispy hair of elderly people Kakashi vaguely remembers from his childhood.
“Ah,” one of them says, smiling widely, “You must be Harada Kanato. We’ve been awaiting your arrival. Welcome!”
Bowing at the appropriate forty-five degree angle, Kakashi says, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, everyone. May this be the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship between our nations.”
Despite the variety of pleased expressions, Amagi’s smile is tight. “There will be time for introductions shortly,” he says, gesturing toward the double doors at the end of the hallway. “Yuzuki-sama awaits.”
Kakashi bows again and turns to follow Amagi’s metered steps. The lacquered wooden floors, brightly paneled walls, the dim lights in their opulent fixtures—it’s the standard for just about every palace Kakashi’s ever visited. From the help of countless servants, paneled walls depicting several iterations of waterfalls and canyons slide apart down a long corridor to eventually reveal a tatami sitting area.
Sentō Yuzuki, presumably, sits on a raised area that houses a shrine in one corner that boasts a photograph of the late Sentō Hiroto.
“Yuzuki-sama,” Amagi says, bowing appropriately, “Please forgive my haste. This is Harada Kanato, the esteemed delegate from the Land of Fire who has come to assist you in your goal to determine your successor.”
Adorned in all-black, traditional mourning kimono, the woman in question appears regal despite the drawn look about her expression. The angled bob of her deep blue hair sways as she nods her head in greeting before looking up at Kakashi with dull, worn blue eyes.
“Welcome, Harada Kanato,” she says quietly, the words dragged from her lips as if they take every ounce of her energy.
Bowing deeply, Kakashi says, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Sentō Yuzuki-sama.” With as much sincerity as he can manage, he channels Minato-sensei when he adds, “I do wish it were under better circumstances.”
“Life persists,” Yuzuki says simply, her eyes creasing in a shadow of a smile. “Thank you for your willingness to assist our country in this manner.”
Kakashi inclines his head.
Grief is a funny thing. It’s an old, familiar staple in Kakashi’s life, tingeing his every waking moment with a dull ache that won’t ever just leave. But stranger still is the way that he’s so easily able to recognize it in others, as if the two little dark clouds hanging above their heads or residing in their chests spark at each other in greeting. And while Kakashi can’t say that Harada has experienced anything of the sort in his life, Kakashi himself is inclined to show some sympathy.
“It is my personal wish to provide you some relief, Sentō-sama,” he replies.
A pinched crease forms between her brows and she rasps out, “‘Yuzuki-sama,’ please.”
Ah, Kakashi thinks, I should’ve known.
Losing her father and then lover in quick succession has built up tremendous pressure in such a short amount of time. It’s truly a wonder that she’s upright and functional.
After losing his father, then Obito, Rin, and Minato-sensei…well, Kakashi’s upright. He’s marginally functional. But he also knows that he’s been a hollow, numb, broken shell of a person for the majority of his life.
“Yuzuki-sama,” Kakashi corrects. “Please let me know how I can be of any assistance.”
Yuzuki gracefully stands, approaching with the slow, careful steps of royalty. As she nears, the Sharingan notices that her makeup obscures just a bit more than dark bags beneath her eyes. It’s magical, really, the way that shadows and highlights placed in just the right areas can conceal her more masculine features. The gentle voice, the careful posture, the deliberate makeup…Kakashi wouldn’t have guessed that she’s...like him, in that way.
“I’m sure your trip was quite long,” she says. Inclining her head, Yuzuki gestures toward the sliding panels. “Please allow me to introduce you to the Council and then feel free to rest. We can begin with the consultation tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Kakashi says, turning to follow.
Amagi gives Kakashi a thumbs up and a grin behind Yuzuki’s back, seemingly pleased with their introduction. He follows at pace with Kakashi, hands tucked once more at the small of his back, as they’re lead back toward one of the outermost chambers. Seated within are several of the individuals Kakashi had seen upon entering the palace along with a few new additions.
The elderly woman with the blue hair gives Kakashi a kind smile before Yuzuki addresses the group at large:
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Yuzuki intones, voice as gentle as ever. “As you are all well aware by now, the end of this month marks the end of the Sentō line’s rule.” Despite a few obligatory grumbles, she soldiers on, gesturing to Kakashi. “I ask that you please welcome Harada Kanato who has been brought on as a Consulate from the Land of Fire to assist with the process.”
“Thank you for having me,” Kakashi says, bowing appropriately, “I look forward to working with you all and finding the most harmonious solution for our countries moving forward.”
There’s a chorus of, “We look forward to working with you,” and Kakashi stands, scanning past the perpetually haunted look in Yuzuki's eyes to detect a hint of relief.
“You have already met, Amagi Kousei, our Trade and Commerce Advisor and one of the potential successors,” Yuzuki says, waiting just long enough for Amagi to respectfully incline his head before moving along to the man opposite him. “His opponent, and our Treasury Advisor, is Tenjin Aoi.”
The tension is immediate and palpable. Despite his average height and built, Tenjin has a distinct, bulbous nose perched above a bushy mustache, and thin lips. His greying hair is coiffed, but does no favors in countering a weak chin and thin lips. His eyes are sharp and shrewd, betraying little as he smiles blandly in greeting.
“Next to Tenjin is Fugita Yukina, our Agriculture Advisor,” Yuzuki says, gesturing to the blue-haired woman, “and beside her is Okada Hikari, our Security Advisor who will be providing you with a security detail this month.” Both of the women bow, before Yuzuki rushes through the last four: “There’s Ishii Honoka, the Water Management Advisor, followed by Murakami Riku, Labor Advisor, and Hasegawa Yutaka, our Health and Human Services Advisor.”
After getting the introductions out of the way, Yuzuki turns to Kakashi and says, “Please enjoy your evening, Harada-san,” and then Kakashi, along with each and every councilor bows as she turns her back on them to make a quick exit.
Her eyes had been shuttered, and her voice had been fragile; from her perspective, it’s probably a miracle that she’d gotten through the introductions without tears.
Kakashi can sympathize.
There were a few more individuals around the perimeter of the room, but Kakashi’s sure they’re either aides to these council members or palace servants of some kind, so he does little more than give them each a cursory glance with the Sharingan, logging their faces and posture for later analysis.
Amagi approaches again as the counselors separate out into groups or pairs, clearly content to murmur, “Poor Yuzuki-sama,” amongst themselves. Some of the council members wave politely as Amagi guides him down the hall and out of the building, but Kakashi’s more than accustomed to feigning nonchalance when he feels eyes follow his every move.
“That went well,” Amagi comments, his smile sympathetic, “Were she in better spirits, I’m sure Yuzuki-sama would have been a bit more thorough…but the important part is behind us.”
The scent of blossoming flowers greets Kakashi’s sensitive nose once again as they wind around the fountain and through the palace gates, shadowed by the deep walls of the canyon but illuminated by regular intervals of lanterns casting warm, yellow light.
Rather than commenting on Yuzuki’s state, Kakashi instead says, “I’m looking forward to hearing more about your work, Amagi-san.” He follows as Amagi sets to a path in the direction of the river, grateful for the scent to level back out. “Trade and Commerce are not my areas of expertise, per se, but I’ve begun to consider exports as part of my business.”
Eyes alight, Amagi chatters on about how to ensure a good business partner in the international sense as they wind through the buildings and smoothed paths to a wide, stone bridge. Across it is a wide stone building outlined by moss and shrubbery and trees splitting through the canyon face with a stubborn hold. The lanterns strung between streetlights and along the building’s awning are, predictably, red.
There appear to be three levels: the ground floor has a wrap-around engawa ensconced by vibrant rosebushes with several small, tasteful banners posted along one section of the front wall. Kakashi can’t read the kanji from this distance, but it’s likely the name of the business. The second floor boasts a balcony with wooden railings decorated with red lanterns interspersed with bouquets of roses. The top floor, however, is barren, cordoned off with tape declaring the zone an area under active investigation.
“Akai Kinu,” Amagi says, practically beaming with pride as he watches Kakashi take it all in, “It’s the best of the best as far as entertainment goes—incomparable, really. The workers are second to none!”
There seems to be a buzz beneath his skin, so Kakashi quickly scans the outer façade with his Sharingan for seal tags, wondering if there’s some sort of jutsu meant to entice people into the building. But, no—everything appears to be legitimate. Amagi’s excitement is genuine.
“Incidentally, this is the highest rated inn located in Ōzora—much better than the one at the canyon steps,” Amagi continues as he leads them over the bridge and down the winding path toward the canyon wall. The foliage is well-maintained, beautiful, even, and the scent of incense along with the tinkling chime of the furin at each corner couple together to create quite the inviting atmosphere. “It primarily receives visitors from the Land of Wind or the Land of Earth, given its neutral ground between the two nations. There’s a long-standing agreement that all visitors to the Land of Canyons remain civil.”
“Ah, that’s a relief,” Kakashi half-sighs, a hand on his chest, “I can’t say for certain the Land of Fire wouldn’t get involved if anything were to happen to me during my stay this month.”
Amagi laughs, and it sounds nervous. “Yes, well…the shinobi we receive may look rather rough, but the proprietress, Semba Mahiro, does not tolerate any violence on the premises,” he says. He smooths his hair down and avoids eye contact as he says, “The…incident that occurred was actually off-site. I—I probably shouldn’t say, but…following the murder…the victim’s body was displayed from the top floor of the balcony.”
He looks toward it, giving a nearly imperceptible shudder. Kakashi takes his time examining the structure, and notes that it’s fully intact. Were the murder to have taken place on the balcony, there would be at least some sign of a struggle.
“Gruesome stuff,” Kakashi comments.
The message the murderer had intended is loud and clear—someone, or several someones, do not approve of any individuals associated with this place. Amagi probably doesn’t even realize that he’s at risk just being a patron.
Amagi nods, a little green around the gills. “It truly was,” he says, haunted. After a few beats, though, Amagi clasps his hands together and says, “All of Ōzora will be glad for some swift justice. In the meantime, we cannot let fear govern our actions. What do you say we take a look inside?”
Nodding, Kakashi gives Amagi an unsure smile, but follows all the same.
Kimono-clad individuals lean enticingly on the railings, calling down as they approach, “Amagi-sama,” and some even say, “Introduce us to your friend, Amagi-sama!”
Amagi simply waves, lavishing in the attention given the blush along his cheeks.
The scent of roses and incense follow them through the sliding doors to the tune of a chorus of, “Welcome!” and Kakashi, shoring up his persona, grins charmingly and nods his acknowledgment. There’s perfume, roses and incense, and music; it’s all so much, but he focuses instead on putting one foot in front of the other to follow Amagi from the entrance to what appears to be a private area around a corner and behind a column. Beyond the open doors, there is a booth is sunken into the floor, hedged by plants and decorative vases that break the line of sight from this little VIP area to where the other patrons are being entertained.
Kakashi removes his shoes to descend the steps to the tatami and scoots into the booth next to Amagi.
Just as he’s settling in to get comfortable, Kakashi’s ears pick up a woman’s voice saying, “Oi! Newbie! Go greet Amagi-sama and his guest!”
Kakashi hears a delicate, “Yes, ma’am!” in response, then soft, measured footsteps rushing around the corner before the individual slows, likely hoping to appear more composed once they finally make it to their booth and—
He’s frozen. Genuinely, Kakashi is shocked. Despite the fact that he heard it straight from Genma’s mouth only hours before, Kakashi’s heart gives a stutter inside his chest and he even hears his breath audibly catch, because…that’s Iruka.
That’s Iruka.