Double Star
The letter from the main Senju residence in the capital both does and does not surprise Izuna when it arrives in the mail.
On one hand, he knows that Tobirama is busy churning out articles and correspondence addressed to every academic and official he is even tangentially connected to, which means that whatever tentative plans he had with Izuna had obviously been tabled for the foreseeable future. And yet, Izuna had been expecting to see him anyways, and he’d been right.
The invitation had been to tour a few of the labs that Tobirama worked in for his research at the University. Izuna dresses more practically than he usually does while visiting the capital and somehow still manages to stand out in the rooms full of preoccupied and frazzled looking scientists, bent over their equipment and calculations with ink-stained sleeves and wild hair.
“Do you get like that when you run your experiments as well?” Izuna asks, nodding at a researcher who is outright pleading with a centrifuge, surrounded by papers full of incomprehensible notes and appearing to be close to tears.
Tobirama follows Izuna’s line of sight and his mouth quirks. “Sometimes.”
“I wonder if my cousin is the same.”
“Your cousin?”
“Hasegawa Banri,” Izuna elaborates. “Do you know him?”
“Maybe” Tobirama tilts his head back in thought. “Does he do astrophysics?”
Izuna has no idea. He shrugs. “It all sounds the same to me,” he says in response to the sidelong glance Tobirama casts his way. “Besides, my cousin is a bit of a bore. I can never pay attention when he tries to explain just what it is he does. The only interesting thing about him is his telescope and lack of self-awareness at parties. My grandmother dislikes him for both.”
Tobirama huffs out a not-laugh at that and ducks his head as if to hide the small smile on his face. “If you think telescopes are interesting then I know something you’ll probably like,” he says and gestures for Izuna to follow him.
He leads them through the quiet, winding corridors of the Science building and up two flights of stairs where they come upon a locked door. Without so much as pausing, Tobirama produces a flat-edged knife from somewhere on his person and slides it in against the lock, fiddling for but a moment before the door gives a quiet click and allows itself to be pushed open.
“Breaking and entering,” Izuna observes, lifting an eyebrow. “How elegant.”
He enters after Tobirama anyways, though he should possibly show more hesitation about following a lifelong enemy into locked rooms, especially now that night has well and truly fallen and there are no lights here. Not that it matters, Izuna realises as soon as he steps into the room. “An observatory,” he breathes, craning his head to look up at the slice of night sky visible through the rectangular opening in the tall, domed roof.
“An observatory,” Tobirama confirms from the centre of the room where he is pulling off the tarp covering the largest telescope Izuna has ever seen, “and one of the finest instruments on the continent.”
Izuna stares. “I see why this room was locked.”
“Actually, it was locked to discourage any more couples sneaking in for a tryst,” Tobirama informs dryly. “They hardly needed the Daimyo thinking his sizeable donation was being disrespected by a bunch of young adults looking to fool around. The telescope was imported from the west, you know. A reflector with such a massive aperture must’ve cost a fortune.”
“That certainly hasn’t stopped you, I see,” Izuna says, drawing closer. There’s a stool by the eyepiece that Tobirama gestures for him to sit on while the Senju pulls off the rest of the tarp.
“I’m sure this will be the sin that will keep me up at night,” Tobirama intones insincerely, dropping the tarp and approaching.
Izuna grins and looks back up at the sky. “So, what secrets of the universe are you going to show me today, Senju?”
Tobirama makes a low humming sound in his throat as he leans over Izuna’s shoulder to peer through the eyepiece, adjusting the telescope with careful, reverent hands. Izuna watches those hands, trails his eyes over Tobirama’s arms and up to his face which is twisted slightly into a look of concentration. Like this, in the shadows of the dark observatory, illuminated by the light of the moon and stars, Tobirama could be just another university student.
No one would look at those hands and think that they belong to a killer.
“Oh,” Tobirama says quietly, drawing Izuna’s attention back to his face. He pulls away and offers for Izuna to look through the eyepiece. “Do you see it?”
It takes a second for Izuna’s gaze to focus but then he does see and he has to keep from gaping outright. “Is that Saturn?”
He can’t see but the slight whisper of fabric suggests that Tobirama is nodding in confirmation. “Over three hundred years ago, when they first managed to spot Saturn, they thought it had ears. It took over forty years for someone to see that the ‘ears’ were actually a disk, and then some more time still for the rings to be seen as we see them now.” Tobirama’s voice is a murmur by Izuna’s head, far closer than he expected. Izuna inhales sharply at the proximity, feeling suddenly off balance and entirely too aware of the warmth he can feel emanating from Tobirama.
When he looks up from the eyepiece, it is to find Tobirama’s face a scant few inches from his own. Izuna swallows, feeling his mouth go dry. “Show me something else.”
Tobirama flashes him a quicksilver smile, phoenix eyes creasing at the corners every so slightly, before leaning back over to the eyepiece. “I’m sure you know the North Dipper,” he says. Any shinobi worth half a damn would know most of the perennial constellations for navigation purposes. “It’d be even clearer if it were spring, but I suppose this will do. Come look.”
Izuna does so, finding the familiar constellation easily. “I see it.”
“Good. How many stars do you see?”
“In the constellation? Seven.”
Tobirama’s voice is even closer now and he rests one hand on Izuna’s shoulder as though he doesn’t even realise it while the other reaches back to the telescope. “Look again,” he insists softly and then there’s the slightest shift in clarity.
Izuna blinks. “It’s two stars,” he realises in wonder.
“A double star,” Tobirama says. “Mizar and Alcor. We know them as Opening of the Yang.”
Izuna looks up with his naked eye and squints, sharingan flickering on to snap the world into focus. “You can see it even like this.”
“They’re only optical binaries,” Tobirama says. “Not bound by gravity. They just appear as a double to us because they happen to be in the same direction. They’re probably a whole lightyear apart physically.”
“And what about gravitational binaries?”
Tobirama wordlessly adjusts the telescope again before letting Izuna see. “The Celestial Wolf Star.”
“Brightest star in the night,” Izuna mumbles.
“It’s really a system of two stars orbiting each other. Well, technically it’s a star and a white dwarf.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A white dwarf is at the endpoint of its stellar evolution and is very dense as a result. Binary star systems like this one are actually progenitors of novae. It’s a temporary increase in the brightness of the star.” Tobirama pauses. Then, hesitantly, “Your chakra feels a bit like that.”
Izuna blinks in surprise and turns to stare at Tobirama. “How do you know what a nova even feels like?”
Tobirama makes an aborted sort of gesture with his hand. “It’s hard to explain,” he hedges. “Chakra signatures have inherent...impressions, I guess is the word. When I sense your chakra, I just know that this is what it feels like to witness a dying star briefly flicker back to life.”
Sounding a contemplative hum, Izuna tilts his head. “One of your clansmen said that you teach the children of your clan sometimes.”
Something mild and curious settles over Tobirama’s face. “Yes,” he says.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised. I knew you’re good at explaining things even when we were in Hinan.”
Heavens, but that feels like a lifetime ago despite it only having been eight months since then. Izuna feels like he couldn’t have been more different if he tried. Eight months ago, he’d been learning that his sworn enemy wished for peace, and today, they actually have it. The enemy in question stands over Izuna’s shoulder now, peering through a stupidly large telescope in an observatory they’ve broken into for no real reason other than it might interest Izuna.
It’s surreal.
“What are you looking at now?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Tobirama pauses, tensing for just a moment as though startled before shifting away without a word so Izuna can scoot over and easy. Their shoulders press together as he does so and neither of them moves away.
“A galaxy,” Tobirama says in reference to the fuzzy patch of light.
“It looks so small like this.”
“To think it’s a faraway cluster of stars possibly as massive as our sun, if not bigger. They say that nearly every star has an array of planets just like the sun does. Our own galaxy is estimated to have over three thousand planetary systems within it.”
Izuna feels breathless, looking up at the endless stretch of darkness above them and feeling humbly small in the face of the greater unknown. “How many worlds like ours must that be?”
“And how many worlds totally different from ours?” Tobirama continues. When Izuna turns to look at him, there is a faint smile on his face, soft and wondering. His hair looks like spun silver in the night. Izuna is seized by the sudden impulse to reach out and touch it. “We can’t even begin to count the stars we see up there. It’s likely that somewhere out there is a planet with lifeforms just like ours, and we don’t even know it yet.”
Izuna can remember being twelve-years-old, camping in the woods for his first solo mission after Akio’s death, and looking up at the night sky stretching out into an abyss above him. He’d been so alone, wild with grief, and the stars had only felt cold and distant in their faint light then. He looks up at them now and thinks that if only he had known then that he’d been sitting underneath the light of endless words and countless existence, perhaps he would not have felt so lonely.
A Fortress of Fire: How a Shinobi Village Would Fuel the Land's Strength and Prosperity
by Senju Tobirama
The establishment of a shinobi village as the primary military base in the Land of Fire would offer profound advantages to the Daimyo’s court and the citizens of the country. By centralizing the ninja clans into a cohesive military force, the Land of Fire could secure both its internal stability and its external security, creating a powerful symbiotic relationship between the village and the broader nation.
A shinobi village would function as the country’s primary military force, providing a centralized, highly trained, and versatile army. Unlike traditional armies, shinobi are adept in various combat styles, espionage, and unconventional warfare, making them an invaluable asset for national defence. The shinobi village would foster a culture of continuous training, innovation, and adaptability. Such an environment would lead to the development of new jutsu, tactics, and technologies that can be utilized not only in combat but also in other areas of national interest, such as infrastructure, agriculture, and disaster management. The village’s role as a centre of military excellence would ensure that the Land of Fire remains at the forefront of shinobi arts, giving it a significant edge over potential adversaries. Beyond military operations, the shinobi village can be tasked with public service missions, such as disaster relief, medical aid, and infrastructure repair. These activities contribute directly to the well-being of the citizens.
With the village’s primary source of income coming from missions, ranging from low-level tasks to high-risk operations, contracted by clients both within and outside the Land of Fire, the establishment could not only operate semi-autonomously, but would also actively contribute to the national economy and reduce the need for continuous large-scale funding from the Land of Fire’s treasuries. The village could become a hub of economic activity, attracting merchants, artisans, and traders who benefit from the influx of money and resources. This financial boost would support local businesses, increases trade, and create jobs. Additionally, investment in infrastructure, such as roads, communication networks, and supply chains, would be encouraged by increased internal security, thereby benefiting the wider economy. These improvements would not only support the village's operations but also enhance the Land of Fire's overall economic development.
The design for such a primary military base in the Land of Fire offers profound strategic, economic, and social benefits. By providing enhanced security, generating income, and supporting the Daimyo's political and diplomatic efforts, a shinobi village could become an indispensable asset to the Land of Fire. It would not only fortify the nation against external threats but also contribute to internal stability and prosperity, ensuring the long-term success and well-being of the Land of Fire and its people.
“I read your latest article,” Izuna says unprompted when they meet for lunch at a teahouse close to the district where both their capital residences are located. “They’re starting to generate some buzz.”
“But not enough,” Tobirama infers knowingly.
“It could be enough.” Izuna shrugs. “Eventually anyways.” He glances up from his plate, something deliberate and half-amused in his raised brows and slow smile. “But you’re not satisfied with ‘eventually’, are you?”
Tobirama should probably be more worried about being so transparent, but he can’t seem to muster up anything other than a sort of relief at not having to explain himself. “It’s slow going,” he says and doesn’t bother keeping the distaste out of his voice. Izuna will hear it either way; there’s no point.
“I imagine a lot of things are for the fastest shinobi to ever live.”
“That’s a bit grandiose,” Tobirama observes.
“I think it’s fitting—just as pretentious as you are.”
“I’m not pretentious.” He pauses at Izuna’s raised eyebrows and amends, “Well, maybe a little.”
Rolling his eyes, Izuna shakes his head. “We’ve veered off topic.”
“And pray tell what that is?” Tobirama prompts even though he already knows.
“You called me here because you wanted my help to speed things up,” Izuna states, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into a look of smugness that he has always worn well.
Well, there’s no reason to play obtuse. “It’s slow going,” Tobirama says again, sighing. “There’s some progress being made, of course, and anija and Akimichi Chosuke are doing their best to bring the nobles around, but civilians don’t really understand shinobi at the best of times anyways and it will be some time before there’s enough pressure to sway the Daimyo.”
It had been much easier in the memories he consults since the proposal had only concerned the Uchiha and Senju at the time, and other clans joined later. Since the village was already up and running and the Daimyo had actual proof of the profit he stood to reap off its existence, those negotiations had been smoother.
With this many clans looking to band together, it has become a much more strenuous uphill battle, and Tobirama is becoming impatient when he is so close to his goal that he can practically taste it.
“You want my contacts,” Izuna observes. “I thought you’d just ask me to take up those debates and presentations at the University.”
“That too,” Tobirama admits. He has yet to attend any personally, but he knows the alliance has been rotating which clan takes point on leading the presentation and networking on a weekly basis. It’s not that it isn’t working, Tobirama knows that Izuna can be very charismatic and convincing when he puts his mind to it, and frankly, they could use all the help they can get.
Izuna hums and considers this, absently tracing the rim of his teacup with his fingers. “I could do it,” he says finally. “I’ll help since you’re asking but, realistically, it will only do so much.”
Tobirama is aware of as much, but there’s something creeping into the thoughtful expression on Izuna’s face that makes Tobirama feel wary and excited in equal measure. He holds himself still to keep from leaning forward when he says, “You’re planning something.”
“Now what makes you think that, Tobirama?” Izuna drawls, batting his eyes exaggeratedly and propping his chin up on his hand, elbow on the table.
Rolling his eyes, Tobirama huffs. “You’re always planning something.”
Izuna looks amused at that. “Takes one to know one.”
Fair enough. He shrugs. “Care to share?”
“Not yet,” Izuna says. His face smooths over, a serious sort of intensity taking root in his eyes when they meet Tobirama’s. “How far are you willing to go for this village?”
Tobirama pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth before he places them down and folds his hands together, giving his companion his full attention. “Why do you ask?”
For a moment, Izuna simply watches him. Tobirama keeps his face blank and holds his stare even as he passively wonders just how much Izuna sees through him these days. Finally, the Uchiha heir inclines his head and says, sotto voce, “Because the plan so far has been to appeal to the Daimyo via social and economic manoeuvring. Those are certainly telling tactics.”
“And you want to change that.”
“We are shinobi, Tobirama,” Izuna says factually. “Taking the high road is well and good, but subterfuge and violence are our true currency. You want to establish a shinobi village, so put our trade and tools to use. How far are you willing to go?”
Tobirama leans back in his seat and contemplates. Ideally, Konoha’s establishment would have been a clean and unambiguous affair. Less to hide and fewer headaches to worry about in the long run that way. Now, he must consider what he wishes to prioritise and what he is willing to compromise or discard. Izuna isn’t wrong; morality doesn’t mean much to a bunch of shinobi and Tobirama has never shied away from doing what needs to be done. He is a man of ambition, and sometimes that means paying a price.
They may be talking about peace of a kind now, but they are all of them forged by war and deception, and Izuna has always been among the best of them.
“Do what you think is necessary, Izuna,” Tobirama says at last.
A flicker of surprise crosses Izuna’s face—there and gone. It is harder to hide in his chakra as it shrinks back as though reeling, then pulses outward in a sudden rush that never fully registers to Tobirama’s senses before it is ruthlessly pulled back and squashed.
“That’s an awful lot of liberty you’re giving me.”
To which there is nothing to say but the strange truth that is, “I trust you.”
Perhaps it would be more accurate to clarify that Tobirama knows this part of Izuna. Knows it like he does his own hand, the weight of his blade, and the acrid sting of smoke in his lungs. The part of Izuna that wages vicious and ruthless war like he is a vessel of violence and a study in barely restrained anger. Like a fist to the face and blood in your mouth. Tobirama knows him as he does a reflection in the mirror.
They can never change what they are to each other. The intimacy of the blood shed between them will forever live in Tobirama like a sword in the gut.
Izuna holds himself impossibly still and stares at Tobirama like he has never seen him before. From the look on his face, one would think Tobirama just pointed a weapon at him. In a way, maybe he has. “That could be a mistake,” Izuna says very softly, eyes wary and expression becoming unreadable.
“It isn’t.”
“You sound very certain.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
The challenging watchfulness melts into something half-amused and half-disbelieving. “Why, indeed,” Izuna says, shaking his head. “I’ve always known you’re kind of insane but somehow you still manage to surprise me.”
“That’s good,” Tobirama says, brow rising. “I’d hate to bore you.”
Izuna inclines his head. “Be prepared in case I need your help with my plan,” he says suddenly, all business.
“How long do you think you’ll be?”
“One month,” Izuna says, holding up a finger to illustrate. “Give me one month and I’ll bring you the Daimyo’s signed approval myself.” The look in his eye shifts and becomes razor sharp and focused, almost predatory. Tobirama’s breath catches in his throat and it is like he is frozen against his will as the entire world narrows to this one moment. There is a familiar challenge in the set of Izuna’ jaw, a demand in the furrow of his brow, and his voice drops into something low and serious as he says, “Watch me.”
As if Tobirama has ever managed to figure out how to look away.
“I’m surprised to find you here,” Shikataro says by way of greeting, sliding into the empty seat beside Tobirama. “You’ve managed to avoid showing up to one of these so far. What changed?”
“I figured I ought to show my face at some point,” Tobirama says drily, folding his arms. He watches the bustling attendees with dispassionate eyes. “A united front and all that.”
“Sure,” Shikataro snorts, unconvinced. “Bet you and Uchiha Izuna both had the same idea today.”
A smile flashes across Tobirama’s face, there and gone. “Something like that.”
Arching a brow, Shikataro scoffs in open disbelief. “Feel like telling me what’s really going on here?”
Tobirama offers him a sidelong glance before admitting, “Izuna is cooking up a scheme of dubious ethical nature. I’m here to observe.”
He doesn’t sound worried so Shikataro dismisses the idea of mustering up concern for whatever stunt the Uchiha heir is apparently planning to pull. Instead, he says, “Isn’t he speaking next week? Were you the one to convince him?”
“It didn’t take much convincing,” Tobirama says, shrugging. “Izuna had anticipated that I would ask.”
Shikataro makes a sound of acknowledgment. That’s interesting. “When did you ask him anyways?”
“Over lunch yesterday.” When Shikataro continues to look at him blankly, Tobirama explains, “I invited him to tour the University labs.”
“So, what—are you two friends now or something?”
Tobirama blinks. “I suppose so, yes.”
As one, both of them look across the centre stage where Uchiha Izuna is seated in the stands opposite to them, engaged in quiet discussion with Fujiwara Yoshitaka—the second son of Fujiwara Shigehiro, the chancellor of the Land of Fire and the second most powerful man in the country. As if sensing their gaze, Izuna looks away from his conversation and turns towards them. He blinks and then his expression shifts into something haughty and playful as he smirks pointedly and gives a jaunty little wave.
Shikataro follows his gaze to Tobirama just in time to see his mouth twitch into a smile. The Senju heir inclines his head ever so slightly to the left, clearly referring to Yoshitaka, before he lifts his eyebrows. Izuna’s chin lifts and then he’s turning back to the Fujiwara who is none the wiser of the interaction that just took place while his companion ignored him.
“You suppose your friends?” Shikataro says drily.
Tobirama grins, looking wolfish and very much like an asshole, and says nothing.
Shaking his head, Shikataro rolls his eyes. “Well, clearly, the grand plan involves Fujiwara,” he mutters lowly so as to not be heard. There’s less reason to be worried about shinobi ears eavesdropping on conversation when almost every shinobi here is an official ally. “Do you even know why he’s scheming?”
“I do,” Tobirama confirms. “I can’t say yet though. You’ll have to wait to find out.”
Now that’s just unfair. You can’t dangle information in front of a Nara and then withhold it out of nowhere. It’s practically asking for prying.
Tobirama shoots him a withering stare as if he can sense where Shikataro’s thoughts immediately head. Which, given how accomplished his sensing is, could very well be true. Shikataro glares back anyways.
“You’re being terribly disagreeable,” he tells the Senju flatly.
To which Tobirama incredulously retorts, “You’re being a busybody.”
The insult is water off his back. It is not the first time he’s been called nosy and it certainly won’t be the last; Shikataro is self aware enough to know that. “I don't want to hear that from someone who has the morals of an alley cat.”
Tobirama pauses and blinks, looking taken aback. “That one is rather interesting actually,” he remarks, sounding thoughtfully impressed.
“You think so? I thought it’d be funny.”
“You were correct. Well done.”
They nod at each other in mutual agreement.
Before anything else can be said, an announcer takes the stage and calls the convention to start, reading out the list of issues open to discussion tonight. The settlement is in fourth place in response to the growing interest surrounding it. Admirable growth considering they started at the seventh item. How quickly they continue to grow will have to be seen however. They’ve been at item four for two weeks now. This will be make or break.
“Why is Fujiwara Yoshitaka here anyways?” Tobirama muses quietly, gaze flitting across the room surreptitiously. “The others are Izuna’s usual crowd in the capital. Yoshitaka doesn’t fit.”
Part of Shikataro wants to rebel and ignore Tobirama since he isn’t even bothering to divulge what details he does know. The larger part of him likes having a problem to chew on however and the Senju heir is always fun to bounce ideas off of.
“The first issue,” Shikataro murmurs back in answer, nodding down to the stage where the first speaker takes his place and introduces himself as an alumnus of the political science department. “Enryaku-ji.”
Tobirama looks surprised. “The monastery?”
“There was an attempt to impose an abbot from their rival faction on them. They protested the decision but I heard it got violent. Two hundred of them almost marched right up to the Fujiwara main residence before the chancellor intervened and sent the abbot back to Miidera Temple.” Shikataro nods to where the speaker is recounting the same events with more embellishment and detail. “Enryaku-ji’s warrior monks have always been a topic of conflicting opinion. People have been debating whether restrictions ought to be imposed upon them.”
“And since they’re in Fujiwara territory, it’ll fall to them,” Tobirama concludes. “I guess Yoshitaka is here to monitor public opinion then.”
Shikataro folds his arms and leans back, muttering, “About time he made himself useful anyways.”
“The chancellor favours the third son over him, yes?” Tobirama says.
Shikataro snorts. “I would too. Yoshitaka would be out of his depth in a back alley puddle.”
“I’ve only personally met the first and third sons. I heard Yoshitaka travels frequently.”
“Good thing too. He categorically refuses to apply himself or learn anything, and he’s the most uninspired conversationalist I’ve had the displeasure of speaking to. The only things he wants to talk about are himself and all his exotic little trips. As far as I’m concerned, he’s got delusions of adequacy.”
Tobirama looks intrigued. “I had no idea you had such strong opinions of him.”
Disgruntled, Shikataro admits, “He used to corner me at parties when I was younger just to be an ass. I wasn’t allowed to hit him since the Fujiwara are such a big name, and a civilian noble family at that, so I’d just have to listen to him spew bullshit like he meant something. Then, one day, I snapped and called him the progeny of a bowl-eyed pufferfish—”
“Very creative,” Tobirama notes, sounding impressed.
“—and since I accidentally insulted the chancellor in the process, I got sent away to ‘reflect’ for three months.”
“And you’ve hated him ever since,” Tobirama concludes.
“I wouldn’t say I hate him,” Shikataro deflects, “but let’s just say that if it was up to me, he wouldn’t have been allowed to breed.”
Tobirama has to quickly smother an unattractive snort behind his hand.
“Yoshitaka doesn’t hold any position in court though, so I’m not sure how useful an ally he’s going to make,” Shikataro says, changing the subject. Belatedly, he adds, “Even from an objective point of view, I mean.”
Shooting him an amused look, Tobirama makes a vague noise of consideration. “I don’t think that’s what Izuna is really going for anyways,” he comments, casting a swift eye over to where the Uchiha heir is speaking in quiet whispers to a transfixed looking Yoshitaka. “Just what he’s going for will only be revealed in time, I suppose.”
“Not if I figure it out first.”
With a withering stare,Tobirama elbows him pointedly. Shikataro grins back.
The Uchiha are one of the oldest noble shinobi clans in the country, having been awarded their status even before the Land of Fire established an empire and unified the Five Elemental Nations under one banner. They saw that empire rise and fall, even helped the Five Daimyo seize control from the Emperor and declare themselves leaders of separate nations, and have continued to maintain their wealth and prestige in the new court that now presides over the country. Uchiha clansmen occupy important positions in the army and court and are well known for their contributions even outside Fire.
They are a noble clan boasting a long history, and they most certainly do not lower themselves to beg for the things they want.
The Daimyo wishes to be convinced of the clans’ loyalty to him so he may lord his power over them and ensure favour when he deigns to give in and allow them their wishes. Izuna will make it so that the honourable Daimyo has no other choice.
Thus begs the question: how does one bring arguably the most powerful man on the continent to his knees? It’s simple, really. You find the chink in his armour, you bury your knife through it and then you twist for good measure.
The easiest flame to fan is one that’s already burning bright. Izuna doesn’t overcomplicate it; he finds an issue people are already talking about—one that he knows is a hot topic of debate in the court as well—and he decides this angle could work. The next order of business is to find an in so he can gather intel without too much trouble.
This is what leads him to Fujiwara Yoshitaka. The man is from a family that isn’t just central to the court but also happens to be the one on whose territory the Enryaku-ji temple is built, and he’s simple enough to use. It’s not that Yoshitaka is unintelligent. Izuna rather suspects that he has potential to be just as capable as his brothers, in fact. He’d certainly been a good enough student at the University from his brief stint there before he dropped out. Yoshitaka chooses to come off as an idiot so no one will entrust him with responsibility because he’d much rather do nothing and live in the lap of luxury by virtue of only his name and the wealth his lineage affords him.
Yoshitaka is privileged and knows of the advantages he is born into, which makes him dangerously arrogant and a perfect fit for Izuna’s purposes because Yoshitaka never learned how to keep his mouth shut. He has never had to be diplomatic or play nice when his father is practically running the country for the Daimyo. Izuna is half sure that Fujiwara Shigehiro funds Yoshitaka’s travels solely to keep him out of the capital where he could let slip something to someone who might actually be in a position to use it.
For example, someone like Izuna, who the heavens must be shining down upon because Yoshitaka is on a rare two-week visit to the capital just in time to act as Izuna’s prey. All it takes is arranging two ‘fateful’ encounters, mentioning the Enryaku-ji conflict and the presentation on it, paying off a few servants at the Fujiwara compound to remark over how easily the monks could be dealt with if only someone was bold enough to, and Izuna has his metaphorical knife for the Daimyo in hand.
He readies the stage and sets the scene: a luncheon hosted by the Hasegawa clan for the most influential young noblemen of the capital. Most of those attending will already be familiar with one another and fall into two camps of equals and sycophants. Izuna’s job today is to curate a mix in those surrounding Yoshitaka and keep reign over the tone of conversation.
Those who are of equal enough standing to the Fujiwara will be sure to make passively mocking comments and thinly veiled barbs, getting Yoshitaka worked up and defensive. To balance and keep him from outright leaving, the sycophants will sing praises of the Fujiwara’s might and how Yoshitaka stands at the apex of the social ladder of their world. He won’t be thinking clearly, he’ll be equally humiliated and praised and feel unsettled, and he will walk out of this room wanting to prove to everyone that he’s right to be self-assured all because he was born to Fujiwara Shigehiro.
“It’s such a shame how the Enryaku-ji have managed to create so much trouble for your clan,” Banri says, words drawling and sardonic even without him know what role Izuna has cast him to play. “If the Fujiwara need aid, of course...”
“They’re the Fujiwara. There’s no way they need help dealing with a bunch of monks no matter how well those recluses wield their swords,” one of Yoshitaka’s lackeys huffs in response.
Before the debate can shift focus, Izuna softly inserts, “They certainly are an unruly lot. I heard they killed twelve guards during their protest. Is that true, Yoshitaka-dono?”
Hook.
Yoshitaka shrugs and says nothing, sipping at his sake.
“Someone really ought to remind them of their vows,” comes a thoughtful remark. “It certainly doesn’t sound like they’re trying free themselves of earthly matters.”
“Well, any action will have to fall onto the Fujiwara. It’s their jurisdiction after all.”
Banri scoffs under his breath. He’s extra miserable today because he didn’t want to be here to begin with and was forced to attend since he’s part of the host family. This suits Izuna perfectly well. “They can hardly attack the monks outright, can they? You can’t tax a temple, and restricting their movements is pointless if they never actually want to go anywhere. Anything too overt will only result in violence. The Enryaku-ji have always resisted outsider control well.”
“Well, they’ve hardly been challenged appropriately,” Izuna points out. “With the Fujiwara’s resources, I’m sure they can contain any hypothetical damage to keep it from spilling to innocents.”
Line.
“They would still have to be attacking those who have taken their vows and forsaken the world though. Public sentiment could turn.”
“Does it matter? I doubt the Fujiwara have to care about the public crying over a few killer monks when they control half the Daimyo’s treasuries.”
“Yes, but the Enryaku-ji will not take any attempt at control quietly. They will respond in a show of might and it is sure to take place on public grounds. The outcry then would be much more severe. The Daimyo might have to take action against the Fujiwara to appease the people.”
Izuna sips at his sake and says, “So, what—the Enryaku-ji have the Fujiwara cornered?”
“No one corners the Fujiwara,” Yoshitaka inserts sharply. “Certainly not the likes of a temple.”
Izuna hides his smile. Sinker.
“Of course, Yoshitaka-dono,” he soothes. “I merely meant that it certainly is a conundrum.” Sighing as if in sympathy, he laments theatrically, “If only the Enryaku-ji could be taught a lesson somehow.”
“Hey, you know, I heard they use natural hot springs for their bathhouse at that temple.”
“Seriously? I’d kill to try that. Imagine getting to claim you bathed at Enryaku-ji itself!”
There are agreeable laughs all around and then the topic is changed, but the frown remains on Yoshitaka’s face, and he studies his companions closely as if trying to gauge just what they think of his clan. Izuna watches him watch them and thinks that he’ll be able to report a successful mission to Tobirama by the end of this month after all.
Honourable Senju Hashirama
Head of the Senju Clan,
We have received word that, upon being refused permission to use the temple's bathhouse and getting evicted from the premises, Fujiwara Yoshitaka retaliated by setting fire to the Enryaku-ji temple. He acted independently of his clan, but the Daimyo decreed against corporal punishment out of consideration for the Fujiwara. In retaliation, the Enryaku-ji monks have declared that they will seek retribution themselves.
It is suspected that they will be mounting an attack upon the Daimyo’s residence. Details are still scarce but a force of seven hundred warriors is being anticipated. Expected time of arrival is unclear. Please make your way to the capital as soon as possible. The Daimyo is requesting aid from his strongest servants.
Sincerely,
Akimichi Chosuke
Head of the Akimichi Clan