It didn't take long for someone to come.
Outside the gates of the Daimyō Mansion, the Uchiha stood silently, the crisp breeze brushing past their cloaks as tension lingered in the air.
Eventually, a servant emerged from within the lavish walls and opened the doors.
Uchiha Inabi and Hatake Kakashi exchanged a silent glance—subtle, but filled with meaning. Inabi gave the faintest nod. Kakashi responded with the same, then stepped forward calmly and followed the servant into the mansion.
The others remained behind.
This mission required finesse. And as the son of Hatake Sakumo—the famed "White Fang" of Konoha—Kakashi was someone the Daimyō would be far more inclined to trust than any Uchiha. This wasn't just strategy; it was a direct instruction from Namikaze Mirai himself.
Inside the mansion, the grandeur only deepened. Crystal lanterns bathed the halls in golden light. Silk tapestries embroidered with phoenixes lined the corridors. Every tile beneath Kakashi's feet whispered wealth and power.
But Kakashi's lone visible eye didn't so much as twitch. He was here for a mission—not to admire opulence.
He was led into a vast, high-ceilinged chamber. At its center sat the Daimyō, elevated atop a platform, gently fanning himself with a gold-inlaid folding fan. A small entourage of samurai stood behind him, hands on hilts, though none made any move.
"You are… the son of Hatake Sakumo, are you not?" the Daimyō asked, his voice calm, laced with aged curiosity.
Kakashi stood still and lifted his gaze. "Yes."
The Daimyō regarded him carefully. "The White Fang of Konoha… Even I, as Daimyō, have heard his name in court. A man who lived and died by his code, like a true samurai. A shame he chose death amid slander. Had he lived, he may have worn the Hokage's robes long before now."
Kakashi gave a small bow of acknowledgment, neither submissive nor proud. "Thank you for remembering him."
The Daimyō's smile widened. "I was told the Fifth Hokage has prepared compensation for my inconvenience. I assume that is why you're here?"
Kakashi withdrew a sealed envelope from his cloak and stepped forward. "Daimyō-sama, the Fifth Hokage has prepared a token of goodwill. Please see for yourself."
He bowed respectfully, presenting the envelope with both hands.
Servants and samurai watched the exchange silently, their attention on the Daimyō's reaction. The ruler took the envelope with great interest, unfolding it.
Their eyes met—just for a second.
And in that second, the bangs over Kakashi's left eye parted slightly, revealing the crimson glow of the Sharingan—its three tomoe spinning gently in a hypnotic rhythm.
*Swish*
The Daimyō's pupils dilated—just briefly—before returning to normal. The whole moment passed so naturally, no one else noticed.
The Daimyō's expression brightened as he opened the letter. "Ah! What a most satisfactory response! Your Hokage is quite considerate indeed!"
He laughed heartily, fanning himself with even more enthusiasm. "Please, extend my thanks to your Hokage-dono. I see now that he is a man of sincerity and refinement."
His servants leaned in, curiosity bubbling. The Daimyō's delight suggested a precious gift had been enclosed. But had any of them peered over his shoulder, they would have found something disturbing.
The envelope was empty.
Just a plain white sheet of paper.
Nothing written. No gift enclosed.
Only the binding weight of genjutsu clouding the Daimyō's mind.
Kakashi's eye narrowed beneath his mask. 'Easier than expected…'
The Daimyō, despite his royal stature, had no chakra resistance. Without the ability to mold chakra, he was utterly vulnerable to the most basic of genjutsu.
He might've ruled the Land of Fire—but in this world, where strength was measured in power and chakra, titles meant nothing.
The idea that a mere Hokage had forced the Daimyō into submission would've been laughed at once.
But under Namikaze Mirai's regime, even the unthinkable could be made reality.
Kakashi turned and left the chamber as the Daimyō continued to laugh—his eyes glossed with illusion.
…
Inside the Hokage's office in Konohagakure, Mirai set the returned scroll on his desk, his gaze sharp but pleased.
It had gone smoothly.
The Daimyō of the Land of Fire—once the most powerful figure in the nation—was now nothing more than a puppet. A marionette whose strings were controlled from the heart of Konoha.
With Kakashi and the Uchiha managing things from the shadows, the Daimyō's policies, proclamations, and military budgets would now all be dictated by the will of the Hokage.
And more importantly—Sarutobi Asuma had been dismissed.
The last thorn in Mirai's plan had been carefully plucked.
Officially, Asuma was recalled at the Daimyō's request. In truth, it was a calculated move by Kakashi and Uchiha Inabi to remove an unstable element from the court.
…
Back in Konoha, Sarutobi Asuma stood beside a training stump in the forest.
*Bang!*
He punched it hard, bark cracking and splinters flying.
Frustration surged through his body.
He hadn't even been told why. Just dismissed.
Stripped of his title as one of the Twelve Guardian Ninja and sent back without fanfare. The message was clear—his services were no longer needed.
"Old man… I tried to help you… but now I can't even help myself."
Asuma's thoughts turned bitterly to his father.
Sarutobi Hiruzen had pleaded with him in a rare show of vulnerability, asking his estranged son to assist politically through the Daimyō. Asuma had accepted, hoping to curb the rise of Namikaze Mirai.
But now… he was powerless.
…
Within the Sarutobi clan compound, Hiruzen held Asuma's letter with trembling fingers.
His face had gone pale.
"What… what did Asuma say?" asked Utatane Koharu urgently, stepping forward.
Hiruzen didn't answer. He simply handed her the letter.
Her lips thinned as she read it.
"Asuma… has been dismissed?"
Her voice trembled.
"How did this happen? We were so careful…"
Silence fell over the room like a suffocating fog.
Hiruzen slumped into a chair. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked Asuma to get involved. I underestimated Mirai."
Koharu frowned, rereading the letter.
"No… Hiruzen, there's more."
She pointed to a specific line.
"Asuma wrote that after Mirai sent a 'gift' to the Daimyō, everything changed."
Her expression darkened. "That's no coincidence. That 'gift'… it must've been something irresistible. Something that forced the Daimyō to completely reverse his stance."
Hiruzen's brows furrowed in thought.
What could it have been?
Wealth? Power? A threat? A bargain?
He couldn't imagine it. The Daimyō already possessed more wealth than any man could spend in a lifetime. His authority was nearly absolute. What else could sway such a figure?
He never once considered genjutsu.
The thought that someone—anyone—could have dared to manipulate the Daimyō like a puppet never entered his mind.
To him, the Daimyō was an untouchable cornerstone of the ninja system. Even Senju Hashirama, the God of Shinobi, had bowed before the Daimyō to honor the one country, one village structure.
That structure had held for nearly a century.
For it to be challenged so brazenly?
He shivered.
If he had known—if he had truly realized what Mirai intended—he would've been paralyzed with fear.
Because in that moment, Hiruzen would understand something terrifying.
This wasn't just politics anymore.
This was the beginning of a new era.
An era where Hokage didn't answer to the Daimyō.
An era where ninja ruled by strength alone.
And an era where Namikaze Mirai was no longer just a leader.
He was a revolution.
*****
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