Daming Mansion.
An old man in his fifties, with a head full of silver hair but still a handsome appearance, nervously read the manuscript in his hand again and again.
He was the "Dainagon" in the daimyo's bureaucracy. His main job was to convey the daimyo's edicts to the outside world and review government orders. In layman's terms, he was the head of the propaganda department in charge of both internal and external messaging.
The Grand Minister had worked diligently his whole life and thought he could retire in peace and return to his hometown in two years.
But as he looked down at the manuscript in his hand, unease crept into his heart.
The Dainagon turned to the samurai standing before him and asked nervously, "Really?"
The warrior replied indifferently, "This is the decision of the adults."
Not "adult"—"adults."
That meant the major noble families had made the decision together.
The news of Akatsuki's failed assassination had already reached them, and the aristocratic families all knew that Logan was wandering around Kyoto with Oda Ieyasu.
Private samurai and ninja from various families had been dispatched to hunt down Logan and his companions. At the same time, the families decided to cut the Gordian knot and settle the matter once and for all.
Shouts from outside pierced the air.
The tour bus had departed from Mizugen Shrine and arrived in front of the daimyo's residence, surrounded by cheering citizens awaiting the daimyo's annual address.
The old Grand Minister rose to his feet.
"Then I'll go."
He looked back with every step, hoping the messenger would call him back.
But there was only silence.
The Grand Minister sighed inwardly. He knew he could not avoid what lay ahead. Bracing himself, he stepped up to the microphone and unfolded the document.
"The daimyo prefecture announces to the world: The daimyo, Oda Ieyasu, was unfortunately murdered by a villain and passed away tonight—"
His deep, magnetic voice, reminiscent of Morgan Freeman, echoed through the streets via the microphone. The festive smiles of the citizens froze instantly.
They couldn't believe it.
Oda Ieyasu—the most diligent, caring daimyo in centuries, loved by the people during his short reign—was dead?
The Grand Minister paused, sensing the weight of the moment. As he prepared to read the next line, "The murderer Logan shall be sentenced to death," a warrior suddenly burst out from behind the curtain.
He leaned in and whispered, "Stop reading. Change the manuscript. Cancel the plan!"
The Grand Minister looked closely. The man was from an aristocratic family, not a ninja. He had no idea what plan they were referring to.
Before he could react, the samurai growled, "The daimyo is alive."
He then slapped away the Grand Minister's hand and disappeared behind the curtain.
The Dainagon turned slowly to face the crowd of tens of thousands.
This time, his whole body went numb.
What were these noble families thinking? Were they just toying with an old man like him?
Sweat poured down his face as he frantically tried to think of how to undo the situation.
At that moment, another figure emerged from behind the curtain.
His heart raced—was there more news?
But it was Oda Ieyasu himself, walking calmly onto the stage.
"Sorry to trouble you," he said gently.
Oda Ieyasu passed the Grand Minister, his clothing stained with blood. Even though he had removed the venom using ripple energy, his face remained pale.
Still, when the Dainagon looked at him, he had never seen Oda Ieyasu appear so solid and commanding.
The crowd erupted into cheers. Their beloved daimyo was alive.
Oda Ieyasu smiled, waved, and lightened the mood with a few jokes.
After a brief celebration of the Suigen Festival, he began delivering a speech outlining a series of innovative reforms in science, diplomacy, education, and more—broadcast live to thousands in Kyoto and to audiences across the country.
Behind the curtain, Logan and the others listened.
"That's incredible," said Hayato Kanhara.
His wife had just died, yet Oda Ieyasu stood smiling in front of the crowd as though nothing had happened.
Hayato couldn't imagine doing the same. He'd be devastated even if a casual acquaintance got married and moved away.
"Yeah, it's incredible," Terumi Mei agreed.
After Saito Acho's death, Oda Ieyasu quickly mobilized his resources. Through negotiations, trades, and intimidation, he convinced the noble families to approve sweeping reforms.
All of this happened in less than an hour.
"Truly incredible," added Logan.
With Oda Ieyasu's support, even just joining their camp could bring tremendous change to the world.
Zabuza looked at his three teammates and scratched his head, feeling like they were all talking about different things.
…
The Water Garden Festival concluded successfully.
Most ordinary people didn't fully grasp the significance of the reforms. However, spies, merchants, and lower-level officials in Kyoto sensed that a storm was brewing.
In the glowing city, information flew rapidly, and hidden forces moved.
Logan, the spark behind all of it, now sat cross-legged on the tatami with Oda Ieyasu, discussing the next steps.
How to roll out the reforms. Whom to approach, whom to suppress, and whom to put aside for now.
They dissected each domino effect, each potential conflict, and brainstormed solutions.
It was an immensely complex task.
Luckily, Logan had come prepared, and Oda Ieyasu knew every faction in the Water Country well.
They worked through the night, finally forming a general plan after five or six hours.
Logan exhaled deeply and rubbed his temples, aching from hours of intense thinking. "That's about it."
"I have one last question," Oda Ieyasu said, setting down his pen.
It wasn't something he could write down.
"As you've seen, there are many people who act as key players or obstacles. They won't challenge you directly, but they'll delay and sabotage the reforms subtly.
I have no leverage over them, no weaknesses to exploit. For people like this... can I use assassination, seduction, or other methods?"
"No."
Logan's reply was immediate.
"For justice?" asked Oda Ieyasu.
Logan shook his head. "It has nothing to do with justice. Change always requires bloodshed.
If we've already entered a state of war, then anything goes. But if not, I don't want to rely on assassination."
He picked up the documents on the table.
"History isn't shaped by a single person. Killing someone during peacetime just replaces one puppet with another.
We're changing the system itself. We'll fight openly, stand upright—and..."
He raised his hand. A golden flame flickered in his palm.
"Violence is easy. Too easy. If we get used to solving every problem with violence during peacetime, we'll stop thinking.
We'll get lazy. We'll overlook the real issues. We'll kill instead of fixing the system.
And that's not right."
Oda Ieyasu stared at the golden flame and sighed. "This is going to be a tough journey."
"Are you scared?" Logan asked.
"A little. But… I'm more confident now."
Logan smiled. "Let's grab something to eat."
"I can't. Hideyoshi's waiting for me. He needs his father tonight."
Logan nodded.
A five-year-old child had endured too much that evening.
"And..."
Oda Ieyasu tilted his chin toward the outside.
"You have someone waiting for you too."
Logan turned to look.
Through the window, he saw Terumi Mei sitting on the steps, wrapped in a thin blanket, yawning.
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