Raizen followed the Daimyo's guards through the dense forest, finally emerging onto a vast, flat plain. At the far edge of the plain, the city sprawled like a slumbering giant, walls and rooftops stretching as far as the eye could see. Even for a seasoned ninja from a small clan, the scale of the Fire Nation city was jaw-dropping.
"Guess they didn't skimp on construction," Raizen muttered, steering the carriage along the stone road leading into the heart of the city. The streets were alive with activity—tea houses, taverns, pawnshops, workshops—and vendors hawking their goods from open-air stalls. Daylight brought the city to life, with merchants shouting and townsfolk bustling about.
The convoy passed under the imposing banners of the Fire Nation, and the crowd instinctively parted, showing respect—or fear—for the Daimyo's insignia.
"How's that for a busy city?" one of the guards asked with pride, his voice carrying over the din.
"Not bad. I've seen busy cities before, but this… it's something else," Raizen said, scanning the wide street. Better than most modern cities I've read about in the records back home. And this is Warring States-era chaos—who even builds a city like this?
The guard laughed heartily. "This is the pride of the Fire Nation. Nothing compares!"
Raizen allowed himself a small smirk. With the city's safety assured by the Daimyo's decree, he knew there was no immediate threat. He signaled, and the clone carrying Khaki descended from the sky, landing gracefully beside the convoy.
The guards blinked at the sight of the massive bird and the small, unassuming figure atop it. Some recognition flickered in their eyes—they now understood the cleverness behind Raizen's earlier tactics—but none said a word, only nodding with a quiet respect. At only five years old, Raizen's presence and strategy left an impression.
Crossing the Rainbow Bridge that spanned the wide river, the convoy approached the Daimyo's palace. From here, the grandeur of state power became impossible to ignore. Towers, walls, and subtle defenses radiated authority, and Raizen felt the oppressive weight of it pressing down. The palace wasn't just a residence—it was a fortress, layered with Jōnin-level protection and more shadowed figures than he could count.
As they entered, Raizen could sense several powerful auras locking onto him immediately. Any sudden movement would trigger instant retaliation. Now I know why no one ever successfully assassinated a big name in this world, he murmured. It's not lack of skill—it's the guards. The guy is untouchable.
Khaki was brought forward, the small treasure safely in hand. The Daimyo's eyes lazily followed them as he spoke, his fan flicking idly. "Are you the businessman Khaki?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Khaki stammered, trembling under the weight of authority, knees hitting the polished floor as he knelt.
"I hear you have a treasure capable of controlling sprites," the Daimyo continued, his voice calm yet commanding. "And you intend to present it to me?"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Khaki said, producing a black stone glowing faintly with chakra. Raizen immediately felt a chill emanating from the artifact, the subtle pulse of its power brushing against his own chakra senses.
The guards quickly took the stone, presenting it to the Daimyo. He examined it carefully, then handed it back to a subordinate before turning his gaze to Raizen. His eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity flickering.
"You escorted Khaki here yourself?" he asked, voice sharp but not unkind.
"It's… done," Raizen replied curtly, meeting the Daimyo's gaze without flinching.
"Not bad," the Daimyo said, a hint of approval in his tone. Then, almost casually, he asked, "Would you be interested in serving as my personal guardian ninja?"
Raizen blinked. Five years old, and he had just survived the Senju, the daimyo's guards, and a small army of snipers… and now this offer? He had expected accolades or thanks, maybe a hint of recognition—but a job offer from a daimyo? That was something else entirely.
"What?" he managed, more out of reflex than words. Is this real? Or another trap?