The Daimyo's Residence * Giant

Tobirama frowned.

New World? What does that mean?

But the people on the boat didn't continue the topic. After a few moments of silence, someone else picked up the conversation, speaking in a flippant tone.

"Speaking of which, Daikokuten, did you see that young lady on the street yesterday? Her skin was as white as a freshly peeled egg—"

"Oh? Which family's young lady?"

"I don't know, she looks like the daughter of a merchant from the Land of Water, that waistline..."

At his age, he's still thinking about these kinds of things.

Tobirama listened for a few more minutes from the bottom of the boat, but the more he listened, the more bored he became. So he simply let go of his fingers and let the current push him away from the boat.

He surfaced a few feet away, took a breath, then dived back down and swam along the riverbank towards Daimyo's Residence.

He went ashore at the bend in the river.

His wet clothes clung to his body, and the wind made them feel chilly. He took out a set of dry short clothes from his ninja Ninja Tools pouch and changed into them. He wrung out the wet clothes and stuffed them under a rock to weigh them down. Then he turned and disappeared into an alley on the outskirts of the Daimyo's Residence.

The gray-white stone wall was covered with Ivy pressed himself against the Tobirama for a moment, found a gap in his patrol, and climbed up the wall by stepping on a crack.

The mansion was busier inside than it appeared from the outside. Maids trotted along the corridors carrying trays, while servants carried stacks of scrolls and documents in and out.

This country has no official Daimyo; the Jurōjin is one of the Seven Lucky Gods is considered the actual ruler of the country.

The first person that Military Advisors from various countries would want to see upon arriving here is undoubtedly him.

Tobirama climbed up the roof beam of the corridor, lay in the shadows, and looked down at the people coming and going below.

Inside the hall, the Jurōjin sat in the main seat.

The old man was thin and small, wearing a faded kimono with a dark gray Haori draped over his shoulders.

His face was wrinkled like a dried plum, but his eyes were bright, brighter than one would expect from someone his age.

He held a slender cane in his hand, the head of which was covered with a copper plate, on which was engraved a large character for "longevity".

Military Advisors from various countries sat on either side, their posture upright, clearly indicating they were all of Samurai origin.

Seated to the left was the representative of the Land of Water, a middle-aged man with a short beard and a square face. He spoke in standard polite jargon, "Elder Shou, I have long admired your Daimyo. The Land of Water wishes to forge lasting friendship with the Land of Hot Water. I have brought a small gift to express our sincere gratitude."

After speaking, he presented a lacquered box. When the lid was opened, a Short Sword was inside, with fragments of jade inlaid on its scabbard.

The Jurōjin raised his eyelids slightly, hummed in response, but showed no intention of taking the food.

When the representative from the Land of Water saw that he wouldn't accept it, he awkwardly placed the box on the table.

Next came the representative from the Land of Lightning. He was a burly man with a booming voice that made dust fall from the beams when he spoke, "Old man Shou! The Land of Lightning isn't here to deliver knives. Let's not beat around the bush. We've come to discuss the future with the Land of Hot Water."

The Jurōjin picked up his teacup, took a sip, and asked slowly, "What's next?"

"It's naturally a matter of cooperation."

"Oh." The Jurōjin put down his teacup. "Then let's talk about cooperation."

However, the advisor from the Land of Lightning steered the conversation elsewhere. He talked about maritime trade, port leases, the friendly relations between the Land of Lightning and the Land of Hot Springs, and participation in the Summer Festival. Finally, he subtly hinted that he hoped the Land of Hot Water would provide assistance if necessary.

From the beam above, the Tobirama offers a panoramic view of everything below.

Of the ten sentences spoken by the representatives from various countries, less than three were truly useful. The rest were just polite formalities and probing, with no one willing to reveal their hand first.

Military Advisor. He thought to himself, more of a political broker than Military Advisor.

Those who truly command troops don't personally attend such occasions.

The Jurōjin remained expressionless throughout this brief conversation.

He nodded occasionally, hummed in agreement, and picked up his teacup to take a sip.

More often than not, he simply sat there, listening to the polite exchanges between different countries.

He slowly put down his teacup after everyone had finished speaking.

"You have all come from afar, you must be tired," the Jurōjin said slowly. "The Land of Hot Water is a small country, incomparable to the vast estates you all possess. It is a blessing for the Land of Hot Water that you all regard it with Land of Hot Water respect."

The hall fell silent.

The Jurōjin raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping across every face. "What do you all want? Please speak frankly."

Military Advisors from various countries looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

The Jurōjin watched this scene and snorted coldly.

"Let's talk about it another day then."

The servants in the corridor pushed open the door and filed in, leading the representatives from various countries out.

Tobirama looked completely bewildered. That's it?

Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps came from under the corridor.

The door was suddenly pulled open, and a tall, imposing figure strode in.

The newcomer was dressed in a dark-colored straight robe, with intricate Cloud Patterns embroidered on the hem. A long sword was tucked into his waistband, and his face had sharp, angular features.

He looked around the hall and noticed that the seats for the Military Advisors from various countries were empty; his face suddenly darkened.

"Jurōjin!"

The Jurōjin, who was leaning on his cane and preparing to get up, didn't even lift his eyelids upon hearing this, but simply sat back down slowly.

"Where are those people?" Bishamonten took a step forward, his voice low but unable to suppress his anger. "Those people are my honored guests! How could you just let them leave like that?"

The Jurōjin finally raised his eyes and glanced at him.

"Your distinguished guest?" The Jurōjin repeated those four words. "Bishamonten, since when did it become your place to make decisions for guests from the Land of Hot Water?"

Bishamonten's lips tightened.

He stood in the hall, his hands hanging at his sides, his knuckles slightly white.

"I'm doing this for the future of the Land of Hot Water," he said, his tone much more respectful than before. "Those people came to discuss cooperation. What will people say if you just send them away like this? They'll say the Land of Hot Water doesn't know what's good for them."

"Ungrateful?" the Jurōjin sneered. "Bishamonten, watch your words! You are from the Land of Hot Water! There should be a limit to self-deprecation!"

Bishamonten.

"After those people came in, they looked around and started talking about 'cooperation.' What cooperation? I don't recall my Land of Hot Water having any need to cooperate with them."

"The Land of Hot Water is a small country with no large army and no resources. Its only assets are this land and this table."

"Surviving in such a precarious situation is difficult enough. If you intend to do anything under the guise of the Land of Hot Water, at least let me know!"

Bishamonten remained silent; he simply stood there, his head bowed in apparent respect.

The Jurōjin snorted and stood up. "Since you refuse to talk, then never talk. Get out."

Bishamonten stood there, watching the Jurōjin's figure disappear at the end of the corridor.

His back was slightly leaning forward, his hands hanging at his sides, his posture impeccably respectful.

As the footsteps of the Jurōjin faded into the distance, Bishamonten straightened up and walked along the corridor in another direction. He did not make a scene and walked away.

Tobirama lay on the beam and watched the whole scene unfold.

It can now be confirmed that those Military Advisors were summoned by Bishamonten, the man known as the God of War.

This person is up to something, but we don't know what he's planning to do yet.

Is it simply a desire to seize power, or is there another motive?

The Jurōjin was unaware that the Military Advisors had come to the Land of Hot Water, as Tobirama could tell.

Moreover, Bishamonten's attitude of "that's my honored guest" just now shows that he was the one who summoned the person.

But he actually summoned people directly to Daimyo's Residence, it seems that Bishamonten wanted to usurp the throne.

In that case, he'll definitely keep an eye on those guests.

Follow him and see what he's up to.

The figure of Bishamonten appeared at the main gate of the Daimyo's Residence.

He walked very fast, his pace much more hurried than when he was in the corridor, his clothes billowing up, almost as if he were jogging.

He rushed out of the main gate. The Military Advisors were walking out in twos and threes, still talking in hushed tones.

Bishamonten quickly caught up with them and stopped them.

He was slightly out of breath, with a warm and considerate smile on his face.

Please wait a moment.

The representative from the Land of Water stopped and turned to look at him.

Bishamonten took half a step forward and said a few words in a low voice.

Too far away, Tobirama couldn't hear what was being said, but he saw the representatives of the Land of Water with delight and nod in agreement before explaining to the others.

The Military Advisors ' expressions shifted from initial wariness to hesitation, and finally to relief, all within the span of a few words.

Bishamonten made a "please" gesture and led them into a narrow path on the side of the alley.

Tobirama followed them all the way, watching them enter a private residence.

The sun was shining brightly, a gentle southerly breeze was blowing, and everything felt fresh and clean.

After eating and drinking his fill, Izuna followed the crowd slowly toward the square.

He was wearing a cat mask on his face, white with black stripes, and two pointed ears standing up on his head; he had just bought it from a roadside stall.

Mokushō followed half a step behind him, the two of them blending into the diverse crowd.

The celebration procession drove along the street, the cheerful sounds of drums and Shamisen carried by the wind through the flags and lanterns.

They walked towards the square with the crowd.

A large crowd had already gathered in the square.

The makeshift stage was decorated with colorful cloths at its four corners, and a taiko drum was placed on the stage, with the drummer vigorously swinging his arms and beating it.

The drumbeats were deep and powerful, spreading out in waves, making the stone slabs beneath our feet tremble.

A crowd of people gathered around the stage. Children rode on their fathers' shoulders, the elderly sat on their own small stools, and young people stood in twos and threes, holding dumplings or kebabs in their hands.

That singer on stage is really talented.

The drumbeats and melodies are very lively and celebratory, the lyrics are also words of blessing, and the singer's voice is bright and clear, with each line carrying an upward force.

The audience was very supportive, clapping and cheering in unison at the end of each segment, and several children even jumped up and down to the beat.

Standing at the back of the crowd, Izuna couldn't help but make his own judgment.

It was lively, but to him, it still sounded a bit too monotonous.

The melody is just a few tunes over and over again, and the lyrics are just clichés, one line after another, so in the end you can't remember anything.

Izuna shook his head. Maybe he just wasn't used to this style? Just like people who like rock music don't like songs that are too mellow, older folks prefer old songs and don't like fast-paced new songs.

When the song ended, the singer took a breath, bowed to the audience, and was met with thunderous applause.

The singer straightened up, a smile on his face, and suddenly raised his voice. "Thank you all for coming! This piece was composed with the inspiration of Lord Izuna!"

Izuna's back stiffened.

"Although it's nothing compared to Lord Izuna," the singer said, placing a hand on his chest, his tone sincere, "This is my heartfelt sentiment! I hope my sentiment can reach Lord Izuna!"

Another round of applause erupted from the audience, and some people said something.

"As expected, it's a tribute to Lord Izuna."

"Yes, yes, only Lord Izuna has this kind of musical style."

"But Lord Izuna's songs are definitely better..."

Mokushō glanced at him sideways and chuckled twice, teasingly.

Izuna sighed, "How come this exists too..."

Fortunately, he wasn't recognized on the spot this time.

The singer quickly bowed, and then Benzaiten walked out from the side of the stage.

She changed into a light red kimono with delicate embroidery on the hem, and her hair was neatly styled with a few plain hairpins.

She appeared more dignified today than when I last saw her at the Shrine.

She walked to the front of the stage and raised her hand to signal the drummer to stop.

The noise in the square gradually subsided, and everyone's eyes were on her.

"Distinguished guests," Benzaiten's voice, though not loud, carried clearly throughout the entire plaza, "Thank you all for attending the Summer Festival of the Land of Hot Water."

She gave a slight bow.

May you all have a peaceful time here, may the weather be favorable, and may you all be safe and well.

A round of applause erupted from the audience.

Benzaiten straightened up and continued, "Now, please enjoy the Summer Festival to the fullest."

Another round of applause erupted, and the drums began to beat again.

The crowd dispersed somewhat, and people walked in twos and threes toward the stalls around the square.

Izuna sighed and pushed the cat mask up, revealing half of her face.

"Sigh... Seriously, isn't entertainment in this world really a bit lacking?" Izuna said helplessly. "I remember back then, I just sped up the original the Tale of the Heike and added some drumbeats, and it was that popular?"

Mokushō put his hands in his sleeves and tilted his head. "Sigh, it's the Warring States Period after all. Everyone's at war. Who has time to develop culture and entertainment?"

"But does that mean everyone's imitating me?" Izuna gestured to the musicians still drumming in the square. "It's been so long, and they're still singing the same old tune over and over again, without even a new one."

Mokushō shrugged. "There will definitely be geniuses, but even geniuses need a mentor to guide them."

Izuna paused for a moment, then pulled the mask back onto his face, his tone softening. "I'm just standing on the shoulders of Giants."

"Then you are that Giant now." Mokushō patted him on the shoulder.

"... I can't believe it."

"Stop worrying about it." Mokushō withdrew his hand and gestured with his chin towards the east side of the square. "We didn't come here for this. Let's go check that out first."

Izuna tilted her head to look at him, narrowing her eyes warily. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Mokushō answered readily, already taking a step forward. "There's a gambling den over there."

Izuna paused for two seconds, then caught up with him, glaring at him from behind. "... You brat!!"