The Shattered Mist-Hidden Flower

The corridor was long and silent.

Mei Terumi followed behind a maid, her wooden clogs tapping against the polished floor.

The maid maintained a distance of exactly three steps from her at all times.

She spoke little and looked little.

Like a walking doll, every movement was precise and rigid.

Such extreme propriety was, in itself, an invisible form of pressure.

At last, the maid stopped before an unmarked door.

She did not open it, merely stepped aside and gestured for Mei to enter.

"Please come in. Someone is waiting for you!"

Mei Terumi's heart suddenly tightened.

Was she going to meet that man so soon?

She adjusted her breathing, trying to calm her wildly pounding heart.

More than a dozen plans flashed through her mind in an instant.

There were verbal probes, sudden attacks, even the resolve to perish together.

But when her hand touched the cold door knocker, she extinguished those thoughts one by one.

It was useless.

She had seen the Hidden Guard during the coronation ceremony.

In the Land of Fire Capital, within that man's palace, any resistance would be nothing but a joke.

She pushed open the door.

The room beyond was not as luxurious as she had imagined.

This place... was completely empty.

The surrounding walls were a monotonous grayish white, and the air was filled with a strange smell of medicinal herbs mixed with old, rotten wood.

Three elderly women in dark kimonos stood in the center of the room.

Their hair was gray-white, their faces deeply wrinkled, and their expressions solemn.

As Mei entered, the heavy wooden door slowly closed behind her.

Click.

The sound of the lock falling into place was soft, yet it made her heart race even faster.

Her emerald eyes narrowed in an instant, and her hand reflexively reached behind her waist.

There was nothing there.

Only then did she remember that all her weapons had been taken when she entered.

"There is no need to be nervous."

The leading old woman finally spoke, her voice dry, like two dead leaves rubbing together.

"We are merely following orders."

Another old woman stepped forward, holding a wooden tray.

On it lay a ruler, a measuring tape, and a thick ledger.

"There are rules for selecting consorts."

"There is proper decorum for entering the palace."

"Before meeting His Excellency the Daimyo, your identity must first be verified."

The color drained from Mei Terumi's face.

She was not some naïve young girl. Of course she understood what verifying her identity meant.

"Take off all your clothes."

The old woman's voice was flat, as though she were saying something trivial.

Yet those words struck Mei Terumi's heart like a vicious lash.

Humiliation mixed with rage, flooding her mind in an instant.

She was the leader of the Mist Rebel Army.

An Elite Jonin who possessed two Kekkei Genkai!

She had walked through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, personally snapping the necks of countless enemies.

And now, she was supposed to stand here like some piece of merchandise and submit to inspection?

"What if I refuse?"

Her voice turned cold, carrying a tremor she herself had not noticed.

At last, a ripple stirred in the leading old woman's eyes.

It was neither surprise nor anger.

It was pity.

"Girl, think this through."

"Once that door closes, there will be no turning back."

"If you refuse now, we won't make things difficult for you. We'll simply ask you to leave."

"But from then on, everything you desire will drift away with it."

The old woman spoke very slowly.

Yet Mei Terumi could barely breathe.

She clenched her fists, her sharp nails digging into her palms. The pain kept her clinging to her last shred of clarity.

She thought of the companions struggling amid the Bloody Mist.

She thought of that devastated, lightless homeland.

She was their hope.

If she backed down here, then what had all those sacrifices and entrusted hopes been for?

Mei Terumi slowly unclenched her fists.

That pitiful scrap of pride in her heart wavered on the verge of collapse. Before the village's future, it was ground into dust.

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the anger and struggle in her gaze had already died.

This was resignation.

And sacrifice.

She raised a trembling hand and untied the sash at her waist.

Her long blue dress slipped down, pooling around her feet.

Then came the undergarments.

One piece.

Then another.

There was not a single flaw in any inch of her figure—any more would have been too full, any less too thin.

The gazes of the three old women scraped over her body inch by inch.

There was no admiration in their eyes.

Only scrutiny.

As though they were examining an object, utterly devoid of emotion.

"Turn around."

The hoarse voice rang out again.

Mei Terumi's body stiffened for a moment before she obediently turned around.

A cold touch came from behind her.

It was a wooden ruler.

The old woman used it to examine her downward, section by section.

Her movements were professional and meticulous.

"Bones properly aligned. No old injuries."

Then a soft measuring tape was pressed against her.

The chill made fine goosebumps rise all over her body.

"Shoulder width..."

"Arm length..."

"Waist circumference..."

"Hip circumference..."

"Leg length..."

One old woman was responsible for taking the measurements, while another held a pen and rapidly recorded them in a ledger.

Mei Terumi felt that she was no longer a person.

She was livestock with a clearly marked price.

This body of hers, capable of unleashing terrifying power and wielding mighty ninjutsu, had, at this moment, become a string of cold numbers.

The examination went on for a long time.

From her height and weight to the length of her fingers, not even the thickness of her hair was overlooked.

She forced herself to detach, emptying her mind.

She began recalling her clumsiness when she first refined Chakra.

She recalled the joy of completing her first mission.

She recalled the exhilaration of drinking with her companions beneath the setting sun.

Those beautiful memories were her only weapon against what lay before her.

"Alright."

"Lie facedown on that couch."

The old woman's voice pulled her back to reality.

Following her gesture, Mei Terumi noticed a narrow couch in the corner, covered with a white sheet.

Her heart suddenly sank.

Her deepest fear had finally come.

She did not move.

Her feet seemed to have taken root.

"Miss."

A trace of impatience entered the old woman's voice.

"Don't waste everyone's time."

Mei Terumi bit through her lip, the taste of blood spreading through her mouth.

She knew she had no choice.

Step by step, she dragged herself over.

Her movements were stiff, as though her soul had left her body.

The moment she bent down and lay facedown, scorching tears finally slipped from the corners of her eyes beyond her control.

Nausea and humiliation surged within her!

Her instincts screamed for her to curl up, to resist!

But another hand pressed her down heavily like an iron clamp.

She wanted to lash out, yet she did not dare.

Time stretched into something unbearably long.

Every second was torment.

Mei Terumi's mind went blank.

All her pride, all her strength, vanished at that moment.

She was no longer Mei Terumi, the Elite Jonin.

She was nothing.

Merely an object stripped of all dignity.

She did not know how much time had passed.

At last, that hand withdrew.

"Still a virgin."

"No unusual body odor."

"Good merchandise. Very clean."

The old woman wiped her hands with a white cloth and delivered her final assessment in an even tone.

"Get up."

"Put your clothes on."

"Someone will take you to see Lord Minamoto."

With that, the three old women gathered their things and turned toward a hidden door on the other side.

From beginning to end, they did not spare her another glance.

Mei Terumi was left alone in the room.

She lay facedown on the couch, utterly motionless.

Her vacant eyes stared straight at the floor.

Her tears were there.

And so was her dignity, utterly crushed.