The doubts were cleared up.
Rikusei walked down the street with Naori and Kagami, perfectly content.
Tobirama Senju hadn't told them the whole truth, but his attitude made it clear that the Senju Clan had faded away for Konoha's sake.
With the brothers' standing in the Senju Clan, there would be very little opposition.
Their black ninja sandals lightly touched the hard ground, dust clinging to their soles. The peaceful Konoha before them was just as they had hoped it would be: a Shangri-La for ninjas.
The warm spring sunshine wasn't at all oppressive. Konoha's main street bustled with traffic and people. Vendors carrying all sorts of goods called out enthusiastically, while many others set up stalls in the shade to sell their wares.
Rikusei looked at the lively scene and couldn't help smiling.
The ninjas who had lived through the chaos of the Warring States period, their bodies stained with blood, must have felt proud to have played a part in bringing peace when they saw such a vibrant scene on a warm spring day.
He understood. Wasn't the reason the Senju Clan had faded away right there before his eyes?
"Ding~"
The clear chime of a bell drifted from far down the street. A huge procession moved slowly along the main road.
At the front, attendants in formal clothes held up an ornate canopy. Golden bells tied to its tassels rang melodiously with every sway, shading the palanquin beneath it. Behind them, guards carried flags bearing the crest of the Daimyo of the Land of Fire, which fluttered gently in the breeze.
The steady clatter of hooves followed. A driver in a straw hat held the reins and steered the carriage, while its cargo was tightly wrapped in black oilcloth.
"The Daimyo's arrived."
In the crowd, Rikusei explained to Kagami, who looked a little bewildered.
"Doesn't that mean they'll decide who becomes Hokage soon?" Kagami gazed brightly at the colorful palanquin and asked in a quiet voice. "Could it be the Uchiha?"
It was Rikusei's first time seeing the Daimyo travel in procession. His gaze was a little distant. "Maybe."
"What do you mean, maybe? Don't say such discouraging things!" Kagami protested, but the boy's agitated voice was drowned out by the cheers around them.
"But there are more and more clans in the village. The Senju have the advantage when it comes to popularity," Rikusei replied, leaving Kagami at a loss for words.
Seeing Kagami's spirits sink, Rikusei smiled fondly and added, "No matter who gets elected, they'll surely lead the village to greater heights."
"That's right."
After meeting Tobirama, Kagami realized the Senju Clan weren't as rigid and stubborn as his clanmates had said. He nodded in agreement.
"There are so many carriages," Naori said, unconsciously patting the little belly hidden beneath her ninja uniform.
"Across from the third carriage from the back, there's a Dango Shop with colorful flags. It says they're offering a new-store discount," Rikusei replied without hesitation, catching her meaning.
Rikusei sprang into action, leading the little Gunbai through the crowded street to the Dango Shop.
Kagami looked at the pair, who were holding dango and smiling, in confusion. "But we're going home for dinner soon."
"Be quiet."
Rikusei took a White Jade dango from Naori and shoved it into Kagami's mouth.
Kagami's cheeks bulged as he chewed hard. The sticky texture of the glutinous rice and the specially made sugar made for a sweet but not cloying taste that he couldn't get enough of.
His vigorous chewing brought a flush to his face. He flicked his tongue and savored the lingering taste.
"This is just a pre-dinner dessert!"
Rikusei and Naori, fellow members of the Uchiha Dango Appreciation Club, had enjoyed the same taste. Their gazes met, and they exchanged smiles.
Kagami went home first, to the clan compound.
Rikusei and Naori walked along the wall, listening to the pleasant birdsong from the woods beyond. They made their way home slowly beneath the shade of the trees.
Sunlight spilled across the empty street. Rikusei savored Konoha's tranquility.
He knew this peace would last for many years yet, but it was still worth cherishing. Youth was something they couldn't afford to waste.
Even if he had only just started school.
Rikusei's clear gaze fell on the girl beside him, who was greedily eating dango. If she really was the creator of "Izanami," then he would put an end to that civil war himself.
First, he had to stop "Izanagi," the forbidden technique, from spreading widely through the clan.
To do that, he would need to rise to the position of clan head. But he figured that he might grow too close to the Senju later and lose his chance at the position.
What should he do?
Kagami was out of the question. He had no chance either.
Rai, Baru, Naka? No, they wouldn't work either. They were core members of that rebellion.
Who, then?
"Rikusei, want to try this Five-Color Dango?"
Naori took the last skewer of dango from the box and tilted her head as she asked. Her long purple hair fell over her shoulder with the playful motion.
Rikusei breathed in the floral fragrance carried on the breeze and smiled. "Want to split it?"
"Mm!"
The last dango skewer was gone, and Naori answered with a sweet smile.
"You're home, dear grandson!"
Grandmother tossed down her cards and ran out of the mahjong parlor, ignoring the teasing voices behind her as she hurried over to them.
Rikusei could faintly hear someone inside the room crying with joy.
"Chiri, the luckiest player, has finally left the table."
"Tell me about it. Her playing's terrible, but her luck is unbelievable."
The woman they were talking about approached them with a smile. Her eyes, seemingly clouded with age, glinted as she carefully sized up Naori.
Then she promptly forgot all about her dear grandson.
She affectionately took Naori's little hand and naturally positioned herself between the three of them, giving her advice about life.
Rikusei was a little stunned.
These were things Grandmother had never talked about before.
Their conversation had begun with how to use ninja tools and control their stamina and chakra, but somehow it had turned into memories of the past.
At the front door, Grandmother watched the purple-haired girl walk away and reluctantly drew her gaze back. She looked at her dear grandson with a hint of melancholy. "A girl from the Uchiha Clan who chooses to become a ninja has to endure inhuman hardship."
"Don't bully little Naori from now on! Understand?"
"Yes, Grandmother."
Grandmother had never been so stern in his memory. Rikusei hurried to answer.
"So, dear grandson, what would you like to eat?"
Grandmother's kind smile returned. She deftly tied on her apron and asked.
"Anything's fine."
"Then, to celebrate Grandmother winning ten games in a row this morning, I'll make something I like." Grandmother was quite pleased with his answer and replied without hesitation.
"Elder Brother, come help me check my clothes. Is anything out of place?"
Tobirama had hurried over from the Ninja Academy and changed into formal robes. He adjusted the silver hair on his head and spoke quietly in the hallway.
The Daimyo?
They didn't matter nearly as much to him as Konoha's current backbone of ninjas. If it weren't for the money and supplies, he couldn't be bothered to deal with people like them.
Politicians with their heads full of schemes were nowhere near as likable as that Uchiha brat from the morning.
"Looking good, Tobirama."
Hashirama glanced at his somewhat flustered brother beside him, his face bright with an easy smile.
"Stop smiling. This is an important meeting with the Daimyo." Tobirama steadied his breathing and glanced at the wooden sliding door, where guards stood in front of it.
"Sorry."
"Pull yourself together, Elder Brother! I'm not telling you to get depressed. I'm telling you to stay serious." Tobirama tugged hard at Hashirama, who had slumped into dejection, his face dark with exasperation. "This is the first step toward deciding who becomes Hokage!"
"But..."
Hashirama, back to his usual self, hesitated.
"I already told you that day: we'll go with a popular vote."
Tobirama stood before the wooden door with his arms crossed, gazing straight ahead with a solemn expression.
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