Coming Clean
Nara Shikahira silently thought that things were going badly. He struggled to steady the trembling brush in his hand so his writing would not distort, faithfully recording the conversation that had just taken place.
He did not even dare breathe too loudly now, doing his utmost to diminish his presence as he personally witnessed a moment that would leave a profound mark on history.
Senju Hashirama froze for a moment before revealing an honest smile. "That may not necessarily happen in the future."
The daimyo blew away the steam drifting above his cup and took a sip of clear tea. With his missing teeth, he could not taste any of its fragrance at all—only an unprecedented bitterness. "These matters are not for you to decide. The people beneath you will push you toward that step."
"Father!"
The man seated behind the daimyo raised the head he had kept lowered all this time, his opened eyes filled with unwillingness.
"Sai, cough, this is not your place to speak. Shut your mouth!"
The daimyo set his teacup down on the low round table, covered his coughing mouth, and sternly rebuked him.
A series of teeth-grinding sounds came from Sai's furious face. His fists on his knees were clenched until they turned red, and dark red blood flowed from his palms, quietly dripping onto his expensive clothes.
Shikahira stopped writing. It was his first time encountering such a situation, and he hesitated internally, unsure whether the daimyo's family affairs should be truthfully recorded in the meeting minutes.
In the end, his identity as Konoha's chief editor reminded him that if these materials were made public, they would be the best example for the people of the Shinobi World to understand those high-and-mighty nobles.
"We are eternal nobles with supreme blood flowing