Who dared object? One look at the sky-piercing Divine Tree at the village entrance would set them straight

Sticky, foul-smelling yellow mud clung to Sen's soles.

The heel of his black leather shoe ground mercilessly into the Land of Fire's Daimyō's fat, powder-caked face.

Muddy water dripped down the Daimyō's double chin.

That usually haughty face was now smeared like a clown's stage makeup.

"Ow! Stop stepping on me! You're going to kill me!"

The Daimyō squealed in the filthy puddle like an old fat pig under the knife.

His pudgy hands, covered in gold rings, flailed wildly through the mud.

Trembling, he pulled a large square gold seal from inside his robes.

"Here's the seal! You can have all the treasury keys too! Get your stinking foot off me!"

Sen spat in disgust, his saliva tasting of dirt.

The spit landed squarely on the Daimyō's crooked topknot.

With a flick of his toe, he kicked the gold seal straight into his own trouser pocket.

"Who knew an old fatty like you had so little backbone? You sure know how to fold fast."

"You could've just handed over the meal ticket earlier. Instead, you made me tenderize you first."

He slowly moved his foot away and scraped the grease off his sole on a broken blue brick nearby.

Behind him, Ōnoki leaned on a wooden cane snapped halfway down, panting heavily.

The wrinkles on his old face bunched together, and the finger he pointed at Sen shook uncontrollably.

"Sen Senju! You're trampling every rule in the world underfoot!"

"If the Daimyo's Palace cuts off supplies, what will the tens of thousands of shinobi eat?"

"What will we use to buy Explosive Tags? What will we use to buy medicine?"

Sen dug some black grime out of his ear without even raising his eyelids.

"Buy Explosive Tags, my ass. The war's over. Whose ancestral graves are you still planning