“Oh Yagura-sama, forgive my ineptitude, forgive my failings and stubbornness Lord Fourth.” Lord Funato was kowtowed before me, his voice pained with sincerity of his failings, “I have failed to see how I erred but I know I have, you have cast me aside after all, a useless servant. But I ask you, I beg you for a second chance.

“This old man has not long left to live and among my many failings my son threatens to become one, he doesn’t understand that the truth, that his father is but a man capable of error, he doesn’t see his father’s failings only those that failed his father. Please Lord, if you give me this second chance I will serve your every word faithfully, there will be no repeat of arrogance and my pride is long buried.

“Allow me a second chance, Lord Fourth, and if I fail your expectations then as well, please allow me resign so the dignity and prestige of the First Mizukage, the Funato clan is preserved. Let the legacy of the First Mizukage not be tarnished by my abrasive child.”

I understand we haven’t spoken in some time but to ramble on like this. Still, it was nothing but a roundabout manner of asking for both a second chance as well as warning me that there are worse rulers for the Funato clan. I scoffed, the old man would die eventually, whether now out of a heart attack from my dismissal or later, it doesn’t matter.

But the fact that he’s self-aware enough about his son and heir to press his head to the floor like this…well, that speaks for itself. I’ve maintained a subtle spy network on each and every one of the clans of Kirigakure, it was not my original idea, merely something I expanded after taking the helm from Jason and subsequently, the Third Mizukage.

That the Third Mizukage felt the need to watch his citizens spoke volumes of how much anyone could be trusted and through the grapevine of this spy network I expanded, I haven’t been deaf to the mutters and murmurs of insulted Funato clan members. They’ve been at the top for so long the taste of air at the bottom offends them enough they can barely restrain themselves.

I breathed, folding my arms as my gaze settled on Lord Funato. He at least is wise— a product of being on several Mizukage councils likely— he knows well there’s a good chance I already know about his abrasive son and the clan he’s begun rallying to prepare protests against my regime, even against his father’s wishes. But there would be no protests, not just because this matter dies here but because there was a war to prepare for and I’d enjoy having him battle at the frontlines.

Spill a little blood for your village, Funato clan.

In the end I sighed and tried not to scowl too much as I summarized Lord Funato’s request, “So…in essence you want me to not only forgive you but also give you a second chance that would let you save face should you, perhaps inevitably, fail me again?”

Lord Funato merely bowed deeper, his arse raised as his head couldn’t bury any further into the floor. I rolled my eyes at this and breathed calm thoughts. It shouldn’t piss me off so much that his bald, wrinkled head is the most I’d get for his disobedience, I’d have preferred very much to being rid of him entirely but alas, he has apologized and I am no stone heart villain.

I blinked as a thought came to mind, his bald wrinkly head might not be such a bad reward after all, there were many things the Funato clan head power over in the Land of Water and if I wanted to fund my growing army of Bloodline users I’d need funds, resources and all the political backing to ensure my legacy stands for itself should anything…unforeseen happen to me.

But this is years in the future, assuming the old man kicks the bucket before then, then what? Who do I hold on the hook? His son is described as abrasive by the father and I’d met the man a couple of times as a fresh out of the Academy Genin. He was insufferable to work with then and surely still would be now if he takes after his father at all.

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There were many options that came to mind, including using my ANBU operatives to force a scandal on the heir, a scandal I could blackmail him with down the line. Or perhaps simply an expression of how far my reach as Mizukage goes; I could send him to the battlefield and have him almost assassinated. But then why go through the stress of almost assassinating anyone when you could just go through with it? Does his son have any value to Kirigakure beyond his strength as a shinobi?

If not, then does Lord Funato have another son? Or perhaps a grandson I could mould? Ah but why mould his progeny when I have vastly talented apprentices and potential students in my back pocket already?

In the end I let out a groan as my thoughts for taking care of Funato and his mess of a clan began to spiral. I was getting ahead of myself, there was a need for a plan but, the old man wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Best to focus on what’s in front of me.

I stood and walked over. He raised his head slightly at my approach and I grinned bright and stupid as I knelt by his frail side, a steady hand placed on his shoulder as he sat up, “That’s all I needed to hear then, Funato-dono, your commitment to Kirigakure, to me. I forgive you.” I wore my most disarming, cute smile as I declared this and felt a knot of tension release from his shoulders, “Your clan should follow your footsteps without issue from now on, yes?”

“Yes, of course, Lord Fourth, I will put my son in his place.”

I smirked, “I will rely on you once more, Funato-dono.” I helped him up to his feet but promptly left him to himself in the dojo.

Out onto the courtyard, I found the moon high but not struggling to peek through the fog of Kiri’s mist. It’s been a very long day and I’d not had a bite to eat in too long hours. I wondered where Junichi was as I strolled out through the abandoned corridors of the Seven Swordsmen, their acolytes long in their beds with few exceptions burning the midnight oil with their training.

I was about stepping out of the main building to the street that led to its gate when a terrible feeling overcame me. I glanced around, watching if the training acolytes felt it too when a strangled scream broke the peace of the night.

A full one-eighty spin and a full sprint down the exact path I’d taken, shortened with swift and eager leaps across the rails brought me closer to the source. Chakra spiked ahead, it was unsteady. Sliding doors snapped open as acolytes reared from their slumber at the sudden noise but we were in for more as I landed on the rail opposite the dojo master room I’d left Funato in.

Panic rushed through me as both my natural senses and Isobu screamed for me to dodge. The room exploded, a blazing flame with zero heat yet all the power of combustion threw the traditionally built room and four others into splinters.

It took nothing for me to fashion a [Water Mirror] to deflect and absorb the impact, I wasted no time as the clamour and screams of horror took through what remained of the corridors and courtyard, discarding my mirror I leaped off what remained of my perch and a formed a hand sign to gather the necessary chakra.

With a wave of my palm, I released the gathered Wind Release chakra, sending the smoke and crackling wood dust far from my sight, “Funato!”

I spotted the man easily, bleeding under a pillar of wood with a shady figure standing above him, poised with a kunai, no, that’s no kunai, “Wind Release: Wind Bullet!”

Seventeen bullets escaped my lips in the span of seconds, forcing the figure away from Lord Funato before they could finish the job. The way they were garbed was unlike any shinobi, their head to toe was shrouded and wrapped in dark clothing with no headband in sight or even a weapons pouch.

My bullets were fast and powerful though, I felt one extinguished against the fleeing foes back, tossing them outward in their escape attempt. I quickly began forming signs for a Water Clone when Ao landed at my side.

“Leave them to us, Mizukage-sama!” He leaped away before I could protest, ANBU crawled from the rooftops to meet up with him.

With no one to argue with I set my attention to freeing Lord Funato from the rumble. He was stabbed through his chest, arm and leg when I lifted the pillar off of him, his head bleeding out profusely and yet he raised an arm, calling to me.

I leaned down to pick him up, he trembled in my arms, lips desperately trying to form words, “What is it? No, don’t speak, I’ll get you to a medic immediately.”

My legs tensed to leap onto the rooftops when the old man grabbed my scarf and declared, “S-shizu…Shizu Yuki!”