The Third Mizukage’s funeral was a solemn and silent event. A heavy rain fell as it should at all funerals, whether it was naturally occurring or not I wasn’t sure nor did I care. My thoughts were keyed on something else.

Family.

It has been over a decade since I enjoyed the show, story and lore of the world I am now inhabiting. Even as an avid, arguably day one follower of the series, my memory of events, systems, clans and generally how things worked turned shoddy in the passing years, especially as I matured.

Under the petering rain and chilling wind, I hung my head in a low bow as I, one of the most talented shinobi from one of the major clans within Kirigakure stood to pay respects to the late Third Mizukage.

I don’t believe I ever realized it but the village hidden in the mist was truly one founded on absolute command and loyalty to those in said absolute command. As such, standing beside me paying their respects are talented shinobi and kunoichi from clans such as the Hozuki, Hoshigaki, Funato and in significantly lesser prestige, the Yuki clan.

Even the Daimyo had sent a representative from his clan but they didn’t have much a place in Kiri, not truly. The true power was vested in the balance of the five clans, Karatachi, Yagura’s clan included.

As such, everyone else had a place at the back of the line and not just at the Mizukage’s short and sweet funeral, but in all things. A caste system isn’t at all what I expected when I woke up in this world but Kiri continues to prove to me that things can always get worse.

Done with my silent prayer for the Sandaime’s genjutsu tortured soul, I back away and walk under the umbrella my aide has waiting for me.

Daichi is a tall grey haired man with the same shade of eyes as Yagura— me— and carries himself with a bit too much excitement in his step for someone attending a funeral.

But I knew why. I’m not ignorant to the stares and attention I’ve received since my attendance. More than a few people want a word with the top contender for the Fourth Mizukage position. Or any contender for that matter as I notice Fuguki’s in attendance as well and expresses no restraint conniving.

No, it hasn’t been officially announced but with clans like Funato and Hoshigaki in attendance, it’s not hard to see how word might have got out. I refrained from making prolonged eye contact with anyone lest they take it as a sign to approach and beseech for future favours or more likely, pardons.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

My aide, who happens to be of the Karatachi clan, doesn’t feel the same, in fact I think he has another mission here besides escorting me. Yagura finds this annoying as much as I do but resigns it to be another one of Uncle’s schemes of which I’m still trying to piece the full memories together.

He shepherds me into the path of the Hozuki clan mother, Nana Megumi. She’s almost as old as the Funato head except she managed to retain some charm by standing up straight with the composure of an active shinobi.

Even though she’s a granny, it’s Yagura’s cruel fate to be youthful and short. There’s just no helping that. It’s no one’s fault damn it!

She smiles down at me, lips twisting with the faux warmth of a parent and for a moment I fear she’ll reach down and pinch my cheeks. Instead her smile dissolves at a thunder clap she sneers, “Lost respect for your elders already now have you, Mizukage boy.”

Daichi bristles beside me but quickly reminds himself of his place. His mission was to shepherd me to her and he’s done it, no need to risk his life any further.

Reminded of my own place, I dipped my head in an extra low bow, “Forgive me Nana, I am distraught with grief.”

To be fair, since I decided to consider killing Fuguki for the title in three weeks’ time, my training with Harusame only made me confident of my future rank as Mizukage.

Even if he fends off Yagura’s impressively reliable muscle memory and defeats me, I am certain that another near-death experience would lead to Isobu’s release. Isobu will decimate whoever is in front of him, even if it’s the chakra eating sword.

Besides, getting into my Jinchuriki seal and attempting Talk no Jutsu with my future knowledge was on my list as well. Tail beasts aren’t unreasonable creatures, in fact, I recall Isobu being one of the friendliest.

Talking to him and getting him to stop trying to passively dominate my chakra in place of full cooperation will ensure I start off my reign with a powerful nuclear deterrent.

“You aren’t engaged in anything right now are you?” Two women step out behind her, one a mourning mother who reminded me of the Third. His wife.

That must be his daughter then.

Rina Hozuki. She wore the same plain black for the funeral but her emotionless face and pearled dark violet faded hair reminded Yagura of her reputation as a shinobi, even as a Chuunin.

“Uh…” I thought to what I had planned, more exercise and training, basically the same as last month. A shinobi’s regiment, even if it’s mostly meditation and chakra moulding with Harusame, is not anything I’d have signed up for.

Which is why I didn’t. It sucked even more because while his lessons provided awareness in my chakra and even Isobu’s within me, he hasn’t mentioned anything about casting jutsu!

Yagura’s muscle memory only went so far and each time I tried what he remembers as his most basic jutsu— Water Style: Water Dragon— it broke down before the dragon’s head could exit the lake.

Rina’s a talented one with Water Release, if this invitation is what I think it is then I could simply watch her train and study the way she moulded her chakra.

“No, not anything important enough to decline your company, Nana.”

She chuckled and I thought it genuine, “Good, come then. I’m sure you’re acquainted with my granddaughter, Rina.”

“Yes, we’ve had words.”