The revolution's leaders, along with Jiraiya, who had somehow wedged himself into their ranks, climbed onto the designated balcony and were now making their way, almost humbly, through a long marble hall.
The surroundings weren't the suffocating part. That was the owner of this temple. His chakra, vast and oceanic in volume, saturated everything around them. It didn't press down; it simply existed here. But the recent events had left their mark on the shinobi, and none of them could quite manage to square their shoulders with any relaxed confidence.
Between the soaring columns, breathtaking murals carved directly into the stone flickered in and out of view. They walked along a carved path leading toward their destination.
Soon, the group stepped nervously into a grand hall. At the far end sat a wide, low rectangular dais. On it rested two pieces of furniture that resembled red beds, each with a soft armrest curving up into a headrest. Two figures reclined upon them.
On one lay a blond man, watching the newcomers with cold, unhurried eyes.
On the other rested a beautiful girl with a remarkably well-proportioned figure and pink hair that fell to her shoulders. She wore white, loose garments as well, though hers were decidedly more modern, baring her midriff and allowing free movement. She watched the arrivals with mild, almost lazy interest, slowly eating grapes from a low table nearby.
"..." The blond said nothing. He merely shifted his gaze between the guests with an air of utter indifference. The guests, for their part, stared right back.
Jozame, standing there gawking like an idiot, felt a terrible cold creeping through him. For him, as a swordsman, the sight of an unarmed... shinobi? Right now it brought not calm, but only deeper alarm. The man before him radiated an absolute certainty that he simply had no need for any equipment, not even if every single person in the room came at him at once.
Mei was no less on edge, and she still couldn't figure out how to open the conversation. Just getting here had taken her through a full emotional gauntlet, from total, jaw-dropping disbelief at the start to a very strong desire to kill her spies right now. The first was understandable enough, but the second... How, how had they managed to hand her a photo of one of Konoha's key figures at an age far younger than he actually appeared? Their entire approach to potential allies had been built on that intel, among other things!
But what sent an even bigger shock through her system was how catastrophically they'd underestimated this "highly talented shinobi at roughly the level of Senju Hashirama." Not that Terumi had a perfect picture of the Second God of Shinobi's true strength, but then how had he not conquered the world long ago, and how had he managed to die, if his power was even remotely comparable to THIS? Had this Uzumaki acquired this power yesterday? Impossible! Someone should have been able to track that!
As they stepped inside, the presence of yet another figure connected to the delegation barely registered with Mei.
"At least they didn't miss everything," she noted upon entering, that her subordinates had been sharp enough to catch the obvious differences in appearance between two specific individuals. Digging slightly deeper, they'd firmly linked the two not only as academy classmates and former teammates but as something closer to a teacher-and-student bond, and probably something else just as deep...
At that point, Terumi's train of thought derailed, courtesy of certain... personality traits of hers. But the woman quickly seized control of herself and managed to resume the analytical thread:
"And yet... Haruno also looks older. That's less surprising, of course, given the previous intelligence failures. Still, her presence here. Is she here to show that he already has people who serve him willingly? Or is there some other reason?"
The chakra saturating the room still carried none of the crushing weight from his earlier appearance, which at least allowed the newcomers some capacity to gather their thoughts.
But one among them turned out to be a little too impressionable, and the silence didn't last.
Thud. Natsuo dropped to his knees, then, trembling, pressed his forehead to the floor.
The man was, technically, a shinobi like everyone else here. But he leaned far more toward being a diplomat and a merchant. His rank was only tokubetsu jonin.
"I told you not to bow to me," the voice finally rolled through the hall, and Iwamoto froze. It was the Uzumaki, though his tone had shifted, simpler, more direct. As though he'd partially removed the mask he'd worn earlier. "But fine. Let it be."
He waved his hand, then turned his gaze to the red-haired woman.
"Terumi Mei, correct?"
"Y-yes," she confirmed, still visibly tense. "Uzumaki-dono..."
"Emperor. Father. God," he cut her off just as she was about to clarify something. "Address me by one of those. Whichever you prefer."
The kunoichi's smile grew noticeably more strained as she gave a careful nod, and the speaker continued:
"Before you start peppering me with questions, and before we get to business, I'll lay out a few things. My policy. From this moment on, I am your lord. And don't worry, I have no intention of sorting people into castes. Not by birth, not by clan, not by country. I care only about qualities. Ability, character, willingness to work. This world has already spilled enough blood over someone else's surnames and titles."
The assembled guests exchanged glances, looking like they'd been dunked in ice water. They'd come hoping for something resembling a dialogue, but instead they were being handed facts, while their own role seemed to be... quietly agreeing?
And yet, beyond all that, in speaking without preamble, the Triple-Named had gone straight for the heart of the revolutionaries.
They understood that the appearance of the being before them had been a turning point for their entire country and possibly the world. It was natural to build the most terrifying theories about what awaited them. Now, without so much as a warm-up, this Emperor was drawing the lines of his vision, telling them what would be and how. And what he was saying was that yes, he would be their ruler, but nothing like the one they hated. Mei's own clan, like the families of many in this room, hadn't been burned for anything they'd done. They'd been burned for their genome. Virtually every life represented here had been shaped by the division between us and them. The promise that such a thing would no longer exist sent a jarring, dissonant tremor through them all.
They were bracing for the worst, but were handed a golden opportunity instead.
Natsuo, having finally found a scrap of composure, lifted his head. Seeing that nothing was actually being demanded of him, no further prostrations, he awkwardly climbed back to his feet.
But not everyone was so meek.
Hozuki, having finally pulled himself fully together, twitched. His clan, unlike, say, the Terumi, came from the first caste. Their ancestor had been a Mizukage himself, something they'd never stopped being proud of. They'd enjoyed certain privileges and intended to secure those privileges in the future as well. But right now, even trembling with fear, his hand moved involuntarily toward the pouch with his kunai. Then it froze, caught by Mei's look. The kind of glare that screamed at maximum volume: "Have I been hitting you in the head too hard?! Are you trying to get us all killed?! Get your hand down and stand at attention before I kill you myself!"
Reading their commander's reaction, the rest of the revolutionaries snapped to attention that much straighter, dutifully continuing to process the words of the being before them.
The Emperor, meanwhile, spoke on, paying not the slightest attention to these "childish" squabbles.
"I am immortal. I am not human. Do not compare me to yourselves or to others. I have no plans to start new wars. Quite the opposite. My interest is in a stable world where technology, medicine, fuinjutsu, and nations can develop rather than grinding people into meat. I will be living in this world for a very, very long time. It is not in my interest for it to burn every decade."
Listening to that and letting it sink in, the revolutionaries' faces took on a shade of skepticism. But then they recalled what they'd seen less than five minutes ago, and took a close look at the man speaking, and conceded that yes, the reports about this particular Uzumaki altering his own body did carry at least some truth. Given his power, immortality, and the different mode of thinking that came with it, didn't seem all that impossible.
And then, arriving at that thought, the revolutionaries took yet another gut punch. Because everything he was describing mapped so cleanly onto the aspirations of most people in this room. Every single one of them had waded through an ocean of blood. The very core of their struggle was to end the bloodshed on their own land.
"You are doing the right work. You have already begun to break the old, rotten system. That is worthy of praise. I have not come to take credit from you. I have come to ensure that what you have built does not collapse in five years under slogans disconnected from reality and under the rule of some new butcher. I will help you seize power, but in return, I ask one thing: that this power be integrated into a new order. I need your obedience."
And again... Had those gathered ever heard of Christianity, the image of the tempter serpent would have surfaced readily in their minds, so honeyed were the Emperor's words. Even despite his introduction, he hadn't opened with "I am a god here, and you are my insignificant slaves. Go stand in the corner while I handle everything." On the contrary, he'd acknowledged the revolution's contribution and invited them to become part of a larger project... Well, exactly like his speech from the platform, really.
Still, the concept of being subordinate to someone didn't sit comfortably with revolutionaries.
"Hashirama and Hiruzen wanted peace and prosperity. Both were stopped by time, by the limitations of their nature, and by the ambitions of others. I have inherited their ideals. But unlike them, I am not bound by age or convention. I will see it through."
Silence settled over the hall. Those present, gears grinding, worked to process what they'd heard.
The picture of the being before them, from the moment of their first encounter, had started coming into focus. This was no longer some impossible, unreachable deity from legend; it was more like... well, still a deity apparently, but one with goals that were more comprehensible and consistent. A being who didn't seem hostile toward them, and whose ideas didn't seem to contradict the revolution's goal of a decent life for the Land of Water. And yet something still itched. Like it was all too good. Like someone was lining them up to be royally fucked somewhere down the line.
"Now. Your questions."
With those calm words drifting through the hall again, the revolutionaries exchanged glances. Sakura on the dais continued eating her grapes with perfect serenity. Jiraiya, doing his best impression of a man with thoughts, felt distinctly out of place and clearly superfluous. His only comfort was that they hadn't thrown him out.
What followed was a rapid-fire quiz of pent-up questions, to which the blond on his lounger responded with methodical patience. He understood he was dealing with people, so he wasn't remotely surprised to find himself repeating the same points two or three times before they landed.
Natsuo, having recovered even further, asked what would happen to ordinary people. He got the predictable answer: nothing, really. The world would see fairly significant change, but they'd have good conditions to find their footing in the new social order. Especially given that, soon enough, personal strength would no longer be quite so paramount.
Jozame, whose clan sat atop the current Mist's hierarchy and who had been cast aside with Yagura's blessing, asked the obvious question about what would happen to criminals. By which, clearly, he meant Yagura and his own clan. He received a not entirely satisfying answer: in a long war, there were no "clean" sides. In the context of all the world's conflicts, even less so. No one here was clean, the Emperor included. So there would be no "perfect tribunal." Those who continued killing for the sake of fear or pleasure would be stopped, harshly. Those willing to stop and work for the good of the world would be given a chance. Not amnesty, but an opportunity to atone through action. The Emperor believed in usefulness. If a person could be useful, they'd get their shot. If not, well, too bad.
After that, it was Ao's turn. A man of sufficient pragmatism, iron nerve, and some genuine levelheadedness, he asked the pointed question: beyond simply existing in peace, what was the Emperor's actual incentive to be Emperor? He received a remarkably grounded answer: the Emperor might be powerful, but he couldn't match the combined productive output of billions of people. As Emperor, he stood to gain an enormous amount... while at the same time not condemning humanity to suffering. Because, however bad it sounded, a happy person whose basic needs were met, things like safety, food, shelter and the like, was far more effective when working on higher-order things. Art, medicine, economics. Simply because they had the time. By drawing on the fruits of a well-fed, content humanity, the Emperor himself would grow considerably stronger. And growing stronger was a necessity because of a possible future threat. He then outlined a theory he'd apparently presented before, with evidence, that while people here were busy scrambling in the mud, something from outside could arrive and wipe them all out. So the answer wasn't to keep scrambling. It was to evolve.
Duly impressed, as everyone present had been, the Byakugan's owner carefully asked what the revolution would concretely receive right now. The answer:
Protection from the Akatsuki and from neighbors, meaning other countries and hidden villages. If anyone moved against them with military force, the Emperor would intervene. Smaller conflicts, however, the revolutionaries were expected to handle themselves; that was within their capabilities and unlikely to come at a steep price.
In the not-too-distant future: sweeping domestic reforms. An end to the graduation massacres, an end to the persecution of "undesirable" clans. The establishment of new governance. Gradual restructuring in line with the changing reality: no large-scale conflicts meant dramatically easier logistics, access to any point on the planet, and a major shift in what sectors actually needed workers. A substantial number of shinobi would have to retrain into something less focused on cutting and killing and more centered on building, healing, sealing, and so forth. Alongside that, naturally, access to global knowledge in medicine, fuinjutsu, and a host of other fields, plus assistance in territorial reconstruction.
In general, the old system would not be kicked down all at once but rather transformed piece by piece. For instance, the existing treaty with Konoha would not be canceled; their food supply would continue as agreed. Cutting to the broadest possible summary, the Emperor was offering the world a boring life of stability and development.
There was, without a doubt, one more tricky question burning on everyone's tongue that no one dared voice: what guarantees were there that the being set to rule the world wouldn't simply change his mind, or decide he'd had enough peace and felt like orchestrating a massacre? Meaning, beyond his own stated interests, it would've been nice if he gave the world a kill switch, like Hashirama had done with the tailed beasts. But no. Given how Senju had ended up, and given the way everyone had been quick to exploit those "switches," expecting anyone to hand over a real lever of pressure was naive. Humanity had already demonstrated its own incompetence. Like the revolutionaries, most of them understood they were not in a position to make demands. So all they could do was hope for the reasonableness of the being before them and take solace in this: his reputation was, at present, remarkably clean? In Konoha, the Emperor had already defended the village, neutralized a bijuu, and subdued Orochimaru. He'd come here without killing anyone. And the odds of him suddenly changing his mind and letting everything spiral into a massacre were, statistically speaking, fairly low. At least in the near term.
And yet...
"I cannot simply accept all of this," Mei said carefully. "Your plans are enormous and frightening. But the words about castes, persecution, fighting for the pride of others... they strike too close to everything we're dying for. I won't give my oath on behalf of an entire nation right now. But I am willing to work and to watch what you actually do. If fewer people are dying, it will be hard for us to keep doubting you. For now, we need time."
"Time?" The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "It seems you've misunderstood. You have exactly two options."
At his words, Hozuki, who had begun the meeting with considerable fear and had since worked himself up into an unbelievable state of nerves, twitched again. Throughout the time he'd spent listening to the speeches of this being that had appeared in their country, his mind had been crumbling further and further under the weight of thoughts that tore at him. Even Mei's warning was losing its hold in his head.
"This world will change. But I will not force you to work. It will happen with you or without you. You simply shouldn't forget that you live in my world." With that, the blond's head slowly turned toward an even lighter-haired head. And no, not Jiraiya's. "Do you have something you'd like to say to me, Hozuki Umishio?"
"Your power..." the young man began, and every revolutionary in the room snapped their eyes to him. The shadow of desperation on his face did not sit well with any of them. "It isn't real, is it? Your village has the most skilled genjutsu users..."
The kid had found a thin, brittle straw connecting him to the old reality, and was gripping it with his teeth rather than fall into the new one.
"Your bravado is just... too good to be true! Do you really think it isn't obvious that you're dragging us all into some dirty scheme of yours?!"
And honestly, there was something to what Umishio was saying. The probability that any shinobi could acquire this kind of power was so vanishingly small it was essentially zero. Maybe it really was an incredibly precise genjutsu, crafted specifically for the revolution's leadership. They might even have been taken separately, one by one, to apply it this way. And maybe the entire world around them was an illusion? There was no end to the rumors about the Sharingan's ability to brainwash people. And what mattered here was that maybe this Triple-Named really didn't have his power, and they were being temporarily recruited to carry out commands convenient for the Leaf! It would be the most masterful deception in the history of humanity!
Even as he said it, Hozuki wasn't entirely sure why he'd done it. To prop up his ego? If he told himself he was inside an illusion, he could pretend to comply and then do whatever he wanted. Except right now he'd probably just made his own position worse.
The people beside him understood that too.
The Emperor listened to all of it. Then he slowly tilted his head back and looked down at the speaker.
"You dare doubt my power," he stated coldly, then extended his free hand outward.
Flash!
The revolutionaries, already stretched tight on another peak of dread, lurched when they saw that dangling from the Emperor's hand by the hair... was their comrade's head! The body collapsed to the floor.
One second, and they lurched again, each in their own way. Jozame made to surge forward; Mei moved to stop him; the rest could only watch in mute horror.
But then everyone froze like wax figures when they caught movement nearby.
Hozuki's body shuddered several times, then began to move, clumsily, unsteadily, trying to rise... without a head. Where the neck had been was something like an impossibly clean, black, paper-thin seal: a two-dimensional ellipse, smooth and flat, hiding all the shinobi's innards from view.
And when the head in question turned to face them...
"Aaaaaah!" Umishio's eyes flew open, and he let out a scream of pure terror. This despite the fact that his lungs were not, at this particular moment, connected to his mouth.
But almost immediately, the screaming lips seemed to melt and seal shut, leaving the hall in dead, total silence.
"Silence cools the mind. Grants wisdom. In one week, you will have gathered enough scraps of it, or you will be dead."
After those words, a portal opened several meters from the Emperor's lounger. By the color of the water, it led to the Kanashi Ocean to the south. A moment later, the head sailed through, the Hozuki Kekkei Genkai transforming it into water midair, where it surfaced as a formless, translucent shape on the waves. The portal closed.
"As for the rest of you: also one week. More than sufficient to verify my authenticity. If I do not see your compliance, this land will find itself another administrator. You're dismissed."
Uzumaki Naruto's POV
With a cold expression fixed in place, I watched the revolutionaries file out of the hall, eyes bugging out, leading one headless body between them.
Displeasure crept onto my face.
Jiraiya had been wrong; my mood hadn't been bad going in. I'd had a plan: stay cold, no jokes, project the kind of regal aura that makes people fall in line rather than theorize. A lot of thought had gone into it. This temple, for one, which had required me to go through upwards of a thousand academic papers on architecture before I built the thing with my own hands. The look, for another: exposed muscles designed to subconsciously press on people's minds. And yet... it still wasn't enough. Someone still crawled out of the woodwork, cooked up conspiracy theories, and twisted everything to make it look like one big scam, as if he, bright boy, had caught me red-handed.
Said bright boy had quite a swim ahead of him. Not one hour. Not even twenty. Excellent time to reflect on his behavior.
To be fair, by all accounts, this Hozuki wasn't stupid. He'd made it to the leadership of the revolution, and he ran his clan. The kid's nerves had just snapped.
"I thought he'd hold it together," Sakura sighed nearby. "They were so composed at first. You made a good impression, Naruto. But looks like you overdid it..."
"Yeah," I agreed. "But honestly, Terumi had them well drilled. Except for the one. So they're not like... any of the Sannin. Right, Jiraiya?"
I directed that at the man who'd stayed behind, whose every team member had taken a beating from me at some point.
He let out a sigh.
"This isn't how I pictured it... the end of the eternal cycle of hatred."
"Generations will pass before human nature actually changes. Unfortunately, this is only the twilight of the old ways. Not the end."
The Sage started making sounds again, this time closer to grumbling.
"Like Mei said, all these changes... they look terrifying. Naruto... aren't you afraid of becoming too inhuman?"
His question earned a raised eyebrow from me.
"Old man, you're being dramatic. Making up crap. Thinking a lot is fine, sure. But action is what gets results. Now go on, get drunk at a bar or whatever you need after all this."
"Yeah..." He turned and took my advice.
My eyes slid toward Sakura, who had more to say.
"What we're doing is just 'freaking incredible,' as Karin would put it. I'm so glad I can have a hand in something like this. And so grateful I have the chance..."
"Oh, come on." I waved it off, a little embarrassed, and pushed myself to a sitting position. "My treasure. I'm glad I found you too..."
"My role is clear to me now... Working with these revolutionaries will be easier for me specifically. They're not as afraid of me."
"Exactly. But they'll need to get used to me too, eventually. For now, though, I'll have to put the load on you..."
We exchanged a few more mutually flustered sentences, weaving business talk into the warmth between us. Then, standing up, we went over once more what we intended to do in the near future. Because this particular appearance had been about far more than just the revolution.
Afterward, making my way down the corridor, I smirked.
"Didn't hand them over after all," flashed through my mind. According to my reliable sources, Mei had brought a certain scroll with her. And inside that scroll were several cakes prepared specifically for me. She'd apparently been too rattled by how bizarre the situation was to remember. A pity. Had she presented those upfront, I might've been kinder to them. "Ah well, what's done is done. As for this plan... I hope the provocation works. Because if it does, we earn their trust and become a local hero in one move. After that, getting compliance should cause minimal problems."
Deep Night. Interlude. Karatachi Yagura
The young-looking man sat in his residence, face unreadable, listening to the animated report of a spy. The spy, jabbing at what appeared to be someone's hand-drawn icon of a man on a platform, launched into what bordered on a fanatic's account of how, on the western edge of the country, something close to a deity had materialized, had already spoken with the revolutionaries, and that by all indicators, the latter were on the verge of falling into line.
What was more, even setting that aside, the revolution had secured enormous backing from the sudden, entirely unexpected arrival of a Konoha delegation. One of the Legendary Sannin. And the Nine-Tails' jinchuuriki...
"I need to be very careful," moved through Karatachi's mind. "I need to reach out to the Leaf immediately. Try to pull them to our side. As for the revolution, I need to urgently prepare sabotage operations, weaken them as much as possible. And then..."
But Yagura's rational train of thought was not destined to continue on those tracks. A shinobi who had been watching from the shadows stepped forward and dropped both the spy and the Mizukage simultaneously into a Sharingan genjutsu.
Moments later, by the will of a certain masked Uchiha, Yagura initiated an emergency mobilization. He had "suddenly changed his mind" and decided that the shinobi of the Mist needed to move right now to break the alliance between the revolution and Konoha before it could solidify.
Instead of careful, measured action in the Village's best interest, Kiri would now be throwing itself into an enormous gamble. All for the purpose of testing the capabilities and hidden cards of a certain entity that had turned out to be inconveniently powerful.
The Akatsuki's shadow leader had grown tired of sacrificing his inner circle of pawns. Yagura, besides, had more than served his purpose. In the near future, his fate was to become a sacrifice for the empty husk of the Ten-Tails regardless. At least this way, he'd be useful for a little longer.
The Following Morning
Mei sat in silence with the revolution's leadership in the meeting room. At this particular moment, no negotiating was happening; they were hearing out the accounts and perspectives of various people from within the movement.
"So I'm standing on deck, watching this temple," said a scruffy-looking captain of a fishing vessel. "And I couldn't move a finger, I'm telling you, not while He was talking. And when this... God raised everything, I absolutely lost it! I had a side angle on it, see, so my eyes could still move! And when He raised His hands, it wasn't just the water nearby that went up. The whole ocean rose! All the way to the horizon! I thought: he lets go and that's it, the city's done! That kind of tsunami would've wiped everything to hell. But no, He held it! And set it down smooth..."
"Understood, Tuchiyo-san. That's enough," Mei noted without emotion. The man bowed and left.
Sitting with everything she'd seen and heard, the kunoichi found it genuinely difficult to piece together adequate thoughts.
That speech... the Emperor's. It had simply been too piercing. His words had landed somewhere deep in Mei's soul, as if he'd been very well informed about her and the revolution. And at the same time, she both wanted and didn't want to believe Umishio's theory: that they'd been trapped in a genjutsu, and that the reality around them was just an illusion. But the very thought terrified her, because it meant they were completely helpless.
The woman addressed those present:
"Your thoughts?"
"This is totally fucked," Jozame offered concisely. He received looks suggesting he'd just stated the most obvious thing in the room.
"It's unlikely to be genjutsu," Ao noted. "The Byakugan can't be fooled that way."
"Maybe we're each just a piece of someone else's genjutsu," Chojuro said thoughtfully. He'd somehow ended up in the room as well. "In that case, none of us can be trusted."
"We are not in an illusion!" Ao snapped.
"That's exactly what you'd say if you wanted to convince us otherwise!" the boy shot back, refusing to yield.
"People in genjutsu are rarely capable of critical thinking. And you're thinking way too much!"
After that pointed rebuttal, Chojuro's brief flare of courage fizzled out. Finding no comeback, he simply deflated.
"An illusion is called reality if they're indistinguishable," Mittei said with complete detachment.
"Alright," Mei cut in. "Ao is right. A genjutsu this long and this detailed is too unlikely. We proceed on the assumption that this is real, but we stay cautious. I'll go first: the ideas laid out by that shinobi from Konoha are extremely promising. Frightening, but achievable. Your thoughts?"
Ao, arms tucked into his sleeves, furrowed his brow.
"As always, relying on an outsider is suspect. Even if he is... that, we, shinobi of the Land of Water, can manage our own affairs."
"And how exactly are you proposing we refuse his offer?" Terumi asked, at which the shinobi's expression grew even more severe.
"Everyone has a weakness. You don't actually want us to just roll over and submit?"
"He hasn't given us any reason to doubt his word... yet," Natsuo said cautiously.
"Yet," Ao underscored.
The tension was rising. Terumi did not appreciate her advisor's implication that she wanted to humiliate her own shinobi.
"Mei-sama, Jozame..." Natsuo began carefully, and both looked at him sharply. But one of the country's most pivotal figures had to raise this, had to know how they'd act and whether anyone might pull something unexpected. "He... intends to spare Yagura, doesn't he..."
Jozame's fist clenched with barely contained fury, as a shadow moved across the woman's face.
"I think time will tell who is actually capable of redemption."
"Hm..." Jozame's mood lifted, a cold, vicious smile twisting his mouth. "People rarely change. Ah well. Too bad."
"Exactly," Mei nodded. "Our vengeance, even if diminished, will still come to pass."
Bang! The door slammed open.
Out of nowhere, the same messenger from before burst into the room. The same one...
"I-I... I-I... I-I..." he started sputtering, but catching Ao's sharp glare, he clamped his mouth shut, breathed in and out several times, and started again, slowly. "Yagura is mobilizing troops! Analysis says they're coming for us!"
The revolutionaries' faces went stone-still in response.
"Well then... We'll soon see whether those guarantees from the... Emperor... were genuine," Mei observed. "For now, full combat readiness!" Her voice cracked through the room like a whip, and everyone inside it, and everyone within two walls in every direction, straightened. "Check all approaches! Mittei! Reinforce the detonation grid on the perimeters of our projected engagement zones immediately! Jozame, get every fighter up and battle-ready! We rely on ourselves first. Right now, with home-territory advantages, our forces are enough to hold our ground without losing too badly! Ao, take command of all scouts and sensors! Report to my desk every thirty minutes! You, messenger, get to Umishio's second-in-command. Tell him to take his entire Hozuki clan and set up ambushes at all known enemy command positions! Chojuro!... Go make me some coffee."
"Yes, Mei-sama!" everyone shouted in unison, including the messenger, then scattered in every direction.
"And just like that, the quiet life is over again," the woman sighed, now alone in the room. Then, rising, she walked slowly outside.
She needed to collect a few things, then relocate with everyone else to the island where the attack would most likely hit.
But first... she had to deliver the news to this... Emperor.
_____
You can support me and read up to 20 upcoming chapters ahead of release at –> patreon.com/Welydora