Schnee hummed softly as she made her way to the kitchen, the echoes of laughter and clinking glassware lingering behind her. Tsunade and Shiro were thoroughly engrossed in their alchemical experiments, the air thick with the scent of crushed herbs and simmering potions. Despite the occasional fizzle or plume of smoke, the atmosphere remained oddly light, as if the tension from their earlier encounter had finally begun to dissipate.
But Schnee was never one to sit idly by.
What self-respecting maid would do so?
It would be the height of impropriety, and that just wouldn't do.
The kitchen was her domain, a place where magic of a different kind was woven. Unlike the dangerous potions Shiro was currently tinkering with, Schnee's magic and skill came from carefully prepared ingredients, the precise application of heat, and just the right amount of magical enhancers.
And with Tsunade, her new friend here, someone she felt was deserving of hospitality, Schnee had every reason to put her skills to work. After all, her master, Shin, had always said that a shared meal could forge bonds stronger than any oath.
"Food brings people together," he'd said with that mischievous grin of his. "But great food? Now that's how you turn a stranger into a life-long ally."
A faint smile tugged at Schnee's lips. She could practically hear his words echoing in her mind. Another echo of the past, nuggets of knowledge from her master which she will never hear again but continue to live by...
The kitchen within the Moon Sanctum wasn't lavish, but it was immaculate. Crafted from rich, dark wood, the countertops gleamed under the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Copper pots with runic script engravings hung neatly along the wall, their polished surfaces reflecting the ambient warmth. Shelves lined with exotic spices, oils, and herbs filled the air with their tantalizing aromas. Every corner of the kitchen spoke of quiet sophistication, not ostentatious wealth, but the kind of refinement that came from a love of the culinary arts.
She loved this space, it was hers, something she took utmost pride in.
Schnee stepped lightly across the polished stone floor, her boot heels making only the faintest sound. She wore her pristine maid uniform, the subtle scent of herbs clinging to the fabric. Cooking had always been a refuge for her, a delicate craft that demanded precision, patience, and care.
The ingredients she had gathered earlier rested atop the counter. The strange bear meat, unnervingly tender, caught her gaze first. Under any other circumstances, the thought of preparing unknown meat corrupted by mana or this chakra would be unsettling. But she'd assessed it carefully. Whatever taint lingered had been purified through a combination of her own magic and her unique preparations.
Now it was simply meat, though unlike any she'd ever cooked before. The marbling was unnatural, a deep crimson with a strange iridescence.
What did she expect when dealing with another world's meats?
"Corruption and degradation," she murmured thoughtfully, tracing a gloved finger along the marbled flesh. "But still edible. Fascinating."
Beside the bear meat lay venison, a lean and rich cut with the distinct scent of the wild. Every ridge of muscle told a story of the animal's struggles for survival. Then there was the wild boar, robust and fatty. She had already decided to carve it into thick steaks, perhaps a few pork loins. The distinct earthy aroma promised depth to any dish she chose to make.
A vibrant collection of greens scattered across the table like a painter's palette. Foraged from the depths of the forest, they represented a delicate balance of bitter, sweet, and herbaceous flavors.
Some were perfect for tempering the richness of the meats, while others, like the wild garlic leaves, would lend a sharp bite to enhance the savory undertones.
And then, there was this moss. Something she found near a rocky area where a stream hydrated the ground.
Schnee picked up the delicate green patch, its earthy scent mingling with the rest of the ingredients. Most people wouldn't even consider it food. But she knew better. This particular moss, with its faint notes of earth and something else, was a treasure to those who understood its worth. Used sparingly, it would provide an undertone of warmth that layered into the heart of the meal, a signature note, something that turned a good dish into an unforgettable one.
"Let's see if you live up to my expectations," she murmured, a faint smile curling her lips.
Guldrin, who had followed Schnee unnoticed, watched from the doorway, intrigued. He was no stranger to culinary prowess, but hers was something else. In fact, witnessing her cook was an experience all on its own. Every graceful movement, every flick of her wrist as she prepared the ingredients, spoke of skill far beyond simple practice. She moved with purpose, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder as she studied the textures and aromas.
It was mesmerizing, but he wouldn't admit it…
"Do you think I could assist? I would like to learn to cook as well as you." Guldrin spoke up from the side, making her smile slightly and nod.
"Of course, young master. I would gladly impart my teaching onto a willing student."
She moved with graceful efficiency, her hands deftly wielding the kitchen knife. With each slice, the meats were expertly trimmed and portioned. The rhythmic sound of the blade against the wooden cutting board echoed through the kitchen, a soothing cadence to her practiced motions.
Guldrin stepped forward, eager to learn. Schnee handed him a sharp knife and a slab of venison.
"Watch closely," she instructed. "Meat has its own language. You don't simply cut it; you read it. Feel for the grain, understand its fibers. Follow the lines, and the blade will do the rest." He gave her a skeptical look, "No, really, master made these knives beyond perfection, do it right and all else will follow."
He mimicked her movements, carefully slicing through the meat. It wasn't perfect, but Schnee nodded approvingly.
Remember, he is proficient but nowhere near on her level… Yet.
"Good. You're learning."
She then moved on to the wild boar, the thick slabs promising a burst of flavor. With a blend of herbs and a touch of salt, she prepared it for a slow sear, ensuring the natural juices would remain intact. The bear meat, tender and unnervingly soft, presented a challenge. But Schnee's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"This meat is unlike any other. Corrupted, yes, but still salvageable. With the right touch, we'll turn it into something extraordinary."
She instructed Guldrin to prepare a blend of forest herbs, spices, and oils, creating a marinade that smelled both smoky and sweet. The moss she had gathered would lend the dish a subtle earthiness, grounding the intense flavors. As she worked, Guldrin couldn't help but admire the patience and passion she poured into each step.
Next came the greens, a vibrant mix of forest leaves, roots, and flowers. Each had its purpose, bitterness to balance the richness of the meat, a citrus burst for contrast, and delicate petals for a floral undertone. Schnee explained each ingredient to Guldrin, her words flowing effortlessly.
"Cooking is a balance of control and freedom," she repeated, the words slipping from her lips like a mantra. "You follow the rules, but you also break them when your instincts demand it. Never garnish with something not meant to be eaten. The last thing you want to do is embarrass someone for eating a non-edible garnish."
Guldrin nodded, absorbing every word. There was an artistry to this, a dance of heat, timing, a lot of skill and just as much intuition. The way Schnee commanded the kitchen, the effortless precision in her movements, and the reverence she showed to every ingredient was captivating.
Finally, with everything meticulously prepped, Schnee placed the thick boar steaks onto a searing-hot cast iron pan. The sizzle erupted like a symphony, the rich aroma of fat and butter mingling with the smokiness of the meat. The scent was intoxicating, and Guldrin couldn't help but lean closer, his mouth already watering.
"Make sure your pan is hot," Schnee instructed, her voice calm but firm. "You can test it with water if there are no oils or fats. But if you're using oil, a discarded piece of meat will tell you everything. Listen to the crackle, that's your guide. Too hot, and it burns before it's done. Too cold, and it won't sear properly."
He watched as she lowered the steaks gently, their weight pressing into the pan. A golden crust began to form within moments, the butter dancing around the edges. Fresh sprigs of rosemary and thyme crackled alongside, their earthy fragrance carried on the rising steam. Schnee tilted the pan, letting the molten butter pool, then carefully spooned it over the meat. Each motion was deliberate, each step a part of the greater whole.
But while the boar demanded immediate attention, the bear meat, unnervingly tender for such a monstrous beast, needed patience. Its dark, marbled flesh glistened, saturated by a marinade of smoked paprika, crushed garlic, and wild honey. The crimson hue of the sauce had seeped deep into the fibers, promising an explosion of smoky sweetness. Finely minced moss, gathered from the shadowy undergrowth of the nearby woods, was sprinkled over the meat, adding an earthy essence that lingered in the air.
"Bear's tough if you rush it," Schnee murmured, almost to herself. "But given time, it melts like butter."
And so it did. Slowly roasting, the bear meat glistened as the marinade caramelized, juices pooling at the base of the roasting tray. The anticipation gnawed at Guldrin, but even he knew some things couldn't be rushed.
Meanwhile, the venison rested on the counter, its lean, ruby-red muscle ready for the final act. Schnee eyed it carefully, fingers brushing across the fine marbling. "Venison's delicate. Quick heat, just enough to seal in the flavor."
Guldrin's curiosity grew. "And what about bringing all of this together? Right now, it feels like a spread of multiple foods that don't fit. I'm eager to see how it turns out."
Schnee grinned, her sharp teeth flashing in amusement. "That's where the sauces come in. Each dish will stand alone, but together? They'll weave a story. The boar, bold and indulgent. The bear, dark and complex. The venison? Light, earthy. And the sauce ties it all together."
The pan drippings from the boar had already transformed into liquid gold. Schnee deglazed it with a splash of red wine, the deep aroma rising in a fragrant cloud. The alcohol sizzled away, leaving only its robust essence behind. She stirred with a wooden spoon, the reduction thickening with each pass. A touch of flour, a sprig of thyme, and a crack of black pepper completed the masterpiece.
But Schnee wasn't done. Her violet eyes gleamed as she turned to the venison. "And now," she said, "for the show."
The venison hit the pan with a hiss, a thin veil of smoke curling upward. Unlike the slow-roasted bear and the steadily caramelizing boar, the venison demanded immediate attention. Schnee's hands moved swiftly, flipping the steaks with precision. A golden crust formed, sealing in the juices. A final basting of garlic-infused butter sent waves of savory aroma cascading through the kitchen.
Then came the sauce. From a separate pot, a wild berry reduction simmered, its vibrant crimson hue like spilled wine. The tart sweetness of blackberries mingled with the sharp bite of juniper and a hint of honey. Schnee poured a drizzle over the venison, the glossy sauce cascading down the seared flesh like molten ruby.
Guldrin's eyes lingered on the feast before him, but even as his stomach rumbled, his thoughts wandered to something else. He hesitated, though the words tumbled out with a mix of excitement and sincerity.
"Can we make a fruity drink to go with it?" he asked, his voice softer now. "We've been… well, I guess the best way to put it is enslaved for the last three years. Now that we're free, I want to give Shiro and Ino something they didn't have back then. Something joyful. I'm sure Tsunade and Shizune would enjoy it as well."
Schnee's hands paused, her silver hair shimmering under the lantern's glow as she lifted her gaze to meet his. There was warmth in her expression, a flicker of understanding that needed no words.
"Of course, young master," she said softly, her voice carrying the tenderness of a promise. "A drink that celebrates freedom."
From the corner of his eye, Guldrin noticed the small yet deliberate touches Schnee added. a brush of butter, a squeeze of fresh lemon over the venison, a sprinkle of finely chopped herbs.
While the venison rested, Schnee moved on to the salad. A mixture of wild greens, vibrant and alive, filled the rustic wooden bowl. Bitter dandelion leaves contrasted with the sweetness of delicate wild violets. Tart red berries were tossed in, their juices brightening the greens. For the dressing, she whisked honey with aged vinegar, balancing the sharpness with a touch of sweetness. A drizzle of golden oil sealed the dish with a glossy sheen.
Guldrin was learning she really likes to cook with honey.
As the final touch, Schnee fetched the bundle of fragrant herbs she had set aside. The delicate stems and leaves, still glistening, released a refreshing, earthy scent as she twisted them deftly into a decorative garnish.
"These are edible, I would even highly recommend eating them sparsely throughout the meal." She explained to him, it was a subtle yet elegant nod to the forest from which their meal had come. Every detail mattered to her. According to her, the presentation was a homage to nature's gifts and a reflection of her respect for the ingredients.
Guldrin, observing from across the counter, couldn't help but admire the dedication she poured into every step. There was something mesmerizing about how Schnee moved in the kitchen, a graceful, practiced rhythm, each action flowing seamlessly into the next. Her silver hair cascaded like silk, swaying gently as she worked. Even the faint hum she emitted under her breath added to the atmosphere, a lullaby of contentment.
"For the drink," she mused, her violet eyes gleaming with inspiration, "I have just the idea."
She stepped away, her footsteps light against the polished wooden floor. From a small shelf nestled against the wall, she withdrew a jar of preserved wild fruits. Inside, something golden and peach-like, plump blackberries looking fruits, and deep crimson berries gleamed like precious jewels, suspended in their own glistening syrup. The colors alone were enough to spark anticipation.
"Beautiful," Guldrin remarked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But why do I feel those fruits are magical in nature?"
Schnee's smile deepened, a playful glint in her eyes. "Because they are. I may not wish to serve meat from my world, but fruits? They nourish any mage, warrior, or anything in between." Her voice softened, almost reverent. "They will help with the foundations of your bodies. Master always said it was like a slow-ticking, permanent buff with continuous use."
"A buff, huh?" Guldrin's brow lifted. "So, even a drink can make us stronger?"
"Precisely," she replied, retrieving a sturdy wooden bowl and pouring the luscious fruits inside. Their juices mingled, painting the bottom of the bowl with swirling hues of gold, black and crimson. "But strength isn't simply muscle. It's clarity. Endurance. Even resilience of the mind. Trust me, these fruits do wonders for beginners."
With deft hands, she crushed the fruit gently, her fingertips lightly stained with the rich, fragrant nectar. The juices flowed, vibrant and full of life. Next, she plucked a bundle of fresh mint leaves from a nearby jar. She bruised them carefully between her palms, releasing a burst of invigorating aroma that filled the room.
"A bit of honey," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "For warmth."
"You really like honey, don't you?"
She nods, "Honey is magical, it never spoils, is filled with mana, and complements most creations. I have so many different types which I have harvested over the many years, don't worry, we won't run out."
From a small ceramic pot, she drizzled the golden nectar into the cup. It cascaded in lazy ribbons, blending effortlessly with the fruit's natural sweetness. Finally, she added crystal-clear mana spring water, its surface shimmering as it met the vibrant mixture. Tiny bubbles clung to the sides of the glass, like stars suspended in the night sky.
No, really, they sparkle, it's crazy.
Schnee held her hands above the bowl, mana thrumming softly around her fingertips. A light frost crept along the edges of the mixing bowl and cups, ice blooming like delicate vines. Slowly, the drink cooled, the swirling colors deepening as the flavors mingled. It was no ordinary chill. The ice formed from her magic was imbued with a subtle touch of rejuvenation. One of her many specialties.
Guldrin couldn't believe what he was seeing, and even more so, he was more confused that he could instinctually understand what she is doing, not to mention what its effects would be.
"It will be ready by the time we serve," Schnee announced, setting the frosted bowl and cups on the polished countertop.
Throwing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Guldrin's grin widened. "I can't wait."
With the drink complete, Schnee turned her attention back to the final preparations. The boar steaks had been seared to a perfect golden brown, their edges crisp and caramelized. A fragrant butter glaze dripped down the sides, mingling with the herbs she had basted them with. The bear meat, roasted slowly and infused with her carefully crafted marinade, had developed a crust so dark and glossy it looked almost lacquered. It was a sight that would have made even the most seasoned chef envious.
But it was the venison that drew the most anticipation.
"The venison is delicate," Schnee explained, her gaze flickering to the lean slabs of meat resting beside her. "Overcooking would be unforgivable. It deserves care. Now, you saw how I did it, now it is your turn"
She retrieved a cast-iron skillet, placing it over the open flame. The pan hissed as it heated, eager for the meat it would soon hold. With a careful hand, she seasoned the venison with a blend of crushed juniper berries, black pepper, and a sprinkle of salt. The aroma was immediate, woodsy, sharp, and tantalizing.
"You know what? Sure," Guldrin said, stepping beside her, "I wouldn't mind trying my hand at it."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Very well. But I will be watching. Impress me, young master."
Guldrin stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves with dramatic flair. He grasped the carefully seasoned venison, savoring the cool weight of it. The flames danced beneath the skillet, the heat radiating upward in waves. With a deliberate motion, he laid the meat into the pan. The immediate sizzle was music to his ears.
"Not too soon," Schnee instructed, her voice firm yet patient. "Let it sear. It will tell you when it's ready."
The venison responded, the edges curling as the sear took hold. Guldrin watched intently, inhaling the intoxicating blend of herbs and meat. Slowly, he tilted the pan, allowing the melted fat to pool along the edge. Using a spoon, he basted the meat, coating it in the rich, aromatic liquid.
"Perfect," Schnee praised softly, her voice like a gentle hum that only added to the warmth of the kitchen.
Guldrin had learned long ago that the more his Intelligence increased, the easier it is to remember what he has seen, deconstruct it, and replicate it.
The satisfaction in Guldrin's grin was undeniable. He had learned much under Schnee's watchful gaze. Her instructions had been precise, her patience unwavering. Every correction she offered, every careful demonstration, had only fueled his determination.
Finally, as the last dish was plated and the drinks chilled to perfection, the meal was complete. The table was a feast of vibrant colors, and intoxicating aromas awaiting them, adorned with rustic charm. The golden boar steaks gleamed beneath the warm lantern light, each piece perfectly seared and glistening with juices. The bear meat, bold and enticing, rested upon a bed of fragrant greens, the mysterious moss lending its earthy complexity. The venison, sliced into perfect medallions, bled with juices as rich as wine.
He was quite proud of their combined efforts.
"I will go downstairs and let them know the food is done," Guldrin said, stepping back to admire their work. His hands tingled from the lingering heat of the kitchen, but the satisfaction far outweighed any discomfort.
"We haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I got the shop, summoned it, and since then we've been waiting. You went out to gather ingredients and then returned with Tsunade and Shizune, not to mention her pig." He smirked, the memory of the strange scene making him chuckle.
"That pig has more personality than half the people I've met," Schnee replied, her tone amused.
He nodded in agreement and turned to leave, but a sudden voice echoed in his mind.
'Check the training room if you are looking for Ino.' Emily's voice was brief and distant, like a fleeting breeze.
'Thanks, I guess.' Guldrin mentally replied, though the curiosity stirred within him. What was Ino up to now?
With his plans in mind, he exited the kitchen. The lingering aroma of the feast followed him, but the sense of anticipation propelled him forward.
The Moon Sanctum was vast yet strangely intimate, its dark wooden corridors illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. The walls bore subtle carvings, whispers of the past etched into the grain. Each step echoed lightly, the warmth of the hearth at his back gradually fading as he descended the spiral staircase.
First, he made his way to the alchemy room. The basement door stood slightly ajar, and the muffled sound of conversation drifted from within. Peering inside, he found Shiro standing at a polished table, a glint of excitement in her violet eyes. The shimmering vials and bubbling flasks before her spoke of experiments in progress.
Tsunade, leaning in with her arms crossed, watched with curiosity. Shizune stood nearby, Ton-Ton resting comfortably in her arms. The pig gave a content snort, as though perfectly pleased with its surroundings.
Most people would be if they were in Ton-Ton's place.
"Ladies," Guldrin greeted with a playful bow. "Dinner is ready, and I can assure you, it's a feast you won't forget."
"It's about time," Tsunade remarked, though the faintest hint of amusement tugged at her lips. "I've been watching Shiro concoct whatever mysterious potions she's been brewing. Not a single drink for me."
Shiro chuckled softly. "You wouldn't want to drink these, believe me."
"Doesn't mean I couldn't have been given something else. You expect me to take having my world over turned... Sober?"
"Come on," Guldrin shook his head and beckoned. "The table's set. There will be plenty to drink at dinner."
Before Guldrin could lead everyone to the dining hall, there was one last person he had to gather.
The training room stood in stark contrast to the lively warmth of the kitchen. Here, the air was heavy with exertion, the faint scent of sweat and sharpened steel clinging to the wooden beams. The door creaked slightly as Guldrin pushed it open, revealing the vast space within.
"It's bigger on the inside…'
'Yes, the rules of this room are fundamentally different from anything you have encountered before' Alisa for the first time in a while spoke before going quiet again.
'A Tardis would be cool, I wonder if master left the knowledge to make this room behind… I should really look through everything I was given…'
Looking inside, he was pleased with what he saw… Wooden dummies lined the far walls, each one bearing the scars of repeated strikes, jagged cuts, splintered limbs, and the unmistakable indentations of impact.
And in the center of it all, bathed in the soft glow of flickering lantern light, was Ino.
Her golden hair clung to her skin, damp with the exertion of relentless training. Dressed only in her underclothes, her toned frame moved fluidly, a striking combination of grace and deadly precision. Her kunai flashed under the light as she twisted and dodged, each motion practiced, every strike deliberate. She was refining herself, carving her skill into something sharper, deadlier. She had grown up in root, now that she was free, she would hone the skills she learned and wield them for what she wants.
Guldrin leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching. He'd always had an appreciation for those who could handle themselves in a fight, but there was something particularly mesmerizing about watching someone completely in their element. There was a beauty in the way she moved, controlled, purposeful, confident. He idly mused that there was just something about a girl who could kill with the best of them. That thought should probably be alarming, but instead, it only made him grin.
'Wait… that's a dangerous thought process to have. Ah, screw it. I like what I like. Bite me.'
"Ino," Guldrin called, his voice cutting through the rhythmic sound of her kunai slicing through the air.
She didn't stop immediately, finishing the motion she had begun, a final twist, a sharp thrust of her weapon, before finally lowering her hand. Her chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths as she turned to face him. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, her eyes sharp and focused.
"You're finally here," she said, voice steady despite her exertion.
"Yeah, and dinner's ready," Guldrin replied with an easy smirk. "You've earned it."
For a moment, Ino remained still, her eyes locked onto his as if debating whether she was ready to leave her training unfinished. Then, slowly, she ran a hand through her hair, brushing a damp strand from her face. The rigid determination in her gaze softened just slightly at the mention of food.
"Even I, who assisted in making it, am highly expectant for this meal."
She didn't need to be convinced further. With a nod, she retrieved her kunai, grabbed a nearby cloth to wipe her sweat, and followed him.
"No, Clean," Shiro muttered seeing the smelly and sweaty Ino trail behind Guldrin, she cast a cleaning spell on her to which she received a thankful nod which she returned.
Nothing else needed to be said as they made their way back, the sounds of last minute work by Schnee being the only sound other than the crackling hearth.
Once inside, the reaction was immediate.
Shiro was the first to approach, her presence like a ghostly breeze. Silent as ever, she moved with a graceful fluidity, the lingering scent of herbs and alchemical tinctures still clinging to her. Her vibrant golden eyes surveyed the table, a flicker of curiosity dancing within them. Without a word, she picked up a plate, her delicate fingers tracing the edge thoughtfully before selecting an assortment of the greens and the slow-roasted bear meat.
The sight of her choosing food, something so simple, yet so symbolic of comfort and peace, brought a quiet satisfaction to Guldrin. It angered him that after tonight they would have to relocate again.
Tsunade, however, was far from reserved. She arched a brow, her sharp gaze sweeping over the lavish spread. Arms crossed, she exuded the air of someone who had seen, and tasted a great deal in her time.
Yet there was no mistaking the appreciation in her expression. The sheer scale of the meal, combined with the unmistakable aroma of expertly prepared meats, was enough to soften even the most scrutinizing eye.
"Now this," she declared, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth, "is impressive."
Shizune, always the more expressive of the two, let out a delighted gasp. Her eyes sparkled as she eagerly stepped forward, hands hovering over the selection like a child unable to decide which treat to try first. "It smells incredible!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with genuine awe.
Schnee, standing with an air of composed elegance, bowed her head ever so slightly. Though her gesture was modest, the pride that flickered across her expression was undeniable. "I hope it meets your expectations," she said smoothly. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid moonlight, the faint scent of the forest still clinging to her from the earlier foraging. She turned her attention to Tsunade, her gaze unwavering as a small, knowing smile curved her lips. "I took the liberty of placing a full bottle of peach liquor at your seat. Please, enjoy. Once you've had a few drinks, I imagine you'll have a fair number of questions."
Tsunade's gaze flicked to the bottle. It was elegant in design, its glass surface etched with delicate swirling patterns that glinted beneath the lantern's glow. The amber liquid within shifted lazily as she lifted it, testing its weight with an approving nod. A slow grin spread across her face, the promise of indulgence lighting up her eyes. "Now you're speaking my language," she quipped, a deep chuckle rumbling in her chest.
Guldrin shook his head with a bemused grin as he pulled out a chair and sat. "Schnee, you really know how to bribe people." He wasn't afraid of telling Tsunade what it was, after all, they had been rather open since the beginning, why change that now?
"I simply understand the art of hospitality," Schnee replied, her tone playful as she poured herself a chilled glass of the vibrant fruit drink. The liquid swirled gently, the vivid colors of crushed berries and peaches blending into an enticing symphony of sweetness.
As everyone settled into their seats, the air thickened with anticipation. Plates were filled, cups lifted, and for a brief moment, the only sounds were those of clinking utensils and the muffled hums of appreciation. The first bites brought a wave of satisfaction, the flavors bursting across their palates with an undeniable richness. Each ingredient had been perfectly chosen, every note of seasoning expertly balanced.
The boar steak was tender, its golden crust crackling beneath the knife's edge as juices pooled onto the plate. The bear meat, slow-roasted to perfection, offered a robust and earthy savoriness, subtly accented by the delicate hints of moss and forest herbs. Even the venison, with its deep red hue and wine-basted exterior, melted in the mouth, leaving behind the lingering warmth of smoked rosemary.
Tsunade, already halfway through her second drink, finally leaned back with a satisfied sigh. The liquor had warmed her veins, a comforting burn spreading through her chest. She swirled the remaining liquid in her glass thoughtfully before raising her gaze to Schnee and Guldrin. "Alright," she began, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "I'll bite. What's your story? I mean, you told me about your master, but conveniently left out some details."
The question hung in the air like a challenge, not hostile, but firm. A demand for clarity.
"Where did you, or this place, come from? Why can you use magic if you say people of our elemental nations are stunted? And finally…" She paused for a moment, contemplating her next words, before shaking her head. "No, that's it for now."
She tipped her glass back, savoring the last drop of her drink before reaching for the bottle once more.
Schnee chuckled softly, the sound as light as the rustling leaves outside. She held her glass delicately, swirling the drink in thought. "Your curiosity is well-earned," she acknowledged. "Though I fear my answers may only lead to further questions."
"That's the fun part," Tsunade quipped, pouring herself another generous helping of the peach liquor. The rich golden liquid swirled in her glass, casting a warm glint beneath the lantern light. There was something deeply satisfying about the way the bottle poured, smooth and deliberate, as though even the liquor itself relished the opportunity to be savored.
Guldrin smirked, resting his elbow on the sturdy wooden table as he continued to scarf down food. The aroma of roasted meat and forest herbs still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of honeyed berries from the drinks.
He wasn't particularly fond of liquor himself, but seeing Tsunade indulge brought a strange sort of amusement. "And besides," he added, his grin widening, "I'm sure the more you drink, the better the answers will sound."
Tsunade, with the air of a veteran who'd seen through more nonsense than most people could fathom, pointed a finger at him in mock accusation. "Careful, brat. I may be enjoying this meal, but I'm still sharp enough to tell when someone's trying to dodge a straight answer."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess," Guldrin replied with a playful grin. "I know better than to underestimate you."
The title didn't go unnoticed. Tsunade gave a huff, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Flattery won't get you far," she warned, though the slight curl of her lips suggested otherwise.
Schnee, ever composed, took a delicate sip from her glass, she didn't want a repeat of before, so she paced herself. The sweetness of the drink lingered on her tongue, a perfect complement to the savory richness of the meal. Setting it down, she ran her fingers along the rim absentmindedly before her voice, smooth and steady, carried across the table.
"The Moon Sanctum," she began, "is not bound to any one place. It exists in many realms, yet belongs to none. It is… a sanctuary, a haven for those who have traversed worlds and bear the weight of their journeys. But in reality, we are a store, a potion shop, a general store, and a blacksmith."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed slightly. "Traversed worlds?"
Schnee inclined her head, her silver hair shimmering under the soft glow of the lanterns. "There are countless worlds beyond your own. Some resemble yours in striking ways. Others are twisted echoes, ruled by laws far removed from reason. I am a traveler between them."
'Nice story fabrication, I am impressed. It's all true, but doesn't explain much,' Guldrin thought, his mind brushing against Schnee's presence.
'I am rather experienced with the art of deception and misdirection, young master,' Schnee responded, the satisfaction evident in her mental tone.
Shizune, who had been quietly observing until now, shifted in her seat, her brows furrowed in curiosity. "And the magic? You said the people of our world are 'stunted'… What does that mean?"
Schnee's silver eyes softened, though a note of restrained pity flickered within them. "As I said before, it is like this place is isolated, hidden, or forgotten by anything divine. You don't even have a system…"
Guldrin, breaking the tension, raised his fork lazily, still savoring the lingering taste of the roasted bear meat. "Actually, to be fair, most worlds don't have a system. Your original world was special, as I'm sure you know. Though…"
He paused, his brows knitting slightly as the thought settled deeper. "Your guess about this place being isolated feels correct. I'm not sure why, but it does feel constricted. I have yet to reach the level of power required to figure it out, but something just feels off. Like the whole sky is false, everything but that moon…?"
Shiro, ever perceptive, gave a slight nod. She had felt it too, that gnawing sensation that the world around them was not entirely what it seemed. It was like staring at a beautiful painting, but realizing too late that the shadows didn't fall quite right. The false serenity. The unsettling stillness. She had no proof, nothing tangible to cling to, but the feeling had taken root nonetheless.
Tsunade leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass thoughtfully. "You're saying this entire world is… what? Caged?"
"Perhaps," Schnee said, her voice low. "Or perhaps it is merely severed. Cut off from the greater weave of existence. A stagnant pond, untouched by the river's current."
Shizune frowned. "But why would anyone do that?"
"Safety? Control? Fear?" Guldrin listed the possibilities off with a shrug. "If you lock something away, it's either because you want to protect it… or you're afraid of what it could become."
The table fell into a contemplative silence, save for the occasional clink of a fork or the gentle slosh of liquor or fruit drink against glasses. There was an unspoken heaviness in the air, the weight of unknown truths pressing down on them.
Tsunade, never one to brood for long, tossed back the last of her drink in a fluid motion, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. The amber liquid sloshed briefly in her glass before she set it down with a soft clink, a slight flush coloring her cheeks as the alcohol worked its magic.
The warmth of the drink spread through her, igniting the fire of her bold spirit even further. "Well," she said, her voice taking on that familiar confident edge she wore like armor, "I'll worry about the sky being fake after another round. Maybe two. Or three."
The look on her face was one of determination and mischief, the kind that said she wasn't going to let something as trivial as existential questions get in the way of her having a good time.
Guldrin smirked at the defiant gleam in her eyes. He'd seen her drink in the anime, but there was something about seeing it in person, he enjoyed seeing her let loose.
"Now that's the spirit," he quipped, leaning back in his chair, watching her with a bemused expression.
Schnee, who had been quietly observing the exchange, let out a rare chuckle. The sound was melodic, almost ethereal, and it added a strange warmth to the atmosphere of the room. Her usually composed demeanor shifted slightly, her lips curving upward in a smile. "Then perhaps I should introduce you to our higher end wine reserve," she said, her tone teasing as she poured herself another drink. "It's aged for over a century and infused with trace elements of mana. Quite… invigorating."
Tsunade's eyes gleamed with renewed interest. The idea of a wine so old it carried with it a hint of magic was enough to pique her curiosity beyond measure. She hadn't had a drink quite like that before, even chakra sake was so-so, and the idea of indulging in something so unusual was enough to spark her adventurous spirit even more.
"Now you're really speaking my language, if it is anything like this drink, then I welcome it." Tsunade replied, a sly grin forming on her face as she leaned forward, clearly eager to try it.
The night was young, and the conversation was flowing as easily as the drinks. They had long since finished their meal, the plates cleared away by an attentive maid, Schnee was seamless and efficient. It was a quiet, peaceful moment, with only the soft crackle of a nearby fire to keep them company as they exchanged stories, thoughts, and ideas.
Tsunade took another generous sip from her glass, her mind buzzing from the alcohol and the strange, unfathomable mysteries surrounding them. After a brief pause, she furrowed her brow, as though a thought had finally solidified in her mind. Her voice, when she spoke again, was tinged with an uncharacteristic seriousness.
"Actually, now that I think of it…" she began, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though trying to recall something buried in the recesses of her memory. "The only being in the world's history that could even remotely fit your description of a power trying to stunt our world, would have to be the Sage of Six Paths. He is the only person strong enough if myths can be believed."
Guldrin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He had heard the name before, but didn't know much about the individual behind the title. He was about to ask for more details when Tsunade continued.
"Not much is known about him," she continued, leaning in as though she were about to reveal a great secret. "But he's like the ninja god. Some say he created ninjutsu or something like that. He had two kids, and they were important for reasons I can't exactly remember. But he's the closest thing the ninja world has to a true god."
The more Tsunade spoke, the more fascinated Guldrin became. He had heard bits and pieces of the legend of the Sage of Six Paths, but he didn't know how much of it was true, or if it was just a myth that had been embellished over time. Regardless, he found himself drawn to the idea of a being so powerful and revered that they could shape the very fabric of the world around them. The fact that Tsunade had mentioned him with such reverence only added weight to the story.
Where there is smoke, usually fire isn't far behind.
"You know nothing else about this guy?" Guldrin asked, his curiosity piqued.
Shiro, who had been unusually quiet up until this point, suddenly spoke up in Guldrin's mind, her voice light but laced with a touch of teasing. 'Um, I know a bit about him,' she chimed in mentally through the system. 'He's like the guiding hand of the ninja world. He created ninjutsu, or something like that. Oh, he made the tailed beasts from something called the Ten-Tails, and may or may not be the one feeding the toads their prophecies. He had two kids who were, as Tsunade said, important for reasons I can't remember. This anime was ancient when I was interested… I didn't think I would need to know everything…'
Guldrin couldn't help but chuckle at Shiro's dry tone. It was clear that she didn't have much interest in this particular topic, but her knowledge on the subject was surprisingly more extensive than she let on. At some point, he was going to need to pry that knowledge out of her.
'Yeah, yeah,' Guldrin muttered in his mind, addressing Shiro's response. 'Thanks for the cliff notes, but I'd rather hear more from Tsunade. It sounds like there's more to this Sage than meets the eye, and as someone who lived in this world, she might have a unique outlook, something we couldn't learn from an anime.'
Tsunade, who had been watching the expressive exchange with a bemused expression, leaned back in her chair once more, clearly enjoying the conversation which she couldn't hear, "Well," she began, "not much is known for sure. But some of the stories say that the Sage of Six Paths was born with a power unlike anything the world had ever seen before. It's said that he possessed the ability to manipulate chakra, to shape reality itself using his will. Some say he even created the first jutsu, the very foundation of ninjutsu as it exists today. But that's all just myth."
'Yup, totally a myth,'
Tsunade's tone had grown more reflective now, her sharp gaze unfocused, as though she were contemplating the true nature of the legend she had just recounted. She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, watching as it clung to the sides before sinking back into the rest. For a moment, the flickering lantern light seemed to dance along the rim, casting shadows that ebbed and flowed like memories forgotten by time.
"He had two kids around the same age, or twins?" she said again, her voice lowering slightly. "Not much is known about them… History was lost, or hidden. Maybe both."
The weight of her words lingered, a tangible unease that pressed against the edges of the room. The idea of the Sage of Six Paths, a being of unimaginable power, leaving behind such an ambiguous legacy gnawed at something deep within Guldrin. It didn't sit right. Not one bit.
"So," Guldrin finally spoke, his brows furrowing. "You had this all-powerful being, capable of miracles, and yet your world is still at war? I don't buy it. Why didn't he forbid fighting? Unify the world, or anything of that nature, I am sure he saw the perpetual cycle of pointless distractions…"
Tsunade arched a brow but said nothing, curious as to where his thoughts were headed. Guldrin wasn't done.
"He created ninjutsu, but somehow he never stumbled upon mana? Bullshit. And the fact that the people here are reliant on hand seals and shouting out attack names like it's some dramatic performance, who does that benefit, really? It's like… it's like there's a damn template for failure, a forced limit."
The words tumbled out in a relentless stream, frustration tightening his jaw. "If I wanted to cripple a world's potential, to stop them from ever reaching true power, that's exactly how I'd do it. I'd make them dependent on inefficient techniques. Make everything flashy, easy to counter. Keep them distracted. Scary thoughts…"
He trailed off, his mind spiraling as pieces of a disturbing puzzle snapped into place. The Sage of Six Paths wasn't just some forgotten deity or mythical figure, he was dangerous. Manipulative. And if Guldrin's suspicions were correct, the Sage might be the biggest thorn in his side, even from beyond the grave, if he ever died.
Schnee watched him, her expression unreadable, though a flicker of amusement danced in her violet eyes. "An interesting theory," she said at last, the smoothness of her voice offering little indication of her own thoughts. "But if what you suspect is true, then the question remains, why?"
"Control," Guldrin spat without hesitation. "If you fear what a world can become, the easiest way to ensure it never reaches that potential is by controlling its growth. Twist its beliefs. Feed it just enough power to keep it content, but never enough to question the ceiling above its head."
Schnee nodded slowly, her delicate fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "And the ceiling grows stronger with every generation. Fear becomes tradition. Limitation becomes law. Why question what has been done for years, by their grandparents parents?"
"That's the worst part," Guldrin muttered. "It's self-perpetuating. People cling to what they're taught because it's all they know. No one thinks to break the chains because they've been convinced the chains are necessary."
Tsunade frowned, though whether it was at Guldrin's words or the implications behind them, it was hard to tell. She didn't like the idea of someone, something, intentionally suppressing the potential of her people. But the concept itself rang uncomfortably true. Even in her own life, she'd witnessed countless Shinobi die believing they were fighting for the greater good, never questioning the foundations their world was built upon.
"And what would you do about it?" she finally asked, her voice tinged with the challenge she so often carried.
Guldrin's eyes darkened, a glint of determination burning beneath the surface. "I'd break it."
The words were simple. Absolute. But there was a gravity to them that made the air feel heavier. He wasn't just talking about dismantling outdated systems or challenging stagnant beliefs. No, he intended to tear down whatever false reality had been imposed on this world and expose the truth that lay beneath.
And to do that, he needed to get stronger. Fast.
But strength wasn't just a matter of physical power. Knowledge was its own form of strength, and right now, there were far too many unanswered questions.
"I need to know more about this Sage of Six Paths," Guldrin said, his voice calmer now but no less resolute. "Anything that's left. Stories, records, whatever scraps of truth still exist."
Tsunade leaned back, resting her elbows on the table as she considered him. "It's not like the libraries of Konoha are going to have the answers you're looking for. Most of what we know is legend, passed down through clans that claim some distant tie to the Sage."
"Then I'll find another way."
Shiro, who had been silent until now, spoke through the mental link, her tone laced with amusement. 'You sure like making enemies out of long-dead gods.'
'Yeah, well, dead or not, he sure seems to be causing a lot of problems.'
Shiro's laughter echoed softly in his mind, though there was an unmistakable tinge of concern beneath it. 'Just… be careful. If your theory's right, you're poking a sleeping dragon.'
Guldrin replied dryly. "Maybe it's about time it woke up. I didn't come to this world just to be manipulated like some pawn on a chessboard. If that's the game, I'd rather flip the damn table."
He leaned back, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against the side of his chair. Ideas churned in his mind, dark and deliberate. "If this so-called Sage wants the world to remain trapped in endless conflict, why not break that? Make everything unpredictable. Introduce new pursuits, weapons for the weak, entertainment, medical supplements, there are so many things we could do. Kill the cycle of war by shattering the pieces that fuel it."
Tsunade's golden eyes narrowed slightly. "And how exactly would you do that?"
Guldrin's grin was sharp, filled with a dangerous kind of amusement. "Simple. Disregarding disrupting the technology level, then… Show the world what a real assassin is like. No flashy jutsu. No loud declarations. Just quiet death in the shadows where no one sees it coming."
He shifted his gaze to Shiro, who was now watching him with a knowing smirk. "We could build something like the Dark Brotherhood from the game Oblivion that we played together. A silent network. The fearful whisperers in the dark. People could pray to a statue, an emblem, something symbolic, and we'd hear it. Investigate. Erase the targets if deemed valid. Corrupt daimyo, warmongering merchants, puppet leaders, bandits, abusive parents, no one would be untouchable."
Schnee's eyes gleamed with intrigue, though she remained composed. "A fascinating proposition. Though, systems like that tend to invite their own brand of chaos. Would you act as judge, jury, and executioner?"
"When necessary," Guldrin replied. "The people would fuel the rumors. Fear would become the greatest deterrent. Nobody would know who was watching, listening, waiting. It's not about becoming villains, it's about breaking the stranglehold. If the so-called Sage wanted complacency, I'd turn that on its head. Let's give them peace through fear."
Tsunade snorted, though there was a trace of begrudging admiration behind her skepticism. "And if the world just paints you as the new terror? What then?"
"Then let them fear," Guldrin said bluntly. "Fear keeps people honest. It will be a name they fear, a concept, and no one could place a face to that name, or an organization, nothing will tie it to us."
Schnee's soft chuckle broke the tension, a sound that somehow held both amusement and respect. "A bold plan. But before reshaping the world, perhaps it would serve you well to understand the deeper truths it hides."
Guldrin's eyes locked onto hers. "You've got something in mind."
"There is one thing I can offer," Schnee said, her voice lowering, the atmosphere around her growing heavier. "A means of seeking out fragments of forgotten knowledge. But it is not without risk."
"I'm listening."
"There are remnants of worlds long abandoned," Schnee explained. "Collapsed realms. Ghostly echoes of existence that remain tethered to the void. Some call them ruins of the lost, others name them memory realms. The past leaves traces. And those traces can be… collected."
"Would that work with the long-destroyed land of the Uzumaki?" Guldrin's voice was sharper now, curiosity intertwining with something deeper. "I understand you're speaking of separate dimensions, but could we recover the history of their people of this world? Something about the way they were destroyed never sat right with me. Even their understanding of seals and combat would be a great benefit to us. Something had to prompt all the villages to jointly attack them."
The mere mention of the Uzumaki Clan stirred something dark beneath the surface. An entire bloodline, decimated. Their fate had always seemed suspicious. Why would so many nations join forces to eradicate them? The Uzumaki weren't conquerors. They didn't launch invasions or threaten borders. They were seal masters. Guardians of knowledge. That alone was enough to mark them as dangerous in the eyes of the fearful.
Schnee tilted her head thoughtfully. "It is possible. Memory realms often linger where great events left scars upon existence. As long as the destruction of the Uzumaki was no minor event."
Tsunade stiffened, her defensive nature flaring. "Not all fought against them. Konoha didn't."
"And how do you know that?" Guldrin shot back, his gaze unwavering. "Were you deployed to assist? Did anyone even try to intervene? Or were the troops that could've helped conveniently unavailable? Did you even hear of any, and mean, any Konoha Shinobi going to Uzu before or after?"
Tsunade opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. The weight of uncertainty settled upon her shoulders. She hadn't been there. All she had were the stories passed down. Stories written by victors, spun in favor of whatever narrative they deemed convenient. She was out on a mission, unable to even participate if she wanted to.
"And your grandmother?" Guldrin pressed, his voice low and unrelenting. "Mito Uzumaki. A force powerful enough to subdue the Nine Tails. She could have changed the outcome of that war on her own. But somehow, Uzu still fell. Why? What kept her away? Not that I think she wanted this, but someone else did. Who controlled her? The Hokage leads the village, and she was the village's weapon."
Tsunade's jaw tightened. She wanted to argue, to deny what he was saying, but the words stuck. There was no clean answer. Only gaps. "There are… gaps. Things that never added up."
"And let's not forget the most convenient part," Guldrin continued, his voice dripping with bitterness. "They took a replacement Jinchūriki before the fall. Kushina Uzumaki. A perfect container, secured before the destruction even began. Who benefits from that? Everyone. No more seal masters other than Konoha and what Mito left behind. No more equal allies that Konoha had to bend to. And once the Uzumaki were gone? All traces of their knowledge erased."
His words dug into Tsunade like a serrated blade. It wasn't the kind of pain she could ignore. She'd heard whispers of the Uzumaki massacre before, the sanitized reports, the hushed conversations. Hell, she had seen the reports herself. But she had never questioned it like this. Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms.
He shook his head, his voice unwavering. "Their history wasn't forgotten. It was destroyed. Systematically removed. But they kept the Uzumaki swirl on the Jonin flak jackets. A symbol without meaning. A mockery in my personal opinion."
Tsunade slammed her glass down, the impact sending a dull tremor through the table. "Then why would Konoha benefit from that? My village didn't—"
"They didn't have to pull the trigger," Guldrin cut in, his gaze locked on hers. "That's the beauty of manipulation. You pit others against each other, stir fear, then stand back and watch the flames. Konoha didn't have to stain their hands. They just had to let it happen."
The weight of his words settled heavily over the table. Even Shizune, who had been silent until now, shifted uncomfortably. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed in concern. "And if what you're suggesting is true… then who would orchestrate something like that?"
'Young Master, may I have permission to gather all relevant information from your memories about the Uzumaki? I feel like I don't have any basic understanding of what happened,'
'Sure, if you can access my memories, then go for it, I understand we are bound to each other, just something tells me you shouldn't wander inside my mind, just search for what you need and don't explore further.'
'As you wish, Young Master, I shall gather all the information about the Uzumaki and leave everything else untouched. I was already given a basic understanding about your life when you became Master's inheritor, but this wasn't included.' She didn't wait for him to speak, and accessed their connection before gathering anything relevant. The more she searched, the more she didn't like where this was leading. Finally, she had found everything she needed and spoke,
"Someone, or multiple someones, who wanted control," Schnee answered calmly, her voice like silk, though a certain edge lingered beneath it. "The Uzumaki Clan's mastery of seals could have changed the balance of power. That kind of knowledge is dangerous to those who wish to rule unchecked."
"And those who create the rules," Guldrin added darkly, "are usually the ones who benefit the most. If I had to bet, I would say Hiruzen and Danzo orchestrated it. But honestly, thinking back to the whole idea of crippling a world… the Uzumaki were making too much headway. Maybe pushing the limits frightened the being and they had to go."
The accusation lingered. Tsunade opened her mouth to protest, but hesitation seized her. The thought of her sensei, the man who had stood at the helm of Konoha for so long, being complicit in such a monstrous act, it twisted her stomach. But Danzo? That was far easier to imagine. His ruthless, shadow-dwelling methods were infamous, and his hunger for power was limitless.
Still, the thought gnawed at her. "But why would Hiruzen-Sensei allow it?" she challenged, though her voice lacked its usual fire. "He wasn't that kind of man."
Guldrin's grin was grim. "Maybe he was… Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he believed it was the lesser evil. Or maybe," his voice lowered, laced with bitter amusement, "he convinced himself it wasn't his doing. A Hokage who looks away is no different from the one holding the blade."
The words hung there. Heavy. Unforgiving.
"Even so," Tsunade muttered, glaring into her empty glass as if it held the answers she sought, "if what you're saying is true, then how is it that Konoha wasn't blamed? The other villages… How could my teacher do this? I am part Uzumaki, he signed my family's death warrant."
'If only you knew,' Thought Shiro who pittied the Slug Princess, but didn't think now was the right time to touch that subject.
The bitterness in her voice was palpable. She wanted to deny it. To believe that the Third Hokage, the man she had admired and respected, couldn't have stood by while her clan was dying out. But the gnawing uncertainty in her chest refused to be silenced.
Guldrin leaned back, the flickering light from the lantern casting sharp shadows across his face. He watched Tsunade with a level of understanding she wasn't ready to face. "They didn't have to be held accountable, and better yet, who would care?" he said with a shrug. "Why punish a village when everyone else wanted them gone? Besides, the Uzumaki were a problem for everyone. Not just Konoha. Their seals were too advanced. Their longevity and vitality made them outliers. Everyone was uncomfortable with that level of unpredictability."
Tsunade's jaw tightened. The weight of his words was like a vice around her thoughts. She had heard the stories growing up, whispers of how the Uzumaki Clan's sealing techniques were feared, even hated. Her grandmother tried to teach her, but back then she was more interested in Jutsu… Now that she thinks about it, it was Hiruzen who wanted her to focus less on seals and more on Jutsu… But to think that fear alone could justify genocide? It twisted her stomach.
"And fear," Schnee added softly, her eyes gleaming with restrained emotion, "makes even the powerful act rashly."
Schnee's voice was gentle, almost sympathetic, but it only served to stoke the flames in Tsunade's chest. "But why now?" she snapped, her voice cracking as she gestured toward Guldrin. "Why are you dredging this all up?"
"Because," Guldrin said simply, "you're not asking the questions you should be. You're thinking like someone who grew up under their rule. Who swallowed the stories they wanted you to believe."
Tsunade's scowl deepened. Every muscle in her body tensed, her anger warring with the sharp sting of realization. "And what exactly are you suggesting I do?"
"Stop playing by their rules." His gaze locked onto hers, unrelenting. "You're one of the few people who could stand up to it. You have the name, the reputation, and the strength. But strength means nothing if you're too afraid to use it."
A pang shot through her chest. His words weren't cruel, they were the truth. A truth she'd tried to ignore for far too long.
Guldrin leaned forward, his voice lowering. "A medic with hemophobia? Sorry, but you are scared, and for good reason. You've suffered. You've seen things no one should have to see. But someday, you'll have to make peace with your past and move on. If you're going to join us, and everything I've seen so far tells me you will; then we need you at one hundred and twenty percent. We need the greatest medical Sannin. Tsunade Senju."
She opened her mouth to argue, but no retort came. Every part of her screamed to deny it, to cling to the last fragile thread of trust she still held in Konoha. But that trust had been fraying for years. The Uzumaki, Senju, Kushina, Her brother, Minato, why hadn't her sensei sealed the Nine Tails instead of Minato? Isn't the will of fire based on the old sacrificing for the young? Why did Minato do it instead? Then the final act, killing the Uchiha…
She wasn't stupid, she knew her teacher's disdain for Uchiha, she knew his craving for long-lasting power, and she knew Danzo never acted without his tentative compliance… 'Was I hiding from the truth?'
"And what about you?" she finally bit back, her eyes narrowing. "What's your part in all this? You think you can just waltz in and fix everything? What do you mean, showing them what true assassins can do?"
Her hand tightened around the empty glass. 'I need another drink,' She poured another glass for herself as the conversation was stirring up memories she'd buried deep, memories of bloodstained battlefields, of comrades and loved ones lost, of the unbearable weight that came with survival. But damn it all, his words were making more and more sense.
"No," Guldrin admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. "But I can make sure the right people start asking the right questions. And I can make sure those who think they're untouchable start looking over their shoulders."
His voice darkened, a low growl vibrating beneath the surface. "I came to this land and was subjected, alongside my girlfriend, to three whole years of Danzo's torture. Three. Years. Do you know what that does to a person?" His fingers curled into fists, the phantom echoes of pain flickering in his eyes. "Someone has to pay for that."
Tsunade flinched, but she held his gaze. "And what will you do to Danzo?"
"Danzo will die." The words came without hesitation, cold and certain. "But that's not enough. Not nearly enough."
His voice dipped lower, the air around him thick with restrained fury, faint crackles of red lightning could be seen around his body. "I'm more livid by the fact that someone could be orchestrating it all. Danzo was a pawn. Dangerous, sure. But pawns don't create the game, they play it. If someone up there is moving the pieces, I'm going to make damn sure they regret it."
He leaned back, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "So, I'm going to give him the metaphorical middle finger by destroying his game board."
A dry laugh escaped Tsunade's lips, though there was no amusement in it. "You're insane."
"Probably." Guldrin smirked. "But I'd rather be insane than a puppet."
The room fell into a tense silence. The distant crackle of the hearth seemed louder now, the warmth doing little to thaw the chill left by the conversation. Shizune's eyes flickered nervously between Tsunade and Guldrin, caught between concern and reluctant agreement. There was something unsettling in his certainty, in the way his words cut through the veil of false comfort that Konoha's leadership had spun for decades.
Meanwhile, Ino and Shiro were silent throughout most of this conversation, to them, this was inevitable. Ino when she became Guldrin's follower had a brief connection with Guldrin's mind allowing her access to practically everything, she just needed to go through it. Shiro, she didn't have anything to add so she kept quiet, she would speak if she needed to.
"Let's say I believe you," Tsunade finally said, though the tension in her jaw remained. "What then? You kill Danzo. You tear apart whatever system is holding all this together. Then what? Chaos? Anarchy?"
Guldrin shook his head. "Not chaos. Well, chaos is actually an important part… But mostly judgment. Real justice. Not the kind written in the history books by the victors. We will show the world what true agents of darkness can do."
Tsunade's brow furrowed. "Agents of darkness? You mean assassins. How is that any different from Shinobi?"
"Exactly, Assassins," Guldrin said without hesitation. "They are similar, but not like the Shinobi you're used to. The difference is simple, we won't pretend to be anything else. No false honor. No twisted justifications. Only results. Politics have no place in this business,"
"Sounds like mercenary work with extra steps," Shizune muttered, unable to hide her skepticism.
"Maybe," Guldrin replied, his voice smooth. "But tell me, do mercenaries dismantle corrupt systems? Do they free people from the chains of manipulation? Or do they just serve the highest bidder? And, isn't that what Shinobi do? All hidden villages are glorified mercenaries, they fight for the highest bidder, kill whoever the royals or nobles order, protect others and perpetuate the long-standing status quo."
He shook his head. "What I'm proposing is different. We take down the worst of the worst. No matter the village. No matter the rank. The powerful have grown complacent because they think no one can touch them. That changes now. A knife through the heart or any other vitals will still kill them, maybe it is time for them to remember this."
Tsunade clenched her teeth. It was a foolish plan. Reckless. But the more he spoke, the harder it became to ignore the truth. She hated how easily his words struck at the doubts she'd harbored for years. The rotten stench of politics, the smiling masks of Konoha's council, the countless lives thrown away in the name of 'stability', it all came rushing back. And that, is only her village, what about the others?
"And how exactly do you propose to carry this out?" she challenged. "A one-man crusade?"
Guldrin's grin widened. "No. Not alone. I suggest we create our own village. But unlike the other villages, we won't make the same mistakes. No sprawling armies. No grand displays of power. We'll stay hidden. Train all our citizens how to live dual lives, on the outside, we are a franchise, while on the inside, we are real assassins, no one will ever know the truth."
A shadow of intrigue flickered across Tsunade's eyes. "A hidden village? That's been done before."
"Not like this." Guldrin's voice was low, steady. "Think about it. The ruins of the Uzumaki Clan, Uzu, a place no one dares to tread. The ashes of a legacy burned away by fear. What better home for a group called Ash Walkers than a village born from the remnants of that destruction? The Land Hidden in the Ashes. I am sure we could create an illusion that will keep our secret restoration of the lands, I mean, no one goes there anyway."
Tsunade's expression hardened. The thought of restoring something from the ruins of her grandmother's people stirred something deep within her, a tangled mess of pride, sorrow, and guilt.
"And then?" she pressed. "You'll just sit in your little village and wait?"
"Not even close." Guldrin's eyes gleamed with a spark of daring. "The Moon Sanctuary will serve as a template. A chain of shops across the elemental nations, potion shops, general stores, even blacksmiths, maybe a restaurant, the possibilities are endless. We live in plain sight. Quiet. Unassuming. But everywhere we go, we sow disruption."
"And you think no one will notice?" Shizune's disbelief was evident.
"Not if we're careful," Guldrin countered. "And the best part? We don't use chakra. None of us. That's what makes us invisible. Chakra is the heartbeat of this world's power. It's how they measure strength. But if we replace it with something they don't understand, something like mana, we become phantoms. No sensor can track us. No seal can bind us."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "Mana? You think you can just switch the entire foundation of energy in this world?"
"With your help? Maybe," Guldrin replied, unwavering. "You're the greatest medical ninjutsu expert alive. You know chakra pathways better than anyone. But what if you could do more than heal? What if you could rewrite what flows through those veins? Strip away the chakra and replace it with invisible mana. Civilians who could never dream of wielding chakra would gain power. Even Shinobi, if they adapt, could grow stronger than they ever imagined. Creating equal opportunity for all, regardless of their chakra pathways, something which people would scoff at if suggested."
Tsunade's glass hovered at her lips, but she didn't drink. The weight of what he was suggesting was staggering. Manipulating the life force that sustained every being in this world, it was madness. But was it impossible? She wasn't so sure.
"And then what?" she asked quietly.
"Then we become more than a hidden, hidden village. We become a legend." Guldrin's voice was low, the deliberate cadence of a man speaking his intentions into existence. The fire crackled, accentuating the dark promise in his words.
"Everywhere we place a shop, we spread the symbol. Rumors will grow. Stories whispered in the dark. About a force that delivers judgment. A hand that answers the prayers of the desperate and wronged."
He leaned forward, the firelight dancing across his sharp features. "With some simple sealing jutsu and a proper understanding of the essentials, we can listen. Store each prayer. Imagine it, a network built from whispers. A chain of secrets that we alone can hear. The fearful will flock to it. The corrupt will tremble at the thought of it. Of course, we would be taking all belongings from the targets, we need to sustain ourselves somehow, maybe even a way to give offerings to the symbol."
Tsunade scoffed, though there was a hint of curiosity behind her skepticism. "You want people to believe in a myth?"
"Yes," Guldrin answered without hesitation. "But not just believe. Fear. Respect. The moment they think they're untouchable, we remind them otherwise. Assassins that strike without warning. Politicians who vanish overnight. Corrupt lords who fall with no trace of their killer. They'll start to question if the stories are true. And that fear? That's how we control them, make them dance to our tune and change the game board."
"And the best part," he continued, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "we can sell the symbol. Make it a trinket, a decoration. Let it become a fad. Something people wear without a second thought. Then no village could destroy it. The idea will spread like wildfire, and soon the mark will mean one thing, Judgment."
Shizune shook her head, the tight lines of disapproval etched into her expression. "And who decides who deserves judgment?"
"We do." Guldrin's voice was cold, but resolute. "We investigate. We gather evidence. No kills without justification. We don't become the very thing we're fighting against."
He paused, his gaze narrowing. "I may thrive in chaos, but that doesn't mean I am unhinged."
The words settled in the air and Tsunade's mind raced, the echoes of her past mingling with the dangerous possibilities Guldrin had laid before her. There was something deeply unsettling about how easily he spoke of unraveling the world's foundations, but what was more unsettling was how much sense it made.
A long silence stretched between them. The distant faint creak of the old wooden beams and the steady crackling of the magical fire were the only sounds. Tsunade's gaze lingered on the flickering flames, the golden light dancing across her face, illuminating the storm of thoughts raging behind her amber eyes.
Part of her wanted to dismiss him. To call him insane. But deep down, she knew there was truth in his words. He was merely pointing out the fractures she'd seen for years but chosen to ignore. The corruption she'd drowned in alcohol. The unanswered questions she'd buried beneath stubborn loyalty.
She thought of her brother, Nawaki. His hopeful grin. The dreams that died with him. Her lover, Dan, with his ideals of a peaceful future, ideals that Konoha had chewed up and spat out. The village had failed them. The entire system had failed them. And now, as Guldrin spoke, the cracks in that system were clearer than ever. It is all too convenient to be coincidence.
"You're asking me to abandon everything I know," she whispered, her voice low and bitter.
"No." Guldrin's voice softened. "I'm asking you to build something better."
His words struck harder than she'd expected. A hidden village, one that stayed hidden. Not a monument of power, but a shadow. A place that didn't bow to the same twisted ideals that governed the Shinobi world. And perhaps most dangerously, a village that answered only to itself.
Tsunade exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders loosening ever so slightly. She reached for the bottle, pouring herself another glass. The peach liquor shimmered under the lantern's glow, its scent sweet and intoxicating.
"A hidden village that actually stays hidden," she mused with a bitter laugh. "A real one. Not just a military stronghold pretending to be a sanctuary."
Guldrin nodded. "A sanctuary for the lost. The abandoned. Those who see the truth but have nowhere to turn. We will take in anyone who is worthy, give them a purpose and a choice."
"And if your 'symbol' gets out of control?" Shizune's voice was tight. "What if people misuse it? Start killing in its name without your approval?"
"Then we remind them who the real Ash Walkers are," Guldrin said simply. "If someone hijacks our legend, we erase them. Efficiently."
Shizune visibly paled at the nonchalance in his voice. "You talk like it's that easy."
"It is," Guldrin replied without missing a beat. "Because people will fear what they can't see. And we'll make sure they see only what we want them to." He wanted to explain that when someone's head explodes like a melon from miles away, then fear isn't something hard to come by.
Tsunade swirled the amber liquid in her glass, the light catching the swirling currents of gold. The scent of aged liquor mingled with the faint smoke from the fireplace, wrapping the room in a haze that seemed almost fitting for the conversation at hand. Her fingers drummed lightly against the glass, though her expression betrayed none of the thoughts warring in her mind.
"And what of Danzo's end?" Her words were pointed, her gaze sharp. "You want him dead. That much is obvious. But how would you do it? To be clear, you're not the only one who has a score to settle with that mummy."
Guldrin's grin twisted into something darker, something that barely concealed the storm beneath the surface. "Oh, he'll die. But not yet." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the polished wooden table. The shadows from the fire twisted along the walls behind him, dancing like silent conspirators. "His power thrives in the shadows. He moves unseen, whispers in the ears of the powerful, and believes he's untouchable. That's what makes him dangerous. But it's also what makes him vulnerable."
His voice dropped lower, each word deliberate. "I want him to feel fear. Real fear. The kind that gnaws at the back of your mind. The kind that makes you question every shadow, every whisper, every glance. We dismantle him first. Piece by piece. Strip him of his influence, unravel every lie, and let the truth bleed through the cracks."
He paused, the weight of his words lingering. "Expose him. Let the whole world, but most importantly, the whole village, let them see what he truly is. By the time we're done, he'll be a cornered animal with nowhere left to run. That's when we deliver the final blow."
Tsunade's grip on her glass tightened, the knuckles white. She had known men like Danzo her entire life, men who saw lives as pieces on a board. Sacrifices. Collateral damage. And yet, as much as she hated the thought, she couldn't deny the strategy in Guldrin's plan. Killing Danzo outright would be a simple act of vengeance. But tearing him down, stripping him of the very shadows he hid behind? That was justice. That was retribution.
"And in the meantime?" she asked, her voice low. "While you're picking him apart, what's to stop him from sinking his claws in deeper? He'll see it coming. He'll lash out."
Guldrin's grin widened, though there was no joy behind it. Only resolve. "Let him. The more desperate he becomes, the more mistakes he'll make. Danzo is a rat. He scurries when the lights are on. But we'll be patient. Every move he makes will be another noose tightening around his neck."
The room grew still, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Even the crackle of the fire seemed subdued, as if the very flames were holding their breath. Shizune shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flickering to Tsunade for reassurance. But none came. Not yet.
"And what happens when the world starts noticing?" Tsunade pressed, the weight of her own past creeping into her voice. "When the balance is thrown off and the villages panic? Konoha won't be the only one looking over its shoulder."
"That's the point." Guldrin's eyes gleamed with the intensity of a man who had already accepted the inevitable. "The system they cling to is rotten. Every village is complicit in one way or another. The Uzumaki massacre, the manipulation, the countless betrayals… None of it ends until the whole damn thing burns. Chaos will come. But from the ashes, something new can rise. Something better."
Tsunade exhaled sharply, the weight of the words sinking deep into her chest. They struck like a bitter truth she had long tried to ignore. Memories surged forward, unrelenting: Nawaki's bright grin, his laughter echoing through the halls of their home. Dan's strong arms, his unwavering belief in the village's future. Dreams that had burned brightly, only to be snuffed out by the very system they had trusted. The village she once cherished, the one they died for, was no longer the same. And perhaps, it never had been.
"To Judgment and Justice," she said at last, though the words felt jagged on her tongue. They tasted like ash, bitter and dry, devoid of certainty. "Whatever the hell that means."
Across the table, Guldrin's grin twisted into something colder, the gleam in his eyes unrelenting. He wasn't afraid to acknowledge the darkness. He welcomed it. There was no illusion of moral high ground, no sanctimonious façade. Just a man willing to tear down the pillars of a broken world.
"To tearing down the old and building something better," he echoed, his voice low, dangerous.
"And to fucking over the manipulators behind the scenes," Tsunade added, her voice laced with a venom that had been festering for far too long. She raised her glass, the golden liquid shimmering under the dim light.
The others remained silent, the gravity of the moment binding them. Ino's jaw was clenched, though she said nothing. There was understanding in her eyes, a flicker of agreement. Shizune's gaze lingered on Tsunade, filled with concern, but also acceptance. There were no empty protests. No pleas to reconsider. Not this time. Schnee, ever the enigma, simply watched. Her violet eyes gleamed with intrigue, as though she were witnessing the birth of something inevitable. And lastly, Shiro had all but given her blessing to this plan by not speaking at this moment.
The glasses met with a sharp clink, the sound reverberating through the dimly lit room. It was a sound that carried more than a simple toast. It was a declaration. A pact. The weight of it settled heavily, but there was no regret, only resolve.
The shadows along the walls flickered, as though bearing witness to the moment. They twisted and danced in the flickering firelight, like silent conspirators. Tsunade's fingers tightened around the glass, the cool touch grounding her in the reality of what they had just set in motion. She felt the lingering warmth of the liquor trickle down her throat, but it did nothing to soothe the fire that had been ignited within her.
Hope. It was faint, a fragile ember that threatened to be extinguished with the slightest breeze. But it was there. And beneath it, something even more potent stirred.
Vengeance.
For Nawaki. For Dan. For every innocent life lost beneath the weight of political schemes. She had spent years running from it, drowning it in bottles of sake and half-hearted attempts at healing. But not anymore. Not when the path forward was so clear. Justice, true justice, wasn't found in the words of corrupt leaders or in the pages of rewritten history. It was forged in the ashes of the old world.
And she would see it done.
Tsunade set her glass down with a firm resolve, the lingering warmth in her chest a stark contrast to the cold steel in her eyes. There would be no turning back.
For the first time in far too long, she wasn't enduring. She was fighting for something and trying to move forward.
(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)