Chapter 67.1- One Thousand Hands

“I would never dream of assassinating my Kage” I said.

“Then you are either lying or a fool. I like you, Shorirama Senju. I liked your Granduncle even more. So I will assume you are no fool and are just merely lying. Do you know anything about how I became the Daimyo?” He asked. Was that a serious question?

“Your father had been sick, and then died in his sleep on the eve of your sixteenth birthday, so you had the shortest regency in history and then ascended to the throne a mere three days later” I said. Everyone knew the story, but to my surprise the Daimyo burst into laughter. Not the polite titter that you would have expected of a Daimyo, but full early laughter.

“People actually believe that?” He asked me. I nodded, hesitantly, beginning to see that I was the butt of some sort of joke.

“I guess your Granduncle was on to something when he said that a lie repeated oft enough is indistinguishable from the truth.”

“So that story was not true then?” I asked.

“No. I contacted your Granduncle with a mission when I just turned Fourteen. It was early in your village’s founding. Your Grandfather had just passed and my own father was much keen on your Granduncle. You see, he liked your Grandfather a fair deal. Hashirama knew how to present him with all the right gifts. This manor was one such gift. The ceremonial blade on my mantle is another, forged in the heat of Madara Uchiha’s legendary fire release. He knew how to play, but your Granduncle lacked that charisma, that charm, and my Father did not much see the use in having a shinobi village. You see, having you all united caused mission prices to rise. Where before he could play clan against clan to get the best deal, he had now lost that opportunity and was beginning to want to see things returned to their status quo. So I looked at things and knew that he was a dead man walking. Your Granduncle assented to my plan with no objections. He saw to his poisoning, keeping him strong enough that he could still rule in his own name and would need no regent but too weak and feeble to get any bold ideas. When it was near enough my majority, I smothered him to death with his pillow with my own two hands” He said, meeting my eyes.