WAP 42

It was a matter of minutes to walk across the town. It was not enough time for her to really gather her nerves. 

Hana’s husband answered the door at her first knock, and lit up when he saw her. She avoided eye contact. “Is Hana up for visitors?”

“Yes, of course, Hana-chan would love to see you before you go.” Hiroki stepped to the side and let her into his house. She could hear a baby crying from inside as soon as the door opened. She gave him a smile and a nod as she stepped up and shucked her shoes. 

The tatami floors were cold under her feet as she walked through the family home towards the sound of the baby. It was a little late for it, but Aiko realized that she had actually not asked yet about the baby’s name or gender. She was wondering idly if it would be ruder to ask now or pretend that she already knew. She opened the sliding door and walked into a much warmer room, buffeted by fire-warmed air.

Hana sat up from her cocoon of blankets, blinking in the light. “Sensei,” she greeted. She looked exhausted. The squalling infant held to her chest was as red as any shrimp, face scrunched up in impotent fury. The color elicited confusing associations. Aiko eyed the baby dubiously and shut the door behind her.

“How are you feeling?” She sat down in Hana’s personal space and reached over to run her hands through her acolyte’s hair. Hana leaned into the touch, tension fleeing her muscles as she hung her head.

“I’m doing well, thank you,” she lied flawlessly.

Aiko looked at the baby. She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Are you sure?”

Hana took a moment to break into a giggle. “I feel the worst I have ever felt,” she admitted. “Unholy things have happened to my body. My head is ringing. She never quiets unless she’s eating.” She waved a hand at the baby. “Perhaps she is dissatisfied with the accommodations and amenities. You should move us to a fancy hotel.”

“...Do you want to go stay in a ninja compound?” Aiko wondered. She could probably get either the Senju or the Uchiha to host her. “They always put me somewhere nice.”

Hana opened her mouth. She shut it. She opened it again to say, “I think I should probably stay here for a while, but thank you.”

Aiko raked her nails across Hana’s scalp and made a hum of acknowledgement. “How was Tobirama-san?” she asked. “A gentleman, I assume?”

“He’s very professional,” Hana settled on. She rubbed at her face with a hand, that, Aiko noticed, looked a little discolored. She frowned at it. Were her fingernails bluish? “Sensei?”

Aiko grabbed and lifted Hana’s hand a little higher to frown at it. “You’re not well,” she said. “Low oxygen.”

Hana pointedly took a large inhalation. “It seems as usual to me,” she said mildly. “It’s just the cold, sensei.” She pulled her hand away and made a face. “They sometimes look like that. You’ve never noticed? My feet do it, too.”

Aiko frowned. “No, I don’t like that,” she said unhappily. “Call for me immediately if you feel unwell, understand?” 

She extracted a promise from Hana to do just that. It felt like Hana was placating her, but it was the best she could get. Hana was chronically irreverent and that was one of the things Aiko had always liked about her. 

Aiko left after her visit and went back to annoying the living hell out of the Hyuuga by helping their peasants. She put in irrigation and gave lectures on literacy. People were tight-lipped, but she saw them exchanging glances after she promised to feed and educate anyone sent into her care. Some of them would come, she was sure. 

In villages like this, hunger was always nipping at your heels. Farming was backbreaking labor, and the rich lords of the civilian court and of fancy clans were leeches. The feasts had to come from somewhere, and there certainly weren’t shit-enriched fields in the enclosed walls of the Hyuuga compound. 

Aiko had a keen sense of the economics and power dynamics, after her time in leadership in both Konoha and Kirigakure. The balance of power had changed a bit after the establishment of villages. Civilians had rights then that they didn’t now– and they had them because the explosion of the shinobi population in times of peace had put them on their knees. They could always rob the farmers and take their goods. Shinobi and rich lords had that upperhand. But it only worked for one year. After that, if your farmer tenants had starved to death or escaped, well… 

It hadn’t come to that yet, but awareness of this dynamic was more present in the grim subsistence farmers than in the oblivious upper classes. 

In any case. There didn’t need to be any kind of revolution yet for people to sneak away from their landlords or to send their children off for an easier life. 

She struck gold again in a mountainside village where the headsman asked to meet with her, as casual as possible under the gimlet eyes of his residents. He promised to host her at his home, along with the local priest. Intrigued, she agreed. She drank tea and settled into the cushions on high alert, well aware that this could be a trap. The Hyuuga definitely knew that she had been in the area.

‘He might even be honest, but someone else could report that I am here.’

Once the pleasantries were over, Ohama-san broached his real interest. “Is it true that Izanami-no-mikoto-sama turned away the emissaries of the Daimyo who came to collect rice?” His wife watched with slightly sunken eyes.

No, that was all Aiko. “Yes, it’s true,” she said demurely. “No man who sweats to feed his family should see them hunger for the comfort of a leech.” There was still no sign of the developed chakra system of a shinobi approaching, but Aiko was hardly a perfect sensor. She kept her ears pricked for danger. She didn’t need her head cut off again.

The priest’s face twitched as if he wanted to disagree with her tone, but he said nothing. 

“This is interesting,” Ohama-san said. He exchanged a meaningful look with his elderly mother. Aiko couldn’t see the matriarch's face from her position, but it was clear that something had been communicated. She held her breath until he continued– “Ah. If we were to establish a shrine for the goddess, what would be your suggestion?”

Oh. She felt her smile become smug. Priest Hokotaro was definitely disgruntled.

‘He just doesn’t want to become irrelevant, he will go along with this to preserve his importance. Or he might report on us to the Hyuuga. Either or.’

She kept that factor in the back of her mind as she gave instructions and made promises. She kept it vague, mindful of the priest listening in. Aiko did make him the same promises she made any shrine leaders– that she would send him acolytes and the food to keep them. His sour expression lifted a little at the offer. Maybe that would be enough.

Despite her trepidation, she made it out of that village and a good 20 km away before an agent of the Hyuuga caught up with her. She was walking down a dusty street when someone burst out of a home on a violent streak for her.

They seemed like a perfectly competent professional, so she almost felt bad to smack the Hyuuga to the side with a dodge and shove. They recovered well, whirling up in a stylish cloud of long hair and loose clothes. They skidded across the road, throwing up dust.

“Do you mind?” Aiko asked, sighing. “You know you don’t have a chance, right?”