"Can I?"
Facing Tsuru's question, Arashi put away his smile. His entire demeanor turned calm as he weighed his options.
The temperature in the air seemed to drop several degrees.
Tsuru's heart pounded as she faced her nephew, who had suddenly fallen silent, but she dared not speak.
After a long pause.
"Aunt."
"Do you know what you're saying?"
Arashi stared at her, not answering with a yes or no.
Facing those deep, unreadable eyes, Tsuru forced herself to meet his gaze. "I know."
"Aunt, what do you think the position of the Daimyo of the Land of Lightning is?" Arashi asked. "Is it a stone on the roadside I can just pick up and hand to you?"
"I..." Tsuru was speechless.
"That's the ruler of a nation, the highest authority in the Land of Lightning." Arashi's voice was flat. "For that position, I personally sent several of my own brothers to the underworld."
"For that position, I caused countless heads to roll."
"And now, you come to me and ask if I can just hand over the throne of another great country to a brother I've never even met?"
Arashi leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Aunt, what makes you think you can ask for that?"
That one line, what makes you think you can ask for that, hit her like a sledgehammer to the heart.
Tsuru was instantly stunned.
What made her think she could?
That faint blood connection, long eroded by time?
Absurd.
She understood now.
In the face of national interests, bloodline and childhood affection were utterly meaningless.
She had been too naïve.
She thought she was still facing the nephew from her memories.
But she had forgotten. He was a monarch who had climbed a mountain of corpses and crossed a sea of blood to reach the throne.
A monarch has no relatives.
Tsuru's shoulders slumped. It was as if all her strength had been drained, leaving only despair and defeat.
Eight years of lonely confinement in the cold palace had led to this moment.
Looking at her dejected figure, Arashi said indifferently, "Since Aunt came all this way, I'll send a few shinobi to protect your safety."
This seemingly considerate remark, however, sounded more like a handout.
Protect her?
That wasn't what she needed.
Tsuru gave a bitter smile and slowly stood up.
She said nothing, only bowed slightly and turned to leave this suffocating place.
With her hopes shattered, staying any longer would only add insult to injury.
Just as she turned to go,
"Aunt," Arashi called out to her. "Have you thought about why I would refuse you?"
Tsuru froze in her steps.
She slowly turned around, her eyes full of confusion.
Arashi leaned back in his chair, body relaxed, gaze scrutinizing. "You came with hatred and ambition, yet you want me to pave every road for you."
"You want the throne of the Land of Lightning, but you don't even have the chips to sit at the table."
His voice was soft but tinged with disappointment. "You've spent decades in the palace. Why are you still so naïve?"
"Someone who hasn't even held a blade, what right does she have to negotiate with me?"
"What makes you think I can trust that if I hand you the Land of Lightning, you won't be devoured, bones and all, in the blink of an eye, turning all my investment into nothing?"
Blade, chips, transaction. These words echoed in her mind.
She had always believed her bloodline, her identity, was her greatest bargaining chip.
Only now did she realize.
In this man's eyes, those things were worthless.
What he wanted to see wasn't her status or her past.
What he wanted was her ability, the chips in her hand.
Those were the qualifications for a transaction.
"I..." Tsuru's lips trembled, but no words came out.
"Go back, Aunt." Arashi picked up his teacup. "Think carefully about what your chips are."
"When you hold them and come back, maybe we can renegotiate the price."
Silence returned to the room.
Tsuru stood there, unmoving.
After a long while.
She turned again.
This time, she didn't bow.
She pushed open the door and walked out, step by step.
Just as her figure was about to be swallowed by the sunlight beyond the door, Arashi's voice came again.
"Oh, right."
"I've reached a consensus with the Daimyo of the Land of Earth, Land of Wind, and Land of Water to establish a Four Nations Joint Monitoring Group."
"Very soon, they'll enter the Land of Lightning for regional monitoring."
Tsuru froze at the doorway.
Joint entry?
Regional monitoring?
How was that any different from dismemberment and partition?
A chill shot up her spine.
She instantly realized that the Land of Lightning was about to enter an unprecedented era of chaos.
And this chaos, for someone like her who had nothing, wasn't a dead end.
It was her only chance.
Just as her thoughts were in turmoil, a figure suddenly darted out from the stairwell and rushed into Arashi's room, kneeling down.
Tsuru was startled and took a step back.
It was a young man in official robes, ordinary in appearance, the type easily lost in a crowd.
But the way he knelt, like a sheathed blade, radiated danger.
"His name is Asaba Toru," Arashi's voice came from inside. "Aunt, if you have questions, you can ask him."
Asaba Toru looked up at Tsuru and nodded slightly. "Madam."
In that instant, all of Tsuru's confusion, despair, and hesitation vanished.
She understood.
She understood completely.
The so-called protection wasn't a handout.
It was the hilt of a blade offered to her.
The so-called test wasn't for her to create power out of thin air.
It was to see if she had the courage to grasp the blade already placed in her hand.
Asaba Toru was the hand of the Land of Fire reaching into the Land of Lightning.
He was her intelligence, her support, a fulcrum to stir the winds and clouds.
He was given to her by her nephew.
He had not abandoned her. She only needed to prove her worth to him.
Tsuru's breathing quickened.
She slowly looked away, no longer glancing at the man kneeling before her.
She didn't look back either.
Only her straightened back, at that moment, seemed to carry a soul once more.
She stepped into the sunlight outside the door.
This time, her steps were no longer hesitant, but firm.
Arashi watched his aunt's departing figure.
A faint smile finally appeared on his face.
Without Kumogakure, the violent war machine, the Daimyo of the Land of Lightning was nothing more than a toothless tiger.
Facing a former princess of the Land of Fire, if the Daimyo had any sense at all, he wouldn't dare lay a hand on her.
This was the stage Arashi had prepared for her.
And Asaba Toru was the blade he had loaned her.
Now, he just had to wait and see.
Would she cut herself a piece of the pie?
Or fail to do anything at all?
(To be continued.)