42

Chapter 42: Forty-two

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO:

The Council meeting had dragged on for hours and nobody was happy when it finished. That was fine. Meetings where nobody left happy were usually the meetings where the most had been accomplished, as it usually meant that there had been the most compromise from all parties involved.

Sansa was looking forward to getting back home to Naruto; she felt guilty about leaving alone for so long, considering she had full days of training for the next six days, however as she was exiting the Hokage Tower, someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Ah, just the person I was hoping to bump into," the man said with a lazy smile, as if their meeting had been entirely accidental when they both knew that to be far from the truth. Sansa swept her eyes up over him– he had to be the Nara clan head, he looked far too much like Tama to be anything else. "I was wondering," the Nara said, his words drawn out, as if speaking took too much effort, "if you happened to play shōgi?"

Sansa found her interest piqued despite the almost insultingly heavy-handedness of the Nara's maneuvering, because that sounded like the equivalent to a Westerosi invitation to a private solar to share a glass of Arbor's finest– and everyone knew that was how true relationships were formed; where secrets were whispered, the little games were played and the favours exchanged that shaped the true unofficial alliances, regardless of official treaties or political stances.

And Sansa did know how to play shōgi. It had been part of her training under Kaeru in order to help her blend seamlessly into the world of nobles, entertainers, and courtesans. She was a fair hand at it too, picking it up with an ease that had made Danzo smile; shōgi shared several basic principles with cyvasse, after all, and Sansa had always been a very adept student at strategy games, going on to later flourish under Petyr's tutelage.

"I've enjoyed a game or two," she demurred to the Nara clan head, knowing she wasn't fooling the man with her act even slightly.

"I'm always looking for fresh minds to challenge," he smiled down at her. "Would you care for a game, Uzumaki-hime?"

Sansa... paused.

Princess. He'd called her princess. That was not the title she'd expected to hear, as acting clan head. And yet, as the firstborn daughter of Uzumaki Kushina and descendant of Uzumaki Mito, it was the title she was owed.

For the first time since she'd entered the Council meeting, Sansa found herself on the back foot, uncertain how to react. It almost felt akin to when she was a prisoner in the Red Keep and the occasional servant would address her as 'Princess Sansa' in low, reverent whispers, even as Joffrey viciously denied that Robb was a King of anything.

Rightful titles could be dangerous when spoken in the wrong places or overheard by the wrong ears.

But rightful titles were powerful things and Sansa donned hers now like the bloodied crown of drowned bones and rubble she owned by rights, raising her chin to smile at the Nara.

"I would be honoured, Nara-sama," she said, and there was a flare of approval in the man's dark, intelligent eyes.

"Why don't you and your brother come over for dinner tonight," he said, "we could play a game together afterwards."

"I don't think your wife would appreciate such late notice," Sansa cautioned, hesitant to accept the invitation; sharing a meal with a noble family where she had only mere hours to prepare her brother, who had never so much as set foot in a clan compound before let alone learned the etiquette required of formal dining, was not the sort of social faux pas she was eager to make. She wanted Naruto to make the sort of impression he'd be able to look back on later, when he was older, and be proud.

"Don't worry, it won't be anything formal," the Nara said dismissively, easing her fears somewhat. "Just something casual between friends," he added, with another lazy smile.

"I didn't realise we were friends, Nara-sama," Sansa said, amused by his forwardness despite herself.

"I'd like to think we could be," the Nara said. "I think we'd make good friends."

Sansa looked at him thoughtfully, considering his words, weighing the possible motives behind the invitation. "Dinner, then," she decided, finally. "At what time will we be expected, Nara-sama?"

"Come around at seven," the Nara said, sounding satisfied. "And call me Shikaku– calling me 'Nara' at dinner tonight will only get confusing fast."

"Hm," Sansa said, not willing to commit to that level of informality yet. "We will see you then."

As she'd expected, Naruto was ecstatic at the invitation, which seemed to have more than made up for her absence for the majority of the day. Naruto was friendly with Nara Shikamaru at the Academy, though he seemed to like Shikamaru's friend Akimichi Chōji more, and he practically skipped along as Sansa led them to the Nara compound come seven in the evening, remembering its location from when she used to warg into small animals to explore the village.

Sansa wore the same dress to dinner that she'd worn to the Council meeting, though she had changed her hair to a more elaborate, upswept style traditional for the Elemental Nations, fixing the bun in place with several of the combs she'd had made from the elk antlers. Meanwhile, at her instruction Naruto had asked around with his 'pretty neesans' until he found one with a son close enough in size to him who hadn't minded lending him a semi-formal yukata for the evening. Sansa thought he looked quite handsome in the light brown yukata with its decoration of cascading raindrops in shades of yellow, orange and even a shimmering gold meant to inspire thoughts of summer rain.

Sansa honestly wasn't sure what to think of Naruto's connections with the seedier underbelly of Konoha's Yūkaku. She was well aware that while she was away training with Jiraiya, Naruto spent the time he wasn't in the Academy out on the streets, dodging his ANBU watchers and running wild with future yakuza and whores. But were shinobi truly any better? What were they, but government-sanctioned murderers and thieves and prostitutes, their hands just as filthy as any of Naruto's friends, if not even more so underneath their so-called civil veneer of nobility and patriotism? Besides, the skills Naruto was learning would only serve to aid him in the long run, to keep him alive, and that was all Sansa truly cared about.

There were two guards standing at the entrance to the Nara compound when they arrived, but they let the pair of them through without incident, one leading them through the vast compound to the main house where Shikaku and a brown-haired woman with dark eyes greeted them at the door.

Sansa and Naruto immediately bowed, the other couple bowing in return. "Thank you for welcoming us to your home," Sansa said formally.

"You are very welcome here," the woman said warmly. "Please, come in, both of you."

The Nara main house had a spacious genkan* where she and Naruto could exchange their shoes for guest slippers before stepping into the main house itself where Sansa presented the couple the host-gift, careful to use both hands when presenting it; gift giving etiquette in this culture was vastly different from Westeros. It followed rigid rules for giving and receiving and it seemed gifts were offered for everything from host-gifts, to tokens of respect, to signs of continuing association.

As was custom, the Naras would not open the gift until later, as it was considered rude to open the gift in front of her and Naruto, but Sansa hoped they liked the pair of embroidered handkerchiefs, one with a pattern of winter roses and one with a pattern of elk antlers around the hem– small gifts such as fruits, chocolates, handkerchiefs and alcohol were considered to be appropriate for when visiting someone's house and she had enough handkerchiefs around the house to spare from practicing her embroidery.

As she and Naruto were led into the house, Sansa was keenly aware of Shikaku's gaze fixed on her. His wife it seemed noticed too, because she sent her husband a scolding look. "Wait until we've finished dinner, at least, before you drag her over to the shōgi board!" she reprimanded him, before sending Sansa an apologetic look. "I apologise for his manners," she said warmly, "my name is Nara Yoshino; your dress is simply beautiful, I've never seen one quite like it before!"

"My name is Uzumaki Fuyuko, this is my brother, Naruto," Sansa introduced them, as Naruto was clinging to her, seeming to have been struck shy by their surroundings, though he perked up when they entered the dining room and he spotted the boy who must be Shikamaru slouched over in one of the seats. Sansa didn't blame Naruto for being uncomfortable– she doubted he'd ever been surrounded by such blatant wealth in his life, growing up as they had among the forgotten and cast aside of Konoha's society. "And thank you– I made the dress myself."

"You did?" Yoshina sounded surprised– and impressed.

"I used to do all the sewing at the orphanage, in return for an allowance," Sansa explained with a pretty smile for her hostress, "I found I enjoyed it so much I began to be create my own designs."

"Well your work is simply beautiful," Yoshino said. "I wouldn't have thought it home-made at all!" The woman then turned to her son. "Shikamaru!" she scolded, "at least say hello to our guests!" She turned back to Sansa, an exasperated look on her face. "I apologise– he's learned his manners from his father," she said, and Sansa couldn't help but smile at the woman's seemingly-effortless charm; she could see why Yoshino was the wife of the clan head.

Sansa couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down and had servants bring out her dinner. It felt like a lifetime ago. In a way, she supposed it had been. Even if it was a bit of a social misstep, she couldn't help but feel proud of the way Naruto thanked the young woman who served him his food and he was so careful as he ate, using all the manners she'd drilled into him earlier that evening, peeking over at her occasionally with those big, blue eyes of his to check he was doing the right thing. Sansa's heart felt fit to burst with warmth each time. Her precious brother, her darling boy, her little prince.

Yoshino kept the conversation light over dinner and Sansa followed her lead. Oh, she'd had perfectly delightful dinners in the past where light, honeyed tones exchanged hidden cruelties, where each seemingly careless choice of word had in truth been selected with utmost calculation for its double meaning, but this dinner was a softer, tamer thing. There would be time for such games later. For now, they spoke of Sansa's sewing, of Yoshino's new favourite café, and of the boys' mischief-making at the Academy; apparently Shikamaru had a habit of sleeping through his classes, while Naruto had started trying to prank one of the teachers. Naruto defended this by informing them 'Mizuki-sensei' was 'stinky', which made the adults laugh and Sansa pretend to– she knew exactly what Naruto meant by 'stinky'; hatred and fear had very sour, pungent scents.

As they laughed at him, Naruto pouted and declared he couldn't wait until he had graduated and was a proper ninja who went on proper missions. Very "kindly" and with no small amount of wicked amusement, Sansa decided to share the reality of D-ranks to him and she, Shikaku and Yoshino spent a good fifteen minutes trying to recall the worst D-rank they'd ever heard of, much to Naruto and Shikamaru's growing horror. Shikamaru's plaintive, "is it too late to quit?" had been met with much amusement by his parents, but for once Naruto had looked as if he wholeheartedly agreed with forgetting ever becoming a shinobi, instead turning full-time to his life of crime.

How perfectly wretched was it that she would honestly prefer that life for him?

Sansa had barely swallowed the last mouthful of her dinner, the rich fare sitting ill in a stomach unused to such a feast, when Shikaku stood and looked as if he was ready to drag her from the table, even if she protested.

"Honestly!" Yoshino sighed, looking exasperated with her husband. "Were you raised amongst wild animals? The deer have better manners then you, Shikaku!"

Despite the fact that playing shōgi was the main purpose for her visit, Sansa still hesitated, turning to Naruto, looking for a sign that he would be okay with her leaving him alone with these new people. She could see the anxiety on his face, the uncertainty, but Shikamaru spoke up before she could gently refuse Shikaku's "invitation" to a game.

"Hey Naruto," the boy said, "want to learn how to play shōgi?"

Naruto beamed. "Sure!" He agreed, his shoulders relaxing as the tension eased out of them, and Sansa felt comfortable enough now to allow herself to be chivvied along from the dining room to another room, this one dedicated entirely it seemed to shōgi, with several boards placed around the room.

The board Shikaku led her to was heavy and expensive looking. "Black or white?" she asked him and Shikaku's eyes were sharp as he looked down at her.

"You can choose," he offered, as if he was being magnanimous and it wasn't the test she knew it to be. Sansa hummed lightly, turning from him to look back to the board.

Defence was an important strategy in a game of shōgi and that had appealed to her from the first she'd learned of the game. It was important to shore up your defence before making the initial attack, and that reflected how Sansa had always acted in life; before she had ever made a direct move against Daenerys, she had gathered allies in all of the Seven Kingdoms, ensuring she had her pieces ready to defend her and her people, and then, and only then, she had with one quick, decisive offense ended the Mad Queen's reign, once and for all.

Ultimately, defending her people, her loved ones, had always mattered more to Sansa then attacking, then conquering, and so she gracefully lowered herself on the side of 'black' and looked up to meet Shikaku's piercing eyes with a sharp smile.

"I believe white moves first," she said.

Shikaku smiled back, just as sharp.

Within moments of the game, Sansa knew that Shikaku was out of her league. Perhaps in a few years when she had more experience at the game, she might have a chance against him, but she already knew she would lose this one– not that that meant she would go down easy. It would be a thrilling battle, a game of intellect and strategy and scheming. Sansa found herself enthralled, losing track of time entirely as she focused on the gameplay before her. It was like matching wits and cunning with Petyr and it exhilarated her.

Even when she had to admit defeat, Shikaku having finally checked her king in a way she could not escape, Sansa found she could not stop herself from smiling. Across from her, Shikaku was smiling too.

"That was an excellent game," he said.

"It was," Sansa admitted. "I enjoyed myself."

And that was the honest truth; not the courtesies she was so-often forced to twitter, like the little bird Sandor had accused her of being.

"We should play again," Shikaku said and Sansa didn't think she could have stopped herself from agreeing, even if she'd wanted to.

Perhaps she'd be calling Shikaku a friend, after all.

And friends asked friends favours.

"Shikaku-san," she said, a pretty smile on her face. "I understand that you and Yamanaka-sama are close."

Shikaku didn't even look surprised as she asked her favour. Instead, he just nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

~

After her late night on Sunday playing shōgi against Shikaku, it was even more of an ordeal than usual to get up early for training come Monday, though Sansa faced the morning with the stubbornness and pride of an Uzumaki and a Stark as Jiraiya had her out of bed at dawn once more. Their training was interrupted mid-way through her usual warm-up run, however, by an unexpected visitor.

"Inoichi?" Jiraiya asked with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"I believe Uzumaki-chan had a request for me," Inoichi said, causing Jiraiya to look over at Sansa in confusion.

"I want to speak with two of the Root agents– Koi and Kaeru," Sansa admitted and Jiraiya immediately scowled, turning back to Inoichi.

"And you agreed?" he demanded. Inoichi looked calmly back at him.

"I decided it would be harming no one to let her," he said and Jiraiya's scowl darkened.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm coming with her."

Sansa was surprised by the relief that washed over her at the sight of Koi and Kaeru. Both were pale as always from lack of sunlight, but they looked as if they had been taken care of; they were well fed, with clothes that fit them and had no visible or obvious injuries. Low standards, admittedly, but standards nevertheless.

Sansa went to Koi first, unable to help herself; he looked so young without his mask, his eyes so large and his face so fragile. There was a touch of Uchiha about his features, with his dark, almost feathery hair and delicate bone structure. Sansa suspected he was a bastard child of the Clan, or perhaps the child of a bastard, taken from the Yūkaku. There had been very little information in the recovered Root file, Inoichi had told her; nothing about where he'd come from, and no surname, only a first name– Sai.

Sansa gently grasped both his small hands in her own. Koi– Sai seemed shy at her touch, uncertain. They'd never been as tactile as she and Shin had been and her heart ached for him.

"Are they treating you well?" she asked him softly.

"I am in adequate physical condition," Sai said, shifting in place slightly then immediately stiffening, brief panic flaring in his eyes. She squeezed his hands gently, bringing his attention back to her rather than letting him dwell on what their trainers would have seen as a punishable slip in his comportment. "I am not at appropriate condition for missions, however, as they have instructed us not to train," he added, and she could hear the panic in his voice now.

"That's fine," Sansa said soothingly, "that's fine, darling. You don't have to be. There won't be any missions, not for a while."

Sai blinked at her, bewilderment flickering over his face. "No missions?" he asked, so confused that even his conditioning couldn't stop the question from escaping.

"No missions," Sansa confirmed. "Instead, you'll be working with Yamanaka-sama and his team. I want you to listen to them, okay?" She said, reaching, as she did, for the chakra thread that connected them and feeding enough chakra through it to make it an order. "I want you to listen to them, to try and understand what they're telling you. I want you to let them help you, however they can," she said, making it an order; he was hers to order now, after all. Danzo had given her Root, had given her control, and through it she could at least fulfil this part of Shin's dream for Sai: You'll keep Koi safe for me, you'll keep him alive. You'll free him, you'll introduce him to your Naruto and you'll teach him how to live. Promise me, Fuyuko!

Sai slowly nodded and Sansa smiled softly at him, kissing his forehead. "Shin would be so proud of you," she murmured and Sai went still.

"...he would?" the little boy whispered, for the first time looking his age as he looked at her with desperate, imploring eyes.

"So, so proud," Sansa assured him, her own voice hitching. "This is all he ever wanted for you– that you could be free."

Sai took a deep breath and turned to Inoichi. "I accept this..." he paused, searching for a new word to replace mission, "task," he eventually decided on, "of working with your team, Yamanaka-sama. For Shin." He added with a determined little nod, looking over at Sansa briefly for reassurance. She nodded at him and Inoichi smiled warmly down at the boy.

"I'm glad to hear it, Sai-kun," he said kindly. "Would you like to go with Izumi-san now?"

Sai hesitated another moment, glancing back at Sansa again. She gave him an encouraging look and he turned back to Inoichi and nodded. Yamanaka Izumi, one of the members of the team Inoichi had introduced as working with Sai, smiled sweetly down at him, holding her hand out to him. Sai eyed her hand like it was a venomous snake but after another encouraging look from Sansa, he tentatively held it and let her lead him from the room.

Now, it was only Sansa, Inoichi, Jiraya and Kaeru in the room.

Kaeru, or Chiaki Junko as her Root file had identified her name to be, was once the child of a civilian couple. She had been unfortunate enough to demonstrate an exceptional intelligence in her early years at her civilian school and subsequently vanished twelve years ago, at age seven, without trace.

Unlike Sai, whose records indicated he'd only been in Root for three years, Kaeru had spent twelve years under Root's conditioning and it showed. She hadn't spoken a word since being escorted from the Root base and even now, she was silent and still, not meeting the eyes of anyone in the room.

Sansa crossed over to her, feeling the master seal on her neck warm as she focused her chakra on it, feeling for the thread that connected her to Kaeru. When she found it, she fed her chakra into the connection, while at the same time leaning in and wrapping her arms around Kaeru in a hug. "I've missed you," she said, even as Kaeru remained a statue, "how are you?" she asked, her fingers gently tapping the command 'status/report' on Kaeru's back.

Kaeru's voice was hoarse from lack of use. "Condition is poor. This one apologises; general upkeep for mission readiness has been prohibited by captors."

Sansa stroked her hair, as if comforting her.

"They're not your captors, Junko-chan," she said softly, "they're shinobi of Konoha. They're your allies."

On Kaeru's back, she pressed a new command; 'mission/infiltrate'.

Kaeru went still, her head tilting slightly. "They are shinobi of Konoha?" she repeated and Sansa could already see how her body language was changing, shifting slightly to a more open posture as she registered Sansa's orders and reacted accordingly; taking on the identity of 'Chiaki Junko' as easily as any of the other identities she'd worn over the past twelve years.

"They serve the Hokage– just as Danzo-sama said; we serve Konoha, we are the Roots that allow the leaves of the tree to flourish," Sansa murmured, "they are the leaves of the tree, Junko-chan– we are all Konoha, we are all allies."

"Allies," Kaeru repeated slowly.

"Allies," Sansa affirmed. Kaeru nodded.

"They ask for information," she said, "information this one cannot tell."

"The seal," Sansa murmured and Kaeru nodded. "Tell them what you can," she instructed, "they will understand what you can't say," here, she shot a look over her shoulder at Jiraiya and Inoichi, flat and stern. They both nodded and she turned back at Kaeru. "Just try your best," she urged. "Keep an open mind. Can you do that? For me?"

"Yes, Megitsune," Kaeru said, obedient as she had always been to Danzo's orders.

Sansa suddenly felt sick.

(You are the heiress to my empire. You are the heiress to my ideals. You are the heiress to my Will of Fire)

What had she just done?

Why had she done it?

Shaken, Sansa wondered if she was truly ruthless enough that she would make the decision to strip Kaeru of the opportunity for de-conditioning without the influence of the Kotoamatsukami? Would she have prioritised getting loyal eyes inside Konoha's forces, over getting a traumatised near-child the help she truly needed, without Danzo's insidious influence creeping through, twisting her thoughts and actions without her even realising?

Sansa dearly hoped not. But as Kaeru was led out by Inoichi, Sansa wished she could call them back. Wished she could take back the 'mission' she had given her. She wished she could tell them all of the hidden master seal on the back of her neck, could tell them so Jiraiya would be able to strip the loyalty seal from all the Root agents. But when she even thought about opening her mouth, her jaw felt as if it had frozen, her tongue turning to lead, and all she could do was watch in silence.

She needed the Kotoamatsukami gone now– she couldn't trust herself, not with any of the Root agents, not with Sai especially, Sai who she had just controlled and given orders without a second thought, thinking that to be freedom. What freedom could be found from control? No true freedom at all.

Sansa turned and left the room, tears in her eyes. Jiraiya let her, even though they were meant to be training now; he probably thought her overcome from memories, not the horror she felt crawling up her throat, the desperate itch under her skin, the frantic feeling of insecurity in not knowing if her thoughts were her own.

But there was nothing she could do about it– nothing but endure. 

~

"You were right," Inoichi said, slipping into his office and sliding the door shut behind him. Shikaku looked up from the mission report he was reading.

"Hm?" he murmured. "I usually am– what was I right about this time?"

"Fuyuko-chan," Inoichi said, as he stepped forwards to settle himself in the seat across from Shikaku. "Watching how she interacted with the Root agents, watching how they responded to her– there's not a doubt in my mind; Danzo intended for her to be his successor."

"What's your read on her?" Shikaku asked, putting down the report in order to turn his full attention to his friend. Inoichi looked thoughtful.

"There are three types of leaders," he said, "there are those who are groomed for leadership, those who are born into leadership, and those who are born to be a leader."

"And Fuyuko-chan?" Shikaku asked. "Which category do you believe she falls under?"

"Which do you think," Inoichi said, giving him a look. "Shikaku, that girl might have been born into her position, and she might have been groomed for it by Danzo, but by the gods– that girl was born to rule."

~