Electra Rose
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AIC 39
🕑 Added 2020-03-23 05:26:55 +0000 UTCThe Kiri delegation arrived at the boundary outside the Fire Daimyo’s palace in the middle of a downpour. Gaara stoically endured the change from sunshine to rain. Utakata tossed his hand up to use his sleeve to shield his hair, lip curling in distaste.
Aiko made deliberate eye contact with a drenched man who was vaguely familiar. He was at the head of a small group of armed men who looked like a mix of samurai and shinobi.
“Mizukage-sama,” he greeted. “We are honored by your presence.” He dropped into a perfectly respectful bow which inadvertently flashed the bald spot on the top of his head. It was quite shiny and showed that his head had a lump.
“Ask him why his head is misshapen,” Sanbi urged.
“Fumi-san,” Aiko said instead, feeling relatively certain that this was the highest samurai retainer in Fire Country. She had once escorted his family to the capital for a visit, years and a dimension back. “Thank you for coming out to escort us. Shall we?”
Utakata gave her a look. It was a positive one, probably based on his extremely incorrect assumption that she had studied important persons before coming in order to make a good impression.
The walk to the palace itself took about 15 minutes, though the tour of the gardens was somewhat abridged due to weather. Given the damp circumstances, they were led to a guest area and given some time to refresh themselves before their meeting. One of the attendants broke off to drop into a deep bow outside the room. He was still there when the door closed, despite the rest of Fire Country’s representatives trailing away.
Utakata immediately went to the restroom and began examining the provided beauty supplies. Aiko gave him a fond smile and tugged a towel off the rack in order to pat at her own hair. She then used the same towel on Gaara, who bore the attention with a resigned sort of grace. While Utakata experimentally rubbed a high grade of camellia oil between his hands to warm it up, Aiko finger-combed her bangs to lay straight and checked that her clothes looked fine.
By the standards of any court, she was wildly underdressed. She considered, not for the first time, if she should put on some armor or a kimono. Either intimidation or beauty, one or the other would convey the gravitas of her station a bit better.
‘I should add more of that type of thing to my wardrobe,’ Aiko mused. She pursed her lips and looked away from the woman in the mirror, dissatisfied. She was pretty enough, but the reflection didn’t convey power and authority by any metric. Aiko’s hair was neat enough, but totally plain. She had a pale, drawn face and was clearly a little underweight. Her outfit was fine as a signature look and for an easy transition from the office to the battlefield, but it didn’t do her any favors when dealing with civilian royalty.
Maybe a combination would be a good idea. Some type of visible armor combined with a pretty kimono, to show both status and her position.
But for now, she was what she was, since she wasn’t willing to take 3 hours trying to put a kimono on by herself and she hadn’t brought one, anyway.
She tossed her hair back and strode towards the door. “I guess we’re pretty enough, let’s go. I’m sure the Daimyo and his court won’t be judgmental elitists or anything,” Aiko said dryly.
Utakata covered his mouth with his sleeve. He didn’t answer, but his eyes betrayed that he was amused as he fell in line.
The attendant was still waiting directly outside. He bowed nearly to his knees and then rushed to stay ahead of Aiko, guiding her with a strange, servile sort of hobbling mien.
It didn’t take long to reach their destination. The room was large, at least 30 mats, with lines of cushions burdened with courtiers. The Daimyo himself was at the head of the room, flanked by someone she should probably recognize on his left and his wife on his right. The Daimyo’s receiving area was open to the air, with a view of a pond. She looked long enough to see a turtle bob up to peer inquisitively at the gray sky before Aiko turned her attention to business.
“Hi-Kuni no Daimyo-sama,” she greeted. She placed her fingers on the floor in front of her cushion and bowed low. “This one is honored by the invitation and most gracious welcome. Gray skies cannot cloud the beauty of Hi Kuni.”
She could almost sense Utakata’s incredulity, but she couldn’t see him. He and Gaara were seated behind her, on the bare floor.
“Kiri no Mizukage-sama,” he said in return. His bow was equally deep. She felt a spark of relief and satisfaction that she was apparently on equal terms, despite civilian distaste for the burakumin. “This one thanks you for your travels far from your ocean.”
They went back and forth with the mandatory pleasantries, until they could sit back and let the Daimyo’s Minister of Finance bring up the bounty and Orochimaru. It would have been gauche for her to seem to ask for money, and it was below the Daimyo to speak of coin. The conversation was bland and proper, and they had quickly managed to confirm that the promise still held and that Fire Country would be eternally grateful for her service.
That put Aiko’s hackles up a little bit. She didn’t like the implication of ‘service’ in this context. She was not a- okay, yes, she was a citizen of Fire Country and had sworn to serve it, but they had no idea about that. They only knew her as a foreign warlord.
She let it go, however, and let the Minister of Finance escort her out, where they could have a more candid discussion that involved numbers and bank routing.
‘Money, money, money.’
She tried not to look too smug. This would more than make up for the income lost through giving up her drug running. Well. 6 months of it, anyway, and it was a good trade off effort-wise. Killing Orochimaru was a one-time affair.
...She crossed her fingers.
“Do you have reason to believe he might return?”
‘No,’ Aiko had to admit. ‘Except that it would be really awful and inconvenient and rude, so I think it sounds like classic Orochimaru.’
Sanbi gave a doubtful little hum. “In that case, perhaps any follow-up murdering should be done by another party. Your itinerary is very full.”
‘It’s not murder,’ Aiko thought defensively.
“Why not?”
...It was murder. She felt her lips flatten into a thin line. ‘The word ‘murder’ makes killing people sound so unpleasant. Don’t be gauche.’
“-zukage-sama.”
She jerked back to attention, although the Minister didn’t seem to have noticed her inattention. They had arrived at an elegant little office, where a glossy table of pale wood was waiting with neat piles of paperwork and thick seating cushions. She inclined her head slightly and swept in to take her seat first, hovering for a moment to be sure she’d guessed right before gracefully folding her legs.
They went through some more pleasantries, and then Aiko gestured for Utakata to give an envelope to the Minister. The men exchanged it with careful bows and both hands in an elegant dance of social nicety. Aiko wondered if she looked half that graceful, and then decided that she probably did not.
The envelope had their routing number discreetly at the end of a flowery letter designed to distract from the routing number, even though the financial information was the only information being conveyed. It wouldn’t have been very elegant to show up with a photocopy of page 1 of their bank book.
“There is one small matter of curiousity.” The Minister said, as though it had just occurred to him and was not a mandated topic.
Aiko made a politely interested face and tilted her head slightly. “Yes, Nagase-san?”
“The encounter with the criminal was in Rice Country, was it not?” The man had a carefully neutral tone.
“That’s true,” Aiko confirmed.
“I see.” He gave a little bow. “Forgive my impertinence in asking, but we were under the impression that Orochimaru-san had been using property in Fire Country.”
...She tried not to stare. “I believe that he used some facilities in Fire Country,” Aiko confirmed.
‘Did they know he was still operating in their borders? Or did Konoha mention it?’
“This is grave news indeed,” Nagase intoned. “The idea that such a dangerous person was operating within our sovereign country is of great concern to the Daimyo. Can you detail these locations?”
“Why would they ask you this?” Sanbi put an unflattering amount of stress on that question. “Shouldn’t they communicate with their kage?”
‘I don’t appreciate that tone, but you’re right.’
“I’m sorry to say that I no longer have the necessary details,” Aiko lied gracefully. She allowed her tone to sound apologetic. “I found some information in Rice Country, and passed it into Konohagakure’s care. I am certain that they will communicate further with the office of the Daimyo.”
Whatever was going on, she was not getting in the middle of it.
“Of course,” he said, and she had the distinct impression that he did not believe she had not memorized the information, which was rude and correct. “As foreigners cannot possess property in Fire Country, there would be no reason for you to be concerned with the details.” He gave her a thin smile.
She had to work to not react to that provocative wording. There was no way that wasn’t a thinly-veiled jab against what the Daimyo apparently believed were her home ownership ambitions in Fire Country.
Whatever. She wasn’t here to make friends, she was here to collect on a bill. So she tried to smooth it over and correct that impression. “What an interesting policy,” Aiko said diplomatically. “I can see the utility of ensuring that foreign nationals do not buy homes and farmland that locals need. In fact, Kirigakure does not allow non-citizens to obtain property in the capital without applying for approval.”
Nagase nodded. “One of many benefits. Fire Country has many cultural and natural resources to protect. Diluting our citizenry with outside influence would harm our heritage. We have a very thorough policy to discourage economically motivated migration. Only natural-born citizens may own and sell property in Fire Country.”
Her smile felt a bit strained. That sounded a lot like he thought keeping non-citizens out was inherently good. Which rubbed her the wrong way.
“That sounds bigoted,” Sanbi said, intrigued. “Correct?”
‘Yeah, that’s fucked up. If somebody resides, pays taxes, and obeys the law, I don’t see why their country of origin should matter.’
“Is that so?” Aiko asked, in mild disbelief. “The Land of Fire forbids sale and property ownership to naturalized citizens?”
If they had said it would be awkward for a foreign political leader to possess land, that would have made some sense. Nobody wanted foreign warlords making sneaky inroads. And nobody trusted her in particular, for gross anti-Kiri reasoning.
“In the interest of fairness, you have stolen a neighboring country.”
Aiko nobly pretended not to hear Sanbi’s gross mischaracterization of her involvement of the extremely minor details in the change of management of Wave Country.
Nagase had nodded, as if this was a totally uncontroversial policy. “Fire Country has a storied history. To protect it, property rights are restricted to those who can trace their ancestry within our borders.”
Aiko narrowed her eyes, just a bit. Wow, a category that Aiko belonged to. What a tragic legal coincidence.
Gaara, who was currently residing in a foreign country in an apprenticeship, frowned. He was probably well-aware that Kirigakure did not have that restriction.
Nagase’s eyes darted to Gaara, and then away. He began to sweat a little. It was a little late to read the air and realize he’d annoyed his guests.
“Oh, so it’s even worse,” Sanbi said in a tone of realization. “Immigrants cannot own property at all even after gaining citizenship. I wonder how many generations this policy applies to.”
‘I’m lowkey offended that my home country has worse property regulations than Kiri.’
Aiko blinked and nodded, forcing mild interest onto her face. “Of course,” she murmured. “The preservation of local culture is an invaluable pursuit.”
“Really?” Sanbi asked.
‘I’m going to spite them, I’m throwing him off my scent.’
Sanbi made a relieved sound.
That lack of faith was mildly insulting. Of course she was going to fuck these people over. Sanbi was right, though, that it would be an absolute nightmare if she tried to have a second home in Fire Country. Daughter of a Hokage or not, she was still a foreign military leader of a historically hostile nation.
“I believe you shall find a way to make them regret this ill-considered policy. Inspiring regret and misfortune is your personal calling,” Sanbi said.
He was definitely provoking her. She tossed her hair and focused on the rest of the discussion, which was cautiously bland and ended with a guarantee for a transfer by the end of the business day. They went back to their rooms. She went into the bathroom and washed her hands, and then went to Wave Country to meet with the pencil queen.
Shimizu-sama had prepared notes and a table, with hot tea waiting. “Mizukage-sama, thank you for your valuable time,” she said. It was brisk and polite.
“Excuse my rudeness,” Aiko said, stepping up onto the tatami and sitting at the waiting spot. “Was your escort agreeable?”
“There were more casualties than anticipated, particularly a very large quantity of small and hungry fish.” The older woman glanced up and took a sip of her own tea. “However, there were no significant inconveniences and we made excellent time. Perhaps I have even arranged a political marriage for my daughter which would be advantageous.”
Aiko waited a moment for the punchline of that strange joke. But Shimizu appeared to be serious.
...fish? Her chuunin darlings had gone from the Shimizu family home to the capital city of Wave and racked up a significant marine body count?
Aiko opened her mouth to ask. She closed it again. There wasn’t time for that. “I am honored by your kind words,” she went with. “As for the day’s business, if we might be so gauche as to go directly to business.”
“We may,” Shimizu agreed. “The Daimyo is ill recently.”
“That’s deeply unfortunate,” said Aiko, who had not personally poisoned any Daimyo to make him suspicious of his potential successors, and definitely didn’t suspect anything from her civilian allies. “In such times, the guidance of one’s family and trusted advisors is paramount.”
“Of course,” Shimizu agreed. “Wave is blessed by the wise guidance of many senior officials. In order to deal with these trying times, there has been some administrative changes to best utilize everyone’s talents.”
“A clever idea,” Aiko said politely.
“I cannot help but think that certain courtiers who now have lessened duties but possess much experience might be significant assets. It is a shame that their considerable abilities are not being utilized.”
“Oh,” said Aiko, as if she had not expected this. “I am lacking in leadership. Perhaps I could request some personnel from the Daimyo. It would be an honor to host such august persons.”
“What a lovely idea,” Shimizu said. She had a sharp little smile, just for a moment. “I can think of some people whose expertise would be a great benefit to Kirigakure.”
“Joint administration between Wave and Kirigakure could only benefit our countries,” said Aiko, who was planning to give exactly zero influence to displaced nobility being shunted away from court where they might interfere with the change in administration. It was mildly insulting to be used as the desolate island political banishment site, but it was also funny and she appreciated that. The tourism slogan “Kirigakure, where dreams come to die,” had a kind of ring to it.
“How should I make contact regarding this issue?”
“It would be easy for the Daimyo to make this decision, were you to request personnel.” Shimizu poured another steaming cup of tea. “I suggest that you contact his representative Bara Nodoko, and request certain types of experts. It might even be an honor if you were to request them by name.”
“Oh, can you provide names?” Aiko asked idly. “With my poor familiarity with the political situation, I would hate to make mistakes.”
Shimizu gave a nice little nod. “By chance, I can,” she said. “Through extreme good luck, I happen to have a written list of courtiers here. If I might make notes by certain names....”
“Please do,” Aiko said, and drank her second cup of tea. “I’ll be certain to let the Daimyo know who passed such interesting information to my students.” Once she had her neat little list of people who Shimizu wanted out of the capital and away from any influence, Aiko went back to Fire Country and got ready for bed.
They got up hideously early for breakfast. Aiko recieved a tray that contained several polite notes and a copy of a completed bank transfer form. After they collected their things from their rooms, they were politely escorted back to the border of Fire Country. Aiko let her escorts touch either arm, and hiraishin’d them away.
“Aiko-sama,” Utakata said slowly. He took his hand away and frowned at their surroundings. “This is not your office.”
“It isn’t,” Aiko agreed. She watched the person sitting in reception make eye contact and turn white behind her glasses. “It’s city hall in a little farming town outside of Konohagakure.” She patted Gaara’s hand and then pulled away.
“Why?” Utakata said flatly.
“I need to do some paperwork,” Aiko said sensibly. “Why else would I be here?”
Gaara, who caught on fast, tilted his head. “Is this the town closest to the base where Orochimaru had been doing business?”
“It is,” Aiko agreed. She flashed him a smile and stepped forward towards the reception desk. The woman sitting behind it adjusted her neat blue neckerchief as if it was armor. “I need to put in a property ownership claim.”
“Foreign residents can’t own property in Fire Country,” Gaara said, as if she might have forgotten.
She shook her head. “He didn’t say a thing about native-born citizens who live abroad.”
“A critical error in judgment,” Utakata said flatly.
“You love me,” Aiko reminded him. She turned to the woman behind the desk, who was stone-still and very professional-looking. “Hello, I’m here to enquire about a property outside of town, about 8km to the west. It was previously owned by Orochimaru-san, who forfeited his ownership to me when I collected on the bounty for his capture or neutralization.”
“Please take a number,” the city hall employee said, on professional reflex. She appeared to immediately regret it, flushing slightly red. But she didn’t back down, either.
Aiko gave her a slight frown and leaned over slightly to pull a numbered ticket. It said 3. The office appeared to be empty, but… she could take a seat, if that was appropriate? She took a step back.
The light above the desk dinged.
The worker looked at her screen. It lit up the faint hint of forming crow’s lines outside her eyes. “Number 3,” she called. “I can see you now at desk number 1.”
Aiko could not help but glance around to confirm what she already knew.
‘There is only one desk in this room.’
But the only desk in the room did have a big black 1 painted on the front, so Aiko took one step forward. “I’m here to ask about the title for a piece of land in this jurisdiction.”
The woman glanced at Aiko, Utakata, and then tilted her head down to look at Gaara. Her steely demeanor faltered at whatever she saw on him. “Ano…” She swallowed, and seemed to recover her nerve. “Do you happen to have the exact address? I’ll need to get the records.”
Aiko rattled it off, and the woman wrote it on a note. She gave them a professional, if slightly strained smile, and invited them to have a seat while she excused herself to the archives.
The chair creaked when Aiko sat down. It was the only sound other than heel clicks fading into the distance.
“Why would you want this land?” Gaara asked.
“Spite.” Utakata took a seat without a sound.
“No,” Gaara dismissed. His bangs flopped in front of his face when he shook his head. “If this was merely spite, she would exercise her pettiness in a more convenient way. I suspect there will be profit. Maliciousness alone is too impractical to inspire the decision to claim the property. It would be a diplomatic nightmare for Aiko-shishou to possess a second home so close to another nation’s capital.”
“Crimetown,” Aiko said absently.
Utakata repeated that far too loudly. She gave him a scolding look, because really, he should know to behave better in public.
“You will sell the compound quickly, then,” Gaara confirmed.
Aiko winked at him. “Yes. To whom?”
A line formed between his lack of eyebrows. He stared at her. He was probably compiling everything he knew about her and who she might know with Fire Country citizenship. “You don’t have a specific buyer yet,” he said slowly. “Your candidates…” He looked scandalized.
“Crimetown,” Aiko repeated cheerfully. This time Gaara clearly understood that she was making a proposal, not slandering Konoha.
He sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling.
“Surely you know some Fire Country citizens in good standing, of strong moral character, who would be good contacts for Kirigakure and not cause any trouble or scandal,” Utakata said. He might have been pleading.
“Yes, many,” Aiko agreed. “But I don’t want to sell to any of them. I want to create crimetown smack in the middle of Konoha and the capital and make sure they can’t do anything about it.”
“One reasonable person,” Utakata said. He was definitely begging. “Someone analogous to Shimizu-sama, for example.”
“I know a narcotics dealer who has pet tigers,” Aiko said idly. “He could use a nice big space for a big cat sanctuary.”
“Someone corrupt, among the nobility,” Utakata switched tacts. “We can find someone who has financial need, fading status, and exchange goodwill for farmland that will revive their prospects.”
“Could be a full zoo, actually,” Aiko mused. “That would provide a really good explanation about all the people who stay there, and people who come to see the animals would make it easier to visit discreetly on other business.”
“Number 3, I can see you at desk 1.”
Aiko stood and sauntered back to the desk. The same woman was there, with a photocopied piece of paper and a small folder.
“Here is the requested information,” she said. Aiko took it when it was extended. “If this paperwork is properly filled out we can file your request.”
Aiko eyed her.
The office worker, who was not interested in telling the Mizukage that she could not buy a nightmare factory nearby, met her gaze fairly steadily. “It’s all included,” she said. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes, I’d also like the form to register a bill of sale, and contact information for some local Notaries Public that your office recommends.” Aiko played idly with the pen tied to the desk. “I’d also like information about registering townships.”
Utakata sighed loudly.
The older woman didn’t even blink, much less prevaricate. Those documents were obtained readily from a filing cabinet under the desk that was probably full of all sorts of blank documents.
Aiko pursed her lips once more as these were handed to her without a hint of commentary or hesitation.
This 30-something year old clerk really wasn’t going to say a damn thing about a foreign military dictator in her office asking for paperwork it was legally impossible for her to fill out, as far as any reasonable person would guess. Not a word. She hadn’t let on that she recognized any of them, despite their headbands and fairly distinctive appearances. Aiko had fully expected her to get her supervisor, at least.
“I respect you,” Aiko said. “Keep up the good work.” And then she nodded and left, taking the time to make sure her coat flared behind her.
Comments
phoenixyfriend
Poor....... everyone except Aiko and maybe Gaara, really. (Perhaps Daddy Dearest shouldn't have revealed their connection...)
ElectricMaehem
I am so glad you picked up on that because it was deliberate Mei Vibes 😭 I’m doing something right.
Orlong
I am so happy to see this update! "she nodded and left, taking the time to make sure her coat flared behind her." I'm glad to see that Aiko hasn't given up all hope of being as cool as Mei !
