Chapter Text
Chōza walks into the courtyard holding the bowl filled with the koi fish's evening meal that he’d relieved Suzu, the kitchenmaid, of earlier. The koi fish perks up when his shadow falls over the pond's edge. He sets down the bowl and removes his tabi, and Geta gently sets them aside on. one of the rocks surrounding the pond's perimeter. Then he walks onto the pond, where a thin layer of chakra keeps him from falling in and ruining his formal wear. He pulls at his stiff collar, adjusting it for what seems like the thousandth time that day. The afternoon light sparkles on the pond as everything in the world turns golden. It’s truly a beautiful day—one of the last warm autumn days before the chill of winter starts to bear its teeth.
The Koi fish nips at his toes; he gently chuckles and starts tossing their food into the pond, watching the ripples as the food lands. As the fish tuck into their evening meal, Chōza watches them while idly picking at the threads forming the delicate scarlet and gold butterflies on his black silk haori. His wife Mikan had pulled his formal wear out of the depths of their closet, where it sits, gathering packed in a chest painted with seals to keep away pests and dust.
It’d been a long time since he’d hosted a formal kaiseki like this for all the clan heads and their close kin. Not since the celebrations after the third war had ended. Ever since the Kyuubi attack, tensions have been high, with everyone focusing inward on their clan matters. He’d forgotten just how chaotic the preparation was—the yearly New Year celebration just doesn’t compare—and he could hear the shouts and clamors in the distance behind him even without the use of chakra to sharpen his hearing.
Here he is, in the eye of the storm, waiting for his moment. He’s terrified; he’d rather face a horde of vicious Kiri Shinobi or a couple of bombers from Iwa instead of doing this. Damn Shikoku and Inoichi for planning this whole charade.
He is the head of a noble clan and the face of the Ino-Shika-Cho alliance. He’s the muscle, the first line of defense; Inoichi is the heart of the team; and Shikaku is the brain. No one gets to his best friends without going through him first; it’s the way things have been for their clans for hundreds of years. The affable Akimichi, the one who puts everyone at ease—it’s his job, and he’s damn good at it.
The stage is almost set; now to see if Senju Tsunade will show her face or if the stupid show he’s going out of his way to put on will be fucking pointless.
Fuck, he really hopes this goes well.
Maybe they could force Shikaku to be Hokage instead? For Sage’s sake, why are all the strongest ninjas in the village such fucking messes?
He can smell her before he even sets eyes on her; the scent of sake clinging to the Senju-hime is just that strong.
He’s ashamed to say he flinched when he heard the shoji slam open. The scent of booze and wisteria perfume fills his senses as Senju-hime plops down in the position of honor at his right with her assistant. Why did they bring a fucking pig? Weren’t the Inuzuka hounds bad enough?
The Senju-hime and her apprentice, Kato Shizune, had arrived 10 minutes into the Kaiseki after all the greetings had been conveniently exchanged, right in time for the serving of the Shokuzen-shu. Servents flutter around the hall with bottles of Ume-shu, Shōchū, and different varieties of sake. He favors the strawberry-flavored sake that they make in the summer and drink in the autumn.
She sits with her apprentice to the right of him in the positions of honor that have been reserved for them. Mikan sits to his left, keeping one eye always on the servants who begin to flutter around the hall with the serving of the Saki-zuke, which consists of sweet potato gyoza, edamame in a spicy-sweet sauce, and simmered daikon.
Tension simmers in the room, but the familiar steps of a kaiseki are calming to him. Then the Ko-suimono course is served; it consists of Kobocha miso soup. It is made fresh with vegetables from fields tended by Akimichi farmers, with food grown especially for the clan and its restaurants.
Mikan then begins to engage Kato in conversation, asking her about their travels in the elemental nations and her apprenticeship with the Senju-Hime. The young woman eagerly responds, only sparing her mistress brief despairing looks every so often as Senju-hime starts to make her way through the Akimichi liquor stores. Inoichi, who sits to the right of Senju-hime, and Kato also begin to engage in the conversation. Across the table from him, Shikaku watches Senju-hime pensively. To Shikaku’s right, his wife Yoshino engages in conversation with the woman sitting next to her, his cousin Akimichi Momoko.
The time passes quickly as the Muko-zuke course is served. It consists of freshly caught bonito and tuna sashimi. Then the Mushi-mono course with unagi, yuba, shimeji mushrooms, and mitsuba in earthenware kettles. The Yaki-mono, which consists of roasted chestnuts, eel, roasted maitake mushrooms, and grilled ayu (sweetfish), was freshly caught from the Naka River this morning. The rest of the courses seem to fly by as the night wears on, and he barely pays attention as the servants bring out the following dishes as the meal goes on. All he can focus on, though, is how fast the Senju-hime’s throwing back another bottle of sake; she’s on her second bottle already. He freezes up briefly when the Senju-hime reaches across the table. Her ample breasts swing in front of his nose, and he can feel Mikan glaring holes in the side of his head.
At last, the servants bring out the Mizu-mono, the final course, which consists of sliced persimmons and Momiji-shaped chestnut manju.
As the meal begins to wind down, the scheduled performance begins as the Maiko begin to dance as Akikaze is played on the shamisen.
After the performance is over, they will make their plea to the Senju-hime. He tugs at his collar again; it’s still itchy. The room feels oppressively hot as he shifts in his seat. He fans his face idly with a lavishly painted tessen covered in butterflies, which are colored apricot and pale yellow on a black background. On his left side, Mikan pinches his thigh and gives him a threatening smile. He fucking loves his wife; she’s the most beautiful woman in the land of fire, in his opinion, but, for Sage’s sake, she is terrifying sometimes. He straightens up and fixes his posture. Shikaku, across the table from him, gives him a commiserating look as he shrugs his shoulders.
Inoichi isn’t paying attention to their quiet exchange as he watches the Maiko dance, enraptured by their delicate and precise movements to music.
He’s heard stories about Senju Tsunade of the Sannin his whole life; he’d seen her on the battlefield during the height of the third war. They say she’d been a marvel to behold as a young Shinobi, with her soothing chakra, which could heal the most grievous of wounds instantly.
The women whose innovations are the foundation of Konoha's medical education. He’d heard the other stories and condemnations when she left the village without a so much as by your leave during the height of the third war.
She’s the legendary sucker who gambles away the Senju fortune year after year. The last of her clan as the second war decimated the Senju, with the third war finishing the job. They say she drowns her sorrows every night, only finding peace at the bottom of a bottle.
He finds himself looking into sharp brown eyes that pin him down like a specimen being dissected.
He catches Shikaku’s eye, and he raises an eyebrow at him.
Well then.
“On behalf of the Akimichi, I would like to thank everyone and our guest of honor, Senju Tsunade, for attending today's event. We hope that you have enjoyed the seasonal delicacies that —“
The Senju-hime stands up.
“Tch, boring. If that’s all, then I’m leaving.”
“Shishou!”
“Stay if you want, Shizune; I just came for the food and booze.”
He can feel Mikan next to him start to leak killing intent. It’s terrifying when she smiles like that; it reminds him of when he saw her fry a Hoshigaki alive with shinobi wire and exploding tags.
“I would ask Senju-sama to refrain from disrespecting my husband in our own clan halls.”
The Senju-hime turns to look down on his wife with amusement sparkling in her eyes.
“Oh, that’s cute, Akimichi-chan. Let’s hear now the reason you invited Shizune and me to this farce of a Kaiseki.“
This is not how this was supposed to go; for Sage’s sake, he had a whole fucking speech planned!
Inuzuka Tsume bangs her fist on the table.
“Oi, Shikaku I, for one, agree with the hime. ”
Aburame Shibi places a quelling hand on Tsume’s shoulder.
“I agree with Tsume, why? Because while I enjoyed the food and festivities, it feels poorly timed with the situation we find ourselves in now.”
Hyuuga Hiashi crosses his arms in a storm of agitation under his calm demeanor.
“I concur with Aburame-sama and Inuzuka-sama. The village is in a perilous state; something must be done.”
The Senju-hime crosses her arms, her gaze bearing down on Shikaku.
Shikaku rubs the back of his neck and sighs in the typical long-suffering Nara manner.
“Troublesome.”
Chōza stands up to meet the Senju-Hime’s gaze; this is his home, and he won’t be cowed by a woman who abandoned the village, no matter how sound her reasoning.
“For the Sage’s sake, it’s obvious, Senju, we want you to be Hokage.”