Tamashiro Tamiko sat at the head of his long dining table and smiled at the mountain of food in front of him.
Servants brought plate after plate: roast lamb, honeyed dates, fresh flatbread, and wine from the northern vineyards. The smell filled the grand room of his glorious estate.
He knew exactly what he had done.
He had stood in the daimyo's council and demanded that Sunagakure march back to war against Iwagakure. He had shouted that the village was weak, that they were cowards for wanting peace, that the honour of the Land of Wind was stained by their inaction. He had shouted that Suna should continue to war against Iwa after so many deaths of their shinobi and they should revenge those lives.
He knew that Suna would not stay still after this.
But he still did what he did. He antoganized the military of his nation. Because for him money was more important than the nation itself. If he had the money, he could hire samurai and shinobi in both huge numbers and quality. Why would he need a shinobi villages services then?
He knew the Kazekage would hate him for it.
Good. That was what he wanted.
Rasa was young. The Third Kazekage had vanished without warning, and Rasa had been forced onto the throne far too early.
He had strength, yes, gold dust and powerful magnet release, but he had no patience for politics.
He knew that Rasa did things without consideration of some elders who might know basic politics. And Rasa was a young impulsive one whose answer to problems were to get rid of them. When someone became a problem, Rasa removed the problem.
Tamashiro laughed inside his head.
'Idiots who solve everything with kunai and blood. Brute force instead of clever words. Shinobi always think might makes right. They never learn that real power sits in ledgers and trade routes, not in how many enemies you can bury.' He thought
He was certain an assassin was already on the way. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It did not matter.
He had planned for this.
If he was attacked by Suna shinobi, the daimyo would see the village as dangerous dogs that bit their own masters. Trust would break between them.
Suna would lose missions, money and Daimyō's support. To regain favour, they would have to obey the daimyo and restart the war with Iwa. Trade routes would close.
His warehouses would be the only ones with rice, cloth, salt, and medicine. Prices would rise. His wealth would double, triple, grow beyond counting.
All he had to do was stay alive long enough for the assassin to fail. Of course, he did not plan on dying. He had spent gold like water to keep himself alive.
Extra samurai in armour stood at every door. His own trained shinobi walked the walls. Two sensor ninja watched the air night and day. One of them on the city's main gate and the other in his estate. A skilled medical ninja waited in the next room.
But he knew that would not be enough against a real ANBU squad.
That was why he had gone further.
He had found the Silent Talon.
A group of masked mercenaries operating out of the Land of Fire with masks very similar to the Anbu of the great shinobi villages.
They had come to him first, which made him suspicious, but their price was low, almost too low for A-rank work. When he ordered them to remove their masks, they obeyed without question. None of their faces were in any bingo book. No village symbols. No tattoos. Nothing.
He tested them.
He sent his best personal shinobi to fight three of the Talon members in the training yard. The fight lasted less than a minute. His men were on the ground bleeding before they knew what happened.
Eight Silent Talon members now lived in his estate.
Three guarded him personally, hidden in the shadows of the dining hall. Two of them were at the gate of his estate. Three more protected his main sensor ninja in a separate room.
The sensor was the key. An assassin could hide from eyes, but not from a good sensor. The moment danger appeared, the sensor would inform Talon and they would strike first.
Tamashiro looked around the room and felt proud.
A dozen samurai in full armour stood like statues. His own shinobi stood ready with hands on weapon pouches. The three Talon mercenaries watched from the darkness.
Money could buy everything.
Loyalty. Skill. Time. Power itself. He did not need Suna to protect him.
He lifted a piece of honeyed lamb to his mouth.
He never tasted it.
A blue ball of spinning chakra crashed through the window in a shower of glass. It moved faster than thought.
One of the Talon mercenaries threw his hand up. A thick earth wall rose from the floor.
The blue ball curved in mid-air like a living thing and slipped around the wall.
No one had time to scream.
The spinning sphere struck Tamashiro in the chest.
Chakra exploded.
The force crushed his body into the chair. Bones shattered. Blood painted the walls and table. The chair broke into pieces. What was left of the noble slid to the floor in a broken, bloody heap.
His final bite of lamb fell from a hand that no longer existed.
The dining room was silent except for the soft dripping of blood on expensive carpet.
The most powerful noble in the city was dead in less than ten seconds.
And no one in the room had even seen the assassin.
---------Author Notes--------
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