System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 334: Chapter 333: The Ghosts of Memory and Favors

The Fire Capital - The Daimyo’s Manor - The Garden Gazebo

The world did not shatter when the Kotoamatsukami took hold. There was no genjutsu bell, no rippling distortion of reality, and no sudden plunge into a dark, watery abyss. It was an elegant, terrifyingly seamless rewrite of the soul.

Kyū Madoka’s initial expression of utter panic... the instinctive terror of a ruler confronted by an assassin in his private sanctuary... melted away like frost beneath the morning sun. His widened eyes blinked once, the sudden influx of decades-old, meticulously forged memories settling perfectly into the architecture of his mind.

He stared at the towering blonde man standing before him in the Konoha flak jacket. The face was unmistakable. The broad shoulders, the piercing blue eyes, the impossibly arrogant yet comforting smirk.

”A-Alaric... san?” Kyū breathed, his voice trembling slightly as forty years of manufactured nostalgia washed over him.

Alaric smiled, offering a single, familiar nod of his head. While his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan silently deactivated, fading back into a calm cerulean blue, he kept up the act flawlessly.

”Sup, kid?” Alaric greeted, his tone carrying the exact same lazy, effortless cadence it had in the alleyway four decades ago.

Kyū continued to stare, his aged, wrinkled hands gripping the wooden railing of the gazebo as his eyes swept the man from top to bottom. The Daimyo had lived a long, arduous life, his hair turning silver and his face deeply lined by the heavy burdens of statecraft. Yet, the man standing before him had not aged a single day.

”You...” Kyū murmured, his voice laced with profound awe. ”You did not age... how is that possible?”

”Long story,” Alaric deflected smoothly, shaking his head.

Moving with an unhurried grace, Alaric stepped further into the gazebo and took a seat on one of the intricately carved wooden benches. He reached into his pocket, unsealing a random, slightly wrinkled cigar he had purchased from a Konoha vendor three years prior. He snapped his fingers, generating a tiny spark of chakra to light the tip, and took a slow, appreciative drag.

”I see you’re the Daimyo now,” Alaric observed, exhaling a thin cloud of gray smoke over the tranquil koi pond. He looked back at the older man, his eyes softening into something resembling genuine curiosity. ”So? Did you take my advice?”

Kyū’s expression shifted. The regal authority of the Fire Daimyo fractured slightly, revealing the vulnerable, lovestruck boy who had once stared out a high window, desperate for an escape.

”Yes,” Kyū answered, lowering himself onto the bench opposite Alaric. ”However...”

A small, wistful smile touched his lips, though it carried a heavy, lingering tint of sadness at the edges.

”Aiko... she...” Kyū sighed, his gaze dropping to the floorboards. ”When I gathered my courage, confessed to her, and told her of my true identity and the political situation... she distanced herself from me.”

Alaric’s brows rose behind the curtain of his cigar smoke. ’Ah shit...’ he thought, a sudden, unexpected pang of guilt pricking at his conscience. ’Man down.’

”I knew the moment I told her of my circumstance... that my father had already secured a diplomatic marriage for me... it would be difficult,” Kyū continued, his voice quiet, filled with the resonant ache of first heartbreak. ”She outright said she didn’t want to be a concubine. Even when I begged her, even when I promised that I had absolutely no plans of ever marrying or touching another woman aside from her... she refused. She had too much pride to live in the shadows of a political bride.”

”...”

Alaric sat in awkward silence. He genuinely didn’t know what to say. He had only planted these memories in the Daimyo’s mind to create a foundational debt, to engineer a scenario where the ruler of the Fire Country owed him absolute favors. He hadn’t expected the narrative to carry such a poignant, bittersweet emotional weight.

”So...” Alaric finally ventured, rubbing the back of his neck as he tapped his cigar ash into the wind. ”Did you regret confessing to her, then? Regret taking my advice?”

”No,” Kyū answered immediately.

He shook his head, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he looked up at Alaric with a surprisingly peaceful smile.

”In fact, it lifted an immense weight off my shoulders. I was terrifyingly honest with her, and she was honest with me. We didn’t leave anything unsaid. At the very least, I got it out of the way, and I didn’t spend the rest of my life wondering ’what if’.”

Alaric listened carefully, nodding his head in a slow, slightly awkward rhythm. He took another long drag from his cigar, silently appreciating the Daimyo’s mature philosophy while desperately wishing he could fast-forward to the geopolitical crisis he was actually here to solve.

Sensing the slight tension, Kyū chuckled, his demeanor seamlessly shifting from a nostalgic romantic back to the sharp, observant ruler of the continent’s most powerful nation.

”Setting the ghosts of the past aside,” Kyū smiled, gesturing vaguely toward Alaric’s attire. ”So you were a shinobi of Konohagakure all along, huh?”

He eyed the standard olive-green flak jacket and the gleaming metal of the Leaf headband strapped tightly around Alaric’s upper arm.

”Am I right to guess that the Godaime Hokage sent you here because of the annual fund reduction?”

”Yeah. I’m a Jonin in your Hidden Village,” Alaric chuckled, leaning back and resting his arm across the top of the bench. ”And yeah, you guessed it. I’m here because of those incredibly polite, completely devastating letters you wrote to the Hokage.”

Kyū’s smile faded, his posture straightening as the crushing reality of his nation’s economy settled back over his shoulders. He stared at Alaric for a long moment before letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh.

”Alaric-san,” Kyū began, his tone formal and burdened. ”You must understand, neither I nor my financial ministers wanted to cut the allocated funds for Konoha. But the famine plaguing our outer provinces is much worse than anyone initially anticipated. The earth has turned to dust. I have already authorized the expenditure of billions of Ryo just for imported food, basic medical supplies, and transportation. The treasury is bleeding.”

”I understand that part completely,” Alaric replied smoothly, not dismissing the man’s plight. ”But I’m not here just to beg for the village’s allowance back. I’m here because there is a much deeper rot in your ledger.”

Kyū frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. ”What do you mean?”

Alaric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his blue eyes locking onto the Daimyo with predatory focus.

”Before I even stepped foot in your garden, I deployed a network of specialized shadow clones,” Alaric explained, deciding to reveal a fraction of his methods to establish absolute credibility. ”I’ve been investigating the Fire Capital, the minor villages outside your walls, and the rural farmlands. I also took the liberty of looking through the private logs in your provincial treasury offices... specifically the receipts detailing the purchase of goods from your contracted merchants.”

Kyū bristled slightly at the casual admission of espionage within his own government, but his desperation for answers kept him silent.

”When my clones traveled to the provincial warehouses and the villages that were supposed to be heavily relieved by your funding,” Alaric continued, his voice dropping into a cold, clinical cadence. ”They found nothing. There was no food. There were no incoming supplies. Somewhere along the line... from the exact moment your Chancellor releases the money, to the moment the goods are supposed to be received by the starving populace... the Ryo is completely disappearing.”

Kyū’s jaw tightened, the implications crashing down upon him like a physical weight. His hands curled into fists on his lap.

”Are you implying,” Kyū asked, his voice deathly quiet and laced with a terrifying, rising anger, ”that there is embezzlement involved within my relief efforts?”

”I’m not implying it. I’m stating it as a mathematical near-certainty,” Alaric replied calmly, taking a final puff of his cigar before crushing the ember against the stone base of the gazebo. ”Embezzlement of Ryo and physical goods during a widespread famine is the oldest, easiest trick in the corrupt bureaucrat’s handbook. Chaos provides the perfect cover for theft.”

Kyū’s face flushed dark with fury. The thought of his own people profiting off the starvation of his citizens was a betrayal that shook him to his core. He stood up abruptly, towering over the sitting shinobi.

”These are monumental accusations, Alaric-san,” Kyū demanded, his voice echoing with the authority of the throne. ”Where is your evidence?”

Alaric didn’t flinch. He simply looked up at the furious ruler, a slow, appreciative smirk spreading across his face.

”You’ve become incredibly sharp now that you’re the Daimyo,” Alaric commended lightly.

Kyū scoffed, though the anger in his eyes remained volatile. ”I have been the Daimyo of the Fire Country for nearly four decades. I have navigated wars, plagues, and betrayals. I needed to be sharp, or otherwise, this country would have fallen long ago.”

”Fair enough,” Alaric nodded, rising smoothly to his feet to stand eye-to-eye with the ruler. ”I don’t have the hard, irrefutable paper trail in my hands right this second. But I am more than capable of gathering the evidence right away. Three days, tops. I’ll hand you the ledgers, the names, and the missing cargo.”

He stepped closer, his aura expanding just enough to remind the Daimyo of the power disparity between them.

”But I have two conditions,” Alaric stated. ”First, you must give me an official royal issue... a mandate bearing your personal seal... authorizing me to investigate this situation with absolute impunity. And second... you must immediately withdraw the thirty percent reduction of Konoha’s annual funds.”

Kyū stared into Alaric’s unyielding blue eyes, his brilliant mind processing the political leverage of the demand. He understood the necessity of the first condition instantly; if Alaric possessed an official scroll stamped with the Daimyo’s personal seal, his actions within the capital would be proven legitimate. He could bypass local magistrates, audit the merchant guilds, and dismantle the corruption without triggering an internal civil war.

As for the second condition... if Alaric successfully recovered the embezzled billions, the treasury would stabilize, rendering the budget cuts to the hidden village entirely unnecessary.

”I agree to your terms,” Kyū decided firmly, his anger distilling into a cold, ruthless resolve. He turned toward the garden path. ”Follow me.”

They walked out of the gazebo, moving in tandem across the manicured lawns and stone bridges toward the administrative wing of the massive manor.

As they navigated the opulent, sunlit corridors of the residence, they passed by multiple armored samurai and high-ranking court personnel. The guards stiffened, their hands resting cautiously on the hilts of their swords as they saw the towering, unknown Konoha Jonin striding confidently through the restricted halls. They exchanged deeply confused, alarmed looks, but nothing was said or done. The Daimyo himself was leading the man, walking with a purposeful stride that forbade any interruption.

They arrived at Kyū’s personal office... a grand, beautifully appointed room lined with ancient texts, strategic maps, and the faint, lingering scent of ink and cedar.

Kyū moved directly to his massive desk. He bypassed the standard bureaucratic forms, reaching into a locked drawer to retrieve a blank scroll adorned with luxurious, gold-threaded silk edges... parchment reserved exclusively for royal decrees.

He dipped a fine calligraphy brush into the inkstone and wrote with swift, aggressive, flawless strokes, detailing the absolute, unquestionable authority granted to Alaric Kenway for the duration of the investigation. When he was finished, he pressed his personal, heavy jade seal into a pool of hot red wax, stamping the bottom of the scroll with finality.

He rolled the parchment tightly and handed it across the desk.

”Take this,” Kyū ordered, his eyes grave. ”I ask that you execute this investigation with extreme haste and absolute silence. I do not want unnecessary noise in the court until the net is fully drawn. If the rats realize they are being hunted, they will burn the ledgers and flee the country.”

”Understood,” Alaric nodded, catching the scroll effortlessly and tucking it into the inner pocket of his flak jacket.

He stood there for a moment, looking at the exhausted, burdened ruler. A faint, nostalgic smile touched Alaric’s lips.

”Tell you what, kid,” Alaric offered, leaning casually against the edge of the mahogany desk. ”I’ll throw in a bonus. I’ll do something about the famine that’s taking place right now. I’ll make the dying farms and the dead lands healthy again.”

Kyū’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He stared at the blonde shinobi as if the man had just promised to pull the sun down from the sky.

”How?” Kyū questioned, his voice breathless. ”The soil is baked to clay. The rivers in the west are running dry. How could a single shinobi possibly reverse a natural disaster of that magnitude?”

Alaric simply smirked, tapping the side of his head. ”Trust me. I’ll help you again, just like how I helped you in that alleyway decades ago. Magic is kind of my specialty.”

Kyū continued to stare, the sheer absurdity of the promise warring with the undeniable, miraculous presence of the man who had effortlessly defied time itself. Slowly, a deep, genuine chuckle bubbled up from his chest.

”If you truly manage to do all the things you have promised today,” Kyū said, shaking his head in absolute wonder. He looked Alaric dead in the eye, his expression one of absolute sincerity. ”Then I will owe you a total of four distinct favors. And I promise you, as the ruler of the Fire Country, I will grant whatever it is you desire by the time you fulfill your end of the deal.”

Alaric smiled, a bright, satisfied expression. ”It’s a deal, Kyū.”

He pushed himself off the desk, walking toward the massive, arched window at the far end of the office. He paused at the sill, looking out over the sprawling expanse of the Fire Capital, before casting a glance over his shoulder.

”You know,” Alaric commented lightly, gesturing to the bookshelves and the specific placement of the desk. ”You really didn’t change the layout of your old personal study room. It looks exactly the same as it did forty years ago.”

Kyū’s eyes widened drastically, caught completely off guard by the profound, intimate observation. A warm, incredibly nostalgic smile broke across his weathered face.

”You remember,” Kyū whispered, his voice thick with a sudden rush of emotion. ”Even after all those years... you remember.”

Alaric nodded his head, stepping up onto the window ledge with fluid grace.

”Of course I do,” Alaric replied, offering a lazy, two-finger salute. ”You owe me two favors from back then, after all.”

Without another word, Alaric effortlessly stepped off the ledge.

He didn’t fall. He simply let gravity slide off him, ascending into the crisp afternoon sky, his form floating backward before shooting upward into the clouds with terrifying speed.

Kyū Madoka stood alone in his quiet office. He walked slowly to the window, resting his hands on the sill as he stared at the rapidly disappearing, crimson-and-green speck in the sky.

A soft, relieved laugh escaped his lips.

’I really wasn’t crazy,’ Kyū thought, the burdens of his crown feeling infinitely lighter than they had an hour ago. ’He can really fly...’

.

Consider buying me a coffee!

patreon.com/kulark

I’m uploading dozens of Chapters ahead there!