The procession to crown Tenshō as the new Daimyō of the Land of Iron was a grand affair. Samurai from all provinces gathered, adorned in ceremonial armor, their banners fluttering beneath a gray sky heavy with anticipation. The air was tense—charged with both admiration and silent concern. Among the crowd, the samurai loyal to Mifune stood taller, more composed. Their training under the Silver Lady blessings had elevated them, and others noticed. The difference was unmistakable.
It had been two months since the tragic deaths of Renga and Lady Sayaka. Despite the questions and rumors, no evidence had surfaced. The time of mourning had ended. Now, a new age was meant to begin.
Behind closed doors, Tenshō met privately with Kaede, his ever-shadowed advisor from Takigakure.
"You were right," Kaede admitted, voice low but impressed. "Even the chaos you create seems to dance into the shape you wanted from the start. Now the people adore you—and your brother? He's remembered as a tragic fool."
Tenshō allowed himself a rare smile. "And none of this would've been possible without your resources. We make a good team."
<<<< o >>>>
The next day, Takama and Mifune met in private.
"There's no evidence," Takama said bitterly. "No tracks, no chakra signatures. Even our most skilled shinobi found nothing."
Mifune, grizzled and weary, gave a slow nod. "We are bound by law and proof, not suspicion. Until he falters publicly, our hands are tied. But mark my words: this alliance with Takigakure will bear consequences."
Hinata, who stood quietly at the edge of the room, remained silent—her eyes deep with thought.
<<<< o >>>>
When the day of the ceremony arrived, the city surged with ritual. Flags returned to their posts, drums echoed through the avenues, and nobles took their seats within the Grand Hall.
Hinata accompanied Takama, her now hair long as before, an elegant presence around her. She moved gracefully between dignitaries, conversing with both former allies of Renga and proud supporters of Mifune. All smiled for the future.
Even samurai once loyal to Renga appeared content under the shadow of their new leader.
Tenshō stood before them all, clad in robes embroidered with the Gin family sigil. His voice echoed with practiced sorrow.
"With sorrow, we honor the death of my beloved brother and father," he declared. "And with resolve, we march toward a new dawn. I pledge to serve the Land of Iron with wisdom and strength."
Cheers rose.
A commander stepped forward, calling the assembled samurai to swear fealty to their new Daimyō.
Then the hall stilled.
A wind swept through the chamber, though no doors opened. A silver presence stepped forward. Cloaked in divine grace, she descended the aisle with slow, deliberate steps.
Silver Lady, the High Priestess of the Moon Cult had come.
Her radiance silenced the gathering. Cloaked in robes of pale silver, her presence felt both divine and terrifying. Her silver eyes burned with something ancient—calm fury. As she walked forward, samurai from Tenshō's faction moved to block her path.
Their blades passed through her form like mist.
Unharmed, undeterred, she continued forward. Samurai loyal to Mifune, touched by the Silver World, fell to their knees in reverence.
"I have come for the fallen," she said, voice echoing as if across eternity. "This is not the first time I've walked these halls. I will ask one question—and then pass judgment."
Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade. All motion ceased. Even the air stood still.
She stopped ten paces from Tenshō, who stood pale and frozen. Beside him, Kaede tensed, sweat gathering despite the chill in the air. From this woman, he felt nothing—and that terrified him more than any chakra signature could.
"Nine months ago," the Silver Lady said, "the cult of Jashin attacked these halls. Were you responsible? Did you arm them? Did you allow innocents to die?"
Tenshō tried to speak, to lie—but the words caught in his throat.
Behind the Silver Lady, he saw them—the souls of the dead from that day. Their eyes burned with wrath. Their silent screams drowned his thoughts. His mouth moved on its own.
Kaede's mouth was dry. He didn't believe in gods—but whatever stood before him bent the rules of power and truth.
"Y... e... s...." he stammered. He tried but couldn't resist. Then, as though a dam burst...
"Yes! I was! I armed them. I opened the gates so I could defeat them and take the glory! When I saw Mifune's neutrality, I saw that the chaos of that conflict would help me more than this fake glory... I wanted my enemies to bleed, but you ruined that moment! I wanted my father's legacy! Everything should have been mine!"
As the last words left his lips, the souls of the fallen faded—and the survivors of that attack stood in their place, glaring in silence.
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
The Silver Lady raised her voice one final time.
"You will come to my world, to a prison of silver, in the realm beneath the moon. There, time flows differently. You will remain until your soul can reckon with your actions. To you, it will feel like an eternity. Here, only one month will pass. When you return, they may decide if more punishment is needed."
At that moment Hinata released her Genjutsu on Tensho forcing him to sleep... in the direction of his sentence.
With that, Tenshō fell like a puppet with cut strings.
The Silver Lady turned.
"The judgment is rendered," the Silver Lady said. "Tend to his body while he faces his truth in my world. When he returns, you may judge him again.""
And with that, the hall remained silent, save for the rustle of wind through silver banners.
With her final words spoken, the Silver Lady dissolved into a thousand silver motes, scattering into the air like stardust. The hall remained breathless—until the first gasp reminded them all they could breathe.
<<<< o >>>>
Silence ruled.
Then came the murmurs, like wind before a storm. Samurai glanced at one another in disbelief. Some dropped to their knees. Others backed away in awe. Nobles whispered, uncertain whether what they saw was divine intervention or illusion.
Mifune exhaled a slow breath, hands behind his back.
"So," he muttered, "she truly is blessed by the moon."
Takama, standing beside Hinata, turned to her slowly. "Hinata?" he asked, voice steady but quiet.
Hinata, eyes still glowing faintly silver—the faint signs of the silver stage now fading, she gave the smallest of nods. She used her hand to touch her father and make him notice that she is a spiritual clone. The real hinata is somewhere else.
"I waited long enough," she said. "The time for silence has passed."
Takama nodded once. "Then we will endure the consequences—together."