RecklessDawn

  As Ryoji sat, a group of women—dressed in what could only be described as French maid uniforms—gracefully glided into the kitchen, seamlessly tending to their duties. The Senju maids were Ryoji’s own creation, inspired by memories of his past life. However, the uniforms they wore were more revealing than the modest designs he had originally envisioned.

  Miyuki, true to her name—beautiful snow—gnced at her fiancé after his subtle kick. Then, with a smile that made his heart skip a beat, she said,

  "I think the outfits are cute. What about you, Himari?"

  At this, Himari looked between her twin and his fiancée, then gave a vague nod of agreement before returning to her food. Their mother, Tsunade, let out a sigh and rubbed her temples even harder.

  Ryoji gnced at his mother, then sighed as he noticed a maid in a compromising position. Rubbing his temples, he muttered,

  "Mom, I’m afraid tonight may take a turn for the worse. Elders Tokie and Munenori are likely to challenge my right to lead the cn. They’ve each put forward one of my cousins as a candidate.

  Lord Munenori is backing Ayaka—even though she’s openly admitted she doesn’t want the role. I fear he may be pnning something underhanded to force her into it. As for Lady Tokie, she’s pushing Renjiro. While I respect him, even Ji-Chan considers him unfit to lead. We can’t allow them to install someone the Hokage himself finds objectionable."

  Tsunade nodded. "Please, restrain your temper. I know how sensitive you are when it comes to perceived insults to our family."

  [Break]

  The council room was a stunning blend of cultures, meticulously designed by Ryoji to reflect his past life and his vision for the future of the cn. It resembled a grand European Great Hall, with its soaring vaulted ceilings and long, ornate wooden beams stretching across the space.

  The room was vast, with high, narrow windows allowing the dim light of dusk to spill in, casting long shadows on the floor. The walls were adorned with tapestries and intricate carvings, a mixture of Nordic and Japanese aesthetics, with sharp angles and flowing curves that hinted at both regions' architectural styles.

  At the far end of the hall, a massive hearth roared with life, its stone mantle engraved with symbols that were unmistakably Joseon in origin, subtle enough to be almost overlooked, but present nonetheless—an homage to Ryoji’s past life in Korea. The long, polished oak table that dominated the center of the room was fnked by heavy, high-backed chairs, each one intricately carved with both mythical creatures from Japanese folklore and abstract Nordic patterns.

  Three tables stretched out in a wave-like pattern away from the dais, each slightly higher than the st. The first table, closest to the dais, was reserved for the elders and the most respected cn members. Behind them sat the adults of the cn, followed by the retainers at the furthest table. The arrangement, reminiscent of a sweeping curve ○))), symbolized the hierarchy, with each group fanning out in a gradual progression.

  The air in the room was thick with history and purpose, the merging of ancient influences creating a space that felt both imposing and intimate. It was a setting meant to command respect, to stir the heart of anyone who stepped within its walls—an embodiment of Ryoji's complex legacy.

  Ryoji walked in, his presence commanding attention as he entered the council room. His attire was carefully chosen, a striking reflection of his ancestor, a figure he resembled so closely that it was almost uncanny. Every detail, from the intricate patterns on his robes to the sharp cut of his cloak, echoed the style of the past—except for his hair and eyes. His hair, a deep navy blue and incredibly thick, cascaded in waves that contrasted with the dark locks of his ancestor. His eyes, a rich golden hue flecked with scarlet, gleamed with an intense, almost otherworldly fire. Despite these differences, the resembnce between them was undeniable, as though the weight of history and bloodlines had shaped him to carry the legacy of his powerful forebear.

  At the sight of him, the room fell silent. The elders, with Tsunade at the center, watched as Ryoji made his way to the dais and seated himself, arrogant in his humility upon the throne. His companions, standing near, were equally striking. His sister sat upon a gilded stool beside him, poised and calm, while the beautiful, reserved Miyuki stood gracefully by his side. Her outfit—a fusion of traditional Hanbok and Qipao—was something anyone from his past world would recognize, yet it was more form-fitting, as if the two styles had been beautifully merged into one. To the onlookers, it was a mastercss in elegance, a breathtaking vision of refinement and grace.

  For Ryoji, however, it was an epic distraction. From his angle, her attire left little to the imagination. Her chest, though modestly covered, seemed entirely unobstructed, as if she wore nothing at all. He struggled to maintain focus, his thoughts wandering as her presence proved too captivating to ignore.

  Miyuki, unfazed, met his gaze and smiled sweetly, a knowing glint in her eye that only added to his discomfort.

  And Himari cims I'll corrupt this poor girl... He thought glumly.

  Ryoji smiled, his expression unnervingly sweet as he turned his gaze toward Renjiro. The room held its breath, waiting for the next move in this delicate power py.

  "What say you, Renjiro?" Ryoji asked, his voice calm, yet with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t entirely willing to cede the floor.

  Renjiro stood slowly, his posture fwless, his reputation as a seasoned Jonin preceding him. The room knew him well—over 200 successful missions, a long list of accodes, and a reputation for both tactical brilliance and unmatched combat prowess. His presence commanded attention as he straightened his dark, formal attire, the weight of his accomplishments clearly visible in his every movement.

  "I have served the cn for many years, both on the battlefield and behind the scenes," Renjiro began, his voice steady and measured, exuding the confidence of a man who had seen countless challenges and emerged victorious each time. "I have earned my pce among you, as I have earned every medal and commendation dispyed on my record. The mission logs speak for themselves."

  He paused, his golden eyes sweeping across the council members, ensuring that each one was paying attention.

  "I do not seek this position for the title alone," he continued, his voice unwavering. "I seek it to protect the future of this cn. I know what must be done to keep us strong, to ensure that we remain the force that we are. A leader is not simply one who is born to the role; a leader is one who has the ability to make the hard choices. And I have made those choices time and time again."

  Renjiro turned his gaze briefly to Ryoji, a flicker of respect fshing behind his eyes before it quickly disappeared behind his stoic facade.

  "The question is not whether I have the strength or the wisdom for this role, but whether those who lead now are prepared to do what is necessary to secure the cn's future."

  As Renjiro’s words settled, there was a pause, a pregnant silence that seemed to stretch on. The room hung on his every sylble, some nodding in approval, others watching with suspicion.

  Before anyone could speak, the calm was broken by the sharp voice of Lord Munenori. He stood, his dark robes flowing as he cast a pointed gnce toward Ryoji.

  "I appreciate Renjiro’s words," Munenori began, his tone calcuting, "but my choice for the head of the cn is a different matter entirely."

  He turned to face the room, his gaze deliberate. "I believe Ayaka should be considered for the position. Her loyalty to the cn has been beyond question, and while Renjiro may have his merits, it is Ayaka's vision that I trust most for the future. A leader must understand not only strength but also diplomacy. And Ayaka has the qualities that will preserve this cn, both in times of peace and war."

  The room fell into a tense silence as Munenori’s words hung in the air, and once again, the council was left to consider the implications of his choice.

  Ryoji’s smile grew wry as he leaned forward, his demeanor slowly becoming as chilling as the room's rapidly dropping temperature. His usual rexed posture straightened, and his sharp eyes flicked across the room, scrutinizing every face. The atmosphere around him seemed to shift, turning heavier, as if the very air itself responded to the coldness he now exuded.

  He sighed slightly, a habit he had picked up over the years when dealing with the foolish. "I'll admit I’m not as well... accomplished as Renjiro, nor is my vision for the future... as optimistic as Ayaka's," he said, his tone smooth, though tinged with something far more biting. He leaned back in his seat, the air around him thick with subtle menace. "However, neither of them have the aptitude to lead. The Hokage has already indicated his objection to one, and Ayaka has made it abundantly clear she has no desire to take on this role."

  A silence followed his words, thick with tension.

  The two elders, Tokie and Munenori, exchanged gnces, their expressions twisting into something less than respectful. It was clear that they were beginning to lose patience with Ryoji's refusal to bow to their wishes. Munenori, ever the provocateur, was the first to speak.

  "Such arrogance," he sneered, his voice ced with disdain. "You speak of aptitude, but what exactly have you done for this cn beyond inheriting a throne you don't deserve?"

  Tokie’s voice joined in, cutting through the silence like a bde. "Your arrogance is matched only by your incompetence. And as for your... choices," she shot a venomous gnce at Miyuki, who sat composed nearby, "that whore-bitch Uchiha you keep by your side—it's clear your decisions are nothing more than a reflection of your weakness."

  The words stung the air, den with malice. They weren’t just insults—they were meant to provoke, to tear apart any sembnce of respect Ryoji had built within this room.

  Miyuki’s eyes narrowed, a fsh of anger flickering beneath her calm exterior, but she held her composure, her lips pressed into a thin line. Ryoji’s grip on the armrests of his throne tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, his smile remained, albeit colder than before.

  Tsunade, seated beside the altercation, slowly began to distance herself from the two elders, her fingers twitching as she rubbed her temples, the tension between the factions becoming unbearable. The air in the room seemed to freeze further, as if waiting for Ryoji’s next move, and the entire council watched with bated breath.

  Without warning, his chakra fred outward like an erupting storm. The sheer pressure of his power smmed into the room, forcing everyone to the ground. The elders, the council members, and even Renjiro were fttened by the wave of force.

  But there were exceptions. Miyuki and Himari, who had sparred with him countless times, remained unaffected, their bodies braced against the pressure.

  The others, however, felt their breath catch, their bodies struggling under the weight of his formidable presence.

  Ryoji’s voice rang out, cold and filled with a lethal edge. "I don’t mind insults thrown at me, but there is a line you should never cross. Insults to my family... that is a deadly sin."

  He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he addressed the two elders. "You ask what I've done? At five, I secured peace with the Uchiha. I retrieved our family artifacts. I opened dozens of restaurants, selling never-before-seen foods, and created medical patches that have brought us unimaginable wealth." He paused, the weight of his words settling in the silence that now filled the room. "And what have you done but sow division?"

  The silence was shattered as the two elders, still on the ground, gritted their teeth and shot back with venomous words, their eyes burning with frustration and anger.

  "You think you are the savior of this cn?" Munenori spat, his voice shaking with contempt. "All you’ve done is create a mockery of tradition and bloodlines, pying at peace and progress while the true leaders, the ones who understand this cn’s history, are cast aside."

  "And you," Lady Tokie snarled, her voice dripping with disdain, "are nothing but a puppet! A man who bends to his whims and toys with the lives of others, trying to win favor from those who don’t care for you. What you’ve done doesn’t matter; you’re just an inexperienced child pying at power. You’ll never be fit to lead."

  The insults were ced with personal venom, stoking the already simmering rage within Ryoji. The council room, still pressed to the ground beneath his chakra, waited for his next move.

  Munenori’s sneer only deepened as he shifted his focus, now gring at Miyuki with a look of utter disdain. “And as for her,” he hissed, his voice dripping with contempt, “that filthy Uchiha bitch doesn’t belong here. A woman like her—entangled with you, tainting the very bloodline of this family—she’s nothing more than a tool for your personal satisfaction. You dare bring her into our midst, as if she’s worth a damn?"

  Lady Tokie joined in, her tone sharp, her words ced with spite. "Miyuki, that whore you cling to, is nothing more than a prize you funt. You think her cold beauty and that ridiculous Uchiha bloodline will earn you the respect you crave? You’ve stained our family’s honor by involving her. Your obsession with that woman... it sickens me."

  The words were like daggers, cutting deeply into the air, leaving no room for redemption. Miyuki’s normally composed expression faltered ever so slightly, the pain behind her eyes barely contained. The insult was personal, targeting her very worth, and it was enough to make Ryoji’s blood boil.

  His chakra, already swirling violently, surged again, a monstrous force that sent cracks through the floor and shook the walls of the council room. The elders’ venomous words had crossed a line, and there was no turning back now.

  Ryoji raised his hand, his posture suddenly imposing as he unconsciously mirrored the Leper King from Kingdom of Heaven. His eyes narrowed, and with a single, swift motion, the air around him seemed to crackle with power. Sprouts of thick, gnarled wood erupted violently from the ground, piercing through the bodies of the elders. The roots twisted and churned, tearing through their flesh with cruel precision, as though the very earth was punishing them for their insolence. Slowly, their forms began to contort, growing into coffin-shaped structures, the once-strong figures now reduced to little more than macabre dispys. The room was filled with the sickening sounds of their bodies being shredded apart, their screams muffled by the ever-growing branches that bound them.

  Ryoji's voice, cold and filled with a terrifying calm, broke the grim silence. “Burn them. They were warned, yet they danced over my red line anyway. Should anyone object... you can join them.”

  The threat hung in the air like a deadly cloud, every word final, every sylble dripping with malice. The pressure in the room increased, the weight of his power suffocating the council. The elders’ bodies now trapped within the brutal structures, their once-proud faces obscured by the cruel wooden tendrils, waited for the final act.

  Without looking back, Ryoji pulled Miyuki up into the throne beside him. He ignored the chaos around them, his focus entirely on her as he drew her close, the world around them fading away.

  His lips brushed against hers in a kiss, brief yet intimate, before he whispered with a pyful smirk, "That dress is a tease." The words were soft, almost tender, but the sharpness behind them was unmistakable.

  The room was frozen in shock, the deathly stillness broken only by the crackling wood and the whispered orders for the bodies to be burned. Ryoji sat in the throne, his gaze never leaving Miyuki, as the fmes began to lick the coffin-shaped structures, consuming the remains of those who had dared to challenge him.

  RecklessDawn