Great Lakes & Expectations chapter 11

Momo the Zabuza-san, who had, she had to emphasize, had not dressed up whatsoever, was definitely still wearing the sake-and-shochu-stained clothes and face bandages of indeterminate purpose, ambled out of the princess box with the grace one would expect from a toddler trying to take off their own one-piece jumpsuit. It was clumsy, and horrible, and took a looong time. 

He was enjoying it. When he finally ‘unstuck’ himself from the door, he stood to the side and cracked his neck like a barbarian. 

Regina appreciated that he was single-handedly lowering the level of decorum to somewhere she could live in. 

She got out fairly gracefully- she did not tangle her hair or kanzashi on the brass decorations, fall on her ass, or accidentally part her robes and flash what was obviously a diplomatic retinue. 

Her hair thankfully stayed an immovable mass of painful pins. 

The man in the hideous hat bowed. 

Deep.

Too deep. 

Tsunade had told her this would happen. She panicked anyway. 

Shizune had come up from behind her, and slipped her hand under her obi. She pushed- not hard, but enough that Regina could take the cue. 

She went down as far as Shizune pushed. After a moment, she felt a light tug on the back of her kimono, and she straightened. As she rose, she realized that Tsunade had told her her Sensei, the Hokage, would be doing that part. 

‘Look at you, Regina, makin’ inferences. Getting the facts.’

To her left, Zabuza was making hard assumed eye contact with one of the masked (anbu?). He was also making the motion of picking his nose. 

He wasn’t going to be in the official pictures of this moment, Regina was sure. 

But she really hoped he would be. She wanted it framed. 

The Hatkage said something in keigo, which Regina did not understand and did not care to study. It was obviously a speech not for her benefit, anyway. It was the equivalent of an introduction, only instead of fun facts about herself it probably contained her historied lineage (Jiraiya….. His unknown parents….. Her fabricated mother?) 

‘Where the hell do they think I came from, anyway?’ 

Probably the story she told Osafune-san and his mother, only with ridiculous embellishments. She was probably born from a flower in “the land of beautiful women”, and Jiraiya picked it and gave it to her mother, who was not, as in Regina’s reality, a deeply troubled woman with narcissistic sociopathic issues and a short temper, but a beautiful and kind princess with big tits. 

Just a guess. He had a type.

Then the crowd bowed, as Tsunade had said they would. 

Regina bowed again, without Shizune’s expert help. It wasn’t nearly as low this time, anyway. 

She noted that behind Hatkage were several other old people, dressed in expensive but practical clothing. To his right was a retinue of people in finery like hers- golden silks and palanquins.

So, those would be the Council of shinobi, and the Daimyo’s court. 

It would have been intimidating if Regina had grown up here. Or if Tsunade had had any respect whatsoever for the people Regina was now meeting, and had not referred to them as “a herd of degenerate criminals”. 

So that was nice. 

Regina controlled the urge to yeet herself back into the palanquin or onto Momo’s back. Surely he’d be out of here in seconds. This place sucked. 

People in dour clothes were taking pictures. She carefully did not smile. 

After the speech was finally fucking concluded, a man in fancy silks she identified as the Daimyo began to speak. She probably could have picked him out earlier- he was the only one who also merited a box. 

Apparently whether or not you had to look at the peasants outside was a significant class marker here. 

The sun was hot. She could feel rivulets of sweat dripping down her back. 

Luckily she was allowed- and expected- to keep her eyes downcast because big men in hideous clothing were talking. 

Ugh. She was going to need a million showers after this. And her kimono layers would need to be washed. Or sent to the equivalent of a hazmat disposal. She was pretty sure she couldn’t pee in this thing. 

The Daimyo talked for more than ten minutes. He bowed, she bowed deeply again. This time she had to stay down for almost twenty seconds. 

Power distance politics were such a bitch. This was why she’d wanted to study it from very far away. 

Then the Hatkage spoke again. He bowed, she bowed. This was quicker. They were wrapping up. Any minute now she’d only be expected to gracefully half-smile at every person that tried to get close to her, then meet a million other people that thought they were important (Tsunade’s words), then she could retire to an air-conditioned room to die. 

This was basically a marathon in fifty layers of silk and unwalkable shoes. 

Christ, the sun was bright here. 

The Daimyo said something else that was blessedly short, and his court bundled his box off into the distance. 

The crowd dispersed slowly. A line of people bowed at her, she lightly bowed in return, and then they would fuck off to parts unknown. 

After what had been two hours in the sun during the hottest part of the day (dicks), the Hatkage gestured for her to follow him. A troupe of 6 anbu flanked her, Momo, and Shizune as they walked to a building that resembled a bad sketch Shizune had made of the “Hokage Tower”. 

‘My, my. Putting princesses in towers? How new. How niche.’ 

They walked up an agonizing flight of stairs and into a beautiful room. Regina noted that the desk was literally carved out of the floor. Apparently this was mokuton. 

The Hokage dismissed the anbu and they disappeared. Regina valiantly resisted the urge to turn around to see if they’d just gone behind her. 

Seriously, no one ever seemed to use that properly. If she could do that, she would put it to good use. Not magically displacing herself into an equally boring location less than fifty feet away. 

The doors closed behind her. The Sandaime gestured to a seat that was obviously meant for someone in a pile of fabric- no arms, nothing inconvenient. It was basically a loveseat for one. 

She placed herself in it, noting that Shizune and Momo had walked up with her and were at her sides. 

The Sandaime seated himself. 

It was a long and awkward minute. He stared at her. She stared at him. 

Momo rifled through his pockets, jingling some loose change. 

They continued to wait. 

Evidently the Hokage was expecting something. But Regina didn’t know what it was. And she didn’t feel comfortable enough or inclined to ask. 

It was a very stupid game of chicken, she supposed. 

“Jiraiya-hime.” The Hokage said, at last. “It is good to meet you.”

She returned the greeting, bowing lightly from her seat as he did. 

“Did you… travel well?” He asked. She noticed that he was fiddling with a pen on his desk. Not a lot. But he kept wanting to reach for it, nearly touching it, then pulling back. He was nervous? Or expecting something, and it wasn’t happening.

“It was pleasant. Thank you for your kindness.” She said automatically, just as Tsunade had drilled her to do whenever someone did something even remotely kind in her vicinity. 

He hesitated. 

The air was a little stuffy, like the air conditioner was lagging. 

Regina was already miserable, and didn’t particularly care. At least there wasn’t a hot sun to beat down on her and compound the suffering.

“We received communications from the Land of Iron regarding your work there.” the Hokage said. It was a bit rushed. Maybe that was what he’d been holding in. Commentary on her work performance? A diplomatic snafu?

She blinked, slowly. 

His fingers twitched for the pen, again. That must be a comfort mechanism. He restrained himself, though. 

“Lord Mifune was very pleased with your contributions.” He said, watching her carefully. He watched like Tsunade did. A predator, with all the time in the world, waiting for you to make Just  The. Wrong. Move. 

She didn’t know what he was evaluating her on, though. She could only hope she was passing enough that no one killed her and dumped her sweaty corpse in a ditch. That would be a fucking bummer. 

“I was pleased to be able to offer them assistance.” She knew she wasn’t giving him much to go off of, but this wasn’t a date. This man was a practiced assassin who Tsunade hate/loved enough that she’d evidently fucked right on out of Konoha to spend her life yelling at drunks. She didn’t particularly care to get to know him.

“They sent a payment to Konoha, as well as their thanks.” He said, sounding like he’d given up on getting anything interesting. 

She didn’t buy it for a second. She said nothing. 

Tsunade had told her that was common practice for shinobi contracts. They didn’t get paid. The village did, then allotted them a portion of what the fee had been, depending on variables. 

She wasn’t a shinobi. And Iron had also paid her in person. 

The options had different implications. If Iron had paid her in person, and then also sent a fee and a letter to the Hokage, it might indicate that they were following protocol. Or trying to invent protocol where there was none. Tsunade had indicated that it was rare to impossible for a shinobi to have civilian offspring. It might also mean that the Hokage had demanded it later. Whether it came before or after the Hokage had learned of her existence would be relevant. Jiraiya had left weeks before she concluded the matter in Iron and left. He’d left before she’d even started it. 

But the Hokage could also be lying. Perhaps Iron hadn’t paid Konoha at all. There was maybe a letter. The Hokage had mentioned no specifics that would indicate he knew what Iron had paid her for, and might be expecting her to volunteer that information, as well as a portion of her income from that work. 

Basically, he was playing a game and he could kiss her slick, sweaty butt. 

“They are very gracious.” She said.

He was irritated. A vein flexed in his neck. 

Regina was glad she had a naturally stupid face. At one point, that had been a major point of insecurity. She remembered her high school band teacher had been genuinely surprised when she said something intelligent, because apparently her natural face looked so stupid he was under the impression she could barely form sentences. 

It wasn’t a bitch face, but it was good in its own way. 

She glanced up at Shizune, vaguely curious how she felt about it. 

Shizune’s body posture was all business. Her face was carefully blank. But behind her bangs, Regina could see amusement burning in her eyes. 

Amusement at who, though, was hard to say. Maybe them both. The situation was, on its face, ridiculous. 

She and Tsunade had crammed an adult from another dimension into a kiloton of fabric, roped in a missing nin (and that had taken forever to understand), and put them all into a fucking box, where trained professional killers had to haul them like precious fragile cargo to meet two assholes who had likely sat in the sun even longer than Regina had. And this was all because… Jiraiya supposedly had a daughter he’d never met from the land they’d never heard of before. 

And the Hokage was attempting to play mind games with a woman who wasn’t fluent in Japanese. 

The look on his face was stern. He was exuding an air of power and authority. 

But if you didn’t grow up here, the authority was a bit laughable. He got where he was (running a whole fucking country) by being Real Good at Killin’. What kind of qualification for economic or political ability was that? 

And yes, he could kill her. But frankly, she had been intimately aware since the moment she came here that anyone could do that. None of them had been particularly special. 

Plus, she doubted Jiraiya-dad-man would be thrilled if she was murdered. Either she was important and the liability of hurting her was too high, or she wasn’t so important that they’d had to strong-arm Tsunade into bringing her here for some pomp and circumstance. 

Regina realized that she didn’t particularly enjoy being used as a prop for a nationalistic feel-good moment. She was actually kind of angry about it. 

That gave her the rage to do the thing she knew she should never do. The thing that was so hard for her heckin’ spirit to avoid. 

She made direct and unimpressed eye contact with the ‘God of Shinobi’.

She held it for a moment, trying to understand what she saw there. He was surprised, but he didn’t look angry about it. He just stared back. 

Slowly, deliberately, she let her eyes linger on his stupid hat- fine fabric and structure. It looked ceremonial and old. It was probably meant to be handed down with the job. 

The robe was a different story. The fabric was sturdy, completely utilitarian. It probably hid weapons, even if he had a ceremonial job. She couldn’t imagine he’d stopped carrying them. 

Liver spots on his face, hands, and neck indicated that he was older than she’d thought. And perhaps not in the best of health. 

His hands were still, but tensed. He was holding them even though he wanted to grab that pen on the desk. Which she now noted was shaped like a kunai. 

That made a significant amount of sense, as a comfort item.

He looked tired. That made sense. He’d been Hokage most of his life. And on the odd occasion someone else tried to step into the role, they had a nasty habit of dying horribly. Only Namikaze Minato had made it to actually being confirmed, and ate dirt within about a year. 

Tsunade hadn’t given her even the slightest impression that she thought her teacher was responsible. Tsunade was smart. 

But she might be blinded by association. If it wasn’t the actual Hokage, someone else was doing it. 

Regina was inclined to believe it wasn’t the Hokage due to how often he tried to get someone else in the job, but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure. People were weird sometimes. He could just be another military dictator, identifying and eliminating potential opposition. 

In any case, she wasn’t buying the responsible, all-powerful father figure act he seemed to be doing. 

The silence was probably stifling for some people by this point, she realized. 

She didn’t really care. She’d batted the ball into his court. He could return it when he wanted. They both couldn’t stay in this meeting forever, her escape was all but assured. 

She just had to last him out. 

She’d looked at the Hokage about as much as she wanted to. So she examined the desk. It wasn’t carved out of the floor, as she’d initially thought. It was grown. 

‘My understanding of mokuton was pretty bad. Lol.’

His desk was cleared of all papers but one- a large scroll, bearing a striking resemblance to the one Tsunade and Momo had written up last night. For instance, when the aircon’s breeze wafted through it, she could distinctly smell sake. 

‘In the business, that is what we call a hint.’

Doubtless, her companions had noted it far earlier. Regina didn’t pay it much mind. It probably wasn’t full of snakes or something. That rigamarole earlier had taken time and people to arrange- there likely wasn’t somebody with the free time and access to put a scorpion into what she now knew was a work contract. 

Tsunade hadn’t bothered to tell her what the proposed job was, however. She supposed little things like that were beneath a woman that could level a building with her pinky. 

The room was otherwise fairly bare. The fancy red carpeting over parts of the wood looked immaculate. 

There was a calligraphy scroll behind the Hokage. It basically just said “Fire”. 

‘Well, you could never forget where you are. That’s handy.’

There was also a massive scroll on a pedestal in the room. That… was about it. 

Not much for conversation pieces, this guy. She blinked, lazily, then returned her attention to the Hokage. 

He hadn’t stopped looking at her the whole time, which was unsurprising. 

It was another few awkward seconds of silence before he just. Blinked. And then handed her the scroll from her desk. 

“I am pleased to accept your work contract.” He said, with an air of formality. “Konoha is pleased to welcome you home, into the will of fire.”

She may have misunderstood the last part because it was weird. But Regina felt that this wasn’t the time to ask for clarifications. 

“You will be working directly in the office of the Hokage as the Hokage’s personal assistant.” the Hokage said, which… why was he talking about himself in the third person? He paused. “After some time training in the rest of the office, and adjustment to life in Konoha.”

Apparently, she worked for whoever wore the hat, whenever that changed. She wasn’t going out in his box of personal desk decorations when he quit. So… that was probably good?

But all of this did make it sound like she couldn’t actually leave with Shizune. 

The mood in the room had shifted. Momo was looking down at her. Shizune was staring forward, but seemed tense. 

So this had probably not gone as anticipated. Well, shitsticks. 

“Thank you for your generous offer.” Regina stood, and bowed deeply. “I will consider it and contact you in the morning.”

The Hokage stood, and bowed. Then he gestured to the doors behind her, which she heard open. 

“Our ANBU will escort you and your companions to your accommodations.” he said.

Regina could swear she saw amusement in his eyes. What about this was amusing? Did she massively fail?

The anbu masked weirdoes led/followed them in a block formation to a lovely mansion-like home. Once they were inside, the anbu disappeared to apparently guard the doors. 

Shizune stepped farther into the house, making her way in. Evidently she was familiar with the place. 

Regina followed her lead, with Momo behind her. They came to an inner room, and sat on the zabuton as Shizune indicated. 

Then Shizune walked around, doing something to the doors and ceiling and floor, which made them light up for just a moment. 

She looked at Momo. 

“The fine arts,” he grunted, which was just as unhelpful as it had been the first time Jiraiya had said it. 

“Privacy.” Shizune supplied, correcting him slightly. “Their purpose is to give us some privacy.”

‘Oh. That makes sense.’

“So am I crazy… or did that go a bit badly?” Regina asked, hoping that she hadn’t fucked everything up somehow. 

Shizune shook her head. “It’s fine. Hokage-sama just called Tsunade’s bluff, is all.”

“She was literally gambling with my life?” Regina felt horrified and betrayed. Worst of all, it was totally in Tsunade’s character and Regina realllyyyyy should have seen that coming. 

Momo huffed. “Not your life, exactly.”

“Konoha was demanding that we bring you here, because you are a citizen of Fire Nation and your father is directly accountable to the Hokage.” Shizune clarified. “Tsunade-sama did not want you to live here, so she and….” she looked at Momo “Zabuza-san devised a working contract that they thought he wouldn’t- couldn’t- accept. After the meeting, if you wanted to stay, real negotiations would have taken place. If you wanted to leave, they had no right to keep you.”

“But now that he accepted this contract…” Regina inserted.

Shizune nodded. “It is a delicate matter. You did not sign the contract, and are not technically bound by it. But breaking it outright, as the offer was made on your behalf, would make things very tense.”

“What is in this contract, exactly?” Regina asked, slightly afraid of the answer. 

Momo laughed. 

“An incredibly overpaid job as the highest civilian official in Konoha, in a newly created position, with some.... Interesting stipulations.” Shizune said, obviously trying not to grimace. “Tsunade-sama was attempting to use your education and talents as a justification for asking for such extraordinary accommodations, which would have been unthinkable for Hokage-sama to accept.”

“What other extraordinary accommodations are those?” Regina asked. A highly paid job and more authority than she knew what to do with didn’t sound bad. 

“You would be outside of the normal power structure, answering only to the Hokage and able to function as his assistant and proxy when unavailable, except in military matters.” Shizune said tightly. She looked, again, at Momo. She sighed. 

“And also, Zabuza-san is to be considered your personal retainer, and not allowed to be attacked by Konoha shinobi without provocation.”

“Nice.” Regina said, passionately. 

“There’s also some perks in there you should really look at.” Momo said. She could feel him grinning under the bandages. 

Shizune gave him a look. 

He didn’t say anything again, but was obviously still having an incredible time. 

“So, I can’t really leave here.” Regina said. “It would be a massive insult.”

“It would be considered bad form to turn down such a …prestigious position.” Shizune said delicately. “But it could be done, if we were to be very careful.”

“If I decide to stay, can I quit and leave later?” Regina asked. “Is there a time limit on this contract?”

“You could decide to abdicate, yes, but it is a lifetime appointment.” Shizune took one of the many pins out of her hair and began to fiddle with it. “Typically, in shinobi culture, that means that you die on the job.”

“I don’t like that.” Regina said, leaning back and away from Shizune. 

“We could also run out of here and escape.” Momo suggested lightly. “Technically, they’re not allowed to attack us.”

“Then why run?” Regina asked, cocking her head. “We could go out for dinner and then just keep walking right out of here.”

“It’s not as fun.” He pointed out. “I like to watch them panic.”

“This is a test, isn’t it.” Regina not-asked Shizune. “He just wants to see what we do.”

“Hokage-sama is known for his unconventional approach to learning.” Shizune said indifferently. “It is likely that he would like to determine your character before actually employing you in the most secure place in Konoha.”

“It would be stupid if he didn’t.” Regina’s voice came out flat and critical. “And they would be providing me with training? Is that in my contract?”

“A purported accommodation due to your lack of experience in Konoha, shinobi culture, and language skills.” Shizune put on a mask of kindness there at the end. 

Hey, Japanese was really fucking hard. Regina knew she wasn’t great at it, and it was totally reasonable to stay she needed to learn much more to be useful. 

But it still kind of smarted. She liked to be good at things. No, not good. 

She liked to be great at things. 

“Y’all are a bag of dicks,” she grumbled to herself in English, not really meaning anything by it. 

“You evidently gave yourself until tomorrow to decide.” Shizune said lightly, as if now unburdened by the information that Regina was pretty well fucked into an unfriendly office job full of pointy maniacs. 

Regina grimaced. Then she stood up, trying to peel herself out of the layers of sweat-drenched silk. 

She felt like a soggy butterfly emerging from a cocoon. When she emerged in her tank top and shorts, Shizune handed her one of the magic papers with her clothes in it. 

Momo looked at the pile. 

“Dinner?” He asked. “Apparently they have great ramen here.”