Naruto: Rise of the Fallen Princess

The office of the Tsuchikage was no place of indulgence.

Austere and spare, it was carved directly into the living stone of the central spire of Iwagakure. The walls bore no art, no banners—only shelves of scrolls, maps, and ledgers. A broad stone desk dominated the room, worn smooth by decades of use.

Before it sat Ōnoki himself, the Third Tsuchikage—aged, small of stature, but with eyes sharp as obsidian. His shoulders were bent over, and old wounds ached with every movement, yet none could mistake the keenness of his mind.

Now, that mind was wholly absorbed in the letter he held.

It was a report from Nyoko, one of his most trusted elites—a sensor specialist and guardian to the Daimyō family. Her kunoichi squad had sacrificed much for their post, and her words were never sent lightly.

Yet this latest missive left even Ōnoki unsettled.

He read it again, slowly:

"Rumors reached me regarding the young woman who visited today... a blind girl, once of the Hyūga, discarded after her bloodline and chakra were sealed through the activation of her clan's infamous seal. Adopted by a powerful samurai who rose to become Daimyō of the Land of Iron—a land which rejected shinobi policies in favor of ancient tradition and its samurai."

Ōnoki's brow creased.

That much was known—the upheaval in the Land of Iron had been noted, though the method of Takama's ascension had been... unusual. A civil war decided not by councils, but by duel—a winner-takes-all claim. Pragmatic, if barbaric.

But the letter continued:

"She arrived escorted by three young samurai and one female warrior—all with chakra reserves equivalent to jōnin. More curious: their auras suggest combat experience far beyond their years. Multiple life-and-death encounters... yet they remain unknown to us."

Ōnoki frowned deeper.

Three samurai at jōnin level? Rare—exceptionally rare. Only a handful of samurai ever reached such heights. And these were unknown. Troubling.

He read on:

"Accompanying them: a nobleman of their land, an accomplished negotiator and swordsman—chakra near chūnin level. Also, a serpent hidden in the girl's garments—elusive to sense, but with a chakra presence rivaling jōnin or higher. In addition: a priestess—whose chakra I could not detect, though I suspect it is well hidden. And the girl's mount—a canine I could not sense at all. Alarming, given reports identify it as a ninken."

Ōnoki's lips pressed into a thin line.

A serpent? His mind flicked to Orochimaru's legacy—though there was no proof. Still, it raised questions.

And the ninken—or what was being called a ninken—beyond her sensing? Disturbing. Could this be linked to the so-called "beast of the Moon Cult" Kozan had reported months prior?

Then came the next portion:

"The young Hinata, it seems, is traveling under the pretense of learning from the five great nations—an endeavor her father has apparently permitted. In the audience, she was partially maneuvered by the Daimyō, but in turn achieved what she intended. She now proceeds toward Iwagakure escorted by the Daimyō's eldest son, Lord Renji. Meanwhile, the priestess travels separately under the Daimyō's protection—with leave to traverse lands normally kept closed."

Ōnoki leaned back, scowling.

Then, he paused—eyes narrowing sharply.

The priestess.

He reached for another scroll—the earlier report from Kozan's team, who had encountered a strange priestess in the Land of Iron.

Carefully, he compared the descriptions.

Identical.

The same elusive presence. The same inability to properly sense chakra. The same... aura of something not easily classified.

Ōnoki tapped the desk with a gnarled finger.

"So... it is the same one. And now, wandering under the Daimyō blessing."

Ōnoki exhaled slowly.

"This girl..." he murmured aloud, gaze narrowing. "Blind... discarded... now heir of a land rising in power. And with a priestess who walks freely beneath our stone."

"Underestimating her... would be unwise."

He reached for his pen. Orders would need to be sent. Preparations made.

Iwagakure would receive this guest—but not blindly.

<<<< o >>>>

Ayaka Fuyutsuki had known from the start that this mission would test her patience.

She had expected problems with the Daimyo's son's armed escort, but no… the greatest source of irritation would be Lord Renji himself.

From the first day on the road, his gaze had been insufferable — sliding over her and Lady Hinata alike as if they were little more than broodmares for some future political gain. His words, too, had carried the same unctuous tone — suggesting, hinting, always circling the same base intent.

Were it not for her discipline, Ayaka might have driven the point of her blade through the space between his words.

What galled her more was how openly Renji ignored the presence of Kuro, whose deep eye fixed on him with growing distaste, or Mitsue, whose coils would tighten visibly whenever the young lord drew too near to Hinata.

One might have thought even an idiot would sense the danger. Yet Renji, it seemed, was a special breed of fool.

It was the first night of their journey when things began to shift.

Lady Hinata, rather than entertain the courtly nonsense expected of her, instead invited Emi and Souta to spar beneath the moonlight.

Curious — and eager for respite from Renji's posturing — Ayaka had settled in to observe.

What followed had surprised even her seasoned eyes.

Hinata's form was sharp — no longer the purely flowing grace Ayaka had seen before. Her Breath of Water remained present — fluid, adaptive — but now, it interlaced with the sharper, driving force of Breath of Fire.

Where Water yielded and redirected, Fire pressed and carved.

And Lady Hinata was beginning to blend them. Not perfectly — not yet — but enough that her movements began to gain a mechanical rhythm, a relentless cadence that seemed to devour the gaps between her opponents' strikes.

Souta, for all his size and grounding in Breath of Stone, had already needed to repair parts of his armor after the first session.

Emi — fluid and fast — had begun to shift to more evasive tactics, recognizing that Hinata's combinations were forcing openings that had not existed before.

It was not brute force — it was precision: Water creating flow, Fire inserting pressure at exactly the right moment.

Ayaka could see it clearly:

"She's learning to turn her opponent's tempo against them... forcing them to match her rhythm — not theirs."

And then there was Renji.

At first, he had tried to maintain his usual smirks and casual remarks — lingering far too close to where Hinata trained.

But after watching her drive Emi and Souta back in a particularly fierce exchange — her strikes landing with a force that resonated even through Ayaka's own senses — she saw it:

A flicker of something in Renji's eyes. Not desire. Not arrogance. Fear.

From that night forward, the young lord began to keep greater distance.

He still watched — but now from the edges of the camp, posture tighter, voice quieter.

Ayaka allowed herself a thin, satisfied smile.

"Perhaps even worms can sense when they are one breath away from being devoured."

For herself, Ayaka felt the familiar pull of challenge.

Watching Hinata push herself — seeing the fusion of Water and Fire begin to take shape — ignited her own hunger to improve.

"I will not be left behind," she thought, her gaze sharpening.

As she watched another clash unfold beneath the moonlit sky, Ayaka thought:

"Lady Hinata… you are shaping more than yourself on this journey. You are shaping us all."