Chapter 200: Arrow on the Bowstring
"This doesn't make sense." Mizuki frowned in surprise. "Tsunade-sama shouldn't make such a decision. Logically, it's a hard command to carry out. The resistance would be overwhelming."
Nara Shikamaru scratched his head wearily. "I know. Originally, someone else was already lined up. But something changed suddenly."
"Suddenly?"
Shikamaru nodded. "Tsunade-sama only revealed her intent today. As for the resistance you mentioned—it's definitely a factor. But technically, this falls directly under the Hokage's authority. If Tsunade insists, no one can really stop her."
"That's true." Mizuki nodded. "Still, there wasn't any sign at all?"
Shikamaru shook his head. "I'm not sure. But if it does involve you, sensei, then I think you're at the center of the reason."
"Me?"
"Yeah." Shikamaru nodded again. "Anyway, I've said what I needed to. I'll be off. Congratulations, by the way."
"Thanks."
Watching Shikamaru walk off, Mizuki sank into thought. For Tsunade to suddenly do something uncharacteristic, and for the shift to have happened today—it had to be connected to this morning. He quickly narrowed it down.
"So the trigger really was me…"
The reason Mizuki had initially ruled himself out as a candidate was because the ANBU were far more reliable. Once someone's strength reached a certain level, they became eligible for jōnin instructor. And most of those came from the Hokage's personal force—the ANBU. That made Mizuki's chances of being chosen to replace Kurenai nearly nonexistent.
But after this morning's incident—when Mizuki exposed the inaccuracies in the report about Orochimaru—Tsunade's trust in the ANBU had likely plummeted. This wasn't three years into her reign; this was shortly after she became Hokage. Her grasp over Konoha's structure, especially ANBU, was still tenuous.
She'd inherited the organization from the Third Hokage and had largely relied on his judgment. But after seeing the misinformation planted in a key intelligence report—potentially doctored by Danzo or others within ANBU—Tsunade was probably no longer sure who she could trust. Which meant that Mizuki, someone outside the ANBU system yet still trusted to a degree, had suddenly entered the field of consideration.
All that from just a few pointed words.
The implications were deeper than Mizuki expected.
Of course, nothing had been finalized. But compared to other candidates, Mizuki had significant drawbacks: aside from Tsunade's limited trust, he had little else going for him in terms of politics. Still, even if the decision landed on him, there was time to prepare. Aside from watching his health, nothing else needed urgent attention.
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The next morning, Mizuki woke up very early.
He'd tossed and turned all night. Since transmigrating, he'd endured countless shifts and upheavals. Joy and sorrow, the fear of death in a war-torn world, constant vigilance—all were his proof that he existed here, that he'd lived in this twisted version of reality.
In a world where genjutsu could shape illusion so perfectly it mimicked divinity—where Izanagi, Infinite Tsukuyomi, and others could rewrite reality—how did one hold on to what was "real"? Mizuki often found himself questioning that very notion.
The memories of his past life had grown dim. As time went on, the Mizuki of this world became the only one that mattered. The village accepted him. His peers trusted him. And now, he was on the cusp of something even more defining: becoming a husband. Perhaps, one day, a father.
"Strange," Mizuki thought. "Why does that feel more terrifying than fighting a Tailed Beast?"
He checked himself in the mirror. No dark circles, no signs of fatigue. Good. It wouldn't do to look like a wreck on his wedding day.
After dressing carefully in the formal wear Tsubaki had picked out, Mizuki stepped outside—and found someone already waiting for him.
"Iruka? Been waiting long?"
"Not really." Iruka smiled sheepishly and adjusted his glasses. "Did you sleep okay?"
"Barely. The outfit was worse than the nerves."
"Yeah, formal wear's like that," Iruka replied casually.
"That your idea of encouragement? 'You'll get used to it'?"
"Haha. Fair enough."
"Anyway, thanks. For all your help."
"You're too polite, Mizuki. I didn't do much."
"You did more than enough." Mizuki offered a rare, sincere smile.
As they walked, Mizuki asked, "Anyone else arrived yet?"
"Not yet. It's still early. You're the one who's jumpy."
"Guess I'm more eager than I thought…"
Eventually, they arrived at their venue: Konoha's ninja academy.
Mizuki didn't have an estate, nor any fancy venue like Naruto's future village-wide spectacle. But the academy—spacious, familiar, and easy to decorate—was a solid choice. With Iruka's help and Tsunade's approval, it had been arranged.
Inside, the hall was wide and bright. Mizuki and Tsubaki's flower shop had gone all-out: exotic blossoms, rare potted plants, and elegant floral arrangements filled the space.
Iruka looked around in awe. "How'd you grow these flowers? These are incredible…"
"You getting into gardening now? Found yourself a girl?"
"No! Just curious. Tsubaki's amazing… I heard your 'Four Seasons Flower Shop' is the talk of the town."
"It's doing well." Mizuki nodded.
Their shop had bloomed—literally and financially—thanks to Mizuki's experimental nutrient formulas and Tsubaki's devotion. Rare breeds, miraculous growth, and aesthetic arrangements had made them famous. Ironically, it was Tsubaki's "gardener" title—not her kunoichi status—that was garnering attention.
"You know," Iruka said, "if you ever quit being a ninja, you might end up Konoha's wealthiest florist. Tsunade-sama would personally bribe you to stay in the village."
"Then maybe I'll submit my resignation today. Tell her Iruka inspired me to pursue capitalism."
"She'd break your legs before letting you go," Iruka laughed.
They shared a moment of genuine camaraderie—until Iruka narrowed his eyes.
"…Hey, Mizuki. This setup. It's… odd."
"Oh?" Mizuki raised a brow.
"It feels… strategic. Wait, this formation—it's a barrier, isn't it?"
Mizuki gave a sly smile and pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh."
"Mizuki…" Iruka looked pained. "You've gotten so strong. But… reckless too. Isn't this a bit much?"
"Relax. Just say you were following my instructions. No one'll blame you."
"You say that, but I'm still nervous…"
"I'll handle everything. Trust me."
This arrow was already nocked and drawn.
After yesterday's exhaustive prep, Mizuki wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste. He wasn't planning to cause chaos, of course. But just this once—just today—he wanted to do things his way.
Let no one say his wedding was forgettable.
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