[Mad Tiger] Chapter 26

I woke up to total chaos in the palace. People were running around like caffeinated squirrels. Even Sano got roped in and had been helping his mom since early morning. For once, no one had to wake him up. He spotted me and quickly filled my food bowls like clockwork.

What’s with all the hustle?

"Hey, Sano, what's going on?" I finally caved under the weight of my curiosity.

He stayed silent but, once we were alone in the kitchen for a moment, he leaned over and said, "We're preparing for Obon. It's a festival to honor the spirits of the deceased."

Ohhh, got it. For a second there, I thought maybe we were expecting some VIP daimyo from another land or celebrating the boss’s birthday. Last year, they still hadn’t let me out of the palace much, but I vaguely remembered something like this. Lanterns everywhere, though maybe that was a different holiday? Most celebrations here happen at night, which makes sense since it gets dark super early—like six or seven o’clock, boom, lights out. No twilight nonsense, just wham! Darkness.

But then there are these giant lanterns lighting up the streets, which is honestly kinda charming. And when I say "lanterns," I don’t mean little string lights—they're huge, some as tall as me, giving off a warm, cozy glow. They even run on candles. Super old-school, but effective. The lanterns change depending on the festival, too—different shapes, colors, sizes.

It's been almost a month since I resumed my palace life.

Three times, I traveled to Konoha for a few days at a time to visit Naruto, Kushina-san, and my other friends. From what I could gather, the situation with the elder Sarutobi was in some weird limbo. That wrinkly little raisin was still strutting around Konoha, dripping with fake goodwill like some self-righteous Hallmark grandpa.

Once, I even tailed him for a bit. Everything about him screamed fake. Those smiles that vanish the second someone turns away, the way he schmoozes everyone he meets, shaking hands with random shinobi and asking about their families like he’s auditioning for “World’s Best Grandpa.” He’s like one of those syrupy politicians in TV dramas, oozing charm while plotting your downfall.

I admit I’m biased, but still—how the hell did he end up back in power after the Fourth Hokage died? From what I understand, he was basically retired, put out to pasture. They could’ve appointed a Fifth Hokage—Tsunade, even! But no, Grandpa Sneaky Pants somehow wormed his way back into the driver’s seat.

Then there’s the whole shady business with the Uchiha clan. The only reason they weren’t wiped out was Kushina’s intervention, and now they’re her biggest fans. That near-massacre didn’t do Sarutobi any favors, and he got booted again after nine or ten years in office. Kushina’s only been in charge for less than a year, but already, there’s tension brewing.

Whenever I’m back at the palace, I keep an eye on the younger Sarutobi. Asuma’s been hanging out with Chiriku, this monk from some temple who’s amazing with a staff. Seriously, the guy’s moves are so slick it’s unfair. But Chiriku doesn’t seem to have many friends among the shinobi. Maybe it’s a monk thing? No attachments and all that? Makes their friendship even weirder.

Asuma figured out I was watching him and started smoking. Not out of nerves, I think, but just to mess with me. It’s been a month, and I’ve been low-key tormenting him—hissing, growling, being generally unpleasant whenever he’s nearby. It’s worked; none of the other shinobi fall for his smooth-talking BS anymore. He’s got that same hypnotic charm as his dad.

But the smoking? Ugh. I hate it. Ruins my super-sharp sense of smell. And now the jerk’s chain-smoking just to get under my skin. What kind of shinobi announces their presence with a cloud of tobacco stench? Any genin could sniff him out from a mile away!

Oh, speak of the devil. I smell him coming.

"Hey, Tayami-san, got anything to eat? Just came off duty," Asuma waltzed into the kitchen like he owned the place.

Does no one else notice how entitled this guy is? And what’s with the freeloading? The shinobi get plenty of food in the barracks—go eat there! But no, Mr. Fancy Pants needs the good stuff.

Wait a sec... Oh. My. Gosh. I get it now.

He’s mooching off the palace kitchen! The barracks only serve plain old lentils and rice, like Chiriku eats. That’s how they became buddies! I bet Chiriku thinks Asuma’s some devout monk wannabe or something. And the smoking? That’s to cover up the smell of meat! This sneaky monkey!

Tayami-san handed him some food, and he scarfed it down while I glared daggers at him. Didn’t even choke. You can’t catch him red-handed, either—shinobi aren’t prohibited from eating in the palace kitchen.

"Hey, Sano, let’s talk. Outside," I said, calling for backup.

"What do you need, Tora-san?" Sano teased, catching Asuma’s curious glance. Crap! The last thing I need is Asuma figuring out Sano understands me. I started yowling and scratching at the door, making it super obvious I wanted out.

"Come on! Let’s go! Move it!" I kept shouting.

"What’s gotten into Tora-chan?" Tayami-san asked, confused.

"Not sure," Sano said quickly. "Maybe he’s trying to climb somewhere and can’t. I’ll check it out."

"Tayami-san, is Sano, like, this cat’s babysitter or something?" Asuma asked, way too interested.

"Yes, he gets along well with Tora-san, and Lady Shijimi specifically assigned him to care for the cat," Tayami-san answered cheerfully, spilling way too much information.

As we stepped outside, I realized telling Sano to report Asuma’s sneaky meat-eating to Kobo-san wouldn’t help. It’d never reach Chiriku, and even if it did, would he even believe it? Even if, what’s the point? And it’s too complicated to explain. Ugh, forget it.

"Sano, stand down…"

“Tora-chan?”

My owner sat in his room, gazing out the window.

The air was warm and lightly scented with incense, with candles flickering softly on the table. In the corner were wooden tablets etched with characters I couldn’t decipher—probably some kind of blessing or good-luck charm.

Most of the palace was outside, celebrating. There were quirky dances, music, food, and lanterns glowing everywhere. But Minoruhi had left the festivities after just half an hour.

He smelled… off. Not sick, but something emotional. So, being the stellar emotional support pet I am, I decided to keep him company. The noisy festival wasn’t really my scene anyway. Too many smells, too much chaos. And there was that nagging worry about Asuma. What if he was up to something shady?

Minoruhi was holding a picture frame, his fingers brushing over it absently. I rubbed against his hand, and he petted me gently. He looked so sad. Running a country must be tough. He probably doesn’t get much time to himself.

“This is my family, Tora-chan,” he said softly, scratching behind my ear as he showed me the photograph.

In the flickering candlelight, I got a good look at the photo. It was a classic "mom, dad, and two kids" setup. I squinted at the younger boy in the picture and realized it was Minoruhi.

"I wasn’t supposed to be the head of this country," he said thoughtfully, stroking my fur. "That was supposed to be my older brother, Hikaro. He had all the skills for it—brilliant strategist, knew his way around military tactics and politics. I was being groomed to be an advisor. I’m good with agriculture and things like that…"

I tapped the photo frame with my paw and looked him straight in the eye.

"You’re a good leader," I said.

"You’re asking what happened?" Minoruhi set the photo down on the small table with the candles. "It was during the Second Great Ninja War, 23 years ago. Shinobi from the Hidden Stone attacked the palace. They killed my entire family. I only survived because Kushina-chan happened to be here. Her team was on some ridiculous mission my brother had come up with… Maybe Hikaro had a feeling something was coming. He was smart like that, my ni-san. The attack was repelled, but in a single day, I became an orphan. I was 16 years old. That’s how I became the youngest daimyo of the Land of Fire.

"It was hard, Tora-chan. So hard. If it weren’t for Konoha having a strong leader, a general I could depend on, our country wouldn’t have made it through the Third Ninja War."

Minoruhi fell silent, his hand moving rhythmically along my fur. His emotions, once stormy, began to settle. I purred, doing my part to help.

I glanced over at the three wooden plaques on the table. How had I not noticed before that the first symbols on each of them were the same? They must have been family names.

"You’ve accomplished a lot, Tora-chan," Kobo-san said, with that maddeningly calm tone of his.

What?! That’s it?! That’s all I get?!

For the past month, I’d been trying to "sync up" with a human sensei so I could—well, brag a little about my progress.

Then again, what was there to brag about, really? Shinobi can walk up walls like it’s nothing. They’re absurdly fast. They throw fireballs, shapeshift, hypnotize people, fling weapons with pinpoint accuracy, set up barriers, summon animals, control puppets, modify their bodies—the list goes on.

My big accomplishment? I learned to control chakra. That’s it. Sure, I could make my claw swipes a little flashier—left some decently deep marks on a tree, but... that’s about it.

Basically, I’ve achieved something that’s impressive for a cat. But in this world, there are ninja cats, ninja dogs, ninja slugs... So really, my competition is just ordinary cats.

To humans, it probably looks like a party trick. Like, "Oh wow, a cat thinks it’s a ninja. How adorable." Yeah, I helped Shijimi out a few times—my "furry informants" snitched on a couple of cases of embezzlement, but those were small potatoes.

And yet, after Kobo-san’s "you’ve accomplished a lot, Tora-chan," I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d actually done nothing. Zip. Nada.

This weird, suffocating sense of failure coiled around my neck like one of those awful collars Shijimi tried to make me wear once. Ugh, the nerve of it all—it was making me itch with frustration.