The Daimyo's son, after listening carefully to Erza's reasoning, gave a slow nod.
"You're right," he admitted. "I don't know much about battles or the fighting style of the shinobi from Amegakure. But if you're certain they were from there, then I'll trust your judgment."
Turning toward her, his expression grew more serious.
"So… what's our plan from here? What should we do next?"
Erza paused, thinking it through before answering.
"I doubt you'll abandon your journey to the Land of Rain's Daimyo for the meeting. Am I correct?"
The Daimyo's son gave a short nod.
"Of course. I won't give up on this unless the situation leaves me no other choice. And for now, we're not at that point yet."
Erza accepted that with a faint nod of her own.
"Then we keep moving. But evening will fall in a few hours, and all of us—my brothers and sisters included—are drained from the battle we just fought. We'll need proper rest before we push forward. Once we find a suitable spot, we'll set up camp and recover our strength there."
The Daimyo's son nodded.
"Alright then—let's continue our journey. We still have a long road ahead."
Erza agreed with a simple nod, and the convoy began to move once more. For nearly an hour and a half they pressed forward without pause, until at last they halted. The guards quickly set about raising the camp, and before long a line of sturdy tents stood against the dimming horizon.
Inside one of those tents, the Uzumaki siblings gathered together. Erza sat at the centre, her gaze steady as she addressed them.
"Today we fought against shinobi from Amegakure—and we didn't just defeat them, we wiped out an entire battalion of over two hundred. That kind of loss won't go unnoticed. Hanzo, the leader of Amegakure, will not take this lightly. If the worst comes to pass, he may even come after us himself—and that would be far from favourable."
The siblings around her exchanged grim looks but nodded in silent agreement. None of them were naïve; they all understood the reality of what Erza was saying.
She continued, her tone firm but reassuring.
"Still, there's no need to lose heart. We have our trump card. If we ever find ourselves in a dire situation, we can rely on it. That is our safeguard."
At her words, the tension in the tent eased slightly. Each of the siblings recalled what Erza was referring to, and the memory alone steadied them. No matter how severe the danger ahead, that trump card gave them the confidence that they could escape even the worst of predicaments.
Erza turned her gaze toward Makima.
"By the way, Makima—are you comfortable keeping your daggers strapped at your ankles? Or do you feel any discomfort with it? After all, Shanks-nii-san warned you that daggers should always be within immediate reach—at your back waist, your sides, or even hidden in your sleeves would be better."
Makima gave a small nod before answering.
"At first, I'll admit, it was uncomfortable. Drawing a dagger from near the ankle wasn't easy, and I fumbled more than once. But over time, I changed the way I carried them—or rather, the way I unsheathed them. I adjusted my stance and practiced until it became natural. Now, drawing from the ankle feels quick and effortless."
She smiled faintly, almost sheepish.
"Shanks-nii-san did warn me against it, but I was stubborn. I'd read stories and seen movies about powerful samurai and ninja who kept blades hidden at their ankles, drawing them in a swift and stylish way to finish their opponents. I thought it looked cool—and I let myself be influenced by that. Honestly, it wasn't the smartest choice at first. But after adapting, I'm comfortable with it now. Even if I kept daggers at my waist or hidden in my sleeves, I'm confident I could draw them just as quickly in battle."
Erza listened carefully to Makima's explanation, then gave a small nod.
"Alright. I believe you. If you're confident in that style and can carry it out in real combat, then so be it."
At her words, the other Uzumaki siblings couldn't hold back their chuckles. Smiles broke out around the tent as they laughed at Makima's stubborn habit—everyone knew how much she'd been influenced by those fictional novels and movie scenes. It was just so very Makima.
Makima's cheeks burned red as she noticed them laughing, and she lowered her head in embarrassment.
Before the teasing could go too far, Mereoleona spoke up, her voice firm but protective.
"Alright, enough. Let it go. If she loves her novels, let her love them. She's still a kid, after all."
But instead of feeling grateful, Makima puffed out her cheeks and glared at her sister.
"Hey! What do you mean I'm just a kid? I fought and defeated plenty of those Amegakure shinobi today!"
Mereoleona turned sharply toward Makima.
"Not a kid, huh? Brat, don't forget—you're twelve years old. That makes you a kid, whether you like it or not. Got it? I even stepped in to save you."
As she spoke, she cracked her fists together, her fierce eyes locking onto Makima as if daring her to argue. The unspoken threat was clear: if Makima pushed it any further, a beating might follow.
Makima's bravado crumbled instantly. With wide eyes, she drew her head back, lips clamped shut, deciding silence was the safest choice.
The sight was too much—Erza and the others burst into loud laughter, the tent echoing with their amusement.
When the chuckles died down, Erza rose to her feet and brought the small meeting to a close.
"Alright, that's enough for today. Everyone, get some proper rest. The night watch will be handled by the guards from the Daimyo's mansion. As for me, I'll speak with the Daimyo's son about the risks ahead. If he chooses to retreat and return to the Land of Hot Water, so be it. If not… then it's his decision. After all, he's our employer."
The siblings nodded in agreement and began filing out of the tent.
True to her word, Erza went to the Daimyo's son and explained the dangers that lay ahead—the possibility of Hanzo himself taking action, and how disastrous that could be. But the Daimyo's son remained undeterred, insisting firmly that the journey must continue.
Seeing his resolve, Erza knew there was nothing more she could do. With the matter settled, she returned to her own tent. Stretching out to rest, she allowed her body and mind the recovery they needed—for when the next battle came, she had to be ready.
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