All the Bees 6

All the Bees 6

Mitsu Akimitchi

I pressed Kurobachi’s head away with my finger. Enlarged as I was, she was about the size of two knuckles. “Stop that.”

“But it’s tasty,” she whined adorably. Even knowing she had enough venom in her abdomen to drop most of the world’s megafauna didn’t keep me from comparing her to a big, fuzzy jelly bean. "You have so much…”

“I gave you your share,” I replied, gesturing to a wooden bowl the size of a grown man’s head. It was, predictably, licked clean.

Shirobachi, her equally adorable sister, nudged her way to the lip of the giant, basalt mortar. “You did. We ate it all. Now share, human. Are we not also part of your hive?”

“I should’ve known better than to use bearded iris honey…”

“We both know the Second Hive gives you a discount on bearded iris.”

“You two had something to do with that, didn’t you?” I accused, already knowing the answer. Sometimes, I wondered if these two gluttons only agreed to be my familiars so they could take advantage of my creations.

Yumebachi’s Second Hive made plenty of different types of honeys. As the eldest daughter of the Empress of All Hives, she was something of a professor when it came to honey, even amongst her sisters. She primarily used her mastery of senjutsu to study the conversion process from nectar into chakra-rich spirit honey. 

As my primary senjutsu tutor, she became something of a business partner. Most of the requests the Hive of Hives had for me came through her. Typically, Yumebachi purchased regular fruits that couldn’t be found in Seihachimori as well as brewer’s yeast or cultivation records.

The bees were especially delighted to know that we humans selectively bred fruit trees for bigger, sweeter fruit and happily compared methods. They even took to requesting library texts about grafting methods. The youngest queen, Kumobachi of the Nineteenth Hive, was experimenting with the technique to create new flowers.

In exchange, the Hive of Hives supplied me with spirit honey and other bounties from the mystical forest. Thanks to Yumebachi being my point of contact, I didn’t have to learn about every single hive individually. Telling them apart was a lot harder when I couldn’t interpret pheromones.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shiro sniffed dismissively. “If the queen wants to give you a discount on a highly desirable type of honey, it is only right that you accept her gift graciously.”

“Uh-huh… And it’s just a coincidence that this honey is your favorite?” I asked wryly.

“Indeed. A coincidence.”

“Yup,” her sister buzzed happily. “No need to ask Yumebachi-sama. She didn’t expand production of bearded iris nectar because we begg–”

“Shut up, sister,” Shiro grumbled, lobbing a thumb-sized ball of wax at her sister with a flick of her butt.

I chuckled and continued stirring. Kuro really didn’t have an ounce of cunning, but that just made her more endearing. If I noticed them inching ever closer to my concoction, I didn’t comment on it. As much as I complained, it was mostly for fun; I’d long since learned to take their appetites into account.

The mortar and pestle I was using was a personal creation. Back during my ANBU days, I had a brief mission to the Land of Moon. The island was a tropical paradise, not unlike the Philippines from my old life. There was a ton of exotic fruits and seafood and even a big, semi-active volcano that formed the main peak.

The mission was nothing to write home about: I was to assassinate the head of a merchant company and plant conflicting evidence that implicated each of the company’s board of directors. Naturally, I succeeded. 

The company fell to infighting and lost the chance to bid on a lucrative contract with the local daimyo. This in turn made room for a more Leaf-friendly merchant company to slide into the market niche.

It was all more of the same, really. Konoha was the “nice” village, but that was speaking on relative terms. We were a village of assassins; there was a limit to how “nice” we could possibly be. We kept our murders out of the limelight and put forth reasonable effort to not hurt uninvolved parties. Truly, we were saints.

In any case, I spent the rest of the allotted mission time scoping out the island. While pretending to be a fat, bumbling tourist, I “uncovered” a plot by Minister Shabadaba, who wanted to overthrow the local daimyo and become the first king of the Land of Moon.

Never mind how stupid “King Shabadaba” sounded, the threat was serious enough, and I far enough from the hokage, that I took it upon myself to report it directly to the reigning daimyo. ANBU had a great deal of autonomy in handling unforeseen variables. If I remembered right, Kakashi did something similar back when he visited the Land of Snow, something about their princess who was currently “laying low” as a world-famous actress.

From Daimyo Tsuki, I received the emergency mission to gather further evidence. My little sidequest ended with me presenting the daimyo with the minister’s still-drippy head. This had the added bonus of securing the Land of Moon’s friendship for Konoha and the Land of Fire for the foreseeable future.

I was pretty sure I scared him a bit, but that was fine, too. I would have thought less of him if he didn’t fear a professional assassin who just made his top minister’s guards look like cardboard cutouts. Smart man, that daimyo.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get what I really wanted from that detour: the glove.

My memory wasn’t perfect, but the Land of Moon featured in one of the anime’s filler movies. In it, the villain of the week had a gray glove with a glowing eye of Sauron in it. It turned the wielder into an earthbender a la Avatar, and could also petrify organic matter with a single touch.

As far as I was aware, only one other technique led to petrification: senjutsu. The glove most definitely didn’t make the wielder a sage, but the parallel was interesting enough that I wanted to study it.

My initial hypothesis was that the glove somehow gathered trace amounts of nature chakra from the air and directly injected it into the opponent, all without touching the wielder’s own chakra network. This would then induce a “failed senjutsu” state on the opponent, turning them to stone.

Or maybe not. The mechanics were never explained, nor was its origin. It would have been nice if my hypothesis panned out, but at the end of the day, it was just a throwaway gimmick for a movie villain. If it mattered, it probably would have appeared in the main canon.

Alas, I couldn’t find the glove to verify one way or the other. I’d hoped one of Shabadaba’s elite guards would have had it on them, but no. I slaughtered them to a man and was left disappointed.

I consoled myself by going mining. More specifically, I went up the island’s main volcano and found the largest chunk of basalt. I then used my mastery of earth jutsu to hollow it out, creating a molcajete the size of a pickup truck and a pestle big enough to club a bear to death with. In other words, perfect for an Akimichi. I had a bitch of a time seasoning the whole thing, but it was worth it.

I smiled at the fond memory. I’d left the Land of Moon with a letter of commendation and gratitude from the daimyo. Sure, the letter also included a polite request to never come back, but that was high praise in my book. We got the trade agreement so no harm, no foul.

I ground up a truly massive mixture of almonds, hazelnuts, pine nuts, and walnuts before mixing it all in a pool of bearded iris-flavored spirit honey. I also tossed in a dozen pounds of candied citron peels and a healthy dose of black pepper from my storage scroll to break up the sweetness with a bit of acidity and spice.

Then, when the mixture was so thick that no normal man would have had the strength to stir it, I added its volume again in dried, ground meats. It was an even mix of venison and beef. This whole thing was flooded with molten beef tallow, creating a greasy slurry.

This was the point at which my two familiars lost interest. They didn’t mind meat, but dried and ground meat never quite caught on for them.

I was, of course, making pemmican. When it dried, I’d scoop it out and roll it all into dense, gumball-sized lumps for storage. The honey’s moisture content would lower its shelf life, but that was okay. Five years on a shelf was already plenty. It was just meant to be an easy to carry, high-calorie meal that could substitute for chakra pills thanks to the spirit honey. 

I got the idea from my own clan’s tri-colored pills. Red, yellow, and green, because even magic ninjas followed traffic laws, apparently. The pills were double-edged swords that forcibly converted the fat reserves in the body into chakra. It could allow the consumer to enter our clan’s secret Butterfly Mode, but could also just as easily kill them via rapid weight loss.

Naturally, Uncle Chouza, myself, and other masters of our clan’s jutsu didn’t need the pills. But I figured that if these chakra pills on steroids could exist, then the reverse could also be applicable, a portable meal that slowly but consistently replenished the consumer’s chakra.

Besides, pemmican tasted better than ration bars. This taste, convenience, and chakra restorative effect got a fair bit of interest both in and outside the clan. I gave bundles of these out to my old ANBU contacts as a way to keep our relationships alive.

After thoroughly mixing the tallow into the honey paste, I poured it all out into large, metal pans to dry. It’d take a full eight hours so I could forget about it and get back to training. I hadn’t practiced the Butterfly Mode in a while and I was curious to see how that interacted with my brand of senjutsu.

X

“Jounin Mitsu,” the old shit-flinger called. And unfortunately, so long as I had that prefix before my name, I’d have to answer.

“Here I am, hokage-sama,” I replied. I considered sassing him for the funsies, but the old monster’s usual good cheer was absent today. “What can I do for you today?”

He took a deep puff from his pipe. In his hand was a scroll, a bit too small to be for human use. “Kakashi’s dog summon raced back to the village mere minutes ago. His message requests a reevaluation of the C-rank mission undertaken by Team Seven. 

“During their C-rank mission to protect a bridge builder while he completes his bridge in Wave, Team Seven encountered a pair of C-rank nuke-nin called the Demon Brothers. They successfully subdued and captured the chunin. However, the Demon Brothers were last seen working under Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Mist and wielder of one of their seven swords.

“The mission has been elevated to B-rank, possibly A-rank should Zabuza’s presence be confirmed. You are to reinforce Team Seven as soon as possible.”

Ah, the Wave Mission. I supposed it was about that time. Despite the serious matter, he looked rather pleased to hear that his pseudo-grandson had helped subdue a pair of chunins only a month out of the academy. Sure, the Demon Brothers were as bottom of the barrel as chunin could get, but it wasn’t nothing.

That said, as iconic as the Wave Mission was, I didn’t think I’d need to get involved. “Kakashi-san requested reinforcements? The situation must be dire; he isn’t the type to ask for help.”

“No, but seeing how you are the supplementary jounin-sensei, you are in a uniquely ideal position to leave the village in support of one of our most promising genin teams.”

I grimaced. I obviously wasn’t being asked for my opinion. “Hai, hokage-sama. What are my objectives?”

“Your objectives are twofold: First, you are to ensure the safety of Team Seven. Abandoning the secondary objective in pursuit of this is acceptable. Second, you are to promote Konoha’s long-term interests in the Land of Waves at your discretion. Depart immediately.”

He tossed me the updated mission scroll. It was about what I expected. I bowed sharply before blurring out of his office.

He was being unusually vague, though. Back in ANBU, his orders tended to be much more direct, along the lines of “Save Team Seven. Kill Gatou. Kill, blackmail, or befriend everyone else necessary to establish Wave as a client state.”

Well, he wouldn’t use the words “client state.” He’d probably call it a “burgeoning friendship,” or something equally benign that downplays the hilariously wide gulf in geopolitical and economic power between Fire and Wave.

The reality wouldn’t change: Konoha would monopolize missions from Wave for the foreseeable future. Wave’s fishermen and merchants would be quietly rolled into our intelligence network. And, in times of war, Konoha would use Wave as a forward base and buffer against  Water or Lightning, keeping the bulk of the bloodshed outside Fire’s borders.

This could all be true without their cooperation of course, but we were the “nice” village. We were kind enough to ask, or at least launch the psyops and PR campaigns to make them think this was their idea.

I suspected he didn’t want to be quite so heavy-handed with Wave, at least not where his “grandson” could see. The old monkey was rather protective of Naruto’s naivete. He believed, and I agreed, that this generation should be permitted their ideals of heroism and gallantry for as long as possible.

After all, if not for the innocence of youth, why else did pops, Uncle Chouza, and the previous generation fight?

With such thoughts in mind, I rolled out like everyone’s favorite blue hedgehog.

Author’s Note

Very short chapter, just something light for the end of the month.

Yes, I wrote most of a chapter about Mitsu… making pemmican. Are you proud of me?

Mitsu’s memory is not perfect. Ishidate, a missing-nin, had that glove in the movie.

Animal Fact: Bees have five eyes. Two are compound eyes, the big ones you can recognize, and three are simple eyes, like a spider's.

The compound eyes see color. The three simple eyes, called ocelli, do not. Rather, they are sensitive to light and are thought to be used for navigation and orientation purposes, especially relative to the sun.