Kazeo reached the Akimichi compound, where a shinobi was already waiting by the gate.
"You're the boy? Good. Follow me," the man said curtly.
Kazeo nodded and trailed behind him. They walked through the compound, and in a few minutes arrived at a house that looked a lot like Jiro's—only larger, sturdier, with a heavier presence.
The man opened the front door and motioned him inside.
"Go on. Someone will take you further."
Waiting there was a girl, maybe around ten years old. She gave a small bow, her voice soft but practiced.
"Please follow me."
Kazeo trailed behind her, moving through corridor after corridor, turning corners and passing rooms that seemed endless. Finally, the girl stopped, slid open a door, and said,
"Please wait here. Our leader will attend you shortly."
"Thanks," Kazeo replied, stepping in.
The room was wide, almost unnaturally so. As he sat down, his eyes wandered over the space.
'Did they use spatial seals here?' he thought in awe. 'No way normal architecture stretches corridors like that… It took us almost three minutes just to get here. The chakra upkeep alone must be insane. How much do they even spend just to maintain one house?'
He leaned back, exhaling. 'Anyway, why isn't he here yet? Wasn't the meeting set for six?'
Minutes ticked by and the silence of the room pressed against him. Half an hour later, Kazeo sat cross-legged, frowning.
'So it is really that tactic, huh? Show up late, frustrate your opponent, make them crack first. Though, it's a classic power move, but on a ten-year-old kid? Really? Is this what being a clan head means—ruthless authority plays? Or… maybe he's just genuinely tied up in something.'
He closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
'Doesn't matter. I'm not dancing to his rhythm. If he's not here in ten more minutes, I'm leaving. I still have training tomorrow—and I need my sleep.'
Five minutes later, the door opened, and three figures entered. At the center walked Akimichi Chōza, towering and broad-shouldered, his very presence filling the room. His expression was calm but approachable, his heavy steps matched by the faint rustle of his clan robes. The two men flanking him—likely trusted retainers—took their positions just behind as Chōza settled down onto a large cushion at the head of the room.
Kazeo opened his eyes, rose smoothly from his meditation posture, and bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for giving me the chance to present my proposal, sir."
A deep laugh rumbled from him as his eyes swept over Kazeo.
"So, you're Kazeo. No need to stand, sit down, sit down." His tone was firm but carried a surprising warmth. "Jiro was right—you look even smaller than ten. Hah! You should eat more, boy. Put some meat on those bones."
His broad face softened as he waved a hand dismissively.
"And sorry for keeping you waiting. I had meetings stacked before this—those old geezers seem to want one every single day. As an apology, how about I treat you to our clan's special delicacy?"
Kazeo bowed politely before easing back into his seat. "Thank you for your kindness, sir. And no worries about the wait—I understand. I actually came today to let you taste some of my recipes. If you don't mind, why not try those first? I've brought enough for everyone here to sample."
Chōza rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. "Hmm… why not indeed? Food speaks louder than words, after all. Do you need anything to prepare it, or can we start right away?"
"We'll need an oven to reheat it," Kazeo explained carefully. "It tastes best fresh, but this should bring it close enough."
"An oven, eh? That's easy." Chōza smiled, then clapped his massive hands twice, the sound echoing through the chamber. Almost instantly, a shinobi flickered into the room, kneeling beside him.
"Bring an oven here," Chōza instructed casually.
The shinobi nodded without a word and vanished. Kazeo didn't so much as flinch at the sudden appearance, remaining seated, calm as ever.
Chōza's eyes lingered on him, amused. 'Unfazed, is he? Either he's used to surprises like this… or he's simply more composed than Jiro gave him credit for.'
Before long, the shinobi reappeared, unsealing an oven from a storage scroll with practiced ease. With a respectful nod from Chōza, he vanished once more, leaving the room quiet again.
"Go ahead," Chōza said, gesturing with one large hand.
Kazeo pulled a container from his own scroll and set it on the low table. When he opened it, the faint aroma of fried food drifted into the air. He touched the fries gently, noting that a few were still slightly warm but most had gone cold. Carefully, he placed all three dishes inside the oven and set the timer for eight minutes.
As the soft ticking began to fill the quiet room, Choza leaned forward slightly, his large hands resting on his knees.
"So," he rumbled with a curious smile, "tell me about these other recipes you've made."
The conversation flowed easily enough, with Choza and the two men beside him asking questions. At first, their tone was casual, but slowly they tried to nudge the talk toward ingredients and methods. Kazeo, however, answered with calm precision—sharing only the obvious parts that anyone could see with their eyes, like the vegetables in a dish or the spices sprinkled on top. He never once mentioned how to make the bun of a burger, or the cheese, or the sauces that gave the food its depth.
Choza's sharp eyes caught the boy's restraint, but he didn't press. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 'Clever, isn't he?'
The oven chimed, and the smell of warm food drifted across the room. Kazeo carefully pulled the trays out, plating each dish with surprising neatness for his age. He placed one before Choza, then the other two, before finally settling back with his own.
The clan head picked up a piece and bit into it. His broad smile faltered for just a second—then returned, even wider than before. The two Akimichi beside him wore the same expression, momentary surprise quickly masked.
It was the man to Choza's left who finally broke the silence, his tone edged with caution.
"Hmm… this is new, Kazeo. Tasty, yes. But it's not something that can't be copied. Anyone with sharp eyes and a good tongue could break it down, don't you think?"
Kazeo met his gaze evenly. "If they also know how to make the bun and sauces, then sure—they could copy it."
The man's lips curled in a thin smile. "True. But remember, shinobi are everywhere. Recipes can be stolen as easily as secrets. Instead of risking that, why not sell them to us? You've refused before, I know—but this way, we'd keep them within village. And of course, you'd be well compensated."
Kazeo shook his head calmly, his expression firm but respectful. "I appreciate the concern, but I've said it before. I'm not here to sell. I came to propose a partnership."
Choza, who had been eating in thoughtful silence, finally set his plate down. His jovial expression dimmed slightly, replaced with a more serious air.
"I understand your stance, Kazeo. But let me be direct. These recipes are good, no doubt—but we don't know if they'll catch on beyond my clan. Maybe they'll spread through all of Konoha… or maybe only the Akimichi will care for them. We can't say for certain. That's a risk for us. In this deal, you said earlier, you're bringing starting money and the recipes and we'd be shouldering the bulk of the work."
His tone softened slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp.
"So here's my offer: one million ryō for each recipe. And if you'd like, we'll even make sure your name is attached to them."
Kazeo listened quietly, then answered with steady confidence.
"I understand your point, sir. But you also have to see mine. These recipes will spread like wildfire—I'm certain of it. That's why I don't want to sell them outright. I know your side carries the heavier burden, which is why I already came down from a fifty-fifty share to forty for me and sixty for you."
He paused, then added with a faint smile.
"If you're still unsure, then let's test it. We could start with a small restaurant. See how it performs. If it fails, you'll have your answer. If it succeeds, we'll both benefit."
At his words, the two Akimichi flanking Choza smirked faintly, exchanging a glance that carried a mixture of amusement and disbelief. 'Bold words for a child.'
Choza, however, simply shook his head. A low hum rumbled from his chest, and then, without a gesture—an invisible pressure filled the room. The air itself seemed to weigh down on Kazeo's shoulders.
His back slumped despite himself, his muscles straining as he tried to sit straight again. But he couldn't. His chest tightened, and sweat prickled at his temple. 'W-What is this pressure…?'
He clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet Choza's for a heartbeat before lowering them.
Choza's voice cut through the silence, deep and stern. "You're still not understanding, boy. This business, it isn't a flowery one. Since we've spoken long enough, I'll be blunt."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "People kill for recipes. And they die to protect them. Carrying something like this would paint a target on your back every single day."
Kazeo swallowed but said nothing.
Choza continued, his words deliberate, heavy as the pressure he exuded.
"If you came to me with an already operating business, this would be a different conversation. But right now? You only have recipes… and an idea. Nothing more. The only reason I'm sitting here is because Jiro insisted. Without him, you wouldn't be meeting me—not even if you had a small shop already running."
He gestured toward the man on his right, the same one who had spoken earlier. "The one you'd have met instead is Takamura here. He deals with most of these… proposals."
Takamura gave a small, knowing smile, folding his arms across his chest.
Choza's gaze stayed fixed on Kazeo.
"You don't know how many people walk through our doors with 'new ideas.' They all say the same thing: give them our money, our support, our name, and they'll succeed. Fifty-fifty partnerships, big dreams, small talk."
His tone sharpened.
"Very few, Kazeo… very few come to us with something already proven or something real like a working shop. Customers. Profits. That's when we step in, and that's when we expand it together."
He leaned back, the crushing pressure in the room slowly easing, but his eyes never softened.
"You have three choices."
He raised one thick finger.
"First—sell us the recipes. A million ryō each. You'll live comfortably, safely."
A second finger.
"Second—open your own restaurant. If it thrives, if your first shop succeeds, then come back to me with a business—not just an idea."
And then, a third finger.
"Third—you join the Akimichi. If you become one of us, then we can discuss this 'partnership' of yours seriously."
Silence fell, heavy and unyielding. Kazeo sat frozen, his small fists clenched in his lap. His mind churned.
'He's right… I didn't think this through nearly enough. I believed that just having recipes and copying the shop ideas of Domino's or other chains would guarantee success here... But in truth, I've got nothing solid to stand on. I only have ideas, nothing real. And why would he even invest in a ten-year-old kid? The fact that he listened and explained everything to me this patiently… that's already way more than I deserve currently.'
After nearly half a minute of silence, Kazeo finally spoke as he exhaled, his tone respectful.
"Thank you for your guidance, sir. I've learned a lot today. I think I need more time to consider things properly. Would it be alright if I give you my decision later?"
Choza leaned back slightly, his large arms crossing over his chest as he let out a low hum. His eyes softened, but his tone carried weight.
"Of course. It's your recipe, your choice, Kazeo. Just… don't take too long to decide."
He paused, raising a brow with mild curiosity.
"But tell me this—why did you come to me when you'd already discussed it with the Hokage?"
Kazeo's gaze grew firm, his expression unusually serious for his age.
"Well… that's a secret for now. I'll explain once I've made my decision. Until then, if you allow, I'd like to take my leave and think things over."
As he spoke, Kazeo carefully sealed the containers back into his scroll. His deliberate movements drew a faint glance from the two other Akimichi in the room—one frowned, clearly skeptical, while the other raised an eyebrow, silently impressed by the boy's composure.
Choza didn't reply immediately. His heavy features settled into a thoughtful look, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, after a moment, he gave a short nod.
"Mhm… alright. You can go."
Kazeo stood, bowing politely before turning to leave. As he stepped outside, he found the same Akimichi girl from earlier waiting for him. Without a word, she gestured for him to follow. Kazeo walked alongside her, his mind turning over everything that had just happened, until finally, he left for home to rest.
Inside the room, silence lingered for a few seconds after Kazeo's departure. The three Akimichi exchanged quiet glances before Choza finally spoke, his deep voice breaking the stillness.
"So…" he leaned back, folding his massive arms as his gaze settled on Takamura, "what do you think? Was this boy just naïve… or truly smart, like Jiro claimed? I want your honest opinion."
Takamura adjusted his spectacles with a calm, deliberate motion before replying.
"I would say he is both. Naive and smart. Naive in business, of course. That much is expected of a boy his age. But what stood out to me is that he is adaptive. He adjusts quickly, he thinks on his feet. His talent as a shinobi is already proven. He has surpassed our own clan's children at the Academy. Because of that, I believe we should bring him into the clan, even if it means taking a deal that looks disadvantageous on paper. Even if we gave him something as high as twenty or thirty percent in a venture, the wealth would remain within the Akimichi once he joined us."
Choza's heavy brows knit together as he listened, his broad shoulders shifting slightly as though weighing the words. He nodded once but his voice came out heavier, probing.
"You are not wrong. His qualities are worth considering. But tell me, what makes you call him smart right now? I see intelligence for his age, yes. Adaptability, yes. Potential enough to become a fine shinobi with time. But wisdom in business? That I cannot agree with. Jiro mishandled him from the start. He offered large sums the moment he tasted those dishes instead of beginning low and testing his resolve. And it was Jiro who pressed me to meet this boy, only because Kazeo dangled ten recipes in front of him. Jiro did well enough considering we found a talent, but looks like he still needs more training."
The words lingered for a moment. Across the table, Nakamura, who had been watching quietly until now, let out the faintest smile at his leader's bluntness, though he said nothing. His sharp eyes flickered between Choza and Takamura, measuring the exchange with silent amusement.
Takamura did not flinch at the rebuke. He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, his tone sharpening with quiet insistence.
"Clan Head, those are small details. We must look at the broader picture. He already asked the Hokage for a reward tied to a restaurant. Then why did he come here? Do you truly believe he intends to run two restaurants with the same recipes? One with the Hokage's support, and another with ours?"
Choza did not hesitate. His reply came instantly.
"That seems simple enough. He came to us because he has no lasting support outside of the Hokage's temporary favor. The boy wants stability. He does not want to remain dependent, and so he looked to us for a more permanent arrangement."
Nakamura, who had been silent until now, shook his head. His expression was sharp, his voice steady but edged with certainty.
"No, Clan Head. I believe you are mistaken this time. He did not come here only to seek refuge. He came to make a deal. Think back to the reports. The Hokage himself told him to ask for something else, saying that the request was too small for the prize he had earned. If my guess is right, Kazeo was trying to secure a partnership with us first, so that he could then return to the Hokage with leverage. In that way, the Hokage's protection would also extend to his recipes."
They discussed for few more minutes before Takamura chuckled, tilting his head toward his fellow elder.
"Oh, so you are finally thinking the same way I am. Good, good. At least you are learning."
Nakamura clicked his tongue and crossed his arms with a scowl.
"Hmph. Who is learning from you? Do not forget, I am eleven months older. I only disagree with you most of the time because you are usually wrong. Today just happens to be one of the rare times you are correct."
Takamura was going to reply but Choza lifted his hand, his expression hardening into one of stern disapproval.
"Enough. Both of you are elders of this clan. Start behaving like it. Brothers or not, I will not have you bickering like children in front of me."
The room quieted at his words. After a pause, Choza leaned forward, his deep voice grounding the discussion.
"Still… your reasoning holds weight. The boy may not be as simple as he looks. He's only ten, yet here we are, debating him this seriously—that alone says something. Maybe we're reading too much into it… or maybe we're seeing the truth. Either way, we'll know soon enough, when he gives us his decision.
But remember—whatever choice he makes, we must place an offer strong enough to draw him in. From what I saw, he didn't have the eagerness of someone desperate to join. If we don't move fast, another clan will recognize his value before we do."
At that, the three began to deliberate in earnest, weighing what terms they might place before Kazeo when he returned.
---------
The next day, inside Training Ground 6, Itachi stood with his genin team after they had taken a short break from their morning drills. The training ground was quiet, with the occasional rustle of leaves drifting down from the trees surrounding the open clearing. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, throwing shifting patches of light across the dirt ground where the three genin sat cross-legged, resting.
"Listen carefully," he began, his tone calm yet firm. His eyes moved from one student to the next. "Daichi, your natural genjutsu resistance is poor. Ren is in between and Kazeo's has the strongest resistance among you, and you all know this already."
He let a pause linger before continuing. "I've been training you in that area every day. There has been improvement, even though not a week has passed."
The genin sat in silence, their gazes fixed on him.
"From today," Itachi said, "we will begin focusing on your own genjutsu abilities. That is one of my strengths… apart from regular combat." His voice carried no arrogance, only quiet certainty. "And do not worry. I know more than just the Sharingan's illusions. I've studied conventional genjutsu as well. With time, I can turn you all into capable users."
He stepped closer, his expression unreadable but his presence sharp. "My goal is simple. To shape you into balanced shinobi. When you become chunin, you should already have the foundation to pursue what suits you best."
The three genin nodded, their faces serious. Kazeo's eyes gleamed with a quiet fire, while Ren leaned forward slightly, eager to hear more. Even Daichi, though uneasy, straightened his back as if trying not to miss a single word.
Seeing their focus, Itachi spoke again, his voice lowering. "What I'm about to share… is something I discovered on my own. A method most shinobi know nothing about." His gaze hardened, the weight of his words pressing on the group. "Keep it to yourselves."
The genin nodded again, almost in unison. Their posture shifted almost unconsciously, leaning in. Kazeo's eyes sharpened with focus, as he already knew how terrifying Itachi's genjutsu mastery would become in the future. Ren, on the other hand, looked eager, his body leaning slightly forward as if afraid to miss a word. Even Daichi, though less certain, tilted his head and pricked his ears in attention.
Itachi gave a small nod before speaking, his voice quiet yet steady.
"It is not complicated. I am sure some shinobi must have discovered it, but chose to keep it hidden."
He paused, letting the words settle, then continued.
"The best way to strengthen genjutsu is not through more jutsu, but through control over the senses. Taste. Touch. Sound. Smell. Sight. If you can weave illusions that target these directly, you will move far beyond the average shinobi. A shinobi who can mislead even a single sense can decide a battle before it begins."
Daichi frowned, scratching his cheek. "Sensei, I get what you mean. But… why does it matter? The genjutsu I know already feel strong. Maybe not in my hands as much as theirs," he glanced at Kazeo and Ren, "but still strong. Why train each sense separately when we already have full techniques?"
His voice wavered slightly near the end, and he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet to catch. "I'm already behind as it is…" His fingers clenched around his knee.
Ren caught it, though. His lips tightened, and he leaned forward sharply. "If you don't want to learn, then don't. Me and Kazeo will. You can go train on something else instead." His tone carried a little too much bite, more challenge than encouragement.
Daichi puffed his cheeks, his pout almost childish. "I didn't say I don't want to. I just… don't get it."
Itachi let the silence stretch just long enough to calm the heat before he spoke again, his voice steady but softer than before. "Ren, do not push too hard. Growth does not come from pressure alone." His eyes shifted to Daichi. "And Daichi—you were right to ask. A shinobi should always question what they are taught. I will explain why this training matters, and how it will make you stronger."
"You already know that chakra is formed from both the physical and the mental," he began, his voice even and steady. "You've also learned that ninjutsu shapes chakra into physical effects—like fire, water, or earth. Genjutsu works differently. It feeds false signals into the chakra pathways that govern the senses."
Ren straightened slightly, eyes sharp. Daichi shifted on the grass, frowning but listening.
"In simple terms," Itachi continued, "ninjutsu changes the world outside, while genjutsu changes the world inside. If you can target a specific sense, then you gain more control and more subtlety." His gaze drifted across each of them before settling on the dirt at his feet. He bent down, picked up a small pebble, and rolled it between his fingers. "Imagine you are on a mission. You carry a poison that leaves a bitter taste or a sharp smell. Your target is your ally, and you are pressed for time. How do you deliver it without raising suspicion?"
He let the question hang. The only sounds were the wind brushing through the trees
Ren narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to piece together an answer. Daichi rubbed the back of his neck, silent. Even Kazeo stayed quiet, his brow furrowed in thought.
After a long moment, Itachi spoke again. His tone was calm but edged with quiet weight. "If you could manipulate their sense of taste, the bitterness would disappear. If you could touch their sense of smell, the poison's trace would vanish. Genjutsu is not bound by the same limits as tools or poisons. Its only boundary is the user's skill and imagination."
Kazeo finally raised his hand. "But sensei… wouldn't an experienced shinobi notice if their senses were being tampered with? If you changed their taste, wouldn't they feel the chakra disturbance?"
Itachi's eyes softened slightly, though his expression barely shifted. "A good question. Yes, a skilled opponent may detect it if the genjutsu is crude or forceful. That is why subtlety and precision are essential. Instead of altering something large—like creating fake surroundings or simulating pain—we are focusing on a small detail here. Changing the taste is done by directing chakra to a very specific sensory pathway in the brain. If done precisely, the interference is so minor it slips beneath conscious detection."
Daichi hesitated, then lifted his hand too. His voice was quieter than before. "If ninjutsu changes the outside world and genjutsu changes the inside… doesn't that make genjutsu stronger? Because it controls the person directly?"
The corner of Itachi's mouth moved almost imperceptibly, though it was not a smile. "Strength is not measured by what a jutsu can do. True strength lies in how it is used. Genjutsu can control the senses, but a careless genjutsu user will be undone just as quickly as a reckless swordsman. Power without balance is weakness in disguise."
The lesson stretched on, the clearing filled with the soft cadence of Itachi's calm instructions, broken now and then by the flicker of expressions on his students' faces—curiosity from Kazeo, determination from Ren, confusion giving way to thoughtfulness in Daichi.
By the time the class neared its end, Itachi's gaze shifted to Kazeo.
"Before going to fuinjutsu department, the Hokage asked to see you. He said it is urgent."
Kazeo nodded, his face neutral but his thoughts restless as he stood.
'Urgent? What could be so pressing that he called me before class? Well… I'll know soon enough.'
With that, he walked away, the other two watching him leave in silence as the training ground settled back into stillness.
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