The news arrived unexpectedly.
Jaxon set his chopsticks down, his expression calm—eerily so. There was no trace of shock or sadness, just a faint hint of indifference.
"So, he couldn't avoid it in the end," Jaxon muttered.
The "he" in question was Nawaki, the young heir of the once-mighty Senju Clan—now confirmed dead.
Jaxon had only met him once. Their connection was superficial at best, and his death held no emotional weight for him. Still, politically, this was no small matter. The Senju were one of the founding families of Konoha Village. Though they had faded from glory, their name still carried weight.
That Nawaki had died in battle—or worse, through assassination—during the tail end of the Second Great Ninja War was nothing short of explosive.
"Young Master, aren't you surprised at all?" asked Whirlpool True, who had delivered the message. His voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but confusion. He had expected some visible reaction, maybe even concern.
Jaxon looked at him calmly. "This doesn't affect us."
Then, after a short pause, he added, "Tell our people to stay quiet for now. Especially Yun Nai—she's not to wander the Village during this time. If she needs something to do, send her to inspect the construction site."
Whirlpool True nodded silently.
Jaxon leaned back in his seat, deep in thought. Nawaki's death signaled something greater.
The war was ending.
And not in some neat, heroic fashion. The world was bleeding—villages burned, civilians displaced, children orphaned.
The true victims of the Second Shinobi World War weren't elite Ninja—they were the countless innocents caught in the crossfire.
"Start gathering orphans," Jaxon said suddenly. "No age limit—just make sure they're ten or younger."
"Huh?" Whirlpool True blinked, startled. "Even… even ordinary children?"
"Yes," Jaxon confirmed. "All of them. Anyone under ten. Assign personnel to take care of them. Teach them to read, give them food and clothes. If any show promise in Chakra or combat, train them separately."
"But… the cost will be massive!" Whirlpool True exclaimed. "We'd need caretakers, housing, food… Thousands of children could show up! Tens of thousands!"
Jaxon gave a slight chuckle, flexing his right hand.
"What do we have the most of, True?"
Whirlpool True paused.
Then it hit him.
Money.
As the richest man in the Land of Fire—and likely in the entire Ninja World—Jaxon could burn a hundred million ryo and barely feel it.
Resources weren't the problem.
"Young Master," Whirlpool True asked cautiously, "what kind of future are you planning for these children?"
Jaxon raised an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious. "A better one."
He gestured at the stacks of reports and documents piled on the nearby desk.
"We're not just going to raise weapons. We're going to raise human beings. If we're going to do this, we'll do it right."
He stood and walked to the window, hands behind his back.
"Build orphanages across the Ninja World—under the name of the Jaxon Family. Provide shelter and food, education and training. Let every child, regardless of their bloodline or background, have a chance."
He turned slightly. "Don't leave Konoha out. We'll build one here too."
Whirlpool True was speechless.
He had followed Jaxon for years, but this—this wasn't a power play. It wasn't about building a private army or gaining loyalty through manipulation.
At least… it didn't seem that way.
Yet Jaxon's true intentions were always veiled beneath layers of logic and misdirection.
Still, Whirlpool True knew better than to ask more questions.
Even if this plan cost several hundred million ryo per year, for the Jaxon Family, it was a drop in the ocean. And if just one great genius emerged from among the orphans… the investment would be repaid a thousandfold.
"I'll begin preparations immediately," he said, bowing.
---
Later that day…
On a bustling street not far from the Konoha Mission Hall, Jaxon strolled alone, candied hawthorn stick in hand. The sweetness on his tongue matched the lightness of his step.
The war was ending. The village was rebuilding. For a rare moment, things felt… peaceful.
But then something caught his eye.
A commotion.
Two middle-aged shinobi were brushing off someone who was practically begging in front of the Mission Hall.
The figure begging was strange-looking—bowl haircut, green jumpsuit, thick eyebrows.
He looked to be in his early thirties, with an earnest, almost childlike expression that made it impossible to ignore him.
"Please," the man said, clasping his hands. "Let me join your team. I can handle the hardest missions. I'll carry your gear, scout ahead, take watch—I won't complain!"
"Get lost," one of the older men snapped. "We don't need a liability slowing us down."
"But I—"
"I said beat it!" the other barked, shoving him aside.
The bowl-cut man stumbled but caught himself. As the two shinobi walked away, he stood frozen for a moment—then slowly slumped down onto a nearby bench, staring blankly ahead.
His face was clouded with disappointment.
He looked like someone who had been rejected a hundred times before—and was still somehow hoping for a different outcome the next time.
Jaxon tilted his head.
I didn't expect to run into him here.
That silly outfit. That painful optimism. That relentless determination.
He was unmistakable.
Maito Dai.
Father of the future taijutsu legend, Maito Gai.
A man often ridiculed for his lack of ninjutsu talent, yet respected by few for his unwavering spirit.
Jaxon took a bite of his hawthorn stick.
Interesting.
Maito Dai suddenly turned and locked eyes with him. His expression lit up.
The sorrow vanished instantly, replaced by a wide, toothy grin.
He jogged over, pointing at Jaxon's outfit. "You must be from a noble family, huh? Came here to post a mission?"
Jaxon's mouth twitched.
He looked past the man to the sign on the building behind him: Konoha Ninja Mission Hall.
So that's why Dai was here. Probably hoping to get hired for a D-rank mission.
"Let me guess," Jaxon said, raising an eyebrow. "You're Maito Dai?"
The older man blinked.
Then his face broke into a beaming smile. "That's me!"
He stood a bit straighter. "You've heard of me?"
Jaxon nodded. "You could say that."
He looked Dai over again, and a flicker of respect sparked in his eyes..
No talent. No kekkei genkai. No clan backing. Yet still fighting to be a ninja. You're a fool… but an admirable one.
Perhaps this encounter wasn't a coincidence after all.
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