Uzumaki Mito strolled down the commercial street of Akatsuki Village, eyes bright with curiosity as she took in this unfamiliar shinobi village.
The street rang with children's laughter.
To celebrate Uchiha Makoto's wedding, the Ninja Academy had granted a five-day holiday, finally giving the students—whose school life had already stretched nearly half a year—a brief breather. The daily taijutsu classes had truly been grueling.
At first,
after taijutsu the students' bodies were utterly exhausted; the soreness left the dorms full of groans at night.
Long and hard as those days were, they gritted their teeth and endured.
Because they were the lucky ones.
Ordinary people couldn't even find a path to "suffer" like that or to receive Lord Light Shadow's favor.
"Quite nice," Mito murmured.
For a moment she felt as if she'd returned to Konoha. The Leaf's founding ideal had been to stop shinobi from slaughtering one another, to let every child freely play, grow, and learn in their childhood—not, like the older generation, march to the battlefield at a young age, pick up weapons, and fight to the death.
"But Akatsuki Village seems far richer than Konoha," she noticed as she looked more closely.
She saw more—the children's rosy faces, the sturdy autumn clothes, and the small toys in their hands worth dozens of ryō apiece. For Senju children that wasn't strange.
But these children bore no clan crests; they were almost all civilians.
That, she felt, was worth pondering. Even civilians in a great village like Konoha lived in straitened circumstances, trained to pinch every coin; any expense over a hundred ryō required careful thought.
The "leeks" Uchiha Makoto had cut from the nobility—he'd kept little for himself and poured almost all of it into Akatsuki Village. Money-burning projects had launched simultaneously, all as village-owned enterprises, with all results belonging to Akatsuki Village—no middlemen taking a cut.
Now, as long as you had hands and feet and were willing to work in a factory, you could get a bowl of rice. A basic living wasn't a problem… of course, whether you wanted to or not, you went. Akatsuki Village didn't feed idlers.
The more Mito saw, the more incredible it seemed—especially when she heard the Academy had enrolled three thousand students at once. It struck her as madness.
How much funding did Akatsuki Village have to burn like this? Had every other daily expense been pared to the bone?
She couldn't imagine how vast the economic gap between Konoha and Akatsuki Village had grown. The longer time went on, the harder it would be to bridge.
And the budget itself was a top-secret category in Akatsuki Village, never disclosed in detail. As for why… the source of those funds could not stand the light of day.
Soon after,
stuffed with questions by Uchiha Makoto, Mito met the man sent to receive her: Uzumaki Shinji. Today Shinji's face was glowing; his happiness was almost overflowing.
The 3.68 billion ryō had arrived in full that very day.
How could he not be pleased?
Seeing that Uzumaki Mito herself had come to the wedding only brightened his smile. He could barely hold back from sharing the good news, a "riches must be shown to one's hometown" thrill bubbling in his chest.
The two quickly reached Akatsuki Village's guest hall. People streamed through—rare grandees from the Land of Fire, great merchants from all over the shinobi world. Uchiha Makoto was weaving a network of ties for Akatsuki Village; future business, factories, expanded production, sales channels—all would need their help.
After greeting the attendant, Shinji found an empty room.
Clanfolk meeting clanfolk, they naturally exchanged courtesies.
"Mito, how is life in the Senju? You haven't been wronged, have you?"
Shinji asked with real concern. Her quality of life could reflect the Senju—and Konoha's—attitude toward the Uzumaki to some extent.
He already understood Akatsuki Village's attitude: a favor worth 3.68 billion ryō wouldn't be paid off anytime soon. But the Senju and Konoha needed to be tested again; the memory of that earlier "backstab" still stung.
"I'm fine in Konoha," Mito said with a gentle smile.
Like many far from home, she knew her own warmth and cold. Faced with family concerns, she reported the good, not the bad; family could hardly help and might only be troubled.
Materially,
her treatment was first-rate. In the Senju and throughout Konoha, no one dared slight Uzumaki Mito—the "proper" wife of the Senju clan head and the Hokage's wife.
But in spiritual, physical, and emotional terms, her present treatment was poor.
Before Konoha was founded, life had been barely manageable; she didn't feel Senju Hashirama's burning love,
but she didn't complain.
Hashirama was slow to grasp matters of the heart, and theirs had been a clan marriage with little courtship. Love after marriage comes with bumps.
After Konoha's founding,
their once-harmonious married life shattered.
It turned out Hashirama's feelings could indeed burn like fire—only, not for Mito.
But for Uchiha Madara.
They were inseparable, often sleeping back to back, not coming home all night. Each time, Tobirama would send word to fob her off.
Sometimes,
Hashirama did come home for dinner. But at night, when Mito sought to explore the mysteries of life with him,
at her age,
her needs were like a wolf's or tiger's.
She often got, "Mito, I'm tired. I was with Madara today… go to bed early; I'm meeting Madara tomorrow…"
And as the words fell,
Hashirama performed an elite ninja trick—"instant sleep." Under high-intensity operations, if you can't fall asleep fast to recover, you can't maintain combat readiness.
Those cold words doused Mito's desire like a bucket of water; her interest vanished. It had happened not once or twice but often.
As a woman seeking her husband's affection, Mito had failed.
"That's good, then."
Shinji nodded, satisfied. Both Akatsuki Village and Konoha were strong supports for the Uzumaki; both sides mattered.
After some small talk,
Mito relayed what Tobirama had asked her to say: why had the Uzumaki agreed to ally with Akatsuki without informing Konoha first? Tobirama had only learned of it when Akatsuki's envoy arrived in Konoha.
Did the Uzumaki still see Konoha as their elder brother?
Shinji smiled. He couldn't speak openly of Konoha's earlier "betrayal"—that would only harm present amity—so he explained from the clan's future.
"Konoha is strong, yes, but the Uzumaki cannot rely wholly on Konoha's shelter. Even if our relations are excellent, we cannot put all our eggs in one basket. As the saying goes, a crafty rabbit has three burrows."
Mito considered briefly. As an Uzumaki, she could see that wasn't wrong. From Konoha's point of view… well, this was her burden: to be the bridge and keep relations friendly.
"The Uzumaki worry too much.
"Konoha will protect the Uzumaki. Still, under the circumstances, it's understandable. I'll explain it to Konoha that way."
They shared a smile
and let the matter pass.
To ease the tension, Mito brought up Uchiha Makoto. He was busy receiving the Land of Fire's daimyō; even as Konoha's envoy, Mito would have to queue behind the daimyō.
"Lord Light Shadow is a dragon among men—young, yet already beyond his peers, broad-sighted, full of ambition…"
Shinji's praise was unstinting. For someone who had produced 3.68 billion ryō with a wave, no compliment felt excessive.
"So you admire Uchiha Makoto," Mito said.
"Of course. Lord Light Shadow treats the Uzumaki with the utmost courtesy. This wedding's betrothal gift alone is 3.68 billion ryō!"
At last Shinji spoke the number suppressed in his chest, and relief washed through him. The nameless urge to "get even" with the Senju dissipated.
"How much?"
"3.68 billion ryō?"
"Did I hear that right?"
Mito wondered if her ears had failed her.
A 3.68 billion ryō bride price?
When she and Hashirama were betrothed, the Senju's gift had been large—measured in tens of millions. That now seemed less than the rounding error on Makoto's sum.
Women like to compare—even strangers compare. On the matter of bride price, Mito had been utterly routed; a strange feeling rose in her heart.
"You didn't mishear," Shinji said.
"It is 3.68 billion. Though called a bride price, in truth it's economic aid granted to the Uzumaki after allying with Akatsuki Village."
He tried to keep his tone even, but the rosy glow on his face betrayed him. The Uzumaki weren't money-mad—but Makoto had given too much to refuse.
"Where did Uchiha Makoto get so much money?
"Shinji, you weren't duped, were you?
"How could the Uzumaki receive such a massive subsidy?"
Mito still struggled to accept the figure. A bride price of 3.68 billion ryō was staggering; even the Land of Fire's daimyō hadn't gone that far. As economic aid it sounded a touch more reasonable—but only a touch.
It was still outrageous.
So outrageous Mito suspected Shinji had been deceived—that Makoto had pulled off something for nothing, dazzling the Uzumaki with a head-spinning number to secure an alliance with Akatsuki and a bride from their clan.
She felt her warning might already be too late.
Akatsuki had announced the news to the shinobi world; even the Land of Fire's daimyō had come to serve as witness. If Makoto reneged now, the Uzumaki couldn't call off the wedding without disgrace.
They couldn't very well storm a wedding on Akatsuki's turf. Even if Makoto had no shame, the Uzumaki did. A thousand-year bloodline's face could not be thrown away.
"Mito, I won't allow you to malign Lord Light Shadow like this!
"He truly wishes to ally with the Uzumaki. The 3.68 billion ryō has already been delivered in full. Even I can't stand to hear you slander him!"
"What—do you think the Uzumaki aren't worth 3.68 billion?"
Shinji's face hardened at her words.
Such high character and generosity—3.68 billion ryō in one stroke. Could the Senju, could Konoha, be so open-handed?
And then this:
'The Uzumaki couldn't possibly receive such aid?'
How could those words come from you, Uzumaki Mito? Even if it's just the two of us here—what if someone outside heard? They'd think the Uzumaki weren't worth 3.68 billion!
"That's not what I meant!" Mito said quickly.
"I was only afraid you were being deceived."
She hadn't imagined Makoto would truly produce 3.68 billion ryō at once, framing it as a bride price and aid. The extravagance begged the question of ulterior motives.
But she could say no more.
That sum had dazzled Shinji and the Uzumaki. To press it would only make them feel she'd married into the Senju and forgotten her mother clan—"Mito, why are you taking their side?"
That was the last thing she wanted to see.
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