Uchiha Yorin was in a great mood; on the other side, the Daimyō of the Land of Fire was absolutely not.
As the sovereign of the world's number one great power, it was usually him standing people up, doing his little "the Tsar is fishing, Europe can wait" routine.
And now this time, he was the one getting stood up by Uchiha Yorin.
Worse: once wasn't enough—Yorin had effectively done it twice.
The first time, he'd said he had to go to the Land of Water to confront that terrifying Rinyo. Fine. Even the Daimyō had to admit: when a man swings his sword and literally opens a canyon, you grit your teeth, force a fake smile, and lie, "It's all right, my matter isn't urgent at all."
As for how he had deliberately stood Yorin up before, trying to make him look bad? The Daimyō had selectively forgotten. Even if some fool dared bring it up, he'd shout, "How is that the same thing?!" and wave it off.
But this time was different. This time, Uchiha Yorin had nothing going on. He just flat-out didn't want to come.
That made the Daimyō of Fire burn with rage and—honestly—feel as wronged as an American getting slapped around in a trade war with his own lackeys.
Yes, he did want Yorin dead. Yes, he did want to crush him. Yes, the trade war was his doing, and yes, he would love to see Yorin's country split and his people displaced.
But come on. Deep down, the Daimyō was screaming: Couldn't you at least humor me a little?!
He was stuck in that emotional loop, unable to get out of it. Several times he almost issued the decree to name Uchiha Yorin a rebel and call on the whole world to destroy him.
Naturally, his retainers pinned him down with everything they had.
"Have you seen the size of that man's sword? Eight hundred meters long. You might not be scared. We are."
So he could only swallow it. Like some menopausal auntie with severe mood swings, he waited anxiously—and very impatiently—for Yorin's arrival.
If anything comforted him at all, it was this: the other Daimyō were just as nervous.
Usually, between great powers' monarchs, there were only conflicts, almost no common interest, and even temporary alliances were rare.
But after the Fourth Shinobi War ended, the five major Daimyō were stunned to find that their "well-behaved mercenary corps" had formed a ninja alliance.
This was awkward. This was infuriating. And above all, this was terrifying.
What the hell did these ninja think they were doing? Don't tell us they actually intend to do what Rinyo and Akatsuki were spouting—overthrow the old order and build a Shinobi Empire?
No way. Becoming a last-Emperor "fallen monarch" was absolutely unacceptable. At least wait ten years after my death. Better yet, never.
Of course, he knew that kind of wishful thinking was useless. To preserve their rule, the Daimyō had to act fast.
So the Daimyō of the Five Great Nations, plus the dozen-odd smaller countries around them, set aside old grudges at record speed. Patricide-level enmities? Eh. Class solidarity came first.
In short order, they formed an anti-ninja league.
This anti-ninja league had one simple goal: break up the ninja alliance. Push them back into mutual hatred and endless internal conflict, and stop them from fantasizing about some ninja nation conquering the world.
On paper, the Daimyō thought this would be easy.
After all, the major villages had plenty of grudges. Hate piled high. All the Daimyō had to do was stir things from the shadows and let the villages burn each other down again.
It did not work.
Diplomatic probes into the major villages failed almost across the board.
The more diplomatic ones—like Iwagakure—would at least put on a smile and offer some vague political fluff. Kirigakure and Kumogakure politely, but clearly, turned them down.
Sunagakure was the worst.
Thanks to being gutted by their own Daimyō's budget cuts, Sand's attitude toward the Daimyō of Wind had already gone sour.
With Uchiha Yorin's help and Konoha capital investing in Sand's oil and petrochemical industry, Sand had finally found their lifeline.
Now, they depended more on Konoha's technology and money than on their own Daimyō's stipend.
That meant Sunagakure was no longer Wind's private army, but effectively a vassal of Konoha.
With that backing, Sand didn't feel the need to be polite.
The Daimyō's envoys went in standing upright and came out horizontally.
These functionaries—half court eunuchs in spirit—had no sense of self-preservation. They tried to play the same arrogant games as before and got beaten senseless by Sand's furious ninja.
When the news spread, the Daimyō were livid. "Dogs or not, they're still our dogs. You don't beat another man's dog without looking at its master. Isn't this a little too much?"
Anger faded and was replaced by unease and suspicion. Why did Sand dare? Weren't they afraid of losing military funding?
Of course they weren't. A bit of probing revealed that Konoha's logistics branches and petrochemical projects in Wind were flooding Sand with money and energy.
The price?
Sunagakure's politics, ideology, economy, and civilian life were all drifting irreversibly into Konoha's orbit.
Another round of cross-border gossip between Daimyō, and they were horrified to find that Sand wasn't alone. Iwa, Kiri, and Kumo had all taken Konoha's capital and signed on to its logistics network and joint development projects.
Kiri had the deepest integration: after a thorough purge and Yorin's direct intervention, it was basically a Konoha branch office now.
Kumo's joint projects focused on advanced tech and ninja tools. The potential profits and market were enormous. No way they'd walk away from Konoha now.
Iwa had its fill with real estate. Just one job—building Uzushio—was already pushing their manpower to its limits.
The Daimyō were forced to admit that Konoha's capital had become a giant beast, binding together villages that used to hate each other, turning them into a happy little community of shared interest.
It made their skin crawl. They desperately wanted to tear that network apart.
But… how?
Administrative edicts were useless. Direct orders only made the ninja think they were idiots.
Economic blockades had proven effective… but none of them dared use that card again.
The first blockade had brought Akatsuki into the world. Who knew what a second would spawn?
Everything simple was off the table. That left only schemes and tricks.
And the most straightforward scheme was obvious: go after Uchiha Yorin.
All of it—village unity, joint projects, even the fight against Akatsuki—was his doing.
Even the Hokage and other Kage were, to a degree, puppets dancing on his strings, implementing his plans.
So: how to deal with him?
Smear campaigns? Media attacks? Turn him into a public enemy?
Pointless. And dangerous. They still needed him to hold Akatsuki at bay. Without the world's strongest shinobi, Akatsuki might well wipe them all out.
If they couldn't hit him hard, they'd have to soft-sell.
So the goal shifted—from dismantling the five-village alliance, to buying off Uchiha Yorin.
This lovely little task was handed to the Daimyō of Fire.
He had been quite confident at first.
No one knew how to handle Konoha ninja better than he did.
His grandfather had tamed the so-called God of Shinobi, Hashirama Senju. Surely he could handle this "second God of Shinobi," Uchiha Yorin—
Yes, after "Konoha's Strategist," Yorin had picked up a new title: "The Second God of Shinobi."
And yet, now, the Daimyō of Fire felt his confidence evaporating.
Yorin didn't feel like Hashirama. He was not easy to handle.
With all that spinning in his head, the Daimyō finally greeted a very relaxed-looking Uchiha Yorin.
Yorin murmured a perfunctory, "My apologies, I'm late," without the slightest hint of actual apology.
What really got under the Daimyō's skin was Yorin's presence: the pressure of a man who had both unparalleled strength and absurd wealth, who served as all five villages' right hand, and basically had more power than any Kage.
He was, quite simply, the freest man alive.
Standing in front of him, the Daimyō of Fire felt like a small fry. Like Zelenskyy standing in front of Trump. Like he was Yorin's junior, not the other way around.
That self-abasing feeling, if pushed, could've turned into a defensive backlash… but given the reality of power, it slid into a kind of submission and fear.
Considering Yorin's status, his strength, and how badly the Daimyō needed him, the Daimyō chose the latter.
In the original timeline, this Daimyō had been spooked by Danzo's rise. Now, with Yorin—who was even more formidable—he was even more frightened.
So, drowning in that fear, he no longer dared to push through with the plan they'd drawn up.
Instead, he adopted a gentle, almost deferential attitude—inviting Yorin to dinner, praising his contributions to the Land of Fire, and lauding his "loyalty" to the Daimyō… though everyone present knew that was pure fiction.
…
Just when Yorin was thinking, "this is a waste of time," the main act finally started.
Half joking, half serious, the Daimyō said:
"You know, a man of your caliber is rare even among shinobi, let alone among all the nations…"
"Frankly, among all my retainers, there is no one as capable as you."
Of course Yorin had to be modest, toss out a "You flatter me, Your Grace. Your ministers are hardly lacking."
But that wasn't the point. The point was what the Daimyō said next—something that truly made Yorin blink:
"So, have you ever considered a different way of life?" he asked.
"You've already reached the pinnacle of the ninja profession. Have you never thought about becoming a noble? An official? With your talents, governing the Land of Fire would be no challenge for you."
"You're exaggerating, my lord," Yorin said. "How could someone like me ever become a noble?"
"No, no, no—if anything, I'm understating it."
The Daimyō's eyes glowed with a feverish light, his tone growing more and more fervent until he finally dropped a bombshell:
"I have four sons, and several brothers—but they're all useless wastrels.
How can I entrust the future of the Land of Fire, which I have managed so painstakingly, to that rabble?!
This worry has plagued me for years. But today, upon meeting you, I finally see the answer—it's you. You are the one most suited to inherit my throne.
In addition to my sons, I have three daughters. All are beautiful, gentle Yamato Nadeshiko. You may choose one of them as your wife. After that, I will adopt you as my son and declare you my heir.
Thus, after my death, you will become the next Daimyō of the Land of Fire.
What do you think of my proposal, Yorin-kun?!"
~~~
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