Uchiha Yorin wasn't just the Daimyō's enemy anymore—he was the enemy of all nobles in the Land of Fire.
The Daimyō was now convinced that this guy had been "poisoned" by the evil Akatsuki and was already seriously thinking about founding a nation of shinobi—an utterly treasonous idea.
Given Uchiha Yorin's power, wealth, and influence, he could easily become an enemy even more terrifying than Akatsuki itself.
And since he was an enemy, then of course they had to figure out how to destroy him.
The problem was… that was hard.
Long years of comfortable living had turned the Daimyō and the noble class into a bunch of people who wielded enormous power, yet had almost zero actual combat capability.
It's not like the Daimyō and nobles didn't have armies. Quite the opposite, actually. On paper, the so-called "banner retainers" under the Daimyō alone numbered eighty thousand in the old Warring States days.
By Year 52 of Konoha, the Daimyō's personal forces—his "household vassals"—had swelled to over two hundred thousand. And that number was still growing.
Don't ask whether they're broke, pawning off their kids and themselves just to afford their own ostentation; just ask whether those numbers count as an army on the books.
If you added in all the other feudal forces of the Land of Fire, the total easily broke a million.
Because no matter how feudal, how chaotic things were, the Land of Fire was still a real industrial nation.
There were no reliable census records, but Yorin reckoned their population had probably passed a hundred million, maybe approaching two hundred million.
And as for those million "banner warriors"—how much combat power did they actually have? Could you seriously launch a war with them?
Even the dumbest idiot could only answer: "Of course not."
The Daimyō was miserable and powerless. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he had no idea how to deal with Uchiha Yorin. Thanks to Akatsuki's existence, he couldn't even afford to fully fall out with him.
"Is this really all I can do?"
The Daimyō slumped onto the tatami, staring up at the ceiling, swallowed by confusion and dread.
"Am I really just going to watch everything happen… and quietly wait to die?"
He held his head in both hands, then tried to comfort himself:
"No… no, it probably won't be that bad. Senju Hashirama had incredible power back then too, didn't he? But in the end, he didn't do anything drastic, and the ones who still ruled this world were us…
What held him back? Who dragged him down? Right—Uchiha Madara!"
Madara and Hashirama's mutual love-hate, their endless clashes… in the end it meant that neither of them achieved what they could have.
When they cooperated, the era of shinobi villages was born and the world changed. When they turned on each other, they accomplished nothing and died with their ambitions unfulfilled.
"And isn't the situation perfect now?"
"Uchiha Yorin has his own 'Hashirama'—that Rinyo."
Once that clicked, the Daimyō almost burst out laughing.
It was poetic, ridiculously ironic.
That traitor, that man who wanted to slaughter every noble in the world… had somehow become the last hope of those very nobles.
Could there be anything more absurd than that?
He almost couldn't hold back a cackling villain laugh—kekekeke, ehehehehe.
Oh, wait. He didn't have to hold back.
He was the Daimyō.
He was the highest, most exalted being in the world.
His father, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather… all the way back, were "chosen by heaven" to rule.
He was the descendant of the gods—born to be a Daimyō.
What was an Uchiha Yorin? What was Akatsuki? What was Konoha? All of them should be nothing more than chess pieces for him to move as he pleased.
Commoners would always be commoners.
Shinobi would always be shinobi.
Nobles would always be nobles.
A Daimyō would always be a Daimyō.
The order of the world was set the moment it was created. There was no need for any so-called "God of Shinobi" to come meddle.
…
So now there was a new question:
How exactly was he supposed to contact Rinyo and Akatsuki, and maneuver them into clashing with Uchiha Yorin—ensuring they couldn't cooperate, and would instead hate each other and go down together?
"Maybe I don't have to do anything at all…"
The Daimyō thought on, "Two powerful, domineering leaders, each head of their own organization—even if they admire each other for a while, even if they cooperate briefly, they'll eventually fall out… Still, I'd better consider how to nudge things along."
…
And just like that, after a brief dip into worry and despair, the Daimyō of Fire regained his confidence and even wore a faint, smug smile. It was kind of ridiculous.
If Uchiha Yorin ever learned about this, it would be even funnier.
Because, as everyone doesn't know, "Yo-rin" and "Rin-yo" are the same person.
Flip the name around and it's a completely different guy—different reading, sure—but the fact that nobody has noticed yet is its own joke.
Uchiha Yorin: "Heheheh… hahahaha!"
Well, okay, he did laugh.
As a shinobi, he had a hundred ways to get intel on the Daimyō. The simplest one was: just ask people.
The Daimyō, as head of state, was of course surrounded by Konoha guardian ninja. And those guardians' loyalty to Yorin, the Hokage's aide, far outweighed any loyalty to the Daimyō.
When your own guards report to someone else, and that someone else has full visibility into your intel while you have none of his—that's an asymmetry even an idiot could see.
The fight hadn't even started, and it was already over. Once Yorin confirmed his "opponent" was just a joke character, he couldn't help laughing out loud, much to the worry of the guardian ninja nearby.
"Advisor-sama…"
He had no idea Yorin and Rinyo were the same person, that "Akatsuki" was really just a second skin over "Ninshū."
TV broadcasts said it clearly: Yorin and Rinyo couldn't do anything to each other.
At least, not until Rinyo's immortality trick was figured out. Fighting him head-on was pointless.
In that situation, the Daimyō's plan to provoke a decisive battle between the two was… rather troublesome.
"No need to worry. I can handle it."
The man's concern wasn't unreasonable, but he was still a loyal Konoha shinobi. Yorin didn't blame him—instead, he patted the man's shoulder and said:
"Stay by the Daimyō's side. I want all of his intel. As long as we have that, Konoha will never be on the losing side."
"Yes, Yorin-sama!"
The guardian looked like he had more questions to ask, but in the end he swallowed them and just answered loudly.
Tool-theory or not, orders being orders and obeyed absolutely—that much was normal.
…
The next day, Yorin went to audience with the Daimyō again. This time it wasn't a banquet, but a formal court session.
All the pomp and ritual annoyed him; he was certain they were doing it on purpose just to drag things out.
Finally, after the ridiculous formalities, they began the proper questioning.
First topic: explanations for Konoha's recent actions.
("Why did you form alliances with the other villages? Don't you know they're our enemies?")
Second: Konoha's companies and capital had "disrupted the market order," which also "required an explanation."
(Never mind that it was the nobility harassing them on command—shifting blame and muddying the waters were basic skills of any aristocrat.)
And finally, the topic everyone truly cared about: when exactly was Konoha—when was Uchiha Yorin—planning to finally exterminate Akatsuki and Rinyo, that incarnation of ultimate evil?
(This mattered more to the nobles than anything. If Akatsuki wasn't destroyed and Rinyo didn't die, they would never sleep soundly again.)
Although the Daimyō had "awakened" the night before and dreamed up a brilliant plan to make Yorin and Rinyo kill each other, that plan was about as practical as the classic story of the mice deciding someone should put a bell on the cat.
And in any case, not all nobles were like the Daimyō, with some long-range vision. Most of them couldn't care less about overall balance or world order.
If you mentioned "maintaining long-term stability" or "grand strategy," they'd just say, "I don't care—just kill that guy."
If Akatsuki wasn't destroyed, if that man called Rinyo didn't die, they'd never live comfortably again.
Even if killing Rinyo left Yorin as the only unchallenged monster—more dangerous than before—they weren't thinking that far.
So the Daimyō told almost no one about his clever scheme. After a bit of muttering and crazy laughter in private, he buried the idea in his heart, intending only to share it with his most trusted confidants.
…
If, last night, Uchiha Yorin had accepted his "goodwill" or at least acted interested in some constructive arrangement, this hearing would just have been for show.
But since Yorin rejected everything they offered, all that remained was official procedure.
If the nobles didn't at least make things a little difficult for him, they wouldn't feel satisfied—even if the mere fact that they weren't calling for his head yet was already a concession to his power and achievements.
Yorin could have just said, "Go to hell, why should I explain anything to you?" and no one could have stopped him.
But like he'd decided before, it wasn't yet time for an open, final break with the nobility. Everyone knew a war was coming and only one side would remain in the end—but for now, at least on paper, Konoha was still Fire's vassal. Yorin still had to give them some face.
So he straightened his clothes, organized his thoughts, and prepared to wrap this entire hearing up cleanly.
And by "cleanly," he didn't mean popping perfect Susanoo and slaughtering every noble in the chamber.
He meant using words, rhetoric, and undeniable data to prove that he was right—and that the people across from him were trash.
~~~
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