Uchiha Yorin:
"So, to summarize: the Fourth Great Ninja War ended in victory for us—Konoha, which is to say, the Land of Fire.
After this victory, the Land of Fire has, in practice, become king of the world.
Konoha's victory is the Land of Fire's victory. Konoha's control over the other four great villages is proof that the Land of Fire now holds sway over the other four great nations as well.
For the sake of their pride, we changed the word 'vassal' into 'ally.'
But in essence, it means the same thing.
I believe the Land of Fire has also reaped more than enough benefit from this victory, hasn't it? In that case, we should be able to understand each other. Because all of you, my lords, have done exactly what Konoha did."
When Uchiha Yorin said this, the nobles of the Land of Fire all looked at one another, momentarily at a loss for words.
Because things really were just like he said: the Land of Fire had made an absolute killing.
And he wasn't even talking about the straightforward stuff like war reparations.
War reparations are one-off deals—pennies in the big picture. The real profit comes from the privileges of being the victor.
From now on, the Land of Fire's capital could move unhindered throughout the world. Just relying on their status and name, they could extract even more profit and advantage.
Even minor, half-ruined noble houses of the Land of Fire, once they stepped into other countries, could sit at the same table as those nations' highest lords. Political capital and economic benefit flowed in by the mouthful.
Even ordinary citizens of the Land of Fire, when they went abroad, enjoyed treatment far above local commoners, making everyone envy and resent them.
And these nobles, sitting right here, as the Daimyō's inner circle—the most powerful courtiers—how could they not be skimming off the top, stuffing themselves wherever they could?
Especially now, with Konoha and the village system heavily expanding and building, the Land of Fire's nobles had even more ways to profit.
Even the thick-skinned ones didn't know how to respond to Yorin's line of questioning.
In pure numerical terms, the gains the Land of Fire took thanks to Konoha's victory were far greater than what Konoha itself got. Several times more, perhaps ten times—not an exaggeration, given the difference in scale.
Konoha, no matter how strong, is still just a city. The Land of Fire, no matter how weak, is still a great country. They simply aren't on the same scale.
The real question is: once everyone has taken their cut, where does the money go?
It's like the 21st century: America's military spending is several times that of others, however you slice it. But America's military budget gets eaten by Mr. Smith and friends—turned into thousand-dollar shirts, ten-thousand-dollar coffee makers, million-dollar purebred sheep. The actual amount reaching real military capability might not even be one percent.
The Land of Fire is the same story.
What are they supposed to say? "Oh yes, all that profit we earned from the war—we poured it into mansions, luxury carriages, beautiful mistresses, and such refined hobbies as burning candles for firewood and wrapping trees in silk. We invested almost nothing into strengthening the nation's productive forces or reinvestment"?
Come on.
Even if that is what they did, they absolutely can't just say it.
Because even these shameless people know that admitting that would be embarrassing as hell.
And just like that, Uchiha Yorin cleared the first question.
Even though everyone still feared that the shinobi alliance might one day threaten noble rule, the truth was: because all of them were gorging on the benefits of the current system, the first people to panic, should this system break down, would be these very nobles of the Land of Fire.
If they didn't believe him, Yorin even offered a little test:
"So, if my lords are especially dissatisfied with this aspect, I do actually have a straightforward solution: Konoha and the Land of Fire can send envoys to all five great nations and proclaim that from now on, we will treat them with perfect equality and peace, then withdraw all our diplomatic oversight and advisory personnel. In that case—"
"—Absolutely not!"
"—We bled for this! We fought tooth and nail for this dominance!"
"Do you even understand what you're saying?!"
Yorin hadn't even finished his sentence before the nobles exploded, cutting him off, practically leaping to their feet, ready to tear him apart.
It was exactly as he'd foreseen.
No one wants to make less money. Even the most "loyal" people, when they hear their pay might get cut, will show a very ugly face about it—never mind this lot, among whom actual loyalty is in short supply.
Seeing this, the Daimyō was furious.
Where was their "honor," their "principles," their "class consciousness"? Were they really willing to betray their own class interests over a few measly coins?
Shameful. It was utterly shameful.
Of course, after a retainer quietly reminded him how much he had made from this system—more than any of them—the Daimyō could only cough lightly and smooth it over with a string of meaningless platitudes, hurriedly steering the topic away.
Just like the next topic—Akatsuki and Rinyo—would soon be brushed aside, too.
Uchiha Yorin said:
"We're already investigating. And not just us—other villages are also trying to figure out why Rinyo has become immortal.
The core problem is, we still don't know what's really going on.
So any head-on operations against Rinyo or Akatsuki right now are meaningless. They'll just provoke him.
And once he's provoked, he won't just take revenge on us shinobi organizations—he'll become a threat to all of you as well.
He's completely lawless. Even the most 'exalted' Daimyōs mean nothing to him. He will kill you if he wants to."
"…"
The nobles puffed themselves up and tried to act brave—"Would we be afraid of him?"—but their fingers trembled, their bodies shivered, and the Daimyō himself, with a complicated face, finally asked Yorin:
"Even so, Yorin-sama, if that man named Rinyo were to come here… you would protect us, wouldn't you?"
In his heart, he desperately wanted Yorin and Akatsuki to annihilate each other, but at the critical moment, he still longed for Yorin's protection.
It was like calling China the greatest threat on earth, picking a trade war, and then in the next breath begging them to keep buying your soybeans and to please not hike tariffs or lock down rare earths. So naïve and absurd that Yorin almost burst out laughing.
Fortunately, he was a professional. No matter how funny it got, he wouldn't show it on his face, otherwise this whole meeting would become impossible to wrap up.
Uchiha Yorin:
"I would very much like to do so—but I am only one man. I can't possibly protect everybody in this room at the same time. As for outside the Land of Fire, I'm even more powerless."
"…"
The Daimyō's feelings were mixed, but in the end, he had no choice but to grudgingly declare that Yorin had passed this part of the questioning as well.
He had an impulse to press again—maybe ask Yorin to take one of his daughters as wife and stay by his side as his personal shield—but even an idiot could tell that Yorin would refuse. Asking outright would only humiliate himself. So the Daimyō could only stew in silence, fuming inside:
"Damn it. I'm the Daimyō, the most exalted man in this world—why can't anything ever go the way I want?! It's infuriating!!"
…
The first and third rounds of questioning were handled by Yorin with ease.
The truly tricky part was the second round.
From ancient times to now, questions of how to divide money were always the hardest.
From the shinobi's point of view, these nobles sit there and collect tribute without lifting a finger, and they still want thirty percent or more—and that's net profit. It's infuriating; chopping them all to pieces wouldn't be enough to vent the anger.
From the nobles' perspective, sitting and collecting money is the natural order of things. Giving these merchants and shinobi a chance to do business is already a favor; how dare they "forget their place"?
Their core values and logic don't even exist in the same universe. Arguing back and forth is pointless.
So they argued for a whole day—Yorin versus a hall of nobles—and in the end, nothing was resolved.
They went home, rested, came back the next day and argued again—still nothing.
By the third day, predictably, there was still no agreement in sight.
And that was when Uchiha Yorin finally dropped the pretense:
"We shinobi go out with our heads hanging at our belts, doing work that could get us killed any day, and you still want to fight us over scraps of profit?
At this rate, even the most loyal people can't swallow it.
If we still can't reach an agreement… then Konoha's fifty thousand ninja might, in a moment of outrage, do something far beyond your expectations. I beg Your Highness to judge the situation clearly."
"Y-You… what do you mean by that?!"
After he said this, a deathly silence fell over the chamber.
After a long moment, one of the old nobles raised a shaking hand and pointed at Yorin, asking hoarsely:
"Is Konoha… is Konoha planning to rebel?!"
Yorin snorted.
He did not kneel and babble about eternal loyalty to the Land of Fire. Instead, he said very coolly:
"…That's not entirely impossible."
One sentence, and the old man nearly had a stroke.
The Daimyō's face went as black as the bottom of a pot.
"Today's discussion ends here. Court is adjourned!"