In the end, Konoha's internal discussion, like Yorin's talks with the Daimyō's court, ended without a concrete result.
Of course nobody was going to approve Inuzuka Tsume's proposal—marching on the capital with troops and storming the Daimyō's mansion to "explain the stakes."
But Yorin still counted it as progress.
Because Konoha was now able to openly, brazenly debate such ideas without worrying that the Cheka would drag them off and execute them.
He was sure that as time went on and the contradictions between Konoha and the Daimyō grew sharper, the number of hardliners in Konoha would skyrocket.
People like Inuzuka Tsume—who thought "it's cold, time to put another coat on Yorin-sama"—would only become more common.
He felt a little bad for Minato, but in Yorin's mind it was clear: the day he became Hokage was getting closer and closer.
Head of the new Ninshū, Hokage, and Emperor of the Shinobi World—would he jump straight up the ladder, or climb it one rung at a time?
Yorin was curious about that himself.
…
After that, Uchiha Yorin spent another three days at the Daimyō's palace before the court finally, reluctantly announced it was willing to "compromise."
Yorin just snorted coldly, unimpressed. He definitely didn't see this as some gracious "favor," because he already had the intel.
Recently, the Daimyō had been trying every channel he could to get "outside support."
If one of the other four Hidden Villages could send an army to slap down the increasingly rebellious Konoha, he'd be willing to carve off a chunk of profit and hand it over.
When forced to choose between preserving his rule and disgracing his country, the Fire Daimyō—like rulers everywhere—chose both without hesitation.
In that respect, it seems all rulers throughout history are alike.
So of course, if it meant suppressing Konoha and preserving his own regime when a mutiny finally broke out, the Fire Daimyō would absolutely copy the Earth's playbook.
Unfortunately for him, his plan failed.
Once the other Daimyō's envoys started sniffing around, even the Hidden Villages that resented Konoha the most—Iwagakure and Kumogakure—gave a resounding no thanks. Kirigakure and Sunagakure didn't even hesitate.
They not only refused the Fire Country's emissaries, they sold them out—immediately telling Yorin everything.
And Yorin had zero intention of keeping the Daimyō's little scheme secret. The story went straight into the newspapers, onto the radio, into public broadcasts, and onto TV news. The entire goal was to blow it up as loudly as possible.
Under a storm of public denunciation, a tidal wave of editorials, and Konoha's very visible mobilization—seriously gearing up as if they really were about to march on the capital—the Daimyō finally chickened out.
Pinching their noses and pretending it was all their idea, definitely not because they were scared or cornered, the Fire court grudgingly gave Uchiha Yorin some concessions.
It was extremely funny. You could even say hilariously pathetic.
But on another level, it was also genuinely sad.
Because these nobles—this class that had once been swaggering, world-shaping warlords—had degenerated into empty shells with nothing left but posture and title. Like European aristocrats after the Industrial Revolution, they had only the skeleton of status, and nothing inside.
Of course, after feeling a moment of pity, Yorin found them even more contemptible.
Because in those previous examples, the nobles had no choice but to withdraw from the stage of history. But here in the shinobi world, this same useless aristocratic class still controlled politics and the economy, still sat atop a rotten system, clinging to power they no longer deserved.
The more he thought about it, the stronger Yorin's desire to overthrow them and establish a Shinobi Empire became.
How are you supposed to run good politics while stuck with these parasites?
He could repeat that line a hundred and eighty times and it would stay true.
…
And so, just before the New Year, Uchiha Yorin finally completed his "performance review" and was allowed to return to Konoha for the holiday—thanks in no small part to the effort of the little people underneath him.
Once the Daimyō's court had finally backed down, all the real haggling—how much revenue each side got, what the new agreements actually said—fell to the bureaucrats.
While Yorin headed home for New Year's, Konoha's civil servants and the Fire Country's minor officials were swearing their lungs out but had no choice. They could only vent their fury on each other across the negotiating table.
Those meetings were filled with remarks with incredibly high mom-insult content, as both sides "passionately exchanged opinions."
Beyond the obvious front-line battles, other wars were raging quietly. Endless drinking parties, banquets, buying and counter-buying, spies and counter-spies, double agents—the usual circus. Both sides quibbled over numbers to the sixth decimal place, clawing for every inch of advantage.
…
None of that had much to do with Uchiha Yorin anymore.
He rode back to Konoha as leisurely as he'd ridden out.
He mulled it over and came to a cutting conclusion:
"This isn't peace. It's a ceasefire."
The agreements they'd forced out of the Daimyō's court only smoothed things over temporarily. Probably only someone like the Third Old Man could actually relax because of them.
Everyone else—even moderates—felt deeply dissatisfied, feeling their own side had taken a loss.
When both the Daimyō and Konoha felt screwed, both felt they'd been forced to give too much, both wanted to tear it all up… that kind of deal wouldn't last.
Especially when Konoha was pouring all its profits back into education, industry, R&D, the military, and public transit—while the Fire court was spending its share on grand tea parties, debauchery, and molesting pretty pages.
"How long will this 'peace' last?"
Uchiha Yorin couldn't help wondering.
"Five years? Three? Or just one or two?"
If he could choose, he'd prefer that day arrive sooner.
But for now, he decided he might as well relax.
It was New Year's, after all.
New Year's, New Year's.
There was still a mountain of work to do, but at least for the holiday, he wanted to let himself rest—spend a rare break with the girls he liked.
"Although, come to think of it, aside from dating, New Year's is also a giant networking circus… ugh, I really don't want to go."
Aside from dropping by Minato bro's place, he didn't want to visit anyone. But sadly, that wasn't an option.
He was ANBU Commander-in-Chief, Hokage's advisor, leader of Akatsuki, and head of the Uchiha clan.
In the past year, his status had undergone a massive transformation. Which meant that for New Year's, there was an endless list of social obligations waiting to ambush him.
Give a major speech at the Uchiha clan's annual gathering.
Give another major speech at the village's New Year Celebration.
Go around to each clan head and department leader, paying formal New Year's visits and "comforting old comrades"… and if he really wanted to be thorough, he'd also be expected to travel to the other Great Villages with gifts, showing "support and unity."
He couldn't ignore the business world either.
Beyond Konoha and the big Hidden Villages, the Uchiha Conglomerate had ties to a whole ecosystem of merchants and financiers. Those relationships needed maintenance too…
And then there was Akatsuki—though Nagato probably didn't care. Still, when Yorin thought about those poor bastards' lives—one tragedy after another—he felt he should at least send them some warmth and blessings. That's what a bro should do.
Thinking about it all, he realized his New Year might actually be more exhausting than a normal workweek.
Uchiha Yorin:
"This is bullshit. I just want to cuddle with cute girls. Why can't I skip all the tedious social stuff and stay home in bed for one damn day?"
Realizing just how busy he'd be, he felt like clawing at his hair.
He knew it wouldn't work, but he still looked hopefully at Yakushi Nonō, hoping the gentle, big-breasted glasses nun would indulge him like always and say, "Of course, it's fine."
He asked her because, in terms of brains and domestic management, she was the strongest in his entire harem.
At home she was effectively the head maid or housekeeper, managing everything and removing 90% of Yorin's day-to-day worries.
He hoped she could help him here, too.
Unfortunately, no.
Most of the time, Nonō doted on him like a mother. But on this matter, she was utterly uncompromising.
"No, you can't."
Her tone was gentle as ever, but her rejection was absolute.
"This is the pain of being a big shot, Yorin-chan."
She continued, softly:
"I've sometimes wondered whether one day you'd throw all this away and run away with me—find some tiny place where no one knows us, and spend the rest of our lives together.
"But that's impossible, isn't it?
"You're not that kind of man.
"So, Yorin, since you enjoy all the benefits of wealth, fame, power, and status… you also have to take on the responsibilities that come with them."
Yorin sighed. He knew she was right.
"Okay," he said, resigned. "Then let's do it that way… but can't we at least cut some of the pointless stuff?"
"I thought you might say that," she replied, still smiling. "So I've made a list for you.
"Everything you must do is there, ranked by priority. If you think it looks reasonable, just follow this plan."
Yorin:
"Fine, it's still a big help either way."
It fell far short of his ideal scenario, but he knew this was the best realistic outcome.
"Let me see what's on it… wait a second."
He took the sheet from her, glanced at the very first item, and immediately froze.
"'Satisfy the harem's… sexual needs'?
"And why is that at the top of the list?"
He looked up at Yakushi Nonō, baffled, and asked. She just kept smiling sweetly.
"It means exactly what it says, Yorin~"