Ayato bypassed the oden shop, heading to the far end of the street.
"Kuwata-uncle."
Kuwata ran the fabric stall—bolts of cloth in every hue. His block? Pure civilian turf. No ninja gear, no weapons—just everyday goods from everyday folks.
"What's up, Ayato?"
Midday lull; the shop hummed quiet.
"Any house inquiries lately?"
"Nope. You know how it is—shops aren't impulse buys for most."
"You ever think about snagging yours? Been slinging cloth here for years."
"Never crossed my mind. Though I hear the others mulling it over. Price tag's a sticker, though—market rate's got 'em spooked."
Ayato tilted his head. Prices frozen for decades. Waiting for a dip? Dream on.
"They've got plots elsewhere. Not prime strip like this, but word's out—some development push. Figure their land might boom."
Ayato scratched his chin. Even with upgrades, values hold steady. Current rates at least move units. Konoha's war-fresh: sparse crowds, ample dirt. Hikes? Crickets. Cuts? Risky.
"What if I floated the whole block at nine off?"
"Nine?" Kuwata's eyes bugged.
Land didn't budge like that—maybe shave a few thousand per square, or tens of thousands total. Equivalent to two, three months' rent skimmed.
Ayato's lease? Two years shaved. Steal. Even Kuwata felt the pull.
"The entire street?"
"Tenants only. Full block."
"Done. I'll scrape the cash—meet at yours?"
"Sounds good. I'll loop the neighbors."
"I got time—want me to spread it?"
"Sure." Nod.
Ayato figured Kuwata might flip a few extras—broker with the rest. Whatever. Cash is cash.
His own yard? Too cramped, tucked behind commerce. No shop appeal. Lowball sale. Skip it. Pennies anyway.
Oden bowl overflowed—Hashimoto knew portions. Lunch handled. Straight home.
Gate latched.
"He skipped lunch here today?"
Minutes later: three ninja on his block. Chunin, two genin.
"Pattern's midday stroll. Missed shot. Grab food, scatter."
"Oden spot? First time this side. Wonder what he chatted with the boss about."
"His whole street. Rent run, probably."
"Wait—genius. We're close to his place. Fund a buy here?"
"Yeah! Signs everywhere."
"Viable. Budget covers it. Post-meal: scout shops."
"Flower shop? Love blooms."
"Inn—low upkeep. Crash spot."
"Ask first."
"Eat up."
Trio filed in.
Kuwata wasted no time—blasted the tenant-only nine-off deal street-wide. Netted two holdouts: he'd buy their spots, re-lease. Borrowed eleven mil each—deduct from rent.
Ten years rent-free for them; ten months interest for him.
Win-win.
Kuwata: no upfront for three shops. Decade dry? Fine—then rents roll in.
Others: pre-pay equivalent, but fuzzy memory in ten years? Finders keepers. Kuwata pushing fifty? Ninja lifespans short. Die early? Jackpot.
Chunin squad scarfed, beelined for the inn. Proprietor rose—rare ninja traffic.
"Shop for sale? Sign out front."
"Sorry—land's not mine. Inn's off-limits. Sign's for the plot."
"Just the land, then."
"Land's spoken for." Grin. "Tenants first, landlord said."
"Ah. Outbid?"
"How much?" Eyes gleamed.
"Whole package—me, inn, lot. Two bil ryō."
"Two bil? Houses that steep? Years of missions." Boy genin whispered.
"Commerce bumps it. Residential? Tens of mil for the size."
"Still—chunin grind for years."
"Yeah—tons still paying mortgages."
"Deal? Two bil work?" Owner fidgeted—they'd tuned out.
"Consult first."
"Smart—big buy."
Owner waved them off, bolted for Ayato's. Ninjas circling? Snag now—flip or run. This deal? Gone tomorrow.
Gentle knock. Mid-workout thuds inside.
Ninjas—always grinding.
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