The second Uchiha Makoto's words landed, the Raikage's office went dead quiet—like someone hit the mute button on a rowdy bar. The air got thick, heavy with that "oh shit" tension you only feel right before a bar fight pops off.
This ask? Straight-up textbook "cushy gig" bait. Dude might as well have slapped Samui and Mabui's headshots, measurements, and bra sizes on a damn PowerPoint slide.
Truth is, Makoto had his eye on one more "maid"—or rather, he wanted to adopt a very special "big kitty."
Look, the guy's got a heart of gold for furballs. Dogs, cats, whatever. The Two-Tails is a cat, so obviously its jinchūriki, Yugito Nii, is basically a cat in human skin.
Cloud's Top Three Beauties—each a different flavor of trouble. Who the hell could say no to a cat-eared badass who's equal parts sweet and savage? Yugito's the full package.
But the thought barely did a lap in his skull before he yeeted it into the trash. Bringing that up now? That's not cocky—that's suicidal.
Even if the Fourth Raikage got his brain scrambled by eight hundred Tailed Beast Balls, no way in hell he'd let a walking nuke like a jinchūriki cozy up to an Uchiha.
Kid's young, sure, and just swore loyalty like he was auditioning for a tear-jerker anime, but still—no.
Makoto's arrogant as fuck, but he's never mistaken village brass for idiots.
The Fourth and the earthen-faced advisor froze at the laser-focused demand, eyes flicking to Samui and Mabui standing statue-still in the corner.
Then back to Makoto, who looked like he was just asking for two regular maids and a coffee machine.
This little shit… ballsy doesn't even cover it. Opens his mouth and demands Cloud's two brightest gems—best talent, best brains—as personal attendants?
But then again… after the monstrous genius he just flexed, plus that flag-waving, "I'll carry Cloud on my back" loyalty speech that could make a grown man cry?
Yeah, maybe it's not the worst trade.
Hell, think about it: stick two high-pedigree, loyal-as-hell beauties right up close to the kid? That's a win-win.
Samui's Killer B's blade disciple—book-smart, ice-cool, red-white-and-blue Cloud blood. Mabui's the Raikage's brain-trust golden child, sharp as a tack, zero leaks.
Their loyalty? Rock solid. Otherwise they wouldn't have been trusted to lead the cease-fire talks in Konoha.
Send them to "watch"—sorry, care for—Makoto? Perfect cover. Checks every box.
The Fourth's brain ran the numbers at Mach 1. His rugged mug hardened with decision, then—WHAM—he slammed a meaty paw down like he was crushing a beer can.
"Approved!"
"Samui, Mabui—from this day forward, you're on Makoto clan-head's personal detail. Handle his daily life, fulfill every… reasonable request."
He switched to "clan-head" mid-sentence—high praise and a velvet-gloved handcuff all in one.
"Yes, Lord Raikage!" Both women bowed in perfect sync, textbook posture. But their downcast eyes flickered—just a micro-tremor.
Mabui's dark cheeks warmed with a blush you could barely spot. Samui stayed stone-faced ice queen, but those snow-white earlobes went pink as cotton candy.
The crafty old advisor in the corner gave the girls a one-eyed wink so subtle it'd make a ninja blush.
Message received. The heat in their faces cranked up another degree.
Makoto's brain was already halfway out the door, itching to boot up Naruto World Online and see what fresh hell—or heaven—the update dropped.
Perks could wait; he'd milk those slow. Core secrets like Lightning Release Body Forge? Gotta play the long game.
He tossed the Raikage and advisor a lazy two-finger salute, spun on his heel, and hauled his two brand-new, officially "hired" maids outta there like a kid bolting for the game store on release day.
Headed straight for the swanky villa they'd hooked him up with—couldn't wait to dive into the patch notes.
…
Barely ten minutes after Makoto and the girls ghosted the Raikage Tower—
BAM!
The office door damn near flew off its hinges, slamming open with a boom that rattled the windows.
A white-haired freight train of a man barreled in—built like a grizzly, muscles bulging under parchment skin, zero signs of age. Night Moon clan's grand elder.
The second he crossed the threshold, those hawk eyes swept the room like a metal detector. No sign of the kid. Then he bellowed loud enough to wake the dead:
"AI! Where's that Uchiha prodigy? Spill it—I gotta see this freak with my own eyes!"
He'd just come from the training grounds. Word was his clan's golden boy, Yozuki Yu, got absolutely bodied—body, ninjutsu, swordplay, the works—by some Konoha-snatched Uchiha.
And the kicker? The Uchiha was younger.
Yu getting his ass handed to him? Whatever, fair fight, skill issue. But an Uchiha that cracked?
Elder sprinted over like his Depends were on fire.
"He's gone."
The Fourth eyed the panicking geezer and dropped the bomb, deadpan.
"Gone?!" Elder's eyes bugged out, voice hitting falsetto. "Gone where? Why the hell didn't you invite him to crash at Night Moon clan grounds?!"
The Raikage knew exactly where this was going. He sighed like a dad explaining crypto to his boomer uncle, then went full sermon:
"Elder, you know they called me the genius of geniuses back in the day. Today? Standing in front of that kid, I felt like a damn toddler."
"We gotta lock him to Cloud's ship with real bonds, not your horny-ass stud-horse fantasies. That's backwards!"
"Once the loyalty's ironclad, we dump every resource into him—goal: forge a second Uchiha Madara who can make the whole damn ninja world flinch."
"Bullshit! Who said I just wanna breed him like a prize bull?!" The elder huffed, beard bristling like an angry badger. "You think my vision's that small?!"
He straightened up, righteous as a televangelist:
"What I'm sayin' is—we gotta line up a shit-ton of top-tier wife candidates."
"Cast a wide net, let him mingle, get to know 'em. Then we groom the best, pick the elite!"
"Kid's still growing—body ain't even done cooking. High-intensity training can wait. Right now? Make him feel Cloud's warmth."
"Build that emotional glue. Start with a few dozen clan girls—let him sample the menu, no rush, take his time."
The elder stroked his chin, eyes gleaming like a used-car salesman who just saw a sucker walk in. You could practically hear the abacus beads clacking.
Sure, he had an agenda. Night Moon clan's finest daughters? Front of the line, lion's share of slots.
If this panned out… future Night Moon prodigies with jacked bodies and Sharingan? The thought alone had the old coot's blood pumping like he'd chugged a Red Bull.
Hell, he'd already decided: time to guilt-trip the clan's young bucks into marrying out. Every prime girl in the clan? Straight to "bonding" with Makoto—hard, often, and with enthusiasm.