"What's this 'Gold-Note Loan' thing?"
Amamiya Kenichi couldn't help looking the clerk up and down. He'd just come to buy materials and somehow ended up being pitched… this. It was almost funny.
"This is a special product we offer here~"
The woman leaned forward and started enthusiastically explaining. Kenichi took the brochure, glanced once—and his eye twitched.
This is just the ninja-world version of a loan shark…
There were "processing fees," early penalties, chopping-interest, and a brutally high rate. Repayment cycle: seven days.
That wasn't lending money. That was harvesting organs on layaway.
"If you choose a Gold-Note Loan of over one million ryō, we can even~"
She licked her lips lightly, gaze dripping with seduction.
Kenichi only wanted to laugh.
Yeah, and what then? After that you guys strip me clean and boil my bones for soup?
"No need. I'll pay in full," he said flatly.
He had zero interest in this "product." In fact, a part of him really wanted to just toss a thermobaric bomb in here and send them all to the Pure Land for a nice, quiet reflection on life.
Loan sharks were something he truly despised.
In his previous life, one of his university dorm mates had gotten hooked on this garbage. Borrowed ten thousand, only got fifty-five hundred in hand—and somehow owed twelve thousand back.
At first the guy had been smug about it. Then the repayment date came. Reality hit. Hard.
He tried to dodge it.
The lenders went straight to his parents' house.
Forced them to pay.
He was one day late and had to cough up an extra two hundred in late fees. After that mess, the school "kindly advised" him to withdraw.
Because the collectors had come straight to campus.
And even called the principal to demand payment.
Kenichi's opinion of that entire industry was: not human.
"Very good, customer. Then your total comes to…"
The woman's smile didn't flicker. She counted out the money politely, took it, and hurried off to prepare the goods.
Kenichi stayed where he was and waited, not particularly worried about the time. He actually found himself staring around the shop, slipping into another line of thought entirely.
How do I make money, long-term…?
During her sales pitch, the woman had bragged about the store's background.
This was a chain with branches in every major black market, she'd said. They provided "Gold-Note Loan" services everywhere and, very subtly, made it clear they had serious backing.
Even if the debtor was a jōnin, skipping payment "would not be tolerated."
Which meant this shop had access to an insane amount of cash.
If I robbed them… I might be able to walk out of here filthy rich.
The thought was tempting.
But then he remembered something more annoying: if he blew up his supplier, where was he supposed to buy materials next time?
If he wanted money, the cleanest road was still combat commissions. According to Nagato, every major village was very interested in hiring him now—especially after what he'd done to Kumogakure.
Iwagakure, in particular, had apparently offered a sky-high price to buy the "jutsu" he'd developed. Of course, Kenichi knew it wasn't jutsu at all, but a weapon.
Kumo probably knew that as well.
They just hadn't said anything publicly. For reasons of their own.
And he also knew those same villages were frantically researching countermeasures to his thermobaric bombs. You could say that, all by himself, he'd kick-started a revolution in defensive sealing formations.
If there were a stock market in this world, "barrier-tech companies" would be limit-up for weeks.
"Customer, here are your items~"
The woman came trotting back, panting slightly, cheeks flushed as she set a storage scroll on the counter.
Her chest rose and fell with every breath. She glanced up at him with misty eyes, then "accidentally" brushed a pair of white-stockinged legs against his.
Kenichi's expression didn't change.
He inspected the scroll calmly, confirmed everything was correct, then stood up and walked out.
He had no intention of doing anything with her.
A salesgirl in a black-market supply shop having… "side gigs" was hardly surprising.
But it wasn't virtue that held him back.
It was common sense.
Places like this were a breeding ground for all kinds of diseases. If he caught something weird here and later had to tell people "It's… a bloodline limit," he'd die of shame.
"…Although, to be fair, this world probably doesn't have HIV," he mused.
Maybe because people here had stronger bodies in general, a lot of diseases either hadn't appeared yet, or never had the chance to spread widely.
With his purchases secured, Kenichi planned to head straight back. But he'd barely stepped onto the street when two figures suddenly darted out and blocked his way.
A pair of sisters—thin, clothes torn—threw themselves at him, faces full of panic. They lunged as if to grab onto his leg, trying to hide from the furious "merchant" pounding after them, shouting curses.
Kenichi's mouth twitched.
Seriously? What is with today? How am I hitting every cliché event flag in one trip?
He glanced at the sisters—
And lightning burst to life in his hands with a harsh shriek of birds.
In the next heartbeat, both girls stared at him in frozen disbelief. Kenichi's hands had already punched clean through their chests.
Their bodies trembled.
He pulled his arms back and gently closed their eyes.
"You… y-you…"
The chasing "merchant" skidded to a halt, legs shaking.
Kenichi gave him a sunny smile.
Birdsong screamed again.
"If you don't even have the money, maybe don't try to mug people?"
He squatted down in front of the man, slapping his cheek lightly with a wad of cash.
"At least have some professional pride. Pulling this kind of amateur stunt just makes things awkward for me, you know?"
"Tragic sisters in distress," "heroic rescue," "beauty falls for the savior and they return home together"—that plotline might work in romance novels.
But this was the ninja world.
Kenichi had already seen their movements weren't right. They looked frantic, stumbling as if in panic, but their hands were steady—and each was gripping a syringe hidden in their sleeves, already angled toward his thigh.
Probably filled with some kind of poison.
So he'd simply responded in kind.
You could even say he'd just crossed a particularly weird "experience" off his list.
Originally he was going to kill the man, too. But halfway through, he suddenly remembered—
He still needed a live sacrifice for Edo Tensei to summon the First Hokage.
So he let the man keep his dog life.
Temporarily.
Being a "living sacrifice" was still a death sentence.
Humming a cheerful tune, Kenichi dragged the unconscious chūnin away. The people of the black market watched him with strange expressions, but no one stepped in.
Some of them had recognized that lightning jutsu.
And recognized the gulf in strength.
No one was stupid enough to jump out and test him.
That was a shame, in Kenichi's opinion.
All that high-quality experimental material, walking around on its own two legs… what a waste.
He had just stepped outside the edge of the black market when he saw a white-haired man walking toward him.
The newcomer glanced at him once…
Then at the body Kenichi was dragging.
Kenichi's eyes narrowed slightly.
Jiraiya?
Of all people to run into here.
Note: Want more? Read up to Chapter 149+ early on patreon.com/nakai01. A single Power Stone from you = more bonus chapters from me.