Sigh.
He couldn't spare a hand…
The Third Hokage almost wished the tobacco fields could flip the seasons on their head and sprout another harvest overnight, so that good kid could warm the tobacco business back up.
Right now he was juggling debt collectors from the advisors, selling off family assets, hounding that good-for-nothing son of his, and still trying to keep the village running like a proper Hokage.
He was exhausted in his head, and even more exhausted in his bones.
After getting stabbed in the back that hard by his own "fine eldest son," the way he looked at the boy had started to get… weird.
Worthless little shits...
Tell me.
You're not in on this with that brat too, are you?!
Sasuke, who was in the middle of eating, blinked. "Huh?"
Dad, I didn't even do anything.
If you've got the nerve, drag Asuma back here and break his legs yourself.
Kangetsu-kun was already sending out multiple Kage Bunshin no Jutsu (Shadow Clone Technique) to clean up this whole dumpster fire.
What more do you want?
Rumor had it that the strain from all those clones was starting to catch up with Kangetsu-kun's body.
A "well-informed source," Kampo, heartbreakingly leaked:
"Our boss is drinking wellness tea now!"
They said it was a kidney issue. A small one.
Sure, the boss kept insisting it was all nonsense.
But whether it was nonsense or not, you think we, the loyal ones, wouldn't know?
I saw it with my own eyes!
Sometimes the boss would touch his side, right where the kidneys are, and mutter that he could still handle it.
Our boss is burning himself out for Konoha…
And that—
That was enough to make the Third Hokage's eye twitch.
Oh no.
Don't tell me the good kid's body really was breaking down.
What the hell were they supposed to do then?
The village's entire business side was basically hanging by the thread of their one and only genius.
If something happened to him…
For a split second, the Third Hokage's mind filled with the faces of three enraged, feral old geezers.
What?
Our village's money god collapsed because he was cleaning up your Sarutobi mess?!
The Third Hokage couldn't sit still anymore.
He hustled straight to the hospital, where Kangetsu was counting documents and reviewing ledgers, and started fussing over him like a worried grandmother.
"Good kid, you can't work yourself into the ground."
"Kangetsu-kun, tell me what you're missing. I'll have it arranged."
"Good kid, you've got to take care of yourself. Konoha's economy is riding on your shoulders right now."
Even the three advisors caught wind of it, and they came rushing to the hospital, frantic.
"Good kid! Hang in there!"
"Medical team!"
"What are you standing around for?! Get your director a full-body exam, now!"
Kangetsu waved both hands hard enough to blur.
"I'm fine! I'm fine!"
"Which bastard said I was sick?"
"What? It was Kampo, that bastard?"
"Fine. Go. This year's latrine duty is yours."
It took him a while, but he finally managed to shove the old men back out the door.
He really wasn't sick.
He'd just… overworked himself with Mikoto-san… ahem.
He meant: he'd overworked himself with his job.
No big deal.
No.
It was a big deal.
Mikoto-san pressed her lips together. The soft curves of her body, wrapped in a kimono, made the air feel hotter than it had any right to be.
The woman who could steal a man's soul with one glance shot him a look.
You spend all day doing nothing but her.
Couldn't you take a break?
"But, Mikoto-san…"
Kangetsu stared at her—at the way she'd sway her hips with ridiculous power, like she was determined to squeeze him dry in one go.
"You don't exactly look like you're planning to take a break either…"
And honestly, he had no idea where she'd picked up this "eat alone" habit.
Even Haruno and the other two were starting to grumble about it.
"You're full and you still don't want to switch people out?"
But Mikoto-san, now that she'd fully stopped pretending to be restrained, looked like she'd decided to stop caring about the consequences.
If it was already like this, she might as well enjoy it properly.
And Kangetsu-san was handsome.
She felt like she was the one getting a bargain.
...
Meanwhile, the price spike across Konoha was so bad that even Hitomaru Market, a place that used to scrape out a profit, had started bleeding money.
Which made the people in charge miserable.
And when the bosses got miserable, the Hitomaru workers got it even worse.
Case in point: Hayama Hayato.
"Cough… cough…"
A bruise darkened the corner of his mouth, and he coughed up a thin spit of blood.
The waste-handling crew just watched him coldly.
The ringleader—a guy named Tamanawa—smiled as he looked down at the stubborn Hayato.
"Hayato, be grateful. We don't want this either."
"Somehow, the big shots started cutting our rations."
"If we don't eat enough, how are we supposed to work?"
So.
Could you hand over your ration?
Of course he couldn't.
If he gave in once, they'd only push harder next time.
And working hungry meant working weak. Then you couldn't meet quota, the supervisors would come down on you, and the spiral would only get worse.
In the end, the finish line was probably death.
"Cough…"
Hayato bared his teeth in something that was almost a grin.
"Can you really sleep at night, stealing someone else's food?"
Trying to shame Tamanawa into a conscience was a waste of breath.
Because in Hitomaru Market, conscience was a luxury nobody needed.
Tamanawa could tell at a glance: this kid was still living in the dream of his old world.
He sighed and crouched, studying the boy who was still guarding his ration like it was his last breath.
Truthfully, Hayato was sharp. Sharper than most of the people here.
But he hadn't been around long enough to adapt, and the "senpai" had taught him a brutal lesson fast.
What lesson?
New guy: half rations, double workload.
And if you were unlucky, sometimes it got worse in ways that had nothing to do with work.
Hayato's luck was decent. He hadn't gotten the worst of it.
Tamanawa patted his cheek. He didn't need to snarl like some hardened thug; he didn't have that kind of presence.
But he could fake a friendly smile well enough.
People in Hitomaru Market without fangs got bullied sooner or later.
Like right now.
With a dull thud, Tamanawa grabbed the back of Hayato's head and slammed it into the ground.
"Hayato, you shouldn't live like this. So here's the deal."
"Either you give up your ration, or you join us."
Hayato had been waiting for exactly that line.
He pushed himself up immediately and handed the ration over.
"Fine. I'll join."
The smoothness of it made Tamanawa freeze.
Wait, seriously?
For half a second, he had the distinct feeling he'd just walked into someone else's trap.
His mouth twitched. Something felt off.
Hayato stood there with blood still running down his forehead, expression flat as stone. Tamanawa suddenly didn't feel like he could keep this kid on a leash.
But the words were already out.
And breaking your own rules was dangerous, because Tamanawa himself relied on rules to survive. He didn't have the kind of body that could just beat everyone into obedience.
"…Fine," Tamanawa said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he propped Hayato up.
Hayato returned a smile with no warmth in it at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he took stock of the group's muscle.
He was satisfied.
Nice little crew you've got.
Now it's mine.
(End of Chapter)
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