Wherever there are people, there is jianghu.
And jianghu isn't just about fighting and killing—it's about favors, connections, and social maneuvering.
The shinobi world is no different.
Why does a person struggle their whole life?
Of course—for money.
Why do ninjas smash their heads bloody on the battlefield?
Same reason.
They work in a high-risk profession to earn dangerous money, so they can live comfortably.
Konoha's current crisis, aside from manpower, boils down to one word:
Money.
With money, you have people.
With enough money, what's one village fighting four others? It's just a matter of who can outlast whom.
If funding were truly sufficient, every ninja could carry dozens—no, hundreds—of explosive tags. Meet the enemy and casually fling a handful. How satisfying would that be?
Unfortunately, that kind of luxury only exists in dreams.
—
Uchiha Hokuto leaned back in his chair. The table before him was filled with exquisitely plated dishes—beautiful in color, aroma, and taste. More importantly, the venue itself was Konoha's most luxurious hotel, reserved exclusively for entertaining important Uchiha guests.
Just this single private room and banquet had cost a full 30,000 ryō, making Hokuto quietly wince.
A normal A-rank mission could earn several hundred thousand ryō, yet even so, one meal like this still hurts.
If he ate like this every day, he'd go bankrupt in no time.
Thankfully, he wasn't paying out of pocket. The clan was footing the bill—this was official Uchiha business.
"The guest arriving shortly is named Fujii Hiroki," Uchiha Futian explained from the side.
"The Fujii family controls a large iron mine in the Land of Fire and has worked with the Uchiha for many years. They also have relatives serving as high-ranking officials in the daimyo's administration."
"He has a good temperament. I've known him for years."
Futian introduced Fujii's background, personality, and habits in meticulous detail, carefully coaching Hokuto.
Dealing with Fire Country nobles was nothing like dealing with enemy ninja.
As a shinobi, you just needed to cut people down.
As a clan head, you had to think several layers deeper.
Now that Hokuto had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan and represented the Uchiha's future, Futian was determined to pass on every scrap of experience he had, without holding anything back.
He had even come in person today.
After all, the Uchiha owed the Fujii family a considerable sum and had delayed payment for a long time. The conversation could easily turn uncomfortable.
Futian was worried Hokuto might lose his temper and reach for his blade if provoked—especially after witnessing him casually throwing Lava Release into a crowd not long ago.
This Hokuto was no longer the calm man of the past.
If Fujii were killed over debt collection, the consequences would be catastrophic. Fire Country nobles would unite and blacklist the Uchiha's businesses entirely.
That kind of precedent could never be allowed.
If every clan started murdering creditors, the nobles of every country would panic. The daimyos would band together and issue endless bounties until the offending clan was wiped out.
No matter how powerful the Uchiha were, they were still only one clan.
Hokuto listened attentively. He could tell Futian was sincerely teaching him how to be a competent clan head—sharing many aristocratic rules and hidden practices that ordinary ninja would never encounter in their entire lives.
—
The door creaked open.
A slightly plump middle-aged man in luxurious attire stepped inside, wealth practically written all over him.
"Futian! Long time no see!"
"Indeed, it's been too long!" Futian greeted him warmly. After exchanging pleasantries, he introduced Hokuto as the new Uchiha clan head.
Fujii Hiroki's expression flickered for a split second before he immediately broke into a courteous smile and introduced himself to Hokuto.
Hokuto responded with equal enthusiasm.
In his previous life, Hokuto had worked in sales. Situations like this were second nature to him.
In this life, he'd spent most of his time mastering how to kill.
But now, those old professional instincts snapped awake instantly.
Schmoozing clients? Please. I'm a veteran.
Once seated, Hokuto unleashed his full arsenal—smooth compliments, clever toasts, well-timed jokes, and effortless banter.
Futian watched in open disbelief.
Hokuto was absurdly good at this—far better than expected. Fujii laughed loudly and drank cup after cup, while Futian gradually found himself becoming almost unnecessary.
When Fujii cautiously brought up the unpaid debt, Hokuto immediately launched into heartfelt complaints about the clan's hardships—so dramatic that even Futian felt embarrassed listening.
Hokuto promised repayment once funds arrived—principal and interest included.
Fujii could hardly press the issue any further.
The drinking continued. Two against one, plus Hokuto's elite "client-handling" skills, mixed with jokes and shared "men's topics," quickly had Fujii completely drunk and calling Hokuto his little brother.
"If little brother's in trouble, of course big brother helps! Hic… hic…"
"Don't worry about the debt! I'll take care of it. I've got some pull in the family. We'll keep supplying iron for another month!"
"Big brother!!" Hokuto raised his cup excitedly. "Another toast!"
—
Write it down.
Get it on paper.
Right now.
Futian hurriedly grabbed pen and paper from a waiter and locked the agreement in place before Fujii sobered up and changed his mind.
—
While Hokuto was enjoying his successful business victory at the hotel…
Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzō were wandering the streets of Konoha.
After barely escaping the battlefield and then getting shaken by Uzumaki Mito, the two decided to eat together and talk about Konoha's future.
Especially after learning that Lady Mito intended to support Hiruzen as Hokage, Danzō's anxiety finally eased—replaced by joy… and a faint bitterness.
If I had been the one to step forward and sacrifice myself back then… would the Third Hokage have been me?
Joy and regret tangled together.
He wanted his brother to succeed—but couldn't help feeling sour.
A comrade who once stood shoulder to shoulder with him was about to become the village's supreme leader.
To Danzō, it hurt worse than being stabbed.
Yet neither of them noticed the subtle looks cast their way by passing villagers—
Eyes filled with quiet disdain and barely concealed contempt.
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