"Futian, who are all these people?"
Hokuto had only just been promoted, so he naturally moved into the room that had originally belonged to Uchiha Futian, officially beginning his life as clan head.
"Clan Head, these are the Uchiha's accountants," Futian explained, gesturing toward the neat line of people standing in front of them. All of them were professional accountants hired by the clan—ordinary civilians from Konoha.
As for why none of them were Uchiha, the reason was simple: Uchiha were excellent at cutting people down, not at staring endlessly at tedious ledgers. Just looking at account books gave most of them headaches.
At Futian's subtle signal, the accountants immediately began reporting the clan's financial situation.
"Clan Head, at present, the clan's weapons industry is operating at a continuous deficit. To support the war, Konoha currently owes more than 530 million ryō for shuriken, kunai, explosive tags, and other weapons produced by the clan…"
"Clan Head, the clan's commercial shops are also performing poorly. Over thirty percent of tenants are more than half a year behind on rent, totaling roughly 130 million ryō. The detailed breakdown is as follows…"
"Clan Head, the compensation payments to families of fallen clan members have been delayed for a long time. Many households are already protesting…"
"..."
Four or five accountants rattled on nonstop, reciting figures from their ledgers like monks chanting scriptures.
Between the lines, the message was painfully clear:
Pay up.
Pay fast.
The more, the better.
Hokuto's expression darkened. I just took office and you hit me with this? Don't tell me the clan's going to go bankrupt under me.
"Enough," Hokuto cut in impatiently. "Just give me the bottom line. How much liquid cash do we actually have left, and how long can it last?"
"There's about 150 million ryō remaining. If we exclude the unpaid martyr compensation, it can last roughly one month."
"…!"
One month?!
"So little?" Hokuto turned sharply toward Futian. "Has the clan's finances really rotted to this extent?"
He had barely taken the seat and the treasury was already on the verge of exploding. How am I supposed to run this?
"Clan Head, you know how long this war has dragged on," Futian replied calmly. "It's not just the Uchiha. Every clan in Konoha is in the same situation."
Not only that—Konoha's shinobi hadn't been taking ordinary missions for a long time. Everyone had been deployed to the front lines, cutting off a massive source of village income.
Konoha had been kept alive only by the clans continuously bleeding money and manpower.
"Damn it…"
"What about the daimyo? The Fire Country daimyo!"
"He didn't send money?!"
Hokuto's irritation spiked. Shinobi were risking their lives every day on the battlefield, and the daimyo wasn't willing to loosen his purse strings at all?
"The daimyo provides Konoha with 20 billion ryō annually. Over the past three years, that was increased to 25 billion ryō…"
"But…"
Futian didn't finish the sentence. The meaning was obvious.
It had all been spent.
An explosive tag alone cost no less than 3,000 ryō at cost. In even a small engagement, who knew how many were burned in a single day. Add in the endless consumption of kunai and shuriken—plus soldier pills, food supplies, medical materials…
This wasn't just fighting a war.
This was incinerating money.
And burning money in war was faster than setting piles of cash on fire.
No wonder Konoha was reaching its limit. If this continued, internal collapse would come before the enemy ever did. No clan could sustain this kind of drain forever.
And that didn't even account for casualties—entire generations were being erased.
"Don't worry too much, Clan Head," Futian added quickly when he saw Hokuto's grim expression. "The daimyo has already reached an agreement with Lord Tobirama. A large sum will be allocated for Konoha's postwar reconstruction."
He had to give something—otherwise Konoha might seriously begin considering replacing the daimyo with someone more generous.
In nearly a thousand years of shinobi history, there were more than enough examples of overly stingy daimyos being quietly eliminated by their own ninja.
After all, someone would always inherit the title.
"How much exactly?" Hokuto asked.
"Lord Tobirama didn't specify. It's classified."
"…Damn it."
So that was Tobirama's game. That old fox—was he planning to skim a portion off the top?
That enormous fund would ultimately be distributed by the next Hokage. Who received more and who received less would depend entirely on the Hokage's word.
This time, the Senju absolutely could not be allowed to seize the initiative.
"Hokuto-sama, you must become Hokage."
Futian's eyes gleamed with urgency. Becoming Hokage meant holding the authority to allocate reconstruction funds.
That was what the clans truly fought over when they competed for the Hokage seat.
Legally take money from the Fire Country daimyo, redistribute it, and skim a portion back into the clan to train ninja and strengthen their long-term power.
And that was only part of it. There were countless invisible benefits as well:
Mission assignments.
Land and property approvals.
Commercial privileges.
Confidential channels and political leverage.
These were powers only the highest authority could control.
Every clan fought tooth and nail within Konoha's system to seize as much as possible, convert it into strength, and pass it down generation after generation.
Whichever clan produced a Hokage would naturally take the biggest slice of meat.
This was the closest the Uchiha had ever come to the Hokage's seat. They could not afford to miss this chance.
The clan desperately needed to recover.
"I will become Hokage," Hokuto said firmly.
Not only for himself—but for the clan, and for Konoha as well.
In the original timeline, Sarutobi Hiruzen became Hokage. The Senju gradually declined. The Uchiha were exterminated. The feast left behind by those two fallen giants ended up feeding only the Sarutobi clan.
Damn it.
One clan grew fat, while Konoha itself slowly weakened.
"I believe in you completely, Hokuto-sama," Futian said with conviction. With the Mangekyō Sharingan in Hokuto's hands, who in Konoha could possibly stop him?
"Clan Head, these are the documents you'll need to handle."
Futian brought over a thick stack of paperwork—the daily workload he had once managed himself.
Personnel promotions within the Uchiha Police Force.
Patrol deployments and district coverage.
Espionage arrests and case handling.
Clan business operations.
Important guests the clan head had to personally receive—wealthy merchants and Fire Country nobles.
One of the nearest appointments was already scheduled for the day after tomorrow: a long-term business partner who supplied the Uchiha with raw iron for weapon manufacturing.
Most likely, he was coming to collect unpaid debts.
The Uchiha had been in arrears for nearly half a year. The last time the man visited, Futian had drunk with him deep into the night, exhausted every polite excuse imaginable, and barely managed to buy a little more time.
Now—
That entire mess had officially become Hokuto's problem.
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