Two months later, after the third colony split resulted in one hundred and forty active ant colonies, the first batch of Ant Honey was officially harvested. The profit from the sale: 600,000 Ryo.
The sheer volume of wealth, far exceeding everyone's expectations, brought joy to the participants—and then immediate, cold terror.
Tetsumaru had known from the start that his family couldn't manage the Sugar Ants alone. He had even suspected that the Aburame clan might not be powerful enough to hog the business entirely. But a single harvest of 600,000 Ryo proved that everyone had underestimated the value of Ant Sugar.
The Shinobi World existed in a feudal state. The governments didn't organize production, and productivity was abysmally low. Furthermore, the chaotic Warring States period had ended not long ago, followed by a massive Shinobi World War. Simply put: the world was poor.
Lack of food and clothing was the norm. Sweeteners were a rare luxury. There was no such thing as "unsellable" sugar; even if production increased a hundredfold, it wouldn't drive the price down.
During wartime, it would be even more absurd. Sugar was a vital military resource. A piece of sugar between skirmishes could quickly restore stamina; a cup of hot, concentrated sugar water after an injury could literally save a life. It was also a key ingredient in Soldier Pills. During a war, the demand and profit margins would skyrocket.
In the Land of Fire, a few nobles produced maltose and beet sugar, but feudal organization couldn't scale. Consequently, their production was low and the quality was poor. Within Konoha, the Yamanaka clan ran the honey industry. They had no competition. Even during the war, the profits from honey alone were enough to sustain their clan.
The Yamanaka's honey, the Nara clan's medicinal herbs, and the Akimichi clan's livestock were far more profitable and important than their superficial businesses of flowers, deer-herding, and BBQ. These solid industries, backed by economic might and fierce combat strength, were the true foundation of why the Ino-Shika-Cho trio remained as stable as Mount Tai.
Honey depends on flowers. The brevity of blooming seasons and the limited amount of pollen determine that honey production is naturally low. Furthermore, the territorial nature of bee colonies limits their density. On Earth, the meager output of a beekeeper might support a family of five. In this world, it supported a massive shinobi clan—which spoke volumes about the profit margins.
The combination of Sugar Ants and aphids didn't depend on flowers. The output of Ant Sugar was hundreds of times higher than honey. Even if the quality was slightly lower and the price was cheaper, the total revenue would still dwarf the honey industry by a hundredfold.
The Shinobi World was a supernatural realm under a dual-feudal monarchical system. The first rule was simple: your share of the pie was determined by the size of your fist. From individuals to nations, immense wealth was only held by those with the strength to keep it.
The Aburame clan didn't have the guts to monopolize Ant Sugar. They had already pulled in several other clans, but now it seemed the risk wasn't spread thin enough. They needed more allies.
Elder Shiki immediately decided to further distribute the profits. He didn't even need to consult the Clan Head; he just started executing.
First, they stopped using Aburame land. They rented land from the Ino-Shika-Cho trio and converted it into "Aphid Fields."
Second, they stopped using their own people for daily maintenance. Instead, they outsourced the work through the village's mission system, tagging them as high-pay, long-term tasks.
Finally, they stopped selling the sugar themselves. Aside from the clan's personal ration, everything was handed over to the village to be sold on their behalf, placed under the discretion of the Hokage.
When the Nara clan joined, their patriarch felt the risk was still too high. After a meeting of a dozen clan heads, he convinced them to expand the "Sugar Alliance" even further.
They issued two more long-term missions: one assigned to the Military Police Force (the Uchiha) for "enhanced patrols and protection of the Aphid Fields," and another assigned to the Hyuga Clan for "daily monitoring of the fields' status."
This series of maneuvers was so slick it left the "shut-in" Tetsumaru in awe.
The Aphid Fields—both currently under construction and planned—were already within the Military Police's patrol route. And as for the Hyuga? They weren't even allowed to activate their Byakugan inside the village without cause. What "monitoring" were they going to do?
It wasn't a mission; it was tribute. They were paying protection money to the Great Clans. If the Senju clan hadn't dwindled down to a few remaining members, there would have been a "designated mission" for them too. As it stood, they just gave the Senju a cut of the cash directly to save everyone the trouble.
None of this involved Tetsumaru. Aside from a few people in the Aburame clan, no one knew a five-year-old was the source of it all.
Tetsumaru had underestimated the value of Ant Sugar, but he was a transmigrator; he had smelled the danger long ago. He was terrified of death. The experience of drifting in the void before his rebirth had left him with a profound fear of annihilation. He was cautious to a fault, yet he was even more afraid of being bored.
New knowledge and supernatural power were the ultimate cures for boredom. He dove headfirst into the sea of information, absorbing every scrap of ninjutsu theory he could find. He spent his days buried in the clan's library, earning himself the nickname "The Bookworm" from the elders.
To Tetsumaru, the ability to study in peace was true happiness. Showing off was pointless—at least until he hit puberty. At five years old, he was just a kid. He had a whole life ahead of him; he wasn't going to risk it.
However, as long as his life was guaranteed, he was happy to contribute. The clan protected him and educated him; he owed them a debt of gratitude. His modern moral compass wouldn't allow him to enjoy the benefits without fulfilling his obligations.
The day after handing over the tech, he visited Elder Shiki and convinced him to attribute the discovery of Ant Sugar to the "entire Aburame clan." Shiki, a wily old veteran, understood instantly. If word got out that a five-year-old held the keys to this fortune, even their "allies" might be tempted to kidnap or kill him.
Against this level of profit, neither allies nor the village leadership could be trusted. It had been seven or eight years—anyone with eyes could see that Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo were playing a "Good Cop, Bad Cop" routine. They were insatiably greedy. For heaven's sake, the populations of the Sarutobi and Shimura clans had already doubled in size over the last few years.
Once the Aburame announced the project was a collective clan effort, the suspicion vanished. It wasn't something people believed a single person could achieve anyway. Tetsumaru only pulled it off by stacking a "Tech Cheat" on top of an "Otherworldly Cheat."
Satisfied that the spotlight was off him, Tetsumaru returned to his quiet rhythm of growth.
"Form the Seal of Confrontation." "Ready... Start!"
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
The sparring arena was instantly flooded with swarms of black Kikaichu. Two large clouds of insects split into smaller tactical groups, clashing violently in mid-air.
One side had more insects, split into five swarms. In every clash, they used their superior numbers to overwhelm the opponent.
The other side had fewer insects but had split them into twelve tiny groups. They used their agility to delay the opponent's advance, repeatedly launching suicide strikes at the opponent's "main body" (the kid), forcing the larger swarm to abandon its attack to intercept them.
The larger swarm won every head-on collision, but their rhythm was being dictated by the smaller groups. Eventually, a small gap opened up. A few stray Kikaichu slipped through and landed on Tetsumaru's head.
"Aburame Shibi wins. The exercise is over."
The two boys formed the Seal of Reconciliation.
Shibi (the future father of Shino) skipped over to Tetsumaru. "Tetsumaru-nii, I won again!"
"You did great, Shibi. As expected of the Clan Head's son." Tetsumaru patted Shibi's head. His hair was soft; it felt nice.
Depressed? Frustrated? Not at all. He was used to it.
This was his tenth loss to Shibi. He lost to the other kids frequently, too. But that was only in "Insect Combat." In an unrestricted brawl, Tetsumaru could sweep every kid under eight with his bare hands. He was currently 1.3 meters tall and weighed 40 kilograms—his development was off the charts.
Meanwhile, a four-year-old like Shibi was normally developed: 1.01 meters tall and 18 kilograms. With that kind of size and weight gap, a "fair fight" between them was impossible.
The onlookers whispered among themselves, marvelling at Shibi's genius and Tetsumaru's "warped" talent. Even Elder Shiki, who liked Tetsumaru the most, could only sigh at the boy's terrible micro-management of the insects.
Now that the Aburame were wealthy, they poured money into education. The Kikaichu inheritance ceremony was now held every four months instead of every year, and combat drills were constant.
Through these drills, Tetsumaru's "weirdness" became common knowledge. He was tall, strong, fast, and had enough chakra to make people wonder if his mother had been a secret Senju. Yet, his talent for controlling Kikaichu was garbage. He only won through "brute force"—having more and stronger bugs than everyone else.
In a real fight, he couldn't beat anyone except for Aburame Shige, who was already a Genin. In secret arts, he couldn't beat anyone either.
In short: his talent had "leaked" into his physical stats. He didn't look like an Aburame ninja at all.
Spring, Konoha Year 27.
To ease the tension and economic pressure, and after five years of stalemate and negotiation, the Five Great Nations finally signed a formal peace treaty. Its duration: Two years.
Tetsumaru and the other children were allowed to sit in on the clan meeting as "pre-shinobi."
The adults all wore sunglasses, hiding their eyes, but the atmosphere of resentment was thick enough to choke on. Konoha had gained almost nothing from the peace treaty. No land—fine, we don't want those dusty borderlands. But no reparations? That was unacceptable.
For the Aburame alone, over 120 ninjas had died, vanished, or been crippled. By the end of the war, the total number of active clan ninjas had dropped below 40. There were only nine Chunin left, including Tetsumaru's father.
Financially, the Aburame's wartime expenditures were astronomical. They had struggled for five years after the war. If the Ant Sugar industry hadn't appeared out of nowhere, the clan would be bankrupt. They had expected the village to compensate them, but the village had accepted a "No-Reparations" treaty. How was the village going to pay them back?
The meeting ended quickly. The Aburame's political standing meant they couldn't oppose the Hokage; the meeting was mostly just a place to vent.
Elder Shiki stayed behind with Tetsumaru and a few other six-year-olds.
"This year, you must take the entrance exam seriously," the Elder commanded. "I want you all in the Ninja Academy. Tetsumaru, you are to get into Class A."
"Yes," Tetsumaru replied calmly.
"Good. Go home."
Since last year, Tetsumaru had accepted that he lacked the "micro-talent" for insect arts. He had given up on that path and started looking for other ways to get strong. Naturally, he looked toward Ninjutsu.
Unfortunately, because the Aburame focused so heavily on bugs, their collection of Ninjutsu was pitiful—barely a few dozen scrolls. However, because they weren't valued, the security was lax. Tetsumaru borrowed them all.
He read every single one. The strongest was a C-rank jutsu, and most were just basic theory with no training notes, no efficiency tricks, and no records on how to shorten hand seals. Elder Shiki told him these scrolls were outdated; they were too slow and too weak for the modern, high-paced ninja combat.
Tetsumaru grumbled to his father, who gave him a shocking answer.
"Want to learn Ninjutsu? Just go to school." "Huh?" "The Ninja Academy library has the most complete collection of Ninjutsu in the world. No clan can compete with it."
Wait... that's not right, Tetsumaru thought. Sakura Haruno was a top student for six years and she only learned three basic E-rank jutsus. Am I misremembering the series?
Seeing his son's disbelief, Wafu wondered if he had lied to the boy too many times in the past. He quickly added, "I'm serious. They even have Forbidden Jutsu there."
Tetsumaru: w(°Д°)w
Now he's definitely lying. Forbidden Jutsus are in the Scroll of Seals. Even the protagonist, the Fourth's son, needed to steal it just to get a peek.
"I don't believe you. I'm going to ask Elder Shiki!" Tetsumaru bolted.
Wafu: （′Д`） "Honey, I'm doomed. Tetsumaru doesn't believe a word I say anymore." "Serves you right for teasing him every day. Now you're paying for it."
In the Clan Hall:
"Hahahahaha! Wafu is right. The Ninja Academy does indeed have the largest collection of Ninjutsu heritage."
Tetsumaru was dumbfounded. This was incredible.
Elder Shiki explained that during the Second Hokage's reign, Tobirama Senju had pushed for the "civilianization" of ninjas and the integration of Konoha. He had broken up the Senju branch families, giving them new surnames to turn them into civilians. At the same time, he placed all the Senju clan's ninjutsu techniques into the newly built Academy.
He offered them to students to attract talented clan children and to lift up civilian ninjas. Back then, the teaching style was "rough." If a student wanted to learn something, they just went and found it. A-rank, S-rank, and even the Forbidden Jutsus Tobirama was constantly developing were all stuffed into the Academy with zero restrictions.
To a legendary ninja like Tobirama, if a student crippled themselves trying to learn a jutsu, it just meant they weren't qualified to be a ninja. Better to be crippled at home than to die on the battlefield.
That "brutal" education style caused countless accidents, but it also produced a wave of legendary shinobi. These ninjas were the foundation of Konoha's power—the reason the village could still dominate the world during the First Shinobi World War even after losing the "God of Shinobi."
"I heard there was a 'dead last' kid who picked the Eight Inner Gates, and a brilliant kid who learned the Spirit Transformation Technique. Kids these days are fearless," the Elder mused.
Might Duy and Dan Katō... is that you? Tetsumaru's head was spinning. This is perfect! I want to enroll early!
"However," the Elder's tone shifted, "that chaos is about to end. Sarutobi Hiruzen has proposed a new policy to 'protect the children.' They are going to seal the Forbidden Jutsus, cancel high-level ninjutsu teaching, and restrict Academy techniques to C-rank and below."
"That way, they won't have to send kids to the emergency room every three days, and the school buildings won't be blown up once a week. It'll save a lot of money."
#％...@&$...&％％#
The news hit Tetsumaru like a physical blow. He nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
The Hokage's policy wouldn't face much opposition. In fact, it would have many supporters. The Great Clans relied on their Bloodline Limits or Secret Arts; they only cared about jutsus that complimented their unique powers.
The small clans wouldn't be happy, but their voices were weak. Besides, their children had another path to advancement: being assigned to a Jonin-led squad after graduation. And guess who controlled those assignments? Sarutobi Hiruzen. No minor clan leader would dare oppose him.
As for civilian ninjas? Their parents weren't ninjas; they didn't know what they were missing. Being able to learn any ninjutsu was enough for them.
According to the plot Tetsumaru remembered, Hiruzen's policy was a massive success. By the time he died, the Academy only taught E-rank jutsus. The "elite" graduates were almost exclusively clan children who relied on their family heritage.
Sakura wasn't a "pure" civilian; her father was a Chunin (a "minor clan" status). The only true outlier was Rock Lee, but he had a Jonin master who was more influential than most clan heads.
By that time, civilian ninjas had become pure cannon fodder. Sakura was a "genius" with a perfect score but was effectively useless in combat. Naruto was even weaker; even after learning the Multi-Shadow Clone jutsu, he could only swing his fists. Konoha's Genin graduates couldn't hold a candle to those from Suna or Kiri. A team of civilian Genin couldn't even beat one of their peers.
Where did all that heritage go? It likely fell to the Sarutobi clan.
This clan, which wasn't even that powerful when the village was founded, grew to an absurd degree under the Third's forty-year reign. By the end, they could field four thousand ninjas on their own, all of whom specialized in Fire Style.
Think about that: in the future Fourth Shinobi World War, the entire world mobilized 80,000 ninjas and samurai. Konoha only provided about 20,000. The Sarutobi clan alone made up a fifth of Konoha's total strength, and they were all elite Chunin and above. If you counted the Genin, the children, and the retirees, the Sarutobi clan likely had a population of 60,000—a quarter of Konoha's entire population.
By the time of the series, the three founding great clans—Senju, Uchiha, and Hyuga—combined couldn't match the numbers of the Sarutobi. The Sarutobi clan had effectively hollowed out Konoha. Hiruzen's greed would have made a corrupt warlord blush; he was the ultimate political "parasite."¹
Tetsumaru realized that if he didn't enroll now, the "Eight Inner Gates" and "Spirit Transformation Technique" would be gone by next year. A year after that, even the B-rank jutsus would vanish. He was about to miss the Golden Age of learning.
The "Righteous Path" of ninjutsu was being cut off, and the Aburame had no heritage in Taijutsu or Genjutsu. Left with no choice, Tetsumaru turned his attention back to his Kikaichu, determined to forge a new path out of the clan's traditions.