The silence of the night in Konoha was broken only by the chirping of cicadas and the rustling of leaves.
Urahara was in the basement, his chest rising and falling slowly as he finished a set of squats with high-density weights. Sweat glistened across his shoulders, and the sensation of 20% integration pulsed through his veins like a constant electric current.
Suddenly, his senses—now sharpened by spiritual perception—caught a strange vibration above his head.
Not the wind.
Heavy footsteps.
Unrefined, lacking the discipline of an elite shinobi. Probably genin level. But the intent behind them was unmistakable.
Violence.
"Rats in the stockroom…" Urahara murmured, a dry smile forming on his face.
"And I haven't even finished breakfast yet."
Upstairs, the shop's sliding door was forced open.
Three mercenaries entered, carrying clubs and short blades. They reeked of cheap alcohol and desperation.
"Smash everything," the leader growled, raising his club toward the soda display.
"The boss said this foreigner needs to learn who runs the commerce in this alley."
He never got the chance to swing.
A sharp crack echoed through the dark shop.
Urahara appeared between the shelves—not the slightly hunched, playful shopkeeper from the daytime, but a lethal shadow.
He had used Shunpo.
To the mercenaries, he had simply appeared out of nowhere.
"You know…" Urahara said calmly, his voice stripped of its usual playful tone.
"The import cost of those cans is rather high."
His eyes gleamed beneath the brim of his hat.
"And you just entered my loss report."
The first mercenary slashed sideways.
Urahara didn't even draw the hidden blade from his cane.
He simply turned his body and swung the wooden staff, striking the man's wrist with perfect timing.
The sound of bone cracking was followed by a muffled scream.
The other two rushed him together.
Urahara slid across the floor, Shunpo allowing him to move like smoke.
He appeared behind one of them and struck the base of the man's skull with surgical precision.
The mercenary collapsed instantly.
The leader panicked and tried to run for the door.
But Urahara drove the tip of his cane into the wooden floor in front of him, blocking the path.
"Where are you going?" Urahara asked quietly.
"The bill hasn't been paid yet."
A side kick infused with a fraction of his new strength sent the man flying into the wall.
The mercenary crumpled to the floor unconscious, knocking over nothing more than a stack of empty boxes.
Urahara adjusted his hat.
It had not even moved during the fight.
Minutes later, the street was illuminated by paper lanterns.
Urahara stepped out of the shop dragging the three tied mercenaries behind him with a high-tensile steel cable from his own inventory.
An Uchiha Military Police patrol quickly approached after hearing the commotion. They had begun passing through the alley frequently now, ensuring their "exclusive supplier" remained safe.
"What happened here, Urahara-san?" one of the officers asked.
A young man Urahara recognized from the elders' training ground test.
"Just a few customers who attempted a 100% discount without authorization," Urahara replied calmly, handing the end of the cable to the officer.
"They mentioned a local merchant. I believe Konoha's police know how to deal with… unfair competition."
The Uchiha officer examined the mercenaries—rough men who often caused trouble in the market district.
Now completely defeated by a "simple shopkeeper."
He looked at Urahara again.
This time with a new level of respect.
Among the Uchiha, strength was the only language that required no translation.
"We'll handle this personally," the officer said.
"Fugaku-sama would be displeased if anything interrupted our supply line. Thank you for the cooperation, Urahara-san."
Urahara watched the patrol take the men away.
From that night onward, no one would dare touch his shop again.
The "Hat Shopkeeper" was now seen as someone under the direct protection of the most dangerous clan in the village.
The next morning in Konoha began with a gentle breeze.
But for Urahara, the day promised to be lively.
After the mercenary incident the previous night, the alley had gained an aura of "sacred territory." Neighbors passed by with newfound respect, and a small line of genin already waited outside before the sun reached its peak.
Urahara stood behind the counter, organizing a fresh shipment of "Acid Plasma Candies"—spheres of sugar that changed flavor as they melted.
He fanned himself lazily with his folding fan.
The bell on the door didn't just ring.
It practically jumped off its hook when the door slid open with overwhelming energy.
"Excuse me! Is this the place that sells those glowing candies?!"
The voice was vibrant, loud, and filled with a vitality that seemed to occupy every cubic centimeter of the shop.
Urahara looked up from beneath the brim of his hat.
And saw a cascade of bright red hair glowing under the neon lights.
Kushina Uzumaki stood there, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Behind her, almost like a protective shadow—and slightly embarrassed—stood Minato Namikaze.
The Fourth Hokage wore his usual combat attire, though without the Hokage cloak, trying to maintain a casual posture while his wife practically bounced with excitement.
"Well, well…" Urahara said, snapping his fan closed.
"If it isn't the brightest light of Konoha… and her personal lightning bolt."
He bowed with exaggerated elegance.
"Welcome to the Urahara Shop. And yes, milady—you've come to the right place."
Kushina rushed to the counter, eyes locked onto the colorful jars.
"I heard Mikoto say that Itachi brought home some sugar pills that explode in your mouth! I have to try them, dattebane!"
Minato chuckled softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Easy there, Kushina. The owner hasn't even told us the price yet."
Urahara chuckled behind his fan, watching the interaction carefully.
Kushina, at this stage of her life, was the beating heart of the village.
"For you, the price is merely a trivial detail before the experience," Urahara said smoothly.
He removed a neon-blue candy from a special jar, wrapped in transparent paper that resembled glass.
"This is called the Glacial Dew Drop. It begins hot like pepper… and ends so cold you'll feel your breath freeze."
Kushina didn't hesitate.
She popped the candy into her mouth.
For a few seconds, silence filled the shop.
Minato watched carefully, ready to intervene if this turned out to be some dangerous ninja item.
Kushina's face turned red.
Then pale blue.
Then her eyes widened dramatically.
"THIS IS AMAZING!"
She exhaled a puff of icy mist.
"Minato, you have to try this! It's like winter just exploded on my tongue!"
Minato turned to Urahara.
Behind his gentle smile, his gaze had become analytical.
He wasn't here only for candy.
As Hokage, he had noticed the sudden shift in Uchiha logistics—and the strange armor now circulating within the Military Police.
"You have fascinating items here, Urahara-san," Minato said calmly.
"Not just sweets. My jōnin mentioned sleeping bags that weigh almost nothing… and lights that require no fire. Your technology is… unusual."
Urahara maintained his enigmatic smile while pouring a glass of imported iced tea for the Hokage.
"Comfort should never be a luxury, Hokage-sama," he replied.
"A ninja who sleeps well and eats with pleasure completes missions twenty percent more efficiently."
He placed the glass on the counter.
"I merely sell what the human body desires… and what the ninja mind forgets to ask for."
Meanwhile, Kushina was already filling a basket with every type of treat imaginable—chocolates with salted caramel filling, neon candies, and the famous corn snacks that left fingers bright orange.
"I'll take all of this!" she declared triumphantly.
"And Minato will pay, dattebane!"