Uchiha Makoto stood confidently, speaking in a solemn tone that gave weight to his words. To anyone with a logical mind, what he was saying was nothing but nonsense. His reasoning was shallow, his arguments flimsy, and his conclusions shaky at best. Yet, when he spoke with such seriousness—when his every sentence carried the gravity of someone who seemed to know the truth—his words shook Uzumaki Shinji to the core.
After all, Makoto wasn't bluffing without substance. He truly intended to follow through with his claims.
That was the frightening part.
When a rich and influential man speaks—even if what he says is complete gibberish—people instinctively take it as wisdom. Wealth and power lend credibility. And when a man like Makoto spoke with such calm conviction, even nonsense seemed like truth.
"Lord Guangying is such a wise and remarkable man," Uzumaki Shinji thought, his heart swelling with both awe and relief. "It is truly the Uzumaki clan's honor to have such an ally!"
The moment he recognized this, hesitation left him. Without a second thought, Shinji accepted Makoto's request.
For the Uzumaki, pride was more than face—it was survival. As long as they could raise their heads proudly before Konoha, as long as they could prove their worth and independence, it would be enough. Of course, the 3.68 billion taels in betrothal money would not be squandered; even if publicizing it had to be done in a low-profile manner, the Uzumaki clan would ensure the world remembered. They would hold fast to the friendship of the Akatsuki Village and to the generosity of Lord Guangying.
Beside Shinji, Uzumaki Tsubaki Shizuku gazed at Makoto with wide, shimmering eyes. There were literal stars in her gaze, her admiration unmasked. His generosity, coupled with his apparent disregard for fame and recognition, gave him a mysterious allure. Every gesture, every word carried an unshakable charm that left her captivated.
When the agreement was reached, the two sides moved swiftly.
The Uzumaki clan and Akatsuki Village drafted a formal treaty, binding their alliance in written words. Uchiha Makoto, as the leader of Akatsuki Village—the revered Lord of Light and Shadow—pressed his thumbprint onto the parchment and signed his name in bold, flowing characters. Across from him, Shinji Uzumaki did the same, affixing his name with solemn pride.
Once the final stroke of ink dried, the alliance was official.
"I hope you will stay in our village for a few more days," Makoto said with a warm smile, his tone both courteous and calculated. "Akatsuki Village will do everything possible to host you properly."
Though outwardly polite, Makoto had other motives. Outside Akatsuki Village stood a vast, unfinished sealing barrier. Such a construction required a master's expertise, and who better than Shinji Uzumaki? As the current patriarch, his skill in sealing was unparalleled, perhaps second to none in the entire shinobi world. If Shinji oversaw the design, the barrier would rival even the formidable defenses of Konoha.
And for 3.68 billion taels, Makoto certainly wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
Shinji did not hesitate. Bowing slightly, he said, "Then I will respectfully obey your command!"
Not only would he lend his sealing expertise, but he also intended to personally oversee the planning of Makoto's upcoming wedding to Tsubaki. This was no trivial matter; it was the reputation of the Uzumaki clan at stake, and he could not afford to be careless.
Afterward, Shinji excused himself with tact. He understood that Makoto and Tsubaki needed time alone, space to nurture their relationship. Affection between two people never blossomed overnight—it required shared moments, private conversations, and subtle exchanges of emotion.
But while Shinji expected Makoto to spend time doting on his bride-to-be, the man surprised him.
Makoto poured Tsubaki a glass of honey water, her favorite, setting it gently before her. Then, instead of lingering by her side, he returned to his desk with a serious expression. There was still something important left undone.
Konoha had to be informed.
News of the alliance between Akatsuki Village and the Uzumaki clan could not be concealed—not when his own family, the Uchiha, still resided in Konoha, and not when Konoha and the Uzumaki clan historically maintained close ties. For diplomacy's sake, Konoha had to hear it first.
And Makoto, truth be told, eagerly anticipated their reaction.
Especially his reaction.
That innately sinister ghost from the Senju clan… Tobirama.
---
Konoha
At that very moment, deep inside the Hokage's office, Tobirama Senju sat at his desk, buried in paperwork. His sharp eyes scanned scrolls, his brush moving with precise strokes as he processed the endless stream of village affairs. While Tobirama worked tirelessly, his elder brother—the official First Hokage—was nowhere near the office.
Hashirama Senju was wandering the streets of Konoha.
"Empty… completely empty again."
He opened another small wooden box with trembling hands. It, too, was void of coins.
The more boxes he checked, the more his face twisted with despair.
Just days ago, Hashirama had convinced his brother to give him two million taels in funding. He had spent an entire afternoon pleading, reasoning, and arguing until Tobirama reluctantly agreed. With that money, Hashirama had crafted fifty small wooden boxes, each containing forty thousand ryo. He placed them across Konoha's streets, hoping to replicate the "advanced systems" he had heard about in Akatsuki Village—systems that encouraged prosperity and unity.
But the result?
Disaster.
In just two nights, every box had been cleaned out. Not a single villager had donated. Instead, all forty thousand ryo in each box had vanished without a trace.
"This… this is Konoha's bad nature!" Hashirama cried out in anguish, clutching an empty box in his arms like a man betrayed. "The nature of our people is rotten!"
His voice carried through the streets, drawing the attention of passersby.
Konoha's villagers were well accustomed to their carefree First Hokage. Hashirama was often seen strolling through alleys, chatting with vendors, laughing with children. His innocent demeanor made him beloved. By contrast, Tobirama was distant, buried in duty and research. Ordinary villagers rarely even caught a glimpse of him.
Thus, when Hashirama shouted on the street like a dejected child, it immediately stirred a crowd.
"What happened, Hashirama-sama?" someone asked with concern.
"Why do you look so downhearted?" another added.
"What is this about 'bad nature'?"
Hashirama shook his head, his voice filled with sorrow. "I was too naive. Konoha truly has bad roots. This village I dreamed of… it is not what I thought."
The villagers glanced at each other in confusion.
One man suddenly spoke up, "Have you read New Ninja? It's the most popular book in the Land of Fire, sold even in the other great nations. It's said to be the number one best-seller in the entire shinobi world."
"No, I haven't," another replied.
"Then you're behind the times! That book explains everything. Look at these boxes! Hashirama-sama must have been imitating Akatsuki Village's system. But here in Konoha, it failed completely. Isn't that proof of our bad habits?"
Others quickly chimed in, nodding.
"Yes, yes, I agree. My friend traveled to Akatsuki Village. He told me it's a land of equality, freedom, and prosperity. The villagers there are kind and generous. Compared to that, Konoha… well, Konoha is backward."
"That's the truth! Our village is filled with selfishness. We could never match Akatsuki Village."
Their words dripped with admiration for Akatsuki and disdain for their own home. As they spoke, it was as if an invisible braid sprouted from the backs of their heads, marking them as those who blindly worshipped outsiders.
"How dare you insult Konoha like this!" one righteous villager protested. "You scum! Show some respect for the village that raised you!"
But his words were drowned out.
"Hmph, I'm just speaking facts," another retorted with a mocking smile. "Look! All the money Hashirama-sama left is gone. Do you think that would happen in Akatsuki Village? No! Their system works, while ours collapses. Face reality—our village is inferior."
The crowd buzzed with uneasy laughter, some agreeing, some shaking their heads in shame.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood Hashirama Senju, holding an empty box, his heart heavy. The dream he had fought so hard to build seemed to crumble a little more before his eyes.
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