At ten years old, Murakami didn't consider himself a prodigy, but he had outgrown the limitations of an ordinary civilian.
Compared to the regular Genin he had observed, his physical abilities weren't far behind, at least when it came to speed and endurance.
His physical strength was still lacking due to his age, but his advanced chakra control allowed him to exert more strength than he did normally.
A fresh Genin had just enough skill to function in a squad under a more experienced leader.
Their taijutsu would be considered adequate, their ninjutsu basic, and their tactical thinking rudimentary at best. Most of them were still children, after all, shinobi in name but not in true experience.
Physically, Murakami was still a child as well.
His body simply couldn't match the brute force of a trained adult shinobi. But skill-wise, he had the advantage of knowledge, careful planning, and most importantly—Fūinjutsu.
Murakami wasn't conceited enough to think he could face off and win against an experienced Chūnin. But against a standard Genin, he had the confidence.
If it was a straightforward physical brawl, there was little to no possibility of losing. But shinobi rarely fought that way. With proper preparation and strategy, anything could happen.
In addition to his already extensive skills, Murakami had also become a sensory ninja.
It happened suddenly, one moment, he was meditating and refining his internal chakra circulation, and the next, the world opened up around him.
It was like a shift in awareness, a subtle but undeniable expansion of perception.
Currently, he could perceive chakra within a 15-meter radius.
It wasn't much by shinobi standards since most trained sensors could detect at least a hundred meters or more—but for him, it was a game-changer.
Being able to detect movement, gauge chakra levels, and avoid surprises added another layer of security to his operations.
And If Fūinjutsu had official rankings like ninjutsu, Murakami would place his skills at C-rank at best. Maybe B-rank in some applications.
It was unfortunate that there were no classifications, hence, Murakami could never actually gauge his level of mastery in comparison to others.
But among the seals he could draw, he classified them according to their level of difficulty, use and effect.
D-rank seals were the simple ones among which were the weak explosive tags, storage seals, and basic barriers.
C-rank seals were more intricate since they involved multi-layered seals. Examples were the preservation seal, and the basic chakra suppression seal.
B-rank seals required deeper understanding and creativity. This included complex storage arrays, advanced chakra suppression techniques, and defensive seals that could activate under specific conditions.
Murakami's success rate was a staggering 3 out of 10 but they were still rough around the edges.
A-rank and above? That was a different realm entirely.
True sealing masters like the Uzumaki Clan or the current Hokage, Tobirama Senju are capable of using seals capable of altering battlefields, sealing away powerful entities, and even influencing life and death.
[A/N: The Bijuu Seals and the Death Reaper Seal… I felt I should mention it.]
Murakami hadn't seen any A or S-rank seal, but he knew they existed, if nothing else, the ones used to seal tailed beasts were already up there.
He wasn't at that level yet, but he had no doubt that one day, he would be.
And regarding his future influence, the more it grew, the more the risk of government intervention increased. With this in mind, he pushed his expansion in silence, operating from the shadows.
He knew that eventually, he would hit a threshold where remaining unnoticed would no longer be possible.
He could not imagine the Hokage's administration tolerating a powerful unknown entity operating independently within the village.
When that time arrives, he knew that if proper care wasn't taken, they would either try to control or eliminate him.
There were a few ways this could play out.
One was through forced integration. The administration might attempt to fold his growing empire into their system, labeling him a shinobi under their command, binding him as an official ally, or reducing him to a controlled asset.
Once they recognized the value in his abilities, they would want to exploit them. That was no trainer in a world where might makes right.
Another way would be through regulation and Taxation. Konoha could introduce laws designed to suffocate private industries like his.
Licensing requirements, inspections, special permissions, increased taxes… slow pressure applied through bureaucracy until independence became nearly impossible.
The final way would be Requisition and Seizure. If conflict expanded or resources tightened, the village could claim his assets "for the good of Konoha."
If his operations became too effective or too important, they would have every justification to seize them outright. Especially during wartime.
Murakami knew all of this. And it was precisely why he built his influence carefully, methodically… and always out of sight.
As for countermeasures… Murakami knew he couldn't fight the government head-on. That would be suicide, and he had no plot armor to back him up.
But preparation? That was within his power.
His first step was Diversification.
He made sure not to place all his resources in one location.
If the Lotus Pavilion were ever seized, he had other businesses, smaller, independently structured and operating under different names.
Even if the administration took one, they would never get everything.
The second was Legitimacy.
Murakami made sure to strengthen his legal standing wherever possible. His businesses paid taxes on time, hired local workers, and contributed directly to Konoha's economy.
A business that benefited the village was far more difficult to dismantle without creating backlash.
The third was Political Maneuvering.
He understood that if confrontation with the government ever became unavoidable, he would need allies, people within the system who could shield his interests or at least warn him before a crackdown occurred.
Positioning himself near influential figures would be essential for survival. The problem was…who would make a perfect ally?
This was where the fourth measure came into play.
Escape Routes.
In the case where everything collapsed… he needed a way out.
Murakami wasn't prepared to defect yet, nor did he want to. But if pushed too far, he wouldn't hesitate to retreat.
For that reason, he had been securing land in other villages outside of Konoha. They were small, and in inconspicuous locations where he could disappear if necessary.
Murakami operated with one rule in mind: He couldn't challenge the system, but he could prepare for every scenario in which the system challenged him.
Murakami counted it as a good thing that he arrived at this point in time. Konoha wasn't crowded or rather, populated yet, and that meant there was a lot of land for the taking.
But even with all those precautions, all the planning and quiet maneuvering, Murakami's actions weren't driven by survival alone.
He wanted power.
Not for revenge or destruction, but for control; control over his own fate.
This world was a cruel world, and the war that erupted with the death of Hashirama Senju had made that undeniable.
The moment the strongest shinobi of an era died, the world unraveled. Alliances cracked and conflict ignited.
From that, Murakami learned one undeniable truth:
Power was more than just combat.
Power was influence. It was knowledge. It was preparation.
The shinobi villages were built on hierarchies where only the strongest carved their own path. Anyone found weak, regardless of talent, intellect, or kindness, remained subject to those with greater strength.
That was evidenced in two prominent individuals; Hatake Sakumo and Uchiha Itachi.
Despite their great love for their village and comrades, they were still played like puppets on a string till the day of their deaths.
For Murakami, that was unacceptable.
But he had no intention of becoming a mindless seeker of power, devoured by ambition the way Danzo or Orochimaru would eventually be.
Power without purpose was a poison, one that twisted everything it touched.
His goal was far simpler: freedom.
The freedom to live on his own terms.
The freedom to build a foundation so immovable that no one, not a clan, not the Hokage, not a war, could threaten him or those he chose to protect.
The Lotus Pavilion was his first step.
Economic strength was a shield, one capable of countering political pressure in any time or world.
Fūinjutsu was his chosen weapon in this regard. It was esoteric, misunderstood, and powerful enough to even the odds against elite shinobi.
And his mind… his mind was the core of it all.
Murakami wasn't naive. He knew life had limits. He knew plans shattered, wars erupted, and the world rarely behaved the way one expected.
But as long as he continued to grow, continued to expand, learn, and prepare, then when the time came, he wouldn't merely survive.
He would thrive.
Because in every world, in every era, one truth remained constant:
Power gravitates toward those who refuse to remain weak.
That is a fundamental law of any Universe.