"Your signature jutsu… truly has a certain… aromatic flair."
Tsunade fixed a plaintive, long-suffering stare at Namikaze Raimon, who was lounging casually against the window frame of the Hokage's office, basking in the late morning sun. The aftermath of the previous night's 'battle' lingered, and not in a good way.
The vast plain outside Konoha had been transformed into a shallow, pungent lake of human waste. Now, under the blazing sun, a truly hellish miasma had begun to rise, a foul, eye-watering stench that seeped into every crevice of the village, utterly annihilating the appetites of the entire populace.
"Hey, didn't I bill them for environmental cleanup?" Raimon replied with infuriating nonchalance. As an Edo Tensei, he had no need for food or fresh air. If it got really bad? A quick Hiraishin hop to the Land of Lightning for a leisurely breakfast sounded perfect.
"Haah…" Tsunade let out a slow, frustrated breath, massaging her temples. "Do you have any idea how impossible it is to clean that up? It's a literal ocean of… that, mixed with… other things! Over a dozen civilian sanitation workers have already passed out from the fumes!"
Her own stomach churned at the memory. Tens of thousands of people, all at once… It wasn't a puddle; it was a wetland. A horrifying, newly-formed biome.
"Simple solution," Raimon rolled his eyes, as if explaining to a child. "Get a few dozen Earth Release specialists to just bury the whole thing. Problem solved."
In his mind, the ninja world was full of such missed utility. They saw shinobi only as weapons. Water Release users could irrigate fields, Earth Release could farm, Wind Release could power turbines, Fire Release chefs could run the best BBQ stands, Aburame bugs could pollinate crops, and Lightning Release users… they were walking power generators! The applications were endless!
"Or, you know," he added with a smirk, "just have the Inuzuka clan's ninken handle it. They're good at that sort of thing."
Tsunade's eye twitched. That was… incredibly demeaning. But… a treacherous part of her brain had to admit… it wasn't technically a bad idea…
She violently shook the thought away. She'd never hear the end of it from the Inuzuka, and the mental image was too much.
"Fine! Fine! Earth Release it is!" she snapped. "Shizune! Draft the order for an Earth Release corps to commence… terrain reclamation… outside the walls."
As Shizune scurried off, Tsunade slumped into her chair, the bureaucrat momentarily replaced by the gleeful miser. Two hundred and forty billion ryo… The reparations from the four great villages (plus Danzō's theoretical share) were staggering. Her eyes glazed over, a dreamy smile on her face. "Two hundred and forty billion… I don't even know where to start spending it all… Hehehe…"
A thin line of drool escaped the corner of her mouth.
"I'm warning you, don't even think about it." Raimon's deadpan voice cut through her reverie. He knew exactly what was going through her head. The legendary Konoha gambling addict with a national treasury at her fingertips? Disaster.
"Ahem!" Tsunade sat up straight, wiping her mouth with a sleeve and, with the same motion, clearing a small puddle of drool from her desk.
"I am the Hokage! I would never engage in such frivolous activities!" she declared, her internal monologue screaming, 'He can't stop me! I'll be subtle! Just a little here and there!'
"Hmph. Your little schemes won't work," Raimon said without turning from the window. "I've already sent notice to every gambling den, casino, and back-alley dice game in the Land of Fire. If 'Tsunade-hime' walks in, they are to immediately close their doors and pretend to be a public bathhouse."
"Rai-Rai! Just one small game! One little bet!" Tsunade's defiance melted into wheedling. She latched onto his arm, deploying her ultimate weapon—the legendary Planetary Devastation—pressing against him with overwhelming, soft force.
"Not a chance." Raimon extracted his arm with practiced ease. With Tsunade, 'one small game' was a gateway drug.
"Hah! My fists aren't just for show, you know!" she threatened, holding up a clenched, crackling fist.
"Heh. A fist, or my drill?" Raimon countered flatly. "I think any bookie would rather take the fist."
The monikers 'Steel-Handed Cockblocker' and 'Shinobi World's Castrator' carried a certain… persuasive weight. Given the choice between a broken nose and a broken future, the choice was clear.
"Hmph! You're no fun!" Tsunade crossed her arms and flopped back into her chair, adopting the posture of a petulant child. "Rai-Rai, you don't love me anymore~"
Namikaze Raimon sighed, the sound heavy with the weariness of a man dealing with a force of nature.
"…Fine. Once a month. A strict allowance." What could he do? He was whipped.
"Kakuzu… where are you hiding?" Raimon murmured to himself. This mountain of money needed a miserly, paranoid banker, and the former Taki ninja, with his love of cash, was perfect. If he refused… well, Shisui's Mangekyō Sharingan, freshly plucked from Danzō's skull, could make for a very compelling argument. But he doubted it would come to that. The sight of the numbers alone would give Kakuzu religious fervor.
"I knew you loved me!" Tsunade beamed, once again enveloping him in a suffocating, joyous hug.
Nearby, Jiraiya's pen snapped in his hand. The vein on his forehead pulsed visibly.
"COULD YOU TWO TAKE THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE?!" he roared, slamming a fist on the desk piled high with scrolls. "Damn it! Is this my life now?!"
He was supposed to be a roaming sage, gathering 'inspirational material' from hot springs, not shackled to a desk doing Tsunade's paperwork!
Namikaze Raimon turned his head slowly, a serene smile on his face. "Is there a problem, Jiraiya?"
"Fūton Raiton: Taijutsu Ōgi – Fūrai Rasen Shōshō Denkō Dokuryū no Doriiru…" he began, the familiar, horrifying whine of chakra building in his palm as a spiraling drill of wind and lightning sparked to life.
Jiraiya's blood ran cold. Every muscle in his body, particularly one specific ring-shaped one, clenched with the power of a thousand suns. The drill hovered in Raimon's hand, humming with malicious promise.
"Would you prefer a demonstration of this," Raimon asked, his voice gentle, "or a more… permanent alteration?"
"Ahahaha! Just blowing off steam! The pressure of public service, you know!" Jiraiya's anger evaporated, replaced by frantic, sweat-drenched diplomacy. He scooped up the scattered scrolls. "I love paperwork! It's my passion! My calling!"
"Damn that Flying Thunder God mark…" he muttered under his breath, head bowed.
"Did you say something, Jiraiya?" Raimon's smile didn't reach his eyes. "We're a team here. If you have concerns, voice them. We'll… resolve them together."
The look in Raimon's eyes made the hair on Jiraiya's neck stand on end. "N-nothing! Everything's perfect! Spectacular! Back to work!"
He buried his face in a mission report, not daring to look up.
"Work hard, Jiraiya," Raimon said, clapping a hand on his shuddering shoulder. "Do a good job, and I'll make sure you get a prime seat at the wedding banquet."
With that, he strolled out of the office with Tsunade in tow.
Left alone with the mountain of scrolls, Jiraiya let out a muffled sob. "Someone… save me…"
****
Over half a month later, the… ecological disaster zone outside Konoha had been thoroughly buried under several meters of fresh, clean earth. To everyone's surprise, the new grass that sprouted was unnaturally lush and vibrant, a deep, almost fluorescent green.
On this newly reclaimed training ground, Uzumaki Naruto and Uchiha Sasuke were deep into their regimen under the watchful, tearful eye of Might Guy.
"Nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine!""Ten thousand!"
Both boys shot to their feet from their final push-up, dripping with sweat.
"Hah! Told you I'd finish first, Sasuke!" Naruto crowed, puffing out his chest.
"Tch. You just have a furry cheat code living in your gut," Sasuke retorted, though a flicker of reluctant respect was there. Naruto's stamina, boosted by the Nine-Tails' chakra, was monstrous.
"Splendid! Truly splendid! This is the BLAZING POWER OF YOUTH!" Might Guy bawled, rivers of proud tears streaming down his face.
Nearby, leaning on a crutch, Rock Lee watched his rival and teammate training without him, his own tears those of profound sorrow and envy. He was healing well under Tsunade's care, but his 'precious youth' was still on mandatory hiatus. The air around him smelled distinctly of vinegar.
"Yo! Still at it, I see."
Namikaze Raimon materialized before them. On instinct, Might Guy's entire posterior region contracted with enough force to crack walnuts.
"Raimon-sensei!" Sasuke's face lit up with genuine admiration and focus."Uncle! I beat Sasuke! Aren't I awesome?!" Naruto yelled, ever the blunt instrument.
"No," Raimon deadpanned, a metaphorical sweatdrop appearing on his temple. "It just means I need to find someone to give you a proper reality check."
"Sensei," Sasuke's voice turned low, intense. His right hand crackled to life. "Do you think… I'm strong enough to kill him now?"
The Lightning Release that coalesced in Sasuke's palm was not the standard Chidori. It was his Chidori Eisō—the Chidori Sharp Spear—but evolved. The lance of lightning now had vicious, crackling barbs along its length. More unsettlingly, it pulsed and flickered, elongating and retracting in a rapid, piston-like motion with a menacing bzzzzt-click sound.
The sight was so unexpectedly… familiar and pointed that even Raimon felt a reflexive, sympathetic clench.
His eyelid twitched. "Against Itachi? One versus one, with him holding back? Maybe. Against him and the whole Akatsuki? You'd get turned into a pincushion."
He studied Sasuke, the boy's Sharingan spinning with fierce ambition, the corrupted, drilling lightning in his hand a testament to his twisted interpretation of his teacher's 'lessons'. A strange mix of pride, pity, and sheer "what have I created" horror washed over him.
He sighed, then offered a slow, approving nod."Not bad… not bad at all, Sasuke."A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips."You know… you really do possess the makings of a Yonko."