A week later, an odd rumor drifted through Konoha.
The Uchiha heir, who had remained shut away in the clan district since the massacre, had appeared in the marketplace. Not quietly, either. Jewelry. Antiques. Lacquered furniture. Scroll paintings. Folding screens. One item after another left Uchiha hands and entered private collections.
Some people laughed behind their sleeves.
"So that's it," a merchant muttered. "The Uchiha really are finished. Even their kid is selling off the ancestors' things."
Sasuke never heard the words.
And even if he had, he would not have cared.
He needed money.
Inside the Hokage Tower, a report was delivered in a low voice.
"Hokage-sama, Uchiha Sasuke has sold more clan property."
The Third Hokage drew on his pipe, smoke curling slowly. After a moment, he nodded."I understand. You don't need to report this anymore."
"Yes, sir."
Elsewhere, in a darker residence, a similar message was delivered.
"After the sales, the funds were deposited into the bank as usual."
Danzo dismissed the messenger with a flick of his hand.
He said nothing, but irritation settled behind his eyes. Too much had been overlooked that night. Everyone had stared at eyes and cash, forgetting how much quiet wealth the Uchiha had accumulated over generations.
Still, he did not move against the boy.
Stripped of his position, he could not afford to draw attention. And the banks belonged not to Konoha alone, but to the Fire Daimyō and the great houses as well. There were limits, even for him.
Morning broke over the Uchiha district.
In the training ground, the sound of impact rang out again and again.
Sasuke stood before a wooden post, fists striking in steady rhythm. Each blow was clean. Controlled. Sweat darkened his shirt, breath measured as he pushed through the final set.
Since returning to the district, he had followed the same routine without exception.
At dawn, conditioning. Running. Squats. Rope work. Core exercises. The post always came last.Midday was for throwing weapons and basic ninjutsu drills.Night was for reading, reviewing, and correcting mistakes.
He slept five hours at most.
It was exhausting.
It was also satisfying.
"Young Master Sasuke!"
A voice broke across the yard. A middle-aged man hurried in, face alight with forced cheer. Behind him rolled a heavy cargo wagon drawn by five horses, followed by several hired hands.
Sasuke exhaled and stepped back from the post, wiping sweat from his brow. He turned calmly.
"You were quick," he said. "So you found it."
"Of course," the man replied, bowing slightly. "When you make a request, Young Master, I do my utmost."
He gestured dramatically to the wagon.
A massive beast filled the frame. Purple hide stretched over dense muscle. Thick horns curved outward before arcing up like lightning frozen in mid-strike. Even standing still, it radiated weight and strength.
"Thunder Ox," the merchant said eagerly. "A specialty of the Land of Lightning. They say even the raikage's people grow strong on its meat. When the Lightning Daimyō hosts a state banquet, this is always served."
Sasuke approached, eyes assessing.
It was enormous. Larger than anything he had seen before. This world rewarded excess.
He nodded once. "Acceptable."
Relief flashed across the merchant's face. He snapped his fingers, and one of the handlers carried forward a sealed glass container filled with pale liquid.
"And this," the man added, "Sand Country camel milk. Kobe breed. Fresh."
Sasuke glanced at it, then inclined his head. "You've done well."
That was all.
These were his demands. Nutrition mattered. Training without fuel was a waste of time. He had learned that long ago.
Most of the Uchiha's liquid wealth had vanished after the massacre. The village had offered no explanation. Sasuke had not asked. He already knew the answer would be empty.
What remained was still considerable.
And it wasn't enough.
So he sold what could be sold.
The Uchiha were ancient. Their possessions were worth more than gold. By converting them, Sasuke had quietly become one of the most liquid individuals in the village.
With it, he bought a chakra-metal blade. Training medicine in bulk. And enough premium food to last decades if he chose.
No clan to support. No obligations.
Money, used properly, removed friction.
"Shall we deliver everything to your residence?" the merchant asked carefully.
"No," Sasuke replied. "You're done here."
The man hesitated, then bowed deeply. "As you wish. I'll take my leave."
As the wagon turned away, the merchant allowed himself a private thought.
He disliked dealing with the Uchiha. He disliked the district even more.
But the payment had erased those feelings cleanly.
Too much money did that.
Sasuke watched them go, then turned back to the post.
His fist struck wood again.