Tobirama Senju reread the short story several times before reluctantly setting down the copy of New Shinobi. At last, he muttered with a complicated expression:
"…Excellent. Truly excellent writing. To think that Uchiha Makoto—that innately wicked Uchiha brat—could possess such insight. Knowledge is power, indeed."
"If this policy is maintained over time, Amegakure's shinobi will surpass Konoha's in overall quality by a wide margin."
"Terrifying… absolutely terrifying."
Reality proved one thing beyond doubt:
There is no scam that cannot fool someone—only scams that have not yet found the right target.
Even someone as sharp as Tobirama Senju had been quietly "brainwashed" by this deceptively wholesome essay.
After all, the short stories in New Shinobi always promoted positivity, wrapped in narratives that seemed harmless on the surface. In an era that had never experienced true information bombardment, such writing was nothing short of a weapon for shaping minds.
And Tobirama, as a research-oriented shinobi, understood education better than most.
Students in the Ninja Academy had to be taught curiosity and inquiry from a young age. Only then could they, like himself, continuously develop new techniques.
Relying forever on the legacy of predecessors?
That was unacceptable.
If future generations failed to surpass their forebears, then sooner or later—
Konoha would decline.
This was not a trivial issue.
It concerned Konoha's century-long future.
"New Shinobi may have something… unsettling about it," Tobirama admitted, "but it isn't without merit. The depth of this short story alone is something even I must learn from."
"My brother wasn't entirely wrong."
"Konoha truly does need to learn from Amegakure in certain areas."
With that thought, Tobirama temporarily abandoned the idea of censoring New Shinobi.
But soon—
Embarrassment turned into irritation.
"Why wasn't this policy something I thought of first?!"
"As for funding… if we tighten our belts, we can manage. No matter how poor we are, we must not starve education. No matter how hard things get, we must not shortchange children."
Tobirama's views on education were deeply pragmatic.
He was frugal to the extreme when it came to village finances, always insisting that money be spent where it mattered most.
And education?
This was exactly where money should be spent.
The problem was—
He hated that Uchiha Makoto had thought of it first.
Rumors were already spreading within the village, people privately mocking him as a "plagiarist."
"If I openly imitate Makoto now," Tobirama thought bitterly, "won't that just confirm it?"
"Damn it…!"
He found himself trapped in a dilemma.
He genuinely believed the policy was excellent. With careful budgeting, Konoha could barely sustain it.
But the thought of copying an Uchiha—that Uchiha—
It felt like swallowing a mouthful of filth.
Just as Tobirama wrestled with himself, a voice interrupted.
"Lord Tobirama, a shinobi envoy from Amegakure has arrived."
"…Amegakure?" Tobirama frowned. "What business do they have? Bring them in."
His face remained expressionless.
Though Konoha and Amegakure were nominal allies, Tobirama knew better.
They were allies in name only.
He had been waiting—patiently—for a chance to stab Amegakure in the back without leaving evidence.
After all—
That damn village had swallowed five billion ryō of Konoha's money.
Konoha's money!
Moments later, the envoy stood before him.
"Lord Tobirama," the messenger said respectfully,
"The Light Shadow wishes to inform Konoha that he will soon be joined in marriage with Uzumaki Tsubaki, a member of the Uzumaki clan. Furthermore, Amegakure and the Uzumaki clan have formally entered a blood alliance."
"…?"
For a moment, Tobirama wondered if his ears had malfunctioned.
In his understanding, even though the Uzumaki clan had not joined Konoha—a regrettable outcome—the relationship between Konoha and the Uzumaki was as close as it could possibly be.
No treaty required.
If one had to describe it—
They were close enough to share the same damn condom.
So why was there suddenly a third party?
Was having Senju Hashirama—the greatest treasure in the shinobi world—still not enough to satisfy the Uzumaki clan?
Why would they entangle themselves with Amegakure?!
This was betrayal.
Blatant, naked betrayal.
An indescribable emotion surged in Tobirama's chest.
For the first time, he truly understood the daily emotional state of his sister-in-law, Uzumaki Mito.
Damn Uchiha…
"I understand," Tobirama said stiffly.
"Konoha will send representatives to attend."
His voice sounded eerily like that of a powerless husband swallowing humiliation.
"Why does Konoha look so pathetic right now…?"
The Uzumaki clan had every right to choose their allies.
Even as a blood ally, Konoha had no authority to interfere.
So all Tobirama could do was watch helplessly as the Uzumaki clan became entangled with Amegakure—
And then smile politely while attending their wedding.
Konoha had to send someone.
As the Uzumaki clan's blood ally, basic decorum demanded it.
If Konoha made a scene, outsiders would only accuse it of being petty and unreasonable.
Still—
Tobirama did not want to go.
Just imagining the smug grin on Uchiha Makoto's face made him want to teleport in and slice Makoto apart with Flying Thunder God.
The envoy departed shortly after delivering the message.
"I won't go," Tobirama muttered.
"My brother is too dense to grasp the implications. He'd probably attend happily—but he's currently away, taking on multiple S-rank missions."
That left the question—
Who would represent Konoha?
The village couldn't send some insignificant figure. Given Konoha's status as both ally to Amegakure and blood ally to the Uzumaki clan, only someone of high standing would suffice.
After some thought, Tobirama made his decision.
"…We'll send Sister-in-law Mito."
As the legitimate Hokage's wife, her presence would more than honor the occasion.
And as an Uzumaki herself, she could personally question the clan's reasons for this "infidelity."
Perfect.
With that settled, Tobirama glanced again at New Shinobi on his desk, his mood darkening.
Such a brilliant policy—
And it had come from that bastard Uchiha.
"…Fine. I'll be a plagiarist."
"But I'll modify it. Make it less obvious."
"Change 1,790 ryō to 790 ryō."
Konoha simply couldn't afford the original version.
A degraded imitation would have to do.
Two Weeks Later – Light Shadow's Office
Uchiha Makoto tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, waiting for a reply from the Fire Daimyō.
Recently, letters had been exchanged almost daily regarding the salt monopoly.
Though the Daimyō's letters sounded optimistic, Makoto could sense the pressure behind them. Many of the great nobles were not only greedy—but stupid.
Makoto had repeatedly asked, politely, whether he should "resolve" some problems.
Each time, the Daimyō firmly refused.
He preferred endless negotiation to letting shinobi directly interfere.
Even though the blame had already landed on his head, the Fire Daimyō still tried to contain the damage.
Amegakure remained a threat of last resort.
At last, the reply arrived.
Makoto opened it—and began to grin.
Then laugh.
Then burst into full-blown Uchiha laughter.
"HAHAHAHA!!"
"It worked!"
Through immense effort—and the quiet removal of certain "obstacles"—the salt market had been re-monopolized.
Amegakure now claimed 35% of the profits.
This month alone:
Over four billion ryō.
Every month.
Endlessly.
Printing money would've been slower.
No amount of mission commissions could compare.
Makoto leaned back, laughing.
"No wonder ancient states monopolized salt… private salt dealers were executed, yet it never stopped. Same profits as narcotics."
"With this revenue, Amegakure can truly burn money."
He continued reading.
The Daimyō, clearly in high spirits, wrote enthusiastically.
And then—details of the wedding.
He would personally attend as witness.
Only one regret lingered.
Had he acted sooner, perhaps his daughter could have married the Light Shadow.
But the Uzumaki clan had moved first.
And now—
The board was set.
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