In the end, Jin failed to pry the remaining Kusanagi blades out of Granny Cat's hands.
He returned to Konoha with only Zanka no Tachi.
Not perfect.
But more than enough.
The weight of the blade at his waist felt reassuring—like destiny settling into place.
By the time he reentered the village, dusk was already sinking across the rooftops.
He wasn't in the mood to cook.
The plan was simple: grab something quick to eat, then head to a secluded training ground and familiarize himself with Zanka no Tachi's output under controlled conditions.
But the moment he stepped onto the main street—
Whispers followed him.
"Isn't that an Uchiha?"
"Hmph. They still dare walk around openly?"
"Battle merit doesn't mean they can look down on the rest of us…"
The clan crest on his back drew eyes like a magnet.
Jin's expression didn't change.
But his eyes cooled.
So.
Something had happened while he was gone.
And the method—
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Danzo?
Hiruzen?
Or both working in tandem?
Jin let out a silent scoff and continued walking as if nothing was wrong.
He turned toward a small, well-known shop.
Ichiraku Ramen.
"Large tonkotsu ramen."
"Coming right up!"
It wasn't peak dinner time yet, so the shop was empty.
Jin took a seat at the counter.
A young girl—seven or eight at most—placed a cup of water before him.
"Please enjoy."
"Thank you. You're helping your father already? That's impressive."
Ayame beamed.
Behind the counter, Teuchi chuckled proudly—and quietly added two extra slices of pork to Jin's bowl.
As expected of Ichiraku.
Simple.
Honest.
Delicious.
Jin finished quickly.
He had things to test tonight.
"How much?"
"850 ryō."
Jin paused.
"…It went up."
He glanced at the menu.
He wasn't mistaken.
He paid without complaint—but he didn't leave.
"Prices rising that much?" he asked casually.
Teuchi scratched his head with a sheepish smile.
"War's been hard on supply lines. Minerals. Grain. Everything's expensive now."
"I had no choice."
Jin nodded slowly.
"What about the civilians? Are they managing?"
Teuchi gave a tired laugh.
"People who can live in Konoha are already better off than most."
"Tight belts, but we get by."
Tight belts.
Jin's gaze sharpened faintly.
Konoha had won this war.
They had extracted reparations from Kumogakure.
And yet—
Prices had surged and never truly recovered.
Until—
The Third Hokage's death.
And Tsunade's rise.
The pattern was obvious.
War wasn't just fought on battlefields.
It was fought in ledgers.
And someone—
Was profiting.
"Jin-sama!"
A Konoha Military Police chūnin stepped into the shop and bowed.
"Fugaku-sama requests your presence immediately."
So.
It wasn't just rumors.
Something bigger was moving.
Jin stood.
"Thank you for the meal."
Teuchi smiled calmly.
"Anytime."
Jin stepped back onto the street.
The whispers were louder now.
The narrative had already begun spreading.
Uchiha.
Prideful.
Ungrateful.
Greedy.
The script was being written.
And someone was directing it.
Jin adjusted the sword at his waist.
The original plan—testing Zanka no Tachi—would have to wait.
A storm wasn't coming.
It had already started.
And this time—
The Uchiha would not be caught standing still.
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