Pre-Chapter A/N:I think at this point, we just have to accept that I will inevitably show up with two chapters a week. As for when those chapters show up, I think it's best I not make any particular promises. If you haven't already, I recommend turning on notifications for my stuff so you can see when new stuff drops right as it drops. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
XXXXXX- THE THIEF
"Did you get it?" his benefactor asked as he walked into the cave.
"I still don't see why we have to keep meeting in caves. You have the gold to pay me. Surely you could find something better than… this," he said, gesturing to their surroundings. He did not bother looking around again. He had already scanned it upon entry. It was just like every other cave he and his benefactor had met in. Cold, damp, and altogether unremarkable.
"Do I look like I have the patience for your games, boy?" his benefactor asked.
"Well, that depends on you, doesn't it, old man?"
"I will remove those eyes from your skull and make you suffer in ways humankind has never seen before if you continue to defy me. Now answer my question." He suddenly felt the air in the cave become choking. It heated up to a level that it was too uncomfortable to even breathe and it was all he could do to avoid falling to his knees from the force of the chakra bearing down on him.
"I-I got it," he barely managed to stammer out, and then his legs were free again.
"Good. Now just maintain this behavior henceforth, is that too much to ask?" his benefactor asked. He grumbled, but did not reply.
And then his knees were on the floor again. "I asked you a question."
"N-n-n-no. No," he stammered out.
"Indeed. Now bring it to me." His benefactor stretched out his hands.
"What do you even need this for?" he asked, taking out the black scroll that had been given to him and unsealing the subject of his most recent theft.
"Do you know what that is?" his benefactor asked.
"Some ceremonial fan that Kumo cares a lot about for some reason?" His benefactor's laughter bounced off the cave's walls then.
"Ceremonial fan? You held it and you don't realise the value of what you held?" his benefactor asked, the old man's form now stepping into the light.
"Yeah, can you just get to the point?"
"I suppose now that you have completed your part of the bargain, you can be let into the secret. This, my foolish boy, is one of the treasured tools of the Sage of Six Paths himself. And adding this to my collection means I now have nine out of twelve of his great tools."
"Nine? I only helped you steal four things."
"Did you assume you were the only one to ever take up my missions? In truth, you just happen to be the most successful. Your compatibility with the eye is worthy of note."
"So you need me to get the remaining three and then what happens?" he asked, feeling a familiar feeling well up in his stomach. This was a good gig. A very good gig. Each theft he'd had to commit had been rewarded with a million and a half ryo. Four thefts meant six million. Of course, he hadn't been living like a monk all that while so he had only four million left to his name. Another four and a half million would go far, but if he wanted to maintain his present lifestyle he'd need more.
"I like you, boy. You remind me of a different version of myself. Of what I could have become if I never managed to find glorious purpose," the old man said.
"Always happy to help, you know? Whether it be stealing or giving reminders. I'm down for it all," he said. The old man scoffed.
"Of course. Now tell me that you weren't trying to find out what would happen once I gathered the set so that you could use that as a bargaining chip to have your pay increased," the old man said, and he froze on hearing the words. He slowly craned his neck towards the old man standing above him. Could he—
"Read minds?" Kira snapped up in alarm, turning and beginning to run out of the cave. What the actual—
Kira, missing-nin of Kirigakure, would be found dead a matter of days later and his bounty would be collected not long after that.
XXXXX- SHORIRAMA SENJU (ONE MONTH AFTER THE BOMBING OF KONOHA)
"So you want an entirely new Hokage tower?" Shika asked, looking doubtful about the proposition.
"I think this one is functional for the time being, and it would make sense to have this converted for a different purpose after I move out, but yes. I want to move the administrative heart of Konoha," I said.
"Where?"
I pointed at the spot I'd already marked out on the map. We had finished clearing all the rubble and now it was time for reconstruction in the civilian district to begin in full swing.
"You want to move the Hokage tower to the middle of the civilian district?" she asked.
"Exactly. The tower is many things— but I think more importantly than any other role it serves is the role it serves as the heart of the village. For too long has the heart of the village been separate from her civilian population."
"I don't think they'll appreciate you making the civilian district even more cramped as much as you think they will. These are merchants. If you want them to like you, give them a tax break or something," she said.
"It's not just about making them like me, Shika. It's more than that. What do you think the civilian to shinobi population split is?"
"Accounting for casualties?" she asked.
"Of course."
"Two to one?" she tried.
"More like three to one. The census data is over there if you want to check it out," I said, pointing towards my file cabinet.
"You want to tap the civilian children to replenish our numbers," she said.
"I knew you'd get it. Moving the tower will normalize shinobi to the civilians, while also giving the children the exposure necessary to shinobi for them to begin dreaming of being one," I said, making my thinking on the matter clear.
"Why do I still feel that all this could be achieved without moving the tower itself though?"
"Sure, I could look into other programs that could help both goals be achieved. My Granduncle heavily subsidized D-rank missions for Konoha residents so they would get more missions, be exposed to more shinobi and grow to have an altogether positive outlook on us that they could then leave to their children in turn. My Grandfather frequently held conversations with the civilians trying to get more and more of them used to the concept of shinobi. You know this is both new and not new, right?" I asked, gesturing to the village itself.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the idea of shinobi and non-shinobi coexisting in the same space. Even in the warring clans period, the clans had civilians who followed them about. They needed a loyal workforce to blacksmith for them, farm for them, in some cases, even treat them when they were wounded. For example, the famous Nara clan repository of herbs was mainly compiled by civilian members of the clan. The problem is that those civilians were almost always just that— members of the clans. They shared blood relations to the shinobi around them so the distrust that naturally came towards shinobi was much easier to navigate with something as strong as blood tying them all together."
"And here, we have none of that to help," Shika said.
"Exactly."
"I still don't think moving the tower is the only way to do that."
"I agree. But it achieves the most with the least effort, and maybe most importantly, it gives a promise to the civilian population."
"Which is?"
"This will never happen again. The tower standing strong and unbowed in their middle should give them more confidence in Konoha's protective umbrella which we cover them with."
"Of course that entire message falls kind of flat when you remember that the reason the tower is being moved is because it was destroyed in the first series of attacks," she said.
"Well, that won't matter in a generation or two. They'll grow up under the shadow of the Hokage tower. They will look to it— to me for protection in their darkest hours and I will not forsake them."
"And at what step in this plan of yours do we begin to pray to you and call you Kami-sama?" she asked.
"Oh, that's at the endgame. Step ninety-four," I said, chuckling. Shika herself did not laugh though. Instead, she pinned me with a serious look.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yes, really," she said.
"I'm not trying to become a god, Shikahime," I said with a sigh.
"I find that hard to believe, but I will take your word for it for now. Because I hope you've not forgotten what happens to false gods. I'll look into setting the groundwork for the relocation and have the architects mock up a budget proposal," she said, turning and marching her way out of the room.
"Shika?" I called after her.
"Yes, Shori?"
"Thank you, but if I ever name myself a god, you best be sure I will not be a false one," I said. She nodded, face lacking expression as she left.
XXXXX—
It only took twenty minutes after Shika had left for my next appointment to be at the door. I had Retsu bring him in while I waited patiently behind my desk. While the meeting with Shika had been about bringing her around to my way ofthinking on an issue, this meeting was about the opposite. The civilian catastrophe, while tragic, had left me with an unexpected windfall.
Orphans. A lot of them. And two men were going to try to convince me to allocate the majority of this unexpected resource their way. The light or the dark of Konoha. It was going to be one or the other. And their jobs were to make my decision as easy as possible.
"Come in, Toshiro," I said, when I heard his second set of knocks.
He swung the door open.
"This looks impressively good these days," he said, referring to the tower.
"It's still temporary. We'll be moving sooner or later," I said.
"Oh."
"So impress me," I said.
"The academy program should be lengthened to eight years," he began. I lifted a brow. That was an interesting way to make your case for being assigned a set of orphans.
"Expatiate," I ordered.
"The present academy program is impressive, as you know, but it is poorly suited for helping the civilian populace to develop at a relative pace to, and even compete with the clan children," he started. Well, this had piqued my interest.
"You are one of the strongest Jounin in the village," I said instantly, giving him the low-hanging counterpoint.
"And that is both in spite of the academy, and because of you."
"Because of me? What do I have to do with anything?"
"You're going to pretend like you didn't do it on purpose, Shori? Showing me the basics of fuinjutsu, helping me refine my chakra control with techniques we never learned at the academy but which Sensei had somehow expected us to know? That's not even mentioning the sparring. Hanging out at your clan compound had me sparring with people from our class, the class above us, sometimes even full genin when they were available. Every— most clan shinobi has access to that just by virtue of being born. I wouldn't have gotten the same exposure if I didn't have you as a classmate and if you hadn't somehow decided that I was worth both your time and your attention. You were the sun for me, Shori. Without you I would never have dared to bloom as I have. I would probably have died in months after becoming a genin, if I'd even made it that far."
"Now you're exaggerating," I said, touched with his words, but also not certain why Toshiro had taken the route of flattery to win this.
"Am I? In truth, before you gave me this position, I was jealous. Jealous of both you and Uzume. I'm one of the strongest jounin in this village but I couldn't even think about coming close to what you managed last month. Uzume is just as strong. I worked just as hard as the both of you, I felt. So why was I so weak in comparison. It was because of birth," he said, and where the words indicated that I should have expected to hear resentment in his tone, maybe jealousy at the lightest, the only thing I could hear was a grim acceptance. A grim acceptance that was not pleasing to me. I would never accept anyone being stronger than me. I'd rage against it, fight the light until the day I died. Why was he just going calmly?
"But then I got the position, and the clearance level to see numbers that I'm sure everyone who's held this chair before you would rather remain hidden."
"Hmm? A scandal of some sort? One Granduncle and Grandfather would both want to see hidden. Colour me curious."
"Do you know that I am one of only two jounin from a fully civilian background in the village?" What?
"That can't be true," I said instantly.
"I can show it to you. The other is a Tokubetsu Jounin working in Intelligence," he said.
"Did the others die in the war?"
"Nope. There were two of us before the war, and two after. Jounin with civilian backgrounds actually have a 100% survival rate in war," he said, smiling cheekily.
"All two of you," I said, still not able to make sense of the number.
"That wasn't the statistic that got to me though. A good number of shinobi from civilian backgrounds never make it past Chunin. That's fine. Most shinobi don't make it past chunin in the first place. That's what it means to be a Jounin— to be one of a rare core of elites. What shocked me are the numbers of shinobi with fully civilian backgrounds that survive their first two years as shinobi." His tone told me the answer wasn't one I really wanted to hear.
"The answer is 42%. Less than half the shinobi with fully civilian backgrounds who make it past the academy manage to survive two years doing this. Statistically, this is where I would have ended up without you. Dead in a ditch somewhere," he said.
"I don't believe you. Maybe you're reading the data wrong," I said. Because that could not be true. Because Granduncle would have done something about it. He wouldn't just keep sending children to their deaths. He wouldn't have put his hand on my shoulder and used me as a rallying cry to get people of all backgrounds to join the academy if he knew most of them would fucking die.
"I thought you'd say that," he said, plopping a scroll down in front of me. He unsealed a stack of folders. It reached so high I couldn't see him from behind them without craning my neck pretty steeply.
I picked the first one down from the top of the pile, having to stretch my hand and raise myself off my seat a small bit to do so, and began to read as he spoke.
"Most of them managed to make it to the general genin corps. But from there, their fates diverge widely. Some of them manage to make it onto chunin squads and die in their second or third C-rank. Others group up together, go on D-ranks for a year, and then die on their first C-rank. And perhaps the worst is the category that are talented enough to make it to jounin squads with clan genin."
"Those like you," I added, as I flipped through the file, each document told the same story. Genin, mission, dead.
"Yes. Those ones manage to survive for significantly longer. They make it past their first year in 72% of cases. And then die in their second in 94% of the remaining cases."
"What?" I asked, head snapping up from the file. The name I'd been reading sticking in my mind— Yosuke Kira, dead in a C-rank mission before he even turned eleven.
"What do you think causes it?" he asked.
"Carelessness?" That was the biggest cause of death for shinobi, funny enough. For all the talk of how our profession made us naturally paranoid and whatnot, we were shockingly good at getting complacent. It was probably because the human mind just could not stay dialed in 24/7 forever. Something had to give. Complacency would set in once the brain was convinced that the danger had passed, and then there would be a dead shinobi not long after. It was a tale as old as time.
"Nope. Over 90% of the fatalities occurred after one of the original genin team was promoted to chunin. They'd lose a teammate in anything from one to four missions. The longest they managed to survive was seven missions," he said.
"Because it is standard practice for the Jounin to be reassigned to high value missions while the chunin takes operational team lead," I surmised, picking up the next file.
"Exactly."
"So what do you want?"
"You've seen the data now. Help me design a curriculum that achieves your Grandfather's dream. 'No more should our children need to pick up swords and die in our wars' is what you told me he said on founding this village. Let's make that a reality, Shori," he said, stretching out his hand. I took it, accepting his handshake.
"You're still going to have to convince me to give you those orphans though," I said, watching as his smile slid off his face.
"But—"
"You've convinced me a new curriculum is necessary. The data is damning and someone will have to answer for it, but you haven't convinced me as to why these children should go to you and not Shiba."
"Shiba is going to turn them into expendable tools. Bombs that he'd have no problem triggering himself if he felt it would give us the advantage," he said.
"All for the good of Konoha. Convince me that investing even more into these children will be worth it," I said.
A/N: And that's the chapter. In a lot of ways, Shori makes the same mistakes Hiruzen does, but he rationalizes it for the greater good. Shiba will never become another Danzo. But you should know by now that Shori is not above making sacrifices where he deems them necessary. Next six up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.