For a moment, Shigeo felt he had walked into the wrong play. Almost like he had crossed into another world.
At that moment, a fat figure waddled onto the stage. A cigar hung from his lips, a smile plastered across his face.
"Hyūga Shigeos, thanks to you, our business has reached a new level! We must grow the Shigeo brand larger and stronger, until the entire ninja world knows—Hyūga Shigeo is a hero!"
"As long as Shigeo exists, our money tree will never fall!" His voice whipped the crowd into excitement.
Shigeo tapped the bar with a finger and asked the bartender, "Who's that?"
"You don't know? That's the boss. You must be new. How much have you tithed? What's your rank?" The bartender smirked. "Shame my looks aren't good, or I'd have joined the impostor ranks myself."
"Rank?"
The bartender jerked his chin toward the big screen behind the stage. Shigeo followed his gaze. A massive board scrolled names. At the top: "Best Shigeo Rankings of the Year."
Below: first place, second, third… and so on.
They even ranked them?
"What's your name?"
"A-Mo."
"A-Mo, huh? You're not even on the list. That means you're the least convincing of all. No wonder." The bartender poured him a drink.
Shigeo raised a brow, eyes narrowing. The list had one hundred slots, all ranked by points. Yet here in this hall were far more than a hundred fakes.
"So many impostors. Don't you fear being exposed?"
"Fear what? The real one will take the heat. The Five Great Shinobi Villages already hate him. A year ago they wanted him dead. It's been a year. He hasn't shown up. Either he's dead or he's too scared to come out. So no matter how much noise we make, it doesn't matter!" The bartender looked smug.
Shigeo's face grew colder. Villages pressing from above, mobs stirring below—someone wanted him destroyed.
He downed the drink. Sweet and hot, not pleasant, but memorable.
"And the points?"
"That's money each person pays up. Look at first place—eighty million this year. Worth more than the top three black-market bounties combined. Bounty hunters spend years and may never catch their target. But here? Walk out, scam a few people, and the profits roll in. Work hard, kid. First, cut that long hair. The real Shigeo isn't long-haired."
The bartender rambled, but Shigeo gleaned plenty. The ship's master was a merchant, head of the ninja world's biggest underground syndicate—Lanxiangmen.
This syndicate produced all things "Shigeo." Hundreds of rogue ninja protected him.
Every impostor was registered under Lanxiangmen. They took missions from its outposts, income split 40/60. Four for the impostor, six for the syndicate.
But Lanxiangmen didn't care about their deaths. If an impostor provoked the wrong ninja, exposed himself, or got killed, it was his fault. Never betray Lanxiangmen. Or the boss would make him suffer worse than death.
On the surface, the impostors feasted and drank. But between them and Lanxiangmen it was only mutual exploitation.
Shigeo frowned at the host on stage.
Mutual exploitation he could ignore. But using his name for fraud—that he would not. Not here, though.
The bartender had said the true headquarters was on Tōmi-jima (Eastern Secret Island). That was their destination. There, they would pay.
He leaned on the bar, watching as the host rolled out a cart. A spotlight struck, the music stopped, every eye on the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment has come! After one year of our syndicate, Boss Lute has prepared generous rewards for you! Prizes for the top ten! After prizes, a talent show! Work hard and you'll all be rich!"
The crowd cheered.
Shigeo's voice cut through. Amplified with chakra, it reached all ears:
"Are you not afraid the real Shigeo will come to settle accounts?"
Silence, then laughter. Sneers.
"You joking? Shigeo showing up here? Ridiculous. The Five Villages' ANBU hunted him into hiding or death. Without our boss, his name would have faded already. Thanks to him, Shigeo is admired and envied. If he appeared, he'd kneel to thank our boss!"
The host's flattery drew wild applause.
Shigeo's finger tapped the bar. His blue eyes darkened with fire. He wanted to strike, seize Lute, and sink this ship.
But then—he saw the fat "boss" in the corner, bowing his head, apologizing to a shinobi. Shigeo froze.
This wasn't the true Lute. Just another impostor, resembling him.
(End of Chapter)
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