Chapter 51 – Tsunade: What the Hell Is This? …Alright, I'll Bet.
Though he had serious doubts about Yujiro's moral compass,
Old Ban wasn't one to turn down free tuna cans and catnip.
After securing a promise from Yujiro, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya that no one would ever reveal who built these machines,
he gave in with a resigned sigh and got to work.
The Hakimi Construction Squad was absurdly efficient.
In just two hours, the first pachinko machine was complete.
By the end of the day, a whole row of them stood gleaming under the lamplight,
their metallic clinks and cheerful electronic jingles echoing across the hall.
"Ding-ding-dong! Ding-ding-ding!"
The hypnotic rhythm of the steel balls filled the air—
a siren's song calling out to every gambler within earshot.
---
Orochimaru frowned, tilting his head.
"Are you sure this is… acceptable?"
He was a man of science, after all—
a genius obsessed with jutsu, genetics, and forbidden knowledge—
not the kind who kept up with the latest trends in public entertainment.
Jiraiya, on the other hand, had seen things.
He knew exactly what kind of magic gambling held over people.
In every pleasure hall, every brothel, every smoky backroom,
there was always a man shouting, "Just one more round!"
After observing the machines for a while, he slowly nodded.
"I don't really get it," he admitted, "but… I've got a good feeling about this."
---
Orochimaru shrugged.
"If you say so. But if we don't find Tsunade within three days, I'm done looking."
"No problem," Yujiro said confidently.
He had full faith in his little steel-ball miracles.
In the 21st century of Earth, these machines were practically soul harvesters.
They seduced minds with lights, sounds, and flashing colors—
psychological warfare disguised as entertainment.
A perfect blend of addiction, hypnosis, and dopamine science.
If even grown men in another world couldn't resist them…
then what chance did Tsunade the Gambler have?
Absolutely none.
"Heh… heheheheh… heheheheheheheh…"
Yujiro's grin turned feral, his eyes glinting like lightning.
Both Jiraiya and Orochimaru took an instinctive half-step back.
Orochimaru turned his head away, pretending he didn't know him.
Jiraiya, meanwhile, gave an awkward cough and muttered:
"Uh… Yujiro, buddy… you, uh, remembered to take your medicine, right?"
---
Then, just as suddenly, Yujiro calmed down, his composure returning as if nothing had happened.
"Relax. The doctor says I'm perfectly fine."
He brushed the dust off his sleeves.
"Now, all that's left is to set up these pachinko beauties in the right place—
and wait for our lovely target to walk straight into the trap."
---
Konoha's reputation in the Land of Fire carried serious weight.
It wasn't yet the independent mercenary city-state Yujiro dreamed of—
but it was powerful enough to negotiate with local nobles.
Securing a partnership with a wealthy family that ran a major casino was easy.
Especially when Yujiro promised that, for the time being,
the pachinko profits would all go to the casino—
not a single coin taken by his team.
He'd even fund newspaper ads to promote it himself.
The casino manager, thinking he'd struck gold, could hardly contain his grin.
"A deal where I get all the profit and free publicity?
What kind of saint are you, my friend?"
He agreed immediately.
---
Within days, The New Konoha Times began publishing sensational headlines:
"THE DEMON MACHINE SWEEPING THE LAND OF FIRE!"
"ONCE YOU PLAY, YOU CAN'T STOP—THE ADDICTIVE HELL OF PACHINKO!"
"GAMBLERS REPORT NIGHT SWEATS AND TWITCHING WHEN DEPRIVED!"
The campaign was an instant success.
To the public, it looked like Yujiro had made a noble sacrifice—
giving away all profits just to "study gambling psychology."
In reality, he was using the hype to quietly expand The New Konoha Times
into the Fire Capital itself—
the true heart of the nation, overflowing with wealth, people, and trade.
Even at its most prosperous, Konoha couldn't compare to the capital's scale.
Factories belched smoke into the sky,
chimneys rose like steel mountains,
and the hum of machinery filled the air like the breath of an industrial beast.
Yujiro stood there for a long while, watching the horizon glow with smog and power.
A smile crept across his lips.
"One day," he murmured, "this… could all be mine."
Everything was ready.
The trap was set.
Now all that was left… was for Tsunade the Legendary Sucker to take the bait.
"Lay the snare for the tiger," Yujiro murmured with a smirk.
"Dangle the golden lure, and the dragon shall bite."
---
Elsewhere, in a quiet town's izakaya—
"What's that noise outside? Sounds like some new kind of racket. Go check it out," Tsunade muttered lazily.
She didn't know it yet, but the "racket" in question was her destiny jingling to life.
---
Yujiro's prediction had been absolutely correct.
Tsunade was well aware that Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and "that Uchiha brat" had been looking for her.
And yes—she had been intentionally avoiding them.
Because she was tired.
Tired of missions.
Tired of Konoha.
Tired of war.
Every memory of that village brought back the same crushing mix of grief and guilt—
death, failure, loss.
To escape those memories, she drowned herself in alcohol and gambling,
chasing brief, fleeting bursts of pleasure to numb the pain.
She knew it was meaningless.
She knew it was self-destructive.
But so what?
To her, even life itself had long since lost its meaning—
—or so she told herself.
The truth was, if she had truly given up on life,
she never would've lectured Naruto so fiercely in the future.
---
At one point, Yujiro had even considered dying his hair blond and walking up to her shouting,
"I'm gonna be Hokage someday!"
—just to trigger some "main character flag" and boost his favorability.
But after thinking it over, he sighed and dropped the idea.
Different games required different strategies.
What worked for Naruto wouldn't work for him.
---
Meanwhile, Tsunade swirled the sake in her cup, bored out of her mind.
"A little longer," she muttered. "Then those three idiots—Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and that Uchiha kid—will give up and go home. Then I can finally relax."
Across from her sat her ever-faithful apprentice, Shizune, clutching the piglet Tonton.
"Tsunade-sama…" Shizune said softly, with a weary sigh. "Would it really hurt to talk to Jiraiya-sama? He's… not that bad, right?"
"Ugh, spare me." Tsunade waved her hand dismissively. "I don't want anything to do with them anymore."
She slammed back her drink in one powerful gulp, wiped her mouth, and exhaled deeply.
"Aaaah! Now that's good sake!
Alright, Shizune—let's go have some real fun! I've got a feeling my luck's about to turn around!
Tonight's the night I win big!"
"Ah… Tsunade-sama…"
Shizune's expression was a portrait of despair.
Anyone who'd ever met Tsunade probably felt the same helpless frustration.
Leaving her alone would be easier,
but Shizune's sense of duty simply wouldn't allow it.
---
A few minutes later, Tsunade was scanning the streets with an eager grin.
"Now, which casino should I bless with my luck today…? Huh? What's that? 'Pachinko'?
What the hell kind of game is that?
Never heard of it before… but you know what?
Let's go play that!
Heheheh! Let's go, Shizune!"
"Oh no…"
---
Hours later.
Inside the pachinko hall, Tsunade sat frozen in front of a glittering machine,
her eyes wide, reflecting the cascade of falling steel balls.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
She pulled the lever again—nothing.
Again—still nothing.
All around her, the music played, lights flashed,
and the jackpot's siren song taunted her from behind the glass case—
a mountain of shining steel balls she almost owned.
Just one more shot. Just one more ball.
She could feel it—
the next one was going to hit!
"Shizune! Go exchange more balls!"
Tsunade barked the order without taking her eyes off the screen.
But Shizune didn't move.
Tsunade's expression darkened.
"What's wrong? Don't kill the mood now—just do it after I win!"
Shizune sighed deeply, then answered in a calm, almost resigned tone:
"Tsunade-sama… we're out of money."
"Huh?"
"All of it.
The full one hundred million ryō… is gone."
Tsunade blinked.
The lights of the pachinko machine continued to flash in her blank, empty eyes.
---
And thus, the main victim of Uchiha Yujiro's "Operation Pachinko" fell exactly as planned.
---