"Such enormous expenditures?"
The Fire Daimyō took the ledger from Uchiha Makoto and skimmed through it from beginning to end. His brows slowly knitted together. He had never imagined that training ninja could burn money at such a terrifying rate.
"Training resources, logistical maintenance, post-war subsidies, compensation funds, weapons and equipment…"
Every single item devoured funds like fire consuming oil. Nearly two-thirds of the budget had already been spent—meaning six billion ryō out of the nine billion ryō had vanished.
This rate of expenditure was something he had never even heard of.
"These ninja will, without exception, remain loyal to Your Highness and defend you."
Makoto added this at just the right moment.
Which was technically true—Amegakure's ninja would protect the Fire Daimyō.
As for which Fire Daimyō in the future… that was another matter.
The Fire Daimyō fell silent.
At this point, Makoto had already laid everything out plainly. If he continued to nitpick, it would only make him look petty.
He didn't even bother to verify the accounts.
Konoha's ninja were powerful beyond measure, and Senju Hashirama was practically unstoppable. When the critical moment came, if he lacked a ninja force absolutely loyal to him, who knew what kind of disaster might unfold?
No matter how one looked at it—
Compared to Senju Hashirama, Uchiha Makoto was unquestionably loyal.
Thus, the Fire Daimyō selectively forgot the earlier unpleasantness. Since the matter had already escalated this far, it was better to discuss damage control.
This time, there was no Konoha to take the blame.
"Your Highness," Makoto said calmly,
"in a way, this is actually a good thing. The market is a complete mess right now—everyone wants to stir the pot. A pot stirred like that can't feed anyone."
"We might as well use this opportunity to reorganize the salt market. Unified production, unified distribution—clear out all the riffraff. That way, everyone earns more."
Makoto had planned this long ago.
At present, neither the great nobles nor the Daimyō were making much money. But a unified market? That meant enormous profits. Everyone knew this—it was just that no one had the power to do it before.
Now, Amegakure had stepped forward under the Fire Daimyō's banner and done exactly what they had always wanted to do.
As long as利益分配—profit-sharing—was handled properly, the nobles would stop making noise.
Amegakure never intended to eat everything alone.
Eating alone was the fastest way to choke to death.
Konoha simply hadn't reacted yet. The longer this dragged on, the more variables would appear.
Makoto planned to take thirty-five percent of the profits as payment for providing the military force that enforced the monopoly. The remaining sixty-five percent would be divided among the Fire Country's elite.
The Fire Daimyō himself would likely take thirty-five percent.
The top-tier great nobles would split another thirty percent.
To complete a rapid monopoly integration of the salt market—production sites, raw materials, labor, distribution channels—
This enormously complex system still had to rely on the Fire Country's aristocracy.
After all, at this stage, ninja were excellent at killing people—but asking them to actually run factories and logistics chains was simply unrealistic.
Everyone contributes.
Everyone benefits.
"Very well," the Fire Daimyō nodded. "We'll proceed as you suggest."
He had never intended to pull Amegakure out halfway. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—worth taking risks for.
He would work to persuade the great nobles to agree to the salt monopoly. The process would be complex, but he was confident.
After all, the great nobles were far from united themselves—internal conflicts were everywhere.
Amegakure, meanwhile, would provide military backing.
Their main task: physically removing the most stubborn nobles.
Divide one faction.
Crush another.
With that approach, success was well within reach.
Although this violated long-standing traditions—Daimyō were never supposed to let ninja interfere in politics or economics—
Money was money.
In the past, the treasury had never been this strained. If things continued like this, those bastards would start collecting grain taxes ten years in advance.
Besides, Amegakure had already reached into the economic sphere. Even the Fire Daimyō couldn't think of a good countermeasure.
He couldn't exactly send Konoha to attack Amegakure.
After all, Amegakure was short on money because it was training ninja to counter Konoha.
The Fire Daimyō had no intention of blocking both ends of the road at once.
Once the agreement was reached, Makoto declined the Daimyō's invitation to stay in the capital and immediately returned to Amegakure.
Several days later, he received good news:
An Uzumaki clan delegation had arrived.
Makoto personally led a welcoming ceremony five kilometers outside the village, greeting the delegation right on schedule.
"Welcome to Amegakure," he said.
"You're too kind, Light Shadow," replied Uzumaki Shinji.
Shinji was the current head of the Uzumaki clan.
He had come in person to discuss an alliance with Amegakure.
As for joining Amegakure—
That had never even crossed the Uzumaki clan's mind.
They hadn't joined Konoha. Why would they join Amegakure?
To be precise, it wasn't that the Uzumaki clan didn't want to join Konoha.
It was that the Senju clan had completely chilled their hearts.
The Uzumaki and Senju had been bound by deep ties—practically life-and-death allies. Yet when something as monumental as founding a village occurred, at the most critical moment—
The Senju clan kicked the Uzumaki aside without even informing them, choosing instead to ally with the Uchiha.
Only after everything was settled did they casually come back and ask:
"Would you like to join the village founded by the Senju and Uchiha?"
From rightful partner to afterthought.
Not even a founding member.
Did the Senju really think the Uzumaki clan was just Uzumaki Mito to be 'handled' however they liked?!
Thus, the Uzumaki clan rejected Konoha's invitation—once, twice—intending to test the Senju's sincerity.
They planned to accept on the third invitation, gaining the reputation of being "thrice-invited," proving their standing within Konoha.
Even if we aren't founders, our status should be no different from founders.
And then—
There was no third invitation.
"Your wishes are respected. The Senju clan and Konoha will always be friends of the Uzumaki."
That was Hashirama's reply.
When Uzumaki Shinji read the letter, his soul nearly shattered.
They had completely misread him.
But the damage was done.
The Uzumaki clan still had pride. If they crawled back now, how could they ever stand tall in Konoha again?
After formal pleasantries, the two groups merged and headed toward Amegakure. Along the way, Uzumaki Shinji struck up conversation with Makoto.
To build such a large village without relying on clan backing—just that alone was worthy of admiration.
And Makoto was young. His future was limitless.
As they walked, villagers constantly bowed to Makoto.
Women looked at him with gratitude, hope shining in their eyes.
Shinji grew increasingly curious.
Building a strong ninja village was already difficult.
But to earn this level of trust and goodwill from ordinary civilians?
That was nearly impossible.
Most civilians only ever felt fear and awe toward ninja.
The moment he entered Amegakure, Shinji sensed a pervasive atmosphere.
Makoto did not hide anything.
The women they had seen were mothers, sisters, and relatives of students from the ninja academy.
To strengthen cohesion and increase the loyalty of reserve ninja, Makoto had not only recruited students—he had relocated their entire families to Amegakure.
With their families in his hands, betrayal was no longer a concern.
But settling these people was troublesome.
This was a war-torn era. Even Fire Country nobles struggled—let alone poor farmers and housewives arriving with entire families, mouths to feed.
Makoto had no choice but to launch massive infrastructure projects.
Men with strength were organized to build roads.
Women were sent to textile factories established by the village. Most already knew basic weaving—after training, they became competent workers. The academy uniforms were sewn by their hands.
No one was allowed to idle.
Everyone worked.
Two meals a day. Wages paid. More work meant more pay.
At present, the textile industry wasn't profitable—light industry had thin margins without scale. Makoto was effectively operating at a loss.
For a ninja village—a purely military organization—spending precious funds this way was madness.
But Makoto did it anyway.
Because unlike Konoha, with its deep foundations, Amegakure would always be at a disadvantage.
Makoto knew the First Shinobi World War would be a meat grinder.
Cannon-fodder ninja would die or be crippled—forever unable to return to duty.
Their families would suffer the most.
What Makoto was doing now was sending a message:
Amegakure would take responsibility.
Die for the village, and your family would still live with dignity—steady work, compensation, a future.
Over time, this mindset would seep into every corner of life.
Even weak civilian-born genin would not fear death.
In a critical moment, even a "trash-tier" genin would dare to strap explosive tags to their body and shout:
"Everything for the Light Shadow!"
And trade their life for a jōnin.
As for becoming a missing-nin?
Heh.
Raising death-commandos was never cheap.
Slogans alone were worthless.
"Protect Konoha is protecting your home?"
That might fool someone like Uzumaki Naruto.
And Naruto was already bound to Konoha by birth—son of the Fourth Hokage, descendant of Uzumaki Mito, apprentice of the Third Hokage's line.
He couldn't leave even if he wanted to.
But most ordinary ninja?
Their relationship with Konoha was purely transactional.
Good missions, good pay—they stayed.
Push too far, and they left.
That was why missing-nin flooded the world after every war.
You pay me this little, and you expect my life too?
Makoto spoke at length, emphasizing the importance of stable employment for ninja families.
Who didn't like a guaranteed position?
"I see…" Uzumaki Shinji nodded, only half understanding.
He couldn't fully grasp the commercial aspects—but he could clearly see this village's terrifying war potential.
When the time came—
These ninja would truly fight to the death.
Mercenaries and believers were not the same.
"Hm… looks like a thigh just as thick as Konoha's."
"Then we absolutely have to cling to it."
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