Fugaku stormed into the hall.
"Bastards," he muttered under his breath, barely holding back his rage. "They never think of what's truly good for the Uchiha. Why do they always make things difficult for me?"
His fists clenched as he walked forward, anger boiling in his chest.
For the first time in years, he had finally managed to ease relations with the village's higher-ups.
The walls between him and the Hokage's office were no longer unbreakable. He could speak directly now—negotiate, persuade, influence.
And more importantly—
He had received a promise.
The Hokage himself had assured him that after the war, Fugaku would be considered a Hokage candidate.
This war was his golden chance.
If the Uchiha supported Konoha during its funding crisis, if they bore the burden of supplying weapons and resources at reduced prices, and if they helped suppress the Hidden Mist decisively, then the entire village would witness their loyalty.
Their sacrifice.
Their dedication.
All Fugaku had to do was earn merit.
With no Sannin left to challenge the position, and with the White Fang already dead, fate itself seemed to have cleared the path for him.
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
And yet—
"The idiots of the Hawk faction still can't see it," Fugaku growled.
Just because of a child's words, they backed down. Worse, the war resources the Uchiha had been supplying cheaply had suddenly increased to five times the price.
Five times.
That single decision alone was enough to drown everything he had carefully planned.
Fugaku finally sat down, his face dark with fury, replaying every step of his strategy in his mind—each one collapsing under the weight of the Hawk faction's defiance.
It was then that two elders entered the hall.
Both wore expressions filled with concern.
Fugaku looked up, inhaled deeply, and laid everything bare—his discussions with the Hokage, the promises made, his vision for the clan's future, and how the Hawk faction's actions now threatened to destroy it all.
He expected advice.
Support.
Perhaps even a way to pressure Hawk into compliance.
But when he finished, the silence that followed was heavy.
The elders' expressions had grown complicated.
Conflicted.
On one hand, Toyoma's words echoed in their minds—his warnings, his doubts, his insistence that the village's promises were built on fragile trust.
On the other hand, Fugaku's opportunity felt real.
This was not blind optimism.
The Hokage's assurance carried weight.
Yet they also understood something deeply unsettling.
This path demanded immense sacrifice—from the clan alone.
And if anything went wrong…
There would be no retreat.
"Fugaku," the neutral faction elder finally said, his voice weary, "I understand your intentions. But what the Hawk faction says is not wrong either. The Uchiha have already sacrificed more than any other clan for the village."
He paused.
"And you know this… yet we have never truly received anything in return."
The Dove faction leader nodded calmly. "Our losses in previous wars were real. Because of that, there is truth in Hawk's distrust."
He met Fugaku's gaze directly.
"We cannot force them this time. If you wish to move forward, you must speak with the Hokage again. Otherwise… there is nothing more we can do."
The words sealed the deadlock.
Fugaku leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
He realised then that neither elder could help him.
Yet seeking help from the Hokage now would weaken his position. It would stain his plan, making it appear as though the Uchiha needed reassurance—or worse, permission.
And still—
He felt it clearly.
This was no longer just his deadlock.
It was a deadlock between him, the clan, and the village itself.
At the same time, inside Grandpa Setsuna's residence—
"Did you get what you asked for?" Setsuna asked, his tone calm.
"Yes, Grandpa," Toyoma replied. "Uncle Uzuku gave it to me this morning."
Setsuna's gaze shifted to the small chest beside Toyoma. Inside was all the gold he had kept in reserve—nearly twenty pounds. Handing it over had not been easy, yet he had not hesitated.
Toyoma stepped forward and placed two small pills on the low table.
"I have something that can help us make money," he said quietly.
Setsuna leaned closer, his sharp eyes examining them.
Toyoma picked up the first pill.
"This is an Energy Fasting Pill," he explained. "After long travel or continuous exhaustion, it restores vitality within moments. One pill keeps a person energetic and free from hunger for two days."
Uzuku stiffened slightly. Even village-issued pills dulled hunger for only a single day.
"But it must not be taken continuously,"
Toyoma added. "There must be a three-day gap. Otherwise, its effect weakens and strains the body."
Setsuna nodded slowly, already calculating.
Toyoma then pushed the second pill forward.
"And this is a Chakra Recovery Pill."
Setsuna's fingers froze.
"If a shinobi exhausts their chakra, this pill restores it fully within ten to fifteen minutes,"
Toyoma continued. "It can be used once every two days. Continuous use places severe stress on the body."
Silence followed.
Such a pill did not exist within the village.
"Toyoma…" Uzuku finally said, unable to hide his shock. "Where did you learn this?"
"I studied," Toyoma replied simply.
He did not elaborate.
"These pills cannot be easily replicated,"
Toyoma added. "Proper refinement requires understanding natural energy flow. Chakra can be used instead—but that reduces effectiveness by thirty to fifty per cent."
Uzuku inhaled sharply. "And without the method?"
"The pill fails," Toyoma said calmly.
"Completely."
Setsuna leaned back, a slow, dangerous smile forming.
"This isn't medicine," he said quietly.
"No, Grandpa," Toyoma replied. "It's leverage."
Toyoma fell silent, his thoughts moving far ahead.
These pills were the result of his fourth exchange—an inheritance from a Fourth-Grade Alchemist of a martial world. At first, it had felt useless. That world relied on qi. Its herbs did not exist here.
But inheritance was not about copying.
It was about understanding.
Once he grasped the principles behind refinement, Toyoma rewrote the technique—adapting qi into natural energy, researching substitutes, and identifying what this world lacked most.
The village already had fasting pills.
What it lacked was chakra recovery.
For one year, Toyoma refined, failed, and refined again—until these two pills were born. Along the way, he developed a natural energy refinement technique only he fully understood, and a weaker chakra-based method others could use.
Inferior—but sufficient.
Scarcity would create demand.
Limits would create dependence.
And dependence would create wealth.
Setsuna watched his grandson in silence.
Only now did he truly understand.
Fugaku was trying to seize the future by force.
Toyoma was building it quietly—brick by brick.
"Grandpa," Toyoma said quietly, breaking the silence, "we can sell the Energy Fasting Pill openly to other clans."
Setsuna looked up.
"But the Chakra Recovery Pill…" Toyoma continued, his voice lowering, "should be sold only in secret—through the Cat Clan's underground channels. There, it can fetch an extremely high price."
Setsuna's eyes narrowed.
Toyoma already understood the balance.
The Energy Fasting Pill could circulate openly. It would bring steady income, build influence, and—if the village ever needed it—the Uchiha could sell it to them as well.
At a price.
A price at least ten times higher than the Fasting pill cost.
After all, the pill itself costs only one-tenth of the fasting pills currently sold on the market.
As for the Chakra Recovery Pill—
That was different.
If the village learned of it, pressure would follow.
Demands.
Moral coercion.
Perhaps even attempts to seize the refining method.
But Toyoma was confident.
Given the village's current situation, they could only apply moral pressure—using the clan's sense of duty against the Hawk faction.
Force was not an option.
And if they tried?
From where Grandpa Setsuna now stood, it was clear.
No one could force the Hawk faction into submission anymore.
"This is a great opportunity," Setsuna said slowly. "We can earn as much wealth as we need. But Toyoma… how long does it take to learn your refining method?"
He frowned slightly.
"And more importantly, how do we teach it safely? If the method leaks, everything collapses. Others will profit from our knowledge."
Toyoma met his gaze calmly.
"Grandpa," he said, "for that… I need the method of secrecy you mentioned last time."
Setsuna froze.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
"…How could I forget?"
He stood and moved toward a hidden compartment, retrieving an old scroll sealed in dark red wax.
He placed it gently before Toyoma.
"Shinku no In," Setsuna said. "The Seal of the Bound Heart."
Toyoma's expression sharpened.
"This jutsu was used during the Warring States era to protect forbidden techniques and clan secrets," Setsuna explained.
"It is a genjutsu-based fuinjutsu."
He continued, voice heavy with history.
"A user can pass secret knowledge to another Uchiha by activating both Sharingan during the teaching process. Once completed, the knowledge is sealed within the heart chakra."
Uzuku stiffened as he listened.
"If the person later attempts to reveal that knowledge—whether under interrogation, coercion, or emotional pressure—the memory of the technique is destroyed."
Toyoma's eyes narrowed slightly.
"They forget it completely," Setsuna said. "As if it never existed."
It had been their greatest weapon against the Senju and other Yin-based clans skilled in interrogation.
"But after the village was established," Setsuna added quietly, "no one used it again."
Silence filled the room.
Toyoma slowly reached out and took the scroll.
"With this," he said, "we can teach only those we trust. Even if captured… even if broken… the method will never leave the clan."
Setsuna looked at his grandson for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Then it's decided."
Outside, the Uchiha argued over prices, pride, and politics.
Inside this room, something far more dangerous was sealed—not with weapons, but with knowledge that could never be stolen.
The war outside would decide who ruled the village.
But the choices made here—
Would decide who survived it.