Good grief…
After clocking out from the Hokage Tower, the "Head of the Shinobi World" and his family returned to the Uchiha compound. Soren Uchiha and Zhili Uchiha made their way to the former residence of the late Elder Uchiha Hoka.
Once inside and after a few polite exchanges between the two families, Soren finally saw the baby in a woman's arms—Uchiha Mikoto.
The cuter the baby looked, the more Soren's heart could only silently scream:
How is she this adorable?
Is this some casual move by Hagoromo? Or did Indra just refuse to be picky anymore?
Under the gaze of his Eternal Mangekyō, empowered by his refined power, Soren could clearly see it—inside Mikoto's tiny body flowed an incredibly pure, vast, half-ethereal yin-nature chakra.
He did not probe further.
At this age, even the gentlest foreign chakra could injure her—and any attempt to test it would risk alerting whoever (or whatever) lay behind it.
So that makes Uzumaki Kushina the reincarnation of Asura, then…
The two brothers fated to kill each other… now reborn as two tea-scented little sisters. Cute upgrade, problematic baggage.
Question is—can I erase Indra and Asura's will, let Mikoto and Kushina inherit all the benefits… and none of the curses?
Madara had already been recognized by the system as dead, but Indra's chakra had successfully reincarnated.
That alone proved they were not the same entity.
So, if he erased Indra's mental imprint, Mikoto could still inherit everything—pure power without the obsession. That was a guaranteed jump straight into Super Kage territory at minimum.
And after all the effort I've put in to reconcile Uchiha and Senju… I'm not letting those two brothers mess it up again.
Thinking of his own "days and nights of effort" over the years, Soren's eyes narrowed faintly.
After saying his farewells to Mikoto's family, he headed to Uzumaki Mito's residence—where he saw the reincarnation of Asura: Uzumaki Kushina.
In Mito's arms, Kushina slept soundly.
Soren, meanwhile, rested his head comfortably in Mito's lap like a particularly clingy cat.
"Get up. Minako will be here any moment."
Mito's voice carried both dignity and the helplessness of someone used to this man's nonsense. Soren lifted his eyes to look at Kushina's tiny back, a bit regretful that the "mountains" that once shielded half the sky were now out of reach.
He could only feel the tension in the legs supporting his head.
Breathing in the refined fragrance unique to a noblewoman, he said slowly:
"Lady Mito, Minako's still in the kitchen. She won't be out for a while."
"Even so, you can't stay like this. If she sees you, she'll misunderstand."
Mito's urgency made Soren blink, then he chuckled.
"And what exactly would she misunderstand?"
Mito opened her mouth—but no words came.
Her expression was complicated.
Ever since they had fought Madara together, Soren had once again "experienced" this noblewoman's lap pillow—this time in the Senju compound itself.
"It's fine, Lady Mito."
Soren sensed she was about to push him away and smoothly gave her an excuse.
"Didn't you say Minako is like an older sister to me?"
"Then right now, I'm just resting on my dear mother-in-law's lap. Nothing strange about that, is there?"
(Everything about this is strange.)
My Lord Head of the Shinobi World, you're dangerously good at twisting logic…
Mito had been moments away from shoving him off her lap with the power of a seasoned kunoichi. After a sigh and a glance at the peacefully sleeping Kushina, she silently accepted that she'd somehow gained another "son" to look after.
Just before Minako returned, Soren left a Shadow Clone behind and sent his real body back to his own home.
If he didn't take care of the three women in his own house—especially Hikari—there would be no "exploration" or "side missions" for him anywhere else.
Night Moves
That night, the Head of the Shinobi World once again shared a warm pile of futons with his entire household.
Pinned tightly by Hikari, who clung to him like an octopus and refused to let go, Soren quietly produced the crystal ball—projecting his consciousness into Uzumaki Minako's room.
You play tricks, I play tricks. I have my own ways around your "guard dog," Hikari.
With a quiet surge of his power, the body left in the bed became a shell—an animated "puppet" imprinted with the Eight-Thousand Spears seal, complete with a warning trigger.
The instant anyone woke up or tried to move him, it would alert Soren.
His true body—without the Eight-Thousand Spears mark—slipped gently into Minako's arms instead.
The night moved on.
After a long, quiet moment, Soren traced Minako's back lightly.
"Minako. Once things settle down on the other continent… have a child with me."
Her entire body trembled.
"You… finally said it…"
Tears gathered in her blue eyes, spilling over like pearls.
Bathed in soft moonlight, that mixture of shyness and joy made her seem both pure and dangerously captivating.
"I thought… because of my position… you didn't want…"
"Nonsense."
He cut her off, turning over and looking into her eyes.
His hand brushed her cheek lightly.
"If I didn't want this, you think I'd be thinking about you all the time?"
She sniffed softly, but her lips still pouted.
"Then don't always come to me in the middle of the night… some of us need beauty sleep, you know."
The warmth of his hand on her face made her eyes mist further. After a small complaint, she looped her arms around his neck.
"Next time… come earlier."
Soren fell silent for a moment.
Then:
"I'll do my best to arrange things at home. Once the time is right… I'll make your position clear."
Minako's response was immediate—and firm.
"I don't want that."
That actually surprised him.
Then she murmured a line that sent his blood surging despite himself:
"Doesn't it sound far more thrilling… if the main wife of the Senju clan quietly gives you a secret child?"
Soren could only grit his teeth.
"You little temptress."
The night passed quickly.
Dawn once again touched Konoha.
The Kingdom Under New Management
On the other continent, unbeknownst to the Re-Estize high command, the entire port city of E-Naeul had quietly fallen into shinobi hands.
A continent-scale teleportation array carved into the count's castle hummed steadily, sending in waves of combat shinobi and civilian support shinobi to stabilize daily life.
Of the kingdom's nine major cities, the southern city Re-Bororol and the eastern military port Re-Ulovar were already being infiltrated.
Near Re-Bororol, in a large military camp, Uchiha Naka—disguised with transformation jutsu—had already taken the position of a senior officer, meeting the man who looked like a hardened veteran—Marquis Bororol.
"Pathetic," Naka thought, though his face remained loyal and respectful.
"But… your weakness is why we'll take this place so easily."
Once he assumed Bororol's identity, controlling the five-thousand-strong garrison became trivial. With the marquis' unquestioned noble authority and the overwhelming might of shinobi, they began methodically inserting Konoha combat shinobi into the army's structure.
Control of the entire city of Re-Bororol smoothly shifted into shinobi hands.
In Re-Ulovar, the same "new faces" were appearing—strange accents, unfamiliar facial lines, different styles of dress.
They were quickly dispersing throughout the whole Re-Estize Kingdom—from its northern edge all the way south—occupying every major city and fortress via subtle replacement.
The upper echelons changed quietly.
For most people at the bottom, life continued as always.
Perhaps there were some whispers about "new officials" with unfamiliar faces.
But work remained the same.
The streets were still the same.
Life went on.
The Four Weapons and the "Perfect" Job
At the Adventurers Guild of E-Naeul, a sudden, named request had summoned the city's most famous mythril-ranked party—Four Weapons.
They gathered in a private room on the second floor, the atmosphere serious.
Their captain, warrior Sukarma Opero, read from the parchment:
"Escort a noble from the count's castle. Route: E-Naeul to the capital Re-Estize, then onward to the fortress city E-Rantel. North to south, crossing the kingdom. Round-trip time: about one month."
"During that month, we ensure the target's safety, instruct them in martial skills and magic, and obey any command they give us—so long as it doesn't directly threaten our lives."
"Payment: the ruling rights over a nearby town."
"In other words—we'd go from wandering adventurers to lords. If we back out after accepting, the cancellation penalty is so high we could never repay it in our lifetime."
Sukarma leaned back, silver-dyed hair falling over her shoulder.
Her natural hair color was the kingdom's common gold, but she had dyed it silver deliberately—to stand out. The striking look doubled as free advertising for her party.
With a high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, and sharp lines, she was both a beautiful woman and a nearly-mithril-level warrior.
"Thoughts?" she asked. "Payment and penalty are both outrageous. Say your piece."
A woman in a very "aggressively styled" cleric's outfit—complete with dyed pink hair and fishnet stockings—let out a soft, exaggerated sigh.
This was Lilinette Biane, a powerful earth-priestess famous for three things: her beauty, her magic, and her complete lack of restraint once her imagination ran wild.
"Honestly, I say we take it. We're talking about going from living day-to-day to being actual rulers…"
Her eyes sparkled in a way that made the three men instinctively wary—though this time, she didn't say anything overtly indecent.
The party's thief, a weathered man in his thirties, spoke up.
"If we're talking numbers… Ten gold coins can keep a family of three living well for a year. We pull about four thousand in a good year as a party."
"An average town brings in… maybe eight hundred to a thousand gold in tax. Being a coastal region, let's say nine hundred."
"On paper, adventuring looks more profitable."
The mage shook his head.
"That's too simple a comparison. We earn more, yes—but we also burn more to stay alive."
"Between my staff and Lilinette's, that's six thousand gold right there."
"Your armor and enchanted axe, Captain? Seven thousand."
"Not to mention consumables—potions, scrolls. One injury, one bad fight, and an entire year's earnings vanish."
He tapped the table quietly.
"And if we end up crippled… or dead… extra money doesn't matter."
Sukarma's fingers tightened.
He was right.
Even with their fame, their line of work was one misstep away from disaster.
The thief continued.
"As nobles, we won't need to pay to maintain gear just to survive. We won't be effectively working for blacksmiths and alchemists anymore."
"No more sleeping in cold inns or on hard ground. Hot food, clean beds, regular baths."
"Nine hundred gold a year might not sound like much, but for four people, that's an easy, comfortable life."
"If we manage the town well, it could grow into a city. Then we'd be sitting on a mountain of wealth without crawling through monster nests for it. Our children would never have to hold a sword for coin unless they wanted to."
Both women nodded unconsciously.
Sukarma spoke again.
"The route is familiar. We've traveled from here to the capital and to E-Rantel before. Mid-tier adventurers could handle the escort; they don't actually need us."
"So why is the reward at the level of our lives?"
Lilinette's expression turned serious.
"You're worried about the clause: 'obey all commands that don't endanger our lives'."
Sukarma nodded.
"If they misuse it, we have very little room to refuse."
Lilinette tapped her staff lightly, thinking.
"We could always go meet the client and gauge them ourselves."
"Tried," Sukarma said. "The new guildmaster refused to share details. His meaning was clear: if we won't take it, they'll give it to someone else."
The mage and the thief spoke in unison:
"We can't let that happen."
"We've risked our lives for years for scraps compared to this. One month of escort work is cheap for a lifetime of stability."
Sukarma frowned slightly.
"What if the client has… unacceptable demands?"
The mage's gaze cooled.
"If it truly comes to that—if they cross a line—we can abandon the contract. E-Rantel is close to both the Empire and the Theocracy."
"If we can't pay the penalty, we evade it. With our skills, we can survive anywhere."
Old achievements, their hard-earned reputation, everything they'd built in E-Naeul… would vanish overnight.
But so would the risk.
Sukarma pressed her lips together.
They all knew the cost.
"Then we prepare both paths," she decided at last. "We take the job—and we prepare to walk away if we must."
The others nodded.
Decision made, she left the room and headed toward the guildmaster's office on the far side of the second floor.
Inside, she found the new guildmaster, a middle-aged man with black, spiky hair and the odd surname Nara.
He looked physically unimpressive—but something about him radiated the presence of a massive predator lying perfectly still.
Sukarma bowed politely.
"Guildmaster Nara, Four Weapons accepts the guild's commission."
He smiled faintly.
"A wise decision."
This man was Nara Shikame, clan head of the Nara clan—stationed here at Soren's personal request.
Even he had initially wondered why the Head of the Shinobi World cared to hire such "weak" locals.
Then he'd seen the two beautiful women in the party.
And understood.
Exotic beauty, interesting personalities… the kind of thing Soren never failed to notice.
Shikame's fingers briefly brushed the pills at his waist—Super God Power Pills, miracle remedies with quite the reputation among certain older shinobi.
Thanks to certain… stories about them from Senju Moriki, Uzumaki Mito had quietly "advised" that such items be kept tightly controlled.
Shikame still remembered that dark period of his life with some bitterness.
He handed Sukarma the mission scroll.
"Everything you need is in there. Departure time included. Read it when you return to your team."
"Understood, Guildmaster Nara."
Once outside, Sukarma exhaled slowly, tension leaving her shoulders.
She returned to the private room, where the others eagerly unrolled the scroll.
"Nothing strange in the text itself," the mage said. "But this paper…"
He traced the material with his fingers, thoughtful.
Before he could say more, the others dragged him off to start buying supplies for the journey.
Ghost Ninja Village and a Question of Annexation
Back in the shinobi world, Soren had traveled to Ghost Ninja Village.
He played with the cute little Miya for a while, listening as Momiji described recent changes in the village and the rising impact of the Black Horn Domain.
"After word spread that we were building a Susanoo statue in the village," Momiji said, "Rain's leader Hanzō and Iwa's Jinchūriki Han both came, seeking an audience."
Soren summoned Juno, letting the big-mouth cat play with Miya to relieve her stress. He waved casually.
"And?"
"They want to borrow some of the village's jonin."
"Your thoughts?"
Momiji hesitated only briefly.
"I wanted to ask your opinion first."
Soren shook his head.
"Just follow your own judgment. If their terms are fair, help them. If not, refuse."
"The Ghost Ninja Village won't be dragged into this mess unless you wish it."
Momiji relaxed slightly.
Then her eyes turned more serious.
"Then… should we merge into Konoha?"
Soren raised an eyebrow.
"What brought this on?"
With Miya gone from the room, he pulled Momiji gently into his arms.
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away.
"Without your protection, once village rankings are fixed, our land will shrink. Either Iwa or Suna will take bites out of us in time."
"If we merge into Konoha now and become a dedicated shrine village just for the Uchiha and the Head of the Shinobi World… we might avoid that fate."
Soren snorted softly.
He understood the unspoken worry.
She wasn't thinking only of the village—she was thinking of him.
"Gods don't die," he said. "But they can change where they shine."
"Right now, your job is to serve your god properly. Not to overthink the future."
Momiji caught his hand as it started to wander, then met his eyes seriously.
"You are the chosen one of prophecy, Soren-sama. And those chosen by prophecy… none of them have…"
"Then I'll be the first."
His tone was calm.
A prophecy was not absolute. Not when he wielded Six Paths power.
"As long as I don't walk into danger headfirst, nothing will happen. And if I never step into that underground tomb… what's there to fear?"
Momiji exhaled slowly.
"If you promise not to throw yourself into danger, then I can feel at ease."
She guided his hand more deliberately now, her face bright red but her gaze steady.
"As for merging… even if it doesn't happen now, someday I'd like Ghost Ninja Village to become Konoha's sacred land. A place that trains support shinobi, not front-line fighters."
Soren thought quietly for a moment.
"Annexations may happen in the future. But now is not the time."
"Balance breeds growth. If everyone lies down and lets Konoha carry them, the shinobi world's vitality will wither."
"As long as the village system exists, each village will strive—to avoid being eaten, to gain more territory. That tension makes them grow."
"Only in that kind of world will concepts like 'the strong decide the rules' and 'power justifies vision' become universal. In that future, every citizen may become a shinobi, and the baseline battle strength will start at jonin."
He smiled.
"When that day comes, we'll talk about merging. Until then—let events flow where they must."
Momiji's answer was a soft nod.
Her voice turned gentle, and soon the conversation gave way to another kind of quiet, intimate prayer.
The Head of the Shinobi World continued forward—on a path that both prophecy and free will were now struggling to shape.
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