Hokage's Office.
The Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, puffed slowly on his longtime companion pipe.
Amid swirling smoke, his deeply wrinkled face appeared somewhat hazy and indistinct.
On the desk lay a report from the Anbu.
Its contents were not some classified mission—but details about a newly opened shop.
"Konoha Premier Pot."
"Ino-Shika-Cho clans invested; Uchiha clan showed strong support; even Jiraiya was present..."
Hiruzen set the report aside, picked up his cherished pipe, and took a deep, contemplative draw.
Smoke exhaled from his mouth in perfect rings, drifting lazily before dissipating.
Everything was unfolding exactly as that brat had calculated.
From the very beginning, Akashi Sora had never intended to conceal his moves.
He openly brought Ino-Shika-Cho on board, boldly invited the Uchiha, and even factored in that unreliable fellow Jiraiya.
This was a blatant declaration—to everyone, and especially to him, the Hokage.
Akashi Sora was beginning to openly accumulate his own power.
Hiruzen's gaze drifted to the window, settling on the massive Hokage Rock outside.
The First, the Second... and the Fourth.
In his mind's eye emerged another figure with golden hair.
Minato.
If Minato were still alive, what would Konoha look like now?
Alas, there were no "ifs."
He was old.
Danzō was dead; Orochimaru had defected.
Looking across the entire village, among the younger generation—who could truly shoulder this burden?
Kakashi? Exceptionally gifted, but chained by shadows of the past—his vision too narrow.
Uchiha Itachi? Burdened by far too much; his path had been destined for darkness from the start.
As for his own son, Asuma...
Hiruzen shook his head and tapped out his pipe.
Asuma remained entangled in rebellion against his father, still failing to grasp the true meaning of the "Gyoku."
In that light, Akashi Sora—Jiraiya's disciple—emerged as the most suitable candidate.
Strength, intellect, methods—he lacked none.
And he was still so young.
Youth meant limitless potential... and, crucially, controllability.
At least for now, his actions remained within tolerable bounds.
"Let him stir things up, then."
Hiruzen leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
"I'll see just how far you can go."
...
Night fell; "Konoha Premier Pot" remained bustling and lively.
After seeing off the last wave of customers, Sora stretched languidly, feeling every bone in his body protest.
Karin efficiently cleared tables—exhausted but brimming with enthusiastic energy on her small face.
The staff—sent by Ino-Shika-Cho—were thoroughly professional.
From front-of-house service to kitchen management, everything ran smoothly and orderly.
"Clan Heads Inoichi, Shikaku, Choza."
Sora carried three cups of hot tea to the elegant corner booth reserved especially for the three "shareholders."
Akimichi Choza picked his teeth contentedly.
"Sora, this broth base of yours—never gets old!"
Nara Shikaku lounged lazily in his seat, yawning. "Business too good—such a hassle."
He grumbled—but his chopstick speed betrayed no such irritation.
Yamanaka Inoichi accepted his tea, sipping thoughtfully—he, as Ino-Shika-Cho's "diplomat," focused more on the broader influence this restaurant would wield.
"Sora, you saw today's opening—tremendous success."
"Next, as planned, we'll gradually open branches in several other districts."
"No problem at all," Sora agreed readily, then shifted topics.
"But I have an idea."
The three clan heads' attention snapped to him instantly.
"I'll only manage this flagship store."
Sora gestured at the space beneath his feet, smiling lazily.
"This one is my laboratory—for developing new products—and my personal canteen, convenient for hosting friends."
"As for all future branches—from site selection and decor to staff training and daily operations—I'll leave everything entirely to the three clan heads."
Inoichi, Shikaku, and Choza exchanged glances.
He wanted to be completely hands-off?
"Then profit distribution..." Inoichi asked the critical question.
"Eighty-twenty split."
Sora held up two fingers.
"You eighty, me twenty."
"What?"
Even the perpetually lazy Nara Shikaku sat bolt upright.
Akimichi Choza nearly leaped from his chair in shock.
"Sora—are you sure? We get eighty, you twenty?"
This was no small sum.
Given the restaurant's demonstrated money-making potential today, once expanded, eighty percent would become an astronomical figure.
Enough to balloon Ino-Shika-Cho's wealth to terrifying levels in short order.
"I meant exactly that—eighty-twenty," Sora confirmed, slumping bonelessly back into his chair.
"The clan heads know I'm lazy by nature—no real interest in managing business."
"And besides..."
He shrugged with a "I'm poor but I don't care" expression.
"I don't need that much money."
"Money's only useful up to a point. As long as I have meat to eat daily and cats to feed, I'm content."
His words left the three seasoned clan heads—who had lived decades—in prolonged silence.
They studied the young man before them.
On that face: no greed, no pretense—only pure aversion to hassle.
He genuinely... didn't care about money.
A monster who desired neither wealth nor power—only to lie flat, sunbathe, and live idly.
That was far more frightening than any overt ambition.
"What do you want?"
Nara Shikaku spoke up, his perpetually sleepy eyes now sharp and clear.
He didn't believe anyone would relinquish such enormous profit without reason.
"I've told Clan Head Inoichi what I want from the very beginning," Sora replied with a cheerful grin, looking at them.
"I simply hope that, should the village ever face a real crisis one day, there will be a few trusted seniors willing to stand by my side."
He casually traded away wealth that would drive any clan mad—for a vague, intangible promise.
Yet the weight of that promise was something the three astute men present could fully appreciate.
"You're... buying the loyalty of the entire Ino-Shika-Cho alliance," Inoichi said, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Clan Head Inoichi, that's not quite how I'd put it," Sora corrected with a wave of his hand.
"We're partners— allies."
"I provide the technology; you provide manpower, capital, and distribution channels. We grow the pie together and prosper together—isn't that perfectly reasonable?"
"I'm just taking my fair share... and, along the way, gaining the friendship of three esteemed seniors."
Nara Shikaku suddenly let out a low chuckle.
"Heh heh... what a terrifying kid."
He drained his teacup in one gulp.
"Fine."
"We'll do it your way."
"Ino-Shika-Cho accepts you as a friend."
Choza slapped his thigh heartily, his booming voice resounding. "Sora—from now on, the clan will supply you with all the meat you could want!"
Inoichi nodded solemnly as well.
Thus, an alliance—named after hot pot—was formally sealed.
No scrolls were signed; no legal documents exchanged.
Yet it was more binding than any contract.
For it tied the future of the entire Ino-Shika-Cho alliance.
After seeing off the three clan heads—who departed both deeply satisfied and profoundly thoughtful—Sora finally exhaled in relief.
Done.
He turned and spotted Karin standing nearby, cloth in hand, staring blankly in their direction.
Clearly, she had overheard the entire conversation.
Her red eyes were filled with shock and confusion.
She couldn't comprehend why Brother Sora would push away such an immense fortune.
"B-Brother Sora..."
"Hm?" Sora walked over and ruffled her red hair. "Dishes all done?"
"Yes," Karin nodded, but she couldn't hold back her burning question.
"Why... give them eighty percent of the profits?"
"That's... so much money."
In Karin's understanding, money meant food—security.
It was something incomparably important.
"Silly girl."
Sora gently tapped her forehead.
"Money is just a tool."
"When the amount of a tool exceeds what you need, it becomes nothing more than a number."
He crouched down to meet her eye level.
"Remember this, Karin."
"Never become a slave to your tools."
"Learn to use tools to acquire things far more valuable than the tools themselves."
"Like... people's hearts."
With that, Sora stood up and yawned.
"Alright—stop overthinking it. Kids who worry too much don't grow tall."
"Finish cleaning up; time to close and head home."
He hummed a tuneless little song as he wandered toward the kitchen.
Leaving Karin standing alone, repeatedly pondering that phrase: "use tools to acquire things far more valuable."
She only half-understood.
But she felt as though she had just learned another profoundly important lesson.