Tormenting.
Uchiha Nan's craving for strength was beyond question. The golden-reward missions were dazzling, but all of them were shackled by reality—there was simply no way to complete them for now.
But those missions that offered ten draws?
They only demanded one thing.
His dignity.
Ten draws.
That was nearly a year's worth of accumulated chances.
What if he struck gold? What if he really pulled something insane?
Someone always gets lucky.
Why couldn't that lucky bastard be him?
Nan fell into deep thought.
Outside the room, Uchiha Futami noticed the furious desk-slamming had stopped. He crept inside quietly and saw Nan sitting there with his eyes shut, clutching his head, clearly locked in an intense internal struggle.
"Uchiha Nan-sama, the luggage is ready."
"Huh? Oh—Futami. Everything's packed already?"
Nan hesitated, then coughed lightly.
"Well, um… that is…"
"…Are the widows in the clan doing alright?"
The words came out softer than he intended.
The instant he said it, Nan felt his soul trying to claw its way out of his body in shame.
"Widows?"
Futami blinked, momentarily confused, but answered honestly.
"Please rest assured, Nan-sama. The warriors of the Uchiha who fell in battle—naturally, their wives are under the clan's care. We may not be wealthy, but ensuring three meals a day with meat is not a problem."
"I see… good. That's good."
Nan nodded repeatedly.
"We absolutely can't let Konoha's heroes bleed and weep."
Kill me now.
Nan wanted nothing more than to slap himself senseless.
Clan members had died for the village—and here he was, even thinking about their wives.
This was beyond shameless. This was subhuman.
He decided on the spot:
Those ten-draw lifestyle missions could go straight to hell. He'd pretend they didn't exist.
To break the suffocating awkwardness, Nan abruptly changed the subject and suggested they search the room for anything important Senju Tobirama might have left behind.
After a thorough bout of rummaging, Nan finally found what he was looking for.
The Scroll of Seals.
Alongside it were stacks of correspondence between Senju Tobirama and the Fire Daimyō, detailing budget negotiations.
Nan flipped through them—and froze.
The total funds approved amounted to 31 billion ryō.
But Konoha's official fijincial records?
30 billion.
"…That old bastard."
So Tobirama had skimmed money off the top.
The only question was whether that extra billion went to the Senju clan—or straight into Tobirama's private research.
High-level experimentation wasn't cheap. In later generations, Orochimaru had practically founded his own village just to fund his research.
"Nan-sama… this extra billion…"
Futami's eyes were already bloodshot.
If they kept that money, the clan's debts would vanish instantly—and there'd still be leftovers.
This was the true benefit of having a Hokage in the family.
"Heaven knows. Earth knows. You know. I know."
Nan smiled faintly.
This money was staying with the Uchiha. Who knew how much Tobirama had already siphoned off over the years for his experiments?
"Understood!"
With everything arranged, Nan decided to depart the very next day for the Fire Capital to demand funds from the Daimyō in person.
The Next Day
Uchiha Nan set out alone.
No guards. No entourage. Traveling light.
With his level of strength, anyone he couldn't handle would make escorts meaningless baggage anyway. He had no intention of repeating Tobirama's mistake—dragging a squad of guards along only to die himself.
After days of travel, Nan arrived in the Land of Fire's capital.
The long war had left the country in ruins.
Along the way, Nan saw countless refugees scraping by, bandits and rogue ninja blocking roads, preying on the desperate.
He dealt with them casually.
The Land of Fire was still an agrarian nation at heart. Technological progress existed—but barely. Farming relied on manpower and beasts, travel on carts and horses. Feudal through and through.
And yet, some technologies were wildly out of place.
Konoha already had electric lights.
Scattered utility poles stood awkwardly against the traditional scenery.
By Naruto's era, refrigerators, televisions, and full modern infrastructure would exist—and that was only a few decades away.
The rate of technological whiplash was absurd.
Upon reaching the capital itself, refugees were nowhere to be seen.
Presumably, the benevolent officials couldn't bear the sight of suffering… and had "handled" the problem.
Nan didn't dwell on it.
The world worked this way.
When poor, you saved yourself.
When powerful, you saved others.
He wasn't there yet.
At the palace gates, Nan presented his credentials. The moment the guards saw the Hokage's ceremonial robes, they escorted him inside without hesitation.
Impersonating the Hokage in the Fire Capital was a crime that ensured you wouldn't see tomorrow's sunrise.
Nan was guided through the palace to a lavish side hall and told to wait.
Luxurious.
Obscenely luxurious.
Even Nan, who considered himself worldly, was stunned.
The palace alone covered nearly half the area of Konoha. Layered courtyards, towering walls—it was a maze. Without a guide, he'd have been lost.
Even the wood used in construction looked like it could sell for hundreds of thousands of ryō per beam.
This was feudal decadence mixed with a superpowered world—a truly cursed combination.
Damn you, Kishimoto.
Peasant uprisings meant nothing here. Against shinobi, rebellion was a joke. One elite jōnin squad could slaughter thousands without effort.
Wait.
I'm one of the beneficiaries too.
…Never mind.
As Nan's thoughts drifted, a rotund, middle-aged man approached, flanked by attendants.
"Truly a case of youth producing heroes," the Fire Daimyō said with a broad smile.
"Even the Uchiha have now produced a Hokage. Congratulations!"
Nan responded smoothly, neither servile nor arrogant.
Though officially lord and vassal, both sides understood the truth.
The Daimyō approved Hokage appointments as a formality. Whoever Konoha chose, he'd stamp his seal and move on.
As long as the hired muscle worked.
"Hokage-sama has traveled far," the Daimyō continued warmly.
"You must attend tonight's banquet. Allow me to host a welcoming feast."
Perfect.
Nan smiled.
The timing couldn't have been better.
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