"And you are…?" Nara Kazuki looked at the woman in front of him. He was certain he'd never seen her before—there was no trace of her in his memory. So why was she here looking for him?
"Good afternoon, Mr. Nara Kazuki. I'm Sato Saya, chief editor at Shueisha Publishing. You may call me Saya," she greeted him politely. Kazuki blinked. He hadn't expected someone like her to show up. Still, the name Shueisha rang clear—he knew it well.
It was the largest publishing house in the Land of Fire. Kazuki's only connection to them was the novel Icha Icha Paradise, which he had co-authored with Jiraiya. That book had been published through Shueisha.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Sato Saya. What brings you here today?" Kazuki's tone softened slightly—he had a guess. This was probably about royalties from Icha Icha Paradise. Jiraiya had mentioned handling the payout through "other channels." So this must've been what he meant.
And indeed, it was. Saya was here to deliver the money. Not a small sum—two million ryō.
Kazuki's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected such a generous cut.
"Icha Icha Paradise is selling remarkably well," Saya explained warmly. "Sales are expanding in other countries too..."
No wonder. Kazuki nodded—if things kept up, his royalties would keep rising. That kind of money could fund a lot of things. Especially if he planned to build that kind of organization. The startup cost wouldn't be small.
Nagato had prepared for the Akatsuki for years. That took time—and money.
Kazuki drifted off in thought. If he wanted to develop things according to his plan, how should he begin? And where would he get the funds? Dreams were all well and good—but you had to eat first. Besides, the average civilian wasn't desperate enough to cry out for revolution.
Still, Kazuki wasn't concerned. He knew how the world worked. From a young age, he'd learned the art of manipulation.
Win over one group. Suppress another.
It was the simplest formula.
"Mr. Nara Kazuki?" Saya's voice brought him back. Kazuki blinked, realizing he'd zoned out. A bit rude. He coughed lightly and apologized.
Luckily, Saya didn't seem to mind. She smiled and resumed her explanation.
"Mr. Nara, the thing is—I tried contacting Master Jiraiya, but he's currently... occupied. He recommended I speak with you directly." Her tone was respectful—appropriately so, given that she was a civilian, not a shinobi.
Civilians didn't hold much sway over shinobi. Unless, of course, they were rich—like Gato. But even Gato, when facing a healthy Zabuza, had no real power. Strength always ruled the table.
"Oh, I don't mind. But what exactly is this about?" Kazuki asked.
Saya shared her proposal: a special collector's edition of Icha Icha Paradise, featuring signed copies by the original authors. Jiraiya, too busy with "research," had passed the responsibility to Kazuki.
Kazuki's mouth twitched.
That kind of research?
But knowing Jiraiya, he probably was trying to help Kazuki earn more money—at least partly.
Kazuki, however, had a different idea.
In his previous life, he'd seen countless "collector's editions" for games—some ordinary, some ridiculously extravagant. He remembered one where buyers got to star in the game's live-action movie adaptation.
What if Icha Icha Paradise used the same strategy?
Kazuki coughed. "Ahem. I have a plan."
He closed the doors and windows. Saya raised a brow, her black-stockinged legs shifting slightly. For a moment, she wondered—if this handsome young shinobi wanted to do something with an older woman like her... well, she wouldn't exactly complain.
"It's like this, Chief Editor Saya," Kazuki began. "You know what kind of novel Icha Icha Paradise is. And when it first launched, signed copies were already a thing."
Saya flushed faintly, but nodded seriously.
Kazuki laid it out: Shueisha would fund the production of custom merchandise—special cup toys as prize items. Each collector's edition book would come with a redemption code. Collect the right set, win exclusive goods.
But cups alone weren't enough.
Next, they'd commission life-sized figurines of the novel's most popular characters—realistic, high-quality, modeled after actual people. And the grand prize? The right to discuss plot and philosophy with the model in person.
Saya had started sitting casually—but now she sat ramrod straight.
This plan was genius. Readers would flock to it. Sales would skyrocket. Profits would soar.
Shueisha would win big, even after splitting revenue with the two authors.
They'd also finally have a way to fight piracy—something rampant across the shinobi nations. There were no copyright laws, and the Great Nations were too busy killing each other to care about intellectual property.
Kazuki knew that. "Shueisha should be well-equipped to handle piracy prevention," he said calmly.
"Mr. Nara Kazuki! This idea is..." Saya was awestruck. She looked at him with shining eyes.
No wonder Jiraiya had sent her here.
Kazuki chuckled. "Just doing my part."
The more copies sold, the more he earned. And with those funds, he could begin laying the foundation of his future organization.
Saya rushed out, clutching his plan like it was holy scripture—afraid she'd forget a single word. Kazuki sat back, summoned a few shadow clones to go train ninjutsu, and focused on honing his Shadow Imitation Technique.
All while refining his larger blueprint.
He believed true peace in the shinobi world required more than abolishing the outdated daimyō system. The real problem was the divide between civilians and shinobi.
So his plan?
Make everyone a shinobi.
Remove the distinction altogether.
Talent disparities would remain—but that was unavoidable. What mattered was unification.
For that, he needed to establish a...
Kazuki coughed again. He had the vision—but implementation would be another story.
At least he had time.
Peace in the shinobi world would be the keystone for his ambitions.
"Still, money's an urgent issue…" he muttered, frowning. Akatsuki had Nagato as a financial backer. They took only high-paying missions, staying low-profile.
Kazuki didn't have a Kakuzu to handle the books.
So how did a shinobi make money in a world like this?
The most common way: missions.
Many were simple—like finding cats or helping with crops. Though Kazuki always found those assignments funny.
Rich clients could afford ninja cat-finders. Poor farmers? Not so much.
Kazuki had seen the poverty firsthand. For some families, five thousand ryō was a month of food. For others, two.
So those missions paid poorly. Naruto was proof of that. Being a ninja earned money fast—but it burned money just as fast. Ninja tools, supplies, weapons—all expensive. Even Kazuki's current sword had cost a small fortune.
To get rich from missions, you'd have to take everything and buy nothing. And high-paying jobs were often long-term or deadly. Not ideal.
The other route? Inheritance.
For example, TenTen was known as Konoha's richest woman—thanks in part to her parents.
"Troublesome," Kazuki muttered. He briefly considered trade—but that came with its own risks. If he wanted to accumulate wealth quickly...
He might have to rob a few Gato-types.
Of course, there were other options—but those required overwhelming strength as a foundation.
"So in the end, it all comes back to power," Kazuki concluded. And so, he continued grinding his ninjutsu mastery into the night.
...
"I'll bet big. Big, big, big!" In a casino somewhere in the Land of Fire, Tsunade's eyes were bloodshot as she glared at the dice.
But when they landed—small.
She deflated instantly. Shizune sighed, hugging the piglet in her arms. She was used to it by now.
Tsunade never won. Not once. But she never gave up, either.
They lived day-to-day, dodging debt collectors. Money was tight. Yet Tsunade kept borrowing.
At this point, even loan sharks recognized her. They had to change locations constantly.
"My Lady… maybe we should…" Shizune couldn't hold it in anymore. The other gamblers had long caught on: just watch Tsunade. Bet the opposite. Instant profit.
"I'm not leaving! I feel it! I know I'm about to—" Tsunade waved her hand dismissively, then froze.
A familiar chakra.
Her mood soured instantly. She stood up.
"We're leaving."
She downed a shot of sake. Time to go.
If she stuck around any longer, she'd run into that idiot Jiraiya.
That damn fool was rich—but Tsunade had no interest in seeing him.
She'd spent years avoiding the ghosts of the past.
---