Seijuro's clone, once finishing his business, would walk back toward the bounty area. He looked quite composed, though he didn't utter a word.
Arriving inside the place, he looked at the person there before saying:
"I come here to collect a bounty," he said calmly, as the man asked him which bounty.
The clerk blinked, analyzing the masked shinobi.
"Name of the target?" he rasped, already reaching for a sealed ledger.
Without a word, the clone knelt, unsealed his scroll, and with a puff of chakra smoke, the severed head of Jinin Akebino rolled gently across the counter. Bloodless. Preserved. Still grimacing.
The entire room went quiet.
Someone cursed under their breath in a northern dialect.
Even the shinobi leaning against the wall with a jagged broadsword shifted, unconsciously placing a hand near his pouch.
The clerk stared. And then—narrowed his eye, confirming the facial structure, dental seal, and residual chakra trace. His hands trembled slightly as he closed the ledger.
"Jinin Akebino... confirmed. That's a damn Seven Swordsman."
The man was scared... the fuck was this? That was the head of a damn swordsman of the Mist.
Seijuro tilted his head slightly, his voice calm as ever.
"I wish to exchange the head for some items."
The clerk blinked, then slowly leaned forward.
The clerk looked at the man.
"What do you need?"
He had like the perfect customer service face ever.
Seijuro simply smiled softly under his mask.
He would ask for quite a few things for experiments—some stuff he wouldn't even dream of getting his hands on in Konoha without, you know, getting under suspicion.
But, he did ask for a large quantity of that liquid that was used to preserve cut-off limbs. He, hum, didn't like the slavery system in Konoha.
So, in order to fix it—because it would be childish to think he could just fix it by becoming Hokage (the politics ran too deep for that shit)—to truly fix it, he would have to make the seal they possessed truly useless.
Sure, they could make another... but it would take time, and in that time, the side branch members would get a taste... of freedom. Something they'd been starved of.
That small little taste should be enough to awaken those sleeping bastards.
So yes, he planned to leak the secret of the seal to every nation. Either that, or under his identity as Aizen Sosuke, target Hyuga nin and leave them without any eyes. Then show up with a pair of Byakugan or something. The Byakugan would be fake, of course, but you get the gist. Something good enough to scare them off.
Anyway, enough about how he was going to reform Konoha and the clan system in it. He will not be Hokage... fuck that, that's Nawaki's dream, and he does not wish to do paperwork. But if he sees corruption, he will end it.
He doesn't care if it's a damn elder.
They will be dealt with.
The man raised an eyebrow. "That's... advanced gear. Not cheap."
"And this," Seijuro said calmly, unstrapping Kabutowari from his back and setting it down beside the head.
The moment the bluntsword hit the counter, it thudded—like a meteor made of malice. The air seemed heavier. The wall behind the clerk cracked slightly from the weight of chakra soaked into it.
That was a damn legendary sword... and he was planning to give it away like that.
"It's quite an amazing weapon... unfortunately, it does not suit me," he said calmly. He didn't ignore the fact that the clerk was salivating at the idea of getting this sword.
The moment Seijuro implied disinterest, every black market broker instinct in the old man surged like a tide. He adjusted his collar, eyes calculating—measuring profit margins, resale value, reputation enhancement. Owning a Seven Swordsman blade? That was like buying a seat at the Underworld's VIP table.
"I assume," the clerk began, licking his cracked lips, "you'd be open to... a purchase, then?"
Seijuro said nothing. Just tilted his head faintly to the side. The gesture was soft, graceful—and chilling.
A trap had been laid.
The clerk dove right in.
"Two hundred million yen," he blurted, almost too quickly. "Signed contract. No counter offers. Payment now."
Some talks were made. Seijuro received his research material first though—roughly 300 million worth of stuff in there. Hey, he was just good at negotiating, exporting quite a few things from them. Oh well, not like they minded.
He had shit to do.
And Magnet Release to master.
Once all that was done, the deal was made, the sword was handed over and all.
The greed in the man's eyes became larger and larger.
The room stirred again as Kabutowari was passed behind the counter. The clerk was already fantasizing about the power, the bragging rights, the backroom sales. He noticed... what seemed to be a Kusanagi blade on the boy's side...
The greed was just too much... and as the sword was handed over—
...so did the clerk's restraint.
With greed glinting in his only eye, he sent a silent signal to the chakra sensor near the counter.
Suddenly, the walls locked down with a click. Ninja in the room froze. Hidden seals glowed. The atmosphere became heavy.
"Alright!" the clerk shouted, voice sharp and false-cheerful. "Two hundred million to whoever brings me this bastard's head!"
A light smirk played on Seijuro's lips under the mask. Wow, baiting people like him... was so easy.
He slammed his hand on the desk.
"Dead or alive... I want his head."
Silence.
Then—
BZZZT—BOOM!
Seijuro was already gone.
As the shinobi got their swords ready to attack him... suddenly, everything made out of metal inside the shop began to levitate around the boy.
He simply opened his mouth and said:
"How disappointing."
Time skip — 15 minutes.
What was once a bustling black market exchange... was now a graveyard of twisted limbs, scorched stone, and shattered illusions.
The ceiling was gone. Most of the bounty hunters were gone too—either dead, bleeding hallucinations, or whispering nonsense to burned corpses.
Only the clerk remained, slumped against the counter, arm broken, blood trailing from his lip. His once-greedy eye was now wide with pure terror.
A shadow loomed over him.
Seijuro. He was untouched.
A sword hovered around him, ready to pierce the old man at any minor inconvenience.
His control over metal was aight. Shukaku chakra was heavy-carrying. Oh well, he still had enough chakra to stay alive for a couple more weeks. Oh well.
This would be enough to set up a base, then visit the Uzumaki Clan for some juicy, juicy seals.
He stepped over the corpses without looking down, picked Kabutowari off the blood-soaked floor, and examined it once more.
"Hm," he mused aloud. "Still doesn't suit me."
The clerk coughed, barely able to speak.
"W-What are you...?"
Seijuro leaned down, close—voice low and delicate like a silk thread around the throat.
"Try something like this again... and I won't stop with you."
He gently tapped the man's forehead with a finger. "I will peel your family out of time itself. One heartbeat at a time."
The clerk shook, sobbing softly.
"W-Who are you...?"
Seijuro smiled.
The kind of smile that didn't belong on someone so young. The kind that made reality seem too fragile for comfort.
He said nothing, before using Shunpo to vanish from sight.
A couple dozen or so meters away, he appeared in the forest. From there—just in case something bad happened to him and he suddenly vanished—he decided to set up a base close by. Just in case, you know. This place was basically in the Land of Fire... yeah, he could do that.