At first glance, Shukudō's background seemed similar to his own—both were from clans that had migrated to Konoha as vassals to greater shinobi families.
But there was a key difference.
The Shukudō family had been vassals to the Senju, serving as weaponsmiths for their shinobi. After moving to Konoha, they even opened their own weapons shop.
Meanwhile, the Umino family, vassals to the Sarutobi clan, had been left to… sell fish.
Shinobi were high earners, and the profits from weapon-related businesses were substantial. Back then, the Senju were Konoha's foremost noble family—unlike the Sarutobi, who treated their vassals like trash, offering no support or relocation funds. The Senju were generous, and the Shukudō family prospered under their patronage, growing in both numbers and wealth.
But as the Senju declined, so did their influence, and the Shukudō family's business vulnerabilities were exposed.
So, many Shukudō clansmen abandoned their cushy lives to become shinobi.
While most ninja risked their lives to earn money, the Shukudō clan spent money to stay alive.
Take Shukudō, his most reliable subordinate—three scrolls hung at his waist, each stuffed with weapons. None were made of chakra-conductive metal, but quantity had a quality of its own.
And on the other side of his belt? A pouch crammed with dozens of explosive tags.
Most ninja scrimped and saved to afford one or two tags. Shukudō carried them by the stack.
Now that was what you called privilege.
In mid-to-low-level shinobi combat, flashy jutsu were rare. Most fights started with a volley of kunai and shuriken, followed by close-quarters blade work—whoever had better gear, stamina, and taijutsu fundamentals usually won.
Then, mid-fight, they'd weave in a single decisive jutsu—either to dodge a killing blow or finish the opponent.
Of course, if outmatched and not on a mission, tactical retreats were standard. Flexibility was key.
But if the mission was critical and retreat wasn't an option?
Then it was time to pop soldier pills and blood-clotting tablets, fight tooth and nail, and trade wounds for wounds, life for life—whoever lasted longer won.
Brutal? Absolutely.
But that was why battlefields were such effective training grounds. Those who couldn't adapt were weeded out.
Genin were expendable, like wheat in a field—harvested in waves. Even academy students were being graduated early to replenish losses.
The average shinobi lifespan? Less than 30.
And that wasn't an exaggeration.
Shukudō had survived this long partly due to Yoru's leadership, but mostly because of his "Money Release" techniques—deadly against fellow low-rank ninja.
If he unleashed his strongest move—**"Artifact Control: Ten Thousand Blades of Heaven"**—even an elite chūnin could be shredded if caught off-guard.
Maybe it was some ancestral bloodline memory, or maybe it was just the power of cold, hard cash, but Shukudō had a real talent for weapon control.
It reminded Yoru of Tenten, one of the future Konoha 12, and Shukudō no Shigure from Shippuden—both masters of weaponry (and funding their own arsenals).
Tenten was easy to recall, but Shigure was more obscure. The only reason Yoru remembered him was because of his shared surname and similar bulk.
Oh, and because Shigure's temporary squadmates were:
Hagane Kotetsu (elite jōnin, master of the Vacuum Blade), Genshō Maruboshi (the "Eternal Genin" with Second Hokage's techniques), And Uzumaki Naruto himself.
Hard to forget a lineup like that.
Shigure's trap mastery and weapon control had been insane, so Yoru had trained Shukudō in the same direction.
And surprisingly? The kid had a real knack for traps. A minor genius, even.
Though Shukudō always complained that setting traps was "too expensive on the wife budget."
See, Shukudō had a… quirk.
He loved his weapons.
Too much.
He gave each one a cutesy name, treating them like girlfriends.
And because of his harem of sharp, pointy waifus, poor Kogure—a sweet, kind girl who could easily charm even the Inuzuka playboys—had zero chance with him.
Shukudō's words?
"Kogure can't compare to my girlfriends. She's not even as cute as myexplosive tag paper waifu, let alone myFūma Shuriken main wife!"
"Even mycooking pot, Kabe-chan—who's beendefiled so many times—is cuter than her!"
But the thought of Kabe-chan's impurity filled Shukudō with melancholy.
If not for Yoru's tyrannical rule and the irresistible lure of good food, he'd never let his beloved pot be used for stew. Every time the squad ate from it, it felt like sharing his wife.
And the worst part?
He was the one who'd allowed it.
That thought tormented him… yet also gave him a strange, guilty thrill.
So after every meal, Shukudō would obsessively scrub Kabe-chan clean, as if trying to purify her (and his conscience).
Only when she gleamed like new would he finally relax, convinced she'd forgiven him and would still protect him.
Then he'd strap her to his back, confident that no attack from behind could harm him.
And weirdly?
His survival rate skyrocketed.
Kabe-chan had blocked multiple lethal backstabs—proof of her undying loyalty.
"Shuku, letus girlshandle the cleaning…?"
After the meal, Kogure—blushing at her own boldness—tried again to take over "household" duties.
But Shukudō just worked faster, denying her any chance to touch his wife.
Nearby, Inuzuka Rō—Kogure's loyal simp—glared daggers at Shukudō for daring to reject his goddess YET AGAIN.
Watching this messy love triangle (worse than Team 7's drama), Yoru had the sudden urge to kick Rō into Shukudō and steal his first kiss.
But before he could act—
A shadow swooped down from above.
A water bat—his summon—landed on his shoulder, chittering in ultrasonic waves.
"Trouble?"
Yoru's playful demeanor vanished.
His eyes turned cold, his presence sharp as a blade.
In one motion, he leapt up a tree, channeling chakra to his feet for grip, and pulled out a handcrafted telescope.
Just as he focused—
BOOM.
A fireball erupted less than three kilometers upstream—Aoba Squad's sector.
Explosive tags were already in play.
The fight had begun.