---
"Money power?"
Uchiha Makoto's calm voice echoed through the meeting room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Vortex Shinji and Uchiha Setsuna.
Both men froze, exchanging puzzled glances.
They clearly didn't understand what Makoto meant. To them, war had always been about strength, intelligence, and tactics — not money.
But Makoto only smiled faintly. He could sense the sincerity in their attempts to dissuade him. They weren't questioning his authority; they simply didn't want the Akatsuki Ninja Village to rush blindly into a war against the Hidden Cloud Village.
The two veterans had seen countless battles. They knew how easily a moment's pride could lead to years of ruin.
"Makoto," Setsuna began, his tone calm but firm. "Even if we're strong, we can't underestimate the Cloud. They have two Jinchūriki and an army hardened by decades of war. If Konoha refuses to send reinforcements, even if we win, the price might be unbearable."
Shinji nodded, his red hair catching the lamplight.
"To throw ourselves into a war now, before we've even secured the peace behind us, would be reckless. War should be fought with allies — Konoha, the Uzumaki Clan, and us forming a single line. Otherwise, we'll bleed for nothing."
Makoto listened quietly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of his chair. His Sharingan didn't spin, but the faint crimson glow in his eyes was enough to silence the room.
He admired their prudence — it was one of the reasons he valued them both — but they still hadn't seen the full picture.
After all, neither of them truly understood how powerful the Akatsuki Village had become.
When Hashirama and Madara were alive, the balance of the ninja world had been maintained by sheer force. But with them gone, that balance was fragile — a thin thread stretched over a pit of greed and ambition.
And Tobirama Senju, that cold-blooded schemer… if he didn't stab Akatsuki in the back at the first opportunity, Makoto would personally light incense in gratitude.
Still, before planning any war, Makoto needed his allies to believe — not just obey.
They needed to see the truth with their own eyes.
---
The Hidden Vault
"Come," Makoto said finally, rising from his seat.
"Words won't convince you. I'll show you what money power truly means."
The two exchanged curious glances but followed without protest.
Makoto led them down a series of winding passages beneath the Lord of Light Building, far away from the bustling heart of Akatsuki Village. The air grew colder and the sound of their footsteps echoed like thunder in the stillness.
"Makoto, where are we going?" Setsuna asked, his voice lowering instinctively.
"This doesn't feel like an ordinary storeroom."
Shinji added, frowning slightly, "Why does it feel like we're heading underground? The air smells like… sealing ink."
Makoto didn't answer. Instead, he formed a rapid sequence of hand seals, pressing his palm against a smooth wall. Chakra surged outward.
A heavy door of chakra-forged stone rumbled open, releasing a gust of cold, dry air.
And then — silence.
Both men froze in place, their pupils dilating as the scene before them unfolded.
"Holy—"
Even the usually composed Setsuna couldn't finish his sentence.
The cavern stretched far into the darkness, lit by lines of flickering chakra lamps. Inside, what seemed like mountains of Exploding Tags filled the massive chamber — neatly stacked, bundled, and sealed in protective scrolls.
Thousands upon thousands of them.
"This…" Shinji gasped, stepping forward. "This can't all be—"
Makoto smirked. "Exploding Tags. Yes. And this," he gestured casually around the massive chamber, "is just a portion of our reserves."
---
The True Cost of War
Setsuna and Shinji could only stare, dumbfounded.
They weren't new to war — they'd both served on front lines, had seen supplies stockpiled before major campaigns.
But this… this was beyond anything they'd imagined.
It was like standing in the middle of a weapon made of money.
In the ninja world, an Exploding Tag wasn't just paper — it was a small fortune.
A single tag could change the outcome of a skirmish; a hundred could flatten a fortress.
And here, there were millions.
Makoto chuckled softly at their stunned expressions. "Come. There's more."
He led them through adjoining tunnels — more vaults, each filled to the brim with supplies.
Crates of kunai and shuriken glinted like cold steel rivers under the lights.
Barrels of medicinal salves and ration pills lined the walls.
Even armor, newly forged, stacked in precise rows waiting for soldiers who didn't yet exist.
"This is…" Shinji muttered, "enough to arm an entire nation."
Makoto's gaze swept across the gleaming metal. "More than that. Enough to sustain one through years of war."
Setsuna swallowed hard. "When did you build all this?"
"It didn't happen overnight," Makoto replied, clasping his hands behind his back as they walked. "When I founded the Akatsuki Village, I realized something. The true difference between victory and defeat isn't just power — it's sustainability. A single Jonin may slay a hundred enemies, but if he runs out of chakra or supplies, he's still just a man."
He stopped before a massive vault door engraved with the Uchiha fan and continued quietly:
"So I built an economy before I built an army."
The door opened, revealing yet another warehouse filled with Exploding Tags.
Makoto's tone turned almost casual. "Do you know what the biggest expense in war is? Not weapons. Not medical bills. It's logistics — food, medicine, communication, chakra ink, sealing scrolls, rebuilding what gets destroyed. Every battle burns through resources faster than fire eats wood."
He looked at them, his expression sharp.
"That's why I say — war is nothing but money and provisions. Without them, even the strongest Kage will fall."
---
The Power of Industry
Setsuna finally found his voice again.
"Makoto… how did you even afford this? The cost alone—"
Makoto interrupted, smiling slightly. "Do you think I just bought all this at market price?"
Both men blinked, waiting.
"The Akatsuki Research Institute developed a new method of producing Exploding Tags," Makoto explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "We tested dozens of materials and production processes. In the end, we discovered a technique that lets ordinary workers handle most of the preparation — chakra is only needed in the final binding step. That one innovation alone cut costs by three to five times."
He walked between two enormous stacks of sealed scrolls.
"I spent nearly two billion ryo perfecting the process. Painful, yes — but now, look around. What once cost five coins now costs one. The larger the production, the cheaper the unit price."
Shinji frowned, still reeling. "All this… only cost one or two billion?"
Makoto nodded. "At market price, though, these would be worth at least ten times that. But we produce everything internally — no middlemen, no nobles demanding a cut."
Setsuna exhaled sharply. "So this is what you meant by money power."
Makoto chuckled. "Exactly. In war, whoever can burn money longer, wins.
A Jonin facing a Genin covered head-to-toe in Exploding Tags — tell me, who's really at the disadvantage?"
Shinji grimaced at the mental image. "If that Genin was a Shadow Clone…"
"Precisely," Makoto said, his eyes glinting. "A war of attrition is a war of economy. We don't need to match them man for man. We'll drown them in ryo."
---
The Realization
By the time the tour ended, both Setsuna and Shinji were silent.
They had seen several more warehouses, each more unbelievable than the last.
If before they'd thought Akatsuki and the Hidden Cloud were evenly matched, now they realized the truth — the Hidden Cloud was already doomed.
"Good luck, Hidden Cloud Village," Setsuna muttered under his breath, half in awe, half in pity.
"Facing this kind of preparation… it's suicide."
He imagined what it would be like on the battlefield: volleys of Exploding Tags lighting up the night sky, supply lines that never ran dry, every wounded soldier instantly treated and rearmed.
There was no glory left in such a fight — only inevitability.
---
The Daimyo's Shadow
"Makoto," Shinji said at last, breaking the silence. "If all this is true… how much is your annual budget? How can a single village sustain this kind of spending?"
Makoto only smiled, his expression unreadable.
"Let's just say," he murmured, "that the Akatsuki Village's yearly income is… nearly ten times that of Konoha."
Both men stared in disbelief.
Before they could ask again, Makoto continued lightly, "My relationship with the Fire Daimyo is excellent. He supports me wholeheartedly. After all, every victory we achieve also raises his prestige. The other nations see the Land of Fire as strong and prosperous — and the nobles' pockets get heavier."
He turned, clasping his hands behind his back again. "Between nations, profit speaks louder than loyalty. Those who understand, understand."
The two nodded slowly. They understood — at least partially.
But they couldn't guess the full truth: the Akatsuki Village's control of the salt trade had made them richer than any feudal lord in the Land of Fire.
And the Daimyo himself, having profited immensely from it, would never expose them.
If Konoha ever went to him for answers, he'd simply laugh and say:
"Of course I support the Akatsuki Village. That wretched Lightning Daimyo insulted me decades ago — a nine-generation grudge must be avenged!"
It was the perfect cover.
---
The Quiet Aftermath
Hours later, the three of them stood outside the vaults, the night air cool against their faces.
Shinji rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to process everything he'd seen.
Setsuna, ever the stoic, finally spoke.
"So this is your confidence, Makoto. Not arrogance — preparation."
Makoto smiled faintly. "A war isn't decided by courage alone.
When both sides are strong, the one who runs out of supplies first loses.
If our enemies bleed ryo faster than we do, they're already defeated."
He looked out at the distant horizon, where the first stars were appearing.
"Remember this: in the world of shinobi, the sharpest kunai isn't steel — it's wealth."
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