"But still, Your Highness…"
"Madara-sama has already placed his trust in Senju Hashirama and accepted the Senju clan's proposal for peace. The Uchiha clan has accepted it as well."
Uchiha Makoto spoke at length.
In short—
The war between the Uchiha and the Senju had ended.
They had shaken hands and reconciled.
The outcome was already set in stone.
The Fire Daimyō listened, and the more he heard, the worse he felt.
His expression grew increasingly unpleasant.
Makoto watched the change in the Daimyō's face carefully.
The heat is just right.
The cold stove has finally been warmed through.
"I will absolutely not sit still and wait for death!" Makoto said firmly.
"I cannot watch the Uchiha clan walk straight into a pit of fire!"
"Your Highness—since Senju Hashirama wishes to gather the shinobi clans and found a shinobi village, then I can do the same."
"To be honest, that is precisely why I left the Uchiha clan."
"But recruiting clans and building a village…"
Makoto sighed heavily.
"I can only regret that my financial strength is insufficient!!"
He tilted his head back, gazing upward at a perfect forty-five-degree angle.
His eyes glistened with moisture, while his peripheral vision subtly tracked the Daimyō.
The message couldn't have been clearer.
Damn it!
Daimyō—hurry up and pay!!
I know you're loaded, damn it!!
Watching Makoto's "heartfelt performance"—
that self-sacrificing, clan-first, utterly moving display—
The Fire Daimyō finally smiled again.
He wasn't afraid of Makoto making requests.
What he feared most was Makoto resigning himself to fate.
Because of the "Hashirama Threat Theory," the Daimyō could no longer help but imagine—
If today the Uchiha reconciled with the Senju because of Hashirama…
Then tomorrow, what if the rest of the shinobi world followed suit?
What if all shinobi clans united under Hashirama, forming a colossal shinobi super-village?
Today you unify the shinobi world—
Tomorrow, what exactly are you planning to do?
Even someone who had mastered the Invincible Flaming Windmill knew one simple truth:
An organization requires balance.
How could the Daimyō not understand this?
"Hahaha, that's hardly a problem," the Daimyō said warmly.
"I now understand the Uchiha clan's predicament. If you, Makoto, wish to found a shinobi village as well—"
"I can represent the Fire Country and provide you with financial support."
Hearing this, Makoto straightened his robes and immediately clasped the Daimyō's hand tightly.
Finally.
Finally I've secured the Fire Daimyō as my sponsor—no, my angel investor!
"Your Highness, the Uchiha clan will never forget today's generosity!"
"I will firmly, steadfastly, and unwaveringly support Your Highness!"
Makoto's words struck straight at the Daimyō's heart.
The Daimyō felt utterly refreshed, blood surging with satisfaction.
This young man—
He really knew how things worked.
The Daimyō clasped Makoto's hand in return.
No further words were needed.
Their alliance was formally established.
Makoto needed the Daimyō's money.
The Daimyō needed Makoto to act as his spearhead—
to keep the shinobi clans divided and preserve the Warring States status quo.
After their discussion concluded, the Daimyō personally invited Makoto to stay for a meal—
Ahem.
To dine.
Makoto gladly accepted.
He hadn't eaten properly all day—only tea in the reception hall.
The tea was excellent: rich aroma, lingering sweetness.
But tea alone didn't fill the stomach.
And to reach the Fire Capital as quickly as possible, Makoto had survived on soldier pills along the road.
Everyone knew how those tasted.
They were invented without the slightest concern for flavor.
Inside the Palace
At the Daimyō's command, exquisite dishes were brought in one after another.
At the same time, music rose, and rows of young dancers in light attire entered, swaying gracefully.
Makoto was an open-minded man. Faced with such a scene, he chose to watch openly.
Not out of lust—
but because when flowers bloom in full splendor, failing to appreciate them would be uncouth.
Still…
the Daimyō's life was truly luxurious.
And the food—
especially the food—was genuinely excellent.
The Fire Daimyō reclined comfortably in his seat, sipping fine wine.
Wine eased sorrow.
Especially on a rainy day—
holding a cup of wine, gazing quietly at nature, one's body and mind could finally relax.
"Makoto… if only everyone were as worry-free as you," the Daimyō suddenly sighed.
Most people couldn't understand how he felt in that moment.
Being a Daimyō in the Naruto world was no easy task.
In name, he was the supreme ruler of the Fire Country.
In practice—
A thousand years of entrenched class structure had allowed noble families and bureaucratic factions to band together, freely carving up his authority.
By his generation, bureaucratic politics had become so bloated it was nearly unmanageable.
His daily life now consisted of handling a small number of major affairs,
while spending most of his time on games and hunting.
Routine domestic matters were handled by ministers.
It wasn't that he didn't want more power.
He couldn't.
In his youth, he had been ambitious.
He wanted to break free of the suffocating bureaucratic system.
Open the windows.
Let in fresh air.
Strip away useless formalities.
He wanted this creaking old machine called the Fire Country to regain vitality.
He was sick of a shadow government.
He wanted a transparent government of his own!
Then that very afternoon—
The ministers delivered him a white paper.
Its title was:
"Transparent Government."
Along with it came stacks of documents piled like small hills—implementation files filled with dense, incomprehensible clauses.
"Regarding the execution of statutory provisions,"
"abnormal and non-abnormal situations between responsible departments fall under administrative jurisdiction…"
And countless accumulated memorials.
Meetings piled atop meetings.
Even if the Daimyō worked himself to death, he couldn't handle it all.
When he asked about pushing forward civil service downsizing—
"Can this policy actually be implemented?"
The ministers spread their hands helplessly.
"Your Highness, if you insist that I speak plainly—given the current circumstances, surveying the overall situation, reviewing historical precedent, considering departmental averages, and after comprehensive analysis…"
"In summary, although it may sound unpleasant, the outlook is… subtle."
"Just tell me—can it be done, or not?!"
"It can—and it can't."
A mere taste of bureaucratic politics had completely crushed him.
In the end, the Daimyō chose to lie flat.
Fortunately—
Years of lying flat hadn't shaken his position.
In a Fire Country that was still largely agrarian,
setting aside the shinobi problem—
The ministers only needed to do one thing:
"Keep the oxen and horses half-dead."
But unfortunately—
The times were changing.
The shinobi clans, once obsessed only with missions and blood feuds, seemed to be starting to—