The crisis played out like a row of falling dominoes. Not only did the price of millet skyrocket, but all other food categories followed suit, though at a slightly slower pace. For example, pork prices rose by 30%. Strangely, even after the market prices stabilized and dropped back down, the restaurants refused to lower their prices.
These price fluctuations were the cold result of merchant greed; they weren't about to let a chance for profit slip by. It was a disaster that rippled across every border.
Fortunately, their ally, the Hidden Sand, proved incredibly reliable at the critical moment. Hiruko played a pivotal role, leveraging Konoha's might to turn the tide. They narrowly navigated the challenge, preventing a full-blown famine.
But not everyone was satisfied with the outcome. The common people harbored deep resentment, and the merchant giants were equally disgruntled. However, the Leaf, Sand, and Mist had established a "Three-Village Accord" at the start, requiring unified action. Without these three, the alliance would collapse. Despite their complaints, the merchants had to accept reality; if the pact dissolved, everything they had built would be forfeit.
At the very least, the hidden villages had made their money—the merchants just weren't allowed to squeeze out that final copper coin. Without the giants manipulating the prices from the shadows, grain prices plummeted instantly. While the storm had left its mark on the world, the worst-case scenario—widespread starvation and total social collapse—was avoided.
To appease the various factions, Hiruko convened several follow-up meetings to permanently shelf the "Intelligence Network Sharing" dispute. Instead, they moved toward a normalized state of information sharing, where the Five Nations collectively provided data. As for the operational costs of the Tailed Beast squads, the merchant giants were forced to foot the bill.
The other powers were satisfied. They weren't professional merchants, and their earlier "confession" had been a tactical maneuver. Investing once or twice was manageable, but a long-term economic war was beyond them. Providing local price data was easy, and since the merchants were paying the upkeep, the villages could use those funds to maintain their own regional spy networks. It expanded their commercial influence with zero risk—a win-win in their eyes.
With the crowd finally quieted, Hiruko began the "clean-up" phase. He started with some superficial bureaucratic hand-waving, then quietly arranged for several mid-tier grain merchants—who were still trying to stir up trouble—to meet with "accidents," pinning the blame for the entire crisis on them.
The anger of the public didn't vanish overnight. Even without an internet, newspapers were spreading word of the exploitation, and Hiruko felt a rare sense of helplessness against the public's ire. However, Konoha's treasury was untouched; in fact, the village's bond with Hiruko had grown stronger. The ninjas could feel the benefits he'd secured for them, and their trust in him reached new heights.
Hiruko, bored with these administrative trifles, dumped everything onto Minato Namikaze's desk and vanished into his laboratory.
The greatest haul from the conflict wasn't the money, but the discovery of the massive Sky Ninja Ruins—as they were currently called. To Hiruko, these weren't just ruins; they were a repository of "Black Tech." If scientific ninja tools existed in this world, then a scientific methodology didn't care for the nomenclature.
The Sand Village had been inches away from the Sky's secrets, but they were too focused on returning home to bank their profits. They viewed the Sky ninjas with contempt and never bothered to search the subterranean depths. Hiruko had seized the ruins' wealth, split it into four portions, and sent them to the other major villages as "gifts." The Four Kage, satisfied with their payout, considered the matter closed.
Smarter individuals might have made the connection to the Zero-Tails, but since Hiruko was making them rich, they kept their mouths shut. After all, the Zero-Tails was weak; it couldn't even stand against the One-Tails, Shukaku.
They didn't understand the Zero-Tails' true value. It wasn't meant for combat; it was a battery. In the Sky's grand design, it was the power source for the Floating Fortress. If Konoha utilized it correctly, the Floating Fortress could become a genuine aerial battleship.
The energy conversion rate was staggering. In the original setting, a single person's pain and life force could power the entire fortress. For a village, the cost was negligible. The Land of Fire was vast; finding a few hundred death-row inmates a year was easy. If those ran out, one could always torture particularly vile criminals to harvest their negative emotions.
In fact, Hiruko wondered if this was more practical than Orochimaru's quest for infinite chakra through Reanimation. This solved the energy and transport issues for the entire human race. Road construction in the Land of Fire's dense forests was a nightmare. With a fleet of Floating Fortresses, ground infrastructure became secondary.
The Zero-Tails was also incredibly stable compared to a Tailed Beast. It never "went berserk" unless its host, Shinno, forced a fusion at a dead end. It was reliable. Hiruko figured he'd have Orochimaru look into mass-producing these fortresses. The advantage of science, after all, was large-scale replication.
Furthermore, the Sky's individual flight gear was impressive. The principle was simple: a glider with dual wings, but powered by the ninja's chakra. While limited to small-scale bombing runs for now, the training requirements were low. A Genin could become a pilot with minimal effort. You didn't even need to worry about engine failure, because the pilot was the engine.
If not for the structural limitations and the G-forces on the human body at high altitudes, these would be supersonic bombers. Chakra made the complex simple. Air superiority was the ultimate strategic resource. A unit of three thousand Sky ninjas could theoretically level a Great Nation in days—provided Ohnoki wasn't there to delete them.
Granted, against top-tier masters who could fire Tailed Beast Bombs, a Sky unit was just a collection of clay pigeons. But their value in logistics and conventional warfare surpassed any traditional aircraft carrier.
Konoha couldn't build a real aircraft carrier anyway. Even in modern Earth, a carrier is a miracle of thousands of specialized industrial sectors. Konoha ninjas were warriors, not professional manufacturers. You could train a ninja in physics, but they couldn't independently recreate a superpower's industrial chain. Hiruko didn't want to build a "bootleg" carrier that looked ridiculous.
However, the Sky ruins contained something even more valuable: primitive Computer Blueprints. They were massive, intended for fire control or guidance systems, and more advanced than anything Hiruko had seen in this world. He wasn't a computer expert in his past life, but he knew how to put people to work.
The various nations were now secretly hiring engineers to decode these technologies. With the blueprints, progress was smooth. Mass-producing computers in Konoha was no longer a dream.
Night fell. Hiruko lay lazily in Pakura's arms, while also holding Maki—the "Large-sized Rin Nohara." He had been exhausted lately.
Maki had been nudged by the Sand Village elders to plead with Hiruko for more benefits for Suna. The Sand truly knew how to use the "little cutie" to their advantage.
"Lord Hiruko, can you give Suna just a bit more this time?" Maki asked, looking up with puppy-dog eyes.
Hiruko pinched her nose with a chuckle. "And how will you repay me?"
"I brought Master to you again, didn't I?"
"You bastard..." Pakura muttered, her forehead beaded with sweat. She was so tired she could barely lift her arms. Having such a "filial" disciple was quite the experience!
"Good big brother, Master and I will keep you company!" Maki chirped.
"Then let's see how hard you two can work!"
Pakura's protests were useless; she was relentlessly pulled back up by her treacherous apprentice.
In the Hokage's office, Minato Namikaze was working at high speed. Normally, his desk was clean, but Hiruko's plans had buried him in a mountain of paperwork.
The post-war era was twenty times busier than the war itself. Kakashi, acting as the Hokage's secretary, was forced to use Shadow Clones daily—and even that wasn't enough. He returned home every night with legs like jelly.
Konoha had too much to do, and it was all because of Hiruko's complex visions. If not for...
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