Almost instantly, Nono gave her firm answer: "I don't mind."
Hiruko was slightly taken aback. He pressed further, "In truth, I will be with them often. I might even have children that aren't yours. Is that truly okay?"
Nono remained resolute. "I don't mind."
Hiruko felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if his words had been too harsh, but Nono didn't show even a flicker of hesitation. Finally, he couldn't help but ask, "Then... what do you mind?"
Nono looked up, her eyes shimmering with a gentle, soft light. "I only care about one thing," she whispered. "Until the day I die, will you keep loving me?"
Her voice held a trace of humility, a far cry from her usual image as a strong, independent nun. In this moment, she seemed to have regressed to her youth, willing to cast aside all pride for the sake of her heart's desire.
Hiruko felt a daze come over him. He wasn't even sure what Nono saw in him. He didn't consider himself a man of great romantic charm; his mind was wired for the hard sciences, and he was hardly a master of wooing women. He didn't know if she loved him for his support of the orphans, his frequent visits, or perhaps a mix of both.
But he quickly pushed the thought aside. This wasn't some urban romance novel; there was no need for "blood-dog" tropes like misunderstandings, terminal illnesses, or dramatic affairs. In this era, having multiple partners was common practice. Since both were consenting adults, the story simply required a new beginning.
Hiruko took Nono's hand and pressed it against his chest. "Nono... from today on, this is officially our first day together."
Nono's voice was faint, but the tears welling in her eyes were the only answer he needed.
Nearby, Kabuto allowed a genuine smile to curl his lips. Though he hadn't succeeded in making them his "father" and "mother" by name, seeing them together was more than enough satisfaction. He knew his outburst had been reckless, but if he hadn't acted, the window of opportunity might have closed forever. While Nono might not have understood the village's political landscape, Kabuto—who worked beside Orochimaru—understood it perfectly. He knew Hiruko would eventually unite with Princess Tsunade; if Nono didn't secure her place now, she might never have another chance.
The meal that followed was simple and rustic. Afterward, Hiruko stayed late, and the trio chatted for hours, the atmosphere harmonizing until they felt like a true family.
The next morning, when Hiruko woke, Kabuto was already gone. His empty bed stood as a silent witness to the contrast between last night's warmth and the morning's quiet.
Soon, Hiruko was pulled from bed by a familiar presence. The conversation from the day before resumed in spirit as everyone began their busy routines.
Hiruko pulled Nono into a "morning exercise." The air in the room was soon filled with soft, rhythmic sounds.
Having settled the matter at the orphanage, Hiruko prepared for his next move. He was determined to bring the Land of Rice Fields (Taninokuni) under his control. He planned to hand it over to someone he trusted—perhaps his disciple, Itachi Uchiha, or more likely, Orochimaru.
Orochimaru was a research fanatic, largely indifferent to worldly affairs. Even if the Akatsuki came calling, he wouldn't be interested unless he glimpsed the power of the Rinnegan. With his research funds constantly tight, the Sannin spent most of his time cooped up in his lab.
Konoha couldn't launch an unprovoked military invasion of Rice Fields—it would be a massive political taboo. However, controlling it economically and installing Orochimaru as the "Otokage" was a viable path. A Rice Fields ruled by his own people would act as a bridgehead for Konoha, providing a solid strategic buffer and reducing external pressure on the Land of Fire.
More importantly, the Land of Rice Fields was the legendary granary of the shinobi world. In this world, national names often reflected their primary traits. The Land of Wind was a desert; the Land of Lightning was a craggy, eagle-shunned plateau plagued by strikes. Rice Fields, as the name implied, was 90% farmland.
If Hiruko could secure a steady flow of cheap grain from Rice Fields, the citizens of the Land of Fire would benefit immensely. He was still mulling over ways to boost Konoha's international prestige, and food security was a massive lever.
Great methods always come with great risks, he mused.
He couldn't afford to worry too much about the Daimyo's sensibilities right now. Guiding the market for a while was a necessity. During this period, Konoha's commercial expansion had to accelerate. If he could flood the Land of Fire with cheap fruits and grains, the standard of living would skyrocket.
The people of the Land of Fire were simple; if you sincerely improved their lives, they wouldn't always say it, but they would remember. Fruits were already becoming affordable enough to serve as a meal replacement for the poor. Though unlike some other cultures, they preferred rice as their staple, the nutritional boost was undeniable.
However, Rice Fields was not the Land of Grass. Its soil was too fertile to be ignored. It had been the target of countless wars throughout history. Even today, four internal factions were locked in a stalemate. Furthermore, the neighboring nations kept a sharp eye on it. These other countries might have seemed mediocre, but they possessed formidable military assets and strong economic ties. Rice Fields, conversely, lacked a core power to defend its riches.
In the original history, Orochimaru only established his base there after defecting. This fact alone spoke volumes about how the world viewed the country—as a prize for the taking. The challenge lay not just in settling the internal Rice Fields factions, but in forcing the surrounding nations to remain silent.
Hiruko now had the power to coordinate the "Big Four" villages. At his command, their diplomats would mobilize. He might not get them to show up for a card game, but if he mentioned a "massive joint project," they'd arrive in hours. They were all hungry for capital; they'd come just to see if they could get a bite.
The Five Kage Conference building Hiruko had constructed in Konoha was once again host to the world's movers and shakers. Mei Terumi was back, acting as the envoy for the Hidden Mist. She was easily the busiest diplomat in the world, shuttling between Konoha and Kiri while coordinating with various factions. She appeared exhausted.
"Why hasn't Yagura shown up yet?" Hiruko asked bluntly.
Mei didn't take offense; she knew Hiruko and Yagura's relationship was growing closer by the day. They were each other's greatest rivals, yet they were the only ones who truly understood each other's vision. It was a classic piece of dark humor.
"I haven't seen the Mizukage in a while," Mei shook her head. "Word is he's gained some insight into a new ninjutsu and doesn't want to be disturbed. I'm handling the Leaf's affairs for now."
This balance was delicate, and everyone was walking on eggshells after the recent "Millet War." Hiruko reached out and pulled Mei, dressed in her signature black attire, into his lap, giving her a playful squeeze that elicited a bashful whimper.
They hadn't seen each other since the last major conflict. It wasn't that the loser was hiding out of shame; it was just that Yagura was being incredibly cautious. As a perfect Jinchuriki and a veteran "actor," he knew that the more time he spent with Hiruko, the more likely his guard would drop. Hiruko was a legendary Genjutsu master—someone even Mangekyo-wielding Uchiha feared to face. Even Obito avoided him now.
Hiruko smiled, sensing Mei's anxiety. "We'll observe for now. Yagura is a pro; maybe he really is cooking up a super-plan. Let's not rush things."
After the pleasantries, Hiruko distributed his project summaries. No one had the patience for a book-length plan, but they trusted Hiruko's track record, so they stuck to the first dozen pages of the abstract.
"Tell me, gentlemen," Hiruko asked with a grin, "would you be interested in expanding your business interests and becoming... shall we say, 'humble grain merchants'?"
Hiruko's new plan was a masterstroke of patience. He was sipping the chrysanthemum tea Mei had served him, perfectly relaxed. The income from the "Grain Plan" would be modest compared to his pre-closure schemes, but the process was stable and beneficial to the commoners of the entire world.
He planned to apply scientific agriculture to the fertile soil of Rice Fields. By utilizing advanced techniques, he could boost total grain production by three to five times. Given that Rice Fields already produced enough to feed a quarter of the world, a five-fold increase could theoretically end world hunger.
From a long-term economic perspective, as the Engel coefficient (the proportion of income spent on food) dropped, the people would have more disposable income to spend on industrial goods. This would boost global consumption and drive the next phase of economic growth.
In the next ten years, provided there was no war, this plan would fundamentally reshape the world.
A single relevant follow-up question: How do the other Great Nations react to Hiruko's plan to monopolize and scientifically enhance the world's grain supply through the Land of Rice Fields?
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