The situation was heart-wrenching.
Outside, the scene was pure chaos. Under Nagato's control, the surrounding vegetation seemed to spring to life, rapidly enveloping the young boy and whisking him away to a safe location.
Nagato then stood alone to face the remaining bandits, his eyes reflecting an infinite, frigid indifference.
"Hmph, he thinks he can handle us all by himself?" one bandit sneered.
"Young man, you clearly don't know your place!"
"Boss, let me chase him off!" another shouted. Their arrogance was so thick it was as if Nagato were already a cornered rat.
The bandit leader, however, subtly shifted a few steps back, his eyes locked onto Nagato. With years of experience narrowly escaping death, he knew instinctively that the man before him was a formidable ninja—not someone to be underestimated. He cursed his luck internally, but barked out, "Be careful!"
"Boss, look at this kid... skin as smooth as silk. Later, can I...?" a lecherous bandit whispered, sidling up to the leader and rubbing his hands together with a vile glint in his eyes.
"Shut up!" the leader snapped, turning to glare at him. A flash of panic crossed his eyes as he surveyed the surroundings. It was deathly silent, save for the occasional chirp of an insect, which only added to the eerie atmosphere. "Focus! Do you think now is the time for that? Keep your eyes peeled!" He roared, trying to mask his own growing unease.
They thought they could bluster and shout without consequence.
Nearby, Nagato began to pace forward. His steps were slow and rhythmic, each one seemingly thumping against the bandits' hearts. He hadn't even closed the distance, yet the group felt as though they were pinned by an invisible, crushing pressure. Their bodies grew stiff, their limbs refusing to move.
The bandit leader strained with every ounce of his strength to shift even an inch, but his legs felt bolted to the floor. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.
With a slight flick of Nagato's hand, thick black rods manifested out of thin air. Like black lightning, they lanced forward, skewering the bandits through the skull, one after another. They didn't even have time to scream before they slumped to the ground.
In heartbeats, the entire gang lay in a pool of their own blood, staining the earth crimson. The Fujiwara heir, who had been marked for death, had been saved solely because he had reached out to a wandering Ronin.
In the days that followed, the major hereditary factions of the Land of Rice Fields suffered a sudden and brutal fate. Over three thousand people were systematically slaughtered by a mysterious ninja, unable to offer even a shred of resistance. The techniques used were common ninjutsu, but their execution was so terrifyingly efficient that every strike was lethal. The Great Nations were thrown into an uproar, speculating wildly about the origin and purpose of this phantom executioner.
In a dim laboratory, Hiruko sat alone, surrounded by experimental apparatus and notebooks. He frowned, his mind occupied by the enigma of the Soul.
In his previous life, the existence of the soul was impossible to prove—a nebulous dream. Although the "21 Grams" theory had been popular for a time, it was widely dismissed as a flight of fancy; most believed those grams were merely exhaled gases or other biological discharges.
Hiruko picked up a pen and began recording his thoughts in Chinese characters. He used Hanzo as his personal encryption; to the people of the shinobi world, these characters were an unbreakable cipher.
Unlike Earth, the shinobi world provided observable evidence of the soul. Souls didn't reincarnate here; they resided in the Pure Land. If this discovery were made public on Earth, it would trigger a global chain reaction. Who doesn't have regrets? Who wouldn't want to see a departed loved one? If death was merely the beginning of another journey, the societal implications would be staggering.
Hiruko shook his head, leaving those questions to the philosophers. He had more practical concerns. What parts of the body does the soul specifically control? And how does the flesh, in turn, warp the spirit?
He thought of Orochimaru. After countless body transfers, the Sannin had changed. His personality and behaviors were fundamentally different from his youth. Hiruko wondered if these changes were intentional or a passive side effect of the soul being molded by foreign vessels. Perhaps Orochimaru's descent into extremism after defecting was the result of his spirit being corrupted by his physical shells?
For now, this research would remain solitary. To others, it was the height of madness.
The Land of Rice Fields, once a stagnant backwater, had become a storm center for global interests. The Five Great Nations had sensed the immense profit potential in the power vacuum. After intense negotiation, they reached a consensus on the distribution of spoils.
The era of independent action was over. The nations agreed to collaborate on production, construction, and sales. From raw material sourcing to factory operation and distribution channels, every link was mapped out. Equity stakes were calculated with surgical precision, beginning a game of "fair" profit-sharing that hid countless hidden agendas.
Domestic merchants generally had little interest in farming abroad. Foreign lands were full of risks: language barriers, cultural friction, and volatile regulations. But a vast, untapped market changed the math. For a merchant, profit is the only north star.
To the public, Konoha appeared to have limited land resources. But in reality, Hiruko was using memory-altering seals on Leaf-affiliated merchants, allowing them to enter the Land of Rice Fields under deep cover to amass vast tracts of land. The other Great Nations were doing the same, treating the country like a giant buffet.
The Five Nations would not allow any one power to dominate Rice Fields. They knew a monopoly would break the balance. Meanwhile, ninjas were finding ways to bypass the "Five-Nation Oversight," using operatives disguised as merchants to build clandestine power bases.
Hiruko established a massive "Konoha Grain Corporation." To avoid being crushed by the other Great Nations—as the Sky Ninjas had been—he designed a highly complex corporate structure. It was a web of countless shell companies, interconnected and mutually dependent. Every major shareholder was a Leaf loyalist, but the layers of equity made it impossible for outsiders to trace the true ownership.
If this model succeeded, Konoha would only need to hold 10% of the visible shares to maintain absolute control over the company—and by extension, the entire agricultural economy of the Land of Rice Fields. It was a strategy inspired by how the Samsung Group controlled South Korea.
The nobility of the Land of Fire lauded Hiruko's brilliance and confidence. They saw the potential for obscene profit. However, they grumbled about the complexity of the system. Accustomed to traditional business, this "modern" corporate layout gave them a headache. But they endured it for the sake of the gold.
Their most pressing concern wasn't actually Rice Fields; it was Resources. As the Land of Fire's industrial machine expanded, the existing resource reserves were hitting a deficit. Factories needed raw materials and cities needed energy now. They couldn't wait for the future; they were desperate to utilize Hiruko's Floating Fortresses. These aerial leviathans could haul massive loads at high speeds, bringing resources from the farthest reaches of the continent in days.
Hiruko agreed immediately. He knew their needs were the fuel for his grand plan. After sending the merchants away satisfied, he consulted with the Fire Daimyo and village elders, urging them to adopt Konoha's corporate tactics.
He secretly found it baffling that warriors were being used for delicate diplomacy, a field requiring nuance and political insight they lacked. But in this era, there was no other choice. He patiently explained his vision, nudging the village leadership toward the Reformer faction.
He knew that if he tried to build everything from scratch alone, the technical and political hurdles would be insurmountable. Leveraging successful Earth models was more efficient.
Meanwhile, the Land of Wind remained a desolate waste of sand. Suna was struggling, and bringing them along was a chore. But in this shifting world, a stable ally was worth the effort. Two-on-two was better than one-on-two, and he feared a future three-on-one scenario where Konoha stood alone.
However, aid shouldn't be given too freely; if it's too easy to get, they won't value the partnership. But Hiruko had made a promise to Pakura and her apprentice, Maki. He was a man of his word—especially since Pakura, with Maki's "help," had practically worked her throat to exhaustion for him. She had literally swallowed her pride—and more—for her village's sake.
After the diplomats left, Hiruko hurried to a secret meeting. The guests were of a status that prohibited public exposure. He arrived at a heavily guarded tea room where several elders from the Land of Fire were waiting.
These men were the heavyweights under the Daimyo—ministers with military authority and vast political capital. They were the "Face" and the "Substance" of the nation, veterans of decades of power play.
Of course...
A single relevant follow-up question: What specific "forbidden" proposal does Hiruko present to these Fire Nation elders to secure his control over the Floating Fortress fleet?
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