51-60

Chapter 51: Secret Puppetry Techniques  

"I refuse to believe your defense is harder than diamond!"  

A cold glint flashed in Umino Yoru 's eyes.  

Screech… Screech…  

The diamond-infused sand, carried by the swirling currents of water, ground against the small shield-like armor. Even through the barrier of the rotating water prison, the piercing sound of metal being sliced through was unmistakable—enough to make one's scalp crawl.  

In mere seconds, the armor protecting the thighs was sheared apart by the diamond sand, and the legs beneath were severed clean off.  

"Agh—!"  

"You think you can capture me alive? Dream on!"  

No sooner had the scar-faced Special Jonin spoken than he spat out a mouthful of red-green liquid. Clearly, he had bitten down on a poison capsule hidden in his teeth—ending his own life.  

"What a waste."  

Umino Yoru shook his head in disappointment.  

Typical of a Sand ninja raised in the harsh desert—merciless to others, even more so to themselves.  

Had he been able to take this Sand shinobi prisoner, he might have uncovered deeper secrets of puppetry. But core techniques like these were always protected by anti-leakage seals—even the Yamanaka Clan’s mind-reading abilities wouldn’t be able to extract intel.  

Just like Iwagakure’s Light-Weight Rock Technique or Kumogakure’s Lightning Release Chakra Mode—every village safeguards its secrets. Konoha’s forbidden techniques are no different.  

"Still, with my Subsonic Radar Technique, stealing basic puppetry shouldn’t be too hard."  

Yoru had his shadow clones clean up the battlefield before dispelling the one that had been secretly studying the enemy’s techniques. A rush of memories and experience flooded his mind, causing a brief dizziness, but thanks to his ample food energy reserves, he recovered quickly.  

Now armed with the stolen knowledge of puppetry, he decided to test it immediately.  

"So this is chakra thread… Unimpressive."  

He frowned at the thin strand of chakra extending from his left index finger—far weaker than even the average Sand Chunin’s threads.  

"Seems only those with Wind or Earth Release have real potential as puppeteers."  

It was disappointing. The basic techniques of Sunagakure’s puppetry were right in front of him, yet his chakra affinity was holding him back.  

The fundamentals of puppetry weren’t overly complex—it involved manipulating chakra threads with specific vibrational frequencies to send commands to puppets. The requirements?  

1. Exceptional chakra control  

1. Mastery of specialized vibrational frequencies  

1. Wind or Earth chakra nature 

Other affinities could work, but without the stability and durability of Wind or Earth, the threads would be too fragile.  

Yoru attempted to connect a Water Release chakra thread to a nearby kunai and pulled.  

Whoosh!  

The kunai flew into his hand—but the thread snapped instantly.  

With threads this flimsy, forget controlling puppets—even handling weapons would be a struggle.  

Still, he wasn’t discouraged. If he could develop a secondary chakra nature, becoming a puppeteer wouldn’t be impossible. His chakra control was already on par with—if not superior to—most Jonin-level puppeteers. As for the vibrational frequencies? Well, the more Sand puppeteers he fought, the more he’d learn.  

Rustle… Rustle…  

Suddenly, movement in the forest signaled the arrival of reinforcements—Shibi Aburame and the others.  

Too late.  

Every ounce of mission credit was already his.  

"A puppeteer squad?!"  

Choza Akimichi’s eyes widened at the sight of the wreckage. A full squad of puppeteers—equivalent in combat strength to a standard Jonin team—wiped out in under ten minutes? And without a single injury on Yoru ’s side?  

Unbelievable.  

"Senior, you’re amazing!"  

Sarutobi Shinnosuke ran up, stars practically shining in his eyes as he gazed at Yoru with pure admiration.  

Not one for unnecessary attention, Yoru downplayed it. "They walked into my traps. And I used poison, so—"  

"Yoru , no need to be modest!" Choza laughed, clapping him on the back. "Taking down a puppeteer squad this fast is impressive no matter how you slice it. You’re a credit to my team!"  

He grinned proudly before adding, "Another A-rank mission under your belt—you’re one step closer to that Jonin promotion!"  

Yoru played along with a humble reply: "All thanks to your leadership, Choza-sama."  

After some brief exchanges, Choza and the patrol team moved on, leaving Yoru behind—and once again missing his chance to learn water-style techniques from Mitarashi Anko.  

Before leaving, though, Choza mentioned something in passing: Sarutobi Eijirou had been transferred from upstream patrol duty to the logistics division. If he gave Yoru any trouble when he returned to duty tomorrow, he could seek help from Nara Shikazo, a Jonin in the same department—just by dropping Choza’s name.  

Once the others were gone, Shukutaro hurried over, uncharacteristically bashful.  

"Captain… about the mission records…"  

The truth was, the three of them had barely participated in the fight—Yoru had taken down every Sand ninja himself. Technically, the mission was his alone.  

"Relax. You’ll still get credit as support. One A-rank mission record for each of you."  

"YES! Captain, you’re the best!"  

The trio cheered. Between this, the previous A-rank intel retrieval mission, and their accumulated C and B-ranks, they now had enough for Chunin promotions.  

"Don’t worry, Captain—we’ll take the mission record, but all the achievement points are yours!" Shukutaro thumped his chest. "Oh, and we’ll handle your laundry from now on—spotless, guaranteed!"  

"Hah! Good man."  

Yoru patted his shoulder, thoroughly pleased with his subordinate’s attitude.  

Chapter 52: Special Jonin  

The night passed without incident.  

With shadow clones keeping watch, he could finally sleep soundly until morning. After a hearty breakfast, he dismissed the clones on guard duty. The flood of memories from the clones hit him hard, but with the energy from the food, he recovered quickly.  

Swish, swish, swish…  

The sound of movement echoed through the forest.  

Umino Yoru signaled for Shukudō and the others to stay calm—it was just Team Ebisu, arriving to take over their patrol shift.  

Team Ebisu was a mobile patrol unit, rotating between nine fixed guard posts to relieve squads returning to the base for reassignment. Each stationary patrol team worked in 10-day cycles, counted as a C-rank mission, with one day back at headquarters—basically a day off.  

The mobile patrol team covered all nine sectors, plus their own rest day, completing the 10-day cycle seamlessly.  

Admittedly, the mobile patrol mission was riskier, but the rewards were better. Though both were C-rank, the pay differed—Team Ebisu earned a full 50,000 ryō per cycle, along with standard-issue soldier pills.  

In contrast, Team Umino only made 40,000 ryō, with half their rations being low-grade soldier pills. If not for Inuzuka Ryō’s clan status, even he, as a genin, would’ve only gotten the lowest-quality ones.  

Beyond supplies and pay, the mobile patrol also awarded higher merit points, which factored into future promotions. The extra danger came with tangible benefits.  

Umino Yoru raised an eyebrow as Ebisu Hiko rushed over with his team. "Hiko, you’re early today. What’s the hurry?"  

Ebisu wasn’t in the mood for small talk. "Yoru , I heard you completed an A-rank mission last night?!"  

"That spread fast?" Yoru was surprised, but then it made sense—Akimichi Torifu must’ve mentioned it while making rounds, either as a warning, motivation, or just plain bragging.  

The earlier mission involving the Sand’s jinchūriki was S-rank and classified, but last night’s A-rank was fair game.  

"No way, it’s true?! How’d you pull that off?" Ebisu was stunned. All ten patrol teams in this sector were roughly equal in strength—if anything, his mobile team was slightly stronger.  

Yet in just a few days, his old buddy had soloed an A-rank? No way this was a fluke.  

"Just luck," Yoru deflected, trying to stay low-key.  

"Yeah, right." Ebisu grabbed his arm, refusing to let it go. "We grew up together—spill!"  

Sighing, Yoru relented. "Fine. I spotted the Sand nin early, set up traps, and used a ton of explosive tags and weapons. Barely pulled it off."  

"Seriously?" Ebisu squinted. That easy? Explosive tags and weapons weren’t cheap.  

Yoru leaned in, lowering his voice. "Alright, you got me. I also used poison. You know how it is." He gave a knowing look, letting Ebisu’s imagination fill in the gaps.  

Ebisu’s eyes lit up. "Traps, explosives, poisoned shrapnel… Damn, that’s ruthless." He clapped, piecing together the strategy.  

"Yoru , you’re gonna make Special Jonin before me at this rate." He grinned, though a hint of envy lingered.  

It was that classic dilemma—happy for his friend, but hard not to feel left behind.  

"C’mon, we’re brothers. Hook me up." Ebisu nudged him, clearly angling for the poison formula.  

The two had known each other since childhood. Their families had ties to the Sarutobi clan—Yoru ’s ancestors had branched off to sell fish, while Ebisu’s clan stuck around as tutors for Sarutobi nobles, teaching etiquette and literature.  

They’d met when Yoru delivered fish to the Sarutobi compound as a kid. Later, they both entered the Academy—Ebisu in the elite class, Yoru in the regular one.  

"Here. Didiwei No. 5. Use it sparingly." Yoru tossed him a vial of Water Bat No. 5, then quickly made his exit.  

Ebisu was sharp—sometimes too sharp. If he stayed, the act would crumble.  

"Hey, wait! I was gonna give you something too!" Ebisu called after him, pulling a small book from his pouch.  

Yoru , whose hearing was now razor-sharp thanks to his sound-wave detection jutsu, nearly tripped.  

That little—! He resisted the urge to hit Ebisu with an infrasonic shockwave. Still reading those trashy novels, huh? No wonder he’s not Special Jonin yet.  

He shook his head. "No hope for a guy addicted to that kind of ‘training.’"  

With that, he led Shukudō’s team toward the base—but not before a quick detour to the military exchange.  

Chapter 53: Sticky Syrup Capture  

After traveling just a few miles, Umino Yoru created a shadow clone to escort Tekudō and the others back to the military camp at a leisurely pace.  

Meanwhile, his real body made a detour to the lab, collecting a large vial of Water Bat No. 7, before activating the Basic Body Flicker Technique and speeding toward the frontline exchange post.  

In the past, such frequent use of the Body Flicker would have drained him within minutes. But now, fueled by the energy from his food reserves, he could keep it up for over half an hour without breaking a sweat.  

Soon, he arrived at the exchange post.  

"Hah…"  

The moment he stepped into the valley, a wave of suggestive sounds hit his ears. His blood surged, his face flushed, and he nearly lost control of his Transformation Technique.  

"Having too much vitality… isn’t always a good thing."  

He finally realized a major drawback of the Akimichi Calorie Control Technique—excess energy led to excess vigor, and his body was now like a powder keg, ready to ignite at the slightest spark.  

"I need to develop a way to store this food energy fast, or even a basic Sexy Technique might break my focus."  

Storing it as fat was too risky—he had no desire to balloon into an Akimichi-sized physique. But the body had other ways to stockpile energy. Perhaps some Yang Release research could solve this.  

After swiftly navigating the slum-like tent area, he spotted Kōenzō waiting eagerly at the entrance.  

"My lord!" Kōenzō greeted him with visible excitement.  

"Mn." Playing the part of the aloof Sarutobi jōnin, Yoru strode straight to the second floor.  

"Kōenzō, I’m in a hurry. Give me an appraisal."  

He unsealed the large vial of Water Bat No. 7 and four captured Sand Village puppets from a scroll, keeping only the intact Black Ant Puppet for himself.  

"Two standard-issue chūnin puppets from Sunagakure—pristine condition. Two custom-made, high-quality puppets for special jōnin… heavily damaged."  

Kōenzō’s eyes widened at the haul. For an elite jōnin, wiping out a specialized puppet squad wasn’t unheard of, but this was the second batch in days. Was this man part of an assault unit?  

Then—  

"This is…"  

Before assessing the puppets, Kōenzō picked up a small, cleaved shield fragment, studying its surface.  

His breath hitched.  

The cut was impossibly smooth—no chakra blade could achieve this. Even a chakra-enhanced sword would struggle to slice through such reinforced material in a single stroke, let alone leave a flawless edge.  

"What kind of technique has this kind of cutting power?"  

His mind raced. An A-rank jutsu might not even be capable of this.  

Unless—  

"No way…"  

A legendary technique came to mind: Water Release: Severing Wave, an S-rank forbidden jutsu. Its pressurized water blades matched the precision of these cuts exactly.  

"Hiss…"  

Kōenzō’s hands trembled. His mysterious patron had S-rank capabilities? Previous estimates had been far too low—this was a hidden Konoha powerhouse!  

And given the man’s apparent youth… Kage-level potential wasn’t out of the question.  

The thought sent a thrill through him. This was the kind of connection that could rebuild fortunes—even elevate him to a merchant king in the Land of Fire.  

Unaware of Kōenzō’s internal fanfare, Yoru cut straight to business:  

"Kōenzō, what’s the price for mizuame malt syrup here?"  

Mizuame, a type of sticky malt syrup, was perfect for his needs—not just as a high-carb energy source for prolonged training, but also as the base for a new technique: Water Release: Sticky Syrup Capture.  

If he remembered right, this was the jutsu Kamizuki Izumo and Tatami Iwashi had stumbled upon after spilling syrup during a squabble.  

Simple in concept but brutally effective, it converted chakra into a glue-like substance that immobilized foes. Later, it could even evolve into Water Release: Syrup Bind, forming hardened restraints far stronger than Water Whip.  

"My lord, mizuame is 400 ryō per pound."  

Kōenzō stood respectfully, awaiting further orders.  

"What?! That’s outrageous!"  

Yoru knew frontline prices were inflated, but this was ridiculous.  

"My lord, this is the warzone. Grain prices have tripled—high-energy foods like sugar are even worse."  

Seeing Yoru ’s displeasure, Kōenzō hastily added, "Actually, mizuame is among the cheaper options. Refined sugar goes for 2,400 ryō per pound, and mountain honey? 4,000 ryō—if you can even find it."  

"Wait, honey’s that expensive too?"  

Yoru frowned. Shouldn’t ninja, with their wall-running skills, have an easier time harvesting honey than civilians?  

Kōenzō’s explanation quickly corrected that assumption.  

In the shinobi world, nothing about resource gathering was simple.  

Bees here, nourished by natural energy, were far deadlier than their Earth counterparts. Wild swarms rivaled killer hornets, and their sheer numbers made them a nightmare even for ninja.  

And then there were the Kamizuchi Clan’s chakra-infused bees—practically summon-level threats.  

No wonder honey cost a fortune.  

Chapter 54: Behind-the-Scenes Manipulation  

"Never mind, just give me 500 pounds of maltose syrup."  

"500 pounds?! That much?!"  

Kuromaru was stunned but didn’t dare question it. He hurried off to prepare the supplies.  

In addition, *Umino Yoru * bought 10 explosive tags and some bladed tools. After settling the bill, he left swiftly with a storage scroll in hand.  

This time, Kuromaru had been smart—the four puppets were bought back at maximum premium, and the weapons and supplies Yoru purchased were heavily discounted.  

With the boost from his basic Body Flicker Technique, Yoru quickly caught up to the shadow clone leading his team.  

Instead of dispelling it, he silently moved ahead, activating Infrasound Radar to scan the area for ambushes and traps.  

And wouldn’t you know it—luck was on his side.  

The wide-range scan actually picked up a squad of Sand ninjas who had infiltrated deep into their territory.  

Their condition was far from ideal—two were injured, their wounds already infected. And yet, despite the risk, they were buried in mud, hiding from Konoha patrols.  

Looks like they’re waiting for nightfall to slip past the defenses and escape back to the Wind Country.  

Yoru immediately gorged on food, restoring enough chakra to create eight more shadow clones.  

"Even when hunting rabbits, a lion uses its full strength."  

Though these were just four Sand chunin, and he could’ve taken on twice as many under the cover of his Hiding in Mist Technique, caution was key.  

Soon, his clones had the Sand ninjas surrounded. Trapped in the mud, their senses dulled, they didn’t even realize death was closing in.  

Hiding in sludge had its perks—harder to detect.  

But the downside? Once found, you’re a sitting duck.  

The ambush went off without a hitch. Between his eight clones and his real body, a barrage of kunai and shuriken took out three of the Sand ninjas instantly.  

The sole survivor only lived a second longer—not because he was strong, but because his comrades had been human shields.  

Another storm of blades, and the last enemy fell. No silent assassination was even needed—just brutal efficiency.  

This fight drove home two truths:  

1. In conventional warfare, intel and perception are everything.  

1. More ninjas die to simple kunai than flashy jutsu. 

After a quick cleanup, Yoru pocketed the B-rank mission merits and moved on. Within an hour, Team Umino was back at the allied forces’ base.  

The so-called "base" was actually Shinano City, a major settlement in western Rice Country with a population of over 10,000.  

In the Land of Fire, that would be a mid-sized town. But in Rice Country? A metropolis. (Even the Daimyo’s capital barely had 50,000 people.)  

Most civilians had already fled, leaving behind only war profiteers, gamblers, and desperate merchants.  

"Ahhh, finally back! I can take a hot bath now—I feel so gross!"  

Kosuzu was practically vibrating with joy before they even entered the gates.  

Shukutō was just as relieved—money from home meant he could finally spend some of it. The front lines were hell—what good was cash if you couldn’t use it?  

"Woof woof!"  

Even the ninja dog, Akitarō, wagged his tail wildly.  

"Yo, Yoru ! Back already?"  

The sharp-eyed gate guard, Kamizuki Hayate, waved them over. His partner, Hagane Genseki, chimed in with some small talk.  

After six months of deliberate networking, Yoru had these two wrapped around his finger.  

No grand gestures—just letting them ramble and indulging their need to gossip.  

Gate guards might seem unimportant, but they’re intel goldmines.  

Within minutes, he’d learned:  

• Frontline commander Koharu Utatane was returning to Konoha.  

• Danzo Shimura would be taking over.  

• And, of course, the juicier stuff—who was cheating on whom, which officers frequented the brothels, etc. 

"Catch you later."  

Once he had enough intel, Yoru led his team straight to logistics HQ.  

Before they could even report their mission, Nara Shikazo, the overworked logistics strategist, intercepted them.  

Clearly, he’d ordered his men to track Yoru ’s movements.  

"Yoru , I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. Putting you in Chōji Torifu’s patrol unit was the right call."  

His tone was all praise and political charm, a far cry from his usual aloof superiority. He made sure to *subtly remind Yoru * of the "favor" he’d done him.  

"Remember who got you this cushy assignment."  

"All thanks to your leadership, Lord Shikazo."  

Yoru laid on the flattery thick, channeling the same bootlicking energy he’d used on Wind Country’s petty bureaucrats.  

(Not that he was ungrateful—Shikazo’s political maneuvering had kept him off suicide missions. That was a debt worth acknowledging.)  

"Yoru , you just completed an S-rank mission a few days ago, and now you’ve wrapped up an A-rank? At this rate, you’ll make jonin in no time."  

Shikazo clapped him on the shoulder, his words dripping with recruitment subtext.  

After more mutual ego-stroking, Yoru finally submitted his mission report—enemy forehead protectors, even the corpses.  

"What?! You ran into a Sand squad trying to retreat on your way back… and wiped them out?!"  

Shikazo double-checked the evidence, then straight-faced, declared:  

"Yoru , you just saved our supply lines. Those Sand-nin were hiding in mud—clearly planning to ambush our food convoys! If you hadn’t caught them, we’d be in deep trouble. This absolutely counts as an A-rank mission."  

Yoru : "…???"  

This… works?  

Nara-level IQ indeed—twisting facts like a pro.  

Guess this is what it’s like to be Konoha’s favored elite before even making jonin.  

Chapter 55: Mission Rewards and Cuts  

"With this latest A-rank mission, your total record now stands at:  

• S-rank: 1  

• A-rank: 2  

• B-rank: 44  

• C-rank: 283  

• D-rank: 388." 

Nara Shikazo flipped through the mission logbook, then nodded approvingly. "At this rate, you qualify for a Special Jonin promotion. Given your expertise in mechanical tools, it’s a perfect fit."  

"Special Jonin?"  

Umino Yoru froze for a moment, his mind racing. In peacetime, he’d jump at the chance—higher rank, better privileges. But now? Bad timing.  

With Danzo Shimura replacing Koharu Utatane as frontline commander, major battles were inevitable. Danzo wasn’t the type to play it safe like Utatane.  

For most Chunin—even some Special Jonin—patrol duty was a gamble with life and death. But thanks to his Subsonic Radar, Yoru ’s survival odds were far higher.  

"Shikazo-sama," he asked carefully, "if I’m promoted, will I be reassigned from Choza-sama’s patrol squad?"  

"Naturally." Shikazo gave him a look that said "talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted."  

Yoru feigned hesitation. "Then… I must decline."  

"You’re turning it down?" Shikazo raised an eyebrow. Most civilian-born ninja would kill for this opportunity.  

"Just say the word, and I can push the promotion through today." He smirked. "I’ve got the pull to make it happen."  

"I appreciate the offer, but without Choza-sama’s approval, I won’t leave the frontline patrol."  

Yoru played the loyal subordinate card hard. Why trade a safe gig for a suicide mission?  

"You’re really set on this?"  

"Absolutely. My place is with Choza-sama."  

Shikazo sighed—but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.  

Good. This one’s loyal.  

The Ino-Shika-Chō alliance was tight-knit, and Shikazo had no intention of poaching Choza’s talent. This was just a loyalty test—and Yoru passed.  

That glutton Choza actually found a gem this time.  

Yoru , sharp as ever, caught on instantly. He doubled down:  

"If not for Choza-sama’s timely rescue, I’d have blown myself up with those Sand ninja. I owe him everything. Even if it means staying a Chunin forever, I’ll serve under him."  

"Your dedication is commendable." Shikazo clapped his shoulder. "Stay with Choza for now. Once he’s promoted to battalion commander, I’ll transfer you as a captain—with the Special Jonin title."  

He’d seen enough. A man willing to strap himself with explosives for Konoha didn’t need further testing.  

"Those mechanical tools must cost a fortune."  

"They’re bankrupting me," Yoru groaned, launching into a detailed breakdown of expenses.  

Shikazo waved him off. "Keep the C-rank patrol pay as usual. The two A-ranks will be rated at highest difficulty. And don’t worry about ‘gratitude fees’—just pay the standard 10% mission tax. The rest is yours."  

Normally, wartime missions came with four layers of cuts:  

1. Mission Rating Office (30%)  

1. No bribe? Enjoy your "low-difficulty" rating and peanuts for pay. 

1. Assignment Division (10-50%)  

1. Want the safe missions? Pay up. Otherwise, enjoy suicide charges. 

1. Direct Superior (20%)  

1. Skip this, and you’ll volunteer for every trap-disarming job. 

1. Konoha Tax (Fixed 10%)  

1. The only non-negotiable cut. Even clans pay. 

After all that, the average grunt kept just 30% of their earnings—or even owed money on bad days.  

And the higher-ups pretend they don’t know?  

Please. This system was by design.  

Most of the "gratitude fees" cycled back into Konoha’s war chest—funded by the Daimyo’s treasury and the blood of low-rank shinobi.  

"Wait—really? No ‘thank-you’ fees?" Yoru blinked. "Since when did Logistics Department turn charitable? Did Danzo scare the corruption out of them?"  

Shikazo just smiled. "Consider it… investment in talent." 

Chapter 56: Exchanging Ninjutsu  

If they didn’t inflate the military budget reports, how else would the Fire Daimyo allocate more funds to Konoha? At worst, they’d face budget cuts.  

If they didn’t take a hefty cut from the lower ranks, what motivation would ordinary shinobi have to work harder?  

Without desperation, how could they awaken their ninja willpower, grow stronger, and keep serving Konoha’s glory?  

This policy greatly benefited the village—only the Fire Daimyo and the lower-ranked shinobi suffered.  

Unfortunately, frontline officers soon mimicked the Logistics Division, skimming profits from their subordinates. Those who didn’t comply were given suicidal missions—minefield clearance, trap disarming, or bait duty. There was always a fitting "assignment."  

Over time, lower-ranked shinobi didn’t even wait to be asked. They voluntarily offered so-called "battlefield guidance fees," often disguised as purchasing explosive tags or tools for their superiors. Even Danzō couldn’t find fault with that.  

Thus, after every war, Konoha’s casualties piled high, while a swarm of fattened rats thrived—especially the privileged clan heirs, who grew bolder with impunity.  

The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, eventually recognized the problem and attempted reforms. But the corruption ran too deep, its roots entangled with the very system he relied on.  

Reforming it would mean betraying his own power base—the Sarutobi clan, the biggest beneficiary of this graft. If he angered the military elite, his position as Hokage might not survive.  

Yet, Hiruzen wasn’t entirely helpless. His old comrade, Danzō Shimura, though ineffective abroad, excelled at internal purges. Corruption? Zero tolerance.  

With Danzō’s blade hanging overhead, Hiruzen gathered blackmail on countless shinobi. Carrot and stick in hand, he found this method oddly effective—consolidating his grip on Konoha’s military and politics.  

Soon, he grew addicted to this power play. Why reform when he could squeeze more funds from the Daimyo and tighten his control? As long as the village looked prosperous, who cared about the rot beneath?  

Danzō, however, remained relentless. His ruthless crackdowns let Hiruzen play the merciful leader, "saving" offenders and winning loyalty.  

Through this dance, Hiruzen—once a politically compromised Hokage—now overshadowed the clans. The title of "Strongest Hokage" spread, not for his combat prowess, but his political mastery.  

"Yoru , Lord Danzō will inspect the front soon. Stop using your squad’s supplies—exchange your mission merits for equipment instead."  

Nara Shikazo, unlike Chōza, had clearly investigated Umino Yoru thoroughly.  

"Y-Yes! Thank you for your guidance, Lord Shikazo!"  

Yoru feigned nervous gratitude. He understood the subtext: I have dirt on you. Stay obedient.  

Too bad for Shikazo.  

Yes, Yoru had used Shukudō’s supplies—but that didn’t mean embezzlement. His Multiple Iron Prison Gates technique alone was worth millions, an A-rank defensive ninjutsu. If anything, the Shukudō family owed him. Their shrewd merchants had even prepared "repayment contracts" to cover their tracks.  

After this perfunctory intimidation, Shikazo returned to his paperwork.  

A Sudden Windfall 

Exiting the office, Yoru headed to the Logistics Exchange with his team, eager to trade his hard-earned merits for ninjutsu.  

"I’m rich overnight!" he marveled.  

An S-rank mission’s rewards exceeded 1 million ryō. After deductions (and sharing with Sarutobi Shinnosuke), he still pocketed 200,000+ ryō. The real prize, though, was the S-rank completion record, unlocking high-level jutsu access.  

His two independent A-ranks were even better—only a 10% tax on merits, with the rest his to keep.  

Standard A-rank pay ranged from 150,000 to 1 million ryō. Thanks to Shikazo’s "high-risk" classification, each mission was worth 750,000+ ryō. Combined: 1.5 million ryō.  

"A millionaire in a day?"  

Two weeks ago, he’d been rationing low-grade soldier pills. Now? Financial freedom.  

No wonder everyone wanted to be a jōnin. High-rank missions paid absurdly well—plus, jōnin had leverage. No more exploitation; they exploited others. Invest in land, build a clan… the dream.  

The Trap Ahead 

The Exchange Office’s opulence reeked of corruption. Before entering, Yoru ’s sensory jutsu detected a familiar chakra—Sarutobi Eijirō, hiding in a side room, eavesdropping.  

**"Ah, Yoru ! I’m Koharu’s subordinate, Mitokado Akira! Shinnosuke told me about your Sand Falcon summon—it’s ready!"  

The man’s exaggerated warmth couldn’t mask his disdain.  

So, Eijirō and this guy are in cahoots.  

Yoru smirked inwardly.  

This won’t end well… for them.  

Chapter 57: Ninja Loans  

"Special Jōnin Mitarashi, I’m here to exchange for jutsu and weapon supplies—not the desert falcon summons."  

Umino Yoru cut straight to the point, adding that Akimichi Torifu had warned him: while this batch of desert falcons had potential, their long growth cycle made them a poor investment. Better to spend mission merits on sharper tools.  

"Yoru , you don’t understand how valuable these falcons are!" Mitarashi Kage persisted, his voice dripping with salesman’s fervor. "These are high-tier flying summons! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"  

He launched into a spiel about rarity, combat advantages, and future resale value.  

"My mission merits are limited," Yoru countered. "I need jutsu and equipment more."  

"No merits? No problem!" Mitarashi’s eyes gleamed. "You can buy merits with ryo!"  

"What? At a 30% markup?"  

"That’s a steal!" Mitarashi waved a hand. "Merits exchange for rare后勤部 supplies—they’re always traded at a 10-20% premium. Thirty percent is practically charity!"  

"I don’t have that kind of money."  

Yoru spread his hands in a poor-man’s shrug, inwardly wary. Mission merits were tightly controlled; ordinary shinobi rarely had access to trade them. A 30% markup was suspiciously low. What’s this guy’s game?  

"No money? Ever heard of… ninja loans?"  

"Ninja loans?" Yoru ’s gaze turned icy.  

"Lowest rates on the front! Just 10% monthly interest!" Mitarashi beamed.  

"We’ll discuss loans later. First, the jutsu."  

"Tch. Fine."  

Mitarashi reluctantly produced the exchange list, pushing overpriced, niche techniques. Yoru ignored the bait, selecting practical water releases:  

• C-Rank: Water Clone  

• C-Rank: Water Whip  

• B-Rank: Water Dragon Bullet 

For Tekudō, he exchanged a B-Rank: Earth Wall. For Kosuzu, a Yang Release scroll and basic medical ninjutsu. As for Inuzuka Ryou—no jutsu needed. Instead, he traded Tekudō’s explosive tags for an A-Rank mission record, combining it with his own to cover costs.  

Their hard-earned merits vanished in minutes.  

"No A-Rank for yourself?" Mitarashi wheedled. "Like this Great Waterfall—normally three S-Rank records, now just one! War discount!"  

"One S-Rank? Seriously?"  

Yoru feigned surprise. Earlier, Water Dragon Bullet had cost two A-Ranks—pre-war, it’d have been five. So the rumors are true… The war’s escalating. Danzō’s loosening the vaults.  

"This Shadow Shuriken Technique seems affordable… Pity I’m out of merits."  

Mitarashi pounced. "Ninja loans! Borrow now, train sooner! Bulk discounts!"  

Playing the tempted fool, Yoru "succumbed," taking a loan to splurge on:  

• A-Rank: Shadow Shuriken Technique  

• Desert Falcon Summon  

• A premium summoning scroll (500,000 ryo alone) 

"150万 ryo in debt… Can I even repay this?"  

"You’ll make jōnin soon! Pocket change!" Mitarashi slid forward a contract. "Just sign here~"  

"Wait—my Konoha property and fish shop as collateral?!"  

"Standard practice! What if you die? Gotta recoup losses!" Mitarashi’s grin turned razor-edged. "No refunds~"  

"If I die… My family’s homeless?!" Yoru widened his eyes in "shock," then scrambled upright. "I’ll repay this NOW!"  

"Anytime~" Mitarashi purred.  

Outside, Inuzuka Ryou grimaced. "Captain, that’s Mitarashi’s heir. Aren’t you playing with fire?"  

"Merits are never this accessible," Yoru said coolly. "When heaven sends fortune, refuse it—invite calamity."  

Tekudō smirked, slapping his bulging pouch. "Need my 3 million ryo ‘allowance’?"  

"Not yet. Let’s sell the act first."  

Yoru "borrowed" paltry sums from colleagues—Kamizuki Hayate, Tatami Ishi—before heading to Mimura Hakumen, a rising special jōnin with broad connections.  

After pleasantries, he unsealed 10,000 pounds of salted fish—war-inflated prices netted him nearly 1 million ryo. Combined with Tekudō’s "loan," the debt was covered.  

As they returned to Logistics Department, Might Dai suddenly intercepted them, thrusting a wad of crumpled bills into Yoru ’s hands.  

"Yoru ! Take my 2,355 ryo! Youth… thrives on solidarity!"  

"Dai, if you give me all your money…" Yoru eyed the man’s threadbare jumpsuit. "What’ll you eat tomorrow? Air?"  

He laughed—but his chest tightened. This guy…  

Chapter 58: Reclaiming Property  

At first, his friendship with Might Dai had been purely strategic—a way to get close to Konoha’s strongest eternal genin and, perhaps, learn the secrets of the Eight Gates.  

But over time, the man’s relentless sincerity wore down even Yoru ’s cynicism. Dai was impossible to dislike, even when his actions defied all logic.  

"Yoru , your business is more urgent. I still need to haul supplies at Logistics to earn tomorrow’s meal money."  

"You really gave me all your savings, huh?"  

Yoru sighed inwardly. This idiot… What am I supposed to do with you?  

"The pay for manual labor keeps dropping. This is all I’ve saved this month."  

Even the ever-optimistic Dai sounded uncharacteristically subdued. Then, true to form, he immediately shifted focus:  

"Yoru , how much more do you need?"  

"Exactly 2,355 ryo. Your timing couldn’t be better."  

A white lie. Yoru carefully smoothed out the crumpled bills and tucked them into his pouch.  

"YES! That’s awesome!"  

Dai’s jubilant shout drew stares.  

"Dai, an empty stomach means no strength for work—or training. These are for you."  

Unsealing a scroll, Yoru produced 50 pounds of salted fish—precisely measured. Any more, and Dai’s naïve generosity would see it "shared" with every sob story in Konoha.  

Dai’s indomitable spirit made him an anomaly in the shinobi world. A man of his power shouldn’t be breaking his back for slave wages, yet here he was—too pure for the system to exploit properly.  

Let him keep the grunt work. Dangerous as it sounded, Logistics would protect their cheapest workhorse. No one else would move heavy cargo for pennies.  

"I’ve got business inside. We’ll catch up later."  

Before Dai could refuse the food, Yoru ushered his team into the opulent Logistics HQ.  

Dai took one step toward the gleaming lobby before halting—acutely aware of his stench and rags.  

"Might Dai! Slacking off already? Want your pay docked?!"  

A pompous clerk (from the Shimura branch family) sneered from the doorway.  

"Lord Mitarashi! I was on break, visiting a friend—"  

"What ‘friend’ would waste time on a lifetime loser like you? Get back to work before I deduct your entire day’s pay!"  

The threat worked. Dai vanished in a blur—Basic Body Flicker speed—fish sack in tow.  

The clerk barely had time to smirk before a searing pain spiked through his skull.  

Infrasound Pulse.  

Yoru ’s parting gift. Not lethal—just debilitating. Whether it became chronic depended on how much the fool valued his health.  

Upstairs, Utatane Kagura delivered shocking news:  

"Someone repaid your ninja loan."  

"Who?"  

"Gekkō Clan’s young master."  

Gekkō Yoru?  

Yoru ’s eyebrows climbed. The Gekkōs were minor nobility, barely scraping second-tier status. 1.5 million ryo was no small sum for them.  

"Impressive connections for a commoner." Kagura’s envy was palpable.  

Gekkō Yoru—newly promoted Special Jonin, rumored to have elite-jonin-level combat skills already. A rising star who could restore his clan’s prestige.  

And he’d chosen to call this gutter-born upstart "brother"?  

Ridiculous.  

"So my ‘borrowing’ scheme was pointless?" Yoru feigned dismay. "I’ll return the money, then."  

"Wait!" Kagura’s greed overrode caution. "Why waste the opportunity? Convert it to mission merit points—you’ll need them for jutsu scrolls!"  

Hook set.  

Yoru "reluctantly" agreed, mentioning his B-rank Shadow Clone training with Chōji Torifu and desire for Wind Nature development manuals.  

"See? Merit points are always useful!" Kagura’s grin widened. "How much did you borrow?"  

"1.5 million ryo. Might as well convert it all."  

Kagura’s jaw dropped. How did a nobody secure that much?!  

No matter. Debt was debt. When collections came due, Yoru ’s "friends" would abandon him.  

"Consider it done!"  

Kagura fast-tracked the paperwork. Bureaucratic inertia vanished as the office processed the request at record speed.  

Yoru lingered just outside, Infrasound Radar active.  

Behind closed doors, Kagura and Saruge Eijirō plotted:  

"Just leak his patrol route to Sand. Let them handle it."  

"NO." Eijirō’s voice dripped venom. "Death is too kind. I want him drowned in debt, his family ruined, his name cursed—THEN* he can die."*  

"Eijirō… the Umino fish market properties are prime real estate. Others are eyeing them too."  

"Do you know what those border patrols are like?!" Eijirō’s glass shattered. "Waiting for Sand to attack—like waiting for execution!** He’ll suffer as I did. You will help me."**  

Chapter 59: Raising a Summon Beast  

"Eijirou, you should know this by now—once someone takes a Shinobi Loan and tastes the benefits, they’ll come back for more. This year alone, I’ve repossessed dozens of properties from fools who thought they could beat the system. You think I don’t know how these peasants delude themselves?"  

"Aniki, can’t we speed this up? I’m getting impatient."  

"Patience, Eijirou. It won’t be long now. Umino Yoru just exchanged for a high-tier summoning beast—a Desert Falcon with Giant Sand Raptor bloodline. You think raising something like that is cheap? Even we’d struggle to afford its upkeep."  

"True. If it weren’t for the insane costs and years of growth, I’d have gotten one myself."  

"Exactly. Yoru ’s already borrowed 1.5 million ryō from friends and family. He’s drowning in debt. We don’t even need to set a trap—soon, he’ll be desperate enough to take another loan. And when he does… Keh keh keh…"  

Listening from the shadows, Yoru clenched his fists, barely suppressing the urge to storm in and slaughter them both. But reason prevailed.  

Clan status protects them now… but not forever.  

He swore then—neither would survive the war.  

After gathering intel, Yoru visited the hospital to check on Hyuga Tobu and inquire about Yūgao. But she’d vanished—taking a classified mission right after repaying his loan. Avoiding me, huh?  

With no other leads, he headed to the Summon Beast Nursery, redemption slip in hand.  

"This… is a Desert Falcon?"  

The hatchlings in the enclosure looked nothing like he’d imagined. At barely two weeks old, they were already the size of turkeys, more like steroid-pumped eagles than sleek raptors.  

Then again, this is the shinobi world. Normal biology doesn’t apply.  

"Oh, they’re small now. But with their Giant Sand Raptor lineage, adults will have 20-meter wingspans—big enough to carry eight shinobi at once," the caretaker explained, dumping buckets of raw meat into the cage.  

One chick—snow-white and noticeably larger—bullied its siblings for food until the caretaker rapped the bars.  

"Dai, stop stealing or you’re skipping the next meal."  

Immediately, the white falcon backed off.  

Intelligent. Yoru ’s eyes gleamed. Near-human comprehension.  

"Dai’s showing ancestral traits. He’ll likely develop chakra soon," the caretaker noted. "But once you sign the contract, no refunds. You’re a Chunin, right? Can you handle the costs?"  

The Hidden Expenses of Summoning Beasts 

The caretaker launched into a lecture:  

• Small summons (toads, snakes, etc.) = Low upkeep.  

• Giant summons = Financial black holes. 

Dai’s current needs:  

• 1,000 ryō/day in meat (30,000 ryō/month).  

• Juvenile phase (100+ kg): 300,000 ryō/year—before facility fees. 

"We offer a 10% discount for full-term nursery care. Loans are available, but… don’t."  

"I’ll raise him myself first," Yoru said.  

"On frontline rations? Malnutrition stunts growth!"  

Not an issue for me. With his subsonic fishing technique, rivers would keep Dai fed.  

The Contract 

A sealing team arrived. The scroll’s ink glowed as Yoru pressed a hand to it—  

"Summoning Contract: Sealed."  

Dai, prideful from his awakening bloodline, initially sulked. Nonviolent resistance.  

But Yoru had no patience for falcon tantrums.  

"Choose." He dumped a pile of dried fish beside the summoning scroll. "Feast with me… or starve alone."  

The falcon’s golden eyes flicked between the fish and the scroll.  

Click. The sound of a predator’s pragmatism.  

With a dignified hop, Dai pecked at the fish—accepting the pact.  

Aftermath 

As dusk fell, Yoru ’s squad—now with one dog and one falcon in tow—left Shinanogakure’s pleasure district behind, returning to patrol duty.  

The shift change went smoothly.  

No Sand attacks today.  

Somewhere in the shadows, a debt collector’s grin widened.  

Chapter 60: Seal Simplification  

Another new day.  

After his usual lavish breakfast, Umino Yoru summoned nine shadow clones and began his training.  

The C-rank Water Clone Technique was mastered instantly—no challenge at all.  

The C-rank Water Whip took slightly longer but was still easily conquered.  

The real hurdle was the B-rank Water Dragon Bullet. Despite rapid progress, mastering its water-nature chakra transformation required more time.  

The Clunky Original 

Standing on the river’s surface, Yoru formed 44 hand seals at a speed of five per second. Nearly nine seconds later, the technique finally activated.  

"In real combat, I’d be dead ten times over before finishing this."  

He scowled. This standardized version was clearly designed for large-scale warfare, not individual combat.  

Konoha’s greed was shameless.  

Monopolizing jutsu was bad enough, but handing out nerfed versions even after payment? He wasn’t asking for the Second Hokage’s three-seal variant—just a six-seal version would suffice.  

At his current speed, nine seconds was unacceptable. Most shinobi would take even longer—enough time for a hail of kunai to turn them into pincushions.  

Still, even a gimped technique had to be practiced.  

Unexpected Mentors 

Midway through training, Akimichi Chōza arrived—this time with his entire squad in tow for a free meal.  

"Senior! Long time no see!"  

Sarutobi Shinnosuke sprinted ahead of Chōza, grinning. After pleasantries, he sniffed the air and gaped at the feast.  

"Mmm! This smells even better than Jii-chan’s cooking!" he mumbled through a full mouth.  

"Indeed, it surpasses mine," admitted Mitokado Gen, nodding approvingly.  

Seizing the opportunity, Yoru engaged Gen in a culinary discussion—which smoothly transitioned to water-style techniques.  

Where cooking tips flowed from Yoru , water-nature insights now poured from Gen. A few pointers from the Second Hokage’s unofficial disciple resolved Yoru ’s lingering questions, elevating his mastery exponentially.  

By meal’s end, Yoru ’s understanding had leaped tiers. Developing his starch syrup technique now seemed within reach.  

The Six-Seal Revelation 

As Chōza prepared to leave, Yoru voiced his burning question:  

"Gen-san, can the Water Dragon Bullet’s seals be simplified?"  

Gen paused, then nodded solemnly. "Watch closely."  

Leaping onto the river, he formed six deliberate seals:  

Boar → Ram → Tiger → Snake → Horse → Bird  

"Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu!"  

A colossal water dragon erupted, its power bordering on A-rank.  

Yoru ’s eyes widened.  

Same chakra, ten times the force.  

The difference between shape manipulation and true nature transformation was staggering. And six seals versus forty-four? A matter of life and death.  

Tomorrow’s Feast (And Training) 

"Don’t slack off, Yoru ! We’ll check your progress tomorrow!" Chōza called over his shoulder—though his licked lips betrayed his true motive: another free meal.  

Yoru grinned. More chances to learn from Gen? Perfect.  

"Today was just an appetizer! Tomorrow’s menu will be legendary!" he shouted after them.  

Laughter echoed through the trees—a promise of their return.  

Replication 

Once alone, Yoru summoned nine more clones. On the riverbank, his true body slowly mimicked Gen’s seals.  

"Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu!"  

A paler, smaller dragon surged forth—proof the technique had been copied. Only his inferior chakra nature control held it back from perfection.  

As the dragon collapsed, a screech pierced the air.  

"Kreee!"  

His sand falcon, Shiro, swooped down, snatching a 10-pound fish churned up by the jutsu. Dinner was served.