039 Reborn as the Third Kazekage

Inside the borders of the Land of Birds, in a seemingly ordinary public restroom.

This "restroom" was far from ordinary. Within its hidden chambers was an underground exchange—a hub for the darkest trades of the shinobi world. Murder, robbery, kidnapping, smuggling, money laundering, even plotting coups—if it was something that couldn't see the light of day, you could arrange it here. For the right price, anything could be done.

At this moment, Kakuzu was meticulously counting a stack of money. At his feet lay a corpse, his latest "target."

After finishing the final bundle of bills, Kakuzu nodded in satisfaction and placed the money into a briefcase. He had an obsessive fondness for money. Every time he completed a mission, he would count his reward bill by bill. It wasn't a matter of mistrusting the exchange—it was simply the joy he found in the act of counting and the smell of freshly printed cash. In his long, endless life, only money brought him a sense of stability and beauty.

"Three million ryō, exactly," Kakuzu muttered. He gave the corpse at his feet a disdainful kick. "He's yours now. Business is getting worse. Imagine, the leader of the largest underground group in the Land of Fire, and he's only worth this much."

Two exchange staff members quickly came to take the body away.

"Kakuzu-san, please wait a moment."

Kakuzu stopped in his tracks and glanced back at the staff member who had called out.

"There's a special client," the staff member began, adjusting his slightly slipping sunglasses. "They've requested you personally for a customized mission. The pay is considerable. Would you be interested?"

"Customized mission? How much?"

"Ten million ryō!"

Kakuzu's interest was piqued. "What's the task?"

"Murder."

"How many targets?"

"One."

"Who?"

The staff member handed over a photo.

"Salamander Hanzo?" Kakuzu's tone carried a hint of surprise.

"Yes, that's correct."

Kakuzu studied the photo. "Hanzo, the so-called Demigod of the Shinobi World. Skilled in ninjutsu, a master of the scythe, and with that monstrous summoning beast of his, Ibuse. Quite the troublesome opponent."

"Are you declining, then?"

"No," Kakuzu said coldly. "I'm saying the price needs to go up."

"The client anticipated that. Given the difficulty, they've authorized me to negotiate. Name your price."

"Seventeen million ryō," Kakuzu said, testing the waters with a high figure.

"Deal," the staff member agreed instantly, flashing a sly smile.

Damn it. Should've asked for more, Kakuzu cursed inwardly but accepted the situation.

"Fine. I'll take the job. Proof required?"

"Not necessary," the staff member replied. "From the moment you accept, if news of Hanzo's death surfaces within three months, your payment will be ready. The client has their own ways of verifying the result."

Kakuzu glanced at his watch. "Then let the clock start now."

...

In a lavish banquet hall,

Rasa, sat with a forced smile plastered on his face.

"Come, come, eat up. This fish was freshly delivered from the Land of Rivers this morning. Its delicate texture and exquisite flavor make it a rare delicacy. Hanzo-sama, you must try it," Rasa said, politely gesturing to the spread before them.

Hanzo sat at the head of the table, silent. He toyed with his sake cup, his half-lidded eyes casting an indifferent gaze at the geishas performing before him. His expression betrayed nothing, creating an oppressive silence in the room.

"Rasa," Hanzo finally broke the silence after what felt like an eternity.

"Yes, Hanzo-sama?" Rasa straightened up, feigning attentiveness.

"While we feast here, my people can't even find enough to eat."

"Is that so? What a dire situation. Everyone knows you care for your people deeply. Clearly, some officials must be slacking. You should discipline them to maintain your reputation," Rasa replied, his voice dripping with insincerity.

Hanzo's face darkened slightly.

"Rasa, yesterday, twenty thousand refugees surrounded my tower in Amegakure. It nearly turned into a bloodbath."

"Really? Such a pity. Rain Country's refugees are truly unruly," Rasa said, emphasizing "Rain Country" with a smirk.

Hanzo's patience wore thin.

"We have an agreement, Rasa. Sunagakure's factories in Amegakure are supposed to assist with refugee resettlement."

Ungrateful fool, begging for scraps and still complaining about the taste, Rasa cursed inwardly.

"Times are tough," Rasa said with a shrug. "Our factories are fully staffed, and profits are slim. Your taxes are high and keep increasing. We're barely breaking even. I've already submitted a proposal to the Wind Daimyo to relocate to the Land of Rivers."

"You—!" Hanzo's anger flared, his hand twitching toward his blade.

"But," Rasa interjected with a sly smile, "there may be a way to resolve this amicably."

Hanzo hesitated. "What is it?"

"We've received a large order from Kumogakure. However, our Sada Mine's capacity is insufficient. If you're willing to sell the rights to the Sugi Mine, we could hire your refugees as miners. Problem solved."

Hanzo frowned. "How long?"

"Fifty years."

"The price?"

"Twenty-eight million ryō," Rasa replied nonchalantly.

Hanzo fell silent, weighing the offer.

Rasa seized the moment and added, "If we close the deal, there's a two-million ryō 'gift' for you personally."

A briefcase was placed in front of Hanzo and opened to reveal stacks of crisp bills.

"Hanzo-sama, if you're ever in need, just ask me directly. No need for all these extra fees and formalities," Rasa said, his tone deceptively friendly.

Hanzo's eyes locked onto the money, greed flashing across his face. Slowly, he picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of fish, and removed his respirator to eat.

"This hot spring fish truly lives up to its reputation," Hanzo said, savoring the bite.

"Enjoy yourself, Hanzo-sama," Rasa said as two geishas moved closer to Hanzo.

"Serve our distinguished guest well," Rasa ordered with a grin.

As Hanzo indulged himself, Rasa exited the hall, smirking coldly.

"To think he's happily selling his heritage," Rasa muttered.

"The Kazekage has already issued his orders," an aide whispered, handing Rasa a note.

Rasa read it and chuckled.

"Enjoy yourself while it lasts, old man," he said, as laughter and merriment echoed from the hall behind him.