037 Reborn as the Third Kazekage

"Despicable! Shameless! Utterly disgraceful!" Rasa slammed his fist on the table so hard that the teacups on top clattered, spilling freshly brewed tea all over the surface.

"If you're angry, be angry—but why take it out on the table? Now I have to clean this up," Karura grumbled as she pulled out a cloth and started wiping the mess.

"Have you ever seen anything like this? The factory hasn't even been running for a year, and that conniving old man has raised taxes for the third time! What's he trying to do? I bought the rights to the land along the river fair and square for fifty years, with hard cash. And now he wants to squeeze me for more? If he pushes me too far, I'll relocate the factory entirely. Taxes? He can go tax the spirit of Shule River for all I care."

"Relocate the factory? That's not an option. Did you forget Kazekage-sama's orders? We're supposed to stick by this river," Karura coaxed, her tone almost like she was calming a child. She poured Rasa another cup of tea.

Gradually, Rasa cooled down, taking a sip of the tea before speaking.

"What's a million ryō in 'sanitation fees'? Fine, give it to him. Just treat it as charity to a beggar."

"I agree we should pay, but not without conditions. If Hanzō of the Salamander thinks he can extort the Hourglass Group whenever he likes, he'll only grow greedier," Karura warned.

"Of course, we're not just handing it over! Send him an invitation for dinner tonight. Tell him that if he's willing to sell us the iron mine in Sugi Wood, we'll count the million as a personal gesture of goodwill from our group. None of this nonsense about sanitation fees or garbage collection—it sounds so vulgar."

"And if he refuses?" Karura asked.

"If he refuses…" A smirk with a trace of menace crept across Rasa's lips.

"Then I'll file a report to Kazekage-sama and take that greedy old bastard down! For the first time, I think the Second Kazekage, Shamon, was right—Amegakure deserves to be crushed."

"I think this might be more complicated than we're assuming. How about I draft a report on our situation and send it to Arashi-sama? Let's see what he thinks," Karura suggested.

"Good idea," Rasa agreed with a nod.

"Let's wait until tomorrow for the report. Tonight, let's hear the old man out first. Oh, and put a hold on accepting refugees from Amegakure for now. Let's stir things up for him. If I'm having a bad day, he's not getting off easy either. He needs to learn that iron pots don't bend."

...

"Did you notice Rasa's attitude when you delivered the message this morning?" Hanzō of the Salamander swirled the wine in his glass, observing how it clung to the sides. Removing his mask, he took a small sip, his face relaxing with satisfaction. After a moment, he put the mask back on.

"He didn't say yes or no—just mentioned needing a meeting to discuss it. But judging by his expression, he wasn't happy," the ninja reported matter-of-factly.

"Hahaha! That sour face of his always looks miserable, doesn't it? Hahahaha!" Hanzō burst into laughter, unable to stop himself.

"That Rasa… He's nothing but a watchdog Arashi left behind, a second-rate lackey at best. A measly million ryō in taxes is pocket change—barely enough for a decent bottle of wine—yet he's quibbling over it? If not for Arashi's backing, I'd shut down his pathetic Factory tomorrow! He's nothing but a lightweight!" Hanzō spat venomously.

Since the Hourglass Group established itself along the Shule River, it had provided Amegakure with an impressive cash flow—20 million ryō in startup funds, 50 million for a 50-year lease on the riverside land, 30 million for a 50-year lease on the Iron Mine, and monthly taxes of 2 million ryō. This financial windfall left Hanzō dazzled. For context, a shinobi village like Sunagakure typically ran on an annual budget of 30 million ryō, and Amegakure's daimyo allocated just 10 million ryō per year. With close to a billion ryō flooding in, even Hanzō couldn't help but act like a nouveau riche. Freed from war and refugee crises—thanks in no small part to Sunagakure—he abandoned his austere ways for a life of indulgence: fine wine, tea ceremonies, dances, and courtesans. As he often said, "I've spent my life fighting wars, don't I deserve to enjoy myself now?"

"Sir, Rasa has sent an invitation for dinner tonight."

"Well, it seems Arashi left some brains by his side. At least he knows how to show respect. Accept it—tell him I'll be there at midnight," Hanzō said, inspecting the invitation before nodding in satisfaction.

"One more thing, sir."

"Speak."

"The Hourglass Group announced that they're halting refugee intake as of today. Thousands of refugees are now flooding toward Amegakure's administrative building."

"What?!" Hanzō shot to his feet.

"Why did they stop taking them in?"

"They said they've reached capacity and can't afford more workers…"

"Damn it! How many are headed this way?"

"About twenty thousand—men, women, and children…"

"Crash!" The exquisite wine glass shattered against the floor.

...

Renowned American psychologist once said that sex is the ultimate stress reliever. When faced with work pressure and emotional challenges, not only does the human brain tense up, but the body stiffens as well. Physical intimacy fosters warmth through touch and stimulates endorphin release—a chemical that promotes joy and soothes emotions.

Evidence proved him right. Arashi carefully adjusted the blanket over Tsunade's bare shoulder as she slept soundly on the couch. She had clearly been under immense stress, last night's passion had verged on madness. Had it not been for Arashi's years of rigorous physical training and restraint, he might not have survived it.

Rising quietly, he massaged his aching back, tightened his robe, and slipped out of the lounge. Thankfully, it was the weekend, and the lab was empty. Before sunrise, he quickly returned to his villa.

The first order of business: a hot shower. As the water streamed over him, he mulled over his relationship with Tsunade. There was no way he could join Konoha as the Kazekage, but the prospect of Tsunade moving to Sunagakure seemed equally unlikely. While the two villages were allies, alliances were fragile. Cross-village marriages like Shikamaru and Temari's only became feasible in the peace following the Fourth Shinobi War. Now? With the Second Great Ninja War raging and the Third looming, marrying someone of Tsunade's stature—a political "princess"—was unthinkable. A union of their level would tether Konoha and Sunagakure together politically, which neither side's leaders would likely approve.

"Screw it. What's done is done. I'll figure it out later," Arashi muttered, deciding not to dwell on the dilemma.

After his shower, he changed into fresh clothes, made two sandwiches, packed them in a food container, and returned to the underground lab with a mix of anxiety and determination.