I sat at my desk at the back of the store with the flickering light of the lantern casting long shadows across the room.
The scent of ink and parchment filled the air as I carefully reviewed the latest financial reports. It had been three years since I truly set things in motion, and despite the turmoil of war, my business had grown steadily—nothing too exaggerated, but far beyond what most would expect from a mere child.
Not that anyone knew I was the one behind it all.
I leaned back, rolling my shoulders as I glanced at the neatly stacked scrolls before me. They all held reports regarding the finances of my business.
I have to say, Ishida had done well as my middleman.
With his connections and expertise, he had been able to discreetly expand our operations without drawing unnecessary attention.
Over the past two years, I had managed to open five general stores under different names, each strategically placed in key districts of the village.
These stores weren't massive, but they carried essential goods—supplies that civilians, merchants, and even shinobi found useful.
The ongoing war had drastically altered market dynamics.
With more shinobi deployed to the front lines, the demand for basic supplies skyrocketed.
Rations, medical supplies, and even mundane civilian necessities were now considered valuable commodities.
This sudden shift increased my revenue significantly, with each store now pulling in closer to 400,000 ryō monthly, and net profits averaging 160,000 ryō per location after deducting operating costs.
That meant a total monthly income of around 800,000 ryō—still within reasonable limits to avoid suspicion, but enough to establish a firm foothold in the market.
The war had changed the way people shopped. The village's logistical efforts were focused almost entirely on supporting the war front, meaning civilians had to rely more on privately owned stores like mine for everyday necessities.
Even lower-ranked shinobi, often left with subpar rations and basic supplies from the standard military issue, sought out alternatives wherever they could.
Beyond direct sales, I had also ventured into wholesaling, supplying smaller shops with bulk goods at a marked-up price.
The war had made merchants desperate for reliable suppliers, and Ishida ensured that my stores became indispensable.
Of course, obtaining these goods wasn't easy. With so many resources being funneled toward the war effort, local suppliers had little to spare.
That was where Ishida's network proved invaluable.
Using his merchant contacts, he established a steady line of imports from traders outside the village, independent suppliers who weren't directly tied to the war economy and could still move goods across borders.
The bulk of my inventory came from these sources:
Basic Provisions: Dried foods, preserved fruits, and non-perishable grains. While the village prioritized feeding its shinobi, civilians needed alternatives, and our stores provided them at a reasonable price.
Medical Supplies: While high-grade medicine was strictly controlled by the village's medical corps, simple antiseptics, bandages, and herbal remedies were still in high demand, especially among civilians and injured shinobi recovering away from the main hospitals.
Tools & Equipment: Standard ninja tools—kunai, shuriken, wire—were harder to come by due to strict village regulations.
However, through indirect channels, I secured legal alternatives such as durable rope, reinforced leather armor, and even self-defense weapons for civilians.
Everyday Essentials: With blacksmiths and craftsmen focused on producing gear for the war effort, common goods like sturdy footwear, warm clothing, and cooking utensils became unexpectedly scarce.
By securing shipments from outside traders, I ensured that people could still find these necessities.
Despite our best efforts, the war had begun affecting even this system. Trade routes were riskier, with bandit attacks on the rise as organized crime took advantage of the turmoil.
Some of my suppliers struggled to get past checkpoints set up by warring factions, and prices had started creeping up. Ishida had to work harder, negotiating deals in secret and finding alternate routes to keep the goods flowing.
Still, the fact remained, while others suffered from scarcity, my stores were thriving because they offered what few others could.
However, war also brought risks.
Price inflation, government intervention, and the looming threat of forced requisitions from the village administration were all concerns I had to navigate carefully.
I made sure my pricing remained competitive—not cheap enough to be exploited, but not high enough to be labeled as war profiteering.
Still, finances were only one aspect of my growing influence. My real strength lay in something far more valuable—Fūinjutsu.
Over the past two years, my expertise in Fūinjutsu had advanced significantly. My seals were no longer just basic storage inscriptions; they had evolved into something far more sophisticated, and the war had only accelerated the need for innovation.
For my general stores, I designed custom security seals that acted as both deterrents and anti-theft measures. With crime on the rise due to economic instability, these seals were essential.
One seal would create a silent alarm if someone attempted to steal an item, another would lock the shelves in case of forced entry, and a third would track significant losses in inventory, alerting me to potential internal theft.
The war had also increased the need for preservation seals, which allowed perishable goods like herbs and food supplies to remain fresh for extended periods.
With supply chains disrupted and rationing becoming stricter, these seals became highly sought after. Merchants, medical personnel, and even shinobi squads deployed to the front lines were willing to pay a premium for sealed rations and preserved medical supplies.
Perhaps my proudest creation, however, was the battlefield supply scroll, a modified storage seal embedded directly into compact scrolls, allowing shinobi to carry essential items without added bulk.
Unlike traditional storage scrolls, these were designed for immediate use in combat situations. Medics could store emergency supplies, while front-line shinobi could carry extra kunai, explosive tags, and ration pills without added weight.
The war had created an ideal market for these innovations.
I made sure to distribute them carefully, selling to merchants and through Ishida's intermediaries rather than directly to the village.
The last thing I wanted was the Hokage's office questioning how a 'civilian' supplier had developed such advanced Fūinjutsu technology.
Despite my success so far, I knew these scattered stores were only the beginning. A true empire required a foundation—one central hub that would serve as the heart of operations.
Although basing in Konoha was risky due to my lack of strength, that could be bridged with time. As for risk of exploitation, I wasn't scared. In the coming years, Tobirama would be ambushed with the next Hokage being Hiruzen.
The anime made him out to be a genius if his title as the Professor was anything to go by, but they also showed how shrewd his could be, this was why I wasn't going to directly confront him, but if he does confront me, I could always jump ship.
Don't get me wrong. I love this village, but as I've always written when asked my meaning of Shinobi: A Shinobi is someone who walks in the darkness without allowing himself to be consumed by it.
I wasn't going to defect from the village for no just cause, but once there is a cause, I'll be sure the effect isn't delayed.
To that end, over the past year, I had used Ishida to acquire multiple plots of land through separate transactions, ensuring that no one noticed a single entity buying up too much space.
Piece by piece, I had secured enough land to begin construction on my primary headquarters: The Evergreen Lotus Pavilion.
There was no deep meaning to the name. I just thought it sounded cool.
However, the war complicated matters. With resources being funneled toward the military, construction materials were harder to come by. Skilled laborers were either conscripted or preoccupied with war-related projects.
For now, the land remained untouched, waiting for the right moment to begin building.
When completed, the Evergreen Lotus Pavilion would be more than just a large marketplace—it would be a self-sustaining economic stronghold. I envisioned multiple floors dedicated to different types of commerce:
The lower levels would serve as a high-end general store, offering goods of better quality and quantity than what my smaller shops carried. Basically, a Mall.
The second floor would be a wholesale hub, where merchants could negotiate bulk deals.
The third level would house a private workshop for seal development, where I could refine my craft without prying eyes.
An underground vault would store high-value assets, protected by multi-layered Fūinjutsu security seals.
War had made me rethink certain aspects of my design.
Security had to be even tighter than I originally planned.
If the war escalated further, there was a possibility that Konoha could become a battleground itself…something I know won't happen, but still, I needed to ensure that Evergreen Lotus Pavilion could survive any scenario, be it economic instability, crime waves, or even full-scale attacks.
To that end, I had already begun designing contingency seals—ones that could temporarily fortify the building, barriers that could withstand moderate jutsu impact, and even emergency evacuation protocols using pre-placed teleportation seals.
It was still in the theoretical stage, but if life had taught me anything, it was that preparation was everything.
I exhaled, placing my ink brush down as I gazed at the detailed plans spread out before me.
I had no delusions of grandeur—not yet.
Dreaming of global influence was meaningless if I couldn't maintain my current momentum.
The most dangerous thing a rising power could do was draw attention before it was ready. I had been careful so far, ensuring that my rise remained gradual and unassuming. I intended to keep it that way.
The war had made it clear that stability was an illusion.
Markets could shift overnight, alliances could change, and even the strongest villages could fall if given enough pressure.
That was why I had to ensure Evergreen Lotus Pavilion wasn't just another business venture—it had to be something untouchable, a force that could weather any storm.
For now, my focus remained on steady growth—expanding my network, refining my Fūinjutsu applications, and slowly increasing my economic footprint.
One step at a time.
The war would end eventually, but the world that came after would belong to those who had prepared for it.
And when that time came, Evergreen Lotus Pavilion would stand as a beacon of power in both finance and well…Power.