"Given our relationship, there was no need to beat around the bush. Just say whatever you had to say."
Uchiha Akira took a sip of wine. This had been taken from the Feudal Lord of the Land of Fire's residence. It had been stored for goddamn decades—over ten thousand enormous jars of fine wine, most of them at least ten years old. When he saw it, he was completely dumbfounded.
What, were they raising turtles in there or something?
Where had all that come from? They just weren't drinking it?
Someone explained that every year, the finest batch of wine brewed throughout the Land of Fire had a thousand jars sent to the Feudal Lord of the Land of Fire's residence first.
What happened if they couldn't finish it?
They stored it!
And that was how they ended up with over ten thousand jars of fine wine. What outrageous luxury!
Akira took another sip. It was so goddamn good. It lacked the sharp, pungent bite of new wine. Its fragrance unfolded like layers of painted scrolls, sliding down his throat and spreading through his body like a warm current, leaving a lingering aftertaste.
In short, it was so goddamn good!
These rich people deserved to die!
What?
I'm the rich person now? Never mind, then. May I live to a hundred!
"Then I'll keep it brief."
Hiruzen Sarutobi coughed and looked at Uchiha Akira with helplessness and regret in his eyes. If he had not targeted the Uchiha Clan back then, how would things have come to this?
But Konoha's current situation—
Left him with no choice but to resort to this.
"Akira, there was never much conflict between Konoha and you. The Uchiha Clan's issues with Konoha were merely misunderstandings. Yet there were also bonds between us, so—"
"Hey!