Sarutobi Clan Compound.
Half a month later.
Sarutobi Hiruzen sat beneath the veranda.
He held the pipe that had accompanied him for many years.
Pale bluish-white smoke curled upward, blurring his age-spotted face.
The courtyard was noisy.
"Damn it!"
"Did that Genma Shiranui kid take the wrong medicine?"
"A dignified Special Jonin, standing guard in the Mission Hall every day, watching for B-Rank Missions!"
"If I hadn't been quick, all three of those escort missions would've slipped away!"
"..."
Sarutobi Asuma entered the courtyard, drenched in sweat.
He clutched three scrolls in his hand, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips as he cursed under his breath.
"Asuma, did you really snatch them?"
Several young Sarutobi clansmen immediately crowded around him.
"Of course!"
Asuma raised his chin.
"Three B-Rank Missions! A full three hundred Merit Points!"
"Once I finish this job, I'll be able to trade for that A-Rank Wind Style!"
The clansmen beside him swallowed hard.
"But, big brother..."
"Our Sarutobi Clan..."
"Do we really have to squeeze around in the hall with all those civilian shinobi now?"
Those words were rather grating.
Asuma abruptly stopped.
He turned around and glared fiercely at the clansman.
"Not squeeze in?"
"Then go drink the northwest wind!"
"Eighty percent of the clan's assets have been handed over. The storehouse is so empty, rats could run laps in it."
Asuma grabbed the other man by the collar.
"The Fifth Hokage has laid down the rules."
"Civilian or great clan, if you want resources, trade Merit Points for them!"
"Even the Uchiha are all over the streets looking for cats to earn Merit Points."
"What are you acting so high and mighty for?"
Asuma released him.
He strode toward the rear courtyard to prepare his ninja tools.
Several clansmen exchanged looks.
In the end,