Ino-Shika-Cho Pledges Its Loyalty: Those Who Follow Me Prosper, Those Who Oppose Me Perish

Above Hokage Rock.

A massive ancient tree blocked the fierce midday sun.

Leaning on a dark brown wooden cane, Mito Uzumaki descended the stone steps one at a time.

Her long red hair was gathered into a bun at the back of her head, and strands stirred in the wind.

Her cane struck the ground with a dull thud.

She did not look back at the rock carved with the Hokage's faces, walking straight toward the Hokage Building at the foot of the mountain.

The scene shifted back to the third floor of the Hokage Building.

The office door was pushed open.

Shu Shiraishi walked in, his black military boots treading on the wool carpet.

A few dried drops of blood from the morning's assassination still marked the edge of the carpet.

He walked behind the spacious mahogany desk and pulled out the leather high-backed chair.

He sat down.

Resting both hands on the armrests, he let out a long breath.

He had spent the entire morning killing to establish his authority and carrying out a ruthless purge without stopping.

He propped his military boots, smeared with dust and a few drops of dried blood, directly on the edge of the mahogany desk.

He grabbed a coarse porcelain mug from the corner of the desk and took a large gulp of cooled boiled water. It rolled down his throat.

A series of footsteps sounded outside the door.

They had been deliberately softened, but with so many people, they sounded muddled and dragging.

They stopped outside the door.

No one knocked immediately. A faint rustling of cloth came from outside, as though they were shoving one another.

Someone was breathing heavily.

"Come in."

Shu Shiraishi set down the mug. Its porcelain base struck the wood with a dull knock.

The door was cautiously pushed open a crack.

Nara Rokumei's gaunt face peered in first.

Only after confirming that Shu Shiraishi was not angry did he push the door wider.

Akimichi Chōza's enormous body squeezed in right behind him.

Chōza was so nervous that sweat poured down his face and into his eyes.

When he stepped forward, he failed to lift his foot high enough, and his broad, thick-soled straw sandal struck the threshold.

"Ow."

Chōza stumbled, his massive bulk pitching forward. He nearly landed flat on the carpet.

Yamanaka Fūshin, bringing up the rear, reacted quickly and grabbed Chōza's wide belt with both hands.

The two swayed back and forth by the door before barely managing to regain their balance.

All three were drenched in sweat from head to face.

Their clothes were soaked through at the back and clung tightly to their skin.

The beheading in the square had thoroughly terrified these three old hands. Sarutobi Sasuke's severed head rolling across the ground still flashed before their eyes.

The three stopped in unison two meters from the desk.

"Thud. Thud. Thud."

With three dull impacts, they dropped to one knee, their armor plates scraping in unison.

Nara Rokumei held both hands high.

In his palms was a black camphorwood box. Its edges left several white marks against his trembling hands.

"Lord Hokage."

Rokumei's voice was dry, as though his throat were stuffed with sand.

"These are the four brass keys to the Nara Clan's treasury. And... the core scroll of the Shadow Imitation Technique."

Yamanaka Fūshin followed by pulling several thick sheets of parchment from inside his clothes.

Their hands shook so badly that the parchment rustled.

"These are the deeds to the Yamanaka Clan's five medicinal herb shops in the east of the village, along with copies of our mind secret techniques."

Akimichi Chōza was the slowest. He rummaged through his oversized pocket for a long time.

He pulled out a handful of sweat-dampened copper tokens.

"The Akimichi Clan's granary tokens... they're all here!"

In his anxiety, Chōza raised his voice. As soon as he shouted, he flinched and drew his neck in.

"I was in such a hurry that I forgot the Multi-Size Technique scroll. This afternoon! I'll personally bring it this afternoon!"

Shu Shiraishi sat in his chair.

He did not move or take anything.

His military boots were still propped on the desk as he looked at the leaders of these three long-established Konoha clans.

Ino-Shika-Cho had always stuck together.

At leadership meetings in the past, the three clans had always profited from both sides. Whenever they were asked to contribute money or effort, they were as slippery as eels.

Today, however, they had come of their own accord to surrender everything.

Shu Shiraishi picked up the Anbu's straight sword from the desk, gripping it with the sheath still on.

He extended its tip.

He flipped open the lid of the camphorwood box in Rokumei's hands.

"Click."

Inside lay a thick stack of silver notes and four polished brass keys, with a faint scent of camphorwood rising from the box.

"At meetings before, when I asked you to raise military funds..."

Shu Shiraishi nudged the silver notes with the sheath, flipping the sheets of paper.

"You three clans could plead poverty for half a month."

He lifted his eyes.

"Why are you so generous today?"

Fūshin swallowed.

"We were foolish before. We didn't understand the situation."

Fūshin bowed even lower. "From now on, the Yamanaka Clan will obey your orders without question, my lord. Wherever you point, we'll strike."

Rokumei nodded repeatedly beside Fūshin. Beads of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose onto the carpet.

Shu Shiraishi tossed the straight sword back onto the desk.

He lowered his feet, planting his military boots on the floor.

He leaned forward and rested his crossed hands on the edge of the desk.

"I don't want to hear any nonsense."

Shu Shiraishi stared at them.

"I'll lay down the ground rules. Listen carefully."

The three immediately held their breath and straightened their backs.

Even Chōza sucked in his belly.

"Those who follow me prosper."

Shu Shiraishi's voice was not loud.

"Those who oppose me go to the crematorium."

The words came down laden with the heavy scent of blood.

Chōza's plump face turned deathly pale in an instant, and his flesh quivered.

Rokumei clenched his teeth and repeatedly said, "We wouldn't dare."

"I'll accept these."

Shu Shiraishi casually picked up an engineering blueprint from the desk and unfolded it.

It was covered in a dense web of red circles and lines.

"But don't think you can go home and sleep soundly just because you've handed over some money and a few scrolls."

Shu Shiraishi tapped the blueprint with his finger.

"Akimichi Chōza."

"Here!" Chōza abruptly straightened his back.

"The number two blast furnace site in the west of the village. Foundation work starts tomorrow."

Shu Shiraishi looked at him.

"The prefabricated reinforced concrete panels weigh ten tons each. Your Multi-Size Technique can handle them, can't it?"

Chōza froze.

He was the dignified head of the Akimichi Clan, and he was being sent to carry rebar at a construction site?

But he immediately recovered and nodded vigorously.

"I can carry them! If ten tons isn't enough, I can carry fifteen!"

Compared to being beheaded in the square, carrying rebar was practically a blessing from a living bodhisattva.

"Very good."

Shu Shiraishi turned to Rokumei.

"The Nara Clan is smart. Your entire clan will report to the drafting office."

"Within three months, draw up the plans for laying the Chakra power grid throughout the village."

Shu Shiraishi rapped his knuckles on the desk.

"Get one line wrong, and I'll hold you responsible."

A chill ran down Rokumei's back. "Understood."

"Yamanaka Fūshin."

"Here!"

"Take your people to the communications tower in the south."

Shu Shiraishi looked at Fūshin.

"Use your mind secret techniques to connect the surveillance radar network across the whole village. Work around the clock in shifts as base stations."

The three pampered clan heads had all been assigned their duties in no uncertain terms.

They had all become living components in the machinery of heavy industry.

But none of them dared utter a word of objection.

"Put the things down and get out."

Shu Shiraishi waved a hand.

"Get to work."

The three looked as though they had been granted a pardon.

They hurriedly piled the camphorwood box, the deeds, and the copper tokens on the edge of the desk.

When Rokumei stood, his legs had gone numb. His knees buckled, and he suddenly sank.

Fūshin reacted quickly and caught him by the arm.

Supporting one another, the three hunched over and backed toward the door.

They did not dare turn around, walking backward the entire way.

They backed out through the doorway.

"Creak."

The door was carefully shut tight.

Their hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor as they retreated.

As though chased by wolves, they went farther and farther away.

Silence returned to the office.

Shu Shiraishi leaned back against the leather chair.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the pile of deeds and keys on the desk.

The resistance from the village's largest clans had mostly been swept away.

The Uchiha had become city guards, the Hyūga had gone mining and become radar operators, and Ino-Shika-Cho had been sent to the construction site.

The industrial production lines could now be rolled out in full without any reservations.

He picked up the coarse porcelain mug again.

The water had cooled. He raised it to his lips, preparing to finish it.

Suddenly, a strange sound came from the corridor outside.

"Tap. Tap. Tap."

It was perfectly rhythmic.

It was the sound of a wooden stick striking the wooden floor, neither hurried nor slow.

The sound was deep, each tap carrying a heavy, oppressive dullness.

It did not sound like a young person's footsteps, and it could not possibly be a patrolling Anbu.

Shu Shiraishi set down the mug.

A ripple spread across the surface of the water.

The sound drew closer, penetrating the heavy wooden door.

It stopped outside the office.

"Creak-"

There was no knock. Instead, the door was pushed open.

An Anbu Ninja wearing a cat mask stood in the gap between the door and the frame.

Half his body was wedged in the doorway.

His hand gripped the brass doorknob tightly, his knuckles white from the strain.

His breathing was heavy beneath the mask, audibly tense and uneasy.

"L-Lord Hokage."

The Anbu Ninja swallowed hard. His voice trembled.

"Lady Mito Uzumaki is here."