They saw the Daimyō's envoy practically pee himself as he fled.
The Anbu in the Hokage's office exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a kunai. No one dared speak at first, but finally, one of them summoned the courage.
"Hokage-sama… if you do this, won't it…"
His voice trailed off, uncertain.
They were all thinking the same thing.
The Daimyō of the Land of Fire—the supreme authority in the country, the holder of all civil power, and the one who controlled Konoha's finances—had just been humiliated.
If the Daimyō bore a grudge and retaliated by tightening the purse strings… the consequences could be severe.
"It doesn't matter." Namikaze Mirai replied, his voice calm and unaffected, as if he hadn't just deliberately scared a national emissary out of his wits.
Not only did he not care—there was even a faint look of anticipation in his eyes.
Because to him, the Daimyō was obsolete.
An anachronism.
A relic of a system that should have been discarded long ago.
In Namikaze Mirai's vision, the Daimyō was destined to be abolished.
It made no sense for a powerless aristocrat—one without any shinobi strength of his own—to hold the purse strings of a military village that could raze the Land of Fire ten times over. The samurai under the Daimyō's command were ornamental at best. Useless at worst.
The system was broken.
The military might lay entirely with the shinobi, and the economic power was inexplicably given to those who neither fought nor bled.
In theory, the hidden villages were just military arms of their respective countries, employed by the Daimyōs.
In reality, that employer-employee dynamic was as fragile as a paper seal in a storm.
Mirai saw the imbalance for what it was.
He smirked slightly, the light in his azure eyes sharp as a blade.
"It's like tying an elephant with a spider's thread." he murmured, almost to himself. "Absurd."
Historically, in ancient dynasties—even in the world before chakra was weaponized—rulers were always wary of powerful generals. Afraid they might one day rise up and seize the throne. But in the shinobi world? The irony was that the Daimyōs never seemed to fear their mercenary armies.
Why?
Mirai had analyzed this deeply.
First, he suspected it was due to the deep-rooted class consciousness embedded in shinobi. Most simply accepted the hierarchy. Nobles ruled, and shinobi obeyed—even if those nobles couldn't lift a finger to defend themselves.
Second, shinobi didn't engage in agriculture or manufacturing. Without Daimyō patronage and funding, most would struggle to survive economically. So even the strongest of clans bent the knee—for the sake of stability, food, and mission funding.
But under Mirai's reign?
That would change.
Konoha would become economically self-sufficient. The creation of the Red Cross Relief Society, the Umbrella Company, and a shinobi-run trade network were only the beginning.
The age of nobles holding sway over shinobi was coming to an end.
And if Mirai had his way…
That end would be swift and irreversible.
"Summon Kakashi." he ordered suddenly.
…
Sarutobi Clan Compound.
The once-prestigious Sarutobi clan had become a shadow of its former self.
The streets were quiet. The houses dull and unkempt. A heavy atmosphere hung in the air like a fog.
In a side room of the main mansion, Sarutobi Hiruzen sat hunched over a low table. The Third Hokage looked every bit his age now—his back bent, his skin yellow and wrinkled, and his eyes sunken and lifeless.
Across from him sat Homura and Koharu, both sipping lukewarm tea. Neither spoke for a long time.
It had been months since they were forced into retirement.
Exiled, really.
Namikaze Mirai had shown no interest in letting the old guard cling to power. He gave them two options—step down gracefully, or be buried.
Danzo chose neither, and now grass grew on his grave.
"Hiruzen… if this goes on, what's the difference between us and the dead?" Koharu muttered bitterly. She stared into her teacup as if it held answers.
Her body had grown frail. Her soul, more so. Stripped of authority, purpose, and influence, she felt herself fading—both in relevance and will.
Hiruzen's eyes darkened.
"Asuma is acting as a lobbyist for the Daimyō. He'll convince him. With the Daimyō's support… we still have a chance."
Koharu blinked. Her posture straightened slightly.
"Really?"
Even Homura looked hopeful for the first time in weeks.
"The Daimyō controls Konoha's finances." Hiruzen said slowly. "No matter how arrogant that boy is, he cannot ignore the purse strings. Once the Daimyō pulls the leash, Mirai will be forced to heel."
Koharu's lips curled into a smile. For the first time in a long while, she dared to hope.
"Good old Asuma…" she whispered.
Hiruzen's eyes, however, betrayed unease. "I had hoped to use the Daimyō to stop him from ever becoming Hokage… but the boy moved faster than expected."
He could still remember that day.
Mirai had returned from the battlefield draped in glory, wearing victory like a second cloak. With a few words, a few symbols of power, and the support of over half the ninja clans, he forced Hiruzen into retirement.
It had been clean. Brutal. Efficient.
The chill of that memory still lingered.
But Hiruzen clung to hope.
Hope that Asuma, with the Daimyō's influence, could pull off a counterattack.
Little did he know…
The Daimyō's envoy had just fled from Konoha in terror.
…
Hokage Office.
Kakashi kneeled on one knee, head bowed.
"You summoned me, Hokage-sama?"
Mirai stood with his back to him, gazing out the window at the village below.
"Yes. There is a mission—one I can entrust only to you."
Kakashi looked up slightly, his single visible eye—cold and unreadable—meeting Mirai's.
"Name it."
"You are to go to the Daimyō Palace. Replace Asuma as one of the Twelve Guardian Ninja."
Kakashi blinked. "You want me to protect the Daimyō?"
He couldn't hide the confusion in his voice. It didn't make sense. Mirai had never hidden his disdain for the Daimyō. Why place one of his most trusted men in his service?
But then—
"I'm not sending you to protect him." Mirai said, turning, eyes gleaming. "I'm sending you to control him."
Kakashi's breath caught.
"To make the Daimyō… a puppet of Konoha."
The words struck like thunder.
Kakashi's pupils shrank slightly behind the mask.
"Control… the Daimyō?" he repeated.
"You possess the Sharingan." Mirai continued. "You are the son of Hatake Sakumo, and your reputation is spotless. He will trust you. And once he does… you will use your Sharingan to subdue him under genjutsu. Permanently."
Kakashi was silent for a long time.
Controlling the Daimyō? A civilian. A non-combatant. The most politically powerful man in the Land of Fire.
"Why me?"
"Because you are loyal. Because you are discreet. And because you were my brother's disciple."
Mirai walked to the table and opened a scroll. Inside was a detailed list.
"I will assign several trusted Uchiha to serve as your 'escort team'. They will monitor and reinforce the genjutsu. From the outside, it will look like the Daimyō is protected."
Mirai's lips curled into a sharp smile.
"But on the inside… he'll be our mouthpiece. Our puppet."
Kakashi stood slowly, the weight of the mission settling over him.
"I understand."
"One day, Kakashi…" Mirai said softly, walking back toward the window, "This world will no longer be ruled by soft-handed aristocrats. That day…"
He clenched his fist.
"…We will abolish the Daimyō system entirely."
*****
Support me on my pat reon and gain early access to my creations.
https://www.pat reon.com/RroY28 (remove the space)
You can access up to 30 advanced chapters.