Uzumaki Mito strolled through the bustling commercial street of Akatsuki Ninja Village, her sharp eyes drinking in every detail of the unfamiliar settlement. Laughter of children rang like silver bells through the crisp autumn air, bouncing off the brightly painted shopfronts and warm wooden eaves.
To celebrate Uchiha Makoto's wedding, the village's Ninja Academy had declared a rare five-day holiday. The children, released from their relentless half-year of training, darted about in high spirits. Many of them still carried the faint soreness of endless taijutsu drills, but the joy of freedom outweighed the aches. Their happy cries, unburdened by fear of war, warmed Mito's heart.
For a fleeting moment she felt as though she were back in Konoha's early days, when the village had been founded to end the bloody cycle of clan warfare. Its original dream was simple and pure: a place where children could play, learn, and grow without picking up a blade before they'd even learned to read.
Yet even as nostalgia softened her expression, Mito's sharp mind registered striking differences. Akatsuki Ninja Village wasn't merely peaceful—it was thriving.
---
Children wore thick, well-stitched autumn coats. Their cheeks glowed with health. Even the toys in their hands—cleverly carved animals and miniature wooden kunai—would have cost dozens of ryō back in Konoha. These weren't clan heirs flaunting wealth; the absence of family crests on their clothing made that obvious. These were commoners' children.
The implication stopped Mito cold.
Back in Konoha, even middle-class families often struggled to budget a single extra coin. Here, ordinary villagers could afford what only the Senju or Uchiha elites might casually buy. How was such prosperity possible?
Her keen senses caught the answer in fragments of overheard conversation. Uchiha Makoto had been funneling vast sums into the village: opening factories, funding public works, and ensuring that every enterprise remained village-owned so that no middleman siphoned away profit. As long as a person had two willing hands, they could find work—and the Akatsuki leaders made sure they did work. Laziness found no refuge here.
Mito's brows knit as she followed the cheerful crowd. How much money is Makoto burning through to sustain this? And how deep is his treasury?
The longer she observed, the clearer it became: the economic gap between Konoha and Akatsuki was already wide and would only grow. No wonder their financial ledgers were guarded like state secrets; the source of such wealth clearly could not bear public scrutiny.
---
A familiar chakra signature approached. Vortex Shinji, her clansman, appeared with an almost giddy smile. "Lady Mito! You made it."
His joy all but spilled onto the cobblestones. Today, after all, 3.68 billion ryō had landed in Uzumaki coffers. How could he hide it?
He guided her toward the grand reception hall, which buzzed with energy. Dignitaries from the Land of Fire mingled with merchants from distant nations, all eager to witness Uchiha Makoto's union and, perhaps, secure a slice of the new economic order he was weaving.
Finding a quiet side room, Shinji turned to her with familial warmth. "Mito, how has life been since marrying into the Senju? No grievances, I hope?"
She smiled gently, giving the practiced answer of someone long used to protecting her family from unnecessary worry. "Everything is well in Konoha."
Materially, it was true. As the Hokage's wife and official head lady of the Senju, she lacked for nothing—at least on the surface. Yet in her heart, Mito carried a loneliness she would never confess.
---
Before Konoha's founding, she and Hashirama had built a fragile but harmonious life, even if his affection was never especially passionate. Their marriage was a political alliance; love was meant to grow after the vows.
But once the village stabilized, that fragile intimacy collapsed. Hashirama's warmth burned elsewhere—toward Uchiha Madara. The two men were inseparable, training late into the night, returning home only for the briefest meals.
Sometimes Hashirama still came for dinner, only to excuse himself when Mito hoped to share a quiet evening.
> "Mito, I'm exhausted. Madara and I sparred all day. We're meeting again tomorrow—sleep early."
Then he would drop into instant, ninja-trained slumber before she could utter a word.
A hungry wolf of yearning lived inside her, but it starved night after night. Desire cooled into resignation.
Mito never voiced complaint. Hashirama's heart was generous but slow to understand romantic needs. She endured, because that was what the Hokage's wife must do.
---
Shinji, oblivious to the shadows in her thoughts, nodded approvingly. "Good, good. Both Konoha and Akatsuki are pillars for our clan. Their harmony is vital."
After a few pleasantries, Mito broached the true reason for her visit: "Lord Tobirama wishes to know why the Uzumaki formed an alliance with Akatsuki without informing Konoha. He only learned of it when your envoy arrived."
Shinji's polite smile never faltered. The old wounds of Konoha's past betrayal still ached, but he chose his words carefully. "Konoha is strong, yes, but the Uzumaki cannot rely on a single protector. A wise rabbit has three burrows."
Mito considered. From a clan perspective, his logic was sound. Yet as Konoha's Hokage's wife, she also carried the duty of preserving trust between the villages. She could only nod. "I understand. I'll explain it to the Hokage."
The tension eased. Mito shifted the subject to Uchiha Makoto, currently busy entertaining the Fire Daimyō himself.
"The Kage is impressive," she admitted. "So young, yet already a visionary."
Shinji's eyes shone. "Indeed. His generosity knows no bounds—why, the wedding dowry alone is 3.68 billion ryō!"
Mito blinked. "How much?"
"You heard correctly. 3.68 billion. Though we call it a dowry, it is truly economic aid for the clan."
---
The figure stunned her. When she'd wed Hashirama, the Senju dowry had been counted in mere tens of millions—a fortune then, but not even a fraction of this. Even the Fire Lord's own marriage had never seen such extravagance.
Her mind raced. Where could Makoto possibly find such wealth? Is this some ploy?
Aloud she asked, "Shinji-ge, are you certain? Could this be a trick?"
The joy on his face hardened to offense. "Mito, do you think our clan is worth less than that? The Kage's sincerity is beyond question. The funds have already been transferred."
"I didn't mean—" She caught herself, sensing the sting her words carried. "I only worry that you might be deceived. Such a sum is… astonishing."
But the moment had passed. Shinji's pride and gratitude were immovable now. "Even if someone overheard you, they might think you doubt the Uzumaki's worth. The Kage treats us with more generosity than Konoha ever has. Remember that."
Mito fell silent. The warning she had intended—to guard against overreliance on a single benefactor—would only sound like betrayal now. The Uzumaki clan was entranced by this dazzling gift, and any caution from her would be taken as siding with the Senju over her own blood.
She folded her hands in her lap and offered the safest words she could muster. "I see. May this alliance bring lasting prosperity to our people."
Shinji's expression softened again, though triumph still flickered in his eyes. "It will, Mito. It surely will."
---
As the reception outside swelled with music and laughter, Mito gazed through the paper-screen window at the glowing village beyond. Children's laughter still floated in the distance, mingling with the rhythmic clang of factory hammers.
Akatsuki Ninja Village shone like a rising star—wealthy, disciplined, and ambitious. Whether its brilliance would warm the Uzumaki or burn them, only time would tell.
---
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