And so it went.
The letter to his good buddy, the Fourth.
The letter to his pal Nagato.
The letter to Orochimaru.
And the letters to those big shots in banking.
Uchiha Yorin finished the whole bundle, sent them off by ninja falcon, and moved straight on to the sweeping, joyful reform program for Kirigakure.
If Yorin's reforms took off—if Kiri's strength surged, skyrocketed, exploded—then pushing deeper reforms in Konoha would get easier.
Konoha's conservatives would grow uneasy: some would harden into ultra-conservatives bent on taking Yorin down; others would flip into reformists.
And the reformists would be inspired, doubling down and pushing forward.
In the meantime, accusations were inevitable—claims that Yorin was no longer Konoha's Anbu commander but Kiri's shadow Mizukage. But as long as he kept pushing forward, those barbs would blow away on the wind.
…
Uchiha Yorin: "Healthcare, education, transport, training… those are the pillars, right?
Centralize Kiri's secret arts and ninjutsu, expand the academy's scale and rationalize the training. Beyond combat, teach proper academics—especially math, physics, chemistry.
Kids without ninjutsu talent? Start them on calculus from grade one and send them to the plant to turn screws. The exceptional get more educational resources and track into management.
Both the shinobi track and the general track must study gratitude studies—so they know they can never repay Yorin-sama's kindness.
Model Konoha: build a medical-ninjutsu system, public health, and raise human rights to normal standards—abolish Blood Mist.
Transport: fix it. Kiri can't hide in fog and wilderness. Open trade routes; expand external traffic and commerce.
The army: improve pay; open secret/family arts by aptitude; form modernized units.
Tech R&D… come to think of it, Iwa even has cloning. Of the Five, only Kiri's tech lags—we must accelerate.
Finally, the economy. What should Kiri build?
Live by the mountains and sea. Kiri should develop shipbuilding, integrate with Konoha Transport. Extend the Konoha logistics network into Land of Water.
Lately Konoha Transport has hit a bottleneck.
We pushed across most of Land of Fire; beyond that, retrograde lords stonewall. Some refuse wagons at any cost. Others table 'offers' that are pure non-starters.
A few daimyo still living in the Warring States spirit demand Minato come warm their beds.
Others—stone broke—shift a 50–50 split to I take it all. Not only do they want every slice, they want the pot.
Back when Yorin was Anbu Commander and saw those letters, he realized sometimes people are so ridiculous you can only laugh.
He was shaken—again—by the biodiversity of the human species, and sighed: the difference between person and person exceeds that between person and dog.
…
In this climate, the wagon company's growth hit a wall—but with Kiri's alignment, a vast new market—Land of Water—opened to Konoha.
In some ways, it's bigger and more profitable than the land network.
A single ten-thousand-ton ship hauls what a wagoner would in a lifetime.
And shipping doesn't require paving roads, maintaining roads, or laying track. Capex is front-loaded, but maintenance and operating costs are far lower than overland.
If we monopolize coastal shipping around Land of Water—what a beautiful thing.
If we push blue-water routes and discover new lands, Land of Water could really flip the script—catch up, surpass Land of Fire, and become the strongest of the Five.
"That's it: an Invincible Armada, the 'coachman of the seas,' a sun-never-sets empire." Yorin got a little excited.
He finished the Comprehensive Kiri Revitalization white paper.
He even pre-wrote Land of Water's future plan. For follow-through, Konoha can send managers; Uchiha Conglomerate can too—and of course the Uchiha's all-purpose ninja cats. Plus high-paid experts poached from Fire and the other great nations.
That should do it.
The Water Daimyo, hearing this, will surely be comforted.
Like a man who did nothing, and somehow his wife gave him a bouncing baby boy.
Amused by his metaphor, Uchiha Yorin let out an Uchiha-brand cackle, leaving the Konoha command staff across the table baffled. Finally Fugaku broke the silence and asked:
"Uh, Yorin. Before you start laughing—how do we handle this?"
Yorin quickly sobered.
Yes—how should this be handled?
Some people don't want Kiri rising, thriving, blazing again.
Some want to resist Uchiha Yorin's governance and drag Kiri back to ignorance and stagnation for personal gain.
Uchiha Yorin was angry.
He smiled—a pleased, eager, predator's smile.
Seeing it, everyone instinctively glanced at Mei. The Mizukage's cheeks were burning—she'd lost the bet.
Genji had indeed been faking. For days he'd been quietly networking, gathering those he trusted and those discontent with Kiri's state, weaving together a new anti-Konoha bloc.
He'd also penned letters about Kiri's situation to the other three Great Villages, begging support. He hadn't forgotten the Water Daimyo either.
Anyone he could ask, any channel he could use—he used them. All for a chance at independence.
Perhaps he should have been more careful. But he was out of time.
Both physically and politically—because Yorin had already arranged for his entire plan to be read out in Kiri.
Genji realized: if even a third, a fifth, even a tenth of Yorin's plan actually took hold, Kiri's hearts and minds would inevitably drift his way.
When that happened, it really would be over.
"They've probably spotted me."
In a dim room lit like a dying candle, the decaying old man thought:
"But rather than stop me, they only watch.
They're using me as bait—hoping to net the opposition in one swoop?
So confident in themselves—hm. Uchiha are always this arrogant.
Fine—so be it. Let this old man fight one last time for Kiri."
With that, his eyes burned bright—like a candle about to spend its final light and heat.