"Hashirama Senju… that man again. No matter how much I try, I can't seem to avoid his shadow."
"What is this world trying to force on me? Do they want me to reenact the ridiculous feat of throwing 800 shuriken to take him down? Hah."
Kakuzu chuckled dryly. He knew there was no point in such theatrics. But this line of thought opened a new door for him.
"Hashirama's cells were used by many in later generations. They're even said to play a key role in future events. Perhaps… they could benefit my Earth Grudge Fear technique. My body's current condition leaves much to be desired, after all. It might be worth a try."
Kakuzu began crafting a plan, though he knew better than to rush. Hashirama's cells were little more than a concept right now—no tangible samples existed because Hashirama himself was still alive. And who would dare pluck fur from a tiger while it prowled? That was a death wish. Only when Hashirama lay in his grave would someone brave enough attempt to steal from his corpse.
The exact time of Hashirama's demise was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he would die eventually. And Kakuzu had plenty of time. For now, there was no need to be hasty.
With his plan set, Kakuzu shelved his worries about the side effects of Earth Grudge Fear for the time being. But another issue quickly surfaced: money.
Cling-clang! Cling-clang!
A burly man swung a bell as he moved, signaling the crowd ahead to make way.
Behind him, a caravan of horse-drawn carts rolled along, their wheels carving tracks into the dirt road. Merchants flanked the carts, while a dozen swordsmen served as guards. The impressive convoy caught the curious eyes of passersby.
The banners atop the carts bore the insignia of the Land of Birds Merchant Guard, a unit directly established by the daimyo. No wonder the caravan had such an imposing presence.
The convoy passed through narrow streets, past inns and stalls, never pausing.
From the rooftops above, Kakuzu stood, his black cloak billowing in the wind. The fluttering fabric mirrored his turbulent thoughts.
Watching the caravan below, he discovered an intriguing ability in his new life.
While the crowd below speculated about the carts' contents, Kakuzu needed only a glance to make an accurate judgment.
"The first cart? Definitely goods—though I couldn't say what exactly."
"But the last three…" His eyes gleamed with a sharp light.
"I'd stake my life on it: they're filled with money."
His certainty wasn't baseless—it was ingrained, a skill honed through years of experience. Kakuzu's innate sensitivity to wealth bordered on supernatural.
As the caravan rolled away, Kakuzu sighed.
He didn't move to rob it, letting it disappear from his view instead.
His restraint had its reasons. The ninja world was governed by unspoken rules, and Kakuzu was a man who understood the delicate balance of power. Ninja, for all their strength, were not producers. Like ordinary people, they needed money for food, clothing, and shelter.
Thus, they relied on the daimyos and their nations for financial support. This dependency formed the foundation of the One Nation, One Village system.
Where did the daimyos get their money? Partly from taxes, but mostly from trade. Merchants played a crucial role in maintaining the flow of funds. Over time, they became an untouchable class in the shinobi world.
Anyone bold or foolish enough to rob a merchant caravan would face relentless pursuit, hunted by every nation. Their only refuge would be a life of misery as a mountain bandit.
Kakuzu folded his arms and withdrew his gaze.
He avoided such crimes not only to adhere to the unspoken rules but also because he saw no purpose in slaughtering the defenseless.
Though the caravan had guards, samurai were relics of a bygone era. No matter how proud, they were mere paper in the face of overwhelming ninjutsu. Killing them without provocation would be meaningless.
Kakuzu had other ways to earn money.
Rustle, rustle.
With a few swift leaps, Kakuzu reached a secluded spot. Behind him, a young boy appeared, wearing a polite yet somewhat nervous smile.
"Excuse me, are you Lord 'Do'?"
Kakuzu glanced over his shoulder, examining the boy. Around fifteen or sixteen, the lad had basic ninja training but posed no threat. His innocent appearance could easily belong to a simple tradesman.
But Kakuzu knew better. These inconspicuous types were precisely the kind to serve as intermediaries.
"I am," Kakuzu replied.
The name "Do" was an alias he'd casually chosen. As he spoke, he pulled a black mask over the lower half of his face, leaving only his sharp eyes visible.
The boy smiled faintly after hearing the request. "Do-sama, my name is Heisei Rokuno. I'm in charge around here, and we can meet your requirements. Please, follow me."
Heisei Rokuno immediately lowered his head respectfully as Kakuzu turned away, then leapt down from the rooftop to lead the way. Kakuzu lightly pushed off with one foot, vanishing from his spot and following closely behind.
Kakuzu's money-making methods were something many could guess—"the Underground Exchange." Not only was this Kakuzu's bread and butter, but over the past few days, he had grown even more familiar with this line of work.
This place required neither a real name, a real face, nor even a real person. You only needed to pick up or hand off tasks. As for who you were, no one cared. It was a perfect fit for Kakuzu's need to operate discreetly while making money. The Underground Exchange could truly be called his "destined place."
On the way to the exchange, Heisei Rokuno displayed a remarkable level of caution. Although Town was a lawless zone, the exchange was an underground operation, one that couldn't afford to be exposed to the public.
Rokuno wandered the streets aimlessly for quite some time. Kakuzu didn't mind. He knew that making big money required patience, so he silently followed behind.
After about half an hour, and once certain they weren't being tailed, Rokuno finally led Kakuzu into an alleyway. After another dozen or so meters, they stopped in front of a shop. Rokuno turned, smiled, and pointed to the entrance.
"Do-sama, this is the place."
At that moment, the shop door opened.
A young woman, no older than sixteen or seventeen, sauntered out. She wore very little and moved with a seductive grace. Without hesitation, she latched onto Kakuzu's arm.
"Big brother, why don't you come in and have some fun?"
Both Rokuno and the young woman smiled at Kakuzu, who was momentarily stunned. He glanced up at the shop's name.
You've got to be kidding me!
Kakuzu's eyes, the only part of his face visible, practically shot flames as he glared at Rokuno. His mind raced as he processed the situation. He had asked for work, and this idiot had brought him here?
"You bastard! Are you suggesting I work here? Or worse, that I… spend money here?!"
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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