Dinner had just ended.
With his wife’s help, Hiashi Hyuga put on the formal robes that marked him as head of the Hyuga Clan.
Tonight might very well be his last.
With the situation having deteriorated this far, Hiashi could see no other way out.
If sacrificing himself could protect the Hyuga Clan and preserve the peace of Konoha, then that was what he would do.
He wasn’t exactly happy about it.
But shinobi had always been expected to sacrifice themselves when necessary.
That, too, was part of the shinobi way.
“Where’s Tenriki?” Hiashi suddenly asked.
“I haven’t seen him.”
“Hm?” Nami Hyuga blinked.
“I haven’t seen him today either.”
“That boy…”
Hiashi sighed helplessly.
Tenriki had certainly played a part in getting the Hyuga into their current predicament, but Hiashi didn’t blame him for it.
No child was born knowing how to control every variable.
Back when Tenriki had first proposed his plan, Hiashi had already noticed several weaknesses in it.
But a father’s job wasn’t to crush his son’s enthusiasm whenever he made a mistake.
It was to support him.
To tolerate his failures.
To help him understand where he had gone wrong and grow faster because of it.
That was something Hiashi’s own father had taught him when he was young.
When Hiashi had first begun taking responsibility for the Hyuga Clan, he’d made plenty of mistakes himself.
Every time, his father had simply smiled and encouraged him to learn from them rather than fear making them.
That guidance had eventually shaped Hiashi into the clan head he was today.
“Perhaps this will be the last lesson I ever teach you…”
Hiashi’s gaze fell upon a photograph on the table—one of him and Tenriki together.
For a moment, memories surfaced.
Then his expression hardened.
With quiet resolve, Hiashi turned and walked out through the gates of the Hyuga compound.
Night fell over Konoha.
A crescent moon hung high in the sky, only to disappear moments later behind thick clouds.
At the edge of the Hyuga training grounds, a small figure stood atop the branch of a tall tree.
Tenriki was wrapped from head to toe in a black cloak, concealing himself as thoroughly as possible.
He stared at the crescent moon overhead.
“Father…” he murmured.
“Don’t blame your son tomorrow for setting you up.”
Tenriki had actually considered four possible outcomes when he’d first devised his plan for dealing with the current situation.
Unfortunately, they had landed on the fourth.
The worst one.
The unexpected variable had been the Third Hokage’s decisiveness.
Fortunately, because Tenriki had anticipated the possibility, he’d already prepared a contingency plan.
There was just one problem he hadn’t been able to solve cleanly.
Hiashi.
His father possessed the potential to become an excellent politician, but his life in Konoha had been relatively smooth. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
The Hyuga had generally maintained a neutral stance while leaning toward the Hokage’s faction, and Hiashi hadn’t been forced into vicious political struggles against his own branch family either.
As a result, he lacked a certain ruthlessness.
Compared to people like Hiruzen Sarutobi and Danzo Shimura, Hiashi simply wasn’t underhanded enough.
Calling him an honorable man wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
And that created a problem.
The contingency Tenriki had prepared for their current predicament was, to put it mildly, dirty.
It involved harming Konoha’s interests.
Possibly even provoking a war.
There was no chance Hiashi would approve.
Which meant Tenriki had been forced to handle the ugly work himself.
What a miserable job.
Suddenly—
Rustle.
Rustle.
Rustle.
Three nearly imperceptible sounds came from the surrounding forest.
Tenriki didn’t turn around.
“Finally. I’ve been waiting forever.”
A deep voice answered from somewhere nearby.
“You don’t sound particularly anxious.”
“Enough talking. We’re short on time, so let’s get the job started.”
The man went straight to the point.
“Did you bring the money?”
“Of course.”
Tenriki lifted a bundle from beside his feet and tossed it toward the darkness.
A hand caught it.
After inspecting the contents, the man’s voice rose slightly in surprise.
“The entire payment? Aren’t you worried I’ll take the money and disappear?”
Tenriki smiled.
“Mr. Kakuzu, please. We’ve worked together enough times already. You’re famous throughout the underground bounty exchanges, and everyone knows how much you value money.”
He paused.
“I seriously doubt you’d destroy your reputation over a payment this small. Besides, there will be plenty of opportunities for us to work together in the future.”
Tenriki’s smile widened.
“And plenty more money.”
The man hidden in the darkness was none other than Kakuzu.
The legendary money-obsessed shinobi whose love of cash bordered on religious devotion.
As far as Kakuzu was concerned, the only thing in the world truly worthy of trust was money.
His first instinct upon seeing a shinobi was often to wonder how much their head might fetch at a bounty station.
With that kind of worldview, Tenriki’s promise of future business—and much larger profits—was exactly the right thing to say.
“I like the way you think,” Kakuzu replied.
His mood visibly improved.
Even Tenriki seemed a little more pleasant to look at now.
Tenriki waved impatiently.
“Then get moving. I’m waiting for results.”
Kakuzu had been paid in full.
His motivation immediately soared.
With the two shinobi behind him, he vanished into the forest to carry out the mission assigned by his latest employer.
After all…
The man paying you was the boss.
Tenriki watched Kakuzu disappear into the darkness and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
I wonder if he’s joined the Akatsuki yet…
If he hadn’t…
Tenriki suddenly had an interesting idea.
Why not have him start a company?
Someone who loved money this much probably wouldn’t have any shortage of motivation.
Then an image appeared in Tenriki’s mind.
Kakuzu.
A ruthless monster who had killed countless people.
A legendary missing-nin.
Except instead of hunting bounties and ripping out hearts, he was sitting behind an enormous office desk in an expensive suit, ruthlessly squeezing profits out of a corporation as an overworked, domineering CEO.
Tenriki imagined himself forcibly redirecting Kakuzu’s entire life onto the path of corporate capitalism.
…
The image was strangely beautiful.
Tenriki shook his head.
What the hell am I thinking?
Enough nonsense.
There were still important parts of the plan to deal with.
Whoosh!
Tenriki vanished from the tree.
Time to go home.
Meanwhile, Kakuzu and his two companions raced through the forest, leaping from branch to branch at high speed.
One of the shinobi glanced toward him.
“Hey, Kakuzu. Who was that person just now? He sounded like a kid.”
The second ninja scoffed.
“What are you talking about? Did you hear the way he spoke? There’s no way that was a child.”
Kakuzu shot them both a cold look.
“You know the rules of this business. Don’t pry into the employer’s identity.”
The two shinobi merely shrugged.
They were weaker than Kakuzu, but the difference wasn’t so overwhelming that they were particularly intimidated by a warning.
“Come on. Just tell us.”
Kakuzu gave them another look.
He didn’t answer.
He simply continued moving through the forest.
Still, his thoughts drifted back to the strange circumstances under which he’d first met Tenriki Hyuga.
Kakuzu remained silent for several seconds.
Then, privately, he reached the same conclusion he always did whenever that child crossed his mind.
He really is a strange kid.