Chapter 153: Young Minato and Kurama
Given Stelle's status, any child she brought home was bound to be scrutinized. The general consensus was that this kid was no ordinary orphan; he might even be groomed as her direct successor. Naturally, everyone treated him with a heavy dose of polite caution.
Not that Kurama cared about social graces. He ate his fill, drank whatever he pleased, and lounged around the house like a miniature tyrant. He was thoroughly satisfied with this arrangement.
Of course, he still had to show a modicum of respect to Stelle, the one actually keeping a roof over his head.
Beyond her, his social circle was brutally exclusive. Dan Kato and Might Duy had earned his favor through the sheer volume of snacks they bought him. As for Hiruzen Sarutobi and Kagami Uchiha? He found them incredibly annoying, but since their gifts were consistently high-tier, he grudgingly afforded them a passing glance.
Everyone else ceased to exist in his eyes.
Consequently, only five people in the entire village possessed the clearance to address him by his actual name.
"Go to the dango shop right now," Kurama demanded, pointing a tiny, imperious finger. "Buy me the Super Deluxe Limited Edition Five-Color Dango Set. Do that, and for the sake of the dango and Stelle, I'll grudgingly allow you to use my real name."
Minato Namikaze blinked, a strained smile freezing on his face. Coming from the village orphanage, his pockets were practically echoing. He reached into his pouch, pulling out a few crumpled, hard-earned coins saved through agonizing frugality.
"I... I can only afford a few candies," Minato offered, his voice gentle and placating. "I'll go buy them right now. Please don't be disappointed, Kurama, okay?"
Kurama's eyebrows pinched together in deep offense. He stared at the pathetic wad of cash. He had fully intended to scam his new roommate into providing a lavish feast, only to discover this kid was a complete pauper—somehow even poorer than he was after blowing through his own allowance.
"Ah! I can't eat dango! I'm going to get depressed!" Kurama wailed, throwing himself onto the sofa and rolling around in a dramatic display of agony. "Stelle won't buy them for me either! She only feeds me her leftover work meals! She even has the nerve to say all I know is how to eat, eat, eat! If I actually stopped eating and started causing real trouble, then she'd have something to cry about! I want sushi! I want daifuku! I want roast chicken!"
Minato pressed a hand to his mouth, desperately suppressing a laugh as he watched the boy flail against the cushions.
How could Hokage-sama's supposed protégé act like a literal three-year-old? Fortunately, Minato was an expert at coaxing toddlers.
Despite his young age, Minato was sharp, sensible, and highly capable. Having spent countless hours helping out in the orphanage kitchens, he had mastered quite a few recipes.
Scavenging through Stelle's kitchen, he managed to whip up two highly aromatic, savory dishes. The rich scent wafted into the living room, instantly halting Kurama's tantrum.
"I didn't expect your cooking to actually be edible," Kurama mumbled, stuffing his cheeks until they bulged. "It's way better than Stelle's. Last time she got bored and tried to cook, the food looked like art but tasted like poison—either deathly salty or sickeningly sweet. Remember to learn more recipes. I have high hopes for you, peasant."
And so, the first meeting between the future Yellow Flash and the disguised Tailed Beast concluded in an atmosphere of bizarre harmony.
Minato smiled warmly, thinking: What a cute, simple-minded child. So easy to coax.
Kurama chewed his food, thinking: What an intellectually deficient human. He needs constant validation, but his attitude is acceptable.
It seemed they were destined to become the best of friends.
Meanwhile, Stelle had began a journey toward the western border.
Given the recently established friendly diplomatic relations between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind, she originally planned to conduct an official state visit. She wanted to personally inspect how the neighboring nation was developing under Konoha's generous assistance.
Kagami and the rest of the advisory council, however, had vehemently vetoed the idea. They insisted the Land of Wind was a barren, unlucky wasteland, and that merely observing the newly planted border forests would suffice.
In short: she had free rein to roam anywhere within the Land of Fire, but stepping foot into the Land of Wind was strictly forbidden.
Left with no other options, Stelle arranged a clandestine rendezvous with Kazushi right at the border line.
For this particular excursion, she brought Hiruko along. Back in the Konoha research division, Orochimaru had fully pivoted toward electronics and cybernetics. Hiruko, realizing that playing second fiddle in Orochimaru's lab would permanently relegate him to the status of an insignificant background character, had aggressively pivoted his own career path.
Armed with the late Tobirama Senju's agricultural manuscripts, Hiruko had thrown himself into studying soil compositions and genetic crop modifications. He was now a fully-fledged, fanatical agronomist.
Throughout the entire journey, Hiruko practically vibrated with manic energy. Stripped of his usual gloomy, taciturn demeanor, he babbled about his experiments with the breathless devotion of a religious zealot.
"Hokage-sama, the Drought-Resistant Seeds you commissioned have already advanced to their third iteration!" Hiruko beamed, his eyes wide behind his bandages. "Once this current batch of wheat in the Land of Wind is harvested, the new strain can be deployed by next season. And I completed this entire project completely independently. I didn't let Orochimaru interfere for a single second!"
He placed heavy, venomous emphasis on Orochimaru's name, his desire to vent his inferiority complex bleeding through his tone.
"On the other hand," Hiruko continued, a smug smirk twitching on his lips, "Orochimaru's mechanical arm research has completely stalled. Out of the goodness of my heart—and for the sake of our disabled Konoha shinobi—I specifically set aside my own vital work to help him. Thanks to my intervention, the prototypes are basically finished and will be ready for field testing in two months."
Stelle listened to the system chimes echoing in her mind. The mood values rolling in from Hiruko were staggering. She was incredibly satisfied with him. Every single interaction yielded a massive harvest of emotional points; his insecurities made his emotional fluctuations beautifully volatile.
It was a stark contrast to Orochimaru, who was rapidly approaching a state of chilling, Zen-like emotional detachment, entirely beyond joy or sorrow.
Seeing as Hiruko had grown too tall for her usual condescending head-pats, Stelle settled for placing a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"You have done exceptionally well, Hiruko," she said, her voice dropping into a register of deep, unwavering authority. "You truly are the person I chose."
That calm, obvious praise detonated like a paper bomb inside Hiruko's mind.
His breathing hitched. His pupils dilated, swimming with absolute, fanatical reverence.
Here, standing before Hokage-sama, he wasn't the mediocre dead-last who constantly trailed behind the Sannin. He wasn't a failure.
He was a genius. A genius personally recognized by the Hokage.
He had produced tangible results. He had earned her praise. He swore to himself right then and there that he would work himself to the bone. He would achieve even greater heights. He would absolutely crush Orochimaru.
In that fleeting moment, Hiruko no longer looked at Stelle as his military leader. He looked at her as his god.
At the border dividing the two great nations, a staggering sight awaited. Endless rows of towering trees stretched for dozens of miles, acting as a massive windbreak for vast, golden fields of wheat that were just beginning to sprout heavy ears.
Hiruko stood at the edge of the fields, aggressively lecturing the assigned Sand Village guards on optimal harvesting techniques.
Ebizo, recognizing a golden opportunity to steal highly classified agricultural tech, hovered nearby. He listened with rapt attention, furiously scribbling notes and occasionally interjecting with highly specific questions regarding the seed genetics.
But Hiruko was far from stupid. He knew exactly what the old Sand shinobi was trying to pull.
Instead of giving straight answers, Hiruko unleashed a torrential flood of hyper-dense, theoretical agronomy jargon. He strung together plausible-sounding but entirely contradictory statements, leaving Ebizo and his elite Sand shinobi standing in the dirt, staring blankly at their notepads with their mouths hanging open.
Hiruko crossed his arms, letting out a sharp, condescending snort.
The pathetic wisdom of mortals cannot match Konoha in the slightest, he thought smugly. And your Third Kazekage couldn't even hold a candle to our Fourth Hokage.
While Hiruko was busy asserting intellectual dominance, what were Stelle and Kazushi doing?
They were harassing a toddler.
The three-year-old boy was undeniably adorable, sporting a mop of vibrant, purplish-red hair. Even with his chubby cheeks, it was obvious he was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker.
This was Chiyo's precious grandson: Sasori of the Red Sand.
"So this is little Sasori?" Stelle cooed, her eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. "He's way too cute! Quick, hand him over."
She reached out, snatching the toddler and mercilessly pinching his soft cheeks.
Sasori was absolutely furious. Being manhandled by a strange, terrifying woman was not on his agenda. He squirmed violently, his face scrunched up in a deep scowl. His little hands reached out desperately, trying to burrow his way back into Kazushi's familiar arms.
With a burst of toddler strength, he managed to latch onto Kazushi's sleeve and scramble out of Stelle's grasp. He wrapped both arms around Kazushi's bicep, kicking his little legs in the air until he was safely pulled back into the Kazekage's embrace.
He buried his face deep into Kazushi's chest, refusing to look back. He only peeked out with one eye, glaring fiercely at Stelle, utterly terrified the strange lady would try to steal him again.
Stelle threw her head back and burst into genuine laughter.
The teasing only stopped when Ebizo, noticing the two Kage were finally ready to discuss actual business, hurried over to pry his traumatized grandnephew away.
"You've been making quite a killing lately, haven't you?" Kazushi murmured, leaning against a tree once they were alone. "I've been pushing the Land of Wind's development so aggressively that while the civilian populace is singing my praises, the traditional ninja clans are losing their collective minds. They try to assassinate me on a daily basis. Kakuzu is thrilled, though. He gets to charge me for overtime every single night."
"Not bad," Stelle mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Back when we were just making steady, incremental progress, their emotional reactions were pitifully average. But now that we're actively threatening their monopoly on power? The income is fantastic. We've gone from trickles of single points to massive bursts of dozens at a time. It really is wonderful when there's a larger crowd to harvest."
Kazushi sighed, a sound of deep weariness. "During this current era, everyone outside of Konoha is basically a background NPC. It's getting tedious trying to fleece them for points. I've had my fill of this lukewarm, city-builder infrastructure life. Jia is about to go offline, and honestly, I want to submit my application to go offline too."
"Thank you for your hard work," Stelle replied smoothly, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "Just hold on a little longer. I'll draft up a 'Ninja World Peace Proposal' for you to present soon. Once that hits the table and starts threatening their core systemic reforms, it's guaranteed to be a massive hit. The angst will be glorious."
Following their clandestine border meeting, Konoha aggressively ramped up its aid to the Land of Wind.
It was no longer restricted to basic agricultural supplies. Konoha began shipping massive industrial Water Purification Devices directly into the Hidden Sand Village., Konoha mandated a series of joint-village missions, forcing Sand and Leaf shinobi to work side-by-side.
The crowning jewel of this diplomatic nightmare, however, was the proposal for a massive, joint military exercise to be hosted within the Hidden Sand Village itself—all in the name of international friendship.
Unsurprisingly, the upper echelons of the Sand Village council were united in their absolute outrage. During the emergency summit, they vehemently rejected the idea of allowing foreign troops to parade through their home.
Kazushi sat at the head of the table, draped in the robes of the Third Kazekage. She looked utterly unbothered by the screaming councilors.
"Everyone," Kazushi interrupted, her voice slicing through the clamor like a physical blade. "Do not forget that the civilians and the civilian-born shinobi are also citizens of the Land of Wind. We are no longer merely managing the Hidden Sand Village; we are governing an entire nation. I must be responsible for all the people."
Her tone dripped with icy sarcasm as she leaned forward, her gaze locking onto the furious clan heads.
"You are entirely too blinded by your petty family interests. Tell me, what difference is there between you parasites and the bloated nobles of the capital?"
The faces of the elite shinobi contorted in ugly, purple rage.
Sensing the shift in the room's killing intent, Chiyo and Ebizo immediately pushed back their chairs. They walked around the grand table and took their places flanking Kazushi, their political stance brutally clear.
They stood with the Kazekage.
But this was the shinobi world, and in the shinobi world, political deadlocks were resolved through violence.
It didn't matter how loudly the council objected. Might makes right. They would fight, and the survivor would dictate the village's future.
Thirty minutes later, the council chambers were a disaster zone.
The Third Kazekage had graciously provided a masterclass in elemental destruction, using several terrifying, newly-invented variations of the Wind Blade. Combined with the blinding speed of the Wind Release: Body Flicker Technique, the rebellion was crushed before it even truly began.
By the time the dust settled and the meeting officially adjourned, the elite councilors lay groaning and bleeding across the shattered floorboards.
The Joint Military Exercise proposal was passed with unanimous, albeit unconscious, approval.
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