Chapter 176: The Age of Tipping!

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["A five ryō tip on a fifty ryō purchase. A hundred ryō tip on a thousand. But at Silicon Valley's Secret Coffee—tips aren't expected. Because here, the customers and the servers are—friends, not bound by mere transactions."]

[I felt a pang of shame, remembering my past—rudeness towards service staff back in Kumogakure.]

[I had to—make amends. Perhaps my own attitude had—influenced theirs. I should—reflect.]

[Kindness, respect, understanding — these were the foundations of—human connection.]

[And then, there was Konoha Hospital. So many patients, yet also—so many medical-nin. I saw an Uzumaki medical-nin diligently tending to the injured. ]

[He'd been delayed, treating a Shinobi on the street. ]

[And when he arrived late for his class, he was—praised by Advisor Gojo and Tsunade-sama. ]

[This reminded me of an incident in a Kumogakure hospital.]

[Due to the shortage of medical-nin, they often had to treat patients and teach. I witnessed a respected medical-nin arrive late for a lecture because he'd been treating someone on the street. He was reprimanded, even suspended. He had to write a—self-criticism report.]

[This made me—reflect.]

[Our villages are comparable in military strength, yet so different in—compassion. This—disconnect—it's like a spiritual desert. If we don't change, even if Kumogakure conquers the Shinobi World, we'll—crumble from within. A spiritual desert cannot sustain—true prosperity.]

[Perhaps—we should start with tipping, to improve our interactions. To foster kindness and understanding.]

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"Huh?"

Mabui finished reading, her mind reeling.

Was that—true?

She had to admit, her brief time in Konoha, thanks to the Raikage's—generosity had been—eye-opening.

Though the prices were exorbitant, the quality and service were—exceptional. Even the "foreigner fee"—she'd paid it willingly.

Perhaps—it was simply called something different here — a "tip."

But in Kumogakure—the service was—lacking, the food—mediocre. And they expected tips?

Suddenly, she noticed several waiters staring at her, their eyes fixed on the bowl on her table.

A crudely written note lay inside: [For prompt service, please leave a tip.]

This—tipping—it was spreading.

[The Forest Reader], with its direct style and sharp critiques, had—struck a chord.

As the editor's note had stated: We want to show our readers the—hidden beauty, the noble acts, the exceptional systems that exist in the Shinobi World. We are—curators of knowledge, not creators.

And so, [The Forest Reader], combining insightful commentary with—clickbait, catered to its readers' desires, sharing stories from across the Shinobi World. The recent "Summer Camp Showdown" article, for instance, had been a—hit.

[The Forest Reader], unlike [Iki], appealed not just to the sophisticated elite, but to ordinary people as well.

Its readers eagerly awaited the next issue.

And the reactions—varied.

Whether Kumogakure truly was a spiritual wasteland—was debatable. But they'd certainly found—inspiration in the "Land of Fire Observations" article.

Those Konoha merchants—they were clever.

Reducing costs, maximizing profits.

Kumogakure, it seemed, was falling behind.

Increased taxes, rising mercenary fees, and the ongoing "war"—the village's economy was strained. Prices were rising, but profits remained stagnant, wages—frozen.

To compensate, Kumogakure's business owners resorted to—cost-cutting measures.

Like—tips.

They lowered base wages. Want more? Ask the customers.

Shifting the burden.

And it had worked.

Faced with reduced wages, the service staff had little choice but to—comply.

Jobs were scarce. The wealthy were fleeing, and businesses closing. They couldn't afford to—complain.

They'd lose their jobs.

But their employers, having reduced their wages, offered a—solution.

Want your money? Ask the customers.

The age of tipping had begun.

Several waiters surrounded Mabui. Though they did nothing, their silent presence and the single phrase, "Your tip, ma'am," was—unnerving.

Mabui, though capable of—intimidating them, was too embarrassed to make a scene. She tossed twenty ryō onto the table and left.

Similar scenes were playing out across Kumogakure.

Mabui even saw a village elder, refusing to tip, being—detained.

What was supposed to be a sign of—civility had become—extortion.

This—wasn't right.

She had to tell the Raikage. This tipping—it was getting out of control.

This wasn't the merchants' responsibility, it was—the village's.

And if this continued, it would only—deter tourism and accelerate the village's decline.

But then, she saw something—disturbing.

A Shinobi, tangled in electrical wires, hung from a utility pole, his cries echoing through the street.

A crowd had gathered, mostly—well-dressed individuals.

One, clad in a suit, his jacket straining against his—physique, shook his head. "A Shinobi suffering and no one helps. Has Kumogakure lost its compassion? [Iki] was right. This—is happening here as well. We must—help."

"I'll pay 10,000 ryō to anyone who—rescues him," another man, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a large gold ring, announced.

The crowd watched, but no one moved. No one believed they'd actually receive 10,000 ryō for—rescuing someone.

"15,000!" the man shouted.

A murmur spread through the crowd. A burly man stepped forward. "That's—a village power line. If I cut it—the Raikage Tower will lose power. I'll be arrested."

"Hmph. Even Uzushiogakure's Kage would shut down the entire nation's power grid to save a child. Why is Kumogakure so—hesitant? This lack of compassion, this disregard for life—I'm—disappointed."

"You're reading [Iki]? I'm reading [The Forest Reader]. I—agree with your sentiments, but not your—methods," the man in the suit said.

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