#8

Comment below on what you think so far.

Thanks for reading guys.

—————

Right now, the Faraday Industries had only around twenty workers, and their schedules were packed. Any spare time for infrastructure projects fell to Mufasa and Gaara, who had no other pressing duties.

Gaara spoke up. "Once I earn my Chunin title, I'll convince Kazekage to support your vision, Sensei."

Temari and Kankuro exchanged glances and nodded. "Yes, if we all speak to him together, he might listen."

Mufasa smiled at them. "Thank you."

"Sounds like you're all confident about passing the Chunin Exams."

Gaara's confidence was unshakable—Mufasa had helped him fully master the power of Shukaku. Kankuro grinned. "With the modifications you made to my puppets, I'm ready."

Temari flicked open her fan. "And thanks to you, my wind techniques have never been stronger."

Mufasa laughed. "Good! I'm looking forward to watching you all rise."

Gaara hesitated before asking, "Sensei, why don't you take the Chunin Exam?"

Mufasa had never participated. Despite his immense strength, he remained a Genin, a mystery to many in the village.

Since joining the ninja workshop as an apprentice, Mufasa had spent all his time studying, crafting, selling ninja tools, and improving his skills. He never cared about rankings. As he grew older, his mindset solidified—titles like Chunin or Jonin meant nothing to him.

He spread his hands. "Because it's pointless."

The three of them frowned, confused.

Mufasa explained. "First: It's a waste of time. My time is valuable, and I won't spend it proving myself to others. Second: I don't need anyone's approval. My strength speaks for itself."

Gaara's eyes lit up. "Then I won't go either."

"No!" Mufasa shook his head. "You must go. You need to show the world the strength of the next generation of Sand Shinobi. Make them recognize Sand Village."

He smirked. "Think of it as a promotional campaign."

Gaara nodded. "Then I will crush everyone. I'll make the world fear our Sand Ninja power."

One month later.

Mufasa hovered over the newly constructed industrial park.

Below him stretched a vast complex, roughly 300 acres in size. The park had begun to take shape—roads crisscrossed the land, factory buildings stood in neat rows, and massive wind-resistant boulders formed a protective perimeter.

Two major roads connected the park: one leading to the village and the other extending to the oil fields. Underground pipelines snaked beneath the surface, ready to transport oil and water. All that remained was connecting utilities and installing equipment, and the industrial park would be fully operational.

For now, it was empty.

The barren desert stretched around it, void of greenery.

But Mufasa was pleased.

From above, the park had a rugged, mechanical aesthetic—harsh and wild, yet full of potential. Once powered up and staffed, this place would become the beating heart of Sand Village's future.

The wind howled across the desert, carrying the distant cheers of villagers.

Today, the Sand Village Chunin Exam participants were departing.

A farewell gathering was being held in the village center, where Kazekage Rasa would soon send them off.

And soon after, Orochimaru's conspiracy against Konoha would begin.

During the attack, Rasa would be assassinated by Orochimaru himself. Though the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, would ultimately drive him away at the cost of his own life, Sand Village would be left leaderless. Without a Kazekage to command them, the Sand Shinobi would fall to Konoha's might.

In the aftermath, Konoha would absorb Sand Village as a vassal under the guise of an alliance. Gaara, the future Kazekage, would essentially become Konoha's enforcer.

Mufasa refused to let that happen.

Sand Village needed true independence to thrive.

And for that to happen—he would become Kazekage himself.

Mufasa turned away from the village center, heading instead toward the orphanage he had built and funded.

Tesla Orphanage.

A purple-haired boy around Gaara's age sprinted toward him. "Mufasa-sensei! What are you doing here?"

Mufasa ruffled his hair. "Rakka, I'll be away for a while. I wanted to check in on you all before I go."

Rakka beamed and turned to call out. "Tanjuro, Saburo, Yakasa! Come quick!"

A group of children rushed over, their voices overlapping with excitement.

"Mufasa-sensei!"

"Mufasa-sensei!"

He smiled at them all. These children, once abandoned, would grow into the future of Sand Village. And under his guidance, they would reshape the ninja world.

Sand Village was a land of scarcity.

Unlike Konoha, where even orphans and those with only taijutsu skills could attend the ninja academy, Sand Village had no such luxury. Their limited resources meant only a small number of elite shinobi could receive proper training.

At present, Konoha boasted around 12,000 registered ninjas. Sand Village, by contrast, had barely over 4,000.

This massive gap was a direct result of economic disparity.

Children like Rakka, who specialized in taijutsu, or Sunae, who had no connections, were left behind—discarded by a system that had no room for them.

That was, until Mufasa changed everything.

He established an orphanage to take them in, giving them shelter, food, and—most importantly—hope. He taught them ninjutsu, skills that would allow them to carve their own future. These children, raised under his care, became his most loyal supporters.

And one day, they would stand by his side as the foundation of a new Sand Village.

Mufasa smiled warmly at the group of children gathered around him. They looked up to him, not just as their teacher, but as the man who had given them a second chance.

Turning to the most responsible among them, he placed a hand on Rakka's shoulder. "Rakka, I have to leave for a while to take care of some important things. While I'm gone, I need you to look after everyone. Can you do that?"

Rakka stood tall and nodded. "Yes, Sensei. You can count on me."

Tanjiro, a younger boy, hesitated before speaking. "Sensei... where are you going?"

Mufasa knelt down, ruffling his hair. "I'm going to create a new path for Sand Village." His voice was calm yet resolute. "Tell me, do you all want enough food and water every day? Do you want to go to the ninja academy without worrying if you'll be turned away?"

The children nodded eagerly. "Yes!"

Mufasa smiled. "I do too. That's why I have a lot of work ahead of me. You must all take care of each other while I'm gone."

"We will, Sensei!" they chorused.

Rakka clenched his fist. "And we'll train hard so we can help you someday!"

Mufasa chuckled. "That's the spirit. I'll be counting on you."

After saying his goodbyes, Mufasa left the orphanage and made his way back to Faraday Industries.

As he arrived, several workers—ninjas who had joined him in his vision—stepped forward. Among them were Jakis, Yoshihiro, and a handful of others who had been working tirelessly to bring Sand Village into a new era.

"Boss, we've received orders from the village. There's a mission, and we need to return to our squads," Jakis reported.

Mufasa narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew exactly what this meant.

Rasa was preparing for the invasion of Konoha.

The call to arms had begun.

Mufasa reminded them sternly, "Remember, we have a mission. If you find yourselves in danger, don't push your limits—run. Prioritize survival over everything."

Jakis, Yoshihiro, and the others froze for a moment, exchanging glances. The boss was right. They knew better than to argue.

"Understood, boss," they responded in unison.

Without the ninja staff, Faraday Industries felt eerily empty.

After reinforcing the sandworm nest, Mufasa slung his pack over his shoulder and took one last look around.

"Time to move."

The Land of Fire

Mufasa walked along the well-trodden path, a wide-brimmed straw hat shadowing his face. A large, half-body-height wooden box rested on his back, secured with thick straps. His clothes mimicked those of a simple traveling merchant.

The road leading to the Hidden Leaf Village was picturesque—lush forests, rolling valleys, winding rivers, and cascading waterfalls. The village itself, nestled in the heart of nature, stood as a testament to Hashirama Senju's vision.

As he approached, the massive village gates loomed ahead, standing tall as part of Konoha's impenetrable barrier. His gaze lifted slightly, and in the distance, the unmistakable sight of the Hokage Rock came into view. The carved faces of past leaders watched over the village like silent sentinels.

"Finally," he murmured.

This was the center of the ninja world.

But Mufasa had no intention of letting the future unfold as expected.

Reaching the village gates, he was met by the two chunin on guard duty—Kamizuki Izumo and Hagane Kotetsu.

Izumo, his long bangs falling over the right side of his face, stepped forward first. "Hey there. Please present your identification."

Without hesitation, Mufasa pulled out a rolled parchment—his clearance papers.

"Scar, traveling merchant from the Land of Wind," he introduced himself smoothly.

Izumo scrutinized the document before glancing back up. "What's your business in Konoha, Scar?"

"I deal in ninja tools. With the Chunin Exams coming up, I figured there'd be a demand for quality weapons. I came hoping to trade."

Kotetsu, his spiky black hair slightly ruffled from the wind, knelt down and flipped open Mufasa's wooden box. Inside, a collection of finely crafted kunai, shuriken, and senbon glinted under the sunlight.

Kotetsu let out a short laugh. "Oh, man. You're new at this, huh?"

Mufasa arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Kotetsu smirked, picking up one of the kunai. "Each village has its own weapons suppliers. We have plenty of our own, and we sure as hell don't rely on outside sources. Trying to sell ninja tools in a ninja village? That's like trying to sell glasses to the blind."

Izumo crossed his arms. "He's not wrong. Trade restrictions between villages are strict, especially when it comes to weapons. No one trusts an outsider to supply their shinobi."

Mufasa had anticipated this reaction. That was exactly why he had chosen this moment.

"I appreciate the advice," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "But my weapons aren't just any weapons. They're better. And I have confidence that someone will recognize that."

Kotetsu scoffed. "Oh yeah? You really believe that?"

Mufasa reached into his box and pulled out a kunai, spinning it between his fingers. "Why don't we test it? If my kunai breaks, I'll compensate you."

Kotetsu chuckled, clearly amused. "Alright, merchant. Let's see what you've got."

He drew a kunai from the holster on his right thigh, twirling it skillfully before raising it in a defensive stance. "Konoha's ninja are the best. There's no way your knockoff gear can hold up."

Without hesitation, Mufasa struck.

A sharp clang echoed through the air.

Then—a snap.

Kotetsu's kunai broke clean in half. The severed piece spiraled through the air before embedding itself into the dirt.

Izumo's eyes widened. Kotetsu stared at the broken weapon in disbelief.

Mufasa grinned. "So? Still think Konoha's tools are the best?"

Before they could respond, murmurs from nearby shinobi caught their attention.

A group of three Grass ninja approached, their bamboo hats casting long shadows.

The one in front, with sickly pale skin and slitted, snake-like eyes, spoke first. "Interesting. Your weapons are impressive. I'll take them all."