Chapter 142: Mikoto Strikes Back

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Land of Water.

Kirigakure.

Sasame leaned against the window, listening to Mizukage Terumī Mei deliver her report.

It was a unique experience.

"All five shipping routes are now officially under construction."

Flipping through documents, Mei maintained a calm tone, though her nerves were frayed beneath the surface.

What came next would be her first major performance—one she had reluctantly agreed to for Sasame's sake.

And for seven billion.

Sasame hadn't handed over the full amount at once but in installments—around 50 million each time. So far, only two billion had been transferred.

His explanation? Such a massive cash flow would destabilize his trade network if released all at once.

A reasonable excuse.

Mei believed him.

"Though we faced resistance from several merchant groups, Kirigakure's intervention resolved it perfectly."

Perfectly indeed.

While shinobi generally avoided targeting civilians, not all adhered to that principle—especially ANBU.

They handled everything.

With Mei's subtle maneuvering and the Land of Water's authority, rival merchants quickly abandoned their claims to the routes.

Had Sasame handled it, he would've opted for a gentler approach—joint ventures, shared risks and profits.

But the Land of Water wasn't his concern.

Mei's report lasted nearly half an hour before she covered all recent developments.

"Hire me a few chefs," Sasame suddenly said, eyeing the fishing and culinary industries. "Skilled ones—creative, too."

The Land of Water's coastal position made seafood the obvious venture.

Pair that with branding and aristocratic appeal, and prices could skyrocket.

Take Japan's famed delicacies—red king crab, tuna, fugu.

Specifically, bluefin tuna. In 2019, one sold for 300 million yen.

In the shinobi world, where daimyō and nobles ruled the economy, such extravagance was easily replicable—provided the product was exquisite and exclusive.

Sasame even considered using genjutsu as seasoning.

There was a psychological effect at play—herd mentality.

If the daimyō declared a dish divine, nobles and merchants would praise it even if it tasted like garbage.

Sasame prided himself on his moral compass.

He only swindled the corrupt elite.

"Chefs?" Mei looked up, slender eyes narrowing. "Why so many?"

"Just had an idea. Wanted them to develop a few dishes." Sasame shrugged. "If you're interested, you can be the first judge."

"Fine."

Curious about his plans, Mei agreed.

"Anything else?"

Sasame tilted his head, grinning. "How's the Mizukage's singing and dancing practice going?"

Mei's heart skipped.

The moment had come.

She stood, her expression cool. "No issues."

"Can't wait."

Sasame hopped off the windowsill and settled into the Mizukage's chair. "Mind if I sit here?"

Mei's brow twitched, but she said nothing.

By tradition, only the Mizukage could sit there—doing otherwise was a direct challenge to Kirigakure.

But for Sasame?

Whatever.

Taking a deep breath, Mei stepped to the center of the office and began to dance.

Her figure was striking—slimmer than Tsunade's but equally curvaceous.

Her blue dress swayed, accentuating her waist and hips.

The only disappointment? Her long legs, though clad in fishnet stockings, were mostly hidden by knee-high white guards.

Not generous enough.

Her singing, however, surpassed her dancing.

Sasame noted Mei's potential as an idol.

For such short practice, she'd improved remarkably.

As the song ended, Mei's cheeks flushed—whether from exertion or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

"H-how was it?" she stammered.

"Amazing." Sasame gave a thumbs-up.

Mei exhaled in relief, an odd warmth blooming in her chest—

Then she caught herself.

Why am I happy about this?!

Her face burned.

Sasame blinked. That expression was rare for the Mizukage.

"Anything else?" Mei forced composure. "If not, I have work. Move."

"Sure."

Sasame stood, offering his seat with exaggerated courtesy. "Mizukage-sama, after you."

Mei hesitated before reclaiming her chair with regal poise.

A faint, soothing fragrance lingered.

Sasame inhaled subtly, then paused at the window.

"That outfit isn't ideal for dancing. Next time, I'll bring you something better."

With a wave, he vanished.

"Next time?!"

Mei stiffened, then scowled like a petulant girl. "That guy's impossible!"

As Mizukage, she'd never met someone so insolent—dictating terms without even letting her refuse.

Land of Waves. Daimyō's Estate.

In the courtyard, Tayuya trained with her flute.

Clad in the kimono Sasame had given her, she channeled chakra through the instrument.

Three monstrous summons materialized behind her—humanoid yet grotesque.

One wielded a club, another clawed hands, the third armless.

Suddenly, Tayuya's eyes sharpened.

The melody shifted—

Demonic Flute: Phantom Sound Chains!

A genjutsu engulfed the area.

Sasame hung suspended in midair as the summons attacked.

"You're dead!" Tayuya crowed—

Then froze.

Sasame materialized behind her, flicking her forehead.

"Ow!" Tears welled as she snarled, "Bastard!"

"Using genjutsu on me? Bold move."

Sasame snatched her flute. "I'll borrow this. Consider it your punishment."

He left, heading for Uchiha Mikoto's room.

A knock.

The door opened slightly—then slammed shut as Mikoto panicked.

"Aunt Mikoto, I have news about Sasuke."

Sasame knew her weakness.

Seconds later, the door reopened.

"Do you dislike me that much?" Sasame sat cross-legged, watching her.

"N-no…"

Mikoto knelt opposite him, hands fidgeting at her waist.

But for Sasuke's sake, she endured.

"How… is Sasuke?"

"Yesterday, I found him a teacher. Know Hatake Kakashi?"

Sasame sipped tea.

Mikoto's eyes lit up.

Kakashi—Konoha's prodigy, famed across nations as the Copy Ninja.

Mikoto knew more.

His moniker stemmed from the Sharingan.

With the Uchiha gone, no one in Konoha was better suited to teach Sasuke.

"Thank you, Sasame." Her gratitude was genuine.

"Don't mention it."

Sasame crooked a finger. "Come here."

Mikoto trembled, eyes wide with fear.

"If you don't want to awaken your Sharingan, I won't force you."

Sasame stood. "I'll leave."

"Wait!"

She lunged forward. "I'll do it!"

Gritting her teeth, she started to rise—

"I don't like you towering over me."

Sasame gestured downward.

Mikoto froze.

Never in her life had she been so humiliated.

"Necessary sacrifice for the Sharingan."

Sasame's lie was smooth. "Only extreme emotions can trigger it."

Face burning, Mikoto dropped to all fours and crawled to him.

"Want to see Sasuke?"

Sasame pinched her cheek.

She nodded instinctively—then frantically shook her head.

"Fine. I respect your choice."

He patted the floor. "Sit."

Mikoto sagged in relief, settling beside him.

"Know any water jutsu?"

Sasame twirled Tayuya's flute.

"No." Mikoto admitted. "I rarely fought outside, so I only learned fire jutsu and the Sharingan."

"Makes sense."

He handed her the flute. "Want me to teach you water jutsu?"

Mikoto stared, bewildered but obedient. She took the flute and nodded.

Sasame whispered the hand seals in her ear.

Mikoto's face turned crimson.

"T-that's impossible!"

"Why?"

Sasame patted her head. "Be good."

"B-but… this water jutsu—"

"Then practice alone."

Sasame stood. "Remember your goal, Aunt Mikoto."

He left.

Clutching the flute, Mikoto began the chants and seals.

This unique water jutsu was fast to master—thanks to its extended incantation.

Outside the window, Sasame watched her dedication.

Very refined. Very elegant.

He transformed into Uchiha Fugaku.

"Mikoto, what are you doing?"

He barged in.

"No! This isn't—!"

Mikoto's Sharingan spiraled wildly—

Then her gaze turned deadly.

"Who are you?!"

"Congrats, Aunt Mikoto."

Sasame reverted, smiling. "You've grown stronger."

Mikoto collapsed, sobbing into the flute.

"Don't cry."

Sasame patted her shoulder. "Time's still ticking."

She looked up, tear-streaked.

"I know you hate seeing me. I'll go."

He sighed. "No good deed goes unpunished. But practice this water jutsu three times daily. It'll help."

At the door, he added, "Two more to go."

He sealed the room with a privacy barrier.

After a visit with Uzumaki Ena, he returned home.

While the Land of Waves basked in sun, Konoha drowned in rain.

Sasame debated delivering an umbrella to Tsunade—

But as Hokage, she likely didn't need one.

A knock interrupted him.

Rare.

Tsunade and Shizune had keys. Visitors usually sought them at the Hokage Tower or hospital.

This was for him.

He opened the door—

Yamanaka Ino.

Drenched, her purple crop top and shorts clung to her toned frame.

"Get in."

Sasame handed her a towel. "No umbrella?"

"Rain caught me off-guard."

Ino blushed. "Sorry."

"For what?"

He gestured to the bathroom. "Shower first. I'll grab Shizune's clothes."

Tsunade's wouldn't fit. Shizune's were slightly large but manageable.

"Thanks."

Ino almost refused but decided to stay longer.

The shower ran.

Soon, she emerged, drying her hair before tying it back into her signature ponytail.

Shizune's clothes drowned her waist—a shame.

"Need something?" Sasame asked.

"Does Lady Tsunade… still take students?"

Ino fidgeted.

"You want to apprentice?"

Sasame was surprised—yet it made sense.

In the original timeline, she and Sakura trained under Tsunade—just years earlier.

"It's Sakura."

Ino explained, "She wants to learn medical ninjutsu, so she asked me to check."

"What about you?"

Sasame grinned.

Ino hesitated.

She hadn't considered it.

Sakura wanted to heal Sasuke and thought of Tsunade.

Ino, impulsively, had come straight to Sasame.

Now, she realized how presumptuous it was—

Yet he wasn't angry.

So kind.

If she apprenticed under Tsunade, wouldn't that make her his junior?

Ino wasn't shy.

"If you recommend it, I'll try."

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