Land of Water.
Kirigakure.
Natsume leaned by the window, listening to Mizukage Terumi Mei's report.
A different kind of experience.
"The five sea lanes have all officially begun construction."
Terumi flipped through documents, voice calm but inwardly tense.
Because she was about to stage the first major performance of her life.
Embarrassing, yes, but she'd promised Natsume—she had to follow through.
And—seven hundred million.
Natsume didn't pay it all at once, but in batches.
About fifty million each time; so far, only two hundred million had been received.
His explanation: too much cash flow at once would strain the trading company's operations.
Reasonable.
Terumi believed him.
"Although other trading houses tried to block us, once Kirigakure stepped in, everything was perfectly resolved."
Perfect indeed.
While ninja claim not to target civilians, that doesn't apply to most ninja.
Take ANBU.
They'll do anything.
With a little pressure from Terumi and the authority of the Land of Water, other companies obediently backed off the lanes.
If it were Natsume, he would've used softer methods.
Like partnerships to share risk and profit.
But in the Land of Water—none of his business.
Terumi reported for about half an hour before finishing.
"Hire a few chefs for me."
Natsume planned to move into fisheries and cuisine. "Preferably highly skilled and creative."
The Land of Water sits by the sea; working with seafood is easiest.
Add branding and noble cachet, and you can sell at exorbitant prices.
Like in his previous life's Japan: famous items—king crab, tuna, fugu.
More specifically, in 2019, a single bluefin tuna sold for 300 million yen.
In the shinobi world, with daimyo and nobles controlling the economy and living decadently, the same spectacle is reproducible.
Provided it's delicious and prestigious.
Natsume even considered seasoning it with genjutsu.
There's a thing called herd mentality.
If a daimyo says a fish is heavenly, other nobles and tycoons will praise it too, even if they think it's bad.
Natsume felt he was being kind, actually.
Targeting these vicious nobles specifically.
"Chefs?"
Terumi looked up, slender eyes puzzled. "What do you need so many chefs for?"
"Nothing big—sudden inspiration. I want them to help me develop some dishes."
Natsume said casually. "If you're interested, you can be the first tasting judge."
"Okay."
Curious about his plan, Terumi agreed.
"Done for now?"
Natsume's eyes sparkled. "How's the Mizukage's singing and dancing practice coming?"
Terumi's heart trembled—time for the show.
She stood, face cool as ever. "No problem."
"Can't wait."
Natsume hopped off the sill and sat in the Mizukage's seat. "You don't mind me sitting here, do you?"
Terumi's brow knit, but she said nothing.
By rights, no one but the Mizukage may sit there.
It's a provocation to Kirigakure.
But Natsume… forget it.
She inhaled and exhaled slowly, then began to dance in the middle of the office.
Her figure wasn't lacking.
Slimmer than Tsunade, but equally voluptuous.
In a blue dress, her movements traced perfect hip and waist lines.
The only slight pity: though her long legs wore fishnet stockings, white thigh-high guards covered them.
Not generous enough.
If the dance was a bit raw, the singing was much better.
Natsume mused she had idol potential.
In such a short time, she'd reached quite a level—impressive.
Song over, dance done.
Whether from fatigue or embarrassment, Terumi's cheeks were flushed.
"H-how was it?"
She asked nervously.
"Fantastic."
Natsume gave a thumbs up.
Terumi relaxed, a subtle joy rising inside.
Then she realized—
What am I happy about?
Her face heated uncontrollably.
Natsume was slightly taken aback; such an expression was rare.
Especially for a Mizukage.
"Anything else?"
Forcing down her flutter, Terumi said, "If not, I'm getting back to work. Please vacate the seat."
"Mm."
Natsume stood, gentlemanly, and offered a hand. "Mizukage, please."
After two seconds' hesitation, Terumi resumed her Mizukage composure and sat back down.
A delicate fragrance spread.
Natsume took a breath, said nothing more, and walked to the window.
"Mizukage, that outfit isn't suited for dancing. Next time I'll bring you something new."
He waved, and vanished.
"Next time?"
Terumi froze, then pouted like a girl. "Unreasonable man!"
As Mizukage, this was the first time someone gave her so little say.
He didn't even leave room to refuse—just decided.
…
Land of Waves, daimyo's residence.
In the courtyard, Tayuya practiced ninjutsu.
She still wore the kimono Natsume had given her, flute pressed to her lips.
With chakra flowing, three giant summons rose behind her. Humanoid, but grotesque.
One wielded a cudgel, one had demonic claws, one lacked arms.
Just then, Tayuya's eyes narrowed and the melody shifted.
Demonic Flute: Dreamlike Sound Lock!
Illusion triggered.
Natsume was bound and dangling in the air.
The three summons attacked.
"You're dead!"
Tayuya shouted, then froze.
Somehow, Natsume was behind her, and rapped her on the head.
"Ow!"
Eyes welling, Tayuya gritted her teeth. "Jerk!"
"Using genjutsu on me—nice try."
Natsume casually picked up her flute. "I'll borrow this for a few days. No punishment this time."
He turned away and headed for Uchiha Mikoto's room.
At the door, he knocked.
Moments later, Mikoto opened it, and upon seeing him, panicked like a startled rabbit and hurried to close the door.
"Aunt Mikoto, I brought the latest news about Sasuke."
Natsume knew her weak spot.
Sure enough, Mikoto mustered courage and reopened the door.
"Aunt Mikoto, am I that unwelcome?"
Natsume sat cross-legged and asked.
"N-no."
Mikoto knelt opposite him, hands rubbing over her lower belly, extremely nervous.
But since it concerned Sasuke, she forced herself to hold it together.
"Um… how is Sasuke now?"
"Yesterday I found him a teacher. You know Hatake Kakashi, right?"
Natsume lifted a teacup and sipped.
Mikoto's eyes lit up.
Kakashi—the genius among young ninja.
Famous not only in Konoha but also in other villages.
The Copy Ninja—everyone knows it.
Mikoto knew a bit more.
She knew that title came from the Sharingan.
Now that the Uchiha are gone, in all Konoha, the best teacher for Sasuke would be him.
"Thank you, Natsume."
Mikoto's gratitude was sincere.
"No need to thank me."
Natsume crooked a finger. "Come here."
Mikoto trembled, eyes full of panic and helplessness.
"Aunt Mikoto, if you don't want to awaken your eyes, I won't force you."
Natsume shrugged. "I'll leave now."
"Wait!"
Her pupils shrank, and she cried out, "I will!"
She bit her lip and prepared to stand.
"I don't like you being that tall."
Natsume shook his head and pressed his palm down in a lowering gesture.
Mikoto froze.
Since childhood, everyone around her had treated her with utmost respect—when had she ever suffered such humiliation?
"This is a necessary sacrifice for awakening."
Natsume said with a straight face, "Only like this can you trigger intense emotions."
Mikoto bent down on all fours and crawled to him.
Her cheeks were burning red.
"Do you want to see Sasuke?"
Natsume pinched her cheek and asked.
Mikoto instinctively nodded, then quickly shook her head.
"Alright, I'll respect your wish."
Natsume patted the tatami. "Sit."
Mikoto exhaled in relief and sat beside him.
"Do you know Water Release?"
Natsume spun Tayuya's flute between his fingers.
"No."
Mikoto answered, "I don't go out to fight much, so I only learned Fire Release and the Sharingan."
"Reasonable."
Natsume handed her the flute. "How about I teach you Water Release?"
Mikoto blinked, not understanding.
But she didn't dare defy him. She took the flute and nodded.
Natsume leaned to her ear and whispered the hand signs for a Water Release.
Mikoto flushed crimson.
"H-how can I?"
"Why not?"
Natsume ruffled her hair. "Be good. Listen to me."
"B-but… that kind of Water Release…"
Mikoto still resisted.
"Then practice it on your own."
Natsume stood. "Aunt Mikoto, don't forget your goal."
He left.
Mikoto clenched her teeth, gripped the flute, and began.
Natsume stood outside the window, appreciating her effort as she slid the flute into her pussy, masturbating with it, her juices coating the instrument in a smooth, flavorful sheen.
Her breaths grew ragged, her body trembling as waves of unwanted pleasure built within her. Finally, she arched her back, a muffled cry escaping her lips as she orgasmed intensely, her inner walls clenching around the flute, flooding it with her release.
Natsume used Transformation Jutsu to become Uchiha Fugaku.
"Mikoto, what are you doing?"
Natsume pushed the door open.
"N-no, it's not what it looks like!"
Mikoto froze, covered her face with both hands, her three-tomoe spinning wildly.
Then she realized the problem.
She raised her head, a killing chill wafting out.
"Who are you?!"
"Aunt Mikoto, congratulations."
Natsume returned to his own appearance. "Your strength has grown again."
Mikoto snapped back to herself and collapsed to the floor, the chill dissipating.
She lay down and cried.
Devastated, her tears soaked the casting implement—Tayuya's flute, still slick with her arousal.
"Don't cry."
Natsume patted her shoulder—then added, "Crying counts toward the time."
Mikoto lifted her tear-stained face.
"I know you don't want to see me. I'll go."
Natsume sighed. "No good deed goes unpunished. But remember to practice that Water Release three times a day. It'll help you."
He rose and walked to the door.
"Two more times."
He closed the door as he spoke, and thoughtfully laid a barrier so no one would notice her.
He then visited Uzumaki Hinae, chatted, and returned home.
The Land of Waves was under clear skies, but Konoha was pouring.
Natsume stroked his chin—should he bring Tsunade an umbrella?
But as Hokage, she probably didn't need him to.
Just then, a knock.
Rare indeed.
Tsunade and Shizune had keys and never knocked—so it was a guest.
It was daytime.
If they wanted Tsunade, they'd go to the Hokage building.
For Shizune, the hospital.
"Looking for me?"
Natsume opened the door and was surprised.
Yamanaka Ino.
She wore a purple crop top and shorts, revealing a toned belly and a narrow waist.
But she was a bit bedraggled now.
Rain had drenched her.
"Come in."
Natsume handed her a towel. "Why no umbrella?"
"It started raining halfway."
Ino blushed. "Sorry."
"Nothing to apologize for."
Natsume pointed to the bathroom. "Take a shower so you don't get sick. I'll grab you some of Shizune's clothes."
Tsunade's would never fit Ino.
Shizune's would be a bit big, but wearable.
"Thanks."
Ino wanted to refuse, but agreed.
Mainly to stay longer.
Water pattered.
Soon, Ino emerged.
She toweled her hair.
Soon after, she tied a single ponytail, the lively girl restored.
"What did you come to see me about?"
Natsume asked, looking her over.
As expected, Shizune's clothes were big, covering the little waist she prided herself on.
A pity.
"Um… Natsume, is Lady Tsunade taking apprentices?"
Ino was uncharacteristically shy.
"You want to apprentice?"
Natsume was surprised—yet it made sense.
In the original, she and Sakura became Tsunade's disciples.
He hadn't expected it to be years early.
"It's Sakura."
Ino explained, "She wants to learn medical ninjutsu, so I came to ask."
"And you? Want to learn?"
Natsume smiled.
Ino froze.
She hadn't thought about it.
Sakura wanted to heal Sasuke in the future.
She'd planned to ask at the hospital, but remembered Natsume was Tsunade's student, got impulsive, and came.
In hindsight, it was inappropriate.
Fortunately, Natsume wasn't angry. He even asked if she wanted to learn—how gentle.
If she apprenticed under Tsunade, wouldn't that make her his junior?
Ino wasn't a timid girl. Boldly, she said, "If it's your suggestion, I'll give it a try."