In Konoha Year 54, the slogan "Set Sail for the Ocean" suddenly became the hottest topic in the world.
When Konoha announced that it would push outward across the seas—hinting that it might even establish a "Land of Shinobi" overseas—the daimyō and nobles quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
From their perspective, if Konoha and Uchiha were heading out to carve out a brand-new country, then surely they wouldn't come after them anymore, right?
Once that new country existed, and Uchiha Yōrin became its emperor, then—rounding up a little—he'd be "one of us," someone inside the club. Even if things eventually turned hostile again, they could always surrender properly, lay down their arms, offer formal submission—surely they wouldn't lose their titles and fiefs. Sounds fine, right?
To the daimyō and nobles, that outcome was acceptable. Sure, the rise of a brand-new great power would disrupt the world order and bring turbulence and unpredictable risks… but it was still better than a full-scale shinobi uprising that ended with noble families being wiped out.
Okay, okay. The world was finally safe. They could toss those dangerous thoughts—mutual destruction, going all-in and exploding with Uchiha Yōrin at the slightest provocation—out of their heads.
Just as Yōrin had predicted: if the nobles and daimyō were pushed into absolute despair, they'd try to destroy everything they could destroy as fast as they could. So giving them a "reassurance pill" was necessary.
Inside the Ninshū, the plan was broadly accepted as well.
Once Yōrin's new direction was made public and everyone understood it, the Sect's aggressive, restless mood eased somewhat. Most people thought the plan wasn't bad.
More importantly: since Yōrin had chosen to keep expanding, it proved he still had strong ambition and momentum. That meant everyone could keep waiting, keep moving forward under his command—rather than breaking away into more extreme independent action.
Of course, a few people were unhappy.
They thought Yōrin was being cowardly—that he should just go all-in and smash the nobles head-on.
But those people weren't the mainstream. And hardly any of them were reckless enough to truly oppose the legendary Uchiha Yōrin.
If anything, the more fanatical they were, the more fanatical—and outright unhinged—they became toward him.
They started treating Uchiha Yōrin like a god, doing all sorts of absurd stunts… and they managed something even his enemies hadn't done:
They made Yōrin's vision go black.
Uchiha Yōrin: "Anyway—let's proceed like this for now."
With the cry of "March to the Ocean!", the entire Ninshū—its "roots" included, the Akatsuki—mobilized.
Warships and transport vessels were built in waves.
Beyond lightning-powered ships, new chakra-powered "tech-ninjutsu" vessels were being produced as well.
Routes for migrant transport were opened one after another. Huge numbers of people—full of hope, dreaming of a better future—left their shattered homelands and headed toward the unknown sea.
Under the rule of those parasites among the daimyō and nobles, bankrupt farmers and displaced townsfolk were everywhere—countless, endless.
It was like the Age of Discovery and the Crusades: Europe's population pressure had reached its limit, so it had to find new outlets for survival, rather than staying put until everything exploded.
If the Age of Discovery hadn't found new routes and a New World, would Europeans have launched a Tenth Crusade? An Eleventh? A Twelfth—throwing themselves into endless death struggles against the Ottoman Empire?
It's oddly fascinating to imagine…
Alright—back on track.
In any case, once Yōrin moved, people were shocked—yet also found it oddly natural—that through commerce, trade, and capital, Uchiha could mobilize resources and population on a scale that made jaws drop.
From the standpoint of feudal daimyō and nobles, it was almost impossible to understand how Uchiha Yōrin could swing that much material and manpower—and do it so quickly.
Konoha Year 54 wasn't even halfway over when the Ninshū's exploration fleet brought back several pieces of great news.
They'd found multiple excellent colonial sites—farther east, beyond the Land of the Sea.
The native population was extremely small. Their technology level and combat capacity were low. The islands were large enough to matter. And with ninjutsu and chakra—those absurdly convenient powers—sea lanes were opened at record speed.
Even better: the islands were rich in resources. Plants and animals, timber and fisheries—everything was abundant.
Most importantly, the explorers found gold, high-grade iron ore, and other mineral deposits. The island natives barely developed any of it at all.
So naturally, those resources were classified as Uchiha property.
After a bit of thought, Yōrin marked up the map and confirmed something:
The shinobi world's world map really was Earth's mirror image.
He'd sailed east expecting to bump into something like "India."
Sure, in the 21st century India's reputation was… complicated. But in the 18th century it was legendary wealth—a prized colonial target. Yōrin had even been thinking about founding an East India Company.
Instead of "India," he found something closer to the Americas and Oceania—plus an enormous landmass that even included something like the legendary Atlantis.
And because shinobi reconnaissance was so much stronger than most worlds, they could identify the best development zones and highest-value regions almost instantly—and start exploiting them at speed.
Originally, Yōrin's plan had been to build a country roughly comparable to the Five Great Nations.
But if everything here was fully developed…
He could build a country larger than all Five Great Nations combined—and not just a little larger. Much larger.
Uchiha's development drive produced massive returns within half a year. Everyone turned green with envy.
And with those returns as "capital markers," a new wave of stock issuance began.
Even the daimyō and nobles who hated Uchiha Yōrin began buying in.
Yes—they hated Yōrin.
But they didn't hate money.
You wouldn't refuse a stock just because it was issued by your enemy.
Would you?
Would you?
More ships carried more people toward the New World.
"New World" was Yōrin's name for it, of course—meant to distinguish it from the old world.
This chaos—unruly, mad, full of hope—would inevitably strike at the existing order.
But with a new continent as a pressure-release valve, the class contradictions inside the Five Great Nations might ease somewhat.
Pros and cons, perhaps.
Yōrin: "I really didn't expect this. What a payoff."
Even Uchiha Yōrin said it out loud during discussion.
"Yes, exactly," Minato replied. "Everyone's been fighting to the death over resources… but we never realized that, not far from the old world, there was land this fertile and rich—enough to develop for centuries, maybe longer."
"Yeah," Kushina said half-jokingly at a family gathering. "Just this achievement alone could put you in the history books forever."
"Honestly," Fugaku said seriously, "people are already saying you should be crowned a daimyō. Have you considered it, Yōrin?"
"That kind of thing—no," Yōrin said. "I'm not interested in being a daimyō."
Finding a new continent was a windfall, but he couldn't let colonial expansion derail the shinobi revolution. That was exactly what he'd been worrying about lately.
The territory developed under the name "Ninshū Autonomous Territories" already looked absurdly huge on the map.
So many posts. So many opportunities.
If a person didn't have a deep obsession with revolution and overthrowing the noble-daimyō system—if they only wanted to climb the ladder—then the Ninshū suddenly offered endless paths upward.
In a boom like this, even a pig could fly.
If everyone became satisfied with that, then the desire to overthrow the nobles and daimyō would weaken.
And that thought made Uchiha Yōrin furious.
The tide of the world seemed to be drifting in a direction he didn't want.
Even many of his friends began hoping he would take the next step.
It was like Napoleon's era: generals who came out of the Revolution, who had once shouted liberty, equality, fraternity—then happily accepted titles like duke and prince and count, tossing revolutionary ideals aside.
Yōrin's situation was even worse than France's. He didn't have decades of Enlightenment thinkers doing mass ideological groundwork.
Most people still thought like feudal subjects.
So—should he go with the flow?
Absolutely not.
On fundamental principles—on the big line between right and wrong—Uchiha Yōrin would never compromise.
In other words—
"I've decided."
Yōrin spoke with full seriousness, and everyone straightened up, listening closely—expecting him to announce he would become the new nation's daimyō.
But he didn't.
What he said next was completely beyond their imagination.
~~~
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