"What the hell?!"
"This is a monster—an actual monster! How are we supposed to fight ninjas, those kinds of monsters?!"
In reality, Yōrin's "one Amaterasu per nation so they'll behave" plan never actually got carried out.
Once the other four great countries heard what the Land of Fire's army looked like after eating a single Amaterasu, they all lost the will to fight on the spot.
If this were a normal war—outnumbered, out-teched, outplayed—fine, you grit your teeth and try.
But this wasn't that.
This was like Earth fighting the Trisolarans… except there wasn't some higher power swooping in to referee.
At that point, all you could do was swallow your pride and live.
The high-and-mighty "five elders," hereditary ministers, inner-circle clans, and court factions reached a compromise at record speed:
As long as the Ninshū doesn't drop Amaterasu on our heads, they can have whatever they want.
Under those conditions, even if the daimyō himself wanted to be a hardliner and "fight to the end," he'd get verbally shredded by his own "loyal retainers."
If the daimyō woke up and accepted good advice, great.
If he didn't—if he insisted on being stubborn—then swapping in a new daimyō wasn't exactly unthinkable.
…
And just like that, the other four great countries came to an agreement and dispatched envoys to the Ninshū, formally declaring unconditional surrender.
No conditions. No bargaining. Full-on lying flat.
Do whatever you want—just… please don't hit us too hard.
So the Fifth Shinobi World War ended in a weirdly anticlimactic, "what, that's it?" kind of way.
The Five Great Nations submitted to the Ninshū.
Then came the usual package: ceding territory, reparations, opening ports, one-sided "most-favored-nation" treatment, lowering tariffs, free-trade clauses, and so on.
What surprised Yōrin was this:
The daimyōs agreed to all of it—without even trying to haggle.
He got a very clear lesson in just how shameless feudal monarchs could be when it came to selling out.
These funds need to go into expanding industry and reproduction of production, building education and infrastructure—and more importantly, maintaining internal stability in the Five Nations. We can't let war reparations turn into brutal extraction that causes humanitarian disasters; it would damage our reputation too.
Yōrin thought it through. Alright. Set up more foundations—food relief, medical aid. Monitor tax rates so they don't go insane. Done.
…
At this moment, the Ninshū's rank and file—still drunk on the high of "we beat the Five Nations"—had no idea Yōrin was already planning the next phase: expanding again, and eventually absorbing the Five Nations outright to unify the world.
Sure, the internal propaganda had always said things like that.
But "said" and "done" are different.
Even after the Ninshū won, founded a state, and became the top power on the continent, plenty of people were still stuck in shock—then euphoria.
From today onward, shinobi weren't the bottom rung.
Not tools of daimyōs and nobles.
Not war machines.
Not hired blades.
From today onward, shinobi were citizens of the "Shinobi Republic," with full civic rights.
After the ancient Ninshū splintered and Ashura vs. Indra's conflict dragged on for ages… shinobi finally stood up.
We did it.
Peace is real.
A new era is here.
Once people processed it, even someone as cold as Orochimaru felt an urge to shout.
Uchiha Yōrin had achieved something no one before him ever did.
And the most ironic part?
The "peace" countless people had chased and failed to achieve… Yōrin made it look easy.
Only after it happened did everyone suddenly realize: maybe the engine driving endless war wasn't "shinobi" at all.
Maybe it was everything around them.
…
"Man… it really makes you feel something," Minato murmured at the signing ceremony, representing the "Konoha Branch."
He watched reps from the Five Great Villages—and eighteen smaller villages—smile and trade pleasantries like friends, not enemies.
"It's incredible, Yorin-sama."
Minato had once been Yōrin's superior, but even an idiot wouldn't claim "village leader" outranked what Yōrin was now: the Ninshū's head, the first strongman—the first dictator, really—of the Shinobi Republic.
Yeah, people kept calling him "Emperor of the Shinobi World," but after thinking it through, Yōrin decided he should "set a good example" for posterity.
So he rejected the crown and declared a republic instead.
A presidential system.
No term limits.
Nobody complained. The old "Kage" system had always been like that anyway—some ruled for life, some stepped down early.
If Yōrin wanted to be the dictator, fine. With his power and accomplishments, no one had the guts to object.
…
"Seriously… the guy's a genius," the Fourth Raikage A muttered.
"Can't argue," Ōnoki nodded, no 'elder' attitude at all.
When someone's feats and strength hit Yōrin's level, allies and enemies alike can only bow their heads.
And it wasn't just shinobi. Across the Five Nations (and plenty of smaller ones), a lot of ordinary people had developed a fervent, almost fanatical admiration for Yōrin.
Part of it was simple human nature: people worship strength.
Yōrin—personally, and the Shinobi Republic he created—was the strongest power in the world. He acted decisively, won absurdly lopsided victories, and that kind of "invincible momentum" was intoxicating to watch.
But there was another reason, too:
People realized Yōrin was… actually a pretty decent ruler.
1. He acted like a normal human being.
2. He was gentle enough toward citizens and subordinates.
3. He was smart, and had the stamina to govern.
4. He had real administrative and political skill.
5. And most importantly—his unmatched power was the ultimate safety net. He could actually make his promises real.
…
"Honestly, the shinobi world is lucky someone like Yōrin exists," Rasa said, and for once there wasn't even a trace of "maybe we can trick Konoha" in his head.
Thinking back on his old schemes just made him cringe.
Good thing barely anyone knew.
From now on, if anyone asked, he'd simply say: "I believed in Yorin-sama's future, so I married my daughter to him."
All four former Kage were here—minus Mei, who was now far more invested in her identity as "Lady Yōrin's wife" than in hanging out with the old guard. She was with Yōrin's other partners instead.
And honestly… his "inner circle" was ridiculous.
Not in looks—combat strength.
One super-Shadow-level powerhouse, several Kage-levels, and even the weakest were elite jōnin.
It really did start to feel like those old webnovel tropes: his "harem" wasn't just romance—it was part of his government and part of his army.
…
"So… what does the future look like?" Ōnoki suddenly said, sounding oddly reflective.
"Some of what Yorin-sama dreams about—I didn't believe it before. Now I can't not believe it.
I probably won't live to see it. You're all younger—you might.
When that day comes… tell me about it at my grave, so I can hear it even in the Pure Land."
Everyone wanted to complain: This old guy's really trying to score points even from the grave.
But since he was the only one old enough for that line to work, nobody could counter with "I'll die first." They could only reassure him: with Yōrin moving at this speed, he might actually live to see it.
Ōnoki laughed. "Fair enough. I may not have long—but with Yorin-sama's genius, those goals might come sooner than anyone expects."
The old man managed to win both ways, and everyone else had to politely nod along.
Then someone called out:
"It's time. Signing time."
Everyone turned—and there they were: the Five Great Nations' five daimyōs.
Usually they were untouchable, lofty figures.
Right now they were just envoys of defeated states.
Each one wore the same awkward, beaten expression. They didn't dare stall. One by one, they signed.
And when it was done, they looked like their souls had left their bodies.
Their entourages—officials and attendants—were the same: heads lowered, gloomy, like defeated quail.
A stark contrast to the shinobi, who looked like they owned the world.
Even an idiot could see it:
The new era belonged to the shinobi.
The old era—ruled by daimyōs and nobles—was ending.
~~~
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