Uchiha Yōrin: "Ahh… yeah, this is really hard to deal with (deadpan)."
"…By the way—if we just ignore everything and steamroll over there and flatten the Land of Birds in one go… would that actually be a problem?"
In what used to be the Rain Village—now the Shinobi Order's main headquarters—listening to the patter of rain against the windows, Uchiha Yōrin asked calmly.
This was the Shinobi Order's first official cabinet meeting.
Most people's idea of a "cabinet meeting" was still stuck in the old model: a daimyo and the "Five Senior Magistrates" arguing in a room. They weren't exactly professionals at modern governance yet.
So after Yōrin said that, the first person who jumped up to speak—despite having basically nothing to do with the issue on paper—was the Minister of Health.
Senju Tsunade.
"This is the first challenge we're facing after the founding of our nation, so we have to make an example—kill one to warn a hundred!"
She didn't have a doctor's warmth or mercy right now. Her face was practically glowing with a feverish excitement.
Yōrin: "So, Tsunade—what you're saying is…"
"I'm saying: KILL. We kill to warn the rest. The Land of Birds is a joke of a country. It's nothing. I'll take five hundred shinobi and wipe it out in minutes. Then we send people in to take over. Done!"
Yōrin felt a headache coming on.
Tsunade, where did your fear of blood go? Why are you talking like a warlord?
At this rate someone's going to say you're completely out-of-character.
What gave Yōrin an even bigger headache was that after Tsunade said it, a whole bunch of cabinet members started nodding along.
The loudest was the Minister of Summoned Beasts and Natural Environment—
Inuzuka Tsume.
Yōrin could only sigh.
What kind of cabinet was this? Zero professionalism. A total amateur crew.
If he had his way, he'd have a cabinet packed with engineers and scholars—real specialists.
Not this: a military cabinet full of bloodthirsty lunatics.
And lately, with the Shinobi Order winning nonstop, the militarist trend inside the organization was getting stronger and stronger.
That was not a good sign.
Militarism was a road Yōrin felt he needed to keep under control.
Yōrin: "So what does the Foreign Ministry think?"
As he spoke, he looked at Jiraiya.
Yes—Jiraiya was the Foreign Minister.
On Earth, "Foreign Ministry" is a heavyweight department—real power.
But here? The Shinobi Order was already towering over the world, openly talking about eventually unifying it. To most people, diplomacy sounded optional at best.
Even Jiraiya thought so.
He'd assumed being Foreign Minister was mostly ceremonial—face-saving and honorary.
Better than being stuck at a desk: he'd rather be out enjoying himself.
So when Yōrin asked, Jiraiya froze.
"Uh… ah, well…" He stammered like he wanted to say something—then couldn't produce a single usable sentence.
Yōrin: "…Fine. Forget it."
Yōrin forced his anger down and told himself: Endure. Endure a little longer. Once these guys retire, I can replace them with real professionals.
He kept repeating that in his head, suppressing the impulse to shout, I swear I'm going to lose it.
But in the meeting, the hawks only got louder and crazier. They egged each other on until Yōrin finally snapped.
He slammed the table and roared at them:
"Shut up!"
He could talk about equality and ideals all he wanted—when it mattered, he wouldn't hesitate to use absolute authority.
The room went dead silent.
Everyone looked at him with a kind of respect that had crossed into fear.
Yōrin: "Do you people remember why we stopped the war with the Five Great Nations in the first place?!
Because we don't yet have the foundation to govern the entire world!
We finally ended the war. Now is the time to recover, build capacity, and strengthen the base. War is the next phase, not this one.
Otherwise, even if we win, we won't be able to administer what we take. It'll slow our development instead.
And constant force will stoke fear and resentment elsewhere, making everything harder later."
"Yes, but…" Nobody dared keep screaming about wiping out the Land of Birds or Fields or Frost anymore—but the problem still had to be solved.
They couldn't just stop because Bird protested and pretend the territory wasn't part of the consolidation plan.
"I get it," said the Minister of Industry—Fourth Raikage A—nodding seriously. "If war won't work, then we use the shinobi way."
Yōrin had a bad feeling, but still tried, just in case.
"The 'shinobi way'… meaning what, exactly?"
"Assassination," A replied coldly, like it was obvious. "If Ōwashi won't cooperate, we remove him and replace him with someone who will. Done."
Even Tsunade—who'd been ready to bring a small army and bulldoze the place—had to admit through gritted teeth that A's idea was "cleaner" than hers.
But Yōrin still wasn't satisfied.
He had to keep telling himself: Compared to 'flatten the whole country,' this is at least a human-shaped idea.
"Don't be too harsh on them…"
"If they improve a little today and a little tomorrow…"
Then the room immediately turned into a group project where everyone happily started brainstorming whom to kill and how—what method would maximize terror, which targets would break morale fastest, how to make people collapse and surrender.
Yōrin felt his blood pressure skyrocket.
Yeah… he was starting to understand Hashirama's pain.
Gather enough "special people" around you and they turn into overexcited schoolkids on a field trip—then proceed to do things that make your brain hurt.
Watching the cabinet drift toward a Warhammer 40K–level "we solve politics with knives" vibe, Yōrin finally exploded again:
"Shut. Up. All of you!"
"If war will wreck the situation, do you think assassinating a foreign head of state won't?!
Get normal!
The key is diplomacy. Use diplomatic channels.
Stop screaming 'kill, kill, kill' every time someone annoys you.
You're cabinet ministers of a major power now, not random shinobi.
You need to think like statesmen!"
He yelled them into silence again.
Nobody spoke, but their eyes basically said:
If we had that kind of 'statesman mindset,' we wouldn't have become shinobi in the first place.
Yōrin took a deep breath and forced himself not to sigh.
"Anyway. We send diplomats.
Send an envoy to the Land of Birds and pressure them to accept and carry out the Rain Territory proclamation.
At the same time, reassure them we're not here to wipe them out. Offer compensation if needed.
No objections?"
No one dared object.
With Yōrin's authority, he could crush dissent easily.
And just like that, the Shinobi Republic's first cabinet meeting ended successfully.
Yōrin overruled the warmongers and chose the "diplomatic solution."
Some people still muttered things like, "We can do it cleanly—no one will be able to prove it was us…"
Yōrin snapped back:
"Every shinobi on the planet is on our side now. Even if there's zero evidence, everyone will assume it was us anyway!"
He lost control one last time and punched through his desk.
"Alright. Meeting adjourned!"
Seriously.
He breathed in. Stabilized. Breathed again. Barely cooled off.
"…Whatever."
Afterward, only a few truly competent people remained near him.
Orochimaru wasn't one of them. The one person who reliably made Yōrin feel secure right now was his expensive "godson," Yakushi Kabuto.
Kabuto was acting as Yōrin's chief secretary—handling paperwork, screening documents, managing schedules—letting Yōrin experience the same bliss Orochimaru had enjoyed for years.
Honestly, the kid was maxed out: IQ, EQ, execution, learning speed.
Yōrin even caught himself thinking: If I had a thousand Kabutos, I could govern the world without breaking a sweat.
He almost wanted to clone a thousand of him—
And then, thankfully, he stopped himself.
~~~
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