Chapter 6: The Ninja Cat Contract, The Way of Shinobi
After finishing dinner at Obito's house, Uchiha Ci finally took his leave. The evening had been filled with the boy's endless chatter, recounting every "crucial tip" that his beloved teacher Minato had supposedly imparted. Every detail was repeated with passionate conviction, from foot placement during shuriken throws to chakra control for tree-walking.
Ci had listened politely, nodding occasionally, though his mind was elsewhere. He'd grown familiar with Obito over the past year, mostly because Obito's grandmother lived next door. The elderly woman often stopped by to chat, bringing treats or gossip about the village, and the two boys had gradually formed a cautious friendship.
Unlike other shinobi entangled in the Hokage's inner circle, Ci didn't need to worry about political entanglements with Obito.
After all—Obito was Obito. Those who truly knew him understood that a strong bond today could turn into betrayal tomorrow, once the boy's ambitions or loyalties shifted.
For now, though, Ci's only concern was the mission looming over him.
Slipping his wallet into his pocket, he stepped onto the quiet streets of Konoha. The village still wore the illusion of peace. Lanterns flickered along cobblestone paths, the occasional merchant hawked wares, and children darted between alleys in laughter. Yet, beneath this serene façade, the subtle tremors of unrest had begun to appear: patrols moved faster than before, whispers of impending war threaded through the markets, and the occasional grim-faced ninja hurried past without a word.
Pushing aside the curtain of a small ninja tools shop, Ci stepped inside.
"Yo, Ci-boy! Here for more explosive tags?" greeted the shopkeeper—a burly man with a wide grin and a thick beard, his voice warm and familiar.
"Not today. I'm here for shuriken," Ci replied, eyes scanning the neatly arranged shelves lined with throwing stars, kunai, and specialty steel wire.
The shopkeeper let out a sigh. "Bad timing, kid. Prices for shuriken and kunai have gone up twenty percent. Special steel wire? Thirty. But you'd better stock up anyway. Granny Cat says these essentials aren't going to get cheaper anytime soon."
Ci grinned faintly, patting his bulging wallet. "Then I'll take six sets of throwing tools with wire holes, two big rolls of wire thread, one sealing scroll, and—convert the rest of my funds, about two hundred thousand ryō, into explosive tags."
He didn't hesitate in the slightest.
D-rank missions usually paid between five and ten thousand ryō—sometimes just a few hundred—but Ci had rarely accepted those. He worked alone and needed no splitting of rewards. After a year of grinding missions, he'd amassed a solid fortune—seven figures in ryō—all for this moment.
"Whoa, Ci-boy! That's some serious spending!" the shopkeeper said, eyes widening in disbelief. Ci's purchasing power rivaled, even surpassed, that of many elite jōnin.
Ci smiled faintly. He had no family to provide for—no dependents to support.
His fortune was solely for himself, or more accurately, for the insurance policy he intended to cash in.
Prices for ninja tools in this world were extreme. An explosive tag cost two thousand ryō. Shuriken, the cheapest, hovered around fifty ryō each. Kunai ranged anywhere from two hundred to thirty thousand ryō depending on quality. The difference between a shuriken meant for throwing and one meant for blocking could be staggering.
A complete high-quality ninja tool set—covering throwing weapons, close-combat blades, and protective gear—could easily reach two hundred thousand ryō.
Swords and chakra-infused blades were in a league of their own. A basic practice sword started at three thousand ryō, while any weapon crafted with chakra-infused metal was nearly priceless, often measured in "Asuma units"—treasures in a class of their own.
So why was Ci buying such a ridiculous amount?
Simple.
He was going to die—but deliberately dying was forbidden.
It was a strange logic, but the rules were clear.
A planned suicide was considered fraudulent in the eyes of the Will of Heaven. No compensation, no reward, just death.
But if a shinobi fought passionately, wagering everything on a noble cause, wielding every ounce of skill, and fell in the line of duty…
Then the world could recognize that as a meaningful death. The ninja-world version of "the late emperor's ambitions unfulfilled, yet leaving behind a legacy."
I've burned myself dry for this world, Ci thought grimly. And you're telling me I don't even get my insurance payout?!
Moments later, the shopkeeper emerged from the back, carrying a heavy pile of clanking tools. The sound of metal on metal filled the shop as he dropped them onto the counter with a loud thud.
Then, as if shuffling cards, he spread out a neat fan of explosive tags for Ci to inspect.
"Ci-boy… buying this many tools at once. You're not going on some dangerous mission, are you?"
The man's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident. He leaned closer. "Don't blame me for prying. I know ninja business is classified, but I work under Granny Cat's trade network. We sell ninja tools—but we dabble in intel too."
He sighed, voice dropping to a near-whisper.
"There are only two truly dangerous missions the Uchiha are involved in right now: the Rain Country front… and Hell Valley of the Land of Hot Water."
"No matter which one it is, you're not ready."
After a pause, the man reached beneath the counter and produced a parchment, unrolling it carefully in front of Ci.
"This is a one-time summoning contract from the Ninja Cat Clan. Once you sign it, you'll be able to summon a Cat Envoy using the Summoning Jutsu."
Cat Envoys were elite warriors of the Ninja Cat Clan, trained in both combat and reconnaissance. Their main base remained hidden in a ruined city few knew of.
Unlike traditional summons, they were fiercely independent. True loyalty could never be forced.
Granny Cat herself had always had a soft spot for children. Offering Ci this contract was as much a warning as a lifeline: a chance to survive the near-impossible task ahead.
"You understand what I'm saying, don't you?" the shopkeeper asked gravely, his pupils narrowing into sharp, catlike slits.
Ci smiled faintly, taking the contract with a nod. The Ninja Cat Clan was neutral, staying out of shinobi wars unless paid. The contract's practical value was immense—a lifeline to restock supplies and summon reinforcements. But Ci had already spent his savings tonight.
It was just a piece of paper. It wouldn't hinder his plan to die honorably.
With that thought, he turned toward the door.
"Thanks, old man," he said quietly, his tone calm, almost detached.
"But there's something I have to do—something I won't shy away from, even if it means facing death."
He let his words hang in the night air.
"This… is my Way of the Shinobi."
Stepping out, he rubbed his empty wallet, feeling its weight more than ever.
Then he turned down Konoha's shadowed alleyways, moonlight glinting off the edges of rooftops and distant metal weapons.
Tomorrow, he would face death itself.
Though his heart blazed with determination, a small, unbidden flicker of fear still lingered.
And tonight… he would burn away that last fragment of hesitation.