Naruto: How to Be an Undercover Shinobi

The moon rose, and the lights in the Hokage's office finally went out. At the entrance of the Hokage Building, the Hyūga clan head stepped o

The moon rose, and the lights in the Hokage's office finally went out.

At the entrance of the Hokage Building, the Hyūga clan head stepped out quickly with his two sons, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

From the way his feet stomped on the ground, it was clear—someone with a flower on their forehead was in for a beating tonight.

Following close behind was the equally annoyed Uchiha clan head.

Just moments earlier, Hiruzen Sarutobi had once again come up with all sorts of excuses to reject his promotion request. Infuriating.

Eventually, Fugaku emerged as well, walking alongside Hiruzen.

With work set aside, Hiruzen's demeanor softened considerably. Standing at the entrance, he gave Fugaku a friendly pat on the shoulder and said warmly,

"Fugaku, have you eaten yet? Come on, I'll treat you to Ichiraku Ramen."

Fugaku let out an awkward chuckle.

"Lord Hokage, let me treat you instead.

With this face of mine, I can at least get a 1% discount."

"A 1% discount, huh?"

Hiruzen gave a helpless smile, barely holding back an eye roll.

Teuchi… That stinginess sure seems familiar.

...

In the blink of an eye, three months passed.

During that time, Reiji, disguised as Fuguki Suikazan, didn't leave the main island where Kirigakure was located even once.

Aside from routine patrols every few days, he either put on a show of training outside the village or spent his time drinking in local izakayas.

But it was through those long hours spent in the relaxed, chatty atmosphere of the izakayas that Reiji managed to gather a surprising amount of useful intel.

Kirigakure, unlike the hidden villages of the other great nations, was not a place where the Kage held absolute power.

Instead, there was a man deeply respected by all, who held the village's economic lifeline in his hands.

His name was Genji. Rumor had it he was born during the Warring States Period, now in his forties or fifties.

Strangely enough, the Third Mizukage bore no ill will toward him. On the contrary, when certain issues arose, the Mizukage would often take the initiative to seek Genji's counsel.

After closely observing this dynamic, Reiji arrived at a strange but clear conclusion.

It all came down to one thing: poverty.

Despite being rich in resources—especially abundant in seafood—the Land of Water was still economically struggling.

In theory, with their natural supply of marine products and specialties, they shouldn't have been this poor.

The real issue was the Daimyō of the Land of Water.

If the Daimyō of the Land of Fire was like a wealthy tycoon who knew how to make money,

and the Daimyō of the Land of Lightning was a stingy miser with deep pockets,

then the Daimyō of the Land of Water was the village idiot heir to a rich family.

The economy was already weak, and yet he insisted on extravagant spending—without the slightest aptitude for management.

As a result, while the Third Raikage could still wrangle some funds out of his Daimyō, the Third Mizukage couldn't get a single coin from his.

Kirigakure, being a hidden village, wasn't suited for production in the first place.

Which is why someone like Genji, who could bring in money, became crucial.

This also explained why, despite Kirigakure's isolationist stance, several large towns continued to thrive around its outskirts.

Thinking of all this, Reiji immediately came up with more than ten ways to gain merit quickly—but he didn't act on any of them.

He had come to understand the situation here very well.

The Third Mizukage hadn't closed off the village out of hatred or greed for power. He genuinely believed it was the best way to protect the village.

That kind of person… was truly terrifying.

Because everything he did, he believed was right. He believed he was doing it for everyone's benefit. He had no selfish motives—every action he took, in his mind, was righteous.

But in truth, he was obstructing Kirigakure's ability to connect with the outside world, stalling its economic growth.

People with such fundamental cognitive biases were far scarier than madmen.

Madmen are just chaotic—they're unpredictable, sure, but sometimes they get it right. People like this, though, are pure monsters.

Just like Obito, after witnessing Rin's death.

Tragic and pathetic.

Was reviving Rin difficult? Of course it was—but nowhere near as difficult as capturing all nine Tailed Beasts, resurrecting Madara, and initiating the Eye of the Moon Plan.

So why didn't he save her?

Simple. First of all—he got conned by Madara.

Then what? Was it deep love?

Yes—but that's not the whole story.

His entire way of thinking was flawed. From the moment Rin died, he became something no longer human—a monster.

What would he have gained by bringing Rin back? Love?

Maybe Rin would choose to stay by his side. Maybe she'd return to Konoha. Maybe she'd forgive Kakashi. Maybe... she'd choose Kakashi instead.

Too many possibilities. Too many uncertainties. Too much he couldn't control.

And stopping Rin from making her own choice—was exactly what Obito couldn't do.

So how could he make her willingly stay with him?

Become the Ten-Tails' Jinchūriki. Cast Infinite Tsukuyomi.

That's how Obito's logic fell apart. His possessiveness and love for Rin clashed violently.

He believed his love for her was the truest, the deepest. So of course—of course—Rin should be with him.

But if you stood in Rin's shoes, would she accept an Obito like that? She'd be terrified if she didn't outright reject him.

So Obito clung to the belief that this world was false. Yet deep down, he couldn't help but acknowledge its reality.

When he saw the world as false, he was merciless—even capable of ambushing Kushina while she was in labor, murdering his own sensei and his friend's mother without hesitation.

But when he accepted the world as real, he was utterly consumed by pain. So conflicted he felt as if he would tear himself apart.

That's why someone built on a flawed foundation like this is so chilling.

By contrast, Madara's worldview was unshakable:

"You all slander me? Fine. I'll string you all up in the trees."

And Hashirama's was just as firm:

"You dare harm my village? I'll bury you all."

To Reiji, the Third Mizukage was the same kind of fundamentally broken existence.

He'd even secretly observed the man once and noticed something off—his legs always seemed... strange. Unnatural.

And for good reason. Reiji had severed those legs cleanly at the root once before.

Now, the way they moved—Reiji couldn't shake the feeling they had a will of their own.

...

At a dimly lit izakaya, Reiji sat alone, popping edamame into his mouth and sipping sake. His mind spun rapidly, and his expression warned others not to approach.

Not far away, inside the Mizukage's office...

The Third Mizukage sat with an elderly man dressed in an earth-toned robe, leaning on a cane shaped like the head of a strange fish.

"Lord Third, what did the people from Iwagakure say?"

The Third Mizukage no longer carried his usual arrogance. He patiently poured Genji a cup of tea and spoke in a low voice.

"The Land of Earth is separated from the Land of Whirlpools by the entire Land of Fire. It's impossible for them to participate directly in this operation.

But Iwagakure has stated they're willing to station troops along the Fire Country's border to put pressure on Konoha.

Sunagakure in the Land of Wind has expressed a similar stance."

"What about the Third Raikage?" Genji asked, his voice trembling with age.

At that, the Third Mizukage's brow furrowed deeply. His tone darkened.

"That musclehead Raikage... he's acting strangely this time. Like he wants to come—but doesn't."