Konoha: The Thirty-Year-Old Uchiha Can’t Be Bothered

The mystery of the Uchiha clan massacre six years ago still hung over Uchiha Gin's mind like a dark cloud.

He'd finally thought he'd get something useful out of that suspicious Kaguya… only to lose control and kill the man.

His head full of troubling thoughts, he found himself unable to focus on work. Instead, he sketched out the strange marking that had appeared on his left hand from memory.

Staring at the odd emblem in his palm, no matter how he wracked his brain, he couldn't remember ever seeing it in the original story.

Three shuriken shapes spinning around a red dot — it looked like some family's crest.

He'd just have to ask Uchiha Tajima the next time he saw him.

Before he knew it, it was time to clock out. True to his "never work overtime" policy, Gin left the dungeon right on time.

Seeing the sun sinking in the west, he stopped to shop first.

Walking into a large general store, he called out to the clerk:

"Got any black hair dye? The long-lasting kind."

The clerk recognized the infamous Uchiha Gin at a glance and, hands trembling, fetched a bottle of black dye from the shelf.

Gin reached into his pocket… and after fumbling around for a while, came up empty-handed.

An awkward smile crept across his face.

"L-Lord Gin, please, the dye's on the house. Just… take it."

Sensing his customer's apparent lack of funds, the clerk tried to be tactful.

"No way. I'm not about to stiff you for a few coins. Hang on."

Closing his eyes, Gin rummaged through the system. When he opened them again, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a big, gleaming gold bar.

The moment he put it on the counter, the golden glow almost blinded the poor clerk.

Swallowing nervously, the clerk hefted the ten-jin block of pure gold and pinched his own cheek.

The sting told him this wasn't a dream. In all his years running this shop, he'd never seen so much gold in one place.

But good as it was, it also gave him a headache.

"Lord Gin… forgive me. Our humble shop… we couldn't possibly make change for something so valuable."

Indeed — that much gold could buy the entire shop.

Gin scratched his cheek in mild embarrassment. He did have principles: he would never shortchange someone… but if he could freeload, he absolutely would.

Just then, a spiky-haired boy burst in, shouting:

"Boss! You got any powerful water… uh, shuriken manuals?"

Before anyone could react, the boy spotted Gin and froze, blurting out:

"Gin, you bastard, when did you get back?!"

Then his gaze was drawn to the dazzling gold brick in Gin's hand.

"Whoa! Did you strike it rich?!"

Gin stared, exasperated, at the loud, brash, spiky-haired boy. This guy was nothing like the aloof future Ninja World Shura.

"Call me 'big brother,' Madara. Show some respect for your elders."

"Hmph, just a washed-up loser."

The boy named Madara sniffed and turned up his nose with classic chuunibyou flair.

"If you're good, I might cut you a little piece."

Gin coolly waved the gold bar in front of him.

"Big bro! You're my real big bro!"

Madara instantly dropped to his knees in exaggerated worship.

Even the future so-called Ninja World Shura still bowed before the almighty power of money.

Gin couldn't help but feel a wave of satisfaction.

Worth it!

Too bad there weren't cameras in this era — if he could snap a photo of this scene, ten thousand White Zetsu would probably smash his windows with slingshots every night in the future.

"Get up. Pick whatever you want — big bro's buying."

Gin waved magnanimously.

Madara's eyes lit up and he quickly piled up everything he usually wasn't allowed to buy, stuffing a giant pack full to bursting.

Watching Madara stagger out under the oversized bundle, Gin felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

Meanwhile, far away on a remote island, a young Uzumaki Mito stared at the pearl in her hands, which had just regained its color. She felt an odd tickle in her nose.

"Achoo~"

…Was someone thinking about her?

In the end, Gin and Madara's shopping spree only cost the corner of the gold brick.

Walking down the street, Madara, now carrying a mountain of loot, looked curiously at his long-absent cousin.

"Big bro, what kind of business did you do to earn a brick of gold like that?"

Ever since Madara had defeated Gin in front of everyone at age ten, his cousin had gone out of his way to avoid him. Even when they bumped into each other at Tajima's place, Gin would just mutter a greeting and leave.

"Just a dangerous mission. Picked up the gold by chance along the way."

"Lucky… I want to go on missions too."

Madara sighed, clearly envious.

After that tragedy six years ago, Tajima had guarded his two remaining sons carefully, never letting them leave his side.

That was why Madara had never taken on missions — and why he had no friends.

"…So I hear you've been… seeing someone?"

Gin shot him a teasing look, trying to change the subject.

"What? Seeing who? Who told you that?!"

Madara looked completely baffled.

"Your brother, Izuna. Said you'd been sneaking off to the riverbank for dates."

Gin had no qualms about selling out his little brother.

"I'll kill him! That little brat!"

Fuming, Madara barely managed a goodbye before stomping off toward home.

Oho. Looks like Izuna's in for it tonight.

With the dye in his hand and the gold bar tucked away, Gin strolled leisurely back to his remote little house.

As soon as he opened the door, he felt something hard press against his waist.

Looking down in surprise, he met Senju Itama's guilty eyes.

The boy was clutching a little kitchen knife — apparently he'd scrounged it up from the kitchen in lieu of a weapon.

Gin patted his head and handed him the dye.

"Good reflexes. But don't use a kitchen knife next time — it just looks silly."

Itama flushed crimson.

Gin glanced him over and saw he was wearing the clothes from his own childhood.

"Not bad. You're about one-tenth as good-looking as I was at your age."

Itama's face darkened from red to black.

Reading the instructions, Gin noted that the dye should be applied after a bath.

"Go take a bath first," he ordered.

Itama brightened at the idea — until he saw Gin starting to strip too. He froze.

"…What are you doing?!"

Gin looked up, puzzled.

"…What do you think? Taking a bath. I haven't had a proper one since I got back. Might as well wash up together. Saves time."

"Bang!"

Itama slammed the door and bolted, calling back from outside:

"You go first! I'll stoke the fire!"

Gin's old-fashioned bath was a classic wooden barrel set over a flame, the water slowly heated to the right temperature. Someone had to watch the fire to keep it just right.

"What a strange little brat. Still so shy."

Shaking his head, Gin didn't think much of it. At his age, he was more than old enough to be Itama's father.

In the Warring States period, it was common for boys of thirteen or fourteen to marry and have children. The odd one out was him — already twenty-four and still no heir.

Shedding his clothes, Gin slipped into the bath.

Steam curled up as the water gurgled around him.

Leaning out the little window, he saw Itama outside, his cheeks puffed out in indignation as he feverishly fed the flames, muttering darkly under his breath:

"Burn! Burn! Burn this pervert to death!"

"???"

First of all, I didn't offend anyone.

(End of Chapter)

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