Recently, Nōshin Kongō developed a severe skin condition. From his neck to his chest, thick layers of psoriasis covered his body. The relentless itching tormented him day and night. He scratched at it with his hands, causing flakes of skin to fall off in clumps. Even when he tore the skin until it bled profusely, the itch persisted.
When the skin was torn open, the wounds began oozing yellow pus. In the perpetually rainy and humid climate of Amegakure (Hidden Rain Village), the wounds became even harder to heal. Nōshin sought help from several medical-nin and applied countless ointments. While the bleeding would eventually stop and the wounds would scab over, once healed, another layer of psoriasis would form. The cycle repeated endlessly.
However, what troubled him most was not this maddening skin condition.
Since assuming the title of Amekage, Nōshin Kongō had felt that something was amiss, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Currently, Amegakure was free from the ravages of war. There were no uprisings by starving citizens, neighboring nations were at peace, and the village treasury was well-stocked. The documents piling up on his desk each day never exceeded ten pages, and he could finish reviewing them in just about an hour.
Every month, the village received a tax revenue of two million ryō from the Hourglass Corporation, which he could spend however he pleased. On top of that, during festivals or holidays, he would receive personal gifts from the corporation. These days, his most frequent task was visiting the families of previous Amekage to offer his condolences.
With such a peaceful and effortless governance, Nōshin began to feel that he might surpass even Hanzō of the Salamander as the most successful Amekage in history.
But Nōshin Kongō was no fool who merely coasted along. Although he had rarely been on the battlefield or taken on missions—having risen through the ranks as a civilian strategist responsible for assigning missions—he had served under Hanzō for many years. Later, he became Hanzō's personal bodyguard and steward (though his primary role was as steward, with the bodyguard title being more honorary). His instincts told him that danger was looming, though he couldn't pinpoint what it was.
The answer soon revealed itself.
During the inauguration ceremony for his succession as Amekage, the Third Kazekage, Jinghang, and the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, jointly announced the Wind-Fire Peace Declaration. They also revealed plans to conduct a joint military exercise in the Land of Rivers. This completely stole the spotlight from Nōshin's inauguration. Naturally, Nōshin Kongō was displeased, but these two were titans whose strength far exceeded his own. Starting a conflict? He didn't dare.
Moreover, how had he even become Amekage in the first place? Wasn't it all thanks to the financial and political backing of the Hourglass Corporation?
Still, as a seasoned steward, Nōshin quickly devised a plan. On the spot, he declared his unwavering support for the Wind-Fire Peace Declaration and pledged to dispatch 800 troops to bolster the effort.
His reasoning was as follows:
First, by supporting the declaration and contributing troops, Amegakure would be recognized as one of the declaration's initiators. This would restore some of the prestige lost during his inauguration.
Second, aligning actions with Konohagakure and Sunagakure was a strategic move. With these two major powers as allies, who would dare provoke Amegakure in the future?
Finally, deploying 800 troops was a balanced decision—not too many, not too few. If Kirigakure retaliated later, the larger nations would bear the brunt of the conflict, leaving Amegakure relatively unscathed.
It was a triple-win strategy.
Nōshin Kongō was so impressed with his own quick thinking that he celebrated by drinking a few extra cups at Hanzō's farewell banquet and even stayed overnight in a drunken stupor.
However, as the deployment date approached and Nōshin began preparing to assemble the troops, he was shocked to discover that Amegakure's ninja roster was as thin as the documents on his desk—barely ten pages. And they were single-sided.
Altogether, the village only had about a thousand ninjas!
If 800 were deployed, wouldn't Amegakure become a defenseless ghost town?
His bodyguard, Rō, twisted the knife further by pointing out that among these thousand ninjas, 88 were fresh graduates from the ninja academy.
But words once spoken couldn't be taken back. After much deliberation, Nōshin Kongō gritted his teeth, steeled his resolve, and appointed Jōnin Matsumoto to lead the 800 ninjas to the Land of Rivers.
For a time, Amegakure entered the most precarious period in its history, with only 172 ninjas left to protect the entire nation.
Fortunately, the military exercise concluded smoothly within a little over a month. The Amegakure ninjas mostly stayed on the outskirts, providing auxiliary support and avoiding significant losses. Jōnin Matsumoto even managed to kill a small outpost leader, earning a 50,000 ryō reward from Jinghang (with an additional 50,000 from Konohagakure, totaling 100,000 ryō).
It wasn't until the expeditionary force returned home that Nōshin Kongō could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He immediately launched an investigation into the matter. What he discovered nearly caused him to faint: the population of Amegakure had dwindled to less than 60,000!
As a former steward, Nōshin knew exactly what these numbers signified.
During Hanzō's peak reign, Amegakure boasted a population of nearly 200,000 and a ninja force of 4,000. Back then, smaller nations wouldn't dare provoke them, and even the major powers of Fire, Earth, and Wind had to tread carefully.
But now?
The Amekage, officially appointed by the Land of Rain's daimyo as the nation's governing official, was on the verge of having no citizens to govern! And as the supreme military leader, he barely had any soldiers under his command!
This was absurd! Investigate! This had to be the work of foreign sabotage!
The results of the investigation came swiftly, and to Nōshin's dismay, it wasn't sabotage but a blatant, open conspiracy.
The culprit? None other than his financial backer and "father figure," the Hourglass Corporation!
To be fair, the root of the problem didn't lie with Nōshin himself. He had only recently taken office. The decline had begun during Hanzō's later years.
When the Second Shinobi War erupted, the Land of Rain became the primary battleground for Amegakure, Sunagakure, and Konohagakure. Later, when Sunagakure withdrew, Iwagakure joined the fray, leaving the already struggling Land of Rain in utter ruin.
As the war between Iwagakure and Kumogakure spilled over, waves of displaced refugees flooded into the Land of Rain, exacerbating the crisis.
Hanzō, renowned as the "Demi-God of the Shinobi World," excelled on the battlefield but was inept at governance. Just as he was overwhelmed, Sunagakure extended a "hand of friendship," offering not only assistance with the refugee crisis but also generous financial aid.
Rasa and Maki didn't hold back either. Through the Hourglass Corporation, they established a system: collecting refugees in the Land of Rain and relocating them to the Moon Lake New District. Skilled laborers stayed near the Shule River to work, while the unskilled were sent to the Moon Lake area to cultivate land. This effectively resolved the refugee crisis, albeit at the expense of Rasa's personal fortune.
By the time foreign refugees dwindled and domestic issues were resolved, the people of Amegakure found themselves penniless. Where had the money gone?
It was all in Hanzō's pockets, as he continued to revel in luxury.
With no wars to fight, ninjas lost their military stipends and had to take on missions to make ends meet. But in a war-torn economy, who could afford to hire them?
The Hourglass Corporation could. Their Damascus ninja blades, tactical vests, boots, and canned goods were selling like hotcakes across nations. As the corporation expanded along the Shule River, it absorbed a large portion of Amegakure's workforce into its factories. The wages earned there were comparable to farming, if not better. For those who still wanted to farm, the Moon Lake New District had plenty of land.
Both Rasa and Yura treated their workers well (under orders from Jinghang to maintain labor standards), so the villagers simply settled into factory life. With decent wages, meals, and housing, even their children had the opportunity to attend technical schools in the Moon Lake New District.
As for the ninjas, they were employed as security for factories, mines, and farms or as escorts along trade routes between the Land of Rain and the Moon Lake New District. Rasa welcomed them with open arms, offering steady employment opportunities.