Naruto:Suna Shinobi

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The Hidden Vault

As expected, the ceiling panel had been tampered with—it was surprisingly easy to pry open.

Inside the hidden compartment, a safe was wedged tightly in place.

Looking closer, Hiriito noticed a simple mechanical trigger—a system of ropes and gears connected to the lightbulb socket.

When the bulb was turned, the gears pulled the ropes, releasing the ceiling panel.

If the bulb kept turning, the safe would slowly lower from the ceiling—undetectable unless the room was physically dismantled or scanned with advanced tech like Batman's.

"Smart," Hiriito muttered.

But it wasn't ninja-proof.

The key was destroyed when Kurokin crushed Chidi Cole, but that wasn't a problem.

To ninjas, a physical lock was as useful as a paper door.

Hiriito pulled out a paperclip, sharpened at the tip.

With a flick of his wrist, a chakra thread extended, guiding the clip into the lock mechanism.

A few subtle twists—a delicate dance of touch and precision—and click!

The safe swung open.

Inside?

Stacks of crisp, green US dollar bills, filling the air with the fresh scent of ink.

A smirk tugged at Hiriito's lips.

"Much better than gold."

A stack of physical cash was far more practical—easy to spend, bribe, and invest.

Power in Gotham wasn't about working hard—it was about taking what others had already built.

And Chidi Cole?

He had done all the work—now Hiriito reaped the benefits.

"Boss!" Accountant Dura exclaimed, his voice excited. "There's $410,000 in total!"

Hiriito didn't hesitate.

"Take out $200,000—split it among the brothers."

The gangsters cheered.

"Another $100,000—buy guns, ammo, and supplies."

The remaining?

"The last $110,000 is mine."

This was how leadership worked. Loyalty first, power second.

He wasn't just taking—he was giving.

And in Gotham, that meant everything.

"One more thing," Hiriito added.

"From today on, the Cole Gang is dead. We're now Hogg United."

The gangsters looked confused.

"Hogg… United?"

Accountant Dura scratched his head.

"Boss Walter, uh… no offense, but that doesn't sound very intimidating."

"Exactly," Hiriito replied smoothly.

"Gangs with flashy names are easy targets. 'Hogg United' sounds like a business, a social club, maybe even a football team."

He smirked.

"It won't attract those "bat monsters" so easily."

The gangsters nodded in understanding.

Dura adjusted his glasses.

"I see… so we can pretend to be legit while operating in the shadows?"

"Exactly. And from now on, we collect protection fees like a private financial group, not street thugs."

Dura grinned.

"Boss, I gotta say… that's genius."

Still, Dura had one warning.

"Boss Walter, one thing to remember."

"This is Gotham's slums. No matter how smart our cover is, the only rule that matters is brute force."

He gestured to the men.

"Whoever has the most guns, the most manpower, and the toughest reputation—that's who rules."

He gave Hiriito a knowing smirk.

"Luckily… I don't think anyone here has a harder fist than you."

Hiriito chuckled.

This guy was clever.

That was useful.

One day had passed since the S-rank mission.

After Nanako stabilized Ishido's injuries with medical ninjutsu, the squad escorted him back to Sunagakure for proper treatment.

The Third Kazekage returned to the frontlines.

With White Fang injured, it was the perfect time to strike back at Konoha.

As for Hiriito and his team, Ebizo granted them a few days' leave to rest.

But Hiriito?

He had no plans of resting.

Instead, he went straight to the Puppet Corps base.

When Hiriito arrived, Sasori was already there—sleepless, tirelessly assembling a new puppet.

"Sasori?"

The boy didn't even glance up.

"I was here all night."

He gestured to Salamander, now fully repaired.

Then, his gaze hardened.

"Those two puppets of yours are pretty good," he admitted.

"Let's fight again… after I finish assembling Black Ant."

Hiriito's eyes narrowed.

"Black Ant…?"

His gaze shifted to the half-finished puppet.

Larger. Heavier. More refined.

It was a clear upgrade from the Termite puppet.

"Sasori," Hiriito asked cautiously, "are you… worried about something?"

Sasori's hands didn't stop moving, but his voice was cold.

"What about you?" he asked.

"You seem to admire the Third Kazekage."

Hiriito raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe," he admitted. "He's our leader. What about you? Are you… dissatisfied with him?"

Finally, sasori froze.

His bright green eyes locked onto Hiriito's.

"He didn't lead us to victory."

"Too many people died."

Hiriito frowned.

Was this… the root of it?

The first seed of the hatred that would one day turn Sasori against Sunagakure?

The boy was like Itachi Uchiha—a child of unmatched genius, left to grow in isolation, with no guidance.

And that meant one thing:

If someone didn't intervene, Sasori's hatred would consume him.

And eventually…

He might even try to make Hiriito into a puppet.

(End of Chapter).

Exam over Daddy's back.