Chapter 7: Article 112
The thick, bright yellow paper glued to the front door of the Iron Will Workshop was straight-up bullshit.
Tetsuya stood in the middle of the dirt street, his callused hands shoved deep into his apron pockets, staring at the massive "UNDER INVESTIGATION - DO NOT ENTER" seal. It featured an oversized official Konoha stamp, a bright red warning symbol, and text so densely printed it would give a seasoned accountant a migraine. The edges of the paper were already curling in the humid morning air, making the whole thing look even more pathetic.
Tetsuya groaned, violently rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is absolute garbage," he muttered to himself. "Different universe, same exact headaches. Middle management always acting like they own the street."
The crunch of sandals on the dirt road made him turn his head. Two young Genin—barely out of the Academy, wearing pristine headbands and carrying horribly unbalanced standard-issue swords—approached the shop. They had the eager, slightly desperate expressions of kids who had just received their first mission pay and wanted to drop it all on something sharp.
"Excuse me, are you open?" the taller kid asked, his eyes already wandering to the window display where Tetsuya had arranged his remaining T-Series Kunai.
Tetsuya sighed heavily, pointing a soot-stained thumb at the massive yellow seal on the door. "Does it look like I'm open, kid? Ask the village administration. Apparently, selling gear that actually works is a crime now."
The shorter Genin stepped closer, squinting to read the dense text. "Under investigation for unsafe practices? But my squad leader said you make the best blades in the entire district! He said your kunai sank three inches into solid wood!"
"He wasn't lying," Tetsuya grunted. "I do. But that fat bastard Ryu over at the Emporium doesn't appreciate anyone messing with his profits. So he paid some suit at the commerce office to shut my forge down."
The taller Genin's face fell, his shoulders slumping. "Aw, man. When will you reopen?"
"Give me... let's say twenty-four hours," Tetsuya said, scratching his scarred chin. "Come back tomorrow morning. Bring your cash."
The pair looked skeptical, muttering to each other as they turned and walked away down the street.
Tetsuya watched them go, but he didn't panic. He wasn't stressed. He calmly patted his heavy canvas apron. Hidden safely inside the front pocket was a folded piece of paper. The ultimate bureaucratic weapon he had prepared the night before.
[FLASHBACK - 12 Hours Earlier]
The Konoha Public Library smelled exactly like old dust, rotting wood, and broken dreams.
Late last night, immediately after the corrupt inspectors had threatened to lock him up, Tetsuya had slipped a tired librarian a crisp 500 Ryo bill to let him stay in the musty archives after hours. He sat alone at a cramped wooden table with the heaviest, most excruciatingly tedious book he had ever encountered in two lifetimes: The Consolidated Commercial Regulations, Zoning Ordinances, and Guild Statutes of Konohagakure, 6th Edition.
It was thicker than a cinderblock and about as interesting as watching paint dry in a dark room.
His eyes had burned fiercely from lack of sleep. He had flipped through dense pages of legal jargon that seemed deliberately written by a drunk feudal lord to confuse poor people. He wasn't using some fancy System-enhanced brain. The Absolute Blacksmith System didn't give a damn about local tax laws or zoning permits. This was just regular, painful, manual reading.
But Tetsuya had a massive advantage. In his past life, he had run his own heavy industrial business in Tokyo for thirty years. He had fought city zoning inspectors, tax auditors, and corporate lawyers on a daily basis. He knew the absolute golden rule of the streets: in every legal textbook ever written, there was always a loophole designed specifically to protect the rich and powerful. He just had to find Konoha's version of it.
Halfway down page 842, a specific, highly protected clause had caught his attention.
Article 112: Exemptions of Clan Autonomy in Commercial Logistics.
He had read it once. He had read it twice, dragging his finger under the tiny text. A slow, profoundly nasty smirk had spread across his scarred face.
It was the ultimate 'Don't Piss Off The Aristocracy' clause.
Article 112 explicitly stated that if a major Noble Clan officially designated a civilian business as "Operationally Essential" for their clan's internal shinobi forces, the civilian administrative branch could not suspend, tax, or close that business without escalating the matter directly to the Hokage's desk.
No middle-manager in the universe wanted to bother a military dictator over a petty blacksmith dispute. It was the perfect shield. He had quickly grabbed a piece of paper and drafted a legally binding contract based on that exact article.
[END FLASHBACK]
Now, armed with his makeshift legal document, Tetsuya just needed a Hyuga to sign off on it. And he knew exactly which one was currently holding a major grudge against Ryu.
The Hyuga compound was an absolute masterpiece of old money and generational arrogance. Everything from the immaculate, sweeping stone pathways to the carefully pruned bonsai trees screamed, 'We were wealthy landowners before your ancestors figured out how to make fire.' Tetsuya sat cross-legged on a polished wooden floor in a breezy outdoor pavilion, feeling grotesquely out of place. His dark work clothes, still bearing faint soot stains from yesterday's madness, were a dirty, gritty contrast to the pristine elegance of the compound.
Sitting across the low, expensive tea table was Neji Hyuga. The boy wore his immaculate tan shirt and dark shorts, his posture perfectly straight, his pale eyes completely unreadable.
"I appreciate you taking the meeting," Tetsuya grunted, his low voice sounding like two rocks grinding together.
"Your message mentioned a direct insult to the Hyuga name," Neji said, his voice cold, formal, and precise. "Explain."
Tetsuya didn't waste time with small talk. He reached into his pocket and tossed the counterfeit, blood-stained kunai shard onto the polished wooden table. It landed with a crude, highly disrespectful clatter.
"Ryu's Emporium stamped my maker's mark on this piece of cheap pig-iron and paid a thug to bleed on my floor," Tetsuya stated bluntly, leaning his elbows on his knees. "But that isn't the insulting part. The insulting part is that Ryu knew you were standing right there in my shop. He thought the great Neji Hyuga was too blind, or too stupid, to notice the difference between my flawless steel and his mass-produced garbage."
Neji's pale eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. He didn't touch the bloody shard.
"He believed he could use the Hyuga presence to legitimize his fraudulent sabotage?" Neji asked quietly, the temperature in the pavilion seeming to drop a few degrees.
"Exactly," Tetsuya pressed, looking the boy dead in the eyes. "He tried to play you. He used your reputation. When you publicly humiliated his hired actor yesterday, Ryu felt his pride get hurt. Now he's using his bribed connections in the civilian administration to put a yellow padlock on my door."
Neji's jaw tightened visibly. "The Hyuga name is not to be invoked in petty merchant squabbles."
"I agree completely. So why did Ryu think he could get away with it? Because he thinks he owns this whole damn village," Tetsuya said. "He thinks your family's standards don't matter."
Neji finally fixed his eyes on Tetsuya with uncomfortable, piercing intensity. "What do you propose, blacksmith?"
Tetsuya slid the folded piece of paper across the table.
Neji picked it up, his eyes scanning the handwritten text. He frowned almost immediately. "You want me to sign an exclusive supply mandate? I am of the Branch Family. I have no authority to bind the Main House to commercial agreements. Even suggesting this is an offense."
"Read the fine print, boy," Tetsuya corrected calmly, tapping the paper. "It isn't a Clan Contract. It's a 'Personal Retainer Agreement'. It specifically states that you, Neji Hyuga, are personally commissioning the Iron Will Workshop to produce specialized, high-tier equipment for your missions. Every active ninja has the legal right to choose their own gear."
"And how does a personal purchase order help you with the Administration?" Neji asked skeptically, placing the paper back on the table.
Tetsuya smiled—a sharp, entirely ruthless street-hustler expression. "Because to a civilian desk-clerk, a piece of paper with a Hyuga seal on it is absolutely terrifying, regardless of what the fine print actually says. I'll handle the bureaucratic nonsense. I just need your stamp."
Neji stared at the older man trapped in the teenager's body. "You intend to bluff a government official using my personal seal?"
"I intend to use the tools available to me to smash a corrupt monopoly that tried to play both of us," Tetsuya countered, his voice dead serious. "Do you want the best weapons in the Fire Country, or do you want to keep buying from the guy who thinks you're a gullible idiot?"
Neji paused, studying the document for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Neji reached into his tactical pouch, produced his personal stone seal, and pressed it firmly into a small tin of red ink. He stamped the bottom of the document with a sharp, decisive thwack.
"If this backfires, I will deny everything," Neji said coldly, sliding the paper back.
"Fair enough," Tetsuya grunted, tucking the paper safely into his apron pocket. "Good doing business with you."
"Do not make me regret this," Neji warned, his Byakugan flaring for a fraction of a second.
"Trust me," Tetsuya rasped, standing up and cracking his neck. "The only one having regrets today will be the idiot who put that ugly yellow sticker on my door."
The Konoha Administration Building was a towering, six-story monument to architectural misery. It was a massive block of featureless gray concrete with zero ventilation and the distinct, soul-crushing atmosphere of a place where nothing important ever happened quickly.
By the time they reached the third-floor landing, Tetsuya was breathing like a broken bellows.
By the fourth floor, his scrawny, underfed legs were burning with lactic acid. Neji, meanwhile, walked gracefully beside him, looking as though he was casually floating up the steps rather than climbing them.
"Who the hell..." Tetsuya wheezed, pausing to lean heavily against the cool concrete wall, "...designs a government building without an elevator?"
Neji stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, looking mildly confused by the bizarre word. "I do not know what an 'elevator' is, but if you are complaining about the stairs, blame your own pathetic stamina."
"I'm a blacksmith," Tetsuya panted, wiping sweat from his forehead and dragging his aching body up another steep step. "I swing heavy hammers for a living. I wasn't built for climbing stairs."
They finally reached the fifth floor, the home of the Commerce Division. A sour-faced receptionist sat behind a massive wooden desk, surrounded by mountains of paperwork. She opened her mouth to snap at the sweating, heavily scarred teenager, but her eyes landed on Neji standing silently behind him. She swallowed hard, bowed her head respectfully toward the Hyuga, and pressed a clunky button on an outdated wooden intercom system.
"Administrator Zuro, sir? There is a... a representative of the Hyuga Clan here to see you," she said nervously.
A thin, highly nasal voice crackled from the speaker: "Send them in."
Tetsuya nodded and started walking, cracking his callused knuckles. "Alright, let me do the talking. You just stand there and look intimidating."
Administrator Zuro's office smelled exactly like stale green tea, cheap ink, and the sweet, sticky scent of dango dumplings.
The man himself sat behind a massive desk completely buried under precarious stacks of paperwork. Zuro was a textbook example of corrupt middle-management: a sweating, balding man whose official robes strained dangerously across his expanding midsection. He was mid-chew when they entered, a shiny smear of pink syrup resting proudly on his double chin.
"Ah, Hyuga-san!" Zuro squeaked, hastily dropping his snack onto a napkin. His beady eyes flickered to Tetsuya with supreme, dismissive annoyance, then darted back to Neji with fawning, pathetic respect. "What an unexpected honor. What can the Commerce Division do for you today?"
Tetsuya stepped directly in front of Neji, aggressively blocking Zuro's view of the boy.
"You can start by explaining why you slapped a bright yellow padlock on my forge based on fake complaints," Tetsuya growled, his voice deep, rough, and entirely devoid of respect.
Zuro's fawning demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by bureaucratic arrogance. "You're the blacksmith. This is an official administrative safety investigation. It is not a clan concern. We have sworn affidavits. Your shop is closed for ninety days. Now get out of my office before I call security."
"Proper channels," Tetsuya mocked, leaning heavily over the desk. "Like the proper channels Ryu used to file those fake affidavits? Or the fat bribes he paid you to enforce his monopoly?"
Zuro gasped, slamming his sticky hands onto the desk. "These are treasonous accusations! Do you have a single shred of proof for this insolence?!"
"I have this," Tetsuya said, pulling the folded contract from his apron and slapping it down hard onto the sticky desk.
Zuro snatched it up, ready to tear it in half. Then, his eyes fell upon the bottom of the page. He saw the crimson ink. He saw the official, undeniable crest of the Hyuga Clan.
Zuro's breath hitched. His eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic. "This... this is..."
"That is a formal retainer agreement designated under Article 112 of the Commercial Code," Tetsuya lied with the smooth, unwavering ease of a veteran street hustler, purposefully omitting the fact that it was only a personal commission. "The Hyuga Clan has officially designated my workshop as 'Operationally Essential'. If you keep my forge sealed, you are actively interfering with Hyuga logistics. And by extension, village security."
Zuro slowly looked up from the paper, his hands trembling. He looked past Tetsuya, straight at Neji.
Neji didn't say a single word. He simply brought his hands together and activated his Byakugan.
The thick veins around the boy's eyes bulged violently. Those pale, featureless eyes locked onto Zuro, staring directly through the man's skull. To Zuro, it felt as though his entire history of taking bribes was being laid bare and judged by an apex predator.
Zuro's bureaucratic brain completely short-circuited. The primal fear of the Byakugan staring straight into his internal organs made him forget every single procedure he had ever learned.
"I... I see," Zuro sweated profusely, tugging at the tight collar of his robes. "Well... if the esteemed Hyuga have specific tactical needs... the civilian administration shouldn't stand in the way of progress."
Zuro frantically pulled open his desk drawer, grabbed his official magistrate stamp, and slammed it onto a formal Release Document with shaking hands. The red ink was crooked.
"The investigation is suspended," Zuro choked out, shoving the document across the desk like it was on fire. "I'll send a runner to remove the seal right now."
"Look at you, moving fast when you're scared," Tetsuya rasped, snatching the paper and checking the red ink to make sure the bureaucrat didn't fake the seal. "I appreciate you doing your actual job for once."
As Tetsuya turned toward the door, Zuro called out, his voice trembling with spite. "This doesn't end here, blacksmith. You've made a very powerful enemy today."
Tetsuya paused in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder, his heavily scarred face pulling into a demonic scowl. "No, Zuro. I've just exposed one. There's a massive difference. You tell Ryu I said hello."
The walk back down the five flights of stairs was significantly less painful. Absolute victory was a remarkably powerful painkiller.
"You completely manipulated that entire situation," Neji observed quietly as they exited the building into the bright afternoon sunlight.
"Yes, I did," Tetsuya agreed, seeing absolutely no point in lying. "But I told the truth on the important stuff. Ryu really did try to set me up. And whether that fat bureaucrat likes it or not, this piece of paper right here is legitimate."
Neji's expression remained perfectly unreadable. "The Hyuga name is not a toy to be invoked lightly, blacksmith."
"I know. That's exactly why it worked," Tetsuya grunted, pocketing the release form. "Look, kid. This is strictly between me and Ryu. I just needed a crowbar to pry the corrupt bureaucracy off my back, and you provided it. Now, I have a fair fight."
"And my weapons?" Neji asked, stopping in the street.
"Will be the greatest pieces of steel you've ever held in your life," Tetsuya promised, looking the boy dead in the eyes. "That part of the contract, I take very seriously."
Neji gave a single, crisp nod. "I expect the first delivery within the week."
Tetsuya watched the kid disappear into the bustling crowd. He pulled the release form from his pocket, staring at the red stamp. The bluff had been completely insane, but it had worked. The loophole existed, and Zuro had been too much of a coward to call it.
He started the long walk back to the Eastern District.
"Alright, enough of this bureaucratic nonsense," Tetsuya muttered to himself, cracking his callused knuckles as he walked. "Time to fire up the forge, make some real weapons, and put Ryu out of business."