Chapter 02:

Barely taking a step into the Uchiha complex, I immediatly notice that the guards stationed at the gates are approaching me. Their expressions are the same as always—disdainful, as if I'm some unwanted guest in my own clan. It's not exactly surprising, considering how the clan views me now.

I am, well, ever since I have arrived here an oddity to describe it mildly. I am not very social, and my lack of people skills is really problematic.

*Tsk.*

This day just keeps getting worse and worse, or better and better depending on how one perceives it, but whatever. I've come to expect this sort of treatment by now. Thanks to my wishes, I'm basically an outcast within the Uchiha Clan. Not everyone has the vision to appreciate my genius—at least, not yet. 

"Uchiha Jin," one of the guards begins, speaking to me with the enthusiasm of someone who has just stepped into a steamy pile of dog shit. "I'm here to inform you that you have to vacate the apartment given to you by the clan in a month's time. And if you need a job, you can either find one yourself or go to the Police Force to be assigned one." His eyes are cold, and he looks at me as if I'm less than dirt.

"Okay, thanks," I reply, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I brush past the guards and head toward my apartment.

After a long walk, I finally reach the edge of the Clan compound and stand in front of the building I begrudgingly call home. The place is a dump—barely livable, with almost no furniture to speak of. Every time I step inside, it's the same depressing sight: cracked walls, creaky floors, and a bed so rundown it's practically falling apart. It's not much of an apartment, anyway—just a single room with a worn-out futon instead of a bed, a dingy bathroom that reeks like something died in there, and a cramped kitchen that looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years.

The whole place feels like it's hanging by a thread, just waiting for the day it finally collapses.

*Sigh.*

For a while, I wondered how a clan as prideful as the Uchiha could provide such rundown housing for its members. But then I remembered: no matter which universe you live in, the lives of the poor and powerless are always going to be miserable unless they fight to improve their situation. That's just how it is.

Yeah, I need to get things moving. Living in this place for the past few days is already giving me a creeping sense of despair. Technically, I don't even stay here, since I have my own personal space thanks to one of my wishes. But if I suddenly stop living here altogether and start disappearing whenever I feel like it, people are bound to get suspicious eventually. That's something I need to avoid.

The last thing I want in this world is to draw attention to myself. Being the guy everyone keeps an eye on never ends well.

With that thought in mind, I decide to take stock of what I have. I rummage through my meager belongings and pull out all the money I've managed to collect over the past week. It's not much, but when combined with what my former self had stashed away, it's everything I own.

A little over 5,000 Ryo. That's it. My entire fortune.

"Well, at least it's not zero," I mutter to myself. I grab the money and leave the apartment, heading toward the shopping district. I need to figure out a way to make some real money—and fast—if I want to avoid being thrown out onto the streets.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, I arrive at the shop I've been looking for. It's a rundown little place tucked away in a corner of the district, with peeling paint and a creaky wooden door. An elderly man sits behind the counter, slouched over and looking half-asleep.

"Hello, Gramps," I greet him, my voice sounding more cheerful than I actually feel.

"Hello, Jin-kun," the old man responds with a tired smile. "How did it go?"

"I failed the exam," I admit, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "Now I'm looking for a job so I can afford food and find a cheap place to stay once the clan kicks me out."

*Sigh.*

"Not everyone is cut out to be a shinobi, Jin-kun," Gramps says, trying to sound reassuring. "Don't worry about it."

Gramps—his real name is Tenchiro Uchiha—was once a shinobi himself, back in the Warring States Era. But an injury ended his career before it could really begin. He tried his hand at being a merchant afterward, but, to be honest, he's terrible at it. His business skills are as rusty as the old weapons he sells. His life took another downturn when his daughter died during the First Shinobi World War, and his wife passed away not long after, unable to cope with the grief. Since then, Gramps has just been going through the motions, running this little shop while trying to stay out of everyone's way.

That's the fate of people who aren't the main characters in this world—the ones who end up as cannon fodder in the larger scheme of things. People like Gramps, who never had a chance to be more than a footnote in history.

"I know, Gramps," I say, offering a small smile. "Anyway, I came to ask a favor."

"Oh?" He perks up, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you're hiring," I begin. "I'd like to work as your apprentice and, one day, maybe even take over the shop when you decide to retire." I know that straightforwardness is something the Uchiha can handle. Their original roots in the Land of Lightning explain why they're terrible at being politically savvy.

"You want to be my apprentice and eventually rent the shop?" he repeats, scratching his head. "Hmm… I doubt I can pay you enough to cover rent and food." I can see him mulling over my offer.

"Well, you don't have to pay me much," I say quickly. "As long as I get a place to stay and a small wage to cover my food, I'm willing to work. I'll clean, cook, and do odd jobs around here too."

The old man contemplates for a few moments before nodding. "Sure, why not? I could use some help around the shop and the house. But as for renting the shop... what exactly are you planning to sell?"

"I was thinking of investing all my money into shinobi gear," I explain. "I'll sell it for a small profit and then reinvest to keep the cycle going." He looks at me with a knowing smile, probably thinking I'm just a naive seven-year-old who doesn't know what he's doing. But by taking me in as his apprentice, he'll make sure to teach me the ropes of managing a shop.

In his eyes, I'm just a kid who couldn't even pass the Genin exam. He probably thinks there's something wrong with me for wanting to go into business so young.

"Sure, you can go ahead and try that," Gramps says with a small smile, as if humoring me. "But first, I need to see if you have the dedication it takes to run a shop."

"Thanks, Gramps! I'll be back tomorrow morning, early, to start my shift," I say, waving goodbye as I leave the shop.

Next, I head toward a different store—one that specializes in selling shinobi gear to the public. Shops like these cater mostly to fresh Genin who just graduated from the academy and civilian shinobi who lack the funds or connections to get higher-quality items. Most stores in Konoha aim to sell to the shinobi market because the whole society is built around war heroes and their accomplishments.

The real issue is that not every shop sells to just anyone, and those that do can't always guarantee quality. It's important to have a trustworthy supplier—imagine your sword breaking in the middle of a fight because the manufacturer used cheap materials. Clan shinobi know where to buy their gear and often get discounts for being part of a clan. This gives them a distinct advantage in terms of better equipment, survivability, and accumulating experience.

The store I'm heading to is much fancier than Gramps' place, with well-organized shelves displaying swords, kunai, and other ninja tools. But I know the quality is mediocre at best. It's a civilian-run shop, and even the most knowledgeable civilian is still a civilian.

As soon as I reach the counter, I wave to catch the attention of the woman behind the desk. "Hello, big sister!" I call out, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

She looks down at me and smiles. "Well, hello there, young man. What can I do for you?" she asks warmly.

"My brother passed his Genin test today," I say, spinning my story. "I want to buy him a gift, but I'm not sure what's useful or what fits my budget."

"Oh, what a sweet little brother you are!" she says, clearly charmed. "Let me help you pick something for him. How much are you willing to spend?"

Before she can suggest anything too expensive, I quickly add, "I only have 5,000 Ryo, big sister."

"Hmm… 5,000 Ryo?" She thinks for a moment before showing me a small set of throwing weapons—a kunai and five shuriken, neatly placed in a box. "This is the best you can get for that amount."

"I'll take it!" I say, handing over the money.

With a satisfied smile, I leave the shop and walk a short distance until I find an empty alleyway. Once I'm sure no one is around, I duck inside and place the box of throwing weapons into my inventory.

Now, it's time for the fun part. I open the inventory and select "Duplicate" on the box. Immediately, the system informs me that I need to provide raw materials for the process. No problem—I expected that.

I start digging through the nearby trash, gathering random bits of junk and tossing them into my inventory. Once I have enough garbage to serve as raw material, I initiate the duplication process. A timer pops up, letting me know it'll take fifteen minutes to complete.

"Hehehehe!" I start laughing to myself, picturing the profit I'll make by duplicating shinobi gear and selling it off for a tidy sum.

Suddenly, I hear a young voice behind me. "Mom, there's a boy in the alley laughing like a madman!" A little girl is pointing at me with wide eyes.

*Tsk.*

'Stupid brat,' I curse mentally, cutting off my laughter. I quickly straighten up and leave the alley, avoiding any more unwanted attention.

The real fun is just beginning, and soon enough, everyone

 will recognize the genius of the future Merchant Jin Uchiha.