It never ceased to amaze Obito how much people could desire money. Power, physical items and worldly pleasures he could understand, but the desire for money in and of itself was a mystery to him. Money was a means to an end, a way to acquire something you could not create with your own two hands. It had no value or use on its own, and yet that never seemed to stop people from wanting it. In his past, it had been Kakuzu, the deranged bounty hunter who seemed to desire nothing in life except for money. In this life it seemed money was far more entrenched in people's way of thinking, and so the desire for it was far greater. It would never cease to amuse him, but it also made it very easy to get what he wanted.

Obito had no use for money except as a means to an end. In this case, that end was paying off bodyguards. He needed to make a move, he had spent too long hiding in the shadows. If he didn't move soon, then people would no longer think he rose up through his own merit but that he was merely the figurehead of some other group or Villain. He had thought deeply on how exactly he wanted to enter the underworld officially. Drug smuggling and extortion would be easy, he had the strength and the connections to make them work, but they would also leave a stain on his reputation that would be hard to cover up in the future. Mercenary work and bounty hunting was another option, but without a group behind him it would very quickly end up as him alone chasing down people, and it was hard to raise a hidden army when you were always on the move and had to do things yourself. That left supplying as his main job. Intelligence, medicine, contacts, they were all easy enough to get his hands on, and they opened up a wonderful spot for him to really get his fingers deep.

The obvious issue was that there was rarely more than one seller in an area, and this little slice of Musutafu already had someone. His name was Orichi, a slimy little man that reminded Obito far too much of Kobuto if the boy didn't have a spine made of steel. Tricky, smart and you never knew whose side he was on. He had made his way to the top of the region's network by selling out his old bosses one at a time til he was second in command, then stabbed the old leader in the back. A messy affair, but Orichi had been clever enough to pay off the right people and actually knew his way around the business well enough that people left him alone for the most part. Taking it over from the inside the way Orichi had done was an option, but it would only further stain the reliability of the network, and Obito wasn't sure anyone would even use it at that point. That left either destroying the whole thing, or a far more obvious hostile takeover. Both had their benefits, if he erased the whole network then there would be no fear of competition or betrayal, and it would well and truly remove the stain on the area's honor and reliability. It would mean he would have to spend months rebuilding the network and acquiring the contacts and customers though. Simply removing Orichi and declaring himself the new leader would solve that issue, however he would still be looked down upon for the same reasons Orichi was, and with his aspirations any respect he could earn now would pay off massively down the line.

The respect ended up being the selling point, and it brought him to where he was now. He had spent the last few months carefully combing his way through Orichi's network, making sure he knew every little detail of his organisation, who worked for him, who would stand up for him in an open fight and which informers could be relied upon to join Obito once the smoke cleared. The main catch was his personal guard, Tsuko, a giant of a man whose quirk let him turn his body to stone. In a one on one fight Obito wasn't sure he could take the man down fast enough, his knives would be useless and he didn't have the strength to just blow him away. He would win, there was no doubt about that, but by then reinforcements would probably show up and Orichi might escape. The man did have one weakness though. He was friends with another criminal whose alignment was far more fluid than Tsuko's. It was almost insultingly easy to convince the man to poison Tsuko's drink that night, and Obito watched from the shadows as the heavy man stepped outside the bar after taking the drink and staggered his way into an alley, his friend close behind him. He moved behind the pair silently and waited till Tsuko collapsed in a heap in the dark, his once close friend grinning happily at the pay he would get, before Obito stepped up quietly behind him and slit his throat. Making sure to follow up with the same slice across Tsuko's throat for good measure, he dragged both their bodies further into the dark where they hopefully wouldn't be noticed for now and headed out of the alley.

Orichi ran his operation out of an old warehouse, an abandoned building that he had managed to get the deed to somewhere along the line and done up the inside of to be his personal little palace. A handful of goons loitered around the place, no real threat but they would have to be taken out regardless to make sure the job was done right. Obito didnt bother wearing a mask for this, no one would live long enough to know it was him anyway, so there was no point. Entering through the back door after quietly picking the lock, he made his way through the back rooms first, his knives finding their marks in either the throats or the brains of whoever was unlucky enough to be in the way. He could clear out the entire building easily in a full on fight, but that would draw attention and risk possible collateral, and he had plans for the warehouse once he took over. Once the back was cleared out he cut the power and plunged the main lobby where Orichi held court into pitch black darkness.

The sudden change as the lights went off sent the main lobby into a panic. Running around in the dark Obito had to keep a smile of his face as the guards slammed into each other and the furniture, everyone screaming as they tried to figure out what was going on. Obito slipped into the main room, focusing on his hearing as he went from man to man, bloody knives reaping a terrible harvest as the floor went slick with blood. Eventually someone seemed to notice that there were not as many voices, or maybe someone found a body, and a new shout of alarm went out. Orichi screamed for his men to protect him and get him out, but by that point there were only two people left in the room. Orichi's reign ended with a knife drawn across his throat. A fittingly pathetic end to a pathetic man.

Cleanup was typical and methodical, even in the past with Kamui he had found it easier to just deal with bodies the old fashioned way, so he was something of an expert at that. A sharp knife, a hacksaw, a handful of nice sturdy barrels and some high quality cleaning equipment. By sunrise the area was cleaned up, if still rather gaudy and distasteful in terms of decoration. Regardless, he had the license to the building now, and unless the police really cared to investigate the disappearance of a handful of low life goons he was pretty safe on that front. Making his way to the Flying Beaver, a fucking ridiculous name he always thought, the bar Kichirou owned he found himself the center of a rather lot of interest, even among the more high level regulars. Walking casually to the bar he grinned at Kichirou, noting the way the man seemed to almost mentally flinch at the way his scars moved.

"Hey boss, can I get my usual before the shift starts?"

"Yeah sure kid, lemme just get that for ya."

He was impressed by how Kichirou managed to keep his voice level, despite how uncomfortable he obviously felt. Obito had always known people wouldn't react well to his method of doing things, it was a touch too ruthless and bloody for how they did things here, but nonetheless it didn't seem like anybody had suddenly turned against him, or were horrified by his presence. More that they were now weary, and confused. The new kid who did small-time drug smuggling and worked at a bar had just murdered 27 people in cold blood and taken out the local supplier, and that was something that bore watching. Kichirou brought him his drink, some local soda he could never remember the name of. Honestly he would prefer Sake right now, but this body wasn't exactly used to drinking, nor did it have the regenerative abilities of Hashirama's cells to keep him alert. The old man gave him a subtle nod, and Obito picked up his drink before slowly heading to the kitchen. As he entered the cooking ladies looked up, before quickly leaving out the back door. Kichirou entered through the door to the front bar, looking more tired than Obito was used to.

"Right kid, I'm sure you're aware, but you've just caused a bit of an uproar around here. No one liked Orichi, slimy bastard that he was, but people could still rely on him to get what they wanted. Now you, some random ass kid coming in from seemingly nowhere just massacred him and his entire crew in one night. Murder isn't exactly rare here, looked down upon sure, but not rare. A fucking massacre of this size however hasn't been seen since old All for One hit the dirt."

Obito shrugged, taking a sip from his drink and keeping his eyes on Kichirou.

"The man was a snake, and the boys he picked were just like him. I needed him out of the way, and there was no way I could ensure any survivors wouldn't come after me."

It was the type of logic that no one would question in the Elemental Nations, in fact the question wouldn't even have needed to be asked.

"Needed him out of the way? What for, what could a damn seller like him be in the way of."

Kichirou asked, confusion, anger and probably concern warring in his mind. Obito wasn't delusional, he knew the man cared for him, but he also knew that he really shouldn't bother.

"Replacing him of course. I'm getting nowhere being a wash boy for a bar, even one as reputable as this. I thought about taking Orichi's place over from the inside, but that would take too long, and there's where else that would get me what I need as well as being a seller."

Kichirou stood for a while, his face scrunched up in thought. Obito left him to his thoughts, taking a sip of his drink and stirring a pot of stew idly to stop it burning.

"How old did you say you were, kid?"

"I don't think I ever gave an age actually."

Obito replied, turning back with a grin that made his scars twist across his face in a painful manner.

"Hm, figures. Kids like you are always smarter than you look. If you're really wanting to get into work, I assume you are planning on taking over the warehouse?"

Internally Obito breathed a sigh of relief. Tonight's whole operation rested on Kichirou not alienating him. He needed the old man to provide cover for a few months while he got everything in order, and ideally he needed his bar.

"Not if I can avoid it, no. The warehouse is useful, both as a hideout and a simple storeroom, but I have no plans to run my operation out of there. If possible, I was thinking I could maybe make a deal with you. I run my business here, and you get a cut of the money. Plus you get more customers."

It only took a few seconds for the old man to think about his deal before he accepted.

"Yeah, that would work I guess. We can work out the details later, for now go finish your drink and get some rest, you look like you need it. Come back tomorrow, there is someone I think you might be interested in meeting."

It was a good deal, Obito knew it was or he would have found a way to sweeten it. Money was a means to an end. Weapons, troops, payment and bribes. As he walked out of the kitchen and past the watching eyes of the bar's customers, he couldn't stop the grin on his face from getting wider.

The world had never been kind to Obito. That was fine, he would just have to burn the whole fucking thing down.