Outside the Oasis…
The massive sandstorm finally began to fade. Its natural flow had been disrupted, and without that order, the storm could no longer sustain itself.
As the skies cleared, panic gave way to relief. People slowly cald down, joy swelling in their hearts—after all, they had just survived a calamity! Aside from the loss of a few supplies, the damage was minimal.
At that mont, Elder El approached Naruto. Though the boy wasn't tall, El understood clearly that this youth was no ordinary traveler—he was a powerful ninja.
Wrapped in a long robe, a straw hat shading his face, Naruto's figure seed modest—barely one ter sixty in height. But no one dared show him the slightest disrespect. This wasn't just their savior, but soone who had perford a feat only a shinobi of great strength could accomplish.
Even if they didn't fully understand the classification of shinobi, they knew one thing: stopping a sandstorm of that scale had to be the work of a jōnin.
Elder El bowed deeply, his voice trembling with gratitude.
"Thank you for saving our lives, benefactor. This old man has no way to repay you!"
Naruto gave a short nod. To his eyes, Elder El looked like a man in his fifties, but in the shinobi world—where life was short and few ever reached old age—he was already considered an elder.
Wars, poor living conditions, and the dominance of noble houses made survival harsh. Only a rare few lived long lives.
Children matured quickly out of necessity. In this world, an eight-year-old girl was as mature as a young teenager, and twelve-year-old boys already lived as independent shinobi. By sixteen, they were treated as full-grown adults—marriage and children included.
"May I ask," Elder El said cautiously, "are you a shinobi of Sunagakure, sir?"
Naruto shook his head.
"No need to guess. I am not from Sunagakure. I only ca to the desert for training."
He turned his gaze toward the oasis and gestured lightly.
"Hurry and get inside. We'll et again."
Before Elder El could press further, Naruto vanished in a blur, disappearing with the Body Flicker Technique.
The caravan fell into silence.
A burly young man standing nearby frowned and whispered to Elder El,
"Elder… he's from another village. Shouldn't we report this to Sunagakure? What if he's here to gather intelligence?"
"Silence, Shingo!" Elder El snapped, his voice sharp and commanding.
"No matter which village he belongs to, we cannot repay kindness with suspicion. If not for that shinobi, half of us would have perished in that storm."
His eyes hardened, but his tone softened as he continued,
"We may be ordinary folk, but we still understand loyalty. To repay a life-saving debt—even at the cost of this old man's life—is only right. Not everyone from outside our land is an enemy. Have you forgotten how we gained the lives we now enjoy?"
The young man's face flushed with sha. He lowered his head.
Elder El was right—not all outsiders were villains. Their lives were better now than they had ever been. Harder, perhaps, but freer and more rewarding than toiling in the village for scraps. A single trade run now earned them enough to rest for half a month.
And much of that was thanks to the Seven Colors Trading Company.
They called it "franchising." Shingo had no idea what the word ant, but it sounded impressive. The company lent them money interest-free, licensed them to use their brand, and even helped manage supplies.
And beyond that was the Umbrella Organization. Unlike rumors of cults or secret societies, the Umbrella did not force them into anything. They signed agreents, received benefits, and were treated with respect. For that, Shingo proudly called himself a mber of Umbrella.
Elder El, too, was part of the organization—an Indigo-level mber. In his youth, he had been bold, hardworking, and respected by his peers. When Umbrella first arrived in the Land of Wind, he had been the first to embrace their ideals. With their help, he built up the caravan, offering new livelihoods to villagers who once lived in despair.
He even carried with him one of Umbrella's books, marked by bold letters across its cover. Whenever doubts arose, he would read aloud to remind them:
"Have you forgotten the organization's teachings? Think deeply. Do not act blindly. Read more, and wisdom will co."
That was Umbrella's ideology—an ideology Elder El held as dearly as others once held the "Will of Wind."
To him, Umbrella's vision was not just words—it was the path that had brought prosperity to their people. And so, Elder El pressed forward, leading his caravan through the desert, determined to paint the barren Land of Wind with new colors.
Afterward, the Seven Colors Trading Company steadily expanded its presence in the Land of Wind. However, due to the harsh climate and unforgiving deserts, it was impossible to cover the entire country.
That was why traveling rchants like Elder El still had an important role.
The young man lowered his head in sha.
"I'm sorry… I was wrong."
Unlike Elder El, most of the youths in the caravan had never learned to read. Only El, who had traveled widely in his youth, possessed literacy. After joining the Umbrella Organization, he made it his duty to teach the younger generation.
Whenever they questioned the strange ideals written in the book he carried, Elder El would patiently explain its passages. His eyes always shone with conviction, and when asked if the future described in the text could truly exist, he would answer with pride:
"This is the very aning of our Umbrella Organization's existence!"
The Umbrella itself didn't micromanage ordinary recruits. Initial mbership was little more than registration—minimal restrictions, modest benefits, and the hope of advancent. Only those with potential were nurtured further.
Elder El was one such example. If his rchant caravan grew in influence, he might one day rise to Blue-level.
The hierarchy of Umbrella was clear:
Purple-level: entry mbers, barely more than registrants.
Indigo-level: rare talents, perhaps one out of a hundred Purples. They received a copy of Umbrella Ideology, the organization's guiding text. Elder El was proud to be counted among this tier.
Blue-level: true core mbers, entrusted with knowledge of regional sub-bases. Bound by stricter obligations, they were considered the backbone of Umbrella's expansion.
Green-level: upper ranks, aware of the main headquarters itself. They could even attend gatherings at the central base.
This tiered system was designed by Naruto himself—to foster loyalty, ambition, and a sense of belonging among mbers.
Even Shisui, who had observed the system, didn't fully understand its intricacies. Yet he could not deny its effectiveness.
As for Elder El, he only knew fragnts about the Blue-level, but that was enough to inspire him. He dread of advancing further, of seeing what lay beyond, and of receiving greater responsibilities.
All this desire was kindled by the book he now clutched tightly in his hands.
...
TN:
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