When selecting Konoha shinobi to participate in the trial operation of the two major systems, Habara naturally didn't stop at just the one person he'd initially approached. In fact, this small-scale test involved nearly a hundred participants. The chosen shinobi were primarily those who had shown a higher degree of acceptance towards the village's post-war changes—at the very least, no one who rejected the new medal system was selected.
Given Shimura Danzo's previous insidious focus on "Akakammuri," even though the test was supposed to be confidential, the sheer number of participants meant Danzo would undoubtedly figure out what was going on. After all, when it came to stirring up trouble internally, Lord Danzo's methods had always been exceptionally "effective."
It wasn't a huge problem if Danzo found out, as long as he didn't interfere. If he did try to cause trouble, then the conflict between him and Habara would escalate far beyond mere words.
Everything revolved around Daigo. As per the Third Hokage's instructions, due to the inherent danger of highly concentrated chakra, Daigo's main body could not remain within Konoha indefinitely. This was precisely why Habara, Kakashi, and Tenzo had worked continuously for two months preparing the external site. However, during the initial "trial operation" phase, Daigo didn't need to leave just yet.
The combined chakra of a hundred ordinary shinobi wouldn't even surpass the total amount held by a single Tailed Beast. Furthermore, not all of this collected chakra was supplied directly to Daigo. A significant portion would later be returned to the providers. This meant that, at this stage, Daigo wasn't overly dangerous; there was no immediate concern about her losing control or causing destruction within the village.
Still, at this point, Daigo's information-providing capabilities aside, the so-called "Library" couldn't yet perform all its intended functions. Absorbing and returning chakra worked fine, but the Library couldn't fulfill its envisioned roles of exchange and education—because the Third Hokage had not yet agreed to supply it with the necessary ninjutsu.
The Third Hokage had his reservations. The widespread dissemination of jutsu could drastically disrupt Konoha's established systems, and Lord Hokage couldn't fully estimate the impact and consequences of such a shock, hence his hesitation.
Habara could understand the Hokage's perspective, but he himself felt no such hesitation. If the Third Hokage wouldn't provide the necessary ninjutsu for the Library, Habara planned to resort to shearing a particular sheep—specifically, one named Kakashi Hatake.
Kakashi of the Sharingan, the "Copy Ninja" who had replicated over a thousand jutsu. A thousand techniques… picking out the commonly used ones would be more than enough for the Library's initial launch. If he could fleece Kakashi completely clean… Hmm, Habara thought, for the first time, I'm finding Kakashi remarkably useful.
Knowing the Third Hokage's typical approach, even if he withheld Konoha's official jutsu scrolls, he probably wouldn't stop Habara and his team from proceeding in their own way. Hiruzen tended to hesitate beforehand but would observe once things were set in motion. If there were positive results, he'd tacitly approve; if there were negative effects, he wouldn't necessarily shut it down immediately… Habara felt he had a pretty good grasp of the Hokage's M.O. by now.
Conservative, but not entirely inflexible. As long as actions were taken under the banner of "Everything for Konoha," even if subordinates acted unilaterally, Lord Hokage wasn't an insurmountable obstacle—provided things didn't excessively violate common sense or ethics.
Of course, Habara himself didn't carry that much weight with the Third Hokage. But just because he didn't, didn't mean others lacked influence—like Kushina Uzumaki, for instance. Often, Kushina would leverage her standing within Konoha, while Habara merely served as the strategic advisor behind the scenes.
After arriving at the small earthen building, Jingu Maki ultimately decided to join the project. Firstly, it was an official village initiative, and based on the explanation she received, it seemed like a genuinely positive endeavor. Secondly, she had a faint feeling that this project held significance; as a shinobi not hailing from a traditional ninja clan, her tolerance for novelty was relatively high. Thirdly, she judged the risks to be minimal. Even if the project failed, the most she stood to lose was a portion of her chakra, which wasn't a major concern.
Therefore, even purely weighing risks against benefits, Jingu saw no reason to refuse participation. All she offered was her chakra. What she received in return… well, it wasn't the world, but rather a plain, unassuming small metal plate.
"Lady Daigo, is this the place?"
On the third day of her participation in the "trial operation," guided by Daigo, Chunin Jingu Maki arrived at an ordinary-looking building on the village outskirts. This wasn't the small earthen building; in terms of scale, it was far larger than the "headquarters."
The small, square metal plate was affixed to the strap of her forehead protector, just above her left ear. Over the past three days, she had roughly figured out what "Lady Daigo" was. She hadn't grasped the fact that Daigo was once a human shinobi, nor did she understand Daigo's nature as a chakra-based energy being. Instead, Jingu perceived "Lady Daigo" as some kind of special chakra-based system developed by the village—essentially, an AI. She even mentally nicknamed her "Little Miss Daigo."
Daigo herself wasn't particularly fond of the "Lady Daigo" address. She still saw herself as just an ordinary shinobi with little ability, and the title served as a constant reminder that she was different now. Though she hadn't adapted yet, she couldn't deny the sense of disconnect from reality.
"Yes, this is it," Daigo responded. "This is where the organization collects chakra. Just find an empty room that isn't being used."
Jingu nodded and entered the building. She soon found an unoccupied room and stepped inside.
The room was only the size of a standard inn guest room, but it was completely bare. As Jingu walked in, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor, she felt momentarily unsure of what to do next. She had half-expected to walk into a laboratory filled with cultivation tanks and miscellaneous equipment, even mentally preparing herself to be hooked up to various tubes.
"What should I do now, Lady Daigo?" Jingu asked.
"Just refine your chakra as you normally would," Daigo instructed. "As you refine it, naturally release it… The essence of the Library is to store the chakra that shinobi don't normally use, and then return it at a 50% rate when needed."
In a way, this function of the Library was somewhat analogous to an "Yin Seal," albeit one that would eventually operate on a massive scale.
Alternatively, the Library could be considered a "Chakra Bank." The significance of such a system was self-evident. The only downside was its abysmal "interest rate"—deposit 100, get back 50.
However, this was intended as a mutually beneficial arrangement. Another reason for establishing the Library was to sustain Daigo, the "chakra energy being" who could no longer generate her own chakra.
The portion of chakra deducted wasn't merely hoarded. A considerable amount was used for ongoing operational costs, such as maintaining the large-scale barrier at the Nameless Mountain and, when necessary, facilitating long-distance chakra support and deployment.
Regardless, one thing was proven yet again:
Even across different worlds, the nature of capitalists remains the same.
In the near future, phenomena like "chakra devaluation" or "chakra inflation" were likely no longer just a dream.
Habara had already thought up a fitting propaganda slogan for his burgeoning leek-harvesting operation:
We don't produce chakra; we are merely movers of chakra.