Time flew by in the blink of an eye, and soon the evening of the grand banquet arrived.
In the days leading up to it, the Fire Daimyo had sent a carefully worded letter to Uchiha Makoto, hinting at the subject weighing heavily on his mind: whether or not he should provide financial support to Konoha.
The truth? The Daimyo didn't want to give them a single coin. The stronger Konoha became, the shakier his own throne would feel. But… Hashirama's shadow loomed large, even in death. No matter how much the Daimyo feared Konoha, he respected that iron fist.
And if someone like Makoto could smooth things over, so much the better. Otherwise… well, he would just hand over the money and pray Konoha stayed in its village and didn't come for his palace curtains.
---
The Banquet Begins
The great banquet hall of the Fire Court glittered with wealth. Chandeliers blazed overhead, their crystals scattering light like a thousand fireflies. Nobles in silken robes bustled about, their laughter echoing off the polished marble. Servants darted back and forth, carrying trays stacked with delicacies.
At the head of it all sat the Daimyo, a "kindly" smile plastered onto his face. He looked for all the world like a benevolent patriarch eager to play host—but his eyes kept darting nervously toward the door, as if expecting Konoha's shinobi to burst in at any moment.
Tonight, however, his honored guests were not the feared Uchiha Makoto, but two promising youths: Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo, the sons of clan leaders.
They were still teenagers, but already the seeds of their future legacies lay in them. To the Daimyo, befriending them now was a safe investment.
"Welcome, young masters!" he said warmly, gesturing for them to sit close to him. "It is a rare honor to have such fine heirs under my roof. Eat, drink—everything here is for you!"
Hiruzen and Danzo bowed respectfully, their faces practically glowing.
To them, the Daimyo was no ordinary noble. He was the noble, the most exalted figure in the entire Land of Fire—perhaps even in the whole shinobi world. Being welcomed personally by him was like peasants being invited to dine with the gods.
They tried to maintain their composure, but then…
The food arrived.
---
Two Growing Boys vs. One Banquet
Dozens of dishes were laid out before them: roasted pheasant glistening with honey glaze, steaming hotpots filled with exotic meats, lacquered platters of delicacies they couldn't even name.
Hiruzen's stomach growled. Danzo's followed a moment later. They glanced at each other—just once—and then, in perfect unison, declared:
"I'll start first!"
The nobles barely had time to blink before the two boys launched their assault on the table.
Hiruzen shoveled rice into his mouth with both hands, sauce dripping down his chin. Danzo attacked a roast duck as though it had personally insulted his ancestors. Their chopsticks blurred, clattering across plates with ninja precision.
It wasn't eating—it was a battlefield massacre.
The nobles stared in horror. These children… these wild beasts… were they even human?
Within minutes, the carefully arranged feast had been reduced to empty platters and greasy bones. A stunned silence fell across the hall.
The Daimyo raised a hand, his smile twitching. "More food," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Bring another table."
Servants scrambled to obey.
"Thank you, Your Highness!" the boys chorused, before diving into the next round like bottomless pits.
One noble leaned toward another, whispering, "Are… are shinobi always like this?"
"Monsters," came the hushed reply.
The truth was simple: Hiruzen and Danzo were still in their growth phase, and as ninjas, their calorie needs were monstrous. With chakra refinement burning through energy, their appetites could rival an entire cavalry regiment.
The Daimyo watched them devour his treasury bite by bite. If they keep eating like this, I'll need to raise taxes again…
---
Nobles and Tulips
While the boys were still eating like warlords after a raid, the nobles mingled.
For them, the food was secondary. What mattered was socializing, making connections, and—above all—showing off.
In the middle of the crowd, one noble suddenly drew gasps as he revealed his prize: a tulip. Not just any tulip, but a vibrant red-and-white blossom, carefully preserved in a crystal vase.
The hall buzzed instantly.
"This tulip… it's a red-and-white treasure!"
"So beautiful!"
"Where did you buy it? How much did it cost?"
The noble puffed up with pride. "Oh, this little thing? Only five million ryō."
A chorus of astonished whispers rippled through the crowd. Five million! That was enough to fund a year's worth of B-rank missions. Enough to build a manor. Enough to buy several lifetimes' worth of rice!
The noble, of course, pretended it was nothing. "Five million is a mere trifle for a man of taste. Besides, it was an investment. I bought this beauty some time ago—now it's worth tens of millions. Even if you want to buy one today, you won't find it. They're rarer than phoenix feathers!"
He basked in their admiration, secretly gloating. After I finish showing off tonight, I'll sell it at the peak price. Hah! Elegant taste and financial genius—truly, I am both scholar and merchant.
Around him, other nobles began whispering frantically about their own tulip collections. Some bragged of entire rooms filled with them. Wealthy merchants whispered about cornering the market, buying low and selling high. The tulip craze was in full bloom.
---
Two Ninja Boys, One Economic Shock
Having stuffed themselves to the point of waddling, Hiruzen and Danzo finally noticed the commotion. They drifted toward the crowd, wiping grease from their hands.
"What are they all fussing over?" Hiruzen muttered.
They listened in. Snatches of conversation floated to their ears:
"…red-and-white tulip…"
"…only five million…"
"…worth ten million now…"
Danzo froze.
"Did I hear that right?" he whispered. "That flower… five million ryō?"
Hiruzen's eyes widened. "I heard the same thing."
Their ninja-trained senses confirmed it. They weren't mistaken.
Danzo stared at the single blossom, his worldview cracking. Five million for a flower? Do you know how many life-threatening missions my clan takes to earn that kind of money?! We risk our lives against rogue ninjas, bandits, and beasts—and this man waves a flower around and earns more than all of us combined?!
His face twisted. "This world… is insane."
Hiruzen wasn't much better. His jaw hung slack. I thought missions were the pinnacle of value exchange. You risk your life, you get paid. That's how it works. But this? This is robbery disguised as gardening.
And then, as if to rub salt into their wounds, another noble announced, "That tulip? It's easily worth twenty million now. At least double!"
"Not just twenty," another boasted. "I've made thirty million in profit already. It's like picking money off the ground!"
Danzo pinched Hiruzen's thigh. Hard.
"OW! What was that for?!"
"I had to check if I was dreaming!"
"Then pinch your own leg, idiot!"
Danzo ignored him. His eyes were glued to the flower, trembling with suppressed fury and disbelief. "Twenty million… for a flower…"
Hiruzen exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "It's simply… absurd."
And yet, beneath the shock, something new began to stir in their hearts.
Greed.
Desire.
If nobles could make millions by buying flowers… why couldn't they?
Danzo leaned close, whispering like a conspirator. "Hiruzen… did you hear what they said? Even a dog could make millions in this market. A dog, Hiruzen!"
Hiruzen met his gaze, and in that moment they both understood:
Their entire worldview—the value of missions, of risk, of blood and sweat—had just been shattered by the price of a tulip.
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