"Konoha? Why did the Fifth Hokage suddenly summon us?"
"I don't know. We're just grain merchants, not shinobi."
"Well, we'd better go. If we offend him by skipping out, the loss will outweigh any gain..."
Driven by Namikaze Mirai's sudden initiative, nearly all the major grain merchants across the Land of Fire soon received an invitation. It was personally issued under the Hokage's seal—an order, cloaked as a request—to come to Konoha and "witness a new chapter in the history of agriculture".
And something significant was going to be announced.
To the grain merchants, this was baffling.
Konoha, after all, was a military institution. It was known for elite shinobi, not plows or paddies. Aside from occasionally supplying food rations during wartime and using ninja to escort shipments, Konoha had never involved itself directly in the affairs of agriculture.
What "major announcement" could a war village possibly make to farmers?
Still, most of the merchants chose to go.
Because even if it made no sense, there was one thing they all understood: the Fifth Hokage was not someone you ignored lightly. Rumors of Namikaze Mirai's exploits had spread far and wide. A former war hero, rumored master of lightning and magnetism, and now leader of Konohagakure—his name inspired both awe and fear.
If a man like that called you to the Hokage Tower and you failed to appear?
He didn't need evidence or reason. One label—"traitor", "smuggler", "enemy of peace"—and everything a merchant had spent years building could be crushed. The Five Great Ninja Villages were known collectively by one phrase whispered in fear by the business world:
The Five Great Rogues.
It was better to accept a small risk than risk everything.
…
Hokage Tower – Third Floor, Conference Room.
The merchants arrived, one after another, dressed in their finest robes, but it was clear none of them felt at ease. They sat tensely around a large table, exchanging stiff glances, as if waiting for a storm to hit.
The heavy wooden doors closed behind them with a thud, and a squad of Uchiha shinobi took up posts near the exits. Their eyes—some awakened with the Sharingan—swept across the room like silent predators.
Cold sweat broke out on many foreheads.
"Why are the Uchiha here?"
"Are we being detained?"
"Did I offend someone without knowing...?"
The mental spiral continued. Men who'd built fortunes over decades now searched through years of memory, desperately trying to recall whether they had once denied Konoha a shipment or bid too low during a contract.
The tales of Namikaze Mirai's ruthless efficiency made this meeting feel less like a conference and more like an execution.
Then, a soft but steady voice cut through the tension.
"Everyone..."
Chairs scraped as the grain merchants turned their heads toward the source. Standing at the entrance was a tall man with golden hair and regal blue eyes that gleamed with a strange mix of calm and intensity.
Namikaze Mirai.
The Fifth Hokage.
"Hokage-sama!" one merchant stood up abruptly. "We—we haven't done anything wrong! If there's something that displeased you, please, show mercy!"
"Yes! If we've made any mistake, we beg your forgiveness!"
Some of the Uchiha at the entrance exchanged glances, barely concealing their amusement. To them, the sight of these wealthy merchants nearly breaking down in panic was unexpected. Mirai wasn't the kind to kill someone for showing up late to a meeting.
Mirai smiled gently, his voice calm but commanding.
"You've misunderstood. I invited you not to reprimand, but to include you."
He walked slowly to the center of the room.
"I invited you to witness and participate in a revolution."
He turned, letting that word settle.
"A revolution in agriculture."
There was a beat of silence.
Then whispers broke out among the merchants. Confused glances. Furrowed brows.
"Revolution? In agriculture?"
"What does that even mean?"
"I thought this was a military summons..."
Mirai gestured lightly, and Yamato, who had been standing silently near the platform, stepped forward with a respectful nod.
"Yes, sensei."
He carried a large pot filled with fresh soil and a single seed resting atop it. The merchants watched him with puzzled expressions, some still trying to guess what this performance was about.
Yamato placed the pot on the demonstration platform and knelt beside it. He pressed his palm into the soil, channeling chakra.
*Fsssshhhhh...*
To the astonishment of every person in the room, the seed sprouted instantly.
Within seconds, it broke through the soil. A slender stalk of rice pushed upward, leaves unfolding like green flames, rising and thickening as if fed by divine energy. In moments, it had grown to full size, heavy golden ears swaying at the top.
Gasps filled the room.
One man's mouth hung open so wide a spoon could've slid inside. Another adjusted his monocle, convinced he was hallucinating. The room was filled with inhaled disbelief.
"That... that's Wood-style…"
"Isn't that the Senju Hashirama's Kekkei Genkai?!"
"This boy—he used Wood-style!"
Even more shocking than the jutsu was the result. The rice stalk wasn't normal—it was far more robust. The ears were bigger, the grains fuller and heavier, glowing with health and vitality.
"Hybrid rice." Mirai announced calmly. "Developed by combining the superior genes of multiple rice strains using Wood-style. The average yield is increased by 40%."
'Forty percent?!'
A collective shiver swept across the room.
Every seasoned merchant understood the implications. In an industry where a 3% increase was considered a success, forty percent was an earth-shattering leap. Enough to restructure markets. Enough to alter the flow of power in the Land of Fire.
One bold merchant raised his hand.
"H-Hokage-sama... how much can one mu of land yield with this rice?"
(T.L Note: A "mu" is a traditional unit of land measurement, primarily used in East Asia, especially in China. One mu is equivalent to 666.67 square meters. This is roughly equal to 0.165 acres or 7,171 square feet)
Mirai nodded. "A conservative estimate puts it at five hundred kilograms per mu."
The sound of dozens of jaws collectively unhinging echoed through the room. Some merchants began breathing rapidly. A few gripped the table so hard their knuckles turned white.
That wasn't just forty percent—it was nearly fifty. Some calculated mentally and realized that even the most arid lands could now yield crops like prime farmland.
Yamato stood beside the rice, silent but proud. In his heart, he finally saw the true meaning of his abilities. Not destruction. Not violence. But growth.
Mirai let the moment linger.
Then he spoke.
"I plan to create agricultural production cooperatives across the Land of Fire. These cooperatives will be managed jointly by Konoha and you. Konoha will provide the seeds, Wood-style cultivation support, and all the security needed to safeguard the supply lines. You provide the logistics, land, and manpower. Profits will be shared."
Silence once again fell over the room—but this time, it was the kind born of deep thought.
Some merchants' eyes were alight with ambition. Others furrowed their brows, weighing risks and benefits. A few looked as if they'd just seen their old business models go up in flames.
A revolution was indeed coming.
And only those who acted quickly would ride its wave.
"If we don't join, we'll be left behind." one muttered.
"If we do join, and the Hokage protects the trade routes... profits will soar."
"This rice... it can change the entire market. No, the entire world."
Then someone stood.
"Hokage-sama, I wish to cooperate!"
Another followed.
"Yes! Please count us in as well!"
Then more voices joined in a chorus, eyes blazing.
"If this rice spreads across the nations, we'll solve world hunger!"
"You've created a miracle, Hokage-sama. Are you a god come down to feed the people?"
Mirai remained calm, his hands behind his back, allowing the excitement to wash over him. His expression betrayed no arrogance, only silent confidence.
Yamato, meanwhile, beamed.
For the first time, he truly understood the potential of Wood-style. Sarutobi Hiruzen had only ever taught him how to weaponize it. But Namikaze Mirai had taken it back to its roots—quite literally.
This rice would save lives.
This ability wasn't a curse. It was a gift.
'Senju Hashirama-sama... perhaps this was your vision all along...'
As the excitement built in the conference room, only a few merchants sat stiffly in silence. Their faces were pale, almost green, their expressions conflicted.
Because behind them... stood the influence of nobles.
And those nobles were not going to like this revolution one bit.
*****
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