The Daimyō of the Land of Fire studied the copy before him and slowly traced it, the noon sunlight warm upon him, his body and mind loosening.
Whenever something troubled him, he adjusted his mood this way.
Calligraphy calms the heart.
And who was vexing him?
Without a doubt—
The innately evil Senju Hashirama.
Uchiha Makoto's constant lobbying about the "Hashirama threat" had already taken root deep in the Daimyō's heart and was now sprouting.
Konoha had entered the next phase—recruiting clans.
According to reliable intelligence, in just a few short months more than one powerful clan in the shinobi world planned to join Hashirama's village: the Hyūga, the Sarutobi, the Shimura—and more would follow.
This filled the Daimyō with profound unease.
Suddenly he focused, swept stray thoughts from his mind, inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled his wrist turned. The brush danced across the paper.
"Diligent in government, loving toward the people; clean governance, harmony among the populace."
"Hm. Today's script… not bad."
Eyes narrowed in satisfaction, he admired it for a moment, then instructed the attendant standing at his side to put the paper away.
"Your Highness, Lord Makoto has sent an envoy on important business."
The Daimyō nodded, left the room, and went to the reception hall, where Satou Kazuma was waiting on the sofa.
Seeing the richly robed Daimyō, Kazuma rose at once and bowed.
"Your Highness, Lord Makoto sends his regards."
"Mm. I know. No need to be stiff, young man—sit and speak."
The Daimyō was a proper man; with shinobi who served him, his manner was consistently gentle.
The village Uchiha Makoto had founded—Akatsuki—was one of his future levers to counterbalance Konoha.
No single village could be allowed to dominate.
The shinobi world needed balance.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they got down to business.
The Daimyō always cared about Makoto's progress building the village. At his inquiry, Kazuma understood at once.
"I'll say what you like to hear."
"Everything is under control. Construction is steadily improving. Please be at ease, Your Highness—everything is under control."
Though Akatsuki's clan recruitment was slow, Kazuma's personal polish never wavered as he spun it along. Everything is under control.
The only drawback was a lack of funds.
If the Daimyō were willing to grant a special appropriation of one hundred billion ryō, then truly everything would improve. Even those great clans who once looked down on Akatsuki would come knocking, asking to join at once.
Money really is king.
Fifty billion ryō in relocation money upon joining—which clan wouldn't be dazzled.
Of course, uttering such numbers would get Kazuma tossed out on the spot.
Daylight robbery.
Did he even know the nation's annual war budget.
Still, Kazuma stated the need; Akatsuki really was short of cash. The Daimyō nodded and held up five fingers, indicating he could add five hundred million ryō in support.
Not a small sum. On paper, a great clan's liquid funds were about that much.
But Akatsuki aspired to be a great power in the shinobi world, and that amount could never satisfy Uchiha Makoto.
So, sensing the good mood, Kazuma stated the purpose of this visit.
"Your Highness, I'm here for a business deal."
"It's a big one. We'll need your help—and your capital."
At that, the Daimyō frowned, surprised by what Kazuma said.
In his view, Uchiha Makoto and the Satou Kazuma before him were shinobi. From ancient times shinobi lived by taking missions, and the fees for missions were trifles to nobles.
What big deal could shinobi have.
"Your Highness, have you heard of tulips?"
"I have."
"That's the business—tulips."
Kazuma's lips curled in a smile as he launched into the plan for the tulip bubble.
His tongue was silver; in a few words he had the Daimyō's interest.
"First we need Your Highness to help make tulips known to every noble circle. For this, Lord Makoto has drawn up the 'Spend a Fortune on Tulips' plan."
"Interesting. Hyping tulips, is it?"
"A brilliant idea."
The Daimyō stroked the whiskers at the corner of his mouth, more intrigued by the moment.
He had no doubt about the plan's feasibility; he knew those rotten nobles all too well.
A few years ago, because of a well-turned essay, the hypocrites in the capital chased after "elegance" in competitive imitation. Everyone praised it. If you didn't follow the trend, you were tasteless and unfit for their circle.
So they all lauded the essay, copying it day and night. They even paid others to copy it, calling it "experiencing elegance together."
The farce drove up the price of paper severalfold.
Faced with tulips, if he cooperated with Makoto's plan, those nobles would likely repeat themselves.
"This business is indeed good, but nowhere near as exaggerated as you say."
He shook his head.
At most, this would net a few hundred million, perhaps billions. Substantial, yes, but far from jaw-dropping.
"No, Your Highness, that's not all."
"Tulips are only the bait. The key is the second half: before prices surge, we sign contracts with the growers in advance. Then, when prices do surge, we spread that news. And then we start trading the contracts. By leveraging rapid resales and fat profits to attract participants… at that point nobles and merchants across the Land of Fire and the entire shinobi world will go mad."
The Daimyō drew a sharp breath, deeply shocked by Uchiha Makoto's audacity. He was genuinely startled.
This kind of play had never appeared in this era. He couldn't even imagine how many people would join once the money game began.
He had no doubt about their greed.
Not only nobles, but merchants—people born with endless hunger for profit. If the profit is rich enough, there's nothing they won't do, even if it ends in a tangle of feathers.
Precisely because he understood their nature, the Daimyō's thoughts went further.
When this money game ends, how should it be wrapped up?
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