The next day dawned quietly across the Land of Fire.
The morning sun crept lazily over tiled roofs, merchants set out their wares in orderly rows, and peasants trudged through fields with the resigned rhythm of people who had been doing the same thing for generations.
In other words—business as usual.
But inside the gilded halls of the Fire Nation Palace, "business as usual" was about to be shattered by news that spread like wildfire.
A minor official, a man so obscure most couldn't remember his name yesterday, had suddenly been promoted three ranks in a single day. Overnight, he went from a forgettable clerk to someone who could command respect from those who used to ignore him.
And why?
Because, rumor had it, he had received the praise of a very important person.
This story raced through the noble class like sake spilled on a hot stone.
"Three ranks in one day?"
"That's impossible. Unless—"
"Unless he pleased the daimyo somehow!"
Every noble turned their eyes toward the palace. They had always known the daimyo's moods could shift like the wind. But this sudden promotion—arbitrary, lavish, almost whimsical—signaled something new.
And the answer soon arrived:
The daimyo's beloved daughter had recently purchased a collection of tulips at an extravagant price.
"Ohh… so that's the reason!"
"The daimyo's household is obsessed with tulips now!"
"Then tulips must be the fashion of nobility!"
In noble society, nothing spreads faster than a trend endorsed by the powerful.
---
The Banquet of Flowers
To cement this new craze, the daimyo convened a grand banquet the very same evening. His palace blazed with lanterns, music drifted through the courtyards, and every noble family worth their crest hurried to attend.
After the feast, the daimyo rose, dressed in robes embroidered with phoenixes and golden clouds. Servants entered carrying trays of tulips, each bloom carefully arranged as though it were a priceless artifact.
The daimyo lifted a flower delicately, holding it aloft as if he were presenting a sacred relic. His voice carried through the hall:
"Behold, the tulip! Is it not beautiful?"
He gestured at the nobles, his eyes sharp despite the smile on his lips. "Only those of refined taste and cultivated spirit can appreciate such elegance."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd. None dared disagree.
He pointed suddenly at one nervous nobleman in the front row. "You. Tell me, do you find it beautiful?"
The noble swallowed hard. "Y-yes, Daimyo-sama. I have never seen such beauty before in my life!"
The daimyo's smile widened. "Excellent. Then tell me—how many tulips do you have in your collection at home?"
The noble froze. His lips trembled. "…None, Daimyo-sama."
For a moment, the hall went still. Then the daimyo let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"No tulips?" he repeated, voice dripping with scorn. "You claim to have taste, yet your household is barren of beauty. How disappointing."
The noble's face burned red as the rest of the court avoided his gaze.
At that exact moment, another noble sprang forward, almost tripping over his own robes in his eagerness.
"Your Highness!" he shouted. "My estate is overflowing with tulips! Entire rooms! My family alone could rival the beauty of your palace gardens!"
The daimyo's eyes sparkled. He seized the man's hand warmly, as if they had been brothers all along.
"Now here is a man of refinement!" he declared.
The hall erupted in cheers and flattery, the nobles falling over themselves to praise tulips as the greatest creation in the natural world.
The unlucky noble who had confessed his lack of flowers was instantly cast aside, treated as if he were a peasant who had stumbled into the wrong gathering. In noble society, having no tulips now equated to having no taste, no class, no place among the elite.
And just like that—
In one night, tulips had gone from a niche curiosity to the defining status symbol of the Fire Nation aristocracy.
Within days, the craze spread beyond the palace walls, carried by gossiping servants, ambitious merchants, and jealous neighbors. By the end of the week, the entire ninja world was buzzing about tulips.
The bubble had begun.
---
Meanwhile, in Konoha…
Far from the glitter of the palace, Senju Tobirama sat in the Hokage's office, back straight as ever, reviewing reports stacked so high they threatened to collapse like a paper avalanche.
Technically, the chair belonged to his elder brother, Senju Hashirama, the First Hokage.
In practice?
Hashirama was… unreliable.
Most days, he either disappeared with Uchiha Madara on some "adventure" that ended in the two of them staggering home drunk at midnight, or he snuck into gambling dens, losing money faster than he could blink, and then shamelessly borrowing from Madara the next morning.
The pattern repeated so often that Uzumaki Mito—Hashirama's wife and Tobirama's long-suffering sister-in-law—had taken to scolding Tobirama instead.
"Why can't you watch your brother properly?" she'd snap. "He's the Hokage, not some wandering delinquent!"
Every time, Tobirama clenched his jaw, bowed, and accepted the scolding… before going back to do all the paperwork his brother ignored.
Privately, however, his thoughts were less charitable:
(Brother, really? Of all the people in the world, you had to choose Uchiha Madara as your drinking buddy? The one man I have to keep an eye on at all times?)
Yet even in his frustration, Tobirama found a silver lining.
After all, with Hashirama absent, and Madara equally distracted, the village's day-to-day affairs were firmly in Tobirama's hands.
And for a man like him, control was both a burden and a blessing.
(Fine. If my brother insists on playing around, then I'll be the one to safeguard the village. Someone has to.)
---
Tobirama's Plans
Tobirama leaned back, folding his hands as he thought.
(The Uchiha clan cannot remain united behind Madara. He's too dangerous. If one day he loses his temper—or worse, decides to pursue his own ambitions—the entire clan could follow him. No… I must weaken his grip on them. Slowly, subtly. They must learn to place loyalty in the village first, not Madara.)
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
(Brother, you may still cling to your dream of friendship with him. But I cannot allow sentiment to endanger Konoha. Someone has to be the realist here.)
Still, not everything was grim. Under his relentless management, the village was thriving. Clans were settling in, markets bustling, new alliances forming.
Konoha was no longer just an experiment. It was alive. Vibrant.
(Yes… this is what we've built. A village where all things flourish. And I will defend it—even if I must sacrifice my own research time.)
He sighed, glancing longingly at a half-finished scroll on sealing formulas tucked in the corner. Sacrifices indeed.
---
A Knock at the Door
"Knock, knock."
Tobirama's head lifted. "Enter."
The door opened, and four men stepped inside.
"Lord Tobirama," one of them greeted.
"Sarutobi Sasuke. Shimura Shishin," Tobirama acknowledged, rising to his feet. He allowed himself a rare smile.
These were the patriarchs of the Sarutobi and Shimura clans, both strong, respected families. Their decision to join Konoha was a milestone—proof that the village's model was working.
After the formal greetings, the two clan heads explained their plans: both families were preparing to relocate to Konoha permanently.
"That is excellent news," Tobirama said sincerely. "Is there anything the village can do to assist you?"
Sasuke spoke first. "As clan head, I will personally lead our people. We plan to pass by the capital on the way and purchase supplies in bulk. Naturally, we hope the village might provide some financial support. The larger the purchase, the better the price."
Shishin nodded in agreement.
Tobirama tapped his fingers against the desk. The village's coffers were strained, yes—but this was worth it. Symbolism mattered. Supporting the first clans to pledge themselves to Konoha was an investment in loyalty.
He nodded firmly. "Very well. The village will provide funds. And since our own supplies are running low, we will join your purchase. Bulk buying will stretch our resources further."
Then something in Sasuke's words struck him.
"Wait. Did you say you'll pass through the Fire Nation capital?"
"Yes," Sasuke confirmed.
Tobirama's eyes sharpened. He had written to the daimyo twice already, requesting additional support for Konoha. Both replies had been infuriatingly vague.
"Under consideration."
"Actively under consideration."
(In other words: meaningless stalling. Does he think I have endless patience?)
This might be the perfect chance to press harder.
"I will draft another letter," Tobirama said decisively. "This time, it must reach the daimyo's hands directly. If he refuses to act after three requests, I'll send my brother in person. Even the daimyo cannot ignore the Hokage forever."
Sasuke smiled faintly. "Leave the delivery to my son, Hiruzen. He is capable of handling such a task."
Shishin, slower on the uptake, hastily added, "Then I shall send Danzo with him!"
Tobirama gave a short nod. "Very well. Let them both go. It will be good training."
He leaned back, satisfied. Piece by piece, the future was unfolding as he intended.
A flourishing village. New clans joining. Children already being entrusted with missions.
Konoha was growing stronger every day.
And as long as he drew breath, Tobirama would ensure it stayed that way.
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