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The Land of Fire. Kyoto.
The triennial Bamboo Harvest Festival arrived right on schedule, sweeping the ancient capital into a sea of jubilation and clamor.
The streets and alleys were adorned with lanterns and colorful decorations. The flow of people was endless. The shouts of vendors from various shops and temporary stalls, the laughter and chatter of tourists, and the playing of festival music wove together into a vibrant, grand symphony.
The origins of the Bamboo Harvest Festival traced back to a distant, ethereal age of myths.
Legend had it that during a chaotic era in ancient times, a brilliant shooting star—or perhaps a celestial maiden—fell from the High Heavenly Plains into the mortal realm, landing in a verdant bamboo forest.
A goddess was born from the bamboo. Possessing peerless beauty and the boundless power to quell disasters and banish evil spirits, she was revered by later generations as the "Princess of the Bamboo Forest" or the "Bamboo Goddess."
According to the stories, she toured the nations, subjugated demons, and brought the first order and peace to the chaotic human world.
To commemorate this goddess who brought peace and hope, the Land of Fire established a tradition at its very founding.
Every three years, in early May when the bamboo forests were teeming with life and new shoots were sprouting, Kyoto would host the grandest Bamboo Harvest Festival to give thanks for the divine grace and pray for national peace and prosperity.
Right now, in an open-air plaza within one of the festival's core areas, the roar of the crowd was deafening, the sheer volume threatening to blow the roof off the temporary colorful canopy.
This was the venue for the finals of the "Number One in the Land of Fire" Culinary Competition.
Dozens of temporary cooking stations were lined up neatly. Chefs from all over the country were processing their ingredients with intense focus or nervous energy. Steam, cooking smoke, and the mouth-watering aromas of food mixed together into a visually and aromatically striking heatwave.
At the judges' table, over a dozen elegantly dressed, stern-faced judges paced back and forth, their hawk-like gazes sweeping over every contestant's station.
The crowd of onlookers was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Excited discussions, curious peering, and gasps of recognition upon spotting a famous chef merged into a buzzing background hum.
Amidst this boiling chaos, the cooking station occupied by Shinichi Higashino seemed to exist in its own little world, drawing many surprised and curious glances.
The reason was simple: this contestant was wearing a sharp, dark-colored shinobi combat uniform with a white chef's apron tied over it. Although he had removed his forehead protector, his crisp, battle-ready aura clashed completely with the traditional chefs around him, who were mostly either heavily built or shrewd and experienced.
You've got to be kidding me, brat. Do you actually know how to do this?
Somewhere in the spectator stands, Tsunade stared at her student—whose aesthetic was wildly out of place in this setting—and her eyes involuntarily widened a fraction.
She had originally assumed that his entering this culinary competition was mostly a young man's whim, or perhaps he had some other ulterior motive. But after watching him effortlessly crush the competition over the past few days, slicing through the preliminaries and semi-finals to reach this ultimate final round, she finally realized... Is this kid actually playing for real?
"When Shinichi graduated early last year, he hosted a thank-you dinner at the Ajino Takumi restaurant. Boss Fujiwara said Shinichi was the best chef in their restaurant, but I thought he was just joking," Shizune whispered to Kurenai beside her as she watched Shinichi expertly process his ingredients on the field.
"I never imagined Shinichi had this kind of hobby and skill." Kurenai gently covered her mouth, a smile rippling through her ruby-red eyes. She found it quite amusing to watch Shinichi's focused profile, which looked entirely different from his usual demeanor during missions.
Just then, a middle-aged man dressed in a magnificent official robe, bearing an elegant demeanor, pushed through the crowd and walked straight up to Tsunade. He bowed respectfully and spoke:
"Princess Tsunade, His Highness the Daimyo noticed you observing the competition here. He specifically ordered me to invite you to the main VIP seating area above. The view is much better, and it's far more comfortable."
Princess?!
Shizune and Kurenai instantly whipped their heads around, their eyes wide and perfectly round as they stared at their instructor in disbelief.
Facing her students' shocked gazes, Tsunade merely waved a hand dismissively and said to the official, "Thank the Daimyo for his kindness on my behalf, but I'm fine just watching with my students right here. I won't go up and bother him."
The official politely tried to persuade her a couple more times, but seeing her firm stance, he didn't press the issue. He bowed again and took his leave.
As soon as the official was out of earshot, Shizune and Kurenai immediately aimed their burning curiosity at Tsunade.
"T-Tsunade-sensei..." Shizune couldn't help but ask softly. "Are you... actually a princess?"
"Ah, that." Tsunade picked at her ear, her tone utterly casual. "It's ancient history. It's no big deal, just an empty title. I stopped caring about it a long time ago."
Seeing that she clearly didn't want to talk about it, Shizune and Kurenai exchanged a glance.
Although the cat of curiosity was scratching wildly at their hearts, they wisely chose not to press further.
They turned their attention back to the fiery competition, focusing on their teammate who was currently applying his extraordinary shinobi control to the ultimate art of cooking.
Time ticked by. The atmosphere in the venue gradually shifted from boiling busyness to tense anticipation.
One by one, the contestants finished their creations. They meticulously plated their dishes—which embodied their blood, sweat, and culinary skills—and presented them to the judges' table.
The judges, expressions stern, tasted each dish one by one, exchanging hushed opinions and occasionally jotting down notes on their scoring boards.
For every dish they deemed outstanding, the most essential and delicious portion was carefully scooped into a specially made, exquisite ceramic bowl. A server would then carry it on a gilded lacquer tray and rush it to the most luxuriously decorated VIP box with the best view of the venue.
Sitting in that box was the nominal supreme host of this competition, and the highest ruler of the country: the Daimyo of the Land of Fire.
The judging proceeded tensely. Occasionally, hushed praises could be heard from the judges' table:
"This Sea of Clouds Stew... the heat control is masterful, and the broth is rich and mellow. Rare indeed!"
"Amber Braised Pork. Full of creativity, with a rich layer of textures. Not bad at all!"
Eventually, the judges' attention narrowed down to the final two dishes presented.
One was the signature dish of another veteran, renowned chef. The other came from Shinichi Higashino.
Several judges leaned in, carefully observing the color and taking in the aroma before using special small spoons to taste a tiny portion.
After a brief silence, a low argument broke out.
"This 'Golden Dew Under Snow'... whether it's the ingredient selection, knife work, seasoning, or the artistic conception of the plating, it's absolutely flawless. It deserves the championship." An elderly judge stroked his beard, taking the lead to state his opinion.
"But this... Shinichi Higashino's 'Jade Condensation on Whale Waves'... The exquisite handling of the ingredients, the absolute mastery over heat and timing, and the final presentation of that ultimate, vibrant sweetness and pure texture—it's truly breathtaking! This isn't just cooking; it's more like a precise jutsu!" Another, younger judge had clearly been moved by Shinichi's dish, his tone excited.
"Hmph. Cooking is cooking. Don't drag 'jutsu' into this!" The older judge dismissed the idea. "Furthermore, this man is not a member of the Culinary Association. He is a shinobi."
"If we bestow the crown of this competition upon a shinobi, how will the outside world view the Land of Fire's culinary community when word gets out? Are we to let the world think that those of us who have dedicated decades of our lives to the culinary arts are inferior at cooking to a shinobi who makes a living by killing? What kind of scandal would that be!"
These words drew nods of agreement from several conservative judges.
For these men—who viewed cooking as a lofty, traditional art form with its own exclusive circles and unspoken rules—the idea of an outsider, especially a blade-wielding killer shinobi, claiming the highest honor was truly hard to swallow.
"But... judging purely on the food, this 'Jade Condensation on Whale Waves' is indeed slightly superior..." the young judge attempted to argue.
"How many years have you even been in the culinary world? How many storms have you weathered? Do you even understand what true heritage and foundation mean?"
The older judge cut him off, his tone unyielding. "In terms of seniority, I am..."
Hearing this, the younger judge immediately fell silent and spoke no more.