The Land of Fire, the capital.
The once-every-three-years "Taketori Festival" had arrived as scheduled, sweeping this ancient capital into an ocean of celebration and clamor.
Streets and alleys were decorated with lanterns and colorful banners, crowds flowed like weaving threads, and the shouts of shopkeepers and temporary stall vendors, the laughter of tourists, and the music of the festival blended together into a lively and magnificent symphony.
The origins of the "Taketori Festival" could be traced back to the distant and ethereal age of myth.
It was said that in the chaotic ancient era, a brilliant meteor—or, as some claimed, a celestial maiden—fell from the High Heavens and descended to the mortal world, landing within a lush bamboo forest.
From within the bamboo, the goddess was born, possessing peerless beauty and boundless power to quell calamities and purge evil spirits. Later generations honored her as the "Princess of the Bamboo Grove" or the "Taketori Goddess."
According to legend, she traveled among the nations, suppressing demons and monsters, bringing 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 the very founding of the nation.
Every three years, at the beginning of May—when the bamboo groves regained their vitality and fresh shoots burst forth—the grandest "Taketori Festival" would be held in the capital, giving thanks for divine grace and praying for the nation's prosperity and the people's safety.
At this moment, inside one of the festival's central areas—the open-air plaza—the noise of the crowd was deafening, the waves of sound almost lifting the roof of the temporary decorative canopy.
Here was the final venue of the Land of Fire's Premier Gourmet Competition.
Dozens of temporary cooking stations were arranged in neat rows. Chefs from across the nation were handling the ingredients in their hands—some focused, some tense—while steam, cooking smoke, and the fragrance of food blended into a surging wave of heat with an overwhelming presence.
At the judges' table, more than a dozen well-dressed and stern-faced judges moved about inspecting the stations, their eyes sweeping over every contestant's workbench like hawks.
The surrounding spectators were packed shoulder to shoulder. Excited discussions, curious glances, and startled exclamations as people pointed out certain famous chefs merged into a constant humming background.
Amid this boiling uproar, however, the cooking station where Shinichi stood seemed to form its own separate world, drawing many surprised and curious gazes.
The reason was simple.
This contestant was dressed in a neat dark ninja combat outfit, with a white chef's apron worn over it. Although his forehead protector had been removed, his sharp and capable bearing still clashed sharply with the surrounding chefs—most of whom were either broad-shouldered and burly or seasoned and worldly traditional cooks.
"No way… kid, you actually know how to cook?"
Somewhere in the spectator stands, Tsunade stared at that oddly out-of-place student on the competition field, her eyes involuntarily widening a little.
She had originally thought that this guy had come to enter the gourmet competition mostly on a youthful whim, or perhaps because he had some other plan. But after watching him fight his way through the rounds over the past few days, advancing from the preliminaries and semifinals into this final match, she had finally realized… this kid seemed to be seriously doing this for real?
"When Shinichi graduated early last year, he held a thank-you banquet at Ajino Takumi, and Boss Fujiwara there said Shinichi was the best chef in their restaurant. I thought he was just joking." Shizune looked at Shinichi skillfully handling the ingredients in the arena and softly said to Kurenai beside her.
"I never expected Shinichi to have this kind of hobby and skill." Kurenai lightly covered her mouth, a smile rippling through her crimson eyes. Looking at Shinichi's focused profile—so completely different from how he usually looked while carrying out missions—she found it rather interesting.
Just then, a middle-aged man dressed in splendid official robes and carrying himself with proper decorum passed through the crowd, walked straight up to Tsunade, bowed respectfully, and said, "Your Highness the Princess, Daimyō-sama noticed that you are watching the competition here and has specially ordered me to come and invite you to move to the main guest seating above. The view is better there, and it is also more comfortable."
Your Highness the Princess?!
Shizune and Kurenai instantly turned their heads, both pairs of eyes opening wide as they stared at their teacher in disbelief.
Faced with their shocked gazes, Tsunade merely waved a hand casually and said to the official, "Please thank the Daimyō for his kindness on my behalf. I'll just stay here and watch with my students. I won't go up and trouble him."
The official politely urged her another couple of times, but seeing that Tsunade's attitude was firm, he did not persist. After bowing once more, he took his leave.
After the official had gone some distance away, Shizune and Kurenai immediately turned curious looks toward Tsunade.
Shizune could not help asking in a low voice, "S-Sensei… you're… a princess too?"
"Ah, that." Tsunade picked at her ear and said in a casual tone, "That's all old history. It's nothing worth making a fuss over. Just an empty title, that's all. I stopped caring about it long ago."
Seeing that she looked unwilling to talk more about it, Shizune and Kurenai exchanged a glance.
Although the cat of curiosity was scratching furiously inside them, they wisely chose not to ask further.
They turned their attention back to the bustling competition grounds once more, focusing on their companion, who was currently applying his extraordinary shinobi control to cooking to the utmost.
Second by second, time passed, and the atmosphere inside the arena gradually shifted from boiling busyness to solemn anticipation.
One contestant after another completed their dish, carefully plating the food into which they had poured their effort and skill, then presenting it before the judges' table.
The judges wore grave expressions as they tasted them one by one, quietly exchanging opinions and recording notes on their scoring boards from time to time.
For every dish that they considered outstanding, the most refined and most delicious portion would be carefully divided into a specially made small ceramic bowl. A waiter would carry it on a gilded lacquer tray and quickly deliver it to the most luxuriously decorated VIP private room with the best view of the venue.
There sat the nominal highest host of the competition, as well as the supreme ruler of the nation—the Daimyō of the Land of Fire.
The judging proceeded in tense concentration. From time to time, subdued exclamations of praise could be heard from the judges' table: "This Cloud-Sea Simmered Dish—the control of the heat is seasoned, the broth rich and full-bodied. Rare indeed!"
"Amber-Braised Meat—very creative, with layered textures in the taste. Not bad at all!"
In the end, the judges' attention focused on the final two bowls of dishes presented.
One was the signature dish of another veteran master chef, while the other came from Shinichi.
Several judges leaned closer, carefully examining the color and inhaling the aroma. At last, each of them scooped up a small portion with specially made spoons to taste.
After a brief silence, a low argument began.
"This Snow-Beneath-Golden-Dew dish—whether in ingredient selection, knife work, seasoning, or the artistic conception of the plating—is flawless. The championship is well deserved." An elderly judge stroked his beard and spoke first.
"But this… Higashino Shinichi's Whale-Wave Condensed Jade—the exquisite handling of the ingredients, the control over heat and timing, and the final presentation of that ultimate sweetness and purity, brimming with vitality—are truly astonishing! This is not merely cooking; it is more like a kind of precise technique!" Another, younger judge had clearly been moved by Shinichi's dish and spoke with excitement.
"Hmph. Cooking is cooking. What nonsense about techniques!" The earlier elderly judge was unconvinced. "Moreover, this person is not a member of the Culinary Association, but a ninja."
"If the crown of this competition is awarded to a ninja, how will the outside world view the culinary world of the Land of Fire when word spreads? Are we to let people think that those of us who have studied cooking for decades are actually inferior at cooking compared to a ninja whose profession is killing? What kind of order would that be!"
These words drew nods of agreement from several conservative judges.
For people like them, who regarded cuisine as a noble traditional art with its own circle and rules, allowing an outsider—especially a knife-wielding ninja—to take the highest honor was indeed difficult to accept.
"But judging the dish purely as a dish, this Whale-Wave Condensed Jade is indeed slightly superior…" the younger judge tried to argue.
"You've only been in the culinary world for a few years. How many storms have you seen? Do you even understand what true foundation and heritage mean?"
The elderly judge interrupted him, his tone firm. "As for seniority, I have—"
Hearing this, the younger judge immediately fell silent and said nothing more.
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