The village of Clear-Water was a quiet, struggling settlement at the base of the mountain. The local economy was currently in a slump due to a poor harvest, and the general store owner, an old man named Tanaka, was gloomily doing inventory when the bell above his door jingled.
Shion strutted into the store, her bat wings tucked tightly under a heavy trench coat to avoid drawing suspicion. She slammed the heavy burlap sack onto the counter.
"Greetings, mortal merchant!" Shion announced, striking a dramatic pose. "I have descended from the peak to engage in the primitive exchange of physical goods! I require sodium chloride and your finest carbonated sugar-water!"
Tanaka blinked at the eccentric girl. "Uh... we don't do handouts, miss. Do you have yen?"
"I am forbidden from handling fiat currency," Shion scoffed. "My Master is a strict isolationist. But I offer you something of far greater intrinsic value!"
She opened the sack, pulling out a single Kurosawa Daikon Turnip.
It was the size of a football. It practically glowed with a pure, pearlescent white sheen. The skin was flawless.
Tanaka raised an eyebrow. "A turnip? Miss, the harvest was bad, but we aren't starving. I can't trade salt for a root vegetable."
"It is not merely a root vegetable!" Shion insisted.
She wasn't lying. These turnips were grown in soil aerated by a Level 90 Oni, watered by a gladiator's magical conjurations, and protected from pests by Ayase, who spent her nights slicing mosquitoes out of the air with iaijutsu. The resulting crop was essentially a high-grade health potion disguised as a salad ingredient.
Tanaka sighed, his arthritis acting up as he rubbed his lower back. "Look, miss. I'll give you a single bottle of cola for it, just so you'll leave—"
Before he could finish, Shion snapped the tip off the turnip and shoved it into the old man's mouth.
Tanaka chewed out of pure reflex. He swallowed.
[Target Status: Tanaka] [Effect: +500 HP. Status Ailment 'Arthritis' Cleared. 'Fatigue' Cleared. 'Cataracts' Cleared.]
Tanaka's eyes widened. A surge of pure, unadulterated vitality rushed through his veins. His back popped, straightening out for the first time in twenty years. His blurry vision snapped into 4K resolution. He felt like he could bench-press a pickup truck.
"What... what did I just eat?" Tanaka gasped, staring at his trembling, youthful hands.
Shion grinned, her succubus charm flaring as she smelled blood in the economic water. "A premium, zero-pesticide mountain turnip. Now... let's talk exchange rates, Tanaka-san. I see you have a satellite dish on your roof. Is it operational?"
Tanaka looked at the sack of twenty-nine remaining turnips. He didn't see vegetables. He saw miracles. He saw the cure to the village's ailments. He saw the ultimate commodity.
"Take the dish," Tanaka slammed his hands on the counter. "Take the salt. Take the soda. Take the deed to my nephew's moped. I want that sack."