"So much money isn't a small number. How could we carry it on us?"
Ishiwa, having recovered a little, badly wanted the home-delivery bonus, but none of them had brought enough cash. The other Kage all nodded; in these times, who walks around with billions of ryō stuffed in their pockets?
"I'll pay! I brought money!"
All heads turned as a certain balding man with a "wise" look in his eyes stepped forward—Byakuren, First Mizukage. He reluctantly pulled out a scroll bulging with storage seals, face twisted with pain. He had brought all of Kiri's funds along, fearing Iwa might backstab them while they were away.
"Mizukage-dono, bold!" Gin's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected anyone to really have enough.
Byakuren slapped the scroll into Gin's hand. "One hundred billion ryō. Count it. Refund me the excess."
Gin shook his head with a regretful smile. "Afraid there won't be change. Shipping fee's a hundred billion per Bijū. You're just covered."
Byakuren nearly keeled over, but with the beasts already bought, he had no choice but to swallow the bitter pill.
Gin casually tossed the scroll to Tobirama. "I don't like money, and I hate counting it even more. You're fast, White-hair. You handle it."
Tobirama caught it, frozen. He wanted to throw it back, but this was a hundred billion. His hands refused to let go.
"…Of course. Konoha's speedster counts fastest."
He sat down and became a merciless money-counting machine, eyes bloodshot.
Ishiwa ordered Wu, "Return to the village. Bring more funds and more men."
A likewise cautious Raikage nudged his aide. "Little Ai, hurry back for money."
They would have to stay in Konoha a few more days.
Hashirama beamed. "Rest well, everyone. Once all the Bijū are handed over, we'll sign."
Only Retto, Wind Shadow, sat sour and silent. Suna had gained nothing, his face black as soot. He nearly exploded but forced himself to swallow his anger. If Suna broke ranks now, they'd be trampled by the other great nations. He would wait.
The Bijū expo thus concluded.
That night, Gin followed the Raikage's instructions to their lodging. Instead of an inn, he found a building glowing with red lanterns:
"…This can't be right," Gin muttered, eyes narrowing. He slipped inside.
A mama-san greeted him. She was elderly but still well dressed—prime material for those who liked their obaasan. Gin's hopeful mood died immediately.
Scanning the list, he realized it was a 24-hour foot spa offering food, lodging, and massage. No "special" services.
"…You guys are really staying at a bathhouse?"
He was about to complain when a voice called from above. "Ah! Gin-brother, up here!" It was the Raikage.
Relieved, Gin followed the mama-san upstairs. Curiously, she became shy and deferential the moment she saw the Raikage. Gin's eyes widened. Don't tell me… Ai-brother likes them… aged?
He shuddered. "Respect people's tastes," he muttered to himself.
Inside, Raikage placed the gray Driver device Gin had given him on the table. "I can't figure this out. Nothing scratches it. What is it?"
Gin lifted the Driver with solemnity. "This, my friend, is a ninja tool. A Driver. With it, one can borrow the power of a Bijū… and transform into a Bijū Rider."
"Yes. A warrior who uses a Bijū's power."
The Raikage's eyes widened. "That would give one man the strength of a Bijū!"
Gin nodded, then sighed. "But the conditions are harsh. First, you need a Bijū card—the bond. Second, you must gain the Bijū's approval… or defeat it head-on."
Raikage frowned. "And the difference?"
"If acknowledged, you wield full power safely. If forced, each use corrupts you with violent chakra. Sooner or later… you'd lose yourself."
The Raikage swallowed hard. He already knew how terrifying Bijū were. Now he imagined warriors wearing that strength.
"And each transformation costs life force," Gin added. "So it's no toy."
The Raikage leaned back, stunned. "Still… with such weapons, Kumo will rise to the heavens…"
Gin smirked. Let them test it for me. They'll be the guinea pigs.
Then Raikage asked casually, "But Konoha isn't keeping a Bijū to guard itself?"
Gin waved it off. "Bijū? We don't need them. Hashirama is a Bijū god. Any beast curls its tail before him. And my cousin? His Sharingan is their natural bane. With those two, Fire Country fears nothing."
The Raikage chuckled but silently noted: Uchiha Madara is terrifying.
Just then, Raikage said, "Come, Gin-brother. About that 'foot washing' I promised…"
Gin brightened instantly. "Not regular, right?"
Raikage smirked. "Do I look like a regular man?"
As Gin rubbed his hands in anticipation, imagining curvy attendants, a chill voice whispered behind him:
"Oh? And what else do you want?"
Gin froze. Slowly, sweat pouring down his back, he turned.
Uchiha Hikari, his childhood friend, stood smiling sweetly. A smile that promised murder.
"…I'm here on business, Hikari. I swear on our ancestors!" Gin raised his hand solemnly.
Her eyes narrowed, but she relented—just as Raikage's booming voice outside called, "Gin-brother! I booked number 36 for you—two hours!"
Gin paled. Hikari's eyes flashed red. She drew her scarlet blade.
"If you won't be honest… then I'll cut it off."
Delegates returned with money, and Konoha's economy boomed.
In the meeting hall, the five Kage again gathered. Tobirama, haggard with dark circles, croaked, "Funds are correct." He had counted so much cash he swore never to touch money again.
"Excellent work, Tobirama," Hashirama said warmly. He pulled out the peace treaty. "Please, sign."
One by one, the Kage signed—until Retto paused, staring thoughtfully at Hashirama.
"Is something wrong, Wind Shadow-dono?" Hashirama asked.
"No problem. Wind Country desires peace. It's just…"
Tobirama snapped, "No money!"
Retto waved his hands. "Not money. Our land is plagued by sandstorms. Our people suffer. What we want… is the Hokage's help."
Hashirama blinked. Tobirama's eyes narrowed.
"You mean… greening the desert?"
"Yes. We heard of your Mokuton. They say you can raise a forest overnight."
For Wind Country, green was more precious than gold.
"Leave it to me!" Hashirama agreed instantly.
Retto bowed. "On behalf of the people, thank you."
Tobirama hissed, "No! My brother is Hokage, not your gardener!"
But Retto pressed. Tobirama finally compromised: "Fine. One city only."
"The capital," Retto snapped.
"Absolutely not. …Here. This place—Lōran."
At the name, Retto's aide, Shamon, trembled. His hometown. His pleading eyes softened Retto's heart.
"Very well. Lōran it is."
Thus, the treaty was signed. For now, peace returned to the ninja world. But how long would it last?
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