He turned back toward the shop. Aya had gone home hours ago. Tetsu was asleep, slumped over a crate of herbs in the back. The lantern flickered. The room was quiet again.
✦ Two Days Later – Eastern Marsh Route ✦
Mist hung low over the road. Ryouhei walked behind the mule cart, boots squishing in the muddy path. Kaede led in front, kunai at her hip.
Behind them, Haru guided the cart, grumbling. The mule, stubborn but steady, carried crates filled with soaps, wax wraps, and tightly packed medic kits wrapped in oiled cloth.
Ryouhei adjusted his pack.
Kaede's voice cut through the mist. "There were rogue sightings last night. Three Sound ninja, near the hills south of Grass."
Ryouhei frowned. "Why come this far west?"
"They're not just rogue. They're scouts."
"Orochimaru?"
Kaede was quiet for a moment. "Worse. If they're this deep, they're here to mess with supplies. Trade routes. Maybe more."
"And us."
"And us."
By midday, the path narrowed between cliffs and thick bamboo. The air felt off—too still, too quiet.
Kaede raised her hand. "Something's wrong."
Before Ryouhei could ask, a sharp whistle sliced through the air.
Three figures dropped from the bamboo like falling shadows.
Sound ninja.
Their cloaks fluttered as they landed. Each wore a scratched headband with a musical note. One of them, tall and narrow-eyed, pointed a kunai at the cart.
"Hand over the shipment," he said. "Or we take it."
Kaede stepped forward, blade drawn. "Try it."
The one in the middle sneered. "We're not here to fight. We want the courier."
His eyes locked onto Ryouhei.
"Me?" Ryouhei asked, confused.
"They think you have something important," Kaede muttered. "Stay back."
But the Sound ninja moved first—fast.
Ryouhei ducked as a kunai zipped past his head. The attacker charged. Without thinking, Ryouhei grabbed the nearest crate—one filled with heavy sulfur soap for sewage cleaning—and threw it into the mud.
It hit and burst open, releasing thick, burning steam.
The Sound ninja staggered, coughing.
Kaede didn't wait. Her blade flashed. One of them went down with a cry.
Another tried to jump away—but Haru shoved the mule cart into him, knocking him into the muck.
The last one lunged at Ryouhei again.
Ryouhei kicked a steaming soap bar into his face. The ninja flinched, swatting it away.
Kaede struck. Quick and clean.
Silence returned, except for the soft bubbling of the soap reacting in the water.
Ryouhei leaned on the cart, heart pounding. "That… went better than I thought."
Kaede didn't answer.
She knelt by one of the bodies and pulled a scroll from his pouch. The seal showed a coiled snake.
Her face changed as she saw it.
"Let me guess," Ryouhei said. "Not a recipe?"
"Orders," she said quietly. "Coded. But I know the mark."
"Orochimaru?"
✦ Grass Village – That Night ✦
The village of Kusagakure glowed soft with lantern light. Market stalls clung to the edges of mossy stone paths, and the smell of tea and damp bamboo filled the air.
Yuna met them near the outer post, arms folded.
"You're lucky," she said, eyes flicking to the mud-stained crate and Kaede's bleeding sleeve. "Sound's been crawling up the south ridge for days. You shouldn't have made it through."
Ryouhei gave a tired smile. "We had good soap."
Yuna stared at him. Then, for the first time, cracked a laugh.
"Let's get you inside," she said. "You're not safe yet."
Later, in the quiet of her trading hut, Ryouhei sat at a low table, signing order scrolls while Kaede watched the door.
✦ One Week Later – Grass Village ✦
The market in Grass Village hummed under a rare break in the clouds. Bamboo stalls lined the dirt paths, their woven awnings sagging from yesterday's rain.
Traders haggled over rice sacks and herb bundles, while shinobi with Grass headbands patrolled the edges, their steps silent. The air smelled of wet earth and smoked fish.
Ryouhei Kurozawa stood at his stall, a waxed tarp overhead. His pack was lighter now—most of his soap bars and waterproof wraps sold to Yuna's contacts.
Crates of dried bamboo shoots and thin reed mats sat behind him, traded for his goods. His ledger, open on a crate, showed neat tallies: 300 Ryo from soap, 250 from wraps, and a standing order for 20 medic kits from a River shinobi.
Grass was easier than Amegakure. Traders here didn't flinch at his Rain Village cloak; they just wanted quality goods.
Kaede leaned against a nearby post, her short black hair tucked under a hood. Her kunai pouch was strapped tight, and her eyes scanned the crowd.
She'd been quieter since the ambush on the road, but her presence kept trouble at bay. Yuna, the sharp-eyed trader, sorted scrolls at the stall's edge, muttering about late shipments.
Ryouhei handed a mint soap bar to a farmer, wrapping it in waxed cloth. "Keeps wounds clean," he said. "Better than river water."
The farmer nodded, trading a sack of dried plums. "Heard you're reliable. Don't prove me wrong."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Ryouhei replied, tucking the plums away.
He glanced at his ledger, adding: Farmer – Plums for soap. Wants 5 more next trip.
Everything was steady. Better than steady.
Yuna's shop had become a hub, and Ryouhei's goods were moving faster than he'd expected.
Traders from Shimono and Mizuwa asked for him by name now—"the soap guy from Rain." Even Grass shinobi stopped by, testing his fireproof wraps with skeptical grunts. He was building something real.
But something was off.
It started small. A Grass shinobi's chakra-infused scroll crinkled and sparked when Ryouhei brushed it while handing over a wrap.
The shinobi frowned, muttering about "faulty seals," and left quickly. Ryouhei shrugged it off—bad craftsmanship, probably. Grass wasn't known for perfect seals.
Then it happened again. Yesterday, Yuna's chakra-tagged inventory scroll smudged when Ryouhei held it to check prices.
The ink bled like it was wet, though the scroll was dry. Yuna cursed, blaming her supplier's "cheap paper." Ryouhei nodded. Two scrolls in two days?