The candle's flickering flame danced against the uneven walls of the small inn room, casting deep shadows that seemed to curl and twist in the dim light. The night outside was silent, save for the faint rustling of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal birds. Inside, the tension was thick enough to choke on.
Shin knelt beside Yugo, his expression unreadable but eyes sharp, taking in the young noble merchant's pale face and the blood seeping from a shallow wound near his temple.
"You must have figured it out by now," Shin said quietly, voice steady. "I am a ninja."
Yugo's breath caught, but he gave no other sign of surprise. Instead, he studied Shin's face as if weighing his words for truth and deception alike.
"Daizo… he's dead," Shin continued. "And there are still a few genin under his command in the rooms down the hall. They're preparing to leave for Konoha come morning. What do you want to do?"
Yugo's fingers flexed against the rough blanket wrapped around him. The pain of his injury was secondary to the storm of thoughts raging in his mind. Daizo was more than a guard; he was a symbol of security for the caravan — now shattered.
"I plan to send a message back to Konoha," Yugo said after a moment, voice low but firm. "Request reinforcements, more guards."
Shin shook his head slowly, eyes narrowing. "That will take time. And no one can guarantee your safety until then."
The room was still again, the weight of that truth pressing in. Yugo's jaw clenched. After several moments of silence, he asked quietly, "What do you suggest?"
Shin rose, moving to a small desk littered with papers and candles. "I will take Daizo's place." His voice was calm, but the promise in his tone was sharp, edged like a blade. "I'll tell the genin that our return is postponed — for reasons best left vague. They will send a message to Konoha that the caravan's delayed. But I will ensure they keep silent about why. It will buy us time."
Yugo stared, then asked, "You're a shinobi?"
Shin's lips curved into a faint, grim smile. "Yes. I serve under a man named Yamato Shion — my leader. I'm his agent here."
There was a moment where Yugo considered his options. The danger was clear; trusting a ninja was risky. But what choice did he have? No one else could protect him or the caravan now.
"Very well," Yugo said. "Do what you must."
Without delay, Shin took up brush and ink and carefully wrote a short message:
Investigate G.M and stop tracking if it becomes dangerous. — Y.S
From the window, a sleek black bird perched silently on the ledge. Shin tied the note securely to its leg and whispered commands in a low tone. With a flutter of wings, the bird vanished into the night, carrying his message to Aya and Riku.
In a modest room in the bustling heart of the Fire Country's capital, Aya and Riku bent over scattered maps, merchant ledgers, and hastily copied notes. Neither had training as shinobi, but both had instincts honed by necessity and survival.
Aya was a wiry girl with sharp amber eyes that missed little. Orphaned young, she had learned to navigate the city's darker corners, reading people as well as any ninja could read a jutsu's hand signs.
Riku was her counterpart — sturdy and quiet, from a minor trader family but driven by curiosity and a restless spirit that refused to settle. Together, they made an unlikely pair, but one forged by trust and shared purpose.
Aya unfolded the note sent by their leader — Yamato Shion — the handwriting crisp but urgent.
"It says to investigate 'G.M'," she read aloud, voice low. "And to stop tracking if it gets dangerous."
Riku frowned, rubbing his chin. "G.M… that could mean anything."
Aya's eyes flickered with determination. "Not if you know the right circles. G.M is shorthand in merchant trade for Gennosuke Mugen."
Riku blinked. "The head of the Mugen Company?"
Aya nodded. "The man controls most of the warehouses near the harbor and the mountain roads that connect the Fire Country to the Land of Lightning. His influence runs deep — some say too deep."
For hours they worked, piecing together what they could from whispered rumors and ledger scraps. Dock workers talked in hushed tones about shipments that disappeared before reaching the market, while guards and minor officials turned blind eyes for the right price.
In one shadowed tavern, an old merchant leaned in close and whispered, "If you want to survive in this trade, you learn where the real money hides — in the dark corners, away from the sun."
Aya caught a glimpse of a faded stamp on a crate ledger — a red ring, faint but unmistakable.
Riku's eyes widened. "That's the same symbol as the red-ring scrolls."
Aya nodded grimly. "Gennosuke Mugen may not just be a merchant. He might be part of something bigger. Something dangerous."