The inn. A dimly lit room, shrouded in eerie silence.
Yui gripped the brush tightly, scribbling furiously.
Right now, she had no intention of speaking another word to Reiji—that guy's brain just didn't work like a normal person's.
She just wanted to finish her mission.
Before long, every word Reiji had spoken was carefully transcribed onto the scroll.
Time flew by. In the blink of an eye, a week had passed.
Ryūto's team, still wrapped in that strange atmosphere, completed their patrol and returned to Kumogakure.
After reporting in, the four split up and went their separate ways.
Watching his three teammates rush off, Reiji clicked his tongue and lazily headed home.
Meanwhile, as Reiji was making his way back, Amai received the scroll.
The one containing the intel gathered by Ryūto's team.
Sitting in her office, the youthful and well-endowed Amai slowly unrolled it.
She had planned to read it from the beginning, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the final entries.
The price of pig iron from the Land of Iron had increased by 8%, while export volume had dropped by 10%.
The exchange rate between the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning had shifted from 1:1.1 to 1:1.2.
Because of the war, prices of various crop seeds had surged.
The Land of Rice Fields and Konoha signed a supply agreement for live pigs.
The Land of Wind had lowered mercenary rates at the Bounty Station.
As she read the oddly skewed intel, a faint frown formed between Amai's elegant brows.
As the secretary assisting the Third Raikage in managing the village, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that every major and minor issue passed through her hands before reaching the Raikage.
Which meant this alluring secretary wasn't just keenly aware of ninja affairs—she was just as sharp when it came to economics and politics.
Sensing the weight behind this intel, Amai pressed her lips together, then focused her eyes and began reviewing Reiji's report more carefully.
An 8% increase in the Land of Iron's pig iron export price, and a 10% drop in export volume?
That part was true—but this guy had dug into the details more thoroughly than anyone else.
Still, what was the Land of Iron playing at? Why shoot themselves in the foot like that?
The thought sparked a series of connections in her mind.
The Land of Iron—separated from the Land of Lightning by just a strait. A permanently neutral nation. The land of the samurai. Its main exports: durable katanas and pig iron.
Its neutrality was backed in large part by its thriving iron trade.
As she mulled it over, Amai's gaze drifted to the last entry again.
The Land of Wind had lowered mercenary prices?
Why hadn't she heard about this?
Where did this guy get that kind of intel?
No—wait!
A flash of insight struck her like lightning.
The Land of Wind. Sunagakure. The Third Kazekage's Kekkei Genkai—Magnet Release! Iron Sand!
Everything suddenly clicked into place.
No wonder! No wonder the Land of Iron was restricting exports and jacking up prices. They were trying to sabotage the Land of Wind!
The Third Kazekage had been using Magnet Release to extract iron ore and sell it cheaply, angering the Land of Iron.
But as a neutral northern nation, the Land of Iron couldn't directly challenge the Land of Wind—so they retaliated by hiking up prices.
Naturally, this upset their longtime buyers.
Some of those buyers would turn to the Third Kazekage for iron ore. But he was just one man. His supply could never match that of an entire nation.
So what about the rest—those who couldn't get their hands on iron ore?
Would they blame the Land of Iron?
No. They were merchants too. And merchants didn't hate competitors.
They hated those who broke the unwritten rules of the trade.
So, these merchants—wealthy enough to rival nations—would band together to suppress the Third Kazekage.
Even if he was powerful, he was still the leader of a village. What about the lives of the villagers? Would the impoverished Land of Wind give up on importing other goods?
Left with no choice, they could only lower the price of mercenaries, make concessions, and show signs of surrender.
At that thought, sweat broke out across Amai's delicate face.
Dread—deep, suffocating dread—spread in her chest.
It wasn't just fear of the power of money, but an unease toward Raimei himself.
His intel wasn't just a handful of surface-level facts—it reflected the hidden, treacherous undercurrents of the entire shinobi world.
Snapping back to reality, Amai patted her chest. Her body trembled violently before her breathing gradually steadied.
The currency devaluation between the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning—could that also be linked to the treaty between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rice Fields?
She didn't want to admit it, but deep down, she knew—there had to be a connection.
After a brief moment of silence, Amai forced down her confusion, fully unrolled the scroll, and began reading carefully.
Skipping over the bulk of mission records, her eyes caught on a sentence that, while not especially strange, froze her in place.
"April 12, Yugakure. Raimei: 'So this is where the real Hanamichi First District is!'"
The moment she read that, Amai shot to her feet. Her beautiful pale green eyes widened to the limit.
She stared at those familiar words, and without thinking, a youthful face flashed in her mind. Clenching her teeth, she growled out two words:
"Reiji!"
In truth, she'd sensed something was off when Reiji was drinking tea in her office.
Normally, when someone enjoys good tea, they'd say something like, "This is nice tea, very fragrant."
But in her memory, there had been one kid who once said, "This water tastes pretty good—where's it from?"
That was when she first began to suspect Raimei's true identity.
Nearly three months ago, when the village was attacked, everything had been cast under a dark cloud.
To this day, the true culprit behind the attack remained unknown.
Amid the chaos, aside from the commendations given to many brave shinobi, one kid stood out.
Raimei.
And now, this guy had casually said, "So this is where the real Hanamichi First District is!"
She knew for a fact—back when she was undercover in Amegakure, the little shop directly across from hers had been called Hanamichi First District.
The realization made her breathing hitch, her chest rising and falling in panic.
She stood up, grabbed the scroll, and rushed toward the door, ready to report everything to the Raikage.
But just before she stepped out, she froze.
No! She couldn't be impulsive!
Her instincts told her Raimei had to be Reiji—
But that was just a hunch! There was no concrete evidence!
If she went to her uncle with this guess, he'd believe her. But knowing his personality, he'd lose it, storm out of his office, and go straight after Reiji.
At that point, Reiji would flee—and he definitely could escape!
Given what they knew about the abilities of the one who'd orchestrated the previous attack, Reiji clearly possessed space-time ninjutsu.
And not just any kind—he had long-range teleportation techniques that could instantly move from the Valley of Clouds and Lightning to the Temple of Wind and Thunder.
If her uncle failed to capture him and the situation blew up, then what? Would she have to explain her hunch to the villagers and shinobi?
Tell them she suspected the man who'd saved countless ninja just because of two casual lines? That she'd urged the Raikage to arrest the village's hero?
No!
Absolutely not!
That would shake her uncle's standing.
Even if those rescued ninja said nothing, it would still leave a bitter seed in their hearts.
The thought made Amai sink helplessly back into her chair.
The same sense of powerlessness she'd felt three months ago returned, washing over her again.
Silence settled back over the small office.
...
No one knew how much time passed. Just as the sky outside began to brighten, Amai suddenly stood up.
She'd spent the whole night thinking—and now she had a plan.
This couldn't reach her uncle. If it did, he wouldn't sit still for a second.
More importantly, after a night of calm reflection, doubt had started to creep back in.
After all, aside from his personality, Raimei hadn't changed a bit.
If she was wrong—well, losing her secretary position wouldn't matter.
What truly mattered was that other clans in the village would use it as a reason to accuse the Raikage of favoritism.
It wouldn't shake the Third Raikage's position.
Her uncle still had the strongest fists in the village.
But their clan would take the hit.
Whether her uncle's son—her cousin—could succeed as the Fourth Raikage would become uncertain.
And the Eight-Tails? It would no longer belong to their family.
For a moment, Amai genuinely felt that exposing Raimei's identity was far too risky. The danger outweighed the gain.
No.
If Raimei really was the Reiji she knew...
He was too dangerous to be left alive.