"Nitta-kun, what's your take on this ninja, Amamiya Raizen?"
The daimyo of the Fire Country swirled a fan patterned with flames in his hand, tilting his gaze toward the empty expanse beside the palace.
A ripple of movement stirred the air. From nowhere, a middle-aged shinobi dressed in black appeared and bowed low. "An extremely capable young man, Your Majesty. His ninjutsu… it's unusual. I suspect space-time techniques."
The daimyo chuckled, a low, hoarse sound that carried faint amusement. "Ho ho… then perhaps he should escort the treasure to the Ghost Country. Do you think he'll agree?"
"No one can defy the daimyo's decree," Nitta whispered, fading into the shadows as he spoke. The daimyo's lips curved with satisfaction.
Sure enough, when Raizen returned to his residence, his arrival coincided with orders from the daimyo. He and Khaki were instructed to follow palace attendants to a secluded hall.
"The treasure you've contributed, Khaki, is significant on a global scale," the daimyo remarked lazily, eyes scanning the kneeling merchant. "If you wish, you may conduct business with the Fire Country."
Khaki froze, heart hammering in disbelief. The daimyo's words were clear: his modest trade had just been elevated to official royal merchant status—a meteoric rise. "Yes! Your Majesty!" he stammered, nearly trembling with excitement.
Satisfied, the daimyo turned his gaze to Raizen. "Are you willing to take on a task for me?"
"A task?" Raizen's brow lifted. He didn't decline immediately—after all, the daimyo's ministers were nominally under his command. Refusing outright could endanger the Amamiya Clan, and Raizen was hardly foolish enough to risk that.
"The treasure Khaki delivered will ultimately be returned to the Witch of the Ghost Country," the daimyo continued. "I want you to escort it there personally. Deliver it into her hands. What do you say?"
Raizen frowned, thinking fast. "I don't know this witch, and I don't know the route to the Ghost Country."
The daimyo waved a hand. "Don't worry. I've prepared a document recognized by the witch. Show it, and you can enter and leave the Ghost Country freely. And for the route… the court painter has mapped it with utmost precision."
Raizen's lips twitched. He had expected as much; the daimyo had anticipated any objection. All he could do was nod with a touch of helpless resignation. "Understood."
"Ho ho, excellent. Prepare yourself and depart early. There are… new developments ahead," the daimyo said, sweeping his sleeves and signaling the end of the audience. Raizen and Khaki left the hall, both aware of the hidden meanings behind the words.
As they walked, Khaki turned to Raizen, eyes bright with gratitude. "Honestly… I owe you my life. If you ever need help, I'll find you. I promise."
Raizen gave a small nod. Khaki's loyalty and sense of honor were clear; he was a merchant who valued friendship and integrity. Not the type to betray an ally, and certainly someone worth keeping close.
Once the arrangements were settled, Raizen sent a pigeon to his family, informing them he would be away on the daimyo's orders. He replenished his explosive clay, purchased a stock of kunai, and crafted special Flying Thunder God kunai for the journey. With the Ghost Country's passage document and the newly drawn map in hand, Raizen bid farewell to Khaki and the daimyo.
Ahead lay the road to the Ghost Country—a path filled with unknown dangers, political intrigue, and the constant hum of chakra tension. And Raizen, as always, was ready.