The cart was loaded with all kinds of goods: soap, waterproof cloth wraps, bamboo shoots, Mist-made cloth, beeswax bricks, and metal scraps. It was a solid haul: 1550 Ryo from sales, plus 300 worth in trades. Orders from Yuna and a River shinobi made the trip more than worth it.
But Ryouhei wasn't thinking about the money. His fingers were still tingling.
Back in Grass, five different chakra seals had sparked or burned just from being near him—scrolls, pouches, all glitching. Kaede had blamed it on "cheap Grass seals," but Ryouhei wasn't so sure.
It's not the seals. It's me.
He glanced at a chakra-tagged scroll poking out from Haru's herb crate. He reached over to "secure" a crate of soap and brushed the scroll by accident. A spark popped. The seal faded into ash, leaving a faint burn mark.
His heart jumped, but he kept his face calm.
Kaede turned, frowning at the sound. "Again? Grass seals suck."
"Probably the rain," Ryouhei replied smoothly. "Cheap ink doesn't last in weather like this."
Kaede shrugged it off. "Just don't mess up the kits."
She didn't suspect him. As far as she knew, he didn't have chakra, so there was no reason to question it. But inside, Ryouhei felt a twist in his gut.
That's six now. Not the Grass. It's me.
If Kaede or Konan figured out what was really going on, they'd see him as a threat. He needed answers—but not yet. First, he had work to do.
By dusk, Amegakure's steel towers rose out of the mist. Rain beat harder now, bouncing off rooftops. As they reached his shop, Tetsu and Aya ran out to greet them.
Tetsu grabbed crates, while Aya started barking orders: "Hina's asking for wraps! Koji needs soap for his inn!"
The warm scent of cedar wood and wax from the shop hit Ryouhei as he stepped inside. He tossed Tetsu a bamboo shoot with a smirk. "Move it, kid. We're swimming in Ryo."
"Ryo?" Tetsu caught the shoot, laughing. "You're buying ramen then, boss!"
"In your dreams,"
The Grass trip was a win, but the seal problem was still eating at him. Something was wrong with him—or maybe it was something strange about how he ended up in this world.
He remembered that static feeling in his hands when he arrived. He needed to figure it out—quietly.
The next morning, the shop was alive with work. Crates were stacked high. The air smelled of warm wax. Aya was sorting herbs like a pro, and Tetsu was sketching card ideas—foxes and hawks, a weird idea Kaede had mentioned.
Ryouhei sat in the corner, outlining something, scribbling notes under a cloth. He was working on something new—but it wasn't ready yet.
He leaned back and flipped through his ledger like nothing was wrong.
I have no chakra. I don't use jutsu. But seals break around me. Was it a glitch from his arrival? A curse? Or a gift?
He'd test it—maybe with Tetsu—but he had to be careful. With Soma spreading lies and Konan expecting 50 flawless medical kits, one mistake could cost everything.
That night, the rain tapped the roof in a steady rhythm. Ryouhei sat by lantern light, making a plan in his mind.
Konan is my key. Not just her trust—her heart.
He wasn't here to play hero. He wanted control. He wanted safety. And Konan was the way to get it.
She was the lock. He'd pick it—slowly, carefully.
His plan was long-term and selfish. First, deliver more than she asked for—60 kits instead of 50. Add better soap, sleeker wraps. Make her look good in front of Pain. Make her rely on him.
Next, grow the market. Put her symbol—her angel wings—on everything. Brand it: "Angel Kits." Donate a portion to orphans. Let her hear Tetsu say, "Ryouhei's doing it all for the Angel." Plant the right words in the right places.
Then, get closer. Offer tea during reports. Use cedar scents—her favorite. Flirt gently. Give her a bar of soap like it's a secret gift. Later, launch a "Dawn" soap line, dedicated to her pain, her losses—without saying it out loud.
Eventually, whisper to her in quiet moments. Touch her hand. Tell her she's not alone.
Still, the seals kept failing. If Konan saw the truth—if she connected the dots—she wouldn't hesitate...
So he had to play this perfectly.
His thoughts drifted to Tsunade. Her name was being whispered all through Grass. Konoha needed a new Hokage—and she was the front-runner.
Ryouhei saw another chance.
First, get his supplies into the Land of Fire—medic kits, wraps, soaps. Send them as "samples" through Yuna's contacts. Build a name.
Then, bait Tsunade herself. She loved gambling and sake. So he'd create something special—"Rain's Luck," a dice game in a bamboo box. Or a rare sake made with Grass herbs, sold only in high-end Konoha bars. Make it exclusive. Make her want it.
Once she came asking, he'd offer her a private batch. "Just for you," he'd say. And then hook her—with medic supplies, with rare drinks, with clever games. Make her need him.
Two powerful women. One plan. Konan's the lock. Tsunade's the key. I win.
A few days later, Ryouhei stood in Konan's tower. Rain hit the metal walls like drums. Her paper wings shifted slightly as she watched him.
"You're doing well," she said. "Good profits. Smart deals. Keep going."
Ryouhei nodded, a calm smile on his face. "Everything I do is for the village."
She looked at him a second longer, unreadable. Then slid a small package across her desk. "Deliver this to a Grass contact. Three days. No mistakes. Show me I can trust you."
He took it and bowed. "Of course."
Konan didn't say a word. But he felt her gaze burning into his back.
Back at the shop, Ryouhei stared at the package.
✦ The Next Morning ✦
Yuna's stall was full of herbs, jars, and cracked pottery. She was arguing with a River trader when Ryouhei walked up.
"Grass contact. East market. Bamboo fountain. You know it?"
Yuna waved the trader off and smiled. "That's the shady part of the Grass Village. Ninja deals happen there—scrolls, secrets, worse. Your contact is probably one of them. Got a name?"
"No," Ryouhei said. "I just need the best way there."
She grabbed a scrap of cloth and drew a quick map. "Take the Eastern Marsh road straight to the east gate. Don't use shortcuts—bandits hit those. And be careful. Grass ninja are jumpy since Konoha incident." She sniffed the air near his pack. "What's in there? Smells like trouble."