The morning light filtered softly through the paper screens, painting the room in pale gold.
Ishida rose early, washed his face in cold water, dressed in a fresh dark-blue robe he brought with him and ate a simple breakfast of rice and pickled vegetables brought by an attendant moments earlier.
By mid-morning, he was ready.
Katsuro and Sumi waited downstairs in the common room, still alert despite the short night.
Ishida joined them at a low table, accepting a cup of hot tea.
"Good morning," he said pleasantly. "I trust the night passed quietly?"
Katsuro nodded. "It did. The teahouse you mentioned, the scarred man was there. Same corner table. Alone. Stayed for two cups, then left on foot toward the eastern gate district."
Ishida's expression did not change, but he inclined his head slightly. "My thanks. That is useful to know."
Sumi watched him over the rim of her cup, curiosity plain in her eyes, but she asked nothing.
Ishida finished his tea and stood. "I have several visits to make today. The first will be brief. You may accompany me if you wish, or remain here, whichever suits your duties."
"We'll come," Katsuro said at once. "At a distance, if you prefer."
"A discreet distance is fine," Ishida replied with a small smile. "I would not wish to alarm anyone with the sudden appearance of shinobi."
They stepped out into the street together, then parted—Katsuro and Sumi melting into the flow of early civilians a dozen paces behind.
Ishida's first destination was only a short walk away: the Morita Lodging Line's main office, tucked behind one of their larger worker inns near the southern market.
The Morita family had been in the Capital for generations, running clean, affordable lodging for laborers, traveling craftsmen, and minor merchants who couldn't afford Katsuragi prices.
Their rooms were always full enough to survive, but never prosperous enough to expand. Exactly the kind of steady, overlooked operation the young master favored.
A young clerk greeted Ishida at the door and, upon hearing his name, quickly fetched the head of the house.
Morita Daiji was a heavyset man in his late fifties, hair more gray than black, with the permanently tired eyes of someone who dealt with late rent and broken plumbing more often than profit.
"Ishida-san," he said warmly, bowing in the courtyard. "It has been… what, two years? Welcome. Come, let us speak inside."
Ishida returned the bow and followed without comment on the time apart.
They settled in a small receiving room that smelled faintly of tatami and old cedar. Tea was poured as they exchanged pleasantries.
"You look well," Morita said. "Konoha treats you kindly?"
"Well enough," Ishida replied. "The village grows quickly. Many new faces, many new needs."
Morita nodded, waiting. He knew Ishida had not come for idle talk.
Ishida sipped his tea, then set the cup down gently.
"I represent the Lotus Store now," Ishida paused, gauging Morita's interest. The old innkeeper's eyes had sharpened at the mention of the Lotus Store, but he needed more than words to hook him. Better to show the value subtly.
"Allow me to explain a little about what we offer," Ishida said evenly, reaching into his sleeve for a small wooden box.
He placed it on the table and slid it open, revealing a palm-sized device: a sleek stamp carved from dark oak, etched with faint metallic inlays that gleamed under the room's light.
At its base was a slot for interchangeable "plates" , thin metal discs inscribed with precise fuinjutsu arrays.
"This is one of our sealing modules," Ishida continued. "The young master developed it himself. Unlike traditional seals that demand years of chakra training and hand-drawn precision, this works with mere mental focus. Anyone with even a trace of spiritual energy, shinobi or civilians, can use it."
"Hmm." Morita hummed in interest. He leaned forward, curiosity overriding his fatigue. "How?"
Ishida lifted the module, demonstrating without activating it.
"The core is the plate: each one holds a pre-designed seal formula, like an alarm barrier for doors or a preservation tag for food storage. You slot in the plate, press it to sealing paper, and channel a small pulse of intent."
"Think of it as willing the ink to flow. The module draws on your mental energy to imprint the array instantly, no chakra molding required. It's like stamping a letter, but the 'ink' is the seal itself, stable and ready to activate on command."
He observed the growing interest in the man's expression and set it down and raised his eyes to meet his.
"For your inns, imagine a simple security seal on every guest room door: it alerts the front desk if tampered with, using the guest's own key-tag to whitelist them."
"Or pest-repellent barriers on walls, keeping vermin out without poisons. We've sold thousands in Konoha."
"Or…a room that can remain cold even under hot weather.".
Ishida took a dramatic pause and narrowed his eyes at Morita Daiji who had a confused expression for a moment before his eyes slowly widened.
"Impossible."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you Morito-dono." He said and placed his left hand on the module and the desk and activated the module.
"Why don't we wait an incense stick time and you tell me." Ishida said smugly and he took a sip of his tea.
Morito knew that saying anything was futile from the expression on Ishida's face so he just focused on the module on the table in silence.
Time tickled by and Morito who had a focused expression suddenly changed. "Wha-what is this?"
"How are you feeling right now Morito-dono?" Ishida asked while stroking his beard with a small smirk on his face.
How did he not come to experience this feeling of showing off sooner in his life?
"How am I suddenly feeling cold..? And I'm sure the weather doesn't abruptly change in a matter of moments."
"That is the effect of the Module in front of you Morito-dono." Ishida continued. "Civilians love the convenience, shinobi appreciate the speed for field use."
That part wasn't exactly true but how would he know? Murakami had kept a tight control on where his Module went and they've not left his range of control which was Konoha before they returned to him for repairs or were destroyed.
If its particular shelf life expires, it is rendered ineffective.
Ishida could never imagine how someone would be so strict in his level of control in the circulation of his product to the level of Murakami.
This was the first time his Modules have left his range of control.
The last scroll he received from Hina was an instruction to him on how to go about this particular mission.
He got to learn from Hina that Murakami was graduating soon and would need a couple expensive things following his graduation from the academy to become a shinobi.
He has watched Murakami navigate each day with calculations in his head all day round. So he must have thought this through and decided that this was his best course of action.
He watched as Morita picked up the module carefully, turning it over. "And the limits? Nothing this sophisticated comes as a gift… what's the catch."
Ishida nodded approvingly, "True." The man was no fool. The kind of person his young master would appreciate. " The modules can't handle complex, high-power seals like explosive tags."
This was to directly dissuade any such thoughts before it was even birthed.
Morita nodded slowly, his fingers still resting on the edge of the wooden module.
He understood the limitation perfectly well, after all, a quick use of Explosive tags in civilian hands would upend everything.
The great clans would never allow it. This young master, whoever he was, clearly knew where the line lay.
But even without that line crossed, the device was already maddening enough.
Shinobi spent years mastering precise chakra flow and brushwork for seals that civilians could now stamp out in seconds.
Alarms on doors.
Preservation of food stores.
Barriers against intruders or pests.
Simple, everyday things that made life safer, cheaper, more convenient.
It wouldn't destroy the old order overnight. But it would chip away at it, quietly and steadily, the way water wears stone.
And if inns like his could offer rooms with these seals built in rooms that felt safer, cleaner, more modern, travelers would choose them over the competition.
Laborers would pay a few extra ryo for peace of mind. Word would spread, with time…
Morita set the module back on the table with deliberate care.
Ishida continued."The imprints last only as long as standard paper seals; weeks to months before fading if not reinforced. And overuse drains the user's focus, causing headaches for untrained civilians after a dozen stamps."
"But for everyday needs?"
'It's revolutionary."
"We supply the modules and plates at cost to partners, plus bulk necessities to round out your inventory. Your inns could offer 'enhanced rooms' as an upcharge, drawing more laborers and merchants who value safety."
Morita, his tired eyes now thoughtful. "And this... foothold you mentioned? How does it fit?"
Ishida smiled faintly for the first time. "A small space to store and demonstrate our goods, a modest courtyard or warehouse, perhaps one your inns no longer use to full capacity."
He recovered quickly, voice steady. "You speak plainly, Ishida-san."
"I find it saves time," Ishida replied, tone mild as ever. "And I know you value yours."
Morita studied him for a long moment. The man across from him hadn't smiled once to placate him since arriving. No flattery, no false warmth. Just a quiet confidence.
"The River Willow Inn has an old courtyard at the back," Morita said finally. "It has sat mostly empty since the northern routes slowed. Too small for a full rebuild, too large to just do away with."
Ishida nodded once. "May I view it tomorrow?"
Morita exhaled slowly. "Yes. Tomorrow morning would suit."
They spoke a little longer, of rising taxes, of fewer travelers, of the going war…but the heart of the matter was already laid bare.
When Ishida rose to leave, Morita walked him to the gate himself.
At the threshold, Morita spoke quietly. "Your young master… he thinks far ahead, doesn't he?"
Ishida paused, then gave the faintest inclination of his head.
"He does."
So much that you'll be scared after coming to know him. Ishida added internally as he turned to leave.
Morita watched him go, then turned back inside, his expression thoughtful as he did.