Ishida stepped out of the Morita courtyard into the morning bustle of the southern market.
The sun still hung low, warming the stone streets, but he felt none of it as his mind was already on the next name.
Aoyama Storeholders.
Katsuro and Sumi appeared at the edge of his vision, falling in behind him as he turned east.
The walk to the Aoyama Storeholders' compound took little more than a quarter hour.
The air changed as he approached, thick with the scent of burning incense drifting from open workshop doors.
Sandalwood, faint camellia, hints of clove and resin hung heavy, masking the usual city smells of dust and horse.
Stacks of bundled sticks lined the walls, some wrapped in plain paper, others left bare after failed sales.
Shelves held small clay burners where samples smoldered, filling the compound with layered fragrances that served the Capital's lesser homes and shrines as a simple form of air freshener, driving away stale odors, insects, and the lingering damp of rainy seasons.
A clerk met Ishida at the reception area where he produced a scroll and showed it to him.
The clerk glanced at the letter of introduction, then nodded, "I will notify the head." He said and proceeded to disappear into the back.
Moments later, he returned and led Ishida through to the main house without delay.
Aoyama Kenji waited in a low room lined with shelves of sample incense; from sandalwood dominant, rare and precious aloeswood.
All traces of herbal blends meant to freshen modest households rather than grace noble altars.
The old man was thin, sharp-eyed, dressed in a robe faded from years near smoke.
As soon as the door slid open, he rose and offered a polite bow, it was formal, the kind reserved for a scheduled stranger.
"Aoyama Kenji. You must be the representative from Konoha's Lotus Store."
Ishida returned the bow. "Ishida. Thank you for seeing me."
"Of course." Kenji gave a small smile and gestured for him to sit.
They settled across from each other and tea was served, lightly scented with one of their milder herbal blends.
Kenji sipped first. "The roads from Konoha are quiet these days?"
"Quiet enough," Ishida replied as he took a sip. "Fewer caravans from the south, though. I hear the prices of resin climb every season."
Kenji's mouth tightened. "They do. And Saionji's leftovers flood the markets faster than we can blend our own. Clients that once bought steady now take whatever is cheapest."
He spoke the great house's name in a bad taste.
Ishida let the silence sit a moment, then reached into his sleeve and produced the small wooden box.
"My young master already foresaw this situation and has asked me to bring a proposal to your esteemed house."
He opened it and set the palm-sized stamp on the table between them.
Kenji eyed it in confusion. "A new kind of stamp?"
"Of a kind," Ishida said with a small smile. "One the Lotus Store devised. It imprints fuinjutsu seals. No brush, no ink, no years of training."
Kenji leaned in to observe the stap, his skepticism plain. "You expect me to believe that?"
He had seen his own fair share of the Shinobi world and knew that Ishida's claim was very much impossible.
Why else was the Uzumaki clan a conglomerate clan with a monopoly on Seals?
Ishida didn't answer with words. He selected a plate, slotted it into a compartment in the module, and pressed the device to a blank paper tag.
"This is a preservation seal created by my Lotus Store," he said calmly. "It works to keep certain goods fresh far longer than normal."
"Do you have a sample I could use for a demonstration?" Ishida asked and Kenji, while still skeptical, picked a bundle of incense and passed it to Ishida.
He wrapped the newly imprinted tag around the bundle of incense sticks.
Kenji watched, arms folded, saying nothing.
Ishida set it down. "By tomorrow, you should compare this bundle with the others laid out there."
He glanced at the other bundle by Kenji's side. "Depending on the grade of the imprint, it can hold the freshness for months. Even a year."
Kenji stared at the bundle a moment longer, then looked up at Ishida.
Ishida's gaze was clear, devoid of any form of deceit.
They were both old men so while it was possible to mask their intention, he observed that Ishida wasn't trying to do that.
"If what you say is true, that alone would save us half our losses in storage and slow shipments."
Ishida inclined his head slightly. "It would." He reached for another plate. "There is more."
He pulled out another paper tag and stamped it, fixed it to a lit incense stick in the clay holder sitting on the table.
Smoke had already started to rise.
"Watch."
As they watched, the thin trail of smoke thinned further, then disappeared.
Yet the clean camellia-mint scent kept spreading, filling the room evenly with no haze whatsoever.
Kenji passed a hand over the burner. Nothing. He breathed in again, deeper this time.
"The smoke's gone," he said, almost to himself. "But the smell… it's still there. Cleaner, even."
He looked at Ishida. "How?"
"This seal holds the soot and particles," Ishida answered. "Only the fragrance passes through. No staining walls, no stinging eyes. Good for small homes, temples with old scrolls. Inns, too."
Kenji sat back, staring at the burner.
"Saionji's fill grand halls with incense clouds. With this, mine could fill ordinary rooms without leaving a mark."
Ishida inclined his head. "They could."
Kenji set his cup down. "And you're offering this because…?"
Ishida said. "From you, the Lotus Store needs a modest warehouse, one you aren't using fully. In return, we supply the plates and these stamping devices at cost. And when we open the Lotus Pavilion here in the Capital, your incense will sit on our shelves. Every customer who walks in sees your name."
Kenji turned the sealed bundle, thinking.
If this first seal really preserved the freshness of his products for weeks and months as Ishida claimed, coupled with the improved effectiveness of his incense sticks, he would see an increase in his profit margin.
It wouldn't topple the Saionji Family, but it would give him something they didn't have: clean, everyday fragrance that people could actually live with.
After a long pause, he looked up. "There's a warehouse behind the eastern workshop. Half-empty since we cut back. I'll have our remaining products moved out from there today. Come view it tomorrow, if it suits you."
"Tomorrow suits," Ishida replied with a nod.
"Then it's settled." Kenji said as he rose to his feet and Ishida followed along.
He walked him through the corridors while they made small talk until they reached the gate.
"Well then Aoyama-dono. I will be seeing you tomorrow." Ishida said, giving the man one last bow.
Kenji reciprocated the bow. "I will be waiting then. I only hope it's up to your liking."
"We will see." Saying this, Ishida turned to leave.
Two visits complete.
Three remained.
Ishida turned north, toward the ink-stained district where the Shibata family waited.
…
…
The streets grew narrower and the air heavier with the sharp tang of pigments and solvents as Ishida walked.
He passed a group of workers hauling barrels stamped with the bold crimson seal of the Hoshino Paper & Seal Consortium, finished scrolls bound for noble estates and bureaucratic offices.
Yet, even here, in the shadow of the great houses, the majors made their presence felt.
The Shibata family workshop was a modest three-story building wedged between larger suppliers.
Its sign was faded with the characters for "Shibata Ink" half-faded by years of wear.
Ishida entered the building, introduced himself and waited as the clerk went to announce his arrival.
Unlike Morita and Aoyama who received him in their offices, a woman in her forties stood at the entrance of what looked like a workroom, her arms crossed, watching as Ishida approached.
Her robe had a stain at the cuffs, and she wore a tired and stern expression.
Shibata Haruka, Ishida mused as he saw her. Head of the family business since her father's death.
Like the others, she too had received Hina's letter weeks ago, but unlike the others, her bow was curt.
"So you're the representative of the Lotus Store," she said. "Come in. I don't have all day."
Ishida returned the bow and followed her into a workroom thick with the smell of ground minerals and boiling gallnuts.
The shelves line with jars of raw color from black soot, red cinnabar, indigo lumps… none of it looked to be finished into the smooth, branded inks Hoshino demanded.
They sat at a stained table. No tea was offered.
Haruka wasted no time getting to the point. "Your letter mentioned tools that could help small makers like us. Hoshino already sets the price for everything we produce. If this is another trick to squeeze us further, say it now and leave."
Ishida met her gaze calmly. "No trick. The Lotus Store has no interest in raw pigment. We have interest in partners who want more than scraps."
Haruka frowned slightly at Ishida's choice of words but remained silent as he wasn't exactly wrong. They got nothing more than the scraps the Hoshino family discarded.
They held a near-monopoly on finished products for official and high-end use, had deep ties to bureaucracy and nobility of which many records and contracts must bear Hoshino paper to be considered valid in certain circles and the ability to set standards and prices for raw suppliers.
In such a situation, the Shibata family could only remain dependent on Hoshino for survival as any attempt to finish and sell independently risks losing their main buyer.
There was no prestige branding, no direct access to high-end customers and they were constantly squeezed as Hoshino raises quality standards or lowers buy prices over time.
In summary, the Hoshino family is the gatekeeper who turns raw materials into prestige and profit and the Shibata family is the supplier trapped upstream, doing the labor-intensive work for scraps.
This is exactly the kind of "crack" Ishida was here to exploit.
He brought out and placed the wooden box on the table and opened it.
Haruka's eyes narrowed at the stamp device. "What is that supposed to be?"
"A way to finish your own product," Ishida said. "Without waiting for Hoshino's approval."
He selected a plate designed for fine, consistent brush lines and instant-drying.
He took a sheet of plain paper from the table's edge, dipped a common brush in one of Shibata's raw black inks, and wrote a few characters.
He placed down the brush, then he slotted the plate, pressed the module to a blank tag, and affixed the tag to the wet page.
The ink settled instantly with the lines sharpening. He ran a finger across in and no smudge formed as it should.
Haruka leaned forward and took the page. She rubbed it hard as though to verify personally and nothing transferred. The lines stayed sharp as if carved.
Her mind raced in confusion.
Ink didn't behave like this.
Raw black took time to settle, minutes, sometimes longer, absorbing into the paper, risking runs or bleeds if disturbed.
Even after it looked dry, a careless thumb could smudge it, turning sharp characters into blurred messes.
That's why finished scrolls were left for hours, why contracts waited before sealing.
The higher the quality of the ink, the faster it set and the smoother the final lines, yes, but Hoshino guarded those formulas jealously, blending secret binders and dryers that small makers like Shibata could never afford or replicate.
And yet here, with their own raw, basic and unrefined ink, the lines had sharpened and locked in heartbeats.
Perfect clarity, as though the page had been prepared by a master artisan.
She rubbed it again, harder this time. Still nothing.
Haruka looked up at Ishida, the stern mask cracking further.
"How…?" she started, voice rougher than she intended.
Ishida met her eyes without triumph, only quiet certainty. He repeated it, stamped a tag onto the fresh paper.
There was no waiting, no bleeding.
"This is the Lotus Store's offer." He said as he pushed this paper slightly towards her.
She stared back at the page, then at the device in the open box.
Finished ink. Their own branded Shibata ink, sold straight to the little offices in the merchant quarter, to traveling merchants that couldn't afford Hoshino's.
No more pleading with the consortium to take raw barrels at whatever price they felt like paying that season.
No more watching her family's work disappear into someone else's prestige.
"Consistent lines every time," Ishida began his pitch. "Dries immediately. Smudge-proof. You could brand contract scrolls, stationery, record books, sell finished products to minor merchants, temples, small offices. Bypass Hoshino entirely for the lower market."
"What do I have to offer for this?" Haruka asked as she gazed intently at Ishida.
Ishida stroked his beards and replied. "From you, the Lotus Store asks nothing physical. Only partnership."
"We supply the devices and plates at cost. You use them to sell your own finished products. In return, you keep a small stock of our household seals to offer your customers, and when the Lotus Pavilion opens in the Capital, your inks sit on our shelves."
"I'm sure you've heard a thing or two on how the Lotus Store operates?" Ishida finished with a question and she nodded.
"A unique business model, I wonder about the mind behind its establishment." she replied.
"A very brilliant one if I do say so myself." Ishida's expression almost instantly turned smug as though it was his grandson she was praising, but he immediately schooled it.
"That mind has shown his interest in us growing beside each other." He said. "The Hoshino Family will notice only when it is too late to stop without drawing attention."
Haruka turned the device over in her stained hands, eyes on the metal inlays.
Her father had died still dreaming of selling finished ink under the family name but Hoshino had made sure that dream stayed buried.
This would not bury the consortium. But it would let Shibata breathe again.
She set the device down carefully and leaned back and folded her arms again.
She began, voice low, "When does the deal become real? How do we seal it?"
Ishida closed the wooden box and rose smoothly to his feet.
"I am only the messenger," he said. "My task was to secure understanding. The head of the Lotus Store herself will arrive in the Capital at a later date to sign the contracts and deliver the first shipment of devices and plates personally."
He gave a small, respectful nod.
"Until then, prepare whatever samples you wish to display in the Pavilion. She will want to see your finished inks."
Haruka stood as well, meeting his eyes for a long moment.
"Tell your head," she said, "that Shibata will be ready."
Ishida inclined his head once more and turned toward the door.
Haruka did not walk him out this time.
She stayed at the table, fingers resting on the closed box he had left behind as a test piece, staring at the flawless pages as though seeing her family's name on them for the first time.