"What do you need this time, old man?"
Ishida took a slow sip of the barley tea the server had placed in front of him.
"Nothing that will get you killed," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I need information on craftsmen and artisans. The skilled kind who work metal and leather for shinobi."
"Shinobi gear?" Jiro's scarred cheek twitched.
Ishida nodded calmly. "Someone I know needs personalized…shinobi gear. I trust that you will maintain the usual etiquette."
Jiro nodded. "You want names."
"Names, workshops, debts if they have them," Ishida replied evenly.
"My client requires reliable hands for certain projects and the capital holds an older heritage in finer tooling. And we prefer partners who aren't already bound to a major crest."
Jiro snorted softly. "Everyone's bound to someone here, Ishida-dono, you should know that."
Ishida nodded.
"The Kanzaki family arms the guards and caravans, Takeda finances the bigger forges."
The Kanzaki Armory Family dealt in non-shinobi weapons & armor and supplied city guards, caravans, and noble retainers.
They produced reinforced leather armor and other conventional weapons and maintained strict neutrality by avoiding shinobi contracts
"In this way, the independents get the scraps, repair work, civilian buckles, horse tack and most owe someone."
"Most," Ishida chimed in. "Not all."
Jiro drained his cup and poured himself another from his jug, he spoke lower.
"There's a cluster in the eastern gate district, old leatherworkers mostly, families that supplied samurai houses before the clans consolidated and formed Konoha."
"Most of them are contracted by the Shinobi village especially with the war going on, but the rest are good with reinforced straps, hidden sheaths, layered hides that turn a blade better than cheap iron."
Ishida didn't show any facial reaction but Jiro could tell he hadn't heard what he needed to hear.
He took a sip from his cup and continued. "The Fujimoto and Kanzaki families buy their surplus when it suits, but ignore them when it doesn't."
"And since taxes rose last year; three workshops are currently behind."
He paused, eyes flicking to the door out of habit.
"Metalworkers are trickier. A forge master named Kuroda Gen used to do fine inlay work for noble sword fittings. Takeda backed his loan for a bigger kiln, then called it early when he missed one payment.Now he works out of a backyard pit, taking civilian jobs to stay afloat. Sharp as ever, bitter as gall."
Ishida listened without reaction, committing each detail.
"Any others?"
"Two apprentices broke off from a Hoshino-allied smith, they're young and hungry. They do small precision work like clasps, hinges, tool heads near the southern gate of the city. No notable contracts yet, so no heavy debts."
Jiro leaned back.
"That's the best of what's loose right now. More will surface if taxes climb again."
Ishida nodded in understanding and slid a small pouch across the table.
"Half now. Half when I've confirmed the workshops are as you say."
Jiro weighed it, nodded.
…
…
Ishida stepped out of the Whispering Crane into the cool night air. The streets were nearly empty now, only the occasional lantern swaying above a closed shop door and the distant clatter of a night cart.
He walked unhurriedly, hands tucked into his sleeves, mind turning over Jiro's words.
He had four names, one blacksmith and three leather workers.
Knowing Murakami's appreciation for talent, he considered visiting the two apprentices to ascertain their level and see if they could be brought in to work for them.
The three independent leatherworkers could be discussed with, to form a partnership surrounding the Lotus Store.
As for Kuroda Gen, he would also need to visit his smithy to discuss with him on the possibility of crafting Shinobi grade weapons for Murakami.
He soon reached his destination as the inn's lantern glowed softly ahead.
As he pushed through the noren, the common room was quiet, only a few late travelers nursing drinks in the corner.
O-Tsuya, the innkeeper, stood behind the counter polishing cups. She looked up and gave a small nod.
"Back late, Ishida-sama. Everything well?"
"Well enough," he replied with a faint smile. "The city air is good for old bones."
She chuckled softly. "Tea before you retire? It's still hot."
He shook his head. "Another time. Thank you, O-Tsuya-san."
Katsuro and Sumi were seated at a low table near the stairs, playing a quiet game of cards. They looked up as he approached.
Katsuro gathered the cards. "No trouble?"
"None," Ishida said. "Only an old acquaintance sharing tea."
Sumi smiled faintly. "As long as you're safe."
"I am," he assured them. "And tomorrow will be quieter. Rest well, you deserve it."
Katsuro gave a short nod. "We'll take shifts anyway."
Ishida inclined his head in acknowledgment and started up the stairs.
One thing he had come to understand about Shinobi is that they couldn't be reasoned with once they have their mind set on something.
Ishida continued to his room. As he entered , he slid the door shut behind him and walked over to the table where he lit the small lamp, unrolled his scroll and added Jiro's names.
He contemplated for a moment as he mapped out his movement for the next day, then extinguished the light and lay back on the futon, hands on his belly.
He had met with and secured five alliances and gotten information on four craftsmen.
Whatever the young master needed would be ready when he needed it.
With these thoughts in mind, sleep came easily that night.
…
…
The next morning dawned as Ishida rose early, as always. He washed in cold water that bit at his fingers, dressed in his dark-blue robe, and descended to the common room where the scent of roasted barley tea and fresh-grilled fish lingered from the kitchen.
He ate a simple breakfast, warm rice, pickled radish and miso soup with a hint of seaweed. It was shared in silence with Katsuro and Sumi, who nursed their own tea.
When he finished, he set out alone. The shinobi had offered to accompany him, but he waved them off with the same mild smile.
"Only property viewings today. No need for guards."
Katsuro had grunted acceptance, though his eyes said otherwise.
First was the Morita courtyard.
Morita Daiji waited at the River Willow Inn's back gate, breath fogging slightly in the cool air, keys jingling in his thick fingers.
They exchanged pleasantries and immediately stepped through the gate together. They were busy men and didn't have time for idle chatter.
The courtyard was a rectangular space roughly twenty-two meters long and fifteen meters wide, walled on three sides by weathered gray stone rising to just over three meters high.
A single sturdy wooden gate, reinforced with iron bands, opened onto a narrow side alley. The ground was paved in uneven flagstones, some cracked, with patches of stubborn weeds pushing through.
In one corner stood a small, single-story storehouse built of dark timber, its tiled roof slightly mossy, doors heavy and bound with old iron hinges that creaked when Daiji pulled them open.
Inside, the air was cool and dry, smelling faintly of old straw and cedar; empty shelves lined the walls, and the floor was solid packed earth, clean enough for storage.
A covered well sat near the center, its stone rim worn smooth by years of ropes, the water below clear and cold when Daiji dropped the bucket.
Overhead, the high walls blocked most street noise, leaving only the rustle of dry leaves skittering across the stones and the occasional drip from a leaking gutter.
Daiji walked him through slowly, boots crunching on gravel, pointing out the details.
"It's yours to use as you wish," Daiji said at last.
Ishida nodded, feeling the solid stone underfoot. "We'll begin preparations to have our partnership signed off by next week."
Daiji nodded in return and they parted with a firm handshake.
Next was the Aoyama warehouse.
The eastern district carried the perpetual scent of incense, sandalwood and resin drifting from open workshop doors, mixing with the sharper tang of sawdust and glue.
Old Kenji waited outside the main building, leaning on a cane, breath visible in the morning chill.
Upon arriving, they exchanged pleasantries before boarding a carriage that took them to the warehouse at the eastern part of the city.
He unlocked the side door and they stepped inside.
The warehouse was a two-story structure of thick timber beams and plank walls, roughly thirty meters long and eleven meters wide.
The ground floor had a wide loading bay with double doors that opened onto a quiet rear lane, perfect for discreet carts.
High windows with paper screens let in soft, diffused light, dust motes dancing in the shafts.
The air was thick with layered fragrance, old sandalwood dominant, faint camellia underneath, seeping from half-filled crates that lined one wall, their lids ajar.
The upper floor, reached by a sturdy wooden staircase that groaned under their weight as they climbed, was mostly empty loft space with exposed rafters and a sloped tiled roof that showed no leaks.
The floors throughout were wide oak planks, worn smooth by years of footsteps, strong enough to bear heavy storage without creaking.
Kenji tapped a support post with his cane and it gave a solid thud.
"Roof's sound. Floors strong. We cleared the lower level this morning."
Ishida nodded as he walked the space methodically, footsteps echoing, noting the natural ventilation, the distance from prying main streets, the muffled thump of workshop hammers next door.
Those were close enough for convenience, but far enough for privacy.
Perfect for storage, demonstrations, and quiet assembly when the time came.
Those were the requirements the warehouse needed.
"It will serve," he said. The Lotus Store wasn't looking to take the Capital by storm, just a quiet foothold to sink its roots before anyone thought to look down and notice.
Kenji's sharp eyes softened a fraction, the cane tapping once on the wide oak floor. "When can I expect the first plates?"
Ishida paused at the loading bay doors, turning back.
"The first shipment of plates and devices will arrive in a week's time," he replied evenly. "The head of the Lotus Store will come personally to sign the contract and deliver them."
Kenji gave a slow nod, leaning on his cane.
"A week, then. I'll have the warehouse fully cleared and ready."
Ishida inclined his head. "Good. That will be very much appreciated."
He stepped out into the lane, the heavy doors thudding shut behind him with a solid, final sound.
With both properties secured, he considered visiting the craftsmen but decided against that and returned to the inn.
He was only here to gather information on them and not to contact them, after all, he had no definite idea why Murakami needed their expertise.
For now, he had secured a foothold for the Lotus Store quietly.
Ishida allowed himself a faint exhale. He had to send back a report to Konoha and have Hina make the necessary preparations.
As Murakami's proxy, she needed to be present to get the various contracts signed off in a week's time.