Emiya Manako was above average height for a woman (which is to say she towered over Mari), with rich brown hair in a tight bun, and an austere white dress, all straight lines, its only concession to femininity being a touch of lace around the collarbone. Such a waste, Mari thought to herself, but reluctantly got her mind out of the gutter.
The office had a single, broad window which let in plenty of light, with marks on the floor suggesting somebody spent a lot of time standing there, looking out (though from here, Mari couldn’t get enough detail to tell if it was Emiya herself or one of her bodyguards). A series of heavy bookshelves bulged with scrolls, while an expensive brown desk at the heart of the room looked weary with use. It was pretty much like any office anywhere ever, down to the hanging scroll on one wall with illegible but profoundly meaningful calligraphy.
Mari was sitting in one of the visitors’ chairs, whose combination of soft cushions and uncomfortable back carried a distinct message of “be welcome, guest, but don’t stay too long because I have work to do”. Emi sat next to her, hands folded in her lap, trying to look reassuring and supportive. Emiya, on the other side of the desk, gave Mari a professional smile.
“Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Shinano. I have the gist of your situation from Emi, but I really need to hear the whole story from you. I apologise if my questioning may seem insensitive, but if we are dealing with a hostile ninja, even the tiniest detail may turn out to be crucial. Please,” she gestured, “begin at the beginning.”
Mari launched into her rehearsed narration, but barely made it a sentence before Emiya’s first interruption. The questions didn’t have a hostile feel to them, but they were fluent, and eerily precise. Which settlement had Shinano come from? What path did her journey with the sealmistress follow, and how long did various parts of the journey take? What kind of places did they stay in? Could she remember any names?
Emiya skirted around the issue of Shinano’s relationship with Arikada, but on the other hand questioned Mari exhaustively about the sealmistress’s interests and capabilities—which was a problem since Mari didn’t know, and agreed with Emiya’s reasoning that accurate information would be crucial for preparing countermeasures, so she couldn’t simply make things up.
Finally, the interrogation ended. Emiya took a few seconds to think, then stood up from her seat.
“Thank you, Miss Shinano,” Emiya gave that neutral smile again. “You’ve been most helpful. We’ll resume this shortly, but right now there are some immediate preparations I need to make. Please stay here for a minute.”
She swept out of the office, beckoning Emi after her. “I’ll need you for this as well.”
Mari was left deep in thought. Emiya was very hard to read, even with the profiling information gleaned from Emi. But a decision had to be made before the mayor returned. Hazō, bless his little heart, had insisted that she at least consider the honest option. In fairness, on this occasion his argument was not without merit—it would be a lot easier to work with Emiya directly than to have to manipulate her into making choices based on information Mari had and she didn’t. The risks, though…
She didn’t have long to wait before Emiya returned.
The mayor sat down at her desk with a satisfied air.
“The building has been surrounded,” Emiya said calmly. “It’s time you told me what you’re really after.”
Mari’s response was instant and reflexive, even as she was utterly mortified at her own stupidity. “What do you mean? Is something wrong? Is she already here?”
Emiya gave her a piercing look. “I have several other appointments after this. Do not waste my time. We can have this conversation now, or we can have it in three days’ time at the Irie dungeons.”
Mari inwardly winced. “What gave me away?”
“Minor details, adding up to a bigger picture,” Emiya said almost as if to herself. “Poor knowledge of the country you’ve allegedly been travelling through. Too much vagueness when it came to the person around whom your life had centred. Other things. And, of course, the bruises. Those look fresh, not a day old. You neglected to update your disguise.”
Mari blinked. “You can’t possibly judge something like that at a glance.”
“In my spare time,” Emiya said with a trace of irony, “I have purchased ninja training in a variety of useful areas. Civilians cannot normally do this, of course, but I have the money, and I’ve given them ample reason to curry favour with me. Bear this in mind if you think to try to deceive me again. Now, kindly show me your true face.”
“I’d rather not,” Mari said. “I have reasons to protect my identity, ones which have nothing to do with you or Sarubetsu.”
“I think you misunderstand your situation,” Emiya said coolly. “My patience is the only reason you have not already been incapacitated and put in chains. I advise you not to test it.”
Mari blinked again. “Please take this as hypothetical rather than a threat, but you are the civilian alone in a room with a ninja of unknown abilities. Are you sure it should be you trying to intimidate me?”
Emiya gave her a look that might have come from the face of an Academy instructor facing an angry child with a practice kunai.
“You are not here to kill me,” she said, “and I have countermeasures against genjutsu, mind control and temporary replacement. Among other things, the Trinity have multiple redundant ways to check that I am myself and in full possession of my faculties. I would not be deserving of the trust my citizens place in me if I did not at least take basic anti-ninja precautions.”
Mari took a few seconds to let this sink in, and to upgrade her threat assessment of Mayor Emiya accordingly.
“Again,” Mari said, looking for a better understanding of the mayor, but also honestly curious, “how do you know I’m not here to kill you?”
Emiya sighed. “If you killed me, or for that matter hurt me in general, every clan with even a minimal presence in Sarubetsu would dedicate themselves to hunting you down as the only source of testimony to exonerate themselves of your actions. After you were captured and subjected to sufficient interrogation, they would then take turns proposing increasingly cruel and elaborate means to put you to death, as a way of scoring points with the public ahead of the inevitable struggle for control of the town.
“You are not here to kill me,” Emiya repeated in a matter-of-fact tone. “No organisation would sacrifice an operative with your apparent level of skill merely to eliminate the likes of me, and a missing-nin with sufficient experience to get this far would have a survival instinct to match.”
“I could be a missing-nin fanatic trying to take you out for ideological reasons,” Mari commented, curiosity taking over from diplomatic concerns.
Emiya laughed. “A missing-nin that believes in something greater than herself? Then I would definitely be safe, since they say you can’t die in dreams.
“Now, you’ve wasted enough of my time with small talk. Kindly remove your disguise and proceed to your actual business unless you want to wait for a more convenient appointment in a prison cell.”
o-o-o-o
“Very good,” Hazō said. "Next, what are the three preparations you need to make before doing sealcrafting research?”
“Prepare a secure testing environment, make sure the rest of the team knows and has been briefed on sealing accident contingencies, and have a will stored in a cache at least a mile away,” Akane recited.
Kagome-sensei nodded approvingly. “What do you do if you’re on your own and a stranger offers to teach you a new seal?”
“I say ‘no, thank you’, and walk away quickly,” Akane said.
Hazō rolled his hand in a “keep going” motion.
“Even if they say that they know my sealing teacher and that my sealing teacher says it’s OK. Even if they offer me a sample seal as a gift. Especially if they offer to take me to their sealing workshop so they can show me the seal’s inner workings.”
“Kagome-sensei,” Hazō said, “are you sure this is the kind of basic sealing information Akane will need to impersonate a top-level sealmistress?”
Kagome’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re going to learn any sealing at all, you need to start with the basics. It’s how I learned, it’s how you learned, and it’s how she’ll learn, even if she never makes a seal her whole life. It’s when people don’t respect the craft that they think ‘oh, I won’t bother washing my brush after use just this once’, and the next thing you know there are pentagrams drawing themselves on the walls in blood and everything made of metal is melting and a voice in your head is counting down from six hundred and sixteen.
“That should be my next question. What do you do when you activate a seal, and it doesn’t seem to do anything, but the next day you start hearing a voice in your head giving you suggestions on what to do, and each suggestion makes perfect sense and ends up making your life better when you follow it?”
Akane frowned. “Class III causal hazard. Immediately find a cave deep underground or inside a mountain and detonate an exploding tag so as to cause a cave-in. If you survive, repeat.”
“Kagome-sensei, I thought that was just an urban legend,” Hazō said.
“Hah! Research Facility Seventeen is an urban legend. Doesn’t mean anyone’s ever come back from exploring the Hokorobi Rift.”
“Uh, right,” Hazō said. “Moving on. Akane, what’s the difference between a catabolic resonance cascade and an anabolic resonance cascade, and what are the standard countermeasures for each?”
o-o-o-o
Mayor Emiya drummed her fingers absent-mindedly against the surface of the desk.
“You could have saved us both a lot of time if you had just come forward with all this to begin with. However.
“The fact of the matter is that my responsibility is to the citizens of Sarubetsu. I do not have the resources to police the rest of Rice Country, nor can I justify trying to set the world to rights if doing so will endanger the people I’m here to protect.”
“If Arikada’s actions disrupt the balance of power,” Mari said, “there is every chance they’ll affect the Sarubetsu clans. There’s no way a potential clan war wouldn’t lead to chaos and violence here, given that we think one of your clans is going to be the spark that triggers it.”
“You’re making too many assumptions,” Emiya parried. “Arikada could be meeting a representative of some different clan with no stakes in Sarubetsu. Her mission could be one with no direct impact on the status quo, much less one sufficient to cause a clan war. Your own employer could be lying to you—it is standard practice for missing-nin operatives to be fed incomplete information, and do not bother denying that you are one.
“However. I also cannot ignore the presence of a sealmistress—a walking engine of mass destruction—in my town, and I cannot simply stand aside and see whether you trigger that engine or not. In fact, I have intelligence that this woman is already in Sarubetsu, and that her behaviour is already cause for alarm.”
“You do?!” This was serious. Mari’s expectations were that she would arrive tomorrow at the earliest. Their plans were not in place, and interception upon arrival was now out of the picture. On the other hand, it seemed to have made Emiya more likely to cooperate. Mari began to ponder plans and countermeasures…
“Yes,” Emiya went on. “Under the alias of Kasuga, she was seen examining priority targets for an all-out assault on the town, then intimidated the combined forces of Irie and Hinago patrols into submission and caused panic in a Murano bar, all in one afternoon. We have people tracking her, and she has established a camp in the wilderness outside, with high-level sealing traps that have prevented our ninja from approaching.”
“Ah.” Mari wished the floor would open up and swallow her, though in all likelihood this would merely lead to her landing on the receptionist. “Actually, that’s us. ‘Kasuga’ is an alias one of my people invented on the spur of the moment.”
Emiya’s eyes widened, her composure threatened for the first time that evening. “You thought that… You were actually going to… You… I—I have no words. I may have to revise my estimation of your skills, so I suppose it’s fortunate I no longer believe you’re here to assassinate me.”
Mari slumped in her seat. “Yes, my subordinates have a tendency to improvise with unpredictable effects. I’m sure that’s never happened to you, mayor of Sarubetsu. Can we move on?”
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“Yes,” Emiya said. “Excuse me while I just discard a pile of urgent reports I spent precious hours reading and analysing.
“Now. My conditions. You will not engage Arikada in combat within the territory of the town. If you can remove her without harm to my town, excellent. I will provide whatever support is practical. If you wish to fight her elsewhere, that is your lookout, and I have no reason to stop you. But a single civilian casualty in Sarubetsu, or destruction of property anywhere outside the southeast, and I will make sure you have the three clans to deal with. This will, in fact, happen anyway, but if you follow my conditions, I will intervene on your behalf.”
Mari smiled. “Good. In that case, for now we’ll need information on movements in and out of Sarubetsu so we can identify Arikada and any guards travelling with her, and on major local players so we can make our move without stepping on anyone’s toes.”
o-o-o-o
Irie Shintarō was the fattest ninja Hazō had ever seen, as well as possessing a villain goatee and narrow yellowish eyes that made the hairs stand on the back of Hazō’s neck. His “office” was filled with shelves stuffed with miscellaneous bric-a-brac, but Hazō’s attention was instantly drawn to the seals on the two scrolls hanging on the back wall behind Shintarō, their elaborate structure offering no sign of their function.
“How can I help you, honoured visitors?” Shintarō purred.
“Shūji sent us,” Hazō said. “He said you could register us as guests of the town, and provide us with some of Sarubetsu’s special export at a good price.”
Shintarō gave Hazō a weighing look.
“Yes?” Hazō asked nervously. “Is there something on my, uh, face?”
“Not to worry,” Shintarō said happily, pulling out a ledger. “Aliases, please. And will you be using the same disguises throughout your stay?”
Hazō glanced questioningly at the other two, then kicked himself as he realised he was providing instant confirmation.
“I guess we’d better,” Noburi said in a forced jovial tone. “Ajibana Akira. Pleasure to meet you. This,” he gestured to Hazō vengefully, “is my good friend Misuta Miu.”
“Tae Kanen,” Keiko said. “I would like to conclude our business here swiftly, if we may.”
“Hmm,” Shintarō said. “This is not the kind of product that should be sold to children. Are you sure you are in need of medicine for nerves fraying from endless stress and in need of release?”
“Oh, we’re sure,” Keiko said grimly.
“What my friend means,” Hazō cut in, “is that it’s not for us. We just want a gift for a potential client who is into things like this.”
“Ah,” Shintaro nodded. “Foresight and courtesy, wonderful things in a client. I like to pay attention to such details. What kind of volume would you be interested in?”
“Actually, we’re just looking,” Hazō said. “We were hoping to compare all our options before choosing a seller.”
“While we’re here, though,” Noburi added, “I was wondering how much room you had in your guest quarters. We’re part of a bigger party, and it would be really reassuring to stay under a powerful clan’s protection while we’re in Sarubetsu.”
“Oh, plenty,” Shintarō said. “We don’t get many guests this time of year—everybody wants to make their purchases and leave so they can beat the other traders to the punch—so you and your money are welcome to stay as long as you like once you pass the basic security checks.”
“Does that mean we can have them to ourselves?” Noburi asked. “Only my friend here has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth, and we wouldn’t want to offend your other guests.”
There was a knowing look in Shintarō’s eye. “Indeed. Completely empty for the time being, so you can conduct whatever top-secret preparations you’re clearly planning undisturbed, as long as you clear them with my good friend Shana first.
“But let’s not forget your actual business here. Since dear Shūji has vouched for you, and we wouldn’t want a displeased sealmistress blowing up our workshop, let’s call it five hundred ryō per dose, just for you.”
“Five hundred?” Keiko asked. “That is implausible for a long-term business model. I assure you, while we may appear young, we are not inclined to let others take advantage of us, and Kasuga-sensei in particular does not have the temper for it. We may consider two hundred and fifty.”
Shintarō laughed. “Really, now. I wouldn’t try to teach other people how to run their businesses, my dear. We have many customers who are either wealthy enough or desperate enough to purchase Vermilion Sigh in plentiful amounts. Four-fifty, or put a silly hat on me and call me the Tsuchikage.”
Keiko mulled this over. “Harvest season just finished. It occurs to me that you have a great surplus of goods, which will be sitting useless in a warehouse instead of being converted into liquid funds. Three hundred.”
“You know, boy,” Shintarō said, unexpectedly turning to Hazō, “your movements are just that little bit too precise, even when you’re at rest. A normal person would think you’re a taijutsu specialist. But to move like that at your age unconsciously—and make no mistake, your age is quite transparent—you’d have to be extremely specialized. And yet when you came in, your eyes went straight to my seals, and you were trying to decode them or I’m a chakra hagfish. Sealcrafting takes great dedication, which suggests to me the other thing comes from a taijutsu-themed bloodline. Taijutsu bloodline and sealing proficiency. How fascinating.”
He looked at Keiko. “You scanned everything in the room except my face. Of note, two seconds on my ninja wire assembly, then several on the shogi board over there. How long until this side wins?”
“It’s losing,” Keiko replied immediately. “It has to radically change its strategy, otherwise it will keep losing no matter how many pieces it takes. But I fail to see what this tells you. There are many competent shogi players in the world.”
“Oh, yes,” Shintarō said. “But as one of the most formidable women I know likes to say, it’s all about adding up the details. And you, boy,” he smiled at Noburi. “You could almost pass for normal around here. But the barrel? Seriously? Perhaps if you had nine tails and spat chakra bombs, you might have a chance of being more memorable.
“But I do have some good news for the three of you. I am an old man,” said the thirtysomething, “and my short-term memory isn’t what it used to be. Whenever I make a good sale, such as, say, three doses at four hundred each, I get so excited that I forget whatever it is I was just talking about. Why, the clinking of ryō in your pockets is already outweighing all other facts in my mind.”
Hazō looked at the other two. “I think we need a moment to confer.”
They stepped outside.
“What do you think?”
“I think twelve hundred is a significant dent in our finances,” Keiko said. “But also that he would earn more by selling the information he mentioned. Bloodline limit users are always in high demand, and not necessarily for recruitment.”
“But Rice doesn’t have hunter-nin, does it?” Noburi asked.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t sell the information to a third party,” Hazō said, “or to an off-duty hunter-nin who’ll make sure to pass it on to his village. I think we may have to accept it.”
Hazō came back to Shintarō. “What guarantee do we have that you’ll keep your word?”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Shintarō said. “Your need for the goods is genuine, and perhaps it will be again. You are worth more to me as repeat customers, especially ones who have a persuasive reason not to try to cheat me. Why, send more business my way and you might even earn an additional discount. I like to pay attention to these things.”
o-o-o-o
“My guess would be the Hinago,” Emiya said. “The Irie are well-established within their niche, and will have deep roots for as long as the yakuza exist. The Murano, on the other hand, are in sufficient decline that they would not risk being drawn into open warfare for fear of extermination. But the Hinago show ambition, and if these rumours about Arikada’s interest in biological seals are true, it would chime well with Hinago’s medical speciality.”
“Thank you,” Mari said. “Now, about Arikada herself…”
“Yes,” Emiya said. “Our problem, as I mentioned, is that we cannot request surveillance of any clans without tipping off Arikada’s employer. However, I believe I have an idea. Provide indications to your contacts with Irie and Hinago that ‘Kasuga’ believes her identity to be compromised, and will soon re-enter Sarubetsu under a new one, which will have to fake ignorance of her previous actions. This will keep the clans on alert for an incoming sealmistress without giving them any new information. If you tell the receptionist that you have an urgent appointment on behalf of Shibata and Sons, you will be able to see me any time I am available, and I will pass on any relevant information.
“However, my conditions stand. Harm to civilians will not be tolerated.
“One more thing.” Mayor Emiya stood up from her desk. “I am sending ‘Shinano’ to safety and she will not be seen again.
“As for you, you have abused the trust of a dear friend of mine, and you will take responsibility. When Arikada is dealt with, you will come back here to make amends.”
She didn’t add any threats.
o-o-o-o
Hinago Ichiru was as great a contrast to the Irie contact as could be. He was as tall as if he had been stretched on a rack after failing to pay the Mizukage’s liquor tax, eerily pale, and most remarkably, he was wearing a pair of spectacles, as if he were the head of one of Mist’s wealthiest clans. However, since the frames did not quite seem to fit, Hazō suspected Ichiru was not their original owner.
“…and this is Misuta Miu,” Noburi finished the introductions.
Hazō didn’t yet know how. He didn’t yet know when. But shinobi were supposed to be good at cycles of vengeance, and when he was done with Noburi, no human being alive would ever dare use that nickname again. Except Inoue-sensei, but she was a force of nature and to be excluded from rational calculations.
“Very good,” the ninja said. “Now, as you have doubtless surmerised, I am Hinago Ichiru. Yes, the Hinago Ichiru, discoverer of the Ichiru Ratio. Though I will forgive you for being unaware of the cutting edge of pharmacogenous research.
“Now, kindly take off your clothes.”
“Wait, what?” Noburi burst out.
Ichiru looked puzzled. “You can hardly expect me to formulise the perfect admixtion for your body without a detailed physical inspection. You know what they say, the serpent is in the details. Or let me guess, did you speak with those Irie barbarians? Please tell me you have not been infected by their imbeciliness.”
“Absolutely not,” Keiko said flatly. “And I refuse to believe that all of your customers consent to this kind of treatment.”
“Hmph,” Ichiru said. “The fact that others also fail to respect my art should not be taken as license for you to do the same. But very well,” he continued in a long-suffering tone, “I will perform the loosest of estimations by sight, and lamentate your wilful rejection of pleasure perfectly tuned to your requirements.”
“And the cost of your admixtion?” Keiko said the word slowly and reluctantly, as if she were chewing a particularly poorly-cooked shoe.
“Oh, seven hundred ryō, give or take,” Ichiru said distractedly, being more occupied with gazing at Hazō’s body in an unnerving fashion. “I will be able to perform a more exact calculus shortly.”
“Uh-huh,” Noburi said. “While we wait, you mind telling us why this place is so quiet? It feels like a haunted house.”
“Oh, they’re nervous about something to do with sealcrofting,” Ichiru said. “They said something to me about being polite and not making any sudden movements, but I was too busy evalumating my new formula to pay much attention. I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you.
“Hmm. If you will not undress, perhaps you will stand still while I take your measurements by touch? Not as precise, but I'm sure I will be able to exterpolate some useful data."
“Excuse me,” Keiko said loudly, her voice oddly squeaky. “I have just remembered an urgent appointment on the other side of Sarubetsu.”
“Wait for me!” came Noburi’s shout a second later.
“Thank you very much for your time,” Hazō bowed to Ichiru before urgently following suit.