“It’s a deal then, Juro!”
Shiori watched as the pair of men clasped hands, Suo clapping the merchant on the back before handing him a small wooden chest. Juro patted the large crate at his side.
“All the spices you could need. A quarter fresh, and the rest dried for use for the rest of the year. At a discount for your excellent choice to buy in bulk, and the service your pot washer here will be rendering.” The man replied, a smile on his face to match his ingratiating tone, the hallmark of a good merchant.
“Ah, not only a pot washer, but a student at our ninja academy as well! He will do perfectly, I can assure you.” Suo turned his gaze on the small boy, and Shiori felt like he was shouldering an anvil, such was it’s weight. “Am I not right, Shiori? You can escort our friend Juro here to the border?” The eyes bored into him, pinning the boy in place. Shiori nodded slightly, attempting to smile. Suo nodded at the boy, no bone-jarring clap on the back this time, just a nod.
“Well then you had best be off! I’ll see you back here in a few days, Shiori. And make sure to come back next time you visit, Juro!” Suo bustled the boy out the door, followed by the smiling merchant. The pair walked through the streets in silence at first. Shiori was content to take in the environment and have his thoughts to himself as they moved from the centre of the village to the gates. It was a lovely day to not be cooped up in the kitchen. The streets became less and less crowded as they moved away from the legendary Oak district.
“Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye out for threats?”
Shiori was snapped from his reverie by Juro’s question. He looked up at the slight man, into his middle years, a paunch present in his stomach, the only fat on him, it seemed. He wore fine clothing, sashes with full pouches under a hard wearing cloak. The chest was slung onto his back by a system of slings and buckles. He must be used to carrying his wealth this way. Shiori felt quite the pauper next to him, in the same shabby old clothes he always wore.
“You expect to get attacked within the village itself?” Shiori countered, no malice in the question.
“Some of my clients have paid people to attack me before leaving the village so they get spices and their money.” Juro sighed, closing his eyes as he walked.
“Mr. Suo isn’t like that, Juro. He’s a very principled man. He has paid for your spices, you get the money for them.” Shiori said, voice full of conviction. Suo would never double cross anyone. He wasn’t that sort of person.
“So then, not your esteemed employer. Maybe one of his competitors, though. It’s very hard to hide big purchases in Oak district.” Juro replied to the boy, finger up as if giving a lecture. The pair were coming to the gates now.
“Well, if they did, they would have done something before now.” Shori shrugged. Shiori paused for a moment at the gates, looking up at the archway. He took a breath, and then stepped forward. He was out of Konoha, the village that had taken him in, for the first time since coming here with his parents. It was an odd feeling, to step over that threshold.
“Come on, boy!” Juro was waving at him from further down the path. Shiori looked at the man, hurrying up to meet him. Now wasn’t the time for reflection. He was on a mission. A mission for Suo, sure, but it was still important.
“So, Juro, you travel the world selling spices?” Shiori asked. They would be together up to the border, it wasn’t going to be in silence. The merchant interested him. He seemed to live in absolute freedom. Travel anywhere he wanted, meet different people, learn so much. Juro remained silent for a while before replying.
“Indeed, I have to travel the world to get the spices, so I may as well sell them all over the world too. Spices grow everywhere, and are crucial to making a good meal. People pay a lot for them. It’s been a lucrative trade.” The man smiled as he spoke, but this seemed more honest than his smile in the restaurant. “The adventures I have been on just to source a rare spice! Enough to make your hair stand on end, I’m sure, lad.”
“Hey!”
From the trees, figures emerged. In a motley array of arms and armour, they cut a fearsome figure. Bandits, the plague of the traveller, the parasites on society. They must have heard the conversation about spices.
“Hand over your money, and we will let you go on.” Their leader said, stepping forward of the rest.
The bandits blocked the road. Shiori stood in front of Juro, his arms held out to his sides. He could see five of them. It would be tough, but a plan was forming in his mind.
“Stay nice and still, Juro. I can take care of this.” The seriousness in Shiori’s voice was almost comically ludicrous, such words coming from a boy of nine.
The bandits tensed, but Shiori was already moving. With a series of handseals, a heavy fog began precipitating from the thin air, rendering visibility to almost nothing. He could see the shadows of the bandits, turning, trying to wave the fog away, losing sight of their friends, and more importantly, their targets. The young boy smiled. He hadn’t tried this before, only thought about it.
Genki, one of the hapless bandits, was calling out to his comrades. Where had this mist come from?! It was a sunny day! And the boy had been smiling as he rushed towards them, before Genki lost sight.
He saw a glow in the fog. It must be one of his comrades, they had the bright idea to light a torch to burn away the fog! Perfect. He reached into a pack for his own torch, not even thinking that the colour of the light was like no flame that existed.
He stopped as the air before him shimmered, and the boy was in front of him, hand surrounded by a thin blade of energy, an unsettling smile on his face. He only had time to gasp before the blade was thrust through his chest.
Juro couldn’t see the fight, but only heard gasps and screams, they died down to a couple of whimpers, and then silence. Slowly, the mist dissipated, no longer supported by Chakra. The bandits were dead, and Shiori was stood in the road, not even a fleck of blood on him. If Juro thought about it, he could have sworn he saw a light in the mist accompanying the screams…
“Let’s carry on, Juro, it will be dark soon.” Shiori seemed unfazed by the corpses littering the road. The most unsettling thing was his smile, though. Juro gulped, nodding. The pair set off.
The pair set up a camp for the night, exchanging a little smalltalk, but remaining mainly in their own bubbles of silence. Shiori seemed far more animated after the altercation on the road, Juro thought. It was unsettling. He was back to his calm self, spinning his ring in the air, watching the firelight play off it.
As they sat about the fire, Shiori perked up again.
“How do you carry your spices? I haven’t seen a crate like the one you gave Suo. Not even a sack of salt.” The boy seemed curious and childlike again. Good.
Juro smiled at Shiori, pulling a scroll from one of the pockets under his cloak. “Like you, I was an academy student. Almost went for my exams before I had to be pulled out to help my sick father with the business.” He placed a pair of fingers on one of the seals on the scroll. “I managed to learn and hone a few skills, however. Mainly Fuuinjutsu. Nothing to be useful in a fight, I’m afraid.” With a puff of smoke, a jar of red powder appeared in Juro’s hand. Shiori nodded, then looked at Juro in a new light. All those scrolls… He must have a fortune in spices all over his person!
“That’s a very clever way to do it.” Shiori replied, smiling again. “Anyway, you go to bed for now, I’ll take first watch.” The boy said, pulling his jacket around himself, looking out into the darkness.
The night was uneventful, and the pair switched watches without complaint. They rose in the morning, and the pair ate a simple affair.
“Spices make the meal, Shiori. Try this.” Juro handed the scrambled eggs over.
Shiori ate the eggs, they were delicious. The blend of spices brought the meal alive. “What’s in it?” Shiori exclaimed, used to a very simple diet. Juro tapped his nose.
“I won’t tell you the proportions, but I’ll give you a hint: Paprika, black pepper, salt, mustard and cinnamon.” He smiled at the boy, who smiled back before scoffing down the plate of eggs.
A few hours later, the pair got to the border. Juro turned to the little shinobi-in-training.
“It has been a pleasure, Shiori. I hope that meal and my words have given you an interest in spices. I may have a competitor on my adventures in the future, eh?” He laughed, but in his mind, he thought of the scene on the road.
If I can even try to help him avoid that I will.
“Maybe, Juro. It is certainly an option when I’m older.” Shiori replied, smiling back at the middle-aged man, before turning away, back on the long road to Konohagakure and home. He would have to tell Suo about the good job, and try out that spice blend.
Maybe there would be some more bandits on the way.
Shiori smiled again.
WC:1674
Shiori watched as the pair of men clasped hands, Suo clapping the merchant on the back before handing him a small wooden chest. Juro patted the large crate at his side.
“All the spices you could need. A quarter fresh, and the rest dried for use for the rest of the year. At a discount for your excellent choice to buy in bulk, and the service your pot washer here will be rendering.” The man replied, a smile on his face to match his ingratiating tone, the hallmark of a good merchant.
“Ah, not only a pot washer, but a student at our ninja academy as well! He will do perfectly, I can assure you.” Suo turned his gaze on the small boy, and Shiori felt like he was shouldering an anvil, such was it’s weight. “Am I not right, Shiori? You can escort our friend Juro here to the border?” The eyes bored into him, pinning the boy in place. Shiori nodded slightly, attempting to smile. Suo nodded at the boy, no bone-jarring clap on the back this time, just a nod.
“Well then you had best be off! I’ll see you back here in a few days, Shiori. And make sure to come back next time you visit, Juro!” Suo bustled the boy out the door, followed by the smiling merchant. The pair walked through the streets in silence at first. Shiori was content to take in the environment and have his thoughts to himself as they moved from the centre of the village to the gates. It was a lovely day to not be cooped up in the kitchen. The streets became less and less crowded as they moved away from the legendary Oak district.
“Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye out for threats?”
Shiori was snapped from his reverie by Juro’s question. He looked up at the slight man, into his middle years, a paunch present in his stomach, the only fat on him, it seemed. He wore fine clothing, sashes with full pouches under a hard wearing cloak. The chest was slung onto his back by a system of slings and buckles. He must be used to carrying his wealth this way. Shiori felt quite the pauper next to him, in the same shabby old clothes he always wore.
“You expect to get attacked within the village itself?” Shiori countered, no malice in the question.
“Some of my clients have paid people to attack me before leaving the village so they get spices and their money.” Juro sighed, closing his eyes as he walked.
“Mr. Suo isn’t like that, Juro. He’s a very principled man. He has paid for your spices, you get the money for them.” Shiori said, voice full of conviction. Suo would never double cross anyone. He wasn’t that sort of person.
“So then, not your esteemed employer. Maybe one of his competitors, though. It’s very hard to hide big purchases in Oak district.” Juro replied to the boy, finger up as if giving a lecture. The pair were coming to the gates now.
“Well, if they did, they would have done something before now.” Shori shrugged. Shiori paused for a moment at the gates, looking up at the archway. He took a breath, and then stepped forward. He was out of Konoha, the village that had taken him in, for the first time since coming here with his parents. It was an odd feeling, to step over that threshold.
“Come on, boy!” Juro was waving at him from further down the path. Shiori looked at the man, hurrying up to meet him. Now wasn’t the time for reflection. He was on a mission. A mission for Suo, sure, but it was still important.
“So, Juro, you travel the world selling spices?” Shiori asked. They would be together up to the border, it wasn’t going to be in silence. The merchant interested him. He seemed to live in absolute freedom. Travel anywhere he wanted, meet different people, learn so much. Juro remained silent for a while before replying.
“Indeed, I have to travel the world to get the spices, so I may as well sell them all over the world too. Spices grow everywhere, and are crucial to making a good meal. People pay a lot for them. It’s been a lucrative trade.” The man smiled as he spoke, but this seemed more honest than his smile in the restaurant. “The adventures I have been on just to source a rare spice! Enough to make your hair stand on end, I’m sure, lad.”
“Hey!”
From the trees, figures emerged. In a motley array of arms and armour, they cut a fearsome figure. Bandits, the plague of the traveller, the parasites on society. They must have heard the conversation about spices.
“Hand over your money, and we will let you go on.” Their leader said, stepping forward of the rest.
The bandits blocked the road. Shiori stood in front of Juro, his arms held out to his sides. He could see five of them. It would be tough, but a plan was forming in his mind.
“Stay nice and still, Juro. I can take care of this.” The seriousness in Shiori’s voice was almost comically ludicrous, such words coming from a boy of nine.
The bandits tensed, but Shiori was already moving. With a series of handseals, a heavy fog began precipitating from the thin air, rendering visibility to almost nothing. He could see the shadows of the bandits, turning, trying to wave the fog away, losing sight of their friends, and more importantly, their targets. The young boy smiled. He hadn’t tried this before, only thought about it.
Genki, one of the hapless bandits, was calling out to his comrades. Where had this mist come from?! It was a sunny day! And the boy had been smiling as he rushed towards them, before Genki lost sight.
He saw a glow in the fog. It must be one of his comrades, they had the bright idea to light a torch to burn away the fog! Perfect. He reached into a pack for his own torch, not even thinking that the colour of the light was like no flame that existed.
He stopped as the air before him shimmered, and the boy was in front of him, hand surrounded by a thin blade of energy, an unsettling smile on his face. He only had time to gasp before the blade was thrust through his chest.
Juro couldn’t see the fight, but only heard gasps and screams, they died down to a couple of whimpers, and then silence. Slowly, the mist dissipated, no longer supported by Chakra. The bandits were dead, and Shiori was stood in the road, not even a fleck of blood on him. If Juro thought about it, he could have sworn he saw a light in the mist accompanying the screams…
“Let’s carry on, Juro, it will be dark soon.” Shiori seemed unfazed by the corpses littering the road. The most unsettling thing was his smile, though. Juro gulped, nodding. The pair set off.
The pair set up a camp for the night, exchanging a little smalltalk, but remaining mainly in their own bubbles of silence. Shiori seemed far more animated after the altercation on the road, Juro thought. It was unsettling. He was back to his calm self, spinning his ring in the air, watching the firelight play off it.
As they sat about the fire, Shiori perked up again.
“How do you carry your spices? I haven’t seen a crate like the one you gave Suo. Not even a sack of salt.” The boy seemed curious and childlike again. Good.
Juro smiled at Shiori, pulling a scroll from one of the pockets under his cloak. “Like you, I was an academy student. Almost went for my exams before I had to be pulled out to help my sick father with the business.” He placed a pair of fingers on one of the seals on the scroll. “I managed to learn and hone a few skills, however. Mainly Fuuinjutsu. Nothing to be useful in a fight, I’m afraid.” With a puff of smoke, a jar of red powder appeared in Juro’s hand. Shiori nodded, then looked at Juro in a new light. All those scrolls… He must have a fortune in spices all over his person!
“That’s a very clever way to do it.” Shiori replied, smiling again. “Anyway, you go to bed for now, I’ll take first watch.” The boy said, pulling his jacket around himself, looking out into the darkness.
The night was uneventful, and the pair switched watches without complaint. They rose in the morning, and the pair ate a simple affair.
“Spices make the meal, Shiori. Try this.” Juro handed the scrambled eggs over.
Shiori ate the eggs, they were delicious. The blend of spices brought the meal alive. “What’s in it?” Shiori exclaimed, used to a very simple diet. Juro tapped his nose.
“I won’t tell you the proportions, but I’ll give you a hint: Paprika, black pepper, salt, mustard and cinnamon.” He smiled at the boy, who smiled back before scoffing down the plate of eggs.
A few hours later, the pair got to the border. Juro turned to the little shinobi-in-training.
“It has been a pleasure, Shiori. I hope that meal and my words have given you an interest in spices. I may have a competitor on my adventures in the future, eh?” He laughed, but in his mind, he thought of the scene on the road.
If I can even try to help him avoid that I will.
“Maybe, Juro. It is certainly an option when I’m older.” Shiori replied, smiling back at the middle-aged man, before turning away, back on the long road to Konohagakure and home. He would have to tell Suo about the good job, and try out that spice blend.
Maybe there would be some more bandits on the way.
Shiori smiled again.
WC:1674