"Honor stands when mountains fall.
Duty remains when fear rises."
— Iron Country samurai oath
絹
の
ク
ソ
34 — SILK-WRAPPED SHIT
FROM A DISTANCE, the town of Tenkūgane appeared to be little more than a dozen or so wooden structures nestled at the base of a massive cliff.
It was only when they drew closer that Naruto realized the true nature of the settlement: it extended into the mountain itself, horizontally and vertically.
"The East Entry," Otsuru explained. "What you just saw was just part of the outer ring."
The bridge they crossed spanned a deep ravine, connecting the mountain path to what had initially seemed like a modest outpost. But beyond the wooden gatehouse at the bridge's end, Naruto could now see a tiered settlement built directly into the cliff face, with structures that appeared to grow organically from the rock itself. Wooden walkways and staircases connected multiple levels, while lanterns were being lit against the approaching evening.
"So, most of it is inside the mountain?" Naruto asked, taking in the sight of men patrolling the higher walkways.
"Yes," Otsuru confirmed. "The outer ring is mostly for travelers and traders. The deeper you go, the more secure it becomes. The train station is several levels in, near the heart of the mountain."
They approached the bridge, where two guards in light armor stood watch.
"Remember," Otsuru whispered. "We're cousins and merchants. No chakra use unless absolutely necessary. Let me handle the talking when possible."
The guards straightened as they approached, hands resting casually on sword hilts. One stepped forward, alert but not overtly hostile.
"Papers," he requested simply.
Otsuru produced their documents with a polite bow. Naruto followed suit, the movement slightly stiff but passable.
The guard examined their papers with cursory attention, comparing the seals against a small reference chart. After a moment, he handed them back.
"Purpose in Tenkūgane?"
"Rest and resupply," Otsuru replied smoothly. "We're heading home — Kouka. Got caught in the storm up north near Yukinoyama, lost some supplies."
The guard studied them briefly, then nodded. "Very well. Outer ring only — curfew is at midnight. Inns to the right as you enter, markets to the left. Keep your weapons peace-bound while inside if you have any."
"Of course," Otsuru agreed, giving another small bow. "Thank you."
He waved them through with disinterest, already turning his attention to the travelers behind them.
As they crossed the gate, Naruto felt a subtle tension ease from his shoulders — the first hurdle cleared.
A bustling collection of wooden buildings built along the cliff face, connected by covered walkways and stairs carved into the stone, composed the outer ring. Despite the cold, the streets were still alive with more activity than Naruto had expected: merchants, people gathering around outdoor braziers, locals moving between levels with practiced ease.
"We'll find an inn for tonight," Otsuru murmured as they walked. "This part's for sure."
Naruto nodded, his eyes drawn to the higher levels visible through gaps in the buildings — the inner sections of Tenkūgane where men patrolled in greater numbers. Beyond them, somewhere within the mountain, lay the train station and their fastest route forward.
"Yeah," he said quietly, his resolve hardening.
They secured a small room at an inn near the edge of the outer ring. Through the window, the lights of Tenkūgane climbed the cliff face like stars that had forgotten how to rise. Beyond them, the mountains loomed — vast, dark, and entirely disinterested.
Tomorrow would bring complications. Curfews and permits. Checkpoints. Questions. But tonight, Naruto had stranger things to attend to.
"I'll gather some supplies before the markets close," Otsuru said, her coin pouch tucked neatly into her sash.
"Could I…" Naruto hesitated. "Could I ask you to get some more bandages for me?"
"More? Did your wounds reopen?" No answer came, and she shrugged. "Sure, whatever. You should finish your night. We'll need our strength."
Naruto nodded with a casualness he didn't feel. "Yeah."
When the door slid shut, he listened to her steps fading into the hallway. Counted them, for no particular reason. When they were gone, he waited a little longer.
Then he turned away from the window.
Several things happened after that, though he would be hard-pressed to arrange them as neatly as they had seemed the night before. They weren't the kind of things one talked about in daylight.
There was a pause. Not of time, but of intent. The room seemed to shift — subtly, almost imperceptibly — the way water did when something stirred beneath the surface.
In brief, there was stillness, blood, whispering, and a binding, although not precisely in that order. It went without saying that several unfortunate complications would arise from it, too.
There was no fire. Not so much ink. No chanting, no salt, no signs to mark the moment for what it was. Just near-complete silence, and a small, deliberate decision. Lines, shapes.
There may have been a whisper. If there was pain, he didn't remember it. If there was hesitation, it didn't last.
By the time Otsuru returned, the room was neatly ordered.
"I've brought dinner," Otsuru announced as she set down several wrapped packages that filled the room with the aroma of grilled fish and pickled vegetables (although Naruto had less interest in those). "And—"
She gave him a long look.
"You seem pale," she said. "You sleep at all?"
"Not yet," he said. "Maybe later. Thank you for the food."
She seemed as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, decided not to. "Well… I have news."
Naruto sat up, and nothing about his grogginess was feigned. "What kind of news?"
"The inner checkpoint guards rotate at dawn. The night shift is going to be less thorough in their inspections if we reach just before they leave." She began unwrapping the food parcels. "Also, I found something else."
He didn't bother asking where she'd gotten the information—she had a knack for sniffing out things like that. She had, after all, done the same with him.
From a cloth bag, she produced two small wooden tokens, each inscribed with the symbol of Tenkūgane — a stylized mountain with horizontal lines cutting through it.
"Bath tokens," she explained with a slight grin. "The hot springs here are famous throughout the region—"
"Hot springs?" Naruto asked. Hot springs? As in hot? The idea of warmth appealed to him like few things ever had, over the course of his life.
"You don't know what that is?"
"Of course I know what hot springs are!"
"Oh." Otsuru paused, a traitorous grin pulling at her lips. "Well, the innkeeper said these ones have some healing effects — something about minerals in the water. I didn't catch all the details, but it's a thing. We never went before, although most travelers go on their first night in town."
"Healing?" Naruto perked up.
"Nothing crazy. Probably just helps with sore muscles, blood flow — that sort of thing. Might be nice after all that climbing."
Any recovery was welcome, especially with what tomorrow might bring.
"Think it works on wounds?" Naruto asked.
Otsuru only shrugged. "I don't know, but I got you some waterproof bandages anyway."
"Thank you," he said, grabbing one of the dinner packs. "When should we go?"
"After we eat and you apply them," Otsuru replied. "The more we act like everyone else, the less we stand out. And there's nothing more normal around here than a trip to the springs."
The hot springs were a marvel unlike anything he'd experienced. Or perhaps it was only a matter of timing, and having frozen for days on end had shifted something in him.
In any case, it confirmed that Tenkūgane was larger than he had thought (to know it was one thing, to see it was another). The baths were built into the side of the mountain, a sprawling stone structure that boasted a complex network of pools of varying sizes and temperatures fed by natural (supposedly) hot springs that bubbled up from deep within the earth. Steam rose continuously from the waters, creating a permanent haze that hung over the building. The minerals in the water gave it a pale lime tint.
Inside, the bathhouse was divided into numerous chambers. Some rooms held deep, still pools for soaking, others contained bubbling waters for therapeutic purposes. There were rooms filled with nothing but steam, and separate areas with wooden tubs for scrubbing before entering the communal baths. One chamber even housed a massive pool large enough for swimming.
Throughout the building, the people of Tenkūgane mingled freely, unconcerned with status or clan affiliations. This didn't surprise Naruto as much as it might have weeks ago, but it still felt notably different from the generally more segregated baths he was used to.
In Uzushio, they used to say the old springs were fed by the sea. That wasn't quite true anymore, as they now resided in the skies — though technically, the water still came from the sea, in a roundabout way.
There was something peaceful about being alone in the steaming waters while night fell, watching as moonlight filtered through the high windows and beamed through the rising steam.
That same steam rose in thick clouds from the bathing pools, obscuring the ceiling of the vast cavern that housed the springs. Lanterns glowed softly through the mist, casting everything in a dreamlike haze.
Naruto lowered himself slowly into the hot water, feeling the immediate sting of the mineral-rich waters against his wounds. He had wrapped them with water-resistant bandages before coming, but the heat still penetrated, causing an uncomfortable burning sensation that gradually subsided into a dull throb.
The pool he'd chosen was slowly filling with people. Though he minded, slightly, he stayed — there were enough bodies to blend in, but not so many that he risked unwanted contact. This particular spring, he had learned, was known for its wound-healing properties, and he'd been quietly counting on that. Even if the relief was only partial, it was better than the slow, dragging agony of bandages and rest.
Across the partition that separated the men's and women's sections, he knew Otsuru was similarly positioned. They had agreed to meet outside in precisely two hours — enough time to appear relaxed but not lingering long enough to draw attention.
He had nearly dozed off when a voice directly beside his ear jolted him to alertness.
"That's quite the scar you've got there."
Naruto's eyes snapped open. He hadn't heard anyone approach. But now, just a few paces away, someone had slipped into the water — a teenager, perhaps a few years older, lounging with practiced ease.
His blond curls were tied back in a loose topknot, and his gaze was open, almost friendly; only, it carried the weight of someone who noticed more than they let on. He wore a slight, unreadable smile, head tilted as if trying to catch the light on Naruto's face just right.
"Yeah, I know," Naruto muttered, shifting instinctively to cover the injury beneath the water.
The stranger laughed, a melodious sound that somehow carried over the general murmur of the bathhouse without being loud.
"No need to be shy. A fresh wound like that has to come with a good story." His fingers traced an idle swirl through the water. "The way you flinched when you moved — happened this week, I'd bet. Then again… we are in healing waters, so who knows? Aside from you, I mean."
Naruto forced his expression to remain neutral. "Nothing much to it. It was a hunting accident."
"A hunting accident," the stranger echoed, eyes glinting with mischief. "Unfortunate. Though strange, isn't it, for a hunter to be so careless?" The emphasis wasn't subtle. "I'm Waka, by the way."
Naruto didn't bother saying he wasn't a hunter, didn't bother saying anything about that monstrous Kuroguma. In fact, he said nothing. His gaze stayed fixed on the rippling water, but his thoughts were racing. The real danger wasn't just that this Waka had spotted his injury — it was how quietly he'd approached. Naruto hadn't heard a single sound. That wasn't normal. At all.
"You're not local," Waka went on, unbothered by the silence. "Your accent — I caught traces of it when you spoke. Eastern coast, maybe?"
Naruto's jaw tightened. One conversation, and he's already dissecting me.
"That's where my mother was from," he said, stretching as if to rise. "Anyway, I've soaked long enough."
A pale hand shot out and caught his wrist, surprisingly strong.
"So soon? We've barely had a chance to chat." Waka's smile didn't waver, but his eyes had hardened. "And I'm quite curious what brings a shinobi with fresh battle wounds to a place like this."
Shinobi.
Naruto felt his heartbeat quicken, acutely aware of the other bathers, of the exits, of the fact he carried no hidden weapon. Well, almost none.
"You're mistaken," he said evenly. He didn't pull away. Pulling away with enough strength would only prove the point. "I'm no shinobi."
Waka laughed again and let go, fingers lifting with theatrical grace. "Am I? Well, forgive me, then." He rose from the water in one fluid motion, revealing a lean, muscular frame adorned with several old scars of their own. "Though if you truly are just a traveler, you wouldn't mind joining me for a quick chat?"
It was bait, plain as day. Refuse too sharply, and he'd look guilty. Accept, and who knew what trap this strange person had waiting.
"Another time," Naruto said, tone mild. "I have companions waiting. And I don't like being grabbed."
"Ah, yes. The girl with the slight wound on her forehead? I noticed her walk into the women's baths earlier." Waka's smile stayed warm. "Another hunting accident, right?"
Naruto felt ice spread through his veins despite the hot water. Otsuru. This stranger had seen Otsuru too.
"Yes," he said shortly. "The very same one."
Waka stepped gracefully from the pool, wrapping a robe around his shoulders. "I haven't said anything to the samurai patrol that came through earlier. Yet."
Samurai. Naruto stood slowly, water cascading from his shoulders. His muscles tensed, ready for whatever came next.
Waka smiled, all innocence now. "Meet me behind the noodle shop at the end of the lantern street in one hour. Come alone — or don't come at all." He shrugged. "But if you choose not to… well. The samurai captain did seem very interested in finding the culprits."
And with that, he vanished into the steam, graceful as a wraith.
Naruto stood there, jaw clenched, heart hammering. He needed to find Otsuru.
Now.
The alley behind the noodle shop was dark, and only the faint glow of lanterns from the main street broke that gloom. Naruto pressed himself against the wall, listening intently for any sign of an ambush.
He'd told Otsuru to pack up and wait at their fallback point. If he didn't return within the hour, she was to leave without him. He wasn't sure she'd actually listen — and not just because convincing someone to go and fetch her from the baths had been messy.
"You came alone. That's awfully trusting of you."
Naruto spun toward the voice.
Waka stood in the light at the other end of the alley, still wearing that same enigmatic smile. He had changed into a simple but elegant pink haori. Although it seemed to be of good quality, Naruto couldn't help but notice its frayed edges and the almost invisible mends along the seams, though he didn't quite know what to make of it then. A nobleman's garment with a vagabond's wear.
"What do you want?" Naruto demanded, keeping his voice low, even as he drew closer.
Waka tapped a bamboo flute against his palm — a deliberate, rhythmic motion that seemed almost hypnotic. A weathered hand revealed calloused fingers. "Straight to the point. I like that. I want information."
"I don't have any."
"Everyone has information." Waka's smile deepened. "Some more valuable than others."
He took a step forward, his geta sandals making a subtle tok against the packed earth. "A shinobi from the Eastern territories, this far north? Slipping past checkpoints without being caught, in this tense climate of ours, dodging samurai patrols? That's already a story."
The night seemed to grow colder. Naruto remained silent, calculating distances, planning moves again. If this came to a fight, he needed to end it quickly and quietly. "I told you already. You're wrong about that. We are couriers."
"Mm." Waka twirled the flute between his fingers, deceptively casual. "Funny thing — the lords here have grown very interested in shinobi lately. Something about stolen scrolls. An assassination or two. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"I told you. Just passing through."
"With a fresh blade wound? Traveling with a companion similarly injured?" Waka's eyes narrowed, analyzing every minute reaction in Naruto's face. "Hers, maybe I could pass off as a beast's doing. Maybe."
"I already said—"
Waka shook his head. The moonlight caught the edge of something beneath his haori: a single, well-worn short blade. He slipped the bamboo flute into his obi sash with practiced ease. "Don't insult me."
Naruto's hands curled into loose fists. "What do you really want?"
"The scroll," Waka said. "The one taken from the courier three days ago in Aomatsu. I want it." His voice had gone flat — no sing-song tone now, just iron beneath pink silk.
"And if I don't have it? If I don't have anything to do with this business you're talking about?" Naruto asked. "Is this personal? Or are you working for someone?"
A short laugh escaped Waka's lips, sharp and humorless as breaking glass. "I serve whoever pays. Just like you, shinobi. Hand it over."
"I told you I don't have what you're looking for!"
"Not denying you're a shinobi anymore, then?"
Naruto growled. "That's not what I said."
Waka sighed. "I think we have a problem." His hand moved to his obi, near where the blade was secured, but he didn't draw it. Instead, his fingers lingered there, a silent threat more effective than any spoken warning. The alley seemed to contract, narrowing down to just the two of them and the space between.
"You know," Naruto said carefully, "for someone so interested in this scroll, you haven't mentioned a single detail about it."
"And?" The question hung in the air for a heartbeat. Two.
In one fluid motion, he lunged — a blur of motion, fabric flashing pink.
Naruto moved instinctively. He didn't want a fight — not here, not now — but Waka was fast. Dangerous-fast. He ducked the first strike, twisting away. His wound flared with pain as he narrowly avoided a second blow that sliced the air near his face.
"I knew it," came the triumphant declaration.
Waka moved with precise fluidity, each motion flowing into the next like water.
"You're quick," Waka observed, his breathing still perfectly controlled, sounding pleased rather than frustrated. His eyes gleamed with an almost predatory satisfaction. "But injured, shinobi. Your left side opens when you pivot."
Naruto considered drawing his kunai, but knew it would escalate the fight immediately. "I don't want to fight you."
"And yet, here we are," Waka said, circling, silent on his feet. His fingers had shifted into an unusual shape — the sort of stance Naruto recognized, even though he wasn't familiar with that particular one. A close-range style, one that targeted nerves and joints. "Give me the scroll. We walk away."
"I told you—"
Waka struck again, a flurry of precise blows. Naruto blocked and dodged, but every movement strained his side. One hit grazed his arm, a nerve point — his fingers went slightly stiff.
He hissed, lashing out with a kick that Waka twisted away from. Naruto followed through, swiping with his hand, but Waka bent back at an impossible angle, spine arching like a bow.
"Interesting," Waka murmured. "That style. It's not common. Who trained you?"
And who trained you? Naruto thought bitterly.
Instead of answering, he feinted left, then dropped low, sweeping his leg toward Waka's ankles. The teenager leapt over the attack with balletic precision, but Naruto had anticipated this, using the momentum to propel himself upward, fingers aimed at Waka's throat.
If I grab it, I can kill—
The thought came to him with sudden horror, and he couldn't even say why it had been his first resort. Only that he shouldn't.
The opening, if it had been there at all, passed. Waka twisted in midair, impossibly quick, and their eyes met for a split second before they landed apart, both resetting their stances.
The deadly dance paused for just a moment while they reassessed one another. The other was crouching on a balustrade, beckoning Naruto to come and get him.
His leap had carried him effortlessly to the wooden railing; a height no ordinary person could have reached without a running start (and even then). The pink haori sleeve had torn slightly during their exchange, revealing a forearm that seemed too densely corded with muscle for someone of his slender build. And that jump.
A chakra user, for sure.
Naruto reached into his sleeve, fingers brushing a smoke tag—
Waka's eyes flicked upward at the same moment Naruto's did. A shadow across the rooftop tiles — Otsuru.
Of course she hadn't waited.
She was crouched on the edge of a noodle shop's roof, nearly invisible against the night sky. The moonlight caught the outline of something clutched in her hands — one of her gunpowder bombs.
"Ah," Waka muttered as he noticed. "That's, uh..."
Otsuru said nothing, just stared at him, bomb in hand. Naruto's heart slammed against his ribs. If she used that here… in a tight alley, with buildings on both sides—
Then, the sound of armored footsteps echoed from the main street. The three froze.
"Samurai patrol," Waka whispered, and the change in him was instant. The easy smile dropped. His posture shifted, sharp and alert. "Damn it."
The footsteps were growing louder; no time to plan. Naruto's gaze darted to the rooftops — to Otsuru — then down the alley, measuring every option. Too close — they would notice a jump.
"Behind the barrels," Waka hissed, already moving, pointing to a stack of sake casks pressed against the wall. "Go!"
Naruto hesitated, suspicious of the sudden shift.
"Don't be stupid," Waka snapped. "I don't want to be caught in this mess either."
The footsteps turned into clinks and clatters — armor against stone, metal brushing metal.
No time.
Naruto ducked behind the barrels just as two armored men stepped into view.
From the shadows, he watched Waka transform.
The blade disappeared beneath his haori. He straightened, adjusted his sleeves with practiced ease, then brought the flute to his lips. A soft, slow melody followed — something old, almost mournful — as if he had been playing it all along.
"You there!" a gruff voice called. "What are you doing back here?"
"Enjoying the night air," Waka replied, voice warm, casual. And seemingly surprised as he pulled the flute away from his lips. "It gets awfully crowded out front, even this late."
Naruto held his breath. From his hiding spot, clear as day, he could see two samurai — heavy armor, crested helmets, hands resting near their hilts.
"We've had reports," the lead one said, glaring. "Suspicious figures in this sector. You're not from around here, are you?"
Waka laughed softly, a rich, low sound that made Naruto's skin crawl.
"I'm a traveler. I was looking for work. I found some, then lost it again, and found something else entirely. I guess that's the world these days. No master, no coin, and far too much time."
He gestured loosely with one hand.
"Though," he added, tone shifting just slightly, "I did see a man running toward the northern gate not long ago. Loud. Nervous. Seemed in a bit of a rush."
The samurai exchanged glances. "Northern gate, you say?"
"Yes. Muttering about reaching the next town by noon. Practically falling over himself."
The second samurai narrowed his eyes. "Papers. Who gave you permission to travel?"
Waka gave an exaggerated sigh, hands lifting in a slow, careful gesture.
"Always the papers." He offered a self-deprecating smile. "You'd think I was a smuggler, the way I keep getting asked."
"We're not in the mood for jokes."
The samurai stepped closer, the tip of his scabbard scraping the ground as he shifted his stance. The second guard remained at the entrance, eyes scanning the shadows — too close to where Naruto hid.
Waka moved slowly, deliberately, sliding a folded slip of parchment from inside his kimono. "Temporary permit. Issued in Kurai Township, five days ago. I'm headed south, if the work holds."
The samurai took it, holding it up to the moonlight. Naruto could imagine his eyes narrowing under the helmet's red glare.
"Kurai's permits use red ink for the stamp now. This one's black."
"Do they now?" Waka blinked innocently. "Everywhere?"
He smiled, calm as still water — but Naruto could see the tension beneath it, tight as a bowstring. Without a word, he extended a folded slip of paper toward the samurai.
One of the men tilted his head, murmuring something low to his other nodded slowly, eyes flicking once to the parchment... before drifting toward the barrels. Toward Naruto.
His breath caught. Too close.
Naruto's fingers hovered over the smoke tag hidden in his sleeve.
Overhead, Otsuru moved. He didn't hear her, didn't see her — but he knew her, the way only someone who had spent entire days with her could.
The samurai's hand drifted toward the barrels—
And then Waka moved.
Not fast, not violently — just suddenly and with perfect timing. He staggered slightly, then coughed — a rasping, sickly sound. Doubled over.
"You alright?" the first samurai snapped, stepping forward.
"Just — just the hot spring air," Waka gasped, voice hoarse as he fell to a knee. "Always does this to me. Happens every time I visit a mountain town."
He coughed again, harsher, and spat.
Something dark hit the ground with a wet splatter. Under the moonlight, it gleamed.
Blood.
Naruto stared. He bit himself, he realized. It was deliberate, of course — he had spent a while in the hot springs, had he not?
The samurai recoiled, visibly disturbed.
"Back up. Could be plague."
"No, no," Waka wheezed, pulling a handkerchief — silk, pristine — from his sleeve and dabbing his lips. "Just an old affliction. A harmless one."
He started to rise. His legs didn't even shake.
The lead samurai frowned, clearly torn. But the blood, as well as this fear of a plague, was working.
"If that permit is forged…" the other warned. "And that contract... Why you, then?"
Waka shook his head weakly.
"I wouldn't — I know how this works."
They hesitated — then turned. The shorter one looked back once, eyes lingering on the barrels… then followed his partner into the street.
Their footsteps echoed, boots clanking against stone.
Naruto didn't breathe until they were gone.
Waka turned slowly, smoothing his kimono. "You're welcome."
Naruto emerged from behind the barrels, eyes hard. "That was—"
"Clever," Waka countered. He glanced upward, eyes finding the rooftop in an instant. "I'm not waiting for you to say your thanks."
Otsuru jumped down in a blur of movement, landing as light as a cat, fingers still wrapped around the unlit bomb.
"You were supposed to wait," Naruto said, voice tight.
"And leave you alone with that silk-wrapped shit?" she snapped. "I don't think so."
Waka chuckled. "You two make quite the pair. Like a sword and a spark. Very entertaining."
Naruto ignored the jab. "You're not just some errand boy, are you?"
Waka smiled, but this time there was no amusement in it. Just something harder, colder.
"No. And neither are you."
Naruto bristled, but said nothing. Otsuru showed no reaction.
Waka sighed. "…Perhaps I was mistaken. You really don't have the scroll, do you?"
"That's what I've been telling you over and over again!"
Waka shrugged. He turned to go, then paused.
"I suggest you go back to whatever you were doing, then. And leave as soon as possible. That patrol won't be the last tonight."
He began to walk away, then added over his shoulder, "Next time we meet — I'll be less polite."
And then he was gone.
Otsuru grunted. "Who was that?"
Naruto didn't answer right away. His eyes were still on the mouth of the alley, where Waka had vanished.
"Trouble," he said finally. "I think."
The sort that always seemed to find him.
In the darkness, the two came to the same decision.
When they awoke, they rose in silence, packing their few belongings by the pale illumination that preceded true dawn. Outside their window, Tenkūgane slumbered, with only the occasional guard visible on the higher walkways.
"The guard rotation happens at sunrise," Otsuru reminded him as she secured her pack. "We should approach the first inner checkpoint before then. The night guards will be tired, more likely to wave us through."
Naruto nodded and swallowed the pill without a word.
They slipped from the inn as the eastern sky began to lighten, moving through the nearly empty streets. Lanterns still burned at intervals, providing just enough light to navigate by. They avoided the main staircases, instead taking narrow service paths that wound between buildings and through secluded corridors.
As they descended, the architecture shifted. Timber frames gave way to stonework, columns cut directly from the mountain itself. The air warmed slightly, though it was just as unpleasant, if in a different sort of way. The scent of soot and steel lingered beneath the usual smoke.
They paused in the shadow of a storage building, observing the checkpoint ahead. Two guards stood watch at a narrow gateway, with slightly slumped postures.
They approached with measured steps, neither hurrying nor hesitating. The guards straightened as they drew near, one stepping forward with a hand raised.
"Halt. Inner access is restricted. State your business."
Otsuru bowed politely, presenting their documents quietly.
The guard examined them for a long moment, then grunted. "You're early."
"We hoped to avoid the crowd," she replied. "And pick decent seats, perhaps."
A grunt.
"Won't be much of a crowd today."
A wave-through.
They continued downward. There were more corridors, more pathways, and to Naruto, they all blurred together. Tunnels, carved directly from the cliffside. Somewhere beneath their feet, machinery stirred, and he could hear it faintly.
Checkpoint two was brighter — a heated room with a table, official-looking forms, and a clerk sipping tea. Once more, Otsuru did all the talking. The clerk's stamp hovered, stopped. Then he pressed it down.
They passed through with clipped nods, trying not to show how much their hearts were pounding — at least Naruto knew he did.
Checkpoint three was a cargo station, where narrow rails spider-webbed across a platform, gleaming like veins of metal. The scent of iron was thick enough to taste here.
"No entry without clearance," barked a young woman in uniform, her posture sharp.
Otsuru produced a document Naruto had never seen, crisp and as official-looking as one the clerk had been filling. Her fingers didn't tremble.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "You're with the shipment?"
"Yes." A single syllable, perfectly weighted. "Going back home."
Another pause. Then: "Fine. Don't touch anything."
They kept moving.
The final checkpoint was a skeleton — guards reduced to the essential few, attention dulled by night's end. A bleary-eyed foreman scrawled notes while an officer mechanically checked manifests, enthusiasm long since evaporated by either the years or that particular night.
The samurai, of course, weren't in yet.
Finally, they stood before a long black serpent of steel and soot, a little while before departure: the great train. Steam hissed from its undercarriage in harsh breaths, and this deep in the cavern, the morning sun didn't reach its worn sides.
Naruto finally breathed.
They climbed aboard, slipping into the nearest service compartment.
No one stopped them.
No one looked twice.
They sat down, waiting for a motion, for anything to start. People climbed aboard, and the two barely greeted most of them.
Across from him, Otsuru's face mirrored his own disbelief — for all her confident words, she had apparently expected something, anything to go wrong. He couldn't blame her for it, as he also had. But so far, it was working.
Then came a soft rustle at the corridor's end, and the clink of armored boots.
Two samurai appeared first, their lacquered armor catching the dim light. They moved with practiced precision, scanning the compartment with cold efficiency. Behind them, a third figure emerged from the shadows.
Otsuru barely managed to hold back a groan.
Dressed in travel black, two swords at his hip — not hidden away, but worn properly, as only those with authority were permitted — and that damnable pink cloak.
Commoners didn't wear swords. Servants didn't wear swords. Only samurai and nobles had that right.
Yet here was Waka, walking a half-step behind the armored warriors, neither restrained nor deferential.
The samurai took positions by the door while Waka's eyes met theirs across the compartment. His face revealed surprise for an instant, and his hand came up slightly toward his sword, but he said nothing. And then, it was gone.
The door slid shut behind them.
i/oXhdUA : Waka
i/obArFc : Extra — "Ah."
AN: I'm sure no one did anything drastic.
Next chapter: He Who Tames the Iron Horse