The Meeting Spot

The sun had barely begun its climb, casting long shadows over the dirt road. The air was still crisp, the faint scent of damp earth lingering from the previous night's rain. Kotetsu and Hakui strolled toward the rendezvous point, where Doto was already waiting, adjusting his gear and flipping through a few notes. His sharp eyes flicked up the moment they approached.

Doto raises an eyebrow looking at the two, "Took your time, huh, you two? Izumo is already at the gambling hall scheduling a meeting with the man."

Kotetsu grinning, stretching his arms "Hey, you can't rush perfection. I had to make sure Hakui didn't trip over her own ego before we got here."

Hakui: crossing her arms, unimpressed "Says the guy who insisted he knew a 'shortcut' and got us lost for twenty minutes."

Kotetsu: mock-offended "Excuse me, that was an alternate route—it just happened to be less efficient."

Hakui: deadpan "You led us into a pig farm."

Kotetsu: grinning wider "And yet, here we are, safe and sound. You should be thanking me for the scenic detour."

Hakui: "Right. Next time I'll be sure to paralyze you with a mulligans venom then carry you through the mud myself."

Doto let out a quiet sigh, clearly used to their antics. He ignored their bickering—or whatever this was—and got straight to business.

Doto: "Anyway, I was able to track down which merchant house the decorated Shoji piece came from. It belongs to the Wakanata family—a well-established merchant clan."

Kotetsu: tilting his head "Never heard of them. They sell something important?"

Doto: "Silk. Specifically, high-quality kimono robes. The kind that all noblewomen love to wear as lingerie."

Kotetsu: grinning "Oh-ho, now this mission is getting interesting."

Hakui: flatly "Of course that's what you focus on."

Ah is my little Hakui jealous, don't worry I'm sure you'll catch my attention one of these days. Maybe if you didn't have mud all over your face you'd get a man's attention.

Hakui glared at him as who's fault is that, and as if she wanted this idiot's attention. With her ready to attack him on the spot.

Doto: ignoring them "One of the minor members of the family mentioned that the head of their branch enjoys spending his time at the gambling hall. That's our best shot at getting some answers. If his family's being targeted, we need to figure out why. Maybe he's got ties to something illegal, or maybe he's just a victim. Either way, we need to know."

Hakui: "And if it turns out to be something serious?"

Doto: "Then we escalate it. If this is bigger than just bandits, we can get Konoha involved through an official mission request."

Kotetsu stretched lazily, resting his hands behind his head.

Kotetsu: "So, we find the guy, ask some questions, and hope he doesn't gamble away all his dignity before we get there. Sounds easy enough."

Doto gave him a look that clearly said Don't jinx it, before turning on his heel.

Doto: "Let's go. The gambling hall's on the west side of town."

The three of them set off, moving through the bustling streets, where the day's business was already beginning. The scent of fresh bread mixed with the faint aroma of tobacco smoke, the distant murmur of merchants setting up their stalls blending into the hum of city life.

The Gambling Hall

The air outside the gambling hall was thick with the scent of grilled meat and cheap perfume, but the moment Kotetsu, Hakui, and Doto stepped through the entrance, the overpowering stench of cigarette smoke took over. The place was alive with activity—men and women crowded around gambling tables, their laughter and curses mingling with the sound of clinking coins. A soft melody played in the background, the classical Japanese music barely cutting through the noise of the games. Geisha girls glided between tables, carrying trays of sake and flashing practiced smiles at wealthy patrons.

Near the entrance, Izumo was already waiting for them, leaning casually against a wooden pillar. As soon as he spotted Kotetsu, he smirked.

Izumo: "Took you long enough. What happened? Did Kotetsu try to wrestle a pig again?"

Kotetsu: "Oh, ha-ha. No, this time Hakui got us lost. You wouldn't believe the detour she took us on"

Hakui: deadpan "He got us lost. And somehow convinced himself it was my fault."

Izumo: "Yeah, that sounds about right."

The two men shared a quick chuckle, but the moment they stepped further inside, their expressions turned serious. The atmosphere changed in the deeper parts of the hall—the laughter was quieter, the men at the back tables were dressed in fine silk rather than common gambler's garb, and security lingered near the private rooms. This was where the true high rollers played.

Moving past the main floor, they reached an ornately decorated doorway leading into a more exclusive area. A few women were performing a slow, graceful dance near the corner, but the moment they stepped in, Doto made a curt hand gesture. The entertainers took the hint, quickly excusing themselves.

Izumo: nodding toward the back table "There. That's Goro. Son of the ruling lord of the Land of Calm Seas."

Goro stood out even among the well-dressed nobles. He was a young man with long, straight blue hair, an air of quiet confidence around him. He sat at a table engaged in a gambling game with three other men and a dealer, his fingers idly tapping the surface while holding a golden fan in one hand. He barely spared the newcomers a glance, more interested in the game before him.

Doto wasted no time. He strode toward the table, stopping just beside it.

Doto: "Goro."

The young noble didn't even look up.

Goro: "Do I know you?"

Doto: "No. But we need to talk."

Goro let out a soft breath through his nose, clearly uninterested.

Goro: "I don't recall inviting commoners into my game. Whatever business you have can wait."

Doto didn't argue. Instead, he reached into his cloak, pulled out the decorated wooden Shoji piece, and placed it firmly on the table. The elegant carving caught the dim light, the smooth lacquered wood gleaming under the glow of the lanterns.

That finally got Goro's attention. His casual demeanor shifted as he picked up the piece, turning it in his hand. His grip on the golden fan tightened slightly, and for the first time, his gaze sharpened.

Goro: voice low, controlled "Where did you get this?"

Doto, completely unfazed by the noble's change in tone, answered without hesitation.

Doto: "One of your merchant carriages was attacked last night by bandits. This was among the wreckage."

Goro's expression darkened. He let out a slow, resigned sigh, his fingers still lightly tracing the edges of the Shoji piece. His free hand closed the golden fan with a quiet snap.

Goro: "I see."

The table fell silent, the other gamblers exchanging wary glances. Whatever Goro was thinking, it was clear the situation wasn't just a simple bandit attack.

And now, Kotetsu and the others had to find out exactly how deep this went.

Goro's patience snapped as he turned sharply to the man at his right. His voice cut through the low murmurs of the gambling hall like a blade.

Goro:

"Shinno! When will your men be arriving?"

At the name, Kotetsu's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face. He knew that name—but from where? The realization hovered just out of reach in his mind, like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Hakui, ever observant, caught the shift in his expression. She didn't say anything, but her sharp gaze lingered on him for a second longer before she turned her attention back to the conversation.

Shinno, the man Goro addressed, was well-dressed in modest yet refined clothing, exuding the air of a professional rather than a noble. He remained seated, barely acknowledging the question as he calmly replied.

Shinno:

"They arrived this morning, young master. They'll be ready to begin this afternoon."

Goro's shoulders loosened a fraction at the confirmation, but the tension in his jaw remained. Whatever had happened the previous night had left him deeply unsettled.

He turned back to Doto, his grip tightening on the Shoji piece as he met the ninja's gaze.

Goro:

"Were there any survivors?"

Doto's face darkened. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head.

Doto:

"No. All of them died in an explosion. The perpetrators had explosive tags on them."

The air in the room grew heavier. Goro slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the game pieces and glasses. His composure cracked, anger boiling over as he stepped closer to Doto, glaring up into the ninja's face.

Goro:

"How the hell did this happen?! You're ninja, aren't you?! And you did nothing?"

Kotetsu clenched his teeth, his hand already rising as he opened his mouth—ready to fire back—but before he could say anything, Hakui's cool fingers wrapped around his wrist under the table.

He turned to her, meeting her calm but firm gaze as she subtly shook her head. "Not now."

Kotetsu exhaled sharply through his nose but relented, settling back as Goro continued his tirade.

The silence that followed was broken by a slow, condescending chuckle.

Shimada:

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised."

All eyes turned to the speaker—Shimada, a short, pudgy man dressed in an extravagant blue silk kimono with layered designs. For an idea of what the guy looks like, picture Prince Zanac from Overlord. He was lounging lazily, filing his nails with all the concern of a man discussing the weather.

Shimada:

"Konoha's really not much of a protector, is it?"

Doto's expression hardened.