"Honored guest, here is your Miso Chashu Ramen! This Daifuku and Tempura are on the house! Please, enjoy!" The waiter bowed respectfully, placing the steaming bowls and side dishes onto the table with practiced care.
"Mm." Menma pulled his gaze away from the window, looking at the spread with a hint of surprise.
The waiter's genuine smile was a small warmth in a cold world. The extra snacks were clearly a gesture of gratitude for the generous tip Menma had left earlier.
"By the way, guest," the waiter added helpfully, "if you're looking for a Gato Company ship to the Land of Lightning, the ticket office is just down the next street over."
Beyond moving freight, these massive merchant ships often sold passenger tickets to travelers as a way to maximize their profit margins.
"Thanks." Menma gave a short nod and picked up his chopsticks.
The waiter didn't find the young man's coldness odd and quietly withdrew. Since this wasn't a specialized ramen shop, the noodles were average at best, but the complimentary tempura was perfectly crispy, and the daifuku was sweet and soft. Menma found himself satisfied.
Once he had refueled his energy, Menma left the eatery and headed for the docks to find his mark.
From a distance, he spotted a massive merchant vessel flying the Gato Company flag. It was preparing to cast off. Sailors on deck were shouting through megaphones, and the gangplank was swarmed by travelers desperate to board.
With a slight flex of his knees, Menma flickered. In a blur of speed, he was aboard.
"Huh?" A ronin bodyguard patrolling the deck felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly.
The moment his eyes met the white, three-eyed fox mask, he was ensnared. His pupils dilated and lost focus as the Genjutsu took hold.
"Where is Gato?" Menma asked in a low whisper.
"Lord Gato... will board shortly," the ronin replied in a hollow, wooden tone.
"Take me to his quarters," Menma commanded. Simultaneously, his hands blurred into seals, and he transformed into a nondescript samurai carrying a katana.
"Yes, my Lord." The ronin led the way.
The two moved through the ship like a pair of guards on a routine patrol. No one spared them a second glance.
"This is Lord Gato's room." The ronin stopped before a set of ornate wooden doors.
"Stand guard here. When Gato arrives, let him in," Menma said as he pushed the door open.
"Understood." The ronin stood as still as a statue beside the entrance.
Inside, the room was a display of gaudy wealth. While there wasn't gold piled on the floor, the walls were lined with genuine leather trimmings, expensive imported liquors, and bizarre collectibles that screamed "new money."
Menma sat behind the heavy desk, pulled open a drawer, and began flipping through the ledgers.
Month X, Year Y: Fleet carrying supplies from Fire Country to Water Country.
Month X, Year Y: Fleet returning from Water Country to Fire Country.
The records were recent. Even during the height of the Third Shinobi World War, Gato's ships had moved between ports. Though they occasionally lost cargo to roaming ninjas or pirates, the profit margins were astronomical. War was a gold mine for men like Gato.
Menma wasn't an accountant, but he noticed massive unexplained expenditures. A huge chunk of the profits simply vanished—likely bribes to the nobles and Daimyos of various nations to ensure Gato's "unimpeded" passage.
Currently, the Gato Company was merely a mid-sized power. It hadn't yet reached the level of global wealth it would possess in nine years.
'In every fanfiction I've read, robbing Gato is the go-to source for quick cash,' Menma thought, resting his chin on his palm as he boredly flipped the pages.
The ship lurched, signaling the start of the voyage. Not long after, a commotion broke out in the hallway.
BAM!
The door was kicked open with violent force.
A short man in a sharp suit and round, dark sunglasses stormed in, radiating fury. Behind him were several menacing ronin and a few scruffy-looking rogue ninjas. The guard Menma had bewitched had already been neutralized.
"I want to see which blind fool dared to break in here!" Gato snarled, stepping into the room.
When he saw someone sitting in his leather chair—a custom piece imported at a high price from the Land of Bears—his face turned a bruised shade of purple. His lip twitched. "It seems I'll have some entertainment for this voyage after all."
He grinned cruelly at his men. "Teach this brat a lesson he won't survive. Just don't damage my collection. Once he's broken, you can play with him however you want on the lower deck."
The thugs laughed, a chorus of jagged, predatory sounds, as they closed in on the boy. To them, he was already a broken toy.
"Not even a single decent ninja?" Menma sensed their chakra. Only two were even at the level of a Genin. He shook his head.
He didn't even bother to stand up. He simply wove a single-handed seal.
"Nine Masked Beast: Gyoku!"
The air beside him rippled violently. A dark red ritual array marked with the kanji for 'Jewel' manifested in the air.
Tennyo, the Heavenly Maiden of the Nine Beasts, surged out of the array, hovering gracefully in the mid-air.
"What is that—?!"
The thugs didn't have time to process the sight. The Maiden's silk ribbons lashed out like whip-swords.
Two ribbons pierced through the chests of the leading ronin with the speed of a crossbow bolt. Blood sprayed the walls, and the acrid scent of gore finally snapped the others out of their stupor. They froze in pure terror.
The Maiden continued her dance. Her ribbons extended, sweeping through the room and battering the remaining thugs. Screams filled the cabin, severed limbs flew, and the luxurious decor was torn to shreds in seconds.
Seeing the carnage, Gato turned and bolted for the door without looking back.
But as he reached the corridor, two silk ribbons snaked around his waist and legs, yanking him backward.
"AAAGH!" Gato shrieked as he was dragged back into the room.
He hit the floor, surrounded by the mangled corpses of his elite guards.
"My... My Lord... please... please... don't kill me..." Gato, once so arrogant, was now a quivering mess, stuttering so hard he could barely breathe.
His sunglasses hung lopsided on his face, revealing eyes wide with primitive fear.
Menma rose from the chair and floated toward Gato, looking down at the pathetic merchant from above. He knew that simple slaughter wouldn't buy the kind of loyalty he needed. To own a man like Gato, you had to own his soul.
Menma's hand blurred into a seal. He spoke, his voice dropping into a cold, hollow register:
"Temple of Nirvana!"