I covered the extra squares with ribbons Yoshino had given me, and set out "go-ishi" - the little black and white stones from the game of Go - on the board. They worked well for checkers because of their contrasting colors, but there was one problem: how to turn them into kings. [ image ]

The stones looked exactly the same on both sides. I thought about putting a drop of ink on one, but the gloss would get in the way, and scratching one side… well, this set was probably too expensive to mess with like that. It was better to just use a shogi piece as a king.
I didn't have to spend long explaining the rules - honestly, what's there to explain? It's checkers. The only thing easier would be teaching rock-paper-scissors.
"Heard the latest news?" Shikaku suddenly asked after losing his third game in a row.
"Hm? Care to share?" I was a little caught off guard, and started setting up my pieces again, putting the kings away.
"Shinobi from Suna destroyed a couple of villages in the Land of Wind, though the official story is that it was the work of missing-nin." As I watched Shikaku's move, I raised an eyebrow - he'd already gotten into the rhythm of the game, and I was afraid that after a few more rounds, he'd start wiping the floor with me again.
Wait… is this really public news?
"No, I don't really keep up with rumors or the news. It's strange… I doubt shinobi would destroy villages in their own country with their own hands," I said, moving a piece closer to the edge.
"So, you agree it was the missing-nin?" He countered with a move that set up a trap three turns ahead, then glanced at the book in front of him and turned the page.
"There's not enough information to jump to conclusions. But if missing-nin can just wander around the country and wipe out any village they like, that means the Land of Wind has serious security issues, or… the patrol shinobi were deliberately avoiding those areas for some reason."
"I can give you a hint," Shikaku smiled slightly, meeting my eyes for a moment.
"Hmm, let me analyze what I've got first. If I get it wrong, I'll take the hint. So, a few villages destroyed - let's assume that's a fact. Missing-nin aren't idiots, they're ex-shinobi, and even if their groups are mostly made up of all sorts of riffraff, they should know that attacking even a small village isn't the same as robbing a passing caravan. Overconfidence? Unlikely… maybe someone let them know they'd be left alone, or… the political situation in the country makes them think they can get away with it.
If it's the first, the info probably came from shinobi - but why? It's unlikely they'd do it for money. Even if Suna is one of the weaker great villages, their shinobi wouldn't stoop to that just for cash, or they'd have lost their status long ago. The shinobi themselves, or their leaders, also have nothing to gain from destroying villages - even the smallest village of 100-200 people can request 5-10 missions a year. But if it's about political maneuvering, then anything's possible."
Suddenly, I remembered that during my morning runs or evening walks, I'd sometimes see returning teams with red skin and dusty clothes and shoes - or, more accurately, not dusty, otherwise some parts of their clothes wouldn't have that yellowish tint.
"It's the political situation… is it connected to the Land of Fire?" I asked, and Shikaku looked at me in surprise, quickly tearing his eyes from his book. If it were anyone else across from me, they probably wouldn't have even caught what I was getting at. "It is," I nodded, answering myself. "But the Land of Fire wouldn't openly meddle in another country's politics, let alone start fighting there - that could spark a new war, and right now, a war would hurt Konoha and the Land of Fire more than it would help. Considering I've sometimes seen our shinobi with sandals full of sand…"
So… Suna attacked Konoha, or rather, in a few years they will, together with Orochimaru in the official canon. Why? I just can't remember…
"Tell me, Shikaku-san, does Suna have any reason to dislike Konoha right now? Aside from past wars," I added quickly.
"They do, and it's tied to their main source of income," he gave me a hint.
Is Konoha muscling in on their gold mines? No, that would be an open act of interference, and neither Hiruzen nor Danzo would go for that right now - though with Danzo, I'm not so sure. What income does Suna have, besides selling gold, which their Kazekage is pretty cozy with? Missions! That's it! Why would Konoha's shinobi be interfering with Suna? Only if there's a mission, and the Hokage can't assign missions in the Land of Wind unless it's an escort to the border, or unless he makes a deal with the Kazekage, or… with the daimyo of the Land of Wind.
"Haha, I get it." I let him take one of my pieces, then took two of his and got another king. The rest of the game ended in a draw, since with all the kings, neither of us could take the other's remaining pieces.
"So, what did you figure out, if you don't mind me asking?" Shikaku asked calmly, finally finishing my book.
****
[ Third POV ]
"Shikaku, you've been out there for an hour - go inside and talk to our son. Judging by his eyes, he was sleeping in class again," his wife's voice snapped Shikaku out of his thoughts.
"Ah, an hour already? You know what, you talk to him - I just remembered I have some very important business to take care of." Shikaku immediately got up from the table. He really didn't feel like lecturing his son right now, and Yoshino hated that their son was always half-asleep in class.
"You again… oh, what's this?" Yoshino bent down and picked up a sheet of paper that was sticking out from under the game board.
Shikaku glanced over, expecting to see notes from his guest's moves, but suddenly froze.
"Oh, what a beautiful drawing of our yard. Does Akira-san know how to draw?" Yoshino went on.
To his wife's surprise, Shikaku burst out laughing and said he was going inside to eat with their son, then disappeared into the house.
****
[ Third POV ]
I walked home with a bit of a spring in my step. It felt good to know I'd "outfoxed" the head of a clan whose members are considered the smartest in Konoha - though I'm sure if he'd really focused, put the book away, and stopped chatting, that score of three wins, one loss, and a draw would look very different.
I was planning to quietly cut through the center of town and cook something simple at home, but a small crowd on one side of the street caught my attention. Out of curiosity, I went over to see what was going on.
In the middle stood a man in his forties, giving orders to a group of burly shinobi who were tearing down some old building - apparently, it used to be a trading house.
I understood why the crowd was there. In this world, you could watch three things forever: fire burning, water flowing, and shinobi working efficiently. Bricks and boards shattered like papier-mâché with a single swing of a sledgehammer. And watching them pull out nails with just their fingers, like Superman - that was a treat. If the demand for combat and espionage ever dried up, I'm sure they could easily switch to being hired labor.
I spotted Homuri next to the man, and decided to go say hi, but as soon as I took a few steps through the crowd, the guy turned away from my friend and started yelling at me.
"How many times do I have to tell you idiots?! Stop getting in the way, move back, or better yet, go mind your own business. Don't you have anything better to do?" He was practically spitting as he jabbed a finger in my direction.
I ignored him, stepped aside, and gave a short bow.
"Homuri-san, good to see you. How are you?" Homuri smiled and bowed back.
"It's great to see you too, Akira-san, especially in good health. How's your arm?"
"Ah… well…" the other man mumbled, looking a bit lost.
"As you can see, I'm out of the cast. Have you finished all the preparations for the trip to the capital for the daimyo's birthday?"
"Yes, we're leaving in a week. Would you like to join us? I can ask Torio-sama to save you a spot - I'm sure he'd agree, he spoke very highly of your book. Actually, everyone who's read it has."
"Haha, I'd love to, but I'm not fully recovered yet. I was just out for a walk, saw the crowd, and got curious."
"I see, that's a shame. I'd have loved some good company for the trip. But your curiosity was well-timed - we've just started work on your project, so I came to check on the early stages and write a report later. What do you think, Akira-san, is there enough space?"
"I think it's plenty, and the location is great. What's the construction timeline?"
Homuri glanced at the man next to him, who had deflated since our conversation started.
"Um, four and a half months, sir," he said, bowing respectfully for some reason.
"This is Kichiro-san, the architect. He's been appointed project supervisor," Homuri said, gesturing to the man.
"Hm, so that's why you looked familiar," I realized.
"Oh, sir, you've heard of me?" Kichiro asked with a slight smile.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me?" I said, surprised. "I came to you for advice about my restaurant, on a friend's recommendation." Kichiro's eyes went wide and he pushed his glasses up his nose. As soon as he got a good look at me, he turned pale.
"Yes, yes, I remember now - my memory is terrible, sorry. You came to me with a fantastic project plan, but unfortunately, I didn't have the skills to help you. Such a shame."
Well… actually, you called my project ugly.
I wanted to stick around and chat with Homuri a bit longer, but someone in the crowd recognized me and shouted, "Hey, that's the owner of McDonald's!" Someone else chimed in, "Yeah, he's also a writer and an artist!" and the crowd started buzzing about what else I might be. Standing there listening to people talk about me was a little uncomfortable, so I quickly said goodbye to Homuri, turned, and left.
"Sir! Sir, please wait!" I heard a shout behind me, and stopped, staring in confusion at an old man hustling over - though he only looked old because of his long white beard and wrinkles. He wasn't tall, with gray streaks in his chestnut hair. If it weren't for the deep lines on his face, you'd easily think he was thirty-five or forty.
"Whew, sir, sorry for the sudden approach… are you really an artist?" he asked, catching his breath.
"Just call me Akira. I'm not some big shot. And yes, I'm an artist, in a way. Did you want something?" The man straightened up and bowed deeply.
"Sorry for the strange request, but could you look at my work? I've been painting since I was a kid, it's a hobby, and when I heard there might soon be a place where people could see my paintings…" He couldn't finish - he ran out of breath and started coughing.
I get it - seeing how close I was with Homuri, he probably figured I could help him get his work displayed. And why not? If his paintings are good, I'd be happy to help.
Masumi kept his paintings in his workshop, so that's where we went. He worked as a cobbler, a trade and workshop passed down from his father, and his father before him - a real family business. Masumi understood the importance of keeping the business going, but he'd always dreamed of being a famous artist. Unfortunately, you can't feed a family with paintings alone. [ image ]

Even a great artist has little chance of making money - so much depends on luck and circumstances, and in this world, even more so. I'm sure he knew that, so I kept my opinion to myself and quietly looked over his paintings.
Masumi mostly painted landscapes, and he was much better at it than I was - I could only really do portraits, everything else I did was just "passable." But no matter how good his landscapes looked, they were… boring. The colors were realistic, but nothing made me want to stare at them for hours. Still, for this world, his work was definitely worth showing.
"You're a good artist. I'll do my best to get a few of your pieces displayed," I said, and quickly continued to cut off the flood of thanks he was about to unleash. "So, you make closed shoes too? That's odd, most people I see wear sandals."
"Ahem, I mostly do repairs, but sometimes I make new ones. It's pretty warm in Konoha, and there's no farming, but for workers, closed shoes are often needed, and sandals just don't cut it for some jobs. Shinobi don't care, their toes are like iron."
"Oh, I see. Can you make any kind of shoe, or just certain types?" I asked, curious. I'm not knocking the comfort of rubber sandals, but I'm used to closed shoes, and when I run, I'm always worried about tripping.
"Well, I've got enough experience to make any kind of shoe."
"And if I sketch something out, could you make it?"
"Of course, that wouldn't be a problem at all," the man replied, eyes shining.
After thinking for a bit, I asked for a sheet of paper and sketched out a basic design for a pair of sneakers - thick rubber sole with extra padding under the arch, a loose, breathable upper, eight eyelets for laces, and a small tongue of slightly stiffer fabric.
"Here, it'd be great if there was some thin but tough material under the foot, something soft enough," I explained, since I doubted anyone here had heard of insoles.
"Oh, I get it. We could use glue to keep it from sliding, or just sew it right into the sole. And these holes… what are they for?"
"Laces," I said, like it was obvious, then realized I needed to explain, so I pointed to the thin cords people use for hanging laundry.
"Ah, I see - those cords will help keep the shoe on your foot. Smart. I think even my son could make those. All right, I don't think I'll have any trouble with your order. Let me take your measurements, and I promise that in two days… no, by tomorrow afternoon, they'll be ready."
"Really?" I was surprised. That's what I love about the Japanese - their work ethic. Though, in my world, most people were pretty hardworking, except maybe Europeans, though there were exceptions, like in Eastern Europe.
Just as promised, the next day my new pair of sneakers was ready. The quality was way better than any of the junk I'd ever bought at "Kari," and I practically had to force the money into Masumi's pocket - he kept trying to refuse payment because of the small favor I'd do for him in the future. He never did tell me the price, so I just shoved five thousand ryo at him, ignoring his protests that it was too much.
He only accepted on the condition that I'd have dinner with his family. In Japan, inviting a stranger to share a meal in your home is a big sign of trust and respect.
His family lived on the second floor of the workshop. Their home didn't reek of wealth or luxury, but the lady of the house had created a cozy atmosphere. The funniest thing was Masumi's six-year-old daughter, who kept pestering me about how I got my hair so nice - or rather, it was her parents' faces, trying to hide their embarrassment and quietly hush her, that made me laugh.
Masumi, with bags under his eyes, spent half of dinner raving about how comfortable the shoes were.
"Then start making them," I said simply, but he shook his head and started explaining how hard it was to make them, and that he couldn't do it alone - his workshop was only set up for two workers.
"Money and production capacity are secondary. What I want to know is, would people actually buy these shoes?" I asked.
"Well, honestly, Akira-san, I'd love to put my own kids in shoes like these, and I'm sure almost everyone I know would too. They're really comfortable, and much better for fall and winter. So yes, people would definitely buy them."
"Hm, I'm ready to invest - I mean, I'm willing to share what funds I have in exchange for a share of the profits. You've heard of that, right?"
"Ah, yes, of course, some clans and merchants from Keichi do that, but… Akira-san, are you sure?" he asked, hopeful.
"More than sure. How many pairs can you make right now?"
"Well, if I work at a normal pace, I think… about twelve to fifteen pairs a month."
"There are about a hundred thousand people in our village. If you count kids and people up to age twenty-five, that's about thirty-eight to forty-three percent. Oh, and kids' shoes are even easier to make… so, if even ten percent of our target audience buys them, that's already around 3,800 to 4,300 pairs. Until the shoes get popular - let's call them sneakers - you should have at least a thousand pairs in stock.
So, the question is: how many people, how much material and equipment, and how much money would it take to make at least three to five hundred pairs in a couple of months? Don't rush - take your time to think it over. If you decide to go for it, come see me with your answer. I'll leave you my address."
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