Chapter 66: The Art of Local Negotiation
Kyoto's central market awoke beneath a silver mist that clung to the wooden rooftops, while the first supply trucks unloaded crates of fresh products under the watchful eyes of local merchants.
Among the crowd of regular buyers and restaurant owners stood a figure who seemed to belong to a distant and warlike mythology that did not fit with the city's delicacy.
Big Barda walked through the narrow market aisles wearing her green canvas apron over civilian clothes that barely managed to contain the power of her New God musculature.
Her height forced passersby to move aside with a mixture of wonder and instinctive respect, while she scanned the stalls with an analytical gaze seeking strategic objectives.
In her right hand, she held a supply list written by Kisuke in elegant calligraphy that detailed the exact specifications of sugar and flour needed for the sweets.
Barda stopped before the oldest grain supply stall in the market, where a hunched elderly woman organized burlap sacks with a leisureliness that defied the passage of centuries.
The warrior of Apokolips crossed her arms, causing the fabric of her apron to strain dangerously while projecting a massive shadow over the small Japanese merchant.
"Citizen, I require ten units of your highest purity rice flour for the Urahara establishment and I demand that the price be in accordance with the loyalty my lord has shown to this sector," Barda announced.
Her deep and authoritative voice made the nearby spice jars vibrate slightly, causing some shoppers to stop and observe the unusual confrontation.
The elderly woman did not flinch at the giant woman's presence and simply looked up to adjust her glasses while evaluating the quality of the warrior before her.
"In this market we do not operate by military demands but by the quality of the deal and respect for the land that produces the grain, young lady," the old woman responded with imperturbable calm.
Barda felt a flash of irritation at being called young lady by a mortal, but remembered Kisuke's instructions about not using the Mega Rod to resolve commercial disputes at this level.
She leaned slightly to be at eye level with the woman, noticing that the old woman's hands were full of calluses from decades of hard work in local commerce.
That detail awakened an unexpected respect in the heart of the former Fury of Darkseid, who recognized in that civilian the same discipline demanded in her planet's training fields.
"I understand your position, but my shop's resources are limited and my mission is to ensure that Kyoto's sweets maintain their excellence without compromising our daily budget," Barda explained.
The old woman let out a small dry laugh and pointed to a sack of flour of an immaculate white color that emitted a sweet and earthy aroma that even Barda's divine senses immediately appreciated.
"That is the best harvest of the season and the price is five thousand yen per sack, with no discounts for generals or gods from outer space," the merchant declared firmly.
Barda analyzed the sack with the same precision she would use to evaluate fuel supply for assault ships, realizing the quality was indeed superior to anything seen before.
She attempted a negotiation tactic she had learned by observing Scott when dealing with resistance informants in the lower levels of Apokolips's prisons.
"If I buy twenty sacks right now, you will grant me a fifteen percent discount and I will take charge of loading the transport myself without need of your workers," Barda proposed shrewdly.
The old woman evaluated the offer and looked at Barda's arms, understanding that this woman could truly move tons of weight without breaking a single drop of sweat.
Finally, the merchant nodded with a solemn gesture and extended her wrinkled hand to close the deal with the warrior who now looked at her with an expression of genuine camaraderie.
"Deal, though I hope those Urahara sweets are worth the effort of my best grain because my grandchildren are regular customers of that alley," the woman commented with a smile.
Barda lifted three sacks of flour over each shoulder with an ease that made the rest of the market's stevedores drop their tools from the sheer visual impact of the moment.
She walked toward the market exit feeling she had won a tactical battle of great importance for the economic survival of the Kyoto candy shop.
Upon reaching the transport, she noticed Scott waiting with a smile while he finished securing some sugar boxes he had obtained from another sector.
"It seems Apokolips diplomacy has borne fruit today, Barda. I've never seen that old woman yield a single yen in my previous attempts," Scott joked while closing the truck.
Barda adjusted her green canvas apron and felt a strange satisfaction that did not compare to the glory of conquest but filled her chest with a very comforting human warmth.
"Negotiation is just another form of combat where the strongest will prevails without need to spill blood on the battlefield," she replied as she climbed into the vehicle.
Urahara watched his employees' return from the shop's upper window, enjoying the vision of his friends finding their place in the city's social fabric.
The merchant of shadows knew that each of Barda's interactions with the market was a stitch joining the New Gods to the reality of the mortals they now swore to protect.
Barda lowered the sacks in the warehouse with the same discipline as someone storing sacred weapons, while Kisuke descended the stairs to personally inspect the mission's results.
"Good work, Barda-san. It seems your shop assistant uniform grants you an authority that even the markets of earth fear and respect fairly," the shopkeeper commented.
The warrior only nodded with a proud gesture as she began organizing the flour according to the storage protocols she herself had designed for maximum possible efficiency.
The art of local negotiation had become her new specialty, demonstrating that even a leader of legions can find her purpose in the weight of a sugar sack.
* * *
While Big Barda mastered the commercial intricacies of Kyoto's central market with the discipline of an elite general, her husband Scott devoted himself to a much quieter but equally vital labor for the harmony of the candy shop.
The morning sun beat upon the dark and weathered tiles of the old houses that flanked the narrow alley where Urahara Shop stood as a beacon of wood and mystery for all local residents.
Scott found himself atop the roof of Mrs. Satō, a ninety-year-old woman who lived alone and whose dwelling suffered from persistent leaks that no carpenter in the area dared repair due to the structural fragility of the centuries-old beams.
The master escapist moved across the inclined slopes with a grace that completely defied the laws of gravity and the common sense of any human observer.
He used no safety ropes or metal scaffolding, but trusted in his perfect New God balance and in a pair of aerodynamic discs from New Genesis that he kept hidden in the soles of his civilian footwear.
Mrs. Satō watched from the inner courtyard with her wrinkled hands clasped over her apron, while her time-clouded eyes followed Scott's figure as he seemed to float among the chimneys and grayish ceramic tiles.
"Young Scott, please be very careful because those timbers hold more stories of pain than of strength, and I would never forgive myself if someone so kind ended up hurt because of my humble home," the old woman called out with a trembling voice.
Scott turned while holding a new tile in his right hand and gave her a radiant smile that dispelled any trace of worry from the woman's face, assuring her that escaping from an interstellar prison was much harder than fixing a leak in Kyoto.
He used a small pocket tool that appeared to be a simple hammer but actually contained pressure sensors that allowed him to identify the exact point where the structure needed reinforcement.
Scott's every movement was a choreography of pure escapism, where he used the momentum of his jumps to place the pieces in their spot while his mind calculated the trajectories of the winds blowing from the surrounding mountains.
In less than an hour, the roof that had been Mrs. Satō's nightmare for years was completely sealed and reinforced with a precision that surpassed any known earthly technology.
Scott descended from the structure with a backflip that left him standing on the courtyard's dirt floor without raising a single speck of dust, before the astonished gaze of the old woman who let out a small cry of surprise and admiration.
"This is just a small adjustment so you can sleep peacefully during the next rainy season. You don't need to worry about the cost because Urahara insists that maintaining the neighborhood is part of our responsibility," Scott explained while brushing nonexistent dust from his shoulders.
Mrs. Satō tried to offer him a small bag of homemade ginger candies, but Scott accepted it as if it were the most valuable treasure in the multiverse, recognizing that human gratitude was a much more potent fuel than the energy of a Mother Box.
It was not long before other neighbors peered out of their windows and sliding doors requesting the help of the young man who seemed able to reach any place and fix anything without need of ladders.
The rumor that a good luck spirit worked for the merchant of shadows began spreading throughout the Gion district, attracting elderly folk with broken hinges, stuck windows, or clogged gutters that no one else could safely reach.
Scott accepted each task with a contagious enthusiasm, seeing in these small domestic repairs a form of redemption for all the years he spent fleeing the chains of his past in Apokolips's fire pits.
For him, tightening a screw on an old wooden door or balancing a weathervane atop a local watchtower was a declaration of freedom that resonated with more force than any speech of rebellion against Darkseid's throne.
On one occasion, he had to recover a child's cat that had become trapped on the highest branch of a sacred pine tree inside a nearby temple, where the monks watched in amazement as the young man walked on air to rescue the animal.
Scott simply used his spatial positioning abilities to create the illusion that he was jumping between invisible branches while returning the feline to its owner with a delicacy that immediately moved those present.
Scott's reputation as a man capable of the most impossible physical feats quickly consolidated, making him a beloved and respected figure by a community that had previously looked upon the strange alley shop with distrust.
Urahara observed all these interactions from the shadows of his veranda while savoring an especially bitter green tea that helped his mind stay focused on the invisible threads connecting his friends to the world.
The shopkeeper noticed that Scott's Reiatsu was becoming more stable and harmonious thanks to this connection with the everyday, demonstrating that even a New God needs roots in the earth to not lose himself in the immensity of his own power.
"It is fascinating to observe how the art of evasion transforms into the art of permanence when applied to the wellbeing of those who have no way to protect themselves," Kisuke thought with a smile of genuine satisfaction.
The shop was no longer just a candy business but the center of a mutual support system where magic, technology, and human kindness intertwined to create a safe refuge against the uncertainty of the future.
At the end of the morning, Scott returned to the shop with his pockets full of homemade cookies, paper amulets, and handwritten thank-you notes that Barda examined with a mixture of warrior curiosity and silent pride.
Scott sat on the wooden floor and shared his findings with Kisuke, explaining how Kyoto's architecture possessed geometry secrets he had never considered in his studies of dimensional prisons.
Urahara nodded and suggested some improvements for Scott's pocket tools that would allow for deeper repairs to the foundations of the neighborhood's oldest houses.
Kara descended the stairs and listened to Scott's anecdotes, feeling a healthy envy for the ease with which the young man had integrated into the lives of common humans through simple acts of selfless service.
"It seems Kyoto has gained a guardian who needs neither swords nor shields to protect the soul of its streets," Kara commented while taking one of the cookies Scott offered her generously.
The morning ended with the feeling that every tile Scott placed was a protective seal reinforcing reality against any external threat that might try to disturb the peace of their new and beloved home.
* * *
The sun finally hid behind Kyoto's ancient temples, tinting the air a deep and warm orange while Urahara remained seated on the polished wooden porch of his shop.
The shopkeeper held his tea cup with an elegance that concealed the constant activity of his analytical thoughts about the perfect stability reigning in his alley.
The supply truck appeared at the entrance of the narrow street and Big Barda descended from the cabin with a presence that radiated an absolute and majestic confidence.
The warrior began unloading the sacks of rice flour with an ease that kept the vehicle's metal from emitting a single creak of protest under her weight.
"Kisuke, I have managed to secure the supply chain for the next six months under conditions that greatly favor our local economy," Barda reported with pride.
Kisuke nodded with a knowing smile, noting that the former general no longer spoke of conquest strategies but of the efficient and harmonious management of her new home.
Shortly after, Scott arrived walking down the center of the alley, surrounded by a small group of elderly neighbors who patted him on the back and smiled at him with gratitude.
The master escapist brought with him wicker baskets full of homemade food and paper amulets that the residents had given him as a show of their most sincere affection.
The candy shop quickly filled with a cheerful murmur of mundane conversations as the neighborhood inhabitants entered to greet their new and strange guardians.
Urahara watched with delight how the barrier between the divine and the human faded in that small corner of Kyoto, transforming the establishment into a nexus of true peace.
"It is fascinating to observe how beings capable of shaping entire galaxies find their greatest satisfaction in fixing an old roof or negotiating the fair price of sugar," Kisuke thought.
Kara descended from the rooftop with a light leap and joined the group, helping Barda organize the new supplies on the shelves with a vitality that illuminated the room.
Dinner was served shortly after at the low dining table, where the aroma of hot stew and steamed rice filled every space with a comforting warmth.
Scott recounted with humor his acrobatic adventures with the temple cat, while Barda explained in detail her dialectical victory against the toughest merchant in the central market.
Kisuke listened to every word from his friends, enjoying the genuine sense of belonging that this group of cosmic exiles had managed to build in so little time.
However, deep in his mind, the shopkeeper knew this balance and happiness were necessary to strengthen the spirit before the great void claimed his attention.
For that night, the merchant decided to close his eyes to the complex equations and simply be the man who shares a meal and a laugh with his found family.
The wooden sign at the entrance swayed gently under the fresh night breeze, announcing to the silent world that the shop was at peace and the business of life continued.
The neighborhood's harmony was Urahara's most successful experiment, demonstrating that even at the end of the world there is always a place for hot tea and good company.