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Chapter 47 — This Person Acts One Way in Public and Another in Private; Surely Well-Endowed
The sensory ninjutsu's wave swept through the wagon, scanning the crates.
It paused briefly over the book wrapped in white threads, then moved on.
Alex had successfully sealed Konan's chakra signature— they were not detected.
The sensory jōnin relaxed his hand. "Go ahead. This shipment and its personnel are clear."
Takeda exhaled in relief. Finally they'd entered Kirigakure with the goods intact.
"Good, nothing unexpected happened."
"Rest assured, Mr. Takeda. This is routine. No one would dare cause trouble right under Kirigakure's nose." The scarred chūnin and his three students remained calm; they had escorted many such shipments and expected no surprises. No one could slip past the gate's sensory check.
Takeda chuckled and flattered them. "Of course — Kirigakure is one of the Five Great Shinobi Villages. No one would blatantly stir up trouble here."
Once all the wagons entered, the group headed west through the village and soon arrived at the only bookstore in town without incident.
With the job done, the scarred chūnin and his three genin happily collected their pay and left.
A black-haired young man emerged from the shop — the bookstore's manager.
"Lord Takeda, thank you for your trouble."
"Mm..." Takeda nodded.
Only after the scarred chūnin's team disappeared from view did Takeda turn and meet the manager's eyes, then glance toward the shop's inner end.
The street was nearly empty; nobody paid them any attention. Takeda instructed his assistant, "Unload the cargo into the store first."
"Yes!" Two assistants responded and silently began moving crates from the wagon into the shop.
Takeda entered, walked past rows of half-empty shelves, and went straight to the back. The young manager followed silently.
At the far end, Takeda stopped before a white wall. A man sat on a wooden stool with his eyes closed, saying nothing — as if resting. His expression was calm, nothing of the merchantly shrewdness he'd displayed earlier remained.
The black-haired manager bowed slightly and stood three steps behind him, also silent and awaiting orders. In his hand was an unremarkable black square device about the size of a palm, its little screen showing a blinking red dot.
The manager lowered his head and watched the tiny screen through his bangs. The two stood motionless, as if waiting for some cue.
After a while, the red dot began to move outward across the screen until it finally disappeared.
The manager pocketed the black box, stepped forward, and whispered, "Lord Takeda — the Kirigakure Anbu team that came for a routine inspection has left. The area is safe for now."
"Mm..." Takeda barely hummed in acknowledgement and signaled the manager with a look. The manager understood.
He pressed a hidden protrusion on the nearby bookshelf.
Click.
A faint tearing sound, then a hairline crack appeared at the smooth center of the white wall and widened. The wall split open left and right, forming a narrow seam just wide enough for a person to pass through. Beyond was pitch black.
Takeda stepped through, the manager following. The seam closed behind them and the white wall looked whole once more — except that, in the instant before it fully sealed, a small, plain slip of white paper floated silently inside unnoticed.
At the front of the store, the two assistants had already stacked all the books neatly on the shelves. One of them sat behind the counter acting as shopkeeper.
The book Konan had transformed into lay quietly on a shelf — the white threads that once wrapped it had vanished. Her gaze went to the deep white wall at the back, curiosity prickling.
Why would an ordinary bookseller act so secretive?
She was sure of one thing: Takeda, the black-clad manager, and the two assistants gave off no chakra— ordinary civilians. Otherwise, Kirigakure wouldn't let them bring in outside shinobi. Yet their covert behavior and that strange black device spoke of secrets. They were not simply a bookseller and a supplier.
Curiosity won out. Konan had intended to leave the store once the scarred chūnin left, but seeing Takeda and the manager's unusual conduct, she held back to watch.
When the white wall began to close, Alex moved too and followed after them.
Crack!
The wall shut and cut off the light — Alex's world turned pitch dark. He pressed himself against the wall and stayed still.
He could sense the space behind the wall was small, with no airflow. He could clearly hear Takeda and the manager's breathing.
A light suddenly shone — a flashlight Takeda set on the table. Cold white light illuminated the small chamber.
Alex flattened himself to match the wall's color and assessed the room.
It was under ten square meters and mostly empty; a small long table sat in the center. On it were metal parts, wires, and a larger black square box with two antennas — similar to the device the manager had just held.
Alex didn't understand the gear, but it was obviously electronic. Technology in the Naruto world was rudimentary but functional: computers, monitors, medical devices existed. Yet this manager's gadgetry was unlike anything publicly circulated — custom equipment with a special function.
Who made it? Who were these two really?
Questions piled in Alex's mind. He glanced at the white wall again — built with high-quality soundproofing; perhaps other hidden measures existed too.
There were no seals in the chamber, and no chakra signatures leaked. Takeda set the flashlight upright on the table and turned to face the manager.
"Kirigakure Anbu have left; the room's soundproof. No one can overhear us. Report on the past six months."
"Yes!" The manager bowed slightly, respectful. "Kirigakure has been quiet these past six months. Since Mei Terumī became Fifth Mizukage and ended the Bloody Mist era, the village's controls have gradually eased. People have relaxed and are no longer as suspicious of one another."
Takeda folded his hands behind his back. "In that case, your work should be easier than during the Bloody Mist days. It wasn't an easy time."
"It's true." The black-haired manager nodded; the memory of that bloody period still made him uneasy. Not only was his work difficult then — he nearly lost his life.
"For half a year I've been coming into contact with Kirigakure's research personnel in various ways; I've befriended a few people without arousing Anbu suspicion."
"Any important findings?"