The room smelled of iron oxide, dried ink, and the faint, dusty scent of a hundred different spices that Tenka had sealed into scrolls three years ago just to see if she could.
Tenka sat cross-legged on the floor of her workshop, which was less of a room and more of a labyrinth constructed from towers of paper, crates of weapons, and jars of unidentifiable liquids.
She held a brush in one hand and a blank scroll in the other.
"It's not about the seal," she muttered to herself, chewing on the end of the brush. "It's about the retrieval index."
Most shinobi thought about sealing as a way to hide things. You put the kunai in the paper, you make the paper small. Simple.
Tenka knew that was stupid. Carrying stuff was heavy. Carrying stuff was inefficient. But sealing it away meant you had to remember where you put it.
If I seal a thousand swords, she thought, dipping the brush into the inkwell, I don't just need a pocket. I need a library.
She painted a character. It wasn't the standard Fū (Seal). It was Kura (Warehouse), modified with a spatial coordinate algorithm she had been calculating for six months.
The ink shimmered. It didn't dry flat; it seemed to sink into the paper, creating a depth that made Tenka dizzy if she stared at it too long.
"Variables," she whispered. "Spices. Books. Fresh water. Bad memories."
She picked up a rusted iron teapot from her desk. She placed it on the seal.
Pulse.
The teapot didn't vanish in a puff of smoke. It dissolved into the ink, becoming a perfectly drawn illustration of itself on the paper.
Tenka grinned.
She tapped the paper. The teapot reappeared in her hand, warm, exactly as she had left it.
"He who controls the inventory," she declared to the empty room, "controls the war."
She leaned back, stretching her arms until her joints popped. She had done it. She had cracked the secret to the infinite inventory.
And she knew exactly why.
It wasn't for the war. It wasn't for the village.
It was for her.
A woman had passed through the village last week. A wild, ferocious storm of a woman named Maito Mai. She had hair like a fire hazard and a laugh that shattered windows. She was the most powerful, beautiful, unhinged creature Tenka had ever seen.
Tenka swallowed hard, remembering the way Mai had accidentally kicked a hole in the tavern wall and then offered to fix it with "youthful enthusiasm."
She needs weapons, Tenka reasoned, her cheeks heating up. She breaks everything she touches. If I can carry an entire armory in my pocket... maybe she'll stick around.
Tenka looked around her home.
It was a disaster.
Usually, she didn't care. Inosaisho called her a hoarder. Shikazou called her a "walking hazard." Chōjū called her a "cat lady" (though he usually brought her stray cats, so she suspected he meant it as a compliment).
But today... today was different.
"Spring cleaning," Tenka announced.
Tenka moved with a speed that belied her reputation as the "lazy logistics girl."
She grabbed a stack of scrolls. Seal.
She grabbed a pile of dirty laundry. Seal.
She grabbed a crate of rusty shuriken. Seal.
She was a whirlwind of organizational fury. She categorized. She indexed. She shoved entire bookcases into pieces of paper the size of playing cards.
Within an hour, the labyrinth was gone. The floor was visible. The sunlight streaming through the paper windows actually hit the tatami mats instead of dying on a wall of junk.
Tenka stood in the center of the room, panting. She held a single, massive scroll in her arms.
"The Iron Library," she whispered, patting the paper. "Everything in its place."
There was just one thing left.
Lying on the floor, gleaming in the sun, was a massive, mythic-looking iron staff. It was etched with monkey motifs and felt heavier than it looked.
"Right," Tenka muttered. "The Monkey King's staff. Need to file that under 'Divine Constructs'."
She reached for it.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sound echoed through the clean room like a gunshot.
Then—a frantic scrabbling sound.
TIPTIPTAPTPTPASPTPA.
Something small and fast was running across her roof tiles.
"STOP THAT, ENMA!" a booming, cheerful voice roared from outside.
Monkey laughing noises.
"Where do you think he gets it from?" the voice laughed, vibrating the walls. "I'm certainly not energetic like that! HO-HA-HO!"
Tenka froze.
She knew that laugh. It was the sound of a tectonic plate shifting. It was the sound of a volcano deciding to tell a joke.
Son Goku. The Four-Tails. And his Jinchūriki, the wild monk who traveled with Mai.
"!!!"
Tenka panicked. She dusted off her kimono, frantically smoothing her hair. She looked at the giant staff on the floor.
No time to seal it.
She kicked it under the rug.
She took a deep breath. She grabbed a random book from the shelf (which turned out to be "The taxonomy of poisonous mushrooms") to look intellectual.
She ran to the door.
She opened it.
Standing there, backlit by the sun, was a woman in a green jumpsuit that defied fashion and physics, grinning like she had just punched the sun.
"TENKA!" Maito Mai yelled, throwing her arms wide. "I BROUGHT DUMPLINGS! AND A MONKEY!"
Tenka looked at Mai. She looked at the small monkey (Enma) who was currently eating her roof shingles. She looked at the massive, bearded monk standing behind them, radiating heat.
Tenka smiled.
"Welcome," she squeaked. "I... I just cleaned."