Rain kept falling in Amegakure, tapping nonstop on the metal roof of Ryouhei Kurozawa's shop. The place had changed a lot—it wasn't a falling-apart shed anymore.
Now it looked like a real workshop. Shelves were full of soap bars—mint, fennel, yarrow, and a new citrus kind that made the damp air feel fresh.
Boxes of supplies sat in the back, and a second table held a small stove for melting fat.
Most of the roof leaks were fixed. Tetsu, who now came every day, swept the floor and helped with small tasks.
Ryouhei sat at the table, writing numbers in a ledger. The shop was earning money—not a lot, but enough to grow.
Kenta had ordered fifty soap bars and paid in a heavy pouch of coins. Hina bought some for the medic tents, and Kaede's team traded for soap to use in the barracks.
People were starting to call him the soap guy instead of just some outsider.
He closed the book and stretched. Tetsu was in the back, stirring a batch.
Ryouhei had told him not to touch the lye—it was dangerous.
The kid was learning fast. Ryouhei gave him small bars to trade for food. It helped keep his little sister fed, and that felt good.
"Hey, boss!" Tetsu called, popping out of the back room. "This one smells like oranges!"
"Don't call me boss," Ryouhei said, smiling. "And be careful. We're short on fat. Don't spill."
Tetsu gave a quick salute and went back. Ryouhei shook his head. The kid was clumsy but loyal. That was rare in Amegakure.
Soap was selling well, but Ryouhei knew he needed to do more.
Orders were growing, and he could barely keep up. To expand, he'd need more supplies, more help, and better equipment.
He had made a deal with Soma, the herb seller, for bulk herbs. The butcher dropped off fat scraps each week.
A carpenter traded him soap in exchange for new molds. But it still wasn't enough.
He opened the ledger again and wrote: Plan to Grow.
Hire a worker (Not Tetsu's friends. Too wild.)
Get bigger pots.
Find a new lye source (Soma's raising prices.)
Try new scents: rosemary, cedar. (Ninjas like strong smells.)
Set up a market stall (Sell directly to people.)
He paused. A market stall meant more people would notice him—maybe even people who didn't like outsiders.
But it could also double his sales. He'd try it on weekends. Maybe Tetsu could hand out free samples.
The door opened. Hina walked in, her usual frown softer today. She dropped some dried fish on the counter.
"Heard you're working with Kenta," she said.
"Yeah," Ryouhei replied, closing the book. "Fifty bars last week. He wants twenty more tomorrow."
She picked up a yarrow bar. "Medics say your soap helps stop infections. They want double the amount."
Ryouhei felt proud but stayed calm. "Double's tough. Can you get me more herbs?"
She smirked. "Thought you'd ask. Goro's bringing extras tomorrow. Don't mess it up."
She left. Ryouhei let out a breath. Double orders meant more work—more fat, more lye, more hours.
He couldn't say no. Maybe one of the older women who traded mushrooms could help. They were careful and didn't ask too many questions.
That night, the shop was quiet except for the rain. Tetsu had gone home with a bar of soap and some rice.
The ledger showed enough money to buy new pots and maybe a better stove. Ryouhei had a small coin stash locked under the counter. It was his.
He stared at the ceiling. Soap was working, but he wanted something more. Something simple, like soap, that didn't need chakra. The village was tired and full of fear. No one had fun anymore. What could he make?
His eyes landed on a pile of rough paper from herb deliveries. Back home, he had played a game called War. It was easy—you just flipped cards, and the higher number won. Maybe people here would like it. Kids like Tetsu were always stuck inside because of the rain. A game could cheer them up—and maybe make a little money.
He grabbed a knife and cut the paper into small squares. With ink and a brush, he wrote numbers—1 to 13—four times. No suits, just numbers. By midnight, he had a full deck of 52 cards.
He shuffled them and smiled. "War," he said quietly. It was simple and fun.
He played alone, flipping cards on the table. 7 beat 4, 12 beat 9. It felt good—like something from his old life. And it could work here.
The next morning, he showed Tetsu.
"What's this?" the kid asked, eyes wide.
"Cards. Game's called War. You flip one, higher number wins. Tie? Flip three more and compare."
Tetsu grinned. Ryouhei flipped a 10. Tetsu flipped a 6.
"I win," Ryouhei said.
Tetsu flipped a 12 and cheered when it beat Ryouhei's 8. "This is awesome! Can I show my friends?"
"Take a deck," Ryouhei said. "Don't lose it."
By afternoon, kids crowded the shop, watching Tetsu play. Some traded nuts or tools to join. Even a ninja stopped by, curious, and flipped a few cards. He tossed Ryouhei a coin.
That night, Ryouhei made more decks. He cut more paper and wrote more numbers. He didn't charge much—just enough to cover ink. Soap was still the main thing, but the cards brought people in. The shop felt alive.
A week later, Konan walked in. Her cloak was wet. Her orange eyes scanned the room, making the air feel heavy.
"Ryouhei," she said. "you seem busy."
He wiped his hands on his apron. "Trying to be. Soap's selling. And recently got a big order for the medics."
She noticed the cards. "And these?"
"A game. It's called War. You flip cards, higher number wins. Good for passing time."
She picked up a card—a 7. The ink had smudged a bit. "A game?"
"Yeah. Simple. Want to try it?"
She raised an eyebrow. Ryouhei held his breath. Then she nodded and sat down across from him.
He shuffled the deck. "Easy rules. We each get half. Flip one card each. Higher number wins. If it's a tie, we flip more. Run out of cards, you lose. Ready?"
He dealt the cards. "Go."
Konan flipped a 9. Ryouhei flipped a 4.
"You win."
Next round, she flipped a 12. He had a 10.
"You again."
They played a few rounds. She kept winning. Her face stayed calm, but she focused on every card. Ryouhei kept it light. "Nice one," he said after a close round.
After ten rounds, she had most of the deck.
She set the cards down. "Simple."
"Want to play again?"
She leaned in a little. "One more."
They played again. She won even faster this time. Her eyes followed every card. Ryouhei smiled as he lost.
"You're killing me," he said. She didn't reply, but she kept playing.
Finally, she stood and brushed off her cloak.
"You made these?"
"Yeah. Scrap paper and ink. People need something to do."
She turned to go, then stopped. "The soap. It was good."
Ryouhei's heart jumped. "Glad you liked it. I can make more. Any scent you want."
She nodded and walked out into the rain.
Ryouhei sat down, the rain still tapping outside. The shop smelled like citrus and ink. The ledger showed a profit. The cards were working. And Konan had played War with him.
He smiled and flipped a card—an ace.
"Step two," he said. "Not bad."
Outside, the rain kept falling. But inside, Amegakure felt a little lighter.