---
Konan walked through the rainy streets of Amegakure.Her cloak was soaked, but she moved quietly.
The village was calm. It was late, and the rain made everything quiet. Dim lights glowed from the metal towers, but most of the light disappeared into the mist.
She climbed the stairs of her tower, thinking about Ryouhei Kurozawa. He was just a man with no chakra, no special powers, and no real place in their world.
But he didn't give up. He made soap. He made a card game. And somehow, little by little, he was changing things.
She remembered the game they played—War. It was simple. Flip a card, higher number wins.
Inside her room, it was quiet and cool. One small lantern lit the space. The room was almost empty: just a table, a mat, and a bed.
On the table was a bar of soap—Ryouhei's soap. She had kept it. She had even used it once. Mint, chamomile, and lotus, he had said. It was better than the rough soap from the markets. She didn't throw it away. Something about it felt… different.
She hung up her wet cloak. As she walked by the soap, her fingers brushed it. She paused. The soap was small now from use. But it still smelled fresh. She thought about how his soap helped in the medic tents. His cards made children laugh. People in the village looked a little less tired these days.
That feeling—like hope—was dangerous. Amegakure was built on control.
She picked up the soap. It was smooth, pale green, with little herbs inside. She brought it to her nose.
Mint. Chamomile. And lotus—sweet and soft, not something you'd expect here. It felt like something made with care.
She looked at the water basin. It was warm, ready. Her body was sore. Her day had been full of meetings, reports, and Pain's orders. She was tired. She needed a break.
Quietly, she undressed. Her cloak, armor, and shirt came off. Steam rose from the basin. She stepped closer and picked up the soap. It lathered easily, soft bubbles in her hands. The mint woke her up. The chamomile calmed her down. She washed slowly—arms, shoulders, neck. Dirt faded into the water. For a moment, the world felt clean.
She slowed down. It had been a long time since she noticed something like this.
Her life was full of duty and silence. This felt soft. Gentle. Human.
When she finished, she rinsed the soap off her skin. Her body felt cleaner. Lighter. She dried off and got dressed again. The soap, smaller now, sat near the basin. Its scent stayed with her.
She sat at the table. A scroll of reports lay open.
---
Ryouhe sat hunched at the counter, eyes on the ledger, pencil moving under the flickering lantern.
Ryouhei logged the week's numbers. Not bad. Orders were steady, even growing.
He cracked his neck, glanced at the profits. Enough saved to consider a better stove, maybe even a proper roof patch.
"Alright," he muttered, flipping to a new page. "What's next?"
The answer came from a problem as old as the rain itself—soaked goods, ruined scrolls, moldy rice. He'd watched a merchant scream yesterday after his cargo got drenched through a torn sack.
Something clicked.
He melted wax with a bit of leftover fat, brushed it over a scrap. First try was trash—too oily, soaked right through. Second test, better. More wax, less fat, slow heat. The cloth dried stiff. He poured water on it. It held. Then he wrapped rice in it and dunked the bundle. Pulled it out. Still dry.
His grin came slow. Not perfect, but promising.
The next morning, Tetsu burst in, soaked from head to toe. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the waxed cloth on the counter.
"Experiment," Ryouhei said, brushing more wax on another strip. "Keeps things dry."
Tetsu lit up. "Can I try one?"
Ryouhei handed him a test wrap. "Give it hell. Rain test. Don't lose it."
Tetsu snapped a salute and bolted.
Ryouhei jotted notes in the ledger: Wraps. Phase one. Need: wax, cloth, more fat. Try cedar oil—ninja might like it. Pitch to Hina. Maybe Kaede too.
Later, the door opened and Kaede stepped in, her cropped hair dripping. "Tetsu says you've got miracle cloth now," she said, amused.
"Waterproof wraps," he replied, holding one out.
She tested it—water rolled off cleanly. Her smile faded a bit. "Could actually work. Our stuff gets wrecked on missions." She folded it carefully, then added, "You know Soma's stirring the pot, right? Says you're undercutting him with your little tricks."
Ryouhei stiffened. "He gouges people for junk. That's on him."
"Doesn't matter," she said, voice flat. "He's got connections. Not just traders."
She left with a wrap in hand. Ryouhei scribbled in the margins: Soma problem. Secure fat source. Move fast.
He brought samples to Hina the next day. She tested a wrap on a bandaged roll, soaked it, then nodded.
"These'll help," she said. "I need fifteen."
"Can manage," Ryouhei said. "Might take a week."
She pulled a folded note from her vest, crisp and sealed with a red stamp, and set it on the counter.
"Then don't screw it up."
The rest of the day blurred. Kids bargained cards for dried nuts. A shinobi dropped off orange peels for soap flavoring.
An old woman traded mushrooms for a fennel bar. Tetsu bragged nonstop about his test results. Ryouhei worked through it all, heat rising off the stove as he brushed and cut cloth like a man possessed.
---
Kaede stepped into the shop and closed the door behind her.
"Orders from the Angel. I'm your guard now."
Ryouhei blinked. "You?"
"Yeah," she said. "Don't look so surprised. I didn't choose this."
She dropped a scroll onto the counter. Ryouhei picked it up and slowly opened it. The seal showed a pair of red wings—the Angel's mark.
The message was short:
Merchant Ryouhei Kurozawa is now under village protection. Keep his work going. Stop any outside threats. Report once a week.
He read it twice, then looked up. "This is real?"