The morning sun filtered through thin mist, catching in the hanging fishnets and clay-tiled roofs of the village market. The ocean breeze carried the scent of brine, roasted eel, and fresh-cut herbs. Haji strolled casually, a basket slung over his shoulder, the familiar stone paths beneath his feet warm from the sun.
He stopped first at old Riku's vegetable stall, selecting bundles of spinach and green onions. Riku grunted a greeting, squinting under his straw hat.
"Morning, Haji-boy. Got another letter for young Makoto, eh?"
Haji smiled faintly. "He's courting the brewer's daughter now. Switching to poetry this ti."
Riku snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "Kids these days. You've got more wisdom in your ink than so folks have in their whole heads."
The next stop was the fishmonger. Haji picked a modest bundle of smoked sardines and seaweed. Across the stall, two children whispered excitedly behind a crate.
"That's him," one said. "The boy who writes love scrolls and battle tales."
"He fixed Grandpa's letter to the tax man," the other added.
Haji pretended not to notice but gave them a subtle wink as he passed.
The people had co to respect him, not out of fear or mystery, but because he listened, and because he helped. He never boasted of chakra, never showed flashy techniques. But as the village scribe, letter-writer, tale-spinner, and quiet problem-solver, Haji had beco a known figure, especially among rchants and travelers.
He made his way toward a small eatery run by a plump widow nad Miyo. He sat by the stall, exchanged pleasantries, and ordered a hot bowl of fish soup with pickled radish and rice. As he ate, he listened.
Voices carried over from a group of older n drinking morning tea at the next table.
"…saw the flags on the coast. Said it's Gato Company."
"No doubt. They're trying to buy out the trade route."
"They've already sent ssengers to the port captain. Next, it'll be the tolls, and then the warehouses."
Haji's chopsticks paused mid-air.
One man leaned in, whispering like it were a curse. "That na, Gato. My cousin in Nagi Town says they broke the dock union there. Anyone who resisted, gone. No law to stop them once the coin flows."
Haji calmly finished his al, bowed to Miyo, and slipped away.
He didn't run, but his pace quickened as he made his way back to the poplar tree.
Monts later, the earth whispered open at his feet, and he vanished beneath.
--
The underground base felt colder now, the lamps slow to warm.
In the main hall, Haji laid his market basket aside and sat on the stone bench beside his main work table. He stared at the far wall, at the scratch marks, plans, chakra flow diagrams, and scattered scrolls. His mind wasn't on jutsu, or experints, or chakra theory.
It was on Gato.
He closed his eyes, slipping into mory, not of this world, but of that other one, now years behind him. A flickering image, a shadow of the old ani played across his thoughts.
Gato. A corrupt shipping magnate. Ruthless. Rich. Surrounded by thugs and rcenaries, and tied to underworld dealings. He didn't just take land, he bought people. Bribed officials. Spread fear like a virus. In the story, he had hired Zabuza Momochi, a rogue Mist ninja, to assassinate the bridge builder Tazuna. Not for petty revenge, but because that bridge would break his monopoly.
And he had almost succeeded.
In canon, Gato's grip on the Land of Waves wasn't long, just a few months, perhaps three to six at most. His downfall ca only because Team 7 had intervened, Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kakashi. Zabuza and Haku died there, on the bridge soaked in mist and blood.
But that hadn't happened yet.
Which ant...
Haji stood and began to pace.
If Gato was only now making a move, sending feelers to take over shipping, ports, supply chains, then Tazuna hadn't yet finished the bridge. Maybe hadn't even started. This was early. Gato's influence was just beginning to extend here.
Which ant Haji still had ti. But not much.
Three months. Maybe four. That was the window between subtle takeover and open stranglehold. After that, rcenaries would flood in. Prices would rise. People would suffer.
And unless a Leaf team arrived, no one would stop it.
He exhaled slowly. His fingers tightened unconsciously.
He wasn't part of any village. No headband. No official standing. But this was his ho now. And if war was coming, economic or otherwise, he wouldn't sit quietly.
He looked over to the shelves of scrolls and manuals, the chakra weights, the experintal notes on sealing jutsu, and the diagram still half-finished for a crude chakra scalpel. He'd need it all.
Training. Invention. Preparation.
And maybe… plans to intercept.
His Rasengan training was complete. His base was secure. His strength was still climbing.
Now he needed a strategy.
Haji returned to the bench, lit a new candle, and began to write.
Not a love letter.
Not a story.
But plans for the upcoming events.
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