The River Country, to borrow a comparison from Shuji's previous life, is like a demilitarized zone in the ninja world.
It has a dignified daimyō, a functioning bureaucracy, even a retinue of sword-wielding samurai. But it has no hidden ninja village.
In a world dominated by chakra-based forces, this is akin to walking naked among wolves.
Once trouble exceeds a samurai's blade, one must dispatch letters of request to Konoha, Sunagakure, or even Amegakure—exchanging money for foreign military power.
This peculiar political ecology gave rise to a frontier town both malformed and vibrant: Koizumi Town.
No towering walls or forbidding checkpoints stand guard—only a winding dirt road.
Spices from the Wind Country and mountain delicacies from the Fire Country converge here, mingling in the air with an exotic market blend.
Uchiha Itachi sat quietly in an unassuming restaurant, staring at a steaming bowl of richly fragrant beef stew, a faint confusion in his eyes. Their itinerary had unfolded as planned: arrive at the border, complete handover with local officials, receive the bandit dossier, then pay courtesy visits to the local merchants' guild.
"They're just a band of insignificant thieves," said the guild's portly, well-kept leader, stroking his neatly trimmed mustache with a breezy tone. "Though they looted a few caravans, they only caused minor disruptions to trade." After lengthy pleasantries and hollow well-wishes, his core request was straightforward: dispatch Konoha shinobi to deal with the matter swiftly.
Shuji betrayed no reaction as he dutifully recorded each detail—matching exactly the mission scroll—then shifted the conversation: "Koizumi Town gathers goods from three countries. I imagine you have everything?"
"Indeed, indeed!" the merchant beamed. "I've heard the River Country's beef is uniquely delicious?" Shuji asked as casually as if commenting on the weather.
The merchant's eyes lit up. "A ninja of refined taste! If you wish to savor the authentic flavor, the Zaimon family's beef stew is our signature—it's unmissable!"
Suddenly, Shuji seemed to lose interest in further small talk and politely excused himself. Now they sat in the very shop called "Zaimon."
Itachi gazed into the ceramic bowl before him. Amber broth rippled gently around generous chunks of beef—perfectly braised, fibers separating at the lightest touch of chopsticks. The reddish-brown meat glistened with savory oils, topped with vibrant green scallions. Steam carried the heady scent of star anise and cinnamon, fused with the beef's rich aroma—enough to awaken any palate.
"Senior," Itachi murmured low, "aren't we going to complete the mission?"
"Of course," Shuji replied nonchalantly, lifting a tender morsel of beef to his lips. As its melt-in-your-mouth richness and subtle spice filled his senses, he closed his eyes in satisfaction. All the tension of arriving in this world seemed to dissolve with that bite. He savored it slowly, detecting the faint sweetness imparted by the River Country's unique pasture grasses—the very soul of this beef.
Unable to resist, Itachi quietly announced, "I'm starting."
Shuji's lips curved in a smile as he signaled to the busy figure behind the counter: "One more serving, please." He watched the lean shopkeeper carefully wipe a clay pot and admired his skill. "Your control of cooking time is masterful. The sauce is balanced—never overpowering, yet fully accentuating the beef's essence."
The Zaimon chef, bronze-skinned and proud, glowed at the praise. Wiping his hands on a faded apron, he relaxed his crow's-feet lines. "You flatter me! We use only the finest beef delivered fresh each morning from the ranch. It takes hours of slow braising to achieve this flavor. Mastering that timing takes as much dedication as honing a complex ninjutsu." Noticing Itachi's Konoha forehead protector, he used a metaphor a ninja would appreciate.
"Would you like to try our grilled beef as well? We have two prime cuts left today." Zaimon offered warmly.
"Please," Shuji agreed.
Soon a small charcoal grill appeared. The chef personally tended the slices: "This is short rib—rich in fat; and this is flap meat—tender. May I grill them for you?"
"Thank you," Shuji smiled, watching the sizzling fat drip onto the coals. He asked casually, "I hear bandits have been active near Koizumi Town. Has your beef supply been affected?"
"Haha, bandits…" Zaimon expertly flipped the meat as smoke laced with charred aroma rose. "They've hit mostly inexperienced caravans new to these routes. Our ranch has run this road for decades; they know me and my suppliers well. No impact on us. Besides, caravans now wait until they have enough guards before they depart, and they rarely linger en route."
Itachi's grip on his chopsticks tightened imperceptibly—the merchants had omitted that the bandits targeted only outsiders.
"Enjoy," Zaimon said, placing the perfectly grilled beef on two plates.
By the time Shuji leisurely finished the meal, the setting sun cast a warm, orange glow over Koizumi Town's rooftops. The streets had thinned, and distant shouts marked caravans unloading goods. A breeze carried the crisp scent of forest edges, mingled with lingering market aromas. Shuji breathed deeply, absorbing the unique air of a frontier town.
The food had indeed been exquisite—and costly. Seven hundred fifty ryō weighed heavily on his mind—that sum equaled several days of a common laborer's wages. Yet, with a mission reward of thirty thousand ryō, this indulgence remained within reason.
"Senior, shall we investigate the attacked caravans next?" Itachi quickened his pace to match Shuji's toward the town's outskirts.
"No need." Shuji kept walking, eyes on the faint lights of Shirakawa Village in the dusk. "Today revealed two things. First, the bandits deliberately avoided caravans with deep local ties, so the merchants' guild, though outwardly cooperative, didn't truly care—hence the perfunctory intelligence. Second, these bandits fled successfully into the Rain Country yet risked returning to strike the River Country border. Such abnormal behavior points only to two possibilities—"
Shuji gazed beyond the walls. Lights flickered like scattered stars in the growing night sky.
"Either they fled too hastily at first and left behind something crucial that they must retrieve," he said, eyes cutting through the twilight to the familiar village silhouette, "or the answer is simpler—they are locals themselves. Not ignorant of danger, but… their home is here."
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild