Uchiha Clan's Supplier

"When I first came to this world, I was just as lost. I was suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar group, nothing more than an unnoticed nobody, always a passerby in other people's lives. I came without a sound and left without a trace."

His quiet words were like an invisible wind blowing through the alley.

"But I don't want to live like that. I told myself I'd leave a mark in this world that was uniquely mine!"

"I'm going to change my own fate, and the fates of others, too!"

Beneath the evening glow, Gaara hugged his teddy bear and stared blankly at the handsome face illuminated by the light. Then he started walking after him.

"Jingle..."

The bell above the door rang as it swung open, its chime sounding from a small shop with a stark, angular design on the corner—Barren Horn Material Exchange.

"Boss, I'll take five sets of Black Iron Tree Trunks. Unprocessed, please. Three boxes of Black Oil Asbestos, mixed type three and type six. Do you have any Z-axis Wheels? Let me check the material and model. This one will do! Also, pack a few sets of assorted sliding rods. You've got Sealing Scrolls, right? Sort them by sequence for me. Sorry for the trouble."

Qing Xuan tapped his fingers on the shop's hardwood counter as his gaze roamed over the shelves, which looked cluttered but held every kind of puppet-making part imaginable. He couldn't help marveling that the Land of Wind truly was a country rich in minerals. It was no wonder puppet arts flourished here.

The shopkeeper was a little old man with a dust-covered cloth wrapped around his head. He carefully recorded the long list Qing Xuan had given him. Since the order was large and included a jumble of different items, it would take quite some time to prepare. He invited them to browse and went to the storeroom at the back.

With sunset drawing near and the shop tucked away on the outskirts, the cramped interior had no light except for a small window to one side. Dryness and gloom were its only prevailing tones.

Gaara stood beneath the only light filtering through the little window, quietly watching the older boy leaning at ease against the counter in the shadows. For the first time, his heart felt completely at peace.

He didn't know why, but from the moment he saw that face, the demon inside him that constantly threatened him had fallen silent. A faint, lingering fear seemed to resist his getting close to the older boy.

As if... he wanted to hide away as desperately as he could.

In the storeroom connected to the shop, the old shopkeeper was being questioned by a group of Sunagakure Anbu.

He handed the long list to a tall Anbu leader.

The leader studied the list in silence for a long while, then handed it back. He was a fighter who relied on taijutsu and ninjutsu, and couldn't make heads or tails of such complicated things. But if he had questions, he never kept them to himself.

"Master Wen, I can't make sense of this."

The old shopkeeper looked exactly as if he'd expected that. The leader didn't try to hide his ignorance. "What's he planning to make with all this?"

"Puppets..."

The old shopkeeper's voice was rough, like sand scraping against rock as the wind drove it along.

His bony fingers gripped the list firmly. Beneath the dim candlelight, his cloudy eyes read through the materials again and again, as though studying a puppeteer's exquisite craft.

"He's a very professional puppeteer. The materials he wants are mostly for crafting high-quality puppets that require extremely precise workmanship. His approach is ingenious, too..."

The old man praised him as the Anbu stared in disbelief. He searched through the storage shelves for the various items, the clatter of metal and wood unable to drown out his repeated exclamations. "It's rare to see standards this high these days. This is right up my alley!"

He even turned to ask the Anbu, who were exchanging bewildered looks, "Who trained this boy? This artistic arrangement... Was it Chiyo?"

Hiss—

The Anbu didn't know how to answer. They looked at one another, baffled and astonished, their gazes full of questions.

According to rumors from Konoha, Uchiha Qing Xuan was highly skilled in Sunagakure's traditional arts. There were even rumors that the boy had been adopted as a child by a powerful, reclusive Sunagakure shinobi who had passed on everything he knew to him. Perhaps... it wasn't quite as far-fetched as it sounded?

The sky gradually darkened.

"Boss, you're overcharging me."

Qing Xuan stood beside the counter, without having moved an inch. His gaze swept over the rows of Sealing Jutsu on a scroll. Then, satisfied, he rolled it up and tapped the counter with his fingers, ready to wrap up this pleasant shopping trip with a thoroughly satisfying round of haggling.

"I can tell you're very pleased with the materials, customer." The dim candlelight flickered across the old shopkeeper's deeply wrinkled face. His cloudy eyes reflected the flames, bright with delight.

Qing Xuan arched an eyebrow and offered some praise of his own. "I'm even more pleased with the service."

His gaze swept across the goods around them once more. "I'd heard there was a renowned puppet-materials shop in Sunagakure. Now that I've seen it for myself, I know the reputation is well deserved."

He knew how to make conversation.

Praise from a fellow professional lifted the old shopkeeper's spirits even more, and his hoarse voice softened. "Customer, let's do it your way."

Qing Xuan immediately broke into a happy smile. He rummaged in the ninja pouch behind his back, then, under the wary eyes of the Anbu watching from the shadows, pulled out a thick stack of Explosive Tags and placed them gently on the heavy wooden counter.

Candlelight glimmered across the designs and formulas drawn on the topmost Explosive Tag. The old shopkeeper reached out and picked it up, rubbing it gently between his thumb and forefinger. "Very particular about the materials... and such exquisite workmanship..."

His cloudy eyes suddenly gleamed. "These are top-quality goods. They're worth more as collectibles than they are for practical use."

Faced with the old shopkeeper's knowing gaze, Qing Xuan wasn't embarrassed at all. The Uchiha are all flash and no substance. The clan throws every spare bit of funding into this stuff! No wonder several of our sales channels have been complaining...

He didn't try to hide it. He brushed a finger over the side of his nose, leaned in, and whispered a string of code words favored by black-market dealers. "I'm looking to establish a long-term trade relationship, too. If we can make this partnership work..."

He held up two fingers in a V. "I'll give you this much."

The wrinkles on the old shopkeeper's face twitched. After a long pause, he sighed. "You've clearly got a fine talent for puppet arts, yet you insist on debasing yourself with this sort of business..."

Five withered fingers rose over the counter.

"Add thirty percent."

"Can't do that. The Uchiha have to eat, too. Selling weapons overseas is taboo as it is. If we get caught, people will point at us and curse us."

The old shopkeeper couldn't even be bothered to indulge him. He raised his eyelids and shot him a glance. "Why don't you mention that I'm also sending Sunagakure's precious metals to Konoha? There's barely any profit in it as things stand. Am I supposed to risk earning a bad name, too?"

"Whoa, whoa, fine! Since this is my first time doing business like this, I'll add half a percent. Two point five for you to buy yourself some wine, old-timer. I'll make the call!"

"Hah! At least forty percent, or forget it."

"Even the wind-swept rocks outside aren't as stubborn as you. I can get my hands on Nara Clan medicine, too. How about we adjust the percentage..."

The Anbu lurking in the shadows gritted their teeth as they watched two traitors from different villages haggle brazenly right under their noses. Without orders, they could only sit there and put up with it.

The leader glanced at the Kazekage's dim-witted son, who was watching Uchiha Qing Xuan haggle with shining eyes.

Great! And here we've got ourselves a collaborator, too!