Chapter 13

You pick your way through the sea of bodies. All manner of cries are bandied at you from every direction, the chatter of marketgoers fusing with the calls of merchants, shop owners and roadside hawkers attempting to attract customers.

"Steamed potatoes! Com' get some freshly steamed potatoes!"

"See the colour of this thread? You won't find it unless yer go all the way to the city and want it for half the price? Dream on' fella!"

You dodge an elbow from a greasy elderly man stinking of charcoal. He doesn't spare you glance, hovering over a plump child.

"Yo, boy, you look hungry. Spare five yen for a bag of roasted chestnuts?"

"Hey– move it! Don't just stand around, lemme through!"

You stop to let the irate man pass, taking pity when you see the three humongous sacks on his back. Their long fabric necks are firmly tied with rough tweed. You can guess what's inside from the way the sacks sway as their transported. A wave of nostalgia hits you.

Grunt work like this is one aspect of your childhood that you don't miss. Whenever your father was shorthanded on staff, he'd enlist you to haul freshly acquired grain from shop to shop while he guarded the horse cart, sipping at cups of randomly acquired tea. At the end of the day, you'd return home and stumble into the main hall, barely able to open your eyes while your body ached with a bone weary exhaustion.

He's learning how we did things when we were younger, your father would say when your mother gave him hell. Though she coddled you and your sister to high heavens, she was a difficult woman to deal with for others. Even your father.

You pull yourself free from the memories and emerge out of the rambunctious crowd. You've made it to the other side of the main market more or less unscathed. You hadn't seen the person you're searching for, but there is still more ground to cover, so you don't allow yourself worry. Brushing off the dust and dirt on your haori accumulated from the trek, you restart your walk.

You choose the next path to explore, this one leading behind the gigantic market area and into similar, but significantly quieter street. Though less busy, there's enough people milling about that hints at there being more to the area than meets the eye. It's not uncommon for larger towns to have multiple market districts, hole in the wall establishments that only locals might frequent.

You're proven right when you turn past a small hut with a flimsy thatched roof, and people come spilling out of a worn, cobbled footpath. You stare out at the trailing line of tiny shops and stalls crammed side by side. You squint your eyes. Near the center, you catch sight of a figure you recognize.

You let out a huff of delight, then start moving again.

You have an easier time walking here because people are crowded around the small dining areas set up outside, rather than on the road itself. You stop a distance from the supposed shop your contracted salesman owns, deciding it would be prudent to observe what he's up to. Since you haven't kept up to date with his business, it'll be good to get a general idea of how he is operating these days.

You stop beside a roadside stall selling udon, out of his line of sight. You give his shop a once over. If you're honest, it's less of a shop and more of a roadside stall. However, it looks clean and respectable, so it must work for his needs. He's always brought you a decent amount of profit, and you know he is competent, which is all you need to care about.

The last time you saw him was nearly half a year ago, when both of you had met to discuss possible expansion plans. He had brought up the idea of opening up another branch in the city, though he decided against it in the end. You aren't sure why, but you let him keep his secrets.

You count backwards from this year, surprised to note that Urai has been stationed in Kakunodate for almost two years now. It's longer than you expect from a Shonin – a travelling salesman. You decide to ask him about it later. Fpr now, your focus in on the man himself.

Urai is a bare-faced man with no particularly distinctive trait other than his caterpillar thin eyebrows. Your past memory of him matches the figure leaning lazily against the side of his stall.

His shop is devoid of customers at the moment. You feel a stab of pity, but shake it off quickly. Urai is a fairly talented salesman. It won't be long before he starts pulling them in. With a nod of certainly, you settle in and wait.

Minutes bleed by, and your conclusion proves wrong. From the time you arrived until the overhead sun reached its zenith, not a single person stopped by to check out Urai's wares.

You reach up to wipe your forehead. Your hand comes away wet. The combination of heat and the effort you had put into not going over to slam Urai with a long winded lecture is lethal. Plus, you can't feel your toes. You've dug your feet so hard into the ground that if any inspectors saw, you'd have been fined for destruction of public property.

The question stuck in your throat bobs up and down as you swallow roughly.

What in the world is he doing?

Compared to the other stalls that bustle with activity, the one belonging to your salesman is a hive of boredom. One side of the stall counter is covered in woven baskets. Half of the baskets are empty while the rest are filled with normal roadside curios like hair ties and hand-made charms.

Looking at the items, you can't blame people for their inattention. You must have passed three to four stalls selling the exact items. Compounding the problem is that it is lunch, and the stalls surrounding Urai's are selling mouth-watering fare of steamed food, fried snacks and fresh fruit. Urai is fighting a completely different war.

However, what riled you into your current state is not his lack of sales. It is that Urai has done nothing in the entire time you were observing him. He hasn't moved from his position. His back is pressed against the wooden pillar of his stall, his expression firmly neutral and closed off.

Not wearing a smile or an open, welcoming expression is a deathblow to any salesman. No one, unless desperate, would entertain a person who looked like they had gotten their teeth pulled out and forced to stand there.

You don't understand. It is not as if Urai is new to the trade. He likely knows a multitude of tactics to get at least a pair of eyes on his wares in conditions like this. You even recall him bragging in monthly reports about pulling good profits with his unusual handmade trinkets in seasons typically slow for such items.

Urai nods at a passing family whose children call out their greetings. He gives them a small wave, flashes a quick smile, then uses the same hand to cover up a burgeoning yawn. He glances around with lidded eyes, scratching his chin.

You soothe the bubbling anger in your stomach with a couple of deep breaths.

Reacting badly won't help, the rational part of your mine insists. Urai probably has a reason for his attitude.

"He could be sick. Not unreasonable, in this heat," you mutter. "I didn't see any of his special trinkets. That's good. He might have sold out already and decided to take it slow today."

After a solid minute of reasoning, you're back to your usual self. You immediately feel terrible for jumping to conclusions. You and Urai have had great working relations coming to almost four years. In fact, he's the first person who sought you out for a contract when your merchant business began to pick up.

You shake your head. Emotions can be as dangerous as beasts. Stepping away from the udon stall, you make your way towards him.

"Urai-kun," you're about to call out.

"Urai-san!" The explosive call overshadows yours, and you watch your salesman turn to face the approaching man. The owner of the voice is healthy looking and mildly plump, gussied up in dark coloured robes and has a face shadow that looks freshly trimmed. "Urai-san, I've come to deliver good news."

Urai brightens. He straightens himself to receive the newcomer with a bright smile. "Well then, no need to stand on ceremony!" He abandons his stall and meets the man with a large stride forward. "Does your good news have to do with your boss agreeing to my terms?"

"Absolutely. Congratulations, Urai-san!"

Excitement visibly radiates off Urai, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

The man beams and continues, "It'll take some time for us to draw up your new contract, though it shouldn't take more than three days. But for you to accept it, you'll have to adhere to the terms to we presented. I'm sure you remember what they are."

Urai's smile dims and he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "I know. I'll ask for your patience on this. It will take time for the message to reach Kuroshio-kun, even if I arrange for it to be immediately sent out. I'm not sure if he'd even be at his address to receive it given how often he travels."

"I assure you that with my master's connections, it won't take long for your message to reach him. You're about to become part of our family. It is a small matter to advantage of the benefits we are offering."

"Contacting my current contractor through his rival is a little…" Though you stand meters away, you can see discomfort radiating off Urai.

The man, now identified as an underling of your mysterious competitor, shakes his head. "My master is benevolent, but not patient. This is the chance of your lifetime, Urai-san. If you aren't decisive, it will slip away. What is more important? Your future as a merchant, or maintaining your conscience over such a minor matter?"

Urai's face contorts as he struggles with the posed question. Even if you did not know him, you would be a fool to not see the gears turning in his head.

"There is no need to rile yourselves up." Both men whip their heads to look at you as you march up to them. Urai's face turns a spectacular shade of white. "I'm here, Urai-kun. Do you want to enlighten me about the matter this gentleman is discussing with you?"

You turn to the man in question, a thin-lipped smile stretching across your face. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to tell me about yourself, mister?"

You're not particularly angry. But there must be something about the way you say, because the man stiffens up as if you're holding a blade to his throat. Urai looks decidedly worse. Some colour has returned to his cheeks, but he's still paler than what is considered healthy.

"Ah," the man says. "I believe this is a private matter between the both of you. I shall allow you some privacy and come back later." He gives a short nod to your shonin. "Urai-san, I shall await the good news."

A number of eyes follow the man as he strides away with shoulders at his ears, and you think you hear a couple of sniggers. Seems like there are some nosy fellows spying on you. Not surprising given that you're practically blocking the path in such a public area.

You turn back to Urai. "Should we have our discussion elsewhere?"

"I would like that," he answers, voice quiet.

"I just arrived here, so I'm not sure where we can go." You add as an afterthought, "And I'm almost out of funds."

"No, no, it's fine. I will… hand over everything I owe you, later," Urai says lamely. "Follow me, Kuroshio-kun."