Vendor Dispute [M]

[Naitome]

SPOILER: Click to show

Vendor Dispute
Rank: D.
Shinobi Required: 1-4.
Mission Information: A dispute between vendors has broken out in the market, and a shinobi is requested to solve the issue. No information is presented on the dispute itself. Proceed with caution and act as a mediator.
Special Information: Repeatable.
Reward: 25 EXP & 500 Ryo.

<sub>He entered the market at mid-day; tarpaulin bivouacs shielding an outdoor bazaar, festival tents and brightly colored merchant shacks, land-born traders vessels...everything was garish and open and odd to him. Naitome walked beneath a half-strength sun, hot and bored, hoping that this 'political' mission wasn't the first in a long series that might serve to dull his senses. Times like these, he regretted not being a part of the Chuunin Exams; dealing with disputes between two civilians seemed like nothing but a waste of time.

Through crowded streets and stalls congested with language and mercantile predation, things were discussed and tariffs were overturned or negotiated with frantic frivolity, useless trinkets were sold for small fortunes and unique items that had never before been seen were ignored by fakirs pretending to be knowledgeable men. The market seemed to him a cesspit of lies and cheating. A collection of places and themes, people removed from the normal pace of the village. A mile down the main road, he hadn't even cleared a tenth of the landmass reserved for outdoor shops, and looked around in mock awe at the tiny island of rock decorated in fading lanterns and discolored streamers and plastic. He moved slowly, methodically; his mind working over the details of his assignment.

After thirty minutes, he came upon a disturbance in the markets. Two vendors seemed to be entangled in a jumble of limbs and shouting and dust. A crowd had formed around them, composed of a few shopping onlookers and stall owners who were almost happy from this small break from monotony. Everybody kept a safe distance, except for the children, and a few young genin, who unlike Naitome, were probably enjoying some much needed time off. Naitome approached the chaos of the two vendors disagreement, and listened.


The dispute seemed to be primarily concerned with the validity of some obscure zoning laws. The first shopkeeper, Taro, seemed to be in the business of crafting and selling weapons, and though only one stall for weapons was supposedly 'sanctioned' by Sunagakure zoning restrictions, the second shopkeeper, Jiro, had set up an identical stall across from Taro. As his weapons were of slightly lower quality but far cheaper, he was running Taro out of business. The problem was only exacerbated by the intensity with which the two men argued with each other. Though the situation had clear legal precedents, like this, the two men would not be able to come to a mutual understanding. Nobody was listening to each other.


Naitome gestured with his right hand as he stepped a mere five meters from where the skirmish had first broken out. A granular cascade of black iron rose up and out of his gourd, scattered between the two arguing shopkeepers. The grains smeared the way between the twisting fighters, clinging to arms and feet, head and legs, shoving them aside with energetic fury. They formed a wall between Jiro and Taro, a simple enough shape that carried with it the power of his kekkei genkai.

"Let's have a civilized discussion, gentleman. I'd prefer not to break your arms and legs and force you to do things my way; I'm not a shopkeeper. Care to tell me exactly what's going on?"</sub>

[Naitome]

<sub>The two men stopped their spontaneous combat and sat on the market grounds with slightly defeated slouches; they looked up at him with just the barest glimmerings of agitation before both erupted in a furry of noise. Each tried to explain their positions, then broke off into a barrage of legal jargon that was far beyond Naitome's area of expertise. He attempted to listen as the two engaged in what could have easily been perceived as a contest of wits. Both claimed superior knowledge and experience with the same set of skills; metal-smithing, buying, selling, dealing with discount vendors, legal motions, village lore...it seemed to have no end. Naitome's head hurt just trying to keep up.

"600 years ago, set up by Nokubo Souzen in a motion that won over parliament, it was declared that during the daylight hours, sale of soldiers arms, which constitutes my booth and my booth only given this thief's lack of military enrollment, would be allowed only to ex-shinobi whose stalls were built within the bounds of Safety Code 1011-B...."

Taro said, pointing an accusatory finger in Jiro's direction.

"What my close-minded and nostalgic friend fails to realize, is that the nature of the Military Sales and Acquisitions agreement written only two years ago, clearly states that the limitation on arms sales extends to Kurome Avenue in Sekhmet Square, which at the time of its construction was the area where the military garrison originated. Nowadays, this dos NOT include the right side of Sekhmet Square, which was re-named Hisori Place after the war. Thus the location described by his ancient doting no longer exists, and is no longer subject to those laws!"

Jiro replied, shaking his own finger at the older gentleman, and nudging Naitome with his elbow, as if the two shared some secret only the young understand. To the Sunagakure genin, it seemed as if this were a debate that would carry on endlessly. Though Jiro was technically correct, the ancient laws were also not to be ignored, and obviously, still included a street that had only been renamed to grant a previous kage slight political clout after the war. Naitome was hard-pressed to explain this however; as he was not directly an officer of the law, he didn't exactly have the authority to grant or turn over legalities of any type. But he'd been brought in to resolve the dispute, not bicker over laws, and with a heavy sigh, he left the two arguing men to their own devices and instead, inspected their wares.

Taro's storefront was poorly decorated; no streamers or decorations marred its simple wood and iron construction. It was only a few stacked crates and pylons, divided by a wall to distinguish secondary and primary weapons. As Naitome lifted a few swords from their cheap casing, he inspected their craftsmanship, the weight and length of the blades, the quality of the metal. The man was truly an artist. Though they were surrounded by the signs of a man who didn't care much for appearances, the extraordinary lengths with which he'd gone to craft each blade were evident. They seemed to shine with a self-contained glow, sharp, engraved from hilt to blade tip, double-edged and single; not only were they on a higher level than most of what Naitome had seen in the village, they were also far more aesthetically appealing. They carried the look of one committed to battle.

Jiro's weapons, on the other hand, were quite a different story.</sub>

[Naitome]

<sub>Jiro's stall was ornate and brightly decorated; covered in shiny objects and advertisements declaring high quality for low prices, with pure metal casings which displayed each weapon individually and proud. As he neared one of the cases, careful to avoid the animal-shaped balloons spouting catch-phrases of tape and paper, he picked up one of Jiro's swords and gave a closer look. From handle to hilt, it was obvious that this was simply not the same as Taro's pieces. A first look revealed a similar sheen and hardness, but closer inspection would prove them to be a shoddy sham compared to the mastery he'd just seen.

Around the edges of each blade where tiny, near-invisible marks, dents, and scratches, imperfections in the very steel used to forge them. They seemed to be covered in some type of fake silver, making them appear new even if underneath...

Naitome scraped away at the material with a few grains of iron sand, scratching off the silver coating. Beneath it, lay a cheap substance his magnetic field told him was definitely NOT metal, some combination polymer of high-grade plastics that were easy to mass produce. He picked up one of the faked swords, and walked over to taro's stall, grabbing one of his more expensive blades in the other hand. Bringing them up to chest height, he criss-crossed the blades quickly in the air. As they connected, the sound of metal on metal rang hollow. Jiro's blade had been sliced neatly in half. Naitome spoke.

"Seems to me, you've been lying to the people, Jiro."

He said quietly, looking in the man's direction.

"WHAT? BUT I..uh...ergh....oh sod it all."

Jiro said with a look of defeat.

"Damn meddling shinobi...i'll just take my store somewhere else. You can't stop industry, sir, you can't stop progress. Just you wait...ninja..."

"Musouka."

Naitome replied with his alias just as quietly, dropping the swords and turning to walk away.

"You won't get away with treating me like this..."

Jiro added defiantly, walking back to his storefront.

When an enormous fist of Iron Sand pounded Jiro's store flat a few seconds later, it was only by Taro's assistance that the dishonest store-keeper's life wasn't forfeit. He looked up, as Naitome's turned head revealed eyes that lacked even the tiniest amount of concern. The boy seemed to take on an ethereal glow, as the iron sand collected itself back within his gourd, and the winds died down. Naitome looked down at Jiro slack-jawed stare, and began walking forwards yet again.

"Do not return to this section of the market, Shopkeeper Jiro."

"The next time, your victims will not be able to save you."

Naitome would return to the tower.

[exit]</sub>