The roads down the mountains that surrounded the Land of Iron were clean and orderly. The Land of Iron was, no doubt, one of the countries with the fewest crimes.
Because while they might not have any shinobi, they did have plenty of samurai—far more of them than were truly needed.
Among the other nations, samurai were soldiers and guards; they were the visible counter to shinobi. Every nation had a small army, mostly for protection, though some had larger forces—the five great nations in particular.
But overall, their numbers matched the need. Every noble family would have its guards: people to patrol its land, both for show and for utility. They could fight off bandits and kill them if they didn't run and hide fast enough. They could handle thieves and minor criminals. They were law enforcement, while shinobi were often the nation's military force.
All around, the number fit the need, because it took a great deal of money to train samurai, and it wasn't cheap to keep them employed. After all, while they weren't as powerful or deadly as shinobi, they were still able to use chakra—and they were superhuman compared to normal civilians.
So you didn't train a group of superpowered warriors and then forget to pay them to stay loyal.
The Land of Iron was different. Here, being a samurai was part of their very culture. People trained on their own from childhood and strove to find a samurai to take them on as a student.
That meant there were plenty of them, and rather than being loyal to the one who paid them, they kept themselves in check through cultural means.
Honor, loyalty, bonds, kindness—all manner of such things.
"Real samurai!" Karin screamed at the top of her lungs as we neared the first one.
I had spotted him long ago, thanks to my Byakugan, and deemed him totally harmless; he wasn't much stronger than a genin.
To Karin, however, he might as well have been a legend given flesh.
She ran ahead before Kanna could stop her, boots crunching loudly against the packed snow as she waved both arms over her head.
"Hi! HI! Are you a real samurai?" she shouted.
The man stopped.
He wasn't bothered by Karin's enthusiasm. If anything, he straightened his back, basking in the attention.
And who could blame him?
He was clearly still rather young—and which young man didn't like attention? More so, praise from a kid, treating him like some kind of hero?
He was proud of being a samurai, so seeing people admire him naturally fed his pride and vanity.
Kids were honest. They could lie, but pretty much anyone could see right through it; they didn't have the skills to lie, especially not in a way that would fool adults.
So their praise was often the purest.
"I am indeed a samurai of the Land of Iron. My name is Hiroshi. And you, young lady?" he said—soft-voiced, though the pride in it was obvious.
"I am Karin! This is my mom, and that's Kaguya! She is the strongest, even stronger than a samurai, I bet," Karin said with a grin as she pointed toward us.
The samurai looked over. I offered a polite smile and a nod in greeting, which he returned, but I caught the spark of competition in his eyes.
He was young, after all.
"Karin," Kanna quickly rushed up to her daughter, "please don't bother the poor man." She pulled Karin to her side. "I'm so sorry for my daughter; she has been spoiled." She bowed to apologize, and I felt the last part was blaming me.
"No problem at all, my lady," Hiroshi said, having judged us to be either rich or noble from the quality of our clothes. "It's always a pleasure to meet people who appreciate our ways."
His gaze lingered on me a moment too long.
"Your companion… does she require aid?"
I could feel his attention on me—or rather, on the blindfold over my eyes, hiding my Byakugan and faking blindness. As a samurai, seeing a blind person, he couldn't help but offer help.
I couldn't blame him. In its own way, it was kind.
"I am fine, thank you for your concern," I replied with a warm smile.
"Are you sure? The paths can be treacherous," he warned in a friendly manner, clearly more than willing to escort us down.
I could see the thoughts in his head. He was a good-looking young man, and two beautiful women were asking him for help; it was a scene from a story. If he helped us, perhaps we'd be grateful.
Clearly, despite being an honorable samurai, he was still a young man, and young men had young, mad thoughts.
Or maybe I was reading into it too much. Maybe he was just a good person who wanted to help.
It was possible.
Most people were a mixture of good and bad.
Either way, I wasn't interested.
"No need to worry about me. I have long since learned to find my way around," I said, offering another polite smile—this one a little firmer. A clear sign that we were just passing through.
He seemed to get the hint.
"Very well. If you'll excuse me, I'm on patrol." He bowed to each of us, then walked on.
Karin was clearly disappointed and wanted to talk more to him.
"Aww," she whined. "I wanted to ask him about sword techniques!"
"Perhaps another time," I said, patting her head. "We will be spending some time here, so I'm sure we can find someone to show you their sword techniques—and someone to help you forge your own sword."
I looked up at the sky, the weak sunlight filtering through the grey clouds.
"Let's go find a place to stay. The snow is beautiful, but it's also cold."
We made our way down the mountain, the silence punctuated only by the crunch of our boots in the snow. The Land of Iron was a world of white and grey; the stark beauty of it was breathtaking.
I could see why the samurai were so proud of their home. It was a harsh but majestic land.
Soon, we reached the outskirts of a small town, the buildings made of dark wood and stone, smoke curling from their chimneys. The streets were clean and orderly, and we could see more samurai patrolling, their movements fluid and precise.
Despite the cold, there were plenty of people milling about. Under the protection of the samurai, they could smile easily and go about their trade and business without a worry.
The Land of Iron was a major exporter of raw iron and iron products, so trade was big here—only further boosted by the safety they guaranteed to all their merchants, which they took great pride in.
It didn't take us long to find a nice-looking inn, one that seemed a bit upscale from the outside. It had a well-kept garden and what looked like a dojo in the back.
The sign above the door read The Iron Blossom, and I had to admit, it was a fitting name.
Upon entering, we were greeted by the warm and welcoming sight of a traditional inn. The lobby was spacious and well-lit, with polished wooden floors and paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
Behind the counter, a woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile greeted us. "Welcome to The Iron Blossom. How may I help you?"
Her voice was as warm as the inn's atmosphere.
She took us in with a practiced glance—clothes, posture, accents, the small tells of people who had traveled far.
"Two rooms?" she asked politely.
"Yes, please. And one with two beds. Your best rooms," I replied.
"Of course," the innkeeper said without comment. "You are welcome to use the bath this evening. Dinner will be served at sunset, unless you prefer it brought to your room."
Karin's eyes lit up instantly. "Will there be dessert?"
"Yes," the woman said with a soft chuckle. "But only if your mother allows it."
Karin immediately grabbed Kanna's sleeve.
"Did you hear that? Dessert! Can we have dessert? Please? I'll be good! I'll be really good!"
Kanna laughed despite herself, the tension she'd been carrying since the road easing just a little. "We'll see," she said, though the answer was already written on her face.
The innkeeper smiled knowingly and slid the room keys across the counter. "If you need anything, please let us know. The baths are already warming."
We thanked her and made our way upstairs.
The hallways were quiet, thick wooden beams muffling sound, the faint scent of steam and clean linen lingering in the air. It was the kind of place built to weather long winters—solid, dependable, made to endure.
Our rooms overlooked the street and the rear courtyard. From the window, I could hear the distant clang of metal on metal—training, even this late in the day.
Karin pressed her face to the glass. "They're practicing already…"
"Yes," I said. "They never really stop."
That seemed to satisfy her. For now.
As Kanna began unpacking, I let my awareness stretch outward again—past the walls of the inn, past the town itself.
We were still being followed, but I could sense hesitation in them.
Shinobi weren't banned from the Land of Iron, but they weren't allowed to operate here. No missions.
If they were caught following us, it would become a diplomatic issue, and no village wanted that; it could mean losing access to exports from the Land of Iron.
The missing-nin following us didn't have that same worry, but many of them likely had bounties—criminals. If they were caught, it would not go well for them.
I expected it was only a matter of time before they all had to leave and rely on their spies within the Land of Iron itself to keep an eye on our movements.
It was entirely possible they would stop hiding and follow us openly, but that would require them to spend the money needed to stay at inns and such—and few shinobi had much money to spare for that.
They weren't S-rank. After paying for expenses, they didn't have much left, and what they did have was often sent to their families. They had mission expenses, yes, but it wouldn't be enough to compete with my funds.
A few more days at most, and they would be gone…
One way or another.
(End of chapter)
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