“Welcome!”
He had barely stepped into the shop before a girl in a pink cherry-blossom kimono, her hair up in a loose bun, greeted him with a smile and a respectful bow.
This was the kind of “greeter” any shop with a bit of class kept on hand.
Young, pretty girls with sweet smiles took the work to bring in a little extra money for the household.
Yuuga went down the crowded shelves one by one and settled at last on the liquor rack.
Picking a gift was a real test of a man.
The middle-aged men of Konoha all liked a little drink after dinner, so he decided to use liquor to dig up some information.
There were three kinds on the rack.
Yuuga looked them over and picked up two bottles of the slightly better shochu, the kind that came in white porcelain, weighing them in his hand.
Then he checked the price.
Five thousand ryo a bottle, exactly what he could afford, so he turned and went to the counter to pay.
As for sake or beer, he was sure that particular man wouldn’t care for them.
Only strong shochu could stoke the roaring fire in an old guy’s heart.
In the eastern commercial district of Konoha there was a street lined with all sorts of shops, and among them stood a small, neat bookstore with decor that put a person at ease.
Yuuga had run plenty of System errand quests for this bookstore, and over time he had gotten friendly with the owner.
The owner was a ninja who had seen the battlefield.
On one mission he slipped up and took a serious wound, and afterward he retired.
While recovering at Konoha Hospital he and the medical ninja looking after him fell for each other over the long weeks, which made for a nice story.
Now he ran the bookstore and enjoyed himself every day.
Yuuga pushed open the door and heard “Welcome, look around as long as you like,” in the steady voice particular to a middle-aged man, with a lazy edge to it.
To keep the light easy on the eyes, the bookstore’s lamps were a soft warm orange, and walking in gave a person a comfortable, unwound feeling.
Yuuga went deeper into the shop and found, as expected, a scruffy middle-aged man in a navy kimono, fist propped under his chin, leaning against the desk with his eyes closed.
Yuuga’s eyes glinted.
He eased the wooden stopper out of the bottle without a sound, held the white porcelain up under the owner’s nose, and carefully fanned the air toward him with his right hand.
“Hm?” The owner’s eyes snapped open.
He snatched the bottle straight out of Yuuga’s hand and took a hard pull, the burn scorching down his throat and setting a fire in his chest.
“Good stuff!” He smacked his lips, satisfied, then looked up at Yuuga, who was grinning like a cat that had gotten into the fish.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, Yuuga?
I haven’t seen you in almost a month.
What brings you around with shochu tonight?
Nobody comes to the temple without a favor to ask.”
“Heh heh…” Yuuga laughed a couple of times, then lifted the second bottle, waved it in front of the owner, and set it down on the wooden table with a dull thunk.
“Come on, can’t I just have missed you?
What, you didn’t miss me after a whole month?”
The owner rubbed the stubble on his cheek and laughed too, gesturing for Yuuga to sit.
Once Yuuga had knelt down, he reached over and pinched his cheek.
“I really did miss you, kid.
This month hasn’t been good to you.
There’s less meat on your face.”
Yuuga didn’t mind it.
They were old acquaintances, and this was just how an adult showed fondness for a younger one.
The owner of Yamanaka Flowers, Mrs.
Yamanaka, Ino’s mom, liked to stroke his hair.
The old man at the blade shop liked to clap him on the shoulder.
He scratched his head and looked at the owner with earnest eyes, asking humbly, “So, how are the publishing houses in our village?
Could you fill me in?”
The owner took another swallow of shochu and stared at Yuuga, suspicious.
“Publishing houses?
What do you want to know that for?
Thinking of opening a bookstore like me?”
Yuuga smiled bitterly and shook his head, putting on a pitiful face.
“Are you making fun of me?
I have to take odd jobs just to keep food on the table.
Where would I get the money to open a bookstore?
I’m only curious.
Just tell me.”
A gift in the hand makes the hand short, and liquor in the belly makes a man soft.
The shochu was already down, and what Yuuga was asking about was no trade secret.
Every bookstore in the village knew it.
So the owner, drinking as he talked, laid out the whole publishing situation for him.
In all of Konoha, two houses led the industry: Maruzen-do and Iwanami Shoten.
The rest were small operations with tiny slices of the market.
As the saying goes, one mountain cannot hold two tigers.
Being publishers in the same village, the two of them ought to have been fighting to the death, but Maruzen-do and Iwanami Shoten kept entirely out of each other’s business.
Because, as the saying also goes, one mountain cannot hold two tigers, unless one is male and the other female.
Maruzen-do and Iwanami Shoten had no “male and female” between them, but they did have a difference in what they published.
Iwanami Shoten was traditional in style, a little stiff, and most of its books were classical literature.
Put in modern terms: revisit the classics, pass down the culture, carry on the Will of Fire of Konoha.
Maruzen-do, by comparison, was far looser, and what it put out was a mixed bag of everything.
Jiraiya’s Icha Icha Paradise came from Maruzen-do, and so did manga and the like.
By the time the owner finished explaining, half the bottle was gone.
A drunken flush had come up in his cheeks, though he still had his wits about him.
Yuuga let out a long breath.
He had the lay of Konoha’s publishing houses now.
He thought for a moment, then looked at the owner, whose head was not yet muddled, and pressed on.
“So which books sell best in the store?”
“Urp.” The owner belched and pointed his right index finger at Yuuga.
“Now that, you’ve asked the right man!
Nothing in this shop is hotter than Icha Icha Paradise, by a true master!
Heh heh heh, I’ve got a whole set stashed at home myself.
Every man in the village loves that book.
Number one on the sales board, and it leaves number two in the dust.
Want me to give you a few copies, kid?”
“Ahem.
I’m still a child!
Don’t corrupt the young!” Yuuga coughed twice and delivered the nonsense with a perfectly straight face.
What he was thinking was that a “book” at the level of Icha Icha Paradise wasn’t enough to move him.
After all…
“Ah, look at my memory.
I forgot you’re still little!” The owner smacked his own forehead, took a drink, and went on.
“Other than that, the better sellers are a poetry collection from Iwanami Shoten, plus ninja autobiographies and the knockoffs chasing Icha Icha Paradise.
The author of Icha Icha Paradise is a bit slow putting books out, after all.”