The reward from a relatively simple C-rank mission eased Daimaru’s financial troubles somewhat.
However, the higher the mission rank, the longer it generally took to complete.
D-rank missions paid little, but they were quick, usually taking anywhere from a single day to three or five at most.
C-rank missions were much more troublesome.
Even eliminating a bandit gang that had no rogue shinobi or wandering samurai had taken more than half a month.
The actual operation hadn’t been difficult.
Most of that time had simply been spent traveling and gathering intelligence.
All things considered, higher-ranked missions certainly paid better…
…but not by as much as people imagined.
Trying to accumulate wealth solely through missions was simply too slow.
Because of that, Daimaru occasionally looked for other ways to trade for things he actually needed.
“This took a lot of effort to make.”
“Purifying it wasn’t easy.”
“If you weren’t the one asking for it, I wouldn’t have sold it so casually.”
Daimaru rubbed his hands together impatiently, his face full of smiles.
There weren’t many wealthy customers in Sunagakure.
Someone like Kankuro was especially rare.
Kankuro lightly dipped a finger into the bluish-purple powder before bringing it to his nose for a careful sniff.
“Hey, be careful.”
“If you poison yourself to death, I won’t be taking responsibility.”
“Shut up.”
Kankuro wiped the highly toxic powder from his finger with a handkerchief.
“It’s good.”
“Just…
too expensive.”
Having spent so much money collecting puppets, the Kazekage’s second child couldn’t spare much cash at the moment.
“You get what you pay for.”
“How could the junk extracted from fruit pits and burned garbage compare to something like this?”
“The sample I gave you last time worked pretty well, didn’t it?”
Daimaru didn’t really understand the finer points of his own “primitive alchemy.”
But extracting a small amount of cyanide wasn’t especially difficult.
Mass production was far beyond his current capabilities.
However, making enough poison for one or two puppet masters through manual work was entirely feasible.
In reality, the pits of fruits like peaches, plums, apricots, and loquats all contained cyanogenic glycosides.
Cassava also contained hydrocyanic acid.
The concentrations were simply too low.
Sunagakure’s poison specialists had long since discovered these naturally occurring toxins.
Unfortunately, they didn’t understand the underlying chemistry.
They merely boiled various poisonous materials together into mixed toxins.
Compared to Daimaru’s direct approach through his so-called “primitive alchemy,” their methods were far less efficient.
Cyanide wasn’t necessarily the deadliest poison.
But it was more than deadly enough.
What puppet masters valued most…
…was how quickly it killed.
Ordinary people would usually die the moment they ingested it.
Even shinobi with exceptional resistance would immediately begin suffering respiratory failure.
Without prompt treatment, most would suffocate to death.
During combat between shinobi, anyone struck by such a poison would see their fighting ability plummet almost instantly.
Against a powerful opponent…
…their fate was practically sealed.
“I’ll think about it a little longer.”
Kankuro hesitated.
He wondered whether he should borrow more money from Temari and simply buy the entire batch.
“This is an absolute necessity for traveling, home defense…”
“…and killing people.”
“I might not have the time or patience to make another batch.”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll just sell it to someone else.”
“You’re hardly the only puppet master in the village.”
“The girl living next door to me is one too.”
“Her family seems pretty wealthy.”
“She might be interested.”
“…Fine.”
“You win.”
In the end, Kankuro couldn’t resist the temptation.
“I’ll take it.”
“But I don’t have enough money right now.”
“You’ll have to let me owe you the rest.”
“That won’t do.”
“Even the Kazekage’s son can’t just buy things on credit by force.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“In that case…”
“…let’s trade.”
Daimaru finally revealed what he’d wanted all along.
“You planned this from the very beginning, didn’t you?”
Producing such a large quantity of high-grade poison clearly exceeded what any ordinary person’s pocket money could afford.
“Come on.”
“We’re going to be family sooner or later.”
“How could I possibly cheat you?”
“Who the hell is family with you?”
“I’ll remind you of something.”
“Temari had her fan repaired.”
“The wooden ribs have all been replaced with steel.”
“If she smacks you with it again…”
“…you might not survive.”
“Well…”
Daimaru laughed awkwardly.
“We can discuss family matters another day.”
“Let’s finish the business first.”
“Suit yourself.”
“But let me make one thing clear.”
“If you’re planning to trade for one of my puppets…”
“…forget it.”
“Why would I want your second-hand stuff?”
“I only want to exchange for some materials.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
“Materials?”
“That’s fine.”
Kankuro let out a sigh of relief.
As long as Daimaru wasn’t trying to steal the precious collection he’d painstakingly built over the years, everything else was negotiable.
By evening, Daimaru returned home carrying a mountain of rare materials.
Looking at the treasures spread across nearly half his floor, he couldn’t stop smiling.
“I didn’t lose money after all.”
“Haha…”
He finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Even his so-called primitive alchemy required considerable investment under his current circumstances.
He had poured nearly all the savings he’d accumulated over the past six months into the project.
Now…
It had finally paid off.
The greater the risk…
…the greater the reward.
Daimaru hadn’t actually cheated Kankuro.
It was simply a mutually beneficial exchange.
If time hadn’t been so pressing, he never would have attempted something this risky.
Fortunately, he’d succeeded.
It had even become a stable source of income…
…though he had no idea how long that would last.
One should never underestimate a shinobi’s ability to gather intelligence.
Perhaps someday his so-called “secret formula” would be leaked…
…without him ever realizing it.
Besides…
Lady Chiyo had spent decades studying poisons.
If she obtained a sample, she might very well deduce the manufacturing process herself.
Daimaru would never underestimate the abilities of high-ranking shinobi.
“With these…”
“…I should finally be able to make some truly useful things.”
Just as Daimaru was happily imagining a bright future…
…the doorbell rang.
Grumbling to himself, he reluctantly got up to answer it.
“Which idiot comes knocking at a time like this?”
“If this isn’t important…”
“…Huh?”
“Isn’t this Lady Saya?”
“What brings you here?”
“You’re making too much noise.”
“It’s disturbing my rest.”
As she spoke, Saya glanced through the open doorway.
Her eyes landed on the pile of puppet materials covering the floor.
“You…”
“Did something happen to your brain?”
“Why did you bring home so much garbage?”
“Young lady…”
“You can say whatever you want about food.”
“But watch what you call my belongings.”
Children from wealthy families really had no understanding of ordinary life.
The precious materials Daimaru had worked so hard to obtain…
…had actually been dismissed as garbage.
“I never imagined you had such strange tastes.”
Saya was fairly pretty.
Unfortunately…
…she was a puppet master.
Although there was no official rule, puppet masters of different ranks traditionally painted distinctive markings on their faces.
The exaggerated eye shadow and unusual lipstick Saya wore weren’t the result of eccentric fashion.
They were a way of signaling her standing to other puppet masters.
(End of Chapter)
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