The rain lays a cold shroud over Edo. This is the time they call the Shogun’s peace, a time of order, but for you it is only a different kind of war. The battlefields are teahouse tatami and shadowed alleys, the weapons are rumor and insinuation. You are a soldier in this war, but all you feel right now is the pricking of rainwater on your nape, where your sedge hat fails to shelter.

He arrives without a sound, a dark shape detaching from the deeper shadows. His indigo hakama is fine silk, pristine against the alley’s filth; his hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He does not greet you.

"Well?" The word falls like water on hot iron, brief and stinging.

You fix your gaze on a straw sandal half-buried in dirt and murmur what you overheard: Assistant Director Matsuda, drunk on sweet potato shochu at the Plum Blossom, cursing Commissioner Ito's mother for birthing such a "stone-headed fool," and boasting how he'd reallocate the district's tax rice once Ito "chokes on his own righteousness." A small, pathetic secret.

In the samurai's silence there remains only the patter of the rain and your steady pulse. "The fool has signed his death warrant in sake fumes." He might be discussing the weather. "It will serve."

His fingers barely move. Copper sen scatter at your feet, one rolling to rest against a fish head. The sum wouldn't buy half a bowl of buckwheat noodles.

"Keep listening," he commands, and then he is gone, melting back into the city's neat geometry.

You are alone again with the rain and the smell of the wet earth. The coins wink up at you from the mud. Here lies the worth of Matsuda's career, his family's prospects, his ancestral name. Here lies also your own worth, measured in base metal. How simple it would be to leave them for the next beggar, then to vanish into Edo's ten thousand faces.

But you can’t. Something holds you here, bound to this life. A reason you endure the cold, the contempt, and the filth. A reason you will, in the end, kneel and pick those coins out of the muck.

What is it?

[ ] Duty: You are bound to a clan, a family, or this spymaster himself. This servitude is an obligation you must fulfill, no matter the personal cost. Your life is not your own to command.

[ ] Grudge: This life of spying is merely a means to an end. The handler is a tool, the humiliations a whetstone. You are gathering the power and secrets needed to destroy a specific person who wronged you, and no price is too high.

[ ] Secret: You are a ghost, living a lie. The name you use, the face you show the world—it's all a fabrication. This dangerous life is a sanctuary compared to the truth you are running from, and your handler is the one who guarantees your continued existence.

>>6263076 (OP)
>[ ] Secret: You are a ghost, living a lie. The name you use, the face you show the world—it's all a fabrication. This dangerous life is a sanctuary compared to the truth you are running from, and your handler is the one who guarantees your continued existence.

>>6263076 (OP)
>[ ] Duty

>>6263076 (OP)
>[ ] Grudge: This life of spying is merely a means to an end. The handler is a tool, the humiliations a whetstone. You are gathering the power and secrets needed to destroy a specific person who wronged you, and no price is too high.

>>6263076 (OP)
>Secret: You are a ghost, living a lie. The name you use, the face you show the world—it's all a fabrication. This dangerous life is a sanctuary compared to the truth you are running from, and your handler is the one who guarantees your continued existence.

>>6263076 (OP)
[x] Secret: You are a ghost, living a lie. The name you use, the face you show the world—it's all a fabrication. This dangerous life is a sanctuary compared to the truth you are running from, and your handler is the one who guarantees your continued existence.

>>6263076 (OP)
[X] Grudge: This life of spying is merely a means to an end. The handler is a tool, the humiliations a whetstone. You are gathering the power and secrets needed to destroy a specific person who wronged you, and no price is too high.

>>6263076 (OP)
>Duty

>>6263076 (OP)
>[ ] Grudge: This life of spying is merely a means to an end. The handler is a tool, the humiliations a whetstone. You are gathering the power and secrets needed to destroy a specific person who wronged you, and no price is too high.

>>6263076 (OP)
>[x] Secret: You are a ghost, living a lie. The name you use, the face you show the world—it's all a fabrication. This dangerous life is a sanctuary compared to the truth you are running from, and your handler is the one who guarantees your continued existence.

Vote closed. Writing...

The coins lie heavy in your palm. This is also what Lord Ishikawa's silence costs him. He owns you by a greater bond than fealty, by the knowledge of what you once were, what you have done, your greatest shame. For a moment, the alley's reek of rotting vegetables surrenders to a memory of sandalwood incense, burning wax and low chanting in a hidden chamber, and the weight of impending doom.

The next day, a girl with dirt-caked feet collides with you in the fishmongers' crush. She lets her hand be caught in yours for a brief moment, pressing a folded paper note into your palm. No characters mark the page--only charcoal strokes sketching Nihonbashi's familiar arch and a sickle moon.

You arrive as the sun sinks behind Edo's walls, turning the canal's scum crimson. Lord Ishikawa stands at the bridge's midpoint, studying the sluggish water as if it holds his own reflection. A cargo boat poles past, its pilot singing off-key. The samurai doesn't turn.

"That seed you planted barely breaks the soil," he says, his voice flat. "I require a full harvest, ripe by dawn." He finally turns his head. "Obliterate Matsuda. The method is immaterial. Report to me only when you have something of consequence. You have till new moon. "

With no other details proffered, he means to say that the method is yours to choose--not that he has any confidence in your skills, but that your failure will be that much easier to deny.

Seven days pass. You become something less than a man. A quality, a stillness in a crowded teahouse, a held breath in a tavern ringing with drunken laughter. You trace the tangle of Matsuda’s life, searching for that one thread you can pull to unravel it all.

By week's end, you have found three.

[Choices next post]

>>6263395
[ ] Matsuda's residence is modest. The outer wall is old rain-stained plaster, fissured near a gnarled plum tree whose branches overhang the roof of his study. One guard keeps watch--himself gnarled with age, his phlegmy cough punctuating the sips of his midnight sake. It is a difficult infiltration nonetheless, where to be caught will mean certain death, but also the surest way to obtain the genuine proof Ishikawa desires--all without any trace of his involvement.

[ ] In the rice brokers' district, there are ledgers that bear Matsuda's name in red ink; his wife bears the shame. You've watched her pawn her tortoiseshell combs for a handful of white radish, seen her knuckles bleed from washing other women's clothes. Each afternoon, she kneels alone at the small Benten shrine by the Sumida, praying to the goddess of fortune with empty hands. Desperation makes a traitor of even the most honest woman. And if the business is messy and often distasteful, it is also easy: one need only present the proper terms, the right face at the right time.

[ ] Matsuda is a creature of habit. Each night, he leaves his office at the Hour of the Dog, and his path home always takes him through the candlemakers' lane, a narrow passage slick with wax runoff and choked with shadow, usually empty after dark. He seems a soft target, an easy man to corner and break. Sometimes simplicity is best, even when it comes at a definite cost, for it is certain you shall not come away unknown.

[ ] Write-in your own plan.

>[X] Matsuda's Residence...
>[X] Poison dropped into his Tea...

>>6263396
[X] In the rice brokers' district, there are ledgers that bear Matsuda's name in red ink; his wife bears the shame. You've watched her pawn her tortoiseshell combs for a handful of white radish, seen her knuckles bleed from washing other women's clothes. Each afternoon, she kneels alone at the small Benten shrine by the Sumida, praying to the goddess of fortune with empty hands. Desperation makes a traitor of even the most honest woman. And if the business is messy and often distasteful, it is also easy: one need only present the proper terms, the right face at the right time.

>>6263401
I think by 'obliterate' he means find tangible info that will cause a definite loss of face. "the weapons are rumor and insinuation" and all that.

>>6263396
In the rice brokers' district, there are ledgers that bear Matsuda's name in red ink; his wife bears the shame. You've watched her pawn her tortoiseshell combs for a handful of white radish, seen her knuckles bleed from washing other women's clothes. Each afternoon, she kneels alone at the small Benten shrine by the Sumida, praying to the goddess of fortune with empty hands. Desperation makes a traitor of even the most honest woman. And if the business is messy and often distasteful, it is also easy: one need only present the proper terms, the right face at the right time.
Cuck him to death

>>6263396
>[x] In the rice brokers' district, there are ledgers that bear Matsuda's name in red ink; his wife bears the shame...
Seems like the surest way without too much risk.

>>6263396
>[ ] Matsuda's residence is modest. The outer wall is old rain-stained plaster, fissured near a gnarled plum tree whose branches overhang the roof of his study. One guard keeps watch--himself gnarled with age, his phlegmy cough punctuating the sips of his midnight sake. It is a difficult infiltration nonetheless, where to be caught will mean certain death, but also the surest way to obtain the genuine proof Ishikawa desires--all without any trace of his involvement.
Fortune favors the bold

You sit in the quiet of your rented room, a cramped three-mat space tucked away in a tenement warren just a stone's throw from the Floating World. Silence is a rare commodity in these parts, there is no hour, night or day, which is not filled with the twang of shamisens or the distant thunder of laughter and applause. The walls are paper thin and poor insulation from weather and noise.

The tools of your real trade are hidden beneath the floorboards. You take out a cheap inkstone, a stick of charcoal, a roll of coarse paper. You grind the charcoal, the soft scraping sound felt more in your hands than your ears. You dip your brush. This is an exercise in clarity, not perfection.

The first character you paint is stark and final: 滅 (Horobi. Ruin). This is the mission. But the path to it is not straight.

You paint again: 職 (Shoku. Career). This is the clearest path. You think of Matsuda's finances, the desperation in his wife's eyes as she daily sells pieces of herself to survive. Debt is an acid that dissolves all pride. If you could gain access to their household accounts, under the guise of a helpful bookkeeper, you could weave their misfortune into a narrative of corruption. A few forged entries, a planted ledger--Matsuda's career would be over.

Your brush hovers. There is something about his wife's face, the careful way Lady Akane wipes her tears with the blade of her thumbs when she rises from the shrine, that reminds you of someone else. Enough. She is not her.

You steady your hand and paint the next word: 心 (Kokoro. Spirit). This is the crueler path. Destruction from within. You could become Akane's confidant, her only source of comfort. The mask of a wandering monk, a man outside the world's judgment, would allow you to do this without suspicion. And then, over time--and it would not take long, a few meetings, one or two chance encounters--you would twist that sorrow into resentment, until she herself becomes the instrument of your intended ruin.

Finally, you draw the character that governs this city, perhaps this world: 名 (Na. Honor). You could ignore the ledgers and the heartaches and simply find the secret chink in Matsuda's armor. As a concerned guard from Akane’s home province, you could probe her for her husband's secrets. A gambling debt? A mistress hidden in the Floating World? Find that one, a true piece of dishonor, and you can use it as a lever to break him instantly, forcing him to resign in shame.

Three paths. Three masks to wear till the new moon comes. You set the brush down, the ink still wet on the paper.

Which mask will you choose?

[ ] Adopt the guise of a bookkeeper. You will focus on fabricating a case of financial corruption.

[ ] Adopt the guise of a wandering monk. You will focus on using emotional manipulation to turn his wife against him.

[ ] Adopt the guise of a family guard. You will focus on discovering a personal secret to use for blackmail.

[ ] Write-in your own plan.

>>6264014
>>6263396
forgot to link

>>6264014
[X] Adopt the guise of a wandering monk. You will focus on using emotional manipulation to turn his wife against him.

The most poetic option. Also arguably the slowest choice, not optimal. We have a month. Better make those few 'chance encounters' count. Still, this option could lead into the financial or blackmail options well, if a marital fallout is insufficient, and despite the inappropriate alias. With her trust, a pivot to the other options is easier as the monk than vice versa because of the emotional connection. Also I think the drama will be best with the monk, because Akane seems to remind us of someone.

>>6264014
>Adopt the guise of a bookkeeper. You will focus on fabricating a case of financial corruption.

>>6264014
>[x] Adopt the guise of a wandering monk. You will focus on using emotional manipulation to turn his wife against him.

>>6264014
>Adopt the guise of a bookkeeper. You will focus on fabricating a case of financial corruption.

>>6264014
>[x] Adopt the guise of a wandering monk

>>6264014

The hemp robes scratch against your shoulders when you walk. Coarse fabric, deliberately patched, the color of old tea stains--every thread calculated to suggest poverty without squalor. The wooden begging bowl knocks against your hip with each step, its hollow sound echoing off the narrow walls of the merchant quarter.

You have become Brother Myōan, a name pulled from the register of a burned temple three provinces away. Your head is shaved clean, the stubble pricking in the cool air. Soot darkens the crescents beneath your fingernails--the residue of countless incense sticks you burned last night to embed the scent into your skin. Every detail must be perfect. The mask must become as flesh.

The Benten shrine's red torii has faded to rust-brown. Morning mist rises from the water, carrying the stench of night soil and rotting fish. You settle yourself on the shrine steps just as the temple bells announce the Hour of the Snake, arranging your robes with practiced humility.

Lady Akane appears just as the sun begins to banish the haze, exactly as you knew she would. She moves with the careful gait of someone who has learned to make threadbare sandals last. Her kimono was once fine--you can see it in the silk's weave--but now it bears the telltale signs of repeated darning. She carries herself like nobility playing at poverty, like one of the onnagata that have grown so popular in these times. No theater for her performance, of course.

You close your eyes and begin the Lotus Sutra in a low murmur, loud enough to be heard but soft enough to seem private. The words flow from muscle memory, learned in childhood before you understood their meaning. Before you understood that even prayer could be a weapon.

"Namu myōhō renge kyō..."

Her footsteps slow. Through slitted eyes, you watch her bow before the shrine, her movements precise despite the trembling of her hands. She lights a single stick of incense—-the cheap kind that burns fast and smells of sawdust. When she kneels, her spine stays straight, but you catch the way her fingers press white against her prayer beads.

You let the chant fade into silence.

"Forgive me," she says without turning. Her voice carries the formal cadences of the merchant class imitating samurai speech. "I did not mean to disturb your prayers."

"All prayers join the same stream, honored lady." You rise slowly, bones creaking with feigned age. "The Buddha hears them together or not at all."

She turns then, and you see that hunger has sharpened her cheekbones, and something else has hollowed her eyes--a exhaustion beyond the reach of sleep. This close, you can smell the rice paste she uses to powder over the bruises on her wrists.

"You are not from Edo," she observes.

"The road is my temple now." You gesture toward the river with your begging bowl. "Though I confess, your dedication shames me. Every day I see you here, faithful as the tide."

[Continued]

>>6265229

The compliment causes no change in her expression, but her shoulders soften fractionally.

"It's true that the goddess of fortune requires... persistent petitions."

"Perhaps she requires better offerings than I can provide." The words slip out before she can stop them, salted with frustrated pride. She catches herself, bowing quickly. "Forgive me. That was..."

"Honest." You let warmth creep into your voice--not the performance warmth of false sympathy, as you intended, but something deeper. Something that remembers what it felt like to kneel in the dirt, praying to gods who never answered. "Honesty before the Buddha is the first step toward wisdom."

She studies your face, searching for mockery but finding none. You feel the first thread of connection form between you. The beginning of trust.

"I should return home," she says, though she doesn't move.

"The shrine will be here tomorrow," you reply. "As will I, if the Buddha wills it."

"And if He doesn't?"

You smile--not Brother Myōan's beatific expression which you had practiced for an hour last night, but something more subtle and real. "I suppose, then, we'll discover what happens when prayers encounter stubbornness."

For the first time since you've watched her, Lady Akane almost smiles.

She leaves, but glances back once before disappearing into the maze of morning vendors. You remain by the shrine, maintaining the facade for anyone who might be watching. Only when the streets empty for the midday meal do you allow yourself to rise and feel the thrill of victory.

Now comes the harder work. Tomorrow you will be here again, and the day after, building trust inch by inch until she comes to see you not as a stranger, but as the one person in Edo who truly understands her suffering. The one person who can offer her what she most desperately needs: permission to drop her pretenses.

By the new moon, that trust will be sharp enough to cut her husband's throat.

You touch the prayer beads at your wrist--real ones, blessed at a real temple, because even lies need some foundation in truth. You thumb through them absently, musing on what you must do.

The Buddha's mercy is vast, the sutras say.

How do you proceed with building trust with Lady Akane?

[ ] Focus on her spiritual needs. Present yourself as a wise teacher who can help her find meaning in suffering. This builds trust quickly but risks exposing your own philosophical gaps.

[ ] Focus on her material needs. Offer practical help: sharing food, mending clothes, small acts of kindness. This creates dependency but keeps emotional distance.

[ ] Focus on her isolation. Become her confidant by encouraging her to speak about her troubles. This gathers intelligence quickly but requires you to reciprocate with invented vulnerabilities.

[ ] Focus on her pride. Appeal to her sense of dignity by treating her as the noblewoman she pretends to be. This flatters her ego but may make her more guarded about family secrets.

[ ] Write-in

>>6265233
>Focus on her isolation. Become her confidant by encouraging her to speak about her troubles. This gathers intelligence quickly but requires you to reciprocate with invented vulnerabilities.

>>6265233
>Isolation

>>6265233
>[X] Focus on her isolation. Become her confidant by encouraging her to speak about her troubles. This gathers intelligence quickly but requires you to reciprocate with invented vulnerabilities.

More easily made up for than lack of knowledge. Material needs would be my close second choice, or something to be done alongside this focus. Playing therapist or friend is good and all, but in her situation she'll find her needs come first. I do think we need that sense of closeness though.

>>6265233
Spiritual needs would probably be the most convincing in this guise but if we lack the knowledge to play it well... then:

>[ x] Focus on her isolation
Although occasionally offering assistance with material needs wouldn't hurt and could be seen as acts of care.

>>6265233
>Focus on her isolation. Become her confidant by encouraging her to speak about her troubles. This gathers intelligence quickly but requires you to reciprocate with invented vulnerabilities.

>>6265412
what material assistance can a monk offer? they literally own nothing but the robes on their backs, beads and begging bowl

>>6265530
The Buddha provides many blessings. All is a gift. Who is to say a wayward monk would not possess that which a noble but downtrodden lady may need? Even should that be coin. Amitabha my brother. zoz

>>6265539
oh, nothing much, just law, tradition and the backstory that our guy chose for himself

>>6265542
Hey man you asked about a monk not the boi.

>>6265546
you seem confused

>>6265547
And you can't read, what of it? kek

>>6265530
Pass on donations, help with repairs, that sort of thing

>>6265673
umm... which exact part of "buddhist monks aren't allowed to touch money" don't you guys understand??
helping ms Watanabe with her chores is also very much out of character, but might work, but might risk exposure as a fraud
the less contact with others beside the target while in this monk guise, the better, I would say

>>6265679
Don't people at least donate food and clothing to temples? I'm not entirely certain how Buddhist monks keep themselves fed and clothed but it has to come from somewhere

>>6265679
Where are you getting a "Watanabe" from? We've only gotten 'Akane' as her name. Nor have we gotten any indication either Matsuda or Akane are related to the Watanabe clan, we're probably in the wrong place for that anyways.

>>6265233
I'm honored to witness proper ninja kino.
>[X] Focus on her isolation. Become her confidant by encouraging her to speak about her troubles. This gathers intelligence quickly but requires you to reciprocate with invented vulnerabilities.
May her husband's failings hoist their own rope.

>>6265716
>Where are you getting a "Watanabe" from?
woosh
>>6265713
people donate food (remember that rice is money in this period, so a nice end-run around the prohibition is that the temples get more rice than they need which they can then use to support operations)
sometimes the profit of some small fiefdom is allocated to a temple, or a temple is allowed to use some land

Three days pass before she speaks to you again.

You maintain your position on the shrine steps each morning, arriving before dawn to sweep the approach with a borrowed broom. The merchants have begun to nod at you. The fishmonger's wife leaves day-old rice balls wrapped in bamboo leaves beside your bowl. You eat them slowly, savoring the sourness of fermentation, feeling the grains stick between your teeth.

On the third morning, Lady Akane pauses after her prayers.

"Brother Myōan." She uses your assumed name carefully, having learned it from another. "May I ask you something?"

You show the flat of your palm, a gesture of welcome.

"Do you believe the gods punish us for the sins of others?"

You set down your prayer beads with deliberate grace, counting three breaths before answering.

"I believe we often punish ourselves more harshly than any god would wish."

Her mouth purses up. She leaves that day without another word.

The carefully planned market encounter comes two days later. You kneel beside the pickle vendor's stall, bowl extended, when her shadow falls across yours. She carries a basket with three daikon radishes and a small paper packet that smells of katsuobushi.

"Please." She drops the packet into your bowl.

"Your generosity honors me, Lady--"

"Keiko." The lie comes quickly. Something prepared. "Just Keiko."

You hold the name a few seconds in your mind. How foolish it would be now to let slip her real name and ruin all your work. Greater schemes than this have been foiled by such carelessness.

"Lady Keiko."

She hesitates, clutching her basket. Around you, the market churns with morning commerce. Vendors hawk their wares. Housewives argue over the price of fish. A dog fights with a murder of crows over some rotting entrails.

"I shouldn't burden you," she says.

"A burden shared weighs half as much."

"Pretty words." As before, she speaks too quickly and then is shamed by the lapse of composure. "My grandmother used to say that. Before she discovered some burdens only grow heavier with sharing."

You rise slowly. "Perhaps she never found the right person to share them with."

She fixes her gaze on your crossed shadows, her hands tightening briefly around the basket. Then she offers a curt, stiff bow. "Good day, Brother Myōan."

Rain the next day drives everyone indoors except you and the cats that shelter beneath the shrine's eaves. You sit in zazen, listening to the water stream down into the river. The cold seeps through to your bones.

She appears like a ghost through the downpour, hair plastered to her skull, kimono dark with water. No umbrella. She stumbles up the steps and collapses beside you, rubbing the rain from her soaked shoulders.

You hold your breath. Waiting.

"He sold my grandmother's kanzashi." The words tear from her throat. "The silver ones with the cranes. They were... I have nothing to remember her now."

Still you say nothing.

[Cont.]

>>6266031

"For drink. He sold them for a jug of doburoku. And when I begged, he..." She touches her left cheek, where fresh bruises hide beneath rice powder, now turned to paste by the rain.

At last you turn. Let her see your eyes--let her see that they are not capable of serenity only, but when it is called for, righteous anger.

"Tell me," you say simply.

The rain softens into mist. She tells you nothing you do not already know, but for her it is a great relief, to unveil the hideousness of her life without fear of judgement.

"He wasn't always like this," she says, voice hoarse. "When we married, he had such dreams. He would make our district prosper. He would show those hidebound fools in the castle what real administration looked like. Fair and honorable."

You hand her your sleeve to wipe her face. The gesture surprises you both.

"Dreams can cut deeper than daggers," you say, "when they die."

She studies you with red-rimmed eyes. "You speak as one who knows."

The lie you've prepared leaps to your throat, the words crowding behind your eyes all at once. You force yourself to wait. Settle.

"I was not always Brother Myōan." You let your voice drop, roughening the edges. "Once I carried two blades. I served a lord who a deserved better a world than this one."

The rain stops. Somewhere, a crow calls.

"Just. Honorable. Kind to his retainers, generous to the peasants who worked his lands. When drought came, he opened his storehouses rather than let the people starve."

You pause, yourself caught up by the longing of this invented memory. You would have indeed loved to know such a lord. All you have known is starvation.

"The lords of the neighboring domains called him weak. Fearing that his softness might spread like disease or make the peasants unruly, they whispered poison in the Shogun's ear. When that wasn't enough they... discovered evidence of treason. I saw the letters myself." You scoff and shake your head. "But when powerful men agree to believe a lie..."

"What happened?"

"What always happens. They came at dawn. They made him kneel in his own garden, beside the plum tree he had planted upon news of his granddaughter's birth. I stood ten paces away." You clench your fist, let her see the tremor. "My lord ordered me to do nothing. And I did nothing."

"It wasn't your fault."

You meet her eyes. "I had my two blades. Every day since I was boy I trained in their use. And I watched them take his head. Burn his house. Cast his family into the streets."

You turn away, ostensibly to hide emotion. In truth, you were about to sneeze.

"The shame... how can I describe it? I cut my hair the next day. Took these robes from another wandering monk, his spare set. I could not serve with honor in life, and so perhaps I could find it in renunciation."

"And have you? Found it?"

"In bits and pieces. The shame remains unbearable at times."

She nods with understanding.

[Cont.]

>>6266032
You gesture between you. "Sometimes two people who understand suffering can make it bearable."

She reaches out, almost touches your hand, catches herself.

"My husband," she says carefully, "is not an evil man. Just... lost."

"The Buddha himself was lost when he began his journey. The lost can be guided back."

"Even when they no longer wish to be found?"

You think of the shō-kunai hidden in your small temple room. Of the promise you've made to Lord Ishikawa. The new moon approaches.

"Even then," you lie. "Even then."

Five days later, she shows up pale and awkward, hands twisting in the sleeves of her kimono.

"Brother Myōan, I need your help."

You set aside your prayer beads. "What troubles you, Lady Keiko?"

She winces at the false name. "My husband is ill. A terrible fever. He... he calls out in his sleep. Speaks of demons. Judgment."

You've seen Matsuda stumbling through the pleasure quarter just yesterday, decidedly unfevered. But her eyes plead with you to accept more of her fiction.

"The physicians can't help?"

"We can't afford--" She stops this time, composes herself before speaking. "That is, my husband prefers traditional remedies. But I thought... if a holy man were to come, to recite the sutras... perhaps it might ease his suffering."

The invitation you've worked toward. Yet something makes you hesitate.

"Lady Keiko--"

"Please." She drops to her knees on the wet stone. "I know I have no right to ask. But I don't know where else to turn."

You do not move to help her. The Brother Myōan of your imagination would remain collected.

"The Buddha's mercy extends to all who suffer," you say. "I will come."

She looks up, quickly brushing away tears of relief with the blades of her thumbs, the gesture making your stomach fall. "This evening? After the Hour of the Rooster? He's... calmer then."

Before the sake takes hold, you translate. You nod, trying to shake off by the movement, the unbidden memory.

"I'll bring incense. Holy water from the temple well."

"You're very kind." She bows deeply. "I pray this will help him remember who he was. To find himself again."

As she hurries away, you touch the prayer beads at your wrist. Normally you would remain here another hour or two, but you feel unable to sit still. She wants you to save him. Shock him back to his senses with holy reprove. It might have even worked, if you were a real monk. You're no stranger to the terrible power of religion. But your purpose is altogether different. And though that strange hesitation still nags you, though the memory of the hot miso soup and the handful of millet in her hand, her smile, and her unthinkable touch, yet persist, you know you will not be moved from your purpose. There is no mask you can wear to fool Lord Ishikawa. He knows your true face. He owns you.

Still, it will be poor consolation to Lady Akane.

[Cont.]

>>6266035
The Matsuda house falls just on the border between the Shitamachi and Yamanote, techinically on the lower town. You've passed its old rain-stained plaster walls many times, measured in your mind the length of a gnarled plum tree whose branches overhang the roof of his study, where a man might enter unseen. One guard keeps watch at the door, old and sickly, half-blind with sake. Now, you approach him openly, prayer beads clicking with each step.

Lady Akane meets you at the entrance before the guard can shoo you off. She's tried to hide the fresh bruises with powder again, but her left eye is swollen nearly shut.

"He's in the main room," she whispers. "The fever broke this afternoon, but--"

"Kanai!" The voice booms from within. "Who are you whispering to? If it's those damned rice merchants again--"

Then Matsuda Shinzaemon appears in the doorway, kimono hanging open, face flushed with sake. He's younger than you expected--maybe only a few years older than you--with the heavy, yet soft, body of a man who once practiced martial arts but abandoned them for ease. His eyes are bloodshot but sharp, fixing on you with immediate suspicion.

"A monk?" He laughs, an ugly sound. "Did you hire a monk to shame me, okusan? Think a few sutras will make the debt collectors disappear?"

"Danna, please. Your fever—"

"There's no fever!" He rounds on her, raising a fist, and she flinches back. "You think I'm stupid? Think I don't know what this is?"

You step forward, keeping your expression placid. "Lord Matsuda. Your wife worries for your spirit. I've come only to offer prayers."

He turns his attention to you, swaying slightly. The stench of sake and old sweat rolls off him in waves.

"Prayers." He scoffs. "You know what I think of prayers?" He turns his head aside, snorts deeply, and spits out a thick wad of phlegm. "Why don't you go visit that sanctimonious pig Ito, praying for the district's prosperity while he bleeds us dry with his audits and his reforms."

"Perhaps we could speak inside," you suggest. "The neighbors--"

"Let them hear!" His voice rises. "Let the whole district know that Matsuda Shinzaemon won't be fooled by fake piety! You're probably one of Ito's spies, aren't you?" He points his finger at you, swaying again. "I know your game, monk."

Lady Akane touches his arm. "Please, Shin-chan. Brother Myōan is—"

He backhands her casually, sending her stumbling into the wall. The motion is clusmy, but automatic.

Your body tenses before you can stop it. For an instant, the monk's mask slips, and you step forward with more purpose than a monk has any right to present. Matsuda catches it, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh?" He steps closer, breath hot with alcohol. "The holy man has some fire in him after all. Tell me, *Brother*, what temple claims you? What credentials do you carry?"

You have papers, of course. Forged documents that would fool most inspection. But something in his gaze suggests he's less drunk than he appears.

[Cont.]

>>6266037
"I am a wandering monk," you say carefully, backing off. "The road is my temple."

"How convenient." He circles you slowly, like a dog. "A monk with no temple. No brothers to vouch for him. Just appears one day, befriending lonely wives."

"Shin-chan!" Akane's voice cracks with desperation.

"Shut up!" He doesn't look at her. "I'm talking to our holy guest. Tell me, Brother Nobody, what exactly did my wife promise you? Money we don't have? Or something else?"

The accusation hangs in the air like a stroke of lightning, with the promise of thunder. You take another step back, not bowing your head, not looking away from his face. One wrong word and he'll throw you out--or worse, start asking questions you can't answer. Yet, you can't--you won't--show your neck to him.

Lady Akane watches from where she's pressed against the wall, one hand touching her reddening cheek. Her eyes plead with you--though for what, you're not yet certain.

Matsuda waits for you to make a move, fists clenched, sake-courage burning in his eyes. It would hardly take any effort to dismantle him; he's full of openings. Behind him, through the unbolted door, you glimpse the main room--sparse, with gaps where furniture has been sold. A low writing desk. A sake jug. The kind of space where a desperate man might drink himself to death, given the right encouragement.

Matsuda is still waiting. His wizened, old gatekeeper, finally comprehending the situation, has brandished his bamboo spear.

[ ] Submit completely. Bow, apologize profusely, and retreat. Let him think you're a coward. Weak men often let their guard down around those they perceive as weaker. You'll find another approach later.

[ ] Stand your ground with dignity. Quote scripture about the virtue of helping those in need. Maintain the monk's serenity even as he rages. This might impress him or infuriate him further--a calculated risk.

[ ] Match his energy. Drop the monk's soft tones. Speak to him warrior to warrior, acknowledging the strength you see beneath his dissolution. Sometimes broken samurai respond better to steel than silk.

[ ] Redirect his anger. Agree that Commissioner Ito is indeed sanctimonious. Express sympathy for how "righteous" officials destroy good men. Make yourself his ally against a common enemy.

[ ] Call his bluff. Point out that a truly suspicious husband would have thrown you out already. Suggest he's looking for an excuse to avoid facing his real problems. Dangerous, but might shock him into listening.

[ ] Write-in

>>6266038
>Call his bluff. Point out that a truly suspicious husband would have thrown you out already. Suggest he's looking for an excuse to avoid facing his real problems. Dangerous, but might shock him into listening.

>>6266038
Tough choice, and I can't really read what OP has in mind as the correct option (if there even is one).
>[x] Stand your ground with dignity. Quote scripture about the virtue of helping those in need. Maintain the monk's serenity even as he rages. This might impress him or infuriate him further--a calculated risk.
I think that's something a real monk would do. He grows infuriated? Attacks us? +1 crime on Matsuda's consciousness, we're a holy man - an attack on one is something we can use against him. He listens? Time to pry every weakness we can from him. ALSO I think it will best let us keep our composure - we've already let the mask drop a bit, can't afford to fuck up any more.
The redirect his anger prompt would make him even more suspicious. Why would a monk agree with a drunk immediately?
Calling his bluff seems like a sure way to be thrown out.
Matching his energy seems like an even riskier option than the one I picked, encouraging his anger directly.
Submitting COULD work. But we're basically leaving without a true clue to offer Ishikawa, and time is short.
What do other anons think about this? Seems like the culmination of our operation, best not fuck this up.

>>6266038
what a complete fuckup of an encounter, thanks QM
>名
the man needs to be removed from office, not necessarily from life itself
>help him remember who he was. To find himself again
he has anger, but also deep shame pushing him to drink. he's probably ruined himself financially covering for his own past mistakes and indiscretions. In truth the man is a wreck already and it's hard to tell both Ito is in such a hurry to remove him, and why he wants it done covertly. Maybe a topic to think about later.
so therefore
the ex-samurai backstory has already been established with Akane, keep using it
>Match his energy. Drop the monk's soft tones. Speak to him warrior to warrior, acknowledging the strength you see beneath his dissolution. Sometimes broken samurai respond better to steel than silk.

The next step if we manage to get him off balance is to remind him that it is possible to maintain honor in defeat, provided one is brave enough to do the needful.
If he simply charges, let him, absorb the damage. I've a feeling Akane has just about had enough...

>>6266038
>Match his energy
I think this is going to go badly. But.

>>6266038
>Call his bluff. Point out that a truly suspicious husband would have thrown you out already. Suggest he's looking for an excuse to avoid facing his real problems. Dangerous, but might shock him into listening.

>>6266038
>[X] Stand your ground with dignity. Quote scripture about the virtue of helping those in need. Maintain the monk's serenity even as he rages. This might impress him or infuriate him further--a calculated risk.

The risk is that this may lead him to do as we feared and ask unwanted questions regarding our credentials, but it is the most consistent with our alias as both a monk and former samurai. Aside from matching his energy that is, but even if he is more aware than he lets on, spewing vitriol isn't likely to go well with a drunk. I also don't want to hint that we know much about him, by calling his 'bluff', because that could give credence to his wild theory that we are Ito's spy.

On an entirely different note, is this quest meant to take place in a specific year? Or just a vague 'the Tokugawa Shogun's are still in power' setting with mixed or otherwise anachronistic themes/tech/genre? I ask because the copper sen (I think) wasn't minted until just after the Meiji Restoration.

>>6266247
>I ask because the copper sen (I think) wasn't minted until just after the Meiji Restoration.
I believe some denomination of copper coins were used in the Edo period (e.g Kan'ei Tsūhō, which is a bit of a mouthful), but you're absolutely right that the "sen" wasn't officially introduced until the end of the Tokugawa. Technically, I should have written "mon" not sen.

That said, yes, the quest takes place in a very specific year/period which will become clearer as we go on.

>>6266038
>[X] Stand your ground with dignity.
Maybe weave in a line about our warrior past to explain the slip (if our target doesn't get distracted arguing with us and there's an opportunity that won't come off as sanctimonious).

>[X] Stand your ground with dignity. Quote scripture about the virtue of helping those in need. Maintain the monk's serenity even as he rages. This might impress him or infuriate him further--a calculated risk.

Vote closed. OK, time for the first roll of the quest.

You will roll 2d6. Higher rolls are better. Only the first three rolls will be considered with the following exception: any subsequent rolls containing doubles (zorome) will replace (the lowest) non-double roll among the first three rolls. Once a double is "set", it cannot be replaced (e.g by a higher double). We will call getting/accumulating three doubles "honne" while getting three non-doubles "tatemae". The first will result in a revelation (either welcome or unwelcome, depending outcome of the roll) while the second will result in mystery (either deepening an existing intrigue or opening a new one).

Rolled 1, 4 = 5 (2d6)

>>6266330
Got it, chief. Kinda complicated, but I like it. Let's put it to the test.
Rollin'

Rolled 1, 1 = 2 (2d6)

>>6266330
>inb4 people constantly forget how the rolls are tabulated
Neat.

Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)

>>6266330

So... do anons think we should roll again in hopes of getting a double and overriding one of >>6266348 >>6266357 with a superior roll? Should we try for honne to get a revelation? That seems to be beneficial for our mission.

>>6266360
approved

Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

>>6266330
>>6266361
Alright, let's go. 6, 6, answer my prayers.
(I actually don't know if one person can roll multiple times)

Rolled 2, 3 = 5 (2d6)

>>6266330

Rolled 3, 5 = 8 (2d6)

May as well roll too, no?

>>6266365
1 roll per player. This just is to avoid spamming rolls. Also there is a maximum time window of 24 hours after which no more rolls will be considered. (though I expect I'll close the rolls before then to write the update).

Rolled 5, 1 = 6 (2d6)

>>6266330
>>6266360
>>6266414
Time to see if I can get any doubles

Rolled 6, 4 = 10 (2d6)

>>6266330
As we have yet to get any doubles, I'll roll as well.

Rolled 4, 2 = 6 (2d6)

>>6266330

Rolled 3, 3 = 6 (2d6)

>>6266330

>>6266414
Hmm, I thought the system incentivised a lot of rolls instead, the strategy being to pick whether to roll until we get zorome and hope for a high double overriding a lower non-double roll, or keeping whatever rolls we got initially. Kinda like a risk-reward thing.
Well, w/e.

>>6266697
>I thought the system incentivised a lot of rolls instead, the strategy being to pick whether to roll until we get zorome and hope for a high double overriding a lower non-double roll, or keeping whatever rolls we got initially. Kinda like a risk-reward thing.
Yes, that was exactly the intention. I suppose you have a point. I guess this isn't tg days anymore where you could get enough players to not need repeat rolls.

Alright, let's relax the rule about repeat rolls. Players can roll as many times as they like. Please cast responsibly.

I'll leave the roll open for a while longer in case you guys want to go for honne (right now, you guys are looking at a failure btw, none of your rolls passed the DC).

Rolled 2, 5 = 7 (2d6)

>>6266330
>>6266820
aight lets settle this
ROLL BOUNDARY

Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)

>>6266820
Cool!
I'll roll a few to try for another zorome. Hopefully it's a 4, 4 or higher...

Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

>>6266330
>>6266820
Another one...

Rolled 5, 5 = 10 (2d6)

>>6266330
I'll only reply to this from now on I guess. Also holy shit, so many rolls after the first 3 and not one double.

>>6266852
YES!
This should be enough to beat the DC at least once, right?
I'll leave the final double for the honne to other anons. Roll well!

>>6266855
Yep. And you've gotten honne already. One of the first three rolls was already a double.

Vote closed. Writing.

>>6266820
Maybe allow as many repeat rolls as we want, but require either that the each of the first three rollers approve of allowing rerolls for 'their' roll, or require the majority of voters to consent to a specific strategy on how many rolls they want to go for or which non double rolls they want to try and replace (for this latter idea you'd cut off the rolls after however many of the first three we agree to replace get replaced, but there'd still be the risk bad doubles). The idea being that there is still a risk/reward of potentially not rolling enough dice to get better replacements, or of rolling too many dice and getting bad doubles, while still having some idea of when to cut off how many rolls will be allowed. That way 'rogue' voters couldn't make decisions for the collective or the original rollers, depending on which idea is chosen, if they are.

>>6266855
If I understand things correctly, we've rolled all we can, because this >>6266351 counts as a double, you can only reroll non doubles from the 1st three rolls.

>>6266863
>or require the majority of voters to consent to a specific strategy on how many rolls they want to go for or which non double rolls they want to try and replace (for this latter idea you'd cut off the rolls after however many of the first three we agree to replace get replaced, but there'd still be the risk bad doubles).
I like this idea more (because it absolves me of responsibility :P). I'll let you guys decide how and when you want to do the rolls and just enforce whatever cutoff you decide on.

>>6266038
[Partial Success]

You stand erect and meet Matsuda's bloodshot gaze with unbothered serenity. Your voice flows like water over stone, each word measured and soft.

"The Lotus Sutra teaches that those who slander the dharma suffer most from their own poison. I come offering nothing but prayers for your household's peace, Lord Matsuda. To refuse such an offer speaks more of your pain than--"

His fist catches you just below the eye.

The world tilts. You taste copper as you stumble backward, your instincts screaming from release, to flow with the motion and return the strike ten-fold. Instead, you let yourself fall, robes tangling around your legs. Your cheekbone throbs, already swelling.

"Sanctimonious dog!" Matsuda stands over you, breathing hard. "You dare lecture me? You dare quote scripture at me in my own house?"

He kicks your begging bowl. It clatters across the entranceway, the few bits of food inside scattering like fleeing mice.

"This is what I think of your prayers!" He hawks and spits again, the phlegm landing near your cheek. "Get out! Get out before I--"

"What's this racket?" A new voice cuts through his rage. An elderly woman appears in the doorway of the noodle shop next door, flour dusting her sleeves. "Matsuda-san, what are you doing to that poor monk?"

"Mind your business, noodle hag!"

But she's already hobbling closer, and behind her, other neighbors emerge. A young carpenter. Two housewives with laundry baskets. The commotion has drawn an audience.

"It's Brother Myōan!" One of the housewives recognizes you. "The one who sweeps the shrine steps! What kind of man strikes a holy person?"

"The kind who sees through false--" Matsuda stops, suddenly aware of the growing crowd. His face darkens further. He grabs Akane's wrist, yanking her through the doorway. But before he can slam it shut, his eyes find yours one last time. The former rage now mingles with something else--fear.

"If I see you near my house again," he hisses, "monk or not, I'll gut you like a carp."

The door slams. The old guard, still clutching his bamboo spear, looks uncertain, glancing between you and the neighbors. Finally, he steps inside the small courtyard, leaving you alone with the small crowd.

You lie still for a moment, letting the neighbors fuss over you. The old woman helps you sit up, clicking her tongue at your swelling eye.

"That man brings shame to the whole street," she mutters. "Used to put on such airs before, acting like he was better than us. As if we didn't know who his father was. Now look at him. Just another drunkard."

His father. You file that away.

"His poor wife," one of the housewives adds. "She used to hold her head so high."

"There's talk," the younger woman lowers her voice, "that he came into some money recently."

"Must have lost it all on Chō-han and sake," says the carpenter, a bit too loudly.

"Shh!" The first woman glances nervously at Matsuda's door. "You want to end up like the monk?"

[Cont.]

>>6266865
Also, a couple lines of questioning. First, do we only have to beat the DC on one of the three rolls to succeed, or is a variable thing, where difficulty changes how many of the rolls are required to surpass the DC? Are there degrees of success or failure for beating the DC, either the sum of each pair of rolls, or the sum of all of them combined, or the number of the pairs that surpass the DC?

Second, does getting tatemae "set" the first three rolls? Or are we free to always roll dice afterwards, and it is our choice to try and go for honne or tatemae or not?

>>6266873
They help you gather your begging bowl, putting a bit of nori and a handful of millet to replace what had spilled. The carpenter offers to walk you to the shrine. You decline with appropriate humility, but he insists. As you pretend to limp away, supported by his shoulder, you catch movement at an upper window of the Matsuda house.

Akane watches through a crack in the shutters. Even from this distance, you can see the grief and desperation in her eyes.

That evening, you sit in your small temple room, holding a cold wet cloth against your eye. The swelling has spread, purple-black like storm clouds. Tomorrow, everyone at the shrine will see Brother Myōan's badge of honor.

You've failed to establish yourself as a calming presence in Matsuda's house. But perhaps you've gained something more valuable: the neighborhood's sympathy and their loose tongues. Already the chatty carpenter confirmed what you had only suspected: Matsuda's origins lie with the merchant class, not the samurai. His father had been a rice broker and had purchased his status by buying a kabu. Matsuda is a man of impure blood. A fraud.

A scratch at your door interrupts your thoughts. You open it to find a small bundle on the step--katsuobushi again, but the paper packet bears a woman's careful brushwork inside:

"Forgive him. The demons that torment my husband are stronger than sake. If your compassion is as magnanimous as I pray, come to the shrine tomorrow at the Hour of the Ox, when even demons sleep.

-- One who has not forgotten kindness"

The Hour of the Ox. Between two and four in the morning, when the streets are empty and darkness provides cover. No stranger to you. But a dangerous time for a woman to be out alone.

You burn the note and settle into zazen. It is the only practice held in common between the holy life and the decidedly less holy life of the shinobi-no-mono. Your face throbs with each slow breath, but pain is temporary. Tomorrow's meeting will require new strategies. Matsuda has shown he responds to dignity with violence--the reaction of a man whose own dignity is a lie he tells himself.

Perhaps it's time for Brother Myōan to show his weakness. After all, nothing disarms suspicion quite like shared humiliation.

Outside, spring wind rattles the shutters. Somewhere in the merchant quarter, Matsuda drinks himself deeper into debt, while his wife plans midnight meetings with false monks.

The game has changed, but it continues.

[Choice next post]

>>6266875
Choose your approach for the midnight meeting:

[ ] Arrive injured and vulnerable. Play up your wounds. Let Akane feel responsible for your suffering. Guilt is a key that opens many locks.

[ ] Arrive angry beneath the calm. Show cracks in the monk's serenity. Let her see that Matsuda's violence has shaken something loose. Sometimes revealing controlled emotion builds deeper trust than perfect composure.

[ ] Arrive with information. Use what the neighbors revealed. Hint that you understand more about her husband's situation than she might expect. Knowledge can be comfort or threat, depending on how it's offered.

[ ] Don't arrive at all. Make her wait. Wonder. Worry. Sometimes absence speaks louder than presence, and desperation makes people careless with their secrets.

[ ] Arrive with a witness. Bring the elderly neighbor woman as protection and propriety. This limits what Akane might reveal but provides social cover for future meetings.

[ ] Write-in.

>>6266874
>Also, a couple lines of questioning. First, do we only have to beat the DC on one of the three rolls to succeed, or is a variable thing, where difficulty changes how many of the rolls are required to surpass the DC? Are there degrees of success or failure for beating the DC, either the sum of each pair of rolls, or the sum of all of them combined, or the number of the pairs that surpass the DC?
Variable with degrees of success using sum of each pair vs. DC.

>Second, does getting tatemae "set" the first three rolls? Or are we free to always roll dice afterwards, and it is our choice to try and go for honne or tatemae or not?

Tatemae doesn't autoset like zorome. It's always your choice whether to "stay" with tatemae or go for honne.

>>6266876
Arrive injured and vulnerable. Play up your wounds. Let Akane feel responsible for your suffering. Guilt is a key that opens many locks.

>>6266876
>[X] Arrive injured and vulnerable. Play up your wounds. Let Akane feel responsible for your suffering. Guilt is a key that opens many locks.

I'm not certain of any approach, they could all go well, or backfire. Playing up our injuries could draw secrets from her sympathy and guilt, or it could convince her that she needs to push us away for our own safety or make her think we are incapable. Cold, contained anger might make us seem more relatable, or push her own thoughts towards violence towards her husband or discussions of such with her, but it could also not be the direction she wants to go in. She's so far actually tried to get us to help her husband, as a means of solving the situation that ails her, rather than just using us as an outlet for rants or escape or vengeance. Getting a witness seems like the long play, to give Akane an alibi or prevent us from being harmed if this is a trap (we don't know if Akane confessed to her husband, or if she was actually the one to deliver the letter). She's already sympathetic, so not arriving could make her think ill of us or cut off our connection, but we want her desperate. I don't know how telling her our revelation will comfort her, and I assume she already knew, but as a threat I see more potency. If she didn't know, it could drive a potent wedge between them, and if she did, the threat of us making it common knowledge could drive her to confess further secrets, or rage, against us, or her husband for fucking up so bad.

Personally I think playing injured, or using our newfound info, or making her desperate by waiting are the best choices.

We should figure out how we actually plan to ruin Matsuda. Or we could just play it by ear. The monk path was originally posited as a way to drive resentment in Akane, from there I assumed our plan was either to get her to spill secrets or to kill her husband. So are we pivoting to using our monk guise for the same purpose as the guard disguise, or are trying to create a fresh organic scandal? We certainly aren't likely to get access to their house to try and go the bookkeeper route of looking through their ledgers, though Akane could potentially deliver them.

>>6266876
>Arrive angry beneath the calm. Show cracks in the monk's serenity. Let her see that Matsuda's violence has shaken something loose. Sometimes revealing controlled emotion builds deeper trust than perfect composure.

>>6266876
>[X] Arrive with information
Vulnerability might work, too... depending how we play it. Angry would scare her, making her wait might scare her (2-4 in the morning alone; she's already going to be anxious), and a witness is a complicating variable we don't need.

>>6266862
>>6266863
Ah, I missed >>6266662

>>6266876
>[x] Arrive angry beneath the calm. Show cracks in the monk's serenity. Let her see that Matsuda's violence has shaken something loose. Sometimes revealing controlled emotion builds deeper trust than perfect composure.

>>6266909
>If she didn't know, it could drive a potent wedge between them
I think she knows. She's his wife, after all, and Matsuda's heritage is literally discussed on the street. Someone closer to him should know of this for sure.
>We should figure out how we actually plan to ruin Matsuda.
idk I'm a bit lost. OP does a good job offering choices all (or most) of which seem viable. The time constraints make it tough to choose, I don't fucking know what I'm doing besides voting in character with the monk legend we've built for ourselves and hoping to find some clue for our mission lol.

>>6266876
The Hour of the Ox is a cold, dead space between one day and the next. You sit on the steps of the Benten shrine, a knot of shadow among other shadows. Wind sends ripples on the Sumida, discernable only by the sound of its lapping. Your left eye is a swollen slit, the skin around it tight and hot. The mask of Brother Myōan, the serene monk, is a flimsy thing, and the man underneath is beginning to wear through the fabric.

She appears as a flicker of movement at the edge of the lane, a ghost wrapped in dark cloth. Her steps are quick and silent on the packed earth. She stops before you, her breath pluming in the frigid air. You can feel the frantic energy coming off her, the desperate hope that this meeting, this act of rebellion, will change something. It will not.

You do not give her time to compose herself, to begin whatever speech she has rehearsed. You rise, the movement stiff, and the pain in your face sharpens your voice.

"You said it was a fever, Akane."

The name, her true given name spoken without honorifics, strikes her with the force of a physical blow. She flinches. The use of it is a violation, a deliberate tearing away of the social masks that have held your careful roles together. It tells her the game has changed.

"The man who struck me was not sick," you continue, your voice a low rasp that has nothing of the monk in it. "He was cornered. There is a difference. A sickness can be cured. A cornered animal can only be put down. So you will stop lying to me. You will stop pretending this is about his health. Why did you summon me here tonight?"

Her composure shatters. Her shoulders sag, and a sob, thin and wretched, escapes her lips. The sound does not move you. An expected result. She sinks to her knees in the dirt, the dark cloth falling away from her head.

"I am leaving him," she whispers to the ground. "I cannot bear it. The shame… the way he looks at me. At everyone. I am going home. My father will take me in. He must."

You listen. You process the information. My father will take me in. So naive. A child's fantasy of rescue. You picture it: Akane arriving on her family's doorstep, travel-stained and without escort. The shock on her father's face, soon replaced by a cold, pragmatic calculation. His daughter has returned without the three lines from her husband--a mikudarihan. A problem. A stain on the family's honor, a source of potential conflict with another samurai house, even if one without teeth. They will offer her tea. They will let her weep. And within a week, they will send her back to her husband with stern apologies. She will return, then, not as a wife, but as a disgraced piece of property. Her last refuge will be gone, and her humiliation will be absolute.

"Your father will send you back," you say. The words are flat, stripped of all comfort. "He will send you back, and your husband's contempt will be a hundred times worse, because you will have proven you have nowhere else to go."

[Cont.]

>>6267853
She looks up at you then, her face a mess of tears and disbelief, her last hope crumbling into dust. In place of the solace she hoped for, she has found only an emotional mirror to her husband's fists. This is good. Despair is a forge. Now, it is time to strike the heated iron.

You look down at her, a broken woman kneeling in the dark. Her life is a shattered vessel. What you tell her to do now with the pieces will determine the rest of the game, not to mention her life.

What is your counsel?

[ ] "Become a nun." Advise her to seek refuge not with her family, but with the Buddha. To shave her head and take vows would be an act of ultimate piety, and an act of supreme social revenge. An embittered wife who becomes a nun brings such profound shame upon a husband that his honor may never recover. You will guide her to a remote convent, of course--one where she can never speak of what she knows.

[ ] "Endure, and fight." Tell her that fleeing is a coward's path. Her husband's honor is a lie. You will teach her how to dismantle it from within. She must stay, she must play the part of the dutiful wife, but she will become your eyes and ears. She will search his things, listen to his drunken ramblings, and find the proof you need to ruin him on your terms.

[ ] "Force his hand." A woman cannot divorce her husband, but a man can be forced to divorce his wife. Advise her to create a public scandal so profound, so humiliating, that Matsuda must cast her out to save his own face. An affair--or the appearance of one--with a man of low station, for instance. A tradesman. Or even, perhaps, a wandering monk.

[ ] "Disappear." Agree that she must flee, but tell her that her family's home is a trap. Offer her another way out. You know people, you tell her. Smugglers who can get her out of Edo, set her up with a new name in a distant city where no one knows her. The price would be her complete obedience, and she would forever be in your debt.

[ ] Write-in

>>6267854
>"Endure, and fight." Tell her that fleeing is a coward's path. Her husband's honor is a lie. You will teach her how to dismantle it from within. She must stay, she must play the part of the dutiful wife, but she will become your eyes and ears. She will search his things, listen to his drunken ramblings, and find the proof you need to ruin him on your terms.

>>6267854
>Endure and fight
>Spite will be what strengthens her, she has spent her every effort to salavage this marriage, now she is despairing. Push further, make her become vengeful. When he is ruined, then she will have a clean escape.
>After all, I know about failed honour. lets avenge yours

>>6267854
>[X] "Endure, and fight." Tell her that fleeing is a coward's path. Her husband's honor is a lie. You will teach her how to dismantle it from within. She must stay, she must play the part of the dutiful wife, but she will become your eyes and ears. She will search his things, listen to his drunken ramblings, and find the proof you need to ruin him on your terms.

We have to utterly destroy him. Loss of face by Akane disgracing herself or abandoning him may be insufficient for what our master desires. Having her in our debt forever is also tempting, but that still leaves the issue of us sufficiently ruining Matsuda, Akane vanishing may not be enough.

Also, this is might be the best chance for Akane to force him to reclaim her grandma's kanzashi and her dowry, etc. If not through legal means, then through blackmail, though the source I link indicates that the idea that a woman can't divorce her husband is a popular myth.*

*https://web.archive.org/web/20160424112429/http://www.japanecho.com/sum/2003/300518.html tl;dr men giving their wives mikudarihan is an obligation, not a right. There were also "advance contracts" of divorce, etc. I gather that women actually could initiate divorce. Also women did have property rights. Going through a couple pages of googles searches for academic articles or blogs on the subject seem to indicate similar things. As for the source, it was a magazine launched with the support of the foreign affairs ministry of Japan to fight against misinformation/common misunderstandings from foreigners about Japan, the only black mark against it seems to be Nanking denial.

>>6267854
The monk would advise her to become a nun or disappear entirely. The shinobi has another agenda:

>[X] Endure, and fight

>>6267854
"Fleeing solves nothing," you state, your voice stripped of monastic gentleness, revealing something older and harder beneath the temple's veneer. "It's the child's fallacy--believing distance dissolves the danger. But this monster wears your husband's face. Change the walls around you, and he remains."

Akane raises her head. Moisture clings to her lashes like morning dew on spider silk, her bewilderment evident in the slight parting of her lips. Your counsel has severed her expectations.

"His samurai honor," you continue, lowering yourself until your gaze meets hers, the plum-dark bruising around your eye lending your words a terrible authority, "is lacquer over rotted wood--beautiful only from a distance. You needn't flee it. You will remain. You will perfect your smile. And with patience, you will shatter his façade until nothing remains but splinters. I will help you."

The transformation of her expression is subtle--a tightening around the eyes, a stillness entering her posture. Her tears evaporate like sake drops on hot stone. Before her kneels not a man of compassion but one of calculated retribution, a monk whose rosary counts grievances instead of prayers. The realization settles into her bones: your unorthodoxy might be her salvation.

"What would you have me do?" The question barely disturbs the air between you.

"Become irreproachable," you murmur. "Anticipate his needs. Weather his drunken tempests without complaint. But while you serve, observe. Be a sentinel within those paper walls. Note the documents he conceals, the names that surface in his cups, the patterns of his absences. Every fragment you gather becomes a stone in the avalanche that will bury him."

The quiet that follows pulses with possibility. When Akane finally meets your eyes, something elemental has changed. The fearful doe has vanished, replaced by something with claws and purpose.

The waning days bleed away like ink on a brush. Akane proves herself adept at invisibility--a skill perfected through years of trying not to provoke her husband's displeasure. She delivers her findings: a loan statement hastily tucked beneath a tatami, the name "Kajiwara" snarled into a sake cup, torn correspondence mentioning "southern cargo" and unexpected delays.

These fragments you weave into the tapestry of your investigation. You haunt Edo's shadows--a customer who never drinks in Yoshiwara's teahouses, a pilgrim lingering too long at the docks. Kajiwara emerges: a minor functionary in Commissioner Ito's household whose silk sleeves hide hands too heavy with gold. The Black Crane sits at anchor, a merchant vessel whose planned journey to the Ryukyus has been suspended by an imperial auditor's unexpected interest.

[Cont.]

>>6268173
The scheme reveals itself at last. Matsuda and Kajiwara siphoned treasury funds not for fleeting pleasures but to finance contraband aboard The Black Crane. Matsuda, emboldened by greed, went further and staked additional borrowed funds. The auditor's arrival has trapped their investment in port while debt accrues interest like frost on autumn leaves.

You can trace the conspiracy's skeleton now. You have identified its architect. Yet tonight's new moon hangs above Edo like a cut in the sky's fabric, and you've had insufficient time to corner Kajiwara or secure the hard evidence Lord Ishikawa requires. All you have is hearsay and surmise, however certain it might be.

On Nihonbashi bridge, you wait. Below, canal waters swallow starlight. The night air carries the heat of coming summer. Lord Ishikawa materializes beside you, his arrival marked only by a subtle shift in the night's texture. He offers no greeting.

"The moon is new," he observes, his words carrying the weight of finality. "Report."

You have your practiced speeches, as well as the truth. The next syllables you utter may determine fates beyond Matsuda's alone.

How do you report to your handler?

[ ] (Honest Report) "Matsuda is compromised. His wife is my asset, and his honor is a fraud built on a merchant's gold. He is also entangled in a smuggling ring run by Ito's man, Kajiwara. The proof is not yet in hand, but the shape of it is clear."

[ ] (Ask for More Time) "The mission has uncovered a deeper conspiracy. Matsuda is merely a pawn. The disease is a smuggling ring run by Kajiwara, from the Commissioner's own office. Grant me three more days. I will deliver the entire network, not just this one broken official."

[ ] (Lie of Control) "Matsuda's ruin is assured. His lineage is a lie, and his wife is my tool. I will use her to engineer his social collapse within the week. The financial matters are a messy distraction from the true goal: the complete destruction of his name." (You omit any mention of Kajiwara or the smuggling ring).

[ ] (Deliver the Minimum) "The mission is complete. I have discovered Matsuda's samurai status is fraudulent. The rumor is already seeded through the neighborhood. His public honor is already gone. What is whispered will corroborate whatever is shouted. He is ruined." (You report only the finished part of the job, saying nothing more).

[ ] Write-in

>>6268174
>"The mission is complete. I have discovered Matsuda's samurai status is fraudulent. The rumor is already seeded through the neighborhood. His public honor is already gone. What is whispered will corroborate whatever is shouted. He is ruined." (You report only the finished part of the job, saying nothing more).

lets also find a way that wife can find happiness
as a nun legit or otherwise

>>6268174
>[X] (Honest Report)

>>6268174
[x] (Honest Report) "Matsuda is compromised. His wife is my asset, and his honor is a fraud built on a merchant's gold. He is also entangled in a smuggling ring run by Ito's man, Kajiwara. The proof is not yet in hand, but the shape of it is clear."
>>6268176
>lets also find a way that wife can find happiness
>as a nun legit or otherwise
I feel like our character doesn't care enough. We can make him, if we so choose... but idk what other anons think. Also we're quite a busy man to be pursuing personal goals along with our work.

>>6268174
>Honest report

I hope he will give us a bit more time to trace things.

>>6268174
>[X] (Honest Report) "Matsuda is compromised. His wife is my asset, and his honor is a fraud built on a merchant's gold. He is also entangled in a smuggling ring run by Ito's man, Kajiwara. The proof is not yet in hand, but the shape of it is clear."
+
>[X] (Deliver the Minimum, minus the omissions)

Basically, deliver what we have found so far, as well as what is sufficient to destroy his social status. Leave whether to continue with the investigation up to our handler. We don't know whether Ishikawa cares about the grander conspiracy, or whether he just wants Matsuda destroyed and nothing else.

>>6268249
I'd say we're too busy, but Akane could be useful to us, as a personal tool to have in our back pocket. If we were to arrange something like the earlier "disappear" option, that could be useful. There are a couple of problems, do we have the resources to actually arrange her disappearance - I assume we do, otherwise it wouldn't be an option - and how do we arrange for her to still need to rely on us for a fresh life after Matsuda is ruined. After all, presumably she'll still want a divorce and to return to her family. From her perspective that is presumably her goal, why she is going along with our scheme to ruin Matsuda. If we muddle things so our goals are no longer aligned, and we end up the one restricting her ability to be free, well, that renders things pointless. A tool that is actively working against us, or is trying to run away. It is just a lot of trouble.

>>6268174
there is now at least a partial answer to the question of why lord Ishikawa is interested in a nobody
therefore, to Deliver the Minimum is the riskiest play to make, foolish perhaps
>[ ] (Man in the Middle) "Matsuda is compromised. His wife is my asset, and his honor is a fraud built on a merchant's gold. He is also entangled in a smuggling ring run by someone close to Ito."
the idea is to keep Kajiwara hidden from Ishikawa if possible
if, as I expect, Ito is Ishikawa's real target, he won''t care about our sources and methods anyway, and a smuggler sounds like a very useful person to have in one's pocket

>>6268174

"Matsuda is compromised," you say, the words fading into the mist rising from the canal. "His wife is my asset. His honor--a merchant's fiction purchased with coin. But the rot extends beyond him. He's entangled in a smuggling operation orchestrated by Kajiwara, one of Commissioner Ito's men. The Black Crane sits in harbor, cargo holds swollen with contraband. The evidence remains incomplete, but the pattern is unmistakable."

Ishikawa listens with the stillness of a shrine statue. His eyes, half-lidded against the night's chill, betray nothing. When you finish, he merely nods--the gesture so subtle it might be mistaken for the natural sway of a man standing in the wind.

"This Kajiwara. Describe his position precisely," he says.

His question lacks the urgency of surprise. "Records keeper in Ito's eastern office. Processes import permissions, primarily."

"And Matsuda's lineage--you mentioned it was falsified?"

The shift in focus strikes you, as well the subtle sigh of relief before it. "Three generations back. His grandfather was a rice broker who purchased documentation during the Keichō era upheavals."

Ishikawa's mouth tightens. Here, at last, a genuine reaction.

"You knew," you state, the realization hardening into certainty. "About Kajiwara. The smuggling network. You sent me to confirm what you already suspected."

A heartbeat passes. Two. Ishikawa's expression thaws into something adjacent to amusement. "You're no longer that lost little boy, are you?" His voice carries the hollow resonance of a man acknowledging an unexpected move in shogi. "Yes. I had suspicions. Your investigation verified them."

"Then Ito himself is your actual target." You press forward, emboldened. "This conspiracy occurred under his supervision. Revealing it would undermine his position in the Shogun's council."

Ishikawa's face closes like a temple door at nightfall. "You mistake your role. You are the instrument, not the hand which wields it." The contempt in his voice could strip lacquer from wood. "The woman--Matsuda's wife. She knows too much now. Dispose of her."

"No." The word emerges before calculation can contain it. "She's valuable. A permanent asset in Edo's merchant houses."

"She's a liability," Ishikawa counters. "Emotional. Unpredictable."

"She's neither. She's calculating. Patient. She endured years of Matsuda's brutality without breaking. She can be guided."

The night between you grows heavier. Ishikawa studies you with the dispassionate interest one might give an unusual beetle.

"Three weeks," he finally pronounces. "Transform her into something useful or eliminate the risk she presents." His meaning hangs unspoken but unmistakable in the space between you. "Failure would disappoint me profoundly."

[Cont.]

>>6269022
The conversation shifts to Matsuda himself. Ishikawa extracts a folded letter from his sleeve. "This will reach him tomorrow. Anonymous evidence of our knowledge, with clear instructions and permissions. Seppuku or public exposure."

"And if he chooses death?" you ask.

"Then he dies with the face he purchased intact. A samurai's ending for a merchant's son." Ishikawa's laugh is dry as autumn leaves. "Poetic, don't you think?"

"His debts to the moneylenders--"

"Will transfer to his household. His wife will bear them, as is custom." He studies your reaction with predatory attention. "Another reason to ensure her usefulness. An indebted widow has few prospects in Edo."

The next seven days pass with the frenetic intensity of a temple fire. Matsuda receives the letter. His transformation is immediate and visible--Akane reports his sleeplessness, his sudden disinterest in sake, the hours spent examining old family scrolls. He dismisses their servants without explanation. Twice, she finds him weeping in his study before dawn.

On the eighth day, he requests formal clothing and announces a journey to his ancestral village. The lie is transparent to Akane, who has transcribed his family's fabricated history herself. That evening, you intercept a messenger carrying Matsuda's letter to his cousin--a document that confirms your suspicions. He has chosen the blade.

You find Akane sitting on the shrine steps, a light breeze lifting the tips of her tied-back hair.

"My husband leaves tomorrow," she says without preamble. "He will not return."

"No," you agree. "He won't."

She turns to face you fully, and in her eyes you see the terrible clarity of understanding. "He was right about you." The words drop unceremoniously like stones into still water. "You're no monk. You never were."

The mask of Brother Myōan feels suddenly heavy on your face. "When did you know?"

"The night you taught me to spy on my own husband. No true monk speaks of building tombs from gathered secrets." Her voice carries neither accusation nor fear, only a weary recognition. "You work for Commissioner Ito, don't you? Used me to destroy Matsuda because he was stealing from the treasury."

"Not Ito," you correct, seeing no purpose in maintaining the fiction. "But you're right about the rest. I am what your husband suspected--a shadow in service to power."

She searches your face as if seeing it for the first time. "What name did your mother give you?"

"A shinobi has no mother, no name, no past." You let the monk's gentle cadence fall away entirely. "Only a mask. Beneath it, only a shadow. The man you knew as Brother Myōan was as real as he needed to be."

"And now that Shin-chan is finished?"

[Cont.]

>>6269023
"Now I offer you a choice. Disappear tonight--I'll provide you with provisions and the necessary passports. Enough to reach Nagasaki and begin again. Or..." You pause, weighing how much truth to reveal. "Or become what I am. A gatherer of secrets, a spider. The merchants' wives trust you. The teahouse proprietors speak freely in your presence. You could serve the same master I do."

"Serve the man who destroyed my husband?"

"Your husband destroyed himself the day he reached for honor with a hand of greed. We merely hastened the inevitable."

Silence stretches between you, punctuated by the distant temple bell marking evening prayer. When she speaks again, her voice has acquired a new edge.

"If I refuse both options?"

A question whose answer holds both your fates within it. You consider your response:

[ ] (Harsh Truth) "Then you become a problem requiring a solution. My master tolerates no loose threads. But I believe you're too intelligent to choose that path."

[ ] (Protective Lie) "Then you return to your life as Matsuda's widow. The debt collectors may harass you, but nothing more. I'll ensure you're left in peace."

[ ] (Strategic Honesty) "Then we never met. Brother Myōan vanishes as suddenly as he appeared. What happens next depends entirely on your discretion."

[ ] (Personal Appeal) "Then I've failed twice--first in my mission, then in recognizing what you could become. Don't make me add a third failure to that list."

>>6269022
> This Kajiwara
damn it!

>>6269024
>"Serve the man who destroyed my husband?"
bitch you were the one who brought him down lol
>[ ] (Harsh Truth) "Then you become a problem requiring a solution. My master tolerates no loose threads. But I believe you're too intelligent to choose that path."

>>6269024
>(Harsh Truth) "Then you become a problem requiring a solution. My master tolerates no loose threads. But I believe you're too intelligent to choose that path."

>>6269024
>Harsh truth

>>6269024
>[X] (Harsh Truth) "Then you become a problem requiring a solution. My master tolerates no loose threads. But I believe you're too intelligent to choose that path."

May cause resentment, might make the kill messier if she should still choose to forge her own path, but still most likely the best answer. She's not suicidal, and one of the choices we offer is a kind of freedom. By honestly revealing that we'd kill her, we also indicate that the offer of disappearing isn't a "this choice also kills you, just with a polite lie" situation. Essentially guiding her not to get herself killed.

The lie is probably pointless aside from making her go down easier, or making her at peace. She'd learn how hollow our words are after awhile of working for our master anyways.

Better to be upfront than subtle, so in my eyes strategic honesty is also not ideal.

I think putting our thumb on the scale with a personal appeal is actually a pretty good option if we want her to join us. Problem is, I think our setup is wrong for it. If we acted as spiritual mentor rather than focusing on her isolation, there might still be a genuine foundation for trust left after the lies slid away, but not with our fabricated backstory. Likewise, intimacy would serve as a good social lubricant if the 'force his hand' option had been taken. As is, we aren't that close.

>>6269028
Heh, you were right.

>>6269074
so it seems
so it seems
also of note, instead of being thrown at Kajiwara immediately, we're being given permission, nay, an order to recruit an asset for unspecified further uses
I surmise that Ishikawa might have a hand in the smuggling business himself, which is how he found out about Kajiwara, so he doesn't want that particular boat rocked

>>6269024
>(Harsh Truth) "Then you become a problem requiring a solution. My master tolerates no loose threads. But I believe you're too intelligent to choose that path."

>>6269024
>[X] (Harsh Truth)

btw, the circumstances being what they are (we have been thoroughly compromised) this mode of recruitment is the only one available
I have a concern and a recommendation for the future though
- what keeps Akane loyal/engaged, beyond simple fear of death? we are showing her the stick, there needs to be a carrot as well. she may slip away in the night at any moment otherwise
- the best sources are those who don't know they are spying, let alone for whom they are spying

>>6269334
I'm not sure that is our problem beyond the three weeks we were given to make her useful. We may not be her handler or partner, she may very well just be another goon like us, run by Ishikawa.

>>6269337
that is fine, however if she does a runner and blabs it's our ass, not Ishikawa's, on the line

>>6269337
oh and Ishikawa is not going to touch her with a ten foot pole, just like he wouldn't walk around with our one of our kunai up his sleeve
she's our spy to run now, for better or worse

>>6269340
oh btw, for anons who haven't done this before
it generally goes Control>Case officer>Field Agent(s) (You Are Here)>Spy (network(s))

>>6269024

"Then you become a problem requiring a solution," you tell her, allowing coldness to enter your voice for the first time. "My master tolerates no loose threads. But I believe you're too intelligent to choose that path."

Akane's face remains still, but her pulse quickens visibly at the hollow of her throat. She studies you as one might examine a venomous snake--with respect for its deadliness rather than fear of its bite.

"The wife dies with the husband, then," she says finally. "Either way, Akane ceases to exist."

"Yes. But one path leads to ashes, the other to rebirth."

Dawn finds her kneeling in your room, head bowed as you circle her with a blade. Her hair--long, lustrous, the pride of a samurai's wife--falls in black ribbons around her. When you finish, her scalp is nearly bare, a canvas waiting to be remade.

"Your name is forgotten," you tell her, discarding the last severed lock into the brazier where it curls and blackens. "Your history burns away. The woman who was born in Kyoto, who married at sixteen, who endured Matsuda's house--she never existed."

"Then who am I?" she asks, one hand rising unconsciously to her shorn head.

"No one. Nothing. A shadow between pillars. A reflection on water." You place a small wooden box before her. "Until you choose to be someone else."

The box contains the first tools of her new existence: rice powder to lighten skin, charcoal to darken eyes, vermilion for lips, wax for reshaping features. Identity, you teach her, is merely pigment applied to the proper contours.

Seven days pass. Matsuda performs seppuku in the formal garden of his family home. His second, a distant cousin, performs the mercy cut badly. The story spreads through Edo like its frequent fires--Matsuda died in agony, his head still partially attached, gurgling apologies as his lifeblood soaked into imported stones.

By the tenth day, you have Akane infiltrate a teahouse frequented by Kajiwara. Her first test. You watch from across the street as she enters, no longer the demure merchant's wife but a server named Yuki, her posture subtly altered, her walk transformed from the mincing steps of a proper woman to the efficient movement of someone beneath notice.

She fails spectacularly. A gesture too refined betrays her. A merchant recognizes her despite the altered appearance. She flees through the kitchen, leaving behind a broken sake flask and suspicion.

"I can't shed myself so easily," she confesses that night, trembling with frustration rather than fear. "Sixteen years of training in one way of being--it's carved into my bones."

"Then break the bones," you tell her. "And reset them."

The twelfth day brings strange news. Commissioner Ito, rather than facing censure for the corruption in his office, receives praise from Tokugawa Iemitsu himself for uncovering a smuggling ring. The official announcement names Matsuda as the mastermind, a corrupt official who chose honorable death when his crimes were exposed.

[Cont.]

>>6269983
You infiltrate a government archive that night, risking much to read the official reports. They bear no resemblance to the truth you uncovered. Kajiwara's name appears nowhere. The Black Crane is described as Matsuda's personal venture.

On the fifteenth day, you observe Kajiwara entering Ito's residence, his position apparently secure. Two days later, The Black Crane silently departs with the midnight tide, the imperial auditor having concluded his business in Edo.

"None of it makes sense," you tell Akane during a training session, as she practices moving silently across rice paper without leaving traces. "Ito's reputation should be damaged by corruption within his office. Instead, he's elevated."

"Perhaps your master plays a deeper game," she suggests, her balance improving with each attempt. "Or perhaps you're merely one brush stroke in a larger character."

By the twentieth day, Akane successfully infiltrates a merchant gathering as a distant cousin from Osaka. She returns with three useful pieces of information about import schedules and a crude map of warehouse security drawn from a drunken harbor master's boasting. Her movements still occasionally betray refinement unsuited to her disguise, but she recovers quickly.

"The samurai's wife is not entirely dead," you observe, reviewing her report.

"She never will be," Akane admits. "But I can bury her deeply enough."

On the final day of your three-week window, a message arrives from Ishikawa. It directs you to the same bridge where you last met. When you arrive, the night is moonless, the water below black as spilled ink.

"The woman?" he asks without preamble when he materializes from the darkness.

"Transformed," you answer. "Useful. Already gathering intelligence from circles I cannot access."

He nods once, accepting your assessment without comment. "You've noticed the unusual outcome with Ito and Kajiwara."

It's not a question, but you answer anyway. "Yes. It contradicts the expected result."

"Because you assumed my target was Ito." There's the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "A reasonable but incorrect assumption."

Your confusion must show, because he continues, the words obviously rehearsed: "The Shogun grows concerned about certain daimyo families whose wealth increases too rapidly. Matsuda's connection to these families through the smuggling operation provided valuable confirmation of suspicious activities."

"Then Ito was never in danger. Kajiwara works for you as well."

"Directly? No. But his activities serve our purpose." Ishikawa turns slightly, presenting his profile against the distant lanterns of the waterfront. "Your next assignment concerns another such connection. The Hosokawa clan maintains a compound in Edo's western district. Their senior accountant reports unusual expenditures for military supplies exceeding their official allotment."

[Cont.]

>>6269984
He produces a small scroll. "This contains the details. The accountant's daughter frequents the Plum Blossom Temple for calligraphy lessons each Thursday. Your new asset may find opportunity there."

You accept the scroll, but uncertainty gnaws at your certainty. "The objective?"

"Determine whether the Hosokawa are preparing for conflict against the Shogunate. If so, identify their conspirators." He pauses, then adds, "This intelligence is time-sensitive. The Shogun makes decisions about provincial governorships next month."

The implications settle heavily. The Hosokawa control strategic territories. If they're arming beyond permitted levels, it could signal rebellion.

"One question," you venture. "Was Matsuda's lineage fabrication relevant to our purpose, or merely a convenient lever?"

Ishikawa's eyes narrow slightly. "Bloodlines matter. False ones most of all." He steps back, preparing to depart. "You have until the next new moon. Use your asset wisely."

He vanishes into the darkness, leaving you with the scroll and multiplying doubts. The pattern remains elusive. Ito's elevation, Matsuda's sacrifice, Kajiwara's immunity, and now a potential daimyo conspiracy--how do these pieces fit together?

As you return to where Akane waits, disguised as a temple servant, you consider your approach to this new mission:

[ ] (Full Disclosure) Share everything Ishikawa told you with Akane, including your growing suspicions about Ishikawa's true agenda. Two minds may unravel this puzzle faster than one.

[ ] (Partial Truth) Tell Akane only what she needs to know for the Hosokawa mission. Keep your doubts about Ishikawa to yourself until you have more evidence.

[ ] (Seek External Verification) Delay the Hosokawa investigation to secretly verify facts about the Matsuda case. Something doesn't align, and proceeding blindly may lead you into a trap.

[ ] (Accelerated Training) Focus on completing Akane's transformation. This mission requires a fully-prepared asset, not a half-trained apprentice. The Hosokawa investigation can wait a few days.

>>6269986
>Share everything Ishikawa told you with Akane, including your growing suspicions about Ishikawa's true agenda. Two minds may unravel this puzzle faster than one.

>>6269986
>(Full Disclosure) Share everything Ishikawa told you with Akane, including your growing suspicions about Ishikawa's true agenda. Two minds may unravel this puzzle faster than one.

>>6269986
>[X] (Accelerated Training) Focus on completing Akane's transformation. This mission requires a fully-prepared asset, not a half-trained apprentice. The Hosokawa investigation can wait a few days.
>[X] (Seek External Verification, but do not delay.) Investigate personally, to secretly verify facts about the Matsuda case. Something doesn't align, and proceeding blindly may lead you into a trap.

Focus on training Akane, then investigate in parallel with her own work on the Hosokawa case. I think making sure she is as is trained as can be is important, despite the strict time constraint. As long as we avoid splitting her time unnecessarily in the future, it will hopefully be fine. Particularly when we join her efforts.

I also think we should just have Akane focus on the Hosokawa mission, until we know more. We want her mental energies focused in one direction, given that time is of the essence. Plus compartmentalization of information and all that, in case of capture or a slip up. I'm all for being more selfish from now on regarding whether we focus on our own interests or those of our master, but this is a pretty important mission and failure here may be unpleasant for us.

>>6269986
>[ ] (Seek External Verification) Delay the Hosokawa investigation to secretly verify facts about the Matsuda case. Something doesn't align, and proceeding blindly may lead you into a trap.
>[ ] (Accelerated Training) Focus on completing Akane's transformation. This mission requires a fully-prepared asset, not a half-trained apprentice. The Hosokawa investigation can wait a few days.
no reason we can't do both at once
a nice little "training mission", off the books
oh, and [ ] (Partial Truth) need-to-know only. it's how one stays alive when (not if) one's assets are compromised
we are deeply involved in deadly political games. let's act like it

>>6269994
>>6270001

death-wish much?

btw, Akane needs a codename
How about 亡霊?
or let her pick one for herself?

>>6269986
>[X] (Partial Truth)

I'm not opposed to finishing Akane's training first, but let's stick to giving her need-to-know information for now. She's a half trained apprentice, an asset; not a partner.

If there's any free time and we aren't concerned about people watching us (Ishikawa noticed that we noticed shenanigans with Ito and Kajiwara... it's possible he is aware we broke into the archives or has someone monitoring us over our defensiveness of Akane)... I'm also not opposed to seeking external verification.

>>6269986
>[ ] (Seek External Verification) Delay the Hosokawa investigation to secretly verify facts about the Matsuda case. Something doesn't align, and proceeding blindly may lead you into a trap.
Let's not end up as a scapegoat.
>[ ] (Accelerated Training) Focus on completing Akane's transformation. This mission requires a fully-prepared asset, not a half-trained apprentice. The Hosokawa investigation can wait a few days.
Not only will she serve us better this way, but we also CANNOT tell a woman who has many reasons to be resentful what we know in excrutiating detail.

>>6270109
>>6270034
>re: partial truth
Yes, I didn't greentext the prompt, to avoid confusion and clutter, but that was my intent as well.

>>6270036
I think any codename should be the sort that works as a common name, rather than something that is thematic or cool.

>>6270241
aha
>the sort that works as a common name
Suke 助 / 督 it is then?

>>6270246
wait no I think I got it
兼 (Kane)!

Only one thing I want to reemphasize is that I don't think we should delay twice, both for training and seeking external verification. Hence why my own post has us training Akane (will probably require our full attention), but then running our investigation parallel with Akane beginning to work on the Hosokawa case. If we hold off on even starting the Hosokawa case on this time sensitive mission, I'm sure we are likely to fail, barring very lucky rolls.

>>6270250
Sure thing buddy.

>>6270262
two delays is too many I agree

You unfurl Ishikawa's scroll on the floor of your room, watching Akane's eyes track the characters with growing intensity. Her shorn hair has grown just enough to lie flat against her skull, lending her face a severe, focused quality that suits her new purpose.

"We have a new assignment," you tell her. "The Hosokawa clan. Possible sedition."

Her eyes brighten with an eagerness that surprises you. "My first real mission?"

"Yes." You roll the scroll closed. "But you're not ready."

Her mouth tightens. "I infiltrated the merchant gathering without detection."

"That was practice. This is different. The Hosokawa are daimyo, not merchants. Their retainers are trained to detect deception."

"Then train me better." There's an edge to her voice that wasn't there before—hunger, perhaps. Or ambition. "We have a month until the new moon."

"Two weeks," you correct her. "The rest of our time will be spent verifying what we learn."

You push to your feet, decision made. "We proceed with accelerated training. I have matters to investigate personally. We will meet in the evenings for your instruction."

"What matters?" she asks, and you note the slight narrowing of her eyes—she's learning to question, to probe for information. Good.

"Loose threads from the Matsuda affair. Things that don't align." You offer nothing more, and she doesn't press. Also good.

"I'll need a new identity," she says when you finish. "Not a servant this time. Someone who belongs at the Plum Blossom Temple."

"What do you propose?"

"A widow from Kyoto, come to Edo to escape memories. Skilled in calligraphy--that much is true. Seeking students to support herself." She pauses, considering. "The accountant's daughter might welcome a female instructor. Men make young women nervous."

You nod, impressed by her reasoning. "Begin tomorrow. Establish yourself slowly."

Three days later, Akane enters the Plum Blossom Temple as Kane, a war widow whose husband died in the Osaka campaign. Her story is perfectly crafted--specific enough to be believable, vague enough to discourage questions. The temple accepts her modest donation and allows her to offer lessons in the western pavilion.

The accountant's daughter arrives on Thursday as predicted. Sayuri, perhaps fifteen, with ink-stained fingers and the distracted air of a girl who lives more in poetry than reality. "She reminds me of someone," Akane reports later, though she doesn't say who.

By the second week, Sayuri chatters freely during lessons, complaining about her father's long hours, the armed men who visit their compound at night, the way her mother burns incense to mask the smell of gunpowder that clings to her father's clothes.

You meet Akane in the narrow alley where your own mission began--the same dingy passage between teahouse and warehouse where Ishikawa first gave you Matsuda's name. She arrives transformed. No longer a student awaiting instruction, she moves with quiet confidence.

[Cont.]

>>6270361
"The girl trusts me," Akane reports. "She's invited me to their moon-viewing gathering next week. Her father will be there."

"Good. What's your approach?"

"Sayuri writes poetry about warriors and glory. I'll encourage her to share them with her father, draw him into conversation about military matters. Men love to correct women's misconceptions about warfare." Her smile is sharp as a blade. "I'll play the naive widow, asking innocent questions about how many men a proper daimyo commands, how they're supplied..."

You're impressed despite yourself. The plan shows initiative, understanding of human nature. You almost miss her next words, lost in thoughts of your own investigation.

"...unless you think a different approach would be better?"

You refocus. "No. Your instincts are sound. Proceed."

She bows and turns to leave, then pauses. "The other matter you mentioned--may I ask what you're investigating?"

"Confirming details about our previous target. Something doesn't align."

"Be careful," she says, and the concern in her voice catches you off-guard. "Shadows have shadows of their own."

After she vanishes into the rain, you return to your cramped room near the pleasure quarters. The sounds of shamisen and laughter filter through paper walls as you spread your findings across the floor.

The tools of your real trade emerge from beneath the floorboards--not just weapons, but documents, maps, genealogies. You've spent two weeks following threads that should lead nowhere but instead weave a troubling pattern.

You grind charcoal and take up your brush, painting characters to organize your thoughts:

駿河 (Suruga). The province where Tokugawa Tadanaga, the Shogun's younger brother, lives in exile. Three years ago, Iemitsu forced him to retire after suspicions of plotting.

You'd found the connection by accident--a shipping manifest in Kajiwara's waste, destined for burning. The Black Crane's cargo included items bound for Suruga. Military supplies hidden among silk and pottery.

糸 (Ito). The Commissioner's name appears in old records from Suruga, before his promotion to Edo. He served as a minor official in Tadanaga's household. A coincidence? Perhaps. But you've learned to distrust coincidences.

Your brush pauses over the next character. The most troubling discovery:

石川 (Ishikawa). Your handler's name appears nowhere in official records before five years ago. As if he materialized from shadow fully formed. But you found something else--a letter in an archive, written by a retainer of Tadanaga's, mentioning a "stone river flowing toward Edo." Ishikawa. Stone river. The same characters.

The pattern suggests something vast and terrible. But you can't see how Hosokawa fits. Are they potential allies for Tadanaga? Unwitting pawns? Or is this another test, another layer of deception?

[Cont.]

>>6270362
You set down your brush, ink still wet on paper. Two weeks remain before the new moon. Akane pursues the Hosokawa lead while you've uncovered threads that might lead to your handler's true allegiance. But pulling those threads risks everything--your position, your life, perhaps even Akane's newfound purpose.

The night deepens around you. Somewhere in the pleasure quarter, a woman sighs. A shamisen strikes a mournful note. You must decide your next move:

[ ] (Confront Ishikawa Indirectly) Craft a report about Hosokawa that subtly references Suruga and Tadanaga. Watch his reaction. If he's truly loyal to the Shogun, he'll investigate. If not, his response will reveal much.

[ ] (Investigate Tadanaga's Network) Travel to Suruga yourself under cover. Two weeks is enough time to confirm whether supplies from the Black Crane reached the exiled prince. Direct evidence is worth the risk.

[ ] (Protect Your Position) Destroy your findings and focus on the Hosokawa mission. Some knowledge is too dangerous. Complete your assignment and maintain Ishikawa's trust while secretly preparing contingencies.

[ ] (Trust Akane) Share your suspicions with your new asset. If Ishikawa is compromised, you'll need an ally who understands the full scope of danger. Her fresh perspective might reveal connections you've missed.

>駿河 (Suruga). The province where Tokugawa Tadanaga, the Shogun's younger brother, lives in exile. Three years ago, Iemitsu forced him to retire after suspicions of plotting.

Important correction to the above line:
駿河 (Suruga). The province where Tokugawa Tadanaga, the Shogun's younger brother, was established as lord. Three years ago, he made Sunpu castle his court.

Apologizes for the screw-up.

>>6270363
>(Protect Your Position) Destroy your findings and focus on the Hosokawa mission. Some knowledge is too dangerous. Complete your assignment and maintain Ishikawa's trust while secretly preparing contingencies.

>>6270363
>[X] (Protect Your Position)

After some light wikipedia browsing, my pet conspiracy theory is that our Lord Ishikawa is a member of the Ishikawa clan, and this is all part of some scheme to regain control of Matsumoto castle. Basically his family was found guilty of being the beneficiaries of some sort of tax/silver mine embezzlement scheme along with Ōkubo family. As for what connects all of this, I'm still not sure. I will however say that the clan that took over Matsumoto castle after the Ishikawa was the Ogasawara family, who have a connection to the Hosokawa family going back to the previous century. A Ogasawara cadet line based in Miyoshi (Awa province) became the vassals of the Hosokawa. If I had to guess, this is an Ishikawa-Ōkubo vs Ogasawara-Hosokawa feud.

Also there are some highways that run through some of the domains of the relevant clans, and that brings one vaguely closer to Matsumoto castle in a easterly-westerly sense, I dunno, I'm just spitballing at this point. Another point of pointless trivia is that the clan that takes over Matsumoto castle after the Ogasawara is the Toda clan, and they had ninja, with a formal school and everything.

Not sure how any of this relates to Tadanaga or the shogun's inner council, probably just a straight forward deal where Ishikawa is fishing for opportunities (or is otherwise looking to manufacture an incident) to make the Hosokawa look like traitors to the Shogun, thus depriving them of their lands and incomes.

We should watch the monks and nuns, the Ishikawa used to be in charge of temples and foreign affairs.

One last thing I must say, it would really help to know the specifics of our "secret", or whatever we are running from. Our motivation is pretty crucial for determining whether to go against Ishikawa or not. For now I'll choose the safe option, until I either get some answers or support for my conspiracy theory as a reason to play a different side.

>[X] (Protect Your Position) Destroy your findings and focus on the Hosokawa mission. Some knowledge is too dangerous. Complete your assignment and maintain Ishikawa's trust while secretly preparing contingencies.

>>6270361
>As if he materialized from shadow fully formed
Of course he did. He is a shadow himself, our case officer. It is HIGHLY unlikely that we two are his only network. He has had five years to play the game.
> "stone river flowing toward Edo" might be a warning to the letter's recipient that Ishikawa is an agent of the shogun
who IS the recipient? when was the letter written?

>Akane enters the Plum Blossom Temple as Kane
thanks for incorporating my suggestion QM. I did have something else in mind (an alias used operationally is not the same thing as a codename).

>>6270363
I choose
[v] (Protect Your Position) Destroy your findings and focus on the Hosokawa mission. Some knowledge is too dangerous. Complete your assignment and maintain Ishikawa's trust while secretly preparing contingencies.

the findings are ambiguous. contingencies do tend to arise. this thread can be pulled on further later when we have more assets and experience (and probably should).

a shogun's brother... is the shogun himself our Control?

>ally
asset. she's a fucking asset. do not play with your food. even if you do want a shinobi-wife for some damn stupid reason, there's no point in burdening her with dangerous knowledge
watch her closely during the last phase of her current mission and beyond its immediate conclusion. If that dreamy girl comes to harm, Kane herself might spin out of control

>>6270406
well... looks like our shinobi is not the only one with a penchant for diving through archives in search of illuminating truths
I will ever so gently remind you, though, that "Ishikawa" is almost certainly an assumed identity. he could be literally anyone, serving any master including the shogun himself.
care is warranted in any case. he could be dangling the Suruga conspiracy at us as bait in a loyalty test, or he could be balls deep in it or whatever else

>>6270469
Maybe. As you say, caution is the best practice at the moment. There's not enough evidence for my little theory. If our superior's real name is indeed not Ishikawa as you suggest, then the only real connection I've linked to the Hosokawa disappears. I'm just going off the names and connections we have so far to form a hypothetical. It just fits too well, but if "Ishikawa" is smart, then that is just what he is counting on.

It is worth noting that the real Ishikawa clan would have genuine reason to be involved in our fictional scenario, and be desperate enough to play with bad process/opsec by acting as our control simply because their income sources, stipend, land, and various other intangible resources have been vastly reduced in this era. In other words, if my theory is correct, he could be relatively reliant on us. Obviously he has other operatives/agents, but I very much doubt that he manipulates much higher than the offices of various Bugyō, whether Ishikawa is an alias or not. Though 'relatively' is doing a lot of heavy lifting, since he certainly seems to be able to afford minders for his shadows, in addition to the urchins that pass messages and whoever else gave him the info that we were sent to confirm.

Anyways, I was gonna try and practice humility, before inner contrarianism and overeager imagination took over again in that second paragraph. So, yes, of course we must be cautious. It is just a theory. For now.

there is no rule of law in Germany
only a communist dictatorship masquerading as a left-liberal nanny state

>>6270498
>he certainly seems to be able to afford minders for his shadows, in addition to the urchins that pass messages and whoever else gave him the info that we were sent to confirm
I imagine establishing him in his current position from scratch could not have been cheap either

>>6270363
>[X] (Confront Ishikawa Indirectly)

>>6270363
>Protect our position.
we want hard evidence to pin our handler to the wall so we can get away

>>6270558
he might be the wall. he might be unpinnable. he might be our best choice.
we need more information

>>6270363

The flame consumes your findings one by one. Characters blacken and curl--駿河, 糸, 石川--reduced to ash beneath your careful fingers. You've memorized what matters. Evidence is a burden, a chain that binds you to consequences. In this world, knowledge itself is a weapon, and some weapons are too dangerous to keep.

You watch until the last fragment disappears, then scatter the ashes in the gutter. Rain transforms them to nothing, as if they never existed. Like you.

The new moon arrives veiled in low clouds, the night air thick with coming storms. Nihonbashi bridge stands empty save for a single lantern seller huddled against the wind. You wait at the appointed place, counting heartbeats.

"Your asset performed admirably," Ishikawa says, materializing behind you like a whisper given flesh. "The widow Kane made quite an impression in certain circles."

You turn, careful to keep your face composed. "She exceeded expectations."

"Indeed." His thin smile suggests private amusement. "Tell me what you've learned about the Hosokawa."

"They're arming beyond their allotment. Muskets, powder, iron for spear points--all hidden from official inventories." You pause, measuring each word. "The supplies are being stockpiled at Matsumoto Castle, with the Ogasawara clan's full cooperation."

The name hangs between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Ishikawa studies your face, searching for cracks in your mask. Your pulse quickens, but you hold his gaze.

"Matsumoto," he repeats softly. "How... fitting."

Thunder rolls in the distance. The lantern seller hurries away, leaving you alone on the bridge.

"I imagine that name still haunts your dreams." Ishikawa's voice carries the edge of a blade wrapped in silk. "The castle walls where you once scavenged among the eta. The place where you learned what it truly means to be nothing."

The words strike like stones, dislodging memories you've kept buried for years:


Mud between your toes, black with filth. The eta village huddled against Matsumoto's outer wall--a collection of rotting huts where leather workers, corpse handlers, and beggars existed in the shadow of samurai splendor. The smell never left you--death and tanning chemicals and human waste mingling in the summer heat.

Your mother's face, hollow-cheeked, eyes already empty months before the fever took her. "Don't look at them," she'd whisper when samurai passed. "Become invisible. Invisible things cannot be broken."

After she died, you perfected invisibility. You learned to move through the castle town without leaving footprints, to steal without disturbing dust, to listen from shadows so complete even the rats overlooked you.

Then came the Ogasawara daughter, with her secret church and impossible kindness...


You force the memory back into the darkness of its walls. "The past is irrelevant."

[Cont.]

>>6271841

"Indeed." Ishikawa's smile widens fractionally. "And yet, how elegant that your investigation leads us back to where you began. The wheel turns, doesn't it?"

Rain begins to fall, gentle at first, then harder. Water streams from the bridge's wooden railings.

"I won't send you to Matsumoto," Ishikawa says finally. "That would be... well, even tools deserve some consideration for their service."

The relief you feel disturbs you. It suggests attachment to your own comfort--a dangerous weakness.

"What is our next step?" you ask, redirecting the conversation.

"Patience." Ishikawa raises his face slightly, letting rain wash over his features. "Events must unfold at their proper pace. The Hosokawa's stockpiling confirms suspicions that require... delicate handling. For now, your services are not immediately required."

This is unexpected. Since your recruitment, there has never been reprieve--only the constant flow from one mission to the next.

"I don't understand," you admit.

"Consider it a reward. Three weeks of freedom, to use as you see fit." He studies you with quiet amusement. "What will you do, I wonder, when not wearing someone else's face? Do you even remember?"

The question cuts deeper than he knows. Without a mission, without a mask to wear, what remains? The thought opens a void within you.

"Unless," Ishikawa continues, "you wish for another assignment immediately? There are always tasks for willing hands."

"No," you say quickly. Too quickly. "Three weeks is acceptable."

"Very good. Continue your asset's training in the interim. She shows promise, but lacks refinement." He turns to leave, then pauses. "One question, before I go. The Ogasawara at Matsumoto--did you feel anything, hearing they're involved in treason? After what happened with the girl?"

The memory crashes through your defenses:

Her hand extended toward you, offering rice when your stomach had forgotten food's shape. "Even the lowest are beloved by God," she'd said, her smile gentle as spring rain. For weeks, she smuggled you into the hidden church in the forest beyond the castle--a small wooden structure disguised as a shrine. There, among farmers and merchants who welcomed you despite your eta blood, you heard stories of a foreign god who became the lowest of the low out of love. Kirishitan. A word merely synonymous with food--for a time.

Then came the inquisitors with their torches and steel. The congregation huddled together, terrified. You alone were singled out--the eta boy, surely not a true believer. "Point to their leader," the inquisitor demanded, "and you may live."

Her eyes met yours across the room. There was no anger in them, only a terrible acceptance. She knew what you would do before you did.

Your finger rose. Pointed. Sealed her fate.

"May God forgive you," she whispered as they dragged her away.

God never did. Neither have you.

[Cont.]

>>6271842
"No," you lie, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. "Nothing. The Ogasawara mean nothing to me."

Ishikawa nods, seemingly satisfied. "Three weeks, then. We'll meet again when the moon is full."

He disappears into the rain, leaving you alone on the bridge. Water soaks through your clothes, but you barely notice. Three weeks of emptiness stretch before you--no mask to wear, no role to play. Just the void where a person should be.

What will you do with this unwanted freedom?

[ ] (Deepen Your Asset) Focus entirely on Akane's training. Push her harder, refine her skills. The woman who was once Matsuda's wife must disappear completely, replaced by the perfect tool. In shaping her, perhaps you'll better understand your own transformation.

[ ] (Seek The Truth) Use this time to investigate Ishikawa himself. Despite destroying the evidence, the connections remain clear in your memory. Three weeks is enough time to carefully unravel the truth about your handler's allegiance to Tadanaga.

[ ] (Return to Matsumoto) Travel to your birthplace. Not to enter the castle, but to observe from a distance. The Ogasawara daughter's execution haunts you still. Perhaps seeing the place again will finally extinguish her memory--or help you understand why it persists.

[ ] (Live As Someone Else) Create a new identity, unconnected to your work. Rent a room in a distant quarter, adopt a merchant's mannerisms, and for three weeks, pretend to be a normal man with a normal life. Not as a mission, but as an experiment--to see if emptiness is truly your only nature.

>>6271843
>seek the truth

>>6270582
the best choice between death and enslavement is death.
someone else executing him frees us of his entrapment.

>>6271843
>[X] (Deepen Your Asset)

>>6271843
>[X] (Return to Matsumoto) Travel to your birthplace. Not to enter the castle, but to observe from a distance. The Ogasawara daughter's execution haunts you still. Perhaps seeing the place again will finally extinguish her memory--or help you understand why it persists.
We might find more purpose by paying our respects.

>>6271939
the choice between enslavement and death is no choice at all
one only needs to choose how to live:

空
In the Heart Sutra, it is written
>Form is no different from emptiness,
and emptiness is no different from form;
There is perfect freedom in the void, if only we can reach it.
>[v] (Live As Someone Else) Create a new identity, unconnected to your work. Rent a room in a distant quarter, adopt a merchant's mannerisms, and for three weeks, pretend to be a normal man with a normal life. Not as a mission, but as an experiment--to see if emptiness is truly your only nature.
In the meantime, Kane should also build an identity of her own choice. A final test of her skills, a fallback position if one should be needed later, but also a way to open her mind to the endless possibilities inherent in her new position in life.

>>6271939
the choice between enslavement and death is no choice at all
one only needs to choose how to live:

空
In the Heart Sutra, it is written
>Form is no different from emptiness,
>and emptiness is no different from form;
There is perfect freedom in the void, if only we can reach it.

>[v] (Live As Someone Else) Create a new identity, unconnected to your work. Rent a room in a distant quarter, adopt a merchant's mannerisms, and for three weeks, pretend to be a normal man with a normal life. Not as a mission, but as an experiment--to see if emptiness is truly your only nature.

In the meantime, Kane should also build an identity of her own choice. A final test of her skills, a fallback position if one should be needed later, but also a way to open her mind to the endless possibilities inherent in her new position in life.

>>6271843
>(Seek The Truth) Use this time to investigate Ishikawa himself. Despite destroying the evidence, the connections remain clear in your memory. Three weeks is enough time to carefully unravel the truth about your handler's allegiance to Tadanaga.

looks like anons want to risk it for the biscuit
If we end up doing this can we at least have Kane try to run countersurveillance?
I am pretty sure we are being watched, it would be useful to know by whom and how. Might even help with the actual investigation

>>6272380
This is the most split vote we've had so far; seems like everyone has different ideas of what to do. Wonder if QM is going to leave the vote open longer or try to incorporate the indecision of suddenly being at loose ends.

+1 for having Kane attempt countersurveillance if we go truth seeking. (I'm >>6272036 pretty sure my ID changed again but I'm NOT going to vote again)

>>6272476
I'm just paranoid about the whole thing
a vacation? just... why?

>>6271843

You cross Nihonbashi in the falling rain, leaving Ishikawa's words behind but not their weight. The bridge connects Edo's administrative heart to its restless body--beyond lies the floating world where night never truly falls.

The streets grow narrower as you descend into the Yoshiwara district. Lanterns bloom like paper flowers, their glow reflecting in rain puddles. Teahouse doors stand open despite the weather, shamisen notes spilling onto the street. A courtesan passes in wooden geta, her white-painted neck a slash of moonlight against dark silk. Behind her trails a servant girl carrying an oil-paper umbrella, its surface painted with swimming carp.

This is Edo's beating heart--not the castle towers or government offices, but these crowded alleys where merchants shed their daylight caution and samurai their rigid propriety. Here, everyone wears a chosen mask rather than an assigned one.

A young woman calls from a teahouse entrance: "Sir, the rain has soaked you through! Come warm yourself with sake!"

You pause, struck by a sudden, disorienting thought: for three weeks, you could step through that door as someone of your own creation. Not for reconnaissance or assassination, but simply to exist. You could invent a tea merchant from Nagasaki, a scholar of Chinese classics, a ronin seeking employment--anyone but the hollow vessel you've become. You could drink sake that wasn't poisoned, laugh at jokes without calculating advantage, perhaps even touch another person without memorizing pressure points for later use.

Three weeks of being human.

The thought dissolves as quickly as it forms, replaced by Ishikawa's voice from your earliest training: "Freedom is the most elegant trap. It is when a man believes he's unobserved that he reveals everything."

The memory solidifies your suspicion. This "reward" is another form of surveillance, another layer of manipulation. Ishikawa wants to see what you do when unwatched. Perhaps he already suspects your investigations into his connection to Tadanaga.

By the time you reach your rented room, resolution has hardened within you. This unexpected freedom isn't a gift--it's an opportunity. Three weeks to discover the truth about the man who grips your leash.

Two days later, you meet Akane in a small teahouse on the city's eastern edge. She arrives dressed as a merchant's assistant, her transformation so complete that you almost miss her entrance. Gone is the shuffling gait of Matsuda's wife, the downcast eyes, the perpetual flinch before unexpected movement. This woman moves with precise economy, her attention shifting constantly, cataloging exits and occupants without seeming to look at either.

"You're not being followed," she says instead of greeting, sliding onto the bench across from you. "At least, not obviously."

[Cont.]

>>6273410

Pride flickers unexpectedly. In barely a month, she's developed instincts that took you years to hone. There's a natural talent there--the same quality Ishikawa once saw in you.

The memory surfaces unbidden: Ishikawa walking among the new recruits, mostly desperate peasant boys and disgraced samurai sons. His eyes passed over the stronger ones, the eager ones, finally settling on you--the smallest, the quietest, the one who watched without being watched. "This one," he'd said. "He understands emptiness."

Later, on the road to Edo, sharing a meal in perfect silence. No questions about your past, no promises about your future. Just evaluation. Assessment. When you finished eating, he'd said only, "Tomorrow, you begin to disappear."

You push the memory away. "I have a new assignment for you."

Akane's eyes sharpen with interest. "Another infiltration?"

"Counter-surveillance. On me." You keep your voice low. "I'm pursuing sensitive information. I need to know if I'm being watched."

She studies your face. "You suspect Ishikawa is monitoring you during this... reprieve?"

"I suspect everyone, always. So should you."

Her smile is quick, almost genuine. "The first lesson you taught me. What exactly are you investigating that requires such caution?"

"The less you know, the safer you remain."

"I'm already carrying your secrets," she points out. "One more won't tip the scale."

You simply stare at her.

To her credit, she doesn't fuss or complain--just a slight tension in her shoulders betrays her frustration. "Fine. And if you're caught investigating?"

"A quick death, if I'm fortunate."

She nods slowly. "What do you need me to do?"

You outline her role: establish routine observations from different positions near your common routes, identify any recurring faces, create plausible cover identities for extended surveillance. She absorbs the instructions without comment, asking only practical questions about timing and signals.

When you finish, she asks, "Is that all?"

"For now."

She stands to leave, then hesitates. "Why risk this? Does it matter who he is? One master or another--does it matter which puppet holds your strings?"

The question catches you unprepared. Why indeed? You've never deluded yourself about loyalty or honor. You serve because service keeps you alive.

"Knowledge is survival," you answer finally. "I can't protect myself from threats I don't understand."

She accepts this with a slight bow and vanishes into the afternoon crowd.

[Cont.]

>>6273411
The next ten days blur together--a careful dance through Edo's information networks. You trace shipping records, searching for more connections between the Black Crane and Suruga. You haunt the archives, looking for any mention of Ishikawa before his appearance five years ago. You cultivate contacts among the clerks who serve the Shogun's intelligence apparatus, buying drinks and listening to gossip. Akane reports no obvious surveillance, though twice she notes a beggar who appears in too many locations for coincidence.

Dead ends multiply. Ishikawa's past remains a void. The few references you find are clearly planted--too perfect, too convenient. A samurai from the north. Service against the Ikko-ikki rebels. Rewards for valor that no one can quite recall. The biography of a ghost, written in smoke.

Then, finally, a breakthrough. A retired archivist in Asakusa, drunk on sake you've provided, mentions something odd: "Five years back, right before the new spymaster appeared, there was a fire in the western archives. Destroyed a whole section of genealogical records. The Ishikawa clan histories, all ash. Convenient, eh? Can't verify a man's lineage if the records burn."

You're still processing this when you return to your meeting point with Akane that night. Her expression tells you something has changed.

"The beggar is gone," she says without preamble. "Replaced by someone more skilled. A medicine seller who never sells medicine. He's been tracking your movements for at least two days. I only confirmed it this morning."

"Did you maintain your distance?"

"Yes, but he's good--better than I am. I nearly missed him twice." She leans closer. "There's more. He reports to someone each evening--a samurai who waits in the covered bridge near the western gate. They exchange something--papers, perhaps. Then separate."

Your mind races. "Did you see the samurai clearly?"

"No. He keeps his face shadowed. But he wears the Hosokawa crest on his sleeve."

The implications are obvious. Your investigation has been compromised. The Hosokawa--possibly Ishikawa's allies in the conspiracy--are watching you. Which means Ishikawa knows what you're pursuing.

Night is falling. Your mind races. The archivist's information needs verification--you need to find someone who witnessed that fire, who might know what was destroyed. But if Ishikawa has you under surveillance, every moment counts. The watcher might be reporting your movements even now.

[Cont.]

>>6273412
You must decide immediately:

[ ] (Pursue the Lead) Continue to the archives immediately. If Ishikawa is having you watched, he already knows you're investigating. Speed matters more than stealth now--find proof about that fire before it can be covered up.

[ ] (Confront the Spy) Have Akane lead you to the watcher. Capture and interrogate them. Risky, but it might reveal whether Ishikawa ordered this surveillance or if another player has entered the game.

[ ] (Misdirection) Pretend you haven't noticed the surveillance. Spend the rest of the day visiting brothels and sake houses, playing the part of a man enjoying his freedom. Meanwhile, send Akane to investigate the archive fire in your stead.

[ ] (Strategic Withdrawal) Abort the investigation immediately. Return to your quarters and wait. If Ishikawa suspects your suspicions, continuing will only confirm them. Better to preserve your position and try again later.

>>6273413
>Misdirection) Pretend you haven't noticed the surveillance. Spend the rest of the day visiting brothels and sake houses, playing the part of a man enjoying his freedom. Meanwhile, send Akane to investigate the archive fire in your stead.

>>6273413
Confront the spy
They could send another. But let's get our field set.

>>6273413
>[X] (Misdirection)
However, breaking a pattern leads to questions about why a pattern is broken. If he has been watching us for days we'll need to maintain something of our activities--perhaps twist it so it looks like we're investigating something else--in addition to "enjoying our freedom".

Hm. Do we want Akane to continue running countersurveillance or have her investigate the lead for us?

>>6273413
>Misdirection

>>6273411
>Does it matter who he is?
the woman is too damn smart by half
>>6273412
fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuaaaarck
>>6273413
>If Ishikawa suspects
IF it's him, he knows.
the new spy says we've been upgraded to a new threat level. FUCK
>[ ] (Misdirection) Pretend you haven't noticed the surveillance. Spend the rest of the day visiting brothels and sake houses, playing the part of a man enjoying his freedom.
because this is just good fieldcraft
>>6273501
Have Akane follow the Hosokawa samurai, maybe she will find out who he reports to.

There is hope beyond hope that maybe the Hosokawa are playing their own game. But I very much doubt it.

>>6273413
>[X] (Misdirection)
>>6273501
+1, continue investigating but look for something else

mabe this is a time for a roll...

Sorry friends. It's been a busy couple of days.

Let's another roll.

Reminder of the roll mechanics:


You will roll 2d6. Higher rolls are better. Only the first three rolls will be considered with the following exception: any subsequent rolls containing doubles (zorome) will replace (the lowest) non-double roll among the first three rolls. Once a double is "set", it cannot be replaced (e.g by a higher double). We will call getting/accumulating three doubles "honne" while getting three non-doubles "tatemae". The first will result in a revelation (either welcome or unwelcome, depending outcome of the roll) while the second will result in mystery (either deepening an existing intrigue or opening a new one). A player can roll as many times as they like.

Rolled 3, 4 = 7 (2d6)

>>6276763

Rolled 6, 1 = 7 (2d6)

>>6276763

>>6276763

Rolled 6, 2 = 8 (2d6)

>>6276790
fucked up my roll orz

Rolled 4, 3 = 7 (2d6)

>>6276763

Rolled 3, 6 = 9 (2d6)

>>6276763

Rolled 5, 3 = 8 (2d6)

>>6276763

Should we call it here for a tatemae?

>>6277204
ye

>>6276763
no neeed to apologize

>>6273413

You study Akane's face for a moment, then smile--the relaxed grin of a man with nothing to hide. "Let them watch," you say, loud enough for any nearby ears. "I've earned my leisure."

Your voice drops to a whisper as you lean closer. "Follow me for one block, then separate. I'll lead them on a merry chase while you investigate the archive fire."

She nods almost imperceptibly, playing her role perfectly. "Shall I arrange company for your evening, my lord?" she asks at normal volume. "The Plum Blossom House has several new girls from Kyoto."

"An excellent suggestion." You adjust your kimono with theatrical casualness. "But first, I have matters to attend to at the Silver Dragon. I hear Lord Maeda's retainers are discussing the southern trade routes."

The mention of Maeda--a powerful daimyo with no connection to your investigation--is the first layer of your deception. The watcher will report your apparent interest in Maeda's affairs, creating confusion about your true focus.

You spend the afternoon in calculated visibility. You visit three sake houses frequented by Maeda's men, asking pointed questions about silk shipments from Nagasaki. You examine imported goods at a merchant stall known to supply the Maeda compound. You even hire a scribe to copy a public record of land transfers in Kaga province--Maeda's domain.

Between each stop, you indulge in visible pleasure--purchasing sweet rice cakes from a street vendor, lingering at a puppet theater, admiring an expensive sword in a craftsman's shop. The perfect image of a disciplined agent using his freedom to pursue a secondary investigation while enjoying small luxuries.

By sunset, you've led your shadow on a journey through half of Edo, always maintaining the Maeda fiction. As darkness falls, you complete the deception by visiting the Plum Blossom House, where you arrange for a private room, music, and sake--but no companionship. You sit alone, seemingly lost in thought, occasionally making notes on a small scroll.

When you leave three hours later, swaying slightly as if drunk, you're certain your watcher has compiled a thorough report about your investigation into Maeda's trading interests--a complete fabrication that will lead nowhere.

Meanwhile, Akane moves through Edo like a ghost. She begins at the western archives, posing as a scribe's assistant seeking records for her master. The senior archivist remembers the fire--"A tragedy. Five years past, during the autumn rains. An entire section of clan genealogies destroyed."

She learns more from a night watchman, plied with sake and flattery: "Strange, that fire. Started in the Ishikawa records specifically. And afterward, men came--not regular officials. They collected the ashes, examined everything nearby. Never seen such care for burned paper."

[Cont.]

>>6277687
Her most valuable discovery comes from an old gardener who tends the grounds behind the archive. "The night before the fire, I saw a man enter through the rear door--used a key, he did. Nobleman by his dress, but something strange about him. His left hand... missing two fingers. Thought nothing of it until the fire next day."

By the time you reunite three days later, Akane has pieced together fragments that only deepen the mystery: records destroyed precisely when a new "Ishikawa" appeared in Edo; officials with unusual interest in the ashes; a nobleman with a mutilated hand visiting just before the blaze.

"there's more," she tells you in the safety of the temple storage room. "i tracked mentions of hosokawa. found something odd--sixteen years ago, the hosokawa briefly withdrew their patronage from the ōkubo. they sold their interests in some silver mines managed by Ōkubo Nagayasu."

"To which family?" you ask, though something in you already knows.

"The records were destroyed in the fire." She pauses for effect. Her meaning is clear and what she says next merely confirms it. "Later that same year, there was an attempted assassination against the Hosokawa lord. The assassin was captured and executed. He was identified as an Ishikawa retainer."

"Our handler plays a deeper game than either of us understood," you conclude.

The remaining days of your "freedom" pass without incident. Your watchers maintain their distance, presumably reporting your harmless activities and fabricated investigation. You make no further inquiries about Ishikawa, instead focusing on preparing Akane for whatever comes next.

On the final night of your three weeks, a messenger arrives with a black lacquer box--Ishikawa's summons. Inside lies a single folded paper containing time and location.

The designated meeting place surprises you--not the usual bridge, but a private room in an expensive teahouse near the daimyo residences. When you arrive, Ishikawa is already seated beside a charcoal brazier, his right arm bound in a silk sling. A thin cut mars his left cheek, recently healed.

"Sit," he commands, gesturing with his good hand.

You kneel across from him, noting the subtle changes in his appearance--the new lines around his eyes, the careful way he holds himself to avoid disturbing his wounded arm.

"Your vacation proved refreshing, I trust?" His tone suggests he knows exactly how you spent your time.

"It was... educational," you reply carefully.

"Indeed." He sips from a porcelain cup, studying you over its rim. "Education comes in many forms. Sometimes from books, sometimes from experience. Sometimes from watching others make fatal mistakes."

He sets down the cup with deliberate precision. "Three nights ago, an agent in my network attempted to sell information to the Shogun's secret police. He died before completing the transaction, but not before causing... inconvenience."

[Cont.]

>>6277689
Ishikawa gestures to his wounded arm with a tight smile. "Loyalty is such a fragile thing, wouldn't you agree?"

You force your expresssion to remain neutral. Has he connected your investigation to this betrayal? Is he warning you, or simply sharing information?

"Fortunately," he continues before you can respond, "opportunities arise even from setbacks. The Ogasawara clan's third son, Ogasawara Tadamasa, arrived in Edo yesterday for the spring tournaments. He travels with only a small retinue, having separated from his main escort after an argument about accommodations."

Ishikawa produces a folded map and places it between you. "Tadamasa is proud, impulsive, and an embarrassment to his family. His death would cause grief but perhaps also private relief. More importantly, his death--if properly arranged--could create useful friction between powerful allies."

You unfold the map to find a detailed rendering of an Edo district, with one building circled in red. "The Jade Leaf bathhouse," Ishikawa explains. "Tadamasa visits every third evening to meet a particular courtesan. He will be there tomorrow night."

"You want him eliminated," you state, the familiar coldness settling into your limbs.

"With one specific condition." Ishikawa leans forward, his voice dropping. "The killing must bear the subtle mark of Hosokawa involvement. Not obvious enough to be dismissed as a frame, but clear enough for those who know where to look."

The complexity of the request reveals the true purpose: to drive a wedge between the Ogasawara and their Hosokawa patrons. An assassination that appears to be a Hosokawa betrayal would shatter the alliance that has kept the Ogasawara in Matsumoto Castle for seventeen years.

"I've prepared these." Ishikawa slides a small pouch across the table. Inside you find a broken tsuba--a sword guard--bearing the Hosokawa family mon, and a piece of blue-dyed silk typical of Hosokawa retainers' undergarments. "These should be found on or near the body. As if dropped in haste."

You examine the items, your mind already calculating approaches. "His security?"

"Four samurai, always alert. The bathhouse itself employs private guards. The building has only two exits. Tadamasa always takes the same private room on the second floor, overlooking the garden."

Ishikawa rises carefully, adjusting his sling. "I leave the method to your discretion. But it must happen tomorrow night. The opportunity will not come again."

As he moves to leave, he pauses beside you. "One last thing. This mission is for you alone. Your asset is not to be involved. Some tasks require... a particular history with the target."

The meaning is clear--this is not just an assassination, but a test of your loyalty. Will you strike against the clan of the girl who once showed you kindness? Will you once again betray the Ogasawara?

[Cont.]

>>6277691
After Ishikawa departs, you study the map, considering your options. The target is well-protected. The location presents significant challenges. And the political implications of success--or failure--extend far beyond a single death.

How will you approach this assassination?

[ ] Infiltrate the bathhouse in advance, hiding within the structure itself. Strike when Tadamasa is most vulnerable--naked in the bath--and escape through the garden. A direct approach requiring perfect execution.

[ ] Avoid the bathhouse entirely. Instead, tamper with the target's food or drink at his residence before he departs for his evening pleasure. Death would come during his bath, appearing natural until closer examination.

[ ] Create a distraction to draw out Tadamasa's guards, then strike from above. The bathhouse's tiled roof provides access and a position for a killing blow as he exits or enters. Risky, but allowing for a quick escape.

[ ] Use Akane despite Ishikawa's prohibition. Her skills as a false courtesan could grant her access to Tadamasa's private room, creating an opportunity that doesn't exist otherwise. The ultimate test of her transformation--and your willingness to risk her life.

>>6277693
>Create a distraction.

We can panic and fling the broken sword away as we run, as if trying to conceal it.

>>6277691
well, well, well
>Loyalty is such a fragile thing
obviously he knows
>death--if properly arranged
a high risk, low importance mission, where a spy of dubious loyalty might be expended, or even set up for death
>tomorrow night
no time for serious preparations... high likelyhood of this being intended as a one-way mission
>This mission is for you alone
marked (for death?)

okay
>>6277693
>[v] Avoid the bathhouse
but not entirely
[v] Create a distraction to draw out Tadamasa's guards
so they can see "evidence"
[v] Use Akane

the plan is as follows:
Have Akane infiltrate the bathhouse and plant the piece of silk in the rafters, taking no other action and slipping away before evening.
Poison the man at his home, then, dressed as a well-to-do drunken samurai with his right arm in a sling, create a violent incident outside the bathhouse at the likely time of death - wound some random passer-by for allegedly bumping into the bad arm. Flee the scene dropping the boken tsuba.
It is likely that a fast-acting poison delivered by an assassin hiding inside the bathhouse will be suspected where a slower one was actually used, while the fake diversion will certainly be seen as a real diversion. At the same time, an astute onlooker (of which there seems to be no shortage lately) might inquire which samurai started walking around with their arms in slings lately.

>>6277711
the idea is to appear to our spymaster as obssessively mission-oriented (to the extent of ignoring instructions to better the expected outcome) rather than disloyal

and I do expect a plan with so many moving parts to require a roll

>>6277693
Fuck.

I agree with >>6277711 that this is a bad sign; that Ishikawa knows and might be setting us up to die... but the plan suggested is probably not going to do us any favors.

I say:

>>6277693
>[X] Avoid the bathhouse entirely.

Planting the evidence would be tricky, but we can always put the underwear in the target's bedchambers (ideally ruffled and stained to suggest intimacy). The sword guard... perhaps kicked under the furniture or in a drawer like a trophy? Dropped in the garden?

And since we're being burned lets go to ground and get the fuck out of Edo. Use the skills taught to us to disappear. I wouldn't take the risk of telling Akane to flee with us and she's probably under watch.

Alternatively we go to Akane despite her possibly being under watch, have her deal with the assassination (Ishikawa either views her as our replacement or a loose thread to be tied up) and use the meantime to go to ground and GTFO.

>>6278226
>go to ground and get the fuck out of Edo
I do agree that the time to build ourselves a bolt-hole was three weeks ago and the next best would be now but we are being watched closely.

>>6277711
just so it's clear, my choice is
>[v] Avoid the bathhouse
and all the rest is flourishes