[Daiura] Prying Eyes

[Ace Trainer]

Trade Routes
With multiple local, intranational and international trade routes established, movements of goods and exports out of Daiura are difficult to coordinate and understand from an outsider. A information mission is to be conducted to establish general schedule and cycle for how everything moves through Daiura. Tetsuo has been dispatched to see if he can get information on these trade routes and norms. However, the import yards in Daiura are notoriously high in security, and Tetsuo will need to remain unseen while doing his reconnaissance or risk sounding an alarm.

The alliance between Sakaze and Tetsuo had been quick to form, especially after the intrusion from their visitors. Folding in someone powerful like Tetsuo into the rebellion was a smart move, even if his....status might bring about some scrutiny from the potential allies of Konohagakure. Regardless, for now Daiura needed to be brought into game and the key pieces placed in it needed to be taken out. Perhaps the most important aspect of Daiura was the trade routes that moved through it. A central hub, roads from the west and north and even the south-west, consolidated at Daiura. It was the best pit-stop for a trader. They could offload anything they didn't think would do well in Wind Country, trade or buy for merchandise that would, and otherwise prepare for business in a culturally distinct region. The multi-cultural nature of Daiura also made it quite different from most places in Wind Country. The most apt word was 'seedy', but no one would actually call it that.

The shipping yards in Daiura were vast, but the main import yard was far-and-away the hub of all activity. Importing and exporting was taxable, and while Wind Country took it's overhead, so did Daiura. If people thought shinobi villages were tightly ran ships, they had definitely never been to Daiura. The main import yard was actually quite streamlined: three massive warehouses that literally hugged each of the three roads that lead into the import yard. The large sandstone walls that surrounded the village (nothing compared to Sunagakure's) forced traffic to approach them. Patrols for the yard were regular, circling the yard and spanning throughout it to dig through all the wares being imported and making sure everything was appropriately taxed.

The Hokori needed to understand the schedule here, one so that if they needed to smuggle anything (or anyone) in or out, they could do. But secondarily, because they needed to understand when they could make their move on it. If they could take control of the shipping yard... Rock Country's hold on the region would drastically decline, or they'd have to send a more concentrated force to undo it. Tetsuo was uniquely suited for this given his doujutsu, but this was not just about watching. He'd need to blend in, not get caught, and learn as much as he could.

Time would tell if he was up for the mission. For now, Tetsuo would need to infiltrate the import yard, and find somewhere to lay low so he could begin to observe.

[AFungalNetwork]

The industrial yard sprawled below him like a rusted beast with shipping containers stacked like bones. Tetsuo crouched on a windswept ridge, silent beneath his tattered cloak. Three days he had watched this place, wrapped in dust and silence, eyes narrowed against the wind. Tonight, he needed more. He took a slow and reluctant breath. Then his fingers brushed the skin around his eyes — old muscle memory stirring. The veins twitched under his skin, pulsing faintly in protest. He hadn’t called on it in years. Not seriously. Not like this. He blinked and once he opened his eyes, his Byakugan flared to life.

It was like opening his eyes underwater. Reality warped. Depth fractured. The world turned sharp and every edge defined down to the bone. His vision stretched forward in a ripple of pale clarity, the landscape flattening and pulling inward like a funnel. Details rushed toward him: the flick of a guard’s wrist mid-smoke break, the glint of a button catching moonlight. He could feel the chakra signatures now — each one flickering like a distant flame. He hated the feeling but it served its purpose.

From this vantage, he mapped their routes. Southeast wall: one guard too relaxed, always lingered near the edge to light his cigarette. West checkpoint: two-man rotation, synchronized, one too chatty to keep proper eyes on the fence line. And then—there. A faint trickle of water pooling behind a barricade of stacked metal crates. Drainage runoff. He focused, drawing his vision inward. The pipe vanished beneath the yard’s edge, merging with thick, forgotten stonework below — the old sewer line. A back artery. No patrols. No sensors. Hidden in rot and darkness. Perfect.

He deactivated the Byakugan with a low breath, wiping the faint perspiration from his temple. The world shrank back to its normal haze, and the tension left his body like a slow exhale. Each night, he returned, refining what he'd seen with normal eyes, confirming details. By the third day, he traced the old sewer to its surface entrance — a corroded manhole cover a mile south of the import yard, half-sunken in cracked concrete.

At dusk, he approached it. One knee down, the cloak swaying gently in the warm wind. The cover was sealed shut with rust and time. No signs of tampering. No traps. Forgotten by everyone except him. Tetsuo slid it open, revealing only blackness and stench. He descended without hesitation, vanishing into the sewer’s throat — one hand on the hilt of his blade, the other brushing the wall for balance. The lid slid shut above him; he was in, he just had to find his way out.