Beggars and choosers

[Kanade]

Kanade walked through the Enkouten Compound, there weren't many people who would do business with her, but she had her little niches here and there who would give her the time of day since the trial. She was here to pick up iron, specifically the iron that she would need for her next project, and was strolling through town with an empty backpack and a full purse, hoping to empty one to fill the other, though she mainly got the scraps that the other smiths could not or would not use. Kanade had decided against mining her own iron, smelting it, and getting rid of the slag, as it either exposed her for an outsider with the use of Jikiton, or it required more muscles than she was willing to put into it, and more time spent away from the hospital, smithy, and restaurant.

She sighed, placing the coins down on an empty counter where a lean-to stall was tucked surreptitiously and rudely away from the main drag of the Enkouten compound. She had always purchased her wares here, and he had always purchased the things back, for the price of materials, it was a fun song and dance, and she would make commission she was told if anything had sold. She looked up, and all the things that had her mark were still in his shop, a spear had collected dust, but he had at least had the decency to keep it from rusting, a pair of kunai on the counter rested there too, also with her mark on it. She sighed and looked at what she had brought for him today, strapped to her side, a falchion, the curved blade with a masterful hilt had a butterfly engraved just above the hand guard, her symbol again.

The man came out, a pudgy man that reminded her of if a man had mated with a pig and a rat, his buck teeth sticking far out of his face, over his lips. His jaw had been broken, so it didn't sit quite right and he had broken his nose at least twice and lost an eye, which was covered by his brand-band.

"How's business." Kanade asked in a companionable tone, her voice having the tinges of desperation as she looked around at her wares, then back at him. He followed her gaze and sighed.

“Do I need to say it again? He asked, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head, “Even though you’re twice the smith that my other suppliers are,” He pointed to a bent knife that Kanade could see a visible seam on, which would snap from hard use, maybe not the first time, but when someone needed it it had the Enkouten’s clan symbol on it, “Enkouten buy from their own. And until you prove that you’re more than just an outsider, a pretender, I couldn’t give your wares away.” He frowned at her with pity as she took out the falchion, “I also don’t have the money to keep buying your projects from you.”

“Take it.” Kanade said, unable to hold a bit of vinegar out of her voice and actions. “It won’t serve me in my restaurant, and my smithy faces the garbage alley.”

“Same rate?” the merchant asked, looking at the craftsmanship of the blade, the hilt, and then sighed at the mark, “This mark is going to make it not sell, I keep telling you this.” He shook his head, and opened his mouth to make the age old argument he had a thousand times before.

“I am not going to sell anything, because people know my name, know my mark. Better to sell something without my mark and then claim its mine and build up a clientele than to make no money and keep paying the seller’s fee.” She took out a handful of coins and placed them on the counter, “Money is something I am after from my restaurant, from selling myself to the village and from working at the hospital.” Her glowing orange eyes narrowed at the vendor, making him recoil, “I am not going to have someone else claim my work for themselves, I am sure that you’ve tried to scratch off my mark so that you could say that one of my swords or knives sold.” She looked at the suspicious fine scratches on the knife she had made closest to her, sitting next to a knife that was half bent already, “But I tell you this, I will not be ashamed of who I am or what I can do. Someone has to see quality one of these days.”

He bowed his head respectfully, “I tried once to get rid of the mark, a lady said that it caught her fancy, but that she would rather not have your symbol in her house or on your person. You’re a bit of an anathema after the whole trial.” He shrugged, “Tandala and Cherisa, well respected members of the Enkouten before you showed up, are still getting the side eye for not killing you when they had the chance.”

Kanade bowed her head and let out a great sigh, “More materials please.” She asked.

“I don’t have any more, you bought the last of them last week.” He frowned at her and shrugged apologetically as she snapped up, a hurt glare on her face. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” He held up his hands, as the color drained from hia face, palms facing outward in a sign of peace.

“I know you wouldn’t, Haku, I know you wouldn’t.” She said miserably before looking out at the street from the little alcove at all the other merchants that were selling wares, and the people who bustled past this particular shop, not before glaring at her though. She turned back to the shop, “I’ll pay you in advance for your next shipment of materials.” She placed the money on the table, “That way I don’t have to make a trip.”
“This is enough for a full set of armor, plus a shield.” He frowned, his mousy features coming to the fore, “Are you-”

“If I can’t sell to the people here, I can at least make armor for the barracks. That way my wares see some use rather than none. Not every shinobi is an Enkouten, after all.” Kanade winked at him.

The man sighed and nodded, waving her off. Haku hung up the falchion, the metal scabbard that she had made had her symbol on it as well. He grimaced and, as Kanade walked away, he sheathed it in a leather sheathe instead. He hung this next to a much shabbier falchion, and shook his head, perhaps he could get the things to sell if he hid away the symbol until it was too late. That cursed woman always made the seal undamageable, or at least they were for him. He had fought in the last great shinobi war, had been permanently disfigured and lost an eye in it as well, and most times people wouldn't come into his stall just for the looks of him. He had some regulars though, and word of mouth had been spreading, so Haku hoped that Kanade's wares would attract someone, anyone with a sharp eye and who didn't recognize her butterfly symbol.

He called out in a gruff and booming voice, ""Knives and battle axes, Sold wholesale without taxes, come and get 'em maces too, any weapon you could want, hilts not held on with glue, we even make custom pieces you can flaunt, so come and try, the best that ryo can buy, and don't let your weapon break when you need it most! It was a little ditty he had come up with, he wasn't a poet, but sometimes his voice would reach people who would otherwise pass up his store for the ones further out in the street, with fine dazzling pieces of garbage that would snap in two if anyone with real talent wielded them.

[Kao]

Enkouten Mai was beginning to think she simply wasn’t meant to have a weapon. She watched as an older man bowed in front of her, his hand pressed against the concrete floor of his forge. At his side lay a war hammer, its scratches and dings and dull metal suggesting the weapon was probably older than he was.

“You’re saying you can’t fix it?”

The man flinched as if struck, and sweat started to pour from his forehead and pool in the deep wrinkles. Her tone hadn’t been especially angry. Somehow the disappointment that saturated her voice was far worse. ”I-I’m sorry, Lady Mai. It’s best if you retire it.”

“It belonged to my grandfather.” The man simply apologized, pressing his head down as if trying to merge with the floor. He, like dozens of others, offered to make her a replacement. But no one’s work could measure up to the heirloom that she cherished. But Mai left pouting, her grandfather’s old blade wrapped in red cloth and slung across her back. The weapon had been a gift from her late grandfather before he passed. He had used it when he was a shinobi, and had decided to give it to her when she had been promoted to chuunin. Her father had wanted it to stay on a mantle as an ornamental family heirloom, but the kunoichi felt it should be in the hands of a warrior. That was the best way to honor her grandfather’s memory, not reducing the axe to household decor.

But despite her insistence to use it, she hadn’t taken the best care of it. Mai had used it in skirmishes over the years, and by the time she realized she needed to care for it better, it was beyond repair. It was too brittle, too old. She had taken it to several smiths, but their opinions had all been the same. It was a hard reality for the woman, but as she stepped past the threshold of the forge, it seemed to her that she would have to accept it and move forward.

The Enkouten clan compound was, as always, buzzing with activity. Several people stopped Mai to greet her and engaged with her in small talk, and she politely indulged them all. When she turned one corner, what she saw wiped the smile clear from her face.

Even from behind she recognized that woman. Mai snuck forward, keeping to the shadows. She’d arrived in the middle of the pair’s conversation. It seemed the woman was trying to sell her wares again. When the woman - Kanade, she remembered belatedly - walked away, Mai pushed off from the wall and approached the merchant with suspicion pooling in her eyes.

”Bold of you to do business with the body snatcher.” The man sputtered at the sight of her, but Mai giggled and waved a hand at him, gesturing toward the weapons on display. The spear was impressive, but the moment she saw the little butterfly mark she rolled her eyes. “Such talent. Shame it’s wasted in the one place in the village where it won’t sell.” She anded it back to him and added, “I’m looking to commission someone to replace my grandfather’s weapon. Any ideas?”