Night reigned over the Land of Grass.
The moon hung low and pale, casting silver light through the window of Arata's room. The candles had burned down to stubs. Munchkin was curled in her basket, twitching in her sleep, probably dreaming of fish.
Arata sat cross-legged on his futon. Across from him, Yamiko sitting as well in the dim light, her golden eyes reflecting the moon as her tail curled behind her.
She had been reporting for the past ten minutes.
"The mansion is normal," she said. "The guards rotate on schedule. The Daimyo retired to his chambers two hours ago. The butler reviewed the household accounts for awhile and found nothing unusual. No visitors after dusk."
Arata nodded. "And the shadow spies?"
"All are in position. And shadow four reported something… strange."
Arata's eyes narrowed. "Strange how?"
"Your personal maid - Miya." Yamiko's voice was flat, neutral. "Shadow four observed her behavior after she finished her duties. She did not return to the servants' quarters immediately. Instead, she took a longer route through the eastern corridor, she paused near the library as she looked behind her twice like checking if there is someone following her."
Arata frowned. "That's quite suspicious."
"Shadow four has been observing the servants for three days. Some of the maids go directly to their quarters after their shifts. Miya and other three of them lingers around. They are checking the surroundings more often than the others. As if they are making sure no one follows them as they make their move."
Miya, huh? Arata ponder the name over in his mind. He had known it, of course—the maid had introduced herself on his first morning here but that was all he knew. Her name, her face and her efficiency in her work.
He had never thought to look deeper.
That's a problem, he realized. I don't know anything about the person closest to me.
He tried to remember. The original Arata's memories were fuzzy on the servants—they had always been background noise to him, part of the mansion to function nothing more. But one image surfaced, clear, sharp and new.
Miya standing by his bedside, holding a tray, cup of tea and a small plate of rice crackers.
The day the original boy died.
Arata's breath caught, he carefully replayed the memory. His predecessor had been tired that night—more tired than usual. He had drunk the tea, eaten the cracker then afterwards laid down and never woken up.
But what if it wasn't?
Arata's mind raced. He had no proof. No evidence. Just a maid who doing her work and a boy who had died in his sleep.
Don't overthink, he told himself. Not yet. You need more information.
But the suspicion had taken root. He couldn't ignore it.
"Yamiko," he said slowly, "Raise the surveillance on Miya to level two and as for the other three observe them carefully as well."
"What does level two require, Master?"
"Three shadow spies. One watches her every move, all the time. The other two investigate everyone she talks to, every person she meets, every place she goes outside her duties. I want to know what she is doing, who she reports to, and what she wants."
Yamiko nodded her head. "It will be done."
Arata sat in silence for a moment, thinking. The other reports had been clean—no suspicion on the guards, the butler, or the Daimyo. Only Miya.
She is the only thread, he thought. I need to be patient, wait until I'm sure there is a fish at the end before I pull it up.
He turned his attention to the council infiltration.
"Yeah, right… You reported that two shadow spies successfully embedded themselves in Elder Hana's shadow after her meeting with the Daimyo? It's been one full day. Any sign of detection?"
"None, Master. One of them came back and made a report with me earlier. They remain undetected."
Arata let out a slow breath. His risky bet had paid off. If shinobi under Elder Hana's command couldn't sense his shadow spies, that meant his creations were truly invisible to conventional sensing.
But that didn't mean they were undetected all throughout.
He thought about the possibility of discovery. If a shadow spy was caught—by accident, by a sensor with unusual abilities like karin, by sheer bad luck—the consequences could be catastrophic. An interrogation could reveal his existence, his powers, his plans.
I can't allow that, I do not know yet to what extent the ability of shadow can hide but I don't want to be caught just because I want to find out. To risky!
He also thought about the upcoming council meeting. Elder Hana was scheduled to meet with the full council tomorrow afternoon. That was the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the other elders—but only if he had enough spies positioned to spread when she entered the room.
Two spies weren't enough. He needed more.
"Yamiko," he said, "I have two tasks for you tonight. Both require you to leave the mansion."
She waited.
"First, I need you to go to the two shadow spies at Elder Hana's location. Deliver an absolute order in person. Use the night—shadows are deeper, easier to hide in. The order is this: if either of them is discovered—seen, sensed, captured, or even be suspected they exist—they are to trigger their own deletion immediately. My Absolute Owner power will erase them from existence, no trace!
Yamiko's golden eyes flickered, but she nodded.
"Second," Arata continued, "you will take six additional shadow spies with you. That will bring our total at Elder Hana's location to eight. Once she enters the council meeting, those eight will spread—one per elder. I want every member of the council to have a shadow spy attached to them by the time that meeting ends."
He paused.
"The deletion order applies to all of them. Make sure they understand, hesitation is not an option."
Yamiko bowed deeply. "I understand, Master. I will go now and the night will conceal us."
"Take them and be careful on the way, I will create replacements while you are gone."
Yamiko turned and dissolved into liquid darkness. But before she left, six other shadows rose from the corners of the room—the faceless, golden-eyed spies that had been waiting. They flowed together with Yamiko's form, a stream of darkness that seeped under the door and out into the night.
Arata was alone.
He sat in silence for a moment, listening to the quiet room. Munchkin snored softly in her basket. The wind whispered through the window.
Now, he thought, while she's gone, let work now – what a tiring world.
He reached into his storage, the master copies—the cat sphere and the shadow sphere—were still there, waiting. He had learned to duplicate them without touching Munchkin or his own shadow each time. It was faster now. More efficient.
He needed to replace the six spies Yamiko had taken, and he still needed more for the mansion.
He created eleven new copies from the master copy he brought out, as he plans to create eleven shadow spies.
Each one formed from the fusion of a cat sphere and a shadow sphere. Each one faceless, golden-eyed, silent. They materialized one by one in the dim room, kneeling in a semicircle around him.
Eleven dark figures, eleven pairs of glowing eyes.
Arata reached into his storage again and pulled out small portions of his chakra—eleven spheres, each one a copy of his own energy. He fused them into the spies one by one.
The shadows shuddered slightly as the chakra settled into them, their forms became slightly more solid and more real. Their golden eyes brightened.
"There," Arata said, wiping his forehead. He was tired, but not exhausted. The process was becoming easier.
He looked at the eleven spies.
"Six of you will replace the ones I sent out. You will stay in the mansion, hidden, waiting for Yamiko's return. The other five will spread through the mansion immediately—corridors, empty rooms, gardens. Do not interact with anyone. Do not reveal yourselves. Just watch and wait for yamiko's return."
He paused.
"Once Yamiko returns, you will follow her commands as if they were my own. Understood?"
The eleven spies bowed in unison. Their voices came as a soft chorus—flat, neutral, barely above a whisper.
"Yes, Master."
The five designated for immediate deployment dissolved into liquid darkness, flowing across the floor and seeping into the shadows of the room—under the futon, behind the screen, through the cracks in the walls. Within moments, they were gone, scattered throughout the mansion.
The remaining six stayed, kneeling in silence, waiting for their leader.
Arata sat back. His room felt emptier now but also more alive somehow. Six new eyes were now watching the halls, waiting for Yamiko's return. Five more were already in position.
That brings the total to… He counted in his head. The original nine, plus these eleven. Twenty shadow spies in total. Plus Yamiko.
He nodded to himself. That should be enough. For now.
He turned his attention to the summoning scroll. Ignoring the shadow spies.
The wooden chest was still open on his futon. He lifted the scroll from its silk bedding and held it in his hands.
The wax seal was still intact. The emblem was a spiral shell, simple and unassuming.
He gently broke it with his thumb and the wax cracked and fell away.
He unfurled the scroll.
The paper was old yellowed at the edges but quite sturdy which is surprising. A faint sheen from the chakra-infused ink as he inspects. Dark, almost black, it seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it.
The scroll was long, unusually long. He unrolled it carefully, revealing line after line of unfamiliar characters—summoning formulas, he guessed, written in an ancient script he couldn't read.
But near the bottom, there were names.
Three of them.
Each name was written in a different hand, in different ink, at different times. Below each name, a smeared handprint—dried blood, old and brown.
The first name was illegible worn away by age, the ink faded to a smudge. Only a few strokes remained, unreadable.
The second name was clearer. Akihiro. No surname. Just the one name, written in a careful, precise hand.
The third name was fresher. The ink was still dark, though it had clearly been there for years. Tsubaki.
Three people. Three summoners. All of them had signed this contract.
Arata stared at the scroll.
I do not know anything about snails, he thought. The host in auction describe it but he wants to verify it first before coming to conclusions.
He reached out with his power, the Forge power stirred inside him.
Copy.
He focused on the scroll—not just the paper, but everything about it. The chakra-infused ink. The summoning formulas. The contract itself, the binding agreement written into its very fibers.
A warmth bloomed in his chest. A sphere materialized above his palm—pale gold, shot through with silver threads, it pulsed gently, filled with the essence of the scroll.
I copied it, he realized. The entire contract. The summoning rights. Everything.
He stared at the sphere.
If he could copy a summoning contract… could he also copy the traits of the creatures it summoned? The snails' abilities? Their chakra?
Could he create his own summons without ever signing the contract?
He didn't know. But the sphere in his hand meant possibilities, endless possibilities.
He stored it carefully in his infinite storage, next to the master copies of the cat and the shadow.
But as the sphere left his palm, Arata paused. His mind replayed the sensation of the copy—the way the power had unfolded the scroll's essence like petals opening one by one. First the paper's physical structure, then the chakra-infused ink, then the summoning formulas themselves, each line of ancient script revealing its purpose. And beneath all that, something deeper—the contract's binding function, the invisible thread that connected signer to summon – like a marking location.
It unfolded everything, he realized. Every layer. Every function. Every trait.
He sat very still, the realization settling into his bones.
If his copy power could dissect an object's functions one by one during the copying process… could he choose to copy only a specific function? A single trait? He had already learned to control the fusion process—shaping the cat and shadow spheres into faceless humanoids instead of cat-people. Could he also control the copy process? Focus on one aspect of a target and copy only that?
Extract, he thought. That was a separate power. Extraction removed something from a target but it might destroy the scroll—or at least damage it. He didn't want to risk that, not yet.
But copying was safe. Copying left the original intact.
If I can copy just the summoning function, he thought, or just the formula on how to mark a location for summoning, or even the contract's binding mechanism…
The possibilities unspooled in his mind like the scroll itself. He could create a summoning point for his shadow spies to use so they could reach me within a second or he could reverse the summoning as well so he could get to the location of his shadow's spies. He could study the binding magic without ever signing his name in blood.
His heart beat faster. His tiredness evaporated.
I need to experiment, he thought. But not tonight. Tonight, I have what I needed. I need to plan this out one by one.
He smiled—a small, tired, genuine smile—and rolled the scroll back up.
He set the scroll aside and looked out the window. The moon had crossed the sky, and the first hints of dawn were painting the horizon gray.
Yamiko should be back soon, he thought.
As if on cue, a ripple passed through the shadow beneath his futon. Darkness pooled and rose, and Yamiko emerged—first her head, then her shoulders, then her whole body. Joining the six shadows spies who waited earlier.
She knelt in front of him, slightly out of breath.
"Master," she said. "The order has been delivered. All eight shadow spies at Elder Hana's location successfully transferred and obeyed your order. They will delete themselves if discovered. And they are positioned to spread to the other elders during tomorrow's council meeting."
"Any trouble?"
"None. The night concealed us well. Elder Hana's estate was quiet. I found the two original spies and introduced the six new ones, they have all merged into her shadow."
Arata nodded. "Good, you can rest now. Right, they are the six new shadow spies in the mansion waiting for you to assign them. Five more are already in position."
Yamiko's golden eyes flickered with surprise, then settled into acceptance. "As you command, Master."
She turned to the six waiting spies and began giving quiet instructions. One by one, they dissolved and flowed out of the room to take their positions.
Arata leaned back on his futon. Munchkin shifted in her basket and let out a small, contented sigh.
Eight shadow spies in the council, he thought. Twelve in the mansion. The summoning contract. The suspicious maids.
Not bad for a ten-year-old.
He closed his eyes.
But not enough.
Sleep took him slowly, dragging him down into darkness.
Somewhere in the palace, Miya slept in her quarters, unaware that three shadow beings now watched her every breath.
Somewhere in the council district, eight shadows lurked in Elder Hana's shadow, waiting for dawn—ready to spread like a disease through the council chambers.
And in the hidden corners of the Land of Grass, the shadows were stretching far.