A group of Chinoike debated at length about the best angle to set the pipeline for maximum water pressure, drawing diagrams in the dirt, calculating gradients. Pebble ruined the entire meeting by casually dropping a stone in the stream and declaring, "The water wants to bend this way."
The shinobi stared at her like she'd just suggested they consult the stars for plumbing advice.
Zassō leaned in, grinning. "Ayy, don't look at her like that. Pebble's got a PhD in rocks."
"A what?" one Chinoike asked.
"Pipe House Degree," Zassō said without missing a beat.
Pebble beamed, smug. The Chinoike groaned collectively.
Still, the work got done.
By the end of the week, a crude but functional network of clay pipes wound down from the creek to a stone basin hollowed at the camp's center. The basin filled slowly, steaming faintly where the Hollow's veins of underground heat met the water.
When the water first gurgled through and pooled, a dozen children rushed forward, splashing with unguarded joy. Their laughter echoed against moss and mist.
Zassō sat cross-legged by the basin, puffing his pipe, eyes half-lidded. "Told y'all. Infrastructure."
Reika stood behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But she didn't stop the children.
The bathhouse came next.
It was supposed to be a simple structure. logs stacked, roof thatched with wide leaves, nothing fancy. But Zassō insisted on "comfort upgrades."
"Look, man, if we're buildin' a bathhouse, we ain't half-steppin'. We need steam vents. We need benches. We need ambiance. Whole vibe package."
One Chinoike, holding a hammer made of wood and rock, half listening, blinked. "Amb… what?"
"Ambiance," Zassō repeated. "Means when you sit in there, you feel like the universe finally forgave you. You'll see."
The Chinoike muttered but obeyed.
When it was finished, rough walls, hot water basin, steam vented through gaps. Zassō dragged in bundles of herbs and hung them from the rafters. The air filled with the smell of sharp green and earthy smoke.
"See? Ambiance," he said proudly.
The shinobi entered cautiously, steam curling around them. One sat stiff-backed on the bench, as if expecting ambush from the mist. Another dipped a hand in the water, pulled it back quickly as though heat itself might be a trap.
But slowly, inevitably, their shoulders loosened. tool's were set aside.
That evening, the Chinoike gathered outside the bathhouse while the Rootless drummed low and soft.
Zassō stood, pipe smoke trailing, and addressed the crowd like a king who'd built his throne from weeds.
"Ladies, gents, and my fellow Rootless degenerates, we done it. Infrastructure achieved. The first step toward civilization. hot water and steam. That's progress, baby."
A few Rootless and Chinoike cheered, some stayed silent, but their silence was softer now, less suspicious, more… unsure.
"Law circle, everybody in!" Pebble's voice cut through everyone voice. She stood on a flat stone, holding her painted rock aloft like it was divine scripture.
Zassō, waved lazily at the shinobi. "C'mon now, no spectators. This ain't theater. Circle up. Participation mandatory."
Several Chinoike frowned. But eventually, they shuffled closer, ring forming.
The drum beat pounded. "Bum-bum... bum-bum... bum-bum..."
It stopped. Pebble slammed the stone into her palm. "Law!" she declared.
The Rootless answered in chorus."Law!"
The Chinoike just blinked.
"Today," she said, "the Hollow gives us more law. The circle grows wider."
Reika sat straight, arms folded, expression neutral. Hana was beside her, head tilted, listening with unnerving stillness. Tenga muttered something under his breath.
Pebble raised the stone.
"We already know the first five. Now hear the rest."
A few Rootless hummed low in their throats, like a chant.
"Law Six," Pebble intoned. "If you find a mushroom bigger than your head, share it.
7. Don't climb the willow on the east ridge. She doesn't like it.
8. No snitching to outsiders. The Hollow hates tattletales.
9. If your dreams get weird, that's the forest teaching. Write them down.
10. Water before smoke. Always.
11. If a raven lands on your shoulder, you owe it three seeds.
12. Don't whistle after sunset. If you persist, the fog will whistle back, and something bad will happen.
13. If two people argue, settle it by who can float longer in the creek.
14. Don't waste good ash. Ash feeds roots.
15. Don't step on moss without saying sorry.
16. Pipe smoke must always be shared three ways. One for you, one for the Hollow, one for whoever needs it.
17. No fighting in the bathhouse. Steam is sacred.
18. If you hear drumming at night and you didn't start it, join in.
19. Don't carve faces into trees without permission. Some already have faces.
20. Respect the silence hour. The Hollow needs naps too.
21. Never leave a bowl empty, fill it with water, rice, or air if nothing else.
22. If you cry, let the tears fall to soil. The Hollow recycles grief.
23. Don't count stars out loud. The sky doesn't like being tallied.
24. Every seventh day, somebody tells a story. Truth optional, vibe mandatory.
25. If a child paints your face, wear it until the fog washes it off.
26. Always greet Ol' Barkface. Even if he's cranky.
27. Don't laugh at the moss-beetles. They take themselves seriously.
28. If you hear your name whispered in the fog, answer politely.
29. Trade fair. Even if it's one pebble for a secret.
30. No throwing rocks at crows. They'll remember your face.
31. If you get lost in mist, sit still. The Hollow finds you.
32. Don't lie about love. The Hollow gets offended.
33. If you dance, dance like roots are watching.
34. Food offerings go to the creek first. Fish gotta eat too.
35. Don't shout in the fog. It echoes feelings, not words.
36. If a stranger enters, offer them smoke before questions.
37. No sharpening blades during circle hour. Bad energy.
38. If you hear laughter in the trees, laugh back.
39. Don't hoard moss. There's always enough.
40. Never leave someone to eat alone.
41. If you bleed, mark the soil with a touch. The Hollow drinks deep.
42. Don't judge a frog by its croak. Some are enlightened.
43. If a leaf lands on you, keep it. That's a gift.
44. Don't ignore dew at dawn. That's the Hollow's kiss.
45. Never spit toward the east. That's where the fog rises.
46. If your fire won't light, it's not fire-time. Wait.
47. Always listen to the first bird in the morning. That's the day's messenger.
48. Don't mock someone else's dream. Dreams are contracts here.
49. If you feel watched, wave. It's polite.
"Law Fifty. Above all… float."
She lowered the stone. Silence followed. Heavy, fog-soaked, alive.
Tenga pinched the bridge of his nose.
By the time Pebble reached Law Fifteen. "Don't step on moss without saying sorry" a few Chinoike children had started giggling. One boy whispered, "Is she serious?" only to be hushed by his mother.
Reika finally spoke, her voice edged with irritation.
"These… laws. Do you expect my clan to follow them?"
Pebble didn't look at her. She kept her eyes on the stone.
"The Hollow expects it."
Zassō blew a ring of smoke that curled into the air.
"Look, think of 'em less like orders, more like… guidelines for chill living. You don't follow, fog might prank you. Nothing fatal. Usually."
Hana blinked slowly.
"What kind of prank?"
Zassō leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"Last guy who didn't know Law Twelve, whistling after sunset, ended up stuck in a tree for One hour. Upside-down. Pants missing."
Several Chinoike children muffled their chuckles, despite their parents' sharp looks.
One warriors crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. Others tilted their heads, considering. The children were paying more attention than anyone.
Reika. "We will not abandon our code. But… we will respect yours. So long as it does not endanger survival."
Pebble bowed her head, stone pressed to forehead.
"The Hollow accepts this."