SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Daily Login Complete.
Daily Bonus: "Fieldwork Focus" (Consumable)
Effect: +10% Training & Trial Efficiency (Duration: 24 hours)
Active Objective: "Complete Kurokawa Trace — Identify Funding Node & Buyer Chain"
Secondary Objective: "Sanctum Mass Training Prep — Deploy Runic Mesh Integration & Community Minutes"
Quest Update: Crew Node Count: 10/10 (Full).
MC Status Check:
Name: Vegito
Race: Full-Blooded Saiyan
Tail: active; Appetite: Colossal
Abilities: Kame Style (Advanced); Advanced Haki Conditioning (Practiced); Gravity Manipulation (Adept); Marine Six Styles (Observer — Familiar)
Inventory: Compasses x2 ("True" gifted), Spices (Bell-mère's delight), Capsule — Gravity Chamber Accessory
Ship Bonding Level: 72/100
Mood: Famished. Investigative. Armored in theatrical charm.
P.O.V.: Vegito
The relay device Misaki had filched from Kurokawa's office hummed on the sanctum table like a guilty insect. Aoi had already set up a cluster of lenses and a bowl of coffee that smelt like deliberate sin. Saki, ledger open and expression neat as a filing cabinet, had spread printed signal logs across a workbench and was looking at them the way a judge reads confessions. The Embrace felt small and vast at once—the sort of paradox that makes ships feel like families and families like conspiracies.
"Signal is layered," Aoi said, fingers stained with runic soot. "They used merchant relays and nested proxies. Whoever paid Kurokawa knows how to make a breadcrumb trail look like a tapestry."
Saki didn't smile. Smiling wastes ink. "We peel one layer at a time," she said. "We do not shout. We document, petition, and—if necessary—expose with minutes. Emiko will want every public interaction notarized."
Emiko was across the room, rolling minutes like scrolls and tasting the paper as if it might tell her a secret. Her voice, when she spoke, was the soft authority of someone who knows which promises can be enforced and which are theater. "We will keep everything public where it matters. We will leave nothing to whispers."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Intelligence Analysis Active — Kurokawa Relay Device.
Effect: Trace initiated. Layered Merchant-Relay Path: Keito Junction → Port: Mihara Relay Hub → Shell Account (Keito Maritime Holdings) — Partial Attribution: 'Matsubara Import' (Financial Node).
Expected Update: +12 hours (Deep Decryption & Financial Linkage)
Hint: Use Saki's auditor privileges to request transaction records; use Nami to watch inbound/outbound ship manifests.
We started slow and careful. Aoi coaxed data out like someone extracting a stubborn tune from metal. The relay's transient uplink had been clever—the sort of thing a broker who feared attention but loved profit likes to use. Kurokawa had funneled initial pings through Keito Junction's merchant band then bounced them through a small relay at Mihara Hub—a transit node common to spice importers and small-time collectors. The money trail, however, was the important part. The transient accounts used to settle Kurokawa's fees reversed into a shell chain leading to "Matsubara Import"—a company with legitimate cargo manifests and illegitimate appetites.
"Private collectors, consortium buyers, someone institutional disguised as charity," Aoi muttered, rubbing runes into the device like ointment. "This isn't a single greedy person. It's a market."
Saki's pen stabbed an entry in her ledger. "Matsubara has ties to a larger holding in Keito City—we'll call them the Sakai Group until we have better names. They buy rare artifacts, field devices, and anything labeled 'proprietary.' If stabilizers become private property, you're looking at market capture and a privatized triage line. We cannot let towns be sold a safety net that becomes a tollbooth."
The sanctum felt the weight of that sentence in the way the hull feels the step of a heavy foot. There were two unsettling truths: first, buyers with deep pockets will try to privatize anything useful; second, publicity—especially the kind that praises heroes and fails to note conditions—can function as an advertisement.
"Then we keep it noisy on the public side and legally tight on the private," Emiko said, half to herself and half to the room. "Teach, certify, distribute minutes. If anyone offers money to a village in exchange for exclusive access, we blow it up publicly and litigate via minutes. Make it painful for them to apply pressure."
Aoi looked up, espresso burning a tiny halo around her mouth. "I can graft runic mesh to the stabilizers so they can resist transponder bonding automatically and report attempts only to sealed, auditor-locked channels."
"We pair Aoi's grafts with Misaki's mechanical catches shipwide," Misaki added, having crept over with a tray of rivets and the kind of grin that means trouble married to talent. "And train villagers to spot the difference between a friendly hand and a market hand."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Upgrade Module — "Runic Mesh — Fieldwide Deployment"
Effect: +15% Anti-Sabotage Resilience when paired with mechanical catches (Pending resource allocation).
Hint: Deploy to Hamlet stabilizers first; mass training will reduce adoption risk.
We steeled ourselves with stew—Bell-mère's aromatic, ungentle bribe to resolve—and then set the Embrace's course for Keito Junction proper. The story so far had rung like a small bell: Kurokawa had snuck, we'd caught his slip, and now the map hinted at bigger rooms full of people who priced dignity and called it investment.
Keito Junction smelled of citrus and paper and the faintest ghost of perfume meant to cover conscience. Merchant stalls stacked crates of salted fish; brokers winked in alleys. Ports are marketplaces where both cargo and patience are sold cheap. Nami handled the approach like an old lover: careful hands, fewer words. Her charts folded and refolded until they were more map than paper.
"This is where the relay crossed a merchant line two nights ago," she said, voice a small compass. "Watch manifests. If a shell company moves goods, it will leave patterns."
We moved like librarians at the edge of a noisy room: quiet, patient, and very ready to read footnotes. Saki filed a polite notice of inquiry with local port authorities—leveraging her auditor weight and the little moniker of authority she'd built—and Emiko organized an "Open Office" day in the market: public minutes would be taken there, visible to everyone, ensuring anyone trying to bribe a villager would face an audience and an auditor-backed record.
That public visibility helped on two fronts: it made Kurokawa's men think twice about unsavory approaches, and it gave us a point of leverage if the buyer tried to move through intermediaries. The Embrace crew split: Aoi and Misaki worked to provision runic meshes for a fast graft; Saki, Emiko, and I watched the port manifests while Nami lined up safe routes out of town in case the heat turned.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Public Outreach — "Keito Open Office" (Emiko & Saki).
Effect: Local Transparency +12%; Short-term Buyer Hesitation: +8%
Tip: Use public minutes to record approach attempts. Auditors' presence increases legal friction for buyers.
The first move came in the form of civility. A man arrived at the open office with too-white teeth and a watch that cost more than an honest fisher's boat. He introduced himself as Mr. Hori of Matsubara Import—pleasant, cultured, and the sort of person who looked practiced at doing good with a ledger in one hand and an appetite in the other.
"I understand you have an impressive device," he said, voice the calm of someone hoping his calm would carry the day. "Our clients are very interested in technologies that stabilize field medicine. We are philanthropists in many ports. Perhaps a private contract could expedite distribution."
Emiko folded minutes like a careful pastry. "We do not sell stabilization tech," she replied, even-voiced. "We train and we make field kits accessible. We will not bargain away village sovereignty."
Mr. Hori smiled in a way that had been polished by consultation. "Of course," he said. "We propose something different: a sponsored maintenance program. Matsubara would fund training and supply in exchange for a reserve of devices for emergency distribution—operated by independent trustees, of course. Think of it as sponsorship that ensures coverage in remote areas."
The idea smelled like a perfume that tries to cover musk. Subtle, expensive, and with a base note of control. Saki tilted her head and made a notation in the ledger that had a small, sharp edge.
"Independent trustees can be named in minutes," she said calmly. "We would insist any such agreement be public, audited by both parties, and subject to village ratification. We will also include a clause prohibiting reselling to third parties."
Mr. Hori's eyes flicked to the ledger like someone seeing a map of consequences. "We are used to private agreements," he said softly. "Discretion is valued in our world."
Emiko's hand rested on the minutes like an anchor. "Discretion ends where exploitation begins," she said. "If you want to help, do so openly. You may propose terms to our auditor in writing. We will consider proposals that explicitly protect village sovereignty and allow for public scrutiny."
He hesitated—just long enough to look like a man doing moral arithmetic. Then he left a card and a promise to put an offer in writing. When he walked away, the air felt like a room that had been locked and left with a note.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Buyer Interaction Logged — Matsubara Representative Contacted Emiko (Keito).
Result: Proposal Pending: "Sponsored Maintenance Program" — Terms: TBD (Written Offer Expected: 48 hours).
Effect: Buyer Awareness: Elevated. Caution: Their approach may be genuine, but legal framing likely includes clauses for control.
We expected the letter, which meant the threat was procedural instead of immediate. But procedure can weaponize itself with money. If Matsubara's proposal was sound—public, audited, and village-nominated—it might be a partial gain. If it came with backdoors and "reserve" clauses, it would be a privatization shell game. Saki prepared a recommended response: insist on auditor-led trustee appointment, require all financial flows be recorded in public minutes, and demand villagers' explicit vote. Emiko added a clause that any conditional funding would be held in escrow until villages completed a certified maintenance course held by the Embrace sanctum.
"Put conditions on charity," Saki said. "Make it work like a contract not a favor."
We did the sensible thing: we invited Mr. Hori to the Embrace sanctum for a demonstration under public minutes and audit supervision. It is curious how men who prefer "discretion" will, in practice, accept public ceremonies if the terms flatter their vanity. The sanctum showed the stabilized mock patient, Aoi explained runic mesh limitations, and Misaki showed a mechanical catch without revealing blueprints. Saki sat with an open ledger. Emiko recorded the minutes aloud.
Mr. Hori watched and took notes—sober, respectful, and increasingly committed to the idea of a controlled partnership. "Our clients value reliability," he said after the demo. "If you can assure protection and transparency, we could supply a significant number of kits."
"Assurance is not a promise made behind closed doors," Emiko replied. "We will sign an agreement only if trustee names are pre-approved by the village and if any reserve devices for 'emergencies' are held under an auditor-locked means that cannot be moved without a public vote."
He swallowed. "That is... thorough."
"It must be," Saki said. "Because otherwise the poor trade their agency for the appearance of care."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Negotiation — Matsubara Offer Moderated.
Effect: Buyer Proposal Constrained: escrow + public trustee clause added as precondition.
Result: Matsubara will send formal contract. Request: 48-hour review window (Saki & Emiko).
As Hori left, a sliver of tension eased. But the trace we had started continued to whisper. Aoi and Saki's layered decryption returned with a fresh bit of clarity: Matsubara's shells were indeed linked upward—to the Sakai Group, headquartered in Keito City. Transfers were routed through legitimate manifests, but hidden in a pattern of "supply-chain credits" that could be converted into exclusive access for particular buyers. The pattern suggested a feasible pathway for privatization: sponsor small hamlets with visible aid, then require "exclusive maintenance rights" as part of follow-up contracts.
"You fund need," Aoi said, tapping at a trace that had the satisfied smirk of someone who had found the source of a riddle. "They create dependency by funding maintenance, then they charge to maintain."
"Classic," Saki said. "We'll make the condition that any funding be time-limited and that transferability clauses be barred. We will also publicize the ledger. The more light, the less profit."
But money can buy lawyers and influence, and influence likes dark rooms. The Sakai Group might be willing to play public games if their actual buyers—collectors, private hospitals, or military contractors—get a route through shell companies. We had to assume they would escalate.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Trace Update — Partial Attribution: Sakai Group (Keito City) — Buyer Network: Matsubara Import (Front). Risk Assessment: Medium-High.
Recommendation: Prepare sanctum mass training; deploy runic mesh to field stabilizers; secure Emiko's public minutes as legal leverage; plan follow-up trace to Keito City financial node.
We increased our defense in two ways. First, we accelerated Aoi and Misaki's implementation: they grafted runic mesh and mechanical catches into the stabilizer that had been on Hamlet #4 and prepared a deployment kit for the next field device. That cost materials and a long night of grinding—Aoi muttering to metal like a prayer, Misaki singing to rivets—but the stabilizer's outer sheath came away feeling stronger, less like bait and more like a creature with teeth.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Implementation — Runic Mesh Integration (Stabilizer #4).
Result: Stabilizer Anti-Sabotage Resilience +15% (v1.2 deployed).
Effect: Field Tamper Hardness increased; Reporting Channel: Auditor-Only (Saki).
Second, Emiko organized a sanctum mass training schedule to roll through several hamlets quickly: open-days, course certificates, and community minutes ready to notarize any offer or donation. Public minutes would function as legal documents if the buyer tried to claim proprietary rights later. Nami and Saki ran intercept protocols: Nami mapping shipment patterns to spot unusual "reserve" device movements; Saki drafting clauses that would trigger audit reviews and public votes.
We scheduled a mass training that would fold Hamlet #2, #3, and #4 into two weeks of workshops. The plan excited the crew: Aoi loved applying runic patterns at scale; Reiju liked calibrating training modules to minimize injury and maximize comprehension; Bell-mère enjoyed thinking about feeding a hundred hungry learners.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Mass Training — "Sanctum Outreach Series" Scheduled.
Effect: Community Minutes Template Ready; Training Efficiency +10% (with "Fieldwork Focus" consumed).
Hint: Emiko's presence increases public trust; pair her minutes with Saki's auditor stamp for legal weight.
But Sakai would not necessarily wait politely. The Sakai Group's representative—someone with more gold in his cuff than moral acuity—arrived at Keito Junction the evening before our mass training began. He was a slow-blooming sort of menace, the type who uses manners like a net. He introduced himself as Mr. Daigo Matsudaira and carried not one card but a bound set of proposals. He asked for an audience with me, in private.
"I would prefer the conversation recorded," Saki said before I could answer. Her voice had that ledger quality that meant: get an agreement or get no silence.
Daigo smiled like a man who believed everyone would be generous with silence if it paid. "We can be flexible," he said. "But private negotiations save the world the spectacle. That spectacle tends to make donors skittish."
"Public truth is a policy here," Emiko replied, hands folded. "If you represent the Sakai Group, bring your proposal before the minutes. If not, your words are smoke."
He inhaled and then laughed—soft, cultured, and bored. "You are principled, and that is a kind of charm. I will say this plainly: our clients are large institutions that may wish to purchase devices for deployment across networks. We are willing to fund mass training in exchange for guaranteed supply. We respect sovereignty. We only ask for a preferred procurement channel."
The phrase "preferred procurement channel" is subtext for "we want you to cut us exactly the slimmest, most profitable slice of the pie." It is the polite way to propose market capture. I felt something like a bad stew in my stomach.
"We have a better offer," I said, because sometimes blunt is the only sort of sword that cuts. "You sponsor training, you fund kits, and you allow the villages to vote on any procurer. No exclusive deals. Period."
"That is... impractical," he said, puzzled as if morality were a color blockage he couldn't wash away. "Efficiency requires certain legal frameworks."
"Then go buy efficiency," I said. "But not at the price of people's rights."
He regarded me like someone assessing a garden for weeds. "You are an admirable captain," he said finally. "You will have an answer soon."
He left with the sort of smile that promised opulence and return. We watched him go, and I felt the crew tighten like ropes in a storm. The game was obvious: buy goodwill, then privatize access through layers. The law, minutes, and Aoi's runes would slow them—but money is patient.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: High-Level Buyer Contact — Sakai Group (Keito: Matsudaira Representative).
Effect: Buyer Offer Logged: "Preferred Procurement Channel" — Rejected Publicly.
Caveat: Expect legal maneuvers, PR campaigns, and intermediaries. Recommend: escalate trace to Keito City node; prepare public minutes repository & escrow protocols.
We did not sleep much that night. Reiju pored over clauses; Saki drafted audit triggers; Emiko organized cert forms. Aoi ground runes by lantern light. Misaki revised mechanical catches to trip on non-authorized implants. Bell-mère shelled out midnight stew, which I ate like sacrament and then used as bargaining tool to coax exhausted brains into stubborn clarity.
At dawn I stood on the foredeck with Reiju and watched Keito Junction fold itself into its daily commerce. Fishermen, merchants, and small-time collectors moved like a chorus. Nami traced out a map for a run she would lead tomorrow with Mitsuki—watching manifests at the port's east gate to intercept any "reserve" crate that might be misdeclared. We had a plan: light in public, heavy in defense, and loud in minutes.
"People sell comfort," Reiju said quietly beside me. "You're trying to buy people the right to keep their comfort."
"I'd like to think I'm stealing destiny back, one stew at a time," I confessed.
She smiled—her small Ha!—and it felt like agreement.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Daily Summary Saved.
Achievements: Kurokawa Relay Partially Traced to Matsubara Import & Sakai Group (Keito). Runic Mesh Deployed to Stabilizer #4. Mass Training Scheduled; Emiko Minutes Template Ready.
Rewards: Bonding Pulse +10 (Collective — Investigation & Public Outreach).
Effect: Ship Bonding Level: +4 (Now 76/100)
Next Objective: Deep trace to Keito City financial node; intercept shipment manifests; conduct Sanctum Outreach Series (Hamlets #2–4) while maintaining audit scrutiny.
Hint: Use Emiko's public minutes and Saki's auditor powers to convert donations into enforceable, public constraints. Aoi & Misaki: prioritize anti-siphon failsafes during mass deployment.
P.O.V.: Vegito
On the way back to the Embrace, the crew clustered like a good chorus. The runes hummed underfoot, pleased to be useful. Misaki adjusted a catch and winked a tool-smeared grin at me. Aoi said something about alloy temper and the poetry of rivets. Saki folded a new line into the ledger with a soft, satisfied sound. Emiko slid me a minute and a cup of tea and then proceeded to admonish me for not approving the terms more precisely. Bell-mère offered another bowl of stew like a quiet embassy.
"We will not let them buy our conscience," Emiko said simply. "We will turn their money into infrastructure, not monopoly."
"Stew as national policy," I said, proud and theatrical. "And runes as embargo."
She laughed—clear and kind—and I felt something like hope warm my ribs. The world had buyers with ledgers and men who thought conscience could be bought with contracts. It also had people who kept minutes, who taught and signed, and who refused to be traded like spices stripped of story.
We had the trace. We had the minutes. We had a ship full of women who would rather teach than be trophies. We would follow the thread to the city if necessary, and we would make every buyer learn that dignity does not come with a receipt.
"Tomorrow we teach a hundred people to fix what was broken," I said, and the crew's little chorus sounded like an army of spoons.
"Ha!" Reiju echoed—small, bright, accurate. The runes blinked like an audience clapping politely.