The moment Kurose Nobumasa stepped into the main hall of Takamine Dojo, he saw Munetaka.
He had only been away from home for a few days, yet the boy already seemed to have grown a little thinner. His once-round face was beginning to show sharper features, and his skin had darkened from training outdoors every day. The weariness beneath his eyes had not completely faded, and when he walked over, both legs were slightly stiff, making his movements less natural than before.
Nobumasa understood at a glance.
The days of horse stance and foundational exercises at Takamine were clearly no pleasure. Even an adult would be sore for days after training that hard, let alone a child just beginning to learn martial arts.
“Dad!”
The instant Munetaka saw him, his eyes lit up. The boy nearly ran over on instinct, but the moment he took a slightly quicker step, his face twisted in pain. By the time he reached his father, his initial joy had quickly turned into a hint of grievance, his lips pressing together as though he wanted to tell him all about how hard the past few days had been.
But just as the words reached his mouth, Munetaka noticed Miyake Takanori standing not far away.
His uncle’s gaze was as stern as ever.
Munetaka hesitated for a moment. The scene from the previous night surfaced in his mind, when Hirakawa Shūji had sat beside his bed, rubbing his swollen, reddened legs while calmly telling him that he had been working in the fields since he was little. He remembered what he had said to Shūji.
I can take it too.
And so, the complaints he had wanted to make were swallowed back down.
Nobumasa saw every one of those subtle changes but did not expose him. He reached out and rubbed his son’s head, feeling a little pained inside while keeping only a gentle expression on his face.
“How is it? Can you still handle things here after a few days?”
Munetaka sniffed softly, then straightened his back a little more.
Seeing his son trying to act tough was both amusing and endearing, but Nobumasa still said, “When you first start training in martial arts, sore legs and an aching back are unavoidable. If you want to learn real skills, you’ll have to go through a little hardship sooner or later.”
He glanced at Hirakawa Shūji nearby before continuing, “Take a look at Shūji. He only joined Takamine recently too, yet isn’t he still training alongside all of you?”
At the mention of Shūji, Munetaka immediately remembered their conversation in the rest area. The last traces of grievance on his face gradually disappeared. He puffed out his chest, and though his voice still carried a child’s tone, it was firmer than it had been a few days ago.
“Dad, I’m fine. I can handle it.”
Nobumasa looked at him for a moment, then laughed.
“Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”
He did not give any grand speech about being a man or a martial artist. Munetaka was still young. What Nobumasa wanted to see was not a child biting down and enduring everything out of pride, but one who knew what he was doing and chose to keep going of his own will.
Nobumasa reminded his son to eat and drink properly, and told him that if he was truly injured, he had to tell someone at the dojo. He absolutely was not to hide an injury just to prove how much pain he could endure. Munetaka obediently nodded, the joy of seeing his father still plain on his face.
Only then did Nobumasa turn to Miyake Takanori.
“Brother, Munetaka’s had to trouble you these past few days. How has he been doing?”
Takanori stood to one side with his arms crossed, his tone as calm as ever, as though he were assessing an ordinary student rather than his own nephew.
“His foundation isn’t bad. At least among the new children this time, he’s not one of the weaker ones.”
He paused, then looked at Munetaka.
“But he was raised at home from a young age, so his body is still soft, and he hasn’t developed enough endurance. It’s nothing strange that he was in so much pain during the first few days that walking became difficult. If he’s willing to stay, then let him keep training. We can talk about everything else after he gets through this stage.”
Munetaka’s face reddened slightly when his uncle called him soft, but this time he did not argue.
Nobumasa did not defend his son either. He knew Takanori was right. The Kurose family’s lifestyle could not be called luxurious, but compared with most children from ordinary families, Munetaka truly had not suffered much hardship growing up.
He smiled and said, “Then I’ll leave him in your hands. Just make sure you don’t actually injure him.”
After saying that, Nobumasa took a small pouch he had prepared from inside his clothing and discreetly handed it over.
Takanori accepted it and weighed it in his hand. He could tell from the weight alone that there was quite a bit inside.
Nobumasa lowered his voice. “This is the equivalent of fifty taels of silver. Consider it my thanks for looking after Munetaka on behalf of the family. He’s still young, and this is his first time living on his own. If anything happens, I hope you’ll keep a closer eye on him. I don’t need you to show him favoritism in training. Just don’t let anyone bully him for no reason.”
Takanori’s normally stern expression softened at once.
He did not pretend to refuse or go through a polite back-and-forth. He simply tucked the pouch into his robe and nodded.
“We’re family. You don’t have to say it—I’d look after him anyway. Now that he’s at Takamine, he has to follow Takamine’s rules while training. But outside of training, I won’t let anyone casually lay a hand on my nephew.”
Nobumasa watched him accept the money so naturally that it seemed he had not needed to think about it at all, and felt a little amused.
This brother-in-law of his was usually rather arrogant and indifferent toward many things. Who would have thought he was so fond of money?
But to Nobumasa, that was not necessarily a flaw.
People who had something they wanted were often easier to deal with than those who revealed no desires at all. As long as the benefits were clear enough, many matters that would normally require going through layers of connections could be simplified.
The thought had barely appeared when Nobumasa immediately connected it to what he had dealt with that morning.
Takashiro Yasumori.
Kikuno.
White sugar.
He had originally intended to use white sugar as an opening gambit, find a way to approach Kikuno first, and then have her pass word to Yasumori. But that had only been a last resort because he had no other route.
Now things were different.
Miyake Takanori was right in front of him.
Takanori was part of the martial world and worked at Takamine, giving him a certain status of his own. More importantly, he obviously had much deeper ties to Takashiro than a minor landowner like Nobumasa ever could.
If Takanori could personally introduce him to Yasumori, why would he need to go through a woman he had never even met?
Besides, once the white sugar business truly got started, the benefits it generated would certainly be substantial. Relying on the Kurose clan alone would be far too weak, but if a martial artist like Takanori could be brought in to share the profits, not only would the road to Takashiro become easier, but matters involving transportation and security would also gain another layer of protection in the future.
Nobumasa thought it through quickly before speaking. “Brother, there’s one more thing I’d like to ask of you.”
Takanori had just received the money, so his mood was clearly not bad.
“What is it?”
Nobumasa looked around. Seeing that this was not a suitable place to speak loudly, he lowered his voice. “Recently, I obtained a method for making something rather special. If it turns into a real business, the profits should be considerable.”
Takanori immediately paid closer attention.
Nobumasa continued, “At first, I planned to find a way to use Takashiro Yasumori to introduce this product into Takashiro’s trade network. But I’m not acquainted with him, and even meeting him once would be difficult. You know more people in Mizuhara than I do. If you could introduce me, things would become much easier.”
He looked Takanori straight in the eye.
“If this succeeds, your share of the profits naturally won’t be small.”
The moment he heard the last sentence, Takanori’s expression changed.
He did not agree right away. Instead, he asked, “What is it that makes you so confident?”
Nobumasa no longer bothered to hide it.
“Sugar.”
Takanori frowned.
“Sugar?”
“Not the kind sold in the markets.”
Nobumasa took a small jar from his luggage. It contained some white sugar he had made for his family, and that morning he had deliberately brought a portion along in case he had the opportunity to use it as a sample.
He removed the lid.
Inside were clean white crystals. Under the light, they were almost entirely free of the murky brown color common to sugar nowadays.
Takanori picked up the jar and examined it for a while.
“This is sugar too?”
“Yeah.”
Nobumasa said, “Refined white sugar. It has a cleaner sweetness, fewer off-flavors, and a completely different color from the kind on the market.”
Though Takanori was a martial artist, he was not someone who lived apart from the secular world. Sugar was already a fairly expensive commodity, and just by looking at the white sugar in front of him, he could tell that if it reached the tables of wealthy families, it would immediately become a rare delicacy.
He used a fingertip to take a little and taste it.
A moment later, Takanori’s eyes turned completely serious.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
“Can you make it in large quantities?”
“As long as I have suitable ingredients and equipment.”
Takanori stared intently at Nobumasa.
“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky one-time result?”
Nobumasa smiled. “If you don’t believe me, I can make it right in front of you.”
Takanori was silent for several moments. He looked again at the jar in his hand, then made his decision quickly.
“Let’s go.”
Nobumasa was slightly surprised.
Takanori had already turned to retrieve his outer robe.
“We’re going to meet Yasumori. If this really works the way you say it does, the longer we wait, the more likely something will go wrong.”
That decisive attitude made Nobumasa even more certain that he had chosen the right path.
The two of them did not delay any further. After Nobumasa said a few words to Munetaka and sent the boy back to the training grounds, Takanori personally led him out of Takamine Dojo.
With someone from Takamine showing him the way, meeting Takashiro Yasumori went far more smoothly than the plan Nobumasa had originally devised.
Before long, the two arrived at a villa belonging to the Takashiro clan’s outer business holdings.
Takashiro Yasumori was over forty that year, with a slightly plump build. He wore silk clothing whose quality was clearly more expensive than what ordinary people could afford. His face was not fierce—in fact, he looked fairly approachable when he smiled—but his eyes were constantly sizing up the person across from him. Nobumasa knew at a glance that he was the sort of man accustomed to calculating his interests.
When he heard that Takanori had brought someone to discuss a business opportunity, Yasumori was not especially enthusiastic at first.
Takanori held a certain position in Takamine, so of course Yasumori had to show him some respect. But to Yasumori, Kurose Nobumasa was merely a stranger. A man who owned a few plots of farmland around Kawase wanted to discuss business with Takashiro. Unless he had something sufficiently special, it truly was not worth much of Yasumori’s time.
That changed when Nobumasa took out the jar of white sugar.
The moment Yasumori saw the clean white crystals inside, his gaze stopped.
He picked up the jar and slowly turned it beneath the light before using a fingertip to place a little in his mouth.
The sweetness melted away quickly.
There was none of the harsh, burnt flavor of dark sugar, nor any distinct smell of impurities. The color and flavor alone were enough for Yasumori to understand what the thing before him meant.
He set the jar down and looked at Nobumasa again. This time, his initial indifference had vanished completely.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
“Is the method reliable?”
“It can be repeated.”
Yasumori did not waste time asking meaningless questions. He immediately had someone prepare a testing area and the necessary ingredients, then invited Nobumasa to prove it directly.
Nobumasa did not refuse.
In the villa’s kitchen, he selected suitable sugar water from the available ingredients, pointed out what else was needed, and began working right in front of Yasumori and Takanori.
He boiled the sugar water down to the proper concentration, then poured it into a ceramic vessel shaped almost like a funnel. Once crystallization began, Nobumasa covered the top with a mixture of soil he had prepared beforehand, allowing the liquid to seep down slowly. Thanks to the soil’s absorbent properties, the color and some of the impurities were gradually drawn away, while the sugar below slowly grew brighter.
The process could not be completed in the blink of an eye, but Nobumasa had prepared samples from different stages for comparison. When the final crystals were removed, their clean white color appeared clearly before the two men’s eyes.
Yasumori took a little, examined it closely, and tasted it again.
This time, he had no doubts left.
“Good.”
He set down the sugar, his tone turning decisive as well.
“This can be done.”
Nobumasa said nothing and simply waited for him to finish calculating.
Yasumori was clearly not the sort of man who only knew how to chase small gains in front of him. After the initial excitement, he quickly thought of the more important issue.
A type of sugar whiter, cleaner, and more attractive than anything currently circulating could be sold to wealthy families at a completely different price. Once word of it spread, demand would certainly increase even further.
But the greater the profits, the more people would want to force their way in.
To turn this product into a long-term business, technique alone was not enough. They needed ingredients, producers, storage facilities, transportation routes, merchants to distribute it, connections with the authorities, and enough strength to keep others from simply taking it for themselves.
Those were precisely the things Takashiro possessed.
Yasumori sat down, thought for a while, then looked at the two men before him.
“This shouldn’t be done on a small scale.”
Takanori said nothing, while Nobumasa merely asked, “What do you mean, Manager?”
Yasumori raised three fingers.
“The three of us will do it together.”
He looked at Nobumasa first and slowly explained, “The largest share belongs to Takashiro. If you want to turn a secret technique into a business of sufficient scale, you can’t just set up a few pots and sell around Kawase. The ingredients, transportation routes, buyers, connections in various places, and any trouble that may arise all require the clan’s people to handle.”
Nobumasa had anticipated this, so he did not object.
Yasumori turned to Takanori.
“The second share belongs to you. The production site will need guards, and the shipments will need protection as well. If anyone wants to use underhanded methods to force their way in, we’ll need a martial artist strong enough to stand up to them. You’ll be responsible for that part.”
At that, the corners of Takanori’s mouth had already begun to curl into a smile.
Only then did Yasumori look at Nobumasa.
“And you’ll provide the method.”
He paused briefly before speaking bluntly. “I’ll give you ten percent of the profits.”
Ten percent.
Nobumasa did not answer immediately.
If he looked only at the number, it truly was not much. The technique was in his hands, yet in the end he would receive only a tenth of the profits. At first glance, it was easy to feel that he was getting the short end of the deal.
But Nobumasa did not calculate it that way.
If he did everything himself, how much could the Kurose clan produce?
A few dozen catties a month? A few hundred?
And who would they sell it to?
If a major merchant realized how profitable it was, what could the Kurose clan use to protect the formula? If another power tried to force him to sell it, how many people and how much money would he need to spend defending it?
Those problems alone were enough to turn a business that seemed destined to make a fortune into a disaster.
Takashiro was different.
Once the business was placed under the name of Takashiro’s interests, anyone who wanted to interfere would no longer be targeting merely a small clan in Kawase. The buyers, ingredients, workers, transportation, and most of the troubles from outside would no longer need to be shouldered by Nobumasa himself.
Ten percent of a business large enough could very well be more than the total profit the Kurose clan might earn by secretly operating on a small scale.
More important than the money, this would also create a bond of mutual interest between the Kurose clan and Takashiro.
At present, the Kurose clan was still very small. Nobumasa possessed the Thousand-Leaf Family Hall and had touched the gates of cultivation, but none of that could immediately be converted into status in the secular world. If he wanted the clan to develop over the long term, he could not simply bow his head over the fields and wait until he became strong enough before beginning to build relationships with the outside world.
Some paths had to be opened now.
Some relationships had to be forged while both sides still had benefits to offer each other.
After finishing his calculations, Nobumasa had already made his decision.
He looked at Yasumori and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll take ten percent of the profits.”
Yasumori narrowed his eyes slightly, as though confirming that Nobumasa truly had no intention of bargaining.
Nobumasa only smiled. “Takashiro is providing the people, the business network, and protection from outside trouble. Brother Takanori is handling the force. I’m only providing the method, yet I’ll still be able to sit back and receive a share of the profits over the long term. I have no complaints about this arrangement.”
At that, the smile on Yasumori’s face finally became a little more genuine.
“Good.”
He placed a hand on the table.
“Then this is how we’ll do it.”
Nobumasa nodded as well.
A trip to Takamine that had originally been meant only to see his son for a while had unexpectedly opened an entirely different path from the one he had planned.
White sugar had not yet been produced on a large scale.
The workshop had not even been built.
They had not earned a single coin.
But from the moment the three men sat down and clearly divided the profits, the secret that Nobumasa had once kept hidden in his own home was no longer something meant only for private use.
It had become a business.
And for the first time, the Kurose clan had formed a genuine bond of mutual interest with the Takashiro clan.