The storehouse road narrows into blackness, damp earth underfoot and rotting timber close on both sides. Ahead, a lone silhouette waits by stacked crates, still as a marker stone. The bell tolls again, slow and distant.

The figure shifts, one hand closing around a wrapped packet. A lantern glow leaks through a crack in the crates, revealing a glint of wet seal wax.

At the far edge of the crates, a second shape stirs behind a rain-soaked post, half-hidden from the road. Whoever arranged this exchange wants witnesses split and confused, not a clean handoff. The Takeda trail has led straight to a trap, and the next answer may be written on the courier's seal.

Arimari slips through the dark lane, mud soft underfoot, and closes behind the hooded courier before the man can turn. The naginata rises and falls once, clean and silent.

The courier crumples without a cry, the ledger jolting free as his knees hit the road. Reina is already there, fur bristling, eyes fixed on the fallen bundle.

Arimari catches the ledger before it sinks into the mud. A smear of dark ink stains the binding, and a folded slip peeks from beneath the cord.

At the far end of the lane, the hidden figure shifts once behind a timber post, then stills. Their silhouette leans toward the yard, watching the exchange with sharpened attention.