Naruto: Akira’s Story

"So, house number 64 - this should be it." I squinted, spotting a small sign that read: "Printing House."

"Hello, young man, can I help you with something?" asked an old man, sitting at a table with a cup of tea in his hands. I glanced around and saw a massive iron machine, about the size of my bathroom.

"Yes, the bookstore told me you might be able to help me publish my book."

"A book?" His ears perked up with interest, and he stood up right away.

"Yes, 140 pages, standard format. I need it turned into a proper book, with a cover."

"Hm, well, it's not like I haven't done this before, but what kind of print run are we talking about?"

"For starters, five thousand copies."

"Five thousand?!" The old man nearly fell over in shock.

"Is that too much?" I asked, a bit worried. From what I'd gathered, there were only two places in Konoha that could print copies of manuscripts, and the one specializing in books was in another city, six days away. Honestly, I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that they had printing presses but no typewriters. Then again, looking at the size of that machine… yeah, I guess no one's in a hurry to develop that field.

"It's not that I can't do it, but it'll take a lot of time, and the price will be high."

"How much, roughly?"

"Let me think. If your book is 140 pages, plus a cover… I could manage about 25 books a day. If I fix up the second press -" he glanced at another huge, dust-covered machine "- then maybe 50 a day. But listen, young man, take some advice from an old-timer. I take it this is your first book, and nobody knows your name. Three hundred copies would be plenty to start with… Rokuro, come explain it to him."

"Something up, Dad?" A bearded man in his thirties walked in, carrying several bags.

"This young man wants… sorry, what's your name?"

"Akira, sir."

"Ahem, I'm Mitseru, and this is my son, Rokuro. Nice to meet you. So, Mr. Akira here wants to print five thousand copies of his book."

"Five thousand?!" The man nearly dropped his bags.

"Yes," I nodded calmly.

"Dad, do we even have the capacity for that?"

"You're missing the point, fool!" the old man shook his head. "Tell this young man why that's a bad idea."

"Ahem, well, I'm sure he knows what he wants." Rokuro scratched his beard with a smile, but seeing his father's narrowed eyes, he straightened up and sighed, "Honestly, when I was younger, I tried to publish a small book of short stories, about five hundred copies, but I only managed to sell maybe two hundred in half a year."

"That's all right. If it doesn't sell, maybe the timing's just not right."

"Hm, you're certainly confident." The old man shook his head. "Still, in a month, we could only get about fifteen hundred books done, if we don't take on any other orders."

"Yeah, that's a problem. I really don't want to leave Konoha again."

The old man stroked the wrinkles on his forehead, thinking.

"One book will cost 180 ryo - and that's only because you're ordering so many. Otherwise, the price would be much higher."

"So, that's 900,000 ryo for the whole batch." Akira scratched his cheek.

"I don't have that kind of money! There's only 230,000 left in the bank, and I'll need another 20 for groceries, plus next month I have to pay my staff… way too risky."

"Mitseru-san, I have a proposal for you. I'm really hoping for a long-term partnership, and since I'm busy opening a restaurant, I won't have much free time to look for clients or stores to buy my books."

"You want us to handle the distribution?" the old man caught on immediately.

"Exactly. That way, we can also sort out the payment for the publishing. Here's my offer: you get 40% of the profit from each book sold. If, for example, you negotiate a price of 500 ryo with a store, your share would be…"

"Two hundred ryo," his son chimed in, listening closely.

"Exactly. Of course, I could pay you upfront for the whole print run, but I need to keep some funds free for the restaurant."

Because of how hard it was to make paper in this world, books were much more expensive than in the 21st century. With so little competition among writers, even a tiny fifty-page book could cost 200-300 ryo, which was about 10 dollars. That meant I'd have to sell my books for at least 600 ryo - a hefty sum, but a middle-class person earning 7-14 thousand ryo a month could afford it, and they were the main readers anyway.

"So, we'd get at least 20 ryo per book, but it's risky - what if they don't sell?"

"Well, I've got the first three chapters here, that's 45 pages. Why don't you make a quick copy and read them? Then you can tell me if you're interested."

"All right, I'll print a copy for myself and my son, and we'll read them together. Come back tomorrow and we'll give you our answer," the old man said, though it was clear he wasn't exactly thrilled about the deal.

I handed over the folder, shook their hands, and left. My approach wasn't random - I never planned to pay the full amount or even half up front. I knew I couldn't afford it, so I came up with this plan and only brought the first three chapters. Until we signed at least some kind of contract, there was no way I was handing over the whole book. I'm not stupid - copyright law is basically nonexistent here.

If this deal didn't work out, there was another similar place in Konoha, and if they said no, I'd have to buy a horse and ride to Otafuku.

After the meeting, I headed straight to my restaurant.

Ayumi was standing in the middle of the hall, giving out orders, while four girls shouted, "Yes, ma'am!" and got to work: some were sorting ingredients in the kitchen, some were wiping down furniture, and someone was cleaning the display case.

"Good evening, ladies. How's it going?"

"Hello, Akira-san!" (x4) They all stopped what they were doing, came over, and bowed respectfully, like employees greeting their boss.

"Almost everything's ready. Tomorrow, an hour before opening, we'll just need to form the patties and prep the rest of the ingredients," Ayumi said, with the girls nodding in agreement. I'd made the mayonnaise and ketchup myself at home, in a big batch, and let Ayumi take it. It's not that I minded sharing the recipe, but… while my restaurant's still getting started, it'd be stupid to let those sauces slip into other places. Sure, someone might be able to recreate the ketchup, but the mayo? Not likely.

"Great. I just came from the tailor's - I brought your uniforms. Try them on, just in case something's too tight, even though I gave the seamstress your measurements." I handed the bags to the girls, who blushed, thanked me, and hurried off to the staff room to change.

"What do you think, Ayumi-san, will McDonald's be a hit?"

"Mmm," she nodded, "the prices are low, the food's unusual but really tasty, and the kids' play area will win over the parents." She glanced out the window at the small Code Playground with swings and two slides, each two meters high, which you could climb by rope, a wall with wooden grips, or a ladder.

Above the entrance, a sign with the famous restaurant's logo was already up.

"That's good. Let's hope people like it. Otherwise, I'll be bankrupt. Maybe I should go see Tsunade again? No, she'd probably kill me."

"Will you be all right tomorrow?" I asked, not just out of politeness. News in Konoha spreads like wildfire, so the fact that the new restaurant would be giving out free food for the grand opening was basically public knowledge.

It was just a marketing move, nothing more. Sure, we'd be working at a loss tomorrow, but for that kind of publicity, I was willing to take the hit.

"Yes! We'll do our best," she said, clenching her fist.

Just then, the girls came out in their new uniforms. No matter how I felt about yellow, it always got a positive reaction from kids - at least, according to the stats I'd read somewhere. So I absolutely had to include that color in both the interior design and the waitstaff uniforms. [ image ]

The uniform was simple but tasteful: black or gray pants paired with a matching shirt or a polo. And of course, the iconic cap was a must.

"Mmm, you all look fantastic." I nodded approvingly, and the girls squealed with happiness, exchanging a few words among themselves. 

"Just remember, no relationships at work. If you have a boyfriend, don't let him distract you any more than any other customer. If someone flirts with you, politely turn them down. If they get pushy, Ayumi-san will handle it. Don't be rude, but don't tolerate rudeness either. Warn them they can be kicked out. If they don't get it, you know who to call. Any questions?"

"Akira-san, do you have a wife?" one of the girls asked, raising her hand. Judging by the others' looks, it was a group question.

"Any questions about your job?" I asked again. They needed to understand that, while I treated them well, I wasn't about to chat about my personal life or start anything with my employees - that never ends well.

"All right, if not, I won't keep you any longer. I'll come by tomorrow to see how you're doing. Good luck, everyone. Ayumi-san, I'll leave the keys with you."

"Understood," she nodded.

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