Arc 2

Chapter 16

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

Sunagakure ninja schooling operated on a three year standard curriculum for minimum possible graduation as a full-fledged low-ranked ninja, a Genin. Most students enter the academy at age nine, spend three years learning, then take a test at the end of the third year to either graduate or need to spend another year in the academy. 

Of the ninja who graduated and became Genin, they were usually signed on as students for an existing high-rank ninja, a Jonin. The Jonin had the authority and responsibility of being both a team-leader and an educator, something of a holdover from the days of pure apprenticeships from what he understood. It was still a system that worked well enough that no one had bothered changing it yet.

Low rank ninja get both protection and leadership from higher ranked ninja, and eventually come into their own as mid-ranked ninja. One day they might become high ranked ninja too, but usually not. Teaching the next generation was something Jonin had a lot of intangible incentives for, but most practically is that it gave them time to relax a bit and take overall easier missions without needing to justify why.

‘No, sorry lord Kazekage, I can’t do that S-rank mission. I’m teaching kids you see?’

Something like that, Ryoma figured. Either that or a sense of outstanding patriotism, either would work.

He raised a hand as he approached the security in front of the academy gates, an old guard named Chiaomaru, which was a very funny name. Flat brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and an easy-going smile on his half-tanned face. Evidence of a habit of keeping the eyes shadowed but not much else.

“Well I’ll be- Ryoma back again- you’re not here to study more are you?” Chiaomaru asked with a tilt of his head, flashing the hourly security handsign at him. Ryoma flashed it back before shaking his head. 

“Not anymore, Chiao. Lord Kazkage asked me to teach the remedial batch this year.”

The guard let out a little laugh, leaning on his naginata. “No shit? Haha- How’d you get him mad enough for that?”

“I needed some time off to repair my puppets.” Ryoma shrugged. “Room 2N, right?”

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Chiaomaru huffed. “I’ll have to tell Miss Kiku her favorite little fluffball is back.”

“Please don’t.” Ryoma deadpanned, shaking his head with the guard’s laugh as he entered the vaguely hive-shaped building. It was a sort of tall, oblong sphere in shape, as were most of the buildings in Sunagakure. He wasn’t exactly sure why. 

There was a central staircase shaft which led out onto several floors, with each room being a sort of ‘slice’ out of the circular building. It was confusing for a few years but he supposed normal square buildings wouldn’t be fashionable enough.

Many of the buildings were made by compressing a great deal of sand into stone through one jutsu, then using hiding like a mole and similar techniques to hollow the giant boulder out afterwards. In such a method buildings could be erected in less than a day by trained professionals- Ryoma had watched them do it once, it was pretty neat. It lowered the logistical requirements of building a great deal, and turned normally unusable sand into something you could live in to a reasonable extent. 

He made his way through the entrance hall, ignoring the secondary guard under disguise as a lamp, and into the central staircase shaft. Room 2N, second floor, north side. 

The normal academy curriculum took only three years for minimum completion, but there was no condition on entering earlier and staying in the academy for longer than usual. There was a certain degree of expectations and pressure associated with it- a late-teenager in the academy is going to be judged for a reason.

But if a very young child signs up to the academy then studies until the normal graduation date? That’s a bit unusual but not normal ninja are going to feel strongly about one way or another. Ryoma himself had entered the academy pretty much as soon as he could stand up and walk around, and stayed in until he was twelve. 

A four-year old doing his best to train made for some really engaging visual comedy, but no one had tried to stop him. Most importantly it gave him an extra five years to hone himself before graduating as a Genin on schedule, which was still not really enough time to be safe in an all-out ninja war. At a certain point you simply can’t improve anymore without waiting to mature and for your body to properly develop.

Did Ryoma let himself graduate early after realizing that? Absolutely not. He was not going to waste free prep time like that, but his progress still slowed significantly after a certain point. There was a practical limit to how dangerous a toddler could be, even with magic, and turning said toddlers into effective soldiers was a pretty gargantuan task.

Thankfully, he wasn’t teaching actual toddlers, he wasn’t really sure if he could. These kids were only two years younger than him.

He opened the door- cactus wood- and entered the prepared classroom. A small crowd of eyes turned towards him, the mood of the room overall somber and brooding, a bunch of twelve year olds quietly sitting. All of them had little headbands on with the hourglass-symbol of Sunagakure, certified fully graduated Genin.

He stepped over to the central desk, next to the interior wall, and calmly started to lay out a number of scrolls on the surface. 

He probably should’ve practiced this more. “As I’m sure all of you are aware-” He began to speak, clearly and deliberately. “-You are all here because of a combination of circumstance and decision. All of you have passed, and are now fully qualified Genin.” He set the last scroll down before standing up straight and letting his eyes boredly wander over the gathered students.

“But, for whatever reason, the Jonins who volunteered to be teachers this year have all rejected you as students. I won’t get into whatever their decision making was, it could be a lack of talent, a conflict of personality, or even just whim on their part. It doesn’t really matter at this point. This left you all with two options- either self-organize into teams and start taking missions on your own, or attend these supplementary lessons before properly starting your career.”

He shrugged. “As you are all here, I’m going to assume you feel like you could use a bit more practice before heading out on proper missions.”

“Wait!” A boy cried out with brows furrowed and lips pulled down into a scowl. Sandy brown hair, green eyes, and brown mesh poncho. “-You mean we can just start doing missions, even without a Sensei?!”

“In the future, I’d ask that you raise your hand first.” Ryoma tilted his head. “It’s gonna be hard to corral all of you if everyone’s trying to speak at once, and all that.”

The kid gave a little flinch at that. Ryoma nodded. “But to answer your question, yes you can. You have all graduated as Genin, you are fully qualified to organize into teams of four and start taking missions if you want. The reason this is typically not done is because the casualty rate is about twice that of normal.”

There was a tense and nervous quiet at that, so Ryoma continued to elaborate. “With a Jonin sensei, the attrition rate for Genin varys anywhere from twenty-five to forty percent depending on which ninja village you live in and if we’re currently at war or not. Sunagakure prides itself in having a Genin attrition rate of only about twenty percent, Kumo has the highest at around thirty five percent- but that’s just because Kiri has half of their academy students die before actual graduation, so they don’t technically count as Genin.”

He shrugged. “Of course, those are only the public numbers that the villages use to brag and advertise with- the actual numbers are almost certainly different. But all those numbers consistently double or triple without a Jonin sensei present in a team- Suna attrition rates jump from twenty to fifty percent, for example.”

“I count about twenty people in this classroom. With a Jonin, an estimated four of you would be dead before reaching Chunin. Without a Jonin, ten.”

“H-hey hey- that’s not- we can avoid that by playing it safe on our missions though, right?!” Another student simply called out without raising her hand. A girl with black hair and pale blue eyes with a distinctly worried expression on her face. She was wearing a fashionable blue sash that read ‘Frosty!’ on it, which was funny to see in a desert.

“To a certain extent, yes.” Ryoma nodded, raising his hands in an assuring manner. “There’s a number of practices that can be implemented to increase your overall survivability, and if diligently implemented, your chances of survival will shoot up significantly. It’s not perfect, of course, sometimes you’re just going to run into an enemy that you can do nothing except die against- like one of the Sannin or Hanzo or such, but in general prioritizing safety will give consistent returns.”

A student finally raised their hand properly, a boy with bright pink hair and a frustrated scowl on his face. Actually looking at it, the students were definitely skewed towards females. Thirteen girls in this class to seven boys. “Yes, second row.” Ryoma called out. 

“I thought this was going to be lessons to make us strong ninja, what gives huh!?” It sounded like one of those boisterous shonen types, the kind with a chip on their shoulder about getting powerful fast for whatever reason. 

Those types tended to die fast or become very scary, with little in-between.

“It is- do you know what the absolute best way to become a strong ninja is?” Ryoma asked, before pausing and waving a hand. “Actually- question for the whole class here, what do you think the best way to become a strong ninja is.”

“Training every day!”

“Talent!”

“A bloodline limit!”

“Good food!”

“Good teacher!”

“Secret Jutsu!”

A lot of answers shouted out at him all at once, mostly from the boys. The girls seemed to be a quiet majority with a handful of exceptions. He supposed that wasn’t really surprising. He raised a hand and wiggled it in a ‘kinda sorta’ manner. “All of those things are important, yes, but they’re not the most important in my experience.” As little of that as he had. “The most important thing..?”

He let the question linger to build suspense, making sure they leaned in to listen to him. Once the silence had hung around just long enough, he raised a finger and dispelled it. “Staying alive.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“...Isn’t that kinda redundant? Not dying is a good way to not die?” One of the girls in the front row questioned with her head tilted back a bit and a befuddled look on her face. 

“Not quite.” Ryoma shook his head. “It’s simply a matter of time. All of you are Genin, none of you have had more than about five or ten years of consistent training and experience as ninja. This is on top of your still-developing bodies holding you back physically.” He gave a little wave. “The average Chunin? They’re older than you so they have a more developed body, they have more experience in doing missions, and they have more time to train and practice their skills.”

“The fact is, just staying alive is a victory. Every day you stay alive is another day you have to develop and refine as a ninja. You don’t need secret jutsu, or a good teacher, or good food, or anything else like that to become strong. All of those things help, but the most important thing is just staying alive and having more time to practice.”

“B-but, what about the mission, isn’t that more important than our lives?” An orange-haired girl asked this with the kind of innocent conviction that only an indoctrinated child soldier could.

“Sometimes, yes.” Ryoma replied. “A mission itself, inherently, is just a job. It’s good to keep a wider perspective about what any given mission actually accomplishes for the village. If you have a mission to rescue a cat- chances are it’s not worth dying for. If you have a mission to protect the Kazekage, chances are it’s worth dying for.”

Realization was starting to seep into their eyes, but it wasn’t quite there yet. He continued to elaborate his point, raising one hand and then the other to mimic scales. 

“If you sacrifice yourself as a Chunin to complete an A-rank mission, that’s one A-rank mission completed for the village. If you don’t sacrifice yourself as a Chunin, live on to become a Jonin, you can potentially accomplish a dozen more A-rank missions without dying. That’s far more beneficial to the village overall.”

He clapped the back of his hand into the palm of the other. “Ninja are tools- very expensive tools that get more effective over time. Outside of very rare circumstances, so long as you survive the mission, that’s a victory. Replacing any of you is costly and troublesome, so you should prioritize surviving to complete more missions in the future.”

“”“Yes sensei!””” He wasn’t really anticipating a loud response like that, but eh- if they were getting excited about basic statements that was fine by him.

His finger twitched to grab a bit of chalk, partially turning to write on the nice board behind him without actually turning all the way around. “My duty is to turn you all into semi-effective ninja, I intend to do that to the best of my ability. With the general theme of these lessons addressed, we’ll move on to introductions.”

“When I point at you, please respond with your name and intended role. I’ll need to know what kind of missions you intend to specialize in if I’m to teach most effectively. If you don’t know what your intended role is, just say ‘generalist’.”

He turned back around and raised a hand to pat himself on the vest. “Ryoma, Jonin, a member of the Puppet Corps. I specialize in open warfare.”

With that, he pointed at the boy at the top left of the wedge-like seating arrangement. Kids that sit in corners are always broody, and this one looked like no exception. Straight black hair, black eyes, and what looked like red lipstick and fingernails. His outfit wouldn’t look out of place on a high fashion runway, being both ridiculous and too hard to quickly describe.

“I am… Takumi. Assassination…” 

Yeah okay kid. He made a mental note of that and pointed at the next kid in line, skipping a few empty seats. A girl with light pink hair tied up in twin buns and grey eyes, wearing a sort of cropped tan kimono.

She gave two ‘v’ signs with her fingers, a wide energetic smile on her face. “Mao! I’m gonna be a seduction specialist! Ehehe~”

Aren’t you twelve? Bit early for that. He moved to the girl next to her, probably one of her friends. A serious-expressioned girl with dark blue hair tied back in a spiky ponytail and bright yellow eyes. She wore a similar kimono-top as her friend, but in dark red instead. 

“Chikako, sensei. I intend to become a well-rounded ninja.”

He literally told you to just say ‘generalist’ if you didn’t have an answer, did you not listen kid? 

Three introductions in and he was already getting tired. Truly the Kazekage demanded a high price for his temporary leave. His finger moved to the next kid in line.

“Jun- I’m going to be a wind specialist!”

And so on.

He was stuck here for a few more hours at least.

—

A knock on his door brought his attention from the buckets of water he was trying and failing to stand on and towards the door. The knock didn’t break his concentration or anything, he was actually just in the middle of staring at his wet feet with an expression of blank contempt. 

“Coming!” He announced, reaching out a finger to connect to the puppet-eye socketed into the door. After the first time Sasori simply walked through his door and ignored his primitive security measures, Ryoma had started to take his safety into his own hands.

He raised a brow at what he saw at his door- a familiar fan-user in low resolution.

He opened the door without raising his hand, connecting a string to the knob and twisting it open. This allowed him to do cool things like stand completely still as a door opened in front of him. He raised a brow at the person on the other side.

“Mari?” 

She gave an exaggerated gasp at that, raising her puppet-arm to cover her mouth. It was currently covered in a transformation, making it look like a normal arm, but he was on the mission where she lost it so it was hard for him to not know. “Mari? Why’d you say my name like you were surprised to see me, huh?!” The tone was slightly forced, teasing but with a hint of something that wasn’t quite right in the back. 

“Because I am surprised.” He clarified with a deadpan. “Since when do you know where I live?”

“I asked the guys in intel!” She chirped at him. “They also told me how old you were- so you have to call me Mari-nee from now on, gotcha?!”

“So they have betrayed me…” He muttered dramatically, casting his gaze theatrically to the side and raising a clenched fist.

“Pft! Don’t be dramatic! Let me in so we can chat about- the thing!” She waggled her hands at him, making it clear what she was talking about. Ryoma sighed, reaching up to scratch the side of his head before figuring it was best to just roll with the punches here.

“Alright, alright- you’re paying me back for ingredients then, I’m about to have dinner.”

“More rations, no way! We’re going out to eat after we talk, and you’re gonna meet all my- my friend!” She stumbled over the last words, smile dropping and eyes twitching as she corrected herself.

He closed the door, frowning at her with furrowed brows. Her smile wobbled for a few moments, before dropping as her hand came up to rub the prosthetic elbow. “I suppose that made it obvious, huh? Pretty big blunder on my part.”

“I didn’t say anything yet.” Ryoma corrected before nodding. “But yeah- It’s pretty obvious that you’re down about something.”

“I- yeah.” Mari sighed, looking to the floor. “Yeah- my uh… my old Genin teammate died while we were on that mission to Tea Country. Childbirth complications. There wasn’t much anyone could have done, apparently…” Mari quickly raised her hands and shook them in front of herself. “B-but don’t get me wrong, the baby survived! He’s a little cutie! They showed me a picture of him!!

That was a substantially better way to go than his own Genin teammates did. Ryoma nodding slowly, showing his understanding of the situation.  “I see- I’m not sure if I can actually do anything to help here, but if you need me for something within reason, I’m available.”

Mari stared at him for a few moments, before letting out a little scoff of laughter and smirking up at him. “Y-you’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Not really no.”

“Within Reason? What the heck does that even mean huh?” She giggled, shoving his arm with an elbow. 

“Well I’m not about to kill someone to make you feel better, or something.” Ryoma rolled his eyes. “Anything with needles is off limits too- I hate the things.”

That got her laughing, doubling over and hanging off his arm as she giggled and repeated his lines over and over. He let out a little amused huff and waited for her to recover- which she soon did by stopping short.

“Eheheh- he- huh?” She blinked, staring down at the floor. “...Why are your feet wet?” She asked, turning up from his toes and looking at his face in befuddlement. 

He pointed over at the twin buckets of water in his kitchen region.

“Learning to Water-Walk.” He explained simply.

She blinked.

“...Pft… pfweheheh- HAHAHAH~”

The laughter at his expense was a running theme for people in his apartment, it seemed like.

Chapter 17

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

The long and short of what Mari wanted to talk about was related to the decision made about her missing arm. She had been checked out by the medical corps, the arm determined to not be a long term risk to her health, and then given orders about the ‘story’ she’d be maintaining about it. 

Officially, she never lost an arm at all. Unofficially, she visited the medical center deep-labs while missing an arm and came back with one, with an official story about having never lost it. The actual truth was that her arm was actually a puppet-limb that had been replaced before she ever entered the deeplabs. Two layers of deception made truths easier to hide.

Of course, as the ‘inventor’, Ryoma was expected to be read-in on the situation and had to be told what the story was so he could maintain it too, thus her visit and talk. He had already delivered a full technical breakdown scroll to the Puppet Corps, so his part involving this whole thing was already done. The scroll was mostly just the formal outline of the process, as ridiculously simple as it was, followed by a bunch of his old notes about what could be done with puppet-limbs and the expected limitations of such.

The biggest one being the inability to form normal handsigns. You could perform ‘jutsu’ through a puppet-arm just fine, so long as you could channel chakra through it. But handsigns required the chakra to flow through the specific tenketsu of the hand in specific ways, which gave the puppet-limb a twofold problem.

One was that the wooden-hand just wasn’t flexible enough to make most of those shapes, and the other was that there wasn’t any tenketsu in the wood anyways. The only thing that could be done with a puppet-limb was raw manipulation type jutsu, the kind that didn’t need handseals.

Fortunately for Mari, most of her specialty-jutsu were based around swinging a fan covered in Jutsu-Shiki around, not using handseals, so this didn’t actually limit her all that much compared to before. It did mean that she would have to be more reliant on handseal-less fighting styles moving forwards, but that was far better than not having a hand at all.

Besides, plenty of very successful ninja minimize handseals in their fighting styles already, so it was definitely a viable path to take. He had made many considerations for the eventuality of losing a limb in combat, yet another thing to be paranoid about and prepare for. 

He needed to learn a kick-based fighting style, probably, losing a leg was something he could compensate for way easier than losing a han-

“Hey-hey- stop monologuing, we’re almost there!” Mari complained at him with a grin, poking him in the side and pulling him out of his musings about puppetlimbs. He turned a flat eye towards here, then rolled his eyes and huffed amusedly. 

“Why am I meeting your friend again?” He asked, letting his eyes wander through the shaded lower streets of Sunagakure. As with everything else in the city, most of the interior was made of various types of sandstone and kept comfortable through the broad network of canopies.

“Because my friends should be friends!” Mari cheerfully explained, reaching up to poke him in the cheek. “And if I have to go on a mission, you’ll be all alone in your apartment, eating gross food and doing weird things!”

“I’m grown, you know? I can handle myself.” 

“Nope! Only a kid would say something like that!” She denied, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head rapidly. “You’re a little baby and you need this big sister to help you out!” She declared proudly, tapping her chest with a thumb and keeping her eyes closed.

“Uh huh- watch out.” He responded blandly, before pretending to warn her of an upcoming danger. She threw her eyes open in an instant, feet jittering as she looked for anything that could have tripped her.

Ryoma walked past her on the completely clear street. 

She growled as she sped up and returned to his side, prodding him in the arm a few times to express her displeasure. “Hey hey, it’s not nice to trick a lady like that you know?”

“Oh, that’s a good point.” He nodded. “Please warn me when you see a lady approaching.”

He had a good chuckle as she playfully seethed at him. This playful anger evaporated as they rounded the corner, Mari tugging on his sleeve and pointing at a little shop/stand thing along the way.

“Oh- that’s it! ‘Frosty!’. They have great ice candy!” She excitedly explained, eyes growing distant with memories of frozen dairy products. She shook it off after a moment. “Nagare-chi should be waiting for us already- she’s always really prompt!”

Now, an astute viewer might realize the seeming incongruity of a frozen sweet restaurant being present in the middle of a desert. The desert is very hot, after all, so wouldn’t something like ice cream be really expensive and commercially nonviable?

This was a false incongruity, because the desert was actually only hot during the day. Dense vegetation like forests acted as thermal insulators and regulators, keeping heat out during the day and trapping heat in during the night. In this way a forest made the surrounding region warmer during winter and cooler during summer.

Deserts, having no such thermal regulation, jumped between extremes. Extremely hot during the day, extremely cold at night, and barely any time where the temperature was ‘mild’. As a result, with clever building-design and a few primitive systems of cooling, it was incredibly easy to make frozen or chilled sweets in an extreme desert. Provided that you had the ingredients necessary, of course. 

Frozen treats were probably the most common and cheapest sweet thing around in Suna, having something cold to munch on during a hot day was simply nice, after all. 

Ryoma usually never bothered buying any. The name was vaguely familiar- maybe he saw advertising for the place somewhere. 

“Oh! There she is!” Mari exclaimed, dragging him over and quickly approaching one of the outer patio tables, practically throwing herself forwards and tackling a woman in a full-body hug. Ryoma raised his brows as he followed, hands in his pockets and expectations excised. 

The first thing he noticed were the two enormous jugs. Giant well-rounded gourds of treated clay covered a fine protective lacquer and carried with two long leather straps. They had huge red corks on the top with the word ‘Water’ written in bold white kanji. You occasionally saw such gourds for carrying water around, smaller of course, and actually made from dried hardshell gourds instead of carved from wood in imitation of said gourds.

“Nagare! Did you order already?!”

“Mari. I see you are doing well.”

They were usually the budget alternative to metal canteens, the kind he used himself for his daily water needs. The fact that she had special-made gourds of that scale meant that she was probably making something of a fashion statement. 

“Heh- you told me you didn’t like ice candy! What gives with suggesting a place like this, huh?”

“I developed a taste for it.”

Also her tits were massive and it was really difficult to avoid staring at them. It was impolite to stare, of course, but they were each the size of his head at minimum, kept in check with one of those bandage-wrapping bras and loose tan shirt. Frankly unreasonable in scale and shape, something that his pubescent male brain sent constant ‘Emergency! Critical targets ahead!’ reports blaring through his head about. 

“Nice! I knew I’d convert you in time! Hey hey- how’ve you been huh?!”

“I’ve been well, Mari. How have you been?”

He purposefully averted his gaze, pretending to be boredly waiting for introductions as Mari and her friend made their hellos. Someone carrying giant gourds like that around meant they probably needed it for something- a style of jutsu would be his initial bet. Water was pretty scare in a desert, so perhaps she had an affinity for water ninjutsu. 

“I’m doing great- the last mission was awesome and I- OH! I need to introduce you!” Mari finally remembered that he was there, pulling back from her full-body hug and excitedly reaching over to tug on his sleeve and harshly poke at his best. “Nagare! This is Ryoma! He’s my new lil bro, okay?!”

He was very glad for the mask- made his expression really easy to hide. “Not once have I called you ‘Mari-nee’, you know?” He pointed out as he reached out a hand to shake. She stared at it oddly for a few moments, before reaching out her own hand. 

“You totally will! You need a big sister, it’s not healthy to stay cooped up all the time, you know?!” She waggled a finger at him, which he ignored as ‘Nagare’ took his hand and returned the firm shake. Her expression was calm and placid- something that hadn’t changed since the conversation began. Similar to Mari, she had relatively dark skin and blond hair, the two most common shades found in Sunagakure.

The tanlines on her shoulders that trailed down her front indicated that this was from sun-exposure, not all natural hue, which was normal for a place like Suna.

“Ryoma. A pleasure to meet you.” He introduced himself professionally, absolutely not letting his eyes dip lower than her lips. 

“Nagare. Please take care of me.” She returned with her own formal and well-recited greeting, their hands loosening and falling back to their sides.

“Sit down! Sit!” Mari immediately jumped in, shoving him over and pushing him into one of the chairs and taking her own seat immediately after. “If I let you two do this on your own- you’ll just stare at each other and talk about nothing the whole time!”

“I’m sure we have plenty to talk about, two people who just met and know nothing about each other.” Ryoma replied flatly, raising a palm and letting a finger fall out to point at her. “You have unreasonable expectations of chance encounters.”

“You shouldn’t rush things like this, Mari.” Nagare immediately followed with a little incline of her head. “I’m sure we can become adequately acquainted in time.”

Mari grinned, pointing a bouncy finger in both of their faces. “See! See! You’re already teaming up on me instinctively! Your synergy is way too high for you to not be friends!” Then she leaned over at Nagare and raised a hand, mock-whispering to her friend. “You gotta help me out here, Nagare! He doesn’t have any friends at all despite his dangerous playboy attitude!”

“Playboy attitude?!” Ryoma asked, finding himself not-quite offended at that, but definitely surprised. “What’s that supposed to mea-”

“Ah- excuse me- are you ready to order?” A black-haired waitress nervously asked, holding a tray up to her chest and fidgeting about. Ryoma’s mind immediately changed gears to avoid causing trouble for the employees. 

“Ah- pardon me. This is my first time here and I’m unfamiliar with the menu. Is there a list I can look at?” He sat up straight and made sure to make his eyes smile, pulling his replacement straw-hat back to hang off his neck. 

“Ah- no- well yes but-” She seemed distinctly unready to be in this industry. To avoid a complication, Ryoma defaulted to the most polite option. 

“That’s fine then, I’ll just have something of your choice.” He nodded firmly. 

“Eh?” She jumped a little, looking very much like a startled rodent. He was starting to suspect that it was her first day on the job.

“Just pick something off the menu for me, I don’t mind.” He reiterated. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious, whatever it is.” Also please go away and stop looking so terrified around him, you’re making the encounter awkward.

“I- yes! I can do that! An- and you two?!” The waitress had her eyes jump over to the two with him.

“A melon flavored stick for Nagare, and sea-salt for me!” Mari cheerfully spouted off, letting the waitress nod rapidly and flee away from the scary customers, back towards the countertop to recite the orders and disappearing into the back rooms again.

Ryoma sighed in a slightly frustrated manner and turned his gaze away from the staff door and towards the table. “You’d think we’d get to see menus before getting ambushed like that.” He grumbled agitatedly.

Mari was excitedly poking at her friend. “See! See!”

He furrowed his brows- “What are you-”

Mari turned towards him and had a theatrical half-lidded eye and smile combo on her face. “Just pick something out for me… I’m sure it’ll be delicious…” She recited with a deep and breathy tone.

“First of all- I did not sound like that.” Ryoma countered while raising one finger. “That’s a terrible impression of me, and you should feel ashamed of even trying.”

“You totally did!” Mari immediately shot back, which he ignored. 

Raising his second finger, he continued. “Secondly- I panicked because I still have no idea what they actually serve here- there's no menu anywhere.”

“The menu is on the napkins.” Nagare calmly explained, reaching over to grab the little napkin dispenser before turning it around to show him. Sure enough, written in small text and accompanied by little pictures, was a menu of various cold treats served and the flavors they came in, along with little prices. 

He stared at it blankly for a few moments, before leaning back. “How was I supposed to know that?” He could’ve been more observant, he supposed, for some reason his mind just skipped right over the tiny text on the napkins. He had assumed it was an advertisement or something. 

Mari was just openly laughing at him at this point. “Y-you- huehue- you could’ve asked where the menu was! You didn’t need to order right then!”

He threw his hands up. “I- i didn’t want to make anyone wait on me!” He then scanned over the encounter again, before recalling a detail and pointing a dramatic finger back at her. “And secondly! I did! I did ask for a menu and she practically collapsed on me! It’s simply easier ton everyone to just ask ‘chef’s choice’ and move along!”

“You did not ask for the chef’s choice. You asked for her choice.” Nagare pointed out as Mari collapsed into giggles. 

“I feel like the intended meaning of the statement got across perfectly coherently.” He groused good-naturedly, leaning forwards and resting his chin on one fist. 

“What did I tell you!?” Mari snort-laughed, practically hanging off her friend’s arm. “He’s a natural! It’d be a shame to let him die alone and friendless!”

“That’s true.” Ryoma nodded, looking off to the side in pretend contemplation. “I am rather handsome and charming- overly so, in fact. It’s only my incredible humility that keeps me grounded.”

“Pft- yeah right! You were standing in buckets of water when I showed up at your door!” Mari pointed out something entirely unrelated.

He wasn’t really sure how that was supposed to act as a counter for his joke, but he rolled with it. “How else am I supposed to learn water-walking, huh? I’m a Jonin now, I can’t exactly just ask for help anymore.”

“Yes you can! I could’ve taught you!” Mari pointed out immediately, poking at him.

“I have my doubts about your abilities as a teacher.” Ryoma teased with a blank tone. Mari recoiled and wriggled in extreme mock-offense.

“...You don’t know how to water walk?” Nagare asked calmly, brows slightly furrowed. The first hint of an expression he had seen from here. “As a Jonin?”

“I didn’t have time to learn with the War going on.” Ryoma shook his head.

“Nagare- Nagare-” Mari caught her friend’s attention. “He may look like a mysterious and wizened master, but he’s actually a teen prodigy. He’s seven years younger than us!”

“Than you- that would only be six years younger than me.” Nagare immediately corrected with a little shake of her head. “Though- when did you graduate as a Genin, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twelve, same as normal.” Ryoma waved it off. “It’s a lot more impressive than it sounds- I was probably promoted earlier than I should’ve been. My secondary element isn’t nearly as refined as it should be for a Jonin.”

“You’re a puppeteer, dummy!” Mari pointed out. “You guys normally don’t use ninjutsu at all!”

“Just because I’m unconventional doesn’t mean I’m actually strong.” He pointed, eyes glancing to the side and anticipating the waitress walking over with their frozen treats loaded on her tray.

“H-here! One melon, one sea-salt, and a daifuku!”

He smiled politely and nodded. “It looks lovely, thank you.”

“Y-you too!” 

With that the waitress quickly retreated again, allowing him the moment he needed to glance at the menu again and look up the daifuku option. Little chilled rice-pancakes with red bean paste inside served alongside what looked a lot like a banana split sundae.

“This is the second most expensive thing here.” He grumbled, brows furrowed and voice irritable as he took up the offered spoon. “Second-most!” He quietly complained.

“Play~boy.” Mari teased in a sing-song manner. He rolled his eyes at her for it.

“If you are available tomorrow evening, I can offer guidance on water-walking.” Nagare plainly suggested, taking up her own spoon and scooping up a bit of the melon-laden chilled dessert. “You’re correct in suspecting Mari’s abilities as a tutor- she’s horrendous.”

“H-hey!”

“I would like to become a Jonin-sensei myself, perhaps in a year or two, and the practice teaching another would be useful.” Nagare finished by elaborating on her own motives, assuring him that she indeed had something to gain here and thus probably wasn’t trying to pull something sneaky. 

He nodded gratefully back. “Tomorrow evening? If you’re willing to give me some pointers, I’m happy to accept. Do you have a meeting location in mind?” Good that it was evening, he had to head over the the Puppet Corps HQ in the morning to formally request the use of a construction-warehouse for his mk2 Wood Dragoon. No way for it to fit inside his apartment, even in piecemeal. 

“Central North will be fine, If that’s acceptable.”

“Sounds fine by me.”

Frustratingly, the second-most expensive treat on the menu was actually pretty dang tasty, which made it hard to complain about.

Chapter 18

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

The process of making a Bolter was extraordinarily simple- deliberately so. That was the point of Bolters as a puppet-design, after all. 

He started with two blocks of wood from his little stockpile of supplies, a thin sheet of metal, a handful of screws, and a couple metal balls. All of this was carried over to his little work-desk and set down as reached inside his vest and pulled out the mass-storage scroll. It was a reasonably bulky thing, all things considered, but the size to storage capacity of Dharma seals were pretty good overall. 

In a standard sized scroll like this, each seal could seal about as much mass as the Wood Dragoon. In total it had maybe about a hundred seals, divided off into sections and filled with whatever random crap he happened to pick up out in the field. Currently, it was mostly empty, he had already dumped off most of the stuff inside to his various dealers and buyers.

The corpses went to the body-processors, picked clean of any gear and then thoroughly studied. He wasn’t sure what to do with Laughing Smoke’s corpse, so he just dumped it off on them and asked them to keep him abreast of anything they developed from it. In exchange for all the bodies, he got to take his pick of their gear and a small cash reward. 

For the most part, he just took their kunai, shuriken, and senbon before leaving everything else to the professionals. 

The giant shuriken he had grabbed, along with all the other scrap weapons, were dumped off at the logistics and salvage group. Another ongoing internal deal, they’d take in everything you found and refurbish and resharpen it for village use, and in exchange Ryoma was given some already refurbished and resharpened gear to replenish his stockpile of weapons. He got a bit more than normal this time through donating those giant shuriken, which overall gave him enough for another fifty kunai.

That meant Ryoma could maintain a sixteenth Bolter, now that he had the ammo required to keep one armed. He could always spend more money on outright buying said ammo, but that wasn’t smart and he already had more than enough Bolters for most missions. Passively accumulating more was good enough, and more importantly- free.

The tree-halves went to the puppet corps workshops, the processing parts of them. You couldn’t just use wood as-is most of the time, you had to cut it into blocks and dry it out, so it was way easier to just give them the raw material in exchange for a bit of processed material. The ratio wasn’t one to one, they needed to make a slight profit after all, but it was more than good enough for keeping his supplies always-growing. The two blocks he was currently using were more than a year old, after all.

The examples of the Corpse-Clone shiki were handed off to the Fan Corps, who were technically the Jutsu Shiki corps but functionally just fan-users, and to the Sealing Corps. They’d work on reverse-engineering it, and later on he could potentially head over there and ask them for a copy of the technique-scroll they devise from it. Which he’d be automatically cleared to learn, as the benefit for bringing it back to the village in the first place.

A lot of his downtime immediately after a mission was just going from HQ to HQ and dumping things out of his scrolls, usually with small incentives to keep him motivated to do it.

He finished his rough measurements, reaching over to grab his hand-saw and holding the block in place with chakra-strings. Then, layering his handsaw in wind-natured chakra, he brought it down on the wooden block and started a gentle, relaxed sawing motion. Wind chakra liked to ‘cut’, and using it to make your hand tools sharper was tricky but incredibly labor-saving.

It was kinda like… using a butterknife to cut cold butter. Not super-easy, but way easier than using a handsaw to cut a block of treated wood. 

One block was sawed in half, then one half was cut in half again, then into sixes. The end result was twelve rectangular leg-segments of mostly-uniform length and size. They were set aside, along with the saw, as he reached out for the circular-saw. One of the kind used to bore holes, not the kind used to cut long segments. 

The other half of the block was brought over and cut in half again. In between his forefinger and thumb, the circular-saw began to spin and layer itself in yet more wind-chakra. He had to hold it this close- transmitting wind chakra through a string wasn’t something he had figured out yet despite the theoretical simplicity.

Then, the gradual process of cutting ‘bores holes’ into the block of wood again and again. A slightly different angle every time he cut let him slowly carve a perfect orb out of the block. A smaller circular saw was then used to carve the faint impression of an iris. It was then dipped in thinned white paint and set aside to dry. 

The final bit of wood was carved out with a rounded drill of the same size as the eye, then cut into wedge to eventually mount it on the body later. 

The body was formed by sawing off the ‘crust’ of the second wooden block, removing the core, then gluing the outer sections back together save for the cap at the back. The cap was secured via screws, allowing him to remove it and paint the storage seal containing the ammunition on the back. The same seal also shot things out of it, which was nice. 

He’d fill it and cap it as the final steps. First he had to prep the ammo.

The core was then cut into little claw-segments, which used about half the ‘rod’, letting him toss the other half of the rod into the ‘scrap wood’ pile for later use. 

Then was the assembly- cutting the sheet metal into strips and using a clever combination of screws and glue to mount the metal balls in little crummy sheet-metal mountings and put the limbs together. All six of them, complete with shitty little claws, mounted on the side of the main frame. Then the eye was considered sufficiently dry and eye-like to see through, so it was mounted in its own socket and ringed with another strip of thin sheet metal to hold it in place. The wedge that held the eye was then mounted on the bottom of the frame with yet more wood glue and a screw. 

Bolter assembled except for the explosions, which was next.

Thankfully, he had done part of this before he had even begun- an explosive tag detonated and immediately stored within an explosive seal, the tag carefully glued onto the base of the frame.

Explosive Tags were immensely useful, being able to use chakra to generate an explosion, very simple and easy to understand. The issue with them is that they did not remove Chakra as a cost- they simply generated the explosion, usually limited both by how much chakra you use and what the upper limit of any given seal is. Ryoma’s limit was six motes worth of explosion- which produced a boom that he didn’t have the tools to properly measure except ‘decently big’. Any more and the tag just failed- which produced a small fire but not a proper explosion.

Thus- using an Explosive Tag to generate an explosion and sealing that Explosion away for later was an important step. It allowed him to pay the chakra costs of the explosion now and use it later. As a standard, Ryoma used three motes of chakra for the self-destruct, and one mote of chakra for every kunai. 

This was the main reason he didn’t bother to make Bolters any faster than about once a day. Each Bolter could store fifty shots. Ryoma could use twenty eight motes of chakra before hitting his personal pool, and regained three motes per hour. 

Three motes for the self-destruct, twenty five motes for the ammo, then a bit over eight hours before he regained enough chakra to finish preparing all the ammo. It would take a work-day to build a Bolter from scratch no matter how fast building the actual frame was. The limit was ultimately his own chakra reserves and its recovery speed. Making the explosions more powerful was another option- but that would just increase the arming time even more.

If he decided to use poisoned senbon instead, he could churn them out at the speed of his dipping technique, but poison was expensive and he’d like to avoid relying on that to replenish his stocks. He still had about half his Bolters left from last mission- all he really needed to do was get all the ammo ready for them.

And the lone-shuriken Bolter he had was pretty much never useful. Not the right shape to carry poison or an explosive seal, it didn’t have a niche that his other two ammo-types didn’t do better. It was the longest-lasting Bolter in his stock, simply because he never pulled it out for anything.

Chakra partially drained- a set of fifteen explosive kunai created and sat next to the incomplete Bolter, Ryoma pushed up from his chair and performed a series of large stretches. He yawned, walking over to the door to slip his wooden sandals on. From there- out the door and locking it behind him, starting down the stairs in the morning light and heading to his next destination on the agenda.

The Puppet Corps HQ, and his meeting with Captain Gentai.

—

Captain Gentai was overall leader of the Puppet Corps- which in turn was technically a research division with lots of field-testing. Sunagakure ninja forces were divided in many semi-independent corps, each of which was headed by a captain and a vice-captain, who in turn were under the command of the Field Commanders.

The position of Field Commander was temporary, a position that was created and dismissed as the Kazekage saw fit, thus making the Kazekage himself the only permanent superior that the various Corps had. This whole system was set up initially by the First Kazekage as insurance against any of his disgruntled underlings from trying to overthrow him.

Which was ironic, because he died from poison and his bodyguard Shamon took over as the new Kazekage. It was strongly suspected that Shamon was the one who poisoned him for various reasons, but by this point most simply shrugged and moved along. Shamon would go on to restructure and reorient the various corps with the overall goal of increasing the military power of Sunagakure as a whole.

Each of the Corps were given an area of focus and commanded to further their field of study, a nebulous idea of ‘progress’ in aims of producing qualitatively better ninja with each passing year. They were given permission to freely negotiate with the other Corps in order to further their various fields, and pretty much let loose from there.

The internal and external politics of the Corps would eventually start to resemble something like traditional Clans, just without the blood relations. They bickered and power-brokered and acted pretty much like any other clan, save that they also actively recruited new members from the general talent pool of unaffiliated ninja graduates. 

There were a few groups that were explicitly not Corps, like the guys in Intel or the ANBU and so on. Those groups existed to make the core village structure operate smoothly, and to keep all the various Corps both in-line and operating with acceptable efficiency.

Captain Gentai certainly ran the Puppet Corps with acceptable efficiency.

“Jonin Ryoma!” Captain Gentai announced as he entered the office, voice not quite loud enough to be called ‘loud’, but certainly direct and clear. His voice was deep and broad, naturally suited for shouting orders at people. “You are two minutes early- excellent!” Despite the complimentary words- neither the tone nor the expression changed.

Ryoma wasn’t bothered by it- he was familiar enough with the man to know that’s just how the Captain spoke.

A massive man overall, standing six foot five inches and bound in thick-corded muscles, barely contained by his clean and rigorously pressed uniform. The shirt was entirely black, with golden buttons that went all the way down the front and ended in his belt-line. He had a white-leather belt, and black pants that ended in high-rise boots, as opposed to the traditional sandals. This shirt was partially covered by the standard Sunagakure flak vest, and he carried three immense scrolls on his back.

His chin was wide and his jawline strong, with high cheekbones and bushy eyebrows. His black hair was pulled back loosely and held in place with his headband. He was meticulously clean-shaven, and his face naturally settled into a severe scowling expression. 

Most notable was the floral pinkish coat, which provided an amusing contrast with the otherwise very serious looking man. Ryoma raised his brows.

“Captain Gentai- I see you have a new coat?”

“Indeed!” Gentai declared, lips still pulled down into a scowl and eyes still glaring. It was his natural expression. “One of the new recruits recommended that I increase my vibrancy! I purchased it at once!”

Increased his vibrancy… A new recruit told Gentai to ‘lighten up’ then, or something like that. Ryoma gave a little smile and nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. Thank you for meeting me on relatively short notice, Captain.”

“No issue! My schedule was distressingly free during this period!” He announced, before giving a little nod of his own. “What did you need to talk to me about- Jonin Ryoma?!” He had a habit of using the full name and title of anyone he was talking to, which was a little bit irritating from time to time.

Ryoma nodded. “I’d like to formally reserve one of the puppet-construction warehouses for an indeterminate period. My Wood Dragoon was rendered inoperable during my last mission- and it’s long overdue that I begin construction of its replacement-design.”

“Indeterminate? I suppose you’re uncertain of how long construction will take.” Captain Gentai asked before immediately answering himself, raising a hand to his chin and rubbing it in thought. “How much space are you looking to reserve?”

“The entire warehouse.” Ryoma stated at once, a serious look on his face. Not that Gentai could see it through his veil- but he could see the eyes at least. “The mk2 Dragoon is planned to be five meters tall.”

Captain Gentai’s ever-present squint tightened slightly, looking at him for a few moments. “...Do you have schematics available for review, Jonin Ryoma?”

Ryoma nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a scroll. This scroll unsealed an even larger scroll, which was placed on the incredibly clear desk between them and unraveled to reveal the first few broad design plans Ryoma had made. Gentai looked upon the scroll for a few moments, before nodding in acceptance. 

“Reserving the whole of the construction silo is acceptable- but I will have to assign a supervisor to the project to ensure proper use of Corps resources.” 

“That’s acceptable.” Ryoma nodded, rolling up the design-scroll again and putting it back into his carry-scroll. Scrolls in scrolls, the burden of a properly-organized ninja. 

“Projects will have to be moved to other available floors in the other Silos- Silo Three should be the least-reserved at the moment. It will be some time before it is cleared for your usage, however!”

“That’s acceptable, Captain, can you send a message when it's cleared for me to utilize?” 

“Your supervisor will be sent to inform you.” Captain Gentai nodded, before leaning forwards slightly. “Another thing! Honored Elder Chiyo left a message with me to deliver to you upon your next visit to my office! It is of critical importance that you hear it before you leave!”

Ryoma tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing a tad in trepidation. “...Honored Elder Chiyo did?”

“She did! Worry not- the message does not convey negative intent! Are you ready to receive the message?”

“...Yes.” Ryoma replied after a moment.

Captain Gentai gave a great preparatory inhale, holding his breath for a moment, then speaking. “Tell that Ryochin to come over next time- I want a look at him!”

Gentai then leaned back and stared silently at him.

Ryoma reached up to scratch at his neck. “...Was that the whole message, Captain?”

“It was!”

“I see. Thank you for delivering the message, Captain.”

“No issue!”

Another few moments of somewhat awkward silence passed, before Ryoma spoke again. “Is there anything else you need from me, Captain Gentai?”

“Hm…” Captain Gentai considered that for a long few moments, before giving a decisive nod and reaching into his desk-drawer. He handed over a slip of pink paper, which Ryoma took and glanced down at.

[KARAOKE NIGHT! 30% OFF! COMPLIMENTARY SAKE AND DANGO!]

“The monthly Puppet Corps Karaoke Night is coming in a few days! I almost forgot to extend a formal invitation to you.” Captain Gentai nodded firmly and proudly. “I realized why you never showed up- Missing-Nin Sasori of the Red Sands forgot to forward the complimentary invitation onto you! His work always engrossed him too much- he only ever attended when I went over to remind him!”

Ryoma smiled in a distinctly amused fashion, already knowing exactly why Sasori had been so ‘forgetful’ around Captain Gentai. “End of this month, right Captain? Sure, I’ll see about showing up- if my schedule allows it.”

“Excellent!” Captain Gentai cheerfully scowled and glared. “Please inform me if you have such a scheduling conflict- I will do what I can to resolve it!”

Always dependable Gentai. “Is there anything else, Captain Gentai?”

He thought about it for a few moments more, before shaking his head. “No! That is all, Jonin Ryoma!”

“I’ll take my leave then- if you’ll dismiss me.”

“Indeed- DISMISSED!”

Captain Gentai was a memorable character- that was for sure.

Chapter 19

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

Central North was one of the twenty-four primary training grounds Sunagakure maintained for ninja use. They were laid out in a sort of circular grid that radiated out from the village in sets of three for all eight directions of a compass. Far, Central, Near and North, South, East, West, and North-West, North-East, South-West, and South-East. Eight directions, three points, twenty four total training regions.

They were more or less free to be used by any ninja who wanted to use them, a small team of elemental practitioners occasionally coming around to practice their elemental jutsu in putting them back in order after each destructive incident. Not that there was much of anything to fix- each of the training regions could be generously described as ‘diverse desert environments’. 

Central North was the region that was wettest and most temperate, bearing a set of big rocks that provided shade to a slightly damp riverbed flowing between them, and an abundant array of desert scrubs and exceptionally dry looking trees. In the rainiest season- spring- the riverbed would transform from slightly damp clay into very muddy puddles. Barely enough moisture to water the array of tiny life that made the region their home. 

The abundant sun-cover and seasonal wetness provided just enough insulation and water to keep this area ‘bearable’ instead of ‘exhausting open sand and rock’. 

Ryoma had been here three times before, all times as an academy student on a ‘field exercise’ to each of the training grounds. He was pretty sure that was just to familiarize them with the training grounds as things that existed. The standard curriculum was meant to last around three years, and he had stayed in for eight, so a lot of it was just him repeating old content- the teachers waving him off and allowing a great deal of freedom to someone who had already run through their lessons a few times.

Of course- this time was different, because this time he was accompanied by a strange woman who had vague reasons for helping him. He raised his hand as he approached, waving casually to Nagare. She was slightly more covered now, with a sort of baggy tan top and headscarf to keep the sun off her skin. 

Despite the loose outer fabric, her bust could easily be seen straining through. He did his best to focus on her hand as she casually waved back. 

“I wasn’t late, was I?” He called out, dropping his hand as he got within earshot. 

“I suggested a vague time.” She acknowledged with a dip of her head. “I should have been more specific.”

“Ah, sorry about that then.”

“Like I said- the blame lies with me.” She shook her head, before turning to to rocky wedges that overshadowed the riverbed. “I took the time to prepare a shallow to practice upon- are you ready?”

“No time like the present.” He replied, walking in that direction. Nagare hefted her immense jugs, making them bounce slightly, and calmly pulled up into a steady walk next to him. Both sets of jugs.

He was really glad that he trained his peripherals- otherwise he’d be making a complete ass of himself.

As they approached, he could see that the dry riverbed was currently a long muddle puddle, water either added or pulled up by the specialist next to him. Normally this would be a waste- the heat and sun drying out anything in a hundred miles- but the riverbed was well-shrouded in the cool shade of the rocks and it’s far more likely that the water would settle down underground again before drying out. All in all, a fairly optimal place to train water-walking so close to the village. 

The only other options were things like public wells and private property, which he couldn’t use for obvious reasons. 

“I assume you are already familiar with wall and sand walking?” Nagare asked as she steadily bounced next to him.

“I am.” He confirmed, not looking at her.

“Good. As you know, each technique is ultimately a basic elemental exercise.” Nagare began with an affirmative nod. At once he pinned her as a member of the Ninjutsu Corps, because no one else would say that wall walking was an elemental exercise. “Wall Walking is a practice in maintaining a steady flow of chakra to the soles of the feet- the most difficult region for the mind to concentrate chakra within. All that is required of the ninja is a constant flow of chakra in stable amounts, breaking the flow only to move in time with their footsteps.”

She tilted her head a little bit. “Sand Walking builds upon this- now requiring the ninja to not only maintain a constant flow of chakra, but to make that chakra perform an action. The chakra must spread out, take hold of the loose sands, and stabilize them as the ninja steps off. In this way, the practice trains the most basic skills required of all Sand jutsu, and furthers their affinity for Earth.”

That made intuitive sense but he had literally never heard that before, so Ryoma was doubting it was entirely true. “I suppose Water Walking therefore teaches a skill critical for Water jutsu, and furthers the ninja’s affinity for Water?” He asked, slightly dry but not impolitely.

“Correct. There are two techniques required to perform Water release- push and pull.” She raised her hand and raised two fingers at that, coming to a stop next to the muddy water. “You must spread your chakra out and use it to hold the water together. Simultaneously, you must push the water away from yourself. Pull the water together. Push it in a direction. Neither technique is completely sufficient alone.”

She turned to him as she set her jugs down with heavy thuds. “These are the two fundamentals of Water jutsu- Push and Pull. Water Walking will teach both.”

He nodded, mulling over the idea with a finger on his chin. “I suppose that makes sense, I was struggling to maintain a consistent platform in my home.”

“Indeed. Take off your pants.”

 He stopped, and sent a side-eye over towards her. “...Pardon?”

“The water here is muddy, you will fall multiple times during the course of our training together.” She declared confidently, before pointing at his lower half. “Your pants are white- they will get stained by the water. Take them off.”

He glanced down at his baggy white pants- loose and good for temperature regulation. “You know- I think I’m fine if they get stained.” He deadpanned, turning his gaze from the pants and back to her. “It’s just mud, I’ll live.”

She stared at him with a slightly befuddled expression for a few moments, before nodding in acceptance. “Very well- when you are ready to begin, step out into the water. Pull the water together, Push yourself away from it.”

Push and Pull huh? It was probably very different from puppeting the Dragoon through his feet, but he still had quite a bit of practice in gathering chakra around his feet and making things do things through it. He put a sole on the water, spread chakra around, then gradually worked on pulling things together. 

It was hard to describe puppeteering through his feet, because it was kinda hard to describe puppeteering through his fingers. His teachers in the academy had taught that you had to care deeply for your puppets to operate them most effectively, but that didn’t seem all that accurate in his experience.

Something resembling a platform began to form under his foot- only to immediately sink inwards as he applied pressure on it. He frowned and stepped forwards regardless, letting the water get up to his ankles as he tried another platform. Pushing- he needed to push too.

Bolters were made to be disposable, after all, it was hard to care about any particular unit. So the idea that he had to care deeply about his puppets to operate them was probably a training-wheel for kids. A placebo to get them into a particularly focused mindset.

His next foot sank just the same- foot slipping through the water and spraying his legs. Too much push or not enough pull? His brows furrowed as he took another slow step forwards and tried again. 

In his experience- it started a lot like using a video game controller. Or driving a car. Or operating any other machine, really. The strings connected to the various joints and mechanisms of the puppet, and through tugging them in a particular way he could make that puppet perform certain actions. After enough practice it became almost second nature to get a puppet moving in reasonable order, humans were good at using tools after all. 

Another crash through the muddy water, now up to his knees. He made small sounds of disgruntled focus and took another slow step. No point in going back or anything- this was the deepest section of the muddy river. He’d just make laps back and forth while practicing this. 

He knew that’s not what high level puppetry was like- however. High level puppetry let you connect a single string and operate an entire, multi-hundred pound puppet. They could fly around all willy-nilly with ten other puppets, each operated by a single string, which meant the ‘controller’ method wasn’t really how you were supposed to do it either. It took him a good few years to figure out how to get multiple functions in a single string.

Another splash. He huffed, taking another step forwards. 

The trick was one of those mindset things- where the line between the puppet and the puppeteer ceased to exist. Where the line of tool and tool user no longer existed. You no longer think ‘I will use this hammer to drive this nail’, you instead think ‘I will drive this nail’ with the hammer ceasing to be meaningfully different from yourself. The same way a person thought about their hands- things that didn’t really exist except to make things happen around you.

Doing chakra strings at range was a matter of letting out slack on your ‘hands’. As if your hand itself was unwinding at the wrist and extending out, and the moment you thought it was strange or unfamiliar the hand would snap back to your wrist and the string would snap. Something like that. 

He took another muddy splash.

Operating through the feet was different- he was still very bad at it, but the same mindset wasn’t as applicable for whatever reason. Hands were evolved to facilitate that blurring of self and tool, and feet weren’t.

Puppetry through the feet felt a lot less like operating a controller and a lot more like riding a horse. You couldn’t ‘press buttons’ the same way, and a lot of the gesture was generalized and basic. Deliberate prods and pressure to get some thing to move in the way you wanted it to, and even if it moved in kinda the right direction, there were always these little movements and flourishes that you weren’t anticipating.

You had to account for and work with those little deviations as they came up. 

He frowned as his foot went through the water again- a new record for him at two point six seconds.

“Mari did not exaggerate your talent.” Nagare called out from the other side of the bank. Her face and tone was just as calm as before, so it was difficult to tell what she was thinking. It was perhaps the flattest compliment he had ever received. 

He glanced up at her, then back to his mud-soaked pants, then back up to her. “Well don’t praise me yet- I haven’t actually accomplished anything. Praise me too soon and my head will swell with pride- and then I’ll lose my balance.” He joked dryly, taking another slow step in the muddy water. 

“Indeed.” Nagare agreed with faint dryness of her own. “Forgive me for asking, what is your relationship with Mari?”

Another muddy splash. “...Well we went on a mission to Tea Country together.” Ryoma began, slowly trying another step. “And she made fun of me for not having friends, before saying ‘we’re friends now!’.”

He shrugged. “So I guess we’re friends now.” Splash. 

“...And her arm?” Nagare asked with a slightly sharper tone.

He could understand why a friend would be worried about something like that- if she had felt the wood through the Transformation Mari had on it. Ryoma shook his head at once. “Above my clearance. You’ll have to ask Lord Kazekage about it.”

Nagare made a tiny frustrated huff, crossing her arms over her immense chest and leaning back against her massive jugs. “...I understand.” 

A few more minutes of silence passed, as she observed his mud-splashing form quietly. After a few moments, she called out again. “Mari called you friendless. Was she exaggerating?”

Ryoma glanced her way, raising a hand and giving a kinda-sorta gesture. “Eh… I’m on friendly terms with a few people, but I don’t ever speak with them outside of business, so I can’t really call them ‘friends’. A guy at intel, my superior in the puppet corps, the lady at the ration distribution center, and so on. Don’t ask me their names- because the only one I remember is my Captain.”

“...What of your Genin Team?” She asked quietly.

“Died in the war.” He shrugged. “One was taken out three months in- the other eight. My sensei nominated me for the Chunin Exams, pulled me out after the first trial, and a Chunin Vest was slapped in my hands. He died on the next mission.” He took another muddy splash. “I made sure to attend their funerals, proper social protocol and all that, but I can’t honestly say that I knew them well enough to get torn up about it.”

“They were just my teammates, teammates for less than a year at that.”

His eyebrows quirked as his foot stabilized- five seconds now- then fell through the water with another splash. 

“...I see. That is sad.” Nagare stated plainly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Heh- I appreciate the thought and all, but the sympathy is better spent on their families.” Ryoma chuckled, waving it off as he took another step. “Like I said- I didn’t know them well enough to call them ‘friends’, I’m the last person who needs the consolation.”

Another few minutes passed in silence, as he made steady and gradual progress on the art of walking on water. 

“...Mari and I were on the same Genin team, alongside a woman named Karura.” Mari began to suddenly explain. “Eventually, we graduated as Chunin and began to drift apart. To keep in touch, Karura proposed that we have a meal together every time all three of us are in Suna.”

Ryoma, paying close attention, was already starting to suspect where this story was going. He had a good hint from Mari’s words to him yesterday. 

“Karura died recently. I don’t know if Mari told you that or not. Mari has a habit of forgetting important information.” Nagare tilted her head forwards, somewhat apologetically. “For example- She did not tell me that you were to be joining us yesterday.”

“Ugh.” Ryoma let out an uncomfortable groan, raising a hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “So when you see a stranger show up immediately after a friend passes away- I can imagine that being incredibly awkward. Sorry about that. I should have told her I was busy instead, I suppose.”

“No.” Nagare shook her head. “You aren’t to blame- Mari isn’t either, really. I simply wanted to confess my intentions towards you tonight.”

Ryoma nodded. “You wanted to get a read on me without Mari hovering around, I’m guessing.”

“That is correct.”

“Well, no worries. We’re ninja, it would be strange if we weren’t constantly sizing each other up.” He shrugged, before taking another slow and steady step in the water. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He finished, just as politely as she had been previously.

“Thank you.” She returned simply. “...Karura would have liked you.” She declared with a sort of quiet melancholy. 

“...Thank you?” Ryoma began unsurely, before shaking his head and taking another step. “I apologize, I’m not really sure what the proper response to that is.”

“It’s fine.” Nagare shook her head. “Your progress is remarkable, you may have an affinity for Water.” She suggested with a little curious tilt of her head.

Ryoma waved it off. “Ah- no. I already had it tested. My only natural affinity is for Earth. I just have a great deal of practice channeling chakra through my feet.”

“I see.”

“That advice was good- by the way.” He continued with a glance over towards her. “Push and Pull- I was only pushing off the water before. I didn’t know about the other half of it.”

“Good.” She pushed off from where she had been leaning and walked over to him in the middle of the shaded river, standing steadily atop the water. He focused sharply on her feet, trying to see if there was any trick he was missing that could be discerned from her tread. So far, he wasn’t finding anything.

“Here- Shake.” She said, reaching her hands out with palms up.

Ryoma almost took it, before pausing and tilting his head back. He had to crane his neck slightly to look past both the brim of his new straw hat and her jugs. 

“...D-did you just say ‘shake’?” He questioned with furrowed brows and an incredulous tone.

A long moment of silence. 

“...No.” She denied with a blank expression, palms still up and offered to him.

“I think you did.” He continued, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Do you think I’m a dog?”

“I didn’t say ‘shake’, you imagined that.” She replied flatly, somewhat insistently shaking her hands to indicate that he should take hold of them. “Take my hands.”

“I imagined it.” Ryoma repeated blankly.

“Yes. You are wasting time. Take my hands.” She insisted again, immediately after he had finished speaking. 

Ryoma made a note to tell Mari about this later- just to make sure Nagare here would never be able to live it down. He reached up and took hold of her hands.

“Your current issue is movement. The water is constantly flowing under your feet, and you lack the experience to account for that and stepping at the same time. I will act as a support. We will start walking when you can maintain a standing position.” She began authoritatively, using her hands to gently pull him up out of the water.

Like learning how to swim, he supposed, the first time was always a little bit embarrassing. 

After about seven seconds, his feet fell through the water again.

Thankfully- she didn’t comment on his face planting straight into her bust as he fell. Very professional, this water specialist was. 

He was glad he was wearing pants. 

Chapter 20

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

Remedial lessons were a ‘once per week’ affair, meaning that it would be another few days before he had to attend the next one. Karaoke Night was at the end of the month, meaning it would be some time before he had to attend that. Nagare had only agreed to the single lesson to help him get started on Water Walking, meaning that it wasn’t filling out his schedule either. He couldn’t start working on the Mk2, because the workshop space wasn’t cleared for his use and no supervisor had knocked on his door yet. 

Meaning that he had no real excuses to avoid Honored Elder Chiyo’s invitation, which was real dang unfortunate. 

Chiyo had an exceptionally good reputation in Suna. There were a number of reasons for this, but they could all be summarized by simply looking at where she was in the registry.

 Ninja Registration Number 01-002. First Year, Second Ninja. 

Chiyo had been personal friends with Reto, the First Kazekage, and had helped him found Sunagakure. Having been there from the very first year of Suna’s existence, she had a massive amount of influence about the shape Suna would eventually take. There were many rumors that they had actually been lovers, but that was just gossip. 

She would go on to effectively found the Puppet Corps on Shamon, the Second Kazekage’s orders, teaching the basics of puppetry as a combat-art to a handful of students, who in turn taught a handful of students, and so on until the Puppetry Corps came to it’s heights during the Third Ninja War.

That point is recognized as the height because Sasori, greatest puppeteer to ever live, defected shortly after. Sasori, the guy who hung around his apartment and called his puppets trash. Sasori, the guy who revolutionized puppetry in a handful of ways and that Ryoma had shamelessly stolen many ideas from. Sasori of the Red Sands, who once turned an entire battlefield red with blood and then critiqued it as ‘impermanent work’.

Sasori, Chiyo’s beloved grandson. 

Ryoma had never spoken to Chiyo before, he had never even really met her properly before. Most of his puppetry was done in his house, with his own money, with ANBU hanging around keeping an eye on him for being a potential flight risk. His work during the Third Ninja War kept him too busy to sleep many days, let alone have time for chatting with coworkers, it was only a healthy diet of rations and chakra pills that kept him functional enough to keep fighting.

Fun fact. Sunagakure Chakra Pills are made from an energizing, calorie-dense blend of rice, flour, dried vegetables and fruits, seeds, honey, and lab-grade methamphetamine.

Ryoma was glad that chakra made his biology superhuman, to shrug off and filter out accumulated toxins and damages, otherwise he’d probably be a shivering wreck these days. A civilian would probably be ruined by all those pills, but a ninja just had to spend a few days crashed-out to detox before walking it off. Maybe munch on some charcoal to speed up the detoxing process a bit. 

Those detoxing days were some of the few breaks he got during the Third Ninja War- all hands on deck meant every available ninja needed to be in the field and hard at work to secure Suna’s interests, so the only exceptions were for the ones who were currently recovering from injuries. Not so say he was slacking off then either- those windows of recovery time gave him opportunities to repair and rearm his puppets. 

The mission to Tea Country was the longest stretch of relaxation he had got since becoming a Genin, downright peaceful overall. 

A large sandstone gate loomed before him. A gate that opened into an open-air foyer with an artificial looking pond in the center, a natural spring. The foyer was flanked by the ‘arms’ of a larger manor-house with a rounded roof and natural overhangs to keep the desert sun off the white polished walls. The home of the tow Honored Siblings of Suna, Lady Chiyo and her younger brother Elder Ebizo. 

Space wasn’t exactly at a premium in Suna, but it was still a very large building, and implied an intimidating amount of wealth. He reached up to scratch his nose a bit, glancing at the open gates, then to the road behind him, then back to the gates.

Was he supposed to just… walk in? That seemed rude. 

He reached up a hand and rapped his knuckles on the gates, which made dull thumping noises. “Hello?” He called out to the empty foyer. “Ryoma- I was told to arrive?”

Silence. The only sounds came from the bustle of the morning streets behind him, distant enough to fade into the background of his awareness. 

He frowned behind his veil. Well he wasn’t about to just enter without permission. This was beginning to look like one of those comedy skit training segments where he had to triangulate the position of the elders on the inside and then deliver a notice saying that he had arrived, probably without being caught sneaking around their property.

That sounded like the kind of thing that old retired ninja would set up for fun.

So instead, he turned around and sat down in front of the open gate, pulling out his notebook and starting to write. He needed to plan on the next lesson for the remedial students, so he might as well do it now while waiting on the Honored Elders to realize he was here. 

This lasted about half an hour, until a sudden distinct whistling noise reached his ears.

He rolled to the side- a dart passing through the space his neck just occupied and bouncing off the ground. Danger coming from-

His leg was pulled out from under him, sending him sideways and skipping across the ground. There was something on his pants- he cycled chakra as an immediate first response, hand slamming on the stone ground and sticking him fast as he worked out what the hell was attacking him-

He threw his other arm up- deflecting another needle with his armored bracer. The needle had come from directly above- too far and too bright for him to notice before but-

There were dozens of long darts above him, suspended on strings. Actual, physical strings that blended into the sky above. He glanced down to the pulling force on his leg. A fishhook on a wire, pulling him onwards towards-

A slightly annoyed expression came over his face, hidden behind his veil, as he forced himself to relax under the threat of however many very dangerous looking objects were all around him. He let go of his grip on the ground, allowing the fish hook to drag him towards the door and eventually lift him up in the air. His straw hat fell off, and his veil flipped up to block his vision. 

He had a very good belt on, he mused as he hung upside down. 

“Hello Honored Elder Chiyo.” He greeted blindly.

The honored elder Chiyo was a short and wrinkly woman, with pale lavender hair and black eyes. She wore her hair pulled back in a bun, with brands framing her face and a sort of plain headband keeping the sweat out of her eyes. The rest of her clothes were relatively nondescript black robes with a short white mantle.

The last expression he saw from her before his veil blinded him was a suspicious squint. 

“Why is there a scruffy looking mutt outside my door? I don’t give out handouts.” She growled, shaking him around a bit by his leg, hand on a fishing pole with a long spool of wire. “Speak quickly!”

“I was told by Captain Gentai that you wanted to speak with me, Honored Elder Chiyo. I thought it would be rude to simply enter, so I was waiting by the door.”

“I don’t remember anything like that.” She refuted sharply, hefting him further up so as to be eye-level with her. A hand reached out to tug his veil off. “Let me get a look at you.”

Blandly, he stared into her black eyes and wondered if this was dementia at work. Either that or she was just having fun making him stressed, that was a common old lady habit. 

She hummed and grumbled and squinted as she got a closer look at him. “Scruffy indeed… How often do you brush your hair!?”

“Once a day ma’am.”

“And still so fuzzy! Sit!” She declared, flicking the fishing pole in her hands to flip him over and toss him onto the ground. He pulled himself up into a seated position as she reached into her sleeves and pulled out a comb and string. “Hold still!” She barked at him as she walked around, comb immediately starting to pull through his hair. 

His head was dragged back a few times from the force with which she worked. It was somewhat aggravating to be immediately manhandled like this, but the alternative was making one of the most important and dangerous people in Suna potentially mad at him. It was just safer to let her do whatever she wanted.

Eventually, she had finished brushing his hair back in a loose fashion, pulling the back into a ponytail and tying it off. “Hmpf! Walking around with hair in your eyes like that… how do you expect anyone to listen to you, looking like that?” She muttered, walking back around with eyes not quite focused on him. 

He reached a hand up to gently touch at his new high ponytail with a disgruntled expression, before dropping his hand and focusing once more on the old lady. “If you weren’t expec-”

“Stand up!” She barked, kicking at his side. “Don’t sit in the dirt all day! Stand up straight!”

“Alright, alright!” He grumbled, raising a hand to defend himself from her kicks as he rose into a standing position once more. 

“Straight! Stop slouching!” She growled again, fishing rod used to swat at his back until he straightened up. Her face softened slightly as he did, before she shook her head and started walking towards the door of the interior. “...Just like him.” She faintly muttered.

He stood awkwardly in place, debating on whether or not he should just leave while he had a chance. This chance was immediately wasted as she turned back to him and barked another order. “Stop standing around, lazyfeet! Come inside!” 

“You said you weren’t expecting me, though?”

“Just kidding!” She laughed mockingly, throwing her head back to do so. “My mind hasn’t gone yet, brat!”

He was pretty sure that was a lie. Grudgingly he followed behind the senile woman who had been tossing him around for the crime of responding to her invitation. 

The interior was just as expansive and expensive looking as the exterior, if still pretty barebones overall. He was led through until reaching a relatively cozy looking dining space, mats on the ground and a little table in the middle. A warm pot of tea in the middle, with a handful of cups scattered around, and doors leading into other rooms. 

There was another figure inside, which Chiyo practically ignored as she returned to her seat. An old wrinkly man with massive grey eyebrows, which hung off the sides of his head like misplaced mustaches. His head was covered in a tan turban, and his body was covered in the same sort of long plain robes and short mantle. 

The old man and he blinked at each other, before he turned to Chiyo. “Oi, Sister! Who is our guest?” He asked in the sort of scratchy tone that only an old man could manage. 

She sipped her tea calmly, loudly, before setting the cup down and answering. “...A scamp I found at the door.” She answered in a way that provided no actual answers. 

Ryoma restrained the urge to sigh, and instead performed a polite bow. “Jonin Ryoma, Honored Elder Ebizo. I was told by Captain Gentai that Lady Chiyo wished to speak with me.”

Elder Ebizo turned to him, eyes so deeply recessed into his head that they were difficult to make out, blinking before giving a little nod. “Ah. I see. Well come sit down, I’ll pour some tea out for you.” 

“Thank you.” He responded promptly, walking over to settle down into one of the kneeling-mats as the old man flawlessly poured out a cup full of the steaming drink and gently pushed it towards him. 

Ryoma performed another little bow in thanks before taking up the cup, taking a little sip, and complementing the taste. “It’s very good.” He asserted genuinely, despite having no actual opinion on the flavor. 

The old man nodded in gratitude, before sipping his own tea. 

Silently, the three of them sat in a room and quietly drank tea. Well, not silently, Chiyo was sipping as loudly and obnoxiously as possible, but there were no words being exchanged at the moment. 

He got about halfway through his cup before she spoke. “You gave that girl a replacement arm.” She stated calmly, taking another sip before continuing. “One of Arada’s bunch. A puppet arm to replace the one she lost.”

Oh so she was done pretending that she didn’t remember inviting him? He wasn’t sure who ‘Arada’ was, but there was only one person she could be talking about right now. He set his own cup down as he nodded. “I did. A missing arm could potentially compromise the mission, so I fashioned one with my field-tools and left its use to her discretion.”

“Hmp. And how long did it take for you to come up with the idea?”

“I- instantly?” Ryoma responded, slightly confused. “It seems like a very obvious solution to a missing limb. I had it drafted out as a contingency in case I ever lose a limb in the field since… maybe halfway through the academy?”

“Something you picked up from my grandson, I suppose then.” She muttered, taking another sip of her cup. 

His well-prodded pride was finally sufficiently poked to rear its head. “Sasori spent most of his time laughing at my notes and rambling about art.” He pointedly stated, an annoyed expression aimed squarely at his super-elder. “No. I figured most of this out on my own. The only thing he taught me was to stockpile extra rice for moody egomaniacs who show up in my apartment.”

Chiyo glared into his eyes for a few moments, before letting out a little laugh and smirk. “Ho! Took you long enough, scamp. I suppose the pride of a puppeteer was somewhere in you after all.”

“Deliberately annoying people to find the point at which they stop being polite is a bad hobby.”

“I’m old, I’m allowed to be rude.” She waved off. 

“Can I leave yet or is this conversation going anywhere?”

“Bah! Am I not allowed to talk to my grandson’s friend? Many would kill to be in your position, brat!”

“The best part about my visit so far has been the reception of Elder Ebizo, thank you Elder Ebizo.”

“Your welcome, Ryoma-boy.”

“Shut!” Chiyo barked in a rude fashion, before slapping the table towards him. “Now then- tell me about what you’ve been working on recently. You can leave after, if you want.”

Ryoma reached up to scratch at the side of his face, lips pulled down into a little scowl. “Well… my old puppetarmor had been thoroughly ravaged during the last mission, and it was getting pretty tight anyways, so I had to ask Lord Kazekage for time off to build it’s replacement. I also had to ask Captain Gentai for one of the workshops to build the thing- it’s not going to fit in my apartment.”

He let out a slightly stressed sigh. “And he said he’ll send a supervisor over when the space is ready for me- but no one has shown up yet so I can’t exactly start on it. It’s mostly just been a matter of going over my notes a few times over to make sure I have all the plans ready.”

“Mh! Tell me about your old puppetarmor!” She gently demanded, taking a quiet sip of her tea before setting the cup down and letting her brother pour her another serving. 

“The Wood Dragoon? I- I mean it’s a prototype puppetarmor. Hard to describe it as anything less than a learning experience, there’s too many issues with it for me to get into… I’m hoping to address them in the mk2, but it's entirely possible my solutions are going to introduce their own issues- It’s gonna be a good three or five iterations before I have everything hammered out, i think…”

It took a few hours for him to ramble all the way through his thoughts on the mk1, and for him to finally be allowed to leave. 

Overall, the visit was better than he feared, but worse than his hopes. An evaluation that applied to most of life, if he was being honest. 

Chapter 21

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

A sharp knock at this door caught his attention. He looked up from the pot of slowly boiling water and towards the door, reaching out a finger to tap into the sight of the eye mounted upon it. Someone at his door this early in the morning almost certainly meant business. Business or it was Mari showing up to harass him again. 

A short woman he didn’t recognize was at the door, with black hair, blue eyes, and a sort of white uniform on. It was a bit too blurry to make out much else in the pre-sun morning, but he could recognize a flak vest loosely worn and a Suna headband tied around her waist. 

“One moment!” He called out, reaching forwards to turn off the stove and doing a quick check to make sure nothing flammable was near the lingering heat. He’d have to reheat everything, but it was literally just boiling water, no big loss if it cooled off a bit. He hadn’t added the rice yet.

He scratched his neck as he approached the door, reaching out a string to turn the knob and open up the door, looking down at the stranger at his door. 

She was maybe five foot tall, maybe, glaring up at him with a somewhat stern expression. She was wearing the standard issue ‘parade’ uniform of Sunagakure, the one used to show off to civilian clients, being a solid-colored long-sleeved jacket with golden buttons that went from the neck to mid-thigh. The same kind that Captain Gentai wore under his flak vest.

She was short enough that the standard flak vest was more like a cape, hanging down and out to frame her torso. Her legs were bare, leading into tall black boots that paired well with her black gloves. 

His initial impressions told him that she didn’t see active combat too often. “Hello?” He greeted in a questioning manner, rubbing his neck as he did so.

“Jonin Ryoma of the Puppeteer Corps, 40-064?” She asked sharply. 

“That’s me.” He nodded in a casual manner, still waiting for her to get to the point. The only person he was expecting to show up at his doors was the supervisor Gentai was sending over, but it was entirely possible she was here for some other reason.

Her glare tightened slightly, boot-heels clicking together as she snapped into a formal salute. A sort of diagonal gesture with the right arm, hand ending up near the right eye if performed properly. It was the least formal of the formal gestures, the others being bows and kneels. “I am Chunin Yuki Toyoko of the Puppeteer Corps, acting supervisor for your use of construction silo 3. If you will follow me, I will guide you to the location.”

He pressed his lips together beneath the mask, and glanced over at his stovetop. “I was actually just about to make breakfast. I can put on another serving, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes for it.”

She maintained her salute and glare for several long seconds. He raised his brows and maintained his own stare, not exactly feeling intimidated at the current moment. 

“I’m going to go ahead and assume that’s a ‘yes’.” He continued dryly, turning around and walking back towards the stove. He waved a hand in a nonchalant manner. “Go ahead and shut the door behind you- you’ll let all the tepid air out.”

He turned the stove back on, ignoring the stare burning a hole through the side of his head as he brought the water back up to a boil and prepared the rice and sweet potato. He reached down into his pantry and pulled out the second ration serving for the day, going through the motions of opening up the packets and tossing the various bits into their respective recycling containers. 

Upgrading the Mk1 meant he’d have a bunch of metal cans left over now, no longer using them for the Dragoon’s armor paneling. This gave him a bunch of free metal to use as armor for his side-project, already hanging on the same rack that once kept the Wood Dragoon standing.

A much more sleek, form-fitting, and massively simplified variant of the puppet armor concept. Something that would mold around his body like normal armor and be operated with the chakra strings in his feet, mostly made of metal and an extra-durable black jumpsuit. Theoretically speaking, it would be something to increase his overall physical power and durability while not hindering his speed and mobility too much. Something to wear as his ‘daily’ puppetarmor while reserving the Mk2 for the big events.

The biggest practical issue being that all the components had to be in ‘one piece’ for it to be the ‘same puppet’ and for his strings to saturate it correctly. So the helmet and the torso and the limbs all had to be directly connected. Without that, he’d need to use multiple strings to operate it, and if he was sacrificing his hands to control the armor then he might as well just use Bolters like normal. Those would be more practical and safer at that point.

Finally giving up, the woman at his door entered his apartment, a judgemental stare on her face as her eyes wandered over the slightly cramped workshop interior and over towards his kitchen. He ignored it, washing off another potato and rapidly dicing it into easily eaten chunks. 

“...Wearing a white veil over one’s face is an indication of service to the Sunagakure ANBU.” The short woman began with a clipped tone. “Impersonating a member of the Sunagakure ANBU is a severity two offense.” 

He poured a bit of vegetable oil into a pan, a different pan than the one used to melt metal, and waited for it to heat up. The water now boiling, he added the rice and put a lid over the pot. “...Is it?” He asked with a raised brow, turning back to look at the woman in his apartment. “I’ve been wearing it for two years now and no one has told me that.” Indeed, it was one of the ANBU watchers who gave him the veil, during the war, so he was pretty sure it was fine for him to wear. 

Actually, assuming that was true,  the veil might be why people tended to stay clear of him on the streets. Whoops. 

“Ignorance is not innocence.” She declared firmly. “As a fellow member of the puppeteer corps, I will leave you with the warning about your criminal action, in hopes that you will correct your behavior before reprisal from the Disciplinary Squad comes.” 

On one hand, the veil made him look dashing and mysterious and he was pretty sure he wasn’t about to receive a disciplinary notice any time soon. On the other hand, it was probably safer to just find something else to cover his face. “Hm… What about a black veil?” He asked over his shoulder. “That would be fine, wouldn’t it?”

“It is highly recommended that all Suna ninja leave their face visible to increase client trust. The use of cosmetic agents such as makeup and facepaint are acceptable, although piercings are strongly discouraged.” 

A real stickler for protocol, wasn’t she? He supposed that was what you wanted in a supervisor. He had absolutely no interest in wearing either of those, so he supposed he’d be incorporating a high bevor into his next set of puppet armor. He almost gave a sigh, before asking another question. “Do you want salt on your sweet potatoes or not?”

A long few seconds of silence.

“...Yes.” Her sharp tone was downright bashful underneath all the professionalism and impatience. He added some of the canned meat to the sizzling pan and checked on the rice again.

—

“Your request to reserve the entirety of construction silo three is nigh-unprecedented, keep in mind.” Toyoko explained as she led him to one of the rounded ‘towers’ that served as a general workshop for puppeteers who didn’t have the space for it at their own properties. “Previously, only wretched traitor Sasori was given this privilege, for the construction of superheavy class puppet ‘Sanshouo’, with Honored Elder Chiyo serving as active supervisor.”

Her heels clicked as she walked, he idly noted.

She tilted her head to glare up at him. His white veil currently serving as a neck-scarf and little else, with his wide-brimmed straw hat shading him from the early morning sun. “As acting supervisor, I will be responsible for ensuring that Puppet Corps resources are not being mishandled, and that fruitful work on the puppet continues at a regular pace. I am also available in an advisory role, and will be able to assist in the integration of components if need be.”

“Hm? Oh that’s quite good.” He responded. “I’ll be sure to make full use of you.” He teased with a flat tone and a tiny smile. 

“Don’t word it like that.” She demanded at once.

“Word it like that?” He asked, badly pretending to be confused. Her glare intensified as he innocently continued, raising a finger up to tap at his chin, bending at the waist to be slightly closer to eye-level with the short woman. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what such a statement implies. Cease at once.” 

“I’m really at a loss here. All I know is that supervisor-chan told me she was available to help me with integration of components, and next she’s telling me to stop.” He raised his hands in a mock shrug and shook his head. “It’s all too confusing for me, honestly.”

She let loose an actual growl at him, which was really cute, before sharply turning her head and marching on ahead. Most notably, her hands were splayed out and crossed behind her lower back, as if trying to shield her rear from his nefarious and perverse gaze. He rolled his eyes in an amused fashion and kept following.

Soon enough, they were at the front doors of the construction silo three, a sort of immense oblong tower of compressed sandstone with the same carved interior and ventilation shafts as any other building in Suna had. The side facing the road had a reasonably sized door for people to walk through, and the side facing a sort of walled courtyard had a much more substantial door available for the larger puppets to be transported through. 

“Do you have a schematic for your puppet design ready?” Toyoko asked as she opened the door, fiddling with the keys for a moment to do so. The doorknob was about chest-high for her, and waist-high for him. 

“I do. Do you need to see it?” He asked idly, following behind her into the construction silo and waiting for her to turn the lights on. 

“If you would like my assistance in an advisory role, it would be helpful for me to have a reference of your intended design.” She replied sharply.

“My my! That was almost sassy of you!” Ryoma noted with a little grin, reaching into his vest to pull out the finalized schematic-scroll. Doubtlessly the design would be altered in the final product as he worked to translate his ideas to reality, but the schematic was still important for roughing out ideas to begin with. 

“I was not being sassy, I was stating a fact!” She snapped at him, face scrunched up as she flicked the lightswitch and cast the room into illumination. This was followed by rapid fumbling to catch the scroll he carelessly tossed at her. 

She managed to catch it in the end, shooting another quick glare his way as she opened the scroll for inspection. The glare crashed into his amused smirk without effect, his defense was too high. He turned back to start evaluating the work-space, taking on a somewhat more contemplative expression as he walked and noted the utilities of the silo. 

He let out a laugh as he heard her fumble and drop the massive pile of sub-design scrolls sealed into the main scroll. It sounded a lot like a puff of smoke, then a slightly panicked yelp and many rolls of paper falling to the floor. 

He could feel her angry glare on the back of his head as he looked around more. 

Naturally, he ignored it.

—

“Why five meters tall?” 

Much of the initial prepwork for creating the mk2 was simply him looking at all the tools he was going to have available to work with, the space he had available to work with, and initial framework being assembled. He had already purchased much of what he needed to begin assembling the ‘skeleton’ of the puppet. 

“Based on the operating-chamber scale, barely large enough to fit four people in emergencies. Scaling the legs and arms appropriately gave a height ranging from four point eight to five point five meters, depending on the scale of components available.” 

The skeleton of the puppet would be mostly steel, and look vaguely like a human skeleton, save a somewhat deeper chest section, no real ‘spine’ equivalent, and a much larger degree of joint rotation. The upper torso could rotate 360 degrees, mounted on a swivel section that connected to the hips, and each of the arms could rotate forwards and backwards without any real limit. 

“Why was it necessary for the operating chamber to fit four people?”

The legs were the biggest exception to this, as load-bearing structures. They would need to have somewhat more limited joint rotations simply for structural integrity. They would be able to move mostly like human legs, save for the extreme articulation of the feet and slightly less flexibility in the hips. The knees were nigh-identical, and he’d need to special-order the titanic springs that would be loaded in the lower legs.

“In case of emergencies, the operating chamber could act as shelter for an entire standard team of four. More commonly, it would be able to act as a shelter for two, a puppeteer and a support-specialist to handle secondary tasks. This improves the operative ability of the puppet for less material cost.” But really, it was just to ensure he could wear his next gen puppet armor and have a lot of legroom.

The main reason the mk1 had to be so careful when walking and jumping was the legs- they had absolutely no suspension in them to absorb impacts. All the kinetic force of a jump went straight to the joints, and occasionally broke them. The mk2 would fix that with massive springs coiled around the central ‘bone’ but sheathed beneath the wooden ‘exoskeleton’ and other covering layers. This ate up a lot of space in the legs for weaponry, but he expected the less-risky mobility to be worth the trade off.

“...Hmp. Despite first impressions, you seem to know what you’re doing. I won’t have to hold your hand at least.” Toyoko huffed, gently rolling the cockpit scroll closed as Ryoma finished reading the instruction manual for the massive circular saw. 

After the initial kerfuffle with the scrolls, she had transferred herself over to a desk and rapidly began to sort through the scrolls, thoroughly interrogating him on each and every design decision he had thus far made while he worked to familiarize himself with the fancy heavy-duty puppetry equipment. 

“Can we hold hands anyways?” He asked blandly, moving over to the massive press and inspecting it. Like most of the other big machines present, most of its operation was based on chakra strings instead of things like buttons or levers. This saved space, and made a few machines look quite alien to him, but the manuals were thorough enough for him to pick up on most of it quickly enough. 

It wasn’t automation by any means, even if a windmill or two could pretty trivially be installed to facilitate something like that- or even just running a power line and changing many of the internal systems, but automation was pretty overrated anyways. 

“Absolutely not.” She snapped immediately, opening the next scroll. Immediately she furrowed her brows at the scroll before calling out with another question. “What is ‘densified wood’?” 

She was looking at the ‘exoskeleton’ layer materials schematic, it seems like. The mk2 would have both a ‘skeleton’ and a ‘exoskeleton, again for structural concerns, before being armored in a rather thin layer of steel and hemp. “Wood treated in sodium sulfite, thoroughly washed in distilled water, and then subject to heat and pressure until it forms a significantly denser plate of material.”

“Sodium Sulfite?” She interrogated again, staring at him with a slightly baffled expression.

“The white stuff they use to make paper out of wood.” He simplified, an expression of recognition finally coming to her eyes. 

“I see.”

He made a humming noise as he pulled back from the screw-press they had. “I’ll need to request aid from the Ninjutsu Corps to make it, I think. The press here isn’t large enough for all the sections the design will need, nor is it something I can easily heat up for the process.”

She gave a sharp look at him for that. “The Ninjutsu Corps?” She asked with a vaguely reproachful tone.

“I’ll need help from specialists in several of the Corps to create it, really.” Ryoma immediately answered, rubbing his chin as he stepped back to inspect the whole of the construction silo again. “Shiki and Sealing Corps to help me with the chakra storage, distribution, and various shiki. Ninjutsu to help me make a few of the components. Puppet Corps for the workspace and several of the smaller components.”

He raised a hand and counted on his fingers. “I’ll need several speciality parts from the boys in the armory and salvage operations. I’ll need to ask someone with a summoning contract how to make a link with an object to deploy the thing. I’ll probably need to inform the guys in Intel about all of this so they can help me organize the entire operation…”

He nodded firmly, turning back to look at his supervisor. “This isn’t a one-man job, it’s looking more like a ten to thirty person job to get everything assembled and functioning.”

She stared for a few moments more, before her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “...Surely you don’t expect the Puppetry Corps to pay for all this?”

“Course not.” Ryoma gave her an irritated look before turning back to the general space. “I got twenty million in the bank, I can afford it.”

“T-twenty mi-” Supervisor-chan practically choked, making him hide a little smile. “W-why the hell were you living in an apartment like that then!?”

“It’s because I live in an apartment like that that I have so much saved up, Supervisor-chan.” He waggled a finger in a condescending manner. “Do you know how much a proper Kyojutsu like this costs? I’m probably going to be broke halfway through and need to beg Lord Kazekage for a loan of ten million more to finish it.”

“K-kyojutsu?” She asked suddenly. The word was just him making a portmanteau of the words ‘Kyojin’, Giant, and ‘Kugutsu’, Puppet. Pretty lazy on his part, but if it worked then it worked.

“Well… I can’t exactly call it a puppet ‘armor’ anymore, can I? It’s way too big. Even for a superheavy class puppet, it’s too big.” He shrugged. “The other names I had in mind were just ‘Great Dragoon’ or ‘Warwalker’.”

She considered those names for a few moments, before giving a sharp nod. “‘Kyojutsu’ is the superior name.”

First time she had just agreed with him outright. 

He was beginning to get a read on her personality, and so far she was looking like the kind of girl who would be a lot of fun to rile up. “I’m surprised you heard me down there.” He responded blandly, smirking at the immediate glare that overtook her face. 

He’d finish familiarizing himself with the space before bringing in the steel beams to start construction. Not that he’d get much done on day one, but the process was going to be a long one no matter what he did.

If he had to guess, anywhere from six months to two years to get it done.

In for a penny, and all that.

Chapter 22

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

“Last week I gave an overview of all the facilities and systems available to take advantage of in the village. We also went over basics about navigating the bureaucracy of ninja work and constructive mindsets. I see a few new faces in the class who weren’t present last week- either see me after class or ask one of your classmates if you want a review of what was covered in specific.” 

“Show of hands, who took advantage of at least one of the things I mentioned last week? The daily rations, your clearance in Intel, and so on.” He called out over the class, once more rolling out scrolls upon the desk. Unlike last week, these weren’t dummy scrolls used to make him look more prepared than he was, these were actual scrolls full of actual preparations.

About half the kids in the class sent hands up, which was a relatively good sign. The other group of kids looks distinctly bashful about having a lowered hand. Ryoma nodded. “Alright- keep your hand up if you took advantage of at least two of the things I mentioned last week. Everyone else, drop them.”

Seeing everyone except two people sheepishly drop their hands was more in line with his expectations. It looked like mesh-poncho boy and blue-hair red-kimono girl were the two who were actually the most serious about this whole ninja thing. He gave another little nod and pointed at poncho boy.

“Poncho, what did you take advantage of and why?”

Poncho-boy frowned at that, before dropping his hand and answering. “I started picking up daily rations and went to the Intel building to ask about available Jutsu- they told me I need to be a Chunin to get anything about D-rank from them.” 

“That’s the standard clearance regulation I mentioned.” Ryoma explained with a nod. “Jutsu will be available based on rank, D-rank for Genin, C-rank for Chunin, and B-rank for Jonin. A-rank and higher jutsu are only available at the behest of an official master or by lease of the Kazekage.”

“That sucks.” Poncho boy complained with a groan, ignoring the slightly scandalized looks from the genin around him. “I was hoping to get something good.”

Ryoma gave a little amused huff. “That’s another lesson to lead into I suppose.” He turned his head to address the entire class. “Who here knows what the rank of a Jutsu actually means?”

A few moments of quiet consideration before the pink-haired boy spoke up. “Power, ain’t it?”

“Nope.” Ryoma shook his hand in denial. He was about to tell the kid to raise his hand next time before giving up on that. It was their own time they were wasting if they were all clamoring at once.

“Difficulty to learn, right sensei?” That kid who wanted to be a wind-specialist spoke up, short brown hair, brown eyes, and bulky goggles around his neck. He scratched his neck as he answered.

Ryoma shrugged. “More or less correct. More specifically it refers to the level of skill required to shape the chakra correctly for the Jutsu to function. Many jutsu of E or D rank require a great deal of technical, physical skill to perform but don’t involve enough chakra manipulation to rank them any higher.”

“All of you should be capable of the three basic genjutsu- Clone, Transformation, and Substitution-”

“Ah-” The girl with blue hair and a red kimono made a noise at that. She hadn’t dropped her hand from earlier yet either, so Ryoma just raised a brow and waited for her to continue. She made a sheepish expression before steeling her resolve and speaking. “Sensei, aren’t they classified as ninjutsu? I thought that genjutsu was strictly limited to jutsu that insert chakra into a target's system to manipulate their senses?”

Ah, right. That was a thing wasn’t it? Ryoma gave a little wiggle with his hand. “You are technically correct, but adhering to technicalities is not particularly useful in the field, in my experience. Genjutsu. Illusionary Techniques. If the image of a person you see is produced by a clone or a genjutsu, nothing much changes. You are still seeing an insubstantial image an enemy has used chakra to produce in hopes of distracting you.”

He shrugged. “They’re functionally identical save for your means of freeing yourself- either by cycling chakra or by attacking the clone. That’s a coin you’re going to have to flip every time you’re in that situation anyways, so saying one isn’t a genjutsu is just being pedantic. If it produces an illusory thing, it’s probably safe to treat it as a genjutsu.”

“In fact- you know what the easiest genjutsu in the world is?” Ryoma asked with a little smirk.

She shook her head. 

“It’s the E-rank Genjutsu : Lying.” 

There were a few laughs, a few giggles, and a few looks of enlightenment at that. Ryoma raised his hands and gave them a ‘hold on now’ gesture. “I’m being rather serious here, it’s probably one of my most reliable techniques. I’ve taken down people I shouldn’t have stood a chance against with that one.”

He snapped his fingers, remembering that he was on a tangent. “Which brings me back to my previous point- The rank of a Jutsu has nothing to do with how useful it is.”

“Wait what?” 

“Really?” 

“That doesn’t sound right.” 

“Huah?!”

The kids were a riot, huh? He raised his hand and waited for them to settle down. After a few moments, they stopped having dramatic reactions to his declaration and gave him the quiet he needed to speak again. 

“I personally know five D-rank jutsu.” Ignoring for a moment he learned one of them right before this lesson. “Body Flicker, Sand Transformation, Air Convection, Dust Cloud, and Explosion. Body Flicker allows for rapid overland movement making it ideal for tactical repositioning. Sand Transformation layers the body in sand and lets you change its color, serving as both basic armor and a disguise. Air Convection cycles the air around you to protect you from heat, airborne hazards, and slightly weaken incoming projectiles. Dust Cloud throws up a great deal of sand and dust into the air around me, granting visual concealment. Explosion generates an explosion on a point I focus upon.”

“All of these are merely D-rank techniques, any of you are cleared to head down to Intel, pick up a scroll, and start learning them. They have collectively saved my life on numerous occasions.”

There was a nice, ambient aura of interest in the classroom as he spoke. He tilted his head to the side as he continued. “During my most recent mission, I used all four almost constantly, in all the ways that I just mentioned. I predict that I’ll still be using them by the time I retire from active service, simply because they’re so useful to me.”

“Are they super difficult to learn? No. Are they flashy ninjutsu that wins a battle on their own? No. Are they secret techniques carefully hidden away? No. They’re fairly standard techniques that do particular things, but can be devastatingly effective in competent hands- They’re like Kunai, if you want to think of it that way.”

“S-sensei- which one do you use most often!?” The girl with the ‘Frosty!’ sash asked with a nervous but determined look on her face. 

It was hard to remember all these names. “Sand Transformation.” He declared confidently, reaching up to tap at his vest. “I’m a firm believer in defense. I’m currently under two layers of armor right now, this vest, my bracers, and greaves, and-” He unzipped the vest a tad and pulled away at the white scarf around his neck and lower face to reveal his upper chest. The layer of mesh armor, thin steel wires sewn into a cloth shirt and pants. “-this mesh armor. I normally enter battles with a layer of sand covering my body as well.”

He was currently wearing a white scarf to hide his lower face- he’d head over to the ANBU HQ and ask if it was okay for him to keep wearing the veil later. No reason to not be safe about it, and all that.

The classroom looked pretty interested in his mesh armor, glancing back and forth from him and poncho-boy. Ryoma zipped up his flak vest again and returned his scarf to where it had been before continuing. “As you might be able to imagine- many attacks cease to be effective against you when you’re wearing as much armor as I am. Most ninja need to pull out massive weapons or special jutsu to do much damage.”

“Sensei- doesn’t it make more sense to just dodge the attacks? If you’re wearing armor, aren’t you slower and taking more hits anyways?” Orange haired girl asked curiously, leaning forwards on her desk. 

“The ideal amount of armor is always ‘as much as you can carry without slowing yourself down too much’.” Ryoma declared confidently. “I’m a little bit less agile than an unclad ninja, sure, but the amount of agility I lose is marginal compared to the amount of durability I gain.” He shrugged. “You might decide differently as a ninja, it’s up to the individual to determine how much they want to sacrifice mobility in exchange for armor- I’m not your dad after all.

“Waow~ you’re not?!” Pink haired ‘seduction specialist’ let out at that, a mock-surprised tone and giggles in the back of her throat. Ryoma rolled his eyes with an amused huff as the class laughed.

“I’m not old enough to be your dad, joker.” He waved a hand dismissively. He then remembered that he was doing a thing and pointed at blue-hair, red-kimono. She had been diligently keeping her hand up this entire time. “Serious girl. You used two of the things I mentioned from last week- what were they and why did you use them?”

Finally, with a relieved slump in her arm, she dropped it and answered. “Yes sensei. I first went to the armory and salvage division to exchange my old weaponry for a new set.” 

Very sensible. He nodded and rolled a hand for her to continue. She then reached up a hand and scratched her cheek before continuing. “I then went to Intel to request information about you, sensei.”

He raised a brow. He supposed it was normal to be curious about the person teaching you. She probably could’ve just asked though. 

“Most of the information was above my clearance but…” She hesitated for a few moments, before blurting out. “A-are you really a Jonin at only fifteen, sensei?!”

There were a few moments of quiet at that, before the rest of the class caught up with the declaration and started going wild.

“Fifteen!”

“No way!”

“Wait, that's like~ Totally in our age group!”

“Woah! That’s crazy!”

“Huah?!”

And so on. It was hard to make out any particular voice or question over the clammor of a bunch of kids getting riled up like this, so he just raised a hand and waited for them to quiet down again. He really wasn’t sure why they were getting all astonished over this- Kakashi was a Chunin by six. Sasori was a Chunin at eight. Itachi was Chunin by ten. Chunin by thirteen and Jonin by fifteen was nothing special.

After a good while, they quieted down again. Serious-girl looked thoroughly embarrassed to have caused such a loud commotion. Ryoma shrugged. “Yep.” He answered before moving on to the lesson he had actually planned today. “Those examples are pretty good, both you and poncho-boy over there get a thumbs up.” He gave a lazy thumbs up for emphasis, before dropping his hand. “For everyone else- I’d strongly recommend taking advantage of all the systems I mentioned. Like I said, they exist to help and facilitate you being a ninja. They’re a waste of money if no one is using them. Independent study is going to be your most reliable means of proactive growth as a ninja. The lessons here can only help so much, you need to take initiative too.”

He slapped the back of his hand into the palm of the other. “With that in mind- I’m going to be teaching you all how to make Explosive Tags today.” He already knew how to make the tags, but he made sure to learn how to perform the actual jutsu in preparation for this. Hard to teach if you don’t know, and all that.

It wasn’t that hard, but the technique had quite a few limitations he’d need to work around to make it less risky.

There was a significant ripple of excitement at that- mostly from the boys. Ryoma smirked under his scarf and started the lecture. “Explosive Tags are perhaps one of the most common and useful tools in a Ninja’s arsenal. They are technically a Jutsu-Shiki of the D-rank ‘Explosion’ Jutsu, a Earth-Release technique that creates an explosion on a point proportional to the amount of chakra invested into the technique. It requires a great deal of concentration to explode a target at range, but the explosion can also damage the user, so most people simply use the technique in its Shiki form and never bother with the actual jutsu.”

“In a shiki-form, the explosion already has a ‘tag’ for the user’s chakra to arrive at, thus allowing the ninja to both detonate a target and stay safely beyond the range of the explosion. There are many more advanced variants of this technique known of- but they’re more of an Iwagakure specialty than a Sunagakure specialty. The only handseal is ‘Rat’, owing to the relatively inefficient simplicity of the techni…”

—

Asking the ANBU questions was pretty easy overall, mostly because it was the same process for asking the guys in Intel questions. They were really one in the same at their core. The Sunagakure Security Division was composed of quite a few subsections and smaller teams that all collectively directly served the Kazekage. Intelligence, Analysis, Policing, Torture and Interrogation, Imprisonation, and more were all subcomponents of the part of Suna that made sure Suna functioned as a city-state of supernatural mercenaries. This was both the boring administrative parts and the rooting out spies, traitors, and dissidents parts.

That included the ANBU, the special-forces that held nominal authority over all other groups because of their direct service to the Kazekage. If the ANBU showed up at your door, they were there because the Kazekage himself ordered them to be, and they were probably speaking with his voice at the moment. 

Not every village used their ANBU the same way, but most villages had them, or at least a close equivalent to such. For Suna, the ANBU were secret police with a license to kill.

He knocked on the door of the Security Division building, waiting patiently for the sensor-ninja deep inside the building to check his chakra signature, verify who he was, and then send word to the people at the door to let him in. After a few moments, the massive sandstone doors swung open near-silently and allowed him to walk in. 

Inside there was a fairly substantial greeting room with a handful of guards and a rounded desk-space in the center. The desk was made of yet more sandstone, polished this time, and covered in snacks, cups of tea and coffee, and a few loose papers. There were three chairs at the circular desk, each occupied by a familiar face. 

He raised his hand in greeting. The three men at the desk gave him a wave back with little smiles on their faces. “Well well well- If it ain’t Ryoma again! Weren’t you just here yesterday?” The first one, Gan, asked while leaning forwards. He had red face paint that came down from his eyes. His face propped up on one hand and a lazy grin on his face. 

Ryoma shrugged. “I forgot to ask one of my questions- sorry about that.”

“Nah don’t worry, it’s what we’re here for.”

“I thought we were here to pick up easy paychecks.” The second one, Ban, asked while leaned back in his chair and feet kicked up ontop of the desk. He had green face paint that curled across his chin.

“Sure as shit ain’t here for the free coffee- tastes like ass.” The third one, Yan, answered at once with a scowl, sipping at his drink and reading through a book. He had blue face paint that came down from his forehead and across his nose. The other two chuckled at that before Gan nodded his head. 

“Whaddya got today, Ryo-man?” Gan asked.

Ryoma shook his head and clarified. “This one is actually for the ANBU.”

All three of the men turned towards him with raised brows. 

“ANBU huh? One of those questions then.” Gan pushed himself up from his slouch and reached over to press a button on the bulky radio-system mounted upon the sandstone. Several relatively chunky cables came from this radio and trailed into the ground, disappearing into the stone. “Hey- We got 40-064 here with a question for you boys. We good to send him over?”

A few moments of waiting passed. A green light at the end of the radio turned on. Gan nodded, pressing the radio button again. “Confirmation received, we’ll send him over.” He leaned back and pointed a thumb at the staircase in the back of the room. “Go ahead and head on down- You remember the way right?”

Ryoma nodded, walking around the desk and making his way towards the staircase. He was smoothly joined by one of the guards along the way. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” Gan called back, returning to his comfortable slouch.

Ryoma nodded at the guard, who nodded sharply in turn as they moved down the staircase and into basement floor one. From there it was a walk to the back of a long hallway lined with doors, then a knock on the left-hand door. He wasn’t sure what most of the doors led to, but at least one led to the questioning and detainment cells. He had been blindfolded last time he was led into them.

His knuckles wrapped against the doorframe. After a few moments more, the doorknob turned on its own with a click and swung open, revealing a rather normal looking office complete with desks and a single man patiently seated and waiting for him.

It was the ANBU equivalent of a secretary, more or less. Either that or their acting captain, Ryoma wasn’t sure which. Ryoma walked inside before sitting down, letting the door behind him swing close all ominously as he did.

The ANBU, showing remarkable dedication to the bit, raised a hand and flashed the ‘Identification Request.’ sign-language. He was completely covered, a black jumpsuit with armored plates and a turban-veil combo that hid everything except the eyes. The eyes which were in turn covered by black-tinted desert goggles.

“Ryoma, Jonin, 40-064.” He recited dutifully, again. It was a bit of a pain to learn the sign-language, but it was needed if you wanted to communicate with the ANBU- when they weren’t interrogating you that is. 

The ANBU nodded, flashing another set of handsigns. ‘You Intelligence Request.’

Ryoma nodded, reaching up to tap at his lower face. “I’ve been wearing one of those white veils for about two years now, one of the ANBU keeping an eye on me during the Third Shinobi War handed it to me and I didn’t think much of it. I only just recently found out that it’s supposed to mark you as ANBU.”

The ANBU tilted his head, and even through the full face concealment it was easy to tell what he was thinking. Ryoma shrugged helplessly. “I don’t really have any excuses here, I just didn’t know. My question is- I’ve been wearing it for two years now and no one has said anything to me- Is it okay for me to keep wearing it?”

The ANBU considered that question for a moment, before pushing back and turning to the filing cabinets on the back wall. He sorted through folders for a few minutes, before pulling out a file, unsealing another folder and sorting through it, before pulling out a file and unsealing another folder and so on. Eventually he got to what Ryoma assumed was his own file and read through it.

After all the rigamarole, the ANBU nodded to himself and looked up, giving a thumbs up.

“It’s fine?” Ryoma asked again for clarification. The ANBU nodded again, emphasizing the thumbs up before dropping the hand and starting to reseal everything again. “Oh, good. That was my only question, sorry for taking up your time.”

The ANBU nodded, finally putting everything away again before reaching out a hand and letting a chakra string connect to the door. A complicated internal lock mechanism unlatched itself before letting the door swing open again. Ryoma stood and performed a polite bow. “Thank you for answering. I’ll head out now.”

The ANBU nodded a final time as Ryoma walked through the door, letting it shut ominously behind him and linking up with the guard again. The guard nodded, and the two of them left the building.

The guys in Intel waved as he left- Gan in the middle of demolishing a stack of barbecue skewers. 

Good idea- Ryoma was getting pretty hungry.

Chapter 23

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

Getting an ANBU at your door very early in the morning was never a very good sign, and the paranoid part of his mind told him that there were no coincidences. The larger part of his mind told him he had already gone through his ‘scared of the ANBU’ phase and that this was probably just a routine secret meeting. 

It had taken him about half a minute to get dressed, another half a minute to take a morning piss, and he was ready to follow the obscured figure patiently waiting in his kitchen.

Ryoma gave a massive yawn as he followed behind the masked man, eyes bleary at having to be awake at five in the morning. The masked man glanced over at him briefly as they hopped over and across rooftops, before reaching into a vest-pocket and pulling out a pill. 

Ryoma caught it as the ANBU flicked it over and made a handsign. ‘Dash Extract’, which was sign-language code for a caffeine pill. He probably could’ve figured that out on his own, just by looking at it and the numerical code etched in the back, but he was still feeling a bit mentally sluggish. Ryoma nodded gratefully before munching down and swallowing the offered chalky tablet. The chances of it being poison and this ANBU being an enemy in disguise trying to kidnap or kill him wasn’t zero, but it wasn’t all that high either. 

In the time it took for them to reach the central HQ, Ryoma could already feel the energizing power of the caffeine running through his veins. Thank you, faceless ANBU escort, he will remember this kindness but not who to direct it towards. 

The doors were opened and he was led into the deeper chambers of the HQ, through spiraling hallways and down a few staircases until reaching a space normally reserved for ninja of rather high rank. Several guards were stationed, each holding a long iron-banded staff and looking straight ahead, motionless and stern. The ANBU paused in front of a red door, granite instead of sandstone, before stepping back and turning to nod at him.

Ryoma could take the hint, he reached up to lightly slap himself in the face, knocking the lingering sleep out of himself. Once done, he stepped forwards and pushed open the doors, eyes roaming as he entered the chamber.

It was one of the smaller meeting chambers, with a round conference table in the center and flanked by sturdy flat walls. Overall a fairly uninteresting room save for the people inside it.

The Kazekage was present, as was Captain Gentai, as well as Honored Elders Chiyo and Ebizo, another ANBU who bore a bold ‘Captain’ on his face-veil, as well as two other people he didn’t recognize. From their uniforms, apparent veterancy, he guessed these were other corps and division captains. 

Not all though, there were twelve seats in the Sunagakure council, one for the Kazekage, one for the head of ANBU, another for the head of Logistics, and nine more for the various Corps. There were seven people here, not including himself, and two of them were supposed to be retired. That meant this wasn’t a council meeting, this was something that was probably more secret but less important.

Ryoma stopped after entering the room and shutting the doors behind him, turning and dropping into a proper bow. “Lord Kazekage, Honored Elders, Councillors.”

“At ease, Jonin.” Kazekage Rasa inclined his head, the wide-brimmed Kazekage hat slightly obscuring his eyes. Ryoma fell into a relaxed stance, wrists brought together behind his back and standing straight up. “You were called about your most recent contribution to puppetry. The relevant subject matter experts have some questions for you, and a demonstration will be required afterwards.”

He stared blankly at the Kazekage for a few moments, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. “...Lord Kazekage, the Mk2 isn’t complete enough to demonstrate anything- I don’t even have springs yet.”

“The replacement limbs.” The Kazekage clarified. “Special Jonin Mari has already been interviewed pertaining to her experience with the object.”

“Ah. My mistake.” Ryoma tilted his head forwards, still slightly confused. He wasn’t sure if there were any real questions to be had about it- everything he could think of was in the scroll he prepared. Though the chances of everyone present having actually read the scroll was probably low. Still, everything else they would probably want to know could have come from Mari or Chiyo right over there. The magic of bureaucracy making redundant meetings out of brief letters. “What would the gathered like to know?”

“The replacement arm- what are the limits of replacement? Can only arms be replaced in this manner- or can legs be replaced as well?” The only other old woman in the room- not Chiyo but one with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, asked him quickly. This was something answered in the scroll.

“Theoretically speaking, Almost everything save a handful of vital organs could be replaced.” Ryoma answered calmly. “I don’t have the required medical expertise to tell you what those organs are- but so long as you maintain the ability to produce chakra strings from your tenketsu, a sealed jar containing the brain, heart, and maybe a few other things would be more than enough. The skeleton, muscular system, eyes, ears, and vocal chords at minimum. I’m not certain how well other senses would be preserved in such a manner, however.”

“Eyes and ears?” She immediately asked, her old and scratchy voice maintaining an even tempo and tone. “You can maintain vision and hearing through a puppet?”

Ryoma didn’t attempt to hide his mild confusion, glancing over at Chiyo before turning back to the woman and answering. Chiyo looked distinctly blank at the moment. “The vision for certain- I’ve been using such to gain omnidirectional awareness on my puppetarmor for several years now. I know it’s a technique that Sasori learned well before me as well- he laughed at me when I requested advice related to improving visual fidelity. The ears I know are possible, again from him, but I haven’t had a need to develop such a skill myself yet.”

“Clarify, what do you mean by ‘visual fidelity’?” 

“The sight gained through a puppet's eye is poor- rather blurry. It’s enough to discern color, shape, and motion- but reading text and fine detail is exceedingly difficult except at very close ranges. I haven’t been able to meaningfully improve the visual quality with wood and paint thus far- I theorize that a glass eye may be superior but I haven’t had the time to test this.” 

“The example limb provided to Special Jonin Mari was attached with a padded base and a series of leather straps. What can be done to improve the limb-body connection?”

“That would require medical knowledge that I don’t have to answer with any confidence.”

“I have no further questions.” The woman declared, leaning back and allowing another old person to lean forwards. This time it was Captain Gentai. 

“Your earlier statement- ‘So long as the ability to produce chakra strings from your tenketsu is maintained’ as well as your clarification that other limbs are possible to replace. Together they imply that chakra strings can be produced and maintained from any tenketsu! The standard technique for producing chakra strings necessitates the use of tenketsu in the fingers. Can you clarify that this is indeed possible?!” Gentai was as loud and direct as ever, face still set in his standard glare and scowl. Ryoma was pretty sure he was just asking for the room here, because Gentai would’ve absolutely read through his report and saw that this question was answered there too.

Ryoma nodded and raised one foot across the other leg, letting the gathered see the accumulation of vibrant green chakra at the base before it stretched out and grabbed at his straw hat, pulling it off and putting it back on in a slightly clumsy tip of the hat. “Chakra Strings through the soles of my feet is how I operated the mk1 puppetarmor’s legs and balance. It’s difficult to perform, and I’m less practiced with them overall, but they are possible. I can only reliably produce and maintain one string from each foot, not a full set of ten.” 

With that he allowed the string to dissipate before dropping his foot back to the floor. Gentai nodded at that before immediately jumping into another stern question. 

“In the scroll that outlined the process and its potential uses, the topic of ‘integrated weaponry and techniques’ was addressed. Can you clarify the term ‘integrated weaponry and techniques’?”

Ryoma raised a brow, before bringing his hands around for a visual demonstration. He raised his left arm and used his right to pat at the bracer. “It’s as it sounds- presuming an individual had to replace their limb with a puppet-limb for whatever reason, there is little preventing them from operating the limb like a puppet-in-miniature. Puppets usually contain one or more weapons hidden within their structure, and there is no reason a puppet-limb cannot do the same.”

He outlined a rectangle on his forearm. “The structure is maintained by the outer shell of the puppet limb, the interior could easily be filled with anything that can fit within a forearm.  A blade, a spool of ninja wire, a kunai or senbon launcher, and so on. Even assuming that one wished to avoid compromising structural integrity or additional weight- a Jutsu Shiki somewhere on the limb’s outer facing is equally possible.”

He dropped his arms before continuing. “With the inability to perform handseals, the most pragmatic option would be to load such weapons or shiki upon the limb to partially compensate for the lost ability.”

“Elaborate upon the inability to perform handseals.” The old and weathered tone of the ANBU Captain called out, low and smoothed with age. A male by the voice, and pretty intimidating with the orange tint to his small-lens goggles. 

“Handseals require chakra to move through the tenketsu of the hand. A puppet hand does not have the requisite tenketsu required.” He then performed a small and professional shrug. “It’s possible that artificial structures could be built to replicate the tenketsu- but the most efficient solution would probably be to simply saturate the hand of a corpse in non-stiffening preservatives and use it. This would allow the user's chakra to flow through the appropriate tenketsu required to perform handseals once more.”

As expected of professional ninja, not one of them blinked at the suggestion to use the hand of a corpse as a prosthetic.

The ANBU Captain nodded. “I have no further questions.”

The Kazekage’s eyes wandered over the gathered for a few seconds more, then he nodded and turned back to Ryoma. He stood from his desk as he spoke. “If there are no further questions, we will proceed to the Theater Chamber for the demonstration.”

All the gathered ninja rose from the table and organized themselves into neat lines, the Kazekage taking the lead and gesturing for him to do the same. Soon they were back to walking in the winding halls.

“Jonin Ryoma, you will be demonstrating the entire process of creating a set of puppet limbs when we reach the Theater Chamber.” Rasa stated plainly, hands folded behind his back as he walked. “An appropriate benefactor has already been made aware of the situation and is currently waiting for your presence.”

“A full set, Lord Kazekage?” Ryoma asked for clarification. A full set and a single benefactor would mean there was some poor bastard missing all four limbs. Assuming that they lost those limbs in an actual battle, then the fact that they survived long enough to actually be recovered strained beleivability.

Most of the time, a ninja who loses a limb will die very quickly afterwards. There were vanishingly few ninja who actually lived long enough to return home a cripple. So unless they lost the limbs in a training accident or exceptional circumstances…

Rasa tilted his head forwards shallowly. “38-102 participated in a battle in the in northern Land of Rivers during the last month before Iwa announced a cessation of hostilities and an abandonment of their ambitions in the Land of Grass. The battle spilled over into the Land of Rain, whereupon the gathered ninja were met with Hanzo the Salamander.”

Hanzo had the kind of name that chilled the room whenever it was spoken aloud. The Kazekage continued after a moment, as they rounded and began down another staircase. “The battle lasted exactly one minute longer. At the fifty four second mark, 38-102 was captured in the mouth of one of his summoned Salamanders. At the sixty second mark, Hanzo ordered his summon to spit her out, commended the handful of survivors on their ability, and left. The remaining ninja mutually agreed to cease the battle indecisively and leave.”

“In the six seconds she was captured, the corrosive venom of the salamander had rendered her hairless, caused extensive chemical burns all over her body, and rendered her limbless. She was stabilized by a present medical ninja and returned to Sunagakure for intensive care. She has since recovered from the chemical damage, save for the missing limbs.”

Rasa glanced over at him, tone as calm and flat as someone discussing the weather. “Her repeated requests for assisted suicide have been postponed until after the full details of her encounter with Hanzo the Salamander could be extracted- and may be summarily rejected if partial functionality can be restored through puppetlimbs.”

What a distinctly horrifying story. 

Ryoma's tone was relatively bland as he replied. “With all due respect Lord Kazekage, you could’ve simply said ‘Hanzo’ and I would’ve understood.” He felt bad for the lady, of course- in that sort of abstract way that people feel bad about tragedies happening on the other side of the world. It was difficult to get all that worked up over someone who he didn’t know about until a couple seconds ago.

Rasa gave a mildly amused exhale through his nose. “You will be compensated fifty-five thousand ryo for the demonstration.” 

A middle of the road C-rank then. Made sense, this qualified as a mission that had little to no chance of combat with enemy ninja. Ryoma would’ve done this for free, but he was hardly going to refuse extra money. “Understood, Lord Kazekage.”

They stopped before a door, upon which the words ‘Theater Chamber’ was prominently displayed. Rasa nodded at it. “Enter and wait for my word to begin. The rest of us will proceed to the Viewing Room.”

Ryoma nodded and pushed the door open, moving inside as the rest of moved on through the halls. Inside was a large and mostly featureless chamber, with black tinted glass on one side of the room overlooking the chamber. The middle had been filled with tables, little puppetry workstations, a few scrolls, and a single bed. Upon the bed was doubtlessly the benefactor.

He could tell because she was basically a nugget. Legs and arms both ending in well-bandaged stumps midway through the biceps and thighs. Short black hair, pale gold eyes, and somewhat drained and lifeless expression. Except the creepy, highly-focused stare she was silently leveling upon him. That seemed pretty life-like. 

Well, he supposed he’d be pretty focused too if he was a nugget and got told he might get some limbs back. It wouldn’t be polite for him to get bothered by it. He nodded calmly at her before turning his head towards the black tinted glass and waiting. The room smelled like rocks, salt, pine wood, and whatever chemical they had used to clean it.

After a few moments, the Kazekage’s voice came through one of the speakers installed in the corner of the room. “You will find all required tools and material in the room, more can be brought in upon request. You will find all relevant medical details in the scroll on the central desk next to the patient. You may begin when ready.”

Ryoma nodded, walking forwards and deciding to just ignore the woman’s stare as he picked up the mentioned scroll and started reading. There was a lot of information he didn’t need, of course, but most relevantly was a diagram and exact measurements about her pre-maiming proportions.

That was important, he needed that to make correct-scale limbs. He nodded and set the scroll down, before thinking of something. 

He hesitated for a moment before turning back to the woman on the bed. “Do you know how to produce a chakra string?”

She stared for a few long seconds, just enough to make the silence uncomfortable, before her lips parted and a dry voice came out. 

“...I did.”

You did? What, did you forget? He pushed aside his irritation and continued. “Do you know how to produce a chakra string from tenketsu other than your fingers?” He asked blandly,, reaching up to pat himself in the arm.

Another long period of her staring. “...No.”

He huffed. “You’re going to need to figure it out. Here-” He reached into his vest-pocket, tapped a storage seal, and pulled out a kunai. He set it down on the bed next to her, underneath her left arm stump. “It’s going to take me awhile to make your limbs, in the meanwhile practice with this kunai. Produce a chakra string from the base of the amputation and move it to the other side of your bed. Then produce a chakra string at the base of that stump and move it down to your legs. Repeat the process until I’m done.”

There, she could be working on that while he was working. Best case scenario she figured it out before he was done, and at the very least she wouldn’t be staring at him the whole time.

With the kunai placed and her gaze utterly fixed on it, Ryoma walked back to start work. He glanced at the list of measurements again, then started looking for the wood and saws. 

He made sure to stretch and twist, cracking his back and limbs with loud pops, before taking hold of the wood and bringing it back to the table. As he set it down, he glanced at the measurements again.

Most important part, really, he’d be glancing at it constantly before he started cutting anything.

Interlude 11

Sunagakure

Rasa, Fourth Kazekage

“Hm. Exactly as simple as the report claimed.” Elder Ebizo mused, staring through the one-way glass and into the theater chamber. His hands folded together and hidden within the sleeves of his loose black robes. “Ryoma-boy did not exaggerate that.”

In the theater chamber, Jonin Ryoma was in the final stages of assembling the first of four limbs. The process involved taking several blocks of wood, cutting them down to the correct sizes, sanding them until smooth, applying a protective lacquer, and then putting everything together with semi-standard joints. At many points he would pause to test the fit or joints, often puppeting it himself to ensure everything connected smoothly, but that was purely a quality-control measure.

The last step was simply attaching a padded interior and the leather straps that would secure the limb in place. There were no hidden components attached, no shiki, no seals- not even an interior section. Blocks of wood, metal joints, protective varnish, and leather straps- that was the sum total components required to construct the replacement limb.

Straps cut into place, Ryoma carried the limb over to the bed and attached it to Tsubame’s stump. His movements were quick, efficient, and not all that concerned with making sure she was comfortable.

“Here- stay still I need to put this on you.” They heard him say, slightly muffled through the wall and speakers. 

“His bedside manner is lacking.” Medical Captain Aoi grumbled. Old and stern, with brown hair tied back in a bun and red sash over her waist. 

“She hasn’t managed to extend a chakra string far enough to move the kunai yet.” Elder Chiyo commented with a focused expression. “I suppose that’s not needed if the limb is attached, is it?”

Quietly, they watched him secure the wooden limb to her body. A few moments later- the arm began to twitch. Over the course of the next minute or so, the arm jerkily began to twist and rotate, forming a vague approximation of normal movement with great concentration.

Slowly, carefully, the arm reached down and grabbed the kunai by the handle. The kunai was carried up to hover before Tsubame’s field of vision, where it was clutched motionlessly. 

“...Got it? Neat. Gonna go finish the rest now.” Ryoma stepped back and went back to work, sounding polite but bored by what he had just done. Moments after he had turned around, tears began to spill down Tsubame’s expressionless face, silently drenching her cheeks and spilling down onto her pillow.

“...A lot like Sasori, huh?” Elder Ebizo asked with a dry tone. Tsubame gently set the kunai down on the other side of her body, and silently moved her arm in slow but increasingly complicated motions. 

“Maybe a bit too much like him.” Elder Chiyo muttered belligerently. 

“Elder Chiyo, did you know this was possible?” Rasa asked, calmly but pointedly, staring at the slowly rotating limb. 

“Hrm. I’ve had a few thoughts about it- certainly.” Elder Chiyo replied, closing her eyes and face scrunching up. “I was thinking that if my arthritis gets any worse, I’d just cut my hand off and replace it. It’s not like I’d need my ninjutsu anymore now that I’m retired.”

Elder Ebizo sent her a disgruntled look, which she ignored.

“But it remained a theoretical?” Rasa asked for clarification. 

She nodded. “Never tested it myself, not yet.” She thought it over for a few moments more, before grunting. “And I certainly didn’t consider it to the point of replacing my whole body. I’m not certain what I’d need to keep in order to pull something like that off.”

“...But you could do it?” Medical Captain Aoi asked sharply, giving the slightly older woman a focused stare.

Chiyo returned the stare with one of her own. “...A human body is merely one puppet, and not a very complicated one at that. I can operate the entire Chikamatsu Collection at once, operating ‘myself’ would be easy.” She sighed, before returning her gaze to the room beyond the glass. “The hardest part would be the container for my vitals.”

The Chikamatsu Collection. A series of ten masterwork puppets created by the original inventor of puppetry, Monzaemon Chikamatsu, Elder Chiyo’s mentor in the art. 

“The eyes didn’t surprise you.” Rasa observed plainly. 

Elder Chiyo gave another grunt. “Hmp… One of the secrets of the Chikamatsu Collection is the ability to see through the eyes of your puppets- but it’s not a technique I was ever able to replicate with other eyes. I intended to teach it to Sasori when I retired, but…”

“You weren’t able to replicate it with other eyes? Is that correct, Honored Elder Chiyo?!” Puppetry Captain Gentai asked in a firm and polite tone, raising his hand and lightly chopping it in emphasis. 

“Quiet down, blabbermouth! I can hear you!” Chiyo scolded, smacking at his hand before answering. “And no- I wasn’t able to replicate it with other puppet-eyes, and I wasn’t about to disassemble any of the Chikamatsu Collection to figure out what the secret was.”

“And Jonin Ryoma replicated the technique with wood and paint.” Security Commander ‘Taicho’ growled, his calm voice rumbling with irritation at one’s underlings. “I will have to update his file again- My subordinates failed to mention this ability. Negligence or ignorance, which is a form of negligence.”

“Perhaps a different technique is required for each eye material?” Elder Ebizo mused. “What’s Ryoma-boy’s natural affinity again?”

“Earth.” The ANBU Captain rumbled. “With a developed affinity for Wind.”

“Are wood and paint earth-aligned materials?” Logistics Commander Roban mused, reaching a hand up to scratch at his goatee. “That doesn’t sound quite right.”

“The report outlines the technique as Jonin Ryoma knows it- he considers it a category called ‘Kanjutsu’!” Gentai proclaimed with a firm nod. “An unorthodox category based around ninjutsu that expand the senses! I will attempt to replicate the technique and report my findings.”

“Limbs, eyes, ears. How many ninja can be brought back into active service with such replacements?” Rasa glanced at his Security and Logistics Commanders, making sure they knew he was addressing them. 

“Hm. Maybe eleven.” Roban replied with a hum. “I’ve a few working in desk-work right now, and they’ll need to train up a replacement before taking missions again, but I’m sure they’ll jump on the chance to get back to field work if you ask, Lord Kazekage.”

“An indeterminate amount. They would need to be recalled from their cover.” ‘Taicho’s orange goggles glinted in the light of the audience chamber. “I would advise careful consideration before that is done.” Crippled ninja disguised as beggars, destitutes, and prostitutes, distributed throughout the Elemental Nations in key locations and acting as long term informants. A relatively standard tactic, as far as Rasa was aware.

“I’ll take that under consideration.” Rasa stated bluntly, hands crossed behind his back. The ability to gain more rumor and random sightings in a handful of locations was of questionable utility compared to the ability to press crippled shinobi back into active, standard service. “Gentai, assemble a puppetry team to develop replacement limbs and eyes as an ongoing mission, a team that does not include Jonin Ryoma. You will contact Captains Arada and Kakuhon about integration of shiki and seals into these replacements, explicitly under my orders.”

“Yes Lord Kazekage!” Gentai saluted, clicking the heels of his boots together as he did. 

“Honored Elder Chiyo- I request that you work with Medical Captain Aoi to develop a full-body-replacement method.” Rasa continued, turning to side-eye the elder puppeteer. “If you decide against it, I will simply request Gentai form another team for the sake of this project.”

“Hrgn… I’m retired, you know, brat?” Elder Chiyo leveled an unimpressed look towards him. Rasa returned the look with a flat stare of his own. Eventually she closed her eyes and huffed. “Give me a week to think it over.”

Acceptable. He turned his head towards Aoi. “Medical Captain- either yourself or a dedicated team on this project.”

“I’ll handle it myself- Buddha know’s the next generation isn’t worth a thing.” Aoi huffed, closing her eyes. A moment later she threw her wrinkled head back and cackled. “Besides- I could use a hot young body again, ehehe-hah!”

“Wretched old prune.” Elder Chiyo grumbled hypocritically. “You couldn’t lure a man when you were young either.”

“Your jealousy is noted, old sponge.” 

Rasa leveled a stare at both women, getting them to quiet down before turning back to the glass.

Ryoma was fitting the second limb onto the leather harness, looking slightly perturbed by the dampness of the pillow and the steady stream of silent tears that flowed down Tsubame’s face. This perturbed expression only intensified as the newly fitted arms were used to lock around him in a crushing hug, her face buried into the crook of his neck and unsteady ‘thank you’s coming clear through the microphones.

Somewhat awkwardly, he brought his hands down to return the hug, his eyes moving over to them on the other side of the glass. 

“He looks confused.” Logistics Commander Roban observed dryly. 

“He’s like Sasori- nothing he’s doing here is special to him. He figured it out long ago and never thought to share, because it wasn’t that difficult for him. And if it’s not difficult, then everyone else surely figured it out a long time ago.” Elder Chiyo sighed. “My grandson was a bad influence on him.”

That was the biggest problem with the Jonin- he was just a bit too much like Sasori. “Taicho, once this observation period is concluded, offer 38-102 an open position near him. Bodyguard or something along those lines. Her limbs and techniques with them might be improved over time by the proximity.”

The unspoken duty was that she’d be watching him to ensure he didn’t defect. Taicho’s orange goggles glinted again as he nodded shallowly.  

“It will be done, Lord Kazekage.” 

In the theater chamber, Ryoma slowly extracted himself from the crying woman and got back to work, brows furrowed.

“Might be prudent to have explosive tags applied to the limbs as well.” Elder Ebizo commented. “No need to let them slip into enemy hands, even as simple as they are- especially as simple as they are.”

“A wise suggestion, Honored Elder Ebizo.”

—

Special Jonin Mari took the news of Karura’s death as well as he could have reasonably hoped for. Professionally, with only a few tears and no apparent grudge towards himself. 

He walked through the outer terrace of the central HQ and across the narrow bridge of sandstone that led towards the Security Center’s outer lip.

He made sure to redact any individuals involved in the sealing save for himself- it would not do to have his ninja feuding under his nose. Any blame for her death should fall squarely upon his shoulders- he was the one who approved of the procedure in the end. 

From the outer lip, he walked down the stairs towards the back of the building, where the Suppression Chamber was located. 

Mari’s only request was the right to take on babysitting duties for Gaara, citing that it was only right for her to help her friend’s children. 

Rasa didn’t have it in himself to argue against that, and having another agent other than Yashamaru willing to watch Gaara without himself around would only be beneficial. Even with this, he made sure to give precise instructions about how to handle his son, and how to best escape the crushing sand of the demon. 

He stopped at the door, seeing it unlocked. His eyes narrowed as black rings formed around them. The metal hinges pushed the door open for him, revealing the chamber within. Currently empty.

He entered the chamber, the rings of black around his eyes disappearing as the chakra-suppressing seals surrounded him. A crib, a few blankets, a handful of toys, and nothing more.

He walked out of the chamber, raising his hands into a seal and closing one eye as he moved. Sand rose from the ground, swirling together and compressing into the shape of a perfectly rounded glass eye. The eye sped upwards, spinning around rapidly to take in the surroundings.

If Mari had tried to escape with the Jinchuriki, then he’d have to exe-

…There she was, sitting in the shade of one of the central HQ’s leafy acacia trees with Gaara in the crook of her arm, napping in the filtered light of the sun. The other arm was missing from her shoulder. Small piles of sand, scraps of wood and metal, and torn cloth littered the small garden. 

His scowl lightened as he changed directions, walking towards the garden and passing by a handful of ninja in the noon air. They saluted as he passed by, but would quickly retreat into buildings and away from the hot desert winds. Even early into spring, the sun was relentless with its glare. 

A gentle, wordless lullaby drifted over those winds, growing steadily clearer as he approached the exterior garden. He dispelled the Sand-Eye as he rounded the corner, letting the jutsu fall apart and drift away on the breeze. He could see the garden with his own eyes now.

The HQ garden served mostly as a place to put clients who complained about being cooped inside constantly as they waited for their contracts to be approved and sent on their way. A small section of ground filled with soil transplanted from the Land of Rivers and planted with several Acacia trees to keep it well-shaded. The ground was covered mostly in heat-tolerant flowers and well-groomed pebbles, with a single well in the center which was capped by a roof to dispel yet more heat.

Karura liked visiting the garden, keeping meticulous care of the various trees and shrubs. 

Rasa almost couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. He pushed away his distractions and focused again on what was currently important. 

His gaze fixed on the form of the Special Jonin and the Jinchuriki.

She was, as he observed earlier, currently missing her replacement arm. The scattered fragments of the limb decorated the garden and mixed in with small piles of sand. Gaara was nested into the crook of her arm as she leaned back against the base of one of the trees, humming a gentle lullaby.

Her sleeves had been torn off, revealing her arm and the stump where an arm used to be. There was a gentle but unnatural breeze surrounding her, indicating that she was maintaining a wind jutsu.

Her eyes cracked open as he approached, then opened all the way to greet him. “Ah- Lord Ra- er- Kazekage! Are you done with that meet-whatever?” She spoke gently, not rising to bow. “I’d uh- rise to salute but, I think I might have trouble with that- eheh?”

He stared down at her for a few moments, glancing over at a pile of sand and scrap wood, before turning back to her. “...The demon’s sand almost crushed you.”

“Oh, yeah- Gaara got a bit fussy because he was hot and got my arm.” She explained in an apologetic tone. “B-b-but it’s okay! I can go bother Ry-oh uh… A guy about getting another one!” She smiled brightly, eyes closed and nodding confidently. 

She was not especially diligent about maintaining operational security, he observed dryly. “I can take you off the list of candidates to watch my son, if you-”

“No!” She bounced up, eyes wide and expression worried. Gaara fidgeted, immediately bringing her attention back to him before she could continue. “Oh- sorry baby- I didn’t mean to be loud- shushushu, okay? Mari’s sorry.”

Rasa watched, slowly letting the black rings around his eyes dissipate again. Mari calmed his son down again, giving his head a gentle nuzzle with her forehead, and humming a delicate tune.

His chest hurt. He looked away, focusing on the piles of sand and debris. 

“Please don’t, Lord Kazekage, he’s a really sweet baby- he didn’t mean it- I understand.” She quietly pleaded. “I can just get another arm, it’s fine- I don’t mind losing it.”

“Your ability to care for him will be severely limited with a single arm.” He pointed out, turning his gaze to the neighboring acacia tree. 

“Ah- I already figured out how to get around that, Lord Kazekage! Please look!”

He forced his flat gaze back to the woman holding his son. She smiled brightly at him, a string of chakra reaching down and connecting with the pile of torn cloth that used to serve as her sleeves. 

The cloth rose, tying itself around the base of her stump and shaping itself into the vague form of an arm, fingers composed of torn sections at the end, which reached into her vest and pulled out a bottle of nutrient-enriched baby formula.

With arm made of cloth, she shook it around briefly, an overly pleased smile on her face. “See? I’m still totally capable! Please praise me a lot, Lord Kazekage!”

In truth, Rasa was already tired of thinking about replacement limbs, something he had been doing all of today so far. “I see.” 

She giggled, cloth hand raising to cover her mouth. “Hehe- I suppose it’s hard to impress you, Lord Kazekage.”

A hot whisper into his ear. His dumbfounded hands roaming across pale flesh. “When a woman is trying to impress you, you should be suitably awed, Misterkazekage” 

“I am impressed.” He blurted out, not sure of what he should say. 

He blinked, returning to the present. His gut clenched and rolled in uncomfortable ways. 

Mari started at him with a wide-eyed expression, before collapsing into nervous giggles with a wide smile on her face. She stopped low to whisper to his son.

“Hear that- Gaara? I impressed your daddy! He likes my cool cloth arm!”

He must have said that aloud, lost briefly in memories. 

How pathetic of him. “You are maintaining a wind ninjutsu. How?”

Mari looked up from Gaara and grinned again. “Gaara helped me! See, watch!” Slowly she transferred him to the crook of the cloth-arm, before gently holding up a hand in front of him. The wind around her dissipated as she teased out a little hand.

She held his hand against her palm, curling her fingers into half of a handseal.

The wind around her kicked up again, and she lowered her hand to let Gaara grab around her pinky. 

“See! Easy as that!” She smiled at him again, a little laugh in her tone. “He’s such a smart baby- helping aunty Mari like that! Yes he is!”

She stopped low to nuzzle him again, and Rasa’s heart twisted upon itself. 

“That’s good.” He stated plainly, turning away and making his way out of the garden. “I’ll leave him in your care for the moment- return him to my office before six in the afternoon.”

“Yes Rasalord! Er- Kazekasa! Pft- Lord Rasakage!”

The last thing he heard before leaving earshot was the special jonin quietly cursing to herself, and then apologizing to Gaara for ‘saying a naughty word’.

Rasa stumbled once, bracing himself against the sandstone wall and staring at the floor.

He pulled himself together shortly after.

Chapter 24

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

“You’re still wearing it?” Supervisor-chan grumbled at him as they walked through the streets, towards the entertainment district. She had shown up at his door again, saying that Captain Gentai asked her to pick him up for Karaoke Night.

He wasn’t expecting an escort, but he didn’t really mind it either. “Yep. Asked the guys in Security if it was alright, they gave me a thumbs-up.” He explained casually, eyes roaming around to memorize the route. 

“Hmp. Then I won’t say another word about it- if you asked.” She huffed, arms crossed in front of her chest and head raised high. She had a peculiar way of walking, with her upper torso so straight that it leaned back and her legs kicking up relatively high with each step. It was like she was trying to burn extra calories or something, each bootfall resulting in a quiet but noticeable ‘click’ as her heels hit the paved road. 

Ka-click, ka-click, ka-click, ka-click.

“That’s a cute little character trait.” Ryoma commented with a half-smile and a lazy gaze.

She turned a slightly baffled eye towards him. “B-whuh? What the heck are you talking about?” Her arms spread out in front of her, again as if to shield her body from his gaze. 

“The goofy little heel clicks you do when you walk.” He pointed down at her tall boots, still making the noise he was talking about.

“G-goofy?! I- that’s just how I walk! There’s nothing goofy about it!” She pulled back slightly, glancing down at her boots before turning back up to him. 

He shook a hand at her. “You can’t pull a fast one on me- I’ve studied this exact thing for at least thirty years now. I know the difference between a normal walk and a goofy walk, and that’s most certainly a very goofy walk. It’s downright silly. humorous, even.”

“You’ve studied the difference between funny walks and normal walks for thirty years?” She asked in a dry and annoyed manner. 

“Yerp.” Ryoma nodded at once, eyes closed and face scrunched up for emphasis. 

“40-064. You're one year younger than me.” She glared. “You’re not thirty years old.” Judging by her tone, she really wanted to call him an idiot.

“I never said anything about being thirty years old- that would be ridiculous. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You couldn’t have studied something for thirty years without being at least that old!”

“Nuh uh.” He denied it in a very serious and mature manner. “I learned it fast.”

Supervisor-chan’s face was flushed and scrunched up in frustration, staring up at him with eyes narrowed into little slits and nose all scrunched up. She turned towards again, growling in frustration and speeding her pace. Her fluffy black hair bounced as she broke into a power-walk to get ahead of him.

Notably, she was still walking in that goofy heel-clicking way. Ka-click, ka-click, ka-click.

He let out an amused exhale and increased his pace fractionally, his long legs letting him easily keep pace with the short powerwalker. Shortly after the Karaoke place came into view, looking a lot like any other building in Suna but with a large sign saying ‘Koboyashi Karaoke Hall’ and the picture of a drunken songbird.

Honestly not bad, top tier advertisement mascot. Supervisor-chan glanced back at him in a short-tempered way, making sure he was behind her, before stepping forwards to push open the doors and enter. The interior was relatively dim, with walls and roof painted dark brown and floors painted white. 

“Hallo! Do you have a reservation?!” A bubbly girl at the door greeted them. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a cropped geisha-dress on. 

“Two more of the Puppeteer Corps.” Supervisor-chan stated plainly, politely nodding at the girl. The girl bounced, nodding and stepping over to point at a section of the interior.

“Right that way!” Greeting-girl bounced, limbs practically made of springs with how energetic she was being with a relatively mundane task. 

Supervisor-chan nodded absentmindedly, walking past and towards the room in question. Ryoma made sure to smile with his eyes and nod at the serving-girl as he walked by- never hurts to be polite to the customer service.

“She must be new.” Supervisor-chan mumbled with a glance backwards. “I’ve been here too many times before. Most know us already.” 

“Supervisor-chan loves karaoke, I see.” Ryoma teased.

“My name is Toyoko!” She snapped, face scrunching up at him. She was about to say something else, before thinking better of it and pushing the door open. This was accompanied by a little frustrated huff.

As soon as the door opened, the sounds of laughter and commentary could be heard.

“-swear to it! As soon as they realized I was under them- Boom! Eyes boggled out of their heads! They looked like this- Booo-wooohmp!”

“Hahaha! You’re exaggerating!”

“I’m serious! Bwwuaaahh-omp!”

“Captain- your daughter is here. She brings a boy with her.” A feminine voice drawled. 

The inside of the room seemed relatively stereotypical for a karaoke place. A sort of ‘C’ shaped couch surrounding a short table covered in drinks and snacks. Two projectors were mounted above, pointing at either side of the walls and displaying a ‘select your song’ menu. 

Sitting around the table were a number of what Ryoma presumed were his fellow puppeteers. Captain Gentai was present, sitting on the corner and legs bunched up tremendously to allow the giant of a man to sit in the normal-man sized seats. The only difference between his current and normal outfits was that his flak vest was currently unzipped. 

Sitting next to him was a woman with well-tanned skin and dark pink hair tied back into a long braid. She wore a long-sleeved variant of the Suna flak vest, opened to reveal a chest bound in bandages and exposed stomach, which ended in a tight black pants that went all the way down to sandaled feet. As the voice was feminine, Ryoma was assuming this was the one who spoke last.

On the other side of the table, a lanky man with long white hair and a crooked grin sat. He wore the sunagakure headband down enough to cover his eyebrows with an extension that came back to cover the top of his head entirely. His flak vest was worn loosely over his shoulders, body covered by a tight black bodyglove that came up far enough to cover the bottom of his chin.

The last present at the table was a bulky man who was well into the last stages of balding. A total disappearance of any hair on the top of his head, all that remained was a section of shortly-shaved hair that ringed around the sides just above his ears. This bald dome was embraced with the elaborate tattoo of a scorpion plastered upon it. He was dressed in a similar black bodyglove as the previous man, save that his was covered in a layer of old-fashioned samurai armor with a tan coat folded up and draped across his lap. 

Their laughs trailed off and their gazes turned towards the two of them with curious expressions and toothy smiles. 

Gentai nodded sharply. “Toyo, Jonin Ryoma. I’m glad that you’ve arrived!” Despite his bombastic claim, his face was still locked into a serious glare and scowl. 

“Hmp. You didn’t tell me what a hassle he was, Papa!” Supervisor-chan click-stepped her way over, Gentai and the woman stepping out to allow her to slide past and take a seat. 

So she was the captain’s daughter, huh? Neat. Ryoma meandered his way over as Captain Gentai raised his brows. “A hassle? Jonin Ryoma has been diligent and reserved in all my interactions with him!”

“She’s telling the truth. I’ve been a troublemaker, a rabble rouser, and all around entirely too rambunctious for my own good around her.” Ryoma shook his head in faux-regret. “She called me a dog the other day and I started barking.”

“She did?!”

“That didn’t happen! You liar!” Toyoko slammed her hands on the table, pushing herself up and pointing dramatically at him. “I never said so much as one rude thing to you!” She hissed, slapping herself on the chest. 

“You didn’t take your shoes off when you entered my apartment.” Ryoma smirked, giving her a side eye. She froze, staring at him with a shocked expression. He sighed and shrugged. “After I invited you in and cooked breakfast for you too, it’s just heartbreaking really.”

“T-that, b-buwh, that’s not-” She raised her hands and fumbled through words before the heavy laughter and soft giggles of the strangers present cut her off. She practically melted into her chair, retracting in on herself in a seethingly embarrassed manner.

“I see!” Gentai announced with a firm nod. “It’s good to see you getting along well!” 

His daughter let out a miserable whine as she planted her forehead on her knees. 

“Hey now, Ryoma right?” The bald man declared, sticking a hand out for him to take, a grin on his face. Ryoma took it, shaking the man’s hand with a firm and curt motion. “Nichibotsu, call me Nichi! Captain told us about you!”

“Oh? What’d he say?” Ryoma asked with a raised brow. 

“You were that kid ol’ Sasori hung around, before he turned traitor anyhow.” He laughed. “Heard you did pretty well for yourself last war, Jonin in three years ain’t shabby at all!”

Ryoma huffed in an amused fashion. “I spent a lot of time in the academy.” 

“Hehe- that only accounts for so much- here let me stand up so you can scoot on in.” Nichi huffed, pushing up and standing so that the lanky man next to him could follow. Ryoma scooted his way over, taking a seat next to the scandalized looking Toyoko with a grin.

The lanky man offered his own hand, which Ryoma took. “Tsuyumaru, heh, anyone who can get Little Toyo all flustered like that is good in my book.”

“I’m not flustered!” She growled in a flustered manner.

“It’s a lot of fun.” Ryoma nodded to confirm the statement, releasing the hand and turning towards the last stranger. 

The pink-haired woman leaned forwards, offering a graceful hand with a smirk. “Yukita Sakura, darling, glad you could join us.”

“Glad to be here, I suppose.” Ryoma drawled, shaking the hand with a nod before letting go and leaning back. He was probably just going to call her ‘Yukita’, he thought of someone else when the name ‘Sakura’ was mentioned and it would just get confusing if he didn’t keep them separate.  “I wasn’t keeping anyone waiting, was I?”

“We do not begin until nineteen-hundred. This gives time for any other member of the Puppeteer Corps who wishes to join Karaoke Night to arrive.” Gentai explained with a firm nod. “Most usually find themselves preoccupied with their various projects.”

“It’s only us Jonin that usually show up to these things.” Nichi explained with a rumbling tone. “Used to ol’ Sasori joined us from time to time, but the Chunin? They’re convinced they don’t have the time to waste on a little socializing! Hahah!”

“You’re looking at every Jonin in the Puppeteer Corps, kid.” Tsuyumaru huffed, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Except Toyo there, and Tooru who’s on a mission right now.”

“What was he doing again? Something about wiping out a bandit band?” Yukita asked , rubbing her chin with a thumb. “Vagrant types.”

“Something like that- the pickings have been getting real thin ever since the war ended.” Nichi sighed in a rueful manner. “Used too I was getting a new elimination job every time I finished the last- I haven’t had a good raid in months now.” He reached down and poured himself a saucer of sake, throwing it back before pouring another- this time sliding the sake jaw over to him on a chakra string. “Go on and pour yourself a glass, Ryoma, ain’t no need to stand on ceremony here.”

Ryoma exhaled through his nose, making his veil kick up a bit as he took hold of the jar. He went ahead and poured two saucers, pushing the other over to Supervisor-chan and setting the jar down. “Every Jonin but one, huh? For some reason I thought we’d have more.” He commented, reaching up to take off the veil so he could drink. 

“Used to- There were maybe twice as many of us before the third war started.” Tsuyumaru let out a rolling chuckle. “Pretty sure one of them was your teacher- You were Jin’s brat, weren’t you?”

“For maybe a year, yeah.” Jin, his Jonin-sensei and another puppeteer, a freaky-looking bald guy with an unusually thick neck and unnatural smile plastered on his face most of the time. His puppet of choice was one that looked like a baby, that could make baby noises and had a concealed knife inside. 

Nothing else. Ryoma wasn’t sure why he never upgraded it past that.

Ryoma also wasn’t exactly sure what he had learned from the man while assigned to his team, mostly just a bunch of random buddhist sayings and directions to the poison market. The most substantive thing Ryoma got was the man’s own straw hat before he ran into Jiraiya the Toad Sage and got obliterated. 

Honestly he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from a Jonin Sensei, he supposed that was about the best he could’ve hoped for. The sake gently burned down his throat, filling his chest with the distinct warmth of alcohol. The taste, like the taste of all alcohol, was kinda weird and he wasn’t really a fan. He wasn’t much of a drinking kind of guy.

“Ah, that’s right- he ran right into the Toad Sage didn’t he?” Nichi mused with a half-grin. “Ah, well easy come and easy go. He’d probably say one of them idioms and throw back a bottle if he were here.”

“The invitation is open to any- but the Genin and Chunin rarely show. They’re too nervous to perform in front of their superiors.” Yukita smiled, strings reaching out to pour herself a cap and bring it to her lips. “As if karaoke is indicative of their abilities in the field- they’re silly little ones like that.”

“I’d bet most of them are better with karaoke than they are with puppetry.” Tsuyumaru laughed. “I didn’t see any Sasoris hanging around in the most recent batches, let’s just say that.”

“You don’t need to be Sasori to paint the sands red.” Nichi waved a bombastic hand. “Besides- Kids are great killers! You just need to give em a chance!” He pointed a thumb back at himself. “Just look at me, I was a kid once and my kill count is in the triple digits! Gahaha!”

“You’ve been bragging about hitting three hundred for months now, Nichibotsu, when will you give it a rest?” Yukita sighed, changing the orientation of her crossed legs. 

“Now there- I never mentioned my kill count. That was you! Heha!”

“Hey now- what’s the new kid’s count?” Tsuyumaru asked with a tilted head. “Ryoma- you keep track of your kills, or is that just something Nichi here has been insisting we do?”

Ryoma took another sip, considering the question for a moment, smacking his lips in thought. “Uh…” His brows furrowed, before he shook his head. “I’d have to check my file again- I don’t remember.”

“That’s a great sign!” Nichi laughed. “If you’re already at that point- Captain, what’s the kid’s count? I know you read all our files!”

Gentai nodded firmly. “Over the course of his three year career, Jonin Ryoma is directly responsible for the death of two hundred and six enemy shinobi-”

Everyone at the table stilled and paid closer attention to the captain as he spoke. “-And has directly participated in the deaths of four hundred and sixty two more.”

Ryoma licked his teeth, trying his best to remember. A lot of the third war was a bit fuzzy to him, a combination of strain, constant missions, and the faint high of chakra pills made it hard to keep track of the little details. “That sounds about right, probably.” He slowly nodded, scowling in consideration. “A lot of those were incidental-”

“Holy damn!” Nichibotsu roared with a huge smile. “Why the hell are you pouring your own drinks! Toyo- Get this field-cutter another! Ahahah!”

He raised an amused brow, glancing over at the unusually quiet Supervisor-chan. She glanced at him, before coughing into her fist with a scowl and pouring another drink into his saucer. The lack of grumbling and growling felt a bit strange. “Thanks.” He said as an aside, making her nod stiffly and set the jar down.

“That’s six hundred and sixty eight.” Tsuyumaru declared, a finger tapping on his chin and an impressed whistle in his tone. “That’s about one kill every one and a half days.”

“It sounds a lot more impressive than it is.” Ryoma denied with a shake of his head. “The Wood Dragoon is good at clearing battlefields, and bad at everything else. Most of those kills were just from frontline incidentals, shrapnel and the like.”

“Wood Dragoon… Is that your puppet? What does it look like?” Yukita asked, uncrossing her legs, putting her hands in her lap, and leaning forwards. 

“About three meters tall, humanoid, with a large oni-mask on the front.” Ryoma waved a hand in front of him.

“Wait a minute!” Supervisor-chan shot up, leaning forwards to look him in the eye. Well, as best as she could from her seated position. “You’re That Guy!” 

There was that nickname again. He reached a hand up to scratch at his cheek. “...I’m going to be honest with you- I didn’t know I had that kind of reputation until someone told me about it last month.”

“You didn’t?” She asked with a slightly baffled expression, waving a hand at him. “Tha-that’s-”

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t go out that often!” He explained with a slightly annoyed tone. “I got work to do, and eating out is expensive!”

The table of Jonin puppeteers laughed at him for nearly a minute, something he endured with good humor and another drink.

Karaoke night wasn’t too bad- he’d probably come back a time or two.

Chapter 25

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

“Jonin Ryoma.” A familiar voice greeted him in a smooth tone. He turned his head slightly over and up to regard them, hands folded in his lap and legs loosely crossed.

Mari’s friend, Nagare, was standing to his right and looking down at his seated form. Her immense jugs secured to her shoulders with overlapping leather straps and hair hidden beneath a loose beige headdress. She carried two bags of what looked and smelled like take-out food.

“Mari’s Friend.” He greeted, a little amused smirk hidden beneath his veil. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“This is the Ninjutsu Corps HQ.” She replied blandly. 

Ryoma glanced around, looking at the glazed clay walls, the tall arched roof, the regular and bold electrical lighting, the patterned tile flooring, and the comfortable reception chair he was sitting in. You could tell just by looking that the Ninjutsu Corps had cash to burn- mostly because ninjutsu were both powerful and cost chakra to utilize, rather than money.

The Eight Corps of Suna all received a set stipend from the central treasury and a small percentage of whatever their members earned from completing missions. Puppetry, Shiki, Sealing, Medical, Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, Barrier, Weaponry- all received the same base level stipend to keep existing, researching, and to pay for whatever facilities they needed to do both of those things. Anything more had to come from the paychecks of their members.

Many of the corps had either niche applications, so fewer applicants, or outstanding costs, so less liquid capital free to be used on whatever. The Puppeteers had the manufacturing costs and renting out the space for the silos, the Shiki and Sealing Corps both used big oversized tools in their ‘standard’ equipment loadouts, the Medical Corps made a lot of money and spent a lot of money on their potions and poisons and laboratories, and so on. Most didn’t have much in the way of ‘disposable’ income.

The Ninjutsu Corps didn’t have any of these issues- no big costs or shortage of members- and consequently had some of the fanciest looking facilities in Suna. When one considered this, and added that both the current and previous Kazekage were former members of their particular Corps, you ended up with an incredibly arrogant bunch. 

Hence why when he swung by and requested a meeting for future business, the receptionist told him that he’d have to wait in the lobby until the Captain could meet with him- no specific time given. This was frustrating, because several people had requested meetings similar to him and had been allowed to enter immediately.

“So it is.” Ryoma commented, turning back to her. He tried to think of a funny follow-up to that, but couldn’t quite manage to come up with anything in time. Thinking was a bit difficult through the persistent irritation that was building up behind his eyes. 

Those were called ‘headaches’, he was pretty sure. “Hello.”

Her eyes trailed up and down along his body once, before glancing up at the receptionist pretending to be working, and back to him. “What brings you here, Jonin Ryoma?” She asked plainly, sounding like she was already pretty sure about the answer but asking to confirm anyways.

“Well.” Ryoma leaned back and put on a falsely chipper tone. “I had swung by to request a meeting- or if nothing else scheduled one for the future- to get a quote for a commission for custom work with the Ninjutsu Corps.” He made sure to smile toothily, even if it couldn’t be seen, and shake his head. “It’s just the darndest thing though- because I showed up four hours ago and have seen at least three unscheduled visits show up and processed while I waited.”

He stretched long, letting bones crack and pop as he did. “It’s enough to frustrate me, Miss Nagare, it’s enough to make me grumble and squint. Heck, I might just lodge a formal letter of complaint to the Lord Kazekage and include very strong language.”

His tone conveyed a great deal more irritation than his words. 

She nodded slowly. “I see. Are you intending to maintain secrecy about this commission?” She asked directly, tilting her head.

He reached into his pocket to pull out the scroll in question detailing the process he needed to put wood through to densify it, and the amount that he would need for it, and tossed it over to her carelessly. He realized immediately after that both of her hands were currently occupied, and reached out a string to-

She caught it in her mouth, flawlessly, smoothly lowering the bags in her hands down to the ground before taking the scroll out of her teeth and gently patting it against her clothes. Then, as if she hadn’t just done something incredibly odd, she took the scroll in both hands to unfurl and read through it.

Ryoma wasn’t really sure what his expression was at the moment. His raised finger slowly lowered before his hand dropped entirely, returning to his side.

She rolled it up again and handed it back to him, then bent at the knees to pick up her take-out bags again. “I see. Would you like my independent referral to a specialist?” 

He considered that for about half a second, nodding as he pushed up from the chair. “If you wouldn’t mind- I’d love to take you up on that offer!” He gave a little half-grin, tucking the scroll away and bowing his head in thanks. 

She nodded again. “Please follow me.” She spoke, turning to start walking down a side-hall.

“The Captain will see you no-” The receptionist tried to call out, only to be interrupted by Ryoma’s polite but firm refusal.

“Fuck off.” He called out, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he followed Nagare down the side-hall and towards another equally fancy section of the HQ. He could hear the receptionist trail off awkwardly behind him, and briefly felt bad about being rude to her before deciding that he was too annoyed to care.

He made a mental note to not ask the Ninjutsu Captain for anything ever again.

“You have someone in mind already?” He asked, sighing and doing his best to shake off his ambient frustrations. 

“I am capable of one step of the process. I am aware of one other who is capable of another one of the detailed steps, and I trust that she will know others who are capable of the last two.”

“One of those steps is ultimately optional, mind you. I don’t really need it to get the material I’m looking for.” Ryoma made sure to clarify.

Nagare nodded. “I saw that.”

She stopped in front of a door that read ‘Vice Captain’, provoking a raised brow and glance from him. Not that she seemed to notice or heed either. Nagare set one bag of food down again, knocking on the door with the back of her knuckles, and calling out, “Vice Captain, I’ve returned with lunch and a guest.”

“Come in.” A female voice called out from inside, making Nagara nod, open the door, then reach down to take up her other bag again. She pushed the door open with one of her massive jugs, the ones slung next to her hips, and stepped inside. Ryoma followed politely, step hitching once as he saw who was on the other side of the door.

Dark, seaweed-green hair tied back in a smooth bun, kept in place with a long bone needle. Uneven orange bangs that framed the sides of her face. A long, sleeveless black top secured around her waist with a white obi. Faded amber eyes, fair skin, and light purple lipstick. She was certainly attractive, for sure, with a pretty face and rather shapely figure. However, what she was was very much secondary to who she was.

Ryoma recognized this woman, the same way he might recognize Kazekage Rasa and for very similar reasons. 

Pakura of the Scorch, Hero of the Hidden Sand, one of the two S-Rank ninjas left in Suna, sat behind the desk. He hadn’t known she was the Vice-Captain of the Ninjutsu Corps- that wasn’t very important compared to the fact that she was Pakura and therefore wielder of the Scorch-Release, the creative name for super-hot fire that magically dehydrated things into mummies by proximity.

Ninja ‘Ranks’ were an imprecise science. It was tricky to get any clear delineation between what rank a ninja should be and why, the reasonings varying wildly from person to person and rankings riddled with exceptions and edge-cases. Theoretically it was a measure of a ninja’s overall threat and force-projection capacity, practically it was an argument about who could beat up who.

Most of the time, earning the coveted status of S-Rank required a particularly noteworthy feat that others could point to and say ‘that’s it, they’re S-rank for sure’.

Pakura’s feat was fighting Han of the Steam, a ninja of Iwa, to a standstill in the middle of the largest battle on the Suna-Iwa front during the Third Ninja War. This alone didn’t sound all that impressive until one learned that Han of the Steam was a Jinchuriki, had a massive primordial chakra-demon sealed inside of him, and had been wearing that chakra-demon’s form and trying to trample the Suna forces while Pakura had fought him.

A Jinchuriki who could do that was so far beyond Ryoma’s league it wasn’t even funny- so a woman who could actively brawl with one and not die was similarly intimidating. He wasn’t sure how exactly she did it- he wasn’t present on that battlefield when it went down, but he was relatively certain that she had used her magic dehydration-fire to hard-counter the giant steam demon. 

Currently, she was looking into one of the bags of take out with a curious eye. “Hm- They gave us a lot of sauce, huh?” 

“I asked for extra.” Nagare explained calmly, sitting down on the other side of the desk and taking out a pair of chopsticks. “Their mayonnaise is very good.”

“This is a lot of mayonnaise.”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Ryoma couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was starting to think that Nagare and Pakura were rather similar. The Hero of Suna pulled out her dish, a basket-tray of fried fish covered in a frankly unreasonable amount of mayo, and set it aside to look up at him. “Who is this, Nagare?”

“Jonin Ryoma of the Puppeteer Corps.” Nagare explained, pulling out her own tray of fried fish drowned in mayo, setting it to the side and starting to neatly fold the take-out bag up for disposal. “He has been waiting in the reception for a meeting with Captain Udekabe. I offered a direct referral.”

“Ah.” Pakura nodded, taking a large bite of her mayo-slathered fried fish and turning towards him. It had to be a large bite too, because the quantity of mayo on the fried fillet was enough to slightly increase the bulk of the actual food. The sight of mayo spilling a bit over her lips and onto her chin was somewhat distracting.

Not too distracting though- because mayo was gross and Ryoma didn’t like it anywhere near his food. 

She had clearly intended to speak earlier, but had to work through her bite of food slightly longer than anticipated. She raised a hand apologetically before slightly covering her mouth, cheeks distended, and turning slightly to the side to finish. Ryoma raised a brow, glancing over at Nagare to see her politely gorging herself on the fish and mayo. 

The room was dominated by the sounds of quiet but furious chewing for a few long awkward moments. Ryoma reached up to scratch at his neck, politely looking away and waiting to be properly addressed.

Finally, a swallow. “My apologies.” Pakura said, provoking him to turn back. “The fish is more chewy than I was expecting.”

He reached up to gesture at the corner of his mouth. “You uh- got some mayo here-”

She nodded, reaching over to take a napkin and wiping at the corners of her lips before carefully scrunching it up and gently dropping it into a trash bin. “I am Pakura, Vice-Captain of the Ninjutsu Corps. What is the nature of this meeting?”

Ryoma reached into his vest and pulled out the scroll, stepping forwards to gently hand it over. “There’s a process I need to perform on wood to densify it- but the Puppetry Corps doesn’t have the right tools for it. I was hoping to commission specialists of the Ninjutsu Corps to make it for me- at least five thousand pounds of raw material in the form of debarked logs.” He shrugged. “At the very least, I’d like an estimate for how much you’d charge for it so I can judge if I can afford it or not. If I can’t, I’ll just have to use untreated wood.”

Pakura listened carefully to his words, nodding slowly before unfurling the scroll across the table in front of her. As she read, she leaned to the side and took another large bite of the mayo-fish, chewing thoughtfully and making sure her mouth wasn’t over the scroll.

A drop of mayo fell onto the front of her dress, a spot of white against black, which he did his best to ignore. 

Eventually, she swallowed and wiped her lips off again. “I will need at least three others for this- those capable of general elemental manipulation are not usually skilled enough to perform the processes outlined here. I have two in mind, including Nagare, but one is currently on a mission.”

“So four mission-payments then?” Ryoma asked, scratching at his chin with a thoughtful expression. Better than he had feared, worse than he had hoped. “Do you have a general price point in mind?”

“No more than a C-Rank Mission, but you will be required to provide the sodium sulfite and unprocessed wood. We will be able to begin as soon as the last of four return from their mission- I do not anticipate them taking longer than a month to return.”

C-Rank meant anywhere from thirty-thousand to one-hundred thousand Ryo, worst case scenario was he had to wait a month and shell out four-hundred thousand to get the wood he needed to layer over the metal skeleton-frame and make the wooden… muscle? That would be the analogous component here, but it didn’t operate anything like meat-muscles so it didn’t feel quite right to say.

Against, worse than he had hoped, better than he had feared. Random delays like that were part of his initial calculation of ‘six months to two-years’, and he wasn’t at all surprised by it. Ryoma nodded, ignoring the distracting sounds of Nagare chowing down on her second large mayo-fish. “That sounds agreeable to me- please send word when you can get started. I’ll pay the standard half up front and half upon completion.”

“I suppose, being a puppeteer, you will need to make a purchase like this several times throughout your career?” She asked in a relatively blunt manner. “Why not simply develop the ninjutsu or machinery required to perform this process yourself?”

Ryoma raised his brows before shrugging. Of course an S-Ranker would say ‘why not just develop the 2-3 elemental manipulation talents yourself?’ There's a reason that they were an S-Ranker. “By the time I could create the tools to create the material to build my tools- I could’ve just paid the professionals to make the material so I could build my tools several times over. I can always get more money, I can never get more time.”

A thoughtful, contemplative look crossed her eyes. “I suppose so. Is there anything else, Jonin Ryoma?” She rolled up the scroll again and handed it back to him.

“Nah- that’s it from me.” He waved off, putting the scroll away with his other hand. Narutally, even if the secret scroll wasn’t actually that big of a secret or important, ninja had a cultural impetus to return them and politely maintain the illusion that they weren’t constantly stealing ideas from each other.

If he had put it in a folder or something, it might have been stolen before the day was over. But because he put it in a scroll, the ninja-brain defaulted to ‘clan secrets of an ally’ and thus hesitated to just take and read it.

Or something like that- it was a theory-in-progress at the moment. 

He turned to leave, before pausing and turning back to the Hero of the Hidden Sand. “Actually, thinking about it, I do have a question. If you don’t mind me asking.”

She nodded, letting her orange bangs bounce again.

He raised a hand to gesture at them. “What’s with the orange-bangs and green hair- is that just a fashion thing or-?”

Pakura visibly slouched and groaned. “No- That’s a- Ugh.” She raised a hand to hold a lock out, glaring ruefully at it. “They’re a consequence of Scorch Release- it’s been turning my hair orange, going from the tips and working their way up. I’ve been trying to dye them- but they turn the dye into steam before it has the chance to work.”

She shook her head, dropping the bang and tapping herself on the shoulders. “They remove the color from all my clothes too- I’ve had to get this top re-dyed a half-dozen times by now.” 

“Huh.” Ryoma replied intelligently. “Makes sense- sorry to hear that.”

She waved him off. “It’s fine- I just have to live with it now. Maybe I’ll start wearing white in a few years.” She let out an annoyed huff and leaned back in her chair. “I had a ‘look’ and everything too- black primary, light purple secondary, dark green tertiary. If it was all the way orange now I could just get a new look- but it’s only changing my bangs!” She threw her hands up with a glare at nothing and a scowl on her lips.

She leaned forwards and took an angry bite of her chewy mayo-fish, clearly working through her frustration with food. 

He nodded. “Alright then- I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for the quote.”

She nodded as he turned towards Nagare, who was now licking mayo off her lips with an expressionless face. “And thank you for the referral, Miss Nagare.”

She nodded at him, her serious expression at odds with the pinky in her lips and the rapid use of a napkin to remove the saliva from her fingers.

He waved and moved out the door, shutting it behind him gently and making his way back towards the door.

…Ugh, he could still smell the mayo. Who the heck asks for extra mayo?

Chapter 26

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

“Do you want some pocky?” The voice of Toyoko came out in a stilted, slightly unsure manner. Ryoma looked up from his current activity, applying a terrifying amount of heat and weld-material to steel. He reached up, pushing his newest ‘puppet’ off his face and looked at her with his actual eyes.

The ‘puppet’ was something he threw together for this purpose. It had the general appearance of a helmet, mostly because it was a helmet. Part of the new puppetarmor he was putting together. A rounded combination of padding and metal plates with a sort of ‘crown’ or ‘blindfold’ that segmented to allow a visor-section to push back independently of the rest. Upon the ‘crown-blindfold’ was a series of puppet-eyes

It was basically just a normal full-enclosure helmet that was ringed in false eyes, allowing him to see all around without compromising its ability to protect his face, provided he had a chakra string to link to it. Currently he was operating it with a pinky, welding the massive metal skeleton-segments of his planned puppetmech together like he was British.

The flaw he hadn’t initially accounted for was how hard it was to breath with his face fully enclosed. He’d need to install some kind of rebreather or filter into the lower half of the visor. Maybe simplify the design by putting ‘ears’ on ball joints and mounting eyes at the tips, the same omnidirectionality and the ability to peek around corners. It would look a bit silly, but if it worked then it was worth it.

All of this to say- he was sweating and breathing a bit hard as he pulled the visor back. “Pocky?” He asked with a bland curiosity, eyes squinting from the sudden light. Another thing he hadn’t accounted for.

Toyoko, his one and only tiny observer, was currently glaring at him from her supervisorial throne. She coughed into her gloved hand, glancing away and speaking again. “Pocky. I have been led to understand it is quite popular at the moment. It is only polite to offer a share.” With that she shook the little red box in her other hand, displaying rows of the chocolate-covered candy sticks inside. 

He raised his brows, reaching a hand up to turn the scary arc-welder off and gently setting it down. In front of him was a large ‘cage’ in a state of partial assembly. Steel ordered from the Logistics Division, bolted together, and in the process of being welded as a finisher. The shape was somewhat boxy, with an interior that curved a bit like elbow pasta. The intent was for the pilot to slip in through the back and settle down into the chair. A space behind the head for the central chakra storage and a ‘console’ region for the planned battery-powered radio communicator and speaker system.

He briefly debated telling her that he didn’t really like sweets, but decided against it. If she wanted to be nice and share her snacks, he could be nice and graciously accept. Ryoma shrugged, reaching up to pull the puppet-helm off completely and setting it down. “Sure- I’ll steal some pocky if you’re offering.” 

He walked over, reaching down into a cooler to pull out his chilled canteen, then making his way over to Toyoko’s supervisorial desk- the desk he used to hold all his plans and drafts that she was looking through. A little string from his pinky reached out, snagging a pocky stick from the box and bringing it over to his lips.

“It’s not stealing if it’s being offered, Jonin Ryoma.” Toyoko glared, taking a stick of pocky for herself and immediately munching down. The box of pocky returned to her vest-pocket and she took another efficient bite, the chocolate-stick rapidly disappearing into her mouth.

Ryoma, holding the stick between his lips and making sure to suck the chocolate off before biting, replied at once. “No, see- I’m a dastardly ninja who does many horrible crimes, so it’s only natural that I steal things. It would be odd if I didn’t.”

“Hmp!” Toyoko huffed, taking another bite and turning her nose up slightly. “You are a ninja of Sunagakure! Dastardly deeds and horrible acts are what lesser ninja might indulge in, but you are held to a higher standard.”

Ryoma took a swig of his cold water, sucking a bit more chocolate off the stick and thinking that statement over. After a period of consideration, he came to a conclusion.

He was a little bit too stunned by the statement to keep the bit going. 

He turned to look down at her, half seated on the table and pocky hanging from his lips. “You uh… You do know what ninja do, right?”

She recoiled slightly, an offended expression in her face and tone. “Of course I do! We operate beyond the authority of any Daimyo, a nation of warrior-clans united by the strength of Lord First for the sake of the enduring Dream of Wind- Freedom from any authority but our own!”

…He wasn’t sure what exactly he had been expecting her answer to be. “We’re ninja. A mercenary-army of chakra-wielders that provides violence on behalf of anyone who is willing to pay us.” He replied bluntly, raising a brow. “Our entire way of life is predicated around accepting money in exchange for doing things normal people would consider horrible.”

Toyoko scoffed and rolled her eyes, wiggling her hands at him. “You shouldn’t mistake the day-to-day of our lifestyle for our purpose- the words of our very founder contradict you! We live, train, and fight for the sake of this dream, not for something as crude as money- that’s what lesser villages focus on!” A raised index finger emphasized her declaration.

“The ideals you fight for don’t change what you do.” Ryoma refuted immediately, lips twitching downwards. Her face scrunched up at him as he continued. “If you accept money for murder, you are still accepting money for murder- it doesn’t matter why you decided to.”

“It absolutely does! Someone who kills for a purpose is a professional- a warrior with honor and reason. Someone who kills for the thrill or for no reason at all is just a crazed axeman!” She rose from the chair, slapping her hands on the table and trying to lean intimidatingly towards him. She was too short for this to be in any way effective. 

“Everyone has a purpose for everything they do- even if those purposes are shallow or stupid.” Ryoma shook his head, looking back towards the partially-welded frame and taking another sip of his canteen. “Killing for the thrill of it? That’s not a very good reason, but it’s still a reason. Killing for money? As valid as any other answer. Killing to protect your loved ones? Sure, why not? Killing for a dream? That’ll get you moving like anything else would.”

He waved a hand at nothing in particular. “You might think those reasons are good or bad, but that’s a moral judgement, not an objective assessment. It’s fine to do that, but that’s not the same.”

Things were quiet in the work-silo for a long few moments.

“...What’s your reason, Jonin Ryoma?” Toyoko asked with a serious tone, staring holes into the side of his head. She straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Money?”

Ryoma considered that for a few moments, before shaking his head. “...Nah, not money.” He reached up to take the pocky out of his lips, licking them to make sure no chocolate was left on before talking again. How could he explain this…?

“I suppose there’s just nowhere I’d rather be.” He eventually settled on. 

“Nowhere you’d rather be..?” She repeated his words. Good job Supervisor, that was a very clever reply. Then again, he wasn’t exactly writing poetry here either.

“I could’ve been a civilian doing civilian things. I like fishing- so maybe a fisherman somewhere.” Ryoma leaned back some more, resting on his hands and making a little fishing-gesture. “I could’ve gone into Logistics or Security and got a cushy job pushing paperwork or drunk people around. I’d probably be way safer doing any of those things, with a longer life and more of a chance to have kids with some large-breasted woman who likes me well enough.”

He could’ve hopped on a boat and sailed away- far away from these lands and away from anything that might influence the future. Far away from the apocalyptic events he knew could come his way in a decade or two. Everything would probably turn out fine if he did so.

Toyoko made a little ‘hmh!’ sound at the last sentence, making him exhale in an amused fashion and glance over at her. She met his gaze briefly, before looking away and raising her hands to cover her chest. He smirked, rolled his eyes, and turned away again.

Where was he…?

He stopped looking at anything in the room, his vision instead going to images of people he had never met and places he had never been. The most powerful people to have ever lived clashing in a battle that shakes the planet.  Madmen and heroes beating each other to death for the sake of their incompatible ideals. A betrayal, and the revival of a vengeful goddess.

Concentric rings on fields of purple and red. White horns. A shattered window through reality itself. 

A tree so tall that it sticks in God's eye.

Eventually, he found his voice again. “In the end, I decided I wanted to be there- right in the middle of battle. I want to fight, and I want to win.”

“...You just want to kill for the sake of it?” Toyoko had a distinctly bothered and judgemental tone in her voice as she spoke. He supposed that he had gave the wrong impression earlier, with his talks of reasons not mattering. 

Ryoma firmly shook his head in denial, waving a hand to emphasize his point. “No, not kill. I don’t particularly care if my enemy lives or dies, I just… I  just…” He trailed off, suddenly returning to himself and realizing what he was saying. He threw his head back and laughed. “Haha! Look at me ramble on! Talking like I’m some kind of shounen protagonist!”

His laughter wound down into rueful chuckles, turning to glance over at Toyoko. Her expression was focused- like a cat staring at a bird it couldn’t reach. “You know, I think you’re probably the first person to ask me that.” He teased with a crooked grin.

She blinked, pulling back slightly. “...Ask you… about your reason for being a ninja?” She replied slowly, eyebrows scrunched together. 

Ryoma gave an amused, rolling, horse-like snort. “Yep. I don’t think I remember anyone asking me why I wanted to be a ninja before- congratulations for entering a very special club, the ‘hearing Ryoma blabber about pointless things’ club.”

She scowled suddenly, an expression that let him clearly see the family resemblance between herself and Captain Gentai. “I-it’s not pointless! A ninja’s reasons are incredibly important!” Toyoko made a cute little gesticulation with her hands to emphasize her point. 

He tilted his head away, eyes squinting down at her in a teasing manner. “It doesn’t change that I perform dirty deeds for dirt cheap.”

“D-dirt cheap?!” She recoiled.

He smiled and turned away. “Filthy acts at a reasonable price!”

“You’re a ninja of Sunagakure! Take pride in your warrior-heritage! Your service isn’t filthy!”

“Maximum rampage for minimum ryo!”

She slouched, propping her chin upon her palm with a pout on her face, clearly giving up on trying to stop him. Ryoma wasn’t done though, and continued to list off lines of a joke he only half-remembered.

“Amoral activities at affordable costs.”

“Serial offenses on special offer.”

“Nefarious behavior for near-bottom-line.”

He paused, taking a moment to think of any more. Toyoko perked up slightly.

He crushed that hope. “Discounted destruction.” He almost sang.

She fell forwards against the desk, face resting against her arms. 

“You can at least charge more…” She muttered grumpily. “Calling yourself cheap is just an insult.”

He chuckled, reaching down to poke her on the head before pushing up and away. She made a little aggravated grunt as he did, but didn’t raise her head. He had enough time to cool off, it was time to get back to wor-

A knock on the silo door. He blinked and Toyoko raised her face from her arms. 

He walked over and reached out a finger to open up the door, staying a reasonable distance away. A rather nondescript ninja was on the other side of the door, wearing the suna headband, an armband with the logistics-corps logo, and a massive scroll on his back. The ninja blinked, raising a hand and waving. “Silo 3, Jonin Ryoma?” He called out questioningly.

“That’s me.” Ryoma nodded, stepping slightly closer. 

The ninja nodded, pulling the scroll off his back and stepping into the silo. “I got a delivery from the Logistics Corp for you- those springs you ordered.”

“Ah, great- set them down wherever.” 

The massive scroll was unfurled to reveal a large bulk-storage array, a hand was placed on the seal, and a large puff of smoke followed. The good ventilation and fans in the silo cleared the smoke out quickly enough, revealing the two gargantuan coil springs that were intended to be installed in the legs of the Kyojutsu-Puppet.

It was hard to describe just how big they were- both taller and wider than he was, with a hoop thickness bigger than his arms- maybe even his legs. A set of twin springs that would absorb the multi-thousand pound frame of the massive puppet.

The logistics-ninja nodded, rolling up the scroll again and slinging it over his back. “That should be it for now- we’re still working on those massive steel sheets you needed.”

Ryoma nodded gratefully, trying his best to ignore how much all these materials were costing his savings. “Thanks for the work. I know processing an order for this much metal all at once isn’t easy.”

The Logistics-nin shrugged. “It’s what we’re here for.” He glanced at the massive springs again before swallowing and turning back to him. “I’d be careful with these things, they honestly kind of scare me.”

“The springs?” Ryoma asked for clarification, receiving a nod. 

“We did a weight-test to make sure they were in working order before I brought them over- It’s- These things can absorb a lot of force, and they’re really damn heavy, it makes me nervous just knowing they exist you know? If you pushed one all the way closed and let it loose, it’d probably knock a building down.” He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, under the white flaps of his heat-shielding headdress.

“Heh- I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again.” Ryoma waved, the logistics-nin nodding and waving back as he left. 

The door closed behind the delivery guy, and Ryoma turned towards the springs. He reached out a hand and connected a chakra string to lift-

It didn’t budge. He frowned, connecting a second chakra string and slowly lifted the massive spring up and into a standing position near the far wall. It was hard to describe what telekinetic strain felt like, it wasn’t really anything like physical strain. Kinda like picturing something in your head and maintaining the image while doing something else, but not quite that either.

It was one of those things you got better with with practice, just like everything else in the world. He moved the other spring over before walking back to his welding-spot and taking up his prototype puppethelm again with a sigh.

Back to welding bits together.

—

By the end of the day, the ‘skeleton’ had been welded together completely and left ‘standing’ in the middle of the room. It was currently making large, slow, careful steps around the slightly cramped interior, testing the welds and the suspension. Sure enough, the immense springs made intimidating groans with every floor-shaking step, giving the frame’s gait a subtle bounce.

Just as his diagrams outlined, it looked like a decapitated human skeleton with a slightly unusual ribcage. The lower spine was also highly reduced and centralized, rather than in the ‘back’ of the frame. The other, smaller details were off too, but that’s just because the human body was a thing that evolved rather than being designed. 

For the most part it was pretty similar, so long as you didn’t look too close at any one segment. 

“Well, that’s about as much progress as I can make right now.” Ryoma declared with furrowed brows, cutting off chakra strings slowly and seeing how few he needed to manage the weight of the naked frame. So far it was looking like the answer was ‘six’. “I can work on the other components- but I can’t add anything more to the frame until the Ninjutsu Corps gets back to me about the wood.”

Six strings to manage the ‘skeleton’ was slightly concerning. It wasn’t a particularly complicated design by any means, it was purely the mass and bulk that required all this additional telekinetic leverage. That was a full half of all the strings he had, total, on just this alone. Each spring of the leg took just a little bit more than one spring to handle, so that was three between the pair. The rest of the frame took the other three, not having any single component nearly as heavy as those springs were.

He had been partially expecting this- having a good deal of weight centered in the legs would keep the frame stable, but he had slightly underestimated how heavy they would actually end up being. Material differences from theoretical steel density and how the logistics corps actually forged it, maybe?

He flinched slightly as the immense metal skeleton stepped just a bit too hard, cracking the reinforced stone ground with a distinct crunching noise. Even with the suspension, all the weight of the frame concentrated on those feet was near the limit for what this floor could handle.

His initial estimates for weight were in the five to ten thousand pounds range- this was shaping up to be more like fifteen thousand by the end.

Could he improve the limb design to save weight without sacrificing durability? Maybe one of those hollow ‘bone’ designs reinforced with cross-patterns, the kind that birds had. Everything he could shave off

“How long are you expecting that to take?” Toyoko asked, putting the papers and drafts on the table back into the design-scroll for him. Her hands were busy with that, but her gaze was fixed upon the five-meter metal behemoth that was taking substantial effort on his part to operate. 

“They told me no more than a month to start.” Ryoma shook his head, slowly returning the massive metal skeleton to the center of the silo and slowly, carefully lowering it into a seated position. The immense hands chipped the ground and the pelvis scraped long grooves as it descended. “One of the specialists they need to make it is on a mission right now.”

“Unfortunate.” Toyoko declared, planting her hands on her hips as she walked over, the design-scroll in her hand. “...You will be working on the design of the seals and shiki, then?”

“Probably.” He let out a long exhale, slowly disconnecting strings from the frame and allowing it to rest fully upon the ground. “I’ll need to arrange a meeting with them about it- probably tomorrow.”

“...Do you have a name for it?” Toyoko asked suddenly, staring at the massive metal skeleton.

He raised a brow. “...The Mark Two?”

“Yes- it needs a name.”

He scratched the side of his head, glancing over. “I was thinking of calling it ‘Great Dragoon’. The Mark One was the Wood Dragoon and this is bigger, so…”

“...Your naming sense could be improved somewhat.”

He let out an amused scoff. “You’re being so rude and evil to me- what did I do to deserve this?”

She opened to protest, before closing it and staring at him with a grumpy expression. After a few moments, she tried again. “...My father suggested that I invite you to join me in my evening meals at a local restaurant.” She spoke a sentence that clearly implied an invitation but didn’t actually speak one. “To encourage your social development and camaraderie with the other members of the Puppeteer Corps.”

Ryoma raised his brows, noticing the clear change in subject. Yeah, that sounded like Captain Gentai alright.  

Eh, it wasn’t like he had much better to do at the moment. He shrugged. “Sure.”

Chapter 27

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

“One of the most important things you learn under a proper Jonin sensei is how to take and operate during a mission. As we can’t exactly skip this, I will be taking everyone who wants to go on a proper and official mission.”

It was something he came up with after finishing the other parts of the Mark Two- the shiki and seals had been commissioned and purchased already, the object-summoning technique on a scroll courtesy of the guys from Intel, and the ninjutsu corps still waiting on their ninja to get back. 

He had pretty much nothing else to do in terms of work, so taking a field-trip like this wasn’t going to be taking him away from anything. He had discussed the matter with Toyoko, who had grumpily agreed with his assessment. He had then proposed the idea to the Lord Kazekage, who demanded he justify the idea with a very intimidating blank look on his face.

After Ryoma had laid out all his reasoning, he got a stamp of approval, told he’d be joined by another Jonin, and was given a suitable mission to take the kids on. He was starting to think that the Kazekage just liked glowering at people.

It was also in that meeting that he learned that Mari was close enough to the Lord Kazekage to hold his infant son, a baby with distinct red hair and a secret demon sealed inside of him. She had waved at him with a neat cloth-puppet arm while he was leaving. Good to see that she was experimented, he supposed.

His announcement was met with excited mutterings and cheers from the gathered mercenary-children. He raised a hand and waved it down, clearly communicating that he still had more to say. After a few moments, the kids quieted down and allowed him to continue. “Now, all of this has already been discussed with the Lord Kazekage, and a suitable mission has been reserved to teach you all the basics. We’ll be meeting at the main gates tomorrow at o-six hundred, so prepare for that.”

“Wait, sensei, who gets to go first?!” The orange haired girl, Himeko or something, asked, throwing her hand up to ask but not waiting for him to call upon her. 

He tilted his head. “...Everyone? Everyone who wants to come along that is- this mission is for practice, so the money being split twenty ways doesn’t really matter.”

“Y-you can do that?!” the Frosty-sash girl, Hiyako, called out. “T-take more than… four… uh.” Her confidence evaporated as she continued speaking. It was easier to remember the kids with quirks, everyone else tended to fade into the background of his recognition. Judging from the agitated rumblings of the class, she was speaking a question that everyone was currently thinking.

Ryoma shrugged. “It’s not typical, no, but there’s no actual limit to how large any particular team can be. The standard is a four-man cell, as that has proven most consistent so far, but larger and smaller teams have been assembled before. The reason most don’t organize into larger teams is because splitting the pay more than four ways means you don’t usually make all that much profit by the end.”

He reached up to scratch the side of his neck. “For the sake of this mission, I’ll be organizing everyone into four-man groups with their own team leaders and acting as Field-Commander. The trip there and back shouldn’t take longer than about ten days, so everyone who wants to come should prepare for at least twenty days in case of emergency or delays”

“What’s the mission, sensei?” The pink haired shounen boy asked with a competitive look on his face. His name was Bazo, which was a very funny name and therefore one that was easy to remember.

“I bet it’s wiping out bandits!” Himeko- Himeyo? Hime- Orange girl said excitedly.

“Assassination!” The pink-haired seducer-wannabe guessed, fists shaking up and down as she pumped herself up. Her name, Mao, was easy to remember because she had little cat accessories on at all times.

“Defending a fortress?” The kid with the straight sword and sandy blond hair tried, reaching up to scratch the bridge of his nose. June or John or something like that- a J’n type name.

He let them get the guesses out of their system, reaching into his vest to pull out the appropriate mission-scroll and unraveling it on top of the desk. They continued to ramble for a few moments before realizing that he wasn’t going to talk until after they had stopped, and quieting down in short order.

Ryoma nodded. “Our mission will be grocery shopping.”

The staggered reactions were pretty amusing to watch. He chuckled at their disappointment before reaching forwards to tap the scroll. “We will be traveling to the Land of Rivers with a large sum of money, once we have arrived we will go to a number of long term business partners and buy rice, once we have the rice we will come back to Suna and hand it off to the Logistics Division.”

He looked up. “This is a C-rank mission that will pay one hundred thousand ryo in total, I will be forfeiting my share, so divided about twenty ways means about five thousand ryo per person.” Actually there were more like twenty five kids here now, counting again. 

He was being paid a D-Rank mission for every teaching session he held, so it wasn’t like he was losing too much here. As expected though, the kids heard ‘one hundred thousand’ cut down into ‘five thousand’ for each of them and started complaining. 

“Five-thousand?!” 

“That’s so little!”

“We might as well not even show up!”

He raised a hand, cutting them off again. “Like I said- people don’t normally organize into such large teams for a reason.” He lowered his hand slowly as he continued. “This is a relatively low-risk mission so I can demonstrate the process- the point is to teach you all how to take a mission, not to earn a lot of money. You do not have to participate if you don’t think it’s worth doing.”

They were still grumbling, so he smacked the desk to emphasize his next point. “Just like these remedial lessons- none of you have to be here if you don’t think it’s worth your time. You are free to organize yourselves into teams and take missions on your own if you want.”

He glowered over them for a few moments longer, letting his mild annoyance get across in his gaze. Only after they had been sufficiently scowled at did he let up, leaning back slightly and relaxing his gaze. “Now, everyone who intends to come, stand up. We’ll need to organize sub-teams.”

About half of them stood up immediately, and a few sent their hands up instead. He pointed at blue haired serious girl, Chikako. She was consistently patient in asking questions, so she was easy to remember. “Go ahead.”

She dropped her hand. “What if one is uncertain about if they are going on this mission, sensei?”

“You have until tomorrow morning to decide.” He stated bluntly. “Six am, main gates, twenty days worth of supplies. We can organize you into teams along the way if needed, but the mission isn’t waiting around for you if you have cold feet.”

“I understand sensei.” She replied with a firm nod, standing up and joining the others in the ‘definitely going’ group. That was about two-thirds of the class, about eighteen people in total. 

An awkward number, he was honestly hoping for an interval of four to make things easy. Ah well. “Here’s the most fun part of planning a team- theorycrafting.” He called out with an amused tone, the kids blinking at the unfamiliar term. He reached into his vest again, pulling out a storage-scroll and unsealing its contents.

A stack of folders appeared on his desk. “I have your profiles here, listing off all of your strengths and weaknesses as shinobi, redacted down to ‘genin’ level permission by the guys in Intel. This information was collected during your academy training, so don’t be surprised if there’s a lot of ‘poor’ or ‘subpar’ in here- that’s according to professional levels. Most of you are doing more or less fine for Genin.”

“Profiles?!” Pink-haired Bazo recoiled.

“Everyone in the village has one.” Ryoma waved a hand. “Everyone from the Kazekage to myself to the neighborhood pets- we all have one and it’s a good resource for things like this. It’s this kind of stuff that initial team compositions are formed and that large, multifaceted missions are planned around. All of you are genin, so all of you will have permission to see everything in these files. If it’s redacted, then you don’t have permission to know it yet.”

He picked up a folder, Azuko apparently, and lightly slapped it with the back of his other hand for emphasis. “Today, we’ll be using these to plan out team compositions, strategies, and synergies between yourselves. Two ninja of different abilities working together is usually more effective than two ninja with the same specialty trying to do the same thing.”

A raised hand from the green-haired girl. She never talked so he never ended up learning her name. He pointed at it. 

“Sensei, what do you mean by synergies?” She asked, tilting her head with an oblivious expression.

“Hm.” He scratched his neck. “Did they not teach this kind of stuff in the academy?” He mused to himself, not remembering one way or the other. It was something he knew from the beginning, so keeping track of if it was taught to others or not was hard to recall. He shook his head. “Well, they did teach you about elemental weaknesses, right? How water can extinguish fire and stuff like that?”

A large number of nods and understanding expressions. He nodded and kept going. “Well the same thing applies in reverse. You can use one elemental technique for the sake of empowering a technique of a different element.”

“Huah! Really?!” 

“That’s like- super cute!”

“Hn… I see…”

Ryoma supposed it was new information for these kids, but he wasn’t sure why they were getting so excited about it. He hadn’t even said anything except ‘this is a thing, yo’ yet. He gave them a second before continuing. “The most common example is Fire and Wind- Fire Chakra tends to devour and empower itself using Wind Chakra. This means it’s usually a bad idea to defend against Fire ninjutsu using a Wind ninjutsu, but it also means that if your ally shoots out a Fire ninjutsu and you shoot out a Wind ninjutsu, you can create a firestorm far more powerful than either of you are capable of alone.”

“Similar is true for most ninjutsu. Wind chakra can cut through Lightning chakra, scattering it. But Lightning chakra can also stiffen a target up, helping Wind cut through it. Each of the elements facilitates the power of the other elements in their own ways, no two do it the same way.” He shrugged. “I’m not a ninjutsu expert by any means, so you’d have to go to a professional to get anything more than a surface level explanation here, but it’s something I regularly take advantage of in my own battles.”

“Hmp! A cheap way for weaker ninja to seem strong!” The bold declaration came from the black-haired girl- Ryoma glanced down at the file in his hands again- Azuko. “Even a thousand beetles can’t overcome a Dragon, sensei!” 

Good on her for not being malicious when it came to her arrogant declarations, he supposed. “The number one killer of legendary ninja throughout history is larger numbers of vastly weaker ninja.” He pointed out dryly, making the girl flinch back with a scandalized look. 

He raised his hand and started counting on his fingers for emphasis. “The Second Hokage? Died to Kinkaku Force. The Third Raikage? Died to allegedly ten-thousand ninja. The entire Uzumaki Clan? A strike-force coalition of no less than three Great Ninja Villages.”

He dropped his hand. “If you look through the history books, this is a trend that goes back to the very beginning. Would anyone like to guess the reason?”

There was silence for a few long moments as the kids considered that.

“...They- they get overwhelmed by massed jutsu?” ‘Frosty Sash’ Hiyako tried nervously.

“They can’t dodge everything, I guess?” Poncho-boy ‘Soma’ crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

“They get tired kicking so much ass?” Pink-haired Bazo shrugged.

Ryoma pointed at him. “You’re not actually far off.”

“Wait, really?” Bazo sounded surprised that he got an answer right.  

Ryoma nodded and explained. “Fundamentally, high level combat is ruled by chakra capacity.” Already looks of understanding started to form on faces. “Chakra is the lifeblood of any ninja, any samurai, any monk or priest or shaman or- anyone. Chakra is what we used to move quickly, to avoid harm, to defeat our enemies, to sense danger. The moment you run out of chakra, even discounting the effects of chakra exhaustion, you are no longer capable of using it to fight and defend yourself.”

“High level ninja can be killed by a large number of low level ninja, even sufficient numbers of normal soldiers, because no one alive has unlimited chakra. Even the mightiest Kage will eventually run out of chakra and thereby become incredibly vulnerable.” 

Edo Tensei, which summoned zombies with unlimited chakra, was a statistical outlier and thus not included in this subset. 

“Does this mean that the legendary ninja are not legendary ninja? That they are weaker than massed numbers of normal or average ninja? No. That would be silly to claim. They are still vastly more powerful than your run of the mill Chunin with a katana and a dream. But a Chunin with a katana can still execute a legend drained of chakra.”

“You will eventually run out of chakra, and once you do, you’re probably dead.”

“This is where your strongest asset as a ninja comes in- your judgement.” He pointed at all of them for emphasis again. “Your ability to maximize the effectiveness of your abilities, your ability to work with people for most-effective synergy, your ability to look at an opponent or situation and determine if you can afford what it takes to defeat them, and retreating if you can’t. This isn’t a skill anyone can teach you, it’s something that only practice and experience can give.”

“To wrap this back around to what we were doing- I want everyone to give a self-assessment about their abilities. Their strengths and weaknesses. I will then read off your profiles as a point of comparison. Once we’ve gone around, we’ll start the fun part of thinking up combination strategies.”

Ryoma glanced down at the folder again, before deciding that in profile-order was as good as any other way to handle this. “Azuko, you’re up first.” He called out, opening the folder and turning to the girl in question.

The black-haired, yellow-eyed girl rose and splayed a confident hand across her chest in a confident self-referential manner. “I am Azuko! I’m talented with all shinobi arts and have learned fire ninjutsu! I have no real weaknesses.” Her head was tilted back with confidence and poise.

Ryoma raised a brow, glancing down at her profile. He skipped over the details that didn’t matter, like her registration number and physical characteristics.

“Azuko. Physical capabilities very low. Chakra capacity low. Demonstrates basic proficiency with the Academy Three Jutsu. Demonstrates low proficiency with throwing weapons. Demonstrates very low proficiency with hand-to-hand and close combat weapons. Demonstrates very low proficiency with Fire ninjutsu.”

The other remedial students, proving that they were still kids, showed no mercy in laughing at their peer. The look of outrage and crushing despair on her face was both amusing and pitiable, so he added a line to comfort her. “This is pretty good for a fresh graduate.” 

That was enough to get everyone else nervous too. Ryoma chuckled and moved to the next profile.

“Bazo. You’re up next.”

He had been one of the loudest laughing a moment earlier. Currently, he was sweating.

Interlude 12

Sunagakure

Baki, Jonin

The mission given unto him was rather unorthodox. Joining a fellow Jonin in escorting a large number of Genin into a neighboring country was a premise that normally ended with suicide missions. In this case, the veritable platoon of low ranking ninja were not being used as war fodder, but instead receiving an example of how to conduct missions properly.

His first question had been ‘is this not the responsibility of their Jonin Sensei?’, which had been answered in short order. These were remedial genin, ones that had graduated but had been rejected as prospective students. They did not have a Jonin Sensei.

With that in mind, the logic of the mission was apparent. Even if they could not receive the full benefits of a Jonin education, taking time to show them a single example of the mission process would diminish the amount of trouble they’d cause or time they’d waste. It was far more reasonable to ask a Jonin to simply escort them once rather than taking on a full time team.

But bringing a full class of twenty or so at a single time? That he could not see sufficient reason for. Taking them all at once would massively increase their profiles, as well as spread the efforts of the Jonin escort too thin to defend them.

That was the two duties of the Jonin Sensei, after all, to educate Genin about the systems of missions and threat-assessment, and to protect them long enough to become full fledged Chunin. Anything more was left to their individual discretion. Asking a single Jonin to defend twenty or so Genin was unreasonable, too many points of failure at such a point.

Which, Baki supposed, is why the Lord Kazekage asked him to join this mission. One Jonin would be hard pressed to defend twenty hapless Genin, but it was just about a correct duty for two Jonin. 

Troublesome, but within his abilities.

The journey was expected to take ten days and begin at o six hundred. Naturally he prepared fifteen days of supplies and showed up at the gates at five thirty. He was pleasantly surprised to see several of the Genin already present, standing and waiting along with his fellow Jonin for the mission.

More pleasantly, he recognized this ninja. The conical straw hat and white veil was distinctive enough to pick him out in a crowd. Baki raised his hand in greeting as he approached.

The other Jonin returned the wave, stepping forwards to greet him. “Yo. I don’t suppose you’re my partner for the trip to Rivers?”

“I am.” Baki greeted with a small professional nod. “Ryoma, correct? User of those disposable insect puppets.” He held his hand out for a shake, which was returned. A gauntleted hand closed around his bare palm, and three firm shakes were exchanged. 

“I am- and I think you’re Baki, right? Wind blades.” Ryoma raised his finger and waved it in faint recognition. “I think we met at some point, but I don’t remember where.”

“Battle of Katakuri River, a year before the war ended.” Baki offered to help the memory of his peer. It was in that battle that he lost his left eye, and was offered a white veil to cover it. A distinct and unwritten honor that he shared with the Jonin before him. “It’s good to see you’ve been promoted since. I believe you were part of the Chunin group back then.”

“I was- I only got promoted once the war ended.” Ryoma shook his head, making his white veil whip around slightly. “Good to see a familiar face for this.”

“The sentiment is shared.” Baki nodded, glancing over at the small crowd of Genin looking curiously over at them. They certainly had the look of remedial students, it was in their bearing and expressions. “There was supposed to be about twenty, yes?” There were eleven currently present.

“About that- we’ll wait till six and then move out.” Ryoma shook his head. “I was planning on getting them organized into four-man teams and acting as Field Commander for the duration of this mission, with you as my Second. Is that acceptable or would you want to take Command?”

Either of them had to do it, the difference was mostly intellectual. In spite of thinking that, Baki had little desire to be potentially responsible for the deaths of so many Genin should the mission come across unforeseen troubles. “That’s acceptable, I’ll take Second-In-Command.”

Ryoma glanced over at the Genin, then nodded and addressed them. “Bonus lesson for being here early. When going on a mission, especially a mission with someone you aren’t entirely familiar with, it’s important to get a sense of your allies. Their strengths, weaknesses, and preferences in combat. It’s equally important that they get a good sense of your own strengths, weaknesses, and habits.”

He tilted his head. “Not to say that you need to tell them about all your super-secret Jutsu that I’m sure all of you have.” The sarcasm was applied liberally in the later half of the sentence. Baki restrained the urge to smirk amusedly. “But your commonly used skills and habits at minimum. As an example-”

Ryoma turned back towards him. “I’m a puppeteer specialized in close-range combat with a fair amount of wind and earth ninjutsu for support. I’m capable in hand-to-hand, but not exceptional. Please tell me if any of my weapons scratch you so I can give you the antidote, the poison isn’t lethal but it is a fast-acting paralytic.”

A reasonably broad set of abilities in his fellow Jonin, but Baki was familiar with most from their last encounter. He almost certainly had something more hidden away. Baki nodded and replied in the same spirit, keeping his own trump cards hidden in the same manner. “I specialize in close quarters combat, typically wielding paired kunai. I’m knowledgeable with wind and earth ninjutsu, and make regular use of both. I am a recognized practitioner of Wind Dragon Style.”

Ryoma nodded, reaching up to rub his chin underneath the white veil. “I see… I’m not familiar with Wind Dragon Style. A taijutsu?”

Baki nodded, feeling slightly abashed. Taijutsu wasn’t something to truly specialize in- it was a back up, a skill to rely upon if strategy or equipment had failed and the enemy was upon you. They were ninja, after all, not Samurai. Being proficient in a taijutsu like this was indicative of Baki’s long hours practicing his fail-safe skill. “A rather old-fashioned taijutsu- from the Imperial Era I’ve been told. My mother was insistent that I attend a dojo in my youth.” He replied stiffly, raising a hand and flattening his palm. “It focuses on wide ‘chopping’ and ‘slashing’ motions with the hands and legs.” Usually while layered with wind chakra.

Ryoma’s eyes indicated understanding. “Ah, I see. I don’t suppose you can point me in the direction of this dojo? I’ve been wanting to improve my hand-to-hand for some time now.”

Baki blinked, frowning as he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek. “I see. Unfortunately, the dojo shut down some years ago- the master died relatively early into the war.”

“Ah, unfortunate.” Ryoma shook his head. “Well I’d love to exchange Taijutsu pointers with you, but not right now, perhaps after the mission.”

A potentially intriguing prospect, to admit that so openly was indicative of good confidence. Baki inclined his head. “Perhaps. I’ll consider the prospect.”

Ryoma nodded. “Fair. As a general rule, I prefer to serve as vanguard and absorb enemy attention long enough for my allies to capitalize on the distraction.” Back to the exchange of information. 

As a puppeteer? Peculiar. “I specialize in duels against lone enemies. I am capable in a mass combat scenario, but I’m most comfortable when facing targets that have been separated from their allies.” He tilted his head to the side. “From the sounds of it, we shouldn’t have any conflict in strategy.”

“Sounds like it- I’ll absorb attention by default while you eliminate key targets then?”

“Agreeable.”

It was good to be working with a fellow professional. Baki had to work with a few Chunin during his last mission, and they decidingly frustrating. He glanced at the gaggle of children, now increased to fourteen members, and restrained the urge to deepen his frown.

Ryoma turned towards the Genin, pointing a thumb at himself and Baki. “See that? That’s a good example of how to introduce yourself and throw a basic strategy together. It’s always better to have something resembling a plan before combat comes, opposed to needing to come up with a plan on the spot. Not to say that you shouldn’t think on your feet too, but it’s almost never bad to prepare something beforehand.”

This mission shouldn’t be terribly difficult, but Baki certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. He remembered full well what his peers were like as Genin, and most did not survive the war. 

Those that survived were those that perservered. 

“You have the funds from the Logistics Division correct? For the purchases?” Baki asked just to be sure.

Ryoma nodded, reaching up to pat his vest. “Picked it up an hour ago, along with the bulk storage scrolls.”

Baki nodded. “Excellent. I’m ready to leave whenever, Field Commander.”

It was almost like being back in the war again, saying those words. Made him feel strangely nostalgic.

“Fourteen minutes left, then we’re heading out.” Ryoma inclined his head, letting the straw hat fall over his eyes. “We’ll sort them into teams as we walk- I had them go through a strategy meeting about that yesterday.”

—

Land of Wind

Baki, Jonin

“As previously discussed, everyone organize into teams of four.” Ryoma spoke in a consistently flat tone, flat and dry like a desert plain. It was easy enough to hear him through the cool wind of the early morning and over the unobstructed plains, even despite his position in the back of the group. “Jun, Azuko, Hiyako, Zakuza. You’re Team One, led by Jun.”

The four Genin in question were already relatively close to one another, but grouped themselves off slightly more in response to the command. A blonde boy with a straight sword, a black haired girl in yellow and red, a black haired girl in blue and white, and a brown haired boy with red facepaint similar to Baki’s own. The black-haired girl wearing yellow and red made a slightly frustrated huff at that, but didn’t complain further. 

“Takumi, Haru, Himeno, Konda. You’re Team Two, led by Konda.”

A tall black haired boy with ridiculous attire, a well-bandaged boy carrying a large box on his back, a thin girl with black hair that hung over her eyes, and an orange haired girl carrying an overly large backpack. Baki was professional enough to restrain the rather scathing critiques in his thoughts.

“Bazo, Chikako, Mao, Yoshimi. You’re Team Three, led by Chikako.”

A scowling pink-haired boy with wrapped knuckles, a focused blue haired girl with a red kimono, a giggling pink haired girl carrying two katanas, and a green haired girl wearing a spiked collar. The blue haired girl gave a little salute. “I’ll do my best, Field Commander!”

“You’ll do great Chiko!” The pink haired girl declared, shaking the other girls by the shoulders. “Even Bozo here listens to you!”

“You need your ears shaken out, airheaded bitch!?” 

“Oh! Will you? Here- let me get my earwax cleaner!”

“Not right now, pinky.” Ryoma interrupted with a dry voice. “We’re still walking.”

They quieted down again, letting his fellow Jonin continue. “Ren, Rin, Taka, Yu. You’re on Team Four, led by Rin.” 

A black haired boy with a dyed blue strip in his hair, a black haired girl with her hair tied in twintails, a tall girl with her hair cropped off at the shoulders, and a girl with sandy blonde hair and snakelike slits for pupils. They glanced at each other in a somewhat uncertain manner, not doing much in particular in response to their assignment.

“Michiru, Soma, Riku, Tomomi. You’re Team Five, led by Soma.”

A blonde haired girl holding an iron-banded staff, a sandy-blond haired boy with a mesh shortcloak, a plain looking boy with a sleepy expression, and a brown-haired girl with freckles and a baggy jacket. They nodded with various levels of professionalism, the mesh-cloaked boy taking a forwards position in their little formation.

The veiled Jonin looked over them for a few moments longer, before nodding slightly. “We’ll stop for lunch at noon, and stop to make camp for the night at ten. From there we’ll sleep til six in the morning, one member from each team on guard-rotation for two hours apiece. We’ll have an inventory-check at lunch to see what everyone brought along.”

“W-wait Sensei! You mean we’re going to be walking through the early evening? Isn’t that the hottest part of the day, shouldn’t we seek shelter?” The girl with the blue sash asked nervously, her tone echoing the slightly nervous faces of other Genin present.

Ryoma stared at her for a few moments, expression unreadable through his veil and hat. “...How many of you know the D-rank wind ninjutsu, Convection Air? Show of hands.” He raised his own hand.

Baki decided to be cooperative, raising his own hand.

Not one Genin raised their hands. They glanced around at each other, expressions uncertain. 

Baki felt a great deal of ambient dread wash over him, like seeing a sandstorm on the horizon. Judging by Ryoma’s blank stare, his fellow Jonin was feeling much the same.

“Right. I suppose we’ll be practicing that for the early part of the trip. The handseals are bird, hare, horse, ram, dog. The jutsu produces a gentle cycling flow of wind around you, the airflow is enough to keep you significantly cooler, as well as pushing away airborne hazards like gas and asbestos.”

“What’s asbestos?” 

“Fire Rat Hair- it latches onto and shreds your lungs if you inhale it, so a Jutsu like this is fairly useful.”

“Woah! You fought a Fire Rat, Sensei!?”

“Start practicing kid, otherwise you’re going to be baking in the sun later. If you get tired, stop and wait for your reserves to recover before continuing, we don’t need to deal with anyone suffering chakra exhaustion this early into the mission.”

Soon, all the Genin were quietly practicing the new technique, most with clumsy fingers and no results. Ryoma looked up from them, currently walking backwards, and locked eyes with Baki from over their heads.

Baki imagined his eyes looked very similar at the moment, unimpressed but not surprised. 

They were, after all, just Genin.

—

“Sensei, Mr. Baki, you said you met before?” The blue haired girl asked after the inventory check and lunch. It was overall fairly substandard, with the general trend being that the Genin packed too many extraneous supplies and too few essentials. They also underutilized storage scrolls, but Baki wasn’t too surprised by that. Storage Scrolls were rather expensive for a newly graduated Genin, even if they usually ended up returning their investment a thousandfold in time.

Baki glanced at the acting Field Commander, raising a brow in a silent question of if they were going to talk about it. Ryoma gave a little shrug. 

Baki turned back to the blue haired girl and nodded. “That’s correct, we met during the Battle of Katakuri River- I may have met him prior, but that’s the first time I remember meeting him.” 

“Battle of Katakuri River? That was during the Third War, wasn’t it?” The boy with sandy hair and the mesh poncho asked with a little thoughtful frown. “What was it like?”

Baki’s hand twitched towards his face, and the socket where his eye used to be. His resting frown deepened, and his eyes drifted towards the distant sands. “...Messy.” He eventually answered. “Exceedingly messy- neither we nor the ninja of Konoha had been expecting to run into each other.”

“The Crossing at Katakuri River was chosen specifically because it was unlikely anyone would be using it.” Ryoma added with eyes hidden by his straw hat. “Out of the way, nothing important nearby, just close enough to Rain to be uncomfortable. There were several more obvious crossing points further downstream and along other rivers we could’ve taken- that was why Katakuri River was chosen.”

“The ninja of Konoha were thinking the same thing, apparently.” Baki grumbled, closing his good eye. “It was the middle of the night, and a storm had rolled down from Rain. We ran into Konoha in the least optimal position for either group. Both sides had the same objective- infiltration behind enemy lines of control and establishment of a forward-operating bunker. Meeting each other like that turned that mission into a week-long battle that ended in constant stalemates.”

“I wasn’t present until the last day of the battle.” Ryoma declared with a tired tone. “I had been part of a different battle just south- the battle that was supposed to be the distraction for Katakuri. I can’t attest for how Katakuri was during the previous six days, but the last day was chaotic- disorganized.”

“It was sloppy, exceedingly so.” Baki declared, shaking his head. “Both the mission-leader and mission-second died on the first day, everything after was adhoc as we waited for general orders from Field Command. I believe the same was true for Konoha.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re going to be making jokes about Katakuri in a few years.” Ryoma drawled.

“Going to be?” Baki smirked ruefully. “We were making jokes about it while the battle was going on.”

Ryoma snorted in a rolling manner, a clearly amused hum in his throat. “That reminds me though- This goes for everyone present. If anyone steps anywhere within ten miles of the border with Rain, we’re leaving you behind.”

The light tone belied a grim sternness. 

“W-what?! Why?!” 

“Yeah! Why Sensei?!”

“Huah?!”

Baki glanced at the boy wielding the straight sword, who had consistently made that noise in response to several things so far.

Ryoma’s reply was blunt.

“Simple. If any of us get close to Hanzo, we’ll die.”

Baki grimly agreed with the assessment. 

Interlude 13

Borders of River

Hiyako, Genin

She thought that being a ninja would be her ticket to not being such a scaredy-cat all the time, but everything she learns just gives her something new to be worried about. 

She had been so worried about what she would need for this mission that she had packed way too much, and when the bag check came she learned that a lot of what she packed probably wouldn’t be useful. So now she was worried about being slowed down by all the extra stuff she was carrying, but she couldn’t just dump it either because what if she needed it later? That, and it would be mean to leave trash around.

So now she was stuck with too much stuff, a lot of which might not be useful, and on her first ever mission. She had messed up before the mission had even started!

No wonder her first sensei rejected her. She let out a long sigh, reaching up to rub her forehead of sweat. The heat of the desert was even worse than their teachers in the academy had told them. They had gotten more used to it by now, but there were a few that passed out on the first day.

“Hey- sensei we’re buying up rice right? Don’t we have our own farms?” Riku asked- sleepy eyes focused just enough to squint forwards while he walked. “Not big fields or anything- but I’ve helped with the planter boxes before.”

“How much food do you think a hidden village actually eats?” Sensei answered from the front of the line, glancing back and looking down at Riku. His wide brimmed straw hat kept his face and shoulders in shadows, and his white veil fluttered in the scant breeze of that cooling wind ninjutsu. He had shown them how to do it- but she was still having trouble. The only one who managed to pull it off over the last few days was Jun, and he had an affinity for wind.

Hiyako could barely manage water, wind was too much for her. She sent a furtive glance over at the boy with sandy blond hair, hair that was currently being kicked up by a small and inconsistently-strong breeze. His face was scrunched up in concentration, and his hands locked in the seal for ‘bird’. 

Too focused to notice Azuko blatantly dominating the space next to him, practically lounging in the cool swirling air. Hiyako swallowed nervously, glancing back down at the sand as she angled her walking- just to be a little bit closer to him and the refreshing breeze he was maintaining. 

If it was for a practical reason like this… then surely it was okay to be this close, right? She played with the hem of her blue sash, unsure of where to put her hands.

“Uh… A lot?” Riku asked, reaching up to scratch his head.

Sensei didn’t look too impressed, but then again he never really did. His eyes were always calm. He was probably bored by all their stupid questions. “An understatement, but yes. Sunagakure has maybe around ten-thousand people living in it, and ten thousand people require an enormous amount of food to sustain.” 

He waved a little hand. “Even if Suna was right on the coastline and we could fish all we wanted to, we’d still be an importer of food. Even if Suna was surrounded by miles of fertile farmland, we’d still be an importer of food. Even if every tree in Suna was a fruit tree and every root was something you could dig up and snack on, we’d still be an importer of food. A city requires such an enormous quantity of food that you can’t sustain it without all of those combined, and even then you’re only one or two bad harvests away from another famine.” 

“The first thing any city has to deal with is how they’re going to feed everyone present, and the easiest answer is bulk grains- It’s why money is based on rice. Rice is a crop you can grow a large amount of, easily weigh and divide out for taxation reasons, and store for up to a decade at a time. It’s a crop that can build up a surplus during fertile periods, and thus keep everyone fed during lean periods.”

“Hence why we buy up as much of it as we can. Suna exists where it exists for security reasons, but it makes us somewhat vulnerable to starvation if we don’t stay on top of the issue.”

Sensei did this occasionally, going into long-winded explanations about the world and how it worked, things that they were never taught in ninja academy and she had never really thought of before. She supposed she knew that a village required a lot of food, but hearing the conditions required to sustain one made it clear in ways it wasn’t before. Solid instead of abstract.

“Wait, don't we have farms in Rivers?” Rin, with her pretty face scrunched up in mild confusion, interjected. “It was part of that deal with the First Hokage- wasn’t it? Suna received 30 square miles and they’ve been harassing us over it ever since.”

“Yep.” Sensei nodded. “It’s in one of the most productive spots in the Land of Rivers too, right on Ajisai River. It’s not enough to keep Suna fed on its own, but it is enough to put us in a substantially more comfortable position.”

“Wait- if it’s in the most productive spot, then why hasn’t the Daimyo of River done anything? Surely they’d want to take it for themselves?” Soma asked with a suspicious note in his voice, the hood of his armored poncho pulled up and partially covering his forehead. He was always ready for the worse case scenario, he was the one who told the rest of them about remedial lessons.

“I know this one sensei.” Chikako called out, her blue hair swishing slightly as she raised her hand. Naturally, she was completely fearless when it came to things like this. Hiyako didn’t understand how she could’ve possibly been rejected, she was too good at this. “May I answer?”

“Go ahead.”

“The Land of Rivers doesn’t have a Daimyo, the area is controlled by a collection of regional lords, clans, and bandit gangs. This lack of Daimyo means that protection of the region usually falls upon Tanigakure, who occasionally calls upon Sunagakure for aid. It is this alliance that pulled Sunagakure into the Third Ninja War.”

The rough and low tones of the other Jonin present answered at that. “It’s more complicated than that.” He shook his head. “Originally there was an uneasy understanding that Suna would retaliate only if any enemy ninja entered our allied territories. However, after the disappearance of Lord Third, many search teams were deployed. One such search team grew overzealous and entered into Konoha controlled territory.”

He let out a low and frustrated exhale. “This was seen as the opening of hostilities by Konohagakure, who took it as license to make maneuvers into Rivers, which in turn provoked Tanigakure to call upon our aid in an official defensive capacity and marked our proper entry into the war.”

“W-wait so- just because one group made a mistake- t-the whole village had to go to war?!” She cried out, stomach making little flip-flops at the thought. 

“Eh. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Sensei called out from the front of the group, shrugging again. “If not them, then it would’ve probably been someone else. If not that situation, it probably would’ve been a different one.” He glanced back at her with those steady, bored eyes. “It’s easy to get caught up in the details, but who, where, and how doesn’t usually actually matter. There was a Third Ninja War already in progress, Suna would’ve almost certainly  gotten involved at some point for some reason.”

“But isn’t it important to know who to blame?” Bazo asked in his usual way, growly and grumpy. He had quieted down a lot ever since being rejected by his Jonin sensei, much more thoughtful and dark. “We’ll just let them get away with that shit?”

“The most important thing is surviving.” Sensei refuted, turning his gaze towards him. “How and why you get into a fight doesn’t matter. What matters is that you come out the other side still breathing. Everything else is a bonus.”

“A ninja is one who endures.” Baki-sensei declared, repeating a truism that Hiyako was pretty sure she had heard before. “It is in our title- Shinobi no Mono, the People who Endure.”

“If you outlive your opponent, you’ve won.” Sensei finished the lesson with another one of his catchphrases. 

“Pretty sure you said that before, Sensei.” Himeo declared, tilting her head and letting her orange locks fall to one side.

“I’ll say it as many times as I need to get it through your heads.” He grumbled. “You’re all new ninja. None of you need to worry about being super-dangerous or successful this early on. You just need to worry about staying alive, you’ll figure out the rest as you go along.”

That was strangely comforting to hear, because Hiyako absolutely didn’t have anything figured out right now.

“...Hey wait a minute…” Jun muttered quietly, glancing to either side of himself. Hiyako almost jumped to get away. 

Azuko pretended to just notice. “Hey now! Why are you walking so close?! Are you trying to pull something!?” She accused their team leader with a hint of red on her cheeks, leaning forwards with a scowl and finger pointed at his chin. Jun let out a nervous laugh, raising his hands defensively and leaning back.

Hiyako wished she had the confidence to lie as boldly as that.

Zakuza rolled his eyes. As much as his forehead was soaked in sweat, his expression was steadfast.

—

“We’re here.” Sensei called out well into the Land of Rivers, the greenery around being more than Hiyako had ever seen in her life. The air was humid and cool, and the clouds rolled in great intimidating blankets over the sky. The wind was gentle and infrequent, and empty of sand or grit. All around her the sounds of insects and birds could be heard, a drone that started yesterday and had never stopped. 

The desert sands turned into dry grasslands first, and then into progressively greener fields and forests, each one with some kind of creek or stream coursing through like immense veins of clear blood. Soon the rolling grasslands turned into rolling farmlands, gentle terraces filled with water and the tiny sprigs of green rice shoots. Farmers watched them as they moved along roads of packed earth and stone, the men with polite suspicion, the woman with nervous glances, and the children with excitable waves and laughs. 

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting from the Land of Rivers, but this was surpassing whatever that was. 

They looked around for a few moments, seeing nothing in particular. There was a river that ran through this section of rolling grasses, and an arched bridge that stretched across it. The bridge was made of wood painted in red and brown, and had its posts decorated with little statues and tokens.

“A bridge?” Tomimi asked, reaching up and scratching at her freckled face. 

“Shinkyo Bridge.” Sensei answered, brushing off his pants and glancing around idly. “Supposedly built by one of the Buddhas- more importantly it’s the exact center of the Land of Rivers and the predesignated meeting place with Tani. We’ll be using it as a center of operations for the duration of the mission.”

“A meeting with Tani…?” Soma asked, pulling back slightly and glancing around. 

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be stomping around the territory of an ally without telling them, right?” Sensei replied blandly, shaking his head and turning ahead again. “No, a messenger hawk was sent before we left explaining the mission. We’ll be meeting in person to confirm our presence and then you’ll be sent off on your sub-missions.”

There were a few moments of silence at that. Silence and the sound of rolling river water. 

“...Nowhere in sight.” Baki-sensei observed dryly, looking around from his position at the back of the group.

“Seems like it.” Ryoma-sensei agreed, rolling his head to crack his neck before clapping his hands together. He turned around to address them more directly. “Alright kids- we’re setting up camp for the night over there-” He pointed a thumb to the side, at a mostly empty clearing next to the road. “As in- I’ll brief everyone about what their submissions are, wait for the Tani group to actually show their faces. Once they get here, all of you will run off to accomplish your submissions while Baki and I actually set up the camp and start fishing up dinner for when you get back.”

“Y-you’re going to be fishing while we actually do the missions?!” Bazo growled out, raising a clenched fist.

Sensei looked over to him and raised his brows, barely visible behind the veil and hat. “This is supposed to be a learning experience for you all- Baki and I are here to intervene if you run into trouble. That means we need to be on standby and ready to run out and help if any of you call in saying there’s an enemy ninja present.”

He tilted his head. “I can always just break out another batch of Suna rations, if you’d prefer that over fresh fish tonight.”

They gave a collective shudder at the thought.

“Gk- point taken.” Bazo growled sheepishly, looking away. 

“I figured.”

—

“There are five key sellers, one for each team.” Ryoma-sensei began, pointing at a map of the Land of Rivers laid out across a wooden stump. Upon the map was a number of rivers, roads, and locations marked. It was a bit hard to see from her current position- the map was being shown to the team leaders first with everyone else slightly behind. “They’ll be along these five rivers, Tsubaki, Ume, Asagao, Kaneshon, Sakurasou.” He pointed at five locations on the map, ones marked in red ink. 

“Baki here has the scrolls of information about each target, the region you’ll be looking in, their base of operations, their physical appearance and mannerisms, and the price that we’ve historically purchased from them before at. Each team will be given a target and the corresponding scrolls- information and the scroll containing their budget for purchase.”

“Our goal is to maximize our cost to benefit ratio- right sensei?” Chikako asked smartly. “The most rice for the least price?”

“Absolutely not.” He swiftly refuted, making the blue haired girl tense up and shudder nervously.  He continued without skipping a beat. “We don’t want to risk damaging our reputation with any of these sellers- thus leading to troubles buying from them in the future. Don’t try to haggle too much with any of them- all we need is for you all to bring the money, make sure that the product is acceptable, purchase as much of the product off them as you have the budget for, and bring it back in the storage scrolls provided.”

Sensei’s eyes trailed over them, looking at every team leader in the eyes directly. “Don’t try to be clever here- it’s not necessary. If any of them are trying to massively over or undercharge you, you need to send word back to us and let either Baki or myself handle it. Furthermore- if any of you encounter any hostilities at all, bandits or missing nin or similar, you’re to make a tactical retreat back to this location.”

He reached into his vest and pulled out another scroll, tapping it to unleash five tubular objects. “These are high-power flare launchers. We’ll be able to see them from up to five kilometers away. If you do encounter hostilities and make a tactical retreat, fire a flare as soon as you're within about five kilometers of this location. Either Baki or myself will move as fast as possible to support you.”

“What if it’s some weakling we can easily crush?” Azuko asked, planting her hands on her hips and cocking it to the side. 

“The most basic ninja tactic to ever exist is ‘pretend to be weaker than you are’.” Ryoma-sensei’s voice was dry and unimpressed. “I’m fairly certain that the first thing they teach you in the academy, right after learning what chakra is.”

“...But what if they are actually weak?” She tried again, somewhat lamely.

“Well I’m giving a direct order as Field Commander right now, Genin.” Ryoma-sensei’s voice got scary for a half-second there, making Hiyako flinch back and behind Jun’s back. “If you encounter any hostilities, you are to fall back and deploy a flare once you reach five kilometers of this location. Does everyone understand?”

Everyone snapped into salutes, nervous expressions on their faces. 

“”“Yes, Commander!”””

His dark eyes trailed over them searchingly for a few moments, before he exhaled through his nose and returned to the map. “That said- you’ll be free to pick targets that you think you’ll be suitable for. Team Leader One, which target do you think your team is suitable for?”

Jun recoiled slightly, blinking and hesitating briefly. “Oh, uhh…” He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the map. “Well th-” He cut himself off and glanced at the other teams present, clearly thinking it over again. “Can we look at the target information as a group and decide?”

A rolling, amused snort. “Good answer, you may.” Ryoma-sensei had a clearly approving note in his voice as Baki-sensei placed the scrolls on the stump and unrolled them, allowing everyone to get a clear view of the targets. 

With that, Ryoma-sensei stood up and stepped back. “I’ll let the team leaders discuss among themselves about which targets their teams are suitable for- I’ll be talking with the Tani delegation.”

Hiyako blinked, tilting her head over to peer through the groups of her fellow Genin. There at the edge of the river, a team of three unfamiliar ninja lounged, leaning against the railing in casual stances. Her face flushed red and her eyes turned back down to the map.

The ninja from Tani- they didn’t wear much clothes. A lot of fishnet and little else.

She glanced up again to confirm, recoiling again and slapping her hands over her eyes. 

“Team Leaders- I don’t hear you discussing anything right now!” Sensei mercilessly called out as he walked towards the unfamiliar ninja.

Soma coughed into his fist. “Right- lets uh- let's focus on the mission.”

…Hiyako snuck another glance, face burning red.

Interlude 14

Borders of River

Mao, Genin

“Hey Bozo- do you think I could pull off the fishnet look like those Tani-nins? They were like- total hotties!” She asked as they jogged through the unfamiliar roads of the Land of Rivers. It was completely different from the roads in Suna! There was like, all kinds of plants growing around the edges of the walking space and the road itself was just really hard dirt instead of stone.

“We live in a desert, you dumb bitch. You’d get burns.” Bozo reminded her in his classic grumpy way, face all scrunched up and eyes focused ahead as they moved. He liked to pretend that they hadn’t known each other for forever, but they totally did. 

She considered that for a moment, looking down at her cute little kimono top and thinking. She reached up to shake out her top, letting loose sand fall out on the road as they moved. The sand was trapped between her kimono top and her comfy bodysuit underneath, so she didn’t feel it at all.

“Hm. Yeah, the fishnets wouldn’t help with the sand at all, would it?” She sadly concluded, her dreams of wearing fishnets and making all the cute boys fall over when she showed up ending unsatisfactorily. “It’d get everywhere and I’d be itchy all day.”

Bozo let out a low grumble in response, meaning that he didn’t really have anything to respond with but he didn’t want to just say nothing. She smiled brightly to reassure him, before letting her thoughts drift to the next idle thought in line. “Hey-hey Chiko, how close are we to this place?”

“Remember that you’re supposed to call me Team Leader while we’re on a mission, Mao.” Chiko glanced back and inclined her head slightly, her dark blue hair bouncing around as they jogged onwards. Mao let out a casual giggle, raising a hand to rub the back of her neck sheepishly. 

“Hehe- sorry Chik- Team Leader. It’s hard to remember.” 

“It’s alright.” Chiko nodded, before tilting her head forwards in her signature Chiko Lecture Mode. “The Asagao River site was said to be thirty kilometers away from the field camp. I’ve been setting a ten kilometer per hour pace, so it should only take three hours to get there.”

“But we’ve been running for like- three hours already.” Mao complained, her wooden sandals making funny ‘clop-clop’ noises as she jogged. 

“Which means we’re almost there, Mao.” Shimi answered from the side. Mao turned to regard her with a wide-eyed blink. The green haired, spiked-collar girl looked like a cactus that pulled up its roots and started walking around. Her long face and dry expression only emphasized this even more. It was really funny to imagine, so Mao liked her despite not knowing her very well.

Anyone who could do such a good plant impression was a good person.

 Her actual name was longer, but it was tricky. Mao kept forgetting if it was Yoshimi or Yoshomi.

“Indeed. We are almost at our destination.” Chiko continued in that super-serious way she used whenever she thought an adult might be watching. 

“Oh.” Mao replied dumbly, before letting out a little laugh. “Heh, Why didn’t you say that earlier, Chiko-Leader?”

“I was about to.” She clarified blandly.

“Oh, sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.”

They were quiet for a few more minutes, Mao looking around with a curious eye as they dashed down the road. As a ninja, she had to keep a sharp eye out for traps and ambushes, but all she could see at the moment was branches, leaves, and spring-blossoms. They were really pretty though, shades of purple and blue that swayed in the gentle breezes of Riverland. The smells were fragrant and stuffed up her nose in ways she’d normally need to find a garden for back in Suna. 

“Are most missions like this, do you think?” Shimi asked suddenly. “Not all- there’s war missions and stuff- but do you think most missions are this way?”

“What way?” Mao asked curiously, tilting her head to the side and letting her left bun of pink hair point to the ground. 

“I dunno- kinda relaxed?” Shimi rolled her shoulders and shrugged. “Nothing much has happened yet.”

“It’s boring.” Bozo grumbled. “The word you’re looking for is boring.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Shimi reached up to rub under her spiked collar. “I mean, I’m grateful for it, if most missions are laid back like this that just makes it easier on me. But… I suppose I was expecting more already.”

“I’ll confess, I was anticipating greater excitement as well.” Chiko offered with a little shake of her head. “Of course, it is preferable that we can achieve our objectives with no difficulty. There is no need to waste strength on unprofitable activities.” 

“We’re still being handled with the kiddie gloves.” Bozo growled. “Like we never left the damn academy.” 

“Well…” Shimi started, somewhat awkwardly. “If it gives me a bit more time to learn jutsu, I’m not going to be too upset about it. I was already feeling kinda stressed about graduation.”

“There’s nothing that can be done for it.” Chiko declared. “We’ll become strong ninja in time, for right now we need to focus on the mission.”

Bozo grumbled at that, but didn’t disagree.

“We’re almost at the mission location.” Chiko continued. “Inventory checks are in order. Tomomi, do you still have the payment ready?” 

“I do.”

“Bazo. Do you still have the storage scrolls ready?”

“Got em.”

“Mao. Has anyone approached our flank?”

She gave a little salute as they made a long hop across a fallen log in the middle of the road. “None so far, Chiko-Leader!” As soon as she said that, she glanced behind herself again just to be sure. 

…Yep! Nothing!

She gave a victorious grunt, turning around and slamming into Bozo’s back. 

“Oof!”
“Fucking-!”

She and Bazo tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs- taking a few seconds to disengage and push up. Pinkies need to stick together, but not this close! 

“Dumb bitch! Watch where you’re going!”

“I was watching the flank! I’m sorry!”

“Idiot!”

“Why’d you stop!?”

“Quickly- get up.” Chiko ordered, helping to disentangle them. “Look.”

Mao shook her head out as Bozo pulled himself away, turning her gaze in the direction that her team leader had indicated. She paused, half-sitting on the ground as she took in the sight.

“...Smoke?” She asked with furrowed brows. Tall columns of rising black ash over the distant treeline and beyond another stretch of river and bridge. A bit difficult to make out in the dying light of the evening sun, but still present enough to tell.

“Coming straight from our target location.” Shimi added with a nervous tone in her voice, which made Mao nervous too as her brain rapidly worked out why her teammate was nervous right now.

“That much smoke- that ain’t no spring bonfire.” Bozo added with a grim tone of voice. Mao glanced over to him, swallowing nervously at his deeper than usual scowl. “I don’t know what they’re burning right now, but it’s a whole lot of whatever it is.” 

“That’s like- that’s totally bad right?” Mao added worriedly, not quite certain of what her teammates were getting at yet. 

Bozo glanced over at her, before turning forwards again. “...Could be- that much fire in one place could be some weird festival, but I doubt it. If I had to bet on it- our target location is on fire right now.”

“But we need to get the rice!” Mao said in a panic. “If it’s burned to the ground, we’ll have to go back empty-handed! Sensei would like- totally flip out at us won’t he?”

“He also told us to turn back the moment we encountered hostilities.” Shimi countered with her eyebrows furrowed, tugging at the hems of her baggy shirt. “This isn’t a good sign- not good at all.”

“...What do we do, Team Leader?” Bozo turned to Chiko as asked directly. Chiko was staring forwards silently, Mao could only see her back from her current position.

After a few moments, Chiko inclined her head. “A fire of this size- I don’t believe it qualifies as ‘hostilities’ by itself. It could be a natural disaster or accident. If we turned back because of it… I don’t think it falls under the conditions that sensei gave to us for retreat.”

She shook her head. “We do not have authorization from the Field Commander to retreat- we move forwards.”

Bozo stared at her for a few more moments, before giving a sharp nod. “...Alright- you heard her girlies. We keep going.”

“Standard protocols for encountering unknowns- evacuate civilians if possible. If any hostilities present themselves, alert the team. We will retreat immediately after. Keep at least one other member of the team in your awareness at all times.”

Mao swallowed, placing her hands on the hilts of her paired wakizashi. 

—

“I was right.” Bozo growled as they leapt over a section of broken terrain- a section where a forest used to be but now only the charred skeleton of trees and a field of hot ash remained. Ahead of them, there was something akin to a fortress compound, the roofs of which were currently burning brightly in the evening light. 

A short wall of wooden pillars, riverstones, and packed clay surrounded a village worth of buildings in roughly the same style that set upon the banks of the river itself.  The buildings inside would’ve been downright cute if they weren’t currently ablaze, with walls curling up from the heat and wood crackling louder than anything else in the night.

Mao shuddered nervously as they leapt over a fallen log- still glowing a faint orange around his white and black charring. 

“The wind is blowing up from the south right now- same direction that the fire would’ve spread from the forest. This was deliberate.” Bozo continued, drawing out a pair of kunai as they performed another jump. 

“That’s not enough evidence to conclude deliberate action.” Chiko refuted. “It is, however, still a concern.”

“The compound would’ve been a five minute walk away- there’s absolutely no reason to start a fire there.” Bozo argued, bouncing shallowly to jump short and springboarding up and over the heat-cracked exterior walls. Mao twirled to avoid the plume of ash and followed, worried eyes glancing around rapidly as she looked for danger. 

“The underbrush was clear for miles leading to here.” Shimi added, drawing one of her own kunai in the process of kicking off the wall and landing next to them. She swallowed nervously, eyes darting around like Mao’s were. “A fire this big- that doesn’t happen by accident, Team Leader.”

Chiko was quiet for a moment, scanning the compound and the burning buildings. “...We’ll do one sweep of the area before leaving- I don’t think we can complete our mission in these conditions.”

“No shit.” Bozo growled. “Fanning out or staying together?”

“Pairs- I’ll go with Yoshimi. You and Mao go together along the riverside. We’ll meet at the other side.”

“Got it. Come on airhead.”

“C-can do!” Mao nervously saluted with her sword-hilt, leaping after her fellow pink-haired genin as they moved to the next rooftop and started an aggressive eye-probing of the area around. A whole lot of burning and devastation, hot coals and ash, and not much else. 

Mao shivered, jumping again to follow close behind Bozo. “T-this is like- totally not good.” She muttered, eyes darting over to the charred remains of fishing boats on the riverbank.

“Stay quiet.” Bozo hissed at her. “There could be an enemy around any freakin’ corner.” He leapt again, kunai raised defensively as he landed on another section of charred housing. The wall beneath his feet groaned and cracked ominously, making them both stiffen up. A tense grimace overtook his face as he waved for her to follow. 

She soon did, landing slightly behind and receiving less of a noise to herald her presence as a reward. Beads of sweat began to roll down her forehead as they took in another section of ruined buildings. “Is it just me- or is it like totally too hot in here?” She tugged at the collar of her bodysuit, lungs filled with stressful inhales.

Bozo stopped short at that, shoulders tensing for a few moments before he spun to face her. “We’re in the middle of a recently burned town you dumbass! Of course it’s hot here!”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, nothing coming out. After a few moments she closed it again and pulled her swords up defensively. “I-I’m sorry…”

He glared for a few moments longer, before letting out a small exhale. “...It’s fine- just stay quiet. I don’t trust this place.”

Mao nodded quickly, glad that Bozo didn’t ever stay angry for too long.

They leapt again, and again, and again. Each time lingering among the ash and soot of another burned rooftop only long enough to verify that nothing was moving. She was glad her socks were already black, otherwise they’d be completely ruined by the stains of ash and charcoal they were moving through. 

They moved again, this time landing on the last building where the flames had actually died down- the buildings ahead were all still burning. Licks of orange fire coming up and off each and forming a field of hot trees. Bozo glared at them for a few moments more, glancing around and looking for an appropriate path forwards.

Distantly, faintly, Mao could hear something. Like someone chopping wood her brows furrowed and she reached forwards to tug on Bozo’s sleeve.

He turned a harsh and slightly startled eye towards her. “What?” He whispered harshly. 

Mao raised a hand to her ear. Bozo’s brows furrowed deeper, his head tilting and breath slowing as he listened. 

Chop. Chopchop. Chop. Chopchopchop. Chop… chop.

His eyes widened, and Mao let out a startled yelp as he tackled her off the roof. A few moments of weightlessness later, they hit the ash of the street below and rolled, kicking up a great deal of blinding smoke. Mao coughed as she pushed herself up, tugged forwards by a hand holding onto her wrist.

“Cuh-cough- what that- cuh!” She began to ask as Bozo almost physically dragged her through the cloud of ash and away. She couldn’t see anything clearly yet, she didn’t have time to protect her eyes from the dust.

A moment later, a roar of fire engulfed the building behind them. Her hackles rose and her heart began to race, pulling through the choking ash and rounding a corner. 

“There’s an enemy.” Bozo whispered, teeth gritted. “Clear your eyes- quickly. We have to get back to Chikako.”

Mao rubbed as much of the soot away as she could, blinking rapidly and letting the little tears get the ash out of her vision. She glanced around to reorient herself, finding themselves in an alleyway, Bozo peeking around the corner with every muscle tensed. 

He pulled back after a moment, gesturing to her to keep moving forwards, pointing at the junction in the alley and forwards. Mao nodded worriedly, stepping lightly and letting Bozo pass her. She hesitated, chancing her own peek around the side of the building and towards the building they were just on. 

A tall man with a long, dark purple coat stood among the re-ignited cinders of the building, a long black blade clutched loosely in one hand and a white sword strapped to his back. His hair was short and spiky, a dark brown that barely shifted in the new breeze created by the fires in front of him.

His eyes were practically pinpricks, with how small they were on his face, and there was an unfamiliar symbol emblazoned on his shoulder. 

A tiny smirk grew on his face, and his stance shifted. 

Mao’s eyes widened. She could see his eyes- that meant-

“Move!” She was pulled back, practically hurled by Bozo’s strong grip. They rose into the air, landing on the rooftops again and rolling briefly.

-That he could see her too.

A wave of fire washed through the alleyway, hot enough to turn water into steam and strong enough to shake the charred remains of the building they were on. Mao pushed herself up fearfully, immediately grabbed again by the wrist and tugged forwards.

“Dumb bitch! I said move, not turn around and look for yourself!” Bozo yelled at her as they jumped again, leaping away from the waves of fire rolling below their feet. “You fucking idiot! You dumbass! You moron!”

“I’m sorry!” She wailed, blinking more soot from her eyes. “I’m sorry! Let’s just go! Let’s go now!”

“Too late for that!” A scary voice called out from behind them. Bozo immediately turned to hurl his kunai. Mao glanced back in time to see the brown-haired stranger wave his long black sword and bat it away. “I was wondering if I had heard that right- little rats scuttling around. Shame for you too, because this job needs me not leaving witnesses!”

“Fuck off and die!” Bozo immediately hissed, tossing another kunai.

Ping- the stranger smacked it away again, blurring forwards.

Mao let out another yelp as she was thrown forwards- smashing into another roof and rolling briefly. She pushed herself up, breathing too fast too be useful and eyes darting around in a panic to orient herself. 

There- “B-Bozo!” She cried, pushing herself up and getting into her best stance. 

He was being clutched in the hand of the stranger, held up by the throat and clawing ineffectually at the hand. “G-get to Chika-ko- gah!” He hissed through gritted teeth, the strangers grip tightening.

“So there’s more of you huh? I guess I got to clean them up too after you.” The stranger mused, raising his sword. “Ah well. Part of the job.”

“Chiko- Go!”

She wanted to ask, ‘what about him?’ She pushed up with tears in her eyes and legs tensed, mouth opening.

Her question was cut short by a horrified gasp and the sick squelching sound of a sword punching through cloth and flesh. Bozo let out a strangled yell of pain. Red liquid steamed as it splashed across the rooftops.

“Sorry kid- you never really stood a chance.” The stranger shook his head. 

“...F-fuh…” Bozo started, coughing up red on his arm.

“What’s that?” The stranger raised his brows. 

“Fuhk you.”

Bozo’s hands were clasped in a seal. 

The stranger’s eyes widened. 

His grip slackened, his sword pulled back-

The pair of them were engulfed in an explosion.

Mao wanted to wake up from this nightmare already.

Interlude 15

Borders of River

Mao, Genin

‘Go’

The words echoed around in her head. Again and again and again. The world pulled sharply into head-pounding quiet. Muffled, distant, and all together too slow.

‘Go’

Something sharp and black flashed through the air, making her eyes trail to follow. A hushed whistle of steel cutting through the air, followed by the distinct muted sound of chopping wood. 

A long black sword planted itself into the charred wood of the roof beams between her feet, wobbling as it stuck fast. She had been kneeling there a moment ago. If she had still been, she would be dead. Dead. 

Dead like-

Something red and hot splashed across her face and chest. It smelled like copper. Her eyes trailed to her hands and front. They were dyed inconsistent red now, red and dark. 

‘Go’

Her gaze trailed up, at the cloud of black ash that covered the rooftops in front of her. A figure was in the ash, quietly screaming and clutching at their face and chest. They sounded terribly angry, but she couldn’t make out any of the words.

Chunks of red were falling around. They splashed against the roofing beams and steamed, some heavier pieces rolling and falling off to the ground below, kicking up little waves of dust.

Ah, that’s right.

‘Go’

This was a genjutsu, wasn’t it? Just like they taught in the academy. She raised her hands together and made the right handseal, sluggish as everything seemed to move at the moment. She made her chakra circulate, and made the enunciation.

“Release.” 

But nothing changed. Her hands and feet felt cold, cold and numb and filled with something like sandpaper. 

But her head and chest were hot, terribly, unbearably hot. Her eyes drifted down again, to the red that painted her front, to the black sword covered in something that looked too much like red oil. The angry screams grew louder and louder, and the crackles of distant fire began to return to her ears.

‘Go’

The sword. Bozo- Bo- Bobo- Ba- Baba- Baza-

Bazo. Bazo had disarmed the enemy for her. She couldn’t let him down.

‘Go to Chikako.’

Her hands surged forwards to take hold of the long black sword, straight with a short guard and a long handle, the tip of the blade embedded with a large greenish-blue gemstone. The numb and cold of her hands vanished as heat rushed through her limbs, and she strained.

A moment later she stumbled, the sword coming free from the charcoal. She turned and threw herself forwards in an unplanned leap, reaching the next rooftop and stumbling into a sprint. Her sandals made ‘crunch-crunch’ noises as she raced over the hot, burnt wood. She didn’t like this noise.

She jumped again, rolling onto the next rooftop and away- towards the other side- away from the water. A distant roar of outrage sounded out behind her- somewhere distant and yet too-close.

“Y-you- you fucking- are you running off with my fucking sword you brat?!” A harsh, wet, sputtering cough followed. 

She blinked hard, face scrunched up in agitation, the dust was making her eyes water. The sound of metal whistling through the air came from behind. She ran across another section of rooftops, jumping at the end and trying to duck- 

She tripped, one foot slamming into the other and sending her rolling forwards. She fell onto her face, rolling and skidding briefly, sword hugged tight against her body with both hands. 

The metal whistled over her head and stopped against the next roof, thunk-thunkthunk-thunk. Shuriken impacting wood, just like the throwing training in the academy. She let out a whine as she threw herself up, stumbling into another almost-aimless run and jump across the hot rooftops. 

“Y-cuah-cuoug! You b-brat! Absolutely not- You get back here w- coauhg! Cao- couword!”

‘Go’

She ran harder- stumbles smoothing out into a steady forwards gait. Her gaze roamed the distance, her own breathing drowning out the screams behind her. The crunching noise of her footsteps were replaced by the sound of something like drums. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

She jumped and jumped again, kicking off a section of partially-topped roofing and towards more stable grounds. She landed into a long slide as blurring white steel raced over her head.

Brown hair tied back, furious bloodshot eyes, cheeks ragged and bloody revealing bony teeth beneath, a purple coat painted in red and black. His hand was holding a white blade, painted red and the pinky torn off in a ragged mess. Her eyes locked with the stranger’s for an instant that dragged on timelessly.

She swallowed, the slide continuing as the stranger tripped with the weight of his swing and topped over the side of the roof. A stumbling, uneasy gait that moved drunkenly across the charred roofs. A roar of fury immediately followed his fall, as did the sound of snapping logs, the sounds echoing over the distant flames and rolling across the soot-stained riverbanks.

She pushed up- stumbling once as the entire building was rocked by some immense and rancorous blow, and then jumping over to the neighboring building. 

There, in the distance, the movement of familiar colors and shapes over blackened, hellish rooftops. They kicked up black clouds of ash twinged with little hot cinders as they leapt, the same that she was. 

‘Go’

“Mao- report, what’s going-” Chiko began with a worried shout, leaping over another set of rooftops to get closer. Mao cut her off.

“We need to go!” She shouted, desperately trying to get the words out as fast as she could. Her eyes watered- more ash. She did not stop her running pace, leaping across another ash-choked alleyway and onto the roofs adjacent to them. Crunch-crunch-crunch. “B-bazo needs us to go! We need to go right now!”

“We- what? Mao what’s going on-” Shimi began, before another boom echoed and a building began to collapse behind her- in the direction of the stranger. 

“AH’LL GHUT YOU LHIKE A FISH, GHIRL!” 

Soon, Chiko and Shimi were running apace with her, over rooftops and away from the riverbanks. Their expressions were panicked, and frequent glances were thrown back as they hopped over charred pillars and walls and reached the packed-earth roads again. 

“W-where’s Bazo!? We need to get him!” Shimi got out through harsh breathing, arms flipping up and down rapidly as her legs pumped to carry her forwards.

‘Go’

“Mao.” Chiko got out, voice clipped and choked up as she raced along the road. “W-where’s Bazo?”

‘Go’

“H-he needs us to go!” Mao repeated, face hot and wet, clutching the immense black sword to her chest as she ran. Her sandals made ‘clop-clop-clop’ noises as they returned to the road. “H-he needs-” She had to sniff in the middle of her words- the road in front of her becoming blurry. “-He needs us to go!”

Clop-clop-clop. They did not respond for a few moments, little choked noises coming from their throats and sharp inhales of breath. 

“SHTOP RHUNNING! GHIVE ME MY SWORD!”

“Mao- the sword, why do you have it?!” Chiko snapped, throwing a tense look behind them again as they raced forwards. 

“Bazo disarmed him!” Mao all but wailed as she explained, face scrunched up and breathing unsteady. “He was going to kill us- and Bazo got his sword away- He’s the one who burned the rice with it!”

A boom echoed behind them, followed by the distinct sound of a rock wall being reduced to rubble. Mao flinched forwards, clutching the sword tight enough to make her palms bleed. “H-he’ll kill us if we give it to him! H-h said no survivors! We can’t let him have it!”

‘Go’

“W-we have to go!” She repeated, something hot and wet rolling down her face and dropping off her chin- angry that she couldn’t find the right words to explain. She was too stupid. Stupid. Stupid Mao.

Chiko’s fists clenched up, and her face scrunched in frustration and fear. Mao wanted to tell her that she was crying- but she couldn’t get the words out. 

Chiko’s eyes closed as she choked out order. “Full retreat! Make clones- have them follow behind us- I-I’ll set the pace.”

Mao pulled her hands together, doing her best to not slip and fall, sword bouncing between her chest and her arms as she called chakra up. 

Three puffs of smoke followed, and three clones appeared behind them, one of each girl. Chiko-clone immediately slowed her pace, maintaining a slower run as they raced forwards.

“T-tomomi- get out the explosive tags and start charging them!” Chiko ordered, ponytail swishing as she reached into her bag and started to pull out coils of ninja wire and kunai. Tomomi glanced over, her own face twisted up with a fearful expression, before giving a sharp nod and reaching into her pouches. 

In the distance behind them, the loud pop of a clone being dispelled by force sounded out. A roar of outrage echoed through the treelines, followed by two more rapid pops of clones being ripped apart like balloons. The girls flinched as the flow of chakra suddenly cut off, an elastic effect that twinged against their foreheads painfully.

“Again!” Chiko immediately ordered, holding her tools with her arms and throwing her hands together in a seal. Tomomi and Mao soon followed.

Another trio of poofs as clones came into existence behind them and slowed their pace. Chiko followed this by leaping, turning midair to toss two kunai in short succession, and then turning again to land and keep running. The kunai planted themselves into trees on opposite sides of the road and suspended a tight length of ninja-wire between them, diagonally across the road. 

“We’ll do this until we get low on chakra- then leave a substitution of ourselves exhausted.” Chiko hissed, getting out another set of throwing weapons and ninja wire as they moved. “The substitution will be that bunch of explosive seals that Tomomi is charging- we’ll trigger it the moment we hear that pop!”

“I JHUST WANT MY SWORD- I’LL EVEN LHET YOU GO!”

Mao’s face twisted as she choked out. “He’s lying! He- he’s not g-gonna! He didn’t!”

“...Team Leader.” Shimi muttered fearfully, breath coming out in short clips. “W-we’re an hour and a half away from the flare point. C-can we get there? Y-you know, b-before…”

Chiko didn’t reply for a long few moments, only the sound of her heavy breathing and the tensing of wire came out. After a few long moments, she spoke. “...I’ll figure out his pace with the clones- i-if he’s too fast, I’ll give the flare launcher to you and stay behind.”

Mao’s eyes screwed tight, closing up as she focused on running.

‘Go’

“This… this is bullshit.” Shimi choked out, almost growling as she spoke. “Why- why the fuck- why the did did we even enter that stupid fucking village!” She didn’t raise her voice, hissing out the words hatefully and charging another explosive seal before tucking it under one arm. “It was stupid! We knew that someone had burned it! Why the fuck did we go in?!”

A trio of pops and another furious roar came from behind them. 

“Again.” Chiko ordered with gritted teeth.

A trio of poofs, and clones appeared behind them, slowing their pace. Chiko tossed out two more lengths of wire suspended on blades, and they continued their running. 

“B-bazo got him with a boom.” Chiko forced out, head slumping forwards as she ran. “He got him- he should be slow- we can all go together!”

“Can we?!” Shimi hissed at her, water building up in the corner of her glaring eyes as she charged another explosive tag. “Are you sure about that?!”

The twang of wire snapping echoed through the air behind them. The three genin flinched at the harsh sound. Chiko’s face tightened in concentration. A few moments later, another set of pops sounded out. 

“He outpaces us by one-point-one meters per second.” Chiko announced grimly, the sound echoing like a terrible gong in Mao’s ears. “Assuming he’s not holding back and reserving his chakra for a sprint- if we can keep distracting him with our clones and traps, we can make it.”

Shimi almost spoke again, before being cut off by Chiko’s tense hiss. “Another set of clones.”

They obeyed. Another set of clones appeared behind them, and their paces slowed. 

“He’s not going to keep falling for this!” Shimi hissed, immediately going back to charging explosive tags. “Sooner or later he’s just going to skip over them and keep running for us!”

“He can’t afford to.” Chiko shook her head with gritted teeth. “If we swap places with our clones and he skips over us, we’ll have ample time to hide with transformation. He’ll never find us unless he has a sensory jutsu- and he doesn’t because he keeps checking the clones. He’s locked in- he has to attack the clones every time to make sure. And because he has to keep checking the clones- we have to keep making them.”

“Do you know that?!” Shimi hissed.

“I have to!” Chiko snapped back, tears in her eyes. “I have to, otherwise we’re dead!”

After a brief time spent glaring, she bit down on her lip and turned away. “Get the explosives into three balls- and get ready to perform a substitution. Our chances will improve if we manage to hurt him at all.”

Mao’s breaths were already coming out in harsh clips. Shimi was muttering harsh and terrified curses to herself.

“...H-how much longer do we have to run..?” Mao asked fearfully, too hot and too cold at the same time.

“Another hour and twenty minutes.” Chiko declared with eyes fixed forwards, tone blunt and daunted. 

‘Go’

The echo kept her legs pumping, even when they really wanted to stop.

—

Her body burned. Burned, burned, burned, burned. She couldn’t breath, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale- her lungs didn’t want to work properly. Her vision swam, swam and spun and twisted around. Nothing seemed to work right- the effort of moving- it was like the worst day in the Academy multiplied by a dozen.

‘Go’

But she kept running.

“T-tha-” Chiko’s own breaths were labored almost to an incomprehensible level. Sweat pouring down her face and soaking her shirt- bag of supplies long abandoned as another improvised trap. “Tha marker- F-fuh-field command told uh-us to make. Tha fuh-five… five kilo… Just ahead.”

“Flare ruh-deh.” Shimi struggled to get out, the launched slung over her shoulder and her own pace staggered. 

They had stopped hearing anything from their chaser awhile ago. Mao wasn’t sure when. It was hard to keep track of anything as her body screamed at her to stop doing anything. 

‘Go’

But she couldn’t.

“T-there!” Chiko gasped out- a staggered finger pointing out.

The mark on the roadside- a little pile of rocks, the topmost one engraved with the suna symbol and flipped over. Sensei’s very specific instructions about how they should assemble a marker for the five-kilometer point. 

Mao didn’t know why he wanted them like that, but he was smarter than her. He wanted them to shoot the flare- and then he’d come and save them. It would be okay, they could all-

‘Go’

Her feet collided, sending her toppling forwards on her face, rolling along the packed dirt lifelessly.

She was staring at something pale white, speckled with grey. It was awfully pretty. Pretty and free.

“T-tomomi! Duhploy!” Chiko wheezed, sliding to a stop and staggering over to Mao. Tomi almost fell forwards herself, throwing the flare down and fingers fumbling with the attached lighter. 

Oh, hello Chiko. Mao stared up at the girl, body screaming at her to lay down and rest. She needed to-

‘Go’

She staggered to her feet, planting the sword in the ground and using it to push herself up. Her face was puffy and dry. She was covered in soot. 

She wanted to go home and take a bath. Mao’s face scrunched up.

A hot hiss-thwomp noise sounded out near Tomi- the flare rocketing up into the night sky and screaming to life- a red glare washing over everything in the area and sending the trees and road into sharp relief. 

Distantly, Mao thought she could hear a voice- but the scream of the flare prevented her from making out the words. 

Chiko let out a panicked wheeze, hands coming up in a sloppy, exhausted stance. Mao and Tomi followed her gaze, before letting out panicked wheezes of their own.

In the stark red glare, a walking corpse glared at them down the road, a gleaming white blade in one hand. His face was ravaged by tears, his clothes were torn and scorched, and both hands were missing fingers. His shoulders were slumped, but his breathing was steady.

And his eyes were terrifyingly focused. 

“...A fhlare.” The stranger said all-to-calmly. “Yhou made me rhun all this whay, just to shend out a fhlare.” His head tilted to the side. “...How long do yhou think it’s ghoing to take for me to khill yhou, phrecisely?”

Chiko straightened up her defensive posture. Mao staggered up and tried to heft the too-heavy sword in front of her. Tomi raised her own hands, stance swaying unsteadily. 

The stranger let his head return to its prior position. Silently, he started walking forwards.

Chiko threw herself forwards with a breathless cry. The white sword flashed and a sound like a gong followed as the stranger carelessly batted her to the side in a minimum-effort rotation of his hand. Chiko skidded along the ground and smacked into the little pile of rocks, sending them tumbling. 

The stranger kept walking forwards, towards her. 

‘Go’

Mao took a step back, sword wobbling.

The stranger’s eyes were furiously calm as he approached, raising his sword in a far more deliberate motion. “Yhou could’ve shaved us an hour, bhrat.”

She raised her sword- trying to block.

A casual twirl of his wrist, and the sword flat smacked into her hands before drawing up and back to hit the hilt of the black blade. She let out a pained yelp and let go, sword knocked up into the air. She fell back, landing on the ground and half-crawling away. She couldn’t cry anymore- she was too thirsty. 

The stranger caught it with his other hand in a smooth motion. There was a shifting sound behind her.

Silently, hatefully, he began to swung down. His eyes glanced up, then immediately widened.

The black sword twisted into a block- a gauntleted fist sheathed in howling wind smashed into the tip.

The blue-green gem shattered. A second fist swung up, smashing into the stranger’s hands and tearing them apart. The black swords spun in the air and landed with a thunk in the earth of the road.

“Reverse Summoning Technique.” Ryoma-sensei growled, arms sheathed in roaring blades of wind.  

Mao was never happier to stare at her creepy sensei’s back. 

Chapter 28

Land of River

Ryoma, Jonin

The burning red glare of a flare in the distance told him two things. One, that one of the teams had come across a situation they felt unequipped to handle, and two, that they were wise enough to listen to his instructions and retreat. Judging by the direction, that was team Three specifically.

He set his fishing rod down and focused, sending a specific mental command in that ‘direction’. “I’ll handle it. Hold down the base while I’m gone, Second.” He nodded in Baki’s direction. Baki turned his very serious eye towards him and nodded sharply.

A few seconds later, his mental command finally reached the sand clone at that marker, and he was enveloped in chakra-laden smoke. 

The distributed nature of this mission meant that Ryoma couldn’t necessarily join each and every genin team and make sure they didn’t kill themselves stumbling into an explosion or something, that also wasn’t really the point of this mission. This mission, as absolutely simple as it was, was designed to get them used to operating in their own four-man teams and doing missions.

After Ryoma’s time as a remedial teacher was done, that’s all they’d be doing. He wasn’t going to be there in the future, because he wasn’t their Jonin sensei. 

Having said that, he didn’t just leave them off on their own. He gave them each one of the flares the Wood Dragoon used, told them to leave specific markers at the five kilometer point along the road, and made sure to give very clear and specific orders about retreating at the first sign of danger to fire them off. Now, if he ran over to them after that, it might take him… maybe six or seven minutes, assuming he was cycling his chakra appropriately. Other ninja could go faster, but Ryoma really needed to do more long-distance running. 

Now, he could try operating a sand clone at that distance to support them, but the problem came from the ‘distance lag’ of operating a sand clone. The further a sand clone was from him, the longer it took for his ‘orders’ to reach it, and the longer it took for information to return from the sand clone and reach him. At five kilometers, he was looking at a several second delay between all actions and reactions, which would make the already fairly mediocre sand clone even less useful than normal.

This was where his newest Jutsu came in. Summoning Technique was a C-rank Jutsu that allowed the ninja to form a ‘contract’ with something, offer a little blood and chakra, then call that thing to them. It was a semi-common technique, one that he had the clearance to learn from the guys in intel, and was used to great effect by a great many ninja. Most of the time it was used to summon giant animals over to punch a big monster in the face, but you could form a ‘contract’ with just about anything, including people and objects.

After the Mk2 was done, Ryoma was going to form a ‘contract’ with it and use that to summon it to battlefields in the future. In the meanwhile, there was no reason he couldn’t start incorporating it into his toolbox and tactics.

The first idea he had tested was forming a contract with and summoning ‘himself’. It was a bit finicky, and it took a bit of work to manage, but he figured it out eventually. Trying to summon himself while he was in place created a puff of chakra-smoke and nothing else. He was already present, so summoning himself to the location… nothing but fanfare, really.

Summoning a sand clone was possible, but of questionable utility. He wasn’t exactly sure how he could take advantage of that yet while accounting for the existing limitations of sand clones, but there was probably some utility there.

Using a sand clone to summon himself to a different location, on the other hand, was a massively more intriguing prospect. He had to give them a little bit of his blood ahead of time, and they usually didn’t have enough chakra to stick around after doing it. He was also fairly sure that it required more and more chakra the farther he wanted to summon something- which meant that sand clones would be unable to summon him after a certain distance.

He also wouldn’t know the precise situation that he would be summoning himself into, and there was a decently long delay between when he sent the command to summon himself and when the clone received it to perform the technique. 

That was still all completely worth dealing with, because the ability to move himself five kilometers in seconds instead of minutes was a tactical advantage that could not, in any circumstances, be underestimated. 

Ryoma turned a six or seven minute reinforcement delay into about fifteen seconds.

His sand clone dissolved behind him, and the smoke around obscured a night lit by a glaring red sun.

It took him less than a second to process the important details of the scene. Two allied genin on the ground. One allied genin slowly leaping to attack. Heavily injured unknown raising a black sword with a glowing gem in the blade, staring down at allied genin.

His chakra cycled, his legs moved, his arms were covered in spiraling wind chakra.

The unknown noticed him, remaining eye glaring lidlessly up as its sword moved to block. Decapitation strike no longer feasible, Ryoma adjusted his target.

His fist smashed into the gem of the black blade, holding for a half-moment before shattering as the wind chakra around his gauntleted fist splintered it. The glowing shards spread out around as Ryoma took another step and swung his other fist.

The hostile barely had time to move as Ryoma’s left hook smashed into its hands. Idly, he noticed that the hand was already missing some fingers, which made it really easy to knock the sword out of his grip and send it spiraling up and away. 

Mysterious glowing orb in the sword, broken. Sword, removed. Hostile is partially disarmed and disoriented. Further with vocalization. 

“Reverse Summoning Technique.” He declared, taking another step forwards and throwing out a sharp right jab. His gauntleted fist and white sword made a ringing noise as they clashed. The upper left arm had a large bloody chunk torn out of it, exposing the bone beneath. “Useful, don’t you think?”

His taunt was more effective than he was expecting, because the injured hostile let out an immediate, inarticulate shriek of rage. The hostile pulled back and swung, blade bouncing off Ryoma’s heavy bracer.

Then he swung again, again being deflected by a raised metal bracer sheathed in wind chakra. 

Then again.

Then again and again and again and again. A furious, desperate, utterly senseless forwards assault from a half-dead ninja doing his best to let loose a very deep well of frustration. Sparks and soon chips of metal began to fly off his gauntlets as the assault continued. 

Ryoma grit his teeth, taking a step back and letting one foot hover briefly. In ideal circumstances, he’d move to capture and take this guy alive, but his rush to protect the genin didn’t leave him time to pull a bolter with paralytic senbon out. Maybe he should start carrying on like a shoulder pet?

Something to improve in the future.

The hostile, still screaming, swung again.

He was interrupted for a brief moment, as a chakra string caught his foot and tugged it forwards harshly. The connection snapped a moment later, the hostile cycling his chakra almost instantly in response to the loss of control, but it was too late.

Ryoma stepped forwards and punched down. His gauntleted fist, covered in shredding wind, smashed into the hostile’s nose.

The hostile bounced off the paved stones of the road, face caving inwards with the sickening crunch of collapsing bone and a dozen sounds of a knife cutting through gelatinous meat. Red splattered across his front as the body hit the ground.

He fell into a second punch, just to be certain that the target was properly disabled. His gauntleted fist smashed into the cratered face like a drill, tearing through blood, bone, and brain matter until reaching the road and cracking the tiles with the weight of impact. The tearing winds ripped the head apart, akin to blending something without a container, splattering him even further with red gore. 

The legs kicked up then fell with dull thumps. The body continued to twitch sporadically for a few moments. Ryoma sighed and rose from his kneel, briefly shaking his hand out. Punching a rock was hardly a pleasant experience.

He stared at the body for a few seconds longer, to make sure it wasn’t about to pull something sneaky on him. Slowly he pulled out his storage scroll, tapping a bloody finger on an open slot and sealing the corpse away, most of the gore going with it. 

He sent a wary eye around him before returning to the Genin. Team three was… Chikako, Bazo, Mao, Yoshimi. Mao and Yoshimi were here and up, Chikako was slumped against the road-marker he told them to make. 

“Status report.” He announced declaratively, fingers reaching out strings and grabbing the rest of the battlefield salvage to sort out later- the shards of that gemstone and both the swords in this case. He made his way over to Chikako as he tucked the scroll away, checking her pulse, lightly checking for broken ribs, and giving her a once-over to make sure she wasn’t bleeding or foaming at the mouth. 

Broken ribs, heavy bruising, and absolutely caked in sweat. Two strings connected to her body, lifting her gently into the air and close enough for him to catch her again. 

He blinked, frowned and turned back to the active genin. “Genin, status report.”

One was unconscious already- Yoshimi had fallen forwards on her face, rear in the air in a manner that would be comical if this was currently a serious matter. Mao, face thoroughly stained in soot, blood, and tears, exhaustively pushed herself to her feet. 

“S-suh…” She stumbled exhaustedly, raising her hand up in a sloppy salute. “Sensei. We cuh-could not cuh-complete our mission…” He could already tell that- that wasn’t very important at the moment. 

He stepped over, checking over Yoshimi for injuries as he replied. Soaked in sweat, no other injuries he could immediately detect. Chakra exhaustion? “Where is Genin Bazo?

“B…buh… bazo is…” Mao struggled out, eyes too exhausted to summon forth any more tears. He frowned, stepping over to regard her more formally. She was clearly stressed out, and from the enemy, their exhaustion, and his absence, Ryoma could probably guess why.

“Bazo… nuh-needed us to go…” She gave a choking hiccup, her shoulders shaking and her face ducking low. Her hands came up to rub against her eyes. “Bazo needed us to go… We needed to go… We… he was… He saved us…”

He glanced up in the night- the red glare of the flare having faded by now, revealing only black sky for miles. He frowned, weighed the costs, and made a decision. 

“Can you keep moving?” He asked quickly.

The pink haired genin nodded, stepping forwards and immediately collapsing. Ryoma caught her as she fell, hefting the girl up on his back and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“That’s a no, for future reference.” He declared dryly, bringing the other two girls closer to him, hefting Yoshimi with one arm and leaving Chikako suspended by his strings. He immediately started a quick, bounding pace along the road and back towards field base.

It was fairly easy to tell by context clues that something very bad had happened to the last genin in Team Three, it was also easy to make the judgement call to cut his losses and bring these three back to camp. Three genin that were alive were more important than one genin who might still be alive. He’d wait for all genin teams to get back before heading out to investigate that sight.

That would be the next morning at the earliest. 

Bazo would almost certainly be dead by that time, if he wasn’t already.

With the rest of the team unconscious, and the hostile dead, it would be several hours before Ryoma was able to start figuring out what the fuck had happened here. He made a note to give the next general remedial lesson on chakra pills and the benefits of using them.

—

He emerged through the treelines and into sight of the base camp several minutes later, taking in the sight. The campfire was merrily crackling, a long line of fish fillets set up on a wire mesh above the flame, and the smell of salt, pepper, ginger, and wasabi filled the air. Teams One, Two, and Four had all already returned and were having a grand ol’ time by the fire.

Most curious was the sounds of very young children giggling, which activated the parts of his brain that told him to be on guard. The sounds were too high pitched and incoherent to be any of the genin, and the sounds of cooing and babytalk coming from them told him that they had brought kids back to camp, something to address in a moment. 

Baki was the first to greet him. “Field Commander!” He announced, giving the rest of the genin a heads-up about his presence. They turned to salute him, many freezing as they saw how thoroughly he was stained in gore and the three bodies he was carrying. 

Which one was the medic… ah. “Genin Himeno- get over here!” Ryoma ordered, ignoring the standard greeting as he laid out the unconscious girls on a flat, clear, and defensible section of the camp ground. “Broken ribs and heavy bruising on Chikako, general exhaustion in all three. Get to work on it.”

“Ah- at once Field Commander!” The orange haired girl hefted her immense backpack and ran over- her stance and the speed of her steps reminding him strongly of a baby duck. He watched her long enough to make sure she was getting to work, then turned to Baki. 

“Any other flares?” He asked quickly and sharply.

Baki relaxed his salute, bringing his hands down to fold across his lower back. “None so far- Team One returned in your absence. Team Five remains afield.”

Ryoma glanced over at the team in question, ignoring the generally shocked and stunned expressions on their faces. “I see.” He acknowledged quickly, moving on to the next thing on the list. “Team Three was under assault by an unknown assailant, already injured when I arrived. Genin Bazo was not among them, and their words lead me to believe that he is already dead. They collapsed from exhaustion before I could question them further.”

“I see. MIA, suspected KIA then?” Baki’s frown deepened as he gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Should I investigate the scene?”

Ryoma shook his head. “Not until Team Five gets back- one of us will need to remain to defend the rest if they send up a flare.”

“Team Five was deployed to the farthest mission location. It will likely be several more hours before the return.” Baki’s statement was not quite a question, but Ryoma understood what he was getting at even without that.

‘If he is alive and injured, waiting that long will almost certainly mean he dies regardless.’

His reply was brief. “I know.” 

Their eyes met, looks of understanding passing between them, and Baki nodded. “I understand, Field Commander.”

Ryoma sighed, shaking his head and turning over to look near the campfires. Specifically at the toddlers, one with white hair and one with brown hair, clinginging onto the pants of… What was that one’s name…

Jun. That was it. “I see unfamiliar faces among our genin.” Ryoma spoke in an dry tone, asking a question without asking a question.

Baki stepped forwards to stand next to him as he replied in a low voice. “Team One claims they were offered a ten percent discount on the rice if they took the children back with them to Suna. Bastards of some ronin, as I understand it. I told them I would leave the ultimate decision with you.”

Ryoma considered that for a moment, before letting out a long sigh. He reached up to shrug off his bloody clothes and flak vest, revealing his bare mesh to the world. “If they were paid to take them, I can’t fault them for it. Besides, I was brought back to Suna the same way.”

“Oh? You were a ‘Peach Boy’?” The common slang for ‘orphan a ninja found and brought back to the village’, Ryoma wasn’t exactly sure why it was called that however. 

“Yep.” He said, walking forwards and kneeling, looking the toddlers in the eyes. 

The white haired toddler stared at him curiously for a few moments, then stuck his entire fist into his mouth. The brown hair toddler reached forwards and slapped his straw hat, tilting it downwards and to the side, obscuring his vision.

Yep, these were kids alright. Ryoma sighed and re-adjusted his hat, raising from his kneel and shrugging his blood-stained coat and vest back on. “Congratulations kid, you’re a dad now.”

“W-what?!” Jun recoiled at those words in a very amusing manner.

“You’re responsible for getting them back to Suna- the logistics division will know where to put them after, got it?”

“G-got it! I’ll do my best, Field Commander!”

Down one genin and up two orphans.

That wasn’t exactly an even trade, but it was better than nothing.

Chapter 29

Land of River

Ryoma, Jonin

Team Five returned in the middle of the night soaked to the bone, their share of rice clutched in a scroll and nervous glances being thrown over their shoulders. They were the ones that he was most concerned about- having gone nearest to the border with the Land of Rain. The team leader said he almost set off the flare and pulled back when the bridge beneath them fell through, but a tense and careful investigation revealed the culprit to be shoddy maintenance of the support struts.

They left a sign saying as much and moved along an alternative route off the road, which caused their delayed return. They were further slowed by a storm that rolled down from Rain, but experienced no further troubles. That was certainly nice to hear, because Ryoma was already anticipating the headache of needing to deal with the paperwork of a single death, let alone multiple. 

Baki had been deployed immediately afterwards to go check out Team Three’s target location and perform standing post-battlefield cleanup. That meant picking up any bodies, clearing out any evidence of Suna involvement, and picking up any salvageable trinkets and bits that might be in the location. 

Ninja were downright scavengers that way, picking up basically everything they could get their hands on if they got to a battlefield first. This was partly why ninja wars were so invisible to the normal population- because the only evidence of a ninja battle is usually the shattered terrain or burns- and there’s any number of other potential reasons for stuff like that. This was especially notable in particularly rural areas, where villages went months or years without contact with other villages. 

If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, does anyone know a ninja knocked it over? Would anyone know to blame a ninja specifically over animal clans, natural disasters, or demons?

The Elemental Nations, for as much as they pretended to be peaceful, was a place where sometimes places were wiped off the face of the earth, and no one will ever figure out why. There was a reason most of the population tended to stick near the cities and roads, where the Daimyos, Samurai, and Ashigaru were in abundance to fend off anything that tries anything funny.

“Sensei.”

“Hm?” He responded idly, reeling in another catfish, string looping around his arm and chakra-strings filling his fingers and helping to pull it in. The fish got big here- this catfish was five feet long and several hundred pounds by the look and feel of it. Ryoma was glad he was using a metal wire as his line, anything weaker would’ve snapped awhile ago. 

“All three of them- they’re awake now.” The little orange-haired medic gave a weary bow in his direction, the morning essentially silent save the chirping of birds, song of cicadas, and the thrashing of the monster at the end of his reel. 

“Thank you-” He forgot her name again. “-Genin, go ahead and get some sleep.” He gave a little groan of exertion, tugged forwards suddenly by a tremendous pull. His arms shook slightly as he held on, just long enough for the fish to give some slack and let him make another loop around his arm- across the thumb and the elbow.

It had been a long time since he had gone fishing, he forgot how much he enjoyed it. “I’ll see them in a moment.”

“Yes sir!” She recited, before wandering off back to whatever tent she and her team was using.

Ryoma held the line for a few moments more- then called out to the water. He gave this maybe a fifty percent chance of success. “Hey- catfish! You mind calling it a draw for today? I have something to do.” He stopped his pulling and let the line slacken appropriately.

The line loosened further as the head of a catfish slowly poked its way up out of the river, looking up at him with its wide face and beady eyes. 

After a moment, it spoke. “...Draw?” It called out in a deep rumble, a dumb tone in its voice. The hook hung out of its immense lip. 

Looks like he got it right then. Ryoma nodded, uncoiling the ninja wire around his arm to give it more slack. “Yeah, shame I know. Here, let me come down and get the hook out of your lip.” He walked off the side of the bridge, falling for a couple seconds as he gathered chakra in his feet.

His soles collided with the rushing water- dipping in and letting him drop for a few moments as he focused- and then bringing him back to the surface. Walking on a flowing river was a bit trickier, seems like. He made sure to stabilize himself before stepping forwards and over to the mostly-still catfish. The catfish flicked its whiskers back and forth as he knelt down beside it.

The hook was a fair bit into its jaws. Ryoma frowned and spoke. “It’s a decent ways in there- I’ll try to get it out without hurting you too badly.”

“S’alright.” The catfish mumbled as he gripped it by the lip and grabbed the hook, wiggling it a bit and trying to maneuver around the barb. After a few seconds of working at it, Ryoma managed to slip the hook free and out of the immense fish’s mouth. 

“There ya go.” He wrapped the rest of his line up around his arm, then reached down and patted the fish on the head. “I’ll try to catch and eat you some other time, if I’m ever in the area, alright?”

“S’okay if I lose. If I win, I’ll pull you in and swallow you.” The fish rumbled, nodding against his hand before pulling away and continuing. “See you later, fisherman.” 

A few moments later, it was gone into the river, its immense and slimy shape fading into the darkness of the churning waters. Ryoma washed his hand off with a blank expression, standing up and making his way carefully back to the shoreline. Fish were somehow much creepier when they could talk. 

The last one, the one they ate, congratulated them on the ‘fine match’ as they pulled it up.

—

“Awake huh? How are the ribs treating you?” Ryoma asked as he stepped over to the ‘medical tent’ and shrugged off the length of ninja wire. Really it was just his own tent repurposed as an adhoc medical center, one of those big pavillion tents that took less than a minute to set up with chakra strings. He liked it for the space, but didn’t actually use it that often.

A ninja quickly learns how to go the occasional night without sleep for the good of the mission.

After a moment with no reply, he turned to look at the injured team more directly. The team leader was laying back on her back, blankly staring up at the ceiling. The pink and green haired teammates were sitting up, one with her legs pulled up to her chest and the other sitting slumped and cross-legged. A general mood of despair was upon them.

He supposed losing a teammate for the first time would do that. He didn’t remember what he looked like the first time, but it probably wasn’t that much better.

The best thing to do would be to get them back into the mission mindset for a moment. “Team Three. I need a full report. What led to the situation you were in when reinforcements arrived?” He made sure to use his stern voice, grabbing a fold-out chair and pulling it over, plopping himself down in it and bringing the tips of his fingers together in front of him.

That got them to pull themselves up a bit, eyes rising to meet his gaze before dropping a bit. The team leader… Chikako, that’s her name, she spoke. “It’s… It’s my fault sir-”

“Do it properly, genin.” Ryoma interrupted her little session of self-loathing with another stern word. The pink and green haired girls flinched at that. 

She swallowed, inclining her head and starting again. “I- Team Three traveled along the road as orders specified, reaching the five kilometer mark and leaving the outlined marker before traveling forwards at standard pace. Some time before actually reaching the mission location, we spotted a large amount of smoke rising in the distance, at the mission site.”

Was there smoke? He supposed the treeline might’ve obscured it too much for him to notice.

“It was- The smoke indicated unknown variables at the mission location, but as there was no immediate evidence of hostiles I made the decision to press forwards and investigate.”

That’s within the letter of what he outlined, but not the spirit. He supposed he was too specific when he said ‘hostilies’ instead of something like ‘indications of danger’. It was just enough confusion for them to decide to push forwards. Still within reason here, he supposed, though judging by the tone he imagined that was going to change soon.

“The lack of underbrush in the vicinity and the direction of the wind indicated that the fire was potentially deliberate- though I felt there was insufficient evidence to actually claim such. We moved forwards despite the protests of the team, and reached the mission location.”

Technically correct, neither of those factors alone is sufficient evidence to determine enemy action. It should’ve been enough to start ringing their sense of danger, but that was only something that could be honed with time and experience.

The team leader hesitated for a moment, face scrunching up in well-rooted frustration. “We- The mission location was burned, as the smoke indicated, the compound-complex was clearly and deliberately set aflame, the fires at the very ends still burning and the woodland around the complex untouched. There were no bodies or sounds of evacuation, which I considered odd. I- I determined that our mission was impossible to complete with the current state of the mission-location-”

Good, good. All of this well within reason. He supposed they were ambushed on their way out-

“-I made the decision to perform a single-sweep reconnaissance of the area, to find and evacuate any potential survivors, before we would return…”

Ryoma stared at her, expression well-hidden behind his veil. 

Welp. That would certainly do it.

He deliberately withheld the urge to sigh, instead giving a tiny incline to indicate she should continue. She gave a mighty sniff, face twisted and glaring up at the ceiling, clearly very angry at herself.

“I- we split into two teams, myself with Yoshimi and Bazo with Mao, the reconnaissance proceeded uneventfully for a time- then an explosion caught our attention. We moved to investigate, finding Mao holding a black sword running in our direction, calling for retreat. The unknown enemy toppled a building behind us- and we quickly began to flee. When- when we did…” 

Her hands balled up into fists, shaking with rage. “We- Mao informed us of Bazo’s efforts… in d-disarming and distracting the enemy…” Mao, that one was the pink-haired one, pretty sure. 

He turned an eye towards the girl in question, who was curled up, knees tucked under her chin, and tiny tears accumulating in her eyes. 

“...We used- we began to flee, using the…”

Ryoma raised a hand, cutting the girl off. “Save the rest for the written report.” There was something akin to a headache building up between and behind his eyes. Expressing his immense frustration with the genin wouldn’t be constructive here, they needed something a bit more cut and dry than a rant.

“Yes, field commander…”

He stared at them for a few moments longer, then sighed and pulled up, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me the moment you think you should have retreated- with hindsight to guide you.”

“As soon as we saw the smoke.” She declared at once.

“Hm.” He shook his head. “Not necessarily. Getting a visual on the mission location wasn’t an inherently bad idea. Even if just to confirm the situation- I’d say the moment you got within range, was able to get an eye on the mission location, and able to confirm that your mission was impossible- that’s the moment you should have pulled out. Ideally you’d get this visual at range and under cover, and leave without anyone being the wiser about your presence.”

Ryoma raised a hand and wobbled it. “Balancing the need to gather intel and stay undetected is an important skill, and it’s one you’ll just have to learn with experience. There’s really no amount of education in a classroom that can give you a good sense for it.”

“Yes, field commander…”

Geez, already back to repeating lines, huh? “Baki was sent out earlier- to investigate the mission location. If Bazo is dead, then Baki will retrieve his body.” Ryoma shifted his weight. “Making a decision like that- it was an error, but I don’t imagine any official punishment is warranted in this case. So long as you demonstrate sufficient understanding of the mistake made in the written report.”

“B-but-” Both the team leader and the green haired girl started at that, both cut off by a sharp raising of his finger. 

He glared at them for a few moments, before lowering the finger again. “This was supposed to be a low-risk, low-stakes mission to get you all acquainted with field-work. The fact that you made strategic errors was, to some extent, fully anticipated. The fact that your strategic errors happened to coincide with the field work of an unknown hostile is simply bad luck.” 

They looked pretty forlorn about that, which provoked another sigh from him. He planted his hands on his knees and continued. “You made mistakes in this case, but there’s a secret that only experience can teach you. Do you want to know what that is?”

They looked up at him with generally dismal expressions. He nodded. “You will never stop making mistakes. Every mission, every deed, every action- you will always make mistakes when doing anything. Your mistakes will get smaller, will get less frequent, and sometimes not even be your fault to begin with- but you will never stop making those mistakes.”

He raised his hand and pulled his index and thumb together. “Sometimes those mistakes get so small and inconsequential that you can’t even notice them. A mistake so minor that most people would look at your work and call it perfect.” He dropped the hand again. “But it’s not perfect, not actually. The mistakes are still there, even if you can’t see them anymore. You’ll never have a perfect mission, no matter how much you try.”

“Your goal should be to learn from all of them. All of them that you notice- until your mistakes get so little that you can’t notice them anymore.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes- even when you make no mistakes that you can notice- no mistakes that matter- you can still fail. That’s just the way of things, and sometimes a mission is doomed from the start. All you can do is do your best to survive it, and prepare for the next mission as best you can.”

He nodded at them. “You survived this mission. Bazo doesn’t seem to have. Your job now is to figure out why and how you can stop it from happening again.”

“...It’s my fault…” Mao muttered, face coiled in on itself and half-pressed into her knees.

“I gave a lesson on this yesterday, kid.” Ryoma deadpanned. “Figuring out who’s to blame isn’t important. What is important is surviving.”

That didn’t seem to help her much. So he tilted his head, pushed up from his chair, stepped over, and kneeled down.  

He made sure to stare at all three of them, silently, before continuing. 

“It gets easier.” He declared, catching their attention again. 

“...D-does it?” Mao muttered forlornly, a twinge of hope in her voice. 

“It does.” He declared quietly. “The Third Ninja war… even going into it, I was fully expecting it to be bad. My expectations somehow fell short of the real thing anyways.”

“...How bad…” Chikako asked, sounding almost afraid of what she was about to hear.

Ryoma considered for a moment how best to answer. “...As you know, the Suna Ninja Academy outputs several class-groups of around thirty per year. I was in class-group ‘Jackal’.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “Of the thirty-one members of class-group Jackal, including my Genin team, I was the only one who survived longer than one year.”

A trio of horrified looks came over their faces. He continued calmly. “At a certain point, hearing news of their passing stopped being terribly unfortunate and started being uneventful. I attended their brief funerals, of course, it was the socially correct thing to do- but I can’t say that I spent much time mourning their passing. They were dead, and crying over it wasn’t going to help anything.”

“At a certain point, I stopped asking ‘why’ and started asking if I could see the written-reports of the mission that killed them.”

There was silence in the tent for a long while.

“...That didn’t help at all…” Mao almost wailed.

Yeah that sounds about right. “Do you want a hug?” He asked quietly.

She nodded miserably, unfurling to reach her arms out like a sloth. He pulled his student into his arms and let her quietly sob into his vest. He extended his other arm out, pulling the green haired- Yoshimi that’s her name- into the hug, and she soon started to shake too.

“...I’d bring you in but your ribs are-”

“Yeah.” Chikako nodded, laying back and staring at the ceiling of his tent. “Thank you for the thought, sensei.”

“...Do you want a hug after your ribs are healed?” He asked, rubbing circles into the backs of the two sobbing girls clinging to him.

“...Yes, I’d like that, sensei.”

Ryoma made a note of that, alongside letting Mao have the black sword- the old ninja right of spoils meant it was hers now, and trying to claim it from her would get the Kazekage giving him a pointed look.

Chapter 30

Sunagakure

Ryoma, Jonin

Mari was in the Kazekage’s office again, holding a red-haired baby and happily waving at him as he entered with Baki and five Genin. The little silent giggle she gave when she saw the kids indicated amusement at his expense.

He would’ve returned fire, but he was setting an example right now. He came to a stop before the desk and raised his hand in a salute. Baki snapped into one immediately after, and the kids took a bit longer to realize that they should be doing the same. 

The Lord Kazekage set his pocky-stick down in a little glass tray. “Field Commander Ryoma. Report.”

“The mission was an overall success, with an eighty percent fulfillment of the primary objective and the collection of four items of significance. Complications arose when Subteam 3 encountered an unknown enemy at their target location, suffering one fatality before backup arrived. Target location three was destroyed by the unknown enemy, making completion of the sub-objective impossible in that region. The items of note recovered are, two recruited orphans, one sword suspected to be chakra-metal, and the body of the unknown enemy. The body of the KIA genin was recovered successfully. ”

He tilted his head slightly before continuing. “The sword of suspected chakra-metal, used by the unknown enemy, was disarmed and collected by Genin Mao. In accordance with the tradition of trophy-taking, it has been entrusted to her. The orphans and bodies have already been delivered to the appropriate departments in the Logistics Division. Fragments of a gem embedded in the sword’s blade were recovered, and I do not know what you want me to do with them.”

Mari’s expression was significantly less cheery when the mention of a slain genin came up. The Lord Kazekage raised his brows, leaning forwards a bit in his chair and tapping on the desk. “Show me.”

Ryoma reached into his vest and pulled out a little scroll, stepping forwards to set it on the desk, unfurling it, and letting a tiny puff of smoke burst out from it. The Kazekage stared for a few moments, before reaching forwards to pick up one of the shards of gemstone and raising it up to his eye for inspection.

“...No known significance.” He declared, setting the fragment of the gem back down and winding up for some kind of drawling explanation. “The Suna vaults contain a great deal of waste-minerals, most of which were pulled up from the sand while I shifted for gold-dust. The pile of this particular mineral is two kilos already.” He leaned back and waved his hand. “Make a necklace of it, or something, that would be more valuable than selling broken fragments of a crystal.”

“Understood, Lord Kazekage.” He pressed a finger to activate the storage-seal again, then rolled up the paper and tucked it away. 

“Outline the details of this enemy.” The Kazekage ordered, taking another bite of his pocky with slightly furrowed brows.

“Roughly my height, slightly stockier build, brown hair, black eyes, preference for sword-use. He was injured by the time I arrived to provide backup, thanks to the efforts of Team Three. I prioritized their safety and disabled him destructively.” Ryoma raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, through the cloth. “This had the unfortunate side-effect of… mulching… the upper half of his head.”

The Lord Kazekage stared for a few moments, before raising a brow. “Mulching, you say?”

“Yes Lord Kazekage.”

“Hm. Very well. Do you have the written reports prepared?”

“Yes Lord Kazekage.” Ryoma replied, reaching into his vest to pull out the report in question, before setting it down on the table and stepping aside. Baki stepped up to set his own report down, followed by the leaders of the genin teams. Ryoma exchanged a look with Mari as they almost bumped into each other trying to figure out what order they should be setting their reports down in.

Mari grinned cheekily at him. 

Eventually the kids had stumbled their way into placing a series of report-scrolls on the table and stepped back, returning to their spots with nervous expressions and strained postures. They were very clearly nervous about being in the same office as their supreme military commander.

Which was silly, it’s not like the Kazekage was going to order their execution for stepping a bit out of line. He had more important stuff to worry about than making sure every little genin knew to respect him.

The Kazekage waited a moment, taking another bite of his pocky as the genin tried to get organized. Then. eyes still closed, he continued. “Field Commander Ryoma- you are officially relieved of your command. Everyone except Jonin Ryoma, you are dismissed.”

Baki and the genin gave salutes before walking out, the genin following Baki like a bunch of stressed baby ducks as they exited the door and pulled it shut behind them.

Mari giggled openly, which was soon followed by the noise of the baby giggling, and Ryoma let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Hehe- how’s teaching treating you, Ryoma?” Mari asked, leaning forwards while letting the baby play with her pinky. 

“It wasn’t hard to tell why they were remedial.” Ryoma replied dryly, making her almost double-over in laughter. The Lord Kazekage gave a barely-amused exhale through his nose. Ryoma gave a weary nod towards his supreme leader. “Lord Kazekage- what did you need me for?”

“I needed to notify you about your change in living conditions.” He stated bluntly, something that was slightly concerning to hear.

“...my living conditions…?” Ryoma asked with a cautious tone in his voice.

“Preliminary evaluations of the puppetlimbs have been successful within expectations. Preliminary evaluations of your ‘Kyojutsu’, the Superheavy Puppet ‘Great Dragoon’, have been promising if unproven.” The Kazekage reached into his desk and pulled out a folder, tossing it forwards to slap upon his desk .”In light of your contributions to the field of puppetry, we’re assigning Jonin Tsubame to be your permanent guard and aide.”

Ryoma felt distinctly whelmed, expression hidden behind his mask as he took up the folder and flipped it open to start looking. “That seems a little much, Lord Kazekage. A Jonin could be doing a lot of work more important than helping me do chores, surely?”

“Jonin Tsubame was recently crippled and outfitted with new puppetlimbs.” That rang a familiar note in Ryoma’s head, making him glance up and look more directly at the lord Kazekage as he continued speaking. “As the current expert in the field, it is anticipated that she will benefit from proximity to you and your work.”

He glanced down at the profile in the folder- sure enough, the picture was of that one ninja who had her limbs melted off by Hanzo.

He inclined his head to the side. “Puppeteers are known for going on creative tangents- it is hoped that your tangents will result in more effective puppet-limb designs, facilitated by proximity to our most-affected ninja. If you can return majority function to her as a combatant, even gradually, it will be considered a great success.”

Ah. Yeah that made more sense. “You want to keep her around me so I get distracted and occasionally make her a new weapon-limb for the village to copy.” Ryoma summarized dryly, to which the Kazekage nodded shamelessly. Ryoma sighed, reaching up to scratch his cheek. “Yeah- I can’t exactly fault the logic there.”

“To this end, Jonin Tsubame will be assigned to you as bodyguard and aide on an indefinite-duration mission. Expect a roommate.” 

Ryoma frowned, looking up from the profile. “...There’s a problem, Lord Kazekage.”

He slowly raised an eyebrow- one of the most distinctively intimidating gestures Ryoma had ever experienced before. “That is?”

“My apartment is barely big enough for myself- let alone another person.” He quickly explained, waving an apologetic hand. “I don’t think a roommate would fit- not in an comfortable manner, at least.”

“Oh- that’s right!” Mari chipped in thoughtfully. “You live in that dinghy apartment full of random scrap!”

“It’s not dinghy!” Ryoma refuted with a vaguely offended tone. “It’s perfectly serviceable, cozy even!”

“He still lives in the peachboy apartments, Lord Rasakage.” Mari helped, giving an aside and smiling at the man, before flinching at herself. “-Shoot!”

“...You call him Rasakage?” Ryoma asked with a wry smile under his veil. The Lord Kazekage reached into his desk and started looking through folders.

“Shut it! I’m good at speaking!”

Ryoma rolled his eyes, amused, before turning back to their supreme commander. “In any case- I have enough savings to potentially get a larger living space, but I’ve never needed to before- and I worry that if I do it now I won’t have enough funds left to complete the Great Dragoon Kyojutsu.” He gave a little shrug. “I can get a larger space if you order it- but my current living conditions are inadequate for two and I won’t be as effective as a combatant until the Great Dragoon is complete.”

“Three years ago, a property on the north-eastern exterior of the walls defaulted on its loan-payments and was seized as a result.” The Kazekage began, tossing another folder upon the desk and towards him. “The property has sat unused since- it will serve adequately for your needs. Payment for the property will be taken as a percentage of future mission payments.”

Ryoma raised his brows, reaching forwards and opening the second folder. “What was the property being used for?” He asked curiously, glancing through the folder for the relevant details. Land was incredibly cheap here in Suna, especially land outside of the walls, mostly because it was pretty much all just sand.

Sand was worthless for pretty much everything except using the space to put other- more important things in. Things like buildings where people could actually live. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that the Kazekage had spare property deeds laying about to sell off like this, especially property deeds on the exterior of the walls and where no one wanted to live.

“An Inn.”

Ryoma kept reading for a few seconds before the words of the Kazekage actually processed. An incredulous expression came over his face and his gaze went up. “An Inn?” He asked with a baffled tone of voice.

“An Inn.” The Kazekage repeated, leaning back and taking another chomp of his pocky. “Supposedly, the previous owners sought to cater to the wealthy who came to Sunagakure for business, providing them a space mostly free of ‘common folk’.”

“We live in a desert.” Ryoma deadpanned. “The location was chosen specifically because no one else wants to live here- nobles do their business almost exclusively by messenger-hawk.”

“I did not say I agreed with their reasoning.”

Ryoma let out a huff, not quite amused or frustrated, mostly just marveling at the rational. 

“The property has a connection to the electrical grid, water-access, and temperature regulation.” The Kazekage continued. “It has space for the ‘Inn’ managers and ten guest rooms, and an artificial onsen- currently drained. There is a secondary building for maintenance and storage. The complex has more than enough space for yourself, Jonin Tsubame, and your puppetry needs.”

“I see- How much extra mission-tax am I looking at for this?” Ryoma asked with pressed lips, flipping through pages.

“No more than ten percent.” 

Ryoma considered that for a moment, nodding his head back and forth in consideration. That wasn’t too bad- it could be much, much worse. “Do I have the option to pay it off directly should I have the additional liquid capital?”

“You do.”

“Alright.” Ryoma huffed, closing the folders and placing them back on the table. “I can’t complain about any of this- it’s more than generous. I’ll get my stuff packed up for the move.” It’s not like he hated the idea of living in a big house outside of the hustle and bustle of Suna proper- but it would probably make him pretty paranoid of enemy action for a while there. “Is there anything else you need of me, Lord Kazekage?”

“No, that will be all, Jonin Ryoma. Jonin Tsubame will be waiting for you at the property.”

“Tell me when you get the place fixed up, Ryo!” Mari waggled a finger at him. “I have to throw you a new-house party!”

“Note to self, do not tell Mari where I live.” Ryoma said aloud, staring directly at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, provoking a roll of his eyes as he turned towards the door.

“You hear that Gaara- Ryo is a bad boy who acts bratty! You need to make sure you don’t act like him, okay?”

A baby laughed at him as he left. 

Ryoma lived a life defined by silver linings.

On one hand, he was now being forced to move and go in debt for a property outside of the walls.

On the other- the payment plan was pretty dang generous and the price was rock-bottom for the property-size. 

Maybe he’d get Tsubame to keep the place clean and orderly- maids were good culture.