Chương 25: Interlude 9

Tea Capital Harumuna 'Shimaka' Sencha, Daimyo of Tea Country He had never lived through an attempted coup before. He found himself reluctantly grateful for the experience. As the Buddhas said- misfortune is the birthplace of wisdom. Sencha wasn't sure what wisdom he had gained from all of this in precise terms, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he had gained something. That small amount of comfort was very important for him to retain.

Otherwise, he'd still be lying in his morning bath and staring at the ceiling, fingers long pruned and water cold. He wasn't useful to anyone in such a state, and now more than ever he needed to be useful. In a half-destroyed building that used to be a fully functional office, he sat with one of his accountants. Processing official paperwork and accepting meetings in one efficient if mentally straining affair. An official proclamation of what exactly had transpired over the recent weeks would be made this evening.

Evening because that was soon enough after the coup to be reasonable and long enough to give him time to determine an appropriate official story. His accountant, a withered old man who had served his father and grandfather, processed all the paperwork that did not require the Daimyo's direct attention and passed off the rest to him. Mostly papers related to summoning construction companies and the like- the repairs were going to be astronomical.

"Lord Daimyo. I have two requests, if you would permit them." He glanced up to the ninja in his office- the young man with the straw hat from Sunagakure. Currently bearing all the telltale signs of chakra exhaustion and leaning on a pair of crutches, present to collect both his impromptu mission-payment for the death of Laughing Smoke and bounty for turning in his head. This was supposed to be just a routine festival and an opportunity to find a potential wife.

He had been putting it off for years at Tenchi's advice, advice which now seemed far more sinister in hindsight. A small exhale escaped his lips.

"Speak." He had to be gracious to the ones who had aided him in this, even if he was already paying them. The ninja nodded, his face weary and slightly unfocused from the strain of being up and about.

"The bounty for the death of Laughing Smoke- I would like to distribute it eight ways among the Ninja Offense Group. It was part of our cooperative agreement with one another."

"Granted. You will have to point them out to my accountant." He easily accepted, the accountant nodding as rolled beads across an abacus and recorded a new sum. As the issuer and distributor of the bounty, his office would remove a standard processing tax. It wasn't quite the same as saving money, but it shaved the edges off otherwise immense expenses. Official policy in Tea Country set the taxation rates low to encourage large volumes of luxury trade.

If he had the figures correct, this ninja would be walking away with a sum of one million, seven hundred and fifty thousand Ryo from Sencha's coffers. He could afford it easily enough, but the amount was still enough to make him grunt. His samurai did not demand such a high price for their services- though he supposed that might have been a motivating factor for rebellious Tenchi. A slight increase in salary for all Samurai who remained loyal, perhaps?

"Your other request?"

"The body of Laughing Smoke- if possible." He paused, staring at the page in his hands for a few moments, before lowering it and bringing his full attention to bear upon the ninja in his impromptu open-air office.

"Explain." The ninja nodded with a grimace, raising a hand up to rub his chin.

"I know it sounds odd- but it's an unspoken policy among most ninja villages to secure the bodies of fallen enemies and bring them back for evaluation. Many jutsu leave physical traces in the body, and studying them could bring our ninja a future advantage." He attempted to shrug, a motion failed by the lacking strength in his shoulders and unsteady stance.

"The Kazekage would reprimand me if I didn't make a request for it, at the very least." …At least the ninja was aware of the morbidity of his request. He briefly considered saying something impolite, before closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and sighing. He reached for a blank piece of paper, quickly wrote an official proclamation, then signed it with his ink-stamp. Letter signed, he gently waved the paper to dry before holding it up for the young man.

"Take this letter to the morgue- I trust you can find your way there on your own."

"Yes Lord Daimyo. Thank you, Lord Daimyo." For an apparent vulture, the young man was quick to bo- A thump sounded through the open air office as the ninja collapsed forwards. Sencha pressed his lips together.

"... Are you unharmed, ninja?" He asked, slightly irritated but understanding.

"Yes Lord Daimyo. Forgive me, Lord Daimyo." The voice was pained and tense.

"I'll leave the paper on the desktop, retrieve it with your account-note once you manage to stand."

"Thank you, Lord Daimyo." It was almost comical to watch the ninja slowly push himself back up into a standing position, crutches used almost like ladders to pull himself up again and limbs shaking with exertion. What it provided was an office that was mostly quiet for a minute or so, something he decided to relish as he had the opportunity.

"There will be a continuation of the Golden Tea Ceremony, in spite of everything. You are, of course, invited as a guest of honor." Sencha explained calmly as the ninja returned from his trip to the floor.

"My presence is predicated upon the desires of my client. I will attend if my client wishes me to, and be unable to attend if they wish to leave." Professionalism was something he could appreciate, at the very least.

"Lady Ikeda, is that right?" Sencha asked, receiving a small nod in return. He made a note to see about bribing her to linger- an uplifting celebration was required after a mess like this. A show of strength in spite of the traitorous actions and the sudden appearance of a great demon. …Ah, perhaps that's the angle he could use.

'Commander Tenchi- possessed by the evil of an ancient demon'. Something that could be used to explain his actions without needing to insult any particular party. He took a sip of his tea- and briefly wished he was like the leaves in the cup. Floating in a hot bath, free of worries. … Except the part about a giant drinking his water, he supposed. That he could go without. Harumuna Sencha's bureaucratic day had just begun and he was already tired.

— Sunagakure Rasa of the Golden Sands, Fourth Kazekage Gaara was a very small baby. He noted as much while letting his son play with his pinky. The black rings normally indicative of Magnet-Release persistently framed his eyes, indicative of a natural affinity gifted from the mad ghost sealed within him. Much smaller than either Kankuro, who had been nine point one pounds, or Temari, who had been seven point six pounds. Gaara's sand, an ever-present companion that followed the child, swirled calmly around them.

The living will of Bunpuku, lusting for blood. It had attempted to crush him six times now. He had thwarted each attempt thus far, holding down the writhing sand with his gold, and intervals between attempts were growing longer and longer. The Sand Demon was learning that it could not overcome him, not bound as it was. The observation of his son's weight was uninspired, the reasons obvious. The stress of sealing the Great Sand Tanuki within him while in the womb had forced an early birthing process.

Shortly after, Karura died despite the best efforts of the medical staff. Honored Elder Chiyo had called it an unforeseen consequence of chakra entanglement and partum shock, the mother and child sharing a network until the splitting of the umbilical cord. This resulted in her momentarily being a pseudo-jinchuriki before Gaara was born and their chakra networks were suddenly separated. Jinchuriki cannot survive long after such a removal, and so she started to die the moment the Sand Demon's chakra left with Gaara.

This was overall an acceptable cost to ensure the secure transfer and containment of the Sand Demon. His lips twitched downwards and his brows tugged together, loathsomely staring out across the rounded rooftops of Suna. Gaara wriggled, tiny fist weakly shaking his pinky around. He made sure to fully understand the reasons behind her death, even if just intellectually. Emotionally, all he knew was that he wasn't ready to be a widower.

Temari and Kankuro weren't quite developed enough to understand why their mother wasn't coming home ever again and why they couldn't play with their new baby brother. It would be another two or three years before they started to develop the capacity to form proper long-term memories. That was also an acceptable cost. He ignored the pit in his stomach and the twitch for a hookah- Karura had made him promise to put the habit away before she passed.

"Lord Kazekage. Jonin Ryoma and Special Jonin Mari are here to see you for a post-mission report." The voice of his front-desk secretary called through the landline speaker system. Something imported and installed during his early tenure as a way to facilitate his bureaucratic duties. It was also useful for avoiding his secretary, who had been unsubtly attempting to charm him now that he was a widower. He rose, Gaara in his hand, and stepped towards the speaker.

A focused glare was enough to press the iron button on his end.

"Send them up." He answered back, before letting go of the button and carefully extracting his pinky from Gaara's infantile grasp.

"Yashamaru- take Gaara to the Suppression Chamber." He called out to empty air. Immediately after, the form of Suna special-forces ninja appeared in a puff of smoke and the disappearance of a potted cactus in the corner. Sandy blond hair, fair skin, and violet eyes. His brother-in-law and a man Rasa found difficult to look at for all his resemblance to Karura. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He was the only ninja willing to handle Gaara without Rasa himself being present, even if just to take him to the Suppression Chamber. Gaara hated the Suppression Chamber- a dark mostly-bare room covered in an array of inwards-angled seals. The chamber that the mad monk had been imprisoned within while alive, bars walled up and new doorway installed to allow somewhat easier access.

Even if it had been made more comfortable, it was still a prison cell at its core, and his infant son was greatly bothered to be within it. It was necessary- attempting to use a normal crib and room had been discarded after Gaara's sand crushed a nurse into pulp. The Suppression Chamber was the only room where normal people were safe from the Sand Demon, and thus the only place where nurses could safely handle and feed his son.

"At once, Lord Kazekage." Yashamaru nodded, removing the veil from his face and reaching out to take Gaara. His son was briefly disturbed, before becoming calm at the sight of his uncle's face and the gentle lullaby he hummed. For a moment, Rasa could see Karura instead, his eyebrows twitched as Yashamaru disappeared from his office, taking Gaara with him.

It took him a few seconds to shake off the vision and walk around to sit at his desk, staring at the wooden top and patiently waiting for his ninja to enter his office. A knock on his door.

"Enter." He called out calmly, reaching into his desk and retrieving a small box of pocky. The sweet was a poor substitute for his hookah, but it would have to do. Two ninja entered his room, walked up a respectful distance, then snapped into the standard Suna salute. The first thing he noticed was the missing arm. Special Jonin Mari, one of Karura's genin teammates, promoted slightly early in order to fill the request quota of the noble client from Wind Capital.

Idly, he noted that she was substantially more chipper than he would predict upon the loss of an arm, indicating information he didn't know or a misjudgement of her personality. He would have to inform her of Karura's death before she left. His eyes turned to the Jonin, and the tiny lines of stress under his eyes. Jonin Ryoma, an unnatural prodigy, even among ninja.

His file indicated a firm desire to become a ninja from as young as four, a calm and focused disposition for as long as he lived, near total disinterest in normal play activities for children, and highly rational reaction to personal tragedies such as the loss of his genin teammates and death of his sensei. This was not unheard of among ninja, what was distinctly unusual was that this calm focus did not functionally impair his ability to empathize or socialize.

The extent of his quirks could be summarized as 'Miserly' and 'Self-Deprecating'. A three year investigation and watching period by the Suna special forces after the suspected defection of Sasori ended with a conclusive 'minimal risk' assessment. Regular visitation to hospital for check-ups was maintained throughout his life, he maintained no apparent vices or problematic habits, and all individuals questioned about his personality and behavior responded with generally positive comments.

It was almost too stellar to be believable.

"At ease." He ordered with a little wave of his hand, chewing on the chocolate stick.

"The funds were transferred before you arrived- Congratulations are in order for the successful mission."

"Thank you, Lord Kazekage." Ryoma sounded downright tired, even through the professionalism he attempted to maintain. He reached into his pocket, pulling out two scrolls and setting them upon the table.

"The report of the escort mission is in scroll one, the report of the emergency mission is in scroll two." Special Jonin Mari shortly followed, removing and placing her own set of scrolls on the table.

'Emergency Mission? He was wondering where the extra millions were coming from when the bank-notice was delivered.

"Begin your verbal report."

"The client was met at her home in Wind Capital, and escorted on foot on the northern coast road leading into the Land of Rivers, then through Fire Country, then into Tea Country. Bandit-level opposition was met on two occasions along the way, and missing nin suspected of Chunin rank on one occasion. The client met with one of her friends from Fire Country, a noblewomen being escorted by Konoha Ninja." His genin teammates were both killed by Konoha ninja, Rasa made sure to watch the Jonin's eyes carefully.

"After initial tension, it was agreed to escort the noblewomen together. A temporary alliance that proved advantageous on several occasions. Village secrets were maintained in their presence, although no notable Konoha secrets were discovered in turn." Not even a hint of lingering grudges.

"Once present in the capital, an attack from wanted criminal Laughing Smoke was fended off. The Daimyo present offered an emergency mission for the capture or death of Laughing Smoke. This was provisionally accepted with permission from the client, which led to a larger temporary alliance between ninja of four of the great ninja villages and several of the smaller ninja villages." Rasa slowed in the chewing of his pocky, maintaining a flat expression.

"The mission to capture Laughing Smoke was subsequently interrupted by an attempted coup from the local Samurai Commander, who was revealed to have been working with Laughing Smoke to complete this objective. Several non-client noble individuals died, as did three ninja from the smaller villages and at least a dozen Samurai." Rasa used his lips to pull the pocky stick into his mouth, and resumed his chewing.

"Laughing Smoke consumed an object of power outlined within the written report, but was defeated. A demon was summoned using his corpse- which was promptly defeated by the Daimyo's own summon. Permission to take Laughing Smoke's body was granted, and a celebration festival was attended. Shortly after, the Client hired a ship which brought us back to Wind Capital, where the mission was completed. Myself and Special Jonin Mari then returned to Suna after a five day return journey."

He finished off the pocky stick, not quite reaching for another just yet.

"Overall long-term losses during the mission can be summarized as the partial destruction of my primary puppet, the total destruction of many of my secondary puppets, and the loss of Special Jonin Mari's arm. Overall long-term gains during the mission can be summarized as bulk battlefield salvage, payment, potentially improved relations, and experience. A basic prosthetic was crafted for Special Jonin Mari and the basics of chakra-strings was taught to partially compensate for the lost arm."

Rasa raised a brow, turning to Special Jonin Mari and tilting his head forwards. The exuberant woman practically bounced as she reached into her pocket to pull out a scroll, unleashed a wooden puppet-arm, and shrugged off her top to more clearly reveal herself. Bandages to hold her bust in place, distinct tanlines, and a recently-healed stump where an arm used to be. With a little spin of fanfare, Mari placed the puppet arm against her stump, focused for a moment, then removed her hand.

Sure enough, the puppet-limb stayed on, and soon began to move around as if a normal arm. Opening and closing its hand, rotating at the joints, and other basic motions. Rasa let his eyebrow fall in concentration, and asked the most immediately pertinent question he could think of.

"Can you perform jutsu through it?" Mari nodded hard enough to almost bounce in place.

"Yup! I practiced on the way over- I'm not very good at using it yet, but I can at least use the strings and my fan through it! Isn't it great?!" Rasa stared for a few moments longer before turning his gaze to Ryoma. The young Jonin shrugged.

"It seemed fairly obvious- I figure Honored Elder Chiyo could probably replace her entire body if she really wanted to- everything except her vitals at least. We attempted to maintain secrecy about it just in case." Rasa almost sighed, pulling out another stick of pocky and putting it in his teeth. Just because something was obvious in hindsight did not make it non-revolutionary.

"You will outline the entire prosthetic process in a prepared report for the Puppet Force, written and verbal."

"Yes Lord Kazekage." Ryoma nodded.

"A request, Lord Kazekage."

"Speak."

"My Wood Dragoon was heavily damaged during the mission, and while normally I would repair it- the design is becoming outdated. I would like to request a leave period to build its replacement." He really couldn't afford to simply let a Jonin not be working at the moment- so he considered the request and ignored Special Jonin Mari bouncing around waving her arm around. He needed something for him to do… His pinky twitched.

"Granted on a conditional basis- the remedial academy students will need an educator- you'll be responsible for getting them combat-effective while on leave to rebuild your arsenal, for however long that takes." That will give him ample time to rebuild and strong incentive to get back into the field, while still being useful. He almost took pleasure in finally seeing an emotion out of the young Jonin, a tiny cringe followed by a weary acceptance.

"Understood, Lord Kazekage."

"Special Jonin Mari- check into the medical corps after you leave. You'll be granted a leave period in accordance with their assessment of your prosthetic."

"Hehe- Of course, Lord Kazekage!" …He couldn't quite find it in himself to ruin her mood this early.

"Dismissed." His gaze returned to the surface of his desk as they left his office. All silent. He glanced at the little wooden crib in the corner of his office. He closed his eyes, slowly leaning forwards until his forehead hit the cool surface of his desk. He stayed in that position until the speaker buzzed again, and his secretary alerted him to the next person here to see him.