Chapter 43

Land of Rivers

Ryoma, Jonin of Sungakure

"Approaching the outlined destination now." The voice of their field commander called down from the open hatch. Despite the whipping wind and spinning wheels, the otherwise silent Great Bolter made it easy to hear him.

"Check, status on those flags?" Ryoma asked back, reaching over to his new helmet and slipping it on, using his feet to operate the Great Bolter as he did. The blurred vision of the puppet eyes made it almost impossible to distinguish the exact shape and color of the many flags that hung in the distance before them.

Those flags were held up by many hundreds of men in abbreviated armor, most of which looked to be made of densely layered cloth and planks of wood. Far cry from the samurai clad in plates of forged armor, or the very professional and uniform flak vests preferred by ninja.

From brief observation, Ryoma estimated the army that stretched before them was at least a thousand strong, each man holding spears or flags, entire lines of warriors shifting uneasily at the sight of them. Ryoma could understand it- the Great Bolter was a very large machine that moved very fast for someone unfamiliar with it. How impressive is a light tank made of wood to a continent that was largely rural and agrarian? Much more than that same tank would be to him, who was aware of the multiton behemoths of steel that tanks could become in time.

Great Bolter wasn't a tank, which undermined the comparison, but it was still accurate enough to work for meandering monologues. A bunch of spearmen who had never seen a big warmachine would understandably be nervous at seeing the Great Bolter, because they didn't know how limited it was.

"Flags match the description of our VIP. Slow approach to half pace and then walking speed once we get within ten meters." Field commander Sho ordered steadily, then walked away from the open hatch and towards the front of the speeding Great Bolter.

The Great Bolter began to slow as ordered, and the rest of the team began to get up, stretching and gathering themselves for the meeting ahead.

"This is a very relaxing way to travel, Jonin Ryoma." Nagare commented, hefting her massive clay jugs as she stood up. The sudden redistribution of weight made the Great Bolter rock slightly to one side. "I will have to request your presence for long-ranging missions in the future."

Ryoma ignored a focused stare coming at him from under a pink mess of hair, and nodded briefly. The new helmet distorted his voice slightly, muffling and distorting his voice and breathing with the integrated gas-filtration system. "If I'm not otherwise occupied when you make the request."

She nodded, swaying slightly as the Great Bolter hit a bump and then dropped its speed again. Ryoma raised his hands, taking more manual control of the massive puppet as he stood up from his operating chair and stepped around, back towards the hatch. Tsubame stood next to him placidly, holding her long bowstaff and a pair of quivers upon her hips.

Further towards the back, the two genin of Team Nagare stood up and brushed themselves off. The interior of the Great Bolter was a bit of a tight fit with so many people inside. Their other members were still riding on top for that reason.

"Hey, Jonin Ryoma, how do you know where you're going while puppeteering this thing anyways?" Benki asked, looking around with a furrowed brow and a frown.

"I'm really good at guessing." Ryoma explained with a raised finger. "It's a skill you have to develop to be a Jonin."

"Th- that's not… is that true?" The other genin, Tsubasa, asked with furrowed brows. Her grey ponytail flopped in the other direction as she tilted her head. Ryoma knew he was going to fuck up and call her by Tsubame's name one of these days, he could already picture the moment.

"Pft- no."

They deadpanned at him in a really amusing way.

"He is correct, however." Nagare began in a mild, lecturing tone. "A strong sense of intuition is a critical characteristic of a veteran shinobi. Without it, even the most skilled or most prepared ninja can be outmanuvered and defeated. You must hone a talent for 'guessing'."

"How do you hone a talent for 'guessing'?" Tsubasa asked with a hint of complaint in her voice.

"All guesses are are merely processing, summarizing, and acting upon information without conscious calculation." Nagare shook her head. "You will naturally develop a strong sense of intuition over time, as you are faced with more problems and are forced to devise solutions to them in briefer and briefer periods of time."

"More than just intuition though…" Ryoma began, briefly tilting his head to listen to their field commander greet the soldiers and declare their reason for being here. "I'd argue that confidence in coordination is key."

"Confidence in coordination?" Nagare asked with a raised brow.

Ryoma nodded. "A team of excellent shinobi with no unified plan of action, and no confidence in executing those plans, can often be defeated by a team of less talented shinobi with a poorly-thought out plan of action that is executed with great confidence. Being indecisive is a critical weakness in the field, as every moment spent not making a decision is a moment where the enemy is acting upon their decisions and accumulating advantage over you."

"And once sufficient 'advantage' is accumulated, even a poor plan can overwhelm a clever one." Nagare extrapolated with a little nod, looking slightly thoughtful. "I can see the wisdom in your philosophy, though it is not one I'd immediately agree with."

Ryoma shrugged. "It's worked well for me thus far."

"We've been granted permission to approach on foot." Field Commander Sho said from over the open hatch. "All out. Jonin Ryoma, behind me."

He pulled himself up and out, keeping one hand dedicated to the strings of the Great Bolter as he hauled himself up and out onto the 'deck' of the massive puppet. A toe twitched, making the opaque lens-coverings over his new helmet slide back, exposing his goggles and letting him look upon their surroundings with his own eyes.

It was a feature he had installed with the Sharingan in mind. Their genjutsu relied upon visual awareness, as far as he was aware. He wasn't sure if they could affect him through the sight granted by puppet-eyes or not, but it didn't hurt to try it anyway. If it worked, then he was effectively immune to their special genjutsu. If it didn't, then he was vulnerable anyways.

Normal genjutsu which didn't rely on visual awareness would still affect him anyways, so the modification was ultimately pretty niche beyond slightly increased protection for his eyes.

Now that he had the ability to properly see, he could confirm that the flags matched the iconography of their VIP. Four square coins lined up in a diagonal grid pattern.

He hopped off the side, following after the field commander and waiting for everyone else to depart before tugging the hatch closed and letting the massive puppet slump into an inactive state. He disconnected the chakra strings and dropped his hand after, walking away without needing to glance back.

The rows of soldiers gave them wary looks, shifting about uneasily as they approached the center of the mass. There, in the back of the crowd, was one of those wooden buildings designed to be quickly assembled and disassembled through parts that slotted together and wooden pins. It wasn't much larger than a shack, but for camping purposes it was overkill.

Unless, of course, you're a nobleman with retainers to handle all that 'construction' business for you wherever you stop for the night. It probably didn't weigh that much either, assuming they had half-decent storage scrolls on hand for the larger components.

"Halt!" Surrounding the temporary building was a slightly fancier part of the camp, where a number of men stood in plates of curved steel armor. Each of them carried a full arsenal of weaponry, spears, bows, swords, and backup swords, and their helmets were adorned with various heavy crowns of decoration. Samurai Guards.

His eyes then took note of finer details. Their armor was scratched, with slightly worn bindings and rougher cloth between plates of metal. Samurai who were on the somewhat poorer end.

The one who had commanded them to halt had a pair of poles mounted on the back of his armor, which hung a pair of flags. One the four-coin symbol of their VIP, and the other a grumpy looking ape in a seated pose. His face was weathered, and an immense frown stretched across his lips. "Who are you to approach the camp of our lord's son, Takeda Kaneda?"

"We are the ninja of Sunagakure, here on contract by Hatamoto Takeda to provide additional escort and protection to his son, Takeda Kaneda." Sho explained with a slight incline of his head and a polite tone. "Please inform him of our arrival."

"Haah? You claim that our lord would make a deal with ninja?" The samurai tilted his head with the bluster and long standing irritation that could only come from necessary posturing.

"Are you saying that this is not the seal of his lordship?" Sho asked, reaching into his vest and withdrawing their contract-scroll, holding it up for the Samurai to see but not handing it over to him. The samurai leaned forwards to peer at it for a long few seconds, then straighted up again.

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"It appears to be." The samurai turned towards his neighbor and gestured towards the temporary structure. That samurai, a younger looking man, headed over at once. "Perhaps a retainer hired you on his lordship's behalf."

All of this was just for show. The army wouldn't even be here if they weren't waiting on their arrival, but samurai and ninja did not get along, so they were forced to endure posturing. They stayed silent, standing in formation among a sea of distrusting glares and staring ahead at nothing in particular as they waited for the VIP to show himself.

After a boringly long period, their VIP stepped out of a cloth doorway, pushing through with a straight-legged walk and a stiff back. They wore some of those traditional wooden sandals with the high struts, puffy pants, and a bulky, layered top and coat. Their face was covered in white and red paint, the kind used for kabuki theater, and their black hair was tied up in a bun.

Their client was slight in build and height, both of which were hard to tell under the layers of clothes and tall footwear. They had a gentle face under all the makeup, with long eyelashes and well-shaped cheeks.

Overall, Takeda Kaneda looked like someone trying very, very hard to be macho in spite of their genetics.

"You stand before Takeda Kaneda, son of the great Hatamoto Takeda, lord of the Two Great Rivers." Even his voice was soft, despite how gruffly they attempted to speak and declare in their general direction. One of those really cursed men, it seemed, like Haku. "Who are you?"

"We are the shinobi of Sunagakure…" Sho managed to keep the irritation out of his voice, despite this being the third time he had been forced to repeat their introductions. "...here on contract by Hatamoto Takeda to provide additional protection and escort to his son, Takeda Kaneda."

"...I see. As you can see, however-" Takeda swept his hand across his surroundings broadly. "I am already escorted by twelve honorable samurai, and a thousand strong spearmen. What use do I have for the protection of eight ninja?"

"That is not our place to say, Lord Takeda." Sho shook his head. "We received a contract, and will endeavour to fulfill it as best able. Such is our way."

"Such is the way of the ninja…" Takeda shook his head in an aggrieved manner. "No amount of debate with you will prove fruitful, you are merely the tools of my sentimental father in this. Speaking to my horse and hawk would be a better use of time!"

They said nothing, merely standing before the young noble with the silent, emotionless mannerism of proper ninja.

"The contract, let me see it." Takeda demanded, holding out a palm. Sho handed it over dutifully, letting the young noble take it and hold up to read. After a few moments, an incredibly slight tension left his shoulders, and he shook his head. Handing back the scroll, the nobleman declared. "Very well. You may travel with me, but you must supply yourselves along the journey. You will obey my orders and heed my temper, and I will be gracious towards your interruption of my tasks. Do you understand?"

"We understand, Lord Takeda." Sho bowed, which the rest of the mimicked. "We will do our best to be unobtrusive."

That was an outright lie. They weren't here to be unobtrusive.

They were here to be flashy, Kazekage's orders.

—

"What is this… contraption?" Takeda said, gesturing towards the bulky form of the Great Bolter that stomped in their midst. He was sitting on the back of a somewhat nervous looking horse, waiting for his servants to finish packing up his wooden hut so they could resume marching. Sho glanced over at it, then back to the VIP.

"Jonin Ryoma there, in the heavy armor, is one of the ninja-puppeteers of Suna. The contraption is one of his many ninja-puppets." Sho explained calmly, gesturing towards him sitting atop the Great Bolter and very visibly controlling it through his chakra-strings. "He specializes in exceptionally large puppets such as that."

"I see." Takeda replied in a tone that indicated he had a great many additional questions about the structure, but was restraining his curiosity for whatever reason. "I suppose he must be a talented puppeteer then, to make so great a mechanism walk so deftly?"

Sho looked up to him, then gestured. Ryoma turned his head to look down at them, then shook it. "I have very little inherent talent as a puppeteer, I would say Lord Takeda. My elders in the Puppetry Corps are still my betters in terms of experience and finesse, and I have been training for many years yet."

"How long." Takeda immediately asked with furrowed brows.

"I entered the ninja-academy at the age of four." Ryoma explained briefly, making several Samurai on horses besides them flinch or spit to the side.

"Wait- Mister Ryoma, isn't the academy curriculum like three or four years long?" Tsubasa spoke up, a faux pas when around a noble, but thankfully one that only the samurai seemed to mind at the moment.

"No. Graduation is traditionally at twelve years old. You can enter the academy at any point before that." Ryoma waggled a finger back at her. "I entered at four and spent the next eight years training."

"And your father approved of this?" Takeda asked sharply.

"I have never known my parents." Ryoma shook his head. The nobleman flinched, and the faces of several samurai twitched uncomfortably. "I was found by Suna ninja as an infant or toddler and brought back to Suna. The ninja who found me died shortly after, and my needs were fulfilled by the rationing of our village. I never had anything like a parent."

"I- I see…" The nobleman looked decidingly awkward about pushing for that revelation, looking like he wanted to apologize. Of course, a nobleman apologizing to a mere ninja would be another faux pas, so he had to restrain himself.

The awkward silence lingered while the rest of the wooden hut was deconstructed and sealed away in puffs of smoke. Only the largest components were contained in this manner, however, the smaller parts were all loaded up on the strong backs of carpenters. Either they just didn't want to store the smaller parts or couldn't, and either way Ryoma was vaguely impressed by their ability to heft such immense bags on their backs.

"Ready to depart, Lord Takeda." They weren't quite able to bow with the massive weights on their back, but they still inclined their heads.

"Good. Everyone! We march!" The nobleman called out, waving a hand widely towards the mass of spearmen that surrounded him. "We move north- to the lands of the Takeda-Giri!"

A great cry of affirmation rang out at the order, and the spearmen began their ponderous march towards the north, camps packed up and spears used as walking sticks. Behind them were the Samurai, who surrounded their lord in a rough circle. Behind the samurai were them, the ninja, astride the massive insectile Great Bolter as it stomped along.

"I always forget how slow non-ninja are." Sugimoto muttered, legs dangling off the side of the massive puppet.

"Look active, Jonin." Sho muttered sharply up at them. "Lord Takeda, half of us plan to patrol around the army as it moves, is this acceptable to you?"

"Hm? Very well, I'll allow it." The nobleman waved his hand dismissively at them. "Patrol as you wish- make sure to alert me of anything suspicious!"

Sho nodded. In unison, he and the rest of team one flickered away, turning into blurs and disappearing from sight in an instant.

Ryoma maintained his position atop the Great Bolter, and behind him rode the rest of team two. Tsubame, Mao, and Benki with various expressions.

"Your tragic backstory is totally just from Icha Icha : Steamy Clashes in the Land of Hotsprings!" Mao whispered loudly, hands raised to either side of her mouth to emphasize her point.

"Is it now? I'll have to ask Tsubame to read it and tell me how it goes sometime." Ryoma replied with pretend-interest.

"No! Don't do that!" Mao said in a panic. "Just read it outright, it's too good to spoil!"

"I don't read- I just get summaries from other people and imagine the rest of the story from there." Ryoma declared with a sweep of his hand. "It saves me a lot of time, you know? I haven't had to read anything myself in years because of it."

"That's totally disgusting! Gross!" Mao complained at him.

"In fact, I've never read a thing in my life, I never learned how to read." Ryoma shrugged. "I just trained all the time instead."

"Then how do you read mission scrolls?" Benki asked with a skeptical tone.

"I just memorized the various pictures and make guesses about what they mean from context."

"That sounds suspiciously like reading." Tsubame said dryly.

"No- no that would be ridiculous I think." Ryoma shook his head firmly. "That's the kind of thing a crazy person would say, Tsubame, you should go ask a priest for help with that."

She poured a cup of tea that she knew he couldn't drink at the moment, on account of the helmet.

A duel of flat, expressionless stares ensued that he won on account of having his face totally concealed.