Summary: Kankuro through the ages. His ages, actually. One, two, three puppets. Some WAFSSM.
"That's a puppet?"
Kankuro liked the black outfit, even if it was a little baggy. The facepaint was elegant and ominous. But the actual puppet...
The puppet-master (Kankuro hadn't listened when he'd been told the man's name) kneaded his forehead. "This is a beginner's puppet. You'll use others later."
The simple wooden tool stared up at him. It was approximately three feet long, with four jointed limbs on greased ball bearings and a tuft of dark hair (or was it fur?) sprouting from what was presumably the thing's head. It looked... pathetic. Not like the old ones hung up in the Kazekage building.
Those puppets were impressive. Some of them had been disassembled, and all the concealed mechanisms, all the panels that shifted and slid, all the gears and joints were revealed.
Kankuro loved it. He would never have guessed that he would one day take lessons on controlling once of those intricate devices.
He would also never have guessed that his first puppet would be this pitiful. It didn't even have any hidden blades.
"Gather your chakra in your fingers," said Instructor, his lined face wearing a look of enfuriating patience.
Nevertheless, Kankuro followed orders. He could feel a slight heat in his fingertips as his chakra pooled there. It was a comfortable sensation.
"Place your left thumb on the puppet's head and send it out as you would climbing a vertical surface," said Instructor.
Kankuro did so, and waited impatiently for the next order. Maybe he could finish this quickly if he just did what he was told.
"Now, slowly pull your finger away, and try to keep a string of chakra connecting your thumb to the puppet."
Kankuro could see the faint, shimmering blue filament as he retracted his hand slowly. Yes! Easy.
However, before his hand was more than an inch from the puppet's head, the head began to lift with it.
"Decent range for a beginner," said the instructor. He sounded pleased. "Now, release it."
"But how?" asked Kankuro. He jerked the finger, and the puppet's head went after it, followed by the body. He waved his thumb, and the puppet's round eyes bugged out.
Kankuro yelped, jumping backward. The puppet followed, suspended on a thread of chakra. He flicked the finger, trying frantically the detach the string, but the head only leapt upward, nose to nose with him.
Kankuro screamed.
"Just let go of the chakra," said the puppet instructor, who, to Kankuro's building fury and distress, seemed amused and not in the least inclined to help.
"I don't know how!" he snapped, shaking his hand. The puppet jumped around, twisting oddly. It was strangely fascinating. But right now, Kankuro didn't really care about that.
"You need to relax," said the instructor in what Kankuro considered to be a rather condescending tone.
Kankuro walked around for the rest of the day with the puppet dangling off his finger, but when he finally returned reluctantly to his teacher the next day, the thread's length had increased to about a foot.
Most impressive, thought the teacher, and berated his student for his cheekiness the previous morning.
---
On his twelfth birthday, Kankuro recieved a new puppet. It was as tall as he was, with six limbs, all well-greased and filled with poisoned needles, slots for smoke bombs, and springs for releasing blades. It had three eyes, he noticed with glee, and there were yet more weapons inside its head.
He was delighted.
Kankuro's chakra range had increased to more than half a mile, although he had been informed that he would probably never have a reason to use a puppet from that far away. On the other hand, it was useful for doing chores, and spying. The instructor had told him never to use the Sight Transfer Jutsu without dire need, but what did he know?
The puppet's name was Karasu, the instructor explained as Kankuro rapturously examined every inch of it.
"Crow? Why?" Kankuro asked distractedly, sliding back a panel in one of the jointed arms to reveal a six-inch long bladed instrument of venomous death.
"It's customary to give puppets animal names," said the instructor, "Now, can you tell me what he's used for?"
"Offense," Kankuro answered promptly. He had spent long hours studying the old puppets and memorizing the traits of each type.
"Very good. When you've mastered this one, you can have a second one, which would logically be...?"
"Capturing, because the best puppetmaster can use offence as defence," Kankuro reeled off without thinking. Hey, look, the face slides apart...
"Are you listening?"
"Oh, yes, sir." And look, the arms are extendable!
Kankuro was brought back to reality be a sharp pain in his ear as the instructor pinched it through the light cloth of his hood. "As I was saying, controlling one puppet with each hand is considered one of the rudimentary skills for a puppet user, but there is a retired kunoichi known as Chiyo-sama who, it is told, had ten puppets, one for each finger."
"Why didn't she have twenty?" said Kankuro without thinking (a habit that often got him in trouble), "One for each finger and one for each toe."
"Fool!" A hand cuffed the side of Kankuro's head, knocking the cap askew. "The fingers are more dexterous!"
"Fine, fine," Kankuro muttered hastily, righting his headpiece, "When may I try him out?"
"Go to the training grounds for that," said his instructor, "I don't want you messing up the Kazekage building. That would be too horrific to imagine."
When Kankuro reached the grounds, Baki was presenting Temari with something. It appeared to be a long, black board, of about five feet long and made of polished metal. With a sinking feeling, Kankuro realized that it must be a fan. And he had thought her old one had been oversized.
Still, his weapon was more impressive.
"Hey, Temari!"
The blond girl turned towards him with a look of great annoyance spreading across her features. "What?"
The single word was said with such vehemence that Kankuro nearly stopped in his tracks, but surely she couldn't even lift that thing...
"I have... a new puppet!"
It had been a simple task to wrap up Karasu in the long strip of cloth that Instructor had given him, and he'd spent many hours previously figuring out the proper way to unwrap a puppet.
As the bandages fell away, he saw Temari's expression change from vague interest, to exasperation at his dramatic unveiling, to all-out disgust.
She would probably never see the true beauty of a puppet. Still, it didn't matter. Kankuro, now able to attatch his chakra threads from a distance, did so. The puppet responded with a smooth whirr of gears. Kankuro felt a pleasant shiver run down his back, and swept his hands in a smooth, liquid motion that should have resulted in Karasu flying toward Temari.
Instead, the puppet spun in circles around him, and before he knew it, he was wrapped in chakra strings with all six of the puppets limbs holding him still. He was afraid to twitch a finger, as the merest movement could result in a razor-sharp, poison-dripping blade stabbing him through the arm.
He knew it was ridiculous to get angry. He knew that he couldn't concentrate enough to release the chakra strings when he wasn't calm, but Temari was doubled over laughing, and even Baki-sensei's usually strict face was twisted into the grimace that always came when he was trying not to laugh.
And then Temari opened her fan. It was huge. It made a crisp ringing noise when she opened it. She lifted it (oh, right, she's been doing pushups...), and swung it in a wide, sweeping circle much like his own movement.
For the sake of poetic justice, it should have backfired and sent her sprawling into a wall. Instead, he was blown over by a ferocious blast of wind that sent him and his fresh new puppet rolling across the training ground together.
Over the sound of air whistling past him, he heard Baki-sensei break out laughing.
---
After the Chuunin Exams, Kankuro learned that his instructor was retiring and that he wanted Kankuro to have his old puppet.
Kuroari was battered and hadn't been used in years. His metal were rusty, some of the wood was rotten, and two of his hands were missing. Dust covered him.
The old closet was full of puppets, but Kuroari was by far the largest. And the dustiest.
Kankuro should have been incredulous. He should have refused. But by now his infatuation with puppets was great enough that the prospect of repairing a classic puppet like this one was actually inviting.
He thanked the instructor, and said he would miss the lessons (the old man had grown on him).
Then he went to work.
First was the hair. He brushed it out, soaked it with water, and let it dry. Then the joints. They were rusty, and hadn't been greased in a very long time. They were so stiff that he could only produce a tiny, creaking movement from them. So he took them apart, and bought new joints. He greased them, replaced any weak or rotting wooden pieces, and polished the old ones. Kuroari very nearly shone.
Now for the inner mechanisms. The gears were rusty, and the few blades that a capturing puppet had were missing. The chutes for various projectiles had been blocked and corroded by who-knew-what, and some of the sliding panels in front wouldn't move.
Kankuro spent a week greasing, replacing, tightening, and shifting, and when he was finished, took both puppets to the training grounds.
Temari was there again. This time, Kankuro resolved not to try and attack her. Baki-sensei was teaching her a new technique, which was never good.
To the surprise of everyone, Gaara had been helping out with their training. He even gave Kankuro what appeared to be a friendly nod as his brother approached.
"Hey, Kankuro!"
Temari gestured for him to move off the field. She didn't even notice the extra puppet. How insulting.
"Alright, Gaara!" she said, loosing the fan from its place over her back. He replied with another solemn nod, and sand flowed out of the gourd beside him, forming a forest of golden columns in front of his sister. They contracted slightly, which probably meant that Gaara was condensing them with his chakra-they were now harder than steel.
Kankuro watched apprehensively as Temari opened the fan with the same scraping ring he heard every time, all three stars visible.
When she raised her thumb to her mouth and bit down, he had to smother a gasp. And maybe a little jealousy.
"Kuchiyose no jutsu..." she drew her thumb along the ribbed surface of the fan, leaving a jagged line of blood. Then, drawing her fan back for the familiar sweeping motion, she shouted, "Kirikiri mai!"
A giant weasel carrying a huge scythe appeared in a vicious blast of wind. Chakra blazed around it. Temari nodded slightly at it, and then at the columns of sand.
She couldn't possibly...
But the scythe cut through the sand-Gaara's sand, the sand that even the sharpest kunai couldn't penetrate-like butter.
Kankuro very nearly gaped, but caught himself. Still, he wished he'd practiced a little with Kuroari before coming here. "Very nice," he said, trying not to sound impressed, "Now you move off the field."
"Thanks, Gaara," said Temari, smiling warmly at her younger brother. He looked surprised for a moment, but Kankuro thought that just for a moment he saw the boy's mouth turn up slightly at the corners.
"I said," he continued, remembering something he'd read in a scroll, "Move off the field, please. I have a new jutsu as well."
"Well, you must be itching to try it out if you've lowered yourself to say please," said Temari, but she smiled again as she said it.
"I have two puppets now," Kankuro explained, "So I can do it."
"I thought your teacher retired," said Temari shrewdly, "When did you learn a new technique?"
Kankuro felt his face grow hot. "I... haven't actually done it before," he muttered.
"You what?" Temari's smile became incredulous. "Maybe you should go back and practice it, then," she said, beginning to open her fan again, "You haven't even used that new puppet yet, have you?"
"I can get it!"
Kankuro swept the puppets off his back, the bandages falling in swathes around him. "Just watch me."
"Fine," said Temari, shrugging.
"Gaara, can you create an enemy for me out of sand?" Kankuro asked, and then, remembering who he was talking to, added, "Please."
A ninja formed out of the sand. It resembled Baki-sensei.
"Um... thank you," said Kankuro, and connected his left hand to Kuroari. I can do this. Right hand to Karasu. I will do this.
The ninja made of sand lunged at him. Forefinger, thumb, pinky, forefinger. It was harder with one hand, but he could do it.
Karasu blocked the sand-Baki, two blades shooting out. The sand-Baki dodged. Good. For smokebombs, clench, twist, forefinger...
A cloud of purple smoke--he had made sure it was nonlethal for training purposes--hissed into the dry desert air. With a sweeping motion, Kankuro brought Kuroari around behind the smoke cloud, and shot several blades from Karasu towards the barely visible form of the sand-Baki. It stumbled backward, losing balance...
Right into Kuroari.
The panels snapped shut, and all six limbs loosened and fell to the ground, leaving slots in the wood of Kuroari's body.
This would be the hardest part.
Kankuro, concentrating now on Karasu, disassembled him, the limbs and head popping off the body. Blades unfolded from each one, positioning themselves above the stationary Kuroari.
"Karakuri Engekyi..."
Kankuro crossed his arms across his chest and clenched all his fingers.
"Kuro Higiki Ippatsu!"
The blades shot into the slots, and there was a hiss as the sand-Baki disintigrated.
"Final act," said Kankuro, because at a time like this it is a puppeteer's duty to be cool.
"Wow," said Temari, and this time she actually sounded impressed.
"That's an advanced technique, Kankuro," said Baki, glancing at the pile of sand inside the now-open Kuroari that had once been a replica of himself. "Usually it would take months for a ninja to master it."
A month later, Kankuro gets to use that jutsu on a real enemy.
---
Now Kankuro sits in his room, feeling helpless. The newly-broken Kuroari lies before him, alonside Karasu and Sanshuo, all neatly laid out. There's a twinge of pain in his stomach, and he blanches, feeling his stomach lurch.
While his head is this light, he can't repair the puppets, and he won't let anyone else fix them. The only one he would have considered was his instructor, but he died last year.
And Gaara. He's sitting helpless in his bedroom while Gaara... those... those "Akatsuki" people. Those...
As he's trying to think of a name bad enough, his thoughts are interrupted as Ebizu-jii-sama enters the room without knocking. Kankuro stands to bow, but promptly falls back on his bed, retching.
"Nee-san's puppets used to break often," the old man says, looking quietly down at the disassembled puppets.
"I have to fix them," says Kankuro helplessly. Baki-sensei says he's not allowed to strain himself. He doesn't even have Temari to sympathize with him.
The old man hands him a roll of cloth. Kankuro unwraps it, and the pockets inside are full of tools. "Alright, then," Ebizu says, "Go on."
Then he leaves, and Kankuro is left sitting in his dark, gloomy bedroom. There's a lamp next to his bed, and he hopes it hasn't died as he twists the switch (He hasn't used it in so long). There's a moment of slow darkness, and then light flares up, nearly blinding him. His head spins again, but he leans down slowly, feeling the blood run to his head, and lifts the blanket with Karasu's parts on it. It feels so heavy. Why is he weak?
At first it's hard. His vision doubles, his fingers are clumsy. Methodically, he twists and presses and slides. And gradually, it gets easier.
An hour later, apart from several missing pieces, Karasu is done.
Kankuro feels better. Lifting Kuroari is even harder, but he's anticipating the challenge now, and he sets to work.
Two days later, Kankuro is well enough to stand, and all three puppets are in order. Trying not to stagger, he leaves his room and walks out into the sun. He nearly walks into someone. It's obscenely bright.
He's sitting at the village gates when Temari arrives, fan in place over her back, a looked of determined confidence set on her features.
They're ready to go.
They're about to leave when a single ninja walks up. Over his back are two katana, and he says, "I want to go find Kazekage-sama."
Temari nods approvingly. They've just set foot outside the gates when Matsuri and two of her friends show up.
It's a small group that leaves, a handful of Sunanin including Ebizu-jii-sama.
Far away, Sakura has reduced the huge boulder guarding the Akatsuki's cave entrance to rubble.
Much later, after their break, after Ebizu-jii-sama's story, Matsuri comes back from scouting and says there are people ahead. Kankuro breaks into a run, and falls over, dizzy and panting. His stomach heaves.
Suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up into a face that's blurred because his eyes are watering.
"You should rest," says Baki-sensei.
Kankuro smiles weakly, and stands again. He doesn't have time to rest.
All the way to Gaara, Kankuro is leading, so he hasn't noticed.
They finally get there. Gaara is lying on the ground, still and silent. Not even a breath stirs his body. Chiyo-baa-sama is leaning over him, a glow of green chakra flaring over her hands, which are laid over Gaara's chest. As Kankuro runs even faster, he sees the boy-Uzumaki Naruto-put his hands over hers, and the chakra swells, brightens. They stay there like that for a while.
Kankuro bounds the last few yards and skids to a halt beside his brother. The pink-haired girl-he remembers her vaguely as a blotch of blurry color seen as he loses consciousness-looks up at him and her eyes widen, but before they can lecture him about how he shouldn't be out of bed, Gaara begins to breathe.
Shinobi don't cry. Kankuro remembers hearing these words over and over from his father, berating him as his son struggles to suppress tears.
He thought he'd broken the habit.
Weren't there... less people when we set out?
Say it with me: Six-inch-long bladed instrument of venemous death.