I thought I had some idea of how to fight puppets from the anime. I thought the admittedly few scenes revolving around the technique exposed their weaknesses, weaknesses that I could exploit. I was very, very wrong.

My first order of business was to get the fuck away from the jonin's battle, so I leapt backwards to the door and sprinted into the hallway. It wasn't just to preempt cooperative attacks or avoid becoming collateral damage. I thought that the enclosed space would limit the puppet's impressive maneuverability and put me at an advantage.

That was my first mistake. For many reasons, but the most initially apparent one was the puppet's durability, which I severely underestimated.

I launched vicious combo after combo onto the puppet, and chibi Sasori clearly wasn't used to fighting someone with my physical capabilities so about a third of them landed. For all the good that did me. The steel enforced casing was starting to make my knuckles ache, and I didn't even have my bandages on to mitigate the sting of the edged grooves in its surface—clearly an added measure to combat taijutsu users.

So I did the common sense thing and aimed for the joints. I knew tearing off a couple limbs wouldn't remove them from the fight, and that Sasori could most likely manipulate them independently. But it would split his attention, and hopefully open him up to retaliation.

However, each joint was ball and socket, and affixed in a manner that I could scarcely understand. Hitting the shoulder, the knee, the elbow, anything, only succeeded in hurting me. So I hit near each joint, hoping to yank limbs out of their sockets, but they just spun around freely in a grotesque fashion, before Sasori regained control over them and retaliated with little delay.

Snarling, I moved on to my next strategy. Keeping close to the puppet, because I didn't want to figure out what it could do if it had more room to work with, I feinted with a mighty punch to the chest. It crossed its arms to block, but I juked it, spinning around its body. I channeled chakra through my entire arm, and swiped it through the space between the shinobi and his weapon. I was sure that would disrupt the chakra strings connecting them, if only momentarily. But it didn't even do that.

Sasori wasn't impressed with my gambit, and made it known with a mule kick from the puppet. Though it wasn't my intention with this move, I took the opportunity and leapt backwards towards a much softer target, but had to abort my lunge as senbon littered the space between us. This wasn't a tv show, so I didn't see purple liquid spilling from the metal, creating puffs of smoke as it ate away at the wooden flooring. But I was sure it was poisoned nonetheless. A single touch of anything sharp was probably a death sentence.

I was perched on the ceiling, keeping a wide berth from the smattering of senbon, which ended soon enough (I don't think he was out, merely conserving ammo). But my attention was diverted again when Sasori pulled out from his vest—IS THAT A GUN?

Without hesitation, I kicked one of the rafters with more might than I thought I could produce, and the moderately thick beam of wood splintered, shattering the nails that kept it in place. The entire thing fell, and Sasori was forced to dodge, throwing off his shot. Three needles embedded into the wood next to me, and I immediately felt silly.

Of course it wasn't a real firearm, I reprimanded myself. It was the exact same mechanism that was in his puppet, just more ergonomic. It probably had a storage seal inside that automatically loaded the ammunition, but the projectile clearly wasn't powered with anything resembling gunpowder. It was much too slow.

Before my opponent could regain his footing, I dropped down, capitalizing on my surroundings to wrench an armor stand out of the ground and throw it at my enemy. The puppet's hand shot out on a cord, four blades jutting out of its wrist in an X, smashing the stand itself and scattering the pieces of armor across the floor. It redirected, trying to arc towards me now that the threat to Sasori's body was neutralized, but I grabbed a post that a lantern was mounted on and tried to mimic Miyamoto's move earlier. I succeeded in wrapping the metal cord around the post, but the piece of wood wasn't exactly sharp and I didn't have the skill necessary to channel my chakra through it anyway.

I expected Sasori to be able to get out of that in no time flat. I was surprised when he couldn't. As he attempted to unfurl the coiled limb, I noticed that it only seemed to be twitching at two points: the hand itself and the approximate middle of the extension. As I took a quick glance backwards, I noticed that this phenomenon wasn't unique to the arm. Some parts moved, and some parts didn't. But those points of movement changed presumably at Sasori's will, which was the problem.

I tried to use the post to reel the puppet into a savage haymaker, but it opened its mouth and a telescoping blade extended from where a tongue should be. I avoided it, but lost my chance to counterattack.

No matter. I had paid attention, and I noticed how some joints seemed to be controlled, while others dipped listlessly towards the ground. That served no tactical advantage; the obvious reason, given what I knew, was that Sasori at this stage could only control a limited number of chakra strings. But why did he only connect them to certain parts? Was it bias? Were they simply the most effective points to control a puppet from? Or was it something else?

The puppet had maneuvered itself so that it was between me and Sasori, and though that was unavoidable, I still gritted my teeth in annoyance. Though he hadn't integrated weapons into his own body yet, Sasori still carried some, so he wasn't as vulnerable as I hoped. And meanwhile, I was without my weapons, my inventory, my tags—hell, there wasn't even any dirt or stone under my feet! I had zero long range options.

I briefly remembered when we went to the archives, and I scoffed at the idea of wasting Merits on an earth bullet scroll. I should have known I'd eat my words soon enough.

Before I could curse myself more, I was forced to dodge, and dodge and dodge. Sasori, through his puppet, was making range, steadily backing up and launching all manner of projectiles my way. I responded by doing the thing that he, in the heat of the moment, likely forgot was an option. I turned and fled.

What? I wasn't obligated to fight him. He was the one trying to kill me here! I just wanted to find sensei and hide behind him for now, or at least find where the samurai had confiscated all of my gear. It was probably near the entrance hall…

Holy Moses, I'm an idiot.

I picked up speed, but Sasori realized that distance was no help to a ranged fighter in a maze with corners and pursued. And though his physical capabilities didn't seem to be a match for mine, he hopped on his puppets back to give chase, which was bullshit but whatever.

As I broke into a new hallway—a long straightaway, to my dismay—I found a lone samurai in a corridor, katana drawn.

"Suna nin," I gasped. "Pursuing me. I have a plan, cover me!"

It was hard to tell what he was thinking with his mask firmly in place, but he nodded, settling into a ready stance. Sasori burst around the corner and saw my new ally. He hopped off his weapon's back, and the puppet shot towards me with even more speed.

Which was entirely wrong. This entire fight, it had been trying to make distance, to utilize the advantage its ranged weapons gave it. It shouldn't be trying to get close, not when I actually had a melee fighter on my side for a change and there were no significant obstacles.

Wrong. So wrong.

Once again, my instincts saved me. Another attack came at me from the side, and since I'd already figured out the punch line, I ducked under a crooked dagger's thrust as the armor stand next to me came to life.

Then a katana swung downward with no more technique than an executioner with his axe, only a beat behind the stab. I shouldn't have survived either, but every neuron I possessed was alight, so I slipped off my left uwabaki in an instant and slapped its sole against the flat of the blade with all my might. It diverted, and I rose, putting the strength of every chakra-enhanced muscle in my body into a right straight.

Armor didn't help the "samurai" much. The disguised Suna puppeteer didn't even have time to scream as his throat caved into his brain stem, snapping it instantly. The puppet disguised as an empty suit of armor collapsed in a heap, but I had no time to celebrate. Sasori, face studiously blank even after just losing an ally, shot a volley of weapons at me, and it was all I could do to dodge and parry with my uwabaki.

He fired the puppet's arm towards me once more, and when I flinched away, it crashed through the rice paper door of a neighboring room. Through the newly-formed gap, I could glimpse a veritable mountain of bodies. Many wore the garb of servants, many the armor of samurai. All unceremoniously piled into a heap. If I had time to be horrified, I would have been. Instead, I lunged away from Sasori and ran, hurling suits of armor behind me as I passed.

I needed to watch out for more "samurai." They must have been stationed to eliminate any witnesses in whatever stretch of the buildinging they were posted, who would undoubtedly let their guard down around one of the Fang Daimyo's elites. But they had the easy job and weren't likely the cream of the Puppet Corps' crop. By surprise or not, I wouldn't have been able to kill that last one if they were above genin level.

But it seemed as if luck was on my side. The infiltration must have started on the first floor and worked its way up—the only sensible way to do it I suppose, since half of the palace's occupants couldn't stick themselves to the canyon walls. Most of the Puppet Corps was on one of the upper levels by now, with my team.

(But they had Biwa-sensei with them, which meant they were probably the safest people in the whole goddamn building.)

Tearing through the halls, I finally reached the main entrance, but was forced away from the front door by a barrage of weaponry. This space was more open, which I decided was a bad thing.

"Attempting to escape is futile," the teen said, his voice lacking expression entirely. It was pleasant, though cold; I'd never heard a voice that so perfectly reflected its speaker's appearance.

"And how do you plan on stopping me?" I baited him, and as an answer, the puppet rose above him. The ceiling in this room was twice as high, encroaching on the second floor, and that height advantage gave the puppet more freedom to block my escape.

I must admit, I forgot the ceiling was so high here. That was…really, really bad for my plan.

I need to get it down from there.

Without warning, I dove to the side, towards an armor stand that was actually an armor stand and not a mimic thank fuck. Better yet, unlike the others, this one bore a katana. I wrenched the weapon out of its hand, and tried to unsheathe it—mother fucker, it was just a hilt! Of course, why would it be a real sword?

Well, it wasn't completely useless. I dodged a smattering of senbon from above and snapped the sheathe into a size I was more comfortable blocking with under my foot. Bamboo didn't break cleanly, so the end was split and jagged, but it was close enough to a kunai now that I had an easier time blocking the weapons. For all the good it did me; Sasori's supplies seemed inexhaustible.

(No supplies were inexhaustible. But what would run out first, his weapons or my stamina?)

There was only one thing I could do to win here, and I couldn't carry out my plan if the puppet was out of reach. So I began to move, my real intention disguised under a much more apparent goal.

It was common knowledge that, the smaller the profile, the more difficult it was to land a projectile. I knew that, and more importantly, Sasori knew I knew that. If the attacker was above you, there was only one thing that could be done to minimize your profile, and it was risky because it exposed a vital target and limited your ability to perceive your attacker.

But I did it anyway. I raced forward, trying to position myself so that I was right below the puppet. If I succeeded, I wouldn't have to travel far to dodge, which meant I would expend less energy. The tradeoff was that, if I failed to dodge well enough, any wound I suffered would be fatal.

I assumed that just about any wound Sasori could deal me would be fatal, however, with his concoction of poisons in play. And I had been training for this exact scenario for years, with Kazuhiro who could actually fly as my teacher. It was part of my reflex training. If I made it out of this alive, I would have to make him his favorite dinner.

But this was Sasori, so it was still a big if. The future S-Class puppeteer didn't want to secede any type of advantage, so as he realized my goal, he moved his weapon to get an easier shot. And I moved to counter, until it was like we were two like pieces on an otherwise empty chess board, with me playing black.

As he moved, I followed, and neither direction was optimal for Sasori. If he moved the puppet towards him, I would also move towards him, making his real body more vulnerable. If he moved the puppet back, I was closer to the door, which he thought I was attempting to escape through.

However, seeing that I could avoid the attacks from above, there was one obvious move for Sasori to make; a frontal assault. I expected him to pull out the weapon from earlier, but he seemed to have other plans. He bit the pad of his thumb hard, swiping the resulting blood over his belt, and I bit back a curse when another puppet appeared in a puff of smoke.

But this one was different. It was giant, far bigger than Sasori and even his other puppet, and held at the ready a massive shield bearing the paint and eyes of a Kabuki face. It didn't have legs, and though puppets didn't need them to move, I was sure that it wasn't nearly as mobile just from the sheer weight of the thing.

It was immediately clear, however, that it didn't need to be. It planted itself right in front of Sasori, and I could see pins, too many to count, poking out of the shield. The tips of senbon.

"You've wasted too much of my time," he said softly. "Die."

I had no choice but to use the substitution jutsu, replacing myself with an armor stand near the wall. I was surprised to see the steel plating hold—dented but not punctured—against the onslaught. That gave me an idea.

Throwing my "kunai" towards another armor stand, I replaced myself with it and ripped off its own helmet. Disregarding the weird mouthpiece, I slammed it on, having to hold it steady because my ten-year-old head was much too small for it to sit properly. Sasori tried to shoot me again, but his new, defensive puppet was mostly stationary as I thought (all it seemed capable of was turning slowly and adjusting the tilt of its shield) and couldn't retrain its aim on me fast enough, plus his go-to was having a hard time hitting soft targets from its position. I heard Sasori tsk, his entire body completely obscured by his guardian.

"You are an annoying opponent. Your death is assured; why must you draw it out?"

"Because fuck you, that's why," I said, panting. He thought I was annoying? This was the most frustrating fight I'd ever taken part in! "I'm getting out of here, and you can't stop me."

"Fool," he said, and the puppet finally descended. It positioned itself between me and the door, and as soon as Big Shield finished reorienting itself, I would be caught in an unavoidable crossfire. I would be dead in an instant.

But then again. His more troublesome puppet was right where I wanted it.

Jutsu modification was my thing, and I'd come up with an extremely useful (and much riskier) variation of the Kawarimi. When I first learned it, Kazuhiro taught me how a built-in function of the jutsu was that it brought you to a full stop. I'd given some thought on how to get rid of that little addendum, and now was as good a time to test it as any. Or, more accurately, it would be my last opportunity.

Hitsuji, Modified I, Ushi, Modified Tora, Modified MiNinpo: Tosshin no Jutsu!

I replaced myself with a scrap of armor, lunging forward at a speed I wasn't prepared for. But grace wasn't needed; I collided with the puppet at full force, wrapping my arm around its waist, praying that Sasori didn't have the reaction time to activate any weapons that might be stored there. His chakra strings either stretched or broke from my momentum as I tackled the puppet, and thank god I had the foresight to enhance my body with chakra for extra durability because holy shit that hurt.

But with carefully cultivated instincts and flexibility, I flexed my core and got a knee between us. With a mighty push, I let go, and the puppet was sent ragdolling through the doorway. As I rolled to a stop, I saw Sasori peek from behind his other puppet, wondering at the source of the noise, and flexed a hand to catch his weapon right before it reached the doorway.

No.

I snatched a breastplate near me, and with all my strength hurled it at the puppet like a discus. It barely pushed it back an inch.

But an inch was all I needed. It collapsed, like a…well, you know, and I could see Sasori's eyes flicker from surprise, to confusion, to horror. It appeared as though the puppet was having a seizure, its limbs twitching and jerking despite Sasori's desperate attempts to regain control. Weapons sprayed aimlessly in all directions, and I pressed myself flat against the ground, nothing more to shield myself in sight. By some miracle, I wasn't hit.

I hadn't expected that when I first had the idea to lure the puppet through the samurai's forced activation security measure. I just hoped he'd lose control of whatever seals acted as connecting ports for his chakra strings—I deduced those existed at specific points along the puppet's body, likely as a crutch that more veteran puppet masters wouldn't need to rely on quite so heavily.

But right now, Sasori was a rookie. A skilled rookie; pretty sure his ability to create and wield two puppets was a testament to that. But with just one left, one that couldn't nearly keep up with my speed, the odds had turned drastically in my favor.

Sasori must have realized that too, because there was a puff of smoke as he resealed Big Shield. By the time it dissipated, he was gone.

I rolled to my knees, panting. That was close. Too fucking close. I never wanted to be caught without a weapon again.

So I wouldn't be. That was a promise.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

I had chased off Sasori and the first level of the palace seemed clear, but I was still in a life or death situation, and I was sure that my team was in the thick of it. But, clearly, I couldn't help them much in my current state, so my first order of business was to find our gear and confiscate Sasori's puppet. Last thing I needed was for him to come and take it back. Plus, I thought it would look good mounted on my wall.

(After I studied it. Naruto canon said that Suna was ass at fuinjutsu just because of Gaara's shitty biju seal, but that clearly wasn't true. Not when they had that cloth sealing division that was instrumental in the fourth shinobi war, plus the Puppet Corps which seemed far more seal-dependent than the anime led me to believe.)

I dragged the mangled puppet behind me as I searched for whatever repository they kept our stuff in. Eventually I found it, hidden in a secret closet behind an armor stand. Relieved, I donned my bandages, sealing Sasori's weapon in my inventory's miscellaneous slot as I did so.

Burdened by five weapons pouches, I raced up the stairwell, the noises of battle growing steadily as I ascended. Two more samurai-disguised fodder puppeteers fell under the brunt of my explosions as I went wild in the enclosed spaces, not giving any fucks about collateral damage. Some escaped after I destroyed their puppets—they were annoyingly good at running away, and I was pretty sure they had a disguise jutsu far better than a simple henge. But not all of them could escape me. By the time I reached the fourth floor, my kill count had risen to three.

I had killed before, in my past life. But not like this. Never like this. Modern warfare on Earth was impersonal. When I killed, it was with the press of a button, deep underwater, where I couldn't see the missiles or torpedoes I launched land. I tried to tell myself this wasn't any different, because it wasn't. Back then, I'd tried to be mindful of all the lives I'd taken, and not allow myself any absolution just because I wasn't present for their deaths. But that only worked so well.

This wasn't different. But when my nostrils were filled with the scent of flesh that I'd burnt, when viscera splattered across my cheeks, when my hand was wrapped around a kunai buried so deep in another human's sternum that my knuckles were inside of them…it sure felt like it was.

But like I told Miyamoto a scant few hours ago: if I valued the lives of others over the interests of my precious people, then I wouldn't have become a soldier in the first place.

Things stopped being easy. My fighting style drew attention, and soon I found myself pitted against more dangerous opponents.

"Maa, little girl. How many exploding tags do you have?"

I don't think these two were jonin, but they were probably chunin. They hadn't broken a sweat and they had two puppets each, none of which I could damage beyond a light scorching on their varnish. What I was doing right now couldn't be considered fighting; I was stalling by throwing explosive after explosive. In an enclosed hallway, it didn't matter how skilled an opponent was; they couldn't just attack through an explosion. It was a rather great equalizer.

But it wasn't sustainable. I couldn't keep deflecting needles with bombs.

I was about ready to attack my surroundings more directly, perhaps bringing sections of the building down on my enemies, when a screen of white appeared around my opponents, and they were erased. All that were left were their feet.

"There you are, Imai," a familiar voice said nonchalantly, and I sagged in relief. "I was almost worried."

"Gomen, sensei," I said, a smile on my face despite everything around me. "I was caught up."

My eyes flicked over Iwao and Daigo, who looked far less exhausted than I did. With sensei watching over them, I bet they didn't have to lift a finger.

"Where's Jin-sama?" I asked, suddenly worried as I noticed our missing member.

"I don't know," Biwa-sensei said, the words coming out grim. "We've been looking for you both."

That really wasn't good. Not only was the old man a sensei (and dare I say friend?) that I valued immensely, he was an important figure in Iwagakure. And at his age, I wasn't sure how well he could defend himself against the caliber of enemies that were present in the palace.

"Have you seen him since the meeting?" I asked, a pit forming in my stomach.

"No. He never returned to his room."

Like he said he would. Maybe he noticed something was amiss? Or maybe…he had been taken out first.

"Before we go any farther. Imai. Are you injured?"

"Huh? No, why?"

"You're covered in blood," he deadpanned, the corner of my lip twitched.

"Aw, sensei! You do care about me!"

"It would reflect poorly on me if I couldn't protect a single genin on a mission," he said dismissively, and I chuckled. Iwao was looking increasingly disturbed by my behavior. "So answer my question."

Despite everything, I took immense satisfaction in uttering the cliché words, and thanked Biwa-sensei internally for the opportunity.

"Don't worry," I drawled. "None of it is mine."

"You're sure?" he pressed. "Not even a scratch on you?"

"Nope! Sensei, this is Suna. I assumed every sharp bit of metal they shot at me was laced with a deadly poison, and reacted accordingly. It made things really annoying until I could arm myself—oh, here you are by the way."

I tossed them all their weapons pouches, and Daigo missed the catch, proving his impassivity was just a facade. I'd talk to him about it later.

"I got my toys too, obviously." I'm sure my explosions were what led them here. "Plus some extra. I can't wait to dissect those puppets of theirs."

I had Sasori's, which I would probably learn the most from. Both because of the genius' skill, and the fact that it was the only one I got that was completely intact. The one wielded by the first genin was gone—Sasori probably snatched it up as he fled so he'd have a weapon. I got some more too from the handful of other puppeteers I defeated, but those were only bits and pieces. I couldn't afford to hold back.

"You took their puppets?" Biwa-sensei asked, brow furrowed. "How'd you manage that?"

I frowned in confusion. "I mean, they couldn't really stop me. Being dead and all." Wasn't that implied? "Is…that a problem?"

"No, no," he said, quickly. "Not a problem at all. Good job."

Wow, a good job? I doubted I could expect many of those from the man.

"How many?" he asked.

"Uh, three dead. Two defeated, but they escaped. They're really good at that."

They had this jutsu that seemed like a cross between Gaara's sand armor and a henge. It didn't provide much in the armor department, but they could somehow use the replacement technique with it remaining intact (not actually possible; my bet was that the back opened up briefly before closing too quickly to notice). When I cut into it or blew it up, I found that it was hollow.

"I'm sorry, can this wait? I'm kinda worried about Jin-sama."

He nodded sharply, but before he could do anything else, the walls around us and the ceiling above shattered.

Splinters, jagged planks and metal support bars shot towards us from all sides, and I couldn't do a goddamn thing about it. I was sure I was going to die, and I closed my eyes in reflex.

Which was a damn shame. Because nothing reached me, and I would have loved to see why.

"Goodness me," another voice said, over the innocuous patter of raining debris. All lanterns had been extinguished and demolished in the blast, and the clouds of sawdust made the shadows roil aggressively (the air around us was somehow clear—wind jutsu?), but through them, I could just barely make out all the figures surrounding us. Only some were people; many likely were puppets. But still, intimidating was an understatement.

The darkness wasn't so complete that I was unable to identify the speaker closest to us. He was Shiroito no Nobuyuki, the field commander of the Puppet Corps, listed as an A-rank threat. It was too dark for me to recognize anyone else.

"This was supposed to be an easy mission, no casualties," he bemoaned, rubbing his temples. "Why would Iwa send one of their heaviest hitters on a c-rank bodyguard mission?"

"Chalk it up to bad luck," sensei answered simply. "My team was in need of an easy mission as well."

He wasn't giving up any information that wasn't plainly visible to anyone here; there was no hope of suppressing news of our team's inception to the world stage now. There would be targets on our backs —perhaps even bingo book entries.

Contrary to popular belief, bounties weren't always a measure of how strong you were. Weak people got high bounties all the time—sometimes bounties would actually decrease as time went on. If you had high suspicions that a currently powerless enemy would grow up to be a threat, you would want to get rid of them before that happened, right? It was common sense. And in matters such as these, normally tight-lipped villages would leak such information intentionally, just to improve the odds that we'd be put down.

Nobuyuki sighed. "We intended to take out everyone in the palace. But I don't foresee us being able to fulfill that objective anymore. Even if each one of us sacrifices ourselves, our victory is not assured."

"I'm glad you realize that. Though your actions do not match your words. Your final gambit has failed as well. Not even your poison gas can touch us."

Poison gas? I had no idea they unleashed such a weapon. If it was even visible to begin with, the darkness covered it up entirely. I shuddered at how easily I could have been killed just then, and resolved to make some air purifying seals. I knew they existed.

"Air tight, eh? I wonder."

Nobuyuki tossed a kunai at us so fast I could scarcely make it out, and I tensed in reflex. But eight feet away from us, it vanished. No, not vanished—quickly disintegrated, from tip to hilt. I felt my eyebrows shoot up.

Did sensei make a Jinton barrier? Like, an inversion of the techniques I was familiar with? That seemed way too overpowered. But I guess that's what I should expect from an S-rank shinobi.

"I know what you're thinking," Sensei said steadily. "It's hardly original. Each of my opponents believe the same thing when they encounter this technique. It must take a lot of chakra to maintain. I can outlast you."

"You're right," the puppeteer replied. "That's precisely what I'm thinking. I can't imagine a technique that powerful is cheap."

"It isn't," Biwa-sensei confirmed. "Likely, if you had the capability to use dust release, this would kill you before a minute was up." He leaned forward slightly, and my breath spiked as he released his killing intent. It wasn't overpowering, like I knew it could be, but it was crisp. Like a cold, clear night. It made me feel small.

"But as I said," he continued. "Everyone always has the same thought. And I'm still here. What does that tell you?"

Then, his hands flashed through more seals, and four rock golems spawned next to him out of thin air. The barrier, which I could only barely see even after knowing to look for it, didn't so much as flicker.

He could use other jutsu while maintaining it. Absolutely fucking broken.

The captain of the Puppet Corps let out an aggravated sigh.

"Fine. I hate leaving loose ends, but there's nothing we can do. We've already implicated you as the perpetrators, and left no witnesses. This mission was still a success. Until we meet again, Biwa of the Dust."

They left in the blink of an eye, and I met my team's grave gazes. I had no idea what we'd face now, but there was one thing I was absolutely certain of.

Kurozumi Daikichi, the Fang Daimyo, was dead. And there would be consequences.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

AN: Hey y'all. I'd like to formally announce that I'm looking for a beta reader. Right now, this story is just my word vomit, and though I put time and thought into editing before posting each chapter, I don't have a formal education on advanced grammar and stuff like that. I'm looking for someone to edit chapters to come, but it would also be incredible if they could go through what I've already posted so far. This story needs major edits, and not just of the grammatical variety; I'd appreciate someone who can help me with fine-tuning content as well.

I'm not sure if this needs to be said, but this is a passion project first and foremost. I've put significant planning into the overarching outline of the story, but I'm doing this to have fun, and sometimes my writing gets away from me. I'll dive deep into something I didn't intend to, I'll get lost in the weeds, I'll go on tangents. I think that's all too apparent by now. There are even a handful of important plot points I came up with off the cuff, which makes them seem suboptimally integrated into what was previously written. I also have a pretty shit memory, so sometimes I just straight up forget about stuff.

In essence, my writing model for this story has left me open to a lot of errors that I ordinarily wouldn't make. And while the whole posting a chapter a week thing is, in some ways, freeing to me, I think my quality of writing has suffered because of it. An example is that, when I started this fic, I thought I had a pretty clear grasp on Kasaiki's character. But as a significant amount of time went on, the character evolved in my head, which makes earlier choices I made seem inconsistent.

That's at the forefront of my mind currently, but there are many other choices that I made that, in retrospect, should probably be changed. And it's a lot easier for another person who isn't so attached to the writing itself to identify those choices, so I would love some help. Because, at this moment in time, going through every previous chapter with a fine tooth comb…it's not going to happen. Sorry.

Soooo…yeah. If you're interested, please hit me up through discord. My username is PonchOWO—let me know if you can't find it, or if it doesn't let you PM me for some reason. I'm not very familiar with the program, so it wouldn't surprise me in the least if my settings kept you from being able to contact me.

I don't have a Ptrn. Some people have asked why; it's because of my writing model. I don't know what I, as a fanfic author, could offer as an incentive aside from early access to chapters and…I kinda post my chapters as soon as I write them. Going on another break to build up a supply of chapters, just to give patrons a sneak peak at them…seems shitty. Like I'd be holding my writing ransom.

So, if you've gotten five bucks of enjoyment out of this story, please consider buying my original work on amazon (information in my bio). I'd prefer that to actual money right now anyway. Between the two sites this fic is posted on, I have over 1400 readers. If even half of you choose to support me in this fashion, I would have considerable bargaining power when it comes to getting future books published. More publishing deals means I can quit my day job, which translates into more time for fanfiction. It's a one time thing, and you even get more of my writing out of it.