Chương 15: Chapter 11

Tea Capital Ryoma, Recently Promoted Ninja The Wood Dragoon was a combat-capable prototype at best. It was a proof of concept pushed out a year or two too early to get something out to get ahead of the increasingly dangerous missions he was being forced on thanks to the slowly decreasing number of active suna ninja. This decrease in active personnel caused by the ongoing war, which he was an active participant in and held a distinct disadvantage thanks to both being a child and not any particular breed of prodigy.

The Mk1 design was clunky, slow, highly visible, held limited mobility and safety features, low quality material, limited battlefield endurance, generally poor craftsmanship, and a great many other negative traits that he could list off if he had the time. He wasn't even sure if he would call it a prototype, more of a test type really, with features put together piecemeal, lacking both maturity and proper integration between disparate parts.

The only part he was somewhat proud of was the giant mask that covered the front, both as added protection and intimidation. The rest of it? If anyone else knew how ramshackle the thing was, they'd be laughing it off.

"Guard the clients." He declared, finger twitching to open wooden vents mounted on the 'backpack' of the puppetarmor. Slits near the base, part of the lower combatpack assembly, opened up as a seal-cylinder within rotated out. The fact that he had to use a combatpack at all was a bandage over a failure to integrate those features into the mainframe. It was heavy and threw off his balance if he didn't constantly compensate for it.

He rotated one foot, provoking the Dragoon to crouch in preparation for a leap off the roof. Another finger twitch and the combatpack seal-cylinder activated, releasing the wind-jutsu within. Great Breakthrough, channeled through a trio of vents. A howl of hurricane-force wind exploded out of the improvised thruster pack, in time with another rotation of the foot to make the giant wooden puppet jump up and forwards.

His allies made various bothered noises as the shockwave threw them off balance, noises that faded quickly as the thousand-pound frame rose high into the night air. He had been aiming for thirty meters of distance on a parabolic curve when he had planned the system out on a notepad a few years back, a notebook that Sasori had read through and laughed at more than once. He had never quite been able to hit that thirty meter mark, more like twenty in ideal conditions.

Landing was also problematic, he'd normally need to burn another thruster-charge to safely break his fall, and he only had three of those total. That meant one and a half jumps, normally, which presented fairly obvious problems. It was a bit hard to see his target through the puppet-eyes of the Wood Dragoon, the resolution of the image being hard to work through from time to time. Lucky that his current target was visible enough to be almost impossible to actually miss.

The giant glowing moth in the middle of the air wasn't really close enough for him to jump to, even with the jumppack, but it was close enough for it to be within range of another one of his systems. His fingers curled, the arms of the Wood Dragoon raising up with three-clawed hands spread out. A twitch, and the hands shot out like rockets, racing forwards and latching onto the giant glowing moth-shape, connected by a woven twine of ninja-wire.

Normally used for cutting things like cheese and flesh, the wires were a common ninja tool that was significantly less useful for cutting when woven like this, but much more durable. This was a requirement as he rewound the internal cranks in the arms and started pulling the hands back to his wrists. The giant moth let out a panicked moth-scream as he dragged it down from the sky, a new thousand-pound weight attached to its limbs and wings. It sounded something like a donkey that just swallowed a dial-up modem.

Piloting the Wood Dragoon was tricky, the sound was muffled, the center of gravity was off, and the visuals were substandard. His feet rotated as he prepared to land, widening his stance as best he could and bracing for the impact. He was falling fast enough to cause structural wear, but not fast enough to actually break anything thanks to the moth he was latched onto struggling to stay in the air.

Operating a puppet with your feet was a pain in the ass, the soles of the feet being just about the worst place in the body in terms of 'chakra connectivity'. In order to even start, you needed to first become proficient with both normal strings and wall walking. By circling chakra through the soles of your feet, you could 'stick' to surfaces, letting a ninja walk up and down horizontal surfaces. This was the hardest place of the body to actually do this, which made it a popular chakra control exercise.

Operating chakra-strings through the soles would theoretically give a puppeteer more than ten strings to work with, but most didn't need all ten strings anyways. The only reason you'd want to do it is if you had too many systems in one platform and needed to dedicate some features to their own dedicated limbs. Like him. He was that person. He operated the legs and balance of the Dragoon through the short, fat chakra strings coming from the soles of his feet.

Everything else was operated by his fingers, freeing him up to occasionally perform a critical, life-saving jutsu in the safety of his wooden shell and not fall over in the process. He did that once and he almost died for it, controlling those two things through his feet was an actual, critical part of operating a full-scale puppetarmor like this. He didn't have enough space in the design to fit all the features he needed, which meant he needed to occasionally use ninjutsu to compensate.

He didn't have the ability to form handseals while operating the puppetarmor, which meant he needed to control at least the basic mobility through his feet. He wasn't good enough at designing and building puppets to fit everything in and he wasn't good enough at jutsu to do them without handseals- it was a skill issue either way he cut it. The ground shook as the Wood Dragoon landed- vibration rippling through the wooden frame and shaking him about in the cramped piloting chamber he was currently stuffed in.

The sound of stone cracking echoed faintly through his frame, muffled by the shell of wood and metal. A moment later- the ground shook again as the massive moth crashed into it, shattering pavement tiles beneath its bulk. His omnidirectional visuals told him that he was currently in the middle of the clone-army, in the middle of the lower courtyard, and far from any allies. Just about perfect really, he didn't have to worry about collateral like this.

The claws of the Wood Dragoon unlatched and continued to wind in as he moved a chakra string to the upper combatpack and twitched a finger. Just as the blurry forms of the clones were starting to jump at him, a missile-silo type structure on the back of the Wood Dragoon fired an umbrella high into the air above them, the launcher adding a spin to the missile as it rose.

Then it opened, and thousands of poisoned senbon began to rain down around him, propelled by the force of their own launcher-seals mounted on the underside of the umbrella.. He saw this trick once, and copied it shamelessly. Clones began to recoil and burst in puffs of smoke as senbon strong enough to punch through thin armor and most people rained down like sharp, poisoned hail.

Many of these senbon thunked into his own armor, deep enough into the metal plating to stick but not deep enough to do anything more than prick the underlying wooden frame. This was the primary reason the metal plating was important, because without it there was a good chance that the senbon would stab him in the brain whenever he deployed an umbrella. … No, they weren't bursting into smoke, a transformation was being dispelled.

Corpses of various shapes and sizes were falling around him as the senbon-rain continued in an outwards spiral.

"Hah-hahaheheh~ What the hell is that?! Hahahah!" A voice called out as a figure jumped away from the back of the giant moth, which shrieked as a rain of poisoned steel barbs reached it. A few moments after, it vanished in a tremendous plume of actual smoke, returning to wherever it had been summoned from before fatal damage could be sustained.

Ryoma knew from experience that trying his normal lies and tricks through the cockpit of the Wood Dragoon didn't usually work out, mostly because he had to yell for anyone to actually hear him and the tone of a yell didn't lend itself towards that. Silently, the Wood Dragoon rose from its crouched stance, woodenly rising to its full height and focusing on the blurry shape of enemy ninja. The night combined with the puppet-eyes made visibility near-zero, he really wished he had some night-vision optics right now.

He needed to even their visibility out. His fingers pulled back from the chakra strings and flew through handseals, utterly invisible inside the frame.

"Wind Release: Dust Cloud Technique." He announced calmly, going without interruption. Twenty-three. All of the ash and soot created by the initial firebomb, along with any other sand or loose dirt in the courtyard, was kicked into the air. The blurry enemy shape was even further obscured, disappearing with hands raised in the expanding cloud of particulate matter. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Another set of handseals.

"Earth Release: Sand Transformation." Twenty-one motes until he needed to tap into his personal chakra. The surface of the Wood Dragoon blurred as the ash and soot around it condensed, drawn towards its form and layering the surface in a dense layer of dark-grey. He didn't bother making a more fancy appearance, keeping the dark grey layer as it was. There was no real way to disguise the Wood Dragoon as something else, but adding camouflage was downright easy.

From the outside, the Wood Dragoon disappeared in a cloud of ash and emerged with a new dark color scheme, blending into the night. A thump-thump impacted the side of his frame. A physical strike against the frame while he was setting up, a strike that did very little through the three layers of armor-shell now enveloping him. The Wood Dragoon rotated on its hips, a full spin with arm outspread that ended with a puppet-fist smashing into a blurry shape.

A burst of smoke and a meaty crunch as the body flew back and disappeared into the night. He returned to a forwards-position, rotating his feet to start stomping forwards. His fingers flexed to recreate a set of chakra strings, taking control of the upper frame once more. Low visibility made things difficult- he wanted to learn sensor-jutsu to make up for this but he hadn't had the time yet. It made the Wood Dragoon a tactically inflexible design.

In the meanwhile, the best option he had was another bolt-on component. He twitched a finger, the bolt-on firework launcher mounted on the side of the combatpack triggered, shooting a payload high into the air above them. A few moments later, the payload exploded into a long-burning, bright-red flare to illuminate the entire battlefield. He only had two of those, so he'd need to end the fight before they both expired.

Omnidirectional visuals allowed him to check the state of the battlefield- and the fights going on upon the rooftops. Gaku and Mari were hanging back to provide peppering long-range support to the genin, who in turn were fighting off yet more… corpse-clones, or whatever they were. The other ninja that were still present seemed to be holding out. And in the courtyard, covered in a rolling layer of soot illuminated by a red glaring light, the Wood Dragoon stood alone with a thin man with long white hair.

He had a chuckling grin on his face, and long soot-stained robes, a pair of curved blades in hand and eyes covered in shadows. The yard was covered in scattered, poisoned needles and the sounds of distant ninja clashing.

"Heh… what a pain… hehehe…" Normally Ryoma would start talking right about now, but that didn't work as well in the Wood Dragoon. So instead he just got right down to business. Keh-thunk-kehthunk-kehthunk, as kunai shot forth from his underarm launchers and towards the feet of the enemy ninja. A moment later, they impacted and unleashed their explosive payloads with bombastic applause. The enemy had avoided it by jumping up- tossing one of those massive shuriken his way in the process.

Ryoma adjusted the body of the Wood Dragoon to follow, not bothering to dodge as he did. A twitch of the finger, and the eyebrow of the giant mask slid up again, revealing the fire-eating seal.

"Release." The wave of fire released earlier was unleashed again, a massive cone of red tongues that emerged from the front of the Wood Dragoon and washed over the airborne form of the enemy. A few moments later, the giant shuriken hit the side of the puppetarmor with a heavy thunk, blades again insufficient to punch through the four layers of defense. The air bubble, the dust-armor, the metal plates, and the wooden frame all combined to make him effectively immune to all standard small-arms used by enemy ninja.

He could afford to simply take hits if it meant getting his own hits in. The fire vanished into the night sky, dissipating and leaving behind a charred corpse falling from the air. A fat corpse. A substitution. He took a step back, firing another flare into the sky as he checked his various eyes. The inner courtyard was still, just corpses and scattered senbon, and the fighting on the roof was dying down. How annoying, the enemy had run away under cover of darkness.

The wave of fire was likely the best time to pull off a switch and flee. He turned the Wood Dragoon about, stomping away with anticipation of an ambush from behind. That ambush never manifested, as he considered another massive leap up to the roofs before deciding otherwise. The corpse-clones the various ninja on the rooftops had thinned out before finally being totally eliminated, puffs of smoke revealing dozens or more distinct corpses. A kind of long distance puppeteering, in a sense.

A clone that was mostly just there to layer over and operate a corpse for it's physicality. The fighting over, his weary allies began to stand ready for a few moments more, before winding down and leaping off the roof towards him. His omnidirectional visuals told him that the remaining other ninja were doing the same, bringing their mostly-safe clients down with them as they descended. No hiding the Wood Dragoon now, but maybe he could hide some of it. A few concealed handseals.

"Earth Release: Sand Clone." He muttered, a swirl of soot and ash condensing together to form a duplicate of himself to stand in front of the Wood Dragoon, one hand raised casually and pretending to operate the massive puppet.

"Show of hands!" Clone-Ryoma called out loud over the courtyard, directed towards everyone present.

"Who's still alive!?" There was assorted grumbling and groaning as the various ninja gathered with their traumatized clients walking with them or carried in some cases. Tani-nin and her client was still present, as was the Iwa-nin and a handful of others. Along with a few samurai and their presumed wards. All in all, there was maybe twenty chakra-warriors present.

"Who the hell was that?" The Iwa-nin growled, carrying the fearful old woman in his arms and stained in gore.

"Anyone get an ID?"

"I did." Several ninja called out at once, including Gaku. They looked at each other for a moment before giving various polite nods and letting one seemingly random guy continue speaking. A scarred looking ninja from Ame with a young woman as his client.

"Laughing Smoke, for certain, everything here matches his operating style."

"Except the deaths." Gaku pointed out sharply, leading to frowns and glares as he shook his head.

"Not that I disagree, either Laughing Smoke or an imposter."

"The corpse-clones are new too." The Kiri-nin grumbled thoughtfully, nudging one with his sandaled foot.

"Don't remember hearing about that shit in his entry. Looks like a pretty diverse bunch of victims too." The nobles were making various horrified and fearful sounds at that, most of which were being ignored by the present warriors.

"Any ID on that poison gas he started with?" Cloma asked, nodding his head towards the apartments.

"I didn't get enough info to recognize it."

"Yeah, I recognized it." The Ame-nin shook his head.

"Some blend of Angel Dust and Laughing Gas, no one inside should be dead from it- but they'd be out cold for hours and wake with the shakes."

"A quiet operation then, and ambush whatever stragglers left with that summon and those clones to keep us busy?" The Tani-nin replied, holding her client on her hip, much to the boy's embarrassment.

"Good thing Suna-nin handled that- we wouldn't have the numbers to handle fifty extra clones and a summon there." A ninja wearing a Yuga headband nodded towards him." You might not have been able to." The Kiri-nin growled sharply, glare matching the looks of various gathered samurai.

"The only thing he gave was a little extra light- you got that?!"

"He managed to get away from me." Cloma shook his head with a scowl.

"Pretty sure that was the real one, at least."

"Then go chase him down, you peasant!" The old woman carried by the Iwa-nin spoke up at that, shrilly yelling and glaring at him.

"An attack like this cannot be forgiven! Your duties aren't done until his head is taken!"

"Our duties." Gaku growled, glaring at the old woman.

"Is to keep our clients alive."

"There's merit in a strike force." A samurai, younger than Sanjuro but still up there in years with an eyepatch, spoke up at that. His face was grim and his expression set.

"Laughing Smoke has all but declared war on nobility, a strike like this is more than indicative of his intentions."

"Merit, yes, but also foolishness." Another samurai growled, bushy eyebrows pulled together in deep furrow.

"Before anything else- the Tea Daimyo must be informed of this." The other samurai nodded at that, the ninja exchanging wary and skeptical looks. Cloma cast his gaze around with a frown.

"... It's better than being exposed like this. Refuge for a night while we work out a long term plan?" He asked, looking to all the gathered ninja and waiting for responses. Growls, glares, grumbles, but also a whole lot of nods. The course of action was set, and for the moment they had a common enemy. Cloma nodded, then looked out to the senbon.

"... I'll need a moment to clean up after myself." He admitted sheepishly. He also needed a moment to make the swap with his clone and seal the Wood Dragoon again. What a pain.