All the World's a Stage - Chapter 9 (Patreon)

The trip back to Suna was a quiet one, and thankfully quick. Jiraiya had been kind enough to have his female student patch up Gurosu. It wasn’t a good job, but it would hold until he could get it properly looked at by a medic.

The Kazekage took most A-and-S-rank mission reports personally, if possible. Anything less than that he let his subordinates in the mission office take care of--unless something unusual happened, of course.

The three of them stood in front of the Kage’s desk. Gurosu leaned on a crutch, leg in a cast and bandages around his midsection. Sasori stood at attention, staring directly at the Sandaime’s right shoulder rather than his face. The young prodigy kept glancing at Ondori, who stood between them. He had barely spoken since leaving the border.

He still had his hand clenched around Wilkins’ eye. Ondori’s own were ringed in red, which everyone was politely ignoring.

The Kazekage stared at them, utterly expressionless. Besides him, his one visible guard Rasa looked at them like they were something unpleasant he’d just stepped in.

“It has been two weeks since you set out on your mission, and in that time you nearly caused a war.”

Gurosu flinched under the Kazekage’s words, and Ondori was still lost in his head. That meant Sasori was left to respond. “With respect, Kazekage-sama, we were not the instigators in that fight. And based on Jiraiya’s impromptu interrogation of the survivors, this was very likely a spur-of-the-moment attack that was not sanctioned by Tanigakure. I fully expect them to disavow the attackers’ action once word gets back from them.”

“You do, do you?” The Kazekage looked at Sasori with disinterest. Sasori continued staring at his shoulder. “Hm. And you believe that this attack occurred due to Ondori’s… mock puppets.”

Ondori blinked. “Why does Rasa use such an expensive weapon? Surely more iron dust would be easier to come by than gold?”

Gurosu closed his eyes. The Kazekage and Rasa stared at the adult puppeteer.

“...Is he well?” the Kage asked.

Sasori pursed his lips. “Ondori-san is… going through difficulties.”

All puppeteers are attached to their dolls, he didn’t say. And few of them pour as much of themselves into one as Ondori has. He didn’t say this, because Satoshi-sama was not a puppeteer. He would not be able to understand.

“I see,” the Kage said, dubiously. “I was hoping to speak with him about these mock puppets of his. I’ve heard of his performances.”

“Mock puppets?” Ondori blinked again. He turned to Sasori, ignoring the Kazekage. “You called Gonzo that earlier, too. Why?”

“Gonzo?” Rasa whispered.

Sasori glanced at the Kazekage, meeting his gaze for the first time that meeting. The Kage gestured. Sasori grimaced. “Many of the brigade members, especially the other puppet makers, have taken to calling your performance pieces ‘mock puppets,’ Ondori-san. To differentiate them from the combat models.”

“Huh.” Ondori frowned, turned to face forward once more. “Huh.”

The Kazekage waited, to see if the puppeteer would say or do anything else. When he didn’t, the Kage continued. “...Ondori.”

“Yeah.”

“Ondori, do you have anything to add about your mission?”

“Yeah.”

“...” The Kazekage’s facade cracked, breaking into a scowl. “Ondori.”

Everyone in the room flinched as a small amount of killing intent was allowed to leak out, and Ondori’s eyes finally started to focus.

“Yeah. Yeah? Yes? What?” He blinked, rubbed at his eyes. He took in his surroundings with confusion. When he noticed the Kage in front of him, he snapped to attention with a look of panic. “Kazekage! Sama, sir, what?!”

“Calm yourself,” Rasa commanded. A metallic hiss filled the room, silencing Ondori’s spiralling.

The Kazekage raised one hand, and the hiss stopped. “Thank you, Rasa. Ondori, do you have anything to report regarding the mission?”

“The mission?” Ondori took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes. Uh, a dozen Tani ninja led by a pair called Senko and Busshitsu attacked us and the Toad Sage’s students while he was distracted, and Sasori helped me blow them up with distressingly heavy ordinance. I think they thought we were trying to make an alliance with Konoha, and they took exception to that.”

“Apologies, Ondori-san,” Sasori said quietly. “If I had known what your plan was I would have only given you one instead of three.”

“And now we only have a fine red mist floating over River Country instead of anything we could turn in for a bounty,” the Kazekage finished.

Ondori frowned, then palmed his fist. “Uh!” He fished through his pockets and pulled out a singed eyepatch. “I have this? It’s got a seal on it. At a guess, I’d suppose it would block Senko’s flash technique, since I could still see it through my arm…” He set the patch on the desk.

“It’s something, at least,” the Kazekage relented. He let out a breath of air that, if the shinobi present had been feeling suicidal, they might have called a sigh. “You’re all dismissed. Gurosu, go to medical and enjoy your recovery leave. Sasori, go to Lady Chiyo. Ondori… Return to me tomorrow afternoon.”

Ondori jolted. “Sir?”

“I wish to speak to you about your mock puppets.”

He said it completely neutrally, but it still felt like a threat.

--------------------------------

Miles away, as they followed the caravan, Jiraiya rolled the white stone over and over in his hand. It had the same black line on it that, if he was being charitable, made it look like a toad’s eye.

He felt like a damn idiot. He could not believe that he let his guard down enough to let a B-ranked ninja from a minor village that didn’t even leave their home country get the drop on him. If he’d taken them seriously from the start he could have wiped them all out without a single injury. Now he was going to have to explain his new tan to Sensei.

Orochi and Tsutsu were going to laugh at him. And he deserved it.

“...wish we could go to Suna now,” he overheard, and Jiraiya focused on his students.

Nagato answered with a deliberately dull look. “But Yahiko, you heard the frog. They don’t get Rain in the desert.”

“Then maybe we should give it some!” Yahiko rested his sword on his shoulder. “If someone like Ondori came from there, it’s gotta be loads of fun!”

“That Gross guy came from there too,” Konan pointed out.

Yahiko’s face twisted. “Hm, good point. But Sasori seemed cool. Two out of three’s not bad.”

Jiraiya snorted loudly and put on a grin when they turned to look at him. “What’s this about, now? What, is the Leaf not good enough anymore?” he joked.

“Konoha is great, sensei,” Nagato promised. “But there’s not really much to do but train.”

“Sure there is!” Jiraiya exclaimed. “There’s the onsen, for one…”

Konan made a disgusted noise.

“Or the library, if that’s more your speed,” he amended. “I can tell you with certainty that Sand doesn’t have half the selection we do.”

“Eh.” Yahiko shrugged. “Be that as it may. I’ve never seen a show like what those puppeteers put together. And they did that on short notice, who knows what they could cook up with prep time?”

“There’s theatres in Konoha too.”

“And all they show are historical plays that bore me to tears,” Yahiko griped.

“They’re awfully… dry,” Konan agreed.

Nagato’s lips quirked. “And if we wanted dry, we’d go to the desert after all.”

Jiraiya chuckled. “I didn’t see much of the puppet show. Was it really that great?”

“It was different for sure,” Konan said.

“I thought it was funny,” Yahiko declared.

Nagato simply nodded.

“Hm.” Jiraiya thought. That Ondori character… the littlest redhead said the frog was based on him, Jiraiya. He must have left an impression during their previous encounter. It must have left the man thoroughly shaken, to act out his character during the middle of battle.

I don’t think I’ve ever driven someone insane before.

“Sensei?”

Jiraiya blinked. “Did I say that out loud? Er--” He slammed a hand onto Nagato and Yahiko’s shoulders, nearly sending them sprawling. “You know what, if it’s left such an impression on you three, maybe I can swing a diplomatic mission.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?” How to justify this… aha. “If I recall correctly, Suna will be holding their Chunin Exams soon… I bet I could convince Sarutobi-sensei to give us a covert recon mission.”

“Recon?” Yahiko made a face.

“It’s an important skill.” He suddenly realized something and smacked himself. “I’ve been so focused on your combat skills, I think it couldn’t hurt to make sure your stealth is up to snuff. After all, Hanzo is no joke. You want to plan a revolution, you’re going to need to know how to vanish when things go wrong.”

The Ame team conferred silently, then met his grin with looks of determination.

Seems they’re on board at least. He clapped. “Seems I’ve still got a few more lessons for you three after all. But! That’s for later. How do you kids feel about gambling?”

Konan gave him a flat look. “Sensei…”

“There’s this place called Tanzaku Gai between our destination and Konoha, and we’re in no hurry to get back. I was thinking we could have some fun…”

He managed to get Yahiko on board, and after that the other two were easy to convince. By the end of the day they were even visibly looking forward to a chance to unwind.

Maybe they still had time to be kids after all.

------------------------------------

Ondori stepped into his home and hung his apron up by the door.

He dragged a chair into his work area and set Wilkins’ eye on his table. Rowlf watched him motionless from the shelf.

Ondori dragged a hand down his face. A day of travel and a wake-up call from the Kazekage had knocked him out of his stupor but he was still shaken.

“Rowlf,” he said, not able to look into the dog’s eyes. “Rowlf, I’ve got bad news. Wilkins… he didn’t survive the mission.”

Rowlf didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t, he was just a puppet. Ondori sighed.

“What am I doing?”

Ondori became a shinobi because it was cool. He was a kid, of course he wanted to be a ninja. And he was good enough to make it all the way through the academy with adequate marks.

He became a puppeteer because he found the mechanisms fascinating, and he liked the smell of cut wood and enjoyed working with his hands. He liked building things, and the puppet brigade gave him the opportunity. But while he could make decent puppets, he wasn’t innovative enough to land a permanent place in the Workshop, which meant he had to take to the field to make a living.

Ondori had killed before. He never enjoyed it, and he avoided missions that required it, but there were always idiots who would attack a ninja unprompted and sometimes killing them first was the only way to survive. He never enjoyed it.

He stared at the stone on his table. He made Wilkins out of boredom. Ondori needed something to do, and he accidentally found something that he actually enjoyed. Did he even like being a shinobi? He didn’t think so, anymore, but he loved doing his shows.

Wilkins had been a part of him he hadn’t even known existed, able to do and say things Ondori would never dare. And now he was gone.

Rowlf stared at him.

“I know,” he said, to nobody. “But I can’t bring him back. There wasn’t anything left. His… him-ness would be gone.” Did that make sense? No. But it felt true.

Rowlf stared at him.

Ondori leaned back in his chair. “I need to think.”

He couldn’t do the show without Wilkins. But he couldn’t bring the frog back. He died a glorious death--somehow, he felt like Wilkins wouldn’t want to come back, after he tricked a pair of foes into blowing up. It wasn’t a bad way to go, as shinobi deaths went.

Though he was sure Senko and Busshitsu would disagree. Ondori wished he hadn’t heard their names.

Ondori shook himself. Wilkins was just a puppet. A mock puppet, if what Sasori said about the engineers’ gossip was true.

Ondori just needed to make himself believe it. His frog was dead.

He looked at Rowlf. It felt like he was being judged. “What do I do?”

Rowlf’s hand, resting in his lap, fell over. Hanging off the shelf, two fingers fell into the open position.

Ondori stared. His hand twitched.

And then he got to work. Wilkins was gone, but the show needed a frog.

He liked the sound of… Kermit.