Sown

forty

Night fell before anyone had time to notice. Still locked into battle, the Fifth Division continued tirelessly against Kimimaro and Chiyo before the two suddenly grew still, drawn into wooden coffins sprung from the ground. Gone without so much as a single word, the samurai stayed on edge, concealing themselves behind trees and keeping their heads on a swivel.

"We don't have any idea what they may be planning in the dark of night, so stay on your guard at all times," Mifune ordered. He received several affirmations in response. The samurai split into groups, reporting to their respective kumigashira.

Hanae leaned against a tree, her back against the bark and her helmet held under her arm. She counted the men who lined up before her, a pant punctuating each number. Of the 140 samurai she commanded in the Honjin only 87 stood before her. She greeted every one and commended them for their hard work before structuring them in pairs to run 30 minute rotating look outs. "Sleep while you can and please make sure to drink some water. We continue at dawn." Dismissed, the men dispersed themselves as she headed into the clearing.

Nearly all of the bodies had already been removed from their ivory bonds. The corpses lined the sides of the clearing, their hands crossed on their chests and their helmets propped just above them. Most of these men were from the kaze-gumi. Citizens of the Land of Iron had a propensity towards wind release affinity, making the kaze-gumi the largest in the Fifth Division. Thus, it only made sense that Hanae, as their captain, suffered the most casualties. While it made sense, it didn't ease the pain.

Every hilt marked by a purple cord was another blade through her heart. She mourned the souls lost, taking in their faces, burning them into her memory. They would be given a proper burial worthy of the honor they had shared on the battlefield. Offering a prayer, Hanae made her leave back into the trees.

Passing multiple campfires, the woman nodded in greeting to the men she standing guard. Towards the center she happened across Kankuro. He sat leaning against a tree, one hand on his knee and the other resting on the barrel-shaped puppet at his side. "How are you holding up?" She laughed lightly as she shinobi jumped. It was nice to scare someone instead of being the one scared all the time.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks," he murmured. "I really owe you guys one."

"Think nothing of it," Hanae hummed and knelt beside him. The change in height finally allowed Kankuro to see her face. "So there are shinobi who can control puppets, huh? What will they think of next?"

The teen turned from her to the Black Ant puppet resting to his right. It was wrapped in thick metallic cord and plunged with a single sword. Sparks would dance from the hilt, a parting gift from Omoi to ensure Deidara wouldn't act on any wild artistic streak. "Yeah, this is one of the puppets I control. I've had it since I was a kid."

Hanae leaned forward to get a better view of said ninja tool, "how does it work?"

"We puppeteers mold our chakra into threads and attach them to the joints of the puppet. By doing so we can control their movement." As if to prove his point, Kankuro stretched his arm out in front of him towards the forest. Hanae watched in wonder as thin blue streams of chakra snaked from his fingertips and into the foliage, each returning with a twig attached to the end. He flicked his fingertips and the threads disappeared, dropping the sticks into the fire before them.

"Oh wow," the samurai mused. "That's really beautiful. Like an art."

The pair lept when Black Ant began to rattle violently, garbled yowls and threats emanating from within.

Kankuro pushed the blade's handle an inch further into the casket, effectively silencing the captive. "That's my captive, a member of the Akatsuki. He's a real pain in the ass that turns clay sculptures into explosives. Calls it art."