Chapter 5: The Umino Squad
Tekudō's origins were similar to Sasuke's; both their families had immigrated as vassals to a great ninja clan. The Teku family, however, had been vassals to the Senju. While Sasuke's family could only sell fish, Tekudō's ancestors were swordsmiths for the most powerful clan in Konoha.
The Sarutobi had left their vassals to fend for themselves, but the Senju had been generous. The Teku clan grew alongside the Senju, gaining both wealth and a large population. Unfortunately, with the gradual decline of the Senju, the Teku family business began to suffer. As a result, a great number of their sons gave up their comfortable lives and chose to become ninja.
Others became ninja to earn a living by risking their lives. The Teku became ninja to buy their lives.
His general, Tekudō, was a prime example. Three large sealing scrolls were tied to his waist, packed with all manner of blades. On his other hip, his tool pouch bulged with several dozen exploding tags. He was a walking personification of arrogance.
In the low-level skirmishes that defined this front, there wasn't much in the way of sophisticated ninjutsu. It was usually a volley of kunai and shuriken followed by a close-quarters brawl. Victory often came down to who had better equipment, better stamina, and superior physical skills. And in a crisis, when retreat wasn't an option, it became a brutal exchange of wounds, a battle of attrition to see who could endure to the end.
This was the cruel reality of the battlefield, a furnace that forged strength through sheer survival. The genin were consumables, cut down like grass, their ranks replaced time and time again. The average life expectancy of a shinobi was less than ten years, and that was no joke.
Tekudō had survived this long thanks to the secret art of his clan: the Money Escape. At its peak, his technique, Money Release: Blade Manipulation: Heavenly Dance of a Thousand Blades, could turn even an elite chūnin into a pincushion if they weren't careful. He was a genius with ninja tools.
Sasuke knew this because he had guided Tekudō's development in that direction, inspired by his memories of Tenten and another ninja from his past life's viewing of Shippuden, a robust man also named Tekudō who was exceptionally talented with tools.
Tekudō's only complaint was that setting traps took time away from his "wives." He had a peculiar habit: he named every single one of his precious blades and cared for them as if they were his lovers. It was because of this obsession that Chōmi, the charming and kind-hearted girl on their team, had never managed to capture his heart.
In Tekudō's own words, how could Chōmi possibly be as cute as his sword-wives? She wasn't even as appealing as his exploding tag-wife, let alone his Fūma Shuriken-wife. He even had a steel cooking pot he'd affectionately named "Little Bi," who he also considered a wife.
After every meal, he would insist on washing the pot himself, embracing it and scrubbing it over and over, as if to wash away the guilt he felt for having "shared" her with the rest of the team. Once she was gleaming again, he would strap her to his back, confident that she would block any fatal sneak attacks from behind—which, to be fair, she had done on numerous occasions.
"Tekudō," Chōmi said sweetly after their meal, "let the girls handle the housework."
But how could Tekudō let another woman touch his "Little Bi"? He rebuffed her, scrubbing even harder. Ryo, seeing his goddess rejected again, shot Tekudō a look that could kill.
Observing the complicated, almost love-quadrangle-like dynamic of his squad, Sasuke felt the urge to kick Ryo's rear and have him give Tekudō his first kiss.
But before he could act, a flying shadow streaked down from the sky and landed on his shoulder. It was his summoning beast, a water bat. It chirped softly, transmitting a series of ultrasonic notes.
"Something's wrong," Sasuke's heart skipped a beat.
His relaxed demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold, murderous glint in his eyes. He leaped into a giant tree, climbing to the top and pulling out a handmade monocular. He scanned the horizon and saw it: flashes of fire and the sound of explosions coming from the Aoba Squad's patrol zone, less than three kilometers upstream.
The battle had found them after all.