Chapter 5 – The Divine Power of the Rat
Sasori's figure vanished completely into the dusk, leaving the warehouse entrance silent once more.
Moze remained where he stood, feeling the last warmth of the setting sun slip through the crack of the door.
Inside, the scent of wood and metal lingered in the air—yet now there was something else, faint but distinct.
His heightened senses caught it instantly: a subtle trace of lingering chakra.
The source… was in the corner of the warehouse.
Without betraying his thoughts, he strolled casually in that direction, his gaze sweeping over the empty floor until it settled on a shadow behind a pile of discarded timber.
There, no larger than a palm, a Sasori-shaped puppet lay motionless. Its metallic shell reflected a cold gleam in the dying light, and its tiny, glass-bead eyes were fixed squarely on the warehouse's center.
A thread of chakra—thin as spider silk and barely visible—stretched from it into some unknown distance.
What exactly is he up to…?
Moze's brow furrowed.
Sasori was on the verge of making his move against the Third Kazekage, yet at such a critical moment, he still had the time—and the mind—to keep tabs on an inconspicuous materials supplier like him?
Why now, of all times?
Was it because Moze had learned too much?
The orders Sasori placed were massive in quantity and varied in type. A sharp enough mind could guess certain things from the materials alone.
But Sasori was careful—he shouldn't have left such an obvious trail.
Unless… his need for control ran so deep that every possible variable had to be under his grasp.
Moze's mind worked quickly, possibilities flashing past in rapid succession.
He walked to the warehouse door, his hand closing over the cold metal handle.
The heavy iron door shut with a slow, groaning scrape before slamming with a deep clang, sealing away the dusk outside—and the prying eyes with it.
Back in the shop, the familiar surroundings allowed him to relax just slightly.
Being targeted was troublesome enough—more so when the one watching was Sasori, the greatest puppet master in Sunagakure… perhaps in the entire shinobi world.
"But you're too late…" he murmured.
Moze stepped to the counter, his hand brushing lightly over a delicate wooden puppet bird.
From his fingertips, pale blue chakra threads unfurled—denser and more resilient than ever before—winding with precision around the bird's joints and core.
Then, the divine power of the Rat talisman surged through his body, flooding into the chakra threads like a tidal wave.
This was a force brimming with the essence of life, utterly unlike the cold nature of ordinary chakra.
Click.
The puppet bird's wooden eyes shifted slightly, producing a faint mechanical sound.
Moze increased the flow, the chakra threads writhing like living things under his control, awakening the dormant structures within.
Chirp—chirp!
A dry, wood-grained cry rang out.
The bird gave an awkward flap, sending up a puff of dust.
Its movements quickly grew smoother, the beating of its wings stirring the air. Within its wooden body, it was as if a true heart had begun to beat.
Tilting its head, the puppet bird regarded Moze with its carved wooden eyes—eyes filled with curiosity for the one who had given it "life."
Moze withdrew his hand, a faint, easy smile tugging at his lips. The puppet bird hopped twice in testing, then leapt lightly onto his shoulder, its wooden beak gently tapping his earlobe as if to show affection.
The Sand's most gifted puppeteer?
The future "Sasori of the Red Sand"?
So what?
With the power of the Rat Talisman in his grasp, Moze feared nothing.
Unlike in Jackie Chan Adventures, where the Rat Talisman granted life yet left creations unbridled and chaotic, here things were different. Chakra itself was a fusion of life force and spiritual energy. This unique nature meant that the "life" he imbued naturally carried his imprint.
He could feel it clearly — the bond between him and this now-"living" puppet bird. It was as if new nerves extended from his mind into its small wooden frame. Every wingbeat, every tilt of its head, mirrored his intent with perfect precision.
Of course, such exquisite control wasn't without cost. A faint but steady trickle of chakra flowed from him into this tiny creation, like a kite tethered to an unseen string. With his reforged body and vastly increased chakra reserves, the drain was negligible — no more than a harmless background process.
But if he were to animate and control dozens at once, the burden would no longer be so light.
Still, Moze wasn't bound to this method. He could sever the bond at will, like snipping a puppet's strings. With a mere thought, he could cut away the mental imprint, leaving only the initial spark of life he had infused.
The result would be immediate and obvious: the puppet bird would no longer be an extension of his will. Instead, it would become an independent being, sustained by a faint, instinctive "animus" — much like the repeatedly revived Super Moose from Jackie Chan Adventures, the feathered guardian idol of Quetzalcoatl, or the stubborn, duty-bound Gnome Cop toy.
"That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing."
The chakra threads at his fingertips slowly withdrew. The once lively bird dimmed, its eyes losing their luster until, with a soft clack, it dropped onto the workbench, returning to lifeless wood.
Knowing the obsessive personality of Sasori, the Sasori of the Red Sand, Moze was certain of one thing: once a surveillance "eye" had been planted, Sasori would follow up.
By tomorrow at the latest, Moze calculated, he'll come knocking himself.
Of course, he could act first — perhaps even try to interfere with the imminent disappearance of the Third Kazekage, the event that would spark the Third Great Ninja War.
In theory, it was an ideal chance to stir the winds of history.
In reality, Moze knew his limits. Sharing power with his pirate counterpart had given him monstrous strength and recovery in this world, but that didn't make him a top-tier shinobi. His shortcomings in ninjutsu, intelligence work, stealth, and reconnaissance were glaring.
If Sasori could silently eliminate the Kazekage and cover his tracks so thoroughly that the Sand Village searched for decades without a clue, then his mastery of assassination, concealment, and erasure of evidence was already at its peak.
Moze was certain — there was no way he could tail Sasori without being noticed. Let alone find the meticulously chosen "grave" prepared for the Kazekage.
And honestly… what did the Kazekage's death have to do with him?
So for now, there was only one thing to do.
Wait.