By the time I was two, I was basically the mascot of the Puppet Repair bay. I was still a pint-sized health hazard prone to coughing fits and easily winded but I had way more energy than I did as a baby. I spent every waking second in my little wooden playpen, watching the world through the eyes of a thirty-year-old engineer.
The vibe in the workshop was always a direct reflection of how the war was going. It was usually a mix of high-octane stress, exhaustion, and that specific brand of gloom that settles over a place when the news is consistently bad.
Today, the workshop felt like it was under a heavy blanket.
The damaged puppets coming in weren't just broken anymore; they were mangled in ways that made my skin crawl. Some were covered in a bubbling, corrosive green slime. Others were smashed by what looked like literal tons of force, or half-dissolved as if they'd been dipped in a vat of industrial acid. The mechanics worked in total silence, the only sound the scraping of files and the low hiss of cleaning solvents.
Sharyu was at his bench, his face streaked with grease and sweat, using a pair of long-nosed tweezers to pull poisoned needles out of a charred wooden chest piece. He was moving slower than usual, his hands tight.
"You hear about the Rain?" a young courier whispered to a mechanic near my corner. The kid looked like he'd seen a ghost, his voice shaking. "It's bad... real bad. They said they ran into the 'Demi-God'."
The mechanic's file stopped mid-stroke. "The Demi-God?"
"Hanzo of the Salamander," the courier muttered, glancing around as if the name itself was a curse. "The chief of the Hidden Rain. They say our squads and the Leaf both got absolutely pulverized."
I felt my ears twitch. Hanzo. The name rang a bell from the series I remembered. A powerhouse. A guy so strong he was basically a one-man army.
Sharyu caught the whisper and shot the pair a look that could've melted stone. They shut up instantly and went back to work, but the dread stayed. It hung in the air like the dust, impossible to sweep away.
A few days later, a more official report filtered down through the ranks. Lady Chiyo walked into the repair bay, looking as stoic as ever, but there was a flicker of something new in her eyes. Respect? Maybe a little bit of fear?
She called Sharyu and the other squad leads over. She didn't seem to care that I was right there, quietly fiddling with some scrap parts Sharyu had sanded down for me. To her, I was just a toddler playing with blocks.
"The situation in the Land of Rain has been settled," she said, her voice carrying through the workshop. "Hanzo is every bit as dangerous as the rumors suggested."
The whole room held its breath.
"He single-handedly broke Konoha's main force," Chiyo continued. "Specifically, he crushed the trio they've been bragging about Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Tsunade."
There were audible gasps. Even out here in the desert, everyone knew those three. They were the rising stars of the war, the ones everyone thought would lead the Leaf to an easy victory.
"The fight was a slaughter," Chiyo said, sounding like she'd been there herself. "Hanzo's salamander flooded the entire area with poison. If it weren't for Tsunade's medical skills, they'd be nothing but skeletons right now. Even with their combined strength, they couldn't touch him. He moved like a ghost."
I gripped a wooden gear in my hand. Jiraiya, Orochimaru, Tsunade. This was it. This was the moment their legend started.
"So... did he kill them?" Sharyu asked, his voice low.
Chiyo shook her head. "No. Hanzo acknowledged their strength. He had them dead to rights, but he chose to stop."
The workshop went so quiet you could've heard a pin drop on a blanket. Mercy in a ninja war? It sounded like a joke.
"Why?" another lead asked.
"Because Hanzo is a leader first," Chiyo answered. "He's a pragmatist. He knew that killing them would only bring the full weight of the Leaf down on his country's head. He chose to make a point instead. He gave them the highest praise he could, he called them 'The Sannin'."
"The Sannin," Sharyu repeated, tasting the word.
"From today on, the name of Konoha's Three Sannin will shake the world," Chiyo finished, her tone unreadable. "And for us, that's not good news. The Leaf's reputation is only going to get bigger."
She left after that, leaving the room in a heavy silence. Everyone was stunned by the scale of the fight, terrified of what it meant for the future.
In my corner, I quietly set down my little wooden part.
So that was how it happened. Survivors of a meat-grinder, crowned by the very guy who tried to kill them. The logic of this world was brutal, but it was consistent.
I looked at the kunai my dad had sitting on the bench. I looked at the broken puppets, the grease on the floor, and the constant tension in my dad's shoulders.
In this world, power was the only currency that mattered. Without it, you were just a coin-flip away from being a casualty. My dream of building a Gundam? It wasn't just a hobby anymore. It was a survival strategy.
Hanzo, the Sannin... those names were like distant thunder. And here I was, a kid who couldn't even stand up without getting dizzy.
A sudden, fierce hunger flared up in my chest.
I needed to figure out this Chakra thing. I needed to learn the puppet arts. I didn't just want to survive anymore I wanted to build something that could stand up to the monsters Chiyo was talking about.
I looked at the pile of junk puppets in the corner. Somewhere in that scrap heap was the key to my future. I just had to find it.