The introductory scroll Granny Chiyo gave me was like a masterclass in puppet theory. It covered everything from basic skeletal structures to the way runes guide energy flow through wood. I inhaled the information, mapping it onto my old-world knowledge of robotics and mechanical stress. But the more I read, the more I realized how much was missing. There were gaps in the logic sections that assumed I had way more chakra or experience than a five-year-old. It was like trying to build a car with a manual that skipped the part about the transmission.
After a few days of staring at a particularly confusing diagram, I decided to go straight to the source. My dad, Sharyu, wasn't exactly thrilled about me bothering a village elder, but he eventually caved. He gave me the directions to Chiyo's place and told me about fifty times to be on my best behavior.
The high-rent district of Suna was quiet, with houses that actually looked like they were maintained. I found Chiyo's courtyard, took a deep breath, and knocked on the heavy wooden door.
The door creaked open just a crack. I didn't see the wrinkled, kind face of Granny Chiyo. Instead, I was looking at a kid.
He was young maybe only a few years older than me but he was paler than a ghost. He had shock-red hair and deep purple eyes that looked at me with total indifference. It was like he was staring at a piece of scrap wood.
I froze. I knew that hair. I knew those eyes. This was Sasori. The genius who would eventually turn people into dolls.
"Is... is Granny Chiyo here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from squeaking.
Sasori's gaze swept over my oversized, hand-me-down uniform. His voice was flat, totally devoid of any emotion. "No. What do you want?"
"I'm Sayo. She gave me a scroll, and I've got some questions about the joint schematics," I said, holding up the leather primer.
Sasori looked at the scroll, then back at me. There was a tiny flicker of something in his eyes maybe recognition? but it vanished instantly. "She's out. Probably won't be back for hours."
He started to close the door, but my eyes caught something through the gap. Behind him, in a room at the back of the courtyard, was a workshop. It was packed with tools, lathes, and half-finished puppet skeletons that looked ten times more complex than anything I'd seen in the maintenance bay.
"Whoa," I blurted out, my inner engineer completely overriding my survival instinct. "Did you build those? Those are crazy impressive!"
Sasori stopped. He looked at me again, actually focusing this time. I wasn't looking at him with the usual pity or fear people gave the "orphan genius." I was looking at his workbench like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
He stood there for a second, then pulled the door open. "Come in."
I followed him into the workshop. The air smelled like pine resin and industrial coolant. It was heaven. On the bench was a set of puppet limbs that defied everything I'd just read in the scroll. The joints were miniature, complex, and looked like they could move with human-level fluidity.
"This joint..." I whispered, leaning in so close my nose almost touched the wood. "It doesn't use a standard bearing, does it? Is that a composite design using elastic metal sheets? That would kill the friction issues, but the fatigue strength on those materials must be a nightmare to calculate."
I looked over at a metal plate with runes etched into an internal layer. "And you hid the circuitry inside the housing? That's genius it keeps the energy from dissipating during high-speed bursts. But how did you etch that without splitting the grain?"
I was geeking out. I couldn't help it. I was tracing the lines in the air, my brain doing a full CAD analysis of what I was seeing.
Sasori was standing behind me, and for the first time, he actually looked surprised. His mouth didn't move, but his eyes narrowed. "You can read the runes?"
"Only the basics," I admitted, looking up at him. "The scroll explained the theory, but what you've done here is way past the textbook stuff. It's... it's incredible work, man."
I looked at him, my eyes shining with genuine respect. "Senior Sasori... can I ask how you handled the stress load on the composite joint? And the energy guidance efficiency of the internal etching? I can't figure out the math on that."
Sasori stared at me. People usually came to him for favors, or to tell him they were sorry about his parents. Nobody ever asked him for a technical breakdown of his stress-load calculations.
He walked over to the bench, picked up the joint, and started to speak. His voice was still a monotone drone, but the words were pure gold. "Standard bearings are trash in the sand. They grind down in a week. I used elastic deformation to replace the rolling friction. It lasts longer, but you have to account for the material memory..."
He pointed to the runes. "External runes are a liability. If the puppet gets hit, the circuit breaks. Internalizing them increases the energy loss by about 3%, but the stability goes up by 40%."
He spent maybe fifteen minutes walking me through the physics. It was the best lecture I'd ever had. He was concise, logical, and didn't waste time on fluff. He spoke like an engineer, and I drank it in, mapping his "hacks" onto my own database.
Then, just as suddenly as he started, he stopped. He went back to that cold, indifferent mask and gestured to the door. "That's enough. You should go."
I knew better than to push my luck. I gave him a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you so much, Senior Sasori. That cleared up everything. I owe you one."
Sasori just gave a faint "Hmph" and turned back to his carving knife. He didn't look at me as I left.
I walked out of the courtyard with my head spinning. I hadn't even talked to Chiyo, but I'd just gotten a 1-on-1 session with the best puppet master of the next generation.
Back in the workshop, Sasori picked up a carving tool. He looked at the piece of wood in his hand, then glanced at the door where the scrawny kid had just left. For the first time in a long time, the silence of the room didn't feel quite so heavy. Someone had actually looked at his work and they had actually understood it.