It was on a bright, sunny Suna day that we found our hero Rokumaru browsing through the stalls and stands of the Grand Bazaar, as if there was any other sort of weather that came to Kaze no Kuni. If you were a pale person in Suna, it was really a defect in your genetics or habits that was to blame. More than likely a genetics problem for Rokumaru as his days were always spent out in that merciless sun either training, wandering around or reading old books in the quest for cataracts. But that was not the reason for which we found our handsome and masculine young Sabaku walking through the crowded financial district of Suna.

No, he was looking for ways in which to increase his understanding of the proud Sunagakure tradition of shinobi puppeting. His skills as a shinobi were mainly in Ninjutsu as that was the art required to be able to wield and craft the sand around himself into useful Sabaton techniques, but one of his most important interests were learning about and using the wooden or metal constructs affectionately called 'puppets' that his village was famous for. As someone without the necessary strength to be a Taijutsu or Kenjutsu specialist Kugutsu was the next best thing; through expert and well-honed hand movements a user could have another separate entity that made up for their lackluster close-combat abilities. Rokumaru was used to having poor strength and dexterity needed to use other arts, much like many of his clan, and knew he needed a puppet or two to defend himself and supplement his combat abilities.

He wasn't the most wealthy of ninja to be found; though his clan were numerous and influential, they required each and every young Sabaku who became a shinobi to build a solid work ethic and not expect a handout every time they needed it. What few missions Roku did embark on went entirely to tutors to train him in useful jutsu, leaving very little for something like a cheap puppet. Still, he didn't need to have one of his own and practice hands-on to improve his ability to wield them. Build one of their own, watch someone else practice and ask questions, didn't really matter fam.

Rokumaru went from stall to stall, store to store asking about different details involving the process of creating a puppet and the types of people who came to buy one. As the village that revolutionized using puppets in combat the practice was very common; even a few talented civilians could make chakra threads and use the constructs for work and pleasure. If a shop-owner was getting impatient from the constant questions Roku would just have to flash his gourd he carried today or do a little Sabaton demonstration, as the Sabaku held stock in many stores across the village and a humble shop keep wouldn't want to offend someone from the clan. To say Roku was a privileged little guy wasn't accurate enough.

He found himself in a stone and brick building in the outskirts of the Bazaar, a humble establishment with a simple wooden sign hanging out front rather than having people paid to advertise the business in the center of the Bazaar where activity was the most concentrated. It's door was unadorned and wooden rather than a secure iron, and Roku felt himself drawn to the simplicity of the place. Stepping inside he smelled the aroma of shaved wood, signaling the store created its own puppets rather than buying and refurbishing old ones. Any proud puppeteer could appreciate that.

The proprietor of the shop was a hunched-over old man with significant energy for his age, spying the gourd in Roku's back and eager to make a good impression in a young Sabaku. It was early in his career that Roku discovered he would get special treatment if he made his identity known, often transforming gruff cashiers into eager, excitable people ready to increase the reputation of their establishment. But something told him this old man and his shop was different; he didn't lavish praise on the Sabaku clan, didn't offer Roku to test out the products before he bought them and certainly didn't kiss his ass in any way.

It seemed more likely this old man truly cared about what his business did and treated every customer the same way. He hobbled over with a simple wooden cane in hand and greeted the Genin. "Welcome to the String of Sand", the old man said in a voice ravaged by either time or alcohol. "We have a very wide variety of puppets a shinobi such as yourself could use!" With his cane the man tapped Rokumaru's hitai-ate pointedly, and the boy couldn't feel any anger over the amusement he currently felt.

"My sincere apologies, elder, but I am not in the business of buying today. I am instead just browsing around for a reliable shop to buy from in the future." Roku certainly hated that he didn't have to funds to buy today, but he was arrogant enough not to let that stop him from looking.

"Elder, bah!" The old man said suddenly, surprising Roku. "You're speaking to Chikamatsu Arata, only the greatest puppeteer of my mostly-dead generation! I can see you are a Sabaku but I demand the respect I deserve!" The old man certainly was lively, and loud. He could see why the man lived up to the name Arata, in the old language meaning 'fresh' or 'new'.

Upon hearing the name Chikamatsu, Roku could feel himself humble greatly; it was the only other clan, except for perhaps the Ningyou, that he felt an unending amount of respect for. It was older than his own clan and had supplied countless legendary shinobi for the village.

But as soon as the old man declared that he moved past it, before Rokumaru could offer any sort of apology. "Well if you aren't here to buy, you better be here to learn! Now step back here into the back area, there are actual paying customers you're taking up space for!" With his cane Arata smacked the back of Roku's knees, stumbling the boy and forcing him to move in the direction Arata demanded. Several smacks later Roku found himself in the back of the shop with a door closing behind him, where he saw three long tables with wooden puppet parts being sanded down by young people lost in concentration. It almost took his kind off the soreness of his legs.

Arata called out a name sharply and a young woman answered immediately, ordering her to watch the front of the store while he showed Rokumaru around. Roku was about to say how he didn't want to burden anybody by his prescience but the first syllables out of his mouth were met by another smack from the cane.

"Now," said the old man as he fondled his cane, "tell me your name, Sabaku. You know mine so it is only polite."

"Sabaku Rokumaru, sir!" Roku couldn't get the words out fast enough, his mind racing. "Is it true you fought off two Iwa-Jounin with just an old Karasu puppet? No modifications or anything?" The Karasu was an old design of a puppet used by a powerful puppeteer from his ancestor the Godaime's time, often the first one any prospective Kugutsu-user obtained. The fact it was a few dirty rock-nin made it even more impressive.

Arata smiled as he remembered that encounter. "Those Iwa dogs were drunk out of their minds on booze, it's not even worth mentioning. Now!" He herded Roku along with his cane as the two approached a table where a young man was busy sanding out the fingers in a puppet's hand. "The only reason you would come here without ryo," and he spared a glare at Roku which caused the boy to slouch considerably, "is to learn about the practice or puppetry. Why else would you come to a master of the craft's shop?" Arata smacked the hand of the boy working on the puppet, demanding he smooth out the blockiness of the fingers.

Roku felt himself at a loss. "Well, Arata-sama, I did not actually know this was your shop." Few people warranted the use of the old honorific -sama from Roku, but this old grizzled Chikamatsu was one of them.

If the old man was insulted, he didn't show it. Instead he smiled to himself like he was familiar with this situation. "Then count yourself lucky you stumbled on it when you did." The old man tapped Roku along as the two made their way to a small office with a window to watch over the workers' progress. He shut the door behind Roku and sat himself in a wheeled chair in front of a desk stacked with all sorts of paper, and Rokumaru settled himself into a simple wooden chair along the wall across from the door. He shifted the straps of his heavy gourd of his shoulders and placed it in his lap.

Arata sifted through the papers on the desk quickly before disregarding them entirely. He turned to Roku, opening his squinted eyes for the first time to show brilliant blue orbs seeping with intelligence, studying the common gourd Roku held before turning them to the boy's face. "Let me make this clear to you, Rokumaru: not every little Suna-nin who walks through my doors gets this experience I'm letting you have. If you weren't carrying that gourd around or had the crimson hair of the Sabaku, I would've tossed you out the entrance as soon as you said you were broke. Don't think I'm too old to do so," Arata warned as his eyes returned to their slanted appearance. When Roku felt the man's gaze upon him, he detected a slight hint of warmth to it.

He had to know for sure. "Master Arata," Roku said quietly, " why have you brought me to this office? What does me being a Sabaku have to do with anything?" Rokumaru had been tossed out of a few stores after declaring he had no money and wanted to simply browse. Especially the store his love Kiwa worked at, with that crotchety old smith that was her father.

Arata did not speak for a few moments. Roku felt a bit uncomfortable, but allowed the old man to collect his thoughts. After what seemed to be a long while, Arata explained in a quiet voice. "I once met a young Sabaku woman who was much like yourself. Get that look off your face!" he yelled as Roku looked shocked at being compared to a girl, much less a family member of his. "You wish you had her beauty, the love of life she exuded from every action she took."

"I see her in every bit of detail I see in you now, Rokumaru." The old man seemed so different from how he was in the front of the store, tired and defeated rather than seething with energy. "Her hair was that same color tied up in a long ponytail, her bangs spilling over her headband. She dragged her gourd around without a single complaint even though the sweat dropped down her alabaster skin. I see everything of her in you, those sharp red-brown eyes, that look that yelled out how she was better than everything and everyone around her. All that is missing is that shape of her body. How soft that chest was, how irresistible that rear was." The old man was lost in his memories, and Rokumaru would have been lying if he himself wasn't feeling a bit frisky from the way Arata described her.

But Roku had to clear his throat to interrupt the old man's thoughts. "It sounds like what you're telling me is you once loved a member of my clan, Arata-sama." Roku felt himself wither a bit under the old man's glare. "Are you saying you just brought me here to reminisce on an old booty call of yours?"

The cane laying across Arata's lap was in his hand in an instant, slamming down on Roku's head hard enough to leave an immediate migraine in the boy. "That 'booty call'", he hissed as Roku held his head in pain, "was the love of my life, boy. That 'booty call' was supposed to be the mother of my children, the woman I would grow old with. She was a greater shinobi than you could ever hope to be, BOY!!!"

The anger in Arata immediately shifted to a sadness that aged the man to an ancient degree. A few moments of silence gave Roku time to rub out a bit of the pin that crashed through his head. If anything it told the boy he was treading on very personal territory for the old puppeteer.

When the old man did speak, it was in a quiet voice. "I don't want you to end up like she did, boy. She could have used the puppets that I make today. Maybe she would be here if she had them." Before Roku could answer that Arata dropped himself off his seat and poked Roku out the door of his office, herding him towards the front of the shop as he spoke. "You need a teacher in puppets, boy, and you found the right man to teach you. Come back when you have even a shoddy puppet," and he pushed Rokumaru out the door of his shop, "and we can get started. Don't come back until then."

With that he left Rokumaru standing there in front of the shop, confused about what happened but even more curious about Arata's relationship with the Sabaku woman.