The pangolin hulked over the giant tree stump, his (Kei was learning to tell) arms and shoulders bulging with muscle as he moved carved tokens across a carved relief map. A tight formation of hexagons probably represented pangolin forces, but Kei was at a loss as to the significance of the triangles, trapezoids and other shapes. Around them, smaller pangolins rushed back and forth, some adding tokens to the map, a few moving or removing them, and the rest etching notes into tablets or carrying materials.

“Sir,” Pandā gave a polite hiss, “the Summoner is here to see you.”

The pangolin whirled around with unexpected speed, the flail-like red and blue patterns of paint on his scales seeming to wave threateningly with the movement. “Summoner?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What do you want? Be brief. The skies over the Rat Clan are already growing pale.”

“I am here with an offer for the Pangolin Armed Forces. My team has recently developed new, cutting-edge technology which I believe you will find highly valuable.”

“Is that so?” the pangolin rested his claws on the relief map, eclipsing a small mountain. “No offence, but what can human technology possibly do that the Pangolin Clan can’t?”

“Build indestructible observation towers at any height in under an hour,” Kei said casually.

There was a crunch. Kei couldn’t help noticing several new valleys on the map.

“Summoner," the pangolin faced her directly, "I am Pantokikku, Taxiarch of Aerial Defence, and you may have finally given me something worth tearing myself away from all this damn strategising. Stay here, and I’ll get a meeting together.”

He raised his voice.

“Somebody get the Summoner a log!”

​ o-o-o-o

Kei had chosen a location outdoors that would provide plenty of room for her demonstration. Pandā cowered at her side, perhaps uncomfortable with the focused attention of a number of towering military superiors.

In addition to Pantokikku’s imposing form, there were three new pangolins. One, with a flat snout and streams of blue and yellow markings swirling around his body, watched her with tiny eyes. Another, a tall, thin pangolin with brown and grey camouflage patterns, was hunched forward as if ready to run. The third was short and squat, with small amounts of green paint, and odd flecks of darker colour, as if something else had been incompletely removed. She gazed at Kei balefully.

“This is Mori Keiko, the Summoner,” Pantokikku explained. “Summoner, these are Commissar Panteon,” he indicated the blue and yellow-marked pangolin, “Syntagmatarch Panoptikon of the Elite Scouting Unit,” the camouflaged pangolin, “and, ah, Pansofi of Logistics & Supply. They are here to—”

Pansofi cut him off with an upraised claw. “Hold it. How do we know this really the Pangolin Summoner? Have any of you verified her identity?”

“We have not,” Pantokikku rumbled, “but how else could a human be here? The Liaison could hardly summon somebody else.”

Pansofi rolled her eyes derisively. “How do you know he did? Did it happen in front of you? Did you even check that it really is him, and not a condor in disguise?”

Pantokikku gave a deep sigh. “Are you proposing that a condor infiltrated our forces, summoned the Condor Summoner here, at the heart of our power, and is now trying to present advanced weaponry before some of our best officers?”

“You wouldn’t see it coming at all, would you?” Pansofi concluded triumphantly. “We must apprehend the human now, before she unleashes some terrible shinobi weapon under the guise of her demonstration.”

Kei felt anger bubbling up within her. She had not come with what she considered a very generous offer, only to be—

Kei: Awareness vs Panoptikon: Tactical Movement said: Class C failure

The impact bowled both her and Pandā off their feet. Kei sprang up, ready to defend herself, but no further attack came.

“My bad, my bad,” Panoptikon grinned. “But now we know they’re not under any sort of ninjutsu disguise, right? And those sure weren’t the reflexes of somebody ready for trouble.”

Kei glared. “I will tolerate your assault in the spirit it was intended on this occasion, but I strongly advise you not to attempt it again, for your own safety.”

Panoptikon gave a hissing laugh. “No hard feelings, Summoner. Had to shut up Pansofi somehow. Don’t need a diplomatic incident, do we?”

“Panoptikon.” It was just one word from Panteon, delivered in a neutral intonation, but the scout moved back in line with the other pangolins instantly, and with no further commentary.

“She could be using hypnotic techniques against us,” Pansofi muttered. “It would be just like the condors to choose one of those human genjutsu mistresses as their summoner, treacherous bastards that they are. We could all be inside an illusion right now.”

“Why’s she here again?” Panoptikon asked helpfully.

“Department’s understaffed,” Pansofi said. “You should be counting your blessings that I happened to be the one here to deal with this security breach.”

“I believe we should move on,” Panteon said mildly. “Summoner, the demonstration?”

Kei had practised this part. Repeatedly. At Noburi. His feedback had been flippant but ultimately useful.

“Through sophisticated sealcrafting research,” she said in her most assertive voice, “we have been able to create towers that do not require structural support, can be built at any height given sufficient time, and are virtually impossible to move or damage with material force. I will now demonstrate how quickly such a tower can be constructed, and how effective it is subsequently.”

She reached for the first storage scroll.

​ o-o-o-o

Kei looked down. Panoptikon’s tail was tapping excitedly on the ground. Pansofi was on tiptoe, as if preparing to flee from bombardment. Pantokikku’s eyes were intent, and he was leaning forwards. Only Panteon seemed entirely unperturbed.

“They’d need to be modified for scale,” Pantokikku said half to himself, “and easier climbing access. If those seals on the ground are vital to the structure, they’d need to be guarded as the weak point…”

“You could hide them,” Panoptikon interrupted. “The condors get their tongues in a knot if they have to pinpoint static objects, and the seals are pretty small.”

Pantokikku nodded. “Combine them with a few ranged strikers… no, what am I thinking? Polemarch’s Claw Technique. Skimming Pebble Technique. Deep Impact Technique. You wouldn’t need spotters or rollers...”

Panoptikon’s tongue flicked in and out. “Clear lines of sight for miles... it’s beautiful. We could take the condors’ scouting advantage and stick it straight down their throats. By the Naraka Path, if you factor in comms, and get these things mass-produced, we could take the whole region!”

“If you are quite finished,” Panteon said, and the two fell silent instantly. “Summoner, who else has access to this technology?”

“Hidden Leaf on the Human Path,” Kei admitted, “which means the Toad Clan is likely to gain it at some point. However, we have no intention of sharing it with anyone else at present, and we would expect the same of you.”

“The Pantokrator made the Pangolin Clan to rule over the ground,” Panteon mused, “and to cast ourselves into the heavens might be considered heretical. After all, is it not taught that the freedom to fly has made the condors forget the concepts of loyalty and duty? And to manufacture seals would violate the Pantokrator’s ancient prohibition on sealcrafting on the Seventh Path…”

Kei had a strong sense that she was finally listening to the decision-maker of the group, and that he was much more dangerous than the other three.

“With that said,” Panteon continued, “I will admit that your invention is not without potential. With some effort, I might conceivably be able to persuade my peers that the Pantokrator’s injunction to be merciless to those who betray us, and our duty to the ancient ways of the clan, outweighs the risks of heresy, and that the pangolins’ inherent moral superiority over the condors would protect us. Then, too, if the Toad Clan already has this technology, then it is our responsibility as stewards of the Seventh Path to master it first, so that we may set the proper example of its use. Were you to produce more seals for us, we would not be trespassing on the Pantokrator's domain...

“But can I in good conscience invite a moral risk to the clan, knowing that it would also mean shouldering a material burden at a time when every resource is needed?”

Kei inwardly winced. The pangolin was clearly laying the groundwork to drive a hard bargain, and for all her respect for the clan, she was determined not to go home empty-handed. She was a ninja who contributed to the team, who earned at least a fraction of the impossible loyalty and generosity she had been shown.

Panteon spoke again. “The rest of you, any more... measured comments?”

Pantokikku tapped his claws on his thigh uneasily. “One problem occurs to me. We would be terribly exposed and vulnerable on those heights. Once the condors got used to the idea, they would simply knock us off.”

The objection was reasonable. Even humans required some means of emergency descent from the towers, and pangolins had much more mass and less aerial mobility. It was a weakness a flying enemy would have no difficulty in exploiting.

But Kei would not give up here. The team had faith in her. Mari-sensei had faith in her. If she failed now, what need did they have for a summoner at all?

The transaction had been Hazō’s plan. There was, clearly, an error in it. But it was a plan, and thus, she had the power to optimise it.

She hoped it would not be his last.

​ o-o-o-o

Earlier that morning…

“Just a little longer,” Hazō wheezed. “I’m nearly done working on a plan which should cover all our activities for the next few weeks, and by that time I’ll be able to use the knowledge we gain to make an even better one.”

“Hazō, did you sleep at all last night?” Noburi asked. “I didn’t hear you come back to your bedroll.”

“I’m fine,” Hazō said, the fatigue seeping through despite his best efforts. “And anyway, it needed doing. We don’t know how long we’ve got before some new crisis turns up, and we need to use this time efficiently to strengthen ourselves. Now please, let me get back to the training schedules—”

Mari-sensei snatched the stack of paper out of his hands and flipped through it.

“All right, let’s take a look. Keiko’s negotiations, yeah, I see, fine… Now what’s this ‘fugue’ part?”

“Gaah!” Hazō urgently grabbed the sheet of paper out of her hands. When no other options presented themselves to his hazy mind, he promptly rolled it up in a ball and ate it.

“What? Why are you all staring at me? That part of the plan wasn’t ready!”

The silence lasted for nearly a minute, the rest of the team exchanging worried glances, before Keiko finally broke it.

“Hazō,” she took a deep breath, “as I mentioned to you in Leaf, I believe your propensity for list-making has moved beyond the realm of adaptive caution and foresight, and grown into an maladaptive coping mechanism which provides addictive—and false—reassurance through the appearance of control over your situation. You—you're scaring us, Hazō."

What was she talking about? He’d always made lists for the team. And it always… nearly always… usually worked. It was his thing. Why was she getting worried about it now?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Keiko,” he said firmly, then yawned. “My lists aren’t some sort of coping mechanism. They’re what we need in order to have control over our situation—OK, fine, those are the exact words you used, but that doesn’t make them wrong! Our resources are limited, and if we don’t use them optimally, we don’t stand a chance in this increasingly chaotic world!

“And optimal plans are long-term plans. If we can get as much use out of the next few weeks as possible, then our survival chances go way up. How is that not obvious? Now, please, give me back my draft and let me get back to it. I still need to outline the rest of my suggestions for Keiko’s training regimen.”

Keiko looked helplessly to the people around her. Unexpectedly, it was Kagome-sensei who supported her.

“Hazō, there’s this thing that happens sometimes to sealmasters who’re under too much stress. It’s called Saviour Syndrome, and we don’t like to talk about it much. It tends to happen to sealmasters who lose too much too fast, or get stuck in a really bad situation with no way out for too long. They decide that if they can just invent the perfect seal, or perfect combination of seals, they’ll be able to make everything all right. So they lock themselves in the lab. They don’t eat. They don’t sleep. They just research and test. Research and test.”

Kagome-sensei gave Hazō a long, sad look.

“And it only ever ends one way.”

“Kagome-sensei!” Hazō sputtered. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into all this. I’m not pretending I can save the world just by creating the right seals.”

He stopped.

“I mean, that is my ultimate goal.

“But I’m not trying to accomplish it right now!” he hurriedly added on seeing the team’s faces. “It’s just that I finally have an opportunity to make a really good plan, a plan that’ll cover a lot of time and achieve a lot of things with it, and make everything better for us. We need to do this right while we have the time!”

“This is my fault,” Mari-sensei said quietly. “I should have caught this much, much earlier. Hazō, there’s nothing wrong with having coping mechanisms. Life sucks, and if you don’t find a way of shoving the suffering aside for a little while when you can’t take any more, then you go crazy and get yourself killed. That’s just how it is. Even the Kage have their vices.

“But some coping mechanisms only make things worse. I’ve been through a hell of a lot of those, so I know where you’re coming from, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice in time.

“This,” she hefted his incomplete masterwork, “this isn’t how healthy people relate to the world around them. Even the Mizukage doesn’t plan out his every action for the next month, as far as I know. It’s not saké, and it’s not mindless sex or drugs or self-mutilation or any of the other traditional means of hurting yourself in order to avoid pain, and I guess we should be grateful for that. But it’s still dangerous, and I can’t believe I didn’t realise it sooner.”

Hazō didn’t like where this was going.

“Please. Please just let me finish this one list. It’ll keep us going for the month, and we won’t need any more until we’ve got through it. Just one more list, and then I’ll stop.”

“I’m sorry, Hazō,” Mari-sensei shook her head. “I’m cutting you off. Kagome, I’ll need you to collect all the paper and writing implements in the camp.”

“You can’t do this!” Hazō insisted. “I’m fine! And we need those lists. We need someone to do the detailed planning, so that we have a core structure around which we can discuss and make decisions! We need a means of turning ideas into practical steps towards our goals! We need my lists!”

“No, Hazō,” Mari-sensei said. “Not as much as we need you. From now on, and until you’re over this, until you find better coping strategies, no writing without supervision. I’m still your team leader, despite everything, and I won’t let you destroy your health—physical or mental.”

“Don’t do this,” Hazō begged. “Planning is what I do. It’s my place on the team. Without my plans, I might as well not be here…”

“You really are an idiot, Hazō,” Noburi said with wry affection. “Who cares about your plans? Are you going to say that I might as well not be here without my endless charm and my ninjutsu? Or that Keiko might as well not be here without her brain the size of a planet?

“I can’t believe I’m saying this because it’s so sappy, but we’re your friends because of who you are, not because of what you do.

“Besides, you have like a zillion ways to contribute to the team. You may have noticed that the rest of us get by when we’re not using our specialisations. Scouting. Cooking. Freaking moral support. Clearly you don’t have a brain the size of a planet, because apparently you’ve forgotten that you’re a person first and a ninja second.

“And a planner something like tenth,” Noburi added almost as an afterthought, “because let’s face it, some of those plans…”

“Hazō,” Keiko said, “you mistake our purpose if you believe we wish to prevent you from pursuing your particular brand of intellectual activity. Nobody is asking you not to think. That would be preposterous. But your use of lists has outgrown its original purpose as a convenient tool and transformed into a dangerous addiction. We are asking you to cease using lists, and thus create plans that are more sensibly limited in scale, so that you may recalibrate your sense of control over the world around you, and find healthier means of managing it.”

“I still think you’re wrong,” Hazō said after a while. “It feels fine to me, and always has. I hope you realise how ridiculous this is sooner rather than later. And besides, do you realise how inconvenient it’s going to be if I can’t note down my thoughts in list form?”

“I’m sorry,” Mari-sensei said. “But this is for the best.”

​ o-o-o-o

​ Kei shook off the painful memory. She had never been on the giving side of an intervention before. It felt uncomfortable, and wrong, and presumptuous on a scale that beggared belief. Who was she to preach to anyone about dependence?

Setting those thoughts aside, she looked down at the pangolins, and beckoned.

With a grunt, Pantokikku picked up an enormous boulder, perhaps half his own size, and lobbed it straight at her. The speed and size of the approaching missile were terrifying, but Kei was able not to flinch. She had been expecting something of the sort—and she had faced down worse.

With an eerie lack of sound, the boulder bounced off the air dome around her. So did the next. And the one after it. And the ones launched against the rest of the tower for good measure.

When Pantokikku was finally satisfied, the pangolins came together in a huddle, clearly taking advantage of the distance and the air dome’s sound-blocking properties to speak without being overheard.

“Mori Keiko,” Panteon said when she finished climbing down, “in exchange for ten of your towers, and your word that they will not be offered to any other clan, we are prepared to grant you a new summoning contract.”

“And the air dome seals with which I protected myself?”

The pangolins exchanged glances.

“Those will be included in the deal.”

Kei gave him a skeptical look. “The towers and the air domes have independent value, and should be assessed independently. In addition to the summoning contract, you will provide me with three pangolin ninjutsu suitable for my use.”

Panteon gave her an unreadable look. “The pangolins cannot afford to make excessive sacrifices at a time of war. One ninjutsu.”

“The pangolins are always at war,” Kei said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. “And if I am reading between the lines correctly, the Condor Clan is mobilising, and may even have a summoner at last, in which case it is in your interest to empower your own summoner as much as possible. One ninjutsu, and the contract will be with a ranking military officer.”

Kei: Deal-Making vs Panteon: Deal-Making said: Class B success

Panteon tapped his claws together. “Done. And your argument is compelling. I will recommend that the Office of Morale approve further trades with you automatically.”

“You don’t smell right,” Pansofi hissed as the other three pangolins returned to their duties. “I’ll be watching you, ‘Summoner’.”

What was an irrational incompetent like this doing profaning the noble profession of logistician?

Kei looked sideways at Pandā. “Are all officers of Pangolin Logistics & Supply like this?”

“No,” Pandā said. “Pansofi used to be a high-up in Intelligence, but then there was a scandal, and, well…”

“Lies!” Pansofi shrieked. “All lies concocted by enemy infiltrators like you! I never hsshthled with anyone, never mind that Panmikusia! You say it again, and I’ll throw you to the driver ants myself!”

She stormed off, tail flailing.

​ o-o-o-o

​ “I’m sorry,” Pandā whimpered. “When they said they were going to have you make a pact with a ranking military officer, I didn’t realise they meant him…”

The pangolin in front of her was enormous, even compared to the four she’d met earlier, and extremely round in a way that looked like it had little to do with muscle.

“Ahh,” he rumbled, “finally the Summoner comes to pay tribute to Panjandrum, no?”

“Actually,” Kei said, “you have been assigned to form a pact with me. I have been instructed to tell you that this is your swiftest path both back into the action and into your superiors’ good graces.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Panjandrum gave a deep, long hiss that she thought indicated a belly laugh. “I’m just enjoying some well-earned time off. Only a fool pays attention to rumours and slander, no?”

“Indeed,” Kei said, warming to the pangolin slightly. She'd had enough of both at the Academy. “So what exactly are your abilities?”

“Why, have you not heard?” Panjandrum goggled. “I am a master of every military art, from combat to scouting to negotiation. You should feel honoured to be assigned to be my partner.”

“Nobody is perfectly well-rounded,” Kei said. “Surely you must have some sort of specialisation. What part of the military do you belong to?”

“Trivial details,” Panjandrum said quickly. “Not important for true warriors such as you and me, no? Hurry and make the pact with me, and you will not regret it.”

Kei had a very bad feeling about this.

​ o-o-o-o

​ “So,” the twitchy, long-clawed pangolin demanded as she examined Kei from every angle with no concern for her personal space, “how many elements you got, Summoner?”

Kei used the power of her will to lock down the squirming. “One.”

The pangolin staggered back in exaggerated shock. “A summoner with only one element?!”

Then she recovered. “Ahh, you must have of those Bloodline Limits. What is it? The Storm Element? The Blood Element? The Star Element?”

“It’s… Wind,” Kei said hesitantly.

“Ahh,” the pangolin said. “Ahh, you poor thing. I’m so sorry.”

The desire to squirm intensified.

“But don’t you worry,” the pangolin rallied, “They did the right thing sending you to me. Panpaipu, pleased to meet you. Don’t worry, I know lots of Wind ninjutsu, and I’ll find a way to make you a great fighter even with your… condition.”

“It’s perfectly ordinary for a human ninja to only have one element,” Kei scowled.

“Yes, dear, I’m sure it is,” Panpaipu nodded sympathetically. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. None of us can help the way we’re made.”

“Do you have any ninjutsu you can teach me or not?”

“Hmm…” Panpaipu paced around Kei a few times. “I have just the Wind technique for a scrawny thing like you. It’s great for bringing things to you from long range.”

“I can already do that,” Kei said exasperatedly. “Zephyr’s Reach Technique!”

She reached out and carefully picked up a small rock from among the roots of a nearby tree, then levitated it towards herself until it was in the palm of her hand.

“Ahh, you poor thing,” Panpaipu clucked. “Here’s how you’re supposed to do it. Pangolin’s Reach Technique!”

A barely visible line of chakra whipped out from her mouth, wrapped itself around a considerably larger rock, and pulled it into Panpaipu’s claws before Kei could take a breath.

“No need to look so surprised. Humans are dexterous but feeble, so it’s no wonder your technique is the same. Whereas pangolins are mighty and direct. Your enemy can be the most dexterous in the world, but what’s going to happen to her when you take away the weapons and tools she was counting on?”

Yes, Kei wondered. What did happen to somebody when you took away the tools they were counting on?