"Is there any news now?"
"Sorry, Kazekage-sama, not yet."
Sunagakure village, inside the Kazekage's office.
Rasa sat grim-faced at his desk, his fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest. The group of shinobi kneeling before him dared not meet his gaze. Days had passed, but still there was no sign of Pakura—no confirmation of life or death.
Meanwhile, Kirigakure remained unyielding, their demands clear and insufferable. They wanted Pakura. And Iwagakure… their movements grew larger every day. If things continued this way, the situation would spiral into disaster.
"These people are truly…" Rasa clenched his teeth. The word "useless" almost tore itself from his throat. He forced it back down, his composure barely intact.
"Continue searching with maximum effort." he ordered at last. "But we must retract some troops northward. We can't afford to sink all manpower into this one matter."
"We understand."
Helplessness weighed heavy on the shinobi's voices. None of them liked it, but they knew the cruel truth: in the struggle between villages, every resource, every soldier, every decision was measured like gold.
"Kazekage-sama!"
A sudden voice shouted from outside the chamber, followed by a desperate knock.
"Enter."
Rasa's frown deepened. The interruption was rude, but now was no time to care about etiquette.
The door slammed open, and a shinobi stumbled in, panting, sweat streaking his brow. He bowed low, voice tight.
"Urgent report!"
"Pakura?" Rasa's eyes sharpened with a trace of hope.
The shinobi shook his head. "Not only that… this is something even more terrifying."
Rasa's hope soured into frustration, but he forced patience. "…Speak."
The shinobi swallowed hard. "Reports confirm a large-scale battle in the central desert. One of the fighters… seems to wield puppetry on par with Elder Chiyo. And—" His voice cracked. "Eyewitnesses have seen the Third Kazekage's black iron sand!"
The words struck like a blade.
The entire office froze, then erupted into chaos. Faces paled, shinobi surged to their feet, and in an instant, they were rushing outside.
Rasa rose slowly, his fists clenched tight. His shadow stretched long across the Kazekage's office floor.
"…Damn it."
…
On the battlefield, Sasori's eyes burned with fury. He glanced from the approaching wave of Sunagakure reinforcements to the two pests in front of him. His teeth clenched.
The trouble caused by these brats was more than he'd expected.
The moment the first flare had gone up, he'd wanted to retreat. But Hidezawa and Shisui had blocked him at every step.
Fast, skilled, and relentless. The smaller one—the one who had dared to fire that accursed signal—stood boldly atop a earth dragon, grinning as though he were mocking Sasori's art. Rage seethed in Sasori's chest.
That brat had ruined everything.
If Sasori ignored them, they harassed him with Earth-style and other tricks, never letting him move freely. But when he turned to crush them, they tangled him further, buying time for Sunagakure's forces to close in.
He could already feel the encirclement tightening.
"…Die!"
His fury boiled over. Sasori's fingers twitched, chakra threads singing through the air. Puppets trembled in unison, then surged forward.
*Crack, crack, crack!*
Blades flashed, kunai whistled, and the sky blackened as a wave of puppets poured toward Hidezawa.
'Tch. I really should've learned some Fire-style.'
Hidezawa's scalp prickled as shadows swarmed over him. Fire-style wasn't the deadliest for killing, but as an area-denial tool it was superb. Unfortunately, his points had gone elsewhere—mostly into building his physical prowess.
Not that he regretted it. 'Even if ninja battles don't rely on muscles alone, high physical strength is mandatory for great chakra reserves. Even Guy has great reserves. But without good jutsu, my reserves, my physical edge wouldn't mean much either.'
He exhaled, tightening his grip. 'But compared to long-range? I'm not afraid of close combat.'
The earth dragon roared, turning its massive body to shield him. Puppets clanged against its hide, weapons scraping sparks across stone.
*Clink-clank!*
When the barrage ebbed, Hidezawa burst forth, sword in hand. He snatched a fallen ninja blade and cut a sweeping arc.
"Konoha-ryū ∙ Hazy Moon!"
The blade split into afterimages, slicing clean through several puppets. Fragments rained to the sand.
*Rumble—!*
Hidezawa slammed a palm against the dragon's flank. Sharp stone spikes erupted outward in a forest of jagged death, shredding dozens more puppets instantly.
Shards littered the battlefield. Broken limbs, shattered faces—Sasori's creations were torn apart in a storm of dust and rock.
But still, more came.
Hidezawa's blade danced again and again, his movements a blur. Puppets crashed to the sand around him, strewn across the stone dragon's body like discarded toys.
He paused for a heartbeat, his breath steady. 'This can't go on. Both the LV3 Curse Mark's, and Yin Style is active, but chakra's burning too fast. Even if my body can keep up, my reserves won't.'
He cut down another puppet with a clean slash, then glanced past Sasori. Reinforcements—Sunagakure shinobi, dozens of them—were only a hundred meters out. They were spreading to encircle, unaware they were walking into opportunity.
Hidezawa's lips curled.
"You've been watching for so long. Isn't it rude not to lend a hand?"
He slashed another puppet in half, then drove chakra into the dragon.
*Roar!*
The massive stone dragon bellowed, its voice shaking the air. Then it turned and hurled its bulk straight at the incoming Sunagakure troops.
"Huh?"
The shinobi froze, eyes wide. The ground quaked under the dragon's charge.
"Get out of the way!" someone screamed.
Too late.
*Boom—!*
The dragon slammed into their formation, the impact detonating in a storm of sand and stone. A shockwave ripped through the desert, blasting shinobi off their feet.
Dust and gravel filled the air. Screams tore through the chaos as stone fragments slashed skin and armor alike. The front line of Sunagakure's force collapsed instantly, some crushed beneath the dragon's weight, others shredded by flying debris.
Hidezawa watched it all, his senses flaring. His chakra perception caught movement—strong signatures closing in from the distance. Several, fast. He narrowed his eyes, surprise flashing across his face.
'So they've sent the big names already?'
"Die!"
Sasori roared, hurling everything forward. The Third Kazekage puppet surged with iron sand, an avalanche of weapons and constructs descending in a suffocating wave.
The oppression was crushing.
But Hidezawa didn't flinch. His hands blurred into seals.
"Sage Art ∙ Yin Style ∙ Earth Rising Spear!"
The desert exploded upward. Countless stone spears shot into the air, turning the dunes into a forest of razors. Puppets were impaled by the dozens, torn apart in an instant. Even Sasori's face twitched, his hands snapping to reinforce the Third Kazekage's defense.
Iron sand whirled desperately to block the onslaught.
Hidezawa dashed forward, smiling beneath his mask even as the chaos roared around him. He looked directly at Sasori.
"Sasori-dono," he said lightly, "I'll leave the rest to you. After all—your grandfather Ebizo has arrived."
"…."
Sasori's eyes narrowed, his gaze sinking into shadow. His voice was low, venomous. "…So you know who I am?"
"Of course." Hidezawa nodded easily. "As Danzo-sama's subordinate, I know very well."
He turned, waving as if dismissing a guest. "It seems you'll have a hard time leaving, so I'll take my leave here. And by the way—Danzo-sama asked me to say hello. Farewell."
Without waiting for a reply, he sprinted off into the haze.
And at that moment, Sunagakure's Anbu poured onto the battlefield, encircling the Akatsuki puppet master.
…
Meanwhile, outside the Kazekage building.
A bespectacled youth stood quietly, watching as Rasa and his elite shinobi departed. The Kazekage's office, now half-abandoned, loomed behind him.
The boy's eyes gleamed faintly behind his glasses. After a long silence, Yakushi Kabuto took a slow step forward.
*****
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