On the plaza below, some Sand shinobi hurled kunai up at the sky in frustration.
The clay birds dodged with effortless ease.
A few jōnin tried to form seals to unleash jutsu, only to realize the distance was too great. They couldn't reach.
Someone roared, "Protect the village!"
But he didn't even know where to charge.
That helplessness, that humiliating sense of being looked down on, pressed down like invisible shackles on everyone's chest.
"Damn it…!"
A young genin clenched his fist so hard his nails pierced his palm, blood dripping through his fingers.
He craned his neck, staring at those four figures, eyes red-rimmed.
"Who are they?!"
"How… how do they dare…?"
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
In the ruins of the Kazekage Tower, Granny Chiyo leaned on her cane and stared up at the sky.
Her face looked frighteningly grim.
Not from fear, but from shame.
She'd lived more than seventy years.
She'd seen countless battles, survived countless crises.
But something like today…
Enemies circling overhead on clay birds, mocking them without restraint…
This was the first time.
"Sasori…" she rasped, voicing that name in a hoarse, low murmur.
"You traitor…"
Ebizō stood beside her, also staring upward.
A murky complexity flickered in his eyes.
He knew why Sasori had left the village.
He knew the child's obsession with puppet art.
He knew his pursuit of "eternal art."
He knew what had driven him to despair, and what had made him walk away.
But he hadn't imagined…
That one day, that child would return like this.
"Sister…" he said softly, and then didn't know what else to say.
Chiyo didn't respond.
She just kept her eyes locked on the Hiruko puppet, her grip on the cane tightening until it creaked.
And on the other side of the ruins…
Teizawa, his body spotless, lifted his gaze to the sky.
Those four figures still circled overhead.
Those four sets of eyes looked down from above.
As if they were staring at lambs waiting to be slaughtered.
Honestly, against someone like Deidara who could fight in the air…
The old Sand Village really would have been helpless.
In the original story, Deidara and Sasori strolled straight into Sand and "soloed" Gaara.
One of the Five Great Villages… reduced to watching, powerless.
That alone told you what level Sand used to be.
But now…
Everyone, the main event's here.
Teizawa's lips curved slightly.
Good.
He thought.
I was worried you wouldn't come.
If you don't come, how am I supposed to show everyone what the real Sand Village looks like?
Sand Village isn't what it used to be.
He stepped forward, the dark-gold robe trailing a long line across the rubble.
Up in the sky, the four figures seemed to notice him too.
Four gazes dropped at once.
They slammed into his upward stare head-on.
A silent collision.
Teizawa sneered and raised his hand slightly.
Just a simple motion.
Five fingers spread, palm facing the sky.
Like he was brushing away a speck of dust.
But in that instant, the air over the entire plaza seemed to freeze.
"All chūnin and jōnin," his voice wasn't loud, yet chakra carried it clearly into every ear.
"Protect the civilians. Evacuate the combat zone."
The moment the words fell…
"Hmmm…"
A low rumble rose from deep underground.
Everyone stared in shock as…
The collapsed chunks of the tower, the heavy boulders and broken beams that could have crushed people into pulp… began to float.
One piece, two pieces, ten, a hundred…
Thousands upon thousands of stones and shattered tiles.
As if lifted by invisible hands, they rose slowly into the air.
Under the sun, they cast broad moving shadows across the ground.
And beneath the ruins…
Ninja who'd assumed they were already dead appeared one after another.
Some stood there blankly, looking up at the massive stones suspended over their heads, their faces dazed with the numbness of survival.
Some looked down at their own uninjured bodies, touching their chests in disbelief.
Some looked toward the figure standing at the center of the rubble, and their eyes instantly turned red.
Not a scratch.
Not a single person was hurt.
"It's the Kazekage…" a young genin whispered, voice trembling.
"The Kazekage saved us…"
"The Kazekage already…" Another chūnin's eyes went wide as he stared at the floating debris.
"He controlled all of it from the start?"
From the moment the explosion happened?
The thought detonated in everyone's mind like a thunderclap.
Meaning…
From beginning to end, it had all been under the Kazekage's control?
"Yes…"
Countless voices answered at once.
Shaking with the rush of survival, and with feverish devotion toward that figure.
The shinobi moved quickly.
Escorting civilians, pulling back toward the edges of the plaza.
Clearing the battlefield for the people who needed to stay.
But their eyes never left him.
That figure in the center of the rubble, hand raised slightly, as if he held the world in his palm.
Up above, Deidara's expression stiffened.
"Wha…!" He stared down at Teizawa, stunned.
"He's… he's fine?"
"My art… my art actually…"
"Looks like your art doesn't work on him." Sasori's cold voice cut through Deidara's sputtering.
Those eyes visible through Hiruko's seams were locked on Teizawa now.
A dangerous glint flashed in the depths of his pupils.
Just a moment ago…
He hadn't sensed any chakra fluctuation at all.
Not ninjutsu.
Not a kekkei genkai.
But something more fundamental, more direct…
Control.
As if those stones had been that man's limbs from the very beginning.
What kind of ability is that?
Kakuzu's green eyes narrowed, puzzled.
But the hand hidden in his sleeve was already quietly forming a seal.
This guy… really isn't simple.
Hidan slung his scythe over his shoulder, his excitement not diminished in the slightest.
"Interesting! This is hilarious! A sacrifice this strong, I don't even know where to start!"
Before he could finish…
A gaze shot up from below.
It was calm like still water, yet it made Hidan shiver for no clear reason.
He looked down.
And met Teizawa's eyes.
There was no emotion in that stare.
No anger.
No killing intent.
Not even the heaviness of facing a powerful enemy.
Only… a kind of looking down.
He was clearly standing below. Clearly the one who should have to look up.
And yet the expression in those eyes… was unmistakably the expression of someone looking down at them.
Hidan opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But his throat felt dry.
Teizawa's gaze swept across the four figures overhead.
Then it passed over the civilians and shinobi retreating at the edge of the plaza.
Finally, it settled on the few who still stood their ground.
Granny Chiyo, cane in hand, her aged frame straight as a spear.
Ebizō beside her.
The fingers that had been stroking his beard had gone still without him noticing.
Temari gripped her giant fan, eyes locked on Teizawa.
Kankurō's hand pressed against his puppet scroll, his knuckles faintly white.
And the Sand jōnin.
All of them solemn, silent, staring.
Teizawa's mouth curved into a slow smile.
Good.
Everyone who should leave has left.
Everyone who should stay has stayed.
He lifted his head again, staring up at the four figures in the sky.
This time his voice wasn't calm.
It carried a chill, a hard certainty that allowed no argument.
"I hate talking with my head tilted up."
The instant the words landed…
His hand rose again.
"Here…"
Two words, like a sentence being read out.
"Flight is forbidden."
(End of Chapter)
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