The moon hung low over the desolate stretch of desert, its cold light casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. The factory—an old, crumbling structure—stood as a symbol of the last vestiges of industry within this corner of the Land of Rivers. Inside, several Sunagakure ninja were stationed, their vigilance a thin veneer over the war-weariness that had settled upon their village. They had no idea of the storm about to break upon them.
Sakumo Hatake, his presence a whisper in the desert wind, moved with his elite ANBU team under the cloak of darkness. He was a blade honed for such moments, his mind already dissecting the target, calculating the swiftest path to mission completion.
"Perimeter first. Silent takedowns. We secure the explosives' placement before alerting anyone inside," Sakumo ordered, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the night air.
Shinnosuke nodded, relaying the command with hand signals. Taji and Hyou melted into the deeper shadows, their forms becoming one with the night, circling towards the rear guard posts.
The first Suna sentry, leaning against a crumbling wall, never saw Taji approach. A flicker of movement, a hand clamped over his mouth, and the cold bite of steel across his throat. He was lowered soundlessly. Hyou, with his shadow manipulation, ensnared another guard patrolling the rooftop, pulling him into the darkness without a sound.
Sakumo and Shinnosuke moved towards the main entrance. Two guards stood there, their conversation listless. Sakumo was a blur. Before they could even register his approach, his tanto, "White Light," flashed twice. Two neat lines of crimson appeared on their necks, and they crumpled without a cry.
"Kagura, with me. Shinnosuke, Hyou, Taji – plant the charges. We have five minutes before the Kazekage's expected arrival according to Genno's intel," Sakumo stated, his gaze already sweeping the factory's interior.
Inside, the factory was a hive of activity, albeit a subdued one. Ninja sorted scrolls, maintained equipment, and kept watch. Sakumo and Kagura moved like ghosts. Kagura, with a poisoned senbon, incapacitated a technician hunched over a console. Sakumo dispatched two more guards with swift, economical movements, his blade a near-invisible extension of his will.
Meanwhile, the other three ANBU members worked with chilling efficiency, placing explosive tags at critical structural points. The factory was larger than anticipated, and the layout more complex.
"Time's getting tight," Hyou murmured, his shadow tendrils carefully affixing a tag to a high support beam.
Just as Taji placed the final charge near a massive generator, a sudden, oppressive chakra signature washed over the area. Sakumo's head snapped up, his instincts screaming.
A gust of wind, laced with fine sand, swept through the desert night. From the deeper shadows beyond the factory perimeter, the imposing figure of the Third Kazekage emerged. His cloak billowed, his single visible eye burning with an intensity that matched the harsh desert landscape.
Sakumo's team froze, their tasks momentarily forgotten. They had anticipated his arrival, but the sheer weight of his presence was palpable.
The Kazekage's voice, calm yet resonant with authority, cut through the night. "I came to oversee this operation personally. It appears I've arrived just in time to deal with some unwelcome pests."
The Third Kazekage considered his plan for Tanigakure brilliant. Suna was losing the war against Konoha; heck, they weren't even a strong second. Iwagakure, despite their supposed focus on Ame, had already achieved a victory Suna could only dream of: the conquest of Uzushiogakure, a land of immense wealth and invaluable fuinjutsu. They were feasting while Suna starved. This war with Konoha, for Iwa, was merely adding dessert to an already lavish meal.
And Suna? They would gain nothing. He, the Third Kazekage, lauded as the strongest in Suna's history, would be a laughingstock. Even Hanzo of Amegakure, leader of a minor village, could boast of repelling two great nations and defeating Konoha's famed Sannin—a title Hanzo knew, as did other Kage, was born from shame and loss as much as power.
Tanigakure, however, offered a lifeline. This unassuming village held the key to disrupting Konoha's trade routes. Securing it, either through alliance or conquest, would allow Suna to strike at Konoha's economic heart, evening the odds, and perhaps, salvaging his reputation. This factory was merely the first step.
But as he surveyed the scene of silent takedowns and the Konoha shinobi now revealed, his gaze landed on a figure standing near the factory entrance, seemingly frozen in fear. Genno. The man he had entrusted to finalize the Tanigakure alliance. The man whose betrayal now screamed louder than any explosion.
A dark, silent fury radiated from the Kazekage. His fists clenched, his lips thinning into a bitter line. "Genno," he growled, the name a venomous curse. "You were to be my instrument here. Instead, you chose the path of a rat."
Genno trembled. He had weighed his options. Tanigakure, caught between giants, was destined to become another Ame, a perpetual warzone. Suna's offer was a gilded cage. Konoha, however, had offered him a future: a place in their village as a respected blacksmith, and a chance for his eight-year-old son to attend their famed academy, to receive training and opportunities far beyond what Tanigakure, or even a Suna under duress, could provide. The life of a ninja was a brutal gamble, but in a major village like Konoha, the odds were better. For his son, he had made his choice. Now, he might pay the ultimate price.
The Kazekage's eye locked onto Genno with an intensity that promised a painful death. "You, and these Konoha dogs, will die here." The air crackled with his rising chakra.
Sakumo stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "It seems negotiations are off the table, Kazekage."
Shinnosuke, Hyou, Taji, and Kagura fanned out, their training taking over.
The Kazekage's attention snapped back to the Konoha team. "Indeed. Your interference ends now."
The Fight Begins
In an instant, Shinnosuke Sarutobi, eyes blazing, slammed his palms to the ground. "Fire Style: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet!" A roaring torrent of flame erupted, twisting into the shape of a dragon as it hurtled towards the Kazekage.
The Kazekage merely raised a hand. "Sand Shield!" A dense wall of black sand solidified, absorbing the dragon's impact with a concussive boom. Sand rained down, but the Kazekage stood unscathed. "Predictable."
Hyou Nara's hands were already a blur of seals. "Shadow Imitation Jutsu!" Tendrils of shadow snaked across the desert floor, seeking to ensnare the Kage.
"Futile." With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, the Kazekage manipulated the sand beneath Hyou. "Sand Tsunami!" A wave of iron-laced sand surged, not to crush, but to disrupt, forcing Hyou to leap back, his jutsu broken.
Kagura, a whirlwind of grace and lethality, darted in, her kunai aimed for a perceived opening. "Crescent Moon Dance!" Her Gekko clan style was a flurry of slashes designed to overwhelm.
The Kazekage met her advance with a precise gust of wind. "Wind Style: Iron Sand Bullets!" Tiny, razor-sharp particles of iron sand shot forth, peppering Kagura's advance. She twisted, deflecting some, but several scored cuts across her arms and legs, forcing her to retreat.
Taji, seeing an opportunity, slammed his fist into the earth. "Earth Style: Bedrock Coffin!" The ground around the Kazekage erupted upwards, massive slabs of rock attempting to encase him.
The Kazekage simply sank into the sand beneath him, vanishing from sight. He reappeared instantly behind Taji, a spear of hardened iron sand already thrusting towards Taji's back. "Iron Sand Spear!"
Taji spun, deflecting the spear with a reinforced forearm guard, but the force of the blow sent him skidding back, his arm numb.
"Enough games," Sakumo's voice cut through the chaos. He stepped forward, "White Light" now unsheathed, its polished surface reflecting the grim moonlight. "Your fight is with me."
The Kazekage met his gaze, a predatory smile touching his lips. "The White Fang of Konoha. I've heard the whispers. Let's see if the legend holds any truth."
Sakumo didn't reply. He moved. One moment he was there, the next he was a silver streak, "White Light" aimed for the Kazekage's throat.
The Kazekage reacted with astonishing speed, a whirlwind of iron sand forming a spinning shield. "Iron Sand Drizzle!"
Sparks flew as Sakumo's blade met the grinding defense. But Sakumo wasn't aiming to break through—not yet. He used the impact to pivot, his body a blur, and reappeared at the Kazekage's flank. "Lightning Release: Flash!" His blade, now imbued with crackling white lightning, slashed downwards.
The Kazekage barely managed to interpose a thicker layer of sand, but the lightning-enhanced blade bit through, scoring a deep gash across his cheek and severing the tips of two fingers on his sand-shielding hand. He hissed, a flicker of surprise in his eye. This was no ordinary swordsman.
"You are fast," the Kazekage conceded, his voice tight with pain and rising anger.
"And you're about to be overwhelmed," Sakumo retorted, pressing his attack. He was a phantom, each strike precise, targeting vulnerabilities in the Kazekage's constantly shifting iron sand defenses. A feint, a lightning-quick thrust, and "White Light" pierced the Kazekage's shoulder. Another flash, and a deep cut appeared on his forearm.
The Kazekage roared in frustration. This Konoha shinobi was too fast, his attacks too relentless. The lightning element was proving a deadly counter to his iron sand. He was being systematically dismantled. How has Konoha produced so many monsters? Are we destined to remain in their shadow?
With a furious yell, the Kazekage unleashed his full power. The iron sand around him exploded outwards, coalescing, shaping itself into a colossal, menacing dome. "Iron Sand: Grand Mausoleum Absolute Defense!" The air within the rapidly forming structure grew heavy, oppressive.
Sakumo recognized the technique—a perfect defense, but also a potential tomb. He had one chance. He gathered his chakra, lightning arcing violently around "White Light," and lunged, aiming for the Kazekage's heart, a single, decisive strike to end it before the mausoleum sealed completely.
At the last possible second, as the walls of iron sand were about to converge, the Kazekage looked past Sakumo, a cruel, desperate smile twisting his lips. "You may kill me, Hatake… but your comrades will share my tomb!"
Sakumo's eyes widened. Shinnosuke, Kagura, Taji, Hyou – they were still within the closing radius of the jutsu, injured and unable to escape in time. He could complete his strike, kill the Kazekage, and likely escape himself. But his team…
The mission. His comrades.
With a guttural roar of frustration and resolve, Sakumo aborted his attack. He spun, lightning flaring, and became a silver blur, grabbing Shinnosuke, then Hyou, then Taji, and finally Kagura, pulling them towards the rapidly shrinking exit of the iron sand dome.
A hail of razor-sharp iron sand spikes rained down from the closing roof of the mausoleum. Sakumo shielded his comrades with his own body, intercepting the worst of it. Several spikes pierced his back and leg, the pain blinding, but he pushed through, throwing his team clear just as the Grand Mausoleum sealed shut with a deafening clang.
He landed heavily outside, his vision swimming, blood already soaking his uniform. His comrades, battered and shocked, stared at him, then at the sealed dome.
"Retreat!" Sakumo gasped, pushing himself up despite the agony. "Mission… compromised!"
Shinnosuke, cradling his broken arm, Kagura, her leg shattered, and Taji, grimacing from internal injuries, looked at the man who had just saved their lives—the man they were under orders to betray if he succeeded. Shame and conflict warred on their faces.
As they began their pained retreat, the Kazekage's voice, muffled but triumphant, echoed from within the sealed mausoleum. "You run, White Fang! But you leave with nothing!"
Sakumo didn't look back. The failure was a bitter weight.
Suddenly, figures emerged from the desert shadows, their black cloaks and impassive masks identifying them as Root.
The lead Root agent surveyed the scene. "The primary explosives were disarmed by our operative within the factory. A precaution." He gestured to the sealed mausoleum. "Matsuri will handle the Kazekage. One of you," he addressed his squad, "track the Hatake team. Ensure they do not fully escape Konoha's... re-evaluation."
Inside the dome, the Kazekage felt the structure begin to tremble, not from his own power, but from strategically placed explosive tags activating from within its walls. He whirled, and there, from where the young Suna boy had stood moments before—the boy who had ostensibly saved him by disabling the ANBU's explosives—the transformation jutsu dispersed.
Gone was the Suna youth. In his place stood Matsuri, her eyes burning with a cold, familiar fire. Her Root uniform was stark against the dark iron sand.
"You!" the Kazekage snarled, betrayal twisting his features.
"The factory was never the primary target, Kazekage," Matsuri said, her voice even. "You were. Root ensures all loose ends are tied." She held up a detonator. "My explosives are far more… intimate."
The Kazekage lunged, iron sand surging. "I'll tear you apart, traitor!"
Matsuri met his charge, kunai flashing, buying precious seconds. "For my daughter's future! For Tanigakure's survival!" She activated her own array of explosive tags woven into the mausoleum's structure.
A series of internal detonations rocked the colossal dome. The Kazekage, caught mid-attack, was engulfed in fire and shrapnel. Matsuri was consumed in the same blast, her sacrifice ensuring the Kazekage could not escape.
The Grand Iron Mausoleum, once a symbol of absolute defense, became a tomb.
When the dust settled, the lead Root agent outside the now-cracked and smoking dome nodded. "Mission accomplished. The Kazekage is dead. Suna's supply line, though not initially destroyed by Hatake, is now irrelevant."
He turned his gaze in the direction Sakumo's team had fled. Konoha's internal politics were often bloodier than any war.
Meanwhile, the Kazekage, grievously wounded but somehow still alive amidst the wreckage of his jutsu and Matsuri's sacrifice, dragged himself from the smoking ruins. Rage, pain, and a chilling resolve hardened his features. Matsuri was dead. But her betrayal… her family…
"They will all pay," he vowed, the desert wind carrying his promise of vengeance back towards a Suna that would soon learn the true cost of disloyalty.