Akio's expression grew unusually serious.
The moment those words left his mouth, he realized he'd walked himself into a mental trap. Now he sat there, counting on his fingers like a man doing an inventory he never meant to start.
"Let's see… If we're ranking people who want me dead, Madara probably takes first place. Or maybe not, Six Paths might want me gone too. Then there's that Rinnegan lunatic… Does Orochimaru want me dead? What about Hiruzen? The Fourth Raikage definitely has thoughts on the matter… yeah…"
Perched casually on Sasori's left shoulder, Akio fell into deep contemplation.
Sasori tilted his head and studied him for a moment, then lost interest entirely and went back to retracting the four colossal puppets one by one.
"Given your current level," Akio finally said, snapping back to reality as he gave Sasori's shoulder a few solid pats, "you're probably somewhere around tenth place in the world. Not bad. Keep at it."
"…Boring," Sasori replied.
As always, the word did the job. His massive puppet body slowly leaned backward before collapsing and vanishing with a heavy boom.
Akio drifted lightly down to the ground. Sasori now stood before him in his original form once more.
"That's it? You're putting everything away already?" Akio teased. "Weren't you going to turn me into part of your collection? If you pulled that off, I'd easily be your most valuable exhibit oldest, rarest, the works."
Sasori ignored him completely.
"Grandmother. There's no point wasting any more time."
Chiyo, who had been silent the entire time, finally let out a long sigh.
"I apologize for disturbing your rest, Senior," she said softly.
Akio blinked. "You're not giving up already, are you? Want me to help? I could just knock him out and figure out a way to restore his body afterward."
Sasori's steps faltered.
"…Boring."
But the way he sped up afterward betrayed his nerves. Sure, he could modify himself again, but converting back to flesh hurt like hell.
Chiyo smiled bitterly. "No need, Senior. I'll find a way to make him accept it willingly."
"…Boring," Sasori's voice echoed faintly from the distance.
Akio laughed. "Your grandson's incredibly stubborn. Hides everything behind that one word. Do your best, Chiyo. And if you need help, come find me, I won't say no."
Sasori's retreating pace picked up even more.
Once the two were gone, Akio turned back to the four children.
Deidara, surprisingly, had stayed quiet the entire time. For once, he didn't try to prove his explosive philosophy. Watching everything unfold had made one thing painfully clear: the gap between him and Sasori was still enormous.
As Akio returned, Deidara crossed his arms and mimicked Sasori's tone.
"One day, I'll prove it, to him… and to you. That only a single instant of explosion is true art. Hmph."
"Good luck with that," Akio replied lazily, yawning. "Show's over. Everyone back to bed. We've got things to do tomorrow."
"After all that? How are we supposed to sleep?" Karin muttered.
"Even better," Akio said cheerfully. "Then train until sunrise."
The next instant, everyone vanished...except Kimimaro, who remained standing there straight-backed and obedient.
The Next Morning
Kurotsuchi and Akatsuchi arrived together, only to be hit with terrible news.
"What?!" Kurotsuchi stared in disbelief. "You're leaving already?!"
Kimimaro, Haku, and Karin looked just as stunned. They had only learned about it moments earlier.
"It's time," Akio said calmly. "If we stay any longer, Ōnoki's precious granddaughter will turn into a chubby dumpling, and then he'll come after me with murderous intent."
"My grandpa wouldn't do that…" Kurotsuchi protested, then quickly recovered and smiled. "At least stay until the afternoon? There's no rush, right?"
"Nope," Akio replied flatly. "We're leaving now. Lunch is your problem."
Karin looked a little disappointed. She and Kurotsuchi had bonded surprisingly well, two loud, straightforward girls who got along better than expected.
Deidara, meanwhile, was scheming. With Akio gone, the leash would finally be off. He'd been waiting for his chance to chase his art freely again.
Kimimaro felt frustrated. He still hadn't beaten Deidara or Akatsuchi, but if Akio said it was time to go, then that was final.
Haku tilted his head slightly. "Senior… where are we heading next?"
Karin immediately jumped in. "This time we're going to the Land of Wind, right? To see the desert?"
Akio glanced at her and chuckled. "No desert. We're going to see snow."
"What's so special about snow?" Karin pouted. "Winter's coming anyway. We'll see it back in Uzushio."
"Uzushio barely gets any real snowfall," Akio said dismissively. His gaze shifted to Kurotsuchi. "Next time we meet, I hope you'll be strong enough to kick Ōnoki out of the Tsuchikage seat."
Kurotsuchi clenched her fist, grinning brightly. "I will!"
"Then we're off. Until next time."
Kurotsuchi watched them disappear into the distance, then turned around. "I should go tell Grandpa."
Deidara waved them off. "You two go ahead. I'm not interested in seeing that old fossil. Hmph."
Once they were gone, Deidara hurried back to his house.
"Perfect timing. That old man's gone, and the guards aren't around either—hm?"
"WHAT?! Where's my clay?!"
Akio and the three children gradually put Iwagakure behind them.
Suddenly, Karin remembered something. "Before we leave the Land of Earth, I should stock up on clay. Cold regions aren't exactly clay-friendly, right?"
Akio laughed. "Already handled. I prepared enough for you to last a year."
Karin blinked, then shrugged it off. "So… where are we really going?"
Akio turned as Kimimaro and Haku both looked at him expectantly.
"We're heading to the country known for having no shinobi at all," he explained. "A land ruled entirely by samurai, the Land of Iron."
"The Land of Iron… I think I've heard of it," Karin murmured. The other two hadn't.
"Our main goal is to use the cold climate to help Haku refine his Ice Release," Akio continued. "And to find a proper swordmaster for Kimimaro. Right now he's just fighting on instinct; he's not drawing out his full potential."
Kimimaro's bone blades were powerful, but without formal technique, they were wasted.
And Akio already had something in mind.
A samurai school specializing in iaijutsu, the art of the draw.
Most swordsmen had one blade. Once it was drawn, they had to sheath it to use the technique again.
Kimimaro?
He had bones for days.
Draw one. Draw another. And another.
As long as his bloodline illness stayed quiet, he could overwhelm opponents before they even realized what was happening.
Akio narrowed his eyes slightly, imagining the scene.
"Perfect."
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