Maybe it was because they'd been toyed with for too long—
The Iwa-nin were starting to lose it. Desperation overtook them as they charged at him with no regard for their own safety.
Meanwhile, Rasa continued refining his gold dust for conversion, all while dodging kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, and jutsu flying his way
He hadn't used a single technique since the chase began—
and the Iwa-nin were beginning to wonder...
Can he… not actually use ninjutsu?
Because otherwise, what gave them the gall to drop their defenses and charge him head-on?
The Fourth Kazekage had fought tooth and nail to seal the One-Tail into the Black Sealing Pot. That feat alone proved that Rasa's strength was no joke.
But the Rasa here… wasn't quite the same.
That's the nature of shinobi—uncertainty is always part of the game.
Rasa sighed inwardly and glanced at the crazed, wild-eyed Iwa-nin lunging at him without a care.
Should I… wait a little longer?
He paused, glanced up at the deepening night sky, and muttered:
"Looks like it's going to be an all-nighter."
The way these lunatics were acting, they definitely weren't going to let this "crazy Suna-nin" get away any time soon.
Elsewhere…
"Kumo-nin?!"
Chiyo furrowed her brow as she examined the headband of the corpse at her feet—marked clearly with the symbol of Kumogakure. Her weathered face tightened with fatigue.
"So their vanguard already made it this deep into the Land of Wind…"
"What do we do now?" Ebizō's expression was heavy with worry. He sighed, watching Suna-nin nearby gathering the fallen.
"We're already low on manpower. If this keeps up…"
"It's fine. You forget what I used to specialize in?"
"Puppets?"
"Poison!" Chiyo snapped, glaring at her perennially unserious brother. She glanced again at their tired forces, her expression sharpening.
"We need to retreat. It's not safe to linger here."
Ebizō wasn't wrong either—Suna's puppet techniques were feared across the entire shinobi world.
White Secret Technique: The Chikamatsu Collection of Ten Puppets
Chiyo had once used those puppets to take down an entire fortress on her own.
Too bad her grandson—Sasori—had vanished while trying to protect the village. He'd never gotten the chance to fully inherit her White Secret scrolls. Maybe… her legacy would end with her after all.
"Erase all signs of our presence. We're moving out. We'll need to scout a new location to camp."
The battlefield…
Was right here in the Land of Wind.
"The battlefield is on our soil…"
Momu looked up at the pale moon hanging in the night sky. A cold desert wind blew across the camp. He exhaled deeply and muttered:
"I wonder how Lord Rasa is doing right now…"
Green land was rare in the Land of Wind—so rare that even Sunagakure could only claim one small, withering lake as its own. There had been fish in that lake once, years ago. But the ever-growing sandstorms had shrunk it year after year. Most shinobi knew the truth:
If Sunagakure doesn't find a way to adapt…
A few decades, maybe a century from now—our village might vanish, just like the ancient city of Rōran.
"Lord Rasa is the only one in the village who inherited Magnet Release from the Kazekage. He's our only hope."
One of the nearby Suna-nin looked up at the sky beside him, voice firm.
"He won't fall. He can't."
Still, the words felt hollow.
They were one of the Five Great Nations once. Even if they'd lost every war before, they'd had the pride to say:
"We've dared to challenge Konoha itself. Could you?"
And now… even a minor village like Kusagakure dared strike at them.
"Has something really happened to the Kazekage…?"
"…."
Momu didn't answer.
Everyone was thinking the same thing: if the Kazekage was still alive, there's no way he'd sit back while Suna was being invaded.
Because he wasn't just a leader.
He was their Kage.
Momu turned toward his fellow shinobi—demoralized, uncertain, adrift in a village with no leader and a missing Rasa.
He inhaled sharply, then stood tall.
"We can't stay like this. Lord Rasa risked his life to draw the Iwa-nin away—to preserve our strength for the war ahead. To protect the village."
"We can't sit here sulking!
His voice rang out across the camp.
"Even if we die, we'll make sure the rest of the shinobi world knows—Sunagakure is not to be trifled with!"
He raised a clenched fist high, eyes blazing.
"We will not let Lord Rasa down!"
"Damn right! We won't let him down!"
"We're shinobi of the sand! What's war to us? We've lost every time!"
"…Shut it!"
"…"
But as the camp broke into impassioned shouting, a faint smile returned to Momu's face.
At least… we haven't given up.
He looked up at the brilliant moon above.
For just a moment, it felt like Rasa himself was watching over them—guiding them through the darkness like moonlight on the dunes.
Momu smiled.
"We won't let you down, Lord Rasa."
Wherever you are, keep watching us.
"Ah-choo! Ah-choo!"
Night had fallen. It was getting cold again.
Rasa sniffled, shivering slightly.
Why do I feel like someone's talking about me…?
"Maybe Karura's thinking about me back in the village…"
The thought warmed him up a little.
At least someone's still waiting for me…
He pulled his cloak tighter. The desert's temperature swing was brutal. Especially at year's end, the Land of Wind's nights were freezing.
His hands were trembling as he refined gold dust from the sand.
It's so cold, I can barely form hand seals…
And the Iwa-nin weren't in great shape either. Their relentless assault had left them winded. They weren't empty-handed though—at least they'd forced Rasa to burn through all his precious blue potions.
His most precious chakra recovery potions were gone now—used up in battle. He stared at the last red one in his hand… then downed it in one swig.
"Damn, Kumo's vanguard has some real stamina…"
Even with his constant defenses, he'd taken several injuries by now. Running, refining, fighting—it was exhausting.
And worst of all—
"Where the hell are the Suna reinforcements? Am I really gonna burn out here?"
"We have to fall back."
The Iwa commander scowled into the darkness.
"We can't afford to linger in the Land of Wind."
Surely, by now, nearby Suna shinobi had been alerted.
And yet…
As expected of the Kazekage's personal disciple.
He's resilient. Even with that unstable chakra flow, he times his defense perfectly…
And after all the damage he's taken, he's still standing?
He stared at Rasa—blood caked on his robes, dried against his skin—still standing firm within a dome of golden dust.
What terrifying willpower…
He refuses to fall.
But just as that thought passed—
His expression changed.
The sand around them began to ripple. Shift. Pulse.
Other Iwa-nin froze in place, eyes wide with shock.
"Fall back!"
The commander's voice cracked into a shout.
But—
It was too late.
"Magnet Release: Gold Dust Imperial Funeral."
A cold voice rang out—followed by a deafening roar—as the desert itself rose to swallow them.