Shukaku narrowed his eyes as if he could see through everything.
"This old man won't fall for it, you stinky fox! Just give up already!"
The Nine-Tails: "…"
Naruto: "…"
Gaara: "…"
What exactly did Shukaku understand?!
The two boys and one beast stared at his smug expression in confusion…
Meanwhile, on Kakashi's side, Sakura suddenly bent over and vomited violently, blood splattering across her own face. Her hand that held the kunai trembled uncontrollably.
Just moments ago, she had personally taken a life.
Kakashi walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. His voice was calm but firm:
"We're shinobi. When we chose this path, weren't we already prepared for this?"
Though Sakura's reaction was natural, he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Still, Kakashi said no more. She was only a girl, after all.
When he had killed for the first time, he too had felt the weight of it—but he overcame it quickly. Compared to the ninja raised during wartime, those who grew up in peace always found killing much harder to accept.
Sakura clenched her fists, Kakashi's words echoing in her ears. Yes. She had already made her resolution when she became a kunoichi. This wasn't some childish game of make-believe.
She glanced toward Naruto and Sasuke in the distance. Neither of them showed any sign of discomfort. In fact, she even saw Naruto smiling faintly as he spoke with Sasuke.
And Sasuke? His expression hadn't changed at all. Was this the difference between herself and geniuses?
The realization stung, but it also steeled her resolve.
"I'm sorry, Kakashi-sensei! I'll try my best to overcome this!" Sakura shouted, forcing herself to stand tall.
Kakashi nodded. "Good. Now—clean up the scene."
When he turned away, a small smile flickered across his face.
From a distance, Naruto and Sasuke had seen it all. Naruto smiled faintly. Sakura wasn't entirely useless—her courage was commendable.
He no longer looked down on her. The grudges from his "original story" no longer mattered. This was a real world, not fiction, and he no longer carried the same disdain he once had for her actions. Those feelings had long since faded.
But admiration? That was another matter entirely.
From his perspective, Sakura had once been nothing more than a girl who screamed his name without putting in much effort herself. Only after living in this world firsthand could he see her differently.
Even so, her talent couldn't compare to his or Sasuke's. She was an ordinary ninja, and some things were simply too difficult to change.
As for this life… whether Sakura would still end up with Sasuke would depend entirely on how far she could go on her own path.
....
A Base near the Land of Wind
Deep in the desert, within an Umbrella outpost, Sasori walked slowly through the sands.
For days now, he had noticed strange bird-like shapes gliding through the skies. At first, he dismissed them as some species he hadn't seen before. But after a few days of careful observation, he realized they weren't living things at all.
They looked like puppets.
And yet, he could sense no trace of life inside.
He had only come here for a small matter and had planned to leave soon. But his curiosity kept him rooted in the desert, studying the strange objects that passed overhead every morning and evening.
Unfortunately, they always flew at high altitudes—too far for him to reach.
Just then, Sasori noticed a sandstorm brewing in the distance. Sandstorms were common in the desert, but this one was unusually large. He frowned, watching as it swept across the horizon. Luckily, it wasn't moving toward the oasis he was near.
Turning back, he caught sight of the flying object again. But this time, something was off—it was wobbling in midair.
Sasori's eyes sharpened, and he sprinted after it, using the Body Flicker Technique to close the distance.
Inside the cockpit, the Umbrella pilots were panicking.
"The fuel tank is empty?! That's impossible—we checked it before takeoff!" one shouted, face pale.
"Think back to the sandstorm," the other replied grimly. "When we dipped lower, debris must've struck the tank. You should be grateful—it didn't explode outright."
They had no choice. "Bail out!"
The two immediately leapt, parachutes blooming against the desert sky. But in the chaos, they drifted down in different directions.
Meanwhile, the steel bird plummeted.
Just before it hit the ground, Sasori used Earth Release to halt its crash, slamming the heavy frame down with controlled force. Standing before the strange machine, he realized just how massive it was—entirely made of steel, crafted like some mechanical bird.
A thrill ran through him. Though he didn't yet understand what it was, his instincts screamed that this could be of great use to him.
Without hesitation, Sasori dragged the wreckage back to his temporary base.
He was a puppeteer. And all puppeteers lived to unravel mysteries like this one.
Inside the dimly lit room, scraps of puppet materials—both wood and steel—were scattered across the table. Among them lay half-finished limbs, joints, and fragments of old designs.
From a scroll, Sasori unfurled and summoned a peculiar object: a massive steel contraption shaped like a bird. Its size and weight made the very idea of flight seem impossible, yet its design clearly suggested that it once soared through the skies.
Sasori's eyes lit with intrigue.
The "bird" had a propeller fixed to its front and a transparent canopy meant to seat two people. But the fractured glass and twisted frame told him that it had suffered some kind of accident.
He crouched beside it, examining every part with a meticulous gaze. After a thorough inspection, he discovered the issue—an unusual container inside was ruptured. From it leaked a pungent, unfamiliar substance.
Sasori didn't know the term "fuel tank," but his instincts as a craftsman told him this part was vital. The strange liquid, with its sharp odor, confirmed it.
Over the years, Sasori had explored every possible material and principle to strengthen his art.
Just as Orochimaru delved into forbidden biology, eventually creating grotesque lifeforms, Sasori had pushed the boundaries of mechanics. This massive iron bird was no different: an advanced mechanical creation unlike anything he had seen.
His curiosity burned.
How could such a heavy construct rise into the air? What secret mechanism allowed it to defy gravity?
If he could unravel its workings and apply them to his puppets, then his art—and his strength in battle—would advance to an entirely new level.
For Sasori, a puppeteer, there was nothing more important than his creations.
And the thought of puppets that could soar across the battlefield… was irresistible.
...
TN:
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