I woke to the faintest tug against my chakra network, subtle as a breath but impossible to ignore. The marked shuriken that I had passed to Pakura was like a beacon in my mind. She was calling me.
For a long moment, I lay still in the dark, listening to the room. The faint rhythm of Kurenai's breathing filled the silence, slow and even. She slept on her side, back to me, with one hand curled lightly near her cheek.
I could not risk her waking. Not for something like this.
Kneeling beside her, I shaped the chakra pattern with practiced ease, weaving a soft genjutsu over her senses. Nothing invasive or harmful, just enough to keep her dream bound until I returned. Her brow furrowed for an instant, then smoothed again as the illusion took hold.
"Forgive me," I whispered, though I knew she could not hear.
Straightening, I formed the hand seals in quick succession and summoned my Yin Clone. "Keep the genjutsu steady. If morning comes before I return, substitute for me. Mark sure no one notices the difference."
The clone nodded once, then seated itself beside Kurenai like a quiet sentinel.
I exhaled, then molded chakra again. This time my Space-Time Clone shimmered into existence, its chakra resonating faintly with the seal across the city.
"You go first," I told it. "Let's see if she wants to play nice, or this is a trap."
The clone inclined its head, then vanished in a flicker of light, pulled toward the distant mark like iron to a magnet. I stood in the darkened room, hands flexing at my sides. The salt-stained shutters rattled softly with the sea wind, but all I could hear was the echo of my own heartbeat.
Pakura had answered. Now the question was whether she meant to talk... or to burn me alive.
Within a second of my clone appearing at the seal's location, it was obliterated in a flash of blistering heat. Pakura did not even hesitate; her attack struck the instant the chakra signature flared.
"She's testing me," I muttered, hands already weaving through the sequence again.
Another Space-Time Clone flickered to life and slipped through space to the mark. A heartbeat later, it was gone, consumed in a scorching blast, but its feedback rippled back into me, along with the words it had managed to spit out: "You'll tire before I do, Pakura. I can do this all night."
Her reply came just as sharp, burning in the clone's fading memory. "And I'll keep burning you until you vanish."
I sent another. Then another. Each was destroyed almost instantly, yet each time Pakura's voice carried back through the feedback, calm but cutting, her tone growing hotter with every exchange. "Is this all you can manage?""Do your shadows fight better than you?""When will I meet the real one?"
By the fifth, my lips pressed thin. My chakra was still full, but my patience was wearing thin.
"Why did I choose such a stubborn woman? Even Chiyo hesitated to attack me," I complained.
My hands blurred into seals. My Space-Time Clone appeared and along with Scorch, her eyes a fiery topaz color, orange with flecks of gold.
"I thought I was permanently benched," Scorch remarked.
"Yeah, well, the person with your combination is giving me some trouble, and she belongs to the Sand, so it's not too big of a risk," I retorted.
They both nodded once before vanishing into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~
On the southern pier, moonlight cast long shadows over warped planks. Pakura stood in the center, posture casual but eyes sharp, her younger kunoichi student shifting uneasily behind her. The last traces of superheated air still lingered from the clone she had erased.
A flicker and then two figures appeared at the edge of the dock. One shimmered faintly, chakra folded like water around glass. The other radiated dry, suffocating heat, its gaze fixed squarely on her.
Pakura's eyes narrowed. "More clones?"
The Scorch Clone raised its hand, a ripple of burning chakra spilling out like a mirage. "I was interested in seeing if my Scorch Release has reached your level."
Pakura's lips curved faintly with amusement. "Then come. Show me."
Scorch moved first, the air around her distorting with intense heat. She flickered forward, weaving seals mid-step, and unleashed a burst of blazing chakra that condensed into four spinning orbs of superheated air.
"Scorch Release: Solar Blossoms!"
Pakura waited until the last instant, her movement fluid and precise. One palm brushed an orb, and it destabilized instantly, bursting into harmless sparks. She shattered the others just as easily, each strike exact and economical.
Before Scorch could reset, Pakura's hands blurred. Thin, focused streams of scorching chakra lanced forward, their heat so intense it made the air scream.
"Scorch Style: Blistering Mirage!"
Scorch ducked under the first attack, twisting aside as another grazed past her shoulder, which blistered the planks behind her. The dock groaned under the heat, faint curls of smoke rising from the scorched wood.
Space-Time stirred behind her, chakra folding tighter, but Scorch raised a sharp hand without looking back. "Stay out... This is my fight."
Pakura pressed forward, faster now, a palm strike sweeping toward Scorch's ribs. Scorch countered by releasing a sudden flare of her own heat, disrupting Pakura's rhythm and forcing her to pivot off her strike rather than commit fully. Pakura's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of approval in her gaze.
The next few exchanges came in rapid succession. Scorch launched several compressed waves of heat, but Pakura dismantled them effortlessly. Pakura struck from unexpected angles forcing Scorch to redirect or dodge the blows. Each clash left Scorch sliding back, sweat glistening on her skin, but none of Pakura's attacks made clean contact, leaving her intact.
Pakura finally halted her advance, her stance relaxed but commanding. "You're strong," she said, voice calm. "But not enough to match me."
Scorch exhaled heavily, her shoulders rising and falling, but she kept her eyes on Pakura. "Not outright, but we don't typically fight alone."
"Call out your real body. I'm not going to discuss anything with clones," she said, crossing her arms.
Scorch hesitated, then nodded once. "Understood."
"Play nice, or she'll release all of us upon the city," Space-Time warned with a smirk as she pulled out a marked shuriken then channeled her chakra into it.
~~~~~~~
Sensing Space-Time's signal, I activated the Flying Thunder God seal and teleported to it. Moonlight spilled across weathered planks as I emerged at the edge of an old fishing pier, long abandoned to salt and storms. The boards beneath my boots groaned, warped from years of sea spray. The air smelled of brine and rotting nets, thick with the bite of the Chigiri Sea. Lanterns along the main street glimmered faintly in the distance, but here there was only the hush of waves and the hiss of shifting sand against the shoreline.
Pakura stood at the other end of the pier like the desert sun made flesh; brilliant, unyielding, and with a heat that could sear who dared to come too close. Her dark green hair was bound back with precision and two flame-colored bangs framing a face cut in sharp lines, beautiful in its severity. The amber of her eyes was striking, not soft like candlelight but burning and steady like the gaze of someone who had long since mastered both herself and the battlefield. Her sleeveless black uniform clung close, stripped of ornament, every inch of her built for motion and precision.
I could not look at her without feeling the weight of what she was; a powerful and dangerous kunoichi forged in fire and sharpened by war. Yet, alongside that danger was something else, something magnetic. The contrast of her pale skin against those ember-toned bangs, the way her presence seemed to shimmer with restrained heat, all of it caught me and held me still. She was as compelling as she was lethal, and though we stood as enemies, I found myself respecting her strength and admiring the sharp beauty of the woman who carried it.
Beside her lingered a younger kunoichi, Maki, if my memory was correct. Dark hair tied back, posture straight but betraying unease in the way her hands twitched near her weapons pouch. Her eyes darted between me and my clones, wide and wary, but her loyalty kept her planted behind her teacher.
"So, it really is you." Pakura's voice was smooth but laced with steel. "The Third Hokage's prodigy daughter. The genius child he keeps hidden in the shadows of this war."
Her words were not admiration. They were accusation. She stepped forward, the heat radiating from her skin enough to warp the night air. "Do you realize how simple it would be to kill you here?"
The pier creaked under her step, but I held my ground, my clones steady at my side. "Try if you like," I said evenly. "But I'm not an easy opponent. You can ask Rasa or Chiyo if you'd like a description of my abilities."
Maki stiffened at the names, though Pakura's expression barely flickered. Only her eyes narrowed further.
I let my tone sharpen, the weight of command in every syllable. "And if you strike, you'll do more than kill me, if you could. You'll burn away any chance your people have for peace with Konoha."
Pakura scoffed, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her. "The Sand does not need Konoha's pity."
"Then you haven't heard." I tilted my head slightly. "Your front lines collapsed after my strike on your main camp. Rasa abandoned the camp and fled like a coward rather than face me again... Granted, he probably wasn't in much of a condition to fight."
For the first time, she faltered. Maki's head snapped toward her in shock, eyes wide. Pakura's lips parted, but no denial came. Instead, she dropped her voice, almost whispering to herself. "…I was questioned about my whereabouts yesterday, and Rasa returned to the village... missing a hand." Her golden gaze returned to me, sharper now, weighing me more carefully. "That was you."
"Damn... I've got to give the man some credit. I didn't think he would cut off his arm after I showed Chiyo that I could remove it, but then again, few would be comfortable with the sword of Damocles hanging over their head," I chuckled.
She folded her arms, the heat radiating around her lowering slightly, as if unconsciously. "Why me? Of all people... why reach out to me?"
"Because you're the only one with the strength, the potential, and backing to fight Rasa for the seat of Kazekage. If he loses his grip on your village, you could lead it."
Maki sucked in a breath, eyes darting to her mentor in disbelief. Pakura silenced her with a raised hand, but I caught the flicker in her gaze, not rejection, not anger, but thought. A dangerous thought... for Rasa.
"You think Konoha has the right to decide who rules Sunagakure?" Pakura asked, her voice a low growl.
"No, but I do have the right to decide who I want to work with. Rasa made the decision to start this war with Kohona, not Sunagakure as a whole. If your village wants a way out as an ally against the Stone and Mist, and not as a subjugated party, then you need to supply me with a peace treaty and terms for an alliance, fair terms. I'll make sure that my father gets them and doesn't ignore them," I replied casually.
The wind picked up, rattling loose boards, carrying the brine of the sea between us. For a long moment, Pakura said nothing.
I pressed on, voice quieter but edged like a kunai. "Understand this: I don't want to destroy your village. But if Konoha orders me to, I will. Just as you would for the Sand. We are both bound by duty, but there's no rule that says we can't carve another path for both of our people."
Pakura's fists clenched at her sides, then slowly loosened. Her amber eyes held mine across the wavering distance, fire meeting fire. Finally, she spoke. "…If what you say is true, if Rasa really ran… then perhaps the Sand does need to reconsider it's Kazekage." She lifted her chin slightly. "But do not mistake this for trust, Sarutobi. You've given me reason to think; nothing more."
"That's all I ask." I withdrew the faintest step, the boards creaking beneath me. I inclined my head. "Keep the shuriken. If you want to talk again, use it. I'll find you."
The pier groaned as the tide pulled at its supports, the silence between us heavier than the sea itself. Then I wove the seal, and the world folded again, leaving only scorch marks in the planks where my clones had stood and the lingering weight of my words in her eyes.
I stepped back into the stillness of the inn room and dismissed my Space-Time and Scorch Clones. Kurenai laid exactly as I had left her, curled on her side, dark hair spilling across the pillow. Her breathing was slow and even; the genjutsu still holding her in its gentle grip. My Yin Clone sat beside her bed until I dismissed her as well.
I sighed as I stared at her back then laid down on my bed. I felt a little bad about keeping my team in the dark, keeping her in the dark, but it could not be helped. This was not a sanctioned mission and even knowing about it would implicate them, so it was wiser to leave them out of it... or at least that was what I told myself.
Sometime later, a sharp nudge pulled me from restless sleep. Kurenai's voice followed, low but insistent. "Akari. Morning."
I blinked against the weak light bleeding through the shutters. The scent of sea salt still lingered in the air, clinging to everything in this city. I pushed upright, rubbing grit from my eyes.
"Thanks, Kurenai," I replied, suppressing a yawn.
She gave a hum of acknowledgement as she crossed over to the basin and washed her face. I stood up and stretched lightly before I changed into a fresh set of clothes. Kurenai did the same and we met the boys downstairs.
Breakfast was quiet, almost too quiet. The innkeeper brought us bowls of fish stew and rice, the kind of simple meal meant to fill the stomach, not delight it. Guy devoured his like a starving wolf, Duy ate with measured grace, Asuma grumbled about the blandness but did not leave a single grain behind, and Kurenai ate neatly while her eyes occasionally flicked towards me.
When we were finished, I set my chopsticks down. "Pack your gear. We leave within the hour."
Asuma frowned. "That's it? Already? Feels like we barely did anything."
I met his gaze without blinking. "The message was delivered. I had a clone handled it last night."
Guy opened his mouth to ask something else, but Duy put a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "Orders are orders. We prepare; we move."
That ended the discussion. They each went to their rooms to pack, and I did the same. A short while later, we converged in the narrow hallway outside our doors with cloaks covering our weapons and gear. The floor creaked beneath our weight, and the faint murmur of gulls came from outside.
Then the world shook. A low, rumbling boom rolled through the air, rattling the wooden walls around us. Dust sifted down from the ceiling beams.
Asuma's head snapped toward me. "That…"
"Outside!" I barked.
We vaulted through the window at the end of the hall, landing on the roof tiles. Smoke already curled into the sky from the southern edge of the city. From the harbor, I counted eight Mist raiding ships with black sails, unloading squads of shinobi onto the burning docks.
The cries of civilians carried even to our perch. Another explosion rolled through the streets, and flames licked up the side of a warehouse. Below us, a group of Mist-nin charged straight toward a cluster of panicked villagers near the inn.
"Protect the civilians!" I ordered. "Do not let them through!"
My team surged forward. Guy hit the street first, fists flying in a blur, knocking two Mist-nin back before they could raise their blades. Duy followed in his stead, movements sharper, more disciplined, each strike was a perfect counter that floored another attacker. Father and son moved like twin storms; Guy wild and burning while Duy was steady as stone.
Asuma fought harder than I had seen in months. His trench knives flashed as he intercepted a kunoichi mid-strike, forcing her back with a burst of raw chakra. He weaved between Guy and Duy, cutting down opponents with ease.
Kurenai stood a little apart, weaving seals. Her illusions slid over the enemy like a veil, breaking their coordination, forcing them to stumble and strike at phantoms. When one of the Mist-nin turned toward the villagers, she twisted his senses in a heartbeat. His weapon struck empty air while Duy's fist sent him sprawling.
From the rooftop, I tracked every motion, every angle. My clones slipped into alleys, guiding civilians away, dragging the injured to safety.
"Left flank, Guy!" I called when a trio tried to circle wide.
"Asuma, step back; they're baiting you!"
"Kurenai, keep the civilians moving, don't let them freeze!"
They obeyed, adapting to the chaos, flowing as a unit the way I had drilled them. They were still young, still untested compared to veterans, but here and now they were proving themselves. It seemed that it truly was time to take them out into the field since these Mist genin could not break through.
Impressive.
The street reeked of smoke and ash, Mist shinobi strewn across the cobblestones. Behind us, civilians huddled in doorways, shaken but alive. My team kept tight formation around them, eyes scanning for the next wave.
That was when I felt it. Several chakra signatures approaching fast, controlled, disciplined... and one was carrying my shuriken.
Pakura emerged from the haze with Maki just behind her, eyes sharp and wary, while three other kunoichi fanned out in a practiced arc. Their arrival pulled the whole street taut.
One of the kunoichi stiffened, her gaze locking on me. "She's in the Bingo Book," she hissed. "That's Sarutobi Akari. Leaf jonin."
Asuma's hands flew to his trench knives. Guy and Duy shifted forward in perfect unison. Kurenai moved closer to my side, chakra sharp in the air. Across from us, Pakura's squad mirrored the motion, heat radiating off their palms as if the air itself might ignite. It was a breath away from a massacre.
"Stand down," I ordered, voice cutting clean through the tension.
"Enough," Pakura echoed, calm but firm. Her amber eyes never left mine.
Slowly, weapons lowered. The air stayed thick, wary, but we were not at each other's throats. Not yet.
Pakura's gaze flicked past me towards the downed Mist bodies and the civilians still trembling behind my team. Understanding flickered in her eyes. "You've been… defending them," she said, not quite a question.
I inclined my head, careful, measured. "Protecting civilians doesn't change the map."
Her lips curved, faint and wry. "Perhaps. But we both know maps are redrawn by those who act, not those who talk."
It was the closest she would come to thanking me.
Then her eyes hardened again. "The Mist are pushing deeper into the city. We could use your help."
My team bristled, but I shook my head. "A Leaf squad can't be seen fighting to protect a Sand city. That would write its own declaration."
Her brows arched slightly. "Then why are you still here?"
Instead of answering, I raised my hand and molded chakra. My Scorch Clone shimmered into being beside me.
Pakura studied it for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she extended her hand. "Mask."
One of her kunoichi reluctantly produced an ANBU mask from a pouch. Pakura tossed it across the gap. My clone caught it, fitted it in place, and gave a sharp nod. The mask made it faceless.... Nameless.
With only a nod of thanks, she turned, and her squad and my masked Scorch Clone fell into step with her. They rushed down the street and disappeared from sight as they rounded a corner.
"Why?" His voice was sharp, frustrated. "Why are you helping the Sand? They're our enemy."
I kept my gaze on the alleyway where Pakura had vanished. "Because enemies today can be allies tomorrow. And only fools close doors that don't need closing."
Guy frowned thoughtfully. Duy gave a single approving nod. Kurenai said nothing, her eyes lingering on me with quiet intensity I could not decipher.
The flames still raged to the south, the clash of steel echoing down the streets. But for this moment, the civilians were safe. And something unspoken had passed between me and Pakura. It seemed like this trip had not been in vain.