The village was still draped in darkness when I stepped outside, and the streets were quiet beneath the faint silver light of pre-dawn as the sky was just beginning to pale on the eastern horizon. The heart of Konoha was asleep, caught in the fragile calm between night and day.
I made my way to the Might household. The wooden porch creaked under my feet, and before I could even raise a hand to knock, the door slid open. Duy stood ready in the doorway, dressed in his green jumpsuit and a pack slung across his shoulders.
"You're early, Akari-sama," he said with quiet warmth. "But I expected nothing less. Shall we go?"
I nodded, and together we set off through the empty streets. His stride was steady, and his presence as calm as the dawn itself. In his own way, Duy was the perfect partner for this task; vigilant without being tense, reliable without needing praise, strong yet humble.
The small building housing the Sand delegation was by the Hokage's Tower. Its shutters were closed, but the lamps glowing faintly from within could be seen through the gaps. No guards stood outside, at least, none that were visible. I did not need to see the ANBU to know they were out there, watching from the rooftops and shadows. Their job was to remain unseen, and they were very good at it.
I knocked on the door and found that the Sand delegation was already assembled and waiting. Pakura stood at the center of the room, posture straight, her orange eyes catching the dim light like embers. Chiyo sat off to one side, hands folded on her staff, and her sharp eyes flicked towards me as soon as I entered. Their escort of shinobi waited, fresh and alert, with their packs secured neatly.
"You're ready," I observed.
Pakura inclined her head, her voice even. "We are."
Chiyo's gaze lingered on me a moment longer, unreadable but intent, before she gave the faintest nod and stood up.
"Then let's move," I said, stepping aside to let them file out.
Duy and I took point as we guided them through the silent streets. The gates of Konoha loomed soon after, opening without question at my approach. As we crossed into the cool air of forest roads, the village slowly slipped out of sight behind us.
The road stretched ahead, familiar and deceptively peaceful. I kept my eyes forward, my senses sharp. Things should be safe enough near the village, but I was not naïve enough to let my guard truly fall.
The first two days of travel passed quietly. The Sand shinobi kept their formation tight, and their eyes scanned the trees with disciplined caution, but the air between us all began to ease, little by little.
I kept myself near the front, with Pakura and Chiyo never far behind. Conversation came in fits and starts at first, just enough to cut through the silence of marching feet. Pakura spoke with a cool formality, but she answered when I asked about her travels, her tone softening when she described the heat and winds of Suna compared to the damp cool of Fire Country's forests. Chiyo, on the other hand, was sharper, her words edged with suspicion until I gave her the last puppet core on the first night.
"This belongs to you," I said, offering it across the fire.
The faintest surprise cracked her stern mask as she took the silver orb from me before she caught herself. She accepted it without a word, but when her gaze met mine again, there was a different weight in it.
Her lips pressed thin, but she inclined her head a fraction. The gesture was small, but it shifted something between us. By the time we set out again the next morning, her tone toward me was less biting, and her eyes held less suspicious. Not warmth by any means, but respect was beginning to take root.
Duy, meanwhile, left an impression in his own way, one I could never have managed. At night, when the campfires were lit and the Sand shinobi began their rotations, he asked me to use Earth Release to create a massive stone boulder for him. Without hesitation, he hoisted it onto his shoulders and began jogging the perimeter of the camp. At first, the Sand ninja watched him with idle curiosity, perhaps thinking it a brief display meant to impress. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, and then another, and still Duy circled the camp at an even pace, their curiosity shifted into quiet awe.
The rhythmic thud of his footsteps became the background music of our camp. He never wavered or slowed, and his breathing was always steady. When he set the stone down at last, always with careful precision as though it were something fragile, he bowed politely to the guards who had been watching before rolling into his bedroll. He fell asleep almost instantly, as if the weight of the world on his back was the most natural thing in the world.
By the evening of the third day, the sun had bled low across the treetops, staining the riverbanks in streaks of gold and crimson. We had been searching for a place to stop when one of the Sand shinobi called out, pointing to a broad clearing near the water's edge.
"Here," he said, already stepping forward with the confidence of someone who had camped in dozens of such spots before. "Flat ground, easy access to water, and good sightlines."
Pakura nodded her approval, and Chiyo gave the faintest grunt that passed for agreement. The group began moving toward the clearing, their packs rustling as they eased into a looser formation. Beside me, Pakura started speaking about strategy again, her tone casual in the quiet of the woods.
"When our strike team moves to the Mist front, it will be best if we mirror your formations. Coordinated assaults will force the Mist into tighter defenses, and that will make them easier to isolate."
Chiyo added dryly, "And it will keep the young ones alive longer. Mist shinobi are cruel, and they favor drowning their enemies in overwhelming waves. Discipline will matter more than raw power."
I walked a step behind them with Duy at my side, and my gaze drifted over the tree line. Their words should have anchored me in the moment, but there was something faint brushing against my senses. It was almost nothing, like a lingering whisper of chakra in the air, but it was so thin that I was not sure that I truly sensed anything, yet the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
I slowed my pace without meaning to. Pakura and Chiyo glanced at me briefly, but I did not answer their looks. The rest of the Sand delegation, still ahead, walked into the clearing without hesitation.
I sensed it fully. A ripple beneath the surface, a net of chakra woven into the soil itself. My heart lurched.
"Stop!" The word tore from my throat even as my hands were already flying through seals, summoning my Space-Time and Phantom Realm Clones.
I did not waste time on explanations. My clones lunged with me. I grabbed Pakura's shoulder while my Phantom Realm Clone took Chiyo and my Space-Time Clone reached out for Duy. The air twisted, chakra roaring around us as the Flying Thunder God technique activated and brought us to a spot a few dozen meters away, the nearest marker in my network of seals.
Before Pakura or Chiyo could even catch their breath from the sudden teleportation, the ground behind us detonated in a deafening roar. The blast rattled the trees and shook the very earth beneath our feet, a shockwave of fire and smoke billowing upward where, moments before, the rest of the Sand delegation had stood. Half a dozen lives were gone, just like that... just as I had ambushed the Sand forces a week or two ago.
A laugh, sharp and mocking, echoed from the shadows of the forest.
"Munashi owes me a thousand ryō when we get back to camp," a deep voice drawled, casual as though we had stumbled into a gambling den rather than an ambush.
Another voice, younger and rasping, chimed in from the opposite side. "So, it's true; the Sarutobi girl really does have the Flying Thunder God technique. I thought it was just a trick of reputation or a lie."
A third voice, low and steady, followed from above us, hidden somewhere in the canopy. "What's more impressive is that she managed to pull three others along with her. That's no small feat, even for the original."
Mist began to curl along the forest floor like ghostly tendrils weaving through the roots and undergrowth. I felt my jaw tighten as I strained my senses, but before I could act, Pakura stepped forward with her usual defiance. Her chakra flared, and in the next instant, heat shimmered around us as the mist evaporated into nothing under the pressure of her Scorch Release.
"Tch," a fourth voice complained. "Of course, Pakura's Scorch Release is the bane of Mist jutsu."
Shapes began to move in the thinning haze, seven silhouettes became clear and the weapons they held were unmistakable. The massive, scale-covered blade of Samehada, the hammer-like Kabutowari, the thread-thin Nuibari gleaming in the dim light, the great cleaver Kubikiribōchō, the jagged Fang-blade Kiba sparking faintly, Hiramekarei carried effortlessly across the broad shoulders of its wielder, and Shibuki, the Blastsword, lined with explosive tags. The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist stood arrayed around us, their stances casual in the way only true predators carried themselves... or cocky idiots like them.
And then the eighth figure emerged. Reddish-brown, short spiky hair, sharp eyes, and a face that once tried to grind me beneath a tide of gold. Rasa. Instead of dread, I felt a smile curl across my lips, sharp and mocking.
"Well, well, well... Good to see you again, gold-digger. Still bitter about our last fight?" I mocked.
Rasa's eyes narrowed as he glared at me, but I just smirked. Both Pakura and Chiyo locked onto him, practically radiating fury, as it was clear that he was part of the ambush. The setup with the explosive tags was a surprisingly clever move that his people would have no trouble blaming me for after the valley ambush, so they would even laugh if I had been killed in my "own" trap.
"Chiyo," Rasa said, his tone calm, as if he were still in command. "Stand aside. This is not your fight. Only Pakura and the Sarutobi girl must die. Their deaths will secure Suna's alliance with the Mist."
Chiyo's eyes narrowed, her voice sharp with disgust. "You would dare call yourself Kazekage? Pakura secured a fair treaty with Konoha, just as the elders and the daimyo decreed. That makes her the rightful Kazekage. She will lead our people into the future, and I will see her there."
Pakura's chakra flared again, hot and steady, and she stepped forward. Her silence was its own declaration, unyielding and unafraid.
"Then you can die with them." Rasa's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Kill them."
The Seven Swordsmen shifted, but none moved forward. Instead, Fuguki Suikazan stepped ahead, Samehada hungrily twitching against his shoulder. His lip curled in disdain.
"You don't give us orders, cripple. Even the Mizukage knows better than to command us outright. He 'asks'," Fuguki mocked as his beady eyes swept over Rasa, lingering deliberately on the stump of his missing arm. "What good's a one-armed would-be Kazekage? You should be bowing to us."
The others chuckled darkly. Kushimaru twirled Nuibari's wire lazily, smirking as he added, "Careful, or he'll throw sand at you."
Even Raiga barked out a laugh, the Kiba blades crackling faintly with suppressed lightning. The jeering grew, Rasa's face tightening with each insult, but the swordsmen looked far more entertained than ready to fight.
I took the moment. Shifting closer to Pakura and Chiyo, I kept my eyes fixed on the enemy, lips barely moving.
"How do you want to split this up?" I asked quietly.
Pakura's voice was low and sharp with conviction as she replied, "Rasa is mine. He stole the title of Kazekage once before, and he'll have to pry it from my dead fingers if he wants it again. I'll prove I am the one worthy to lead Suna."
I inclined my head and agreed, "Fine, but Chiyo should back you up if he presses too hard. Duy and I will keep the swordsmen busy."
Duy gave a short nod, his calm determination like bedrock. "I'll fight at your side."
Chiyo's gaze flicked between us, weighing, then she gave the smallest of nods. "Very well. But you'd better be careful. Those men aren't to be underestimated."
A grin tugged at my mouth, even as tension thrummed through me. "Careful, Chiyo… if you keep worrying about me, people might start to think you're growing fond of me."
Her scowl deepened, but she did not deny it. I started to form the hand signs that I needed to summon my clones, but the Nuibari flew past my cheek, disrupting me. Kushimaru yanked on the connected wire, pulling the sword back to his hand, as the other swordsmen and Rasa turned their focus onto us.