At the rear mountain training ground of Sunagakure.
Though called a training ground, it was more like an open rocky field scattered with weathered scarecrows, battered wooden stakes, and other tools long used for ninja practice.
By the time the sun had set behind the cliffs, a crowd had already gathered.
Standing at the center of the field were two figures.
On the left, a slim woman in a tight-fitting shinobi outfit stood tall, her presence both graceful and commanding. She was none other than Pakura of the Scorch Release, wielder of a rare Kekkei Genkai and one of Sunagakure's most famous kunoichi.
On the right stood a man in a white mask, different from the standard Anbu masks of the Sand. Only his black hair was visible from behind the mask.
The gathered villagers cheered Pakura's name. After all, she was a war hero whose victories had brought glory to Sunagakure. By contrast, the masked man known only as "Aizen" was a complete mystery.
Among the crowd, Temari and Kankurō pushed their way forward, dragging with them a gloomy eight-year-old Gaara. At just the sight of the boy, villagers instinctively shrank back in fear, whispering complaints under their breath. Gaara's eyes flashed coldly in response, a darkness stirring within him.
Only Temari managed to speak to him naturally.
"Gaara, the winner of this duel will become Father's right hand in the future. Who do you think will win?"
Gaara looked up but gave no answer. For someone who could already command sand freely, ordinary opponents beneath the Jōnin level barely registered in his eyes. Even though he couldn't yet fully control Shukaku, his power was already overwhelming for his age.
Temari wasn't discouraged. She was used to Gaara's silence. Kankurō, however, scowled and edged away, wanting nothing to do with his unsettling younger brother.
Meanwhile, behind his mask, "Aizen" let the corner of his lips curl into a faint smile.
Perfect. Most of Sunagakure is here—the villagers, the shinobi. Once Kyōka Suigetsu's ritual is complete…
Pakura's voice cut through his thoughts.
"I'll say this up front. I wield the Scorch Release. If you can't withstand it, surrender immediately. I'd rather not turn a comrade into a corpse."
"How considerate. I truly appreciate it," Aizen replied, his tone carrying a calm arrogance—as though he had become the very man he pretended to be.
He drew the blade at his side, Kyōka Suigetsu, and lowered it toward the ground. His voice was soft, almost melodic.
"I am an illusionist. I manipulate water and mist to confuse my enemies—sometimes even driving them to kill each other."
The blade shimmered faintly.
"Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."
A faint blue light rippled across the steel, unnoticed by all but its wielder.
Meanwhile, far away, three Sand Anbu were already en route to Konoha, sent personally by Rasa with a letter.
Pakura raised an eyebrow.
"Illusion techniques?"
In Sunagakure, genjutsu specialists were extremely rare. The most famous masters of illusion had been the Uchiha clan of Konoha—exterminated only recently.
"Now that I know what I'm facing… let's begin!"
She snapped her hand forward. Four blazing orbs of fire hovered at her side, burning so hot the air itself seemed to warp. With a sharp motion, one of them shot forward like a living beast, rushing toward Aizen.
The Sand were fond of manipulation techniques—Chiyo with her puppets, Sasori with his Red Sand, Kankurō as well. Even Rasa and Gaara relied on sand as both weapon and shield. Pakura's mastery of fireballs was no different—an elegant balance of offense and defense.
Not only hotter than ordinary Fire Release… she also controls them with such precision that chakra consumption is minimal, Aizen analyzed, feeling the searing heat from several meters away. His skin prickled and dried under the waves of scorching air.
He sighed inwardly.
I haven't used ninjutsu much since crossing over. After all, I'm not truly "Uchiha Kenya" anymore.
With a one-handed seal, he countered.
"Water Style: Water Rushing Wave!"
A surge of water burst upward, momentarily halting the incoming fireball. But it wasn't enough—the torrent evaporated instantly into steam, and the fireball continued forward, blazing relentlessly.
"Not bad," Temari whispered. "At least Jōnin-level… but still no match for Pakura-senpai."
It was true. Kenya's chakra attributes were fire, water, and lightning. Yet since his arrival, he had barely used ninjutsu at all.
"So fast…" Even Gaara muttered under his breath, surprised by Aizen's sudden burst of speed.
In the blink of an eye, Aizen had closed the distance between them—twenty meters erased in less than a second.
Pakura's specialty was long-range combat. Like Rasa and Gaara, she used her elemental release to control the battlefield. Hand-to-hand combat was not her strength.
"Scorch Release: Burst!"
Her hands flashed through seals, and one of her hovering fireballs exploded. Countless sparks, too small to see clearly, erupted outward, creating a violent shockwave that slammed toward Aizen.
Normally, Aizen could have neutralized such force with a simple defensive kidō. But here, in this world, that wasn't an option.
"…No helping it."
The blade of Kyōka Suigetsu rotated in his grip. Spiritual pressure rippled outward in an unseen wave.
Everyone felt it—Pakura, the shinobi, even the civilians watching from the edge of the training ground. A terrible aura flooded the field, pressing down on them like the weight of a storm.
They realized all at once:
This was no ordinary duel.