"Okay… let's go back to the village."
"Back to the village… you'll be saved."
"…As long as we get back to the village."
Yin held Iwakura tightly, trying to lift him from the ground. Her arms trembled as she pulled, refusing to give up.
Iwakura weakly shook his head.
His eyes were filled with pleading.
He had already lost the strength to speak. All he could do was look at her, silently urging her to leave.
He understood better than anyone that Hatake Sakumo would never allow Yin to escape. Shinobi showed no mercy to their enemies. If she stayed any longer, there would be no chance left at all.
His vision blurred further. The world around him faded into indistinct shadows as his consciousness slipped away.
Lying there, Iwakura knew.
His death was close.
For a brief moment, memories surfaced through the darkness. He thought he saw his mother again, and the image of Sasori waiting at the village gates flashed through his mind.
"I'm sorry… I can't stay with you anymore."
The last trace of light vanished from his eyes.
A deep chill surged through Yin's body. She clutched Iwakura tightly against her chest, as if holding him closer could prove that he was still alive.
But the silence around them was absolute.
The cold was undeniable.
"…It can't be."
"…It can't be."
"My Iwakura won't die."
"I beg you, don't die."
"I beg you… please have mercy on me, Iwakura… Iwakura…"
She kept calling his name, shaking him desperately, trying to wake him. No matter how hard she tried, the man in her arms never responded.
At last, she stopped.
Despair hollowed her out.
She was exhausted.
Her body was tired.
Her heart was already dead.
In her daze, it felt as though she had been trapped in a long dream. With Iwakura's death, that dream finally shattered. Everything from the past turned distant and unreal, as if it belonged to another lifetime.
Yin gently brushed his familiar face, her expression impossibly tender.
"We'll be together," she whispered softly. "We'll be together forever."
A kunai had pierced straight through her abdomen. Blood bloomed slowly, spreading across her clothes.
"I said… if you die… I'll follow you…"
A breeze passed through the battlefield. A single white cloud drifted across the sky, briefly blocking the sun. Beneath its shadow lay sand stained dark red, where two bodies embraced, unmoving.
"…I'm sorry, Sasori."
...
Ebizo walked through the long canyon leading into the village until he reached a tall seabuckthorn tree.
"Sasori, what are you doing?"
"Watching the clouds. They're beautiful," the red-haired boy replied.
The sky looked as though it had been washed in blue watercolor, clear and distant. Silver-white clouds piled up like floating mountains, their edges outlined in gold beneath the blazing sun.
"Grandpa," Sasori asked softly, "do you think… Mom and Dad can see these clouds?"
"Ah… maybe they can," Ebizo answered hesitantly.
Noticing Sasori's disappointed expression, Ebizo smiled and gently ruffled his hair.
"Haha, did I fool you? Of course they can. They're probably watching these clouds too, thinking about Sasori right now."
"Really?"
Sasori's face lit up as he jumped excitedly, completely unconcerned about his messy hair.
"Then how do we make the clouds fall?"
"…What?"
"Mom and Dad are on the other side of the clouds. If the clouds fall, they can come home."
Ebizo sighed helplessly. "The clouds are too high. I don't know how to make them fall."
"Then… when will they come back?"
"…Soon, I think."
"It's always soon," Sasori muttered. "At least give me a real answer."
Ebizo could only smile bitterly.
Suddenly, a sharp hawk's cry echoed through the air.
He looked up to see a dark green ninja hawk circling overhead before swooping down toward him. The bird landed neatly on his raised arm.
An emergency message.
Ebizo quickly removed the scroll tied to its claws. After only a brief glance, his entire body stiffened, as though plunged into ice.
Iwakura and Yin have been killed by the White Fang of the Leaf. Come immediately.
"…How could this happen?"
"That damned White Fang of the Leaf…"
His fingers tightened around the scroll until they turned pale. The handwriting was uneven, but unmistakable.
It was Chiyo's.
Which meant the message was true.
Ebizo had never married. To him, Iwakura and Yin were like his own children. When he left the front lines, the situation had still been favorable. How much time had passed since then?
Sasori sensed the sudden change in his grandfather's mood. A bad feeling crept into his chest.
His body trembled.
"Did… did something happen?"
Sasori asked quietly, his hands clutching the hem of his clothes.
Ebizo forced a smile. "…No. Nothing serious. It's just that Shukaku caused some trouble."
"Then… have my mom and dad come back?"
"…They've been assigned a new mission," Ebizo said after a pause. "It might take a little longer."
"Really?"
"Of course." Ebizo lifted the scroll slightly. "Your grandmother sent a message. She wants you to behave and wait in the village."
Sasori let out a breath of relief, patting his chest. But then Ebizo continued, and the words Sasori feared most followed.
"Sasori… I'm sorry. I might not be able to attend your academy entrance ceremony."
The warmth in Sasori's body vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold that crept into his fingers.
"Ah… then what should I do?" he asked weakly. "The ninja academy starts in a few days…"
"I have to lead the shinobi to the battlefield immediately," Ebizo said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Sasori squatted down, hugging his knees, searching desperately for words he could not find.
"No… Grandpa doesn't need to apologize," he muttered. "But…"
Ebizo knelt beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Be strong. Once the mission ends, Grandpa will come back right away."
Sasori's hands clenched. He suddenly shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and spoke stiffly.
"…I know."
He could almost feel his grandfather's surprise, but his emotions were already beyond control.
"That's enough," Sasori said through clenched teeth. "That's enough…"
When he repeated the words, tears finally fell.
Why did it always end like this?
Were missions really that important?
After a long silence, Ebizo finally whispered, "I'm sorry…"
...
The seabuckthorn tree rustled softly in the wind, but Sasori no longer had the heart to admire it.
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Yet his pride and stubbornness stopped him from apologizing.
Ebizo had already left to gather the shinobi.
Sasori took out the puppet his mother had given him for his birthday and began assembling it once again.
"When you finish assembling it, we'll come back from the battlefield."
Those were her words.
He had completed it in a single day and night. Still, no one waited for him at the village entrance.
Each time he succeeded afterward, he went back to look again. Over time, the purple paint faded, but his parents never returned.
Now, even Grandpa Ebizo was leaving him behind.
"I'll become the Fourth Kazekage," Sasori whispered to himself. "Then Mom and Dad will never have to go to the battlefield again."
Yet somewhere along the way, he began to hate the title of Kazekage.
In his simple, childish understanding, the Third Kazekage was the one who ordered the village into war. If not for that decision, his family would never have gone to the battlefield.
If the strongest shinobi in the village could not protect its people or keep them away from war, then what meaning did that strength have?
Sasori carefully wiped the sand from the puppet in his hands.
His expression was serious and focused, as though this small creation was the most important thing in the world.