"ASUMA!"
A rough, booming voice called out.
Sarutobi Asuma turned his head and saw a tall, broad-shouldered shinobi with a rugged face walking over, carrying two lunch boxes.
The man wore a simple, good-natured grin, and the exposed skin on his arms was crisscrossed with scars.
"You haven't eaten dinner yet, right? I grabbed an extra one—here."
He held a lunch box out.
Asuma looked at that overly enthusiastic smile—and the particular look in the man's eyes—and a chill ran straight down his spine.
"N-no thanks…"
He took half a step back.
"I already ate."
"Don't be shy. You just rotated off the line—no way you're not hungry."
The rugged shinobi leaned in another step.
"How about we eat together? I've got some sake in my tent too…"
"I really ate!"
Asuma waved both hands in panic.
"Uh— I just remembered I've got something to report to the captain. I'll—uh—go!"
And with that, he practically fled.
The rugged shinobi watched Asuma's retreating back, scratched his head, and muttered in disappointment, "Why'd he run so fast… I'm not gonna eat you."
Inside the tent, Kiyohara and Yūhi Kurenai had heard the exchange outside.
Kurenai couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Asuma's still popular, huh."
Kiyohara smiled too, but the expression quickly faded.
He finished organizing his ninja pack and looked at Kurenai.
"Kurenai, get some rest early."
Kurenai nodded, ready to return to her own tent.
They were in the same squad, so their tents were close—practically next-door neighbors.
Kiyohara went back to his tent and fell asleep.
A night passed.
When Kiyohara woke, the sky still hadn't fully brightened.
Far away, he could faintly hear the rumble of jutsu colliding—night-raiders still tangling with Suna scouts.
Of course, that was partly thanks to his increasingly sharp hearing.
Even noises others couldn't catch had started to reach him.
Still, being too sensitive had drawbacks—like all the extra noise when trying to sleep.
Kiyohara decided he needed a way to make his five senses more controllable.
He got up, washed quickly, changed into combat gear, and checked his ninja pack: ninja sword, kunai, shuriken, wire, medical supplies, and the gourd of sand-iron.
Then he found a spot, set a pot down, and started making breakfast.
He didn't bother gathering firewood. He simply put his hand beneath the black pot.
With Fire Release chakra flowing out, waves of heat formed in his palm and warmed the pot rapidly.
Before long, he'd made a simple breakfast.
For someone with his chakra reserves, this kind of thing wasn't difficult.
He made a few extra portions—delivered one to the nearest tents for Kurenai and Rin, then went to find Tsunade.
A light was on in Tsunade's tent.
When Kiyohara lifted the flap and stepped in, Tsunade was sitting at a crude table, reading a frontline casualty report.
Her blond hair was a little messy, faint shadows under her eyes—she clearly hadn't slept much.
"Sensei."
Kiyohara set the food box on the table.
"Eat something."
Inside were simple rice balls and miso soup—the rice balls stuffed with pickles and dried fish, the soup made with dried kelp and seasoning.
Tsunade looked up, glanced at him, and—rarely—curled her lips into a tired smile.
"You still have the mood to make this stuff."
She took the box, bit into a rice ball.
She chewed slowly, like she was savoring a delicacy.
In truth, on a frontline this harsh, getting neat, proper food like this was a luxury.
"Sometimes I think," Tsunade said after swallowing, lips parting slightly, "your cooking is basically my sanity potion in this hellhole."
Kiyohara sat across from her.
"How's today looking?"
Tsunade sipped the soup and shook her head.
"Not great. Last night they sent in twenty-something more wounded. Six critical. Three didn't make it back. Suna's push hasn't slowed—it's getting worse."
She set down the bowl, then pulled a small box out from under the table and handed it to him.
"For you."
It was a carton of milk—cheap packaging, but in a supply-starved front camp it was rare.
Kiyohara took it, surprised.
"Milk?"
"Drink it. Grow," Tsunade said.
Kiyohara chuckled.
"Sensei, I'm already tall."
He was already taller than most, lean and hardened, broad-shouldered—absolutely standout among his peers.
"Still a kid compared to a man," Tsunade said casually.
Kiyohara raised a brow.
"I'm not small."
Man or boy—either way, you don't call someone "small."
The moment the words left his mouth, both of them froze.
A faint blush rose on Tsunade's cheeks. She shot him a glare.
"You little punk…"
Every time she talked with him, she kept getting dragged into double-meaning lines.
Kiyohara smiled and wisely didn't pursue it.
Right then, hurried footsteps sounded outside.
"Tsunade-sama—emergency!"
A messenger shinobi burst in, panting.
"The Third Line is in crisis! Suna's Scorch Release shinobi—Pakura—has personally led the assault and already broke through the first defensive layer!"
Tsunade's expression snapped hard.
"Pakura? She's here in person?"
"Yes! Her Scorch Release is too strong—our shinobi can't stop it! We've already lost over a dozen—"
He didn't finish, but the meaning was obvious.
Nara Enchū had sent him to notify Tsunade and mobilize a medical team toward the battlefield.
Tsunade stood up and looked at Kiyohara.
"You take people, Kiyohara. Pakura's Scorch Release is a kekkei genkai—Wind and Fire nature transformation fused. Don't try to tank it. It's far nastier than normal Fire Release."
"I understand."
Kiyohara nodded.
They moved fast, leaving the tent. Tsunade issued orders at the same time, telling Shizune and the medical corps to prepare.
Casualties were about to spike.
The frontline was three kilometers from the main camp.
Tsunade stayed behind at camp. Kiyohara, along with Kurenai, Shizune, and a few others, reached the Third Line in under half an hour.
The "line" barely existed anymore.
Earthen ramparts and bunkers had been melted by heat. The ground was scorched black, thin smoke still curling up.
Several bodies lay on the burned earth in horrific shapes—not charred, but desiccated, as if all moisture had been sucked out. Skin clung to bone, eye sockets hollow—like mummies.
And the source of it all stood at the front.
A tall kunoichi.
Her long hair—orange fading into green—was tied into a ponytail, with two long strands falling beside her face.
She wore standard Suna shinobi gear… but her back was exposed, slick with sheen.
Even at this distance, Kiyohara could make out her features: refined face, a confident curve to her lips.
And her figure was even more striking—full, heavy curves up top, a waist unbelievably slim, legs long and straight, giving off a mature, dangerous allure.
Suna's "Hero"… Pakura.
Pakura lifted a hand.
Above her palm floated a fist-sized orange-red fireball.
It looked ordinary at first glance, but Kiyohara's Sharingan clearly saw two chakra types inside.
Wind-nature chakra formed a spiraling inner airflow; Fire-nature chakra burned on the outside.
The two transformations fused perfectly—producing a qualitative shift.
Scorch Release chakra.
"Scorch Release…" Kiyohara murmured.
Then Pakura moved.
With a small flick of her hand, the fireball drifted forward—its speed wasn't impressive, but its threat radius was huge.
A Konoha shinobi tried to raise an earth wall for defense. The fireball curved around the wall and struck his body.
No explosion. No burst of flame.
At the moment of contact, the fireball sank into him—like water soaking into a sponge—disappearing into his body.
Then the horror began.
The shinobi's body convulsed violently.
His skin visibly lost moisture, shriveling and tightening in seconds.
His eyes withered in their sockets. Lips cracked. Hair turned brittle and fell out.
In three seconds flat, a living shinobi became a dried corpse and collapsed.
The entire process was silent—no gore, no spectacle—yet it was far more chilling than any bloody battlefield.
"Th-this… this is Scorch Release…"
A young chunin's voice trembled.
Kiyohara watched it happen and finally understood Scorch Release's lethality in the most direct way possible.
A fusion of heat and wind that instantaneously vaporized all moisture inside the target.
The victim suffered the agony of boiling from within, while the outside showed barely any visible damage.
A brutal, efficient killing technique.
At the same time, Kiyohara's Sharingan caught even more detail.
Scorch Release… wind and fire fused…
A fierce curiosity rose in him.
If he could master this kekkei genkai—or at least fully grasp its principles—his own Fire Release would undergo a qualitative leap.
Just imagine combining his "Fire Release: Microwave Shot" high-temperature concept with Scorch Release's dehydration effect.
What kind of nightmare would that become?
And right now, the Suna hero standing before him was the perfect research specimen.
But he could tell Pakura was strong—someone who'd likely mastered this even back in academy days or shortly after graduation.
"I have to capture her."
Kiyohara made the decision instantly.
One: taking Pakura alive would be enormous merit—fast-tracking his rise in Anbu rank and status.
Two: studying her Scorch Release would strengthen him directly.
A frontline commander shouted, "Any Wind Release specialists? Blow her fireballs away!"
A Konoha jonin stepped forward.
"I've got this—I'm the best Wind user here!"
Hands flashed through seals. He drew a deep breath.
"Wind Release: Great Vacuum Sphere!"
A compressed air bullet screamed toward Pakura, ripping the air with a piercing shriek.
Pakura didn't even move her feet.
She simply raised her left hand and lazily waved.
"Wind Release…"
Invisible currents condensed into countless wind blades that met the vacuum sphere head-on.
The moment they collided, the compressed sphere was sliced apart and dispersed.
But the remaining wind flow didn't stop—instantaneously cutting the jonin across the throat.
Blood burst.
He stared wide-eyed, hands clamped over his neck, but blood poured through his fingers.
He stumbled back and fell.
"How is that possible…" a chunin whispered. "That was an A-rank Wind Release…"
"Because Pakura is also a Wind expert," an experienced jonin replied grimly.
"Scorch Release is wind and fire fused. As its wielder, she's mastered both. Her Wind Release is leagues beyond ordinary jonin."
Konoha's shinobi fell silent.
So the title "Suna's Hero" wasn't for show.
Kurenai stood next to Kiyohara, face pale.
She gripped her kunai so tightly her fingers whitened.
"What do we do, Kiyohara… her Wind Release is terrifying…"
Even with the boost from "White Snake Power," Kurenai didn't believe she could beat Pakura in Wind Release.
Kurenai's main strength was genjutsu; Wind Release was a secondary tool.
And against someone at this level, genjutsu was hard to land.
Kiyohara looked at Pakura in the distance… and suddenly smiled.
"Simple," he said.
"I step in."
He stopped hiding his chakra.
Wind-nature chakra surged out of him, forming a visible vortex of air currents around his body.
Dust lifted from the ground; nearby shinobi felt the pressure of a powerful wind.
Kiyohara was a Wind Release expert too.
Kurenai froze, staring at him in shock.
"Kiyohara… you—"
The surrounding shinobi were stunned as well.
Kiyohara was famous for Magnet Release, the Sharingan, and his body flicker speed—not for Wind Release at this level.
"Fall back. Keep your distance," Kiyohara said.
"Don't enter Pakura's attack radius."
Her Scorch Release, Wind Release, even her Fire Release—everything about her was wide-area.
A single misstep and someone would get caught in the blast zone.
Then the ground exploded beneath Kiyohara's feet.
Using repulsion as recoil, he accelerated with the Leaf Body Flicker.
To ordinary eyes, he left only a blurry afterimage.
Pakura noticed him immediately.
Her eyes narrowed.
As a high-priority intelligence target, she'd studied Kiyohara's file long ago.
Konoha's rising star. Tsunade's student. Sharingan and Magnet Release. Strength far beyond his age group.
"Kiyohara…"
She said his name softly, killing intent flashing in her eyes.
Suna had already listed him as a threat.
Given time, he could become a second Minato—Suna's nightmare.
He had to die here.
And on the Land of Fire eastern coast, it had been Kiyohara who ambushed and injured her.
He'd also imprisoned her beloved student, Maki—making him the root cause of everything.
Old hatred piled on new.
Pakura decided to settle it all at once.
Nearby Konoha jonin gritted their teeth and fought on, trying to tie down Pakura's allies—Suna shinobi clustered around the area.
But Pakura was already done playing.
She raised her right hand, palm up.
Chakra condensed—
A new fireball formed.
But this one was different.
Bigger—over half a meter in diameter. A blinding bright orange. Inside, wind swirled at terrifying speed.
It hovered above Pakura's head, radiating heat and light so intense the air warped and the ground began to smoke.
"That's—"
A Konoha jonin went pale.
"Pakura's signature technique…!"
Someone else cried out.
Pakura's eyes went cold. She barked a single command:
"Scorch Release: Extremely Steaming Murder!"
The fireball detonated.
A wave of orange-red heat exploded outward like a storm, covering dozens of meters in radius.
The ground cracked instantly. Grass turned to ash. Even rock surfaces began to flake apart.
Several Konoha shinobi who couldn't retreat in time were swallowed.
Screams rose—then vanished.
Their bodies dehydrated, shrank, and became dried corpses.
But Kiyohara didn't retreat.
He stood his ground and let the heat wave crash into him.
For the first time, surprise flickered in Pakura's eyes.
No one had ever dared to take Steaming Murder head-on without backing off.
Then something even more shocking happened.
A metallic sheen spread across Kiyohara's skin—
Steel Release, reinforced by Earth Release: Earth Spear.
Under the heat, his metal-hardened skin flushed faintly red, but it didn't melt. It didn't crack.
Then violent wind surged around him.
"Wind Release: Gale Palm!"
A roaring airflow shielded his body, blowing away most of the heat.
With the wind's cooling, the redness on his hardened skin faded quickly.
Gale Palm wasn't a high-difficulty technique, but it was extremely versatile.
Used alone, it could blast targets away, or it could enhance thrown weapons' speed and lethality.
And it could also wrap the user's body—exactly like this.
Pakura's eyes widened with genuine surprise.
Scorch Release was Suna's prized kekkei genkai—an instant dehydration kill-zone.
Normal shinobi couldn't even approach it without collapsing from dehydration.
But this young Konoha shinobi…
"Interesting," Pakura murmured, a faint curve rising at her lips.
She lifted her hand again.
A second orange-red fireball formed.
Then a third.
In moments, eight head-sized fireballs floated around her.
Each contained a visible spiral of wind within, and the combined heat distortion warped the air across a wide area.
"Kiyohara…" Pakura repeated, her voice dripping with open intent to kill.
"Given time, you'd become Suna's greatest threat. So today—this is where you die."
The eight fireballs moved at once.
The heat wave arrived first, cracking earth and spiderwebbing rock.
"Kiyohara!"
Kurenai screamed from behind.
A few Konoha jonin tried to rush forward, but the first one who stepped into the zone had his skin wrinkle and shrivel in seconds.
He grunted and stumbled back, staring at his arm—aged decades in an instant—his face drained white.
"Don't come closer!"
Kiyohara's voice cut cleanly through the heat without him even looking back.
He raised a hand in a simple stop gesture.
His Sharingan was already active, tomoe spinning rapidly as it tracked every fireball's trajectory.
The first came from the front.
He sidestepped; it grazed his clothing, the edge scorching instantly, but his hardened skin only warmed.
The second and third hit from both sides.
He kicked off the ground and retreated; the two fireballs collided where he'd been and detonated.
A fourth dropped from above.
Kiyohara's hands flashed through seals.
"Magnet Release: Sand-Iron Wall!"
His gourd trembled; sand-iron surged up into a barrier—
But the moment the fireball touched it, the wall began to melt into red-hot iron slurry.
Still, that split-second was enough.
Kiyohara slipped away as the shield failed.
The remaining fireballs chased.
Kiyohara sprinted across the scorched battlefield, each step leaving deep prints in burnt earth.
Magnet chakra surged in his body as he punched through the encirclement.
Pakura's frown deepened.
Her control was precise—ordinary jonin would already be dead under this kind of dense pressure.
Yet Kiyohara kept evading.
The other shinobi could only stand back; they couldn't withstand that heat.
They could only attempt long-range jutsu, but with Kiyohara fighting inside the kill-zone, they couldn't risk friendly fire.
Kurenai finished a hand sign chain, ready to support at any moment.
"Got you."
Kiyohara's voice was quiet.
He suddenly appeared behind two Suna chunin.
They were fully focused on maintaining a perimeter barrier and never imagined someone would break through Pakura's net and appear at their backs.
Kiyohara seized both by the back of their necks like chickens and hurled them straight at Pakura.
"—!"
The two shinobi's faces twisted in terror, almost screaming.
Pakura's expression snapped.
She clenched her right hand, forcibly redirecting two of the Scorch Release fireballs mid-air to avoid hitting her own men.
But she couldn't adjust the other two in time.
They collided with the flying chunin.
The fireballs sank into their bodies like liquid.
Their forms spasmed mid-air, skin collapsing—
Worse, blister-like bulges ballooned across their bodies, swelling rapidly, then—
Thump.
A dull pop.
Not blood and gore—just a burst of white steam.
Their insides had flash-vaporized. Only charred husks dropped to the ground.
"Internal steaming kill…"
Kiyohara watched her closely.
Pakura's Scorch Release could dehydrate from outside, and also inject the technique into targets, detonating them from within.
"You dare…"
Pakura's voice turned colder still.
Kiyohara using her own men as shields—and probing her technique mid-fight—was a direct insult.
"You'll regret it, Konoha brat."
She brought her hands together in front of her chest. Her hair lifted slightly as her chakra surged.
The eight fireballs re-stabilized, their temperature climbing again.
~~~
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