Kiyohara surveyed the battlefield.
This time, Suna had deployed more than a thousand shinobi—overwhelming numbers. Their goal was likely to crush Konoha's forward camp and pave the way for a continued push.
"Red—use your Demonic Illusion: Wind-Whispered Confusing Tone to disrupt their rear ranks.
"Rin—you're on support and triage. Stay safe, don't stray too far from the fortifications.
"Kakashi—we cut into the flank and break their formation."
"Understood!"
Kurenai formed hand seals, drew a deep breath, and slowly opened her mouth.
A song flowed from her throat.
At the same time, her other hand formed Wind Release seals.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
The airflow rippled—wind carried her voice and spread it rapidly across the back of the battlefield.
Some of the Suna shinobi in the rear, who were preparing jutsu, suddenly froze. Their eyes went unfocused.
Rin weaved through the Konoha ranks, palms glowing with the soft green light of medical ninjutsu. Her chakra seeped into wounds like gentle water—stopping bleeding and closing injuries.
Whenever a Suna shinobi broke through the line and got near her, she countered with Water Release. The high-pressure water blast could fling an enemy several meters, smashing them into trees or rocks.
On the flank, Kakashi moved like a streak of blue-white lightning.
He didn't use a straight Chidori thrust. Instead, he infused Lightning Release into kunai—each throw traced a blue arc with a harsh crackle, and on impact it triggered a small-area shock.
"Kakashi's Lightning Release has improved too," Kiyohara noted.
Kakashi's growth wasn't as absurdly fast as his, but it was still far quicker than most. War really did accelerate refinement.
Before long, Konoha—thanks to fortifications and tight coordination—repelled Suna's first wave.
But Suna's numerical advantage began to show. The line started getting pushed back, slowly, like a rising tide eating away at a shoreline.
That was when Kiyohara noticed, near the main command tent, Tsunade and Shizune standing together—Shizune supporting Tsunade as they stared at the fight.
Tsunade's face was paper-white, unnaturally pale even under moonlight.
Her hands trembled. She clutched Shizune's arm hard, lips pressed tight.
She wanted to go support Kiyohara, wanted to personally treat the wounded being carried back nonstop—but her body refused to move.
Each time she saw blood, saw torn flesh, her breathing sped up, her stomach churned, cold sweat soaking her back.
In the end, Tsunade had to shut her eyes and summon Katsuyu to help.
Katsuyu split into many smaller slugs, and one crawled to Kiyohara, feeding him chakra.
"Kiyohara-sama, I'm here to assist you."
"Thank you, Katsuyu-sama."
Kiyohara nodded.
Katsuyu always used honorifics like "-sama."
"Hm?"
In the next instant, Katsuyu sensed something—Kiyohara's chakra was mixed with natural energy.
That strange chakra felt like senjutsu chakra.
Her two feelers swayed slightly, as if she were thinking.
At the same time, Suna's assault suddenly intensified. A squad of elite jōnin broke through Konoha's right flank and charged straight toward the command hub.
Nara Enhiru and the other command personnel were there—if that point fell, the entire line could collapse.
Jiraiya was pinned down by three Suna jōnin—elite shinobi skilled in Wind Release and puppetry—unable to break free.
He shouted, "Right flank! Plug the right flank!"
"Kakashi—right flank!" Kiyohara barked, already sprinting.
The two shot forward like arrows loosed from a bow, splitting left and right toward the elite squad.
Kiyohara's Magnet Release sand-iron poured from his gourd, condensed and reshaped into dozens of black spears. Their tips gleamed as they shrieked through the air.
Kakashi cut in from the side—the familiar cry of Chidori rang out again.
But just as they were about to collide—
Something changed.
Far away, the sky flashed with a dull golden-gray glint—moonlight reflecting off something.
Suspended midair was a mass of gold dust, countless tiny grains gathering into a cloud.
Standing atop that gold dust was a figure in the Kazekage's ceremonial robes, the cloak snapping in the night wind.
The Fourth Kazekage—Rasa.
From on high, he looked down over the battlefield.
In the next moment, Rasa formed seals and raised his right hand.
The ground trembled across several hundred meters. Golden grains seeped up from the soil like rain flowing backward, converging into waves.
Magnet Release: Gold Dust Imperial Funeral!
A tidal surge of gold dust crashed down.
It swallowed dozens of Konoha shinobi before they could even scream.
The sound of bones breaking was drowned beneath the soft rasp of flowing sand—only the occasional blood spill staining the gold surface, like a hellish painting.
"It's the Kazekage!"
A panicked cry rippled through Konoha's ranks, and morale wavered.
Jiraiya flashed through seals, chakra erupting.
"Ninja Art: Needle Jizō!"
His iconic white hair hardened and shot outward, transforming into countless sharp silver needles, each as deadly as a kunai.
The barrage blanketed the airspace toward Rasa.
Rasa's gold dust moved on its own, forming a massive golden shield like a city wall.
Clink-clink-clink-clink.
Needles struck the gold shield with a harsh rasp. Each time a bit broke away, more gold dust flowed in to patch it.
"It's useless, Jiraiya," Rasa said calmly, voice carrying through the gold.
"Your jutsu can't pierce my absolute defense."
Kiyohara didn't join the direct exchange.
The moment Rasa appeared, Kiyohara slipped to a quieter edge of the battlefield and started "working."
His dark eyes turned crimson; three tomoe formed and spun.
Those three tomoe tracked Rasa's movements—and the chakra flow inside him.
Through the Sharingan's view, even the air showed faint traces of chakra.
Rasa's refined Magnet Release chakra clung to the gold dust like puppet strings, controlling it.
Kiyohara watched the route of chakra through Rasa's tenketsu and pathways.
"So that's how it works…"
He kept watching.
With mental energy stronger than even most Uchiha, Kiyohara's Yin Release—and thus his ocular power—was far beyond ordinary Sharingan users. He could pick out more detail than most ever could.
This was the true way to use the Sharingan: push copy to its absolute limit.
Kiyohara approves this message.
After observing for a bit, Kiyohara began forming seals and tried to move his own chakra.
Earth-nature as the base, wind-nature as support, mixed in a fixed ratio—mimicking Rasa's hand signs and chakra flow.
Deep beneath his feet, metal began to stir, drawn upward to the surface as a pale golden haze.
Kiyohara narrowed his eyes—it was gold dust.
Because this is forest land, not Land of Wind's desert… is refining gold dust harder than sand-iron? he thought.
Gold dust wasn't something you could just casually extract. If it were, Suna wouldn't be the poorest major village.
Rasa periodically refined gold dust in the desert—using part for combat and selling the rest to bolster the village's finances.
Doesn't matter.
Kiyohara wasn't disappointed.
Under normal conditions, refining gold dust would be difficult and would require practice. But right now, a ready-made supply was floating in the sky.
He dumped all the sand-iron from his gourd into a sealing scroll, then tried using his own Magnet Release chakra to pull at Rasa's gold dust.
All that shiny, literal money.
How long would it take him to refine his own? Without Rasa's mastery, his speed would be far slower.
But this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Rasa's gold dust? Kiyohara was taking it.
Just then, Jiraiya attacked again.
"Fire Release: Fire Dragon Bullet!"
Three enormous fire dragons blasted from his mouth, lunging at Rasa from left, right, and front.
An A-rank Fire Release that demanded extremely high control—the dragons' paths were fully directed by the caster and could change course at will, making them hard to evade.
The heat warped the air; grass and trees ignited as they passed.
Rasa went to raise his gold dust defense—then his expression shifted.
His connection to part of the gold dust felt sluggish, as if something were interfering—like radio static.
It was only an instant, and the interference wasn't strong, but it was enough to slow his defense timing by half a beat.
The three fire dragons were already upon him; heat slammed into his face.
Rasa made a snap decision: abandon a full coverage defense. He gathered the gold dust he could still control into a thick wall in front of him—smaller in area than planned.
The dragons slammed into the gold wall, turning the night sky orange like a second sunset.
The heat partially melted the gold dust surface; droplets of golden liquid rained down.
The wall shook violently and cracked—but it held.
When the smoke cleared, Rasa's face had darkened.
He looked toward a point on the battlefield.
There, a young black-haired shinobi was looking up at him.
"Sharingan… Kiyohara."
Rasa recognized the name that had been appearing constantly in Suna intelligence.
He learned to control gold dust without a teacher…? Rasa frowned.
That learning speed was terrifying.
And he'd never heard of the Sharingan copying bloodline limits.
Was it because Kiyohara also had Magnet Release?
Rasa turned it over and couldn't find an answer.
Nothing in history matched Kiyohara—an "Uchiha" with another bloodline limit.
"That Magnet Release can't be allowed to live."
Rasa released more chakra, tightening his control over the gold dust.
In chakra reserves, experience, and large-scale control, he still outclassed Kiyohara.
He was the Kazekage—no matter how people praised the Third as the strongest, Rasa had still seized the mantle in a village that had been leaderless. He had his own real strength.
Even so, Rasa didn't dare take this lightly.
Kiyohara's growth was too fast.
And in the shinobi world, there was no such thing as "weak foundation." Fast was fast—step ahead becomes steps ahead.
"You think you can steal my gold dust?" Rasa shouted.
He swept his hand. Behind him, gold dust formed a shimmering curtain.
Kiyohara felt Rasa reinforce his control. In response, Kiyohara pushed harder—drawing on the power within his curse mark.
He raised his right hand, fingers spread, aiming at scattered gold dust near the battlefield's edge.
Remnants left behind by Gold Dust Great Burial.
Curse mark power could amplify techniques too.
With the curse mark's boost, a portion of that gold dust snapped free from Rasa's control, floated up—and flew straight into Kiyohara's gourd.
Kiyohara patted the gourd, satisfied.
If he could fleece Rasa a bit more, he'd be able to fight with gold dust himself later.
And his finances would rise too—supporting the orphanage, building a new lab, growing his own faction—all would become easier.
He couldn't bankroll a whole village, but he could cover those.
"Impossible…"
Shock flickered in Rasa's eyes.
Magnet Release users could manipulate metal, but different shinobi tended to specialize in different metals—depending on chakra nature, bloodline purity, even temperament.
In Suna's history, gold dust users were extremely rare, and each one needed years of training.
Yet Kiyohara had not only learned it—he was stealing gold dust back from the Kazekage?
It was… completely upside down.
Watching Kiyohara pack Suna's assets into his own gourd, Rasa finally snapped.
He dropped from the air to the ground and slapped both hands onto the earth.
A flood of Magnet Release chakra poured downward.
All the gold dust behind him dove too, carpeting the ground.
"Magnet Release: Gold Dust!"
BOOM!
More gold dust erupted from the earth, mixing with his existing supply.
Under the moon, it rolled like a glittering sea—golden waves crashing toward Kiyohara.
Jiraiya's face turned ugly. He wasn't going to stand by and watch Kiyohara get crushed.
This wasn't even Kiyohara's fight to begin with.
"And Orochimaru just left…" Jiraiya muttered, frowning.
Suna had probably chosen this exact timing to strike.
Jiraiya flashed through seals.
"Earth Release: Swamp of the Underworld!"
A vast swamp spread through the forest floor, stopping the gold dust tide.
Jiraiya's chakra mixed into the mire, disrupting any gold dust that tried to break free.
With Jiraiya's help, Kiyohara increased his interference against Rasa's Magnet Release chakra.
More and more gold dust gathered around Kiyohara, quickly filling his gourd.
The gourd looked small, but it had sealing formulas inside—far more capacity than its size suggested. It had cost Kiyohara a fortune.
Jiraiya noticed immediately.
With his battle instincts, he recognized it as a chance—a way to break the stalemate.
"Kiyohara—keep disrupting him!" Jiraiya yelled, already weaving seals again.
"Fire Release: Big Flame Bullet!"
He launched a steady stream of fireballs at Rasa, forcing him to split focus and defend.
Kiyohara concentrated, continuing to push his chakra into the sea of gold dust.
Rasa's chakra was thick and steady like bedrock—but there was simply too much gold dust to cover every grain.
Kiyohara kept probing for weak spots: whenever he found something he could pry loose, he made it his.
For the first time, Rasa felt truly troubled.
No enemy had ever fought him like this before.
His gold dust no longer moved like his own limbs. Each command now required extra chakra just to resist the interference.
If it were only Kiyohara, he wouldn't be afraid.
But Jiraiya was also there, constantly assisting and pressuring him with jutsu.
In a fight against someone of Jiraiya's level, any tiny disadvantage could balloon into disaster.
And Rasa saw the small slug on Kiyohara's shoulder, feeding him chakra.
He knew Tsunade was here too.
If two Sannin joined hands—plus Kiyohara stealing control of gold dust—this would drag on far longer than Rasa could afford.
A surprise attack was supposed to be lightning-fast. Speed was everything.
If Konoha reinforcements arrived, the battle would only grow more chaotic—and casualties would climb.
For Suna's current situation, that was unacceptable.
"Damn it…"
Rasa gritted his teeth, forming seals and pouring out more chakra.
"Gold Dust World Method!"
Even more gold dust surged up, as if the earth were bleeding liquid gold.
It formed countless spears, each as thick as an arm, tips razor-sharp—raining down on Kiyohara in a massive area.
Even if Kiyohara could disrupt some, he couldn't stop them all.
It was both a wide-area attack and a test—testing the limits of Kiyohara's interference.
Kiyohara didn't dodge.
He clasped his hands together, eyes focused.
"Magnet Release: Gold Dust Wall!"
The gold dust he'd just stolen poured out of his gourd and formed a rapidly spinning golden wall in front of him—part shield, part meat grinder.
The spears slammed into it with a shriek of friction, sparks flying, but couldn't break through. Instead, the spinning gold dust deflected them, sending them off to the sides.
It was essentially his Sand-Iron Wall, but with gold dust instead.
Taking advantage, Kiyohara kept the wall going with his left hand, while his right palm gathered chakra.
A hot fireball formed—only fist-sized at first.
Then he applied Magnet Release, microwaving it.
The fireball's internal temperature skyrocketed under the induced heating, turning brilliant white.
Same size—vastly higher heat—like Kiyohara was holding a miniature sun.
"Fire Release: Microwave Bomb!"
He hurled it at Rasa.
The air boomed from the heat; grass and wood instantly charred, leaving a blackened path behind.
Rasa immediately tried to wrap the fireball with gold dust to isolate it—but Jiraiya's next attack arrived.
"Wild Lion's Mane Technique!"
Jiraiya's hair exploded outward, forming lion-like heads as it lashed at Rasa from the side.
The strands were hard as iron. An ordinary shinobi caught by it would be shredded on the spot.
Front: a superheated fireball. Side: a binding technique.
Rasa was forced into a split-second choice.
He chose retreat—launching backward while stacking layers of gold dust in front of him as overlapping shields.
But he was still half a beat too slow.
The fireball detonated before his defense fully formed.
BOOM!
A dark-red mushroom cloud bloomed. Blinding white light erupted.
A gale slammed outward, throwing leaves, roots, corpses, and scattered tools into the air.
Rasa had retreated in time to avoid the center, but the edge of the blast still caught him.
His gold dust layers partially melted, golden droplets raining down.
The hem of his ceremonial robe charred and tore; burn marks lined his face, stinging hot.
More importantly, some gold dust lost its magnetism from the heat and slipped from his control.
Kiyohara immediately seized that gold dust too.
Perfect. A more beautiful opening didn't exist.
Kiyohara felt like making money had suddenly become… easy.
~~~
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