As the smoke and dust slowly cleared, quite a bit of gold dust spilled off Rasa's body.
That gold dust had insulated him from some of the heat.
And in that moment, Rasa noticed a change in Jiraiya.
Somehow, two elderly green toads were now standing on Jiraiya's shoulders.
Both wore cloaks, hands pressed together in a prayer-like seal.
Red markings had appeared on Jiraiya's face—eye-shadow-like pigment and red lines running down either side of his nose. Even his chakra felt different.
Sage Mode.
Alarm bells went off in Rasa's head.
Jiraiya was already a nightmare to deal with. Once he entered Sage Mode, his strength would undergo a qualitative leap—perception, speed, power, and the potency of his ninjutsu all rose across the board.
Add to that Kiyohara—who could interfere with his gold dust—and the Konoha elites that were still streaming in…
This fight had lost the point of being a surprise attack.
If he kept fighting, Suna might not gain anything. Worse, it could turn into a war of attrition—and Suna, fighting on multiple fronts, couldn't afford that.
Rasa made the call instantly. He raised a hand and signaled retreat. Three red signal flares shot into the air and burst in the night like blood-red flowers.
"Withdraw!"
The Suna shinobi pulled back with discipline, covering one another. Their wounded were retrieved immediately, the formation stayed intact, and they vanished into the forest in short order—leaving behind only wreckage and lingering smoke.
Chiyo, who had just about arrived from the rear, saw the stormy look on Rasa's face.
"You're not continuing?" she asked.
"I won't commit unless I have at least a ninety-percent certainty," Rasa shook his head.
If he were seriously injured—or worse—Suna's situation would become even more delicate.
Konoha might even join hands with Kirigakure to hammer Suna. That would be the worst possible outcome.
During the exchange—while fighting Jiraiya and dealing with Kiyohara's interference—Rasa had also noticed the brutal melee between over a thousand Suna and Konoha shinobi.
Konoha's fighters here were tenacious, and there were plenty of Hyūga as well.
They could see the thinnest points in puppet mechanisms, then inject Gentle Fist chakra into those spots to disrupt movement.
Since there was no advantage to be gained, Rasa had no reason to keep bleeding manpower.
Heavy casualties would only hurt them when it came time to negotiate.
"Let's go," Rasa said.
He had already issued the order: if Konoha proved too hard to crack, once he withdrew they would present an alliance proposal.
"That's fine," Chiyo agreed.
Two sealing scrolls still hung at her waist—her signature puppets, inherited from the puppet-master progenitor, Monzaemon.
When a puppet-master dies, their puppets are usually passed down.
Chiyo had inherited these when she was young, mastered the "White Secret Technique" that surpassed even the "Black Secret Technique," and became Suna's greatest prodigy among female puppeteers.
She also knew medical ninjutsu and sealing arts, and in the Second Shinobi World War had been considered an archrival to Hanzō of the Salamander.
"And what about Pakura?" Chiyo asked as they withdrew.
"At that point… we'll see if we can buy her back," Rasa nodded.
Truth be told, Pakura leaving Suna would benefit his authority.
To stabilize the village, Rasa had essentially manufactured a god—turning Pakura into Suna's "star," complete with the title of Hero that neither Chiyo nor even Rasa possessed.
But the tradeoff was that it weakened his prestige.
Still—Pakura's Scorch Release could not be allowed to leak.
If they brought her back, she could eventually marry and have children, giving Suna a chance to produce more Scorch Release users.
Even if not all descendants awakened the kekkei genkai, the "seed" would remain, waiting to bloom someday.
If she stayed in Konoha, Konoha might obtain that bloodline limit.
Konoha already had too many. Rasa didn't want to strengthen them further.
Weighing it all, he decided: bring her back.
Chiyo nodded, and withdrew with Rasa and the rest of the Suna forces.
…
As Rasa's group retreated, Konoha's camp erupted into thunderous cheers.
At first it was scattered, then it swelled into a wave that shook the night sky.
Jiraiya released Sage Mode and let out a long breath.
Good—Rasa had chosen to back off. The instant he entered Sage Mode, his perception surged. He'd sensed fresh chakra approaching nearby—Chiyo's chakra.
That woman was not easy to deal with.
At the same time, the two toads on Jiraiya's shoulders—Fukasaku and Shima—exchanged a glance, then both looked toward Kiyohara.
"Jiraiya, that young man..." Fukasaku began.
"The natural energy inside him… is strange," he said slowly. "It isn't pure senjutsu chakra, but it definitely contains natural energy."
"Like a curse mark… but not quite," Shima continued. "And it feels familiar—kind of like the Ryūchi Cave route… cold, with a serpent-like aura."
Jiraiya frowned. "Ryūchi Cave? Orochimaru?"
He scratched the back of his head. He remembered Orochimaru trying—and failing—to train senjutsu there, unable to properly enter Sage Mode.
"Not sure," Fukasaku shook his head. "But you should keep an eye on this. Natural energy isn't easy to control. Don't get ahead of yourself."
He didn't finish the warning, but the meaning was clear.
Jiraiya nodded. "I'll pay attention. Thanks, Boss and… Big Sis."
He respected them deeply—they were beings who'd lived for eight hundred years.
"Mm. Then Father and I will head back," Shima said, nodding. "Mount Myōboku has things to handle."
With that, both old toads vanished into white smoke and returned to Mount Myōboku.
Kiyohara, even after Rasa pulled back, still managed to siphon off more gold dust. Now, beyond a completely full gourd, he'd gotten quite a lot extra.
Most importantly—he'd learned the method.
Even if he had zero gold dust on hand, he could now search the natural world and refine it himself.
The Sharingan really was amazing.
Kiyohara couldn't help but feel it. This was the correct way to use a kekkei genkai—not just relying on what talent handed you, but using that talent to turn other people's things into your own.
On the battlefield, Konoha shinobi began cleanup. The medical teams rushed to treat the injured; the critically wounded were sent to the medical tents.
Logistics gathered scattered tools and recovered anything usable.
Recon kept watch, wary of Suna circling back for a second strike.
Kiyohara joined in too—searching Suna corpses for valuables.
Confirm death first, then check the gear pouch: kunai, shuriken, explosive tags. Then personal items—several encrypted intel scrolls.
There were also Suna-made tools: poison-coated shuriken, triggered explosive traps, and thin notebooks recording Suna tactics and signal codes.
From these fragments, Kiyohara roughly pieced together Suna's intent. This attack had been a planned probe—measuring Konoha's frontline defense, the condition of their high-end fighters, and their response speed to a surprise strike.
Rasa showing up personally wasn't just for force—he was there to ensure the probe had teeth, and to deliver a decisive blow if a window opened.
But Konoha's resistance exceeded expectations, so Rasa withdrew cleanly to avoid being dragged into attrition.
"Looks like Suna's hesitating," Kiyohara thought, pocketing an encrypted scroll.
"They know Konoha's stretched thin across multiple fronts and want to bite off a chunk… but they're afraid of breaking their teeth."
Kiyohara guessed the next pressure point would be Kirigakure. In the original timeline, Kiri and Suna basically bled each other dry—Kiri coming out slightly better.
So Suna would eventually show "sincerity" to stop the bleeding—handing Pakura over to Kiri to end hostilities.
"Kiyohara—do you want to rest a bit?" Kurenai asked as she walked up.
She'd also seen him stealing Rasa's gold dust and assumed his output must've been intense.
"I'm fine," Kiyohara said. "I've mostly recovered. Honestly, if Rasa had stayed a little longer, I could've grabbed more gold dust."
"That's… ridiculous," Asuma blurted. He'd been in this fight too, but by the time he arrived it was nearly over.
What did "if Rasa stayed a little longer" even mean? That was the Kazekage—was he really something you could just farm for profit?
Asuma instantly felt the gap.
"And your sand-iron?" Kakashi asked, curious.
"Sealed away," Kiyohara answered.
Gold dust didn't mean he'd abandon sand-iron. Gold dust was expensive in battle—sand-iron was cheaper for everyday fighting.
"So… how much money is that worth?" someone asked as the mood relaxed.
Ebisu was standing beside Anbu Guy.
He hadn't seen Guy take the mask off, but he was absolutely certain it was him.
"No idea," Kiyohara shook his head. "I still have to check the purity."
Gold dust wasn't pure gold. He'd need to test it.
…
An hour after the battle, the camp had mostly regained order.
The wounded were treated, defenses reinforced, patrol rotations reset.
Kiyohara received word from Tsunade—she wanted him in the main tent.
"Come in."
Kiyohara lifted the flap and saw Tsunade seated, medical reports spread out in front of her—yet her eyes weren't really focused on the paper.
She was still pale, but better than before. At least her hands weren't trembling anymore.
The panic from hemophobia had ebbed—there wasn't fresh blood in front of her now.
Shizune wasn't there. Only teacher and student.
"Sensei," Kiyohara said.
Tsunade gestured for him to sit. She took a breath, rubbed her temple, and finally spoke.
"Tell me everything about tonight's battle."
Kiyohara reported honestly.
When she heard he'd learned Rasa's Magnet Release technique after watching it once, Tsunade's eyes lit up, some of the fatigue burning away.
"You can really control gold dust now? Show me."
Kiyohara nodded. No hand seals—he simply raised his right hand, palm up.
A small cluster of golden grains floated out of his gourd, hovering above his palm.
"I'm still not proficient," he admitted. "My range and precision aren't anywhere near Rasa's. But yes—I can control it."
As he spoke, he shaped the gold dust into simple forms: a sphere, a cube, a spear.
Tsunade stared at the shimmering gold for a while, leaning forward—her cleavage unapologetically on display.
Her eyes grew brighter and brighter.
"From now on, you're my personal little cash cow."
"?"
Seeing Kiyohara's face go blank, Tsunade continued.
"Gold dust!"
"That's gold—real gold! Whenever you're short on money, just take a stroll in the desert. Scoop up a handful, refine it into ingots, and boom—rich!"
She got more excited as she talked, already calculating.
"One gram of gold is worth… if you can gather a kilogram a day, then in a month that's—no, wait, we need a safe channel to sell it. The black market pays less, but it's still fine…"
Kiyohara shook his head and let the gold dust sink back into the gourd.
"Sensei, controlling gold dust and making gold aren't the same thing. Gold dust is naturally occurring sand that contains gold. The purity isn't like pure gold. Whether you find high-purity deposits… that's luck."
"Oh…"
Tsunade sagged for a second, disappointed—then immediately recovered.
"Fine. Then at least when your teacher is short on money, you'll 'honor' her a bit, right? Not much—just enough for booze and gambling."
Kiyohara nodded seriously. "Of course. But…"
He paused.
"Do you have any new medical techniques you could teach me?"
Tsunade narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down, lingering on his earnest, annoyingly handsome face.
After a beat, she snorted.
"So that's it. You waved gold dust in front of me, then asked for medical ninjutsu."
Kiyohara remained perfectly calm. "A studious student is a blessing to his teacher."
"Smooth talker," Tsunade laughed. Like it was her blessing.
But she wasn't angry.
She stood, walked to a battered wooden chest in the tent corner, and flipped it open.
After rummaging, she pulled out a new medical scroll and handed it to him.
"This one's an A-rank medical technique. It can handle multiple internal injuries at once—like a ruptured spleen plus intestinal perforations. With your chakra control, you should be able to learn it."
Then she waved him off.
"If you have questions, ask later. I'm taking a bath. I'm soaked in sweat and feel disgusting—sticky all over."
Kiyohara took the hint and left.
Back in his own tent, he lit a lamp and unrolled the scroll.
The opening pages were dense diagrams of the chakra network and flow routes, packed with tiny handwritten notes and margin annotations.
He skimmed once—yes, it was advanced, but absolutely within his reach.
He put the scroll away and practiced gold dust control for a while longer.
Without Rasa's interference, he improved quickly. He could now steadily manipulate small amounts of gold dust within ten meters—hovering, moving, basic shaping.
About an hour later, guessing Tsunade had finished bathing, Kiyohara returned to the main tent.
Before knocking, he waited until he heard her voice.
"Come in."
He pushed the flap aside and froze for a split second.
Tsunade had just finished washing.
She wore a loose bathrobe—soft fabric that followed the contours of her body. The collar was slightly open, showing her collarbones and a strip of pale skin.
Her long blonde hair was damp and hanging over her shoulders, water still dripping from the ends.
She was lazily towel-drying it, sleeves slipped up to her elbows, revealing smooth forearms.
The tent carried a faint, clean scent—soap, fresh warmth, and a subtle feminine fragrance… with the slightest hint of alcohol. She'd likely had a small drink after bathing.
"Sensei," Kiyohara said, quickly shifting his gaze away.
Tsunade hummed, still drying her hair.
"Did you read the scroll?"
"Skimmed it. I'll need hands-on practice for some parts."
"Obviously." She tossed the towel over a chair and shook her hair—droplets sprayed.
"By the way… you can use Fire Release to dry hair, right?" she asked.
She'd apparently heard it from Kurenai.
"I can," Kiyohara nodded.
His talent with fire-nature chakra made this kind of fine control easy.
"Then do me a favor. Use Fire Release chakra to dry my hair. Wet hair feels awful, and it's getting cold."
"Alright."
Kiyohara stepped behind her, slightly to the side.
She sat; he stood. The height difference forced him to tilt his head down a little.
He raised his right hand. Warm, gentle fire-nature chakra gathered in his palm—more like a heating breeze than flame.
He kept the temperature low, around forty degrees—like a warm wind.
Carefully, he lifted a section of Tsunade's hair and let the chakra wrap through the strands.
Moisture evaporated quickly, rising as thin white steam that carried the shampoo's clean scent.
Tsunade glanced sideways, surprised.
"Actually… that works pretty well."
"It should," Kiyohara replied. "I'm your student."
He continued drying her hair, controlling the flow.
From this angle, his eyes inevitably passed over her side profile and neck.
Freshly washed skin—pale, faintly flushed, so smooth it looked poreless.
He figured the Yin Seal helped keep her body in peak condition: fair, firm, and youthful.
He looked away and focused on the hair.
But Tsunade seemed to notice anyway. She huffed and tugged her robe collar a little tighter.
"Kid—where do you think you're looking?"
Her voice wasn't truly angry—more teasing.
Kiyohara didn't even blink. "Drying your hair. Almost done."
She shot him a glare, but let him keep going.
When her hair was fully dry, she stood and asked if there was anything he wanted.
"What?"
"Aren't you almost at your birthday?" Tsunade asked.
Kiyohara blinked—then realized she was right. He'd basically forgotten.
These days he mostly tracked how long until the next "Willbook" arrived—another future, another box.
"Whatever you give me, Sensei, I'll like," he said.
Tsunade studied him.
She had to admit—her student was genuinely good-looking. Beautiful things made people feel better. That was just reality.
She started thinking about a gift.
Tools? He didn't need them—he'd pick the best ones himself.
She'd have to think harder.
Tsunade decided: this would be Kiyohara's first birthday since becoming her student.
She wasn't going to half-ass it.
~~~
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