"Three days from now is the Sand Festival. I heard you'll be attending as well, Shiraishi?"
Inside Shiraishi's home, after putting away the scroll containing the mirror artifact, Shikasa casually asked about the upcoming New Year Sand Festival.
"I'm only responsible for handing the torch to the two elders," Shiraishi replied calmly.
Since the Kazekage was currently at the Revelation Mountain Range overseeing the joint Chūnin Exams with Iwagakure, this year's Sand Festival was being presided over by the Elder Council. Shiraishi would appear on stage only as an accompanying figure.
Even so, within Sunagakure, this arrangement itself was already a very clear signal.
The Sand-Release Three Lineage families were deeply displeased.
Traditionally, aside from the Elder Council, a representative of the younger generation from the Sand-Release clans would assist in lighting the ceremonial flame. Last year's Sand Festival, for example, had been hosted by Kazekage Rasa, with Arakawa Maru accompanying him.
At that time, both Chiyo and Ebizō—along with Shiraishi—had been fighting a brutal battle against Konoha at Kikyo Pass and were not present in the village.
Now, the elders had once again taken control of the ceremony—and worse, they had placed Shiraishi beside them.
Inside the Yamaji household, furious shouting echoed through the halls.
Compared to her late mother, Yamaji Jushin, Yamaji Ryōko showed no patience at all. Without hesitation, she decided to cause trouble for Shiraishi during the Sand Festival itself.
"Uncle, I'll leave this to you."
Sitting across from her was an elderly man with white hair and a bloated face—Yamaji Kippē. He was a well-known polemic writer in Sunagakure, famous for attacking current policies.
He frequently branded the Elder Council as a "toxic tumor" within the village and claimed that the Ninja Academy was nothing more than a meaningless drain on Sunagakure's resources.
His writings often stirred public opinion to the point that even some civilian ninja had begun to believe that the academy's current decline was the elders' fault.
Having him publicly denounce the elders during the festival would be ideal.
"Writing articles to scold them is meaningless," Yamaji Kippē said arrogantly.
"I'll teach that so-called genius a lesson at the festival itself—let everyone see what kind of disgrace he's brought to Sunagakure by developing vulgar body techniques just to flatter the daimyo."
His tone was filled with pride.
As one of Sunagakure's so-called cultural elites, Yamaji Kippē was confident that once he spoke, the entire festival would descend into chaos.
"Uncle… you should still be careful," Yamaji Ryōko said hesitantly.
She couldn't forget the killing intent Chiyo and Ebizō had displayed during that earlier confrontation.
"Relax," Yamaji Kippē scoffed.
"Before they became second-generation disciples, Ebizō and Chiyo frequently borrowed books from our household to study. My late father helped them plenty back then. They wouldn't dare touch me."
With that connection, he feared neither Chiyo nor Ebizō.
As for that boy?
He never took him seriously.
At best, Shiraishi was nothing more than a puppet propped up by the Elder Council to suppress the true young elites of the Sand-Release clans.
Who knew—perhaps those so-called techniques weren't even his to begin with, but inventions of the elders themselves, deliberately placed on him to shift attention.
After all, Ebizō had always been rumored to be a lecherous old man. Developing such body techniques wasn't exactly surprising.
"Get some proper rest. For the next few days, I'll make your lunches."
At the entrance to Shiraishi's home, his sudden words made Maki freeze.
The next moment, her eyes sparkled. Her face flushed bright red as she nodded rapidly—then she practically ran away.
"You really treat Maki much better than before," Shikasa remarked, watching her retreating figure.
"Looks like you've finally figured things out."
Shiraishi adjusted his glasses.
"Because both of you are important companions. Not just Maki—you too."
"Then why don't I get daily lunches?" Shikasa asked shyly.
"Find a suitable partner," Shiraishi replied flatly.
Critical hit.
Shikasa departed in a daze, never imagining that someone who looked so wooden could be this devastating when it came to verbal strikes.
Over the next three days, Shiraishi devoted most of his time to basic training and simulation with Azure Flame.
As a technique rated at least S-rank, every activation of the azure fire caused terrifying chakra consumption—enough to nearly drain him dry.
Yet to increase proficiency, he forced himself to endure.
Fortunately, he had earlier received notes on Fire Release cultivation from Pakura, which proved invaluable.
Azure Flame shared certain similarities with Scorch Release in terms of properties. Following Pakura's methods, Shiraishi managed to compress what was once a massive azure inferno into three condensed Azure Flame bullets.
Because of the flame's terrifying persistence, Shiraishi avoided drawing attention. He swiftly formed seals, summoning a massive Triangular Sand Tower to absorb and seal the azure fire.
With a specialized sealing array, the flame was transferred into the accumulated sand beneath his feet.
The modified sand—enhanced through his techniques—acted as a small-scale linked sealing formation. Just as before, he could store the sealed flames deep underground and retrieve them later as disposable attacks.
This was one of Shiraishi's original Earth Release techniques—a fusion of offense, sealing, and mental amplification. When combined with Sand Accumulation and chakra replenishment, it formed a terrifying three-in-one combat system.
By the time the sand towers were fully sealed, Shiraishi was drenched in sweat.
He sat down to meditate, restoring his chakra and mental strength.
After a long while, he suddenly opened his eyes, checked the time, changed into a purple robe, took up his silver blade—and stepped outside toward Sunagakure's central plaza.
The Sand Festival was the most important ceremonial event in Sunagakure.
With the Kazekage absent, the Elder Council treated it with exceptional importance. Ebizō, acting with clear favoritism, had placed Shiraishi in the most prominent role of the torch-lighting ceremony.
The ritual itself followed tradition.
Shiraishi stood on the platform beside the two elders, listening as Ebizō and Chiyo delivered their speeches—mostly ceremonial blessings and formal rhetoric.
Shiraishi's role was simple.
During the final ritual, he would retrieve the burning torch and hand it to the elders.
Compared to the festival two years ago, when he had attended with Maki, the plaza was noticeably emptier.
Most able-bodied ninja were stationed at the front lines. What remained were the elderly, women, and children.
Just as Shiraishi stepped down, picked up the torch, and prepared to hand it over—
A voice suddenly rang out.
"Young man, I don't think you're qualified to deliver that torch."
From the crowd emerged a drunken old man, his bloated face twisted as he glared at Shiraishi.
"A petty figure who relies on vulgar body techniques to curry favor with the daimyo—what right do you have to touch this torch?"
"Hand it over to me instead."
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