At the same time, as if sensing her despair and fury, the prone Two-Tails raised its head and let out another earth-shaking roar of hatred.
The slit pupils locked onto the two figures above. No, they were fixed on the one with wings spread wide, looking down from the sky. Yunchuan Hyuga!!!
The sky over the Land of Wind was a dark yellow. Endless sand linked the sky and the earth, and the wind pushed the grains into dunes that rolled like waves, making a constant rustling sound. A huge setting sun hung at the edge of the sand sea, as if the whole world had been placed inside a desert.
Heat baked the air, and under the high temperature it shook and twisted, making distant scenes blur as if seen through water. Everything looked unreal, like a mirage that could vanish at any moment. In the middle of this land stood the only vast oasis, and the capital of the Land of Wind rested there.
From afar, it looked like a giant on the verge of death, half its body buried in yellow earth. Only arms reached out from the ground, covered in green algae. Beside the oasis lay Sunagakure, standing against the sandstorms and serving as the outer wall guarding the capital of the Land of Wind.
At this moment, inside the meeting room of the Sunagakure Kazekage Building, the air was sealed yet still dry. Even here, one could faintly feel the roughness of sand in the air. Around a massive round stone table sat only twelve people.
Thick stone walls blocked outside noise, but they could not block the spreading unease in the room. Restless breathing and stiff postures filled the space. Silence pressed down on everyone present.
"Everyone, you have all read the notice from the Daimyo Court," said Rasa, leaning slightly back in the main seat. His voice was low and carried a faint hoarseness. His deep gaze swept across the room and finally stopped on the Scroll bearing the crest of the Wind Daimyo Court before him.
"The stance of the Daimyo is very clear," Rasa continued. "They have decided to further cut military funding and supplies to Sunagakure." Fatigue showed plainly on his rigid face as he spoke.
A suffocating silence followed, until an impatient man broke it first. His voice carried worry and anger. "Kazekage-sama, this is forcing us onto a dead end."
What did continued cuts mean. It meant more Genin positions had to be removed, stipends for Chunin and Jonin would shrink, and the already thin stock of Ninja Tools would run dry. Without money or resources, how was the village supposed to survive, on sand and wind alone.
"Does the Daimyo not see the situation of the Ninja World right now," another voice said sharply. "Kumogakure and Konoha are fighting without restraint, and the balance among the Five Great Nations is already loosening."
An elderly man frowned and spoke in a heavy tone. "This is the prelude to the Fourth Shinobi World War. It is a key moment to redistribute interests and even change the entire order." He clenched his hands as he spoke.
"And what are we doing," he continued. "We are being slowly bled from within, watching the chance slip away right in front of us." His words left a dull echo in the room.
At that, Chiyo finally raised her eyes. Her aged voice was calm and objective. "The Daimyo has simply lost confidence in Sunagakure."
The room fell silent at once. Several people stiffened, mouths opening but unable to speak. Sunagakure had taken part in the previous three Ninja World War conflicts, and each time it ended in forced ceasefire and retreat, so the loss of confidence was hardly surprising.
"But just because we know we might lose, does that mean we do nothing," someone suddenly said. He raised his hand and pointed out the window. "Look outside. Look at Sunagakure. How long have we been buried here already, and how much longer must we stay in this place."
Everyone followed his finger and looked outside. What they saw were sand packed buildings stacked like a giant ant nest. On the streets, pedestrians wrapped their mouths and noses with cloth to block the wind, their faces worn by sand and exhaustion as they struggled silently against the harsh environment.
Grains of sand lashed exposed skin like countless tiny blades. The land was barren, quiet, and unforgiving. For Sunagakure and the Land of Wind, the sky felt hostile and the earth drained life itself, making survival the greatest challenge.
People outside often said it was this harsh land that forged the toughness of Sunagakure Ninja. But those ninja only wanted to spit and curse at such words. To them, it was not strength born of hardship, but anger and jealousy born of unfairness.
The neighboring Land of Fire possessed vast and fertile lands. It enjoyed generous nature, with resources that seemed endless. Forests provided wood and herbs, fertile soil produced grain, and rivers and lakes supplied water and transport.
This sense of unfairness and jealousy was the real reason Sunagakure kept entering wars at any cost. Resentment and envy did not fade, but settled in the sand and grew. In the end, they twisted into a desire to tear a piece of flesh from Konoha no matter the price.
Tap. Tap tap.
Rasa lightly knocked the table with his fingers, breaking the heavy mood. "Enough useless complaints," he said coldly. "The reality is that our throat is already in someone else's grip."
As he spoke, Rasa slowly extended his right hand. At his trembling fingertips, a stream of pure, shining gold sand flowed. "In times of peace, we could trade this gold sand with other nations to keep the village stable, but that no longer works."
"Our only option is to regain the trust of the Daimyo, and the most direct way," he said, then stopped. No one needed him to finish. Every gaze in the room grew heavy and complex.
Without doubt, it meant the Tailed Beasts. If the jinchuriki could truly control the One-Tail, it would greatly restore the Daimyo's confidence. But the problem was obvious.
"Gaara, that child," Chiyo said softly. Weariness and deep helplessness showed in her eyes. "Yesterday evening, he lost control again and killed a ninja in front of everyone."
She paused, suppressing personal feelings, and continued in a flat tone. "As a weapon, he is still unstable and uncontrollable." The temperature in the room seemed to drop another degree.
As expected, that child could not compare to the Eight-Tails jinchuriki of Kumogakure, Killer B. Expecting him to rely on his own will to control the One-Tail had always been unrealistic. Inside, the Daimyo was cutting support, and outside, powerful enemies surrounded them, while their most valued trump card was also the most dangerous one.
"Then there is only the last option," Rasa said at last. He slowly raised his head, his face hard like carved stone, showing neither anger nor sorrow, only a cold resolve.
"We need a victory," he said. "A victory that cannot be questioned." The words landed, and faces around the table changed slightly, yet no one objected.
Even without saying it outright, his intent was already clear in that icy tone. They would return to the battlefield and find a way to win. Even if this great victory was not what the Daimyo wanted.