Hey guys, here is the new chapter hope you will liked and read thru everything.
The dawn of a new era for the shinobi world is beginning. What new changes are yet to come
If we hit 200 PW I post a extra chapter you been hitting all the goals to get more chapters
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The Land of Grass was a monument to human hypocrisy and an open-air cemetery. The scars of the Third Great Ninja War had not closed here; on the contrary, they festered with a desperation that could be smelled in the stagnant air of the valleys.
While the Great Nations celebrated treaties on the cold marble of the Land of Iron, small nations like this one sank into the mire of their own decay.
The forests, once lush and vibrant, were scorched by Fire Style or withered by toxins, and the rivers dragged the debris of battles that no one bothered to remember.
For Sasori, this environment did not provoke pity, but rather a deep sense of respect for what Daigo was doing for his own village and country. He walked alone through the shadowy paths leading to the heart of Kusagakure, hidden under a cloak that camouflaged his silhouette.
Daigo had been extremely specific with the details of this "acquisition" mission:
"Look for hair as red as fresh blood. Look for the place where the smell of sickness is strongest, where the wounded pile up like cattle waiting for someone to heal them. There, you will find what you seek. Do not bring back a corpse, Sasori. I need her alive."
Sasori, a genius whose mind functioned with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker, needed no more than a few hours to infiltrate the village.
Kusagakure was in a deplorable state. Security was a joke; the guards those who weren't crippled by recent encounters with Iwa patrols were sunken into a stupor of sake and fatigue. He slipped through the cracks of their vigilance like an invisible gas, moving through the shadows of ruined buildings with inhuman grace.
Finally, he found her. In the most ruinous wing of what they called a hospital a building that seemed to stand only by the inertia of pain was his objective.
From what he had overheard, her name was Karinna.
From a hidden vantage point in the ceiling beams, Sasori spent two days observing. What he witnessed was something even they wouldn't do if they had ninjas capable of what she did. (Well, perhaps not Suna, but certainly himself to study how it work). Karinna was not treated as a nurse, but as a slave; she was used until she was worn down.
He watched her being dragged from one stretcher to another, forced to offer her arms, her neck, and her back so that dying men could suck her Uzumaki chakra directly from her skin. Every time someone bit her, the light in her eyes dimmed a little more, and Sasori saw how her chakra pathway system twisted under the strain of regenerating not only her own wounds, but those of others.
He memorized the rounds, the nursing shift changes, and traced the perfect escape route to the south, avoiding the remaining border patrols. That night, the first contact was inevitable.
The silence of midnight in Kusagakure was heavy, broken only by the constant dripping of broken pipes and the distant moans of amputees in the common wards.
Karinna slept in a corner of what was technically an isolation cell, though it had no lock because she lacked the strength to run.
She tried to recover the shreds of energy that the hospital snatched from her during the day.
Every muscle in her body ached; her skin was a map of bite scars some fresh and festering, others old and white. She woke up abruptly, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had learned to sleep with one eye open, waiting for the moment someone would enter to demand more than she could give.
A sharp, violent bang on the rotting wooden door made her jump. Karinna stood up with heavy steps, staggering from weakness.
She opened the door with her head bowed, expecting to see another wounded ninja or a commander demanding miracles.
But the three Grass ninjas who burst into the small room had no bandages. They didn't smell of blood or disinfectant. They smelled of cheap, rancid sake that instantly flooded the small space.
They were Chunin-level ninjas, men the war had left behind who were now seeking a cruel way to reaffirm their own existence.
Before Karinna could ask what they needed or if there was an emergency, a fist slammed into her cheek. The blow was sharp and brutal. Karinna fell to the floor, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth as her ears rang.
"Do you know how long we've waited for this?" one of them roared, kicking the door shut behind him. His face was flushed with alcohol and a dark lust.
"We're tired of only the captains and the wounded having access to the 'medicine.' We've served on the front lines while you stayed here, protected. Tonight, we're going to enjoy that famous Uzumaki vitality in a much more... personal way."
Karinna tried to crawl back across the cold stone floor, but her hands had no strength. The men laughed, a guttural sound that bounced off the bare walls.
Between taunts and insults, they began to undress her with unnecessary violence, tearing the rags she wore until she was left completely exposed and vulnerable before their predatory glares.
Karinna closed her eyes tight. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, mixing with the blood from her torn lip. She had survived the destruction of her home, the desperate flight, and years of being used as an object but this was different. This was the end of her dignity.
When she felt the rough hands of one of them grabbing her ankles to drag her toward the center of the room, her mind simply disconnected. She gave up.
The world turned gray, and the will to live evaporated like dew in the desert.
Then, the sound of the world changed.
There was no scream. There was no crash. Only a thin, almost musical whistle was heard, like a breeze passing through the eye of a needle.
In a blink, the ninja on top of her froze. His eyes widened, his pupils dilated by a terror he didn't have time to process.
A red line, thin as a hair, appeared around his neck. Seconds later, his head slid slowly off his shoulders, hitting the floor with a dull thud before his body collapsed in a spray of blood.
The other two didn't even have time to draw their kunai. Their limbs were severed into perfect pieces, as if an invisible web of blades had fallen from the ceiling. There was no fight; it was a surgical execution, a demonstration of absolute control over matter and space.
Silence reigned again, broken only by the rhythmic sound of blood dripping from the table to the floor.
Karinna, shaking violently and trying to cover herself with what remained of her hands, looked at the remains of the men who a second ago were going to destroy her. Her eyes darted frantically around the room until they stopped at the deepest shadow in the corner.
A figure emerged from there. It was a young, teenage-looking man with red hair that reminded her of her own, but of a darker shade, like fired clay. His eyes were the most unsettling part; they were brown, but lacked any spark of human warmth.
They looked like polished glass, observing everything with a terrifying neutrality.
"Are you alright?" Sasori asked. His voice was not kind, nor was it cruel. It was flat, without any emotion for Karinna to grasp.
Without waiting for an answer he knew she couldn't give in that state, Sasori unfastened his black traveling cloak and threw it to her.
The fabric fell heavily over Karinna's body, hiding her nakedness and her wounds. Karinna gripped the garment as if it were a sacred shield, looking at Sasori's face, now illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the broken window.
She nodded weakly, wrapping herself in the cloak. Sasori analyzed her. He noted that she looked physically older, though with Sasori's knowledge of biology, he knew this woman was likely between 20 and 25 years old.
Karinna, conditioned by years of abuse and the only purpose she knew, extended her trembling arm toward Sasori, offering him her scarred skin.
"Bite me... if that's what you've come for, do it quickly and get this over with before the others come," she whispered, her voice barely a thread broken by stifled sobs.
Sasori simply looked at her, a spark of genuine contempt for the Grass ninjas crossing his features for an instant.
"I am not like those hungry pigs," Sasori said, taking a step forward. "My leader has a much higher purpose for you than being a walking medicine cabinet. He seeks the knowledge that runs through your blood, not just your energy. Do you want to flee this hole of filth?"
Karinna hesitated. For years, the fear of the unknown had been her only chain. In Kusagakure, though they treated her like trash, she was still alive. But looking at the dismembered corpses on the floor and remembering the weight of those men's hands on her, the fear of staying became far greater than the fear of dying outside.
She looked Sasori in the eyes and saw that, while there was no warmth, there was also no lust or malice like what she had just faced. There was a mission. There was an order.
She nodded with a determination that surprised even Sasori.
Without a word, the puppeteer stepped forward and picked her up in a bridal carry. To Karinna, Sasori's body felt strange; it was a soft warmth she didn't expect from someone who seemed to have no emotions.
In a movement that defied Karinna's perception, the room emptied.
Following the escape route he had meticulously planned for two days, Sasori leaped across the rooftops of Kusagakure. He moved with staggering efficiency, using his threads to propel himself and silence any sound.
They crossed the outer wall just as the clouds covered the moon, disappearing into the density of the forest without a single alarm sounding in the village.
As they moved away and the lights of the Grass became mere distant dots on the horizon, the fresh night air hit Karinna's face. For the first time in years, the air did not smell of hospital, sweat, or fear. It smelled of pines, wet earth, and freedom.
Seeing herself outside, surrounded by the vastness of the world and feeling the rhythmic movement of Sasori leaping through the branches, Karinna felt the wall she had built around her heart finally crumble. She clung with renewed strength to Sasori's chest, hiding her face in his cloak, and began to cry.
They were not silent sobs; it was a heart-wrenching wail, a lament that seemed to come from the deepest part of her soul. She was discharging years of torture, humiliation, seeing her people die, and being used as an inanimate object.
Her tears soaked Sasori's clothes, and her shoulders shook with a force that threatened to break her.
Sasori said nothing. He didn't try to comfort her with empty words because he didn't know how, but he didn't let go of her either, nor did he speed up so she would stop. He continued his way with an imperturbable constancy, moving away from the Grass and heading south, toward Kanzaki.
Daigo had been clear: he needed an Uzumaki to seal the Nanabi and secure the future of Suna. But at that moment, in the middle of the dark forest, Sasori only carried a woman who could finally afford to feel pain.
The new era of Kanzaki had just rescued its most important piece, and the ninja world was about to discover that the chains of the past were breaking to make way for a power that no one could control.
End of Chapter 96