On the morning of departure, Nobunaga stood at the Village entrance.
Sasori stood there with a puppet on his back. His back was straight, like a tree.
Kankuro stood beside him, carrying Karasu and several newly made puppets.
The shadows of the two were stretched long by the morning sun, cast onto the sandy ground like two black rivers.
Nobunaga walked over and looked at Kankuro.
"Scared?"
Kankuro nodded.
"Scared."
Nobunaga reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It's right to be scared. Only those who are scared know they must come back alive."
Kankuro looked at him, his eyes a bit red, but he didn't cry.
"I'll be back."
Nobunaga pressed his shoulder. Something flickered in those eyes.
"The little guy who used to hide behind puppets finally understands the meaning of protection."
He paused, his voice very soft:
"Kankuro, you are the bravest person I have ever met."
He turned to Sasori.
"Bring him back alive."
Sasori nodded.
"I'll try my best."
Nobunaga watched the two of them.
One was a student he had taught for twenty years. The other was a child he had led back to the right path.
In his ears, Sasori's voice from many years ago seemed to echo:
"Those three children, you'd better really stand in front of them."
He did stand there.
But he couldn't stand in front forever.
Some paths must be walked alone.
"Go," he said.
Sasori and Kankuro turned and walked into the wind and sand.
Nobunaga stood there, watching their figures grow more distant and smaller, finally disappearing behind a sand dune.
The wind and sand blew against his face, stinging slightly.
He didn't hide.
...
One month later.
On the day the news reached the Hidden Sand Village, Nobunaga was looking at documents in the Kazekage's office.
He heard footsteps outside. Hurried. Many. Then came the shouting, coming from the direction of the Village entrance.
He stood up.
As he walked out of the office, he saw Temari running from the direction of the Training Ground, her face expressionless.
But she ran very fast, as if chasing something.
Nobunaga followed behind.
At the Village entrance, Sasori walked into the Village carrying someone on his back.
Kankuro—was back.
Nobunaga stood there.
He saw Kankuro with his eyes closed. The purple face paint was still there, shimmering slightly in the sunlight.
Kankuro had painted it himself; he painted it every morning and had done so for many years.
He said it was his mark, so enemies would know Kankuro was coming at a single glance.
But there was a sword wound on his chest, long and deep. The blood had dried, and his clothes were stuck to the wound, forming a hard mass.
Kankuro's hand clutched a small bird carved from bone.
It was a gift from Sasori. Sasori had made it for him the year Kankuro first started learning the Puppet Technique.
At that time, Kankuro had even run to show Nobunaga while holding the little bird, saying, "Teacher Sasori gave this to me!"
Sasori said, "Take it, the carving was ruined, I'm too lazy to fix it." But Kankuro knew it wasn't ruined.
Kankuro always carried it. He took it everywhere he went.
Sasori walked up to Nobunaga.
He knelt down and placed Kankuro on the ground.
He didn't speak.
Nobunaga didn't speak either.
Temari walked over and knelt beside Kankuro.
She reached out and took Kankuro's hand. That hand was cold.
But the little bird in his hand still had a tiny bit of warmth.
"Fool," she said softly, "You said you would come back..."
She didn't finish. She lowered her head, her forehead resting against Kankuro's hand. Her shoulders were shaking.
Nobunaga looked at Temari.
In his ears, Kankuro's voice from before his departure seemed to ring again, standing at the Village entrance as he asked: "Scared?"
Kankuro said: "Scared."
He said: "It's right to be scared. Only those who are scared know they must come back alive."
Kankuro said: "I'll be back."
He didn't come back.
Sasori knelt there for a long time.
Then he spoke, his voice hoarse, like sandpaper grinding against stone.
"He blocked for me. When the White Fang's blade lunged, he rushed over and took the blow."
Nobunaga didn't speak; because he bore the name of Kage, he couldn't cry, much less be fragile.
"He said, 'Teacher, I'm standing beside you.' He said, 'You're not alone.'"
Sasori lowered his head.
"He died. Died right in front of me."
Nobunaga stood there.
He looked at Kankuro's face; it was very peaceful.
The wind and sand blew, hitting everyone's faces.
No one moved.
Nobunaga stood there, the last one to leave.
...
On the day of Kankuro's burial, Nobunaga stood at the very front.
He watched the name carved into the stone.
Kankuro.
Three characters, stroke by stroke, very deep.
Temari stood before the gravestone, saying nothing. Her face was very pale, her eyes fixed on the gravestone, not blinking for a long time.
Gaara stood beside her. His face was also expressionless, but the sand at his feet flowed erratically, not as steady as usual.
Sasori stood at the very edge. Before Kankuro's grave lay a small bird carved from bone; Sasori had placed it there.
He left immediately after placing it, without saying a word.
Nobunaga looked at the three of them.
He felt a bit dazed.
Kankuro was still here before this war began.
On the Training Ground, Kankuro would practice the Puppet Technique, Temari would practice with her fan nearby, and Gaara would stand not far away watching them.
Sasori would occasionally come, standing on the side, watching Kankuro practice, muttering things like "Too slow" or "Do it again."
At that time, Nobunaga didn't know that those days would never come again.
...
The fifth year of the war.
The Fourth Mizukage of the Hidden Mist Village was killed. The Cloud-Rock Allied Forces were crushed, and Pakura, who was supporting the Cloud-Rock Battlefield, died in battle.
Konoha gathered all its forces to launch a general offensive against Sunagakure.
When the intelligence arrived, it was an ordinary morning.
But that day was not ordinary—it was Nobunaga's birthday.
He stood in the Kazekage's office, looking at the intelligence. The parchment was thin, but it felt heavy in his hand.
It read: The Sannin, the White Fang, Uchiha Shisui, and Uchiha Itachi, leading twenty thousand troops, have crossed the border line.
He put down the intelligence and looked up.
Outside the window, the sky of the Hidden Sand Village was very blue. The sunlight shone on the dunes, making every grain of sand sparkle.
The door was pushed open.
Temari walked in, wearing a coat Nobunaga had given her, which had already faded from washing.
Her sandy-gold hair was tied into four pigtails, just like before.
"Teacher, Happy Birthday," she said.
Nobunaga looked at her.
"Do you know what day it is today?"
Temari nodded.
"I know. That's why I came to see you."
Nobunaga didn't speak.
Gaara walked in. He stood beside Temari, the sand at his feet flowing quietly.
He was taller and thinner than a year ago. The emptiness in his eyes was gone, replaced by determination.
Sasori walked in. He carried the Akasuna no Sasori puppet on his back. Behind him were a hundred newly made puppets. His face was still cold, but there was a fire in his eyes.
Nobunaga looked at them.
He wondered if it was because he was getting old that he liked to reminisce.
He really missed the birthday before the war started.
At that time, Kankuro was still there, eating with his cheeks puffed out like a hamster.
Gaara ate slowly, but finished everything in his bowl.
Temari gave him a rope she had braided herself, which he still wore tied around his waist.
Sasori stood awkwardly at the door, threw down a newly made puppet part, and left.
Five people.
Now only four remained.