"Is that Elder Chiyo?"
"What is that beast doing to her?"
"How dare anyone humiliate Sunagakure's leader like this!"
The remaining Sand shinobi ground their teeth so hard the sound carried across the battlefield. They looked ready to charge forward and tear Seiran apart with their bare hands.
Then one of them sighed.
"Actually... she looks pretty good like that."
Every eye snapped toward him.
Chiyo wished for death.
She wanted to bite her own tongue and end it, but her body no longer obeyed her commands. Her jaw moved of its own accord, forcing her to continue that grotesque, undignified dance.
Her entire body had become a puppet on strings—but not the kind she controlled.
If Seiran had merely manipulated her earlier, forcing her to take a single unwilling step, this was infinitely worse. Now her limbs moved actively, performing this humiliating routine as though she were choreographing it herself. Her muscles betrayed her with every motion. Her balance shifted at his whim.
She had no control. None.
As Sunagakure's most renowned puppeteer, she now found herself being controlled by a puppet in front of everyone. The irony was suffocating.
"You bastard!"
Chiyo's glare burned with pure hatred. It had to be this Hyuga ghost. Earlier, she'd felt something slimy seep from the puppet into her body—and then control slipped away entirely. Now her body danced in lockstep with the puppet's movements, as though connected by invisible threads.
Was this some ultimate puppeteering technique? Something beyond even chakra wire manipulation?
The humiliation gnawed at her, but she forced herself to think. If she couldn't resist, she had to understand.
Puppeteers typically used chakra threads to control their puppets. Theoretically, such threads could control a weaker shinobi if attached directly to them. But Chiyo had felt no chakra invasion—no foreign energy seeping into her vessels.
That was what terrified her most.
An ability that doesn't require chakra? Impossible.
She heard the murmurs of the shinobi around her, and dread settled like ice in her chest. Seiran wasn't trying to kill her. He was humiliating her publicly—destroying Sunagakure's reputation from its foundation.
She could already see it. Her shame would spread across the entire shinobi world. Whispers in every village, every street: The legendary Elder Chiyo of Sunagakure, danced around by her own puppet like a fool.
Sunagakure's prestige would never recover.
If even one of the village's pillars could be played with so easily, how could any Sand shinobi hold their head up again? They'd be mocked for generations.
What a vicious little brat.
The realization cut deep. Chiyo knew her own strength wouldn't be enough to break free. After a moment of hesitation, she made her choice.
Chakra surged violently through her body, pooling in her abdominal cavity. She threw her head back and screamed with every ounce of strength she had.
"Rasa! Save me!"
The cry became a shockwave, spreading outward in concentric circles across the entire battlefield.
---
The Fourth Kazekage stood on his floating gold dust carpet, surveying Orochimaru from above. The battle between sand and snakes continued its terrible dance.
In terms of sheer volume, Rasa's Magnet Release: Gold Dust Defense far exceeded Orochimaru's Ten Thousand Snake Technique. The tsunami of gold dust buried countless brown vipers alive. Against ordinary ninjas, these snakes would be terrifying—especially for those with ophidiophobia. But gold dust was inanimate. It feared nothing, worried about nothing, and held the clear advantage.
Yet whenever the gold dust surge buried the snakes, they detonated.
The explosions tore the wave apart. Each time Rasa recontrolled the gold dust and reformed it, another wave of snakes attacked.
"Does this bastard have an infinite supply?" Rasa muttered, frowning.
Orochimaru lay on the ground like a four-legged lizard, his mouth gaping impossibly wide as though locked in some bizarre ritual. Dense poisonous snakes continuously crawled from his throat.
"A special summoning technique," Rasa reasoned, his frown deepening. "Connected to Ryuchi Cave, transporting snakes continuously."
If that was true, this battle would only stalemate. Even a surprise gold dust attack would require him to penetrate the dense snake barrier surrounding Orochimaru first.
But Rasa wasn't concerned. He understood Konoha's situation well. His forces outnumbered theirs significantly in regular shinobi. In top-tier combat, Minato Namikaze was being held back by Pakura, while Rasa himself occupied Orochimaru.
Chiyo was free to act—and she would devastate Konoha's ranks.
Rasa had absolute faith in her. She came from the Second Kazekage's era, a true powerhouse of the shinobi world. As the strongest puppeteer in Sunagakure, she could control a puppet with a single finger. One master manipulator translated into ten warriors' worth of combat power.
Orochimaru might not show it, but Rasa could sense the man's inner urgency. He wanted to break free, to reach Chiyo before she annihilated Konoha's forces.
Too bad, Rasa thought coldly. I won't let him escape.
Then a harsh cry pierced the battlefield.
"Rasa! Save me!"
Rasa froze mid-breath.
The voice was Chiyo's—but the tone was something he'd never heard from her. Desperation. Pleading. The sound wave rippled across the entire field. Every shinobi stopped. Puzzlement flickered across their faces.
"Is that... Chiyo?"
"What?" Rasa's shock was genuine. "Chiyo is asking for help? She's the strongest puppeteer in Sunagakure."
His mind raced. Could Konoha have hidden powerhouses? Tsunade? No—even against Tsunade, Chiyo wouldn't call for aid unless she faced impossible odds.
Multiple enemies. Maybe even Hiruzen himself.
The possibility froze his blood. The Third Hokage, leading elite troops to target their strongest puppeteer?
Without another thought, Rasa abandoned the battle entirely. He manipulated his gold dust carpet, accelerating toward the source of that desperate cry. Orochimaru didn't even try to stop him—the snake user seemed equally shocked.
When Rasa arrived at the scene, one glance left him completely stunned.
Chiyo was dancing.
Not willingly. Her body moved in grotesque, synchronized motions beside a large puppet, as though invisible strings pulled her limbs. Her expression burned with rage and humiliation, but her body continued the degrading performance—unable to stop.
Rasa stared in disbelief.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
----
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