In a quiet corner of the battlefield, two figures from Sunagakure lurked stealthily in the shadows. But unbeknownst to them, three small figures were silently approaching from behind.
Genjutsu: Naraku Clone.
Genjutsu: Triple Cherry Blossom.
Elsewhere, two Jōnin—one from Konohagakure and the other from Sunagakure—were locked in a tense standoff.
The clash between genjutsu and puppetry wasn't as flashy as one might expect.
Puppets, being inanimate constructs, are immune to genjutsu. Kurenai Yuhi, a specialist in illusions, needed to bypass the puppets and reach the real body of the puppeteer to gain the upper hand. Only then could she unleash her strongest illusions and secure a decisive victory.
However, the Sunagakure puppeteer was no novice—he maintained a cautious distance, offering Kurenai no easy openings.
In this delicate stalemate, both sides waited—awaited the moment when their comrades would launch the surprise attack that would tip the balance.
Earlier, an explosive tag trap had primarily targeted the Sunagakure elite Jōnin. Though his two teammates sustained injuries, they managed to survive.
One of them, however, had already fallen into Kurenai Yuhi's illusion. If she still let him live, she'd be unworthy of her Jōnin rank.
Under cover of darkness, two Sunagakure Chūnin concealed themselves in the shadows, observing the Jōnin's duel. They waited like sand-dwelling vipers, ready to strike with lethal precision, hoping to open a path for their captain.
Sunagakure Ninja's Thought: I can get the kill shot...
But perhaps they didn't realize the age-old tale of the praying mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole looming behind.
Whether they knew it or not didn't matter.
Because they would soon find out.
A sharp gust of wind brushed past the two Chūnin's ears.
Not good—there's someone else!
Sensing danger, the two reacted swiftly, evading the trajectory of a thrown object.
Spinning around, they caught sight of what had been tossed.
It was oval-shaped, about the size of a goose egg. Not a kunai. Not a shuriken.
What is that? Some new tool developed by Konoha?
Doesn't look very practical. A kunai would've been better...
Then they saw the thrower—a kid, barely old enough to be in the Academy, let alone the battlefield.
Was this child even a trained ninja?
Their thoughts didn't last long.
The grenade detonated.
With a deafening boom far louder than an explosive tag, the two Chūnin were flung back by the shockwave. Shrapnel riddled their bodies, each pierced by a dozen bloody holes.
The close-range explosion of a fragmentation grenade—technology uncommon in the shinobi world—was lethal to most shinobi, especially to those who relied more on agility than durability.
This trump card had been possible thanks to a lesson Kurenai Yuhi had drilled into him earlier that day.
The cost of the trap and the grenade far exceeded the reward of the mission. But Kurenai-sensei insisted on it.
"When facing a powerful enemy, what's the use of hoarding trump cards if you're dead? Better they go off in your hand than end up in theirs."
Those were her exact words.
And as the smoke cleared, Kawaki Aoba—the one who had thrown the grenade—shrugged.
Though he winced at having wasted such a powerful tool on two low-ranking foes, the satisfaction was undeniable.
Maybe... this is what it feels like to be a tactician.
The grin on Aoba's face was hard to suppress. He wasn't sure if explosions were "art" like that red-haired guy in the bingo book claimed, but it was definitely fun.
More than ten meters behind him, in another alley, two young allies blinked in disbelief.
That's right—the Aoba who threw the grenade was just a shadow clone.
After all, hand grenades have a delay.
Precise control is a dangerous thing. If he had been playing with this device using his real body and it exploded in his hand, he wasn't sure if even his mastery of chakra and Haki arts could save him. And after death... could he even become a Shinigami? Probably not—he didn't have that Reiatsu thing those Soul Reapers relied on.
Better to be cautious in all things.
Speaking of Reiatsu, didn't the Hidden Village have some kind of Spiritualization Technique? I wonder if I can learn it. If I can, I wonder what I'd be able to offer at the altar in exchange for its secrets.
Finding a way to access more advanced ninjutsu could wait. Right now, the top priority was dealing with the last Sunagakure ninja.
Being able to fight Kurenai-sensei to a standstill even after losing four puppets—this guy was definitely an elite Jōnin.
What's that saying? Since you're here, you might as well enjoy the show.
Since you've come to cause trouble for us, be prepared to be buried here.
"Damn it, what was that!?"
That noise… how could anyone not hear it?
Not only the Sunagakure ninja, even Kurenai Yūhi was startled.
Both of them diverted their attention toward the source of the disturbance, visibly concerned.
The loud bang just now resembled an explosive tag—but wasn't the sound a little too intense? And the power… far beyond standard tags.
Cough… "Aoba, is that the disposable ninja tool you said you developed using explosive tags? Isn't that a bit too much? And didn't we agree the three of us would attack together?"
As the smoke cleared, three small figures emerged from around the corner.
Konoha genin? No… kids?
The Sunagakure ninja's pupils shrank. His anger flared—but at the same time, inspiration struck.
The plan to ambush and capture Kurenai Yūhi had fallen apart. Forget the mission—he might not even make it out alive.
But if he could seize these three Leaf brats, maybe he still had a chance to turn the tables.
Clinging to the idea of a counterattack, the Sand shinobi abandoned his assault on Kurenai and lunged at Aoki Kawaki and his teammates.
Seeing this, Kurenai immediately attempted to intercept, but her movement had already been predicted. The Sand ninja unleashed two puppets, sacrificing them to hold her back.
Still, his focus was clearly divided. With most of his attention now on the genin, his puppet control weakened. He could still stall Kurenai, but the puppets were clearly on borrowed time.
Kurenai, calm despite the situation, showed no panic as the Jōnin rushed toward her students. Her focus stayed on the two puppets.
Without a word, she drew a Fūma Shuriken from behind her back and began to dismantle the puppets.
Naturally, the Sand ninja sensed the attack, but he gritted his teeth and endured. In his eyes, the potential payoff of capturing the brats outweighed the loss of two ordinary puppets.
But halfway through his rush—
The three brats made their move.
"Hadō No. 4: Byakurai!"
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!"
And three shuriken whistled through the air.
Well… this really wasn't a situation where genjutsu could shine.
"Hmph." With a cold snort, the Sand ninja evaded all their attacks with ease.
It was to be expected. A puppeteer's strength did depend on puppet quality, but a Jōnin was still a Jōnin. Even without puppets, there was a significant gap between him and Chūnin—let alone three greenhorn genin.
Aoki Kawaki's Byakurai, which once dazzled two Hyūga Chūnin during a training match, was just a convenient low-level ninjutsu in the eyes of an elite Jōnin.
Crack!
A fracture formed on the chakra core in his hand, glowing red-hot. His fingers trembled—just slightly. But that tremor hinted that his heart was no longer as calm as his face pretended.
Unveiling Two More Trump Cards
The young man with short crimson hair had a sinister gleam in his eyes. He stared intently at the chakra core in his hand—a creation with the highest theoretical success rate—only to watch it fail yet again due to unforeseen external interference. His fury was palpable.
This red-haired youth was Sasori, the prodigy of Sunagakure following the Second Great Ninja War. Known widely as Sasori of the Red Sand, he had already forged a fearsome reputation through his mastery of puppetry and lethal precision.
Yet, accolades were not his pursuit. In his hand lay the core of his newest creation—if successful, it would be known as the Rebirth Core.
This device would be the key to transforming a living human into a puppet without erasing their original consciousness, enabling full autonomous control over their preserved body. A marvel of chakra engineering and forbidden puppetry, it was Sasori's next great endeavor following the successful conversion of the Third Kazekage into his most powerful human puppet.
His ultimate goal: to transform himself into an eternal work of art. A living puppet, incapable of aging or decay—perfection crafted by his own hands.
But progress was elusive. At the most critical phase of crafting the Rebirth Core, Sasori encountered repeated failures. Weeks of experiments yielded no breakthrough. Then, just as he grasped the fleeting thread of inspiration—boom—a thunderous crash echoed from above.
The impact rattled the underground chamber, destabilizing the delicate chakra flow in the core and causing a catastrophic failure. Worse still, the idea Sasori was moments from grasping vanished into the ether.
Enraged, he turned toward the massive figure standing silently in the corner: his newest masterpiece—the Third Kazekage puppet.
With a flick of his fingers, the puppet responded.
He would personally ascend and deal with whoever dared disturb the sanctity of his work.
---
Above the Underground Hideout
"I really have to thank you... a bunch of ignorant brats." A grim-faced elite shinobi of the Sand stood atop the plateau, unaware of what lay beneath his feet.
But he wouldn't remain unaware for long.
"Hell Stab: One-Finger Thrust."
A blur shot forward. The Sand elite's eyes widened in disbelief as the small figure streaked toward him.
It was one of the Leaf genin—but how was he this fast?
There was no way a mere genin could have inherited the legendary Raikage's Lightning Release technique. And yet… the speed, the precision—the single glowing finger aimed at his vital point—it all felt real.
Too real.
The elite ninja tried to dodge, twisting his body in midair with practiced agility.
But Aoki Kawaki, who had been lying in ambush for this very moment, had no intention of letting him escape. He had trained obsessively for this one strike, paying a painful price in chakra and preparation.
As he dashed forward, his image split into afterimages, distorting perception. His index finger, brimming with concentrated lightning chakra, struck the Sand ninja's waist with a brutal, precise jab.
A burst of blood sprayed into the air.
Kawaki felt it at once—the telltale resistance of organs giving way.
That was the kidney… no mistake.
"Guh!" The Sand ninja let out a guttural groan, nearly collapsing from the shock.
He had just been wounded—severely—by a kid.
Grimacing through the pain, his hand flashed to his hip. In a fluid motion, a kunai slid into his palm, arcing toward Kawaki's neck in retaliation.