After the Cloud Hidden Village's squad crossed into the Land of Rice Fields, a signal flare arced into the sky, painting a brief streak of orange against the clouds. It was a message only Cloud Ninja would recognize—a silent beacon calling for confirmation.
The squad paused, eyes scanning the heavens, waiting for a reply. But none came.
Minutes passed. Silence persisted. The absence of a returning flare sent a chill through their bones.
"Why hasn't anyone responded?" one ninja muttered.
"Something's wrong," Doros, the team's tracker, said grimly. "Even if only one of them survived, they would have answered."
Possibilities whirled in their minds. Had the advance team been wiped out? Or had someone survived, but was too injured or unconscious to respond?
Doros bit his finger and slammed a palm into the dirt, forming hand seals in a blur. With a puff of smoke, a ninja hound materialized—a Land of Lightning Hooligan Hound named Yagimaru. Ugly as sin, with blue-tinged fur and jagged fangs, Yagimaru wore a miniature forehead protector of the Cloud Village.
The others flinched instinctively. The dog looked like a ghost straight out of a nightmare.
Doros pulled a kunai from his pouch, the one Aruhi had used on a previous mission. The metal still carried his scent.
He knelt beside Yagimaru and held the kunai under the hound's nose. "Please, Yagimaru. Find him."
Yagimaru sniffed deeply. His ears twitched. Then without a sound, he bolted off into the underbrush.
The team gave chase.
It didn't take long before Yagimaru led them into a clearing. There, a terrible sight awaited them.
Dozens of Cloud Ninja lay sprawled across the earth, their bodies still and lifeless. Blood soaked the ground beneath them.
"No... This can't be..."
The group froze, horror painting their faces pale. Doros stepped forward and crouched beside one of the corpses.
There were no signs of a fierce battle. No shattered terrain. No weapons flung wildly. Every body had the same expression—frozen in terror—and nearly every corpse bore the same wound in the same place.
One strike.
Instant death.
Doros swallowed hard. "This wasn't an ambush... it was an execution."
"Even the Raikage couldn't kill so many in one strike," another whispered. "What in the world did this?"
Meanwhile, Yagimaru sniffed around a pool of dried blood, ears low, posture tense.
"Yagimaru, what's wrong?" Doros asked, kneeling again.
Yagimaru let out two short barks.
Doros stiffened. "You're saying Aruhi's scent ends here? Just... disappears?"
Yagimaru nodded and barked again.
Doros's face went pale. "It's like he vanished into thin air."
Another ninja muttered, "What if... What if the Leaf's Aburame clan used their insects to consume him? There'd be nothing left—not even scent."
No one replied.
The squad buried the bodies of their fallen comrades with heavy hearts. There was no time to mourn. They had to report what they'd seen.
Upon returning to the main force, Doros immediately penned a dispatch. A messenger hawk was prepared and released into the sky, its sharp wings slicing the air as it sped toward the Cloud Village.
Back in the Hidden Cloud Village, the Third Raikage stood before his office window when the hawk arrived. He pulled the message from its leg and unfolded it, his eyes scanning the lines with growing fury.
Aruhi was dead.
The parchment crumpled in his tightening fist.
"Damn those Leaf dogs!" he roared, punching the wall beside him. Stone shattered and debris exploded outward, raining onto the floor.
To the Raikage, Aruhi had been more than just a shinobi. He was a prodigy, a loyal disciple, and the only success of their recent high-risk scientific project. With Aruhi gone, the future of that research was in jeopardy.
Originally, the Land of Rice Fields operation had been a probing strike—a calculated measure to expand influence. Only 1,500 ninja had been deployed.
But now, fueled by grief and rage, the Third Raikage's decision was clear.
He would go to war himself.
The village's advisors pleaded with him to reconsider. They argued he was the heart of the village, that he could not endanger himself.
"My fists are worth a thousand men," he said coldly. "If Leaf dares take Aruhi from me, then I will take their heads."
Activating his Lightning Release Chakra Mode, his form became a living bolt of lightning. With a final glance toward the village he vowed to protect, the Third Raikage tore across the landscape, blazing toward the Land of Rice Fields.
Before leaving, he ordered a message be sent to the front lines:
"I will arrive before noon tomorrow. Prepare to march into the Land of Fire."
Half a day later, the ninja hawk delivered the message to the vanguard forces. The air buzzed with anticipation. Confidence surged. The Raikage was coming.
War was coming.
In the midst of this storm, hidden within the Cloud forces, a Konoha spy activated a secret communication technique, slipping this critical information through the shadows back to the Hidden Leaf Village.
When the Third Hokage received word of the Raikage's personal march, he immediately ordered Orochimaru to halt and hold position.
The northern border was dangerously thin. With the Raikage on the move, reinforcements were essential.
The Third Hokage dispatched emergency orders to the Land of Hot Water battlefield. Troops would be redirected north.
The next morning, the Third Raikage had already caught up with the advance troops.
What would have taken an ordinary person three days and three nights, the Raikage completed in just a single day. His sheer speed and stamina were the stuff of legends, and even seasoned shinobi whispered tales of his endurance with awe and fear.
Upon arrival, the Third Raikage strode into the encampment like a living tempest. His eyes burned with resolve, his voice thundered as he addressed the unit commander:
"How are the troops? Are they prepared to move out at once? And where are the Leaf shinobi? How many do they number?"
The commander immediately snapped to attention, delivering his report with crisp precision:
"Raikage-sama, our forces are in excellent condition. Morale is high, and the men are ready to mobilize on your command.
"As for Konoha, our estimates suggest they currently have only about 1,000 shinobi. However, they continue to receive reinforcements, so the actual number may already be higher.
"Their commander is Orochimaru. They've shown no signs of initiating an attack. Instead, they remain entrenched within the Land of Fire, likely planning to intercept us once we reach the border."
The Raikage scoffed, a deep, guttural sound of disdain:
"Typical of the Leaf. Cowards, hiding behind borders and strategies. When the Third Hokage was young, he was someone to reckon with. But now? He's grown soft."
His eyes narrowed with ferocity.
"They hesitate because they're weak. Since their forces haven't fully gathered, we'll strike now. Swiftly. Without mercy. We'll catch them unprepared and shatter their lines before they can even react.
"On my order, the entire army moves forward!"
With a single command, 1,500 elite ninja from Kumogakure surged forward, crossing the border of the Land of Rice Fields and initiating their assault toward the Land of Fire.
News of the Lightning Country's aggressive advance quickly reached Konoha. But instead of reacting in haste, the Leaf held their ground, focusing on consolidating their forces and reinforcing their positions. Every shinobi was alert and prepared, ready to meet the enemy at the border.
But Akira—the mastermind behind the puppet playing the role of his main body—had other ideas.
He watched with narrowed eyes as the storm of war approached, his mind calculating countless variables. In truth, he wasn't worried about the coming battle—he was planning something greater.
Though the enemy force was smaller than expected, the presence of the Raikage changed everything. He wasn't just a formidable warrior; he was a symbol of Kumogakure's unrelenting might.
Akira had been working tirelessly on the development of his new Sound Release techniques, but the final stages of the research were still incomplete. Time was not on his side.
For nearly two days, the Kumogakure army had loomed near the border. Their presence had not gone unnoticed. Scouts from the Land of Rice Fields had already reported the threat, and the intelligence reached the ears of the nation's ruler.
In his palace, the Daimyo of the Land of Rice Fields paced nervously, wringing his hands in helpless frustration.
Konoha's troops were stationed in the south, just outside the border, but they had yet to cross into his country. He had trusted the assurances of the Third Hokage—promises that Konoha would defend the Land of Rice Fields.
But now, with the enemy nearly at his doorstep and no sign of Konoha's movement, doubt began to claw at his mind.
He had sent another urgent letter, demanding assistance.
Still, no reply.
His heart sank. Had the Leaf truly abandoned them?
Just as his despair deepened, a hoarse voice slithered through the chamber.
"Don't wait any longer. That old relic, the Third Hokage, will never reply to you."
The Daimyo froze. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"Who's there?! Guards! Where are my guards?! Find this intruder!"
But there was only silence.
Then came the voice again, closer now.
"No need to shout. Your guards are all unconscious. No one is coming."
Spinning around, the Daimyo gasped as a figure emerged from the shadows—a man cloaked in black, wearing a blank, emotionless mask.
Terrified, the Daimyo stumbled back.
"Who are you?! Why have you come here?!"
The masked man tilted his head slightly.
"My identity is not what matters. What matters is that I can solve your problem."
"The Kumo invasion? Konoha has already promised to help. I have no need for mercenaries."
"Help?" the man sneered. "Konoha is outnumbered and disorganized. The Raikage himself is leading the charge. By the time Konoha gathers enough strength, your lands will already be overrun."
The Daimyo's face paled.
The mysterious man took a step closer.
"Konoha won't allow the Kumo shinobi to reach the Land of Fire. So where will they stop them? Here. In your land. Your farms will burn, your villages trampled, and your people scattered."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
"But... you have another option," the man said. "Let me intervene. I can repel the Kumo force before they ever step foot on your soil. And in exchange, I will build a ninja village in the Land of Rice Fields.
"With a village of your own, no foreign power will dare trample you again."
The Daimyo stared at the masked man, eyes narrow with doubt.
"How can I trust you? You say you can do what even Konoha cannot. Do you expect me to believe that?"
The man gave a slow, mirthless laugh. Then, with deliberate motion, he removed his mask.
A shock of crimson hair tumbled down. His face was young—no more than twenty—but his eyes held the weight of a hundred lives.
"My name is Sasori of the Red Sand. Perhaps you've heard of me."
The Daimyo gasped. Of course he had. Sasori—the rogue prodigy of Sunagakure. A legend among puppet masters. A man known across the shinobi world.
"You... You're serious?"
"I don't need your trust now," Sasori—or rather, Akira, said. "Just watch. When I repel the Raikage and his forces, then you'll see the truth."
The Daimyo stood in stunned silence. A ninja village of their own...
He had dreamed of it for years.
And now, as war loomed and his allies abandoned him, the dream no longer seemed far-fetched.
He nodded slowly.
"If you truly can protect my land... if you truly can drive the Kumo back, then the Land of Rice Fields will support your ninja village."
Akira gave a single nod, his crimson eyes gleaming.
"Then watch closely. The era of dependency is over. A new village will rise—one born not from heritage, but from power."