The sky of the Land of Wind was a dull yellow.
Vast expanses of yellow sand connected the sky and the earth. The wind blew the sand, forming dunes that flowed like waves, emitting an endless "shhh" sound. A colossal setting sun hung at the edge of that sea of sand, as if casting the entire world into a desert. The air was permeated with a scorching heat that violently shimmered and distorted in the high temperatures, making distant objects waver as if seen through water, everything as illusory as a mirage.
Upon the sole gigantic oasis, the capital of the Land of Wind was situated. From afar, it looked like a dying giant, half-buried in yellow earth, with only its arms, covered in green algae, protruding from the ground. Sunagakure, the Hidden Sand Village, was located beside the oasis, serving as a wall to protect the capital of the Land of Wind while also fending off sandstorms.
At this moment, inside the Kazekage Building in Sunagakure. The dry air, unique to the Land of Wind, carried a gritty sensation like sand, subtly detectable even within this well-sealed room. Around a massive circular stone table sat a mere twelve individuals. The thick stone walls blocked out external sounds, but they couldn't block the pervasive anxiety and oppression.
"Everyone, you've all seen the announcement from the Daimyo's mansion, haven't you?"
Rasa, sitting at the head of the table, leaned back slightly, his voice deep with a barely perceptible hoarseness. His gaze was profound, sweeping over everyone present before finally resting on the scroll before him, bearing the crest of the Land of Wind's Daimyo. His stern face showed unconcealed weariness.
"The Daimyo's stance is clear," Rasa said solemnly. "He has indeed decided to continue cutting military appropriations and material allocations to Sunagakure."
A suffocating silence followed. One impatient individual was the first to break it, his voice filled with worry and anger: "Kazekage-sama, this is practically forcing us to a dead end!"
What did continuous cutbacks mean? It meant they had to slash more Genin quotas, that the stipends for Chunin and Jonin would all shrink, that their already meager ninja tool reserves would run dry! Without money, without resources, how could the village sustain itself? With sand and the northwest wind?
"Does the Daimyo-sama not see the current situation in the ninja world? Kumogakure and Konoha are fighting tooth and nail; the balance among the Five Great Nations has begun to loosen!"
An elder frowned deeply and spoke: "This is the prelude to the approaching Fourth Great Ninja War, a crucial opportunity to reallocate interests or even change the power dynamic!"
"And what are we doing? We're being slowly bled dry internally, only able to watch the opportunity slip away before our eyes!"
Hearing this, Chiyo, who had remained silent, raised her eyes. Her aged voice was very calm, stating objectively: "The Daimyo has simply lost confidence in Sunagakure."
At these words, the meeting room instantly quieted. The expressions of several people stiffened; they opened their mouths but couldn't speak. Sunagakure had participated in the previous three Great Ninja Wars, but always ended up withdrawing in disarray with forced ceasefires. It was only natural for the Daimyo to lose confidence in them.
"But, just because we know we might lose, does that mean we should do nothing?"
Someone suddenly spoke, raising a hand and pointing out the window, saying gravely: "Look outside, look at Sunagakure. We've been buried here for too long. How much longer must we remain buried in this hellhole?!"
Everyone instinctively followed his gaze out the window, seeing sand-colored buildings that resembled a gigantic anthill. Pedestrians on the streets wrapped their mouths and noses with sandcloth to ward off the wind, their faces etched with the weariness and hardship tempered by the wind and sand, silently and arduously resisting nature's cruel extraction. Sand violently lashed against exposed skin, like countless tiny blades cutting.
Desolate, silent, harsh.
For Sunagakure and the Land of Wind, the sky was a divine disdain, the land a life-draining desert; survival itself was the greatest challenge. Outsiders often said that it was this barren living environment that forged the resilient will of the Sand Shinobi. But Sand Shinobi who heard such words only wanted to spit and say nonsense! It wasn't because of environmental tempering at all, but because of anger and jealousy at injustice.
The neighboring Land of Fire sat on fertile, vast lands, enjoying nature's generous bounty. Resources there were practically inexhaustible. Expansive forests provided countless timber, medicinal herbs, and ecological barriers; fertile land yielded abundant food; and numerous rivers and lakes provided ample water sources and convenient transportation...
This fundamental injustice and jealousy were the reasons why Sunagakure, even at great cost, continued to participate in wars. Resentment and jealousy—these two emotions would not dissipate. They would only settle and ferment in the wind and sand, eventually transforming into a twisted desire. This could perhaps be called a drive for survival, but it was more like a forced aggression, a ferocity willing to bite a piece of flesh from Konoha at any cost!
Thump... thump thump...
Rasa's fingers gently tapped the table, breaking the oppressive atmosphere of the meeting room.
"Put away your useless complaints." His voice was cold and harsh. "The reality is, we've been strangled."
Saying this, Rasa slowly extended his right hand, his fingertips trembling slightly, as a thread of extremely pure, gleaming gold dust slowly flowed.
"In the past, during peacetime, we could rely on gold dust for trade with other countries to maintain the village's stability, but that method won't work now."
"Our only option is to find a way to regain the Daimyo's trust, and the most direct way..."
He didn't continue his sentence, but everyone's gaze involuntarily held a complex and heavy weight. Undoubtedly, it was the Tailed Beast. If the jinchuriki could master Shukaku, the One-Tails, it would greatly boost the Daimyo's confidence.
But...
"Gaara, that child."
In Chiyo's weathered eyes, there was a hint of weariness and profound helplessness: "Yesterday evening, he lost control again and killed a ninja in front of everyone."
At this point, Chiyo paused, suppressing her personal emotions, and said dispassionately: "As a weapon, he is still unstable and uncontrollable."
Hearing this, the temperature in the meeting room seemed to drop by several more degrees. Indeed, that child was ultimately no match for Kumogakure's Eight-Tails Jinchuriki, Killer B. Expecting him to control the One-Tails purely through his disposition was nothing but wishful thinking. With the Daimyo undermining them internally, powerful enemies surrounding them externally, and their most hoped-for trump card being the most unstable powder keg...
"Then, there's only one last option."
In the silence, Rasa slowly raised his head. On his stern face, carved like stone, there was no anger, no sorrow, only an almost cold resolve.
"We need a victory."
"An undeniable, decisive victory."
As his words fell, everyone present's expressions shifted slightly, yet no one raised an objection. Even unspoken, in Rasa's utterly cold tone, what he intended to do was already crystal clear: re-enter the battlefield and find a way to achieve victory, even if it was a great victory the Daimyo did not want.