Land of Wind, western desert.
A place even ghosts would avoid.
Deep inside a natural cave, torchlight flickered, casting hundreds of distorted, elongated shadows.
Here, there weren't just shinobi, but ordinary people too. Even children, some no taller than a sword.
The air was thick with sweat, blood, and the sour stench of despair.
Aramaki stood on a jagged rock. A fresh knife scar ran across his face, still raw and terrifying.
He had once been Baki's deputy.
Now, Baki was dead, the Kazekage was dead, and he was the only one left to lead.
"Stop crying, all of you!"
Aramaki growled in a low voice, like a demon. "Can crying bring back Kazekage-sama? Can crying bring back our village?"
Silence followed, broken only by the crackling torches and faint, suppressed sobs.
"The scout from Suna reported back."
Aramaki gritted his teeth, veins bulging at his temples. "Those Konoha bastards tore down Sunagakure's sign."
"They put up a new one. Called it the Wind Sub-Division."
The crowd stirred. Some crushed the dry rations in their hands. Others dug their fingernails into their palms.
"Listen to that! Sub-Division!"
Aramaki spat on the ground. As if that wasn't enough, he waved his hand furiously. "Those Konoha bastards want to rip out the spine of the Land of Wind and use it as a stool for Daimyo-sama of the Land of Fire!"
"Kazekage-sama's body isn't even cold. If we just lie down and accept this, how can we face him in the Pure Land?"
"No face!" a one-armed shinobi roared from the crowd.
"That's right! No face!"
"Let's fight them to the death!"
Aramaki raised a hand, his fist clenched tight. "I'm not afraid of death. I'm only afraid of dying a worthless death!"
"I'm not afraid either!"
"Yeah! None of us are afraid!"
"Say the word, and we'll follow you!"
Aramaki paused. "We have only one path. Fight those Konoha bastards to the end!"
"Either drive them out of the Land of Wind, or die here in the desert!"
"Good! Let's go back and kill them! Avenge our dead!"
"Avenge! Avenge!"
The roars of hundreds echoed in the cave, shaking loose rocks from the ceiling. It was the hysteria of those pushed past their limits.
After the meeting ended.
Aramaki slipped into a side chamber deep in the cave, soaked in cold sweat.
Someone was already inside.
Clad in a black robe and wearing a mask, their identity was unclear, like a shadow merging with the darkness.
Aramaki's hand moved toward his tool pouch, his body instantly tensing. "Who are you?"
The figure calmly removed their mask. Their right eye was covered by an eyepatch, and their left eye remained still and cold.
"Kirigakure. Ao."
Aramaki's pupils shrank.
A famous sensory-type shinobi from Kirigakure. The Byakugan Killer.
"Someone from the Land of Water? What, you came to the desert to eat sand?" Aramaki sneered, eyes still filled with wariness. "You here to mock us?"
"I'm here to help you."
Ao didn't waste time. He casually tossed ten Sealing Scrolls onto the stone table. They landed with a dull thud.
"Inside are five thousand explosive tags, three hundred high-grade steel kunai, and twenty million ryo."
Aramaki's breathing hitched.
That was a massive amount.
It was also the lifeline the Wind Resistance Army desperately needed.
But he didn't reach for it. Instead, he stepped back slightly, staring at Ao. "Help us? Money doesn't fall from the sky."
"What do you want?"
"We just want the Land of Fire to suffer."
Ao adjusted his robe, tone calm. "The Land of Fire's appetite is too big. They swallowed the Land of Wind. Who knows if the Land of Water is next?"
"We can't act openly. But you can."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Captain Aramaki should understand that."
Aramaki stared at the scrolls. His fingers trembled slightly.
They were being used as pawns.
But they were already mortal enemies of the Land of Fire, so this deal... was worth it.
Aramaki snatched up the scrolls, gripping them tightly. "Fine. I'll take this deal."
"But don't expect us to follow Kirigakure's orders. We fight only for the Land of Wind."
Ao sneered, putting his mask back on. "We have no interest in the Land of Wind. As long as the Land of Fire bleeds, we're satisfied."
"Remember, this is between us."
With that, his figure vanished into the shadows, as if he'd never been there.
Three days later.
Eastern border of the Land of Wind.
A newly constructed Konoha supply camp.
Night had fallen. The only light came from searchlights mounted on the watchtowers, sweeping over the still ground.
A few Konoha shinobi leaned lazily against a wall, yawning, their expressions relaxed.
"This damn place. It's scorching during the day and freezing at night," a Chūnin complained. "When are we getting transferred back to the village?"
"In your dreams. Daimyo-sama just ordered a full restructuring..."
He didn't finish.
A light piece of paper drifted onto his shoulder.
He reached up instinctively to swat it away.
Sizzle.
The sound of burning paper.
Then a flash of fire.
Boom!
The explosion ripped the Chūnin apart. There wasn't even time for a scream. He was vaporized into a mist of blood.
Right after, a shower of white papers descended from the sky.
Explosive tags.
Countless tags rained down, dense and overwhelming, like a white storm.
Boom boom boom boom!
A chain of deafening explosions engulfed the entire camp. The ground trembled violently. Flames burst into the sky, lighting the night like midday.
Limbs flew through the air. Tents became fireballs. Screams of Konoha shinobi were drowned out by the roar of destruction.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
In the chaos, a group of masked Suna shinobi charged in like wild beasts. They attacked everything in sight. Disorganized, but fearless of death.
Even while on fire, they still pounced to tear off a chunk of flesh.
By dawn, when reinforcements arrived.
All that remained was ruin.
Charred corpses lay scattered across the camp.
On the blackened remnants of the wall, words written in blood stood out—crooked, but shocking:
The Land of Wind is not dead. Blood debt must be paid!
Signed: Wind Resistance Army
The news quickly made its way back to the Sub-Division.
Fugaku looked at the blood-stained battle report in his hand, his expression dark enough to drip water.
Bang!
He slammed the report onto the table, splinters flying.
More than a dozen shinobi killed. All supplies destroyed.
This wasn't just an attack. It was a public slap in the face to the Land of Fire.
"Wind Resistance Army."
Fugaku's eyes were sharp like a wolf's. His voice was filled with hatred. "A bunch of stray dogs... where did they get so many explosive tags?"
This level of bombing wasn't something rogue shinobi could pull off.
There had to be someone funding them from the shadows. That was the only explanation.
"Investigate."
Fugaku's tone turned cold, his killing intent leaking out. "Find those rats. And the ones feeding them."
"If they don't want to live, then none of them will."
If someone wanted to play with fire.
Then let them taste true fury.
The moment the order was given, countless Konoha shinobi burst out from the Wind Sub-Division, heading in all directions.
Orochimaru sat calmly in what used to be the Kazekage Building, indifferent to the chaos outside.
He was only responsible for holding Suna in check. The task of eliminating the remnants had been handed over to Fugaku.
There was no need for him to intervene.
(To be continued.)