Inside the genjutsu, Pakura was forced to relive the ambush by the Mist-nin but this time, Uchiha Gen never arrived to save her.
The kunai pierced into her back with cold, merciless precision. A violent, fatal pain tore through her body as she staggered forward, shoved down by the Mist-nin's strike. She crashed onto the ground just as a storm of kunai, thick as rainfall, whistled through the mist. They buried themselves into her back, her hips, her legs... everywhere.
Agonizing pain surged like a tide, flooding every nerve.
Her life force drained away with the blood and the pain. Strength evaporated, vision blurred, and her consciousness sank into a bottomless abyss. She cursed Sunagakure, she cursed the ninja world, she cursed it all in her despair. But curses were useless—just the impotent rage of the defeated, unable to touch the living.
The scene shifted. Pakura's consciousness rose, now observing from a detached, godlike perspective. She watched as Rasa coldly shifted the blame for her death onto Iwagakure. He exploited her sacrifice for political gain, using her demise to boost morale, end the war, and secure prestige for himself.
"Ah—!"
Her scream ripped out the moment Gen dispelled the illusion. Her face was twisted, eyes wide with terror, cold sweat dripping from her forehead.
"See?" Gen's voice was calm, but unyielding. "If I hadn't been here, what do you think would have happened to you?"
His words were harsh, yet his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her into the safety of his embrace.
Pakura buried her face against his chest, listening to the steady, powerful beat of his heart. Slowly, her trembling subsided and calm returned. After a long silence, she tilted her head up to look at him—her face serious, but tinged with guilt.
"I… I understand. I was wrong. I'll be more cautious from now on."
Gen gave a small nod. "As long as you've realized it." He loosened his hold slightly and glanced at the Mist-nin still restrained nearby. "Now, let's handle what's left."
He leapt down with Pakura still in his arms, landing effortlessly on the mountain path. The Mist-nin trapped by the binding technique could do nothing but glare. They weren't Sasuke—none of them had the sheer force to break free. Their expressions flickered between terror and rage, but their resistance was empty.
Gen gave Pakura's waist a light pat. "By now, you've pieced it together, haven't you?"
Her eyes hardened. "Yes. Kazekage Rasa betrayed me… and perhaps even the entire village did."
Whether the betrayal was solely his or with the council's knowledge remained uncertain. Pakura could only hope it was the former. Anything else would make her heart collapse entirely.
"You're not as foolish as you act." Gen's voice carried a trace of irony.
Pakura frowned, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "How did you know I would be in danger?"
"Because Suikazan Fuguki is my subordinate."
Pakura's eyes widened in shock. "What?!"
The restrained Mist-nin also froze, their eyes widening with horror and hatred.
Gen's smile was cold as he stroked Pakura's cheek. "Surprised?"
Even with her life spent in deserts and storms, her skin was smooth and flawless. A miracle of chakra, yes, but also discipline and care.
Pakura nodded stiffly. How could she not be surprised? Suikazan Fuguki had been a commander in the Land of Wind invasion. She had crossed paths with him often—he was difficult, ruthless, a thorn in her side. And yet… every operation he led against the Sand seemed to go suspiciously smoothly. Meanwhile, Chiyo-sama's campaigns always struggled.
A bitter realization crept in. Had Fuguki been Gen's all along?
She steadied her voice. "When did this happen?"
"Back on the battlefield of Uzushiogakure," Gen answered lightly. Then his eyes hardened. "And remember—this stays secret."
Pakura nodded solemnly. "I understand."
"Good." His tone sharpened. "Then it's time to erase loose ends and exact some revenge."
The Mist-nin's expressions twisted in panic. Their eyes flickered with pleading desperation, but Pakura met them with ice. Without hesitation, her fingers weaved seals. A massive orb of orange-red fire bloomed into existence, then roared forward.
It struck one Mist-nin squarely in the chest. Steam hissed violently as the moisture in his body evaporated, flesh desiccating in an instant. In moments, he collapsed into a grotesque, shriveled corpse—like something dragged straight from hell.
This was why Mist-nin loathed her. Those who died to Scorch Release never died cleanly.
"What now?" Gen asked, his tone casual, though his eyes studied her.
Pakura hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you have a suggestion?"
"I'd most prefer you come to Konoha with me and warm my bed," Gen said with a smirk, pulling her closer.
Pakura rolled her eyes, cheeks tinged pink. "Can you be serious for once? I meant about the future."
"You still want to return to the Sand, don't you?"
"Of course. If I just left for Konoha, wouldn't that be exactly what Rasa wants? Besides, I have comrades, disciples, and supporters there…"
Gen's lips twitched. He remembered her disciple, Maki. A poor choice, in his opinion. After her teacher's death, that boy would grow into a sanctimonious fool—preaching that Pakura should forgive, forget, and die as a hero. She'd even said once: 'The past cannot be erased, but the future can be created.'
Gen scoffed inwardly. Because the past can't be erased, you simply let it go? What would Maki say if it were her life stolen?
Pakura, on the other hand, had been a diligent teacher. Even exhausted from missions, she would train and guide him tirelessly. The loyalty she gave was repaid with naïveté. The master-disciple bonds in this world were twisted beyond belief.
If Gen had such a disciple, he'd strangle him the day he awakened.
"The past is history," Gen muttered. "And history cannot just be swept aside."
Pakura's gaze steadied. "So you've thought about it—what's your advice?"
"Lie low for now. Wait for the right chance to unseat Rasa."
She bristled. "You don't think I can defeat him?"
"Not that," Gen said bluntly. "It's that he has no bottom line, and you do. It's hard for someone bound by honor to defeat someone who isn't, especially when he's already in power."
Pakura fell silent, chewing over his words. After a moment, she whispered, "Then… what would you have me do?"
Gen's lips curled. "Sometimes, the simplest solution is the best."
Pakura blinked. "The simplest…? you mean… kill Rasa outright?"
"Exactly. Dead men don't plot. No schemes, no tricks, nothing works once you're in the ground."
Pakura wavered. Her hatred for Rasa burned, but assassinating her own Kazekage was no light matter. It meant rebellion against her village itself.
"Don't overthink it." Gen's voice dropped, low and certain. "I'll handle it. You just act natural—no sudden changes in behavior. Leave Rasa to me." His eyes sharpened. "Anyone who schemes against my woman—I'll kill, whether you agree or not."
His hand stroked her back gently, but his words carried the weight of a blade.
Pakura trembled, overwhelmed by his dominance and devotion. Emotion surged, breaking through her restraint. She threw her arms around his waist, closed her eyes, tilted up on her toes, and parted her lips to kiss him—
...but before their lips touched, space itself rippled. A swirling vortex formed in the mist.
Gen's eyes snapped open, anger flashing. He stopped Pakura mid-kiss and turned to glare at the distortion.
"Obito… you really deserve to die."