The Sand Festival concluded swiftly, but the clash between Shiraishi and Yamaji Kippē was far from over.
Yamaji Kippē was not powerful, yet his seniority was exceptionally high. For such an elder to be publicly beheaded by Shiraishi during the Sand Festival was an unbearable humiliation—one that the Yamaji clan could not accept.
"Kill that brat!"
"Revenge, Elder Kippē!"
The enraged cries ignited Yamaji Ryōko's fury completely. Forgetting Arakawa Akita's earlier warning, she spoke coldly:
"Don't worry. Tonight, I will take that brat's head myself."
This was no longer just personal anger—it was about the clan's dignity. The standing of the Sand-Release Three Lineages within Sunagakure was at stake. If they allowed Shiraishi to humiliate them without retaliation, how would the Yamaji clan survive in the Land of Wind?
This was a family that had once produced the third Kazekage, the strongest in history. There was no way they would swallow this insult.
The Yamaji clan erupted into chaos.
Yamaji Ryōko personally led the clan's ninja, advancing toward Shiraishi's residence from three separate directions.
At the Arakawa estate, Arakawa Akita's expression changed the moment he received the Yamaji clan's message.
He had not expected his niece's temper to spiral so completely out of control. The Sand Festival had barely ended, yet she was already leading a force straight to that boy's home.
Such reckless arrogance—combined with Shiraishi's standing within the Elder Council—meant that if Yamaji Ryōko succeeded, Sunagakure would be plunged into catastrophic internal turmoil.
This could not be allowed.
No matter what, Arakawa Akita was still a seasoned politician. He understood that instability was fatal—especially when Sunagakure was already beset by enemies both internal and external.
"Mobilize immediately. Support Shiraishi's residence!"
Regardless of personal opinions, Akita knew this situation had to be contained before it escalated further.
Along the roads of the Oasis Ring District, Yamaji Ryōko's advance force was intercepted by a joint unit of the Guard Division and ANBU.
A Sunagakure jōnin stepped forward, his expression stern.
"You—"
"Yamaji-jōnin," he said calmly. "Please restrain yourself."
Ryōko's face darkened instantly.
The other two Yamaji attack groups consisted mainly of chūnin and genin. If those forces were stopped as well, it would be manageable—but if Sunagakure deliberately allowed them through…
She had expected all three groups to converge. Instead, the Guard Division had intervened directly.
Just as Ryōko considered forcing a breakthrough—
A pale-faced woman stepped forward.
It was Karura, the Kazekage's wife.
"Ryōko," Karura said weakly. "You can't do this."
"Karura!" Ryōko exclaimed in alarm. "You shouldn't be here in your condition!"
"No… It's you who must stop. Sunagakure will tear itself apart otherwise…"
Karura was visibly anxious. Ryōko's temperament threatened to push the village toward outright internal collapse. Shiraishi might only be a Special Jōnin, but his identity and background meant that if anything happened to him, the Elder Council and the Kazekage's faction would be driven into open confrontation.
Overwhelmed by panic and strain, Karura suddenly collapsed.
"Medical unit! Where is the medical unit?!" Ryōko shouted in alarm.
Behind Shiraishi's residence, the Yamaji clan's remaining two groups regrouped.
Over thirty genin and five chūnin gathered outside the rear courtyard gate, waiting for word from Ryōko.
Time passed.
No signal came.
The chūnin exchanged uneasy glances.
"We must wait for the clan head," one of them said. "That boy is still a Special Jōnin."
Another chūnin scoffed.
"Special Jōnin? That just means a strong chūnin. He's not a real jōnin. We've got five chūnin here—what are you afraid of? Charge in!"
Without waiting for agreement, he led the genin forward, storming into the courtyard.
"Die!"
Shouts echoed as they rushed inside. The remaining chūnin had no choice but to follow.
The moment they crossed the threshold—
A mysterious energy barrier snapped into place.
Fifteen small Triangular Sand Towers rose from the ground, locking into position and forming a specialized defensive formation.
Torches flared to life.
In the dim glow, Shiraishi sat calmly inside the residence, his silver blade resting lightly on the table as he allowed the intruders to flood his courtyard.
Fortunately, he had already moved his tree-fruit plants to the academy grounds. Otherwise, they would have been completely destroyed.
After killing Yamaji Kippē, Shiraishi had fully expected retaliation—especially from someone like Yamaji Ryōko. Tonight's assault was inevitable.
Ebizō had originally intended to intercept the Yamaji clan entirely, but Shiraishi had refused.
"There's no room left to retreat," he had said calmly. "Yamaji Ryōko is not someone who follows reason."
The Elder Council had already blocked Ryōko's main force.
That left these remnants.
And they were Shiraishi's responsibility.
Since the Yamaji clan had chosen open hostility during the Sand Festival, Shiraishi would show no mercy.
At this point, further restraint would only invite disaster. Only an overwhelming force could buy time—especially with the Joint Chūnin Exams nearing completion and Iwagakure clearly preparing for large-scale action.
Shiraishi's residence glowed brightly under the night sky.
Candlelight flickered everywhere.
At the center of the room, a six-faced mirrored puppet slowly activated.
Blood-red chakra threads surged forth under Shiraishi's control, crashing like tidal waves.
The Scarlet Control Mirror opened fully.
From every direction, chakra threads shot outward.
Six Triangular Sand Towers rose from the ground. As the formation activated, the chakra converged—
Eighteen Earth Clones of Shiraishi emerged.
As the Second Kazekage's most powerful auxiliary puppet, the Scarlet Control Mirror allowed Shiraishi to control an astonishing number of constructs. The chakra required for these clones had been prepared in advance—otherwise, even he could not sustain such numbers.
All eighteen Shiraishis moved simultaneously.
Silver blades flashed as they struck toward the right flank.
Through psychic perception, Shiraishi had already identified the weakness there—mostly genin. The left flank was smaller in number, but the chakra signatures of several chūnin were unmistakable.
Tonight, with the tacit approval of Chiyo and Ebizō—
Shiraishi intended to make the Yamaji clan bleed.
He removed his glasses and set them gently on the table.
His gaze sharpened.
Maki had once said that Shiraishi with glasses and without glasses felt like two completely different people.
Dark mist began to coil around him.
His hands moved rapidly through seals.
Dozens of Flying Water Shuriken formed silently, launching into the enemy ranks under psychic control.
Next—
It was time to test his newly developed genjutsu in real combat.
The opening strike was effortless and elegant.
Amid drifting fog, Shiraishi's figure became unreal.
Illusory bubbles formed beneath his feet, distorting space and perception.
Reality blurred.
Illusion and truth intertwined.
The bubbles shimmered like phantoms—impossible to grasp.
And the slaughter had only just begun.
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