Chiyo's eyes widened in shock.
The boy who had suddenly appeared before her seemed to materialize out of thin air. One moment the room was empty, the next he was standing there, smiling as though he belonged. Even her battle-hardened instincts had failed to detect his approach.
"Who are you? What is your purpose here?" Chiyo demanded sharply. Her voice carried the authority of a veteran. The Ten Chikamatsu Puppets twitched, their strings pulled taut, ready to strike at her command. If the boy said the wrong thing, she would not hesitate.
Peter quickly raised his hands and offered a hasty explanation, his tone almost apologetic. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to cause trouble. I came to find Kazekage Rasa. I… wanted to have an in-depth discussion with him. About parenting experience."
The words were spoken with disarming honesty.
Chiyo blinked at him, her face slackening in confusion. "Parenting… experience?" she repeated, as though the phrase were foreign. Her eyes darted over him, sizing him up. He looked far too young to be asking questions like that, and yet he carried himself with a seriousness that suggested otherwise.
She couldn't help but think of Rasa's own son—Gaara. That boy had suffered terribly under his father's cold and merciless parenting methods. What could possibly be gained by "exchanging experiences" with a man who had practically destroyed his own child's innocence?
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She decided to answer bluntly.
"You don't know, do you?" Chiyo's voice was grim. "Kazekage Rasa has already been murdered."
Peter froze. "???"
Rasa… murdered?
When did that happen?
According to his understanding, this wasn't supposed to occur yet. The timeline didn't match. Could Orochimaru have acted early? That shouldn't be possible.
"I didn't know," Peter admitted honestly. "Can you tell me exactly what happened?"
Chiyo studied him for a moment. He had no hostile intent—she could sense that much. With a small wave of her hand, she dismissed the Ten Puppets, allowing them to vanish back into the scroll. Then she spoke, her tone heavy.
"Some time ago, Kazekage Rasa convened a meeting of the Five Kage. He wished to form an alliance of the five great ninja villages. Together, he hoped they could eliminate the Akatsuki organization before it grew into a threat too dangerous to control."
She sighed deeply, the sound heavy with regret. "Two days ago, the Kazekage himself led a force of a thousand elite shinobi into the Land of Rain. They were to join the other Kage and their forces in striking the Akatsuki. But…"
Her eyes dimmed. "They underestimated their enemy. None of them expected what awaited. From what few Sand shinobi managed to escape and return, the Five Kage themselves were struck down. The leader of Akatsuki defeated them singlehandedly."
Her shoulders slumped. The years weighed heavily on her frame. "I warned Rasa it was a reckless plan. But he was stubborn. And now… he has paid the price with his life."
Peter listened quietly, though his mind raced.
He recalled Nagato mentioning the five great nations banding together against Akatsuki. At that time, Nagato had even sought Peter's help in obtaining nuclear bombs to bolster their strength. Nagato feared the combined might of the five villages.
But now? It seemed Nagato had gravely underestimated himself.
Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So Nagato was far stronger than even he believed. Not only did he survive, he annihilated the Kage Alliance. A healthy Nagato, wielding the full might of the Rinnegan… he really is terrifying.
The Nagato he remembered from the "original story" was crippled, his body wasted by illness, his life sustained only by mechanical support. But this Nagato—whole, healthy, and fueled by conviction—was a different beast entirely.
Peter chuckled dryly. "Haha… so that's how it is."
Inwardly, he considered the implications. With Rasa dead, Gaara's life might actually improve. In the original story, Gaara's childhood was a nightmare, living under constant fear of assassination attempts ordered by his own father. Now, without that looming shadow, perhaps Gaara's life would have some measure of peace.
"Excuse me, Counselor Chiyo," Peter said at last. "I'll be on my way."
Before Chiyo could respond, his figure blurred, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.
She stood there, stunned. "He left? Just like that? I didn't even get the chance to ask him what he meant about that sentence… about the Sharingan watch being the same as Danzo's."
Her gaze drifted to her pale arms, where the three scarlet eyes gleamed faintly. A chill ran down her spine.
She knew Danzo well. His obsession with power, his underhanded schemes—nothing about him was ordinary.
"Could it be… this arm was originally developed by Shimura Danzo?" she murmured. The idea sent a shiver through her. "This resurrection power… tied so closely to the Uchiha's Sharingan… was this their clan's hidden secret?"
Her eyes widened as pieces fell into place. Suddenly, so many mysteries of the past began to make sense.
The Uchiha coup. Fugaku's resistance. The fall of Sarutobi Hiruzen.
It all pointed back to the same thing: Danzo and Hiruzen experimenting with the Uchiha clan, using them to develop an arm embedded with Sharingan eyes, capable of granting resurrection.
The Uchiha learned of it, rebelled, and exacted their revenge. Shimura Danzo was slain. Sarutobi Hiruzen was expelled from Konoha.
Chiyo's lips trembled. So that's the truth.
Her heart pounded, but then her gaze softened. She looked at her arm again.
"Whatever the origin… this power will help me. It can help me bring them back. Sasori… please return soon. Grandma has found a way to resurrect your parents…"
Her eyes glistened with tears as she whispered to the empty room.
---
Meanwhile
Peter walked out of the Kazekage Building and strolled through the bustling streets of Sunagakure.
Daytime in the desert village was lively, a stark contrast to its silence at night. The market stalls were crowded, their wooden counters displaying pottery, dried meats, shimmering fabrics dyed with earthy pigments, and trinkets carved from stone. Vendors shouted prices, children darted between legs, and shinobi patrolled casually, blending into the flow.
Peter observed it all with mild curiosity. For a short while, he admired the scene, but soon boredom crept in. There wasn't much variety—Sand Village lacked the abundance of Konoha or the glamour of Kirigakure. After a few streets, everything felt the same.
He exhaled. "Not much else to see here. Time for me to leave."
But before leaving, there was one last thing he needed to do.
He had to find Gaara and say goodbye.
Closing his eyes, Peter extended his senses. He focused on the faint energy signature carried by the Rat Charm inside the little bear that always stayed near Gaara. In moments, he located them.
He found Gaara squatting beside a sandpit, shaping the grains absentmindedly while the little bear waddled beside him, pawing at the dunes.
Peter's heart softened. Without the little bear's companionship, Gaara would likely have hidden in some dark corner, silently watching other children laugh and play, excluded as always. But now, with even one friend by his side, his loneliness had been eased.
"Big brother, we meet again!"
Gaara's voice rang out with joy the instant he spotted Peter. His eyes lit up like lanterns, his face breaking into the pure smile of a child. He leapt to his feet, his small legs carrying him eagerly forward.
Peter crouched, catching him in a gentle embrace and ruffling his hair. His smile was tinged with sadness.
"Gaara," Peter said softly, "I came to say goodbye."
The boy froze. His small hands clutched at Peter's robe. "Say goodbye? Big brother… you're leaving?" His voice wavered, and his eyes shimmered with the threat of tears.
"Yes," Peter admitted, his tone quiet. "I have to leave."
"Big brother, can't you stay? Please?" Gaara's voice cracked, the plea raw with desperation. His grip tightened as though by holding onto Peter's clothes, he could anchor him in place.
Peter stroked his head gently, soothing. "Hey, now. Little men don't cry. I'll come back to see you whenever I can. You don't have to worry."
Gaara sniffled, tilting his tearful eyes upward. "But I don't want you to go."
Peter smiled, though the ache in his chest was real. "Gaara, you're growing up. You need to learn to be strong on your own. Besides—don't you have the little bear? It'll stay with you always."
The words sank in. Slowly, Gaara nodded. "Mm… I understand, big brother."
Peter's heart swelled with pride at the boy's effort to be brave. He patted his shoulder warmly. "Good. I'll be back someday. I promise."
"Really?" Gaara asked, his eyes searching for reassurance.
"Of course it's true."
"Then… then promise me." Gaara extended his tiny hand, pinky finger raised. "We'll make a pinky promise. You have to come back."
Peter chuckled and linked his finger with Gaara's. "Alright. A pinky promise it is."
They locked hands tightly, sealing the vow.
Then Peter rose, turned, and walked away, his figure fading into the distance.
Gaara remained in place, staring at the retreating back. His throat ached, and tears threatened once more, but he quickly wiped them with the back of his hand.
His voice was soft, trembling, but firm.
"Brother… I'm a man now. I can't cry anymore…"
The little bear pressed against his leg, offering silent comfort. Gaara bent down, hugging it close, and whispered again, as though to reassure himself:
"I'll wait for you, big brother. No matter how long it takes."
---
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