However, before the first waves of Rasa's giant golden sand tsunami surged forward and the enemy's gathered jutsu came crashing down in full force, she pressed a hand to her throat and let chakra pool there, a quiet bloom beneath the skin.
The plaza seemed to narrow around the sound, her voice sharpening until it felt like a blade.
When she spoke, it cut through like a clean strike.
"You higher-ups called me a traitor. You sent an assassin from your own ranks to make sure I died."
Her eyes scanned the ring of shinobi, pausing on faces that showed shock, faces that showed duty, faces that held private relief.
"Sasori came for me," she continued, steady. "He was ordered by Rasa and the council that supports him blindly just because of some nobility legacy lines."
"The same wretched Sasori, who was the one who assassinated the Third and later desecrated his body, was told by them to remove me, a problem that made the paranoid new weak Kazekage politically uncomfortable, to secure his seat, and to kill a woman who was a hero of this war. I nearly died that day."
The plaza grew quiet enough that her words echoed off the stone. She wanted only the record set straight.
"You branded me a traitor because you needed a story," she said. "You hid your treachery behind titles and seals."
"I survived because someone from Konoha saved me, not because I betrayed the village, to them, first."
A murmur rose and then fell under the weight of that line.
She let the truth hang in the air for a slow breath.
"I am not your traitor," she said. "I am the one you tried to bury. I came back to unbury what you hid."
"If any of you stand between me and those who ordered my death, you will die. I do not want more blood than necessary, but I will not be denied this justice."
The golden storm rose like a second desert swallowing the first.
Rasa's chakra flooded the air, turning sand into shimmering waves of metal dust that blotted out the sky.
At the same time, hundreds of shinobi around the plaza unleashed their jutsu, wind blades, earth walls, fire volleys, and lightning arcs, an orchestra of death closing in from all sides.
Pakura inhaled once. Her blood burned.
To answer the storm, she raised both hands and drew every ounce of heat around her into motion. The air convulsed.
Scorch Release: Searing Maelstrom.
Flames spiraled outward in a vast vortex, the wind around her bending into a blazing hurricane.
The golden dust met the storm and liquefied instantly, molten sand raining down like glass shards.
Countless weaker jutsu disintegrated on contact, the shockwave flattening rooftops and turning the plaza into a crater of light.
But Rasa's sand kept coming, heavier, denser, glowing like molten gold as he poured more chakra into it.
She clenched her teeth and forced her next move. The sky above her darkened as she shaped a massive sphere of plasma, its core pulsing like a newborn star.
Scorch Release: Solar Convergence.
Previously, the smaller orbs orbiting her body constantly fused together into one blinding core.
She now hurled it into the sky, and it burst apart, thousands of miniature suns spilling downward like rain.
Scorch Release: Solar Storm.
Each fragment exploded on impact, devouring wave after wave of golden sand, detonating through ranks of enemy shinobi.
The battlefield turned white with heat. Even Rasa's magnetic defenses began to crack under the strain.
Pakura's chakra flickered, her breath growing heavy.
The Katsuyu fragments pulsed on her shoulders, gradually funneling what energy they had into her body.
"Just a little more," she muttered.
Rasa roared above the destruction, his chakra forming a colossal wall of condensed gold, spinning like a tidal wave ready to crush her.
She focused, narrowing her chakra into a single point. The light around her condensed into a spear of molten brilliance.
Scorch Release: Plasma Lance.
She threw it with everything she had.
The lance tore through the air like a line drawn by the sun itself, piercing the golden wall, cutting straight through Rasa's chest.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent. Then the wave collapsed, dissolving into a glittering rain of dust as his body turned to ash midair.
Pakura staggered, the world tilting around her.
Her chakra was nearly gone, her body trembling under the heat she had unleashed.
She had won, but the sky was already shifting again.
From the east, a new chakra flared, old and immense.
Chiyo and Ebizo stood at the edge of the devastation, their eyes filled with grim resolve and even hatred.
With them came the remaining puppet masters and sealing experts. Together, they formed a wide formation circle.
"Pakura," Chiyo called out, her voice carrying over the scorched wind. "You've doomed yourself."
Ebizo's seals flared, and the ground split open.
From beneath the shattered plaza, a gigantic puppet rose, an enormous construct of chakra-forged metal and magnetic cores, its frame towering over the ruins like a waking giant.
Shamon's greatest creation, once the Second Kazekage's autonomous weapon, now moved through the combined will of dozens of puppet masters, their chakra threads straining to mimic the magnetic control its original master once commanded.
The puppet lunged.
Pakura flared what little chakra she had left, evading the first barrage of blades and drills.
Her Radiant Blade ignited again, carving through one arm, but another slammed her aside, sending her crashing into a half-melted wall.
Hashirama's cells and the Katsuyu fragments mended her burns instantly; however, their faint glow slowly faded to dull embers.
Their energy was significantly spent, having already carried her through what was, in truth, a battle against an entire great hidden village.
"Keep going, just a little bit more," she whispered. "We finish this on our own."
She then reactivated her cloak soon, heat surging back into the air for, perhaps, one final time.
The puppet struck again, and she answered with another storm, smaller, faster, each movement a burst of scorching precision.
She targeted its joints, its runes, its core.
The battle raged across the plaza, light and metal clashing in blinding flashes.
Chiyo and Ebizo coordinated perfectly, forcing the puppet to adapt faster than any ordinary shinobi could.
But Pakura was faster still. She broke through, melting the puppet's chest with a concentrated blast of plasma.
The resulting explosion ripped through half the street, shattering the control seals.
The puppet froze mid-swing, then collapsed, its molten frame sinking into the sand.
The two elders fell to their knees, drained and pale.
Pakura's cloak flickered, her body trembling.
Dozens of jonin and chunin still surrounded the ruins, drawn by the noise.
She could barely stand.
She just took a slow breath, blood dripping from her lip due to chakra loss, and looked up at the smoke-filled sky.
"That's enough," she whispered. "Summon him."
The Katsuyu fragments pulsed faintly, releasing the last of their purposefully stored chakra. The summoning seal beneath her feet began to glow, bending space around her. The air thickened with pressure. "Ryusei… It's your turn."