Ahead of her, a thick fog had started to roll in.
Milky-white vapor clung to the sand, blurring the line between desert and night sky.
Pakura walked alone between the dunes, her orange-and-green hair dampened by the mist and sticking to her shoulders.
She wore only her trademark sleeveless, backless top and tight shorts. The exposed skin of her body shivered faintly in the cold, wet air.
"This fog… something's wrong."
Pakura frowned, her brown eyes scanning the surroundings warily.
Dense fog was extremely rare in desert regions, especially for it to last this long.
Normally, deserts had low humidity and strong winds, which made fog hard to form.
In some extremely dry deserts, what did appear was occasionally a kind of dry haze caused by dust particles rather than actual condensed moisture.
But no matter how this fog had formed, she still had to keep going.
Pakura shook her head.
Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, had personally come to her and said this was a confidential mission that only she could carry out.
Because of that, Pakura hadn't even told her student, Maki, before setting out.
The mission was to make secret contact with Kirigakure representatives and negotiate some of the post-ceasefire transfer of benefits.
For the sake of the village, Pakura was willing to give anything.
Even if her instincts were warning her that something was off.
Rustle…
Footsteps sounded from within the fog.
Three figures gradually took shape, all dressed in Kirigakure combat gear, their forehead protectors gleaming coldly through the mist.
The man in front was a scar-faced middle-aged shinobi. He looked Pakura up and down, then pulled his lips into a grim, ugly smile.
"You're Pakura-sama of Sunagakure, right? We're Kirigakure's escort team. Please follow us."
Pakura nodded.
She followed the three men deeper in, her ninja sandals sinking into the sand and pulling free again, kicking up fine grains.
The fog only grew thicker. Visibility had dropped to less than five meters.
Then, all of a sudden, an almost imperceptible whistle cut through the air from behind her.
The battle instincts Pakura had honed over years of war made her twist her body instantly—but the interference of the fog still made her a moment too slow.
Thunk!
A shuriken buried itself deep beneath her right shoulder blade. The tip punched through the soft white skin of her back, sending a cold stab of pain through her body.
"Urgh!"
Pakura let out a muffled groan and yanked the shuriken free with her left hand. Blood immediately gushed from the wound, flowing down the smooth line of her back and splashing into dark red spots on the sand.
Almost at the same time, more than a dozen additional shuriken flew at her from different directions. Pakura kicked off the ground and leapt backward, scorching chakra instinctively surging into her palms.
"Scorch Release: Extremely Steaming Murder!"
Three orange-red fire orbs appeared around her. Their heat instantly vaporized the surrounding fog, briefly clearing her vision.
The three Kirigakure shinobi had already formed a triangular formation around her. All trace of politeness was gone from their faces, replaced by naked killing intent.
"What's the meaning of this?"
Pakura pressed a hand to her bleeding wound, the slick warmth on her fingers making her heart sink.
"Are you trying to start another war?"
"War?"
The scar-faced ninja sneered as he slowly drew the blade from his back.
"You should ask your Sunagakure higher-ups that question. Oh, and by the way—this meeting location was personally chosen by your Kazekage."
Pakura's pupils contracted.
"…That's a lie!"
"Whether it is or not, you should already have some idea."
Another Kirigakure ninja licked his lips, his eyes sweeping over her exposed waist and long legs.
"After all, if 'Sunagakure's hero' dies here, that'll be the most convincing result of all, won't it?"
Before the last word had even finished, the three of them formed seals at the same time.
"Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet Technique!"
"Water Release: Water Formation Wall!"
"Water Release: Water Prison Technique!"
Three water dragons surged at her from three directions. A wall of water rose behind her to cut off retreat, and above her, a water prison came crashing down.
For Kirigakure shinobi to be able to unleash Water Release on this scale in such a dry desert meant they had clearly prepared for this in advance.
Pakura grit her teeth. The scorch orbs exploded in front of her, sending steam roaring into the air.
But the enemy had the advantage in numbers, and every counterattack she launched was easily neutralized. The wound on her shoulder only split wider as the fight dragged on.
Blood stained half her back red and ran along the hollow of her spine, soaking into the waistband of her shorts.
"Give it up."
The scar-faced ninja sliced through one of her fire orbs with his sword and advanced with a vicious grin.
"You alone can't change anything…"
He was utterly confident now.
In Pakura's current state, there was no way she could turn this around.
She had been losing blood the entire time, and her face was growing paler and paler.
Unless something unexpected happened, the only outcome waiting for her was death.
Pakura understood that much too.
She shook her head, dizzy, and forced herself to stay focused.
If she hadn't worked so hard after her last defeat to Kiyohara—if she hadn't pushed herself and grown stronger—then that very first volley of shuriken would already have been enough to kill her.
She hadn't expected these Kirigakure ninja to be this brazen.
The two villages were literally in the middle of discussing a ceasefire agreement.
Why?
But the only answer her confusion received was the cold slash of a kunai coming for her throat.
The scar-faced ninja intended to kill Pakura on the spot and finish the mission.
And just as she was about to be struck—
Boom!
A golden streak tore through the fog.
It moved so fast it surpassed the limit of human vision, like someone had drawn a single golden stroke through the night.
The scar-faced ninja's grin didn't even have time to change.
Pakura herself didn't have time to react either.
In the next instant, his head exploded like a ripe watermelon, spraying blood and brains all over the face of the man beside him.
The headless body wobbled, then collapsed.
The remaining Kirigakure ninja all froze, staring in horror toward the source of the streak.
A gap slowly opened in the fog.
Kiyohara stepped out from it, his black hair moving lightly in the desert wind, his face expressionless.
Only his eyes stood out—those crimson Sharingan, with three tomoe slowly turning.
"Kiyohara…?"
Pakura staggered back half a step, and the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through the wound in her back.
But she barely noticed.
There was only one thought in her mind.
Why was he here?
How did he know about this?
Had Konoha's spy network already penetrated Sunagakure's upper ranks?
"I warned you already."
Kiyohara's gaze flicked over her blood-soaked back.
"It's a shame you didn't listen."
"You…!"
Pakura wanted to argue, but the Kirigakure ninja had already recovered.
"Kill him! All together!"
The remaining five roared as they formed seals.
This matter absolutely could not be allowed to leak.
They rapidly refined huge amounts of Water Release chakra, trying to unleash more water techniques.
"Water Release: Great Waterfall Technique!"
Water appeared out of nowhere and surged toward Kiyohara like a small tsunami, incredibly conspicuous in the dry desert.
Kiyohara raised a hand and threw out a Flying Thunder God kunai, which embedded itself in a cactus a hundred meters away.
The next second—
his figure vanished.
The water crashed into empty air and shattered across the sand.
The five Kirigakure ninja had only just registered that when Kiyohara reappeared beside the cactus, killed the Kirigakure ninja hidden there waiting to ambush him, seized the marked kunai again, and hurled it into the sky.
Then he teleported again—this time into the air—catching the kunai in one hand while the other formed a seal in front of his chest.
"Fire Release: Great Dragon Fire Technique."
He inhaled, chest swelling, then exhaled.
With Kiyohara's enormous chakra reserves and high-level Fire Release mastery, what was normally a three-dragon limit technique became—
six.
Six crimson fire dragons roared out of his mouth.
They tore through the air, vaporizing the fog wherever they passed.
"Move!"
The remaining Kirigakure shinobi screamed and tried to scatter, but the dragons curved midair and chased them down.
"AAAAHH!"
A few brief screams rang out, then were swallowed by the hiss of flames consuming flesh.
Five charred corpses toppled onto the sand, smoke curling from them.
Kiyohara flicked his hand and dispersed the sparks still lingering on his fingertips before finally turning back to Pakura.
She stood frozen, her hand pressed over the wound, fingers trembling faintly.
Because of the blood loss, combined with the desert's nighttime temperature drop, Pakura now felt cold.
But colder than that were the words the Kirigakure ninja had spoken earlier.
"What they said…"
Pakura's voice came out dry.
"Was it true?"
Kiyohara didn't answer. He simply stepped in front of her and placed a hand against her blood-covered back.
"You—"
Pakura instinctively tried to move away, but the weakness from blood loss made her too slow.
Kiyohara's hand was steady. Green medical chakra glowed in his palm and gently seeped into the wound.
The bleeding stopped, at least for now.
"Why are you helping me?"
Pakura asked.
"Aren't we allies right now?"
Kiyohara replied with a smile.
That answer stung.
Her former enemy had come to save her.
Her supposed comrades were the ones who had betrayed her.
It left a bitter taste in her chest.
"In your condition, you won't last much longer."
Kiyohara continued.
"If you stay here, you'll bleed out before long. Or the next batch of cleanup shinobi will find you."
Pakura opened her mouth. She wanted to deny it, to question him, to rage at him—but in the end, every word got stuck in her throat.
She looked down at the corpses on the ground, then remembered Rasa's solemn expression before she left, when he spoke of doing this for the village.
Now all of it just felt unbearably ironic.
Betrayal.
The word was like a red-hot spike being hammered into her heart over and over again.
"…Go."
That was all she could force out through clenched teeth.
…
In a rocky cave deep in the desert.
Kiyohara had lit a fire with dried branches he'd collected. The orange flames danced and threw shifting shadows across the stone walls.
Pakura sat with her back against the rock. The wound on her back had partially closed under Kiyohara's Mystical Palm Technique, and then been wrapped in simple bandages.
But some of the injuries had cut into her chakra pathways.
Those would have to recover slowly over time.
As she sat there feeling the pain in her back lessen little by little, Pakura stared at Kiyohara across the fire.
He had taken off his outer robe covered in sand and dust, leaving only the black chainmail shirt underneath.
The chainmail outlined his broad shoulders and firm chest. The firelight painted sharp planes of light and shadow across his face.
"Besides the excuse that we're allies, why did you save me?"
Pakura asked again.
She hadn't been in any shape to question him properly while she was losing blood, but now that she was a little better, the doubt had returned.
Allies?
She no longer believed that was the real reason.
If even her own village could betray her, there was no way Kiyohara had saved her out of simple alliance.
And besides, he should have been in Sunagakure, not out here in the desert.
"What do you want?"
Pakura asked.
Kiyohara tossed another branch into the fire. Sparks crackled upward.
"Your obedience."
"Ha…"
Pakura forced out a mocking laugh, though there was no real amusement in her eyes.
"Why should I trust you? Because you killed a few Kirigakure shinobi? Or because you happen to have a nice face?"
Her words were sharp, but the trembling at her fingertips betrayed her actual state.
Kiyohara raised his eyes. His crimson Sharingan looked even stranger in the firelight.
"Because I can give you power."
"Power?"
Pakura looked like she'd just heard a joke.
"And how exactly are you going to just hand someone—"
She stopped speaking.
Because Kiyohara had raised his right hand, and black curse mark patterns were spreading across the back of it.
As the markings widened, Kiyohara entered Curse Mark, Stage One.
"That's… the curse mark?"
Pakura remembered it well. On the battlefield, Kiyohara had shown this state before—black patterns spreading over his skin as his strength and speed surged.
At the time, she had assumed it was some kind of forbidden technique or bloodline limit. Only later had she learned from intelligence reports that it was tied to sage arts.
"I can give you this power."
Kiyohara lowered his hand, and the curse mark slowly receded.
That was a lie.
Or rather, a half-lie.
At this stage, Kiyohara still couldn't implant a curse mark into someone else.
For now, he could only sell her the idea.
"Of course, this power comes with a price."
Kiyohara said.
Pakura fell silent.
The firelight flickered across her face, catching the line of her tightly pressed lips.
Her lashes trembled slightly.
She thought of many things.
Of all the blood she had shed on the battlefield over the years.
Of the hypocritical praise from Sunagakure's higher-ups.
Of the admiring way Maki always looked up at her.
And finally, of the Kirigakure shinobi's words: This meeting place was personally chosen by your Kazekage.
"What… is the price?"
The voice that came out of her own mouth sounded dry and far away.
"You might die. This power chooses who can bear it."
Kiyohara answered bluntly.
A curse mark was not something everyone could survive.
"And when I need you, you become my blade. You can keep your hatred for Sunagakure. You can even take revenge. But first, you obey my orders."
Pakura clenched her hand.
"And if I say no?"
"Then you die here."
Kiyohara said evenly.
"To put it plainly, whether you're alive or dead right now, from Sunagakure's point of view, you're already dead."
"If you keep breathing quietly, that's one thing. But if you show your face again and don't die gracefully, Sunagakure will make sure you die properly. They'll brand you a missing-nin."
Kiyohara shook his head.
"And think about it. Now that this has happened to you, do you really think your student won't someday be sacrificed the same way for the sake of the village?"
Pakura's breathing suddenly quickened.
Maki.
That kind-hearted child who always tried to act more mature than she really was, but would secretly wipe away tears when she got hurt in training.
If even she, Sunagakure's hero, could be thrown away…
"They wouldn't dare…!"
"Why wouldn't they?"
Kiyohara cut her off, his Sharingan fixed directly on her.
"You've already proven it yourself. Heroes can be sacrificed too. That's Sunagakure's kill threshold. Once the benefits are high enough, even yesterday's celebrated hero becomes tomorrow's disposable corpse."
His words laid out the terrifying truth.
That was the reality of the shinobi world.
Konoha operated by the same rules.
Kumogakure tried to abduct Hinata Hyuga, the Hyuga clan princess. When they were found out, the kidnapper died.
Then Kumogakure turned around and demanded the Hyuga clan take responsibility.
In the end, the Hyuga clan had no choice but to present their "clan head" as compensation—a death in exchange for peace.
The truth was, they used Hiashi's twin brother Hizashi as a substitute sacrifice.
But if Hizashi hadn't been a twin? Would he have lived, or died?
To Kumogakure, that body was the clan head.
And Hizashi had still been a real, living person. He too had been cut down in the name of necessity.
Below the kill threshold, everyone was equal.
The cave fell silent.
All that remained was the crackle of the fire and Pakura's increasingly uneven breathing.
At last, she slowly lifted her head. The final trace of hesitation vanished from her brown eyes, replaced by something almost mad in its resolve.
The strongest thing she felt now was hatred.
Hatred beyond measure.
She had burned herself up for the village, given everything she had, fought desperately all this time.
And this was how it ended.
Worse, there was no guarantee her student wouldn't suffer the same fate someday.
This village had no future.
"Rasa… the Sunagakure elders… I'll make you pay in blood!"
Right now, Pakura's heart was full of fury.
All she wanted was to burn every last one of them to ash.
"…I agree."
She made her choice.
Kiyohara nodded. He took a slip of paper from his clothes and handed it to her. On it was an address, along with instructions for Nono Yakushi.
"When your injuries heal, go here. Find a woman named Nono Yakushi. She'll make arrangements for you."
Pakura accepted the note. It listed an address somewhere on the border of the Land of Fire.
"And as for the power…"
Kiyohara stood, brushing sand from his clothes.
"When you get there, I'll give you the first stage of it. For now, your job is to stay alive. Don't die on the road."
When he finished speaking, he walked to the cave entrance and pulled a Flying Thunder God kunai from his ninja pouch, handing it to her.
Pakura watched what he was doing, then suddenly asked:
"You trust me that much? Aren't you afraid I'll change my mind?"
Kiyohara looked back at her, the faint gleam of the Sharingan still visible in the dark.
"You'll come."
The next second, he vanished from sight.
Only Pakura remained in the cave, together with the campfire that was gradually dying down.
She tightened her grip on the note.
Then, very slowly, she bent forward and buried her face in her knees.
Her shoulders began to shake.
The firelight flickered across her exposed back. The blood that had seeped through the gaps in the bandages had already dried into a dark brown stain.
Like an ugly, permanent brand.
…
The next day.
Kiyohara reappeared in his room at the Sunagakure guest house, as if he had never left at all.
He changed out of the clothes that had picked up desert sand and pushed open the window. Dry morning wind poured in, carrying the dusty scent unique to Sunagakure.
The delegation continued its schedule as planned—touring the Sunagakure hospital, reviewing some publicly available medical scrolls, and conducting a second round of negotiations with the council of elders.
At the negotiating table, Tsunade displayed a kind of forcefulness completely different from the way she acted in casinos, and on several crucial clauses she pressed the Sand side back step by step.