Hayano Keisuke asked, "Senior Fusha, do you know why we were ordered to regroup?"
The jōnin Fusha thought for a moment before answering, "The exact order hasn't arrived yet, but I suspect… the village has decided to go to war."
"War? Why so sudden? And who are we attacking first?"
"It's not really sudden. The Third Kazekage has been missing for over a month. Every emergency measure has failed to get a response. He's likely already dead."
"You should know, Hayano, that Sasori disappeared along with him. There's no doubt—someone has struck at our Sand Village."
"This past month, we haven't just been searching for the Kazekage and Sasori. We've also been looking for the real culprit—and using the opportunity to gather intelligence on Konoha."
"So the target really is Konoha…"
"Of course it is. We've been preparing for war against Konoha for years. Not attacking them is impossible."
"Even if we found solid proof—irrefutable evidence—that the killer was Iwagakure or Kirigakure, we would still have to go to war with Konoha."
"The Third Kazekage is important, yes—but compared to years of preparation by the entire village… not that important."
"Our preparations are too complete. People, supplies, roads, fortifications—everything is aimed at the Land of Fire. The Sand Village can't turn around and attack another target anymore."
After a moment of silence, Fusha suddenly felt uneasy.
He scanned the surroundings but found nothing wrong. Still, the restlessness in his heart refused to fade.
"Who hasn't regrouped yet?" he asked.
Hayano replied, "Special jōnin Ishida Takeshi. I sent him north to investigate Konoha ninja activity. He might be too far away."
Fusha pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pounding wildly.
"I don't know why… but I have a really bad feeling. Forget waiting for them—we leave now!"
All the Sand ninja stood up, preparing to form a marching formation.
At that moment—
Fusha suddenly turned his head.
On the mountain slope across the valley, at the highest point, stood a figure.
Flames burned on his left.
Gale winds roared on his right.
Fusha smelled death.
It was the same feeling he had experienced during the last war—when he encountered Konoha's White Fang.
"Enemy attack!!!"
...
Miwa Masayo watched Yoru's disguise in silence.
As he layered mask after mask onto his face, she could only shake her head and sigh.
Yoru usually avoided combat whenever possible. The few battles he had fought were all forced situations—rushed, reluctant, unavoidable.
So Masayo had never seen him prepare for battle before.
Today was the first time.
And it was… beyond ridiculous.
By the time Yoru finished, she was completely speechless.
"What do I do, meow?" she asked weakly.
"Your role is very important."
"Masayo, stay on the perimeter and support me. If I can't win, I'll retreat underground—you'll need to reverse-summon me out."
"And if I can win—if I somehow pull it off—you block the three genin. Don't let them escape."
"They're likely the ones who directly carried out the killings. If I get the chance, I'll prioritize eliminating them."
"Killing is one thing. But torture, cruelty, and needless brutality… that's unforgivable. They deserve to die."
"Got it."
After confirming every detail and mentally rehearsing the plan several times, Yoru finally decided to begin.
He didn't sneak in like a typical ninja.
Instead, he stood openly on the mountaintop—
circulating natural energy and chakra, fusing them outside his body into senjutsu chakra.
First—
wind nature.
Wind-type natural energy merged with Wind Release chakra, gathering into his left hand.
This was a newly acquired power. Even after fusion, its intensity wasn't overwhelming, making it easier to control.
Then—
fire nature.
The moment fire-type natural energy merged with Fire Release chakra, the resulting senjutsu chakra surged uncontrollably.
A crimson glow illuminated the entire valley.
The Sand ninja immediately sensed something was wrong.
Some charged up the slope, trying to escape over the ridge.
Others rushed downhill, attempting to counterattack.
But the experienced ones—
Fusha and Hayano—
made the correct decision.
They either defended in place or concealed themselves.
Even without knowing what technique Yoru was using, the terrifying aura told them everything.
This was already fully prepared.
Ready to be unleashed.
Escape?
Counterattack?
Too late.
Fusha roared, "This is a Kage-level enemy! Survive the attack, then counter with everything you have—or we all die here!"
Hayano shouted as well, "Follow Senior Fusha's command! Anyone who tries to flee becomes my enemy—I will hunt them down to the death!"
The valley was eerily silent.
Not even birds could be heard.
Yet the Sand ninja had to shout—
because under the crushing pressure of the technique, normal sound seemed to vanish.
At the same time, Yoru activated his Sharingan.
Using the overwhelming presence of his technique, he cast genjutsu—
distorting the enemy's senses.
Under panic, their five senses were already unraveling.
This was one of Yoru's core combat philosophies:
Genjutsu is decisive.
If the enemy's perception is severed from reality—
their power becomes meaningless.
Even if he couldn't fully control life and death, maintaining interference—
even the slightest distortion—
could decide victory.
...
At last, the buildup was complete.
In his mind, Yoru recalled battles he had seen—
the overwhelming presence of one man suppressing an army,
the effortless dominance of legends.
He clapped his hands together.
A sharp, clear sound echoed.
Senjutsu · Fire Release · Great Fire Annihilation
Senjutsu · Wind Release · Violent Gale Surge
Across the valley—
he attacked.
Wind amplified the flames.
Flames fed on the wind.
Though the two techniques worked in tandem, the fire clearly dominated—this wasn't yet a true combination technique.
Driven by the gale—
the flames exploded outward.
They flooded the entire valley like a blazing tsunami, a collapsing mountain of fire, crashing toward the Sand ninja.
Everything combustible ignited instantly.
Even stone—
softened and melted,
glowing red like flowing jelly.
The Sand ninja who charged first were the first to be engulfed.
They didn't even have time to scream.
They clutched their throats—
and collapsed.
Their airways were seared instantly.
Blisters filled their throats, blocking both breath—
and voice.
Death followed.
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