"Rasa, you'll regret this!"
"Chiyo, I am the Kazekage. And from now on, address me as Golden Sand."
"Tch. Golden Sand, my foot!"
Bang—
As Chiyo stormed out and slammed the door behind her, Rasa shuddered slightly, then leaned back in his chair with a look of pure satisfaction.
That felt good.
Defiance. Doubt. Anger. A furious exit.
Every reaction had been exactly as he expected. More than that, they brought him a faint sense of pleasure.
There was something intoxicating about watching people who once had to be respected—or feared—forced to retreat in front of him. Power tasted sweetest at moments like these.
"Well? Do you have objections too?"
Rasa lifted his gaze toward the only person left in the office.
"Pakura of the Scorch Release?"
Pakura ignored the mockery in his tone. She braced both hands on the desk and said in a low voice, "Why stop now?"
"Konoha is already at the end of its strength. Victory is within reach. How much blood did our comrades spill to reach this point? And now you're abandoning it all?"
At the end of its strength?
Rasa let out a soft laugh at her naïve words.
Perhaps in the eyes of the four great shinobi villages, Konoha truly looked like a grasshopper in autumn—able to struggle for only a few more days.
And to be fair, that wasn't entirely wrong.
The Third Great Ninja War had been more brutal than any before it, and each time Konoha had fought multiple enemies at once. During the early stages of this war, it had even faced four great villages simultaneously.
If not for the deep grudges between the other villages…
If not for the sudden rise of Minato Namikaze…
If not for countless other factors…
Konoha might really have fallen beyond recovery.
But no one understood Konoha's foundation better than Rasa did.
Push them too far, and Konoha might very well drag the entire shinobi world down with it.
Better to stop while they were ahead.
By this stage of the war, Sunagakure had already achieved its goals.
Internal conflicts had been redirected outward. Excess ninja population had been reduced. Continuing the fight would bring little benefit.
"Pakura," Rasa said slowly as he rose to his feet, "do you think Sunagakure hasn't lost enough face already?"
"We were the ones who started this war. We were also the first to be defeated. We even signed the compensation treaty. And now you want to tear it up and betray it?"
"What's the point?"
"If we can't win, we can't win."
He walked to the window, a trace of weariness in his voice.
"Even if we stake the entire village on it, we still won't win."
Silence.
Pakura stared at his back, her gaze complicated.
"Rasa… you've changed."
The Rasa she once knew had been an aggressive war advocate. He never hid his hunger for the fertile lands of the Land of Fire. With his mutated Magnet Release, he had swiftly surpassed her after the Third Kazekage's disappearance and claimed the title of Kazekage.
But now?
He no longer mined personally. He no longer went to the battlefield. He seemed indifferent to the sacrifices of their comrades. His behavior had grown strange, almost incomprehensible.
Aside from forcing Elder Chiyo to call him Golden Sand, even his style had changed—lavish and ornate, with no regard for practicality.
And his appearance…
He had grown out his hair and now wore a wide white robe trimmed with gold instead of the tight, efficient attire of a shinobi.
He looked like an actor lost in his own performance.
The more Pakura thought about it, the angrier she became.
"As Kazekage," she snapped, raising her voice, "you should be thinking about how to secure benefits for the village—not wasting your time on empty, superficial nonsense!"
"I don't know why Elder Chiyo chose you in the first place!"
The Kazekage's office fell into a brief silence.
With his back still turned, Rasa looked out at the village bathed in sunset light, its buildings gleaming with a cold iron-gray hue. A faint smile curled at his lips.
"Pakura, you're right. I have changed."
"I once believed that the Kazekage's responsibility was to lead Sunagakure to seize more land and more resources. For that, I was willing to sacrifice one generation. Even two."
"But now I understand."
He turned to face her directly.
"To survive in the desert, what you need isn't hot blood—it's a heart colder than sand and harder than stone."
"Sometimes, admitting defeat requires more courage than pretending to be strong."
"What Sunagakure should be thinking about now is how to endure… not how to bleed itself dry in meaningless conflict."
Silence.
Pakura's fingers tightened abruptly. The heat in the air shimmered faintly.
"Meaningless?"
It was clear she hadn't truly heard his talk about survival and courage.
Instead, she latched onto those three words.
Meaningless conflict.
They fell like ice into her heart.
"Rasa."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You just called it meaningless?"
Rasa looked at the fire she was desperately suppressing and shook his head inwardly.
Hopeless.
Why waste words on a blunt instrument? No wonder she had been discarded in the original timeline.
They stared at each other, the air thick as stone.
After a long moment, Pakura lowered her gaze. Her fist loosened, then clenched again.
"…Rasa. You're a bastard."
Bang—
The door slammed shut once more.
The office fell completely silent.
Outside, the wind unique to Sunagakure howled through the streets and low buildings.
Rasa returned slowly to his wide Kazekage chair. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, producing a crisp rhythm.
He understood Pakura's anger. He understood Chiyo's contempt. He knew full well how many rumors about him were spreading through the village.
But so what?
He was never the original Rasa.
In his previous life, fate had twisted strangely. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in Sunagakure—ascending in a single step to the position of Kazekage.
At first, he had walked on thin ice.
He feared being exposed. Feared being tortured. Feared dying again.
He had already died once before, and not pleasantly. The terror of death had rooted itself deeply in his heart.
So he imitated the original Rasa's words and actions. He went out to mine. He handled village affairs. Aside from refusing to step onto the battlefield again, he could say he had done his duty.
Until…
He mastered the original body's power.
Until…
He discovered the authority of a Kage.
When he issued orders in the name of the Kazekage, no matter how unreasonable they seemed, they were swiftly carried out.
When he created or revised village rules, no matter how strange or harsh they appeared, they became Sunagakure's new iron laws.
No one questioned him. No one resisted.
Or rather, those who dared to question or resist were so faint beneath the authority of a Kage that they could be ignored.
Even Chiyo, a veteran elder of the village, was no exception.
That was when he understood.
This shinobi village system, supposedly built to gather strength and protect its people, was in truth simple and cruel at its core.
The will of the Kage was the will of the village.
There were no endless council debates like in his previous life. No overwhelming public scrutiny. No real balance of power.
There was only a near-vertical pyramid of authority, with the Kage at its peak.
All the reins that had once bound him…
Here, they had vanished.
No.
He now held the reins himself.
Fear? Exposure?
How laughable.
He didn't need to imitate the original Rasa at all.
He only needed to play the Kazekage. To play the role of the one who held the final say and monopolized violence.
As long as his power could suppress everything…
As long as he remained seated in this chair…
Then his will would be Sunagakure's highest law.
"Golden Sand…" Rasa murmured again, his voice filled with absolute certainty.
A true lord need not be an immortal.
As long as everyone believed that the one seated here possessed godlike authority to judge all things—and truly had the power to enforce that authority—
Then what difference was there?
…
…
Sunagakure belongs to me.