Over the course of a single month, not counting their rest days and preparation time, Arai, Yubi, and Sasori launched nearly ten separate raids against Hidden Rain outposts.
At first, every step had been cautious, every move measured. Later, once they had learned the enemy's habits and rhythms, they were able to navigate those missions with frightening ease. Watching Yubi grow stronger from one operation to the next, even Arai couldn't hide his satisfaction.
The battle experience and methods he drilled into Yubi had never been meant to remain in training alone. In the end, everything had to be tested on the battlefield. How far a ninja could go in the future depended not on how well they practiced in isolation, but on how quickly they grew stronger amid real killing.
The routes they used to enter the Land of Rain were deliberately spread far apart from mission to mission. That was the only way to avoid making Hidden Rain's border troops suspicious.
Even so, after so many intrusions, Amegakure naturally began to suspect that the Land of Wind had started a deliberate campaign of harassment along the border. That was why, after their last retreat turned slightly dangerous, Arai called an end to the competition between Sasori and Yubi.
In those ten missions, the two of them had traded wins and losses back and forth. Judging solely by performance, they were evenly matched. If the standard was the body count alone, however, Sasori undeniably came out ahead.
But even so, the talent and ability Yubi had displayed could already be called abnormal.
Especially that sinister assassination technique of his—Sword Intent Manipulation. In Arai's eyes, the power and practical effect of that technique were astonishing.
When he learned that Yubi had supposedly developed the technique by taking inspiration from puppet manipulation—more specifically, from Sasori—Arai had been speechless for a long while.
How could an eight-year-old genin, barely out of the Ninja Academy, create an A-rank ninjutsu?
No matter where one looked in the entire shinobi world, that sounded unbelievable.
That was why Arai had already sent a report back to the village, informing the Third Kazekage of everything. Every self-created technique was a precious means of expanding the village's combat strength. It was an asset to Sunagakure. Of course, whether Yubi chose to hand the technique over to the village in the future was still his own decision.
Still, after observing for a while, Arai had come to a firm conclusion. Though Sword Intent Manipulation looked deceptively simple, it was actually extremely difficult to learn.
Strictly speaking, it did not demand outrageous chakra reserves or particularly brutal chakra control. Yet the accuracy required to manipulate a blade from a distance was not something an ordinary person could master in a day or two. It seemed that those with a puppeteer's foundation might have an easier time understanding it.
Sasori himself had tried to imitate the technique using chakra threads. He could reproduce the concept, but the result was far weaker, reduced to something only around the level of a C-rank technique.
The core problem lay in the threads Yubi used, and in those scalpels of his. Once the distance increased, the sensation transmitted back through the line should have been faint and difficult to grasp, nothing at all like controlling a puppet.
If he replaced the special line with pure chakra threads, the concealment of the technique would also drop sharply. In the end, the key was still the unusual thread and the knife itself.
Before he knew it, the deadline for Yubi's border patrol mission had arrived.
He was supposed to return to Sunagakure with Arai and officially hand in the mission report.
Looking back on the last three months, even Yubi had to admit that the experience had been extraordinary. More than that, it had quietly marked the beginning of his transformation into a truly powerful ninja.
***
Meanwhile, far away on the other side—
In Amegakure, Hanzo of the Salamander sat inside a traditional Japanese-style house, drinking sake.
He had taken his upper robes off. Several beautiful women clung to his body, pressing against him in practiced submission.
From a tiny hidden village to the Rain Village of today, Hanzo's contribution could not be denied. In the Land of Rain, his prestige and authority were absolute. Without him, there would be no Amegakure as it existed now.
But after so many years of war during the Second Shinobi World War, Hanzo already knew one thing very clearly.
It was almost over.
He could not crush Konoha. He could not overwhelm Sunagakure. The Land of Rain had expanded as far as it could. There was no point continuing to spend strength on reckless advances now that the great war was nearing its end.
He had already taken what he was owed.
He was now revered across the shinobi world as a demigod.
Yet the moment he listened to the report from the subordinate kneeling before him, the air around him turned cold, and naked killing intent rose in his eyes.
Compared to the great ninja villages with their powerful clans, their ancient foundations, and their endless supply of gifted prodigies, Amegakure's roots were simply too shallow.
Hanzo had trained batch after batch of men, raised elite units with his own hands, and cultivated loyal subordinates. But compared to Sunagakure and Konoha, the difference was almost laughable.
He had no generals capable of carrying the burden for him.
He had to do everything himself. If he didn't, his useless subordinates would never satisfy him.
"Three people," Hanzo said coldly, setting down the sake cup. "Three people raided the border strongholds nearly ten times, and you still let them leave alive?"
"My lord… among those three is Arai, personal guard to the Third Kazekage. He is an elite jonin of Sunagakure—a member of the Kazekage's shadow guard. Another is Sasori, Chiyo's grandson… the genius puppeteer of Sunagakure…"
The kneeling Rain ninja tried to explain himself, his voice trembling.
Border friction between Hidden Sand and Hidden Rain was common. Ordinarily, it would have been nothing worth worrying about. But this incident was different.
There had only been three enemies.
And yet those three had invaded Amegakure's territory ten times in one month.
Every time, Hidden Rain eventually noticed them. Every time, the trio retreated quickly. But before withdrawing, they always left behind a pile of corpses.
It was only after suffering repeated losses that Amegakure finally became fully alert.
Not once had they managed to kill a member of that three-man team.
That kind of carelessness—and that kind of incompetence—was naturally enough to enrage Hanzo.
The explanation from his men was simple: the enemy included an elite jonin who was difficult to handle. They wanted to emphasize the strength of the opponent in order to excuse their own failure.
Bang!
Without warning, Hanzo flashed backward in a burst of Water Body Flicker and appeared directly behind the Rain ninja kneeling at the low table.
Then he drove out a punch.
The heavy blow struck before the man could react. He was blasted several meters through the roof, blood spraying into the air in a red arc.
The instant his subordinate had mentioned Sasori, Hanzo's temper had worsened even further.
After all, that brat was Chiyo's grandson.
And Hanzo had never gotten along with that old woman.
In the major clashes between Hidden Rain and Hidden Sand, Amegakure had suffered loss after loss because of her. Now his men were telling him that the old hag even had a genius grandson. There was no way Hanzo could be pleased.
The women clinging to him turned pale the moment they saw the blood on his fist. Not one of them dared breathe too loudly.
"Sasori…" Hanzo muttered.
He stepped forward and lowered his cold gaze to the sheet of paper still lying on the table. On it were the details of Arai's repeated raids on their border strongholds, along with the casualty numbers on Hidden Rain's side.
There were crude sketches on the page as well.
Arai… Hanzo knew that name.
He had also heard of Sasori before.
But who was the other child?
Another genius?
Hanzo narrowed his eyes.
Genius. Another genius.
Why did geniuses always seem to emerge from the great ninja villages?
Then Hanzo gave a cold little laugh.
He had seen plenty of geniuses in the shinobi world. Very few of them survived long enough to matter. Most died young, before they ever reached their peak.
If he remembered correctly, Chiyo's own younger kin had died at the hands of Konoha's White Fang.
Sasori… was an orphan.
At present, Hidden Rain's main focus had shifted to defense. They would no longer take the initiative to expand recklessly. But the war between Sunagakure and Konoha still showed no signs of easing.
Hanzo's eyes grew colder and colder.
"Someone," he said in a deep voice.
The instant the words left his mouth, a shadow flickered into the room. Another Rain ninja dropped to one knee behind him.
"Send this information to Konoha," Hanzo ordered slowly. "Emphasize those two boys. Exaggerate their talent as much as you can. As for us… say that we suffered heavy losses."
"This…"
The kneeling shinobi looked up, startled.
Hanzo's voice instantly turned sharp. "Do as I say."
"Yes, my lord!"