After releasing the massive Water Colliding Wave, Roshi slowly exhaled and dispelled Sage Mode.
At the sa ti, he ford a Wood Clone. With a light tap to its shoulder, he left the clone standing beside Shikaku.
Shikaku glanced sideways.
"I may not be a walking natural disaster like you," he said dryly, "but I'm not at the point where I need personal bodyguards."
"He isn't guarding you, Shikaku," Roshi replied without looking back, his eyes still fixed on the battlefield ahead. "He's just insurance."
Before Shikaku could respond—
The gold-sand field, soaked by floodwater, began to churn.
The saturated gold dust convulsed violently, expelling muddy water as if vomiting it out. Gradually, purer and darker grains separated, rising into the air in a shimring halo around Rasa.
The Fourth Kazekage exhaled sharply.
Refining the waterlogged gold dust had cost him a significant amount of chakra—but it was preferable to attempting to manipulate sand made several tis heavier by saturation.
He straightened.
As Roshi charged forward, the earth beneath him stirred.
Roots awakened.
Massive wooden spikes erupted from the mud, stabbing toward Rasa from below.
But the Kazekage had anticipated this.
Gold dust lifted him skyward in an instant, pulling him just beyond the range of the ambush.
With a sharp grasping motion, the gold dust around him converged like grinding millstones, crushing the incoming wooden spears into splinters.
"Scatter!"
Rasa's voice rang out.
The purified gold dust detonated outward, transforming into a dense storm of golden buckshot that filled the sky and scread toward Roshi.
Roshi did not slow.
A thick tree root burst upward before him, forming a living shield.
Pfft—pfft—pfft—!
The enhanced sand pierced through the wooden barrier with frightening force, punching countless holes through it. But after penetration, its velocity dropped sharply.
By the ti it reached Roshi, its killing power had faded.
Rasa clicked his tongue softly.
Behind him, four puppets glided forward soundlessly, blades concealed within their limbs.
Roshi kicked off the ground again, surging ahead.
Golden sand rose once more to intercept him.
He clenched his right fist.
Chakra condensed explosively—and he punched.
The impact shattered the incoming sand wave, blasting open a path through sheer physical force.
Through the rain of glittering particles, his eyes locked onto Rasa.
"Kazekage-dono!" Roshi's voice carried clearly across the battlefield. "Does your confidence rest on the Sky Ninja?"
"Or… what exactly are you waiting for?"
Rasa did not answer.
Instead, he commanded the gold dust to reform, shaping it into several colossal golden palms that slamd toward Roshi from multiple directions.
At the sa ti, the puppet unit slid him backward, maintaining precise distance.
On the flank, elite shinobi bearing Three-Star Fans assembled, waiting for the signal to unleash coordinated Wind Release.
Roshi moved between the crushing palms with terrifying precision—sotis deflecting with erupting wood, sotis eting force with force, shattering constructs with raw strength.
His offensive rhythm was relentless.
Each step forward forced Rasa to devote all attention to defense and control.
The Fourth Kazekage understood one thing clearly:
Konoha's numbers here were inferior.
If he could pin down this single overwhelming point—this man nad Roshi—then Sunagakure's fortifications and nurical advantage would hold.
As long as Roshi was contained—
Konoha would not break through.
At that very mont, the earth beneath Rasa's feet shuddered violently.
Several thick wooden roots burst through the ground.
"Wind Release: Sickle Weasel Technique!"
The Wind Release squad stationed on the flank reacted instantly. Intersecting wind blades tore forward, slicing the newly erged roots apart in midair.
But the tremor did not cease.
More roots erupted from every direction—twisting, coiling, lunging toward the Wind Release squad's position.
Rasa was forced to divide his focus. The gold dust around him flowed like liquid, forming a rotating barrier that shielded the squad as they withdrew.
Almost simultaneously, a puppet at his side yanked sharply at his sleeve.
A wooden spike shot up from beneath his feet a heartbeat later.
He avoided it by inches.
Through the dust and chaos, Roshi observed the seamless coordination of Sunagakure's forces.
His brows twitched slightly.
'They've already developed counterasures…'
On his side, there was no system tailored to support Wood Release at this scale.
Then again—
Konoha's first Wood Release user had never required cooperation.
He had been overwhelming enough alone.
The clash continued.
Mud and gold collided repeatedly, grinding against each other with brutal persistence.
Sunagakure's defensive line—reinforced by pre-constructed fortifications and nurical superiority—stood like a stubborn reef against Konoha's relentless assault.
As the sun sank toward the western horizon, the battlefield turned orange-red beneath the fading light.
At last, Konoha's forces withdrew in disciplined formation, receding like a tide.
What remained were fractured ravines, shattered puppet remnants, splintered wood—and dark, congealing blood.
Rasa returned to the main command tent.
He lowered himself slowly into his seat.
The fatigue was deep—almost bone-level.
Even during prolonged standoffs against Iwagakure along the northern border of the Land of Wind, he had never felt such exhaustion—physical and ntal alike.
Yes, he lacked the natural advantage of desert terrain here.
But being forced into such a reactive posture—against an opponent younger than himself, with fewer total forces—
That had far exceeded his worst projections before entering the Land of Rivers.
His gaze fell upon the map.
His fingertip traced the wavering line that marked the current frontline.
This line…
It might have to be abandoned.
"Pass the order," he said at last, voice hoarse.
"The rear forces are to accelerate construction of the second defensive line. Arrange in echelons. Prepare to receive retreating forward units."
"Yes!"
When the ssenger left, silence returned.
Rasa stared at the map alone.
Current casualties were still within acceptable limits.
The priority now was clear:
Ensure the safe transport of the grain already purchased and stockpiled across the Land of Rivers.
Occupation was optional.
Food was not.
At worst, they could withdraw—endure Konoha's diplomatic condemnation and economic retaliation—and relinquish mission shares gained in recent years.
But the essential supplies were already secured.
With this harvest as foundation—and perhaps so discreet arrangents with Iwagakure—Sunagakure could weather the storm.
The Sky Ninja remnants and technical data had been absorbed. They required ti to integrate.
And once the Dragon Vein puppet technology matured—
Sunagakure would rise again.
Yes.
There would be another opportunity.
As that conclusion settled in his mind, his imdiate desire to continue costly frontal engagents faded.
He summoned the ssenger once more and ordered the acceleration of supply transfers—grain first, everything else secondary.
Yet—
Deep within him, a quiet doubt had taken root.
A seed he could not ignore.
'Is ti… truly still on our side?'
Konoha's strength, cultivated quietly during years of apparent peace, seed to have grown far beyond his expectations.
And for the first ti—
The Fourth Kazekage felt that the board might not be moving according to his calculations anymore.
Ōnoki wasn't sure whether he should be pleased—or irritated.
Rasa had finally made his move.
The mont news arrived, Ōnoki stationed both Jinchūriki at the border—especially Rōshi. Keeping him close at hand was as much about strategy as it was about preventing endless argunts.
Originally, the Tsuchikage had calculated that if Kitsuchi simply appeared at the frontier with the Jinchūriki, Konoha would hesitate to commit overwhelming forces to the Land of Rivers.
And that calculation proved correct.
First, the retired Hiruzen Sarutobi personally took command. Then Jiraiya surfaced as well.
With those two drawn away, how much top-tier strength could Konoha realistically spare for the Land of Rivers front?
No matter how quiet Kumogakure remained, Tsunade wouldn't dare leave the village at such a ti.
Under normal circumstances, with Rasa supported by the Sky Ninja and Konoha's main forces restrained, the conflict should have dragged on—half a year at minimum, perhaps even a full year.
A long stalemate.
Perfect.
Iwagakure wouldn't need to intervene at all. The Western Ninja Activity Tournant would proceed as scheduled. Money would flow in. Watching neighbors bleed each other dry was the ideal scenario.
And yet—
Ōnoki simply couldn't understand Rasa's execution.
It hadn't even been half a month.
How had Sunagakure, bolstered by the Sky Ninja as a specialized force, collapsed so quickly? The first defensive line crumbled almost imdiately. Now even the second line teetered, as if Konoha might shove them straight back into the Land of Wind.
Rasa… how did you once repel that brute, the Third Raikage?
Still—
The war had begun.
Konoha's rapid developnt had indeed been interrupted.
From a purely results-oriented perspective… Rasa had, for the mont, fulfilled a role.
"Roshi…" Ōnoki murmured the na.
Unbidden, another blond brat ca to mind—the one he had expelled from the village to "reflect."
"Bring Deidara back," he ordered quietly.
Another Yellow Flash had appeared in Konoha.
And that could not be ignored.
Central Land of Rivers—River Canyon
When Roshi had last passed through here, it had been untouched wilderness.
Now it was a militarized zone.
The Sunagakure insignia that once fluttered above the canyon camp had vanished.
In its place, Konoha's emblem stood firm.
Shinobi moved efficiently through the captured site—clearing debris, reorganizing supply routes, dismantling Sand fortifications, and constructing Konoha's own defensive frawork.
Shikaku stood atop a newly erected watchtower, surveying the activity below.
"A decisive withdrawal," he remarked. "Kazekage doesn't hesitate."
"Sunagakure's grain collection was executed with astonishing speed," Roshi replied after returning from reconnaissance beyond the periter. "Teams carrying gold went directly to villages to secure supplies."
"They pushed their shinobi to exhaustion and ignored the risk of interception by our patrols."
"Of course they did," Shikaku said, lifting a hand toward the sky. "Their eyes have returned."
Almost as if summoned by his words—
A faint chanical hum drifted down from above.
Several black silhouettes appeared against the sky, gradually growing larger.
At first glance, the aircraft looked identical to the original Sky Ninja models.
But closer observation revealed subtle differences.
The paint sches were altered.
The flight posture was slightly rigid.
The maneuvers lacked the fluid precision of the original Sky Ninja.
Both n on the tower understood imdiately.
These were no longer true Sky Ninja.
They were Sunagakure shinobi wearing Sky Ninja wings.
A few days earlier, one inexperienced Sand pilot had flown too low and been shot down by Konoha forces. Interrogation revealed that Sunagakure was urgently training its own aerial corps—attempting to absorb and integrate Sky Ninja technology.
Now the evidence was overhead.
These modified pilots made no attempt at daring maneuvers. They circled at safe altitude, occasionally releasing bombs without precise targeting—letting gravity decide the rest.
They weren't aiming for decisive damage.
Only disruption.
Only to fracture Konoha's rhythm.
Shikaku narrowed his eyes.
"They've learned," he said quietly.
And that, perhaps, was even more troubleso than the original Sky Ninja themselves.
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