Hinata: Byakurenden
Village of Puppets
The dunes stretched endlessly under the midday sun, the desert alive with the shimmering waves of heat that distorted the horizon. Each grain of sand seemed to glint with its own faint light, creating a mirage-like sea of gold that rippled as the wind passed over it. It must have been close to noon now, the sun a harsh white disk hanging high above them, yet the group pressed forward, driven by their mission.
"Do you see it?" Kankuro's voice broke the silence, low but urgent. He had dropped to all fours atop a dune, his sharp eyes squinting into the distance. His tone was a mix of anticipation and tension, as though he wasn't sure whether he wanted to find what he was looking for.
Hinata nodded and brought her hands together, centering herself as she prepared to activate the Nichiren Byakugan. She drew in natural energy, her breathing slow and deliberate, until the world around her began to shift. The veins around her eyes illuminated faintly, her enhanced vision piercing through the storm of sand that surrounded them.
At first, there was nothing but the swirling storm that the Sage of the Desert had conjured to mask their approach. The particles of sand twisted and churned with a rhythm that felt alive, almost sentient, creating an eerie contrast against the vast emptiness of the desert. Then, as her Byakugan honed in, the outline of the Village Hidden in the Sand began to take shape.
From the outside, the village blended seamlessly with its surroundings, the muted beige of its gates indistinguishable from the dunes that framed it. The shimmering heatwaves made it look more like a mirage than a tangible place, and for a moment, Hinata doubted her own vision.
"It's there," she murmured, her voice soft but sure. "The gates are just ahead."
"Finally," Naruto said with a yawn, though his fox-like eyes were sharp as they scanned the horizon. The usual cheer in his tone was replaced by an edge of unease. "Took long enough."
The person in the shape of Gaara gestured, and the sand beneath them began to shift, carrying the group closer to their target with the efficiency of a conveyor belt. It was unnerving how natural it felt—how seamlessly the Sage manipulated the desert around him—but they had grown accustomed to it over the morning's travel. Still, his powers remained an enigma, and Hinata couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than he let on.
"Alright," Kankuro said, motioning for them to stop. He slid down the slope of the dune and crouched, motioning for the others to follow suit. "We're close enough. Let's see what we're dealing with."
The group followed, their movements deliberate and quiet as they crested the next dune. From their vantage point, the village came into clearer focus. Its high walls cast long shadows across the sand, and beyond the gates, the faint outlines of buildings rose like jagged teeth against the horizon. To the naked eye, it seemed like any other village—modest yet alive with activity.
"So, what's the plan?" Naruto asked, his voice low but steady. His eyes glinted with a faint crimson glow, their slitted pupils betraying the influence of Kurama's chakra. With the fox's enhanced vision, he squinted through the swirling sandstorm, his gaze fixed on the faint outline of the village gates in the distance.
"We need to assess the situation inside the village first," Sasuke replied, his tone sharp and deliberate. Only the crimson glow of his Sharingan was visible, the Rinnegan obscured behind the curtain of his dark hair. Yet even partially veiled, his gaze carried an intensity that left no doubt about his awareness.
The Sage tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied the village walls. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if speaking to himself. "We sense the movement of many within the walls… yet it feels wrong, unnatural."
Hinata narrowed her eyes, focusing her Nichiren Byakugan, the only one of them actually able to see directly into the village.
The bustling streets of the village came into sharp focus. Groups of villagers meandered through the dusty alleys, their movements casual and unhurried. Children laughed and chased a ball in a small courtyard, their feet kicking up tiny clouds of sand. Vendors stood at wooden stalls, their faces calm as they gestured at indistinct wares—jars and crates covered in faded cloth. Conversations played out silently in the streets, heads nodding and hands gesturing as though the people were deep in discussion.
"It looks… normal," Hinata said hesitantly, confusion creeping into her voice. "People are moving about. Children are playing. It's… ordinary."
At first glance, it seemed like the heartbeat of a thriving community. But the longer Hinata watched, the more an unease settled over her. There was something unnervingly rhythmic about the scene, as if it were a carefully rehearsed play. The conversations seemed lively, but no words reached her ears, and the expressions were just a touch too perfect, lacking the subtle inconsistencies of real emotion.
Her eyes darted to the children in the courtyard. The ball passed flawlessly between them, each kick precise, their timing perfect. There were no stumbles, no missteps—none of the playful chaos she expected from children's games. It was eerily mechanical, like the pieces of a wind-up toy.
Naruto's voice broke through her concentration, his hand lightly brushing her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.
Hinata hesitated, her mind racing as she searched for the words to explain the creeping dissonance in what she was seeing. Then, it struck her. Her gaze shifted focus, sweeping across the village once more, this time searching for something she hadn't thought to look for before.
"It's…" she began, her voice faltering as realization dawned. "No one's eating," she said, her tone now sharper. Her gaze moved to the stalls, the jars and crates. "Or trading. There's no food. No signs of commerce at all."
She looked closer at the vendors, their hands gesturing but never exchanging anything. The stalls seemed oddly untouched, as if they were never meant to be used. The air lacked the telltale signs of a market—the scent of cooked food, the clinking of coins, the chatter of haggling customers. Instead, everything felt muted, like a scene frozen in time.
"It's all… staged," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"They're all puppets," Kankuro said grimly, his voice heavy with disdain. His fists clenched at his sides as he spoke. "Sasori's specialty. They're indistinguishable from real people unless you know what to look for. They move, talk, even express emotion. But they don't eat. They don't rest. They just… exist."
Hinata's eyes locked onto a group of villagers chatting by a well. Their heads nodded in perfect rhythm, their hand gestures almost synchronized. One woman's laughter seemed genuine, her hand covering her mouth delicately—but her eyes didn't move. It was as if she were laughing out of obligation, her expression betraying a hollowness that sent a shiver down Hinata's spine.
"But how is he doing that?" Sasuke rubbed his chin, his Sharingan spinning as he scanned the distance. His tone was calm, but there was a razor-sharp edge of curiosity. "Surely puppets are controlled by a chakra string that connects them to the user. No one saw those strings?"
"There are no strings," Hinata said softly, her vision zooming in on the puppets' joints, scanning for even the faintest flicker of chakra threads. "I'm certain of it. There's nothing connecting them."
Her brow furrowed, frustration mounting as she scrutinized the intricate movements of the puppets. There had to be something—a clue, an inconsistency. Sasori couldn't possibly be manipulating this many puppets simultaneously without some kind of mechanism. Not unless…
She turned her focus back to the children in the courtyard. Their game was simple—passing a ball back and forth, keeping it in the air as long as possible. At first glance, it seemed innocuous enough. The children moved with precision, their kicks measured and perfect, the ball passing seamlessly from one to the next. Too perfect.
Hinata's focus narrowed, her Nichiren Byakugan honing in on the children's movements. Each kick was flawless, their timing exact. No stumbles, no laughter, no playful chaos—just cold, mechanical precision. The unease in her chest grew as she continued to observe.
And then it happened. One child, poised to kick the ball, faltered. His timing was off, and the ball sailed past him, landing in the dust. It was a small mistake, but in this meticulously orchestrated scene, it stood out like a jagged tear in a flawless tapestry.
Hinata's eyes widened. Why did he miss? She replayed the moment in her mind, her memory zooming in on the exact instant the child hesitated. The ball's shadow had passed over him, dimming the sunlight for just a second. That single interruption had been enough to throw him off.
Her heart skipped a beat as the pieces fell into place. "The shadow…" she whispered, barely audible. Her gaze darted to the other puppets, tracking their movements with new intensity. She studied their joints, their rhythm, the way they moved in relation to the shifting light of the sun. "No way…"
"What is it?" Naruto asked, leaning closer. His voice was low, his concern evident.
Hinata's voice trembled slightly as she spoke, disbelief mingling with certainty. "It's the sunlight," she said, her words drawing the attention of everyone around her.
Sasuke turned to her sharply, his crimson Sharingan narrowing. "What do you mean?"
"He's using the sunlight itself," Hinata explained, her Byakugan tracing the subtle patterns that tied the puppets' movements to the shifting light. "The light waves—they're his chakra strings. That's how he's controlling them all at once."
The words hung in the air, impossible yet undeniable. The others stared at her, their faces a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"That's insanity!" Kankuro hissed, his voice breaking the silence. His fists clenched as he glared at Hinata, as if her revelation was an insult to his craft. "How the hell is that even possible? How could he connect his chakra to the sun?!" His anger was laced with desperation, the truth of her claim unraveling his understanding of everything he knew about puppetry.
Naruto, Sasuke, and Hinata exchanged a knowing look, their expressions darkening as the weight of the revelation settled over them. "Amaterasu," the three of them said simultaneously, the name heavy with foreboding.
The Sage nodded, his golden eyes narrowing in solemn agreement. "She is the Sun Goddess, after all. If she has gifted a portion of her power to Sasori, then controlling puppets through sunlight would not be beyond his reach. But the precision… the scale of it… it's unprecedented."
The implications of the discovery settled over them like a storm cloud. If Sasori could manipulate puppets with the very light of the sun, then facing him on his terms would be more dangerous than any of them had anticipated.
Sasuke bit his lower lip, his frustration barely concealed as he continued to glare at the village walls. Despite the sharp precision of his Sharingan, the walls obstructed his ability to see beyond them, leaving him reliant on Hinata's observations. The ambiguity gnawed at him. "Why make them perform like this?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His tone was sharp, as if trying to force the pieces of the puzzle together through sheer will. "What's the point? Is this some kind of distraction? Is he expecting diplomats or spies to be watching?"
Hinata shook her head, her vision still focused on the eerie tableau inside the village. "That doesn't make sense," she said, her tone thoughtful yet certain. "If this were meant to fool someone, he'd be going to greater lengths. There's no food, no trade, no genuine activity. It's… hollow. There's no one here to see this but us."
Sasuke frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Then maybe it's something else," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "What if he's training? Testing the limits of his control or the range of his technique? Or maybe he's showing off, flexing his power to anyone foolish enough to get close."
Hinata considered this, her expression tense. "It's possible," she admitted. "But…"
"Isn't he just lonely?" Naruto's voice broke the tension, soft yet cutting through like a blade. He wasn't looking at the group; his gaze was fixed downward, his hand idly brushing sand away from his knees.
There was a pause—sharp, jarring, and filled with unspoken discomfort. Naruto exhaled, his voice quiet but steady. "I mean, I get it," he said, his words hanging in the air like a weight. "When you don't have anyone… and you can make clones, or… whatever he's doing with these puppets… Sometimes it's not about fooling anyone. Sometimes it's just about pretending. Pretending you're not alone."
The raw vulnerability in his tone cut deeper than any of them expected. Naruto's usual cheer and bravado were absent, replaced by a stark honesty that left an uncomfortable silence in its wake. For a moment, none of them dared to respond, each grappling with the unease his words stirred.
Sasuke's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking back to the village. He didn't say anything, but his clenched fists and the faint crease in his brow betrayed his discomfort. He had spent years isolated, consumed by vengeance, and the idea of Sasori's loneliness hit closer to home than he cared to admit.
Hinata's gaze softened, her Byakugan fading as she turned fully toward Naruto. She wanted to say something—anything—to lighten the mood, but the truth in his words left her momentarily speechless. Instead, her hands tightened at her sides, her heart aching at the thought of anyone enduring such a hollow existence.
For a brief moment, they all saw Sasori not as a villain or a foe, but as something painfully human—a lonely figure grasping for connection in the only way he knew how. It didn't soften their resolve, but it added an unsettling weight to their mission. Almost, but not quite, sympathy.
The Sage, ever composed, broke the silence. "Loneliness can drive even the most powerful beings to strange ends," he said quietly, his tone measured but contemplative. "If this display is a product of that… then perhaps it is not power Sasori seeks, but purpose."
Naruto shifted uncomfortably, burying his face in his arms as his ears turned red. "I-I'm not saying I know for sure or anything," he muttered, his voice muffled. "It's just a thought."
"So we have a how," The Sage continued, sparing Naruto the need to elaborate further, "and perhaps a why. The question now is the manner of our next move. Should we regroup with the remaining members of the village?"
"If you think I'm taking your ass anywhere near our people, then you're more batshit than I thought," Kankuro seethed, his voice low and biting as he glared at the boy with his brother's face. His unease with the Sage of the Desert was palpable, his fists clenching at his sides. No matter what form the Sage took, Kankuro couldn't shake the sense of betrayal. That face—it wasn't Gaara's, but it was close enough to twist the knife every time he looked at it.
The Sage tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes calm and unreadable. "Your mistrust is warranted," he said evenly, showing no reaction to Kankuro's venom. "But if we are to succeed, practicality must take precedence over sentiment."
"That's enough," Sasuke interjected, his tone sharp and impatient as his gaze shifted between the two. "We don't have time for this. If you don't want him near your people, that's fine. Go back on your own. Convince whoever you can to join us for the fight. But whether you bring anyone or not doesn't matter to me." He folded his arms, his voice growing colder. "We were hired to take out Sasori, and we'll handle it—with or without backup."
Kankuro turned to Sasuke, his glare shifting focus. "You've got some nerve, Uchiha," he snapped, his voice rising slightly. "These are my people, and we've been through hell. Don't you dare act like their lives don't matter."
"You hired us to get a job done," Sasuke countered, his tone as calm as it was dismissive. "If you want to make it personal, that's your problem."
Naruto shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two. Hinata kept silent but slid down the dune closer to Naruto, her gaze fixed on Kankuro's tense posture. The Sage remained stoic, his presence only adding to the unease in the group.
Kankuro let out a sharp breath, his shoulders trembling with barely contained frustration. He looked away, his gaze falling to the distant horizon. The truth was, Sasuke wasn't entirely wrong. His people had hired these shinobi, and they had every right to act according to the mission's objective. But that didn't mean he had to like it—or trust them.
"How do you even plan to get into the village undetected, genius?" Kankuro shot back, his tone cutting as he turned his glare back to Sasuke. "You think Sasori hasn't set traps for people like you?"
Before Sasuke could reply, The Sage spoke, his voice smooth and measured. "We can guide them," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious solution. His golden eyes flicked to Kankuro, holding his gaze without wavering. "Our knowledge of the desert and its hidden paths surpasses that of any living shinobi. Even if you do not trust us, you cannot deny that our guidance would ensure their safe passage."
Kankuro bristled, his jaw tightening. "And why should I trust you to lead them anywhere? For all I know, you'll walk them straight into Sasori's hands."
"If that were our intent, we would not have aided you thus far," The Sage replied evenly, his expression calm but firm. "We have no desire to see Sasori prevail. Our interests align in this matter, whether you wish to acknowledge it or not."
Kankuro let out a low growl, his hands curling into fists. His gaze darted to Hinata, then Naruto, as if silently weighing his options. Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders softening ever so slightly. "Fine," he muttered. "You can guide them. But if anything happens to them because of you…" He let the threat hang in the air, his tone sharp and unwavering.
"Understood," The Sage said simply, inclining his head in a gesture of acknowledgment.
Kankuro's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, then shifted back to Sasuke. "I'll go back to the hideout and try to bring reinforcements," he said begrudgingly. "But don't think for a second that I trust this plan—or any of you."
"Noted," Sasuke replied dryly, already turning his attention back to the village.
Kankuro muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he slid down the dune. When he reached the bottom, he glanced back at the group one last time, his expression a mix of frustration and reluctant determination. "Don't get yourselves killed before I get back," he called out. Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and sprinted across the desert, his figure quickly disappearing into the swirling sandstorm.
As his form faded, the group was left in silence, the tension lingering in the air like the storm around them. Sasuke adjusted his cloak, his expression indifferent. "Good," he said simply. "Now we can focus."
Naruto frowned, watching the storm where Kankuro had disappeared. "You think he'll actually come back with help?" he asked, his tone uncharacteristically subdued.
"If he doesn't, we'll manage," Sasuke replied, his voice curt. "Either way, this mission doesn't wait for him—or anyone else."
"But night will," Hinata said softly, her tone polite but unwavering. She turned her attention to Sasuke, her pale eyes steady as they met his mismatched gaze. "We know now that Sasori controls his puppets through sunlight. Waiting until nightfall is the most logical course of action. Without sunlight, his control over the puppets should weaken—or stop entirely."
Sasuke paused, his Sharingan glinting faintly as he considered her words. His jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of resistance passing over his expression before he exhaled quietly. "Fine," he said at last, his voice curt. "We wait until night."
"And hopefully," Hinata continued, her tone light but resolute, "Kankuro will return with reinforcements by then. If he doesn't… we'll still be in a better position to act."
Naruto nodded, visibly relieved by her reasoning. "Yeah, makes sense. No point rushing in while he's got the advantage. We'll need all the help we can get."
Sasuke didn't respond immediately, his gaze shifting toward the village, still obscured by the sandstorm. "If we're waiting," he said finally, "we use the time to prepare. No surprises."
Hinata inclined her head, satisfied with his agreement. "Of course."
The tension of their earlier conversation gave way to an uncomfortable awareness of their surroundings as the desert's merciless heat began to settle over them like an oppressive blanket. The sun was now high in the sky, its rays relentless as they beat down on the sand and reflected upward, amplifying the heat. The air shimmered, bending and distorting their view of the distant horizon.
Hinata wiped her forehead, her hand coming away damp with sweat. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, each breath carrying a faint sting of sand as the storm around them stirred up fine grains. The itching in her eyes had grown more noticeable, and she blinked rapidly to clear them, only for the sensation to return moments later. Even with her Byakugan deactivated, the strain of the harsh light and the whipping sand was taking its toll.
Naruto groaned and squatted down, fanning himself with one hand. "Man, this heat is brutal," he muttered, his voice slightly hoarse. He licked his lips, but his tongue only made them drier. "I didn't realize it was this bad. Guess I was too busy worrying about those creepy puppets."
"The desert doesn't forgive distractions," The Sage said quietly, his tone grave. He stood a little apart from them, his golden eyes scanning the dunes. "Its dangers are subtle until they are not. Do not underestimate daytime in the desert, or we will not make it to even see the battle this eve."
Naruto wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his usually boundless energy subdued by the relentless heat. "Then we should set up a tent or something," he suggested, his voice tinged with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Better to rest and stay out of the sun than burn ourselves out before anything even happens."
Sasuke's expression remained stoic, but a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. His mechanical arm clicked softly as he flexed his fingers, the metal heating slightly from the relentless sun. "Setting up a tent is a waste of time," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. Even he couldn't ignore the discomfort creeping into his muscles, the weight of the heat pressing down on them all.
"It's not a waste," Hinata said gently, her voice calm but firm. She adjusted her cloak to shield more of her face from the sun. "We'll be no use in battle if we exhaust ourselves before nightfall."
Naruto nodded, tugging at the collar of his jacket to let in some air. "Yeah, Sasuke. If you pass out from heatstroke before we even start, I'm not gonna be the one to drag you around."
Sasuke shot him a glare but said nothing, conceding with a small huff.
The Sage inclined his head slightly, eyes scanning for an ample location. "At the base of the dune," he suggested. "It will provide some shade, and the sandstorm will help obscure us from view. We must avoid drawing attention while we rest."
The group descended the dune carefully, the sand shifting beneath their feet with each step. Naruto stumbled once, catching himself with a curse as the loose grains slid away beneath him. By the time they reached the bottom, they were all coated in a fine layer of dust, their clothing heavy with grit.
Setting up the tent proved to be a challenge in the shifting sands. The heat made every movement feel sluggish, and their hands slipped on the poles as they struggled to anchor them securely. Naruto growled in frustration as a corner of the tent collapsed for the third time. "This stupid sand won't stay in place!" he snapped, glaring at the ground as if it had personally offended him.
"Here." Hinata knelt beside him, her movements steady despite the oppressive heat. Together, they adjusted the stakes, pressing them deeper into the sand. With her guidance, the tent finally took shape, its fabric rippling slightly in the breeze.
Once inside, the group let out collective sighs of relief as the shade provided a slight reprieve from the sun's relentless glare. The air was still hot and dry, but at least they were no longer directly exposed. They settled into a loose circle, the silence between them broken only by the faint rustling of the tent fabric and the distant howl of the sandstorm.
The Sage sat cross-legged near the center, his posture straight and his hands resting lightly on his knees. His golden eyes closed as he began to meditate, his breathing slow and deliberate. The faint glow of chakra around him was barely perceptible, a quiet reminder of the power he carried within.
Naruto slumped against one side of the tent, fanning himself with a strip of fabric. "How does anyone live out here?" he muttered, his voice tinged with awe and frustration. "It's like the desert's trying to cook us alive."
Hinata offered him a small, understanding smile. "The people here are resilient. They've adapted to this environment in ways we can't imagine."
Sasuke leaned back against the other side of the tent, his gaze fixed on the fabric above. His silence was contemplative rather than dismissive, the heat seemingly draining his usual sharp retorts.
The oppressive stillness of the desert crept into the tent, wrapping around them like an invisible force. Each of them felt it in their own way—the weight of the heat, the dryness in their throats, the relentless itch of sand clinging to their skin. It was a reminder that the desert was a living, breathing entity, one that demanded respect and patience.
For now, all they could do was wait.
As the heat continued to press down on them, the tent offering little reprieve, Naruto sat cross-legged near the edge, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes flickered toward the shimmering dunes outside, and then down to the dry, cracked earth beneath his feet. He muttered something under his breath, then pressed his palm against the sand.
"Guess it's time to try something new," he said, his voice tinged with determination.
The others watched as Naruto focused, his chakra stirring the ground beneath him. The sand shifted and rippled outward in concentric patterns, the grains vibrating as though alive. Small sprouts began to emerge, trembling against the dry air before thickening into dark green roots.
Hinata leaned forward slightly, her pale eyes widening. "You're using… your Shuton?"
"Yeah," Naruto replied, beads of sweat trailing down his face as he maintained the technique. "I figured since plants can pull moisture from the air and ground, why not cheat a little?"
Slowly, the roots coiled and stretched upward, intertwining into the base of a small, sturdy tree. Its bark shimmered faintly, laced with chakra, and its wide, waxy leaves unfurled to cast a thin shadow over Naruto's side of the tent. From one of its thick branches, droplets began to bead, glistening before trickling down into the hollowed groove of the bark.
Hinata gasped softly. "It's gathering water."
The Sage of the Desert, who had been silently observing, stepped closer, his golden eyes sharp with interest. "Impressive." He ran a hand lightly over the rough bark, feeling the subtle vibration of Naruto's chakra still flowing within. "You're condensing water vapor. Converting the desert air itself."
Naruto grinned, proud but trying to play it off. "It's no big deal," he said, brushing off the praise even as he grabbed one of the makeshift wooden channels extending from the tree to direct the water flow. He leaned forward, cupping his hands and letting the clear liquid pool before taking a long drink.
Hinata crouched beside him, pressing her fingers lightly to the leaves. "You actually made this," she murmured, awe softening her voice. "A tree that pulls water from nothing… Naruto-kun, this is incredible."
Naruto rubbed the back of his neck, trying to suppress the heat that suddenly burned in his cheeks. "Like I said, no big deal." He guided the water toward Hinata's hands, and she drank carefully, the coolness soothing the dryness in her throat.
Sasuke, however, let out a low scoff from where he sat. "It's just chakra manipulation," he said dismissively, leaning back against the tent wall. "You're working harder than necessary. A water scroll would've done the same thing without wasting energy."
Naruto shot him a glare. "Yeah? Well, I didn't see you pulling out any scrolls, genius."
"Because I don't need to show off every new trick I learn," Sasuke replied coolly, though there was an almost imperceptible shift in his expression as he glanced at the tree again.
The Sage stepped back, folding his arms as he studied the tree and the pooling water. "Show-off or not," he said quietly, "it's resourceful. And in the desert, that's survival."
Naruto puffed up a little at that, flashing him a grin before focusing back on the water channels, making sure they didn't overflow.
Sasuke rolled his eyes and looked away, but Hinata caught the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in his gaze—a subtle recognition, however begrudging, of what Naruto had accomplished.
The moment passed quickly, the group falling into a more relaxed rhythm as they filled makeshift containers from the flowing water. The tree stood at the center of their circle, its faint hum of chakra a steady reminder of Naruto's ingenuity.
Hinata turned to the Sage, her curiosity taking hold. "Can you commune with all your scattered selves?" she asked, her tone polite but genuinely inquisitive. He had already resumed his meditative stance, refreshed for now from the water Naruto provided.
The Sage cracked an eye open, his golden gaze meeting hers with several contemplative moments of silence before he responded. "We wouldn't say it is communion," he said carefully. "We already exist simultaneously, our personalities coming to the forefront to create the being you are speaking with now. However, meditation allows us to form something closer to cohesion, which is our current aim."
Hinata nodded slowly, considering his words. His shifts in demeanor made more sense now. At times, he seemed wise and kind; at others, cold and distant. His myriad emotions hadn't had time to coalesce into a singular personality. It was a process she imagined would take years.
"Do you think it's something Kali might be able to help with?" she asked hesitantly. She knew she shouldn't feel responsible for his condition, but the guilt lingered. Helping him, in whatever small way she could, felt necessary.
The sage's expression shifted slightly, his brows knitting in thought. "It is perhaps not a terrible idea," he admitted, though his voice carried a note of hesitation. "If we meditate opposite one another, we may be able to join minds. When you are ready, please join us at your pleasure." Without waiting for a response, he closed his eyes again, his breathing steady as he sank into stillness.
Hinata turned to Sasuke and Naruto, hoping for some reassurance. "What about you two?" she asked. "Should we all convene? It's been a while since Kali has spoken to Asura-san and Indra-san as well. They might need to share information."
Sasuke's answer came almost too quickly. "Someone needs to keep watch," he said, the excuse as transparent as it was practical. After a pause, he sighed and elaborated, his tone softer. "It's not that Indra is… bad. But I prefer to be influenced by him as little as possible. He's him, and I'm me. That's all there is to it."
Hinata understood. She had struggled with similar fears at the beginning of her journey. How much influence did their past lives truly have? Though Kali assured her it was minimal, the question lingered. Sasuke's desire to distance himself from Indra was something she could respect.
"I'm good too," Naruto said with a shrug, though a small shiver betrayed his lingering discomfort. "Kurama can pass anything along if Kali needs to talk to Asura. No offense, but the whole 'ghosts' thing still creeps me out."
Hinata's shoulders sagged slightly, hiding her disappointment. She had hoped for their support, but it seemed this part of the journey was hers alone. "Alright then," she said quietly, masking her nerves. "Wake us if anything happens."
Naruto offered her an encouraging grin, and Sasuke gave a small nod. With a steadying breath, Hinata moved to sit across from the Sage, settling into her meditative stance. She closed her eyes, her thoughts shifting toward the Eight-Trigrams Dimension, where Kali waited.
The heat of the desert faded into the background as she prepared to join the Sage of the Desert in the shared silence of their minds.
As Hinata opened her eyes, she found herself standing in a surreal landscape—a seamless blend of the familiar and the foreign. The vast desert stretched endlessly in every direction, its rolling dunes painted in hues of deep gold and bronze, illuminated by an otherworldly light. Yet above her, the sky was a void of pitch black, starless and infinite. The oppressive stillness of the desert was punctuated by intricate patterns etched into the sand, glowing faintly with a green luminescence. The markings formed the sacred Eight Trigrams symbol, its lines stretching out like veins across the terrain, merging with the desert's natural undulations.
Hinata's heart quickened. She knew this place wasn't entirely new, yet it was disorienting to see elements of Kali's world merged with someone else's. The glowing trigrams and pinyin at the center were unmistakably Kali's, remnants of her realm of darkness. But the desert, with its shifting sands and arid vastness, belonged solely to the Sage of the Desert.
Whenever the chakras of reincarnated souls intermingled, their mindscapes blended, creating these surreal hybrid worlds. Kali's realm had always been a void—black and silent, save for the sacred symbols that radiated her presence. Asura's had been a lush, thriving forest, alive with the hum of nature and dappled in golden light. Indra's world, in stark contrast, was the charred remains of what might have once been similar to Asura's—a wasteland of burnt trees and smoldering ash, its very air heavy with sorrow and regret.
This was something else entirely. The desert stretched so far that Hinata could almost believe she hadn't left her physical body behind. Yet the unnerving stillness, the eerie glow of Kali's markings atop the dunes, and the absence of any natural light told her otherwise.
"Yo, finally coming to see me again?" Kali's voice rang out, sharp and teasing, cutting through the silence like a blade. Her tone was casual, but the words carried a weight of mockery that only someone who knew Hinata intimately could wield.
Hinata turned to face her, already smiling. "I missed you too," she replied, her voice soft yet tinged with fondness. Only with Kali could she manage such an easy response. The bond they shared was unlike any other—deeper than mentor and student, closer than friends, and more complex than family. Kali was her guide, her confidant, her mirror—a reflection of what Hinata aspired to be and what she feared she could become.
Kali sat cross-legged, floating just above the glowing pinyin mark at the center of the trigrams. Her posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but her expression was sharp and mischievous. She wore the same shrine maiden outfit that now adorned Hinata, the design passed down for centuries in meticulous detail by the Hinoshita clan, its origins rooted in Kali's own era. The white and lavender robes flowed around her like an aura, their intricate embroidery catching the faint green glow of the markings beneath her.
Their features were nearly identical—soft yet defined, with wide, expressive eyes and delicate lips. Yet there were subtle differences. Kali appeared slightly older, her face carrying the confidence and sharpness of someone who had lived through countless trials. Hinata, in contrast, had a softer, more hesitant air, her strength tempered by her gentleness.
But the starkest difference lay in their demeanor. Kali's smirk came naturally, a playful yet predatory expression that seemed to dare the world to challenge her. Hinata, on the other hand, could barely manage a forced imitation of that smirk before settling into her usual polite smile—a mask that felt more comfortable, more her.
"You look good," Kali said, her smirk widening, the mischief in her voice sharp as ever. "But don't think I didn't notice you've been avoiding me. You're getting all cozy with that Asura's reincarnation, huh?" Her tone was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent to her words—something that flickered briefly in her Nichiren Byakugan eyes before she leaned forward, as if brushing it away.
Hinata's cheeks flushed slightly, though she didn't react as strongly as she once might have. Instead, she let out a soft sigh, her smile softening but never faltering. "It's not like that," she said, her tone steady despite the faint warmth in her voice. "I've just been… busy."
"Saving the world, I know, I know," Kali said with a mockingly dramatic wave of her hand. Her grin grew a little wider, but this time it felt less like teasing and more like armor. "Still, I wouldn't mind a visit now and then that isn't about life-or-death stakes. Even I get lonely, you know." The words slipped out so casually, so seamlessly, that for a moment it was easy to miss the depth beneath them.
Hinata's smile turned bittersweet, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the ache of what Kali wasn't saying. Her older self might have been brash and confident, but that strength came at a cost—a lifetime of carrying her burdens alone. It was a pain Hinata could understand all too well.
"I'll try," Hinata said, her voice quiet but earnest. "Next time I'm not on a mission to save the world, I'll make it a point to visit. That's a promise."
Kali leaned back, her smirk brightening, though a flicker of relief softened the sharpness in her expression. "Good," she said, her tone lighter now, almost playful. "Because I'm holding you to it. Don't make me hunt you down."
Hinata let out a giggle, the tension easing from her shoulders. "Take it easy on me, okay? I even brought more company this time." As if summoned by her words, the sand behind Hinata shifted, rippling like a great tide. The dunes cascaded downward, revealing a massive, looming figure rising from the desert. At first, it seemed as though the entire landscape itself had come alive, but then the distinct shape of a Tanuki's head emerged. Its features were unmistakable—jagged markings, enormous ears, and a mischievous grin twisted into something far more ominous. Even though only its head was visible, it was the size of a small house, its presence radiating a primal weight that pressed heavily on the atmosphere.
The Tanuki's eyes, glowing with a faint golden hue, scanned the blackened desert with an eerie calm. It opened its massive mouth, revealing a cavernous void within. From the shadows of its maw, three figures emerged, stepping forward into the sickly green light of Kali's trigrams. The pale glow illuminated them fully, bringing their identities into stark clarity.
The first figure was the youngest, and Hinata immediately recognized him—Gaara of the Sand. Yet he was a far cry from the boy she had fought during the Chūnin Exams. His once piercing gaze was now downcast, avoiding her entirely. His shoulders hunched as though bearing an invisible weight, and his hand clutched tightly to the robes of the elder figure beside him. Each of his hesitant steps seemed less like his own and more like he was being gently pulled forward, unwilling to look ahead.
The elder, in stark contrast to Gaara, carried himself with a quiet dignity, despite his diminutive and aged frame. His kind visage was deeply wrinkled, his eyes hidden beneath folds of skin that spoke of a long life weathered by countless years. Bald save for the thick, snow-white beard that reached down to his chest, his form seemed almost frail. Yet there was a heaviness to his every step, as though the earth itself acknowledged his presence. The slight stoop of his posture only enhanced the impression that this man carried the weight of history on his back, his gait deliberate and unyielding.
Behind them, the third figure seemed almost unreal. Where the elder was grounded, this entity was ethereal—a flickering specter of light and shadow. His form wavered like smoke, insubstantial and fragile, as if the faintest breeze might scatter him to the winds. Yet, paradoxically, his presence was the most overwhelming of them all. Though he lacked physicality, an unmistakable power radiated from him, pressing against the mind and spirit. His silhouette was humanoid, the faint outline of long hair and a staff visible, but his features were obscured, blurred by the faint silver glow that clung to him like mist.
And behind them all, looming like a guardian or a god, the colossal head of Shukaku watched in silence. Its grin remained fixed, its golden eyes gleaming with a mix of ancient knowledge and wild chaos, as though it reveled in the spectacle of these beings stepping forward. The sand around its base shifted constantly, a reminder of its ceaseless energy, as though the desert itself bent to its will.
These four—Gaara, the elder, the specter, and Shukaku—formed the identity of the Sage of the Desert. Each was distinct, yet their presence blended into a singular, unified force that carried with it the weight of centuries. They were more than individuals; they were fragments of something greater, bound by the sands and the history of their shared existence.
The old man standing next to Gaara was the first to speak, his voice calm and measured, carrying the cadence of someone accustomed to contemplation. "On behalf of myself and the others, allow me to introduce us," he began, his hands folding neatly in front of him. "I am a humble old monk who once went by the name of Bunpuku. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave a deep, respectful bow, and Hinata quickly returned the gesture, her Byakugan flickering briefly as if to ensure no threat lingered behind the courteous introduction.
"This one here requires no introduction," Bunpuku continued, gesturing toward Gaara, who instantly took a step behind the monk, as if trying to use him as a shield. Gaara's movements were hesitant, his gaze darting nervously, unable to meet Hinata's eyes. The change from the stoic, intense boy she had faced during the Chūnin Exams was jarring. The defiant edge that once defined him had crumbled, replaced by a vulnerability that tugged at her sense of empathy.
Bunpuku glanced back at Gaara, his expression softening into something akin to a doting grandfather's. He patted the boy's hand with quiet reassurance. "As for the figure to my left…" he said, turning toward the ethereal being, "this is the distinguished Sage of the Six Paths, the founder of Ninshu and father of the great wind spirit, Shukaku." His tone was reverent as he gestured toward the specter. The ghostly figure remained silent, its presence looming and undeniable, even as it refrained from acknowledging the introduction.
"As you can see," Bunpuku continued, "this is regrettably only a fragment of the actual Sage. Shukaku was one of several Bijū to be given life by the Sage, so only this small fraction of his chakra manifested. Yet despite that, his greatness dominates a large part of the Sage of the Desert's personality." His voice carried a note of awe, his reverence palpable. "As expected of one so magnificent that his legend persists into the modern era."
A loud, booming voice interrupted, echoing across the black desert. "Oi, Bunpuku! Quit gushing about the old man already and get to the end of it!" The giant Tanuki behind them bellowed, its outburst accompanied by a gust of wind so strong it nearly knocked everyone off balance.
Bunpuku chuckled softly, bowing his head several times in rapid succession. "Ah yes, my apologies. I lost myself for a moment." He gestured toward the towering beast behind him. "As with Gaara, I believe you are already acquainted with Shukaku, the incarnation of sand itself."
"What's up, pipsqueak?" Kali called out with a casual wave, her tone deliberately light and mocking. It had the desired effect. Shukaku's enormous eye spun toward her, narrowing in irritation.
"We're far larger than you and have always been, you old bat!" Shukaku screeched, its voice rising into a high, shrill pitch that echoed across the void. The sheer indignation radiating from the Tanuki was almost comical, though its size and power kept the situation grounded in tension.
"Old?" Kali raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as if considering his words before snorting with laughter. "I died young enough that my uncle created you long after I'd already reincarnated. Your memory must be going if you're confusing me with Amahina."
At the name, Shukaku's growl deepened, and Hinata's interest piqued. Amahina. Ōtsutsuki Amahina—the name of Kali's first reincarnation. Amahina had been the granddaughter of Ōtsutsuki Hamura and had lived centuries ago, long before the formation of the great clans. It was Amahina who had left behind many of the traditions Kali's reincarnations now followed, including the sacred scroll Hinata herself had read to better understand her role as the White Lotus.
Unlike Kali, Amahina had lived a long, prosperous life, earning a place of reverence among her descendants. Her wisdom and influence had shaped the customs of the Hyūga and beyond. Hinata had often wondered how much of Amahina's legacy lingered in Kali and, in turn, in herself.
"As if I would ever forget someone as annoying as you!" Shukaku barked back, his tone escalating into a near-growl, like an oversized dog that had just been poked one too many times. His massive tail thrashed behind him, sending waves of sand cascading over the dunes.
"Now, now," Bunpuku interjected, holding up a placating hand toward the Tanuki. "There's no need for such hostility. Kali-sama has agreed to assist us, after all. We should show her our gratitude." Shukaku let out a huff, his irritation evident but restrained, and the sands around him settled.
Bunpuku turned back to Kali, his expression calm but tinged with quiet hope. "…You can help us, can you not?" he asked, his tone gentle but direct. His gaze flicked toward Hinata, as if silently including her in the question.
Hinata's eyes darted briefly between Bunpuku, Gaara, and the towering form of Shukaku, her mind racing. The dynamic between these beings was complex—Bunpuku's gentle wisdom, Gaara's lingering uncertainty, Shukaku's brashness, and the fragmentary presence of the Sage of Six Paths—all bound together by the desert and the history it carried. And now, they were looking to her and Kali for answers.
Kali floated slightly above the glowing trigrams, her usual sharpness giving way to a solemnity befitting the moment. "You're looking to unify your minds more properly, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. When the old monk, Bunpuku, nodded in confirmation, she continued. "I can do it by aligning your chakras, but…" She let the weight of her words settle before speaking again. "It'll take a couple of hours, and you'll need to choose one of you as the primary host for the merger."
The desert fell silent. Even Shukaku, whose bluster usually filled any gaps in conversation, seemed to grasp the gravity of what Kali had just said. Her method would bring them cohesion, but at a cost: only one of them would remain in full control, the others dissolving into the subconscious—a unified whole, but only one voice. The implications hung heavy in the still air.
The shade of the Sage of Six Paths flickered like a faint candle in a breeze, his ghostly form shimmering faintly. Though he didn't speak aloud, his presence was commanding, and the others reacted as though they could hear his voice clearly.
"I agree," Bunpuku said after a moment, his voice soft yet resolute. Whatever the Sage had communicated, it was enough to solidify the monk's decision. He turned to Shukaku, but the giant Tanuki said nothing, merely narrowing his great golden eyes. Finally, Bunpuku looked at Gaara, whose eyes widened in shock.
"No," Gaara said, his voice breaking slightly. "It should be you. I'm the youngest here. The least experienced." He took a step back, his entire demeanor radiating hesitation.
"That is precisely why it should be you," Bunpuku replied, placing a gentle hand on Gaara's shoulder. "We have all lived full lives. I have no regrets for the path my life took. But you, young Gaara—you are still so young. You have so much to live for. You are the future. Accept us into your mind, and you will become a true Sage of the Desert, capable of leading its people to prosperity."
Gaara's gaze darted toward the shade of the Sage of Six Paths, who flickered once more, conveying another silent message. Whatever he said, it carried a weight that Hinata couldn't begin to comprehend, but it left Gaara trembling.
"If Ol' Man Rikudo says it, then I'll go along," Shukaku finally grumbled, though his usual irritation was absent. His words carried an unusual calm, almost as if honoring the Sage. "It's not like we're going anywhere. We're just… handing you the reins. So don't let the cart tip over."
Gaara stared at each of them in turn, his breath quickening. "But I…" His voice faltered as he looked down at his hands, clenched tightly into fists. The boy who had once been a cold and unrelenting killer now stood before them, uncertain and overwhelmed. Slowly, he raised his head, his gaze locking with Hinata's. His green eyes, usually so intense, now searched hers as if pleading for help.
Hinata stepped forward, her movements deliberate and calm. "You don't need to be scared," she said gently, her voice steady. "I understand how you feel. There have been times when I've thought about giving everything over to Kali—letting her take control and just… staying in the background. Sometimes I still think things would have turned out better that way. But…" She hesitated, her gaze softening. "I'm glad I kept my life for myself. Kali's helped me in more ways than I can count, but I wouldn't give up who I am now. And you won't either. I believe in you."
Gaara's expression wavered, doubt and hope warring in his eyes. "Why would you trust me?" he asked quietly. "I tried to kill you in the Chūnin Exams. You were just a tool for me to prove I existed. Why would you think I wouldn't turn on all of you again? What if my old self takes over?"
"You won't," Hinata replied, surprising even herself with the confidence in her voice. "You're not that person anymore. I don't know what changed, but I can see it. You've grown. You've found something that's made you stronger."
Bunpuku smiled, his hand reaching up to gently rub Gaara's red hair, his eyes glancing at the kanji for 'love' etched into the boy's forehead. "What Gaara needed to feel fulfilled was love," he explained softly. "He received it from his mother, but for a long time, he forgot. Now he remembers, and that love has been his salvation."
Hinata felt the air shift, as though the desert itself had taken a deep, soothing breath. There was a presence here, not physical but tangible nonetheless. It wrapped around them like a warm embrace, and for a moment, Hinata felt an ache of longing deep in her chest. It was the kind of love she hadn't felt since her own mother had passed. The desert carried this love—a mother's love.
Gaara's trembling stopped. He looked at Bunpuku, at Shukaku, and finally at the faint visage of the Sage of Six Paths. Then he turned back to Hinata, his resolve slowly building. "…I'll do it," he said at last, his voice soft but firm.
"Clock's ticking, everyone," Kali interjected, her tone impatient but tinged with amusement. She floated higher, tapping her wrist as though pointing to an invisible watch. "This process isn't exactly quick, so if you want to be whole before tonight's battle, we need to get started."
Bunpuku nodded, both hands resting on Gaara's shoulders now. His expression was serene, filled with quiet pride. "You'll be alright, young Gaara," he said with certainty. "We're putting our faith in you."
Gaara took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting Bunpuku's gaze. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible but resolute.
"Even if you mess up, we'll be here to bail you out!" Shukaku barked with laughter, his voice a mix of gruffness and unexpected warmth. The Sage said nothing, but its shimmering form pulsed softly, conveying a message that only the others seemed to understand. Bunpuku nodded solemnly, and Gaara, after a long moment of hesitation, took a deep breath and stepped toward Kali.
As he passed Hinata, he stopped abruptly. His hand hovered at his side as if debating something, and then, with visible effort, he turned toward her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the stillness of the desert. "For trying to kill you before." His words were awkward, his gaze flitting downward, unable to meet hers directly. Yet, despite his trembling hand, he held it out toward her.
Hinata didn't hesitate. She reached out and clasped his hand firmly, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "That's all behind us now," she said, her voice kind and steady. There was no trace of fear or resentment, only a calm understanding that came from how far they both had come. In truth, she didn't see anything to forgive. Facing Gaara during the Chūnin Exams had been terrifying, yes, but it had also been transformative. That battle was the first time she truly tested her strength, pushing herself to her limits and discovering who she could become. If anything, she owed him for helping her find that path.
"Thank you," Gaara said, his smile shy but genuine as his emerald eyes finally rose to meet hers. The moment lingered briefly, the weight of past enmity dissolving into something simpler—comradeship. When their handshake ended, it wasn't as former enemies but as allies ready to face what lay ahead.
With a final glance at her, Gaara turned toward Kali, his steps slow but deliberate. Kali, still hovering lazily above the trigrams symbol, tilted her head, her expression uncharacteristically serious as she prepared to begin her work. "Alright then," she said, the teasing edge in her voice softened. "Let's get this done. We've got a world to save, after all."
The process was exactly as Kali had promised—long, grueling, and fraught with danger. Every movement of her hands was deliberate, every adjustment to Gaara's chakra painstakingly precise. She worked methodically, carefully aligning the flow of chakra between the Eight Gates. Each gate had to be opened just enough to allow her to manipulate its energy, but not so much that it destabilized the entire system. The Eighth Gate, as always, was the most perilous. A single miscalculation here could unleash a surge of raw power that would overwhelm Gaara's chakra network, flooding his body with enough energy to kill him instantly.
The tension in the air was palpable. Even the faintest waver in Kali's steady hands felt like it might spell disaster. Hinata's breath caught every time Kali paused to double-check her work, her own Byakugan glowing faintly as she observed the intricate interplay of energy flowing through Gaara. She couldn't shake the sense that they were standing on the edge of a precipice, one wrong step away from catastrophe.
Finally, Kali floated back, wiping her brow as she gestured for the first consciousness to come forward. Bunpuku marched forward, silently volunteering himself. His steps were slow, deliberate, and filled with a quiet dignity. Tears streamed silently down his weathered face, but his expression wasn't one of sadness. It was peaceful, almost serene, as if he were walking toward his final purpose with open arms.
"Thank you for this opportunity," Bunpuku said softly, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. He turned to Gaara, placing a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. "Remember, young one, the path of peace is not without trials. But your heart is stronger than you know. Carry our will forward."
With those final words, he closed his eyes and stepped into the glowing trigrams. Kali moved swiftly, aligning his chakra with Gaara's. A faint golden light surrounded the old monk as his form shimmered and dissolved, merging seamlessly into Gaara's body. The air felt heavier for a moment, as if the desert itself was holding its breath, before it settled again. Bunpuku was gone, but the warmth of his presence lingered.
Next came the fragmented soul of the Sage of Six Paths. His shimmering, ethereal form floated forward, radiating an overwhelming presence that made Hinata's knees feel weak. He didn't speak—not in a way she could hear—but the others reacted as if his words resonated deeply within them. Gaara bowed his head, his hands trembling slightly. Even Shukaku, for all his bluster, lowered his gaze in silent respect.
Kali's movements became even more precise as she worked to align the Sage's chakra. Hinata could see the faintest flickers of instability in the energy, and her heart clenched with every adjustment Kali made. The process seemed to stretch into eternity, but eventually, the Sage's form began to dissolve, his presence fading into Gaara's chakra system. Hinata felt a pang of disappointment—she had hoped to hear his voice, to gain even a glimpse of the wisdom Kali so revered. But it wasn't to be. The Sage was gone, his essence now a part of Gaara.
"Ready, pipsqueak?" Kali asked, turning her attention to Shukaku.
The Tanuki grumbled as he lumbered forward. "Just get it over with, you old bat," he snapped, though the usual venom in his tone was missing. Instead, there was a strange fondness in the way he looked at her, a shared understanding that seemed to transcend words.
Kali smirked but said nothing, focusing on the daunting task of aligning Shukaku's chakra. Unlike the others, Shukaku's chakra was wild and untamed, surging unpredictably like a storm. Kali had to move around his whole body, adjusting from multiple angles, her brows furrowed in concentration. Sweat dripped down her temple as she manipulated the flow of energy, her hands glowing faintly as she coaxed the Tanuki's immense power into balance.
For a moment, it seemed as though the process might fail. Shukaku's chakra flared violently, threatening to destabilize the entire system. Hinata held her breath, her heart pounding as she watched Kali's movements quicken. But the older woman remained calm, her confidence unwavering as she brought the raging energy under control. Finally, with one last adjustment, Shukaku's form began to fade, his essence merging with Gaara's.
"Don't forget, brat," Shukaku growled, his voice echoing even as his body disappeared. "We're still here. And if you mess this up, I'll haunt you for the rest of your days!"
Gaara gave a faint nod, his expression conflicted but resolute. As Shukaku's energy settled, the desert grew eerily silent.
But it wasn't over yet. Kali straightened, her gaze shifting behind Gaara as the sand began to stir once more. A fifth presence emerged, the grains coalescing into the shape of a woman. She was beautiful, her features delicate and kind, though her form was clearly not human. She appeared more like a sand sculpture, her body shimmering faintly in the light of the trigrams.
Hinata's breath hitched as the realization dawned on her—this could only be Gaara's mother. The love she had poured into her son at the moment of her death had left a fragment of her chakra behind, a lingering echo of her devotion.
The woman didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her presence was enough, her silent gaze filled with warmth and pride. Kali approached her with uncharacteristic gentleness, completing the process in a matter of moments. The woman's form dissolved like a soft breeze scattering grains of sand, her essence settling into Gaara with a quiet finality.
Kali floated back, exhaling deeply as she surveyed her work. "That's it," she said, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. "You're as stable as you're going to get."
Gaara looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. "It's… strange," he murmured. "It feels like they're still here, like they're watching over me."
"They are," Kali said simply, gesturing to his forehead where the First Gate resided. "Their knowledge, their power—it's all there. You've just been given the reins. Use them wisely."
Gaara nodded, his expression solemn as he turned to Hinata and gave her a faint smile. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice carrying a newfound confidence. "For everything."
Hinata looked at Gaara as he disappeared into the trigrams' light, his form dissolving into the sands. She hadn't done anything for him—not really. That had been all Kali. Whatever transformation Gaara had undergone, it was thanks to her. Hinata bit her lip, unsure if she should feel relief or disappointment about her own lack of involvement.
"It wasn't me," she finally said, her voice quiet as she turned to Kali. "Everything he needed—it came from you."
Kali, floating lazily back onto her glowing disk, glanced at Hinata with an arched brow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, I'm not gonna argue with you there," she said, her tone casual. "But I'd say you did more than you think. You gave him a reason to trust us. That's not nothing."
Hinata nodded, though she still felt uncertain. After a moment, she looked up, her brows furrowing slightly. "Is this… something you've done before? I can't recall reading about it in the journals or the scrolls. At least, not on this scale."
Kali leaned back, crossing her arms behind her head. "Nothing quite this big," she admitted, her tone almost breezy. "But it's not my first rodeo, either. Every life cycle comes with its challenges. You learn to adapt." She didn't elaborate further, her eyes flicking toward the horizon where the sands blended into the pitch-black sky. "And speaking of time—we're running out of it. Night's about to fall in the outside world. You should head back and get ready."
Hinata lingered for a moment longer, her gaze following where Gaara had been before vanishing from their realm. "I'll keep my promise," she said softly, turning back to Kali. "I'll come see you soon."
Kali waved her off with a flick of her hand, her earlier excitement about the idea replaced by a surprising indifference. "You've got your own life to live, Hinata," she said, her tone quieter now, almost wistful. "Don't waste it hanging around with a relic like me. Go spend time with your boyfriend or something. There's more to life than fulfilling your destiny."
Hearing Naruto referred to as her boyfriend made Hinata's face flush beet-red, her hands flying up to her cheeks. "H-he's not—! We're not—!" she stammered, her words colliding into an incoherent mess.
Kali chuckled, the sound light but almost too teasing, as though she were trying a little too hard to shift the mood. "I'm just saying, don't let it all pass you by. Life's about more than just saving the world."
Hinata paused mid-protest, her embarrassment fading as she studied Kali more closely. Her casual posture and mischievous grin were as familiar as ever, but there was something else—a faint weariness behind her eyes, one that Kali was clearly trying to hide. Hinata realized that what Kali had just done—the delicate, life-altering work of uniting Gaara's mind—must have taken a toll on her, even if she wouldn't admit it.
She sighed, letting her hands drop back to her sides. "You're just trying to embarrass me to get me to leave, aren't you?" she said softly, her tone somewhere between exasperation and fondness.
Kali raised a brow, but her grin didn't falter. "Maybe. But am I wrong? Don't you have more important things to do than humor an old ghost?"
Hinata shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're not old," she said gently. "And you're not a relic, either. You're my guide, my teacher, and… my friend." Her voice grew quieter as she spoke, the sincerity in her words unmistakable. "I'll go for now, but I'll keep my promise. I'll visit you again soon."
Kali's smirk softened, and for a brief moment, the weariness in her eyes seemed to fade. "Alright, kid," she said, her tone warm. "But don't keep me waiting too long, or I'll come haunt you myself."
Hinata let out a quiet laugh, bowing her head. "Goodbye, Kali. And thank you—for everything."
Kali waved her off again, though this time it felt less dismissive, more like a farewell. "Take care of yourself, kid. You're doing great."
Hinata closed her eyes, letting the world of black sand and glowing trigrams fade away.
When she opened them again, she was back in the tent. The muted hum of the desert at night filled her ears, and the oppressive heat was gone, replaced by the biting chill of the desert after dark.
As she adjusted to the dim light, she found herself holding onto the warmth of Kali's words. There was still so much to do, but for now, she felt steadier, more grounded. The night lay ahead, and with it, the battles they had to face.
The Sage of the Desert sat in front of Hinata, the changes subtle yet undeniable. This wasn't the same Gaara she had seen within the other dimension, but now fully manifested in the real world as a complete individual. His hair, once crimson like blood, was now a sandy brown, blending with the terrain of his homeland. The tattoo etched on his forehead—the kanji for "love"—had shifted from the vivid red she remembered to a serene blue, like the sky just before dawn. His eyes, once fierce and green, now glowed with a muted yellow, as if the sands of the desert had infused his very soul.
Hinata stared at him, searching for any flicker of the hesitation or fear he had shown before. She found none.
"Finally! I thought we were gonna have to start the mission without you." Naruto's voice broke the moment, cheerful and impatient as ever. He stood over them, his silhouette outlined by the last, fading light of the setting sun filtering through the tent. The orange hues painted his face, giving him a look of quiet determination. He had clearly come to wake them, eager to press forward.
"Did you figure something out?" Sasuke's voice was calm but edged with tension. He stood just outside the tent, his back to them, eyes fixed on the distant village. His Rinnegan flickered faintly beneath his bangs, scanning for movement. Despite his focus, his question carried a weight that revealed how much he trusted Hinata's insight.
Hinata turned to Gaara, her gaze searching his features one more time. The Sage's body was steady, his breathing even. There was no longer any trace of the fractured personalities that had once occupied his mind. "How do you feel?" she asked softly.
Gaara—or perhaps it was more accurate now to call him the Sage of the Desert—nodded, the yellow glow of his eyes sharpening into something resolute. When he spoke, his voice was calm but carried a power that seemed to ripple through the air like a desert wind. "My name is Gaara, the Sage of this Desert," he said, his tone firm and unyielding. "And I am ready to take back my village."
Naruto grinned, his eyes lighting up with the same fire that always ignited before a fight. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" he said, punching his fist into his palm. His excitement was infectious, the energy he radiated like a beacon in the growing darkness.
Sasuke glanced over his shoulder, his expression as stoic as ever, but there was the faintest glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but the way he returned his attention to the village suggested he was satisfied.
Hinata, meanwhile, felt a swell of relief and pride. The transformation was complete, and Gaara sat before her not as a fractured boy struggling to hold himself together, but as a unified force—a leader, a protector, and a Sage. "Then let's make sure you can," she said, her voice soft but resolute. "We'll stand with you, Gaara."
The Sage of the Desert rose to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. He cast one last glance at the fading horizon before stepping toward the tent's entrance, the weight of his mission etched into every line of his face. As he passed Naruto, Sasuke, and Hinata, the quiet resolve in his presence seemed to bind them all together, a shared purpose uniting them in the cool desert night.
Outside, the village loomed in the distance, its eerie stillness a stark contrast to the tension in the air. Gaara stopped just before exiting the tent, turning back to them with one final declaration. "Tonight, we reclaim the Sand," he said. The simplicity of his words carried an undeniable gravity, and in that moment, there was no doubt: the Sage of the Desert was ready to lead.