Hinata: Byakurenden
Approaching Dawn
The Village Hidden in the Sand was no more.
The walls that had once stood strong against the relentless desert winds, the homes that had sheltered countless generations, and the bustling marketplaces filled with life—all of it was gone. Not a single structure remained intact. The remnants of Sunagakure were scattered across the sands like broken memories, fragments of a once-great village now reduced to ash and rubble.
The desert, indifferent and eternal, was beginning its slow reclamation. The ever-present winds swept across the battlefield, piling dunes over what little debris remained, as if determined to erase the village from existence entirely. The air hung heavy with the weight of loss, and the silence was deafening. There were no cries of mourning, no shouts of triumph—only the mournful howl of the desert wind, a dirge for the fallen.
It was still the darkest part of the night, the false daylight of Sasori's artificial sun long extinguished. Shadows stretched across the flattened landscape, the dim light of the waning moon doing little to illuminate the desolation. Kankuro stumbled through the darkness, his feet dragging over the shifting sands. His steps were aimless at first, his mind still reeling from the battle that had unfolded before him. He could barely see more than a few feet ahead, but the faint sound of shuffling and scraping reminded him that he was not alone. The surviving Sunanin were scattered around him, sifting through the sand with desperate hands, searching for keepsakes, tools, or any remnants of their lives before the catastrophe.
He stopped to listen, his ears catching fragments of whispered conversations—hushed voices trading words of comfort or sorrow. Somewhere to his left, a woman sobbed quietly, her cries barely audible over the wind. To his right, a pair of children sifted through a mound of sand, their small hands trembling as they unearthed a broken wooden toy. The weight of their grief hung in the air, and Kankuro clenched his fists, feeling powerless to alleviate it.
His eyes caught on scattered fragments of the village's history—a shattered pot half-buried in the sand, its intricate painted patterns now faded; the charred remnants of a puppet someone crafted long ago, its once-delicate joints blackened and splintered. Each discovery drove home the scale of what had been lost. Kankuro felt small, insignificant, a mere ant in the shadow of the titans who had battled here.
The battle had been unlike anything he had ever seen. Attacks that reshaped the very terrain, powers that obliterated everything in their path—forces that belonged not to men, but to gods. The sheer scale of destruction was humbling, but what terrified him more was the realization of how close they had come to complete annihilation. If the Konoha trio and Gaara hadn't intervened, if even one of them hadn't been there, Sasori would have reduced not just Sunagakure but the entire region to ash.
The thought tightened Kankuro's chest, making it difficult to breathe. His mind flashed back to the overwhelming presence of Sasori's final form, the false sun that had turned night into day, and the desperate final gambit that had saved them all. He shivered, the cold desert air biting through his clothing, but he pressed on.
As he walked, his eyes turned upward, searching the star-strewn sky. It was hard to reconcile the serenity above with the devastation below. And yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained. The people of the village were alive, and where there were people, there was the potential to rebuild.
"Kankuro!" Temari's voice cut through the stillness, and he turned to see her jogging toward him, her silhouette faint against the backdrop of the barren desert. She cradled something in her arms, an object he couldn't make out at first. Temari's steps faltered as she approached, her face a mixture of determination and sorrow. Like everyone else, she had been sifting through the sand, searching for remnants of their old home. That was what all the Sunanin were doing now, combing through the ruins of their lives for anything to cling to—anything to remember their village by.
When she stopped in front of him, she opened her arms to reveal the object she carried, and Kankuro's breath hitched in his throat.
"That's…" he rasped, his voice hoarse and weak, barely able to form the word as his eyes widened. In her hands was the hat of the Kazekage, the green cloth dusty and frayed at the edges but unmistakable in its symbolism. It wasn't just an artifact—it was the heart of their village, a crown for the one who would lead them. And now, in a village reduced to sand and memories, it carried an even heavier weight.
The Kazekage hat represented more than authority. It was hope. It was resilience. It was the promise that no matter how broken their home had become, their people still stood together. Yet, with no village left to lead, the weight of that promise felt overwhelming. For Kankuro, it was almost too much to look at.
Temari held the hat out to him, her voice firm but tinged with emotion. "I talked with some of the others… and we all agreed that maybe you should hold onto it." She paused, searching his face as if expecting resistance. Before he could protest, she pressed on. "You're the one who gave us hope and led us into battle. It was you who swallowed your pride and went to Konoha for help when no one else could. You were the one who refused to give up, even when things seemed impossible. That's why it should be you."
For a moment, Kankuro stared at her, dumbfounded. His hands clenched at his sides, the weight of her words pressing down on him like the dunes threatening to bury their village's remnants. He couldn't bring himself to take the hat from her. "No," he said finally, his voice low and rough. He shook his head, almost disbelieving the words that were about to come out of his mouth. "It should be Gaara."
Temari's expression tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she anticipated his reasoning. But Kankuro saw the flicker of pain in her eyes—the same pain he had felt for years when they thought of their brother. Still, he continued, knowing this was a truth he had to voice.
"You saw what he's capable of now," he said, his tone softening. "It's not just his strength, though we both know we need that too. It's what he did during the battle." His voice broke slightly, but he pushed on. "Even while he was fighting Sasori, he was protecting us. His sand shielded our people from attacks they didn't even see coming. He was using his power to save them. Did you notice how many lives he saved, Temari? How many people owe their lives to him tonight?"
Temari looked away, her shoulders sagging slightly as the truth of his words sank in. She had seen it too—how Gaara's sand had acted as a silent guardian, intercepting strikes aimed at their people while he battled with impossible enemies. She had watched in awe as their once-feared brother became a beacon of hope, a protector for the village he had once terrorized.
"I didn't trust him at first," Kankuro admitted, his voice quieter now, tinged with guilt. "I didn't think he'd care about anyone but himself. But seeing him out there tonight… seeing what he's become…" He trailed off, his thoughts swirling. "We don't just need power, Temari. We need someone who can inspire us. Someone who can protect what's left of us while we rebuild. That's not me." He forced a small, bitter laugh. "Hell, I can't even fight properly without my puppets. My role in that battle was barely anything more than keeping spirits up."
Temari's gaze softened as she looked at her brother. For all his self-deprecation, she saw the depth of his care, his unwavering loyalty to their people. But she also saw the truth in his words. Gaara was different now. The boy they had once feared was gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable—a man who could lead them forward, even out of the ashes.
"You're sure about this?" she asked quietly, though she already knew the answer.
"I'm sure," Kankuro said firmly. He reached out, taking the hat gently from Temari's hands. His fingers brushed against the worn fabric, and he held it with a reverence that reflected the weight of what it represented. "But I'll take it to him myself," he continued, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling within him. "It's time I told him what I saw out there tonight—and why he's the only one who can wear this."
Temari watched him, her expression softening further still as she saw the determination in his eyes. She stepped back slightly, her arms folding across her chest, the faintest hint of a smile curving her lips. "Good," she said, her voice tinged with quiet pride. "But you better not mess this up, Kankuro. This is bigger than just us."
Kankuro nodded, holding the hat against his chest like a fragile relic. "I won't," he said simply, and for the first time in a long time, he felt certain of his words. Without another glance, he turned and began walking toward the heart of the battlefield, where he knew Gaara would be. Each step felt heavy, yet purposeful, as if he were carrying not just the symbol of the Kazekage but the hopes of their people.
As Kankuro trudged through the barren desert, his grip tightening on the Kazekage's hat, Hidan's voice grated against his ears, louder than the wind. "Lord Jashin, these dunes go on forever! You'd think your pathetic excuse for a village would at least have some markers or something," Hidan grumbled. "No wonder this place got wiped off the map. It's a wasteland!"
Kankuro sighed, the annoyance bubbling just beneath his exhaustion. Hidan had been unnervingly quiet during their trek, having fallen asleep shortly after the battle. At first, Kankuro had assumed the bizarre ability that kept him alive had consumed a significant amount of energy, leaving him temporarily drained. But now, it was clear he'd simply been napping, his energy fully restored, and his obnoxious personality back in full force.
"Great. You're awake," Kankuro muttered under his breath, adjusting the head hanging at his hip. "If you don't shut up, I'm burying you in the sand and leaving you for the scorpions. They're about the only ones who'd put up with your whining."
Hidan laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally in the quiet desert night. "You don't scare me, puppet-boy. Jashin's watching, and when I get my body back, I'm gonna carve his symbol into every inch of this place. A desert of blood sacrifices—that's what this hellhole really needs!"
"Yeah, sure," Kankuro muttered, his voice flat. "Because blood sacrifices are definitely going to rebuild the village and give people hope. Why don't you save your zealotry for someone who cares?"
He paused, squinting into the darkness ahead. He could hear the faint crunch of shifting sand and soft murmurs carried by the wind. The scattered sounds of the surviving Sunanin searching for their belongings reminded him of just how much they'd lost.
As the faint outlines of figures emerged on the horizon, Kankuro let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Finally," he muttered, quickening his pace. "Let's see if they've figured out what to do with you," he added, glaring down at Hidan's head.
"Hey, I'm a treasure," Hidan shot back. "A walking—well, talking—piece of immortal history. You're lucky to have me!"
Kankuro rolled his eyes. "Yeah, real lucky," he said dryly, stepping closer to where Gaara and the others waited amidst the remnants of the battlefield.
The four heroes of the village stood in a tight, somber circle, their postures heavy with the weight of the battle they had just endured. At their feet lay the broken remains of Sasori's masterpiece—a puppet sculpted in the visage of Amaterasu. Its delicate craftsmanship, once a grotesque homage to the goddess, was now a fractured relic. The painted features of the puppet, once serene and hauntingly beautiful, were cracked and marred, a mockery of its former perfection. Yet even in ruin, it seemed to emanate an oppressive presence, its hollow eyes staring blankly into the night.
Gaara remained slightly apart from the group, the faint swirl of his sand brushing against his feet as though it shared in his vigilance. His dark red robes, marked with dirt and blood, hung heavily against his frame, the iconic sash around his waist slightly askew from the battle's chaos. The blue kanji tattoo for "love" glimmered faintly in the subdued light, a stark reminder of the ideals he had once carved into himself and still carried now. Though his expression was calm, the taut line of his jaw betrayed the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. The destruction of his village, the loss of his people, and the role he had played in this hard-fought victory haunted his golden gaze.
Sasuke stood nearby, arms crossed as his metallic left arm gave a quiet hum and click, resetting itself after enduring the strain of combat. His sharp Rinnegan, still glowing faintly, swept over the fractured battlefield and the subdued Kabuto, as if calculating the next move before it even needed to be made. His tattered cloak, its edges singed black from stray blasts, hung loosely around him, giving him a shadowed, almost predatory air. This wasn't a moment of rest for him, but one of cold assessment. Every detail—the shattered puppet, the immobilized Kabuto, the devastated Sunagakure—was a piece of evidence in the growing puzzle of Amaterasu's chaos.
Closer to Kabuto, Hinata fought to steady herself, her body trembling from the strain of the Fifth Gate. Her once-pristine shrine maiden attire clung to her bruised and battered frame, the singed fabric revealing the extent of her injuries. Her Nichiren Byakugan had dimmed, leaving her gaze sharp yet heavy with exhaustion. She bore the weight of her fatigue in silence, standing resolute despite the chakra strain that had nearly overwhelmed her. Every breath she took seemed a quiet vow that Kabuto's crimes would not go unanswered. Her eyes, though weary, never left him, their unflinching focus a warning.
Naruto's presence was a striking contrast to the others. Though his Konoha shinobi attire was torn and singed, bright orange stripes along the sleeves and pant legs stood out vividly against the neutral tones, as if refusing to be dulled by the fight. He carried himself with his usual irrepressible energy, arms folded behind his head and a faint grin playing on his lips. While the destruction around them weighed heavily on his companions, Naruto seemed to look beyond it, already envisioning their next move.
Kabuto was slumped nearby, his wooden arm tightly bound in glowing sealing cloth that faintly pulsed as if actively siphoning his remaining chakra. His Byakugan-infused eyes were covered with a blindfold, and his legs—now petrified into stone—lay stiff and awkward beneath him. Despite his immobilized state, his expression was disturbingly composed, his lips curling in an almost serene smile, as though even defeat had been anticipated in some twisted way.
"Did Sasori-sama have any last words?" Kabuto asked quietly, his voice devoid of its usual smugness. His remaining free hand reached out, trembling slightly as his fingers grazed the false idol's shattered remnants. The puppet that once held Sasori's heart now lay motionless, its delicate craftsmanship marred by the violent end it had met. His hand came to rest on the very spot where Sasori's heart had been skewered, a hole cleanly pierced by Sasuke's Chidori. There was an odd reverence in his touch, as though he were handling a relic of a saint rather than the twisted creation of a fanatical puppeteer.
"Forgive me, Amaterasu-sama," Sasuke repeated, his voice low and edged with disdain. "It seems that I couldn't recreate your immortal beauty after all." The words hung in the air, cold and unsettling, their weight pressing down on the group. Even Sasuke, who had heard them firsthand, seemed disturbed as he uttered them. The thought that Sasori, a man who had spent his life dehumanizing others, had been so completely consumed by his obsession with Amaterasu's perfection was grotesque. It made the alien deity's influence all the more terrifying.
Kabuto let out a quiet sigh, his expression shifting to something almost wistful. "That sounds about right," he murmured, a faint, bitter smile playing on his lips. "Sasori-sama… even in the end, he remained utterly devoted. But to call him the most devout follower would be an insult to the others. You wouldn't understand." He chuckled softly, though it lacked humor. "The Akatsuki—each and every one of them—found in her what the rest of us couldn't. She didn't just grant them power; she fulfilled their desires, their deepest, most wretched needs. She made them whole, in ways no one else could."
For a moment, Kabuto fell silent, his blindfolded gaze fixed on the broken puppet. Despite everything, there was no denying his respect for Sasori. "He was a genius, you know," he said quietly, his tone almost conversational. "A man who believed in perfection above all else. His art was grotesque, but it was absolute. And yet… even he faltered in the face of Amaterasu-sama. He sought to replicate her perfection, but in the end, it was unattainable, even for someone like him."
"Doesn't seem like his power was worth shit then, was it?" Hidan's obnoxious voice shattered the moment, pulling everyone's attention to him. His severed head hung off Kankuro's hip, his sharp teeth bared in an infuriating grin. "If you wanted power then you should've followed Jashin like me! Immortality's not some half-assed promise, it's the real deal! Not even Sasori could manage that, huh? And look where it got him—dead, while I'm still kicking!" His cackle was cut off as Kankuro, clearly reaching the end of his patience, lifted Hidan's head and clamped a firm hand over his mouth. Even muffled, the rogue shinobi continued his tirade, his words turning into an incoherent buzz.
Kabuto didn't respond immediately, though his lips twitched into a bitter smile. "In a way, Hidan's right," he said softly, his tone self-deprecating. "Sasori-sama aside, my own faith was lacking… not that it could be helped. I am a man of science, not of religion. I sought to understand her, to replicate her gifts through experimentation, not devotion. And perhaps that's why I failed. Her blessings seem to reward only those who truly believe." His fingers tightened over the shattered puppet. "I barely received anything at all, which is why I turned to the Byakugan. I hoped to recreate her Gurengan, but instead… I stumbled upon the Nichiren. A flawed imitation, much like myself."
"Your self-pity doesn't change what you did." Hinata's voice was cold, stripped of the warmth that usually characterized her. Her Nichiren Byakugan flickered faintly as she stepped closer, her gaze unflinching as it bore into Kabuto. "You desecrated my clan, turned our legacy into an abomination. And for what? Your own hubris?" She exhaled sharply, her fury tempered but not extinguished. "When we return to Konoha, you will answer for everything. I'll make sure my family decides your fate."
Kabuto's smile faded, and he bowed his head slightly, as if in surrender. "Perhaps that's fair," he murmured. "After all, I have nothing left. Not even my own legs to stand on."
A silence followed, thick and suffocating, as the gravity of his words settled over the group. The faint sound of shifting sand and the distant murmurs of the surviving Sunanin filled the void. Sasuke's eyes flickered toward Kabuto, his expression unreadable. Hinata remained rigid, her Nichiren Byakugan softly glowing as if she were still ready to strike at any moment. Kankuro shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting between the broken remnants of Sasori's puppet and the blindfolded Kabuto, as though caught between disgust and pity.
Gaara finally broke the silence, his voice low and steady. "Words won't absolve you," he said, his golden eyes locking onto Kabuto. "But they might help the families of those you've wronged understand why you did what you did. If nothing else, you owe them the truth."
Kabuto let out a hollow laugh, the sound brittle and dry. "The truth, Gaara-kun? You're far too kind." His blindfolded face tilted toward the sky, as though searching for something that wasn't there. "There's only one truth left for me now…"
Naruto's voice suddenly cut through the heavy atmosphere, jarring and unexpected. "Anyways, I guess this means the mission is complete!" he said, grinning awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. His bright tone felt like someone opening a window in a sealed room, letting in a gust of air that didn't quite belong. He turned to Kankuro, his blue eyes narrowing with a hint of sympathy. "Uh… sorry about your village. But hey, you can't say we didn't get the job done, right?"
"Honestly…" Kankuro let out a long, weary sigh, shaking his head. The stark contrast between Naruto's levity and the devastation around them was almost too much to process. "Something is seriously wrong with you people," he muttered. But despite himself, he found his lips curving into a faint, tired grin. For all their insanity, these three had saved what little remained of his people. And for that, he was grateful.
Kankuro's attention then shifted as his gaze landed on Gaara, who stood silently a few feet away, the shrouded moonlight casting faint shadows over his figure. It was in that moment, as he looked at his brother—the man who had shielded their people with his sand, fought Sasori's unimaginable monstrosity, and emerged resolute from the chaos—that Kankuro remembered why he had come. His stomach tightened, a rush of both purpose and apprehension washing over him.
He reluctantly released his grip on Hidan's mouth—the talking head having gratefully fallen silent—and reached beneath his cloak, fumbling for the Kazekage's headpiece, his movements hesitant but deliberate. The symbol of leadership felt heavier in his hands than it should have, as though it carried the collective weight of their village's history and future. Kankuro swallowed hard, his throat dry, as he held it up.
"Gaara," he began, his voice steady despite the emotions churning within him. "There's… something I need to say. And something I need you to take." His grip on the headpiece tightened for a brief moment before he stepped forward, turning fully toward his brother. The devastation around them faded to the background as his focus locked entirely on Gaara, his resolve firm.
It was time.
Gaara's eyes widened as he saw the familiar hat, the deep green of the cloth striking against the desolation surrounding them. For a moment, he simply stared, as if the hat didn't belong in his world anymore, as though it were some relic from a time before this devastation.
Kankuro took a shaky breath, his next words coming from a place deep within him. "You've earned this. I… I believe in you."
Gaara didn't move right away. His sand swirled faintly at his feet, a reflection of his inner turmoil. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, almost afraid of the answer. He stepped closer, his movements careful and deliberate, as though the hat itself might crumble if he wasn't gentle enough. His gaze flickered to Kankuro's face, searching for any hint of doubt.
Kankuro hesitated, and for a moment, he wondered if he truly was making the right choice. Trust wasn't something easily earned—especially for someone with a past as dark as his brother's. Yet, during the battle, Kankuro had seen something different. He'd seen Gaara's sand moving not only to crush their enemies but to shield their people, even when his life was on the line. He'd watched as Gaara's stoicism gave way to a quiet, steadfast determination, not for himself, but for the village that had once feared him.
"I saw it," Kankuro said, his voice firmer now. "During the fight. You didn't just fight for us; you protected us. Even when they didn't trust you, even when they doubted you, you still did that for them." He looked at Gaara, his face a mix of pride and sadness. "We don't need a Kazekage who's perfect, or someone who has all the answers. We need someone who can defend us, no matter what. That's you, Gaara."
Gaara's breath caught in his throat. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took the hat. The weight of it felt heavier than he expected, not because of the material, but because of what it symbolized. The Kazekage wasn't just a title—it was the embodiment of responsibility, leadership, and the trust of an entire village. For a moment, the memories of his past threatened to overwhelm him: the lonely child who had once been feared and hated by the people he was now being asked to lead.
But he wasn't that child anymore. The old monk Bunpuku within him reminded him of the spiritual weight of leadership, a role meant to guide and protect. Shukaku, the ever-defiant, whispered that power alone wasn't enough—it had to be wielded with purpose. His mother's warmth filled the silence, her love urging him to step forward. Even the fragment of the Rikudo Sennin lent its quiet strength, grounding him in his resolve.
Gaara realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted this—not because it was expected of him, but because he believed he could be the leader they needed. And for the first time in a long while, this decision was entirely his own.
He lifted the hat and carefully placed it on his head, his movements deliberate. The brim cast a shadow over his face, but it couldn't hide the faint, uncertain smile he tried to give. "Uhh… how do I look?" he asked, his voice tinged with awkwardness.
Kankuro studied him for a long moment before answering, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded expression. "Like you'll grow into it," he said honestly, his words carrying both humor and hope.
The tension between them softened. Gaara's crooked smile faltered but didn't fade completely.
"Hey, congrats, Gaara!" Naruto interjected with a wide grin, breaking the quiet moment. "But don't let it go to your head, all right? I'm gonna be Hokage soon, and I can't have you showing me up!" He gave Gaara a playful thumbs-up, his eyes brimming with pride for his friend.
Gaara glanced at Naruto, his smile steadying into something more genuine. "I'm counting on it," he replied calmly, his gratitude evident in his tone. "A strong Hokage will make a strong ally. I'll expect nothing less from you."
Naruto blinked, surprised for a moment by the response, before his grin grew even wider. "You better believe it!" he declared, his usual infectious energy returning.
The lightness of the moment shattered in an instant. Gaara shifted instinctively into a defensive stance, the sand around his feet stirring in response to his unease. He couldn't see the danger, but he could feel it—heavy footfalls sending subtle vibrations rippling through the sand.
"…Something is approaching." his voice cut through the fading quiet, low and tense, as his sharp eyes scanned the darkness. Whatever it was, it wasn't a small threat. The tension in the air thickened, coiling tighter with each passing second.
Naruto immediately fell silent, his earlier grin replaced by a serious expression as he moved to stand alongside Sasuke and Hinata. Sasuke's Rinnegan flared to life, scanning the shadows with an almost surgical precision, while Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan glimmered faintly in the dim light, tracking the movement of the unknown figures. Even Kankuro adjusted Hidan's muffled head at his hip, gripping it as if the severed nuisance could somehow provide backup in a fight.
"They're not from here," Gaara murmured, his voice calm but edged with warning. "Their steps… they lack the finesse of desert-born shinobi. This isn't one of ours."
The words carried a weight that drew everyone's nerves taut. The sound of sand being torn apart by sharp claws grew louder, the approaching figures shrouded in the veil of night. Four distinct presences, accompanied by something larger, heavier—almost beastlike. For a moment, it felt as though they might have to face yet another impossible foe, perhaps reinforcements Sasori had summoned before his demise. The thought sent an icy chill through the group; they had expended nearly everything in the previous battle. None of them were in any condition to face another.
The tension reached its breaking point as the sound of the galloping beast became deafening, its claws tearing through the sands like the harbinger of an ambush. The massive shape lunged forward, hurtling through the darkness and straight toward Hinata.
"Get ready!" Naruto shouted, his chakra flaring.
But before any of them could act, a familiar, joyful bark shattered the oppressive atmosphere.
"Akamaru!" Hinata gasped, her voice breaking the spell of dread.
The colossal ninken broke through the night, a blur of white fur and wagging tail as it launched itself at her. Hinata didn't even flinch as the beast collided with her, sending them both to the ground in a playful heap. "You've gotten so big!" she exclaimed, laughing as Akamaru enthusiastically licked her face. His massive tail thumped against the ground, scattering sand everywhere as he whined in excitement.
The shift in the atmosphere was palpable, the group's collective tension melting into relief. Naruto let out a loud, exaggerated exhale, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. "Jeez, Akamaru, way to scare us half to death!" he muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips.
Gaara's sand settled back into the ground, the ripples fading into stillness. He regarded the scene quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he almost, just almost, allowed himself a small smile.
As the four figures emerged from the darkness, the tension in the air shifted once again. It wasn't the ominous kind of tension that had gripped them moments before, but rather the strange unease of an unexpected reunion.
Sasuke crossed his arms, his Sharingan eye dimming as he regarded the approaching group with his usual dry demeanor. "You're late," he noted, his voice carrying just enough edge to hint at his impatience.
The response came immediately, delivered in the same monotone voice that had always been Shino's trademark. "We're not late," he said, stepping into the faint light cast by the first hints of dawn. His voice was flat, yet somehow laced with just a touch of amusement. "Why is that? Because our mission has nothing to do with yours, therefore there is nothing to be late for."
Shino looked much the same as Hinata remembered, though his appearance had taken on a more refined and tactical edge. He had a hood now, draping over his head like a shroud, and the subtle Konoha insignia stitched into the fabric was the only visible sign of his allegiance. His movements were as calm and deliberate as ever, exuding the quiet confidence that had always defined him. If anything, he seemed more composed, more assured—the very embodiment of the Shino she had always known.
"Who cares about that, Shino!" Kiba's voice broke through the moment, boisterous and full of energy. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed Shino's arm, dragging his reluctant teammate forward with his characteristic lack of subtlety. His grin widened as he spotted Hinata, his brown eyes lighting up with unrestrained excitement. "Hinata's here! Squad Eight is back together!"
She had only just gotten Akamaru off of her as Kiba rushed forward, wrapping both her and Shino—along with a still-exuberant Akamaru—into a tight, slightly chaotic group hug. "Come on, this is the reunion we've been waiting for!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled by Akamaru's fur as the massive dog joined in, licking Hinata's face enthusiastically.
Kiba had changed some as well, although his transformation was slightly more drastic than Shino's. He had grown taller, broader, his red fang tattoos were darker now, their sharp edges more defined, and his canine grin seemed even more mischievous than before. Despite the changes, his spirit was the same—loud, energetic, and fiercely loyal.
Hinata laughed softly, her hands instinctively finding Akamaru's thick fur as she pet the massive ninken. "It's good to see you too, Shino, Kiba," she said warmly, her Nichiren Byakugan fading as her focus shifted entirely to her teammates. "And Akamaru… you've grown so much."
Akamaru whined in response, his tail wagging furiously as he licked her again. The once-small pup she remembered now towered over them all, his massive form exuding both strength and an unmistakable gentleness.
Naruto, watching the scene unfold, pointed an accusatory finger at Sasuke. "Wait, you knew they were coming!?" he demanded, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and surprise.
"You really should have figured it out yourself," another voice chimed in, dry and sardonic. Uzumaki Tayuya stepped forward, her striking red hair now cut short, framing her sharp features in a way that made her look even fiercer. She wore the standard attire of a Konoha Chūnin, the Uzumaki swirl prominent on the back of her vest, and her stance exuded the same fiery confidence that had defined her since her defection from Orochimaru's ranks.
Tayuya approached Naruto with a casual punch to the shoulder, the gesture playful yet firm. "I told you we were making our rounds between the four great villages. It was obvious we'd end up here eventually," she said, smirking as Naruto rubbed his arm with an exaggerated pout.
Hinata turned her attention to Tayuya, noting how much she had changed. Her once unruly demeanor seemed more focused now, her movements deliberate and controlled. Yet, there was still an edge to her—something untamed that hadn't been smoothed out entirely.
"Visiting the other great villages is no short trip. Your task must be of dire importance," Gaara remarked, his voice calm but curious. He had regained his stoic composure, though there was an undercurrent of respect in his tone as he regarded the group.
"That's correct," a new voice answered, and Hinata turned to see Hyūga Neji stepping forward. He moved with the grace and precision that had always marked him, though he now carried an air of authority that was unmistakable. His Konoha headband was gone, revealing the unmarked skin of his forehead—a symbol of his freedom from the Caged Bird Seal.
Neji's gaze softened slightly as it landed on Hinata, though his voice remained composed. "Hinata-sama," he said, bowing slightly. "It's been a long time."
Hinata's breath caught for a moment, her heart swelling with relief. She had feared the worst for him after learning about Kabuto's experiments, and seeing him now, unharmed and confident, was enough to bring tears to her eyes. "Neji-nii-san," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so glad you're safe."
Neji's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "You as well," he said simply, his words carrying a weight of approval that Hinata hadn't realized she had been longing to hear.
Kiba, as always, broke the somber mood. "All right, enough with the formalities!" he declared, throwing an arm around both Hinata and Neji. His sharp eyes scanned the empty desert, his expression quickly shifting from jovial to confused. "And what the hell happened here? I thought we were coming to Sunagakure!" He gestured broadly at the barren expanse, where the outlines of the village's ruins barely broke the horizon. "This doesn't look like a hidden village—it looks like a sandpit someone forgot to clean up!"
Neji sighed, his composure unshaken despite Kiba's antics. "Kiba, this is not the time," he said, his tone stern but not unkind. "We're still on a mission. Focus." He gently shrugged Kiba's arm off before stepping forward, although his sharp gaze couldn't also help but scan the barren landscape. "Before we can continue, I need to ask who is currently in charge of the village," he continued, his voice calm but direct. His eyes swept over the desert once again, his expression momentarily faltering as he added under his breath, "…or what's left of it."
Gaara took a slow breath, his golden eyes locking on Neji with quiet resolve. "It would seem I am the Godaime Kazekage," he said, the formality of the statement underscored by the subtle tilt of his head as he acknowledged his new position. The hat atop his head felt heavier than it should, a visible symbol of the trust and responsibility that had been placed upon him.
Neji's gaze lingered on the Kazekage hat, his pale eyes sharp and unyielding. He seemed to be weighing it, not just as an object but as an emblem of everything it represented—the strength, leadership, and sacrifice required to wear it. For a moment, it was as though Neji could see straight through Gaara, assessing the man who now bore the title of Kazekage.
He then inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his tone formal but steady. "So you are," he said. "In which case, I bring you this invitation from the Godaime Hokage, Uchiha Itachi." He reached into his robes and presented a sealed scroll, its edges marked with the insignias of all five great villages. The wax seal bore an intricate design that Gaara recognized immediately.
Taking the scroll, Gaara's brow furrowed as he examined it. The significance of the marks wasn't lost on him. An invitation bearing such emblems could mean only one thing. "He's calling a Gokage Summit?" Gaara asked, his voice carrying both surprise and a faint note of incredulity. The irony of being summoned to a meeting of leaders while his village lay in ruins was not lost on him.
Neji nodded, his expression remaining serious. "Indeed," he replied. "As you know, our world faces a threat unlike anything it has encountered before." He gestured subtly toward the barren wasteland that had once been Sunagakure. "The current state of your village alone is testament to the scale of the danger. Hokage-sama believes that only by uniting the great nations can we hope to confront this."
Gaara's gaze shifted momentarily, scanning the flat expanse of sand where his people shuffled amidst the wreckage. "I can understand the need for unity," he admitted, his voice low and deliberate. "But…" His hand gestured vaguely to the same ruined landscape. "There's little my people can offer right now. My priority should be leading them to safety, finding shelter, and rebuilding. Without that, we have no strength to contribute to an alliance."
Kankuro stepped forward, his tone carrying a weight that reflected his own growing conviction. "No, I think you should go," he said, his grip tightening momentarily on Hidan's head before relaxing. "It's true that we need to rebuild, but we also need to show the other nations that we're not out of the fight. You going to the summit, representing us, will project strength. That buys us time—time for me to start laying the groundwork here, convincing the others that you're the Kazekage we need."
Gaara's eyes softened slightly as he regarded his brother, the weight of his words cutting through the practical arguments. His family's belief in him was a kind of strength he hadn't anticipated.
Neji gave a respectful bow, his voice firm but not forceful. "I must also insist on your attendance," he said, rising to meet Gaara's gaze. "The other nations have agreed to participate, but trust is a rare commodity in these times. Amaterasu's influence is insidious, and we cannot be certain how deeply her doctrine has penetrated the other villages. We need allies at this summit—leaders we can count on to stand against her. Your presence would carry weight."
The mention of Amaterasu sharpened Gaara's focus. He looked down at the scroll once more, weighing the decision carefully. Kankuro's unwavering gaze and Neji's pointed reasoning left little room for doubt.
Finally, Gaara let out a quiet sigh, tucking the scroll into his robes with deliberate care. "Very well," he said. "I will attend." His voice carried the solemnity of a vow, the significance of his agreement settling over the group.
"Thank you," Neji said, his bow this time deeper, conveying the respect of one leader to another. "The summit is being held in the Land of Iron. My team and I will act as your escort."
Gaara's golden eyes widened slightly, betraying his surprise. "The Land of Iron? Already?" he asked, glancing between Neji and the rest of the Konoha team. "I didn't expect this to happen so soon… and with your team as my escort."
Neji straightened, his expression unwavering. "The situation demands urgency. Hokage-sama anticipated the possibility of Sunagakure's need for immediate representation and prepared us accordingly."
Gaara hesitated, turning briefly to look back at the faint outlines of his people, the survivors silhouetted by the first rays of dawn breaking over the horizon. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, the weight of his new responsibility settling further on his shoulders. "Very well," he said finally, nodding. "If this is what's required, then let's not delay."
"This is also the first I'm hearing of this." Sasuke's sharp tone cut through the conversation, his Rinnegan narrowing slightly as he turned his gaze toward Neji. The urgency in Neji's voice had caught him off guard, and it wasn't often that Sasuke was left out of a loop as important as this.
Neji met his gaze steadily, unruffled by Sasuke's displeasure. "Upon receiving the formal request for your mission, Hokage-sama sent us one of his crows," Neji explained, his voice calm and deliberate. He gestured toward the insignia on the scroll that Gaara now held. "Itachi-sama anticipated that the situation here might escalate. He left us detailed instructions to adjust our mission as necessary and ensure that the Kazekage would be able to attend the summit."
Sasuke's brow furrowed briefly as he absorbed the information. It wasn't unlike Itachi to prepare for contingencies in ways that bordered on premonition. Still, Sasuke couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation at being left out of such a crucial aspect of the plan. After a moment, he let out a low grunt, his typical sound of reluctant agreement.
The weight of Neji's explanation settled over the group just as the horizon began to shift. The first faint hints of dawn brushed against the endless desert, painting the barren sands with streaks of pale gold and lavender. The light caught on the remnants of the battle, illuminating the jagged debris scattered across the wasteland and casting long shadows over the solemn faces of the group.
It was a moment of transition—a quiet acknowledgment of what they had lost and what lay ahead. For all of them, the break of dawn was a stark reminder that the mission wasn't over. It was merely shifting toward its next, even more daunting phase.
Hinata and Tayuya stood slightly apart from the others, their conversation low but charged with emotion. The dawn felt like a mockery of their circumstances—a new day beginning over a wasteland where a village once thrived.
"Honestly, you should have killed him anyway," Tayuya said, her tone harsh but unwavering. She glared down at the bound and blindfolded Kabuto, her disgust evident. "He's Orochimaru's right-hand man, and that snake always knows how to slither out of any situation. I guarantee you this one is the same." Her fists clenched at her sides, the anger in her voice unmistakable. The thirst for revenge against Orochimaru, the man who had stolen her mother, burned brightly within her, unquenched by time or circumstance.
Hinata remained silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on Kabuto. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but resolute. "…I think it's for the best that Sasuke-kun stopped me." Her words were laced with an honesty that felt more like an admission to herself than to Tayuya.
Killing wasn't foreign to Hinata. Blood had been on her hands since she was a child. At three years old, she had killed a man who tried to kidnap her, an act that had inadvertently set off a chain of events leading to the death of her uncle. As a genin, she had fought and killed in the line of duty—Baki, Gaara's sensei, in a joint effort with Naruto, and later Kidomaru, whose life she ended with brutal efficiency using the Primary Lotus. These were necessary actions, ones she did not regret.
But this was different. The battle against Kabuto had been personal. If she had given in to her rage and struck him down, it would have been an act driven not by duty, but by vengeance. It would have changed her, she realized, in a way she wasn't ready to confront. Kabuto, incapacitated and blindfolded, no longer posed a threat. Others could ensure he paid for his crimes.
Kabuto stirred, his expression surprisingly serene despite the bindings and his blindness. "It doesn't matter in the end," he murmured, the first rays of sunlight catching the edge of his blindfold. Though he couldn't see, he tilted his face toward the light, basking in the faint warmth. "Thank you for at least allowing me to feel one last dawn, Hinata-kun. You really were… a kind girl, even up to the end."
For a fleeting moment, he seemed almost human—a man broken by his own ambitions, resigned to his fate. The air grew still, heavy with an unspoken finality. Kabuto's head lifted, his face calm, as if bracing himself for what was to come.
Then, without warning, black flames erupted across his body. The Amaterasu flames consumed him instantly, a silent scream etched into his face before even that was lost to the inferno. The searing heat warped the air around him, the fire's unnatural glow casting eerie shadows over the group.
"What the hell!?" Kiba shouted, instinctively leaping back as the rest of the group scrambled to put distance between themselves and the flames. The eternal fire of Amaterasu burned indiscriminately, its black tendrils licking hungrily at the ground. The very air around them crackled with the oppressive heat, and everyone knew that even the slightest misstep could spell their doom.
The flames held everyone's attention so completely that none of them noticed the tear in space-time until it was too late. A spiral of dark energy appeared behind Hinata and Tayuya, warping the air with an audible distortion. They jumped back instinctively to avoid the flames, only to find themselves falling into the swirling void.
"Hinata!" Naruto's cry echoed through the air, his wooden arm stretching toward her as Sasuke's Rinnegan flared to life. Both moved with desperate speed, but it wasn't enough. The portal snapped shut with an almost mocking finality, leaving the group stunned and reeling in its wake.
Hinata and Tayuya were gone, vanishing as if swallowed by the very fabric of reality. For a moment, the battlefield fell eerily silent, the only sound the distant, mournful howl of the desert wind. Shadows from the wreckage of Sunagakure stretched long and jagged, their shapes distorted by the uneven terrain and the faint glow of Kabuto's still-burning corpse.
"Find them!" Neji's voice shattered the fragile stillness, sharp and commanding. His Byakugan flared to life, veins bulging around his pale, unblinking eyes as he scanned the horizon. He pivoted sharply, his focus shifting from the ground to the air, desperate for any trace of where they might have gone. The usual calm and calculating demeanor that defined him was gone, replaced by a thinly veiled desperation. Each second that passed seemed to weigh on him like a leaden chain.
Kiba was already in motion, leaping onto Akamaru's back with practiced ease. "Let's go, buddy!" he shouted, his voice rough with urgency. The massive ninken let out a guttural growl before tearing across the dunes, claws digging into the shifting sand. His nose worked furiously, seeking any scent that might lead them to their missing comrades. The duo moved with a frantic energy, the trail of sand they left in their wake shimmering faintly in the dawn light.
Shino stood still for a moment, his hood pulled low over his face, before extending his arms outward. A low hum filled the air as his kikaichu swarmed from his body, their small, dark forms silhouetted against the golden sky. "Search the perimeter," he ordered quietly, though his tone carried an uncharacteristic edge. The insects scattered in all directions, a silent army scouring the desert for anything out of place. His calm exterior belied the turmoil beneath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he waited for any sign, any hint, of their location.
Naruto, however, stood rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space where the portal had been. His mouth was slightly open, his expression blank, as if his brain hadn't yet caught up with what had happened. The usual energy that defined him seemed to have drained away, leaving him momentarily frozen. His wooden arm hung limply at his side, his other hand twitching slightly as though reaching for something—anything—that wasn't there.
Sasuke's nonchalance was the starkest contrast of all. He knelt by Kabuto's smoldering corpse, meticulously unrolling a sealing scroll. His movements were deliberate, almost disinterested, as if he had already assessed the situation and deemed it unworthy of his concern. "There's no point," he said flatly, his Sharingan flickered briefly, scanning the black flames of Amaterasu as he prepared to seal them away. The faint glow of the flames reflected in his eyes, but his expression remained unreadable.
Neji spun toward Sasuke, his frustration boiling over. "You don't know that!" he snapped, his voice louder than intended. His hands balled into fists, his chest heaving slightly as he struggled to maintain control. The weight of his debt to Hinata pressed heavily on him, and the guilt of not saying anything to her before now gnawed at the edges of his composure. He had let himself believe, foolishly, that there would be time to reconcile, time to express his gratitude. And now she was gone.
Sasuke didn't even glance up. "Portals like that don't leave trails," he said, his tone annoyingly calm. "You're wasting your energy."
The words struck Neji like a blow, and for a moment, his Byakugan faltered. He bit back a retort, forcing himself to refocus on the horizon, but the knot of frustration and helplessness in his chest only tightened.
In the distance, the light of dawn crept higher, illuminating the wreckage of the once-proud village. The golden sands glimmered faintly, beautiful and unforgiving, a reminder of how little they had to go on. As the shadows began to shorten, the desperation in the air grew heavier, each passing second driving home the harsh reality: Hinata and Tayuya were gone, and their chances of finding them grew slimmer with every moment they spent arguing.
"Hahaha! That's hilarious!" A maniacal, deranged laughter broke the rising tension, jarring everyone's focus. Neji and Kiba both turned toward the sound, their eyes narrowing, while Kankuro sighed loudly, hoisting the source of the noise—a disembodied head—higher in his arms. Hidan's blood-red eyes gleamed with unholy glee as he sneered at the burning corpse that had once been Kabuto. "That's what you get for putting your faith in that bitch of a goddess!" he spat, his words dripping with venom. "Serves him right. What a joke!"
"Knock it off, already!" Kankuro snapped, his voice heavy with exhaustion as he reached for the cloth gag he'd tried—and failed—to keep in place earlier. "I've had just about enough of you, talking head or not." He shot Hidan a glare, but it lacked real heat, more the frustration of someone who had been dealing with this nonsense for far too long.
"Wait," Gaara said, raising a hand to stop his brother. Kankuro hesitated, his eyes flicking between Gaara and the animated head in his arms. Gaara stepped forward, his golden eyes locking onto Hidan's with an unnerving calm. The wind picked up around them, stirring the sand at his feet in subtle waves. "You came here with the enemy," Gaara began, his voice level but carrying a weight that seemed to settle heavily over the group. "In that case, you must have some idea where they took The White Lotus."
Hidan rolled his eyes—or at least shifted them as much as he could in his current state. "And why the hell should I tell you anything, huh?" he shot back, baring his teeth in defiance. He craned his head as far as possible to glare at Gaara from the corner of his eye. "You think I'm scared of your little sand tricks? Please. I serve Lord Jashin—not you, not your pathetic desert, and definitely not some pampered Hyūga brat!"
Gaara didn't flinch, his stoic demeanor unshaken by Hidan's taunts. Instead, the sand at his feet began to move with purpose, slithering closer to Kankuro and the severed head like a living thing. It spiraled upward in a menacing coil, stopping just short of engulfing Hidan. The pressure in the air seemed to double as Gaara's voice dropped to a chilling calm. "We have ways of encouraging you to talk," he said, his words soft but razor-sharp.
For all his bravado, Hidan's eyes flickered with the briefest hint of unease as the sand inched closer. Immortal or not, the idea of being buried alive in the endless desert, unable to do anything but scream into the void, wasn't exactly appealing. "Tch. You think that's gonna scare me, sandy?" he grumbled, though his voice lost some of its bite. "I've been through worse than this. You bury me, and I'll just be down there cursing your name until someone digs me out."
Kankuro adjusted his grip on Hidan with a muttered curse under his breath. "This guy's all talk," he said, exasperated, though his hands tightened around the head in a way that suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "You sure we even need him, Gaara? He's not exactly a fountain of information, and the constant mouth running is getting old."
Hidan snorted, a manic grin spreading across his face. "Oh, you need me, alright," he crowed, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "You guys are gonna take the fight to Obito and his shiny little cult, aren't you? Well, I know where they're holed up. But if you want my help, there's gotta be a deal."
Gaara's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but his posture remained relaxed. "And what exactly are you proposing?" he asked, his tone making it clear that his patience was finite.
Hidan grinned wider, his teeth flashing. "Simple. You let me tag along. Take me to where they're keeping my body—assuming that snake bastard Orochimaru hasn't melted it down yet. Help me get it back, and I'll tell you everything you need to know about where they've taken your precious White Lotus." His grin turned wicked. "After all, you're not gonna get very far without me."
The sand around Hidan tightened, brushing against his skin like a warning. Kankuro glanced nervously at Gaara, then down at the severed head in his hands. "He's probably bluffing," Kankuro muttered, though his tone lacked confidence. "But… if he does know something…"
Gaara studied Hidan for a long moment, the air between them thick with tension. Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, the sand retreated, falling to the ground in a gentle cascade. "We'll consider your terms," Gaara said at last. "But if you waste our time…"
"Yeah, yeah," Hidan interrupted, rolling his eyes. "You'll bury me in the sand, blah, blah. Just try not to take too long deciding, huh? I'm not exactly going anywhere." His laughter echoed in the desert air, grating and irreverent, as the first light of dawn stretched across the horizon.
Sasuke finished laying out a sealing scroll, his movements precise as he worked to contain the flickering black flames of Amaterasu. He didn't even glance up as he spoke, his tone as calm and detached as ever. "Even if you tell us, it's not going to matter unless it's close," he said flatly, addressing Hidan. "Neji and his team are escorting the Kazekage to the Land of Iron."
"What about us?" Naruto asked, jabbing a finger between himself and Sasuke, his expression conflicted. "We could go after them, couldn't we? Hinata and Tayuya—bringing them back is our responsibility." His voice carried a mix of urgency and frustration, his usual bravado dampened by the situation.
Sasuke finally looked up, his Rinnegan glowing faintly as he met Naruto's gaze with a sharp, pointed look. "Do you think Hinata is someone that needs us to go after her?" he asked, his tone cutting but not unkind. "She's capable. More than capable. And Tayuya isn't exactly helpless either." His words hung in the air, challenging Naruto to think it through. After a moment, Naruto shrugged, conceding the point.
Sasuke's focus shifted back to his scroll as if the conversation was already over. "We should stick with Neji's team for now," he continued, his voice calm but resolute. "If they're heading to the Land of Iron, that means my brother will be going there too. He thinks something big is happening, which means we should be there to act as support in case the worst happens."
"Hmmm…" Naruto crossed his arms, his face scrunching up in thought. He clearly wasn't satisfied with the answer, but much to everyone's surprise—especially Neji's—he didn't argue further. The Naruto of old would never have let something like this go. Instead, he looked toward the horizon, his brows furrowed as if trying to calculate the best course of action.
Neji, however, was far less composed. His Byakugan pulsed faintly as he rounded on Sasuke, his voice sharp with barely restrained anger. "Hinata-sama has been kidnapped by the enemy," he said, the words biting. "Do you even understand the gravity of that? The White Lotus—one of our strongest—is gone, taken. And you're standing there, sealing fire and talking about sticking with the team?"
Sasuke rolled up the scroll, taking his time as he ensured the seal was secure. Only then did he meet Neji's glare, his expression unreadable. "And what would you have us do?" he asked, his tone cold but even. "Run blindly into an unknown location? Split our forces and risk weakening everyone here? Use your head, Neji. They took her because they're desperate. Hinata's more than capable of handling herself. You should know that better than anyone."
Neji's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. "She may be strong, but that doesn't mean we leave her to fend for herself! She's our ally, our friend! Or do you not care about that?"
Sasuke didn't rise to the bait. He simply sighed, the barest hint of exasperation slipping through. "It's not about caring," he said. "It's about priorities. If we lose focus now, we'll lose everything."
Naruto stepped between them before Neji could retort, his voice steady but lacking its usual energy. "Enough, both of you," he said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. "Hinata is like… really crazy strong, y'know? And Tayuya is with her. If I had to trust anyone to get through something like this, it'd be those two. We'll get them back, but we need to be smart about it."
The tension in Neji's posture didn't ease, but he turned his head, his jaw tight as he forced himself to take a breath. Naruto glanced at Sasuke, his blue eyes searching his teammate's face for any sign of agreement.
"We should at least hear Hidan out," Naruto continued, his voice firm. "For all we know, where Hinata and Tayuya are now could be on the way to the Land of Iron. And if we get even a clue, it's better than sitting here arguing."
Sasuke gave the barest nod of agreement, though his face remained impassive. Neji exhaled through his nose, reluctantly following suit.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were y'all," Hidan cackled, his manic grin splitting his face as he took in the scene. "You're awfully confident in those girls. But hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they'll survive. Or maybe they'll end up just like Kabuto." He laughed again, the sound grating and cruel.
Naruto's fists clenched, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he glanced back at Neji and Sasuke. "Let's just hear him out. We'll figure it out from there."
The group fell into an uneasy silence, the tension palpable as they prepared to face whatever Hidan would say next. The first light of dawn began to stretch across the horizon, casting long shadows over the devastated landscape—a stark reminder of just how high the stakes truly were.
Hidan's crimson eyes darted between the group, his frustration mounting as he realized no one was taking his threats—or his value—seriously. "I didn't say I was just gonna tell ya for free!" he shouted, his voice dripping with indignation. Even as just a head, Hidan's pride burned bright, and he refused to give in without making them squirm a little. "I'm not some damn charity case!"
Yet his outburst met with no real reaction. Sasuke barely glanced up, his attention still on his scrolls. Neji, clearly done with Hidan's theatrics, had turned his focus back toward scanning the desert. Naruto, while clearly annoyed, seemed more curious than concerned. The most he got was a raised eyebrow from Kankuro, who was still holding him like an overgrown melon.
"Look, if you're gonna say it, just spit it out already, would you?" Kankuro sighed, his earlier irritation melting into something resembling pity. For all his bluster, Hidan had nothing. No power, no leverage, no respect. Just a severed head full of pride and venom. And for a moment, Kankuro wondered if that was worse than death itself.
Hidan bristled, grinding his teeth in frustration. He could feel the scales tipping against him. If he held out any longer, these damn Konohanin would just leave him behind to rot in the sand, his chance at revenge slipping away. For all his bravado, he knew he couldn't afford that. He was immortal, not invincible—and he'd learned the difference the hard way.
"Alright, alright," he growled, his voice laced with reluctant resignation. "I'll give it to you." He paused, savoring the fleeting moment of having their attention. Even Sasuke's gaze flicked toward him briefly, though his expression remained as stoic as ever. "But mark my words—this is the only freebie you're getting."
The severed head took a dramatic breath as if savoring the gravity of what he was about to say. His voice dropped, low and venomous, like the words themselves carried a curse. "If that spineless bastard Obito was going to take them anywhere, then it'd be the one place that matters. The place he enshrined his so-called goddess, the cradle of all this Jashin-damned madness."
Hidan's lips curled into a chilling grin, his eyes narrowing as he delivered his proclamation like an omen of doom.
"Akatsukigakure no Sato—The Village Hidden in the Dawn."
The words hung in the air like a curse, heavy and foreboding. The atmosphere around them seemed to shift, the very desert holding its breath. Even Naruto's ever-present optimism faltered, his brows knitting together as he tried to process the implications. Neji's jaw tightened, and Shino's beetles stirred uneasily around him. Kankuro, for all his experience with horrors, couldn't suppress a shiver.
"Akatsukigakure…" Naruto repeated, the unfamiliar name tasting bitter in his mouth. "What the hell is that?"
Hidan chuckled darkly, clearly reveling in their unease. "It's where your precious friends are headed. Or what's left of 'em, anyway. A village built for one purpose—to worship her." His voice dripped with mockery, his grin widening. "And trust me, you've got no idea what you're walking into. That place? It makes what happened here look like a training exercise."
The silence that followed was oppressive, the weight of Hidan's words settling heavily over the group. For a moment, even the wind seemed to stop, as if the desert itself recoiled at the name of the accursed village.
Chapter End
AN: Just a small translator note here, and I'm sure a pointless one as many are already aware, but Akatsuki（暁）means "Dawn" or "Daybreak" and so the village of Amegakure is no longer a village hidden in rain, but now one hidden in dawn thanks to Amaterasu, as such it is now Akatsukigakure. This was my way of paying tribute both to the organization and also tying it thematically to their new status.