On the battlefield of the Second Great Ninja War, Hatake Sakumo's mind spun as he processed what he had just heard.
A puppet master couple?
His grip tightened around the White Light Chakra Sabre.
Yes, he remembered now. Back during the war, he had faced a duo of puppet masters from Sunagakure who had slaughtered numerous Konoha shinobi. They were skilled, dangerous, and had left a deep impression on him. In the end, it was only after he stepped in that they were finally taken down. Even so, they had managed to wound him—a rare feat.
And now, his past was returning to haunt him.
Hatake Sakumo's fingers brushed against an old scar on his arm. It was no ordinary wound. It had been inflicted in that very battle.
"Yeah... I remember now. There was a pair of puppeteers from Suna. I took them down, but not without a scratch."
Sakumo's eyes sharpened. "What does that have to do with this weird guy in front of me?"
Kurama, lounging off to the side, chuckled darkly. "Because this 'weird guy' is their son. And he's here for revenge."
Sasori's eyes widened. His breath hitched. He locked onto Kurama, a shiver running down his spine.
How? How did this man know?
Sasori's hands clenched into fists inside his puppet armor. His mind raced. He had always been careful. Precise. A ghost in the world, leaving only his puppets as his legacy. But in front of this man, he felt completely exposed, as if all his secrets had been laid bare.
"Damn it... has my information been leaked?" he thought bitterly.
Kurama simply smirked. "Well, now that everything's clear... you two can get on with it."
He took a step back, letting the tension settle in the air.
Hatake Sakumo exhaled, shaking his head. "So, you're here for revenge?"
A strange relief washed over him. If it was revenge, then this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. This was war. He had taken countless lives on the battlefield. If every relative, friend, or lover of the fallen came for vengeance, the line of would-be avengers would stretch from Konoha to the border of the Land of Wind.
That was the nature of war.
A war without death and sacrifice wasn't a war—it was a child's game.
Ridiculous. Truly ridiculous.
Sakumo couldn't help but laugh.
Sasori's voice cut through the air. "What's so funny?"
"You, Red Sand. You don't understand war. You act as if death on the battlefield is something unnatural." Sakumo's eyes narrowed. "If everyone clung to vengeance the way you do, the world would never know peace."
Peace? Sasori didn't care about peace.
The man in front of him had stolen his parents, his childhood, his future. He had never known a world without loss. This man—Hatake Sakumo—had shaped his life into what it was today. Red Sand Sasori wasn't here for philosophy. He wasn't here for some grand ideological debate.
He was here for blood.
"You talk too much, Konoha's White Fang. Your life ends here!"
Sakumo's lips curled into a smirk. "Alright, kid. Let's see what you've got."
Sasori wasted no time. From his back, a segmented, scorpion-like tail shot forward, aiming to impale Sakumo's chest.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Sakumo's blade flickered like a flash of white lightning. The tail clashed against his sabre with a metallic clang, each strike sending sparks into the air.
Every single weapon Sasori used was laced with poison. Just a single cut—one scratch—would be enough to end the battle.
Sakumo knew this.
He could not afford to be hit.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sasori's tail lashed again and again, each strike carrying lethal precision. But Sakumo was faster. He deflected every attack, his movements effortless, his blade dancing in the moonlight.
Sasori's frustration grew. "Tch. So this is the infamous White Fang."
He wasn't underestimating his opponent.
He knew Sakumo was powerful.
If a single strike didn't work, then he would attack in numbers.
Sasori's fingers twitched. From the mouth of his puppet armor, a barrage of poisoned senbon needles erupted, filling the air with a storm of death.
Sakumo's eyes gleamed.
This was getting interesting.
He leaped, twisting his body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the deadly barrage. The White Light Chakra Sabre spun in his grip, slicing through the rain of needles with pinpoint accuracy. Each needle that came near was deflected, falling harmlessly to the ground.
Kurama, watching from the sidelines, let out a whistle. "Damn, this is some top-tier entertainment."
Sakumo landed gracefully, his blade still humming with chakra. "Not bad, kid. But let me show you something."
He dashed forward.
"White Fang Style: Moonlit Fang!"
His blade slashed through the air, creating a blinding arc of white energy that cleaved toward Sasori.
Sasori's eyes widened. He barely had time to react. His fingers moved in a blur, controlling his puppet armor. The puppet's arm split open, revealing a hidden compartment that fired a storm of kunai with explosive tags.
BOOM!
A fiery explosion tore through the battlefield, shaking the earth beneath them.
For a moment, everything was obscured in smoke.
Then—a flicker of white.
Sakumo emerged from the smoke, completely unharmed.
Sasori barely had time to curse before Sakumo was already upon him.
"White Fang's Dance: Severing Fang!"
His blade slashed downward, cutting straight through Sasori's puppet armor.
Crack!
The armor split in half, revealing Sasori's true form.
Sakumo took a step back, eyes narrowing. Now that he could see Sasori's face clearly, there was no mistaking it. The resemblance was there.
This was the son of the puppet masters he had slain.
Sasori's fingers twitched. Even without his main armor, he wasn't done yet. His backup weapons activated—a barrage of poisoned kunai, detonating tags, and a thick purple mist of poison gas.
Sakumo's eyes narrowed.
This was bad.
He was fast, but he wasn't sure if he was fast enough to dodge everything at this range. Even the White Light Chakra Sabre had its limits.
The battlefield was silent for a moment.
Then—
A voice rang out.
"Well, well. Looks like things are heating up. Mind if I step in?"
Kurama's smirk widened as he watched the two warriors prepare for their final clash. This was getting good.
And he wasn't about to miss the climax.
Sasori's expression darkened. "Stay out of this."
Kurama shrugged. "I never said I was gonna interfere. Just enjoying the show."
Sakumo exhaled, his grip tightening on his blade. The poison mist thickened, the detonating kunai whistling through the air.
This was it.
The battle between Konoha's White Fang and the Red Sand Sasori was reaching its peak.
And only one would walk away alive.
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