Fukuyo left in frustration, his fists clenched at his sides.
Before stepping away, he cast one last venomous glare at Mufasa's convoy.
"Tch."
He scoffed, bitterness lacing his voice. "Without us, you'll fail."
Inside the command vehicle, Gaara furrowed his brow. "Sensei, do we really not need their help? Even if they're useless in battle, they could still be valuable for governing the region later."
Mufasa leaned back, studying Gaara before posing a question. "Do you know why the world keeps falling into chaos?"
Gaara thought for a moment. "Why?"
"The problem is simple," Mufasa said, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Everyone is tangled in the same cycle. One system leads into another, and the same mistakes repeat."
Gaara frowned. The teachings of the shinobi world hadn't prepared him to understand such a broad concept.
"You'll get it eventually," Mufasa assured him before shifting his focus to the map spread out before them.
They were only a day away from Kawasaki Town.
The final battle was near.
Mufasa traced a route with his finger. "We didn't come to the Land of River just to overthrow Momonosuke. We're here to rebuild. Roads, railways—this country needs infrastructure. We must integrate it into a larger economic system."
Gaara nodded slowly, absorbing the words.
"That's the only way to secure lasting peace," Mufasa continued. "Do you know why the great ninja wars keep happening?"
Gaara shook his head.
"Because those wars only left behind orphans, hatred, and scars. They never truly changed the world." Mufasa's voice was calm but firm. "We can't fight just for the sake of fighting. War isn't a game—it's a means to an end. And that end should be something greater than just killing enemies."
Gaara remained silent, contemplating the lesson.
Mufasa clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Prepare yourself. You'll get your chance to shine soon."
A smirk crossed Gaara's lips. "Don't worry, Sensei." His fingers twitched in anticipation. "I'm ready."
The Sand Ninja convoy rolled up to Kawasaki Town without resistance.
Kawasaki was fortified by water on three sides, leaving only the east gate as an entry point.
Naturally, that was where Mufasa and his forces arrived.
From atop the eastern wall, Momonosuke and his strategist, Kurozumi, peered through binoculars, their eyes locking onto Mufasa, who stood atop his command vehicle with his arms crossed.
Momonosuke's expression darkened. "That's… Kakashi?"
A beat passed before realization hit.
"No… That bastard played me!" His face contorted in rage. "He's the one who humiliated me!"
Momonosuke turned, grabbing Kurozumi by the shoulder. "Kill him. For my honor."
Kurozumi bowed. "Rest assured, my lord. We've laid the perfect trap. This time, Mufasa won't leave here alive."
Confidence oozed from Kurozumi's voice. Mufasa had only brought a couple thousand soldiers—madness, considering the numbers they faced. Even if he had some impressive jutsu, sheer numbers would exhaust him.
Momonosuke settled back into his silk-draped throne, pulling a courtesan onto his lap. "Feed me grapes."
The scene atop the city wall was bizarre. Not just Kurozumi, but a crowd of courtesans, performers, and commoners lined the ramparts, mingling with the warriors. Citizens of Kawasaki had been forced into the army's ranks.
Mufasa, watching through his scope, exhaled sharply.
"They're using civilians as shields."
Gaara clenched his fists. "Cowards."
Kurozumi smirked, watching from above. "Mufasa is too righteous. He won't launch an all-out attack if civilians are in the way."
Momonosuke laughed, kicking back lazily. "With the people in our front lines, we've neutralized his ranged attacks. Now he'll be forced into close combat."
Kurozumi folded his arms, nodding. "And that's where we win."
From behind the city gates, a shadowy figure stepped forward. His hands pressed against the ground.
"Summoning: Army of the Forsaken."
A deep rumbling echoed through the battlefield.
Graves from the outskirts of Kawasaki burst open, dirt spraying into the air as skeletal hands clawed their way to the surface.
The ground trembled as undead warriors rose in the thousands, their glowing red eyes piercing the air like embers in the night.
A deathly groan swept through the battlefield as they moved—thousands of them, an unending tide of reanimated corpses.
The city gates creaked open just enough for the first wave to march forward, their decayed limbs stiff but relentless.
Mufasa's eyes narrowed.
Gaara turned to him. "Let me handle this."
Mufasa held up a hand. "Not yet. Let's see what they do next."
The undead army lurched forward, step by step, their synchronized movements sending tremors through the earth.
A sea of darkness stretched to the horizon, swallowing the battlefield whole.
And at the heart of it, Mufasa's awaits.
...
Momonosuke, Kurozumi, and the others on the tower watched in delight as countless undead puppets rose and marched forward.
Their faces lit up with glee.
Momonosuke let out a triumphant laugh. "Ha! This is perfect! That bastard Mufasa is done for!"
Kurozumi grinned, his excitement barely contained. "My lord, this is a great day for us. We owe a debt to the Fire Daimyo for this victory."
Momonosuke scoffed. "Owe him? Please. Master Yorushi came at our invitation, not his."
Kurozumi muttered under his breath. 'You are beyond saving.'
His eyes glinted with silent ambition. Once this war is over, I'll report your incompetence to the Land of Fire. When they strip you of power, I'll personally see to your execution.
Oblivious to the betrayal brewing beside him, Momonosuke reclined comfortably as a servant fed him grapes. He was basking in his supposed victory, unaware that no matter how this battle ended, his fate was already sealed.
The undead puppets moved in a suffocating wave, their ranks packed so tightly that they seemed to stretch endlessly. The sheer number was enough to make anyone's skin crawl.
Mufasa, watching from the command vehicle, scowled. "Damn it."
His grip on the binoculars tightened. "Momonosuke, you really went and dug up all eighteen generations of your ancestors for this mess, huh?"
These undead weren't like Edo Tensei summons. They were nothing but mindless husks, programmed only to move, bite, and attack.
They had no intelligence, no jutsu—just sheer numbers. Individually, any shinobi could wipe out dozens without breaking a sweat.
But thousands? Tens of thousands?
Enough ants can bring down an elephant.
Behind him, Deidara popped out of his tank, a wild grin spreading across his face. "Boss! Let me handle this! I've been dying to blow something up!"
Mufasa smirked. "Go nuts."
Clay bombs didn't cost money, after all.
Deidara whooped, summoning a clay Garuda. It flapped its wings, lifting him high above the battlefield.
From a distance, Obito watched in shock. "What the—?!" His eye widened. "Didara defected?! I need to report this to Nagato."
Meanwhile, Deidara soared above the undead horde, gleefully tossing down explosive after explosive.
One minute in, he was laughing maniacally.
Five minutes in, his grin wavered.
Ten minutes in, his face was blank.
Fifteen minutes in, he sat in stunned silence, watching his bombs go off uselessly.
The undead fell, their bodies blasted apart—only to rise again seconds later.
Blow them up? They got back up.
Blow them up again? They still got back up.
It was like trying to empty an ocean with a bucket.
Defeated, Deidara returned, dropping into the tank with a deadpan expression.
Mufasa burst into laughter. "Wow, that was fast. Too short, man. Too short!"
Deidara grumbled, pulling his cloak over his head in frustration.
Meanwhile, the undead continued their slow, inevitable march. They were now only meters away from the convoy.
Momonosuke and Kurozumi watched with barely contained excitement.
"Mufasa is finished," Kurozumi whispered.
Mufasa, however, remained unfazed. He turned to Gaara, who was practically trembling with anticipation.
"Your turn."
Gaara nodded, his expression fierce. "Understood."
The cork on his gourd popped off, and a flood of sand poured out, lifting him into the air as he flew toward the advancing undead.
Kurozumi scoffed. "Gaara? What can he do?"
Gaara formed a hand seal. "Sand Release: Quicksand Waterfall!"
A tremendous wave of sand surged forward, fueled by Shukaku's chakra.
BOOM.
The battlefield shifted in an instant. The solid ground morphed into a sprawling desert, swallowing the undead in an endless sea of sand.
From above, Kurozumi laughed. "Pointless! Utterly pointless!"
Just as he predicted, the sand churned, and soon enough, the undead puppets clawed their way back to the surface. The sandstorm had buried them—but not destroyed them.
Black replaced yellow once again as the army resumed its advance.
Gaara, however, showed no concern.
He was just getting started.
Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a scroll, unrolling it in midair. Placing one hand at its center, he whispered, "Summoning Jutsu."
The air trembled.
A boom echoed across the battlefield.
The sand beneath Gaara's feet erupted, lifting a towering golden structure into the sky.
The Sun Disc.
Kurozumi, Obito, Momonosuke, and the rest of their forces stared in bewilderment.
"What… what the hell is that?!"
Mufasa grinned. "Now this is gonna be fun."
Gaara exhaled deeply, suppressing the embarrassment he felt as he recited the activation chant.
"Shurima, your emperor has returned!"
The Sun Disc pulsed, radiating an overwhelming golden light.
"The world is a desert, and I am its oasis."
The battlefield fell silent.
Then the light intensified.
The sun itself seemed to bow before the radiant energy pouring from the Sun Disc.
And the desert… began to change.