The self-mutilation behavior of the Yellow Sand Army was almost comical to Momonosuke and his group.
Momonosuke burst into laughter, pointing mockingly. "Haha! Haha! You idiot!"
But his expression shifted instantly as he turned to Yorushi, eyes full of admiration. "Ah, Master Yorushi, you truly are amazing!"
"When the Sand Ninja are defeated, I will definitely reward you handsomely."
Kazuma, disguised Yorushi, crossed his arms and smirked. "My lord, just make sure you pay the remaining balance."
The Akatsuki, despite their villainous reputation, still valued credibility. They took jobs, got paid, and got things done. Of course, there were some exceptions—like Hidan, who had a tendency to take the money, make a single appearance, and then disappear.
As the battle raged on, a breach formed in the Yellow Sand Army's defenses. Like a wildfire spreading, the undead puppets poured through the opening in waves, resembling a horde of ravenous zombies.
The undead puppets climbed the towering Yellow Sand soldiers like ants swarming a tree. Those near the breach were overwhelmed, either collapsing under the weight or being crushed by the relentless attacks of the Undead Puppets.
The Undead Puppets, spherical and heavily armored, remained sturdy. But even their mighty Bodhisattva Gatlings and Cannons struggled under the sheer number of undead clinging to them like locusts.
One by one, the Bodhisattvas tried to swat them away with powerful palm strikes, sending undead flying in all directions. However, the damage was mutual—each strike chipped away at their own bodies. It was a trade-off: for every thousand enemies slain, they took a fraction of the damage themselves.
As the undead numbers increased, the Undead Puppets resorted to hammering their own comrades to shake off the infestation. The battle became a chaotic clash of survival, the Yellow Sand Army slowly being swallowed by the overwhelming tide of darkness. Like reefs sinking beneath a stormy sea, they disappeared under waves of black.
Meanwhile, the Sand Ninja, casually grilling meat and playing cards, turned their heads toward the battlefield. What was once a formidable Yellow Sand Legion was now reduced to a desperate struggle, with only the tallest Bodhisattva Cannons still putting up resistance.
Even their massive artillery was now covered in undead, gnawing away at their structure like termites.
One of the ninjas bit into his skewer, watching in disbelief as the last standing cannon warrior fell with a thunderous crash. Suddenly, his food lost all its flavor.
"Captain... can we handle this?" one of the shinobi muttered.
"No. Let the others fight," the squad leader replied, tightening his grip on his kunai. "I'll just fire off a few shots."
Gaara, standing nearby, cast a menacing glare. The squad fell silent, looking away as if they hadn't spoken at all.
Gaara sighed. "Tch. Another embarrassment."
Raising his hands, he spoke with a calm, eerie confidence.
"Empires can fall to lies. Life and death, reincarnation is endless. We live, they die."
His cryptic words caused the Sand Ninja to exchange awkward glances. They resumed eating and playing cards, pretending they didn't know their own captain.
Despite their reaction, Gaara's words carried power. The sun disc above him began to rotate, drawing in the deathly aura from the fallen. The ground trembled as the lifeless sand solidified, absorbing the essence of those who perished.
Boom!
The Yellow Sand Army rose again, but this time, they had evolved.
The spear soldiers now had four arms, their upper limbs wielding spears while the lower ones gripped twin long blades—perfect for slicing through enemies as they advanced in a phalanx-like formation.
The Yellow Sand's spears had grown even larger, capable of crushing entire legions in a single swing. Meanwhile, the Gatling Bodhisattvas had transformed their rotary guns into full-fledged Vulcan cannons, spewing firepower at an even deadlier rate. The Cannon Bodhisattvas now wielded a cannon in each hand, doubling their destructive potential.
Momonosuke and his group, who had just been celebrating the Yellow Sand Army's fall, were left speechless.
Momonosuke's face paled. "Ah... Master... are they immortal too?"
Kazuma and Obito exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn't normal sand-based ninjutsu.
Kazuma, trying to reassure himself as much as Momonosuke, spoke with forced confidence. "My lord, please rest assured. Ninjutsu relies on chakra. Even if Gaara is powerful, he doesn't have infinite chakra. The soil of the dead we prepared will outlast his reserves."
Momonosuke nodded, pretending to understand, while Kazuma and Obito watched the battle with growing concern. The cycle repeated—the undead puppets overwhelmed the Yellow Sand Army once again, pushing them back even farther than before.
But then something changed.
Kazuma furrowed his brow. Something was off.
He noticed that the number of undead puppets was dwindling—not just from being destroyed, but from something else entirely. Some weren't getting back up at all.
From atop the city walls, the once-unending horde of undead looked… incomplete. Gaps were appearing, small at first but becoming more noticeable. It was as if something was devouring them, consuming them from within.
Kazuma turned sharply to Obito. "Tobi, something's wrong. Why is the breath of death being consumed so quickly?"
The breath of death was supposed to sustain the undead. They had prepared enough graves to supply an endless army. By all logic, they should have had plenty left to spare.
Obito narrowed his eye, activating his Sharingan. He followed the energy's flow and pointed toward the sun disc hovering in the sky.
"That thing... there's something wrong with it."
Through his enhanced vision, he saw it clearly—the moment the sun disc shone, the breath of death was drawn toward it like a tide being pulled by the moon.
Obito's voice turned grim. "It's absorbing the breath of death."
Kazuma was stunned.
"That giant plate... it can do that?"
The Sun Disc wasn't originally designed with such a function.
Someone, probably some mad scientist with too much time on their hands, had tinkered with it. Now, it had fully adapted to the shinobi world.
Mufasa, lying lazily atop the Sun Disc, basked in its warmth. He smirked to himself. "Not bad. Pretty good, actually."
The contrasting temperatures were perfect. The warmth from above balanced the deathly chill being siphoned from below. It was like experiencing both summer and winter at the same time—a strange but incredibly comfortable feeling.
Mufasa lazily flipped over, switching his position to enjoy the refreshing coolness below while keeping the warmth above.
"Ah, this is the life..."
While Mufasa was relaxing, the Sand Ninja army was in awe. They had expected a grueling, drawn-out battle, but with the Sun Disc in play, Gaara alone was turning the tide. It was like watching a one-man army dominate the battlefield.
"A man with a Sun Disc is unstoppable," one of them muttered in admiration.
On the other side, the atmosphere around Momonosuke and his group was shifting.
At first, they were enjoying the chaotic spectacle—waves upon waves of undead puppets swarming the battlefield, relentless and overwhelming.
But then, something changed.
Gaara's Yellow Sand Legion wasn't just holding the line—it was getting stronger. The warriors weren't just surviving; they were evolving. What was once a typical Sand Army now had towering figures with six arms, each holding devastating artillery cannons. Their firepower had doubled, maybe even tripled.
On the other hand, the undead puppets were starting to thin out. Their bodies were shrinking, their numbers dwindling. The endless tide of the undead… was no longer endless. The battlefield, once completely overtaken, had noticeable gaps where the undead had failed to respawn.
Momonosuke was oblivious, but Kurozumi understood immediately. He turned to Kazuma, his voice urgent.
"Master Ryushi, what's happening?! The undead puppets are vanishing too fast!"
Kazuma followed Kurozumi's panicked gaze and pointed toward the Sun Disc.
"That golden plate… it's absorbing the Breath of Death. It's fueling Gaara's Yellow Sand Army while draining our forces."
Kurozumi froze. "What?! That's our trick! How is he using it against us?!"
Kazuma's expression hardened. "We destroy the Sun Disc. Without it, Gaara's forces won't be able to sustain themselves."
Kurozumi nodded quickly. "Then let's take it out!"
Kazuma rolled his eyes. "Oh, really? And how do you suggest we do that?"
Kurozumi blinked. "Uhh… smash it?"
Kazuma exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience running thin. "You do realize someone is lying on it, right?"
Only then did Ryushi remember Mufasa's presence.
"...Oh. Right. Kazekage's just chilling up there. Kinda disrespectful to everyone fighting down here, don't you think?"
Kazuma ignored the comment. "We can't destroy it directly. Mufasa has complete control over the metal. Our best bet is Ryushi. He might be able to take the shot."
Kurozumi wasted no time. "I'll bring him."
Ryushi arrived, his posture exuding arrogance.
Once just an average Chunin from the Hyuga branch, he had lived his life in obscurity, overshadowed by the main family. He had no special opportunities, no great destiny—just a dull, preordained future.
Until, one day, everything changed.
Mufasa, in his usual eccentric fashion, had thrown a few Zanpakuto into the ninja tool market—supposedly as 'surprise rewards' for lucky buyers. Most who wielded them either became vegetative or went insane. But Ryushi was one of the few who awakened true power.
He had always hated the Hyuga Clan for branding him with the Caged Bird seal. He had always believed that he was meant for more than being a mere servant of the main house.
When he connected with his Zanpakuto, he heard its name, and in that moment, he broke free. The oppressive mental chains of the Caged Bird shattered, his spiritual strength surging beyond its limits.
With his newfound power, he defected from Konoha, embracing the life of a rogue ninja. No longer a nameless side character—he would carve his own path.
Standing atop the tower, Ryushi activated his Byakugan, his gaze locking onto Mufasa, who was still lounging on the Sun Disc a kilometer away.
Kurozumi turned to him. "Master Ryushi, can you take the shot?"
Ryushi smirked. "My Shocking Rain never misses. With my Byakugan's vision, no one escapes."
With a dramatic flourish, he drew his Zanpakuto. As he spoke its name, the blade transformed into an asymmetrical bow—tall on one side, short on the other, with no visible bowstring.
He pulled back his fingers, and a string of pure chakra energy materialized. As he drew, a crimson arrow formed, glowing ominously.
"Shoot it down—Arashi no Namida!"
The arrow shot forward, a streak of red light hurtling toward the Sun Disc, aimed straight for Mufasa.
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Word count: 1744
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