This time, Chiyo didn't respond immediately.
Instead, silence took over, and a trace of sorrow crossed her wrinkled face.
She and Ebizō were living fossils of the ninja world—witnesses to its evolution over the decades.
Of course, they'd already considered the terrifying implications of the Third's disappearance.
They simply didn't want to admit it.
Sunagakure had long suffered from self-doubt, brought on by its harsh environment and limited resources. That doubt often manifested as arrogance.
The Third Kazekage had finally become a source of pride, someone that helped restore a shred of confidence to the village.
And now?
You're telling them that this very pillar of strength might've been murdered in or near the village—and no one even realized it until a whole day had passed?
That would turn Sunagakure into a global laughingstock.
Worse—it would be a crippling blow to morale. Both villagers and shinobi would be consumed by fear and insecurity.
It could even lead to widespread desertion.
Rasa's words had been brutal—but they were also undeniably grounded in reality.
The jōnin who had stood up to protest slowly looked at each other in silence.
Then, one by one, they sat back down—quietly, stiffly, their momentum deflated.
Chiyo still hadn't spoken, but the answer was clear to everyone in the room.
Sunagakure, located in a harsh desert and always short on resources, had never had an abundance of top-tier powerhouses.
Compared to the other Four Great Villages, its upper-level strength was always a step behind.
The so-called "strongest Kazekage" was only the strongest within Sunagakure.
Compared to other villages' Kage?
He was just average.
The atmosphere in the room grew unbearably heavy.
The things Rasa had said were thoughts that, to some degree, had already crossed the minds of most of the jōnin present.
But thinking was one thing. Emotionally, none of them were willing to admit such a possibility.
The first one to speak—the burly jōnin Aoki—finally couldn't bear the suffocating silence any longer and croaked out:
"E—even if that's true… we should still mobilize the entire village to find Lord Kazekage's body!
No matter how powerful the assassin was, it's impossible for them to leave without a single trace!"
Rasa glanced at Aoki.
From the memories he inherited as Rasa, he knew that Aoki was a classic example of a "muscle brain" type of character.
But it was precisely because of his physical prowess—combined with his refined puppet control—that his combat abilities were ranked among the top tier in Sunagakure.
You could tell just by looking at his face: despite being a puppeteer, he had no facial markings.
Only puppeteers recognized as true elite no longer needed face tattoos to prove their identity—their reputation spoke for itself.
Rasa shook his head slightly.
"Of course we can mobilize the village to search.
But even putting aside whether we'll find anything…"
"Just making such a large-scale public move—do you really think the other Hidden Villages won't notice?"
"It's been ten years since the end of the Second Great Ninja War.
All of you here are the backbone of our village. I'm sure you're well aware of how Sunagakure currently compares to the other Great Nations."
Hearing that, Aoki let out a long sigh.
His rugged face was filled with frustration—and a tinge of something more complex.
It didn't take long for the rest of the jōnin to understand what Rasa meant.
Sunagakure still hadn't recovered from the last war.
But the other major villages? They already had.
Especially Konohagakure and Kumogakure. Both had returned to full strength, even surpassing their pre-war peaks.
These men weren't children. They understood reality.
The moment the other villages sensed that something was off—something like a full-village mobilization—it wouldn't take long for them to piece together the truth:
The Kazekage had likely fallen.
And then?
They'd strike without hesitation.
It had nothing to do with morality. Nothing to do with past friendships or rivalries.
It was simply about opportunity.
And frankly, Sunagakure hadn't exactly been on good terms with the others to begin with.
Chiyo stayed silent for a long time. Her drooping face twitched ever so slightly, and her withered lips moved as she finally spoke—her voice no longer calm, but filled with sorrow and grim acceptance:
"In that case… Rasa, what do you suggest we do?"
Her question stunned the room.
All eyes turned to her, then quickly to each other.
They all knew what that question meant.
Yet… no one objected.
Instead, one by one, they all turned to look at Rasa again.
But this time, their eyes no longer held anger—but expectation.
Even Pakura looked up, her jade-red eyes brimming with anticipation as she stared at the calm, upright young man beside her.
Rasa's calm, logical words had shattered her previous image of him.
She'd always thought of him as the quiet type—someone who only trained in silence, rarely socializing.
And yet here he was: collected, visionary, unafraid to challenge the entire room of powerful jōnin.
It stirred something in Pakura's heart—a feeling she didn't recognize.
She realized, to her shock, that sitting beside Rasa made her heart beat faster.
She could feel her chest tightening, emotions rushing in like a storm.
That strange feeling bloomed rapidly in just a few short seconds—weak at first, then intense—nearly overwhelming her thoughts.
She didn't understand what was happening.
Having never been in love, never even had much free time for hobbies or fun, Pakura had no idea what this emotion was.
It was admiration. It was affection.
And it was growing fast.