Although this dream felt unbelievably real, Rasa did not doubt it at all.
At this moment, in a building somewhere in the Land of Fire, thousands of miles away—
"Ah! Hoo!"
A woman with long, light-blonde hair and a blue-violet diamond mark on her forehead, who looked to be in her twenties, suddenly sat up in bed.
As soon as she rose, she quickly covered her chest with both hands, as if on guard against an intruder.
Her bright brown eyes scanned the room sharply.
"Tsunade-sama, what's wrong?"
The door suddenly opened, and a quiet teenage girl walked in nervously.
After glancing around and finding nothing unusual, she asked with concern.
"Shizune, I'm fine. I just had… a bad dream."
Tsunade waved her hand, signaling Shizune to leave.
Once the girl stepped out, Tsunade immediately checked every window barefoot, her pale feet padding across the floor.
Finding nothing out of place, she returned to bed and pulled the quilt over herself.
The figure beneath the blanket shifted, as if checking something.
After a while, Tsunade suddenly threw the quilt aside, relief softening her expression.
"It really was just a dream—not an illusion. My protective layer is intact, there are no marks on my body. I checked the windows—none of them were opened from outside."
"But that dream felt too real. Why can I still recall the pain of that filthy stick being forced into me, as if my body were being torn apart?"
"And Rasa? I have no memory of that name. Why did it suddenly appear in my dream?"
"And why would I call him my son? I've never acknowledged anyone as such!"
Tsunade's mind replayed the dream that had left her so shaken. The more she remembered, the clearer the details became.
As the foremost medical ninja, she knew this was completely abnormal.
Normally, dreams faded upon waking, leaving only fragments. Even if especially vivid, only vague impressions remained.
But to recall everything so clearly, as if it had truly happened—that was unnatural.
As she thought of the man in her dream, who called himself her son and toyed with her, Tsunade's body trembled.
Her hands instinctively covered her chest again.
But her full bosom was too large for her slender hands to conceal.
At the same time, her thighs pressed together tightly. She wanted to cry.
She never imagined that the most precious thing she had guarded for forty years could be so cruelly violated by a stranger—even in a dream.
Though only a dream, fear and anger still gripped her heart.
Tsunade sat curled on the bed for several minutes before slowly calming down.
The dream was far too strange. She found no trace of genjutsu affecting her mind, nor signs of anyone intruding into her home. But unease gnawed at her.
Having survived countless battles, Tsunade knew—coincidences did not exist.
Even without proof, she could not believe such a dream was "just a dream."
It might be a warning of what was to come.
After a pause, Tsunade suddenly raised her head and shouted:
"Shizune! Help me check if there's a ninja named Rasa in the ninja world!"
Shizune, waiting quietly outside, froze. Her heart clenched—just as she feared, this wasn't an ordinary nightmare.
"Yes, master!"
—
Meanwhile, at the gate of a house in the Sand Village—
Jonin Aoki looked at the crowd gathered around him with a smile.
He waved at the civilians peeking from nearby homes.
"What are you all doing, gathering here so early? People might think something big is happening."
A middle-aged man with a Jonin forehead protector rubbed his hands together, flattering:
"Lord Aoki is famous throughout the ninja world. Once we heard you'd be sparring with Jonin Rasa today, we couldn't miss it."
Though clumsy, the compliment was considered good among Sand ninja, most of whom lacked refined speech.
Aoki's rough features softened into a broader smile.
These men weren't prodigies—most had crawled their way from Chunin to Special Jonin through sheer persistence, their strength mediocre.
But due to the instability under the previous three Kazekage, Aoki hadn't cultivated many direct subordinates.
For now, these men were all he had.
Stroking his neatly groomed beard, he glanced at them and nodded.
"You're good men. Don't worry, I won't treat you unfairly."
With that promise, he strode forward, and the crowd parted for him.
Inside his home, after Rasa washed up and prepared his things, he opened the door—only to be stunned.
Several women stood waiting outside, each radiating beauty in her own way.
"Rasa, you're finally awake," Pakura said, her eyes lighting up. "I was about to climb through the window if you didn't come out."
Her words made Rasa twitch nervously. If someone really climbed in while he was sleeping, he'd be startled to death.
"Master Rasa, did you rest well last night?"
The clear voice came from Yasha Rei. Rasa turned to her and smiled.
"Don't worry, I slept very well."
Yasha Rei fell silent, but the tall, gentle woman beside her spoke, her face warm and tender.
"Really? That's good. Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
Rasa looked at the woman who had spoken. She seemed familiar.
After thinking for a moment, he remembered—it was Karura.
It must have been the 200 favorability points that drew her here.
Though they had hardly interacted before, Karura had come to him personally.
Her affection might be high, but Rasa wasn't very familiar with her. He smiled and answered honestly:
"No, I planned to eat after the sparring match."
Hearing this, Karura's gentle smile vanished. She frowned, quickly stepping closer and handing him the basket she carried.
Her tone was soft, but unyielding:
"That won't do. Skipping breakfast is unhealthy. I made this myself—please, try it."
Pakura crossed her arms, emphasizing her curves, and added coolly:
"That's right, Rasa. If you don't eat, how will you have the energy to spar with me?"
"My lord, shall I feed you myself?" Karura offered.
Rasa looked around. Surrounded by women pressing him from all sides, he could only nod helplessly.
"Great! Sister, bring the lunch box—I'll feed Master Rasa."
"No, I can eat on my own."
"Oh? Rasa, even with a beauty like Karura offering to feed you, you're still not satisfied? Do you want me to do it instead?" Pakura teased.
Rasa noticed that ever since Pakura's favorability had passed fifty, she'd become far more casual around him.
Yesterday she had spoken so gently.
But this closeness was good too—like friends who trusted each other completely.
"Well… alright, Karura. Please feed me."
"Master Rasa, there's no need to be so polite. It's my honor."
—
Half an hour later, outside the main gate of Sand Village—
Aoki frowned, glancing at the gate. The one he was waiting for had yet to arrive.
Rasa had agreed on this time, yet more than half an hour had passed. Was he trying to act superior?
Just as Aoki grumbled inwardly, he sensed something and looked toward the entrance.
There came a black-haired young man in his twenties, walking steadily at the front, surrounded by several beautiful women.
Aoki froze. Rasa was usually reserved, barely leaving home. Since when did he know so many kunoichi of such caliber?
But the thought quickly faded.
"Strange… even if he rarely goes out, it's not odd he'd know them. Am I getting old, doubting over nothing?"
Rasa approached, glanced at the dozen or so opportunistic ninjas gathered, then extended his hand.
"Sorry, I'm late."
No matter his earlier complaints, Aoki quickly clasped Rasa's hand with a broad smile.
"No problem. By the way, where shall we hold the match?"
Rasa pointed into the distance.
"About forty kilometers from the village entrance, there's a solid sand dune. Far enough that even if things get rough, the village won't be affected."
...
...
[Image] Karura / Rasa