#53

Inside Sabakuto Town, Daimyo Hideman was restless.

He paced back and forth in the castle tower, his thoughts racing. The battle between his brother-in-law Heiru and the Sand Ninja had erupted into chaos.

Explosions had torn through the battlefield, sending flames and smoke billowing into the sky. Even the shockwaves had reached Sabakuto Town.

Yet, not a single mercenary had returned to report.

Hideman clenched his fists. He was growing more anxious by the minute.

"My lord, there is no need to worry," said Daichi, the old advisor who had served the daimyo for years. His voice was calm, collected. "Regardless of the outcome, this battle does not concern you."

Hideman stopped pacing. "Why do you say that?"

Daichi smiled knowingly. "Because neither side is truly important to you."

Hideman raised an eyebrow.

"Heiru may be your brother-in-law, but in the end, he is merely a tool for your financial gain,"

Daichi continued. "Sand Ninja Village, on the other hand, has always been a convenient weapon for assassinations. This battle is nothing more than a conflict between your tools.

Whether one wins or loses, your authority remains untouched. In fact, both sides will still need your judgment to settle the outcome."

Hideman mulled over the words and slowly nodded. The worry in his heart faded. "You make a good point. Yes, that makes sense."

A hint of arrogance crept into his expression.

"That being said, Heiru is still my wife's younger brother. If he loses, I will protect him. And if this Mufasa understands his place, I may even grant him the official title of Kazekage."

He turned his gaze toward a man sitting quietly in the corner of the room—a stern-faced ninja clad in dark robes.

"Nishiki."

The man looked up, his sharp eyes glinting under the dim candlelight. "Yes, my lord?"

"If Mufasa is defeated, I will appoint you as Kazekage."

Nishiki bowed his head slightly. "I am honored, Daimyo."

Opposite Nishiki, an old monk named Rushui spoke up, his voice steady.

"This course of action invites bloodshed. You must tread carefully."

Rushui was a respected priest from the Wind Temple, a man of wisdom and restraint.

Daichi waved dismissively. "Master Rushui, there is no need to worry. Shouldn't a ruler eliminate those who do not respect his authority?"

Rushui sighed. "Perhaps. But what of the Sand Ninja?"

Hideman scoffed. "They are nothing but a drain on the Land of Wind's resources, consuming our military budget with little to show for it. Nishiki, once you become Kazekage, you will bring order to that village."

Nishiki bowed again. "Yes, my lord."

Before the conversation could continue, a loud boom echoed through the castle.

Thunder rolled in the distance.

Hideman rushed to the window, his heart pounding. A dark cloud loomed over the city gates, crackling with lightning.

His brow furrowed. The sky was clear—why were storm clouds forming only above the gate?

Daichi, Rushui, and Nishiki joined him at the window.

"This… this is ninjutsu!" Rushui exclaimed.

Before they could process the situation, a guard stumbled into the chamber, panting heavily.

"My lord! Kazekage is leading an army to the city gates!"

Hideman's fan slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

Heiru's ten-thousand-strong army had been utterly crushed.

Moments ago, he had felt so secure, so powerful.

Now, fear gripped him.

"What do we do?" he stammered, looking at his advisors like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

Nishiki and Rushui exchanged glances.

"We meet Kazekage in battle," Nishiki declared.

Hideman gulped. "Y-Yes, yes! You go! Handle it!"

Daichi narrowed his eyes. "My lord, you must join them. The army needs your presence to boost morale. The enemy has already defeated ten thousand shinobi. If you cower now, your people will lose all faith in you."

Hideman swallowed hard. He had no choice.

With heavy steps, he followed Nishiki, Rushui, and Daichi to the city gates.

When they arrived, the guards were huddled inside, trembling.

The four of them stepped onto the gate tower, and that's when they saw him.

A lone figure hovered in the air, holding a strange, lightning-infused blade over a spinning metal disc.

Uchiha Sasuke.

His sword pointed directly at the city gate.

Nishiki narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

Sasuke barely glanced at him. "Sasuke. From Sunagakure"

The realization hit them like a ton of bricks. So the Kazekage was truly here.

They scanned the battlefield, searching for him.

Then they saw something utterly bizarre.

Roughly two miles from the city gate, a massive barbecue grill was set up. A whole cow was roasting on a spit, and a man stood there, casually turning it while small sparks of electricity cooked the meat.

Surrounding him, a group of Sand Ninjas stood patiently, plates in hand, waiting for their meal.

Nishiki's jaw clenched. "Where is Mufasa? How dare he refuse to face us?"

The man at the grill sighed, putting down his utensils. He turned slowly, a look of pure annoyance on his face.

"Ugh, who is making all this noise?"

He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "I hate being interrupted when I'm eating."

Mufasa and Hideman, Rushui, and the others locked eyes, standing at an impasse.

The aroma of the roasting beef filled the air, but the meal they had been anticipating was now an afterthought.

The tension was palpable, and the warriors of the first and second teams, who had been eagerly waiting for their share, now stood frozen, sensing the storm that was about to break.

Mufasa's glare darkened. His eyes burned with annoyance as he snapped, "Who's the fucker who called me?"

"...I do," came a deep, unwavering voice.

A figure stepped forward from the gathered warriors—his stance firm, his presence demanding attention.

The sand beneath his feet swirled slightly with his movement, an eerie effect that hinted at his power.

Mufasa studied the man.

He didn't recognize him.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Mufasa asked, unimpressed.

The man's expression twisted slightly, his jaw tightening. "You don't know who I am? Hmph, I am Nishiki of the Sand Village, old man—"

Before he could continue his boast, Mufasa casually lifted a hand, fingers snapping together in a silent command.

"Enough."

The air around them stilled. Nishiki, mid-sentence, found himself hesitating as if an invisible force had muted him.

Mufasa smirked. "I know exactly who you are, Nishiki. A puppet master. A so-called noble of the Sand Village.

A man who abandoned his home to live in luxury under the Daimyo's protection. You turned your back on your people for wealth and comfort."

Nishiki's face darkened, but Mufasa wasn't finished. He leaned forward slightly, his smirk growing. "As Kazekage, I command you to return to the village."

Nishiki blinked, taken aback. Was Mufasa serious? Didn't he understand how things worked? Before he could recover, another voice cut in.

A stout man stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. His belly jiggled slightly with the movement, but his eyes held a sharp glint.

"You're overstepping, Mufasa," he sneered. "Your so-called Kazekage title hasn't been ratified by Daimyo Hideman. Until he recognizes you, your orders are meaningless."

Mufasa tilted his head. "And you are?"

The man introduced himself. "Daichi. Advisor to Lord Hideman."

Mufasa glanced at the two remaining figures. "And you two?"

The older monk pressed his palms together. "I am Rushui, of the Wind Temple."

Hideman, still seated with an air of arrogance, scoffed. "And I, of course, am Daimyo Hideman, ruler of this land. Surely, you know who I am."

Daichi straightened, his voice rising. "You stand in the presence of the great Daimyo Hideman of the Land of Wind, and you do not kneel? Such disrespect!"

At Daichi's command, the surrounding guards stepped forward—samurai gripping their katanas, ninjas poised for action, and Ashigaru soldiers readying their spears and firearms.

The city's elite warriors had been summoned, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Mufasa merely rolled his shoulders, unfazed. "Good. Everyone important is here. That makes things easier."

He turned his gaze back to Nishiki. "As Kazekage, I give you one last order. Kill Daimyo Hideman."

The air grew deathly silent.

Daichi and Rushui stiffened. The sheer audacity of the command was staggering. Had he lost his mind? Did he even realize what he had just said?

Hideman's lips curled into a humorless smile, anger flashing in his eyes. "You truly are a reckless fool, aren't you?"

Nishiki, now trembling with rage, calmed himself and stared back at Mufasa's gaze, "Mufasa, for threatening the Daimyo's life you've committed treason. Please, don't move so that I can kill you."

With a flick of his wrist, he unraveled a scroll.

Boom!

A large puppet emerged in a burst of smoke, its wooden limbs snapping into position as chakra strings connected it to Nishiki's fingers.

A twisted grin spread across his face. "You're nothing before my puppetry! My skills are second only to Lady Chiyo's legendary ten-puppet technique! You should be honored to die by my hand."

Mufasa arched an eyebrow. "Puppetry? In front of me? You must be joking."

Nishiki, oblivious to Mufasa's amusement, assumed he had already won. "Hah, it's too late to be afraid now! You're finished!"

His fingers twitched, sending the puppet lunging toward Mufasa.

But before it could reach its target, a flash of lightning streaked through the air.

"Sasuke!" Mufasa called.

Sasuke was already moving. His eyes sharpened, tracking every motion of the incoming puppet.

He shifted his sword, Raiken, into his left hand. His right hand crackled with electricity.

"Chidori."

The familiar high-pitched chirping of a thousand birds filled the air as lightning surged into his palm.

Sasuke's Chidori coursed through his blade. The sword absorbed the energy, the entire edge glowing with lethal intensity.

The puppet's deadly fingers reached for him.

Sasuke exhaled sharply. "Fly—Thunderbird!"

He slashed.

A streak of blue lightning erupted from his sword, forming into the shape of a massive bird. The electric construct screeched as it launched forward.

Boom!

The puppet's limbs shattered midair, raining down as useless scraps of wood and metal. The chakra strings were severed cleanly, the cuts too smooth for Nishiki to even comprehend.

Nishiki's hands twitched. His mind reeled. His prized technique had been obliterated in an instant.

His lips parted, but no words came.

Sasuke's gaze turned ice cold. "Die."

He raised his blade again. The Thunderbird transformed into a long spear of pure lightning.

"Piercing Thunder!"

The spear shot forward.

Whoosh!

It tore through Nishiki's chest, pinning him against the stone tower behind him.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then, Nishiki's body slumped, lifeless, as the electricity crackled around his still form.

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Word count: 1775