As expected.
The moment Pakura finished her report, the atmosphere inside the command tent dropped to freezing temperatures.
Sitting at the head of the table, Ishikawa Tetsuiwa's expression darkened instantly. Veins bulged across his forehead as he slammed a massive fist onto the wooden table.
BANG!
The entire table shook violently.
"You incompetent fools!"
His furious roar echoed through the tent.
"You couldn't even eliminate a handful of Konoha brats, and to make matters worse, you left one of your teammates behind!"
His eyes locked onto Pakura like a predator staring down prey.
"Do you have any idea what that means?"
"Konoha possesses countless interrogation methods and memory-extraction techniques. If that captive talks, every detail of our operation could be exposed!"
The veins on his neck swelled as his voice rose even higher.
"Because of your failure, the entire surprise assault plan may have to be discarded and rebuilt from the ground up!"
"Can you bear responsibility for losses on that scale?"
Silence.
Pakura stood motionless.
She neither argued nor defended herself.
As proud as she was, even she understood that the mission had ended in failure.
No excuses could change that fact.
The tension inside the tent became suffocating.
Several advisors exchanged uneasy glances but remained silent.
Finally, one elderly Jonin advisor cleared his throat.
"Lord Ishikawa."
His calm voice cut through the atmosphere.
"This failure cannot be blamed entirely on Pakura."
The advisor looked toward the young kunoichi.
"According to her report, the enemy was likely connected to the Yellow Flash."
Several people visibly stiffened at those words.
"If the technique she witnessed was truly the Flying Thunder God Technique, then the mission's failure was practically inevitable."
He paused before continuing.
"In my opinion, this matter should be recorded as a strategic setback rather than personal incompetence. Pakura has contributed greatly to the village in the past. Allow her to compensate through future service."
The argument was reasonable.
Even several advisors nodded slightly.
Unfortunately, Ishikawa Tetsuiwa was still furious.
His expression remained ugly.
"The Yellow Flash?"
He snorted.
"Since when did Sunagakure become so frightened of a single Konoha ninja?"
His gaze swept across the room.
"Besides, Pakura never actually confirmed the man's identity."
"We only know there was a white-haired brat and a masked swordsman."
"Whether Minato Namikaze was truly involved remains speculation."
He slammed his palm against the table again.
"Using uncertainty as an excuse for failure is cowardice!"
The atmosphere immediately became tense once more.
Just as Ishikawa seemed ready to continue his verbal assault—
A quiet, aged voice suddenly emerged from the darkest corner of the tent.
"Wait."
The voice wasn't loud.
Yet the moment it sounded, everyone fell silent.
"...What exactly did you just say?"
The speaker slowly rose from her chair.
"A white-haired brat from Konoha?"
The tent became deathly still.
Ishikawa Tetsuiwa's anger vanished instantly.
The advisors lowered their heads.
Even Pakura straightened unconsciously.
All eyes turned toward the corner.
There, an elderly woman slowly stepped forward from the shadows.
She wore traditional Sunagakure robes.
Gray strands mixed with her dark hair.
The harsh desert winds and passing years had left visible marks across her face.
Yet despite her age, nobody dared underestimate her.
Because she was Chiyo.
The legendary Puppet Master.
The greatest poison expert in Sunagakure's history.
One of the village's highest authorities.
At this point in time, Chiyo was still far from the frail elder she would become years later.
She remained active.
Powerful.
Respected.
With the disappearance of the Third Kazekage, her influence within the village had reached extraordinary heights.
Some even privately referred to her as the acting Kazekage.
As for Sasori's recent disappearance?
The truth had not yet been revealed.
Nobody knew he had murdered the Third Kazekage.
Most people still viewed him as Sunagakure's greatest genius and the future Fourth Kazekage.
In their eyes, he was simply a rebellious young man who had temporarily run away.
If Chiyo personally brought him back tomorrow and declared everything a misunderstanding, few people would dare challenge her.
Because her prestige was simply that overwhelming.
Originally, she had only intended to sit quietly and observe the meeting.
Yet Pakura's report had caught her attention.
More specifically—
One particular detail.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Your name is Pakura, correct?"
"Yes, Elder Chiyo."
Pakura immediately bowed her head respectfully.
Chiyo studied her for several seconds before speaking.
"You mentioned that this white-haired Konoha ninja wielded a short sword."
Her voice became noticeably sharper.
"What kind of sword?"
"How long was it?"
"What style did he use?"
The rapid series of questions left Pakura slightly stunned.
What was so important about a sword?
Still, she answered honestly.
"The blade was approximately this length."
She demonstrated with her hands.
"It wasn't shaped like an ordinary sword."
"The style was also different."
Pakura frowned as she recalled the battle.
"His swordsmanship was extremely aggressive."
"Fast."
"Sharp."
"And..."
She hesitated.
The memory still made her uncomfortable.
"It felt as if he could predict everything I was going to do."
The room fell silent.
Pakura's expression became serious.
"No matter what move I made, it felt as though he already knew."
"Like all my actions were completely exposed before him."
As she spoke, Chiyo's expression gradually changed.
Her brows tightened.
Her eyes narrowed further.
And deep within them—
Something cold began to emerge.
Something dangerous.
Because the more she listened...
The more familiar the description sounded.
Too familiar.
Years ago, during the Second Great Ninja War—
Her son and daughter-in-law had died.
Killed by a single man.
A monster wielding a short blade.
A swordsman feared across entire battlefields.
A legend.
Sakumo Hatake.
Konoha's White Fang.
For years, Chiyo had carried that hatred.
For years, she had gathered intelligence.
Studied battle reports.
Analyzed sword styles.
Searched relentlessly for a chance to take revenge.
Even when rumors spread that Sakumo Hatake had died, Chiyo refused to believe them completely.
Part of the reason she had personally come to the front lines this time was to discover the truth.
And now...
A white-haired swordsman.
Using a short blade.
Possessing nearly identical combat characteristics.
The pieces began fitting together.
Chiyo's eyes sharpened dramatically.
"The sword design is nearly identical to the White Fang Blade."
"The combat style matches as well."
She muttered to herself.
Then another thought emerged.
The white-haired youth's name.
Yuu.
Or rather—
Ren.
Could he be...
Sakumo Hatake's son?
The possibility struck her like lightning.
But then she remembered another detail.
Pakura had also mentioned a second white-haired ninja.
One wearing a mask.
One who also used a short blade.
For a moment, Chiyo fell silent.
Then a dangerous smile slowly appeared.
"Amazing."
Her voice was almost a whisper.
"Amazing..."
"If my guess is correct..."
"The Hatake family actually sent two descendants to this battlefield."
The temperature inside the tent seemed to plummet.
Several advisors felt chills run down their spines.
Because the hatred in Chiyo's eyes was unmistakable.
For years she had desired revenge.
And now—
She believed fate had delivered Sakumo Hatake's bloodline directly into her hands.
The smile on her face vanished.
In its place remained only cold killing intent.
"Good."
"Very good."
Her voice trembled slightly.
Not with fear.
But excitement.
"I never expected to encounter his descendants here."
The hatred she had suppressed for years surged violently.
Like poison erupting from a sealed container.
Pakura finally understood.
Her eyes widened.
So that was it.
The swordsman she had encountered wasn't some unknown genius.
He was connected to the White Fang.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The overwhelming swordsmanship.
The terrifying combat instincts.
The feeling of being completely read during battle.
No wonder.
No wonder she had lost.
Across the room, Ishikawa Tetsuiwa inhaled sharply.
Even he couldn't remain calm.
He might dismiss the young Minato Namikaze.
But Sakumo Hatake?
That was different.
To Sunagakure, the White Fang was a nightmare.
A name whispered in fear.
A man who had slaughtered countless elite shinobi.
A living legend.
Simply hearing his name was enough to make veterans recall painful memories.
Ishikawa rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"In that case..."
His tone changed completely.
"Pakura's failure may have uncovered extremely valuable intelligence."
Several advisors nodded.
If they had proceeded with their original strategy without knowing about this hidden team...
Unexpected complications could have become disastrous.
Perhaps the mission's failure had prevented an even greater catastrophe.
Chiyo slowly closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the overflowing hatred had been forcibly suppressed.
But not extinguished.
Never extinguished.
"Minato Namikaze is dangerous."
Her voice was calm once more.
"But he is not yet equal to the White Fang."
"Still, he remains a significant threat."
She paused.
"And Jiraiya is currently stationed in Wildfire City as well."
The tent grew silent again.
Three major threats.
Minato.
Jiraiya.
And the suspected descendants of Sakumo Hatake.
Even Chiyo couldn't ignore such a combination.
A direct confrontation would be foolish.
Careful planning would be required.
For a brief moment, regret flashed across her face.
If Sasori were here...
If her grandson stood beside her...
Then together, they could construct the perfect trap.
A trap capable of killing the White Fang's descendants.
Perhaps even one of the legendary Sannin or the Yellow Flash as well.
What a pity.
The thought vanished as quickly as it came.
Chiyo turned her gaze toward Pakura once more.
This time, her eyes carried a different emotion.
Evaluation.
Expectation.
Opportunity.
Pakura noticed immediately.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Then Chiyo spoke.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Each word carrying tremendous weight.
"Pakura."
The young kunoichi straightened instinctively.
"Yes, Elder Chiyo."
The old woman stared directly into her eyes.
A faint smile appeared.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
"Tell me..."
"Do you wish to personally reclaim the honor you lost today?"
The entire tent fell silent.
Every advisor turned toward Pakura.
Everyone understood.
This wasn't merely a question.
It was an invitation.
A chance.
And perhaps—
The beginning of a far more dangerous mission.
Pakura's fists slowly clenched.
The humiliation of defeat flashed through her mind.
The white-haired swordsman.
The mysterious masked ninja.
The impossible battle.
The teammate she had failed to save.
Her eyes gradually hardened.
Outside the tent, desert winds howled through the night.
Inside, something far more dangerous was beginning to move.
And somewhere far away, completely unaware of the storm gathering around him—
Ren had just become the target of one of Sunagakure's most terrifying figures.
The game had changed.
And the next move belonged to Chiyo.
To be continued...
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