Finals Begin, the Absent Hokage

Konoha Central Arena was packed with people.

The sun on finals day was harsher than usual. Nearly three thousand people crammed the stands, from genin to civilians, from delegations of various nations to retired old ninja. Everyone who could come had come. Flags of the Land of Fire stood at the four corners of the arena, snapping loudly in the wind.

Nawaki stood at the entrance to the competitors' tunnel, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

Kushina Uzumaki crouched beside him, hands braced on her knees, her head bobbing—she had gotten up too early and had not slept enough. Mikoto stood on the other side, arms folded as her gaze swept toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

"The main platform." Mikoto kept her voice low.

Nawaki opened one eye.

On the main platform, the Kazekage's seat was occupied by a Hidden Sand representative, while Hidden Cloud Village and Hidden Mist each took up a row. The largest chair in the middle—the Hokage's exclusive seat—was empty.

Danzō's seat beside it was empty as well.

The two advisors' chairs were also vacant.

Not a single member of Konoha's upper ranks had come.

Orochimaru stood at the center of the main platform. The White Snake Sage wore an examiner's vest and held a list in his hand, looking as though he were browsing a festival market.

Nawaki withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes again.

The corner of his mouth curled up.

They had come.

"Competitors, prepare to enter—" Orochimaru's voice spread across the entire arena through an amplification technique, carrying the delight of someone enjoying the spectacle. "As Lord Hokage is handling urgent official business, I, Orochimaru, will preside over these finals in full."

A buzz rose from the stands.

"The Hokage isn't coming?" "Danzō isn't here either?" "They say it's urgent official business—but what business could be more important than the finals?"

The Hidden Sand jonin in the delegation wearing a hood frowned and murmured something to the person beside him. The bald, muscular man from Hidden Cloud Village had only just recovered from his foot injury. He sat there without a word, tapping his knee twice.

Every nation had a keen nose for trouble. The Hokage and the advisory council collectively missing the finals—this was not urgent official business. Something had happened.

In the competitors' tunnel.

Kushina yawned, then suddenly woke up.

"Nawaki, why didn't the Third come?"

"He's busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Busy regretting things."

Kushina did not understand, but when she saw Nawaki's expression, she did not ask again.

Mikoto leaned closer, her voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. "He's made his move."

"Mm."

"Lady Tsunade has already left as planned?"

"She left an hour ago." Nawaki stretched, pulled his hands from his pockets, and flexed his fingers. "Her acting was pretty good."

Mikoto pressed her lips together.

According to the plan, Tsunade had accepted an "emergency dispatch from the Third" that morning and swaggered out of the village on a patrol mission. Danzō's spies would see Tsunade leave, then report it.

That was exactly what Danzō had been waiting for.

Only Kushina and Mikoto's shadow clones remained at the Senju Clan Compound, along with the Four Red Yang Formation—in Danzō's eyes, it was the perfect time to strike.

What Danzō did not know was that Tsunade had turned back ten minutes after leaving the village. She was now hidden in an underground warehouse beneath the eastern commercial district, ready to provide support at any moment.

And Sakumo Hatake had not left a five-hundred-meter radius around the Senju Clan Compound for the past three days.

"First match—Nawaki Senju versus Sasori of the Red Sand from Hidden Sand!"

Orochimaru's voice echoed through the arena.

The members of the Hidden Sand delegation in the stands sat up straight.

Nawaki stepped into the arena. The sunlight struck him head-on, and the gaze of three thousand people fell upon him.

A red-haired boy emerged from the opposite side. He was half a head shorter than Nawaki and carried a tightly wrapped, elongated bundle on his back.

Sasori of the Red Sand.

Hidden Sand boasted that it produced only one puppet genius of his caliber per generation. He had independently crafted a combat puppet at ten and fought nine opponents alone in Hidden Sand's ninja academy graduation exam at eleven. The Hidden Sand delegation had specifically nominated him for the finals to probe the true extent of Konoha's Wood Release.

Sasori's eyes were cold. Not with hostility, but with a researcher's detachment. He looked at living people the way he looked at puppet parts.

He set down the bundle on his back and tore away the wrappings.

Inside was a humanoid puppet. Its entire body was dark purple, and its joints were covered in tiny fluid vents.

A poisonous puppet.

"Nawaki Senju." Sasori spoke quietly and somewhat slowly. "Your Wood Release has been designated the highest-level threat by three nations."

Nawaki looked at him.

"So?"

"So I'm curious whether wood can stop poison."

Sasori flicked all ten fingers.

Chakra threads shot out, and the puppet launched into the air. Its joints rotated as dozens of fluid vents opened at once. A cloud of purple mist gushed from the puppet's body, covering one-third of the front half of the arena within three seconds.

Those seated in the front rows immediately covered their mouths and noses.

Poison mist. The signature art of Hidden Sand's puppet masters. Inhaling as little as 0.3 milligrams of this poison could paralyze all four limbs within six seconds.

Behind the poison mist, Sasori manipulated his puppet into a new formation. The purple fog grew denser and denser, nearly swallowing Nawaki from sight.

"Can't see him—" "A poison-mist puppet master is nearly unbeatable in an enclosed space!" "Nawaki Senju's movements have been sealed off—"

People in the stands began to grow tense.

Within the poison mist.

Nawaki glanced down at the ground beneath his feet.

He was waiting for a signal.

The chakra fluctuations from the clan compound were still steady. There was no anomaly in the Four Red Yang Formation.

They had not made their move yet.

Since they had not moved yet—

Nawaki turned his right palm downward and lightly slapped the ground.

No hand seals. No buildup. No shouted technique name.

The ground split apart.

Not in cracks—the stone slabs across the entire arena were thrust up and shattered from below as countless trees burst wildly from the rubble. One tree, ten trees, hundreds of trees. Some trunks were as thick as water barrels, while even the thinnest were as thick as arms. They grew to three meters tall within two seconds.

Wood Release: Deep Forest Emergence.

The branches and leaves of the canopies wove into a net overhead, scooping up the entire cloud of poison—then closing in and compressing it.

The wooden fibers absorbed the moisture and toxins in the mist like sponges. Within three seconds, the purple fog had completely vanished.

What about Sasori's puppet?

It had shattered.

Not from being struck apart. It had been crushed apart. Tree trunks closing in simultaneously from all directions squeezed the dark-purple puppet between them. Its joints, torso, and head—all were crushed into fragments by the force of the wood.

Seven of Sasori's chakra threads snapped.

The remaining three hung from his fingertips, connected to several mangled purple fragments.

The entire arena fell silent.

Silent for a full two seconds.

Sasori stood amid the grove, looking up at the three-meter-tall trunks before him. There was no fear on his face, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

He could hear the trees growing. Creak. Crack. Without end.

These trees were still growing.

A branch slithered toward him like a snake and gently pressed against his Adam's apple. Not tightly, but cold to the touch.

Sasori's fingers stopped.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"...I surrender."

The referee rushed into the arena at a speed that broke his personal record. "The winner—Nawaki Senju!"

Cheers erupted from the stands, but Nawaki did not hear them—

His Sage Body senses abruptly tightened.

Southeast. The Senju Clan Compound.

The chakra fluctuations of the Four Red Yang Formation violently trembled once. Then—they cut off.

Someone had forcibly shattered the barrier with external force.

Immediately afterward, dense chakra clashes erupted from that direction. Ten, twenty, more. There were also two warped chakra sources mixed with the aura of wood.

Test subjects.

More than one.

Nawaki raised his head.

In the direction of Hokage Rock, a dark-red signal flare rose into the sky.

Short—long—short.

Bai's signal.

Its meaning was simple: Root had launched a full-scale incursion. The battle had begun.

Nawaki lowered his gaze. The trees in the arena had yet to disappear, and the eyes of all three thousand spectators were still fixed on him.

He turned toward Orochimaru on the main platform.

Orochimaru leaned against the back of his chair, his chin resting on interlocked fingers. His golden vertical pupils met Nawaki's gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a subtle curve.

He had seen the signal flare.

He had done nothing.

Nawaki smiled. It was the kind of smile born from mutual understanding, one that needed no explanation.

"Teacher Orochimaru." His voice was not loud, but the amplification technique was still active, and the entire arena heard him.

Orochimaru tilted his head. "Hm?"

"This match is too boring." Nawaki slipped his hands back into his pockets and turned toward the competitors' tunnel. "I'm in a hurry. I'm going back to kill a few dogs."

The entire arena erupted.

The hooded jonin from the Hidden Sand delegation sprang to his feet. The muscular man from Hidden Cloud Village cursed under his breath. The three Hidden Mist representatives stopped writing at once and exchanged looks.

In the waiting area, Kushina and Mikoto had already moved.

There was no unnecessary conversation. Mikoto untied the strap securing the short blade at her waist, while Kushina clenched her fists, a trace of red chakra seeping through the gaps between her fingers.

The three figures vanished at the end of the tunnel.

On the main platform, Orochimaru did not stop them.

He reached for the list, turned to the second page, and circled Nawaki Senju's name with his pen.

Then he licked his lips.

"Interesting."

In a corner at the very top of the stands.

Minato Namikaze sat in the shadows, both hands braced on his knees. He had seen the signal flare. He had also seen Nawaki's back as he turned and left without hesitation.

Beside him, Jiraiya stood.

"Sensei." Minato's voice was very soft. "The Senju Clan Compound—"

"I know." For the first time, there was no smile on Jiraiya's face. "Stay here. Don't move."

The white-haired sage vanished into the wind.

Minato remained where he was, staring at the empty exit of the competitors' tunnel.

The way Nawaki left the arena was the same as the way he won his match—

He gave no one time to react.