War Begins

Feathers.

White feathers drifted down from the sky. Not one, but thousands, tens of thousands, like snow. The spectators in the stands looked up. Some reached out to catch them. The feathers landed in their palms and turned into wisps of white smoke. Then their eyes closed.

One. Ten. A hundred. Row by row, the people in the stands toppled over like wheat blown down by the wind. Children leaned against adults, adults against railings. All of them fell asleep.

Nirvana Temple Technique.

Ringo's Sound Wave Fragments vibrated—not to attack, but to defend. The sound waves formed a thin membrane over his eardrums, filtering out the genjutsu's frequency. He turned to Sasuke. Sasuke's Sharingan was fading, his pupils beginning to lose focus. Ringo pressed his left hand onto Sasuke's shoulder, transmitting the sound waves and jolting Sasuke's auditory nerves awake. Sasuke shuddered. Not from cold—the moment the genjutsu withdrew from his mind, his brain lost heat.

Sasuke's eyes snapped open, and his Sharingan lit up again.

"Genjutsu." Ringo withdrew his hand.

Only a few people remained standing in the stands. Kakashi, Might Guy, Asuma, Kurenai—the jonin had each used their own methods to resist the genjutsu. Some bit through their tongues, some used chakra to rupture their own eardrums, and some stabbed their thighs with kunai. Hinata stood before the railing in the front row, her Byakugan active, still awake. She looked in Ringo's direction. Ringo did not look at her, but within the card slot's scanning range, her chakra remained stable—not because she had avoided the genjutsu, but because she had countered it with her Byakugan. She had learned. From the preliminaries until now, she had been training her Byakugan. Not for the exam, but for this moment. She had done it.

"Sasuke—go find Naruto." Ringo's voice was low, low enough that only Sasuke could hear. "Gaara isn't a contestant anymore. He's a weapon. The Sand Ninja are going to release Shukaku here. Go find Naruto. The two of you together—not alone. Naruto can't beat Shukaku by himself. With you, and with the Boss Toad, there might be a chance."

"What about you?"

"I'm going after them. Temari and Kankuro are carrying Gaara into the forest. They're not running away—they're taking Gaara somewhere he won't hurt the Sand Ninja, then fully releasing Shukaku. Once Shukaku comes out, Konoha's outer barrier will break, and the Sand Ninja forces will charge through the gap."

Sasuke looked at Ringo. He was not hesitating—he was confirming. Confirming that Ringo was not forcing himself.

"Your steam—"

"It's enough. Jiraiya's stabilization pouch is still here. Sound waves and steam can coexist. Temari's fan is cracked, and Kankuro's puppets are vulnerable to ultrasound. It's not that I can't beat them—it's that I can catch them."

Sasuke nodded and turned toward the stands. He leaped over the railing, stepping over sleeping people, every footfall landing on chair backs. It was not that he wasn't afraid of stepping on someone—the chair backs were simply faster. He vaulted to the top tier of the stands and vanished into the shadows of the audience.

Ringo rushed into the forest.

The shadows of trees flew backward behind him. He leaped over roots and stepped across moss, every step landing on the softest patch of ground. Not because he feared making noise, but because he feared slipping. Steam burst from beneath his feet, not for propulsion, but for cushioning. Each time he landed, steam formed an air cushion under his soles, allowing him to jump farther. Branches swept across his face, not scratching him, merely brushing past. A thin film of steam covered his skin; every branch that touched it bounced away.

The card slot vibrated, its scanning range opened to the maximum. Three hundred meters ahead were three chakra signatures: Temari (Wind Release, damaged), Kankuro (Puppet Technique, intact), Gaara (Shukaku, orange, expanding). Their speed was slowing—not because they were waiting for him, but because Gaara's sand was too heavy. Every time it expanded, the sand doubled in weight.

Orange Fragment, Shukaku overflow, auto-collected ×4. Total ×4.

The words that appeared in the system were red, not their usual gold. The system was warning him. Not because there were too few fragments, but because there were too many. Shukaku's chakra was spilling outward. With every heartbeat, another wave was forced out. The system had no time to categorize them and could only mark them all orange. Ringo's card slot interface flickered, not updating, but overloading. For the first time, the system built up over thirty chapters could not handle the volume of incoming data.

Ringo burst through the last thicket and stopped atop a fallen trunk. Moss covered the trunk. It felt soft beneath his feet, like wet cotton. The leaves of the thicket still trembled, stirred by the wind from his charge.

Kankuro and Temari were twenty meters ahead. Kankuro carried Crow on his back, the puppet's joints creaking—not because it was broken, but because there had been no time for maintenance. Temari's fan hung behind her. A crack ran along the edge of the Three-Star Fan, burned there by steam during the previous match. The two of them carried a cocoon wrapped in sand, a black cocoon whose surface writhed as the thing inside pressed outward.

"Put Gaara down," Ringo said.

Kankuro turned, hooking his fingers. Puppet strings shot from his fingertips. Crow's mouth opened, firing six poisoned needles. Ringo did not dodge. Sound waves exploded from his left hand, their frequency aimed at the puppet strings—ultrasound. The strings snapped taut in midair. The poisoned needles lost control and embedded themselves in tree trunks.

The rebounding chakra numbed Kankuro's fingers. He pulled Crow back to shield himself. Temari set the cocoon down and drew the Three-Star Fan. The fan opened. One star, and Sandstorm surged forth—but it moved half as fast as before. The fan was cracked, weakening its ability to guide Wind Release.

Golden steam rose from Ringo's right hand, glowing amid the tree shadows. Not white—golden. Jiraiya's stabilization pouch hung against his chest, and the senjutsu fragment inside radiated faint heat. The steam spread forward and collided with the Sandstorm. The Sandstorm was enveloped by steam, not blown away, but assimilated. Sand particles wrapped around steam, steam wrapped around sand, and the two forces canceled each other out, forming a mass of gray fog.

"Kankuro—take him and go." Temari's voice squeezed out through clenched teeth. It was not an order, but a plea. A plea for her brother to take Gaara away, a plea for Ringo not to pursue.

Kankuro hoisted the cocoon and ran deeper into the forest. Ringo did not chase. Not because he could not catch up, but because the thing inside the cocoon was about to emerge.

"Your fan is cracked," Ringo said.

Temari did not answer. She fully opened the Three-Star Fan and unleashed the black Sandstorm at full force—but the fan was cracked, throwing off the wind's direction. The Sandstorm struck a tree trunk instead of Ringo. She panted, bracing herself against the fan like a cane, not a weapon.

"Your fan is cracked," Ringo repeated, withdrawing his steam.

Temari looked at him without speaking. Ringo walked past her. He was not ignoring her—there was simply no time. Shukaku inside the cocoon was about to emerge, and Kankuro could not carry it far. As he passed Temari, steam burst beneath his feet, not to attack, but to accelerate.

Temari did not pursue. She sat on a tree root, looking at her cracked fan, then at Ringo's back as he disappeared into the forest.

Ringo's card slot vibrated again.

Orange Fragment, Shukaku overflow, auto-collected ×5. Total ×5.

This was not absorption—it was synthesis. If he combined Shukaku's fragments with steam, if he could tune the sound wave frequency to Shukaku's resonant frequency, if he could place three orange fragments into the synthesis slot at once—it would not grant him Shukaku's power. It would return Shukaku to Gaara's body. Not sealing, but choice. Letting Gaara choose for himself. Letting him have a choice for the first time.

When was the last time anyone had given him a choice? On the night Yashamaru died, no one had asked whether he wanted to become Shukaku's vessel. Not his father. Not the elders. They decided, and he endured.

Ringo clenched his fist. Steam burst beneath his feet, and he accelerated after them.

A mad idea began to take shape as he gave chase.