Outside the cave, Ringo's steam blocked the C2 Giant Dragon. Inside the cave, another battle had already begun.
Granny Chiyo stood in front of Sakura, her back bent, but her hands did not shake. They did not shake because she was not nervous; they did not shake because the person before her was something she had created with her own hands. Sasori emerged from the shadows—not walking, but gliding. What glided out was not a body, but a puppet. The puppet's shell peeled away, revealing the face within—not a face, but a mask. Behind the mask was not a person, but a core. The core lay in his chest—not a heart, but a regeneration core. A square block of iron engraved with "Sasori"—not a name, but a signature. A signature on a puppet—not art, but obsession. That obsession had turned himself into a puppet, not for eternity, but so he would never lose anyone again.
"Granny Chiyo, can these old bones of yours still move?"
Sasori's voice came from the puppet, not from its mouth, but from its core. The core vibrated in his chest—not with sound, but chakra. The chakra trembled through the air and became words. The words were not mockery, but confirmation. Confirmation that Chiyo was still alive, that she could still fight, that before she died, she could see him once more.
Chiyo did not answer. She pulled out two scrolls—not for sealing, but summoning. The Chikamatsu Collection of Ten Puppets. Ten puppets surged out from the scrolls, not humanoid figures, but weapons. Every one of them had been crafted by her own hands in her youth, and every one bore the name of a ninja who had died on the battlefield. Those names were not memorials, but curses. Curses that she had lived too long,