The Outbreak of the Second Shinobi World War and Those Born in the Same Year

Time quietly passed amid the hazy cycle of an infant eating, sleeping, then eating again.

Shaye's consciousness flickered between wakefulness and delirium, though most of the time, he was wrapped in intense weakness and drowsiness. He could clearly feel that this premature body was like a battered little boat, struggling not to sink amid the storms of life. Every breath came with a faint rasp, and his hands and feet were often cold, requiring his father, Shaliu, to repeatedly wrap and rub them with warm cloth.

He spent most of his time lying in a crude cradle. Through the gap in the door curtain, he could see the yellow-brown world outside and hear the ever-present howl of wind and sand. Shaliu took good care of him. Though the man was still immersed in overwhelming grief, his eyes often hollow and his movements sluggish from exhaustion and sorrow, he had never neglected Shaye's feeding or care. Even with the soul of someone thirty years older, Shaye could still feel that silent, clumsy paternal love.

That day, Shaye remained awake for longer than usual. He was trying hard to control his tiny hand, attempting to grab a simple ornament dangling beside the cradle—a little toy Shaliu had carved from discarded puppet parts.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the village seemed to change.

An invisible tension spread through the air. In the distance came the faint sound of more urgent bells, along with dense, hurried footsteps unlike usual. Even the howling wind outside seemed unable to suppress the oppressive feeling of a storm about to break.

Shaliu was sitting at the table, wiping down what looked like a puppet arm component. It was odd work he had brought back from the logistics unit, earning him a meager subsidy without preventing him from caring for his child. His hands suddenly stopped. He tilted his head to listen, his brow deeply furrowed.

Then, a burst of hurried footsteps stopped outside the door.

"Shaliu! Is Captain Shaliu here?" a young, anxious voice called out.

Shaliu immediately rose and opened the door. Outside stood a teenage ninja wearing a Hidden Sand Village forehead protector, his face flushed from running and marked by barely concealed tension.

"What is it, Liang Ma?" Shaliu recognized him as the Genin who often delivered messages.

"Emergency mobilization order!" Liang Ma spoke at a rapid pace. "The situation in the Land of Rain has suddenly changed! That bastard Hanzō has declared war on the Lands of Fire, Wind, and Earth at the same time! The war has fully erupted! Lord Kazekage has ordered all available combat personnel to immediately enter the highest state of readiness. Some squads have already begun marching toward the Land of Rain border!"

Shaliu's heart sank. Though he had transferred to logistics, his instincts as a ninja remained. The Second Shinobi World War had begun long ago, but until now it had mostly consisted of localized clashes and probing attacks. Hanzō, the leader of the Rain Village, declaring war so forcefully undoubtedly meant the flames of war would escalate on every front and become even more brutal.

"I understand." Shaliu's voice was dry. "What about the logistics repair unit?"

"The elders have ordered every logistics division to operate at full capacity and ensure the supply of frontline puppets and materials! You may receive more specific orders soon!" Liang Ma finished quickly and gave a salute. "The message has been delivered. I need to go to the next house!"

The youth turned and sprinted away, leaving Shaliu standing at the doorway, staring wordlessly at the village outside, shrouded in windblown sand yet somehow filled with a grim, murderous air.

Shaye listened quietly from his cradle. Though he could not understand the specific ninja terminology, the urgency in Liang Ma's voice and his father's heavy reaction told him that something major had happened.

War... he sighed inwardly. As someone from a peaceful era, he had only an abstract understanding of that word. But in this world, especially in this desolate-looking ninja village, he hardly dared to imagine what war truly meant. With this frail body of his, he probably was not even qualified to serve as cannon fodder.

Over the following days, the atmosphere in the village grew increasingly tense. More and more ninja squads departed, while those who remained hurried about their business. Shaliu spent noticeably more time at the logistics unit. Every time he returned, he carried the smell of exhaustion and machine oil, while the crease between his brows deepened further.

Occasionally, wounded ninja were sent back to the village. Even from far away, their miserable appearances and suppressed groans could faintly be heard, casting an even darker shadow over the village.

From scattered conversations between Shaliu and Elder Chiyo, who occasionally came to visit, Shaye also pieced together fragments of information. He heard Shaliu mention a name in a grave voice tinged with fear—Konoha's White Fang. It seemed there was a terrifying ninja from Konoha named Hatake Sakumo, who, like a sharp blade, had repeatedly dealt devastating blows to Hidden Sand Village forces.

One day, Shaliu returned especially late. His face was frighteningly pale, and he even forgot to feed Shaye, merely sitting blankly in the darkness.

Then Elder Chiyo appeared at the doorway once more. Her expression was colder and more somber than Shaye had ever seen it.

"...The mission failed." Chiyo's voice held no inflection, yet it carried a deathly stillness. "They... encountered the White Fang."

Shaliu suddenly raised his head. His lips trembled, but no sound emerged.

"To give their comrades a chance to retreat, they... died in battle." Chiyo closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "They were heroes of the village."

Shaye understood. Among those who had died were likely people Shaliu knew or even respected. The cruelty of war had struck this already sorrow-filled household in the most direct way possible.

Later, Shaye pieced together a more complete account from the villagers' scattered, hate-filled discussions. In order to break the deadlock, the Third Kazekage had opened a new battlefield and dispatched the village's highly anticipated genius puppet-master couple—Sasori's parents—on a top-secret mission to launch a surprise attack on Konoha. However, at the border of the Land of Rivers, they encountered that demon-like Konoha's White Fang and ultimately both perished.

It was said that the surviving companion who had brought back the news was still drowning in immense guilt and fear.

Shaye also learned that the fallen couple had left behind a five-year-old son—Sasori. The future Sasori of the Red Sand, whose name would shake the shinobi world.

Sasori's parents... so this was when they died. Shaye lay in his cradle, gazing at the dim ceiling as a ripple stirred within him. He knew this storyline, but he had not expected so many things to happen in the very year of his birth. War, death, seeds of hatred... all of it had happened in the same year as him.

He did not yet know that in that same year, far away in Konoha, several names that would one day stir the world had also just been born: Might Guy, Obito Uchiha, Kakashi, Rin Nohara... as well as Mei Terumi and Zabuza Momochi of the Mist Village.

They had been born in the first year of war. From that moment onward, the gears of fate had slowly begun to turn, grinding toward a predetermined path filled with smoke, blood, and tears.

Compared to them, he, a premature infant of Hidden Sand Village, seemed like an insignificant grain of sand in a raging gale. Where would the future carry him?

A deeper sense of helplessness washed over Shaye, and along with his body's instinctive weakness, he fell into a heavy sleep once more.

Outside the window, the wind and sand of Hidden Sand Village in the Land of Wind continued as before, but they seemed to carry the rusty scent of blood.

Konoha Year 37: the Second Shinobi World War erupted.

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