Naruto: Rebuilding the Hidden Sand

In the span of a single month, excluding time spent resting and preparing, Arai led nearly ten raids against Amegakure outposts.

What began as cautious probing gradually turned into confident, controlled strikes.

And with each mission, Yuji grew.

To Arai, that growth was the most gratifying part.

The combat techniques and battlefield awareness he taught weren’t meant for theory. They were meant to be tested in blood and danger. A shinobi’s future wasn’t decided in isolation, it was forged in real battle.

For every raid, they chose routes far apart from one another, avoiding repetition and minimizing the risk of predictable patterns.

Still, frequency breeds suspicion.

As the incursions increased, Amegakure began to suspect that the Land of Wind was conducting a systematic harassment campaign along the border.

After a particularly tense withdrawal during the last mission, one that came closer to encirclement than Arai liked, he called an end to the rivalry between Sasori and Yuji.

Across the ten operations, both had won and lost in turns. In overall performance, it was a draw.

In sheer body count, Sasori had more kills. But what unsettled Arai wasn’t the numbers.

It was Yuji.

Especially that assassination technique, Blade Manipulation. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Its effect in actual combat was terrifying.

When Yuji explained that he had created it himself, inspired by puppeteer methods and Sasori’s chakra threads, Arai was left momentarily speechless.

An eight-year-old genin. Fresh from the Academy.

Creating an A-rank ninjutsu?

He immediately sent word back to Sunagakure, reporting the development to the Third Kazekage.

Every self-created ninjutsu strengthened the village. It was an asset. Of course, whether Yuji chose to contribute it formally would be his decision.

But from Arai’s observations, while the technique seemed simple in principle, it was far from easy to master.

Chakra consumption was moderate. Control difficulty was manageable.

But the precision required to manipulate blades at range...

That was another matter.

Puppeteers had an easier time adapting.

Sasori had attempted to replicate it using chakra threads. He could imitate the structure, but the power and lethality dropped significantly, closer to C-rank effectiveness.

The problem lay in feedback.

At extended distances, small blades lacked the tactile response of puppets. Control weakened. If chakra threads were used directly, stealth was compromised.

The true key was the wire’s material, and the blade’s size.

Without realizing it, three months had passed.

Yuji’s border patrol assignment came to an end. He would return to Sunagakure alongside Arai to submit the mission report.

These months had reshaped him. He was no longer just a talented medical-nin.

...

Amegakure.

Hanzo sat in a traditional tatami room, bare-chested, a sake cup in hand. Several women leaned against him.

From a minor village hidden in perpetual rain, Amegakure had risen largely because of him.

His prestige was absolute. Without Hanzo, there would be no Amegakure.

But he understood something clearly now.

The war was ending. He could not overcome Konoha, could not suppress Sunagakure.

Expansion had reached its limit.

He had gained what he sought.

He was now known as the Demigod of the Ninja World.

That was enough.

Yet as he listened to the intelligence report from the kneeling shinobi before him, his expression hardened.

A cold killing intent seeped into his gaze.

Compared to the great villages, Amegakure’s foundation was fragile.

He had trained soldiers, forged elites but they lacked depth.

No generals capable of carrying the burden.

If he did not act personally, mediocrity would prevail.

"Three people," Hanzo said quietly, voice heavy. "Nearly ten assaults on border outposts, and you let them leave alive."

"My lord," the shinobi stammered, bowing lower. "Among them is Arai, an Elite Jonin who serves the Third Kazekage as a Kage Guard. Another is Sasori, Chiyo’s grandson, a genius puppeteer..."

The Amegakure shinobi kneeling before the low table struggled to steady his voice.

Border clashes between Sunagakure and Amegakure were common. Skirmishes, probing attacks, nothing unusual.

But this was different.

Three people.

Just three.

In one month, they had crossed the border ten times.

Each time Amegakure detected them. Each time they withdrew quickly.

And each time, they left bodies behind.

It wasn’t that Amegakure had failed to notice them. It was that they failed to stop them.

By the time heightened vigilance took effect, the losses had already piled up.

They hadn’t managed to kill a single one of the intruders.

Such negligence naturally infuriated Hanzo. Now, his subordinate was attempting to soften the blow.

One of the enemy was an Elite Jonin.

They were difficult to handle.

The implication was obvious: the fault lay not with Amegakure’s incompetence, but with the enemy’s overwhelming strength.

Bang.

Hanzo formed a hand seal and vanished in a blur, Water Body Flicker.

In the next instant, he appeared behind the kneeling shinobi. His fist drove forward without hesitation.

The blow was devastating.

The man was hurled across the room, smashing through the wooden wall several meters away. Blood splattered across shattered beams.

It would have been better if the subordinate had said nothing about Sasori.

Mentioning Chiyo’s grandson only made matters worse. Hanzo and Chiyo had clashed repeatedly.

Amegakure’s setbacks against Sunagakure were, in large part, because of that old woman.

And now he was told she had a genius heir? The thought curdled his mood further.

The women in the room shrank back, trembling, not daring to breathe as Hanzo calmly shook the blood from his fist.

"Sasori..."

He stepped forward slowly.

His cold gaze settled on the intelligence report spread across the table.

It detailed the raids, casualty numbers, rough sketches of the intruders.

Hanzo knew Arai by name. As for Sasori, he had heard of him.

But the third child, who was he?

’Another genius?’

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

Geniuses.

Why did the great villages always produce them in abundance?

He let out a low, humorless laugh. He had seen many prodigies in this world.

Few survived, most died young.

If memory served, Chiyo’s own descendant had fallen to Konoha’s White Fang.

This Sasori... was already an orphan.

Rain tapped softly against the roof.

Amegakure would shift to a defensive posture soon. Expansion had reached its limit. There was no need to overextend further.

But Sunagakure and Konoha were still locked in tension.

Opportunities existed.

"Kuro," Hanzo said.

A shadow flickered into the room. Another shinobi knelt silently behind him.

"Pass this intelligence to Konoha," Hanzo ordered evenly. "Emphasize the two youths. Magnify their reputations. Make their talent seem exceptional."

He paused.

"As for us, state that we suffered heavy losses."

The kneeling shinobi hesitated slightly.

"This..."

"Do as I say."

"Yes."