Mufasa took a deep breath. "Everyone, lower your weapons." His gaze swept over the thousands of civilians blocking their path.
Three thousand lives. One wrong move, and the entire Land of River would see the Sand Ninja as butchers.
Sure, their power meant they didn't need to fear hatred or revenge. But hate was still hate. And hatred, left unchecked, always festered into something worse.
Mufasa wasn't here to conquer. He wasn't here to plunder.
The Sand Ninja had strength, but they had nothing to gain from ruling over the Land of River.
Their land produced little of value—certainly not enough to justify the cost of occupation.
Fishing and shrimp? Not worth it. No point in a battle that would only bring loss.
Mufasa exhaled and rose into the air, his chakra lifting him effortlessly.
The moment the villagers saw him hovering above, their eyes filled with awe. Some even fell to their knees, as if before a deity.
Mufasa's voice carried over the crowd. "People of the Land of River, we have no quarrel with you. We are here for your Daimyo, Momonosuke. This fight is not yours. Go home."
His words met silence. The villagers stood firm, fear in their eyes, but their resolve unshaken.
Gaara frowned, clenching his fist, Gaara looked at Mufasa, doesn't know what to do.
Mufasa sighed. "Being a ninja isn't just about fighting and killing. It's about understanding."
Gaara frowned. "So what? Are we just going to stand here and do nothing?"
"Kill them? Then what? Are you planning to slaughter every single person in this country?"
Mufasa's voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "You swing your blade today, and tomorrow their children will grow up seeking vengeance."
Gaara clenched his fists but said nothing.
"We pull back for now," Mufasa decided. "Set up camp. We need to understand what's really going on here."
That night, the Sand Ninja army retreated ten miles and established camp. Scouts were sent out, gathering intel on the strange resistance they faced.
Back in Kawasaki Town, in the Daimyo's mansion, a council of war was underway.
Ichinomaru, the military strategist, stood beside Kurozumi, the black-robed warlord. The air in the room was thick with tension, but when news arrived from the front line, Kurozumi burst into laughter.
"Master Yorushi, just as you predicted!" Kurozumi grinned. "Using the people as human shields actually stopped Mufasa."
A masked figure, dressed in the robes of a wandering monk, scoffed. "Hmph. The Kazekage pretends to be noble, but we'll use his self-righteousness against him."
Kurozumi nodded eagerly. "Exactly. They claim to be righteous, but they're here to invade our land. If they kill these civilians, their mask of virtue will shatter. If they don't, they'll be paralyzed. Either way, we win."
A rogue ninja, bearing a slashed Konoha headband, leaned forward. "Why waste time? Let me go out there and assassinate the Kazekage."
Kurozumi smirked. "Lord Hyuga Ryushi, your archery is unmatched, but let's wait until the White Dragon Plan is complete. If Mufasa still breathes after that, you'll have your chance."
Nashiri's fingers traced the hilt of his sword. "Fine. When the time comes, I'll show him the power of my Zanpakuto, Arashi no Namida."
Kurozumi turned back to the gathered officers, his grin widening. "Our plan is progressing smoothly. Soon, this battle will be ours."
...
In the Sand Ninja camp, Mufasa sat in the command tent, absorbing the latest reports.
"Yoruya, have we distributed supplies to the villagers?" he asked.
The people blocking their path had no food or water. He couldn't let them starve.
Yoruya folded his arms. "We placed supplies near them, but no one dares to take them."
Mufasa frowned. "So it's true. There are agitators among them."
Moments later, Anbu operatives Sai and Kaizan entered with fresh intel.
"My lord, we've identified the civilians. They're all from nearby villages," Sai reported. "They were forced to be here. The Land of River's army threatened to burn their homes if they refused."
Mufasa's expression darkened. "Of course. Momonosuke never inspired loyalty. He rules through fear."
Another voice chimed in. "It's worse than that."
A white-haired figure adjusted his glasses—Kabuto, the spy master. "My lord, there are ninjas hidden among the crowd, ensuring no one leaves. If anyone tries to flee, they'll be executed on the spot."
Mufasa's jaw tightened. "So they've made this a death trap. But what's their real goal?"
Kabuto's lenses glinted ominously. "They're stalling for time."
"For what?"
"They're building dams on the Wangdu and Moonlight Rivers. Once completed, they'll release the floodwaters. Thousands of ninjas are working on it as we speak. The moment our army advances, they'll unleash a flood to drown us all."
Mufasa stiffened. "A flood of that size... What about the nearby villages?"
Kabuto shook his head. "They don't care. Collateral damage."
Rage boiled in Mufasa's chest. The enemy had already sealed their fate.
"Fine. We'll deal with the flood later. First, we save these people."
Gaara cracked his knuckles. "How? Do we finally get to fight?"
Mufasa shook his head. "No. We save them."
He turned to Sasuke. "Fetch Kimimaro. We need his Stand."
A slow smirk spread across his face. "They think hiding ninjas among the civilians will stop me? They've underestimated me."
Boom.
The tank roared to life.
The people of the Land of River stood frozen, their eyes widening in horror as the Sand Ninja's monstrous war machines advanced. A formation of elite shinobi split into two groups, herding over three thousand civilians into the center.
"The Sand Ninja are going to slaughter us!"
"They're going to kill Hiro!"
"Run!"
Panic spread like wildfire. Civilians and the hidden ninjas among them shrieked as the Sand Ninja's massive tank pressed forward.
They thought there was no way the Sand Ninja would let them live.
It was inevitable.
But they were wrong.
From above, a squad of rocket-propelled shinobi soared through the air, cutting off any chance of retreat. They wielded long-range weapons, sweeping the area with bursts of wind and fire, sending dust billowing into the sky.
"No one is allowed to retreat!"
"Stand your ground!"
The booming voices of the Sand Ninja commanders rang out. Tanks rumbled on either side, rocket shinobi blocked the rear, and an entire army marched forward. The people had no choice but to huddle together, trembling like lambs before the slaughter.
Terror filled their eyes. Tears streamed down their faces. Desperate cries and shouts filled the air.
From the heart of the Sand Ninja ranks, Mufasa exhaled in frustration. "This is giving me a headache."
He turned to his right. "Yoruya, you're up."
Yoruya sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Fine."
With a simple hand sign, his massive puppet—a towering, mechanical monstrosity—lurched forward. The ground trembled beneath its heavy steps.
Boom. Boom.
The monstrous machine, shaped like a deadly scorpion, cast an enormous shadow over the cowering masses. The villagers looked up, and their last shred of hope withered.
It was too big.
Too powerful.
A single stomp could reduce them all to pulp.
Sobs turned to wails. Fear turned to despair.
Yoruya's voice, amplified through the machine's speakers, shattered the chaos.
"Silence!" His command was like thunder. "QUIET!"
The force of his voice alone made the crowd freeze.
Mufasa smirked. "Gotta say, that thing is useful."
Then, turning to his left, he spoke again. "Kimimaro, you're up."
Kimimaro stepped forward, bowing his head. "As you command."
The pale-skinned shinobi walked calmly toward the mass of terrified people. Every Sand Ninja around him halted, waiting in anticipation.
The villagers were confused.
What was one young man going to do against thousands?
Kimimaro stopped about a hundred meters from the crowd, then placed both palms on the ground.
"Dance of the Seedling Fern."
With a deep rumble, the earth split apart. A massive white tree of bone erupted from the ground, growing taller and thicker, stretching three meters high. Its twisted branches curled outward, forming an eerie skeletal bloom at the top.
The crowd gasped, staring at the porcelain-white structure in awe.
Then, the flower at the top began to open.
Layer by layer, bone petals unfurled, revealing a pale figure nestled within—a ghostly woman with pink-tinged skin.
She lay curled within the bone blossom, her body unnaturally perfect, her curves exaggerated like a sculptor's masterpiece.
Her eyes snapped open.
Pure black.
She smiled.
Then, without a sound, she crumbled into a cloud of pink dust.
The mist drifted downward, swirling into the gathered masses.
A soft floral scent filled the air.
It was intoxicating.
Before anyone could react, the mist seeped into their bodies. Their eyes flickered with confusion, their limbs growing sluggish.
Even the hidden enemy ninjas, still gripping their weapons, began to falter.
Kimimaro knelt before Mufasa. "It's done."
Mufasa nodded. "Good. Then let's begin."
Yoruya's scorpion puppet let out a mechanical screech.
"You insects dared to stand in our way? Unforgivable!" His voice boomed through the speakers.
The machine's massive foot lifted off the ground, poised to crush them.
"AHH!"
"HELP!"
"RUN!"
Desperation overtook the crowd. Some tried to push forward, others turned to flee.
Then, it happened.
One of the hidden enemy ninjas screamed.
"AAGHH! W-What's happening to me?!"
The people around him recoiled in horror.
His ribs had burst through his skin like jagged fangs. His leg bones ballooned unnaturally, warping his flesh. It was as if his very skeleton was trying to tear itself free.
Another scream.
Then another.
Panic erupted as more enemy ninjas suffered the same grotesque fate. Bones sprouted uncontrollably from their bodies, twisting, stretching, blooming like horrific flowers.
The civilians shrieked in terror.
"Monsters!"
"They're turning into monsters!"
"RUN!"
Boom!
A Sand Ninja tank fired a warning shot into the sky.
The explosion silenced the madness.
Yoruya's scorpion puppet loomed over them once more.
"If there are any more hidden ninjas among you, listen well!" his voice rang out. "You are poisoned."
Silence fell over the battlefield.
"That pink mist you inhaled? It only affects chakra users. The moment you mold chakra, your bones will twist and grow out of control."
A sinister pause.
"Stay still, and you might survive."
The villagers didn't dare breathe.
Kimimaro folded his arms, watching the chaos with cold indifference.
"My Stand—Bone Fragrant Konjac," he murmured. "Its pollen is harmless to civilians. But to shinobi… it converts chakra into calcium, triggering bone hyperplasia."
Mufasa's lips curled into a smirk. "So, they have two choices. Hold their chakra for twelve hours… or die."
Gaara cracked his knuckles. "Or we kill them first."
Mufasa chuckled. "That works too."
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Word count: 1760
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