The Sand Guardian

Surrounded by endless dunes and scorched by burning winds, Suna was a merciless land. Its inhabitants, hardened by the rigors of the desert, were known for their toughness. Among them, two young academy students stood out from the crowd: Sasori, a prodigy among puppet masters, and Enma, a boy as enigmatic as he was brilliant.

Their talent was matched only by their coldness. They never showed their emotions—no anger, no joy, not even satisfaction. This icy composure intrigued and unsettled those around them. Yet behind their impenetrable façades, their days followed an unrelenting routine: exemplary performances at the academy, followed by intensive training under their respective mentors' watchful eyes.

Later That Day

The midday sun blazed against the stone walls of the academy. The students, lined up tightly, waited for the next exercise to begin. Their instructor, a stocky man with a gravelly voice, paced before them, his imposing presence enough to command order.

"Precision exercise today. Every kunai must hit the center of the target. Those who fail will repeat the drill until they succeed. Understood?" His voice cracked like a whip.

The students nodded nervously. A boy stepped forward and threw the first kunai, but it struck the edge of the target.

"Throw harder, Akio!" barked the instructor.

One by one, the students took their turns. Some hit the targets; others missed entirely. Then it was Enma's turn. Calmly, he stepped forward, his expression unreadable, and drew a kunai.

The instructor crossed his arms, watching closely. "Show them how it's done."

Enma positioned himself, adjusted his grip slightly, and threw the weapon with surgical precision. The kunai embedded itself dead center in the target, leaving no room for error.

"Perfect. Again."

Enma complied without hesitation, repeating the throw with the same precision.

Whispers spread among the students. "He's too good. It's unnatural."

"Maybe he's cheating," murmured another.

"Silence!" the instructor roared.

Next was Sasori. Unlike the others, he didn't reach for a kunai. Instead, he opened a black canvas bag at his feet. A puppet emerged, its aged wood creaking softly under the influence of chakra threads.

"Still playing with your toys, Sasori?" the instructor said with a mocking tone.

"Kunai are outdated," Sasori replied calmly.

With a precise movement of his fingers, Sasori guided the puppet forward. In a flash, its mechanical arms brandished two blades that struck the center of the target with perfect synchronization.

The instructor remained silent for a moment before nodding. "Not bad."

Sasori retrieved his puppet and returned to his spot without a word. He and Enma exchanged a brief glance, but no words.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the exercise. Students scattered into small, noisy groups.

Enma and Sasori, as usual, settled apart from the others beneath the shade of a scraggly tree. Neither spoke for several minutes. Enma ate slowly, his gaze fixed on an unseen point on the horizon.

From a nearby group, a boy pointed at them. "They think they're better than us. That's why they don't talk to anyone."

"Maybe they're just weird," a girl replied with a shrug.

Hearing the whispers, Sasori set down his meal. "Insects have far too much free time," he murmured loudly enough for his comment to reach its intended targets.

Enma didn't react. After a moment, he said in a low voice, "Your exercise this morning. The puppet's speed was fine, but the control lacked finesse."

"And your throw? The wind slightly deflected your kunai before it hit the target," Sasori replied without looking up.

Enma raised an eyebrow but said nothing. This was how they communicated: a series of cold, precise critiques that seemed trivial to others but signaled a deep mutual respect.

Pov Sasori and Chiyo

At the edge of the village, Chiyo's house served as an atelier filled with puppets of every kind. Some were unfinished; others lay covered in dust, remnants of forgotten experiments.

Sasori entered without knocking. Chiyo was waiting for him, seated on a stool with a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"You're late," she said, narrowing her eyes at her grandson.

"I arrived on time," Sasori replied as he set down his bag.

"Not according to my clock. But no matter. Show me what you've learned."

Without a word, Sasori extended his chakra threads, animating a puppet that rose into the air. It performed a series of complex maneuvers, dodging imaginary obstacles and attacking targets with deadly accuracy.

Chiyo watched in silence before shaking her head. "The movements are too mechanical. An experienced enemy will predict them easily."

"I compensate with speed," Sasori replied.

"That's not enough. A puppet master must be unpredictable."

Sasori didn't respond, but his fingers quickened, testing new combinations of moves.

Pov Enma and the Kazekage

Meanwhile, Enma trained alone with the Kazekage in an underground chamber. The air was heavy, filled with dust and tension.

"Again," ordered the Kazekage.

Enma raised his hand, channeling chakra. The black sand surrounding him coalesced into a perfect sphere, dense and menacing.

"You rely too much on precision," the Kazekage criticized. "Add power."

"If I do, the sand becomes unstable," Enma replied calmly.

"Then learn to stabilize it. Again."

Enma obeyed without protest. He knew that his status as a Jinchuriki—known only to the Kazekage and the village elders—meant he had to exceed all expectations. Any weakness could endanger not just his life but the entire village.

Later, as Sasori was returning from his training, he crossed paths with Enma in a dimly lit alley.

"Out late again?" Enma asked, his tone as neutral as ever.

"And you? Haven't you spent enough time playing with your sand?" Sasori replied, a hint of irony in his voice.

Enma stopped, his dark eyes locking with Sasori's. "Sand is a weapon, just like your puppets. But no weapon is infallible without a master who understands it."

Sasori raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "And what do you think you understand? A boy who depends on the whims of wind and grains?"

Silence hung between them. Then Enma, without breaking his gaze, said, "Perhaps. But wind and grains never betray."

Sasori smirked faintly. "Neither do puppets. But they obey the hand that controls them—not chance."

"Maybe you confuse control with dependency," murmured Enma, his tone almost contemplative.

A faint smirk crossed Sasori's lips. "And maybe you confuse solitude with strength."

They stood motionless for a moment, the tension between them almost tangible. But neither seemed willing to press further. After a few seconds, Enma turned and began to walk away.

"Good night, Sasori," he called, his voice echoing softly in the alley.

Sasori, still standing still, murmured to himself before continuing on his way: "Good night… if you even know what that means."

The night resumed its silence, but the brief encounter hinted at a subtle and complex bond between the two prodigies.

5 years later

The Hidden Village of Suna, surrounded by endless dunes and battered by scorching winds, was an unforgiving land. Its inhabitants, forged by the harshness of the desert, were known for their resilience. Among them, two young graduates of the ninja academy stood out: Sasori, a prodigy in puppetry, and Enma, a boy as brilliant as he was enigmatic.

By the time they turned 12, both had already become rising legends. They graduated from the academy effortlessly, far surpassing their peers. Their mastery of ninja arts, combined with their natural genius, set them apart. Yet, their cold, detached demeanor remained unchanged, enhancing the air of mystery surrounding them.

On the day of the graduation ceremony, Enma and Sasori stood apart from the other new genin. While families and friends celebrated noisily, they observed the crowd with apparent indifference.

"That could've been harder," Sasori murmured, his eyes fixed on the horizon, where the dunes stretched endlessly.

"The real challenges start now," replied Enma, his tone flat but his gaze sharp.

A silence followed, but it was neither awkward nor empty. It was their way of communicating—an exchange of thoughts requiring no excess words.

A few days after their promotion, the Kazekage summoned the two prodigies to his office. The air in the room was heavy, dominated by an immense window overlooking the desert. The Kazekage, imposing and stoic, observed them for a long moment before speaking.

"You are here for a simple reason. I cannot assign you to normal teams. You will operate as an independent unit."

Sasori raised an eyebrow. "No sensei?"

"You don't need one," the Kazekage replied sharply. "Your talent surpasses that of most jōnin. However, this also means your missions will be far more dangerous."

Enma, hands clasped behind his back, remained silent, though his dark eyes gleamed with contained intensity.

"Your first mission is reconnaissance. A merchant caravan was attacked not far from here, near the border with the Land of Rivers. Find out who is responsible."

"Bandits?" asked Sasori, his fingers brushing against a small scroll on his belt.

"Perhaps. But their efficiency suggests enemy ninja."

Enma nodded. "When do we leave?"

"Immediately."

The wind howled through the desert, stirring up clouds of sand that obscured the sky. Enma and Sasori advanced without difficulty, their steps silent on the rocky ground.

Sasori broke the silence. "Do you think this is a test mission? A way to evaluate us?"

"Probably," Enma replied without turning his head. "But it doesn't matter. We'll succeed."

Sasori gave a faint smile, barely perceptible. "You seem confident."

"Results speak for themselves."

They eventually reached the remains of the caravan. Debris was scattered across the sand, and a bitter smell lingered in the air. Enma knelt by an overturned cart, observing the tracks left in the sand.

"Three attackers," he murmured. "Two with heavy weapons, one specializing in ninjutsu. They headed toward the cliffs."

Sasori deployed a compact puppet, sending it crawling toward the wreckage. "No explosives. They wanted something, not just destruction."

Enma stood, his gaze fixed on the distant cliffs. "They didn't take the supplies. Likely information or something valuable."

Sasori recalled his puppet. "Then let's go ask them.

"They reached the cliffs at sunset. The shadows of the rocks cast an eerie darkness, but it didn't faze the two young ninja.

"Three enemies," Enma murmured. "They're hiding in the main cave."

Sasori silently prepared his scrolls, attaching chakra strings to his puppets. "I'll take the one with the heavy weapons."

"I'll handle the ninjutsu specialist," Enma replied.

They moved without a sound, like predators stalking their prey. At the cave entrance, the three enemy ninja were conversing in hushed tones, unaware of their presence.

Sasori struck first. His puppet shot out of the shadows, its blades gleaming in the dim light. The ninja wielding an axe didn't even have time to react before being disarmed, a blade pressing against his throat.

Enma, meanwhile, raised a hand. Black sand rose from the ground, slithering like a serpent toward the ninja at the back of the cave. Before the enemy could complete a hand seal, the sand coiled around him, immobilizing him.

The last ninja attempted to flee, but Enma and Sasori appeared in front of him in an instant.

"Who sent you?" Enma asked, his tone cold as stone.

The man hesitated, sweating. "It was just a contract… I swear I don't know anything else!"

Sasori tightened the strings of his puppet, its blades pressing closer. "Lies."

Enma studied the man, his piercing gaze seeming to pierce through his soul. "Speak, or I'll let the sand crush your bones one by one."

Under pressure, the man finally broke. "A group from the Land of Rivers… They were looking for plans for a military project in Suna!"

Enma and Sasori exchanged a glance. Without a word, Sasori knocked the man unconscious with his puppet.

The Kazekage was waiting when they returned.

"Mission accomplished?" he asked.

Enma nodded. "They were after strategic plans. We retrieved the stolen documents."

"And the enemies?"

"Neutralized," Sasori replied with icy calm.

The Kazekage observed them for a moment before declaring, "You've proven my trust in you was not misplaced. Keep it up."

As they left the office, Sasori murmured, "That wasn't so difficult."

And so, the two prodigies continued their relentless climb, silent yet unstoppable, in the unforgiving arena of the ninja world.

3 years later 

three years had passed since Sasori and Enma graduated, and although their feats had not yet elevated them to the status of legends, they had become indispensable figures in Suna. At just 15 years old, they were known for their incredible talents, efficiency, and their ability to complete missions that even more experienced ninjas hesitated to take on. Their reputation grew with each passing day, and with every new mission, they seemed to push the limits of what was considered possible.

The duo was a mystery to many, united by a coldness and a rigorous discipline that few could understand. Their intense training and the way they approached life, as calm and calculated as a desert wind, had forged a silent bond between them, a bond strong, respectful, and tacitly shared.

The sun beat relentlessly down on the dunes, the grains of sand swirling in the hot wind blowing from the distance. Suna stretched out before them, an endless ocean of sand, dotted with rare water points and discreet reliefs. Enma and Sasori walked side by side, their silhouettes almost identical, their steps heavy and steady, as if they had learned to become an integral part of this inhospitable desert.

"Do you remember when we were younger, back at the academy?" Enma began, his gaze fixed on the desert horizon, as if the dunes themselves were giving him answers.

"Yeah. You mean when you still cared about becoming a ninja?" Sasori replied with a tone void of any emotion, his gaze still focused ahead.

"Maybe," Enma replied, glancing briefly at him before returning his gaze to the horizon. "I've always wanted to be more than just a ninja."

Sasori raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing. Enma, as always, was not one to be guided by shallow thoughts. He had a purpose, a vision.

"I want to be Kazekage," he suddenly said, his voice calm and firm.

He waited a moment before continuing, as if the words he was about to speak shouldn't be taken lightly. Sasori briefly turned his head toward him, his curiosity piqued by this unusual declaration.

"But not just for the power," Enma added. "I want to change this village. There are too many people here who live in the shadows, who are ignored or crushed by those at the top. I want to give a chance to those like me, to people who don't have a place in this world. The oppressed, those with potential, but no means to realize it."

Sasori looked at him for a moment, his expression indifferent, but something in his gaze suggested that he understood. "You really think you can change everything just by becoming Kazekage?"

"I won't just change things, Sasori. I want this village to be a place where people like me, like you, can live without hiding in the shadows. This village deserves better than fear, internal struggles, and silent suffering."

Sasori didn't respond immediately. He had never had such noble dreams. His goals were more personal, more somber. But he knew that Enma wasn't speaking idly. He was serious.

"And me, in all of this?" Sasori asked after a prolonged silence.

"I want you as my right-hand man," Enma replied without hesitation. "I know you don't seek glory. You seek efficiency. And with you by my side, this village could really evolve. No pretenses. Just results."

A slight smirk formed on Sasori's lips, but he didn't say anything. He hadn't made up his mind yet. But he knew that, for now at least, Enma was someone he would continue to follow.

"You're an idealist," Sasori murmured, his gaze fixed on the line of sand on the horizon. "But there's a difference between what you want and what you can do. This village won't change so easily."

"I know," Enma replied, his tone as calm as ever. "But that's no reason not to try."

The wind blew even harder at that moment, as if the dunes themselves were reacting to their words. Enma took a deep breath, inhaling the desert air.

A moment of silence settled between the two young ninjas, each lost in their thoughts, reflecting on what had just been said. Then, as if the conversation had just begun to focus on another topic, Enma suddenly stopped and rummaged through his bag.

"A few minutes ago, I found a scroll," he said in a detached tone. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

Sasori turned toward him, noticing the object in his hands. An unusual scroll, adorned with symbols he didn't recognize. "You found a scroll? And what's inside?" he asked, his interest rising despite himself.

Enma slowly unrolled the scroll, unfolding it carefully as if it contained a precious secret. His eyes scanned the symbols and the characters etched on the scroll.

"Summon... a fennec," Enma murmured as he read the engraved text. The wind suddenly picked up, and a strange feeling filled the air around them.

Sasori observed silently, his eyes becoming sharper. "A fennec, huh? The desert animal. It's rare to find a summoning scroll like that in places like these."

Enma looked up, as if the possibility of such a summon was still foreign to him. "It's... the fennec. A desert animal summoning. It can move faster than any creature here. And it's known for its ability to blend into the sand, almost invisible. But..."

"But you're not ready to accept it yet?" Sasori completed with a slight mocking smile.

Enma merely nodded. "I haven't decided yet. I want to understand what it really entails. This isn't just a power boost. I don't want to become dependent on a summon."

"But you will, one day. That much is obvious," Sasori said, his tone almost teasing.

Enma glanced at the scroll one last time before carefully putting it back into his bag with a sigh. "I'm not sure I want to summon that fennec. Not yet. I have my own path to follow."

"We'll see," Sasori replied with a barely perceptible smile. "But you know you can't do everything alone. It's not that simple."

"I know," Enma replied, his eyes gleaming with a determined light. "But I'll do it, with or without the fennec."

The two continued walking through the silent desert, each lost in their own thoughts. The wind continued to blow, like a distant melody, carrying with it the promise of uncertain days, but filled with possibilities.

A few days later, Enma and Sasori were summoned by the Kazekage for an important mission. It wasn't an ordinary mission: it involved a crucial meeting with the Daimyo of Suna. The Kazekage had decided to bring them along because of their exceptional abilities, even though they were only fifteen years old.

On the morning of their departure, the desert heat was overwhelming, and the streets of Suna were almost deserted due to the scorching heat. Sasori and Enma were ready to leave, their faces as cold and impassive as usual.

"We are leaving for a mission of great importance. Be prepared to show discretion and efficiency. This is not just a meeting; it's a key moment for the village," explained the Kazekage in a calm but firm voice. There was no need for further clarification. They knew what it entailed.

The trio set off, moving away from the city walls and into the desert. The wind blew fiercely, carrying clouds of sand that seemed to blend into the endless horizon. The journey was long, and the heat of the desert weighed heavily on their shoulders, but none of them showed any sign of fatigue. It was an environment they were familiar with.

Enma and Sasori walked side by side, silent as always. That was their way: two young prodigies, foreign to any form of unnecessary emotion, advancing in their world with an impressive coldness. Despite this, there was a tacit respect between them. Neither spoke much about their goals or ambitions, but they knew what the other was thinking.

"Do you think this meeting with the Daimyo will really have an impact on Suna's situation?" Enma finally asked, breaking the silence.

Sasori slightly turned his head toward him, without slowing his pace. "That's what the Kazekage hopes. But it's not for us to decide. Our role is to follow and protect."

Enma nodded with a slight movement of his head. He didn't say much, but he was thinking. Although he had never shown his desire to get involved in the village's politics, he knew that this meeting was going to be a turning point. Suna needed changes, progress, new perspectives in order to avoid stagnation. But he also knew that things never went as planned.

"The Kazekage doesn't seem worried. Everything seems under control, but..." Enma hesitated for a few seconds before continuing, his gaze drifting into the vastness of the desert. "Do you think we could do more if we had more power?"

Sasori didn't respond immediately, but he understood what Enma was implying. He knew it wasn't just about protection or missions. It was deeper than that.

"Power doesn't come without consequences," he finally replied. "And it's not for us to decide how things should go. We need to stay focused on our mission."

Enma simply looked ahead, his expression unreadable. He knew Sasori was right. Their mission today wasn't about changing the world, but about protecting the Kazekage and supporting Suna's interests.

After several hours of walking, they arrived at the meeting location. It was a remote place, a simple yet sturdy building surrounded by tents and guards.

The council room, located at the heart of Suna, was simple, with thick carpets covering the floor, light canvas curtains, and finely crafted sand sculptures decorating the corners. The Kazekage, in official attire, stood tall at the table facing the Daimyo of the Wind. The latter, a middle-aged man, wore majestic clothing and had a scrutinizing gaze. The desert climate outside seemed to penetrate even this enclosed room, a constant reminder of the harshness of their environment.

"We've discussed support for Suna," began the Kazekage in a deep but controlled voice. "It is essential that you understand that without stable assistance, Suna will not be able to thrive in this hostile environment. Our resources are running low, and the growing population requires investments in infrastructure and defense."

The Daimyo, slightly more distracted than attentive, swept his gaze around the room. "And what does this mean for the other villages, Kazekage? I am well aware of the tensions between the elemental nations. Who will guarantee that this investment will be used properly?"

The Kazekage replied without faltering, "The conflicts between the nations are a constant reality, but our priority is the stability of Suna. We do not involve ourselves in external wars, but we prepare to defend our lands. And for that, we need resources. Without them, the village would be condemned to deteriorate."

The Daimyo stared at him for a moment, seemingly skeptical, then turned toward Enma and Sasori, who remained in the background, observing in silence. "And your young prodigies?" he asked. "What can they offer the village in exchange for this help?"

The Kazekage raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "These youths are more than capable. Their talents are impressive and can make a real difference in strengthening our defense. They are high-level ninjas, and their influence could extend our reach."

The Daimyo seemed to think for a moment. "Then it seems I have chosen the right time to discuss support," he said in a slightly mocking tone. "But let me warn you, Kazekage, I will make no promises without guarantees."

"The support you provide will be used in a targeted and beneficial manner for the village," assured the Kazekage in a firm voice. "We have already begun modernizing our internal systems. This will strengthen our position."

The discussion continued on financial and logistical matters, but the Daimyo remained focused on the protection of investments. Meanwhile, Enma and Sasori remained silent, listening attentively. However, a loud cry suddenly interrupted the meeting.

"There's been an attack! Ninjas from Iwa are approaching!"

The Daimyo, suddenly agitated, rose from his seat. "What does this mean?! You are a village of sand, you must be ready to defend your land!" he shouted.

The Kazekage rose as well, his expression unchanged. "We anticipated this possibility. But it's time to show the Daimyo our real defensive capability." He then turned to Enma and Sasori. "Prepare yourselves. This attack may be an attempt to test our strength."

As the attack unfolded, the atmosphere shifted from tense diplomacy to intense battle. The sound of sand shifting underfoot was drowned out by the clamor of metal clashing and the cries of battle. Ninjas from Iwa, intent on testing Suna's strength, charged toward the village, but the Kazekage, Enma, and Sasori were prepared to defend it with all their might.

Kazekage vs. Iwa Ninjas:

The Kazekage, usually calm and composed, was now fully focused on the battle ahead. As the Iwa ninjas charged, he raised his hand, and his sand began to swirl around him.

"Suna no Tate (Shield of Sand)!" he called out, his voice sharp with authority.

The sand immediately surged forward, forming a massive, swirling shield that protected him from a barrage of shuriken and kunai thrown at him by the attacking ninjas. With a wave of his hand, the sand shattered the weapons mid-air.

Two Iwa Jonin advanced, one wielding a sword and the other holding a spear. The Kazekage's eyes narrowed. He clenched his fist, and his sand obeyed his command, wrapping around the sword-wielding ninja's body.

"Suna no Tetsu (Iron Sand)" he announced, his voice louder now, a hint of aggression behind his words.

The sand hardened like iron, trapping the ninja completely. Before the second Jonin could react, the Kazekage raised his other hand, and the sand formed a massive fist that struck with incredible force, sending the ninja flying.

But then, a flicker of movement caught his eye — a hidden projectile, poisoned and aimed at his side. The Kazekage raised his sand in an attempt to intercept it, but he made a critical error in his judgment. The projectile slipped through a small opening in the defense, striking his skin.

"Agh..." The Kazekage winced, the poison beginning to take effect. His expression hardened, but he refused to show weakness. "Damn it… Not now."

Despite the pain, the Kazekage didn't falter. He quickly shifted his sand into an even more aggressive form, using it to subdue the Iwa ninjas around him.

Enma vs. Iwa Ninjas:

Meanwhile, Enma found himself face-to-face with two Jonin and three Chunin. He stood in the middle of the battlefield, his expression as impassive as ever. His hands moved swiftly through a series of hand signs, preparing his techniques.

"Fūton: Daitoppa (Wind Release: Great Breakthrough)," he muttered in his monotonous voice.

A powerful gust of wind shot from his mouth, knocking back the approaching ninjas. The wind howled like a storm, sending sand and debris flying through the air. The Jonin recovered quickly, but Enma wasn't done yet.

He drew his hands together, performing a few more quick hand signs. "Fūton: Reppūshō!" (Wind Release: Violent Wind Palm) A strong blast of wind shot forward, tearing through the sandstorm and forcing the Jonin to dodge.

At that moment, Enma's other hand transformed. With a quiet movement, he summoned his unique technique, using Suna Kōzō (Iron Sand) with perfect precision. He manipulated the iron sand in the air like a puppet master, forming blades of sand and launching them at the Jonin and Chunin.

"Suna no Tetsu Kiri (Iron Sand Slash)," Enma said in the same calm tone.

The blades of iron sand whipped through the air, cutting down the ninjas with incredible speed. One of the Jonin managed to dodge, but he was quickly overwhelmed by Enma's control over the wind and sand. A final gust of wind sent the remaining Chunin flying, rendering them unconscious.

As the last enemy fell, Enma's expression remained unchanged, though the poison affecting the Kazekage was now on his mind. He turned his attention to the leader of the Iwa group, knowing the fight wasn't over.

Sasori vs. Iwa Ninjas:

Sasori, meanwhile, was in the midst of a different battle. Surrounded by seven Iwa Chunin, he stood motionless, his eyes cold and calculating. His hands moved delicately as he activated his marionette technique.

"Kurohigi: Ido no Jutsu (Black Secret: Art of the Moving Puppets)," Sasori said with icy detachment.

From his sleeves, a pair of large, mechanical marionettes — Sasori no Kuro (Sasori's Black) — emerged, each with multiple blades for arms. The marionettes moved with a grace that belied their deadly nature, their movements fluid and precise.

The Chunin charged, but Sasori's marionettes intercepted with ease. One of the Chunin tried to strike with kunai, but the marionette swiftly blocked the attack with a spin of its blade. Sasori's control was flawless, and each strike was a calculated maneuver.

"Sasori no Kuro: Tetsu Nami (Black Sasori: Iron Wave)," Sasori ordered coldly.

The marionettes launched a barrage of razor-sharp needles, hitting the Chunin with surgical precision. The needles pierced the Chunin's bodies, knocking them back and rendering them motionless. Sasori's marionettes continued to overwhelm the attackers with their blades and precision strikes.

As the last of the Chunin fell, Sasori's cold, calculating demeanor remained unchanged. "I'll be finished soon," he muttered under his breath, watching the battlefield with an eerie calmness.

The battle was intense and swift, and although the ninjas from Iwa had been repelled, a heavy atmosphere now hung over the battlefield. The wind continued to blow, carrying the dust, while the bodies of the assailants lay scattered on the ground. The Kazekage, though victorious, was clearly weakened. He had been struck by poison, and his body was starting to fail.

Enma and Sasori watched as the Kazekage staggered, slowly collapsing to the ground. A grunt of pain escaped his lips, and he struggled to raise himself with difficulty. The sand around him slowly dispersed, as if even his power had begun to falter.

"It's... over for me," said the Kazekage, his voice hoarse and weak, but still carrying determination. He stared at Enma and Sasori, looking at them as if he were entrusting them with the most important of missions.

Enma, as always, remained calm, observing his mentor with no expression. Sasori, with a cold gaze, also appeared unaffected, showing a remarkable impassivity.

"Return to Suna. Take my body with you. You must bear this burden," the Kazekage continued, his voice growing fainter. "There is a testament, a message that the elders must read. Accompany it with the best ninjas of Suna."

Enma nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the Kazekage. Sasori remained motionless, his gaze piercing the horizon as he listened.

"You must read this testament in the presence of those you trust, the best of Suna, those who will lead our village after my... passing," the Kazekage added, a labored breath escaping his lips. "I am no longer able to defend this village... but I have prepared for the future. A future that you must continue, Enma, Sasori."

He paused, trying to summon the strength to speak, his gaze briefly lost in the stars that were beginning to appear in the desert sky.

"The village needs change. Progress. Stagnation will get us nowhere. I've done all I could. Now, you must go beyond what I have achieved. You are stronger than I was. You are the hope of Suna."

Enma, emotionless, leaned slightly forward, observing the man who had guided them thus far.

"We will do what is necessary," he said in his monotone voice.

Sasori, after a pause, coldly added, "This is not the end. We will honor your final wishes."

The Kazekage, smiling faintly despite the pain, slowly closed his eyes. "I never believed in legends... but you, you could be the ones for tomorrow. I leave you with one last piece of advice." He took a deep breath, his face marked by poison and exhaustion, yet still filled with that calm wisdom.

"True power doesn't lie in brute strength. It lies in the ability to understand the world, to change it in your own way. Never let yourselves be crushed by those who think they hold the truth. Forge your own path." He smiled faintly before adding a final phrase, his voice almost a whisper: "And remember, legends are never born by accident. They are born from the choices we make."

The Kazekage let out one last breath, his head gently falling to rest on the sand. A heavy silence hung in the air. The two young ninjas stood there, impassive, watching their mentor and leader fade before them.

Enma, with unshaken coldness, turned to Sasori. "We have a mission to complete."

Sasori slowly nodded. "We will accomplish what we must."

The wind continued to blow, carrying grains of sand that seemed to dance in the air, but the silence between Enma and Sasori was much heavier than the desert around them. The body of the Kazekage, now lifeless, lay on the ground, and the two young ninjas stood there, alone, frozen in a scene marked by the end of a chapter.

Enma stared at the body of the Kazekage, his eyes empty, cold, devoid of any emotion. There was no trace of sadness, anger, or even satisfaction in his gaze. Just emptiness. A gaze that seemed to observe without understanding, without truly caring about the situation unfolding before him.

After a moment of silence, his voice finally broke the atmosphere, as monotone as ever.

"The so-called strongest Kazekage... He was weak and arrogant to die like this," he said, in a flat tone, as if stating a simple fact, an obvious truth. "He never understood what it truly meant to lead. He fell, and Suna with him."

Sasori, who was about to take the body, didn't react immediately. He didn't need to respond; he knew these words were just cold, analytical observations, typical of Enma. He was about to grab the body of the Kazekage when Enma, without even looking at him, spoke again.

"You're really going to carry this body with us? It reeks of defeat." Enma's voice held no trace of irritation, just the total indifference of a young man who had seen much worse and, clearly, was unaffected by anything.

Sasori continued to stare at the body, but before he could make a move, Enma said something even more surprising. His voice, still devoid of emotion, seemed to calculate each word with chilling precision.

"Wait."

Sasori looked up at him, but Enma didn't pay him much attention. His gaze returned to the body of the Kazekage, as though what he was about to say was simply a continuation of what he already thought.

"I want you to keep this body," he said, without a change in tone, without a blink of the eye. "Use it as a puppet. With this body, you'll be able to control the sand like you never have before. This secret will stay between the two of us."

A heavy silence followed these words. Sasori, showing no particular emotion, finally nodded slowly, as if he had just accepted an obvious proposal. Without waiting for a response, Enma turned and began walking, his expression frozen, his gaze lost in the endless desert.

"I'll keep the body. And it will serve our purposes." Sasori bent down to take the body of the Kazekage, his movements as meticulous as always. "But remember the Kazekage's words. It's us who must push this village forward. This body, as a puppet, is just the beginning."

Enma didn't turn around, walking straight ahead with the same neutrality. "Let's go," he said, his voice still empty, like an automaton simply completing a task.

Sasori, still silent, stood up, carrying the body of the Kazekage with almost mechanical indifference. He followed Enma without another word. Together, they made their way toward Suna, walking through the desert under a now silent sky, their footsteps echoing in the vast, endless sea of sand. Their gazes did not meet, and no words were exchanged. But deep inside, they knew that what they had done would mark a turning point.

Their legends were not yet written. But, like the sand of the desert, they were slowly taking shape, in a way neither of them could have predicted.