In times of despair, people often seek something—anything—to cling to. Be it money, love, or even the vague hope of divine intervention.
Sunagakure had already been on edge since the mysterious disappearance of the Third Kazekage. What followed was an even more terrifying war. With more and more shinobi drafted to the frontlines, it was no surprise that the villagers were gripped by fear and uncertainty about their future.
And then—
News of Lord Rasa began to spread.
First, he infiltrated Kusagakure solo and dealt a major blow to the Grass shinobi. Word spread that the Iwa vanguard unit sent to encircle him had been completely buried in sand. How could such victories not lift the hearts of a village drowning in anxiety?
Then came more victories—on the border between Grass and Iwa, Rasa spearheaded the counteroffensive. The Grass shinobi suffered heavy casualties, while Iwa retreated in strategic withdrawal. The situation had stabilized. He moved on to battle Kumogakure in the north, reversed the tide of battle, and erased Sunagakure's strategic disadvantage. In the end, he even captured the man poised to become the Fourth Raikage.
And just as all this was happening… two trees sprouted from the sand right in front of Rasa's home.
In a desert village where trees simply didn't grow, this felt like something out of myth. Could it be the legendary First Hokage planting them himself? Ridiculous, of course—but the villagers were desperate to believe in something.
And so, with hearts hungry for hope, the people of Sunagakure began gathering at Rasa's doorstep.
Rasa knew his home was basically off-limits now. Every day, villagers came to check on those two saplings. If Karura was too busy to water them, someone else would. A few over-imaginative residents even started attaching divine significance to the trees.
By the time Rasa had returned to the village and saw the crowd gathered there in near worship, the situation had already spiraled.
Naturally, some shinobi did test the soil near his home. Aside from some bizarre junk buried beneath the sand, nothing unusual was found.
The sand was still the same—high in metal content, low in nutrients, barely capable of holding water. Practically impossible to grow anything in.
Honestly, even if a god descended upon Sunagakure, they'd still be stuck replacing the trees every few days. At that point, they might as well become landscape gardeners.
Which is exactly why these two stubborn saplings outside his door were considered nothing short of a divine blessing.
So despite their skepticism, no one dared touch the trees. No research. No tampering. In a desert where nothing grows, two thriving saplings were simply too miraculous to interfere with.
The trees had to be protected.
Watched over.
Perhaps this was the future of Sunagakure. Perhaps the desert would one day become fertile land.
And anyone who dared harm them… would be the enemy of the entire village.
When Rasa saw the mob of villagers guarding the trees with such devotion, a thought crossed his mind—they're not cheering for me. They're cheering for the trees.
He spent a few days resting in the village. After all, even if Kazekage succession ceremonies were relatively simple in Sunagakure, they still required preparation.
Many of the senior jōnin who'd returned with him had done so specifically to witness this ceremony. But if you imagined rows of shinobi and civilians lining the streets? Forget it. Most of Sunagakure's forces were still deployed along the borders.
Honestly, his would probably be the most minimalistic Kazekage inauguration since the First.
Even the ceremonial robes weren't anything fancy—just a plain white cloak, sturdy and sand-resistant. In Land of Wind, that was the most popular style of outerwear anyway.
And really, what was there to expect? This was a poor village. They barely had money for food. Why bother with frills?
The few fields irrigated by the lone freshwater lake behind the village barely supported the population during peacetime. With wartime supply lines cut, things were getting grim.
Mission requests had dried up. The shinobi had no time for them anyway. The frontlines needed every available hand.
So now… the village was broke and starving.
So Rasa kept everything barebones. He could only pray that Chiyo and the others would manage to secure better terms for Sunagakure in the upcoming negotiations. If they failed, then the gold he'd personally mined would likely be devoured by the bottomless pit that was feeding the entire village.
He sipped some hot tea, watching Karura bustle about preparing lunch. In a bit, she'd go water those infamous trees again. She usually handled that personally—it was, after all, her fiancé's "achievement."
Busy woman.
Although… Rasa still didn't understand how those trees had become his "accomplishment."
He'd won on the battlefield using pure chakra, sweat, and a frankly obscene amount of cash. But hey—if people wanted to see those trees as a symbol of his glory, fine. Let them.
He looked toward the other room.
"Yashamaru still hasn't come back?"
"He said a teammate died on the frontlines," Karura replied, blushing slightly. "So he's staying with the family to comfort them."
"I see."
Rasa nodded, then took another sip of tea without pressing further.
War meant death. Especially for a village like theirs, fighting from a disadvantage.
It was no surprise that some wouldn't return.
He was sure Yashamaru was grieving. Better to give him space.
In the meantime, with Kumogakure's retreat, pressure on the battlefield had eased. Soon, all the fresh graduates who'd been pressed into service would start returning.
As for the other fronts—now that Kumo had withdrawn, Sunagakure would be reallocating its remaining shinobi accordingly.
And those kids who'd survived the war?
They could now be called real shinobi.
Sure, many of them still didn't fully grasp the theories in their textbooks. But what they learned on the battlefield was more than enough to understand what being a shinobi truly meant.
No academy could teach that.
Rasa sighed.
It would take years for Sunagakure to recover its lost manpower. Once the war was over, every village would begin the slow process of rebuilding—regrowing from what was left. That was usually when birthrates spiked too.
Many had left home with farewell banners pinned to their backs. But some—some would return alive, marry, and start anew.
"Alright. Food's ready."
Karura brought him a bowl with a warm smile.
"Eat up, Lord Fourth Kazekage~"
Let's rewind time a bit.
With the Fourth Raikage still in enemy hands, Kumogakure didn't dare make a single misstep.
Now, in the vast emptiness of the desert, the scars of war had already begun to vanish. Every gust of wind carried away the traces, until all was swallowed by the sand.
Chiyo walked forward slowly, carefully, cradling the sealed basin in her arms.
She hadn't let anyone—besides her brother—touch it since the end of the battle.
That basin held Sunagakure's one shot at peace.
No mistakes allowed.
A faint smile crossed her lips as she approached the waiting Kumo delegation.
So… they've finally come.
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