[NTU] [ARC-26] Chapter : 350

"Everyone!"

Hovering in mid-air, the short-statured Tsuchikage, Onoki, raised his voice, trying to make himself heard by every allied shinobi on the battlefield.

"Once we break through this pass, we’ll reach the enemy’s core!"

"If we push just a little harder, we can crush the Akatsuki’s twisted plans—and return home to the peace we’ve fought so hard to protect!"

Below him, a sprawling plain stretched across the horizon, dotted with shimmering lakes that glinted under the sun. At the far end of the expanse, the Allied Shinobi Forces had assembled in staggering numbers, massed at the mouth of a valley with treacherous terrain.

The canyon ahead was shaped like a funnel—wide at the entrance, narrowing ominously toward its heart.

Even from a distance, mist coiled within the gorge. Hidden in its shadows stood countless white figures—Zetsu clones, silently waiting.

A ripple of uncertain murmurs passed through the crowd, but soon swelled into a unified roar of determination, loud enough to startle flocks of birds overhead into flight.

"Advance!"

Onoki thrust his arm forward, voice thunderous, as he surged ahead toward the canyon.

"Tsuchikage, wait! Don’t rush in blindly—your safety is still important!"

Beside him, Gaara, now clad in standard Sand shinobi battle gear, glided across the air atop his signature cloud of sand. Despite his usual composure, Gaara couldn’t help but wince at the older man’s recklessness.

Who would have thought that this cautious, grumpy old man—who’d always distrusted outsiders—would one day be leading the charge himself?

"Don’t worry," Onoki grinned, voice tinged with nostalgia. "The shinobi capable of killing me hasn’t been born yet."

Then, his expression softened. "Besides, unless something unexpected happens… this will be my final time stepping onto the battlefield. There may never be another chance."

He had always been known for his stubbornness—but even he had to admit, the peace these past years had been intoxicating.

Sure, there had been friction—trade disputes, political power plays, and mutual suspicion. But compared to the bloodshed of the past, diplomacy and negotiation were a welcome change.

He believed—no, knew—that after this war, the shinobi world would enter a new era. One where massive conflicts like this would become relics of the past.

Especially after the unity forged in this very alliance.

He was old. If he didn’t leave his mark now, the legend of Dust Release might fade with him.

"What’s that?"

His voice sharpened.

Soaring above the battlefield, Onoki squinted into the distance, eyes straining to make out a faint black speck far beyond the canyon.

"Could it be a new airborne unit from the Akatsuki?" he muttered to himself, puzzled. Then, turning to Gaara beside him, he pointed.

"Kazekage, do you see that dot? Over there."

Gaara followed his gaze but saw only clouds and mist.

"There’s nothing there," he replied, though his brow furrowed slightly.

Internally, he couldn’t help but wonder: 'Is the old man’s eyesight finally giving out?'

“No…?”

Onoki looked again, but the sky revealed nothing new—only drifting clouds and pale sunlight. His frown deepened.

"Be careful!"

Suddenly, the sky ahead flashed—as if someone had flipped on a giant spotlight.

A narrow beam of searing white light pierced through the mist.

Onoki’s eyes widened.

"This… this can’t be!"

When the blinding white beam first appeared in the sky, Onoki's entire body stiffened. He stared at the light with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"That's... Dust Release!"
His voice trembled.
"In the entire shinobi world, aside from myself and the late Second Tsuchikage, no one else should be able to use this technique..."

So shaken was he that Onoki completely forgot to dodge. Suspended mid-air, he remained frozen, eyes like saucers, locked on the distant source of the light.

"Tch—damn it!"
Noticing the danger, Gaara scowled in frustration. The Tsuchikage was about to be vaporized in his stupor.

"Move!"

With a single motion, Gaara flicked his wrist. A tight orb of sparkling, golden-tinted crystal sand burst from the gourd on his back, streaking toward Onoki like a comet.

This wasn’t ordinary sand. It was a specially refined mix Gaara had carefully washed and selected himself—sand that shimmered with subtle hues under sunlight. It wasn’t just for aesthetics. This was sacred sand, infused with meaning.

Because of Toshiro, Gaara had learned that his mother’s soul still lingered within the sand that once protected her child. These grains weren’t tools of war—they were remnants of love.

That’s why Gaara never allowed them to become soiled. He washed them regularly with clean water, swapped out damaged granules, and even during battles, avoided letting them be stained with blood.
Using them now meant he deemed it absolutely necessary.

With a dull whump and a faint cracking sound, the sand collided with Onoki, forcibly altering his flight path just enough to push him out of the beam's trajectory.

"Agh—my back!"

Onoki let out a sharp cry, clutching his lower back as pain lanced through it. He stiffened mid-air, contorted in agony, looking more like a statue than a ninja.

He didn’t dare move an inch.

"..."

Gaara remained silent for a moment, twitching slightly at the scene.

He knew he’d launched the sand a bit forcefully—it had slammed into Onoki’s side, likely jarring his already fragile frame. But still… how brittle was this old man’s waist?

Just minutes ago, Onoki had been rallying troops and charging ahead like he was 20 years younger.

And now this?

"Tsuchikage... are you alright?"

Gaara tried to keep a straight face, gently manipulating the sand to cradle the old man like a fragile heirloom.

"I'm fine—no, wait—hiss!"
Onoki winced the moment he shifted, instantly regretting the attempt. His body wobbled unsteadily in the air. If Gaara hadn’t been holding him up, the Tsuchikage might’ve plummeted headfirst into the ground—earning the tragic honor of being the first Kage to die from a fall.

"Brace yourself! Another attack’s coming!"

Before Onoki could recover, another piercing column of Dust Release energy sliced through the sky, headed directly toward them.

Gaara reacted instantly, sweeping both of them to safety with a rush of sand.

"Thank you, Kazekage!"
Onoki breathed heavily, clutching his side.
This time, at least, he’d been prepared. Though the pain in his waist still throbbed, it hadn’t gotten worse—and thanks to Gaara, they’d both survived the second strike.

Still, Onoki couldn't shake the lingering dread.
If he’d died here—not from battle, but from his own carelessness—he would’ve brought eternal shame to the name of Iwagakure.