The scorching desert wind blew across their faces, carrying sand and silence. The rest of the journey had passed without incident—except for that grim encounter that still haunted their minds.
It wasn't the attack itself that lingered, but rather the clash between Takeshi and the five enemy ninjas that had left marks—not just on the ground, but in their hearts.
Naruto, who had rushed to assist his new teammate, had stumbled upon a macabre scene—severed heads, dismembered limbs, lifeless bodies strewn across the ground, a gruesome testament to the battle's brutality.
Farther ahead, Takeshi sat calmly, his katana planted beside him, his face bloodied.
From that moment on, the group's atmosphere had shifted. Everyone remained silent, as if the words had gotten stuck in their throats.
Sakura had nearly thrown up the moment she caught sight of the battlefield.
Naruto, usually chatty, hadn't said a single word since. Even Mei, normally sarcastic and teasing, had gone quiet. It wasn't the first time she had witnessed such a scene—what troubled her now was concern for the man she loved.
Only Kakashi remained his usual self—calm and observant, hidden behind his mask as though nothing could touch him.
But they had all understood one thing: Takeshi was no ordinary ninja.
They finally reached the massive gates of the Hidden Sand Village, dominated by ramparts carved from ochre stone. The sun beat down mercilessly, and at the entrance stood a lone figure: Temari.
She waited, arms crossed, her face tense.
"About time," she said hoarsely, frowning.
Naruto immediately stepped forward, urgency blazing in his eyes.
"Where's Gaara?!"
Temari let out a small sigh, as if she had expected that question the moment she saw the Konoha headbands.
"Follow me. We'll talk on the way."
The group entered Suna, walking through the village's narrow, winding alleys. The stone houses, built to withstand wind and sand, felt oppressive. The atmosphere was heavy, grim—almost as heavy as the tension that had hung over them since Takeshi's last fight.
"Gaara's been kidnapped," Temari explained as they walked. "That night, I was told a madman tried to destroy the face. Gaara was taken while trying to protect it. Kankuro went after the enemy and fought a dangerous opponent. He insists on speaking to you himself."
They soon reached the hospital. A scent of disinfectant mixed with sand lingered in the air. In a plain room, bathed in the white light of a half-drawn curtain, Kankuro sat on a bed, shirtless, fresh bandages wrapped around his chest. Traces of poison visibly pulsed under his skin, but he held on.
"You're here…" he said, a tired smile tugging at his lips.
Temari shut the door behind them.
Kankuro sat up straighter.
"It was Sasori. Sasori of the Red Sand… a former Suna ninja. I fought him, but I lost. He's a monster… a puppet master like I've never seen. He used a human puppet… the Third Kazekage. He…"
He winced in pain, clutching his ribs.
"He injected me with a poison I didn't recognize. I would've died if the med-nins hadn't acted quickly. I couldn't stop him from taking Gaara."
A heavy silence followed his words.
Naruto clenched his fists, his teeth grinding.
"Sasori… I'll find him. I swear we're going to save Gaara."
Temari nodded in gratitude. Then she turned to the group, her gaze falling on Takeshi and Mei. Now that she thought of it, she didn't know much about the two of them. But since the Hokage had personally sent them, she didn't question it further.
"We need to move quickly. The enemy has a head start, but we can still catch them. I suggest we split into two teams of three. We'll cover more ground that way."
She pointed to two separate groups.
"I'll go with Takeshi and Mei. The other team will be Kakashi, Naruto, and Sakura."
Kakashi gave a calm nod. Takeshi, who hadn't spoken a word since entering Suna, looked up at Temari. Their eyes met briefly. He saw tension… and maybe even doubt in her gaze.
"So she wants to test us…?" he thought.
"Understood," he said simply.
"We leave in ten minutes," Temari declared. "Grab what you need and meet me at the east gate. Kakashi's team will take the northern route."
As the others dispersed, Mei walked up to Takeshi.
"Planning to surprise us again out there?" she asked sarcastically.
Takeshi stared back, expressionless.
"I think you won't be disappointed."
She gave a sly smile.
Moments later, the two teams parted ways on the desert's edge. Before them stretched a vast sea of sand, lit by an unforgiving sun. The air was scorching, the dunes shifting. The desert wasn't just an obstacle—it was an enemy in its own right.
Temari, Mei, and Takeshi headed southeast, where signs of enemy activity had been detected. Temari led the way, fan in hand, ready to detect any change in the wind. Mei walked beside her, alert. Takeshi took up the rear, eyes scanning every detail, every vibration in the ground.
He also found himself thinking about how to fulfill his mission… with his new waifu.
"Poor Shikamaru."
After a while, Temari broke the silence.
"Sasori is part of the Akatsuki. Their goal is to capture the jinchūriki. Gaara… is one of them. He's never been in greater danger."
"And we don't know how many of them there are?" Mei asked.
"At least two. Sasori didn't act alone. He was with another—some madman who used explosives. Our sentries couldn't track where he went."
Takeshi frowned.
Of course, he already knew all this—and in a way, he was relieved the storyline hadn't changed.
"Two Akatsuki members… and how many ninjas have pursued them so far?"
Temari glanced back slightly.
"None. You're the first. Suna is weakened. Gaara had focused much of our strength on defending the village. That's why we asked Konoha for help."
Silence fell again. The desert wind howled around them. Danger loomed, lurking somewhere beyond the horizon.
"We won't let them get away with this," Mei said at last. "If they think this desert belongs to them, we'll prove them wrong. Right, Takeshi-kun?"
Temari threw a quick glance over her shoulder.
"Well said," Takeshi replied, watching Mei as she winked at him.
And so, the three ninjas ventured deeper into the vastness of the desert, driven by unwavering resolve.
The hunt had just begun.