As the village continued to grow, it became clear that expansion was inevitable. Relying solely on the nearby lands for food was no longer sustainable. Every month, people had to be sent to other villages to purchase supplies, which was not only troublesome but also a significant drain on manpower.
Zixu had originally planned to announce the village's existence to the wider shinobi world soon, but he had been waiting for the right opportunity. However, before that moment arrived, he was once again called away on a mission, causing the matter to be put on hold.
Now, that opportunity had finally come.
A figure clad in a black cloak adorned with red clouds loomed in the night sky, like a ghost drifting through the darkness.
He sat atop a massive bird sculpted from pure white clay. The avian construct hovered silently above the village, its beady eyes surveying the land below. Small white spiders rained down from the bird's wings, creeping toward the forest's edge.
Perched on the bird was a peculiar figure—short, barely reaching 1.3 meters. His exposed skin was dry and cracked, resembling the withered flesh of a dying old man.
"This should be the place. Is it hidden by a genjutsu? Let's go down and take a closer look, hmm." The figure muttered to himself as he controlled the clay bird to descend.
The wind from their descent blew away the wide-brimmed hats they wore, finally revealing their faces.
The short man's appearance was unsettling, to say the least. His complexion was an unnatural, ashen yellow, and the lower half of his face was concealed by a black cloth. His narrow, lifeless eyes gave off an eerie aura.
The most striking feature, however, was his bald head, where a few curved, blade-like protrusions jutted out. His wrinkled scalp twitched sporadically, making him look even more grotesque. Anyone seeing him for the first time would surely lose their appetite.
The other figure was far more normal by comparison. His unruly blond hair gave him an energetic appearance, though his left eye was concealed beneath his long bangs, adding a nonchalant, rebellious flair.
A tightly woven braid sat atop his head, while the rest of his long hair was tucked into his cloak. The strands at the back flowed freely, ending in a neatly tied short braid, giving him a distinct yet effortlessly casual look.
"The first spider detonated here... Tch, a genjutsu. How dull." The younger man stretched out his hands, and small white spiders crawled from his palms.
But unlike most people, his hands weren't normal. In the center of each palm was a grotesque, grinning mouth—its sharp teeth gnashing as it chewed up chakra-infused clay before spitting out a fresh swarm of tiny spiders. A long, slimy tongue slithered from the mouths, making for an unsettling sight.
The little white spiders advanced like a disciplined army, moving forward in an attempt to locate the village's entrance.
"Boom!"
Suddenly, explosions erupted all around. The tiny spiders had triggered something—barriers, traps, or perhaps even countermeasures set up in advance.
Red flames and thick smoke filled the air. Before they could even reach the village, the spiders were obliterated.
"Deidara, what's going on?" The shorter man finally spoke, his voice as grating as nails on a chalkboard—hoarse, raw, as if his vocal cords had been stolen and hastily replaced.
Deidara frowned.
"My detonating clay was neutralized before it could do anything. Either someone set up barriers, or there are traps everywhere. Brother, I'm relying on you for this one, yeah." He clapped the older man on the back. His clay had already cleared the minefield—it was now up to his partner to locate the entrance.
The short man didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood motionless, like a disconnected puppet.
But his inactivity didn't last long. Moments later, he stirred, his gaze locking onto a particular spot ahead.
"There." He pointed toward a seemingly empty area.
Deidara had already suspected as much, but the confirmation was unnecessary—because standing in that exact location was Gekko Hayate, gripping a katana.
At long last, the village's gatekeeper had been called into action. It had been years since he had felt the thrill of battle. His blade hungered for combat.
At that moment, alarm bells rang out through the village. Crimson warning lights flashed, and piercing sirens shattered the silence.
Villagers, startled from their sleep, snapped to attention. Women, children, the elderly, and the infirm swiftly dressed and evacuated toward the rear of the village. Those capable of fighting armed themselves and prepared to engage the enemy.
Karin, still in her nightclothes, was among those heading to the front lines. As a medical-nin, her role was vital—she had to be ready to heal the wounded at a moment's notice.
Hyuga Chinano, meanwhile, shouldered her prototype sniper rifle, her Byakugan activating as she scanned the battlefield, searching for the attackers.
Outside the village, Deidara and his partner had heard the alarms.
Deidara sighed. He had already reduced Hayate to half of his original form, leaving the gatekeeper sprawled on the ground.
"Sharp senses. This is gonna be tricky. The One-Tail Jinchuriki sure is well-guarded, hmm."
Despite his injuries, Gekko Hayate refused to yield. Even with only his upper body intact, he clung to Deidara's legs, preventing him from advancing.
His lower half was slowly regenerating, but every time it did, it exploded again, creating a bizarre balance between destruction and regeneration.
"Hm? Immortality? How... fascinating." The short man, usually indifferent to everything, suddenly became intrigued. He crouched down, carefully observing Gekko Hayate's condition.
"Brother, you've got it all wrong. True art is an explosion! Only the fleeting brilliance of a detonation can be called art! This half-dead state of his? That ain't art." Deidara scoffed.
The older man shook his head mechanically. Without hesitation, he tore off one of Hayate's arms and inspected it closely. The severed limb crumbled into ash, returning to its owner's body.
His eyes lit up with a rare excitement.
"Eternal beauty, unmarred by decay—that is true art. This state... is the embodiment of art itself. Tell me, what is this technique called? Who created it?"
For the first time, his voice carried genuine emotion. He gripped Hayate's throat tightly, his strength threatening to crush his windpipe.
Deidara, however, had no interest in such discussions. His only pursuit was the art of explosions. And besides, they had a mission to complete—capturing the One-Tail Jinchuriki.
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