The halls of the medical wing were sterile and cold, a stark contrast to the opulent merchant paradise that sprawled above. Here, in the depths reserved for the Baron Twins' most valuable assets, the walls were bare stone reinforced with steel, and the air carried the antiseptic bite of chemicals meant to prevent infection and dull pain.
Jigoku sat on the edge of a medical cot, her ornate crimson armor stripped away and piled in a scorched, dented heap in the corner. Her remaining Sharingan stared at the wall with burning intensity, the tomoe spinning slowly as she replayed the battle over and over in her mind. Her left eye socket was covered with clean bandages, the white gauze a stark contrast against her pale skin and the dried blood that still crusted along her hairline.
"Three minutes," she said flatly, her voice carrying none of the confident challenge it had held on the battlefield. "I held out for three minutes against the Demon of Mist before he took my eye. The Kazekage didn't even engage me directly—he was too busy playing savior."
The medical attendant working on her injuries—a middle-aged woman with the hollow eyes of someone who'd seen too much and said too little—said nothing. She simply continued cleaning the burns across Jigoku's shoulder where Akkuma's claws had found the gaps in her armor.
"They're stronger than the Twins anticipated," Jigoku continued, her remaining eye narrowing as the Sharingan's spin accelerated. "The Dark Sage... he didn't just counter my techniques. He predicted them. Saw through every feint, every strategy. It was like fighting someone who'd already watched the battle play out a hundred times."
The door opened without warning—no knock, no announcement. Lord Treasurer Hideaki entered with the precise, economical movements of a man who valued efficiency above all else. His wire-rimmed spectacles caught the harsh medical lighting as he surveyed the wounded warrior with clinical detachment.
"Your report, Jigoku. Complete and detailed." It wasn't a request.
Jigoku's jaw tightened, but she straightened despite the pain lancing through her shoulder. "The mercenary force was annihilated. Total loss. The puppetmaster and his creatures were neutralized—I saw one of their shinobi feed him to a sandworm. The coordinated assault failed to collapse the tunnel system as planned."
Hideaki's expression didn't change. "We're aware. Continue."
"Sunagakure fielded multiple S-rank threats," Jigoku said, her Sharingan burning brighter as she accessed the memories recorded in its tomoe. "Chikamatsu Shin—the one they call Kazekage—demonstrated sage mode capabilities with both phoenix and plant affinities. He deployed widespread genjutsu that crippled our forces' morale and coordination. When that failed, he used a technique that shattered every illusion simultaneously, causing psychic trauma to anyone affected."
She paused, her hand unconsciously moving toward her bandaged eye socket before stopping herself.
"Miroku Akkuma is... more dangerous than our intelligence suggested. He deployed cursed techniques that I've never seen documented. A black sun that incinerated everything in a hundred-meter radius. Desert manipulation that rivals the old Sunahoshi legends. And he has medical capabilities that allowed him to resurrect fallen shinobi mid-battle."
"You engaged him directly," Hideaki stated, his eyes flicking to her missing eye. "What was the outcome?"
Jigoku's remaining eye narrowed dangerously. "He took my Sharingan as a trophy. Said he'd return it when my 'whispers satisfied him.' He let me escape deliberately—probably tracking me even now through the eye's sympathetic connection."
For the first time, Hideaki's expression shifted slightly. Not fear, but... calculation. Recalibration of risk and reward.
"You led him directly to the Sanctuary."
"I had no choice," Jigoku snapped, her voice sharp with barely controlled fury. "It was come here and regroup, or die in the desert. And before you say it—yes, I'm aware that makes me a liability. But I also gathered more intelligence on Sunagakure's current capabilities than the Twins have had in years."
She stood abruptly, ignoring the medical attendant's protest and the fresh blood that began seeping through the bandages on her shoulder.
"They have a Sunahoshi among them. Or someone with that bloodline's abilities. I watched him manipulate magnetic sand on a scale that shouldn't be possible. He single-handedly prevented a catastrophic collapse that should have buried half their forces."
"They have a Toraono lord who transformed mid-battle—not the Sage Mode kind, something else. Something that felt like... divine intervention. He executed our fleeing forces with precision that made my Sharingan struggle to track."
"And they have others. A missing-nin with sound-based abilities who broke our puppetmaster's control. A young Hyuuga-blooded shinobi who took down multiple manta rays with taijutsu alone. Medical support that kept their casualties far lower than projected."
She stepped closer to Hideaki, her remaining Sharingan blazing with intensity.
"The Twins wanted to know what Sunagakure is capable of? Now they know. And they should also know this: those shinobi aren't just defending anymore. Shin's final declaration was clear—they're coming here. To the Golden Sanctuary. And when they do, it won't be a probing attack or a test."
"It will be war."
The medical attendant had stopped working entirely, her hands frozen mid-suture as she listened to the exchange. Hideaki adjusted his spectacles slowly, the gesture somehow more threatening than any weapon.
"You will report to the Barons directly," he said finally. "Everything you saw. Every technique. Every weakness you identified. And then you will undergo surgery to replace what was lost."
Jigoku's expression flickered—surprise, then understanding, then something that might have been dread.
"Dr. Masashi has been developing ocular implants for situations precisely like this. Inferior to a true Sharingan, certainly, but functional. You'll retain depth perception and combat effectiveness while we... acquire a replacement."
The implication hung heavy in the sterile air. Somewhere, someone with Sharingan bloodline would be found. Taken. Their eye harvested to replace what Jigoku had lost.
"And if Akkuma can track me through the eye he took?" Jigoku asked quietly.
Hideaki's smile was cold and precise. "Then we'll use that. Bait, misdirection, false intelligence... a compromised asset can be quite useful when handled properly. The Twins didn't build this empire by avoiding risks, Jigoku. They built it by turning every disadvantage into opportunity."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"One more thing. The shinobi you mentioned—the missing-nin with sound abilities who freed the puppetmaster's creatures. Did you get a clear look at him?"
Jigoku nodded slowly. "Demon form initially, then human. White to blue to gold hair. Manic, unpredictable combat style. He called himself... the leader of the Liberators."
Something flickered behind Hideaki's spectacles. Recognition, perhaps, or calculation of a different kind.
"Interesting. The Barons will want to hear about him specifically. Rest now. You have two hours before your debriefing."
The door closed behind him with mechanical finality, leaving Jigoku alone with the medical attendant and her thoughts. Her remaining Sharingan stared at the wall where her reflection should be, seeing instead the moment Akkuma's claws had plucked her eye from its socket. Seeing Shin's wings spread wide against the sun. Seeing the desert itself rise up in defense of its children.
She'd told Akkuma the Twins kept score in blood. Now she wondered whose blood would be counted when the final tally was made.
The medical attendant returned to her work in silence, and Jigoku closed her remaining eye, conserving the Sharingan's power for what was coming.
Because something was definitely coming.
And the Golden Sanctuary was about to learn what it meant to be on the receiving end of Sunagakure's fury.
Jigoku sat on the edge of a medical cot, her ornate crimson armor stripped away and piled in a scorched, dented heap in the corner. Her remaining Sharingan stared at the wall with burning intensity, the tomoe spinning slowly as she replayed the battle over and over in her mind. Her left eye socket was covered with clean bandages, the white gauze a stark contrast against her pale skin and the dried blood that still crusted along her hairline.
"Three minutes," she said flatly, her voice carrying none of the confident challenge it had held on the battlefield. "I held out for three minutes against the Demon of Mist before he took my eye. The Kazekage didn't even engage me directly—he was too busy playing savior."
The medical attendant working on her injuries—a middle-aged woman with the hollow eyes of someone who'd seen too much and said too little—said nothing. She simply continued cleaning the burns across Jigoku's shoulder where Akkuma's claws had found the gaps in her armor.
"They're stronger than the Twins anticipated," Jigoku continued, her remaining eye narrowing as the Sharingan's spin accelerated. "The Dark Sage... he didn't just counter my techniques. He predicted them. Saw through every feint, every strategy. It was like fighting someone who'd already watched the battle play out a hundred times."
The door opened without warning—no knock, no announcement. Lord Treasurer Hideaki entered with the precise, economical movements of a man who valued efficiency above all else. His wire-rimmed spectacles caught the harsh medical lighting as he surveyed the wounded warrior with clinical detachment.
"Your report, Jigoku. Complete and detailed." It wasn't a request.
Jigoku's jaw tightened, but she straightened despite the pain lancing through her shoulder. "The mercenary force was annihilated. Total loss. The puppetmaster and his creatures were neutralized—I saw one of their shinobi feed him to a sandworm. The coordinated assault failed to collapse the tunnel system as planned."
Hideaki's expression didn't change. "We're aware. Continue."
"Sunagakure fielded multiple S-rank threats," Jigoku said, her Sharingan burning brighter as she accessed the memories recorded in its tomoe. "Chikamatsu Shin—the one they call Kazekage—demonstrated sage mode capabilities with both phoenix and plant affinities. He deployed widespread genjutsu that crippled our forces' morale and coordination. When that failed, he used a technique that shattered every illusion simultaneously, causing psychic trauma to anyone affected."
She paused, her hand unconsciously moving toward her bandaged eye socket before stopping herself.
"Miroku Akkuma is... more dangerous than our intelligence suggested. He deployed cursed techniques that I've never seen documented. A black sun that incinerated everything in a hundred-meter radius. Desert manipulation that rivals the old Sunahoshi legends. And he has medical capabilities that allowed him to resurrect fallen shinobi mid-battle."
"You engaged him directly," Hideaki stated, his eyes flicking to her missing eye. "What was the outcome?"
Jigoku's remaining eye narrowed dangerously. "He took my Sharingan as a trophy. Said he'd return it when my 'whispers satisfied him.' He let me escape deliberately—probably tracking me even now through the eye's sympathetic connection."
For the first time, Hideaki's expression shifted slightly. Not fear, but... calculation. Recalibration of risk and reward.
"You led him directly to the Sanctuary."
"I had no choice," Jigoku snapped, her voice sharp with barely controlled fury. "It was come here and regroup, or die in the desert. And before you say it—yes, I'm aware that makes me a liability. But I also gathered more intelligence on Sunagakure's current capabilities than the Twins have had in years."
She stood abruptly, ignoring the medical attendant's protest and the fresh blood that began seeping through the bandages on her shoulder.
"They have a Sunahoshi among them. Or someone with that bloodline's abilities. I watched him manipulate magnetic sand on a scale that shouldn't be possible. He single-handedly prevented a catastrophic collapse that should have buried half their forces."
"They have a Toraono lord who transformed mid-battle—not the Sage Mode kind, something else. Something that felt like... divine intervention. He executed our fleeing forces with precision that made my Sharingan struggle to track."
"And they have others. A missing-nin with sound-based abilities who broke our puppetmaster's control. A young Hyuuga-blooded shinobi who took down multiple manta rays with taijutsu alone. Medical support that kept their casualties far lower than projected."
She stepped closer to Hideaki, her remaining Sharingan blazing with intensity.
"The Twins wanted to know what Sunagakure is capable of? Now they know. And they should also know this: those shinobi aren't just defending anymore. Shin's final declaration was clear—they're coming here. To the Golden Sanctuary. And when they do, it won't be a probing attack or a test."
"It will be war."
The medical attendant had stopped working entirely, her hands frozen mid-suture as she listened to the exchange. Hideaki adjusted his spectacles slowly, the gesture somehow more threatening than any weapon.
"You will report to the Barons directly," he said finally. "Everything you saw. Every technique. Every weakness you identified. And then you will undergo surgery to replace what was lost."
Jigoku's expression flickered—surprise, then understanding, then something that might have been dread.
"Dr. Masashi has been developing ocular implants for situations precisely like this. Inferior to a true Sharingan, certainly, but functional. You'll retain depth perception and combat effectiveness while we... acquire a replacement."
The implication hung heavy in the sterile air. Somewhere, someone with Sharingan bloodline would be found. Taken. Their eye harvested to replace what Jigoku had lost.
"And if Akkuma can track me through the eye he took?" Jigoku asked quietly.
Hideaki's smile was cold and precise. "Then we'll use that. Bait, misdirection, false intelligence... a compromised asset can be quite useful when handled properly. The Twins didn't build this empire by avoiding risks, Jigoku. They built it by turning every disadvantage into opportunity."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"One more thing. The shinobi you mentioned—the missing-nin with sound abilities who freed the puppetmaster's creatures. Did you get a clear look at him?"
Jigoku nodded slowly. "Demon form initially, then human. White to blue to gold hair. Manic, unpredictable combat style. He called himself... the leader of the Liberators."
Something flickered behind Hideaki's spectacles. Recognition, perhaps, or calculation of a different kind.
"Interesting. The Barons will want to hear about him specifically. Rest now. You have two hours before your debriefing."
The door closed behind him with mechanical finality, leaving Jigoku alone with the medical attendant and her thoughts. Her remaining Sharingan stared at the wall where her reflection should be, seeing instead the moment Akkuma's claws had plucked her eye from its socket. Seeing Shin's wings spread wide against the sun. Seeing the desert itself rise up in defense of its children.
She'd told Akkuma the Twins kept score in blood. Now she wondered whose blood would be counted when the final tally was made.
The medical attendant returned to her work in silence, and Jigoku closed her remaining eye, conserving the Sharingan's power for what was coming.
Because something was definitely coming.
And the Golden Sanctuary was about to learn what it meant to be on the receiving end of Sunagakure's fury.