Event Sunagakure Presents: Two Kings Part 3 - One Eye Open

[Sand Event]

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.

 

[Chikamatsu Shin]

The gates of Sunagakure loomed behind them, massive steel constructs that separated the village from the surface world. They were nearly destroyed in the recent attacks, but thanks to the Sunan Shinobi and Harupia's mastery of the desert, they were still operational.

Shin arrived first, his Byakko armor already secured, the silver plates catching the artificial moonlight that illuminated the underground passage leading to the surface. The golden cracks along his exposed skin pulsed with steady rhythm, brighter than they'd been before the council, brighter than during the stress test with Kohana, as if the chakra burns were feeding on his determination rather than healing.

His hand rested on Excalibur's hilt, fingers tracing the familiar leather wrapping while his mind worked through calculations and contingencies. They had three days until the Baron Twins' main force arrived. Three days to coordinate evacuations and false villages and impossible logistics. But this mission—tracking Jigoku to the Golden Sanctuary—this couldn't wait.

Akkuma's trophy sat in a sealed container at Shin's hip, the stolen Sharingan preserved through medical techniques that would horrify most practitioners. The eye still maintained its connection to its original owner through the sympathetic links all doujutsu shared. Which meant Shin could track her. Could follow the invisible tether of chakra that stretched across hundreds of miles of desert, pointing unerringly toward where Jigoku had fled.

"The signature is stable," Shin murmured to himself, his sensory abilities expanding outward in concentric rings. The Chikamatsu mental disciplines layered over his natural chakra detection, creating a perception that went beyond simple awareness. "She's moved northwest from the battlefield. Approximately two hundred miles. The signature is stationary now... either she's stopped to rest, or she's reached her destination."

He heard the approach before he saw her, footfalls that matched his own cadence despite coming from a different body, armor that made the same soft sounds his did because they wore identical designs. Thirty-one years of shared consciousness meant that even severed, even separated into individual beings, their movements still synchronized in ways that went beyond conscious coordination.

Kohana emerged from the passage, Caliburnus at her hip, her crimson eyes sharp with the same determination that burned in his chest.

Shin turned to face his sister, and despite everything—despite the severed bond, despite the anger and hurt that still lingered between them, despite the uncertain future they were walking into—he felt something settle in his chest. Relief, perhaps. Or recognition that whatever came next, they would face it together, as they always had, and how he always hoped they would.

Not as one consciousness split between two roles. But as partners. As equals. As siblings who knew each other's capabilities intimately because they'd been forged in the same fire.

"The tracking seal is holding," Shin said, his voice carrying the calm focus of someone preparing for infiltration rather than assault. "Akkuma's trophy is proving useful, the Sharingan maintains its connection to Jigoku regardless of distance. I can feel her signature pulling northwest, toward the Diamond Ocean."

He pulled a small scroll from his equipment pouch, unfurling it to reveal a hastily drawn map of Wind Country's northern territories. His finger traced the route they'd need to take.

"Two hundred miles through desert terrain. If we push hard, we can cover it in under a day. But stealth will be essential once we approach the Sanctuary, Jigoku warned Akkuma that it's more than just a merchant hub. Forced labor, trafficking, private military forces. The Baron Twins' entire operation centralizes there."

The golden cracks pulsed brighter for a moment as he considered the implications.

"This isn't a rescue mission. Jigoku chose her path when she accepted the Twins' contract. This is reconnaissance. Intelligence gathering. We need to know what we're facing when the village inevitably has to confront them directly."

He rolled the scroll and secured it again, then drew Excalibur in one smooth motion. The blade sang as it left its sheath, sharp and ready, reflecting his determination in polished steel.

"Once we're beyond the village perimeter, I'll maintain the tracking seal continuously. You'll take point on threat detection, your combat instincts are sharper than my analytical approach, and if we run into scouts or patrols, I need you identifying them before they identify us."

Shin's blue eyes met Kohana's crimson gaze, and something passed between them. Not the instantaneous communication of their old bond, but something newer. Trust, perhaps. Or simply the acknowledgment that they'd done this before—moved together, fought together, survived impossible odds together—and could do it again even without the mental link.

"Ready?" he asked simply, knowing she'd been ready since the moment she'd arrived. Knowing that despite every complication between them, when it came to protecting Sunagakure, they were still absolutely united.

The passage to the surface stretched before them, leading up and out into the desert night where the real moon—not the artificial carmot construct—would light their path toward the Golden Sanctuary.

Toward the Baron Twins' seat of power.

Toward answers about who had orchestrated Wei's corruption and Sunagakure's near-destruction.

Shin sheathed Excalibur again and began moving toward the surface passage, his movements fluid and purposeful. The tracking seal pulsed at his hip, the stolen Sharingan calling to its twin like a lodestone pointing north.

"Two hundred miles," Shin repeated quietly, more to himself than to Kohana. "And then we see what the Twins have built on the bones of Wind Country's suffering."

Shin took the first step into the desert, and without looking back, knew Kohana would follow.

Because that's what they did. That's what they'd always done, even when they'd been one person playing two roles.

They moved forward. Together.

Into whatever darkness waited.

 

[Chikamatsu Kohana]

I arrived at the gates in silence, my Byakko armor already secured, ruby etched plates catching the artificial moonlight in the same way Shin's sapphire etched ones did. Caliburnus rested at my hip, the weight familiar and grounding, a perfect mirror to Excalibur at his side.

Thirty-one years of shared consciousness meant I knew he'd arrived first without needing to ask. Knew he'd already calculated the distance, the route, the contingencies. Knew his hand would be tracing Excalibur's hilt in that specific pattern he always did before a mission, the one I mirrored without thinking, my own fingers moving across Caliburnus's leather wrapping in identical rhythm.

We were fighting. Still angry. Still hurt. The severed bond was a wound that hadn't healed and maybe never would.

But none of that mattered right now.

I stepped into position beside him as he explained the tracking seal, the route, the mission parameters. Two hundred miles through desert terrain. Stealth over assault. Intelligence gathering, not rescue.

"Understood," I said simply, my voice carrying none of the venom it usually held when we spoke. This wasn't the time for our bullshit. This was work.

When he mentioned taking point on threat detection, I nodded once. He was right, my combat instincts had always been faster, more aggressive, better suited to identifying danger before it became a problem. I would manifest from the ether to counter threats long before he could realize they were there, but his analytical approach would handle the tracking and strategy. Same division of labor we'd used for three decades, even when we'd been one person playing two roles.

"I'll handle scouts and patrols," I confirmed, already running through engagement protocols in my head. "Silent kills only unless we're compromised. No survivors to report back."

My crimson eyes met his blue ones, and something passed between us. Not the old bond but something else. Muscle memory. Professional trust. The kind of synchronization that came from fighting side by side for longer than most shinobi lived.

We were a matched set. Twin blades forged in the same fire, even if we'd been split apart now. And whatever personal shit we had between us, when it came to protecting Sunagakure, we were still absolutely united.

Shin drew Excalibur, and I felt my hand move to Caliburnus before I consciously decided to do it. The blade sang as I drew it, the sound harmonizing with his in a way that would've been eerie if it wasn't so fucking familiar.

"Ready," I said, because I'd been ready since the moment I'd heard about this mission.

He moved toward the surface passage, and I fell into step beside him without thinking about it. Not behind, not ahead, beside. Where I'd always been, even when we'd shared the same body.

The tracking seal pulsed, Akkuma's trophy calling to its twin like a lodestone pointing north.

"Two hundred miles," I echoed quietly, more confirmation than commentary. "Then we see what these bastards have built."

Shin took the first step into the desert, and I matched it perfectly—same stride length, same cadence, same purposeful movement forward.

Because that's what we did. That's what we'd always done.

We moved forward. Together.

Still a perfect pair.

Still the Chikamatsu twins, whether we liked it or not.

Into whatever waited in the Golden Sanctuary, we'd face it the same way we'd faced everything else for over three decades.

Side by side.

As equals.

As partners who knew each other's movements like breathing.

"Let's go fuck up some slavers," I said, and meant every word.

 

[Sand Event]

Sunagakure was buzzing. Finally stopping for the first time in nearly five days, the chance for those beneath the dunes to get a moment's rest was a palpable sensation that rippled through the city like a long-exhaled breath. Most of the population was far too invested in the simple, glorious fact that the mobile village had finally stilled to notice; nor did they bother asking why the military hadn't raised them above the golden grains. The people knew the world above was in the troughs of a war. Most were just content to finally not feel the ground beneath them moving, to press their palms flat against something solid and unshifting. So as the elevator rose to the surface to unleash the Kazekage and their most trusted weapon, only a handful of people bothered to look up in anything but jealousy as the pair broke past the ground into the harsh surface world.

The golden rays of the sun gently warmed their flesh, reminding both of them what they fought for. The freedom of not only their own people, but for the surface to once more be rid of the Twins' influence. A thousand other questions rushed to mind in the wake of removing such power from its seat; the political fallout, the vacuum it would leave, the enemies who would scramble to fill it…but those thoughts were pushed aside quickly. There was no room for them yet. Two hundred miles of golden sand and dangerous predators awaited the duo as they tracked their own prey. A strong gust of wind pushed at their backs, as if urging the journey forward, impatient in its own right.

It would take only twenty-five miles before they ran across the first of the desert's dangers: scorpions. The gentle glowing trail they followed was pulling them through a canyon well known for harboring the dangerous, chitinous creatures. The idea that the canyon could be a trap was not one left unexamined. Both of them knew better than to dismiss the thought, but if it was, it had been well chosen. The mountains looming on either side were just as treacherous to traverse, if not more so, owing to the desert tigers that prowled their ridgelines. To go around would waste time they didn't have. To push on was their only real choice, and thankfully the creatures crawling through the canyon shadows could do little to slow them. They were more a nuisance than a genuine threat, despite clambering onto high rocks and flinging themselves at the pair with chittering fury. Shinobi of such high caliber were rarely ones to be brought down by simple arachnids. However, the scorpions were not the only rising problem.

Beneath their feet came a telltale rumbling. Low, rhythmic, and deeply wrong. The narrow rocky walls on either side seemed to argue against the possibility of a sandworm moving below, yet the ground did not lie. Their armor clinked softly as the small tremor rolled beneath them. Ahead, the sandy ground they walked on began to shift, tilting inward toward a center point before sinking in a slow, inevitable spiral. The swirling sands grew stronger, sluggish at first, and then with sudden violence the ground they stood on all but vanished. Large spinning teeth, fashioned to grind stone to dust, erupted upward from below, twisting hungrily toward the rich metallic scent the pair gave off. The walls were the obvious escape route, however unpleasant; covered as they were in agitated scorpions.

Then the bottle containing the Uchiha eye began to vibrate separately from everything else. Like a small alarm pulsing with concentrated power, it seized the Kazekage's immediate attention: a sharp, insistent warning that the distance between the eye and its original owner had dropped well below one hundred and seventy-five miles. Closing fast. Which meant scouts had somehow found and reported their location! How they were being observed without Konoha's knowledge seemed impossible at first glance, at least until the scorpions began to converge with a coordination that no simple instinct could explain.
Above them, perched on a narrow ridge, was a six-armed man. His flesh had darkened considerably, sections of it hardened into crude, organic armor that caught the canyon light like polished chitin. From the lower half of his spine, a scorpion tail coiled and twitched with restless anticipation. The Arachnid Sage held their gaze with all six of his black eyes for only a moment before skittering backward up the wall and disappearing into the mouth of a cave. Unhurried, deliberate; a man who knew something they didn't.

Three threats converged on them at once: a sandworm churning up through the canyon floor, a sage retreating toward terrain he clearly controlled, and somewhere beyond the ridge, one very angry Uchiha closing the gap with every passing second. Each threat fed into the others, layered and timed with an elegance that suggested none of it was coincidence. The scorpions were herding. The canyon had always been the point. And whoever had set this in motion had known exactly what bait to use.

The question was no longer whether it was a trap. The question was how the pair intended to counter three cascading threats before any one of them had the chance to become fatal.