After an hour of passionate, soul-stirring lingering.
Tsunade lay silently in Rasa's arms, her expression one of utter fulfillment before she slowly drifted into a sweet sleep.
Rasa, having already cleaned his body and dressed himself neatly, meticulously smoothing his clothes.
He gently lifted Tsunade from his embrace.
Slowly leaving the hall, which was still a mess of discarded clothing and bodily fluids, he walked toward her bedroom.
Placing her gently on the bed and pulling the covers over her, Rasa turned and left the room.
Tsunade remained immersed in her slumber, her face still flushed with a rosy afterglow and radiating satisfaction.
A blissful smile played on her lips, as if she were encountering something wonderful in her dreams.
The moment Rasa stepped out of the house and pushed open the front door, the cool afternoon air rushed over him.
The breeze blew against his still-overheated skin.
The sudden chill made him shiver involuntarily.
Rasa shook his head and began walking down the street.
It was already past 4:00 PM; it looked like he would be spending the night at the Uchiha residence.
He wondered if the mother and daughter had finally laid their cards on the table.
Or were they still living together in a state of tacit understanding, feigning ignorance while sharing the same secret?
Meanwhile, in the distant Land of Earth.
At the border shared with the Land of Wind, over twenty massive stone towers had been erected.
The base of each tower was staggering in size, covering over a hundred square meters.
They soared into the sky, reaching heights of a hundred meters.
Though the towers narrowed as they rose toward the clouds.
They still presented a shocking image of towering majesty.
At the summit of each tower, three enormous ballistae stood ready.
These weapons emitted a mysterious black luster; their material looked like neither wood nor iron.
A closer inspection would reveal exquisite craftsmanship.
Every detail was perfected without a single flaw.
The bowstrings were made of a unique material, both tough and elastic, capable of withstanding immense tension.
The bolt grooves were masterfully designed for rapid loading and accuracy.
These giant weapons stood silently atop the stone towers.
Each tower acted as a fortress, guarding the borders of the Land of Earth.
At the very top, three Rock Shinobi were always on watch.
Wrapped in heavy clothing, they peered through binoculars in three directions.
They watched the skies with fanatical vigilance, daring not to slacken for a moment.
Through the windows in the middle sections, dozens of other Rock ninjas could be seen.
Some were resting, others were training or chatting, each occupied with their tasks.
Their expressions varied, but they all shared a look of grim determination and focus.
Furthermore, more of these giant towers were being built at a feverish pace deeper within the country.
A few hundred meters outside the Hidden Stone Village, the construction continued.
Even as 5:00 PM approached, the site was a hive of frantic activity.
Tens of thousands of civilian men were working themselves to the bone.
Using wooden carts and various heavy tools, they struggled to push stones weighing thousands of pounds to the site.
Their faces were drenched in sweat, but they pushed on relentlessly.
Every few dozen meters, a ninja in a standard flak jacket stood guard, supervising the labor.
If they saw a civilian slowing down, they would bark out an order.
They didn't use insults; they simply shouted the person's name at the top of their lungs:
"XXXX! Everything is for the Hidden Stone Village!"
The shout would echo through the air, driving every man to work harder.
Usually, when a name was called, all the other civilians would reflexively stare at the targeted man.
The worker would instantly turn red with shame.
He would grit his teeth and accelerate his pace immediately.
Even with sweat soaking his clothes and his lungs burning, he didn't dare slow down again.
Further away, the foundations for a dozen more towers were being laid.
Ninja laborers, their faces covered in grime, used Ninjutsu constantly to assist the civilians.
Fl flashes of jutsu light sparked in the air, reinforcing the stone to make it indestructible.
They worked until they were too exhausted to mold Chakra, at which point the next shift would immediately take over.
They rotated every hour in a never-ending cycle.
The work did not stop even when the sun went down.
A night shift of ninjas and civilians was always ready to keep the momentum going.
Under this twisted, high-pressure environment.
A tower that should have taken three or four years to build was being completed in less than a month.
Kitsuchi walked down the streets of Iwagakure with a stoic expression, his eyes scanning his surroundings.
The flow of people was sparse, and shockingly, ninety percent of those on the street were women.
That was because every adult male, and even boys within two years of adulthood, had been conscripted for construction.
He listened to the hushed, anxious whispers of the women.
When they noticed him, they would fall silent, watching him with strange, hollow eyes.
Seeing this, Kitsuchi could no longer maintain his mask of calm; his brow furrowed deeply.
Though Iwagakure had always been a disciplined village, it had never felt this desolate or tense.
An inexplicable, suffocating weight filled the air, as if an invisible hand were crushing the hearts of the people.
Kitsuchi clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and marched toward the Tsuchikage's office.
Breaking his usual protocol, he ignored the nervous greetings of the Rock ninjas and went straight to the second floor.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Kitsuchi's footsteps were heavy, each one carrying the weight of his mounting pressure.
The old wooden stairs groaned under his weight, echoing the turmoil in his heart.
"What is happening to us?"
"When exactly did the village turn into this?"
Listening to the dull thuds of his own boots, the anger Kitsuchi had been suppressing began to boil over.
There were so many things in the village that needed repair or renovation.
Yet his father hadn't put a single ounce of energy into those pressing needs.
Instead, he had poured every resource and every person into those damn towers.
He had even set impossible deadlines for their completion. It was utter madness!
Kitsuchi reached the office door, standing in a silence that felt unnervingly heavy.
His hand stopped halfway to the door, hesitating as if he were about to cross a line of no return.
But after a few seconds, he steeled himself and knocked hard.
"Father! It's me!"
After a moment of dead silence, a weary, aged voice drifted from within.
"Come in."
Hearing that voice made Kitsuchi's heart skip a beat.
His grip tightened on the handle before he forced the door open and stepped inside.
He saw his father, the Third Tsuchikage of the Hidden Stone, sitting behind his desk, watching him with calm eyes.
Faced with that gaze, Kitsuchi instinctively lowered his head.
The weight of Onoki's authority was ancient and absolute.
Not just for the other ninjas, but for Kitsuchi as his biological son, the reverence was deep-seated and overwhelming.
Onoki stared at his son, his voice flat but carrying a strange, underlying majesty.
"What is it?"
Kitsuchi bit his lip, keeping his gaze on the floor as he spoke:
"Father, aren't we pushing too hard?"
"Our original plan was to complete fifty towers over the next ten years."
"That was calculated to be our maximum sustainable speed."
At this point, his concern overrode his fear.
He slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with his father, who remained unnervingly still.
Kitsuchi's face showed clear doubt and a flicker of rage he couldn't quite hide.
"But why have you suddenly ordered the ninjas to finish fifty towers in just two months?"
"There isn't an adult male left in the village! Even the fourteen-year-olds are gone!"
"They are working like slaves for twelve hours a day, sleeping for a few hours before the next shift starts."
"Dozens of healthy men have already dropped dead from pure exhaustion at the sites."
"The ninjas and even the academy students have been sent out. There are barely fifty shinobi left guarding the village!"
"To complete this massive workload in such a short time, we have burned through all our resources."
"The Land of Earth's entire iron reserve is gone, and the atmosphere in the village has turned... eerie."
"If this continues, what will be left of us?"
Faced with his son's near-hysterical roar.
Onoki sat motionless in his chair; not a single wrinkle on his face moved.
He looked like a lifeless doll, a puppet of flesh and bone.
He parted his lips slightly, his voice calm and terrifyingly authoritative.
"Are you finished?"
Kitsuchi realized he had lost his composure.
He quickly lowered his head, avoiding his father's eyes.
Onoki watched him, his eyelids lifting slightly as he spoke with a voice that was far too steady.
"Time waits for no man."
"If we don't finish the defenses, what will we do when the Hidden Sand attacks?"
Kitsuchi looked up again.
His confusion hadn't faded; it had intensified.
"Father, by any logic, the Sand won't start another war this soon."
"We shouldn't be doing this. We are mortgaging the entire future of Iwagakure!"
"If this lasts another week or two, the death toll will be in the hundreds or thousands. Our ninjas will burn out their Chakra systems."
"Mass desertions will follow! And we don't even know if these towers will actually work!"
Onoki cut him off with a slow wave of his hand.
"So what? These are necessary sacrifices."
Suddenly, Onoki's brow furrowed, and a flash of intense struggle appeared in his eyes.
Seeing this, a jolt of pure terror shot through Kitsuchi.
He remembered the mysterious drops of blood he had seen in the office two weeks ago.
He remembered the rumors of a mysterious man with a Mangekyō Sharingan who had hypnotized Han, the previous Five-Tails Jinchūriki.
Could his father be...
Kitsuchi connected the dots between two separate events, and though his logic was flawed, his intuition hit the mark.
"Father... you are right. I will take my leave now."
Kitsuchi lowered his head, trying to mask the horror in his eyes as he began to back away toward the door.
If even his father had been compromised by a Mangekyō user's genjutsu...
Then he had no way to break the spell himself.
He had to seek help from the Fourth Mizukage or the Fourth Raikage immediately.
He backed away carefully, keeping his eyes on the room for any movement.
Nothing happened.
As he reached the doorway, he felt a momentary surge of relief.
He turned to flee, only to find a figure standing behind him who hadn't been there a second ago.
It was a mysterious individual in a swirl mask, with the build of a young man.
The figure was staring at him with a single, piercing eye.
Visible through the hole in the mask was the distinct, blooming pattern of the Mangekyō Sharingan!
Kitsuchi's heart hammered against his ribs. He tried to react, but his vision went pitch black as his consciousness was snuffed out instantly.