Rasa's confidence settled over him like a second cloak.
He slowly spread his arms, and chakra rippled out from his body into the desert.
At once, the sand around them began to rise in countless streams, twisting and spiraling through the air as flecks of gold mixed into it like poison seeping into blood.
"You see?" Rasa said with a cold sneer. "Nothing's changed. This is still my domain. Out here, I decide who lives and who dies."
Obito gave him a few lazy claps, his face completely blank.
"You really haven't changed at all," Pakura said.
Rasa's smile deepened.
"And you have?" he shot back. "You were always too emotional… and easily swayed. That was your weakness."
Pakura didn't respond the way he expected. She only looked at him in silence, her turquoise eyes devoid of the loyalty they once held for Sunagakure. There was nothing left there now except cold, absolute indifference.
Obito tilted his head slightly.
"Wow!"
"He really does sound like some third-rate final boss."
The corner of Pakura's mouth twitched.
"Don't lump final bosses together with trash like him," she said flatly.
Rasa's eyes turned colder.
"Magnet Release: Gold Dust Burial."
The desert roared.
A monstrous wave of sand and gold rose into the sky, blotting out the light as it swelled higher and higher. Then it came crashing down on Obito and Pakura like a collapsing mountain.
The sheer force behind it distorted the air. The impact shook the desert, as though the land itself had groaned under the weight.
For an instant, both of them disappeared beneath the flood of sand.
A violent shockwave tore across the dunes.
Sand burst outward in every direction, and the ground trembled beneath the crushing pressure of the technique.
Rasa's cloak snapped wildly in the wind as he held out one hand, sensing the movement of the sand through his chakra. His fingers slowly curled.
The massive burial of sand compressed even further.
The weight became even denser. More violent. Enough to grind flesh apart, crush bone, rupture organs, and bury any trace of a body.
"Reduced to dust," Rasa said coldly. "That is the only end waiting for traitors."
The storm of sand gradually began to calm.
The dunes shifted.
The dust hanging in the air slowly cleared.
And when the last veil of sand finally fell away—
Obito was still standing exactly where he had been from the start.
Not even a single grain of sand had touched his cloak.
Pakura stood beside him, her hair barely disturbed.
Rasa's pupils shrank.
"What—?"
Obito looked up at the drifting gold dust still hanging in the air.
"Oh. Right…"
He raised a hand and tapped the swirling particles.
His finger passed through them like smoke.
"Guess I forgot to mention."
He looked at Rasa.
"Stuff like this doesn't really work on me."
Rasa's expression darkened.
"…Who are you?"
Obito tilted his head.
"…Just an observer."
Rasa's eyes narrowed even further.
He didn't buy that for a second.
Not just anyone could drag him into a genjutsu without resistance, then stand in front of his Magnet Release like it was nothing.
Obito didn't explain.
He just stepped back and glanced at Pakura.
"Anyway, I'll handle the running-away part."
His eye shifted back to Rasa.
"You can focus on venting."
Rasa's voice turned colder.
"You sound very confident. Do you really think you're leaving this place alive?"
A small chuckle left Obito.
"…No."
Rasa's brows pulled together.
"…What?"
The Sharingan behind the mask turned slowly.
"I don't think."
His voice was quiet and filled with certainty.
"I know I will."
Before Rasa could speak again… Pakura stepped forward.
The truth was that, despite acting confident and talking all that trash, he was actually stalling—dragging the conversation out to buy as much time as possible, hoping the village would finally realize something was wrong.
The wind tugged at Pakura's cloak, revealing the Sunagakure forehead protector tied tightly around her arm—not as a badge of allegiance, but as a scar.
Rasa's gaze caught on it, and he laughed—completely unaware that the forehead protector he mocked carried a deep slash across it… the unmistakable mark of an Akatsuki member.
"Still clinging to that?"
"You really are pathetic. The village abandoned you. I merely used what was already true."
Pakura's eyes were calm.
There was no tremble in them because of his mocking words.
Only a quiet, steady hatred that had been allowed to mature—like a flame sealed in a furnace, not burning out, just growing hotter.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said. "You didn't 'use' anything. You begged the Mist to do the dirty work you were too afraid to do with your own hands."
Rasa's smirk faltered for half a second.
Then he scoffed.
"Believe whatever makes you feel better in your last moments."
He thrust his hand out.
The desert boiled.
"Magnet Style: Gold Dust Wave!"
A tidal surge of sand and golden particles rose from all directions, forming a massive whirlpool that converged on Pakura alone—leaving Obito entirely untouched. It spiraled inward, a grinding maelstrom that could shred flesh from bone, compressing tighter and tighter.
Obito stood there casually, hands in his pockets, watching the exchange like it was mild entertainment.
Pakura didn't retreat, she simply lifted her hand.
Four orbs of scorching chakra bloomed around her—perfectly spherical, translucent orange, shimmering with killing heat.
The air warped around them.
"Scorch Release…"
The orbs shot forward, carving through the oncoming gold dust like miniature suns dropped into a sandstorm.
Everywhere they passed, the moisture in the air vanished in an instant. The gold dust superheated, glowing red, then white, before liquefying into molten droplets that rained down in a blazing curtain.
"…Extreme Steaming Murder."
In an instant, the tidal wave of gold dust lost form, collapsing as its structure was shredded by the extreme temperature. Parts of it turned to molten metal, others to brittle glassy clumps that shattered mid-air.
What remained never got within arm's reach of Pakura.
Rasa's eyes widened.
"That technique again…!"
He gritted his teeth.
"Don't be so proud,"
"Scorch Release or not, you can't evaporate sand. You're surrounded by it."
Pakura blinked slowly.
"Who said I need to?"
Her chakra flared.
A wave of oppressive heat pulsed outward, making the desert air shimmer violently.
Rasa felt it in his lungs first.
The moisture vanished.
His throat tightened, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
The jōnin-level chakra control that had made him Kazekage screamed in warning.
He stepped back on instinct, forcing his chakra outward to form a barrier between his body and the air.
Pakura's gaze followed him, unhurried.
"Were you always this weak?" she asked quietly.
Rasa's jaw clenched.
He slammed his hands together.
"Magnet Style: Gold Dust Imperial Funeral!"
The desert roared again.
This time, the gold dust rose in countless blades... thin, honed edges formed mid-air, spinning like a storm of golden guillotine blades.
They descended from all angles, converging on Pakura at high speed, each one dense enough to carve through steel.
Pakura moved swiftly.
To ordinary eyes, she flickered.
To Rasa, with his battle-hardened instincts, it was still too fast.
Her body twisted, heat distorting her outline as she slid between the falling blades with impossible precision.
Obito watched with his arms folded, commenting with interest.
"Not bad,"
"You've gotten smoother since the last training session."
Pakura didn't answer, but the corner of her mouth tilted the slightest bit upward.
Rasa saw it... that infuriating hint of ease.
"You…!"
"You think I'm a joke?!"
He slammed his palm down.
The ground beneath Pakura erupted as gold dust surged up from below like a geyser, trying to swallow her whole.
Obito's Sharingan spun lazily.
"Don't interfere," Pakura said without looking back. "This part… is mine."
Obito's smirk softened.
"…Sure."
The moment the gold dust closed in from below, Pakura's chakra flared again.
"Scorch Release—Desert Boil."
Heat exploded outward from her feet.
The sand beneath her turned red, then orange, then white-hot in an instant. The rising gold dust lost cohesion, clumping and sagging as gravity reclaimed it, droplets splashing back into the sand like molten rain.
Rasa felt the backlash through his Magnet Release.
His control wavered for a heartbeat.
Pakura took that heartbeat and drove a kunai into it.
Her body streaked forward, propelled by chakra and the updraft of her own heat. She appeared in front of Rasa like a mirage solidifying—eyes blazing, cloak whipping back.
Rasa jerked his arm up.
A barrier of gold dust surged between them.
Pakura's hand shot forward.
She didn't try to punch through it.
She pressed her palm against it.
Rasa instantly felt it...the immense temperature.
Not like ordinary flames.
It was extraction—ripping away moisture, tearing it out of anything it touched.
The gold dust barrier warped, parts of it glowing dully, others crumbling into powder and falling away. The chakra within it destabilized under the assault of her bloodline limit.
Rasa cursed under his breath and retreated in a short burst, leaping backward onto another dune to reestablish distance.
"You're strong," he admitted, breath hissing out between his teeth. "Stronger than before. But you're still just one kunoichi."
He spread his arms again.
This time, it wasn't just sand and gold dust that responded.
From beneath the dunes, something else rose—hidden reserves Rasa had scattered over the years as insurance. Massive volumes of gold dust surged up from the depths, enough to stain the sky itself a dull metallic yellow.
Obito raised an eyebrow amused.
"Oh? You were hiding that much?"
"No wonder your economy's always a mess."
"Shut up," Rasa snapped.
The sky dimmed further.
"With this much," Rasa growled, "I can bury entire villages. Do you really think your little flames can match the full weight of the desert? I am the Kazekage—this land itself kneels to my will."
Pakura looked up at the towering storm of gold dust.
For a moment, she was silent.
Then she smiled.
The smile didn't contain any gentleness, nor was it bright... what it held was pure malice, enough to send a chill down your spine.
"Do you know," she said softly, "what I thought about… when I was dying in the Mist?"
Rasa didn't respond. His fingers tightened. He was ready to crush her the instant she faltered.
"I thought," Pakura continued, "if I ever saw you again… I wanted you to feel what it's like to watch everything you built turn to ash in your hands."
Her chakra surged.
The heat spiked so suddenly that even Obito tilted his head, interested.
"Go on then," she said calmly and even copied Obito's teasing words from before. "Use all of it. Every grain. Every last speck of gold you hid from your own people."
She lifted her arms slightly, as if welcoming the storm.
"I'll burn it all for you."
Rasa's expression twisted.
"Magnet Style—Gold Dust Eclipse!!"
The sky darkened, casting a heavy shadow over the desert land.
A colossal dome of gold dust descended from above, moving fast enough to roar, dense enough that the light dimmed under its shadow.
It wasn't just a burial—it was an eclipse, a crushing sphere meant to erase everything beneath it.
'Was this guy really capable enough?' Obito Uchiha wondered with mild amusement.
To his surprise, Rasa's performance was actually much better than in the anime.
Pakura drew in a breath. Scorch chakra flooded her coils, gathering tighter and hotter with every second until it burned from the inside out.
The air around her would've screamed if they could feel the heat.
Four orbs formed again.
Then eight.
Then twelve.
They blazed into existence one after another—miniature suns hovering around her in a wide circle, each one pulsing with lethal heat.
Obito watched, lips curling.
"Oh," he murmured. "Now that looks like overkill. I approve."
Pakura's eyes locked on the descending dome.
"Scorch Release…"
The orbs shot upward in a spiraling formation, tearing through the air, leaving trails of warped light behind them.
"…Solar Funeral."
They struck forward with terrifying power.
The impact wasn't a single explosion—it was dozens, hundreds of overlapping detonations as each orb detonated inside the mass of gold dust. Heat devoured moisture, devoured structure, devoured cohesion.
The sky turned white.
The dome of gold dust didn't simply explode.
It… dissolved.
Rasa staggered, eyes wide, chakra violently disrupted by the destruction of his technique.
Impossible.
"How…?"
Pakura dropped back to the sand, knees bending as she absorbed the landing. Steam curled off her shoulders, her breathing a touch heavier now but her eyes were still steady.
"Is it so hard to understand? I'm simply better than you."
Rasa's teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached.
"Enough!"
"I don't care what tricks you learned crawling back from death. You're still just one person. And I—"
Rasa didn't finish as he coughed hard, letting a mouthful of blood fall onto the destroyed desert.
Cough, cough.
Only then did he realize his current state… as he looked down, his eyes widened — the entire right side of his body was gone, scorched, hollowed out, as if someone had drained the life straight out of him.
In the next instant before he could even scream, Obito was suddenly at his side.
The next, a gloved hand was resting casually on his shoulder—just like in the office.
His heart lurched as an unwelcome thought crept into his mind.
'Am I… going to die here?'
Obito's Sharingan spun lazily while saying,
"Sorry,"
"I did say I wouldn't let you run."
Rasa's eyes widened in anger, in his condition he couldn't even run, and this bastard had the nerve to mock him for it.
Obito leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a gentle tone.
"And just to be clear..."
"you're wrong about one thing."
Rasa glared at him, breath ragged.
"…What?"
Obito's eye curved in a faint smile.
"She's not 'just' one person... she's my person."
He stepped away, letting go of Rasa's shoulder as if discarding something unimportant.
"And I take care of my people."
Rasa barely had time to process the words before he felt it.
Heat…
Right in front of him.
Pakura was standing there without him even noticing—close enough that he could see his own reflection in her eyes.
There was no hatred twisting her face now.
No rage contorting her features.
Only quiet, absolute resolve.
"Rasa," she said softly. "This desert… won't remember you kindly."
Her hand rose.
Four small orbs of scorching chakra bloomed between them, inches from his body.
Rasa's survival instincts screamed as he tried to move—to sink into the sand, to call his gold dust, to do anything—but nothing answered him, and that helpless silence felt colder than death.
For the first time, he truly understood.
He had never stood a chance against her from the very beginning… to think he would die at the hands of someone he himself had sold out to another village. Was this… karma? he wondered bitterly.
A deep unwillingness twisted in his chest; with death so close he finally understood—he didn't want to die… not like this.
Pakura's voice was almost a whisper.
"Scorch Release…"
The orbs pressed in.
"…Heart-Drying Lotus."
Just as Rasa's lower body completely disappeared, leaving only his head, he heard the final words that pushed him into deeper despair.
"Don't worry, Rasa. You may be dying here, but your face is still important… it'll 'help' your village and be useful once more."
Obito Uchiha said with a smile. Of course he wouldn't let him die peacefully.
Rasa wanted to ask what he meant by that… but death reached him first, stealing his breath before he could speak, and he died with nothing but unanswered questions in his heart.
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