Naruto: Reborn as Yagura Karatachi

Chiyo made up her mind to step away from Sunagakure's affairs and withdraw from the center of power.

In less than a day—before Konohagakure or Kumogakure had time to intervene—Sunagakure's political landscape was settled.

Rasa's son, Gaara, officially succeeded the title of Fifth Kazekage.

Sasori remained by Gaara's side to guide the young Kazekage in his new role.

Other than the replacement of the Kazekage, the rest of Sunagakure's power structure remained untouched. The ruling elite's share of the pie was left intact.

And with Kirigakure stepping in as an ally, that pie might even grow bigger.

Just look at the conditions Kirigakure had laid out to Sunagakure.

Aside from the first condition—appointing the Kazekage directly, bypassing local choice, and naming a child who wouldn't be able to act independently for at least the next ten years—the rest were relatively easy to accept.

A political marriage. On a later date, each village would choose a representative to forge a union through matrimony and reinforce diplomatic ties.

Open trade. Kirigakure would flood Sunagakure's markets with goods, especially vital supplies Sunagakure couldn't produce on its own. Sunagakure was forbidden from resisting. They had to quietly accept the terms.

And so on...

They couldn't win in a fight anyway.

With both pressure and incentive in place, Sunagakure's upper leadership—half forced, half willing—signed this second humiliating treaty, following in the footsteps of Iwagakure.

The first time is always the hardest. After that, it becomes routine.

They had already bowed once. And now, faced with a force stronger than Iwagakure, what reason was there to resist the second time?

A change in overlords didn't change much for them—they remained the ruling elite of Sunagakure, with the same power, the same perks, and the same profits.

…

The day after the treaty was signed, Gaara donned his father's Kazekage hat in front of the gathered people of Sunagakure and the watching forces of Kirigakure.

Thanks to the frequent outbursts of the tailed beast, Gaara had never been particularly popular among the people of the village.

Now, as the citizens looked up at the tiny figure standing atop the Kazekage building, their eyes reflected a wide range of complex, often negative, emotions.

Tens of thousands of eyes weighed down on Gaara all at once, the mix of fear, disappointment, distrust, and resentment pressing heavily upon him.

He wasn't just a Jinchūriki who couldn't control his tailed beast—now he carried the label of a puppet Kazekage propped up by Kirigakure.

To them, he represented the shame of a defeated nation, a loss of autonomy, and a future pinned on someone too young to trust.

Instinctively, Gaara shrank back and reached for the hand of his uncle, Yashamaru.

The fear of his sister's child was transmitted wordlessly through that small grip—and Yashamaru felt it clear as day.

"It's okay, Gaara."

If he could, Yashamaru would have taken all of Gaara's pain onto himself.

Gaara was even younger than Yagura had been when he took the mantle.

Yes, his father had been Kazekage, and yes, he had grown up with far more exposure than most children—but emotionally, he was still a child.

To ask someone so young to shoulder the burden of the Kazekage…

Yashamaru wasn't worried about Sunagakure's safety or future. His concern was for Gaara.

He wasn't qualified to lead. He was just an ordinary shinobi who had entered the Anbu thanks only to his sister's connections.

He didn't have the strength, skill, or status to succeed as Kazekage himself, or to share Gaara's pain in any meaningful way.

All he could do was force a calm smile and offer whatever comfort he could.

"They're just unsure," he said gently. "They don't know if you can handle the responsibilities of the Kazekage—if you can protect them."

"Protect..." The word was both foreign and familiar to Gaara.

"Yeah," Yashamaru said with a smile. "Just like your sand protects you."

He understood better than anyone how lost Gaara felt right now.

He knew that, deep down, Gaara was a gentle, kind-hearted child.

But his father had pushed him time and again, testing his worth as a Jinchūriki through cruel, relentless trials. And so Gaara had walked the path of a demon in the name of love.

Yashamaru didn't know who to blame anymore.

There were too many culprits—his own weakness, Sunagakure's inability to protect its own, Rasa's failures as a father, and of course, their enemies... Kirigakure, who had lifted Gaara to this position.

"My sand..." Gaara muttered. He didn't like his sand.

Yes, it had protected him—but it had also isolated him, destroyed his ability to connect with others.

Because of the sand—and because of Shukaku—he had no friends. His sister and brother had kept their distance. His father had become a stranger.

"Your sand isn't from Shukaku."

Yashamaru's voice softened further. He knew the knot in Gaara's heart, and he was ready to untie it.

"It's from your mother—my sister. The chakra that protects you... it's hers."

He would never mistake that familiar chakra.

…

Sasori stood on Gaara's other side, silent and unmoving.

Technically, he'd been assigned to remain in Sunagakure to teach Gaara. But that duty would only begin after Gaara was formally recognized as Kazekage.

Right now, those terms hadn't been officially activated—so Sasori could still do as he pleased.

He let Yashamaru handle Gaara's emotional crisis, leaving the rest of the Sunagakure higher-ups and the civilians below in a state of limbo.

His mind wandered, running complex calculations as he stood idle.

When the protagonists are having a heartfelt conversation, it's like the whole world freezes around them. No one else reacts. No one else moves.

How curious... What kind of principle governed that, he wondered~?

The Kirigakure operatives stationed near Gaara didn't interrupt the moment.

…

With Yashamaru's words comforting him, even if only a little, Gaara took a deep breath.

He stepped forward again, summoning all the courage he could muster. His small body straightened, as he forced himself to face the crowd below—the people he was now responsible for protecting.

The Kazekage hat on his head suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

The emotions of the crowd—layered, intense, unrelenting—pressed down on him, increasing the weight by the second.

For someone like Gaara, who had always struggled to speak, the pressure was almost paralyzing.

Thankfully, he didn't need to say much.

Just a few simple words.

"Hello, everyone."

He steadied himself.

The first impression was important.

If he couldn't stay calm himself, there was no way he could protect the people of Sunagakure. And without that composure, they would never truly trust him from the heart.

The child's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear. That clarity quieted the citizens of Sunagakure.

Remembering the teachings he'd received beforehand, Gaara spoke simply yet earnestly:

"I am the Fifth Kazekage. From this day forward, I will protect you."

He couldn't truly fulfill those words—not yet.

The One-Tail, Shukaku, still resided within him, unstable and volatile.

In truth, he was the one in need of protection.

Not just in terms of strength—he knew nothing about handling the daily responsibilities of a Kage.

Once the formal succession ceremony concluded, Gaara took his place in the Kazekage's seat.

Ebizō, Baki, and Yashamaru were there.

After Chiyo resigned, these were the last three reliable figures in Sunagakure. The burden of cleaning up the massive mess left behind by Rasa's death now fell on them—and on the bewildered shoulders of Gaara.

The internal instability could be dealt with.

Kirigakure's shinobi were still enforcing martial law in the village. Sunagakure couldn't fall into chaos—it simply lacked the strength.

The real problem lay outside the village. Specifically:

Konohagakure and Kumogakure.

According to the diplomatic treaty with Kirigakure, Sunagakure was now a firm "ally" of the Hidden Mist.

Naturally, Hiruzen Sarutobi and the Fourth Raikage weren't pleased to wake up and find Sunagakure had suddenly pledged itself to a new master overnight.

The issue wasn't just that the Kazekage had changed.

It was that the new master wasn't Konoha—or Kumogakure.

Kirigakure moved swiftly.

By the time the Hokage and Raikage received word that Sunagakure was under surprise attack, the defensive line at the Heavenly Line had already been breached.

By the time they heard that the Line had fallen, the battle inside Sunagakure had nearly reached a decisive conclusion.

And by the time word came that the village was engaged in street battles, Sunagakure had already publicly declared Gaara as its Fifth Kazekage.

Kirigakure's blitzkrieg created just the right timing gap. By the time Konoha and Kumogakure could respond, several diplomatic documents had already landed on the Kazekage's desk.

The first letter asked whether Sunagakure needed reinforcements. The situation wasn't too dire yet—the battle at the Line had just begun.

Hiruzen and the Fourth Raikage clung to hope, thinking:

There's still time. There has to be time.

The second letter was more desperate. The two leaders practically begged Sunagakure to hold the line—they would mobilize troops immediately.

The third letter?

The war was already over. Now they were pleading:

Please, just stall. Hold the city. Just give us one more day—we'll get there!

Baki stared at the stack of diplomatic scrolls from Konoha and Kumogakure—each a record of yesterday's rapidly changing situation.

It still felt like a dream.

Then came the return to harsh reality.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Sigh…"

If they'd held out just one more day… if Konoha's reinforcements had arrived… would things have turned out differently?

But there were no ifs.

Sasori wasn't here.

He'd left Sunagakure its dignity, its independence, and its pride.

"Don't sigh, boy," Ebizō scolded Baki, then gave him a glance toward Gaara, who was still present.

The Kazekage was right here. If the adults couldn't hold themselves together, how could the Kazekage?

Baki immediately remembered: the three of them now held not only the authority of the village but also the responsibility of educating the next generation's leader.

"Yes, sir!"

Chiyo had already chosen to leave.

Ebizō supported her decision. In his view, she should've stepped away long ago.

He was alone now—his only family had been Chiyo. With her departure, he had no more personal attachments within Sunagakure's leadership.

Originally, he too had considered retiring—fishing peacefully from his doorstep for the rest of his days. But given Sunagakure's situation, he couldn't walk away.

Among the trio, Ebizō was the leader. He had personally selected Baki and Yashamaru—young, loyal, and pure-hearted. A far better alternative than the many corrupt and incompetent elders Sunagakure had to offer.

Experienced and steady, Ebizō reviewed the latest intel from Konoha. A bitter sort of amusement crept in.

Between Fire and Wind lay the Lands of Rain and Rivers.

The Land of Rain was no longer an option—Amegakure had made its stance clear. They were solidly aligned with Kirigakure.

The moment Hiruzen received the initial military alert, he knew it was bad. He hastily mobilized over three thousand troops.

Requests for military transit through the Land of Rivers were still en route.

There was no time to wait.

Konoha's forces, without notifying the neutral Land of Rivers, barged in and took the route by force.

They claimed military transit rights—through brute force.

At least during the Third Great Ninja War, they'd sent a polite notice.

It showed just how deeply Hiruzen understood Sunagakure's plight—and how desperate he'd become.

And yet, even with all that, he'd still overestimated them.

Sunagakure didn't last a single day.

With Gaara's succession ceremony included, it had barely been twenty-four hours.

Yagura, through the intelligence network Kirigakure's merchants had established in the Land of Fire, had already learned of Konoha's troop movements.

He immediately ordered the Mist forces to secure the eastern front of the Land of Wind.

There, at the edge of the Heavenly Line, Konoha's reinforcements were stopped—held at bay by Mist and Rain forces working in tandem.

The enemy's numbers and strength were roughly equal. And with no intel on Kirigakure's true capabilities—plus their prepared defenses—Konoha couldn't afford to act rashly.

They sent back requests for further orders.

When word came that Sunagakure's situation was already a done deal, both Hiruzen and the Fourth Raikage smashed their desks.

They'd always known Sunagakure was weak.

They also knew Kirigakure had been secretly building up power in recent years.

But they never imagined the village would collapse this quickly.

It was like they didn't even try!

You still wear the title of one of the Five Great Nations, don't you? At least pretend to put up a fight!

Have you no shame?!

Hiruzen was even angrier than the Fourth Raikage—because the contrast was unbearable.

If you had fought this poorly during the Third War, Konoha would've won ages ago! Why did the war drag on so long?

When fighting Konoha, they'd used every dirty trick in the book—blame games, sacrifices, anything to survive.

But when facing Kirigakure?

They rolled out the red carpet like they were welcoming royalty.

Are you kidding me?! How am I supposed to play this game if you're gonna act like this?!

"Ha! I bet the Hokage's panicking right about now."

Ebizō's tone was light, almost like gossip, as he explained Konoha and Kumogakure's attitude to the two younger men and the boy.

Gaara nodded along, half-understanding.

He was listening intently. He understood the words—but strung together, the meaning escaped him.

He was only seven. This was far too much for him.

Ebizō didn't push him. Gaara had never received any political training before this.

It would take time.

The situation was already set. There was no reason for them to panic anymore.

Let Konoha and Kumogakure worry now.

Funny, wasn't it?

The Fourth Mizukage had started training under the Third when he was Gaara's age.

Kirigakure operated under a dual military-political system. That's how the Fourth had adapted to his duties so quickly after rising to power.

Of course, he was a brilliant leader in his own right.

Now was a prime opportunity to separate executive power from the Kazekage position. The official reason would be to "alleviate the burden on a child too young to handle such responsibility."

But Ebizō had no desire to seize power for himself.

Being "Grand Commander and Elder of Sunagakure" sounded impressive—but power, once split off, was hard to return.

No one knew who the next Kazekage would be.

And power always came with danger. Ebizō wouldn't act rashly—not at such a sensitive, precarious time.

...

"The Daimyō's office actually..."

Yashamaru had found a document from the Wind Daimyō's estate.

Thankfully, the daimyo wasn't blaming them. He hadn't threatened to cut military funding, revoke contracts, or replace Sunagakure altogether.

Apparently, at the same time the Kirigakure-Sunagakure treaty was signed, the Land of Water and the Land of Wind daimyo offices had signed an agreement of their own.

"What were the terms?" Ebizō asked casually. Inter-daimyo negotiations weren't usually tied to ninja village matters, but he was curious.

"Matching the width of wheel ruts and roads to the Water Country standard," Yashamaru read, "and unifying civilian measurement units—length and weight—across both countries."

That was it. No reparations. No territorial concessions.

"Huh?" Yashamaru blinked. "That's all? Nothing about paying tribute or giving up land?"

"To make things easier for Water Country merchants," Ebizō answered immediately.

Water Country had a reputation for being all about profit.

"If their merchants don't have to adjust their carts for different roads or recalculate measurement units, it makes trade smoother."

Ebizō saw the logic in it. "It's a small enough concession that the daimyo didn't feel the need to punish us further."

Yashamaru and Baki both nodded in sudden understanding. "So that's what it was…"

They set the daimyo issue aside. It wasn't something for shinobi to worry about.

Seeing that the two young men and one child had absorbed enough, Ebizō turned to Gaara.

"Gaara, tell me—what's our relationship with Kirigakure now?"

Militarily, they'd struck us.

They could have destroyed us completely.

But politically and diplomatically? They stepped back. The new Kazekage wasn't one of their own—it was Rasa's son.

War was the continuation of politics by other means.

And Kirigakure had achieved everything they wanted: removing Rasa, installing Gaara, arranging a political marriage, and establishing open trade.

Even Chiyo had visited Kirigakure to see her grandson.

Gaara struggled to find the right words with his limited vocabulary. "…Friends?"

"Allies."

Bound completely. There was no longer any question of where they stood.

Ebizō accepted the situation with calm clarity—something only an outsider's perspective could provide.

"Kirigakure's real enemies are still Konoha and Kumogakure. They need our strength to pull those two giants down."

"Mhm."

Pen scratching across paper.

Gaara, red date cake in one hand, sweet dumpling in the other, wrote down everything Ebizō said in his notebook—summarizing every sentence.

He didn't understand it all yet.

But he was trying.

He would work hard.

----------------

Pls Drop some Power Stones

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