Naruto: The Sand Will Rise!

Mufasa took a sip of his drink, eyes locked on Mikazuki.

Mikazuki smirked. "Kazekage, you sure talk big. You have barely two hundred fighters, while I have over a thousand."

He gestured toward the massive river beside them. "And this battlefield is perfect for us. The moisture in the air enhances our Water Release jutsu. This is our domain. You should be the one surrendering."

Mufasa met his gaze with a cold smirk. "You talk too much. Let me show you how I've already surrounded you."

With a snap of his fingers, a bolt of lightning struck down from the sky, crackling toward Mikazuki.

Mikazuki's instincts kicked in—he barely dodged. He knew full well that the Hozuki Clan's Hydration Technique was weak against Lightning Release. If he got hit, he would lose control over his body.

But Mufasa was too fast.

A second snap—another bolt of lightning crashed down, striking Kurozumi directly.

Blue-white electricity danced across his body. His muscles seized, his limbs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground.

"H-Help me!" Mikazuki shouted, his voice filled with panic.

His men rushed toward him, but before they could reach their commander, they suddenly clutched their stomachs and crumpled to the ground. One by one, the entire army of over a thousand shinobi doubled over in agony.

Mikazuki's eyes widened in horror. "Wh-what's happening?! What did you do?!"

Mufasa chuckled. "You were willing to drown an entire army with your little flood plan. Compared to that, my method is far more merciful."

Unknown to them, Kabuto's agents had already poisoned their food and water supply. The poison wasn't lethal—Mufasa had ensured that. It only robbed them of their ability to fight, leaving them writhing in pain.

Meanwhile, rocket-propelled flying ninja squads worked swiftly, removing all the explosives hidden around the battlefield. The Sand Village's forces arrived shortly after, securing the area with minimal resistance.

Mikazuki's so-called "White Dragon Plan"—his grand ambush strategy—had been completely dismantled in an instant.

The only problem now? Too many prisoners.

Mufasa sighed. "We can't move forward while dragging over a thousand captives with us."

His forces had no choice but to set up camp. He left a detachment behind to guard the prisoners while securing the area. 

The shinobi engineers built a large prison encampment overnight, securing the enemy forces on the very embankment they had intended to use against him.

Mufasa turned to his appointed captain. "Make sure to guard our laborers—" he cleared his throat, "—I mean, our prisoners of war. And don't let them die."

He grinned. "We're warriors of justice and peace, after all. No prisoner abuse."

The captain saluted. "Understood, sir. We'll handle it."

With that settled, Mufasa and the main force resumed their march along the river, heading toward the town of Kawasaki.

Meanwhile, in Kawasaki…

Momonosuke, Kurozumi, Yorushi, and their allies awaited news from the front lines. But as the hours dragged on, nothing came.

Momonosuke scowled and kicked Kurozumi hard. "Tell me, Kurozumi, are you sure your flood plan was foolproof? There's been no word from Wangdu River!"

Kurozumi was just as confused. Logically, the flood should have devastated the Sand Village's army. So why was there no response?

At that moment, a masked shinobi entered the room—Mokutan, the partner of Yorushi.

"I bring bad news," Mokutan said with a regretful tone. "Mufasa saw through our plan. The entire White Dragon Project has fallen. Our forces have been captured."

Mokutan was none other than Obito in disguise.

Kazuma, disguised as Yorushi, a recent recruit of the Akatsuki, had aligned himself with the Land of River's forces. 

But even Obito had underestimated Mufasa. When he saw him flying toward the embankment, he knew something was wrong.

And sure enough, the worst happened. Mufasa neutralized Mikazuki's entire army in minutes.

Momonosuke's face twisted in fury. "Useless! You're all worthless!"

The room fell into tense silence. The warlords present clenched their fists, barely restraining their anger.

If Momonosuke wasn't the daimyo's son, they would have killed him on the spot.

Kurozumi forced a smile, his patience wearing thin. "Everyone… The White Dragon Plan has failed. We must regroup and plan our next move."

Mufasa was unaware of the events unfolding behind him.

The next morning, at the break of dawn, he and his forces set off.

The road along the Kawakami River was smoother, allowing them to move quickly. At this pace, they estimated it would take three to four days to reach Kawasaki Town.

Despite being an invading force, the Sand Ninja Army did not mistreat the locals.

In fact, they helped villages along the way, earning the goodwill of the Land of River's people. Stories of their kindness spread, and fear of them lessened.

Villagers cautiously observed from a distance as Sand Ninja's monstrous, mechanical transport rumbled down the road.

Some daring children even approached their camp at night, fascinated by their technology and weapons.

Mufasa welcomed the curiosity.

He instructed the logistics team to trade with the villagers, purchasing fresh fish, shrimp, and vegetables to supplement their rations.

A rare sight—soldiers and civilians exchanging goods instead of blows.

A similar scene played out at the prisoner-of-war camp.

More than thirty homeless refugees from the Land of River joined the camp as workers, helping with cleaning, cooking, and maintenance.

One such worker, a woman named Layuki, carried a basin of laundry past the gate guard, Jiro.

She glanced at him. "I'm heading to the river to wash clothes."

Jiro, ever stoic, simply nodded. "Stay within my sight. Don't wander too far."

Layuki chuckled at his serious tone.

At first, she thought he was just a cold, unfeeling soldier. Over time, she realized he had a kind side—he just didn't show it easily.

By afternoon, as Layuki washed clothes by the river, Jiro watched her from a distance.

His gaze lingered briefly.

Just keeping an eye on her for safety, he assured himself.

Then everything changed.

From the other side of the camp, an explosion rocked the ground.

Boom!

Smoke and fire erupted into the sky.

Nearby villagers screamed and fled as the shockwave rippled through the area.

Jiro's sharp eyes darted to the river. From the reeds, figures emerged—Fuma Clan ninjas, using special diving equipment to avoid detection by Sand Ninja's aerial drones.

The moment the explosion rang out, they sprang into action.

"Ambush!" Jiro realized.

One of the Fuma ninjas hurled a massive, wheel-sized Fuma Shuriken straight at Layuki.

She froze, eyes wide with terror.

She didn't know what to do. She couldn't move.

The deadly shuriken spun toward her, gleaming in the sunlight.

"Damn it!"

Jiro's instincts kicked in. He activated his ODM gear, firing a grappling line into a nearby tree. The cable reeled him forward at high speed.

"Layuki!"

Satou, another Sand Ninja, saw him move. "Wait! It's too dangerous!"

But Jiro was already airborne, shooting across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning.

The massive shuriken grew larger in Layuki's vision. She braced for impact, shutting her eyes.

Clang!

A pair of boots hit the ground in front of her.

Jiro arrived just in time, both swords drawn.

His high-frequency blades vibrated at incredible speeds, generating enough heat to slice through steel.

With two swift slashes, he cut the Fuma Shuriken in half like slicing through warm butter.

But Fuma weapons were more than just blades.

As the shuriken split, hidden compartments activated, releasing a barrage of senbon needles in all directions.

Jiro barely had time to react.

No time to dodge. Layuki was right behind him—she wouldn't survive the attack.

He did the only thing he could.

He turned, shielding her with his body.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The senbon struck his back, bouncing off his exoskeleton and bulletproof vest. But not all of them.

A few found their mark, piercing his exposed arms and legs. Sharp pain shot through him.

Layuki gasped. "Are you okay?!"

Jiro winced but forced a smirk. "I'm fine."

He turned back toward the battlefield.

Satou was already engaged in a fierce battle. They were surrounded, outnumbered ten to two.

Back to back, the two Sand Ninja fought, their blades keeping the enemy at bay.

But the Fuma Clan wasn't done yet.

They pulled out more Fuma Shurikens, their sheer size making them as deadly as guillotine blades.

More than a dozen of them were thrown simultaneously, controlled mid-air by near-invisible chakra strings.

They came from all directions, twisting at impossible angles. There was no way to block them all.

Boom!

A thunderous blast echoed across the battlefield.

A cannon-sized bullet shot toward the Fuma Clan ninjas.

Jiro and Satou glanced up in shock.

"The Captain's here!"

From the camp's entrance, Yoruya arrived, piloting the towering, 20-meter-tall Mobile Police Unit One.

The massive mech's steel frame gleamed in the sunlight. Yoruya stood in the cockpit, holding a revolver the size of a battleship's cannon.

His voice boomed over the battlefield.

"Laying a hand on my men? You motherfuckers, are all dead!"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three consecutive shots rang out, each bullet the size of a boulder.

The Fuma ninjas panicked, frantically maneuvering their shurikens to block the incoming rounds.

Jiro and Satou used the distraction to press forward, blades flashing.

The tide of battle had shifted.

And the Fuma Clan was running out of time.