If Lock had possessed the Soul-Cleaving Blade back when he faced the Fourth Raikage, things might have gone very differently. That weapon could sap an enemy's chakra and slow their movements — even a few seconds of delay would've been enough to turn the tide.
The blade's hidden edge wasn't its sharpness, but its hunger. Each strike leeched chakra from its target, eating away at their strength bit by bit. Against close-combat specialists, it was devastating. Every exchange drained the enemy's stamina, giving Lock the upper hand the longer the fight went on.
Of course, its power depended on landing a hit or miss, and it was just steel and wasted chakra.
Even so, Lock knew this weapon was worth every ryo. The upcoming Third Great Ninja War would not forgive hesitation or weakness. He needed every edge he could get.
When the deal was done — a quiet transaction through an ANBU quartermaster who owed him a favor — Lock could feel the difference immediately.
He tested his grip, slashing once through the air. The blade whistled clean and light, its chakra pulse syncing perfectly with his own. His strength had grown sharper, more focused. His reserves felt fuller — roughly one-eighth greater than before, which was no small gain for a shinobi.
That increase alone was the equivalent of a trained chūnin's entire chakra pool.
He smiled faintly. "Good investment."
Above him, his messenger hawk glided in widening circles, scanning the terrain ahead. Since the bird shared its sight through a minor sensory seal, Lock could see what it saw — a vast, open world spreading beyond the cliffs of the Land of Earth.
The failure of talks with Iwagakure had been expected. The Third Tsuchikage's pride and suspicion ran too deep for cooperation. Lock knew that the old man would never willingly strengthen Konoha.
After clearing the border, Lock entered the Land of Birds. There, he penned a brief report, tying it securely to his messenger hawk's leg before sending it back to Jiraiya.
The hawk wasn't a summon, but it wasn't mindless either. The sensory seal Lock had placed on it helped guide its flight — and allowed him to track its path until it faded into the sky.
Once that was done, he turned south, toward the Land of Wind.
The transition was immediate. The lush grasslands of the borderlands gave way to cracked earth and rolling dunes. The air grew hot and dry, stinging the throat and eyes. Even with his training, Lock found the change brutal.
Sand whipped at his cloak as he trudged through the wasteland. There was no shade, no water, no life — just endless yellow stretching to the horizon.
Among the Five Great Nations, the Land of Wind was easily the harshest. The deserts devoured everything, and only the strongest survived. Compared to the fertile fields of the Fire Country or the rugged valleys of the Earth Country, this was a wasteland.
After only a few hours, Lock's lips were dry and cracked. "This place," he muttered, "feels like the world itself is trying to kill you."
He was lucky, though—no sandstorms — yet.
Far away, Jiraiya sat in a camp near the Fire Country's border, reading the message his hawk had delivered.
"As expected," he sighed, rolling the scroll closed. "That old fossil Tsuchikage wasn't going to agree to anything."
Still, the news brought relief. "At least Lock got out alive."
He'd worried that Iwagakure would attack without hesitation. And they had — the letter confirmed as much. But Lock's survival meant the boy was growing faster than even Jiraiya had anticipated.
Next came Sunagakure. "The desert's worse than any enemy," Jiraiya murmured. "Hope the kid keeps his head down."
By now, Lock had spent a full day walking through the Land of Wind, relying entirely on his own sense of direction. Without the hawk's eyes to guide him, he couldn't risk using teleportation — one wrong step could drop him into quicksand or a storm.
He moved steadily, conserving chakra, walking tens of kilometers at a time. Progress was slow, but safe.
The landscape was unforgiving — endless dunes that blurred together until every horizon looked the same. Without a map, it was almost impossible to tell where he was going.
Worse, the Land of Wind was sparsely populated. In a whole day, he'd passed only one small town and a handful of scattered settlements. The rest was nothing but sand and silence.
"If this is how they live," Lock thought, shaking his head, "it's no wonder they fight so fiercely for every grain of soil."
When his hawk finally returned, Lock's pace quickened again. From high above, the bird's eyes cut through the haze, giving him the path he needed.
The journey to Sunagakure was proving far more difficult than the mission to Mount Kikyo had ever been. The village lay deep in the heart of the desert — a fortress carved into the dunes themselves. Without a guide, finding it was like chasing a mirage.
As the sun sank behind the dunes, Lock tightened his cloak against the wind. "The old man could've at least given me a map," he muttered dryly.
But even that wasn't fair. Konoha had maps, of course — just not of this route. He'd taken the Bird Country path, a line few ever used. Even with a map, the desert shifted so often that it might not have mattered.
He kept walking, step after step, toward the faint promise of light on the horizon.
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A/N: New Fanfic Is Out " Naruto: I'm Boruto Uzumaki"
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