This man was unmistakably a Suna ninja.
"Konoha Jōnin Roshi," he introduced himself in a firm, clear voice. "By order of the Hokage, I'm here to deliver urgent classified intelligence to our ally—the Sunagakure."
As his words faded, Roshi flicked his wrist and sent an envoy's scroll spinning through the air, its wax seal stamped with the Third Hokage's insignia.
Once the message landed, Roshi stepped back several paces, maintaining a deliberate distance. His hands were open at his sides—a clear gesture that he bore no hostility.
Baki, the shinobi leading the formation, didn't move immediately.
From the ranks behind him, another ninja silently stepped forward. Rather than approach himself, he summoned a small, insect-like puppet. The mechanical creature skittered across the sand, its metal limbs glinting faintly as it picked up the dispatch with a delicate claw before retreating to its master.
The puppet handler examined the scroll with meticulous precision, fingers brushing across the surface to detect chakra residue or hidden curse marks.
A brief moment passed. The Sand ninja gave Baki a short nod—safe.
The puppet crawled forward once more and deposited the scroll into Baki's waiting hand.
He studied the seal, glanced at the contents, and—after confirming its authenticity—tossed it back. Roshi didn't retrieve it directly. Instead, a shadow clone stepped up to collect it, dispelling after a quick inspection to ensure nothing had been tampered with. Only then did Roshi take the scroll himself.
Satisfied by the careful exchange, Baki gestured for his subordinates to stand down. The Sand Ninja's formation eased; most dispersed, leaving only five guards behind alongside their captain.
Roshi exhaled quietly. Their reaction was normal—measured, cautious, exactly what he'd expected from Sunagakure.
Still, he kept his guard raised. Only when he stepped closer and saw no hint of aggression did he motion for Anko and Itachi to follow.
"Kazekage-sama isn't in the village," Baki explained. "Iwagakure's been unusually active lately, so he's stationed at the northern fortress."
"Then who is currently handling the village's affairs?" Roshi asked. "We'd like to request an audience."
"That needs to be reported," Baki replied. "For now, please follow me. You can rest while we wait for a response from the village."
Turning on his heel, he stepped toward a massive fissure carved into the desert—an enormous wound in the earth known as the One-Line Sky.
Two Sand shinobi took the lead, Baki in the center. Roshi and others followed, three more Sand guards closing silently behind them.
As they entered the narrow crevice, the world dimmed. Towering cliffs of reddish-brown stone loomed on both sides, squeezing the sunlight into a thin, wavering ribbon overhead.
The air was cool, filled with the scent of dust and stone—a sharp contrast to the dry heat of the desert outside. Footsteps echoed hollowly, amplified by the confined space.
The path twisted and wound like a living maze.
Sunagakure had clearly been using this route for years; the rock walls bore marks of excavation—makeshift sentry points, carved alcoves, and crude rope bridges spanning between ledges high above.
Eventually, Maki led them into a wider alcove hewn directly from the rock.
The space was simple but functional: roughly smoothed walls, straw mats worn thin from long use, and a few piles of supplies emitting a faint musty odor.
Dim oil lamps flickered in the corners.
"Wait here," Maki said. He signaled for two guards to stay by the entrance before leaving with the rest.
Itachi silently approached the side wall, his sharp eyes taking in every detail—the worn mats, the chipped stone bowls, the cracked water skins.
The supplies spoke volumes: hard, dark rations; dried water reserves; life here was sustained, not lived.
Roshi's gaze was equally observant. Having once worked along Konoha's border, he knew hardship—but this was another level. Sunagakure's living conditions were harsh, stripped to survival.
With guards nearby, none of them spoke. They used the quiet to alternate rest and vigilance.
When Roshi rested, Anko and Itachi stayed alert; when his eyes opened, they switched without a word.
After one such rotation, the guards returned. "Konoha squad," one said, "you have permission to enter. The Village has approved your audience."
Sunagakure wasn't as vast as Konoha, but it exuded a rugged, battle-hardened vitality. For Roshi, who had seen great cities in another life, its rawness was strangely refreshing.
"This way," the Sand ninja said. "Ebizo-sama is waiting for you."
He led them through the narrow alleys to a low, domed structure marked with the kanji for Wind.
Every major village mirrored Konoha's organizational design—an echo of the Second Hokage Tobirama's model. The Kage's tower always stood at the heart.
Inside, they were met by a thin, elderly man wrapped in coarse desert robes, his sharp eyes gleaming beneath deep wrinkles.
"Konoha's envoys?" he said before they could speak. "Jōnin, no less. As expected—your village never runs out of prodigies."
His tone was dry, his expression unreadable.
"So," Ebizo continued, "what brings you here? Are you here to discuss how Konoha managed to let a few Kumogakure shinobi slip right through your fingers?"
Anko's brow furrowed slightly. 'How did they already know that?'
"No," Roshi replied evenly. "We've come to deliver a warning. Iwagakure plans to exploit Konoha's current distraction and move against Suna. That's why the Hokage sent us in haste."
Ebizo regarded him for a long moment—then let out a quiet, almost amused breath.
"Konoha truly breeds talent," he said. "To be this young and already speak with such… audacity."
His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone shifting from amusement to something colder.
"I've lived a long life, boy. Long enough to see alliances born at dawn and shattered by dusk. The Second Hokage and the Second Raikage formed a pact—only to be slain hours later by Kinkaku and Ginkaku. Such things are the rule, not the exception."
"An alliance," he said softly, "means nothing before survival and self-interest."
Ebizo leaned forward, voice low but sharp. "So let's skip the pleasantries. Tell me plainly—what is Konoha prepared to offer to preserve this friendship?"
His gaze hardened. "Choose your next words carefully."
"The one truly standing at the edge of collapse right now," he continued, "isn't Suna—it's your Konoha."
"Without us holding the western front, how long do you think you can last, trapped between two enemies?"
He gave a faint, almost pitying shake of his head.
"Since we're still allies," he said, "I'll share one more piece of information with you."
Leaning forward, his voice dropped to a gravelly whisper.
"Before you arrived, an envoy from Iwagakure already reached us."
Ebizo's eyes gleamed, and a hint of grim satisfaction crossed his face.
"That old fox Ōnoki," he said, "came bearing gifts. And this time… they were very generous ones—meant for Konoha."