Chiyo and Sakura turned toward the spot where Sasori had stood, their eyes scanning the destruction, searching for any trace of his body—whether alive or dead.
Finally, they found him.
Sasori's form lay amidst the wreckage, barely intact. Cracks marred his puppet body, his arms shattered, and numerous internal mechanisms were exposed, whirring weakly or sparking with fading energy. He looked broken—more machine than man.
Chiyo's heart sank.
She stared at her grandson's ruined form, her chest heavy with sorrow. So this is how it ends, she thought. I couldn't give him the life he deserved… or maybe he was always destined to walk this dark, destructive path. The grief in her eyes wasn't just for what Sasori had become—it was for what he might have been.
But just as silence fell over the cave, Inoiki's voice cut through the stillness like a blade:
"You know," he began calmly, "when Deidara tried to escape from me, he used a clone to divert my attention. He assumed I would fall for it… forgetting that I'm a sensory ninja. Tricks like that don't work on me."
He turned his gaze toward the crumbled form of Sasori.
"And now, you're making the same mistake, Sasori. That's disappointing—especially from a veteran like you."
Both Chiyo and Sakura snapped their heads toward Inoiki, eyes wide with realization.
Chiyo's voice trembled as she asked, "What do you mean? Are you saying… my grandson is still alive?"
Inoiki's expression didn't change. He simply stared forward and said,
"Is he?" He smirked slightly. "Let's find out, shall we?"
Inoiki narrowed his eyes and raised a few of his floating blades—still glowing faintly from the flames they had borne moments ago. With a slight gesture, he directed them toward a seemingly irrelevant, broken puppet lying in the corner of the cave. The puppet appeared mangled, half-buried beneath debris, as though it had been destroyed in the earlier explosions.
But as the blades neared it—something shifted.
With a sudden, mechanical whir, the puppet moved.
The eyes flickered open, and its limbs began twitching back to life. It wasn't just any puppet—it was Sasori. Or rather, another of his puppet bodies. Unbeknownst to the others, Sasori had transferred his core—the true source of his life—from the damaged body to this one during the chaos of the battle.
"Damn it," Sasori muttered under his breath, realizing he'd been discovered.
But before he could react—before he could fight back or attempt another escape—two blades shot through the air with blinding speed. They severed his puppet legs in an instant, sending him crashing to the ground. A moment later, his arms were sliced clean off as well, clattering to the stone floor.
Sasori's eyes widened.
This body was no longer a vessel—it was a prison. He could do nothing.
Knowing he couldn't remain within it, the cylindrical core embedded in his left chest suddenly disengaged. It burst free and shot into the air, trying desperately to flee. Both Chiyo and Sakura saw it—this was the true heart of Sasori.
But just as it crossed a few meters…
It stopped midair.
Inoiki raised his right hand calmly, his fingers barely twitching. The core trembled, suspended by an invisible force—his psychokinesis. Slowly, deliberately, Inoiki guided it toward himself. The core floated gently into his open palm, though he didn't touch it directly. His expression was unreadable.
It hovered there, radiating a faint, eerie glow.
"You should've stayed down," Inoiki said coldly. "Now it's over."
Inoiki floated Sasori's core through the air and gently guided it toward Chiyo. The small, cylindrical object hovered in front of her, still pulsing faintly with chakra.
"You can have whatever remains of your grandson," Inoiki said calmly. "If you're able to extract any useful information from him, that would benefit all of us. Just make sure to share it with Konoha."
Chiyo took the core in her hands, her expression unreadable. She said nothing—only gave a silent nod, her face a mix of pain, regret, and resignation.
At that moment, footsteps echoed through the cave as Naruto and Kakashi arrived. They halted at the entrance, eyes widening at the sheer devastation. The ground was scorched and cracked, littered with the broken remains of dozens of puppets. The walls bore the marks of fire, blades, and shockwaves. It was clear a monumental battle had taken place.
Naruto, who was holding Gaara's body, quickly spotted a flat stretch of stone in the cave—a smooth, level surface. Gently, he laid Gaara down.
Chiyo and Sakura turned their attention to Gaara's lifeless form, their eyes shadowed with grief. Chiyo knelt beside him, her hands trembling.
Inoiki, standing off to the side, watched silently. He slowly reassembled his floating blades into a single massive sword with a flick of his fingers—each piece locking into place with a soft metallic click, forming the weapon once more.
He then approached Deidara, who sat restrained and glaring at him with pure hatred burning in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Naruto remained kneeling beside Gaara. The stillness of the moment weighed heavily on everyone present.
Inoiki crossed his arms and watched the unfolding scene, saying nothing. He was curious now—whether Chiyo, having recovered her grandson's core, would still make the choice to use her life to revive Gaara.
After all, with Sasori's survival—at least in some form—secured, perhaps she would change her mind. Perhaps she would hold onto that last thread of family.
Or perhaps… she would still choose hope.
----
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