"I want to have your children!"

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I'm a bit nervous! What I meant was: please have children with me!"

"I didn't catch that, could you say it again?"

"Please have your—"

Wham...

A giant folding fan smacks across, sending a figure hurtling back, tumbling over twenty meters before crashing into a derelict mud wall to a stop.

The blonde girl storms off, leaving nothing but her furious figure receding into the distance.

As the dust settles, from behind the ruins, a ninja with striking facial paint and a puppet wrapped in bandages on his back slowly walks forward.

"Hey, are you dead?"

A large hand pushes aside the bricks and rubble, and a disheveled figure stands up.

"Thanks to your good graces, I'm still alive, Kankuro... I owe you one this time..."

"You're truly an idiot! Had I known you were going to spout such nonsense to Temari, I wouldn't have relayed your message and called her out..."

"You don't understand, little brother-in-law..."

"Who's your little brother-in-law? Keep your stupidity away from me!"

Kankuro, with a look of disgust, doesn't want to share the same air with this buffoon who claims to be Temari's childhood friend.

"With my sincere love for your sister, isn't it just a matter of time?"

"You still plan on not giving up? You were lucky to survive this time; Temari was holding back. You might not be so fortunate next time!"

"Next time will definitely be different. I've conveyed my feelings to Temari. Once she overcomes her shyness, she'll surely accept my love!"

"You're delusional. Knowing Temari, she'll think you've found a new way to mock her!"

"Eh? Impossible..."

"Good luck with that. Just don't drag me into your mess again."

With that, the proud puppet master walks away, leaving behind a figure petrified in the wind.

...

At night, the wind roars through the desert of the Land of Wind like a raging beast.

In the uninhibited wilderness, the sandstorm obscures all prying eyes.

Within the Hidden Sand, the strong winds howl through the streets, whistling sharply around corners, sounding like the low growls of ghosts and wolves.

Newcomers might find it hard to sleep at night, but the villagers are accustomed to such noisy nights for much of the year.

Amid the constant howling, a sudden shrill scream and the sound of something heavy crashing against a house break the monotony.

"Another unfortunate soul has been killed tonight. Recently, Gaara has become more restless, especially on nights like these."

The sandstorm thickens, obscuring the dim sky as if even the bright full moon cannot bear to witness such a bloody human tragedy.

Hearing the scream, many households instinctively turn on the lights to check the situation, but quickly turn them off after realizing that it's the One-Tail Jinchuriki losing control again, not wanting to catch Gaara's attention.

Tonight, many families shiver in the cold darkness, praying for the terrible night to pass quickly.

In a communal apartment building for young single ninjas, a boy who had been rejected after confessing his feelings earlier that day trains his body in his cramped bedroom after taking some injury medicine.

The heavy dumbbells dance up and down with the trembling of his arm muscles. After a long while, the sweaty boy finally collapses, sitting on the ground, his dumbbells clanging as they roll across the smooth floor to the corner.

Thud thud thud.

"Idiot Daimaru, so noisy this late at night, want to die again?"

The crisp voice of the girl next door curses venomously, unaware that her banging on the wall is even more annoying.

"Sayako, I don't need to listen to you, a woman with a dried-up heart..."

"What did you say? Worthless scum, I curse you..."

"Hmph! Superficial."

Daimaru, the boy, ignores the girl next door who thinks her curses are venomous, in reality, they're barely offensive, and heads into the bathroom for a comforting hot shower.

"Being a ninja has its perks. Which ordinary villager of the Hidden Sand can afford to use water this liberally?"

The cool warm water flows from the showerhead, cascading over Daimaru's sharply chiseled face.

His dusty and sweaty robust body, not even the faint steam can hide the sensation of bursting strength.

"Damn, just when I thought I had complete control over this body, such an oversight occurs."

His clenched fist hits the bathroom wall, the noise disturbing the neighbor's sleep, prompting even more vigorous cursing.

"What to do? The Chunin Exams are not far off."

Having been reborn for many years, the dull ten months in the womb were nothing. It was only after birth that he realized he was in the Hidden Sand and had caught the tail end of the Third Great Ninja War, with the village almost certainly facing defeat.

His father, a diligent role ninja, returned severely injured from the final battle at Kikyō Castle and died of old wounds before Daimaru could speak. His mother was unscathed, barely getting by with her elderly father and young son.

Daimaru moved into the communal apartment after becoming a ninja for convenience in private matters.

He occasionally went home, using his mission rewards to supplement the family income, so life wasn't too hard.

However, living in the impoverished Hidden Sand, many resources needed for a ninja's training were simply unaffordable for Daimaru's family.

Although his body was decent, he was only average. It was indeed too difficult to achieve anything substantial.

What's with refining chakra at one, climbing trees at three, water surface walking at four, familiarizing with chakra nature changes at five, gaining fame as a genius at six, and becoming a Jonin at seven...

Daydreaming much?

A child's wandering nerves are underdeveloped, and it's good enough just to control bedwetting.

Having a mature, calm, and efficient mind, yet confined by a weak body and immature nervous system, unable to control actions accurately, and instead being influenced by ridiculous instincts.

It's like playing a game with an unresponsive controller.

Due to immature possessiveness and jealousy, he could never stand to see Temari with other boys.

Wanting to attract the attention of the girl he liked, he didn't know what to do and only knew how to use brute force to bully and leave an impression, never realizing how annoying his behavior was.

As he grew older, some of his vile behaviors improved significantly, mainly because he could no longer beat Temari with his fists.

When the time was ripe to express his feelings, he never expected to say something so shameless.

"What a disgrace. After a while, I, 'Lord Red Sandstorm,' will have another ridiculous story to my name."

The body of the sixteen-year-old boy had fully developed, and there should be no more issues. It could only be said that the old soul had been influenced by the body, undergoing a fundamental change.

After fully integrating, the calm and cautious adult from before the rebirth had, over a decade later, become a hot-blooded ninja who acted before thinking and was notorious for his quirks.

Becoming more passionate isn't necessarily a bad thing. A young man should act his age, and Daimaru only despised the sudden emotional outbursts that caused uncontrollable mishaps and unwanted consequences. Fortunately, over the years, he'd picked up a few tricks for managing his emotions. While he couldn't boast a dramatic increase in power, his foundations had become exceptionally strong, allowing him to survive the perilous Land of Wind time and time again.

After tidying up, Daimaru noticed the ninja next door had stopped her tirade—probably exhausted from the effort. Living in a communal apartment had its downsides, especially with a bad-tempered neighbor like Sayako—an exceptionally volatile and vicious kunoichi skilled in puppetry and mental mystic arts. Despite her privileged background, she chose to move here, and her relationship with the other tenants, especially since Daimaru's arrival, had been nothing short of strained.

Thankfully, everyone's early starts and late returns meant that confrontations were limited to verbal exchanges. Listening to the howling wind outside, Daimaru gradually drifted into slumber.

...

The next morning, a reinvigorated Daimaru burst out the door. Any trace of last night's chaos caused by Gaara's loss of control had been cleaned up, as if it had never happened. Walking down the spacious streets, Daimaru arrived at a familiar doorstep to find his old teammate opening the door.

"Hey, Jikanri, long time no see," Daimaru greeted warmly, slinging an arm over his friend's shoulder. "Miss me? Must've been tough doing missions without me, but from today onward, I'm back..."

Jikanri, a bit uncomfortable with Daimaru's enthusiastic approach, sheepishly spoke up, "Daimaru, I'm sorry, but a lot has happened during your absence..."

"A lot?" Daimaru looked puzzled at the uneasy Jikanri. "You look off. Are you feeling alright?"

"It's not that," Jikanri replied apologetically. "After the last C-rank mission, we didn't think you'd survive, so..."

"Right, any problems with that?" Daimaru's memories were becoming clearer as he matured. Although his body was of decent quality, it was as if it was cursed with bad luck. During his nearly four-year tenure as a Genin, bizarre accidents were common, and two months prior, he almost met a fated demise in the vast desert.

It was beyond everyone's expectations that Daimaru would escape from such a dire situation. To honor his brave sacrifice, he was given the title "Red Sandstorm," but to everyone's surprise, the Hidden Sand's Anbu corpse disposal team managed to dig out a barely alive Daimaru from the sands.

"Actually, our squad has since filled the spot with a new member..." Jikanri bowed deeply, unable to meet Daimaru's embarrassed gaze. "I'm really sorry!"

"What do you mean?" Daimaru was slow to catch on. "Are you saying you don't need me?"

"Sorry, at the time we all thought you were dead, so..."

"Sabaku-sensei agreed to this?" Sabaku, a bald and experienced Jounin, was nominally Daimaru's squad leader.

"At first, he disagreed, but the urgency of the missions forced us to find a temporary replacement, and it just happened."

What's done was done, and Daimaru was powerless to change it.

"Who's the new team member?"

"Kuma-za. You know him, a guy with a bad temper."

"Oh, him." Someone of fair skill but full of pride, self-importance, and disdain for others, and with poor people skills to boot.

Jikanri whispered, "Truth be told, we all preferred you as a teammate, but now... it's too late..."

"So..." Daimaru let go of Jikanri's shoulder, opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

"I have to go. Take care..." Jikanri said before swiftly departing.

Daimaru, suddenly alone, gave a wry smile. He'd planned to do a few missions before the Chunin Exams to earn some money and buy quality ninja tools, but now those plans were dashed.

Returning to his apartment in a sour mood, Daimaru couldn't shake a sense of injustice. "If this goes on, I'll be in trouble. Not just missing out on the Chunin Exams and the Leaf destruction plan but even the right to go on missions as a lone Genin. Am I supposed to just watch Temari and Shikamaru Nara flirt?"

His plan to nip their budding romance in the bud hadn't even started before it seemed doomed.

In his original plan, he would directly defeat the immature Team 10 in the Forest of Death, eliminating them, or lead his squad to break through the encirclement, disrupting the third round of the preliminaries after the Forest of Death, ensuring Temari and Shikamaru were separated, preventing any interaction. That would have been enough to achieve his goal.

Now the biggest challenge seemed to be securing a spot in the Chunin Exams. Talk about bad luck.

Unable to think of a solution, Daimaru decided to take a bold step and seek an audience with the Kazekage. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong, and Jikanri had his reasons, but this issue of not having a squad required the intervention of someone powerful. And who was more powerful in the Hidden Sand than the Kazekage? Wasn't it only natural for a father-in-law to help his son-in-law out of trouble?

The administrative building of the Hidden Sand was imposing and spacious. After a long wait, Daimaru was finally granted an audience. Unlike the approachable leader of the Hidden Leaf, the atmosphere in the Hidden Sand was markedly more austere.

Daimaru didn't get to see what the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, looked like today. Cloaked and his head covered by a straw hat, his face obscured by a dust mask, the Fourth Kazekage looked enigmatic.

"So, you're Daimaru? What do you need from me?" the Kazekage inquired.

"Lord Fourth, I've encountered a problem that only you can address, and I had to come to you," Daimaru began respectfully.

"Oh? Let's hear it..."

Daimaru recounted his tale of honorable death, miraculous survival, and the subsequent awkward situation of being teamless. "Lord Fourth, I had hoped to become a Chunin soon and devote myself to the village, but now all my plans are dashed. I humbly ask for another chance to serve our village..."

Daimaru's posture couldn't have been more humble. Paying his respects in advance to the soon-to-be father-in-law who might not have many months left wasn't something he felt bitter about.

"I understand your request. Go now, and we'll notify you of the outcome," the Kazekage said.

"Thank you, Lord Fourth," Daimaru replied.

Given the Fourth Kazekage's daily torrent of responsibilities, it was a wonder he remembered Daimaru, the insignificant genin, at all. If not for the commendation for his "death in service" that had crossed the Kazekage's desk just a couple of months ago, Daimaru would likely have been forgotten already.

After Daimaru's departure, the decisive Rasa immediately summoned his trusted aide.

"Yura, is this the genin currently listed with the village?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Yura, the composed and proficient jounin, a rising star in recent years known for his reliability and discretion, earning Rasa's trust and participating in many of the Hidden Sand's top-secret missions. Even the village's elders, Chiyo and Ebizo, spoke highly of him. Such talent promised an unbounded future in the struggling Hidden Sand.

"Too many! Do you have the details on this genin, Daimaru?"

"Yes, Lord Fourth," Yura responded with a professional tone, showcasing his meticulous work ethic. "This Daimaru is somewhat well-known among the genin..."

"Oh? Is he powerful?" Rasa's interest was mildly piqued.

Yura pulled out Daimaru's ninja registration and handed it over. "Good physical fitness, excellent aptitude in ninjutsu, and chakra possessing the very rare 'Seal Breaking' attribute. Although it's weak right now, the potential is promising. Most notably, his mental strength is extraordinary, suggesting exceptional talent in genjutsu..."

Rasa glanced at Daimaru's file: "Acceptable!"

"Especially chakra with a 'Seal Breaking' attribute—it's invaluable. That's what makes him stand out. However..." Yura shook his head with a hint of regret, "We lack experience in nurturing such ninjas, leaving him to grope in the dark, and his excellent potential remains largely untapped."

The Land of Wind was barren, resources scarce, and the Hidden Sand Village would be absent from the ranks of the five great shinobi villages were it not for the Second Kazekage, Shamon, who developed Magnet Release and puppetry techniques.

The Hidden Sand had few bloodline-based ninja clans; the variety of ninja types was limited. Notable genjutsu users were almost non-existent, and the level of sealing techniques couldn't even see the dust left by the Hidden Leaf, not to mention the rarer "Seal Breaking" attributes.

"It's a pity," Rasa sighed.

"We're helpless in this matter. Daimaru will certainly be of great use in the future, but we don't know when or how to use him," Yura explained, like describing a guilty pleasure hard to discard.

"What has his jounin teacher Sabaku taught him over the years?"

"A bit of basic Magnet Release, which works quite well. Moreover, according to reports submitted by Jounin Sabaku, Daimaru seems to have developed quite a few interesting tricks on his own..."

"Self-developed techniques?" Rasa confirmed.

"Yes. Besides Magnet Release, a branch of Earth Release, he occasionally reveals considerable Wind Release chakra, suggesting a strong grasp of Wind Release techniques..."

"That's intriguing! Anything else?"

"Additionally, he seems to have cultivated puppetry on his own..."

Daimaru's father and grandfather were both ninjas—not powerful but not nameless either. When the Second Kazekage was experimenting with Magnet Release and puppetry, many ninja families, including his, received some puppetry techniques to practice and evaluate their effectiveness.

To this day, many surviving ninja households held some rudimentary early puppetry techniques and Magnet Release secrets. Many orphaned civilian ninjas in the Hidden Sand relied on these scraps, coupled with their own exploration, to develop unique jutsus, contributing to the village's cultivation system.

"Can we pinpoint the type of puppetry?"

"Daimaru never publicly used Wind Release or puppetry; we have no details on the specifics..."

"I want to know if he's delved into any taboos..."

Unsanctioned puppet masters, who inadvertently study forbidden arts like human puppetry, must be stopped.

"No sign of that. Lord Fourth, with the fragmented knowledge passed down decades ago, developing something like human puppetry would be unlikely for a youth like Daimaru..."

"Hmm..."

Rasa pondered for a moment, "Anything else worth noting?"

"That's all for his abilities. His luck seems exceptionally poor, though..."

"Poor luck?"

"Yes!" Yura couldn't help but smile, "Their squad is quite capable but always seems to run into inexplicable troubles. Any other genin team might have been wiped out several times over, but Daimaru always manages to survive against the odds, especially last time..."

Rasa waved it off, "I'm aware of that, 'Red Sandstorm,' quite a name!"

"What's your perspective on his uncanny bad luck, Lord Fourth? Should it be considered if we're to reshuffle the genin teams?"

"No need. It's normal to be seen as unlucky when danger frequents, but possessing the fortitude to turn the tables every time is both a curse and a blessing. Luck is part of one's strength, but a shinobi of the sand does not rely on luck!"

"Understood. Thank you for your wisdom!"

Yura bowed respectfully, accepting the lesson.

"Additionally, there's a personal matter that seems to involve you, Lord Fourth. Daimaru appears rather smitten with your eldest daughter—Temari, and is pursuing her!"

"Is that so?" Rasa, usually unflappable, finally showed some surprise, "Youthful infatuation; Temari has come of age."

"Shall we intervene?"

"No need to, let her be."

The Hidden Sand was founded by outcasts in the deserts of the Land of Wind. Social status and wealth were never mainstream concerns, and Rasa himself ascended to Kazekage out of wartime necessity, not from any prestigious clan or family.

"Only those who survive to adulthood in the sand have the luxury to consider the future. It's too early for now."

"As you wish."

Yura bowed and took his leave, knowing now how to proceed.

With the Hidden Sand's high casualty rate, there were plenty of undermanned squads. A slight reshuffle could impact many lives, determining whether their futures would be outstanding or mediocre, all hinging on a single thought.