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WUM 213
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 23:10:11 +0000 UTCChapter 213: The Recruitment of the Red Sand Scorpion
Half an hour later, Konan returned to the original spot carrying two massive suitcases.
Seeing the suitcases in her hands, Kakuzu’s aged face twitched slightly. So the organization is actually loaded with money—our leader just wants to squeeze me dry, huh?
What Kakuzu didn’t know was that this was Konan’s private stash. After all, she could easily earn funds by selling more explosive tags.
“The funds are yours. Make sure the medicine gets delivered to the organization. If transportation becomes inconvenient, contact us and we’ll handle it.”
Konan, unaware of Kakuzu’s inner turmoil, handed him the two huge cases of silver notes with complete trust.
After watching him leave, she was just about to resume searching for traces of Sasori of the Red Sand when—
A blade flashed from beneath the shifting sand, slicing the bottom of her foot.
Konan immediately took to the air, examining her foot carefully. A faint green hue was spreading from the wound.
“Woman, you’ve been poisoned. You’ve already lost.”
A middle-aged man emerged from the desert sands—it was Hiruko, one of Sasori’s puppet disguises.
Behind Hiruko, a scorpion-tail-like stinger gleamed faintly green with venom.
Sasori was a master of poison, one of the greatest toxicologists in the ninja world.
“So you’re Sasori of the Red Sand?” Konan asked calmly, unfazed by her injury. Sheets of paper peeled from her foot, repairing the wound instantly.
“It seems you’ve done your homework. No, this isn’t my true body—but yes, I am Sasori. You’ve been asking around about me, haven’t you?” The muffled voice came from within Hiruko’s puppet shell.
Indeed, Sasori had long known that someone mysterious had been hunting for him.
“Join the Akatsuki. That’s my purpose here—and refusal isn’t an option.” Konan’s commanding tone piqued Sasori’s interest instead of angering him.
“Then defeat me first.”
“Hiruko — Needle Barrage!”
Hiruko’s mouth spewed a storm of poisonous needles—fast and wide-ranging.
But Konan had the aerial advantage. One powerful flap of her paper wings sent her soaring beyond their reach, evading the entire attack.
The tail-stinger’s range was nowhere near enough to hit her.
“Paper Shuriken!”
Hundreds of paper sheets separated from Konan’s body, infused with chakra, transforming into razor-sharp shuriken that rained down toward Sasori.
The formation mirrored Sasori’s earlier attack—except now, it was air-to-ground instead of ground-to-air.
Caught off guard, Sasori could only rely on Hiruko’s heavy armor to endure the barrage. When it finally ended, the puppet looked like a porcupine—riddled with paper blades.
Fortunately, the paper wasn’t as hard as steel, and Hiruko withstood the damage without being destroyed.
The battle grew fiercer. Konan bombarded him from above with explosive tags, while Sasori countered with a variety of puppets.
But Konan’s flight gave her a decisive advantage—she dominated the fight from start to finish.
Even so, Sasori avoided using his most powerful puppet—the Third Kazekage. Revealing that trump card in the Land of Wind could expose the truth behind the Kazekage’s disappearance and bring the entire Suna Anbu down on him.
Finally, when both sides were about to get serious, Sasori relented.
“Enough. I acknowledge your strength. I’m willing to join your Akatsuki organization.”
Just from witnessing her power, he knew this organization wasn’t ordinary.
“But I have one condition,” he added coldly. “You must not interfere with my pursuit of art. I need ample time to upgrade and perfect my puppets. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“What do you mean by ‘art’?” Konan asked. She was satisfied with recruiting Sasori and had sensed his true strength during the fight—but his words puzzled her.
“Puppets are eternal art,” Sasori replied. “They are my life’s pursuit. If the organization hinders my research, I’ll leave.”
To Sasori—an orphaned, betrayed shinobi—loyalty meant nothing. His only devotion was to his art.
“That’s fine. The organization only assigns missions occasionally. Once completed, what you do afterward is your own business. In fact, we have many skilled individuals—you might even refine your art further among them.”
“Deal.”
After giving him the location of Akatsuki’s nearest outpost, Konan’s recruitment mission was successfully concluded.
In the distance, Uchiha Akira (明) silently observed their battle. He had arrived after being alerted by Uchiha Tekkoka’s signal via messenger snake.
At first, he’d considered capturing Konan—she would’ve been the perfect bargaining chip against Nagato.
But then he recalled how Danzō and Hanzō’s attempt to use Yahiko against Nagato had ended—in disaster.
Akira wasn’t above using underhanded tactics, but he knew that provoking an unhinged Nagato could bring ruin even to him.
He could probably fight Nagato, but not win. And unlike Naruto, he didn’t have the “Talk-no-Jutsu.”
Besides, Nagato had nothing left but Konan—whereas Akira carried an entire clan’s future on his shoulders.
Even with his Mangekyō Sharingan’s ability to escape danger, he couldn’t just keep running forever.
“Best to stay under the radar for now,” Akira murmured to himself. “No need to alert Zetsu or Obito yet.”
He sighed. Power always brought temptation—the temptation to solve everything by force.
Madara had suffered from the same flaw, though in his case, Hashirama’s idealism had been equally foolish. One sought peace through domination; the other through naïve trust.
Following Konan and Sasori to the border between the Rain and River countries, Akira finally turned back, his mind already planning his next move.
