At the center of the ruins, the surface of the sand sphere was covered in cracks.
The fine crackling spread and widened.
Chunks of sand began to fall away, revealing Gaara inside. The armor covering his body split inch by inch, finally crumbling into loose sand that slid from his skin.
The coldness in those green eyes was gone, replaced only by a burning fury. Humiliation surged up from deep inside him, scorching his nerves.
This was the first time in his life he had been struck head-on. The first time he had tasted pain. The first time he had been knocked out of the sky and slammed into the ground.
Rock Lee lay in a pit just a few steps away, multiple bones broken throughout his body, his muscles torn to shreds. He had lost all feeling. He had used up everything he had just to shatter that automatic sand defense.
"Mother…"
Two hoarse syllables squeezed out of Gaara's throat, his voice dry and strange.
He lifted his head, his gaze locking onto the unconscious Lee.
"Just breaking my armor was enough to make you so satisfied?"
"Then I'll use your death… to make myself even happier!"
Killing intent.
A thick wave of bloodlust poured out from Gaara's body.
Yellow sand surged out of the gourd on his back like a flood bursting through a broken dam, gathering in the air into a giant hand. The five sand claws sharpened to needle points, aimed straight at Lee's unmoving heart.
"Stop!!"
Guy's roar shook the stands. The muscles in his legs swelled as he prepared to sprint into the arena.
Head proctor Hayate's expression also changed. He readied himself to intervene and stop this one-sided slaughter.
He had not expected this. He had never intended for anyone to die in the exam. Once the match was clearly decided, there was no need to keep going.
In the stands, Kakashi's Sharingan spun wildly, his entire body leaning forward.
Too late.
None of them could move faster than Gaara's sand.
The massive sand claw tore through the air with the intent to crush everything, driving straight toward Lee's chest.
Guy's eyes bulged; he was already prepared to open the Eight Gates and rush forward at his maximum speed.
But in that instant—
Someone appeared in front of the sand claw.
No warning. No sound. Not even the violent chakra fluctuation that usually accompanied high-level techniques.
Shinju simply stood there, in front of Lee, his back to the stands.
For a heartbeat, everyone's senses went blank.
The sand claw, which had been about to slam down, abruptly stopped less than half a meter from his back.
Guy froze mid-sprint, his face a mask of disbelief.
That was no Shunshin. And it definitely wasn't Hiraishin (Flying Thunder God). It was a movement that completely ignored the rules of space.
In the VIP seats, Minato's lips curled upward, his eyes full of pride.
The entire arena fell silent.
Down in the field, Gaara felt it most clearly.
The moment that boy appeared, the raging Shukaku inside him let out a shrill scream—pure, instinctive terror.
The sand he had always controlled so freely became horribly sluggish in the face of that vast, warm chakra—like a sun hanging overhead.
He even sensed rejection coming from the sand.
His sand was… afraid.
"What are you supposed to be, getting in my way?" Gaara demanded, dissatisfied.
Without turning around, Shinju spoke in a calm, steady tone.
"That's far enough. The outcome is already decided. There's no need for you to take things any further. The proctors have seen all they need to know about your strength. This match is over."
"And even if you kill him here… will the hatred that follows really let you live any better?"
"I can more or less understand your pain. But venting your anger on people who have nothing to do with it will only make you even more alone."
That last sentence truly stirred something deep inside Gaara.
It was the part of him he never wanted to touch. The life of an outcast he had always led in the village, treated as a monster, living a miserable existence.
Gaara usually used a thick shell to protect himself, and whenever something displeased him, he solved it with brute force.
Loneliness.
That word made the anger in his heart boil over, twisting even more violently.
"You don't understand anything!"
Gaara's scream turned sharp and distorted, his reason snapping as the sorest part of his heart was pierced.
"You, the so-called geniuses everyone loves—you don't know what hell is at all!"
"I'll kill him! I'll kill all of you! I'll use your blood to prove that I exist!"
He slammed both hands down onto the ground.
The arena floor began to quake violently. Countless grains of sand erupted from underground, merging with the sand from his gourd. Together, they formed a surging ocean of sand.
"Sabaku Sōsō (Sand Waterfall Funeral)!"
The sand surged.
A tsunami of sand capable of grinding steel to dust and erasing life completely roared forward, rolling toward Shinju and the fallen Rock Lee.
The range and power of this attack were already far beyond what a genin-level ninja should possess.
Facing this almost all-devouring assault, Shinju merely turned around, calmly, to face the onrushing sand wave head-on.
Baring its fangs, yet laughably overconfident.
He raised one hand.
Palm forward.
Just a simple motion.
Then, everyone in the arena witnessed a sight they would never forget for as long as they lived.
That roaring sea of sand stopped one meter in front of his palm.
All movement vanished.
It was as if an invisible, absolute barrier had appeared there, one that nothing could cross.
The sand sea that had been howling a heartbeat ago turned, in the next, into a colossal, motionless sand sculpture.
The force that had given it shape was completely stripped away. Without the chakra maintaining it, the sand collapsed with a clatter, pouring down in front of him and piling into a small hill.
From beginning to end, not even the hem of Shinju's clothes had budged.
Gaara stood there in a daze, his hands still frozen in the sealing pose.
He stared at that boy—at that utterly ordinary-looking hand, at the mound of ordinary sand lying harmlessly at his feet.
His strongest technique, the power he relied on to survive, the means he used to prove his worth…
Had been erased just like that.
This wasn't a clash between ninjutsu. It wasn't a contest of who had more power.
It was like a higher form of life exerting pure suppression on a lower one.
The violence and bloodlust in his heart shook under the gaze of Shinju's unfathomable calm eyes—shook, twisted, and finally crumbled completely, leaving nothing behind.
The entire arena was silent.
Everyone was so stunned by this near-miraculous scene that they couldn't even form basic thoughts.
Shinju looked at the hollow-eyed Gaara, then slowly lowered his arm.
(End of Chapter)
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