Chapter 48: A Lesson in Speed
"It's you!"
Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro halted their advance, their expressions shifting from boredom to sharp surprise. Aizen's sudden and silent appearance before them was completely unexpected.
"Hmph, we were just getting bored. You actually delivered yourself to us," Kankuro sneered, trying to mask the unease that always crept in when he looked at Aizen. There was something about this boy—a depth and stillness that felt profoundly dangerous.
Gaara's face darkened, his sunken eyes fixing on Aizen with a sullen, simmering bloodlust. The humiliation from their brief encounter at the Konoha gates still festered in his mind. Back then, he had held back, wary of Konoha's watchful eyes. But here, in the Forest of Death, there were no such restrictions. Here, he could indulge his hunger without consequence.
"While we already have our scrolls," Kankuro continued, puffing out his chest with a false bravado fueled by Gaara's presence, "we'll gladly take yours as a bonus."
They had already cut down three other teams with contemptuous ease, their scrolls now worthless extras in the Sand siblings' possession. Aizen's pair would make a fourth set, a testament to their overwhelming dominance.
"A bold claim," Aizen replied, a gentle, almost aristocratic smile gracing his features. "But on what basis do you presume you can take anything from me?" His tone was conversational, as if stating an immutable law of nature. "Isn't it more likely that your scrolls will end up in my hands?"
The sheer, unshakable arrogance of the statement left Kankuro speechless. Even the level-headed Temari stared in stunned silence.
This guy! Teams were fleeing at the mere rumor of their approach. Yet, Aizen not only sought them out but spoke to them as if they were the ones at a disadvantage. That gaze, which seemed to look down on everything, infuriated them.
"You arrogant fool!" Kankuro snarled, his patience shattering. "You've lived a sheltered life in Konoha for too long. You've forgotten what real pain feels like! Let me remind you!"
The black wrappings on his back fell away, revealing a grotesque, humanoid puppet—Crow. Its wooden body was armed with hidden blades and poison needles, its five-fingered claws sharp enough to rend steel. It loomed behind Kankuro like a specter of death, its hollow eyes locked on Aizen.
"Now, understand the gap between us!" Kankuro's fingers twitched, manipulating the chakra threads.
With a whir of hidden mechanisms, the Crow puppet shot forward, a blur of black and brown, its sharpened claws aimed to tear Aizen's heart out. The killing intent it emitted was enough to freeze the blood of any ordinary genin.
Yet, Aizen didn't even flinch. He didn't adopt a defensive stance. His expression remained one of mild disinterest, his eyes holding only a trace of disdain.
"Go to hell!" Kankuro yelled, infuriated by that calm gaze.
The puppet accelerated, closing the final feet in an instant. Its claws were a hair's breadth from Aizen's chest.
It was at that moment Aizen finally moved. Or, more accurately, he vanished.
"An impressive charge," a voice commented lightly from beside Kankuro. "But the substance is lacking."
Kankuro's eyes bulged. Aizen was now standing directly in front of him, so close he could see the individual fibers on his jacket. He hadn't seen him move. There was no blur, no shunshin flicker. It was as if Aizen had simply ceased to exist in one place and materialized in another.
"It's a fatal error to underestimate your opponent, you see," Aizen continued, his tone didactic. He lifted his hand and gently pressed his open palm against Kankuro's chest, right over his heart. "All it takes is a slight application of force, and I could easily pierce your heart."
Kankuro's blood ran cold. His pupils contracted to pinpricks. He was dead. He knew it. In the time it had taken his puppet to reach the empty space where Aizen had been, Aizen had closed the distance, analyzed his defenses, and placed a killing blow. He was utterly, completely outclassed.
Behind them, the Crow puppet's claws finally slammed shut on empty air.
Temari gasped. Gaara's eyes, for the first time, widened slightly. A storm of shock raged within them. They hadn't seen it either. The speed was incomprehensible, a terrifying echo of his movement back in Konoha. A cold dread began to coil in their stomachs.
"Are you still satisfied with your own assessment of the situation?" Aizen asked, his voice soft yet echoing with absolute authority.
He stood calmly between the three of them, an invisible pressure radiating from his form that completely stifled the air. Gaara felt a bizarre and unfamiliar sensation—the illusion that he was not facing a human boy, but an ancient, primordial predator. For the first time, a seed of genuine powerlessness took root in his heart.