Gaara's Counterattack
Gaara had fought countless opponents before. Shinobi who relied on strength, on speed, on strategy. Warriors who came at him with everything they had, only to fall before they could even reach him.
But none of them had ever been like this.
None of them had ever moved faster than his sand could react.
None of them had ever shattered his defense with pure motion alone.
None of them had ever forced his instincts to scream in warning.
Lee was everywhere.
Gaara's sand lashed out in all directions, moving on reflex, but it was too slow.
The very air burned with the friction of Lee's movements, his presence igniting small bursts of plasma with every shift in position.
Gaara clenched his teeth, his mind racing. He had never needed to plan before. He had never been forced to think about his opponent's movements.
But now, he had no choice.
If he didn't act now, he would be overwhelmed.
The sand around him twisted, reshaping in an instant.
He would trap Lee.
Crush him before he could escape.
The sand beneath them erupted, forming a massive spiral cage, an unbreakable prison of hardened grains.
Absolute Burial.
A technique designed to collapse inward, pulverizing anything caught within.
No matter how fast Lee was—if he was trapped, it would be over.
Gaara's breath hitched. His sand slammed shut.
The arena collapsed into silence.
He had done it.
He had—
A single gust of wind passed his ear.
Gaara's pupils shrank.
No.
He turned.
Lee was already behind him.
Standing. Unharmed.
The sand prison Gaara had just closed had never caught him.
Because he had never been inside it to begin with.
Gaara inhaled sharply, his hands twitching.
His sand lashed out again, forming jagged spears—point-blank.
Lee tilted his head slightly.
And then—
He was gone.
A blink. A shift in the air.
And he was standing three feet away.
Gaara hadn't even seen him move.
His heartbeat pounded.
How?
How had he—
A sharp pressure pressed against his ribs.
Lee's foot connected.
Not a direct hit. Not full power.
Just a simple, precise tap.
Gaara's entire torso caved inward.
His body folded under the force of it, his breath completely stolen from his lungs.
A shockwave burst outward, the air around them distorting, his sand failing to react in time.
Gaara was lifted off his feet.
Mid-air. Exposed. Vulnerable.
His sand scrambled to regain control.
But before it could—
Lee moved again.
A blur of motion.
And suddenly—
Gaara was being dragged into the sky.
Higher.
Faster.
The stadium became nothing but a blur beneath them, the winds screaming in Gaara's ears.
His sand struggled to catch up.
But Lee was not letting go.
He had latched onto Gaara's body, maneuvering mid-air, controlling the fall before it even happened.
Gaara had never been in the air before.
Had never been without the ground beneath him.
Had never experienced free fall.
His mind froze.
Panic surged through his chest.
And then—
Lee twisted.
Flipped.
And descended.
Gaara's sand screeched in protest.
But it was too slow.
The ground rushed toward them.
Lee's eyes burned with something ancient, something inevitable.
His voice was calm.
"Too late."
And then—
Impact.
A sound louder than thunder tore through the arena.
The very earth split apart.
Gaara's body collided with the ground.
The stadium collapsed inward.
And for the first time—
Gaara did not get back up.