Gaara's Unleashing Power
The ground groaned beneath Gaara as his chakra pulsed outward, distorting the air around him. The stadium no longer felt like a place of battle—it felt like a graveyard, a burial site for anything that dared to stand against the force being unleashed.
Shukaku stirred within him.
A beast made of ancient hatred, of centuries of sealed fury, now whispering louder than ever before.
More.
More.
Gaara's sand convulsed, twisting unnaturally, moving not with his usual controlled efficiency, but with something far darker.
The grains thickened, compressed, forming grotesque, living extensions of his will. No longer simply a defense. No longer merely an attack.
This was evolution.
His body ached from Lee's previous assault. His armor had been shattered. His nerves still burned from the force of that last strike.
And yet—
He was smiling.
A low, breathy chuckle escaped his lips, unnatural and uneven. His head tilted slightly, the twisted markings on his skin deepening as the influence of his tailed beast began to consume him.
The monstrous sand hand that had formed above him flexed its fingers, the movement fluid, disturbingly organic for something that was meant to be lifeless.
He could feel it now.
Shukaku's power bleeding into him, merging with his own will.
He had always fought alone.
But now—
Now, he wasn't.
"Ah…" His voice was soft, almost gentle. "This is the first time I've felt… alive."
Temari and Kankurō stood frozen in the stands, watching their younger brother unravel before their eyes.
"This isn't good," Kankurō muttered, his fingers tightening around his arms. "He's giving in to it."
Temari did not respond.
Because she had seen this before.
Not in combat. Not in battle.
But in her nightmares.
Lee, standing across from Gaara, said nothing.
His expression did not change.
His stance remained untouched.
Not because he did not recognize the danger.
But because he had already accounted for it.
The air was warping.
The once golden sand had blackened, the edges of it jagged, uneven, crawling with veins of dark chakra.
Gaara's fingers twitched.
And the monster moved.
The hand of sand, towering high above the battlefield, clenched into a fist—
And descended.
The air screamed as it fell, the sheer weight of it creating a crushing vacuum, pulling all surrounding oxygen into its center.
There was no time to escape.
No direction to run.
No blind spot.
Gaara's absolute execution.
His sand had always been the ultimate defense.
Now, it had become the ultimate punishment.
It would erase Lee from existence.
The stadium tensed.
Sasuke's Sharingan spun wildly, tracking the movements, calculating the angles, trying to understand how anyone could—
Lee moved.
Not with hesitation.
Not with doubt.
But with certainty.
A single step forward.
And then—
Silence.
For the briefest fraction of a second, the entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath.
And then—
The hand of sand exploded.
Not from an external attack.
Not from a counter.
But from within.
A single pulse of Raijin Enka detonated from Lee's position, ionizing the very grains of sand in the air.
Lightning, wind, and fire converged, disrupting the integrity of Gaara's attack at a molecular level.
One moment, it had been descending toward Lee, unstoppable.
The next—
It had been reduced to nothing but drifting embers.
Gaara's eyes widened.
His attack had—
Had been erased.
"That's…" Neji's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
He had seen many techniques.
He had seen chakra flow, jutsu be unleashed, counters be formed in an instant.
But this—
This was not countering.
This was negation.
Lee had not simply dodged Gaara's attack.
He had invalidated it.
The rules of combat no longer applied.
Gaara exhaled, his fingers twitching again, but this time—
His breath shook.
A flicker of something dangerous flashed through his eyes.
Not rage.
Not bloodlust.
But something deeper.
Something that made the sand around him tremble.
Lee had taken his best technique.
And had rendered it meaningless.
His sand lashed out again, faster this time, wilder, moving with instinct rather than calculation.
Not an attack.
Not a strategy.
Just raw, uncontrollable force.
But Lee was already gone.
A blur—no, something beyond a blur.
Gaara's mind barely had time to process his disappearance before—
Impact.
Lee reappeared mid-strike, his heel connecting directly with Gaara's torso.
The force was instantaneous.
Gaara was launched backward before his sand could even react.
His body crashed against the fractured ground, skidding violently before he caught himself, his sand forming a barrier at his back to stop his momentum.
But his fingers twitched again.
His entire arm was shaking.
Because he had felt that.
Lee had been holding back before.
This—
This was different.
Gaara's teeth clenched, a sound of pure frustration escaping his throat as he lifted his hands.
His sand responded immediately, gathering around him in a violent storm, twisting into monstrous shapes, moving like something possessed.
He had one choice left.
One final, absolute option.
Shukaku's power.
If he could not match Lee's speed—
He would drown him in raw destruction.
The ground beneath him split apart, his chakra surging beyond its limits, the monstrous presence within him finally forcing its way into reality.
Temari gasped.
"He's—"
Kankurō's hands clenched into fists.
"He's losing control."
A sharp howl echoed through the battlefield.
Not from Gaara.
But from inside him.
A deep, guttural sound, something inhuman, something not meant for the mortal world.
Gaara's form twisted, half of his body now covered in thick, demonic sand, his fingers lengthening into clawed appendages.
His golden, slitted eye gleamed.
Lee did not react.
Because he had already seen this coming.
Gaara lifted his hand.
His true attack would begin now.
But Lee—
Lee was already moving.
Because there was only one way to end this.
End it before Shukaku could take over completely.
Before Gaara could become something unstoppable.
Before this became a war.
And so, for the first time—
Lee went all out.