The Weight of a Single Battle
Gaara's eyes opened slowly, his breath shallow.
The first thing he felt was the cold.
Not the warmth of the desert winds he had always known, not the familiar presence of his sand encasing him like armor.
Just… cold.
His fingers twitched against the broken stone beneath him, the faintest remnants of his chakra stirring the grains of sand that surrounded him. But they no longer moved with instinct. No longer reacted before he could think.
For the first time in his life, his sand felt… hesitant.
He swallowed, his throat dry. His entire body ached. A new sensation.
Pain.
It was foreign, uncomfortable. It clawed at his nerves, demanding attention.
Gaara had seen pain before.
But never his own.
He had watched people scream in agony, had seen the life drain from their eyes as his sand crushed them. He had broken bones, ruptured organs, torn apart those who had dared to stand against him.
But he had never—never—felt this weakness in himself.
And yet, it wasn't just the pain that unsettled him.
It was the silence.
He could feel his siblings nearby—Temari's worried breathing, Kankurō shifting his weight beside her—but they did not speak.
They were waiting.
Waiting for him to react.
Waiting for him to return to who he was.
Slowly, Gaara pushed himself upright, every movement sending sharp aches through his muscles. His sand armor had been obliterated, reduced to scattered grains at his feet. His robes were torn, his hands covered in dust, in dirt, in weakness.
He was weak.
And it made his stomach twist.
A flicker of anger sparked in his chest, a desperate need to erase the feeling before it took root. His fingers curled, his sand trembling—
Nothing.
His body tensed. It did not respond.
The sand still moved, still followed his command—but it was slower.
Hesitant.
Gaara's breathing turned sharp, his golden eyes narrowing. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
He was invincible. His sand was absolute.
Then why—
Why was it afraid?
His sand had never feared before. Never once questioned his will.
But now, it did.
Now, it hesitated.
Gaara's breath hitched.
This was Rock Lee's doing.
A single battle had done what years of carnage never could.
Lee had not just broken his defense—he had broken something inside him.
And Gaara did not know how to fix it.
Temari let out a slow breath.
She had never seen Gaara like this.
He was awake, sitting upright, his expression blank—but there was something off.
He wasn't looking at them.
He wasn't moving the way he usually did after a battle.
His sand was still.
Temari swallowed.
For as long as she had known him, Gaara had never hesitated. Not once.
Even as a child, even when they were younger, even when she had barely understood what he was becoming—Gaara never stopped moving forward.
Even when he killed.
Even when his sand crushed people before they could scream.
Even when she and Kankurō were too terrified to breathe in his presence.
He never hesitated.
But now—
Now he looked like he didn't know what to do.
Her fingers twitched slightly, her hands tightening around the edge of her fan. She should say something.
But what?
What could she say?
That she was relieved?
That she had feared him for so long that seeing him vulnerable felt like breathing for the first time?
That she had wanted this?
That she had prayed for someone—anyone—to finally show Gaara what it meant to lose?
She looked toward Kankurō, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.
Of course not.
Because he had prayed for the same thing.
Neither of them would ever admit it.
But they had both wished for Gaara to fall.
Not because they hated him.
But because they wanted him to stop being a monster.
And now, here he was. Not a monster anymore.
Just… a boy.
A broken, bloody boy who had never once been taught what it meant to be human.
And neither of them knew how to handle it.
Lee exhaled slowly, the warmth of his breath barely visible in the chilled air.
The fight was over. He had known it before it even began.
But this was not the ending he had anticipated.
He had thought that once Gaara was defeated, he would be filled with something—victory, satisfaction, accomplishment.
But instead, all he felt was quiet.
Lee had spent his entire life striving for one thing—to prove himself.
To prove that even without ninjutsu, even without a powerful clan, even without a bloodline limit—he could stand as an equal among the strongest.
And now?
Now he had done more than that.
He had surpassed them.
He had become something else.
And yet…
He was still not satisfied.
Because Lee was starting to realize something.
Strength was not enough.
Not anymore.
He had been reborn, transformed into something beyond human limits, beyond what even Guy-sensei had believed possible.
But what was he supposed to do with that strength?
He looked down at his hands, the faint glow of Raijin Enka still flickering around his fingers. His power was still growing.
Faster than before.
Faster than he could control.
And for the first time, Lee wondered if he was the one who needed to be stopped.
Orochimaru's grin widened from beneath his Kazekage disguise.
Fascinating.
The battle had gone beyond his expectations. Sasuke had been his target from the beginning, but now…
Now, he wasn't so sure.
Lee had shown something far more interesting.
Something far more dangerous.
He had tapped into a power that should not exist.
He had reached into something beyond the limitations of mortal shinobi—and had survived.
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed.
Sasuke was valuable. But Sasuke could wait.
Lee, on the other hand…
Lee was an anomaly.
And Orochimaru had never been able to resist a good experiment.
He chuckled softly, already calculating his next move.
This was only the beginning.
And Rock Lee—
Was going to be his next project.
Gaara's hands trembled slightly as he stared at them.
The pain was starting to dull. His body was healing.
But something deeper had been changed.
Something inside him had cracked.
Lee had not fought him for vengeance.
Had not fought him for hatred.
Lee had never been afraid of him.
Not once.
And that had broken something far worse than his sand.
His fingers curled into a weak fist.
For the first time in his life, Gaara was questioning himself.
And he did not know how to handle that.
So he did what he always did.
He buried it.
Deep, deep inside him.
Because if he let himself feel it—
Then he would have to accept that he had lost.
That he was not invincible.
That he was not a monster.
And Gaara…
Gaara did not know who he was without that.