Back in the forest with Naruto and Shikamaru, a sharp whistle cut through the air like a dagger, slicing through the quiet with unnatural clarity. Both boys froze mid-step, instincts kicking in as they turned toward the sound. And there she was, Tayuya, perched on a twisted tree root like a vengeful spirit. Her crimson hair whipped wildly in the wind, tangled strands catching in the jagged bark. The cursed seal markings crawled along her skin like ink come alive, pulsing with a dark heat that shimmered faintly in the forest gloom. Her flute was already raised to her lips, fingers poised with vicious intent. Her breath hissed between clenched teeth, eyes gleaming with cold, merciless fury. "You little shits are gonna regret everything." Her voice rang sharp, hateful, reverberating against the trees. The air around her thickened with killing intent, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap. But then, something shifted. Her eyes locked onto something past them, and her body stilled. The flute dipped a fraction, her sneer faltering as a flicker of confusion broke across her face. The wind surged, rustling the leaves in a sudden hush. Whatever she saw, or sensed, drove a crack straight through her rage. Her breath caught. She didn't move. Neither did the boys. For one moment, the forest felt like it was holding its breath.

Naruto's brow furrowed, his chakra beginning to rise instinctively. "What-?" Behind him, a low groan echoed from the branch above, like wood under too much strain. Both boys turned just as a figure materialized from nothing, silent, spectral, terrible. Kimimaro stood there, unmoving, his skin pale as moonlight, eyes blank and unreadable. From his back and shoulders jutted a forest of gleaming white bone; razor-sharp protrusions that shimmered like death-forged steel. He looked less like a person and more like a statue carved from ash and ivory, cold and ancient. Before either boy could react, he moved. With one sharp step, Kimimaro lunged forward, his foot slamming into the crate in Naruto's hands. The blow landed with a hollow crack, the container ripped from Naruto's grip like it weighed nothing. It spiraled through the air, catching the sunlight for a heartbeat before vanishing behind Kimimaro's cloak of motion. He was already gone, the branch quivering in his absence. He reappeared mid-air, his body twisting with impossible grace as his arms snapped out to catch the tumbling crate. His landing on the lower bough made no sound, no crunch of bark, no displaced leaves, as if even gravity dared not interfere with his will.

"Tayuya, you have failed Lord Orochimaru" he said, voice barely more than a breath, soft and cold as falling snow. He didn't look at her.

Her body went rigid, the fight draining from her muscles like poison. Her fingers slipped from the flute. "Kimimaro... I didn't-!" But her protest died in her throat. His presence was suffocating, absolute. The air around him had turned frigid, pressing down like a winter storm, and every heartbeat seemed louder against the silence he left in his wake.

He turned slightly, just enough for the dying light to catch in his eyes, flat, green, and hollow, like something long ago drained from within. "I should kill you." The silence that followed was a blade drawn halfway from its sheath, humming with restraint. The wind slipped between the trees like a whisper, brushing through the leaves in quiet warning. "But I won't. Not yet." His voice was ice wrapped in stillness. "You still have a role to play." Tayuya swallowed thickly, throat tight with fear and fury. Her hands trembled around her flute, fingers twitching as if caught between obedience and rage. The cursed seal along her shoulder darkened, pulsing like an open wound. Sweat gathered at her temple, cold and stinging, trailing down to the edge of her jaw. Kimimaro turned away, the pale jut of bone along his spine catching the last gold of the sun. With one effortless motion, he vanished into the forest's depths, leaping bough to bough with inhuman grace. Sasuke's container was tucked close to his chest, cradled not as cargo but as something sacred, something he would bleed for. His chakra faded like a dying echo, leaving behind only the cold he'd dragged in with him.

"Kill them," he called over his shoulder, a final command, not a request. Tayuya's lips peeled back into a snarl, sharp and trembling. Her eyes gleamed with hate, red as split flame. She raised her flute once more, the metal chilling her fingers. One breath. Then another. The first note sliced the air. Naruto and Shikamaru stepped back in unison, hearts pounding in their ears. The chakra in the air thickened instantly, like the forest itself recoiled. Leaves shuddered in place. The tension crackled in the canopy like static clinging to the branches, sharp enough to taste. The real fight had just begun.

Shikamaru's mind fired like lightning, calculating angles, distances, and escape vectors faster than he could shape the words. His eyes never left the silver glint of Tayuya's flute, he knew that one breath from it could twist the world sideways. "We can't let Kimimaro get away," he murmured, voice barely a breath. "Naruto, follow my lead." He didn't wait for a response. Shikamaru darted forward, boots pounding against the forest floor, scattering dry leaves and loose dirt in his wake. Naruto surged after him, his chakra flaring in bursts of gold and orange, the earth trembling faintly with each footfall. Tayuya's eyes snapped wide, curse mark crawling across her cheek as she yanked her flute to her lips. Too late. They were already in motion. Shikamaru's pace shifted, deliberate, baiting. His path curved like a kunai thrown wide, drawing her attention just long enough. Then, with the grace of a falling leaf, he pivoted sharply, dropping low into a patch of thick shadow beneath a leaning tree. The darkness swallowed him, his chakra masked, his presence ghosted. Naruto didn't pause. He vaulted forward, chakra coiling in his muscles, wind rushing past his ears. His body arced above her in a perfect, explosive leap, sunlight catching the golden strands of his hair, a streak of living flame against the green canopy. The shadows of his silhouette rippled over her face. Tayuya's scowl twisted into a snarl, fingers tightening on her flute as she spun, but the momentum was already theirs. The air cracked with rising chakra, the fight now turning on who struck first, and who wouldn't get back up.

"What the-?" Tayuya muttered, raising her head just a heartbeat too late.

Behind her, Shikamaru's fingers snapped into position. "Kagemane no Jutsu." His voice was calm but sharp, precise like a thrown knife. The shadow surged forward, stretching across the uneven ground like liquid lightning, rippling over roots and moss as it lunged for her feet. But Tayuya moved on instinct. Her body twisted mid-breath, and she leapt back, landing with a crunch on a crooked tree root. Bark cracked under her weight as the shadow missed her toes by inches, flickering out with a frustrated snap. "Shit," Shikamaru hissed between clenched teeth, already ducking back behind the foliage. "Almost had her-"

Tayuya turned, curse seal pulsing along her neck, but Naruto was gone. No chakra, no flash of orange, vanished. Her eyes darted, teeth grinding. "Damn it!" she shouted, voice ragged with tension. From high in the canopy, half-veiled in leaves and filtered light, Shikamaru allowed himself the ghost of a smirk. 'Buy time. That's all I need to do.' Then, snap. A branch behind him cracked, sharp as a shuriken slicing bark. He dropped low, narrowly avoiding a swipe of her flute as she closed the gap with eerie speed, her chakra now wild and erratic in the air.

Tayuya's weapon caught the light as she stood above him, breath heavy but eyes burning with malice. "You're really something, you know that?" she sneered, voice low and venomous. "Letting your teammates fight alone, what kind of leader are you?" Her foot scraped the branch, and the flute lifted slowly, like a sword ready to strike. "First the fatso, next the Hyūga, then the dog boy, lastly the mutt with the fox, what, gonna toss yourself next?" Shikamaru didn't flinch. His breath was steady, shadow already curling beneath him like smoke, inching toward hers again. He didn't need to answer. The trap was still forming.

"I haven't sacrificed anyone," Shikamaru said evenly, each word laced with steel. "Chōji, Neji, Kiba, Naruto, they're still alive. Don't talk about my team like you know them."

Tayuya's grin curled slow and cruel, teeth bared like a predator playing with her prey. "Oh, I know them," she purred. "I know they're dead the second they went after us alone." Her fingers lifted the flute with elegant ease, and then, she played. The sound that followed was wrong. It started low, trembling like the moan of a dying wind through a cracked window. The pitch warbled, sharp and nauseating. Even the forest flinched, leaves shuddered, birds scattered, and the very air around them seemed to tighten, trembling as though the notes were peeling back the skin of reality. The ground split. With a loud, sickening crack, the forest floor trembled beneath Shikamaru's feet. Thick roots shifted like bones beneath a corpse's skin. Trees groaned in protest, some bowing forward as something massive began to step through the underbrush.

Then, they came. Three grotesque figures lumbered into the clearing. They towered over the treetops, hulking masses of rotting flesh and exposed sinew. Their heads lolled unnaturally to one side, crudely stitched together with thick black thread, as if carelessly sewn back from death. Their skin was mottled and swollen with decay, colored like bruised fruit. Flies buzzed in clouds around their sagging jaws. Iron chains clanked from their necks, trailing like broken leashes, grinding against bone with every step. Tayuya didn't even glance at them. Her eyes remained fixed on Shikamaru, mocking, almost bored as her fingers glided over the flute's holes with expert precision. "I don't even need to fight you," she said, smirking through the music. "These guys? They'll rip you to pieces."

Shikamaru grit his teeth, heart hammering now, not from fear, but from the pressure of calculation. Great. Summons controlled directly with genjutsu... He could already feel the distortion crawling at the edges of his chakra. 'I need a way to interrupt her music, or stop the summons from moving.' He crouched lower, fingers twitching, shadow crawling beneath him like a snake coiled to strike. The sound kept coming, sharp, hypnotic, suffocating. He had to move fast. Before her next note buried him alive. The forest darkened with each step Tayuya took, branches above knotting tighter, clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers reaching for breath. The light filtered through in slivers, faint and sickly, painting her red hair in ribbons of rust. Each breath she took was steady but shallow, fogging slightly in the heavy air. Her chakra simmered under her skin like boiling oil sealed beneath parchment, humming, volatile, barely restrained. It itched in her fingertips, pulsed at her temples, coiling through her muscles like wildfire waiting for a spark. Behind her, the thud-thud-thud of the Doki reverberated through the ground. The three summoned beasts moved with monstrous rhythm, thick arms swinging, massive clubs dragging behind them with a sound like stone on bone. They carved trenches into the forest floor with every step, pulverizing moss and root. Their pale flesh looked rubbery and stretched thin over swollen muscle. Their mouths, stitched shut with thick black thread, twitched with every breath, leaking a sickening sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. The stench of decay wafted in waves, coppery and sour, clinging to her nostrils like rot in a crypt.

Far ahead, she could feel him, chakra faint, but active. That clever little bastard. Weaving in and out of range. Shifting just beyond direct pursuit. Her fingers twitched against the flute as her jaw clenched hard enough to ache. "Think you can just outmaneuver me forever?" she hissed, voice low and sharp. The trees around her swayed, the canopy creaking with wind that didn't exist. Her grip on the flute tightened, knuckles whitening. Her chakra surged higher, pouring like smoke into her arms and spine, electrifying her nerves. It wasn't just annoyance now, it was bloodlust. That same sharp, heady rush from the moment right before the bone snaps and the body falls. She wouldn't hold back anymore. Not when she could feel him breathing too close to escape.

"Fine. You want a real fight?" she growled, voice low and sharp as splintered stone. A dark pattern bloomed across her skin like wildfire, crawling in jagged strokes from her collarbone down her arms, alive, pulsing with chakra. It writhed like snakes beneath her flesh, the cursed seal spreading fast, turning her skin a bruised, sickly hue. Her sclera darkened like storm clouds rolling in, her pupils sharp and animalistic. A wicked grin curled across her lips, and when she bared her teeth, it was all fang and fury. The Doki jerked violently in response, as if the seal tethered them to her heartbeat. Their backs arched, thick muscles snapping taut beneath rotting flesh. Their stitched mouths quivered. One let out a rattling screech, and the others followed, howls that shook the underbrush, that made birds scatter in a panicked rush of feathers. The air grew heavier, tainted by the acrid stink of chakra-churn and bile. The ground beneath them trembled with their aggression, dust rising in ghostly puffs as claws dug furrows into the dirt. Tayuya lifted her flute, fingers poised with eerie precision. The first notes sliced the air, high, discordant, bending reality at the edges. The sound didn't echo; it coiled, wrapping around the trees like a serpent, warping the silence into something predatory. The Doki responded instantly, spines snapping straight as if struck by lightning. They began to move faster, not just stomping now, but charging, their clubs crashing against trunks with thunderous cracks, shaking bark loose in crumbling showers. Leaves spun upward, caught in the chaos of their passage, and the trees themselves seemed to recoil.

"Let's see how long you keep up your cute little strategy now, shadow boy," she snarled, chakra lacing her voice like venom. With a flex of her legs, she launched upward, leaping from root to limb, her lithe body flowing with muscle memory and fury. She raced overhead, her Doki thundering below like summoned titans, guided by the invisible threads of her music. Every shift in pitch made them jerk, twist, slam sideways into the terrain, devastation chasing her like a wave. Below, Shikamaru crouched behind a broad tree trunk, breath low, steady as a held blade. The sharp scent of disturbed soil filled his nose. His skin prickled with the vibration of each impact. But what unnerved him most wasn't the noise, it was the rhythm. 'They're moving differently...' he thought, kunai cold in his hand. The tremors no longer followed a predictable cadence. It wasn't just chaos, it was manipulation. Her attacks had stopped reacting. Now they anticipated. His eyes narrowed, calculating. Sweat traced a slow line down his temple. 'She's reading me too... damn, she's smart.' And the trees creaked again, groaning under weight they couldn't see, because above, death was dancing to the sound of a flute. From somewhere ahead, the sharp, piercing notes of a flute sliced through the forest air, cutting clean through the damp moss and rustling leaves. The sound was unnatural, commanding, bending the will of the grotesque monsters barreling through the trees with thunderous, monstrous strength. Each note twisted like a thread pulling at their sinewed limbs, urging them forward with brutal force.

Shikamaru clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tightening under the weight of the fight. "Tch... Guess I'll have to play this smarter." His voice was low, steady, filled with the cold calm of a strategist forced to adapt. In one fluid, practiced motion, he swept a handful of shuriken and kunai from his belt, hurling them high and wide. The sharp clatter of metal cutting through the air rang against bark and leaves, not meant to strike but to disrupt. The Doki reeled back, massive arms flailing upward defensively, muscles rippling beneath their grotesque, decaying flesh. Their howls twisted into growls of frustration. Tayuya snarled, stepping aside with a sneer that dripped venom and impatience. Then, snap. From the canopy above, a thin branch cracked sharply, barely audible over the chaos. A hidden flash bomb dropped, releasing a burst of blinding white light that exploded like a starburst among the trees. The sudden illumination ripped through the shadows, painting every leaf and branch in stark contrast. Shadows lengthened and stretched deep across the forest floor, jagged and surreal. "Got you." Tayuya didn't even have time to scream before the shadows beneath her shifted and writhed, twisting like living smoke. They reached out, long and sinuous, coiling rapidly with the hungry intent of serpents. The dark tendrils wrapped tightly around her and the three towering Doki, binding them in an inescapable grip. Shikamaru stepped forward slowly from behind the broad tree trunk, eyes calm and calculating. One hand extended deliberately, fingers locking into the precise, iconic shape of the Shadow Imitation Technique. His voice was flat, cold with quiet triumph. "All three of your monsters," he said, voice steady as stone, "are mine now."

The Doki twitched, their grotesque forms stiffening as if frozen in place, mirroring Shikamaru's stance with unsettling precision. Their ragged breaths hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint scent of rot and damp earth. Tayuya's eye flickered, irritation flashing like wildfire beneath her cool exterior, but her lips curled into a mocking, dangerous smile. "You think I care?" she snapped, voice sharp as broken glass. "So what if you caught them? They're just meat."

Shikamaru's gaze remained icy and unyielding as he replied, "You should at least arm yourself. Because your flute's not going to save you this time."

Her defiant snort cut through the tension, brimming with reckless confidence. "It's the only weapon I need." Without hesitation, Shikamaru moved first, launching himself forward with calculated speed, dragging the three towering Doki behind him like enormous, unwilling puppets. Their massive, decaying arms swung outward with bone-crushing force, each movement shaking the ground and sending splinters of bark flying. But just as Shikamaru lunged, a blur of movement caught the eye, a flicker of her fingers weaving a one-handed seal, swift and sure. The Doki evaporated into choking smoke, swirling in thick, dark plumes that twisted and writhed as the forest was momentarily shrouded in a haze of choking silence. The scent of burnt wood and acrid chakra filled the air, and for a moment, the world held its breath in the smothering fog.

Shikamaru skidded to a sudden stop, chest rising and falling sharply as his breath caught in his throat. The ground beneath his feet scattered with dry leaves, rustling softly in the tense stillness. "What?!" A cruel, low laugh slithered through the clearing, twisting like smoke in the stale air. From the swirling remnants of the dissipating smoke, Tayuya emerged, eyes blazing with fierce, unyielding fire. Her red hair clung to damp strands against her sweat-slicked skin, the cursed seal pulsing faintly beneath. Her gaze locked onto Shikamaru with wild intensity. She dashed forward, kunai gleaming cold in her hand, the blade arcing in a deadly curve toward his neck, sharp, swift, merciless. But then, mid-air, her entire body froze. Muscles locked tight, limbs rigid as if bound by invisible chains. Her breath caught sharply in her throat, eyes wide with panic and disbelief.

Shikamaru exhaled slowly, the tension releasing in a controlled wave as sweat traced a cool path down his cheek. His hand remained steady, fingers locked in the precise, iconic seal of his jutsu. "Checkmate," he muttered under his breath, voice low and steady like the closing of a door. Tayuya's eyes widened further, the stark reality crashing down on her as the shadows connecting them tightened, a living tether she couldn't sever. The crackle of chakra hummed softly between them, the forest around falling eerily silent. "That first technique?" Shikamaru's voice was calm, cool, almost detached. "A fakeout. Just like in shōgi. The first move draws you in..." He stepped forward deliberately, the weight of his gaze heavy and resolute, cutting through the air like a blade. "...but the second one ends the game."

The shadow bonds tightened relentlessly around Tayuya, cold and unyielding as iron shackles, pinning her body rigid and immobile. Her eyes flashed with burning frustration, a storm swirling beneath their surface. The air around her hummed with raw tension, the scent of damp earth mixing with the sharp tang of chakra. With a fierce scowl, she summoned the deep power of her cursed seal, pushing beyond its usual bounds. Dark chakra surged through her veins like molten night, thick and heavy, igniting her muscles with relentless strength and resilience. She strained against Shikamaru's Shadow Imitation Technique, the bonds creaking and groaning under the weight of her will, shadows twisting and writhing like living chains. The forest seemed to hold its breath. Sensing her sudden escalation, Shikamaru's eyes sharpened, and with swift precision, he shifted his technique into the advanced Shadow-Neck Binding. The tendrils of shadow constricted tighter, cold and cruel, coiling around her with surgical precision, locking her further in place. For a heartbeat, it seemed she was truly ensnared, a prisoner with no escape. But then, despite the merciless grip, her fingers, free and surprisingly nimble, danced to life, weaving a haunting melody from the flute she managed to reach. The notes floated through the thick air, weaving delicate, intricate threads of illusion that pierced directly into Shikamaru's mind. His face twisted in agony, muscles spasming as the genjutsu took hold. The world around him warped into a kaleidoscope of torment, colors bleeding, shapes twisting, reality fracturing beneath his vision. A guttural scream tore from his lips, raw and desperate. Seizing the opening, Tayuya snatched a nearby kunai from the leaf-strewn forest floor, eyes blazing with lethal intent. Her body surged forward like a coiled spring unleashed, the blade aimed to end the fight. But before she could strike, a solid fist crashed into her gut with bone-jarring force, knocking the air from her lungs. She gasped, staggering back, disbelief flashing across her face. 'How had he broken free so quickly?' Her gaze dropped to Shikamaru's hand, and then to the shattered finger, blood oozing dark and slick from the jagged wound. A grim, weary smile curled at the corner of his lips, fierce with defiance even in pain.

"Heh," Shikamaru rasped, voice rough and raw from strain, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I used the pain to break the illusion." His breath came in sharp bursts, chest rising and falling with effort. "Manipulated my shadow to hurt myself... it snapped me out." Swift as a shadow slipping through dusk, he summoned his technique again, the Shadow-Neck Binding responding instantly. The tendrils surged forward like living serpents, whipping through the humid air with renewed ferocity, dark and relentless. Their touch was cold and unyielding, coiling tighter, squeezing with merciless precision. "And the closer I am," he murmured, eyes narrowing, locking onto her with unblinking focus, "the tighter this bind becomes." Tayuya's lips quivered, the fierce spark of defiance dimming as self-reproach crept into her expression like a shadow crossing her heart. Her breath hitched, sharp and bitter, anger boiling hot beneath the surface, not at Shikamaru, but at her own carelessness, the moment she had underestimated him. Shikamaru's voice cut clean through the thick tension, low and calculating, each word a sharpened blade. "I had it all planned from the start." The weight behind his gaze was heavy with cold certainty. "Once you said your flute was your only weapon, I knew you'd need to arm yourself the moment you thought you caught me. You'd pick up the kunai closest to you, and come close enough to finish me." He stepped forward with deliberate, measured grace, shadows swirling and coiling around him like living chains, silent, predatory, in full control. "This was your mistake."

The dark, twisting tendrils of Shikamaru's Shadow-Neck Binding Technique began to falter, slackening incrementally as his chakra reserves drained to a dangerous low. Each coil loosened like threads unraveling, slipping away beneath the weight of exhaustion. Sweat beaded heavily on his brow, stinging as it trickled down his temple. A dull ache settled deep in his chest, pressing like a stone against his ribs. His mind drifted unbidden to a memory, not long past, the chaotic heat of the Konoha Crush, when his chakra had vanished mid-battle, leaving him exposed and helpless. Back then, Asuma Sarutobi had appeared just in time, a steady anchor amid chaos. But now, as the shadows slackened, a cold dread seeped into Shikamaru's heart, the grim realization that no one was near enough to come to his aid. Muscles tensed, breath shallow and steady, he braced for the inevitable, the crushing blow that would end the fight. Tayuya's eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction, pupils dilated and sharp like knives. Her lips curled into a deadly smile as she raised her flute once more, fingers poised to unleash the final, fatal melody. Then, without warning, a fierce gust of wind roared through the trees, swirling leaves into a frantic dance, rattling branches with a shuddering roar. The sudden force ripped through the tension like a blade, knocking Tayuya off balance, her confident smile faltering as her body swayed precariously.

From the rustling foliage emerged a striking figure, Temari, towering and resolute, her massive iron fan gripped firmly in both hands. Her eyes burned with unwavering focus, sharp as desert sunlit steel. Her voice rang clear and steady, cutting through the thick, suffocating tension like a clarion call. "I'm Temari, shinobi of Sunahagakure and enemy turned ally of Konohagakure. I'm here to help." With swift, confident movements, she stepped forward, boots crushing twigs beneath her weight. The forest seemed to hold its breath, watching as the tide began to turn, an ally arriving just in time to stand against the looming threat.

Shikamaru, still steadying his breath, quickly shared what he'd learned about Tayuya's deadly arsenal. His voice was low but urgent, cutting through the thick tension hanging in the air. "She's skilled with sound-based genjutsu, using her flute to manipulate and confuse her enemies. Her control over her summoned giants, the Doki, makes her a dangerous opponent in both close and ranged combat. She's unpredictable, and if you're not careful, she can trap you in illusions that twist your mind."

Temari's eyes narrowed, a fierce determination blazing within their sharp depths. "Sound-based genjutsu? That won't be a problem." The wind stirred faintly, carrying the faintest echo of Tayuya raising her flute once more, readying to weave her next haunting, disorienting melody. With practiced grace, Temari lifted her Giant Folding Fan, its polished surface catching dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. She swung it in a sweeping arc, the movement fluid and precise. The sharp gust generated by the fan collided with the invisible waves of sound, shattering the illusory threads before they could ensnare her or Shikamaru. The piercing notes dissolved into the rustling leaves, broken and harmless. Around them, the forest seemed to hold its breath, the very air thick with anticipation as Temari called forth her deadly companion. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she summoned Kamatari. The great scythe blade shimmered, its edge gleaming like liquid steel in the mottled sunlight. With a powerful, sweeping slash, Kamatari tore through the underbrush and trees, the sound of splintering wood and crashing trunks echoing like thunder. Branches snapped and tumbled, trunks groaned and toppled, earth and leaves erupted into the air, swirling in chaotic clouds as the forest was carved open in moments. The sheer force of Kamatari's strike leveled a wide path, the devastation palpable, an unrelenting wave of destruction that left no place for Tayuya to hide or recover.

Amid the chaos, Tayuya fought desperately to maintain control, her fingers clenching the flute as her summoning unraveled. But she was no match for the relentless assault. With one final, precise strike from Kamatari, the scythe's blade sliced through the last thread of resistance. Tayuya collapsed, her form crumpling like a fading shadow, her presence snuffed out, an echo lost to the wind. The forest grew still once more, silence settling like a heavy cloak as the threat was vanquished, claimed by Temari's skill and unyielding strength.

Farther ahead, Naruto's sandals crashed against the damp undergrowth, the soft squelch of moss and mud giving way beneath each determined step. His breath came hot and ragged, fogging in the cool forest air as adrenaline surged through his veins. The atmosphere around him seemed charged, the very air vibrating with the raw pulse of his chakra, fiery and relentless, burning like a storm about to break. Kimimaro's trail lay ahead, unnervingly clean, almost too deliberate, as if carved with purpose, inviting Naruto closer. His mind blazed with fierce resolve. 'You're not taking him. I don't care who you are, I'm not letting you take Sasuke.' The dense forest suddenly gave way to a wide clearing, where sunlight spilled like molten gold through broken branches. At its center stood Kimimaro, serene and composed, the eerie container resting casually at his side like a silent promise. His pale skin gleamed faintly under the dappled light, bones subtly protruding beneath, sharp as blades. His eyes didn't flinch as Naruto stepped forward, muscles coiled and tense, chakra bubbling crimson beneath his skin, fiery, alive, and ready to ignite.

"You again," Kimimaro murmured, his voice cold and hollow like wind scraping over dry bones.

Naruto's eyes blazed with fiery orange intensity, the sharp glow of the Nine-Tails' chakra flickering beneath his skin. "I'm not letting you take Sasuke," he growled, teeth clenched tight, fists trembling with barely contained rage. "Why does Orochimaru even want him?!"

Kimimaro's pale face remained calm, almost eerily serene. "To live forever," he said quietly, the words drifting like a death sentence. Naruto's stomach twisted, a sick knot tightening deep within as the truth crashed over him. He could feel the Nine-Tails inside, lashing out like a caged beast, fire and fury surging through his chest. "He needs vessels. Sasuke's power, his Sharingan, his potential, it's perfect," Kimimaro explained, voice as cold and unforgiving as the grave. "Orochimaru's soul is eternal... but his body isn't. When this one fails, he'll take Sasuke for his own."

A fierce storm of emotion roared through Naruto, a mixture of desperation and defiance. "You think I'm going to let him use Sasuke like that?!" he shouted, voice raw and unyielding. Chakra flared around him, burning red-hot, warping the very air in waves of shimmering heat. The whisker-like marks on his cheeks thickened, darkening as his eyes fully transformed into the blazing crimson of the Nine-Tails' influence. With a guttural roar that echoed through the clearing, Naruto slammed his palm into the earth. The impact sent a tremor rippling through the ground, shaking loose dirt and leaves. Seconds later, the space around him erupted with a chorus of popping air and pounding feet. From every direction, dozens, no, hundreds, then a thousand shadow clones burst forth, their forms glowing faintly with residual red chakra, an unyielding army born of Naruto's desperate will to protect.

Kimimaro's pale eyes narrowed for the first time, a flicker of surprise, or perhaps annoyance, crossing his otherwise calm face. "So much chakra..." he murmured, voice low and cold like wind scraping over stone. Without hesitation, Naruto launched himself into battle, determination blazing brighter than ever. His shadow clones erupted all around him, a swirling, relentless swarm moving as one, dozens, hundreds, a tide of fiery resolve aimed to overwhelm. They surged forward in a furious wave, launching strikes from every angle with sharp precision and explosive energy. But Kimimaro's skill was something else entirely. His movements were fluid and precise, a deadly dance weaving through the storm of attacks. Each strike he delivered was measured and graceful, bones extending like blades to slice through clones with uncanny speed. The air rang with the crack of snapping limbs and the soft thud of clones dissolving into shadows. Despite the overwhelming numbers and Naruto's raw ferocity, the clones fell one after another, barely touching Kimimaro's steady form. Frustration gnawed at Naruto, biting sharper as he watched his assault falter. His breath grew heavy, each inhale burning like fire in his lungs. His chakra strained, flickering dangerously, but Kimimaro remained unfazed, an eerie, almost otherworldly presence moving with relentless power and grace. Just as the storm of battle began to weigh on Naruto's spirit, a sudden, jarring sound shattered the tense air, the sealed coffin containing Sasuke burst open with a thunderous crack, splitting the silence like a gunshot. The cursed seal on Sasuke's body had finally surged into its feared second level, dark markings crawling and swirling like living shadows across his skin. He stepped free from the broken seal's prison, his entire presence transformed, eyes gleaming with fierce, unnatural intensity, glowing red with a cold fire that chilled the blood. His once familiar face was now etched with the advanced curse's twisted power, a haunting mask of strength and sorrow intertwined.

The sight of his friend snapped Naruto sharply back from the overwhelming tide of Nine-Tails chakra raging inside him. His heart pounded fiercely, a desperate hope flaring in his voice as he shouted into the tense silence. "Sasuke! Come back! Everyone's waiting for you in Konoha! We're your friends!" But Sasuke's response was a chilling, wild cackle that sliced through the air like a cold blade. There was no warmth in his eyes, no flicker of the comrade Naruto longed to reach. The laughter echoed hollow and eerie, bouncing off the trees, shattering the fragile hope that had sparked in Naruto's chest. 'So this... Is what Sakura had meant...' Naruto's heart clenched painfully, torn between fierce anger and aching sorrow. Sasuke strode out of the shattered enclosure with a cold, indifferent grace, the dark curse markings rippling with every step. Naruto's legs burned as he surged forward, driven by unyielding hope and loyalty, desperate to close the gap. But before he could reach his friend, a shadow fell over him. Kimimaro stepped forward, his pale eyes cold and resolute, blocking Naruto's path like an unyielding wall. The deadly intent radiating from him was unmistakable, this battle was far from over. With a sudden, swift motion, Kimimaro lunged toward Naruto, bones extending like sharp blades in a lethal strike. A blur of vibrant green suddenly burst into the scene, Rock Lee, newly recovered and radiating fierce determination, moved with explosive speed. With a powerful shout, Lee intercepted Kimimaro's deadly attack, pushing him back with a force born from unwavering resolve, shielding Naruto from harm in the nick of time.

"Go after Sasuke!" Lee urged, his voice sharp and breathless, eyes blazing with urgency beneath the sheen of sweat gathering on his brow. "Only you can reach him. I'll handle this!" His stance was wide and steady, muscles taut, already bracing for the next exchange. Naruto gave a fierce nod, chakra pulsing at his heels as he sprinted off, the wind roaring in his ears, the sound of Lee and Kimimaro's clash already thundering behind him. Kimimaro's gaze didn't follow Naruto, it locked solely on Lee, eyes cold and unblinking. The moment Naruto vanished into the trees, Kimimaro surged forward without hesitation, bone claws extending from his wrist in a deadly arc. Lee met the assault head-on, a blur of green against Kimimaro's pale blur. Their clash erupted in a flurry of speed and raw power, each blow from Lee hammering forward like a piston. His fists cracked the air with each punch, his kicks snapping the grass flat beneath their force. Dust spiraled with every impact. But Kimimaro's movements were fluid and alien, bones twisting and jutting from beneath his skin in unpredictable angles. He deflected, redirected, or absorbed Lee's strikes with eerie precision. The metallic grind of bone against flesh echoed as Kimimaro's skeletal blades clashed with Lee's braced limbs. Lee spun low, aiming a sweeping kick that would have shattered the average shinobi's ribs, but Kimimaro leapt over it, twisting midair, and retaliated with a spine-like spear that extended from his shoulder. Lee barely dodged, feeling the wind of it pass so close it burned.

Kimimaro's lips curled into a sneer. "Predictable," he muttered under his breath, weaving with supernatural grace through Lee's rapid barrage. Still, Lee refused to falter. His arms shook, his legs ached, but his will blazed unbroken. I must hold him. Even if it's just a little longer...

But his body was slowing. Every joint throbbed, each breath grew tighter. Sensing the edges of his limits closing in, Lee leapt back and raised a hand. "Timeout!" he called, panting. "I need to take my medicine." Kimimaro paused mid-step, his bone blade still extended. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing through their depthless calm. Wordlessly, he allowed it. Lee's hand trembled slightly as he uncorked the small glass bottle at his hip. The scent of bitter herbs hit his nose as he downed it in one gulp, the burn sliding down his throat like fire. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, jaw set, heart pounding.

He met Kimimaro's cold stare again. "Now then..." he said, voice steadier, legs coiling like springs. "Let's continue."

Back in the bustling corridors of the Konoha hospital, fluorescent lights hummed above and the scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air. Guy stormed through the sliding doors like a gale, his green jumpsuit clinging to him with sweat, each step pounding with frantic purpose. Nurses barely had time to move aside as he bounded up the stairwell three steps at a time, his breath short but his heart hammering louder than his footsteps. He didn't slow, didn't dare, shoulders tense as if bracing for the worst. His palm slammed into the door of Tsunade's office with a sharp bang, the wood shuddering as it swung open.

"Tsunade-sama!" he boomed, voice cracking with urgency. "How did it go?! The surgery, did Lee make it?!" Tsunade looked up from where she leaned against her desk, arms crossed, a bead of sweat still drying on her brow. Her golden eyes flicked to him, calm, steady, impenetrable. The quiet between them hung heavy, stretching just long enough for Guy's heart to twist.

"It was a success," she said at last, voice firm but warm. "Lee's resilience is unmatched. He could begin light training as early as tomorrow." The silence shattered. Guy let out a sound between a gasp and a sob, knees almost buckling beneath him. His whole body jolted like he'd been struck with lightning, only it was relief. Gratitude. Love.

He threw himself into a full-body celebratory pose, arms wide and tears streaking down his cheeks. "My youthful student endures!" he cried, voice trembling. "The flames of his springtime have not gone out-!" Suddenly, the door burst open behind Guy with a thunderclap of motion. Two medical aides stumbled in, their white coats fluttering behind them like startled doves, faces drained of color. One clutched a clipboard that trembled slightly in his hands; the other's chest rose and fell with panicked breaths.

"Lady Tsunade!" the first aide gasped, sweat glistening at his hairline. "Lee is gone!" The room seemed to lurch, a silence crashing into the walls like an aftershock.

"What?" Tsunade's voice cracked through the tension like a kunai through glass. Her whole body snapped upright, spine rigid, golden eyes burning with sudden fire. "Gone where?"

"He's not in his bed," the second aide said, words tumbling out in a rush. "We searched the recovery wing and checked the cameras. He slipped out, alone. And the cabinet... it's been opened."

Guy spun toward them, dread dropping into his stomach like a stone. "Don't tell me-"

The aide held up a bottle pulled from the inside of his coat. The label was worn but unmistakable. The amber liquid sloshed softly within as the aide muttered, "He didn't take his prescribed one. He... he took this." Tsunade's gaze fixed on it, her breath stilling as her jaw tightened. Her sake. The scent of alcohol drifted faintly through the cork. Her fingers clenched at her sides as she turned toward her desk with a searing calm that masked a storm beneath. Lee's reckless spirit. His boundless will. The terrible gamble he'd just made.

Guy's scream echoed like a siren, reverberating down the stone corridors and out into the open air beyond the hospital. "NOOOOOOO!" It tore from his throat raw and ragged, a howl of disbelief so powerful it rattled the clipboard from one aide's hands. Tsunade winced, her hand darting toward her temple, and both aides instinctively stepped back, as if the sheer volume might knock them over. Guy snatched the bottle from the aide's trembling fingers, holding it aloft as though it were a cursed relic. His eyes bulged with horror, and his finger shook as he jabbed it accusingly at the sake label. "This!" he bellowed. "This is not medicine, this is madness!"

Tsunade's mouth was tight with fury, but her voice was clipped, hissing through clenched teeth. "That's my celebratory sake!"

But Guy's panic drowned everything else. He looked as if the sky itself had shattered and collapsed onto his shoulders. "You don't understand!" he cried, voice cracking under the weight of dread. "If Lee even sips alcohol, if a single drop touches his tongue, he becomes completely inebriated! A whirling tempest of unpredictable fury!" He spun on his heel, arms flailing like flags in a storm. "He's a natural at the Drunken Fist! No training! No logic! Just pure chaos!" His eyes gleamed with both awe and terror. "Completely instinctual, totally untrainable! You can't read his movements because he can't! He terrifies even the most disciplined foes!"

Tsunade's brow furrowed as the full implication settled over her. "Then wherever he is..."

Guy's fists clenched, knuckles white. "He's already fighting."

Back in the forest clearing, the air hung thick with tension and the faint, earthy scent of moss and rain-soaked bark. Lee swayed slightly after draining the bottle, a faint clink of glass echoing as it dropped to the forest floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, fingers trembling, and let out a tiny hiccup that seemed to echo too loudly in the silence. A flush rose instantly to his cheeks, creeping up to the tips of his ears. His breath came in uneven puffs, and a peculiar gleam began to light his eyes, glassy, unfocused, yet oddly sharp beneath the blur. Kimimaro's gaze narrowed. The air around him crackled with unease. "...Are you mocking me?" Lee blinked, pupils slow to adjust, then tilted his head far too much to the side. His stance unraveled like a puppet cut from its strings, arms flopping loosely, one knee buckling before he suddenly dropped into a crouch. A cloud of dust puffed beneath his feet. His hips swiveled lazily, like he was dancing to music only he could hear. One hand floated up over his head, fingers wagging gently like a falling leaf.

"I... I don't like you..." Lee slurred, voice thick and lilting with a drunken lilt. He hiccuped again, louder this time, and his brows drew together in sleepy indignation. "You... you're pale. Like... like a ghost... who stole my rice." Kimimaro stared, eyes flat with disbelief. His grip on his bone blade tightened, not from fear, but from the creeping sensation that something fundamentally wrong was unfolding before him. And for the first time, he hesitated.

Lee grinned, his face slack with a dopey smile. "Now... I'm gonna... hic... fight you... on the moon." He stumbled forward, and then, with no warning at all, he lashed out in a wild, spinning back-kick that Kimimaro barely dodged, the sheer speed of it slicing the air. The Drunken Fist had awakened. Kimimaro darted forward, the bone spike protruding from his wrist aimed for Lee's neck. But instead of dodging in any traditional sense, Lee tripped on his own feet, spun sideways in midair, and somehow wound up behind Kimimaro with his arm draped lazily around the taller boy's shoulders. "Heyyy," Lee slurred, grinning, "you're... kinda boney, huh? Like a... a coat rack... hic... with anger issues." Kimimaro jerked away and struck at Lee's ribs, but Lee collapsed flat on the ground, arms and legs splayed as if he'd suddenly passed out. Kimimaro hesitated only for a second before moving in for a finishing blow. Lee's leg snapped up like a spring trap. The kick cracked against Kimimaro's jaw, sending him skidding backward across the forest floor. He recovered quickly, but his narrowed eyes betrayed something close to confusion. The boy was drunk, obviously drunk, yet his reactions were somehow faster than before. Lee was weaving, staggering, mumbling nonsense and blinking unevenly, but every movement flowed from one unpredictable rhythm to the next. His punches came from odd angles, his balance shifted in impossible ways, and Kimimaro found himself blocking more often than attacking. Lee lunged with his eyes closed, arms loose like noodles, and somehow landed a punch square in Kimimaro's stomach. The force sent him stumbling back into a tree. "I'm... the strong...est... under the moonlight," Lee murmured, swaying and grinning like a fool. "You can't even touch my... left eyebrow." Kimimaro's fists clenched. 'His movements... I can't read them. There's no rhythm. No consistency. It's like fighting chaos itself. Drunken Fist... It's not just unpredictable, it's instinctive. And fast. Too fast.' Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth where Lee had connected. Kimimaro exhaled and straightened.

"No more games," he said coldly. With a low hum of chakra, his skin rippled and cracked. Bones erupted from his body like ivory branches, and he reached up with a sharp snap, pulling a sword made of hardened spine from his own back.

Lee blinked blearily at the weapon, tilting his head. "Whoa... you... you just took your sword out of your back! That's not sanitary!" Kimimaro moved fast. Lee tried to dodge, but Kimimaro anticipated the stumble this time. His bone blade slashed forward and grazed Lee's cheek, opening a shallow cut across the skin. Lee froze. His eyes blinked rapidly. His stance faltered. His grin faded. "Huh...?" he muttered, rubbing his face and blinking again. His cheeks were still flushed, but his gaze sharpened by the second. "Wait... where... where am I?"

Kimimaro took a slow step forward, his sword held at the ready. "You're sobering up," he said, his tone cool. "The fun part's over."

Lee's eyes narrowed as he wiped the blood from his cheek. "Drat," he muttered. "I really liked that part." Lee exhaled slowly, sweat beading along his brow as he steadied himself. Kimimaro was advancing again, calm and unrelenting, his footsteps silent despite the crunch of bones forming beneath his skin. Lee's hands clenched into fists. 'There's no more room for hesitation. I'll need to risk it.' He shifted his stance, focused inward, and with a sharp cry, "First Gate: Gate of Opening... Open!", his chakra flared to life. The air around him exploded with pressure as green steam burst from his skin. Lee vanished in a blur, launching himself at Kimimaro with the speed of a gale. Before the enemy could react, Lee was already spinning, wrapping around him like a green comet. "Front Lotus!" With a fierce cry, Lee drove Kimimaro headfirst into the ground, the impact cracking the earth and shattering several nearby roots. Dust and stone erupted into the air, and for a moment, Lee knelt at the edge of the crater, panting hard. But Kimimaro stood. His body rose from the rubble slowly, face cut, robes torn, but no major damage. Bone plates jutted from his limbs, having shielded his vital organs from the worst of the impact. "I reinforced my bones before you hit," Kimimaro said flatly. "Even the Front Lotus... is not enough." Lee barely had time to widen his eyes before Kimimaro lunged again. This time, bones spiraled like drills from his palms, aimed directly for Lee's chest. Lee crossed his arms to guard, but the sharp spiraling bones were faster.

And then, Whump. A wall of sand erupted between them. The bone drills struck the grains and halted immediately, caught in a swirl of dense chakra-infused earth. The force of the deflection launched Lee backward, his battered form caught gently in a rising cushion of sand. Lee's eyes widened as the sand gently laid him down. "That sand... no... it can't be-"

Across the broken clearing, a single figure stood on a floating platform of sand. Robes rustled in the breeze. The gourd on his back gleamed in the morning light, and his arms were folded, face unreadable. Gaara. His voice came low and steady. "I won't let you kill him."

Kimimaro narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"I am Gaara of the Sand," he replied, stepping forward as his gourd opened and more sand poured to his feet like a waiting beast. "A shinobi ally of Konohagakure."

Lee blinked in disbelief, still catching his breath. "Gaara... you are here?"

Gaara turned slightly to glance back at him. "We came to help." His tone was calm. But something different shimmered beneath it. Not indifference. Not bloodlust. Conviction. Lee's fists trembled where they rested against the sand, not from weakness, but from gratitude. Kimimaro moved without hesitation. Bone shards erupted from his spine and launched toward them in a deadly arc, whistling through the air like razors. Lee pushed himself to rise, legs shaking, but Gaara didn't flinch. With a flick of his wrist, the sand responded. Shunk-shunk-shunk. A dense wall of sand surged up in front of them, absorbing every projectile. The sound of bones clattering harmlessly to the ground echoed like hail. Gaara's face remained still, unreadable. "Stay down," he said coldly, his eyes fixed on the enemy. "You're not as fast as you were before."

Lee staggered to his feet, fists clenched. "That doesn't matter! I can still-"

"You're slower," Gaara interrupted, turning his head slightly. His voice was calm, but sharp. "Your injuries... they haven't healed." Lee's throat tightened. Gaara's words were not cruel, but factual, and laced with something unfamiliar. Concern. The red-haired shinobi's gaze narrowed, his mind briefly flashing back to the Chūnin Exams. The cracking of Lee's bones. His foot pressed down on Lee's unconscious body, blood on the arena floor. 'That was my doing...' "I won't let you get hurt again."

Before Lee could respond, the sand surged again, this time wrapping around his waist and limbs like a firm, yet careful hand. He gasped in surprise as he was lifted backward, gently pulled away from the line of danger. "Wait- Gaara, I-!"

"Sit this one out," Gaara said, cutting him off. His sand lowered Lee behind a protective barrier, then unfurled like wings around his own body as he floated forward to meet Kimimaro. "Leave the rest to me." Kimimaro lunged forward with fluid, lethal precision, his ivory-white spine arcing like a whip behind him. His pale eyes flicked briefly toward the gourd on Gaara's back, and he honed in. 'That gourd... it's the source of his sand. If I destroy it-' He drove his sharpened forearm bone forward, aiming straight for the container. But Gaara didn't move. He didn't even blink. With a low hum, the gourd cracked, but it didn't matter. The ground beneath Kimimaro's feet rippled. "Did you really think that was my only source of sand?" Gaara said flatly, lifting his hand. From all sides, the terrain itself rose in jagged rivulets. Earth crumbled into golden grains, swirling in thick coils before binding Kimimaro mid-step. In an instant, his limbs were restrained, arms wrenched upward, legs locked in place. Kimimaro's face contorted, not in fear, but focus. He strained against the bonds. "I don't need the gourd to kill you," Gaara whispered.

He raised both hands. "Sand Drizzle." A shimmering cascade of sand gathered in the air above Kimimaro, floating high like mist. It glittered briefly in the sunlight, then collapsed into a rapid spiral, slamming down around his trapped body. The sand thickened, tightening with precision. "Sand Binding Coffin." A deep rumble echoed as the pressure built, compressing around Kimimaro's chest, neck, and spine. It wasn't meant to restrain anymore. It was meant to crush. But Gaara's brow furrowed slightly. Crack. The sand hissed as it resisted something within. From the center of the coffin, pale protrusions emerged. Bones. Kimimaro's body refused to break. Instead of screams, he stood rigid, silent, his bones reinforcing his skin like armor from within. Veins pulsed violently at his temples, but still he endured. The sand around his ribs cracked outward, splintering as if striking steel. Gaara narrowed his eyes. 'He's resisting it... not with chakra. With his body.' Even the most ruthless of Gaara's techniques, his merciless, inescapable coffin, could not crush Kimimaro's bone-hardened flesh. The coffin imploded outward in patches, sand spilling away. Still, Gaara remained calm, unreadable. "I see," he murmured. "So your bones are denser than stone."

Kimimaro lifted his head, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth but his expression undeterred. "You'll need more than sand to bury me."

Gaara's fingers curled downward slowly, and the desert wind seemed to still. "Then I'll bury more than just your bones." The sand beneath Kimimaro erupted again, this time coiling upward with feral force. Gaara's voice was quiet, measured, but the chakra behind it surged in vast, commanding waves. "Sand Waterfall Funeral." With a crushing roar, a tidal wall of sand surged inward, wrapping around Kimimaro's body like a living avalanche. It slammed shut with the force of an iron maiden, pulverizing the ground beneath them. Lee shielded his eyes as clouds of grit and dust exploded upward. The earth quaked under the pressure. But something resisted. A black seal crawled up Kimimaro's body like cracked ink across skin. From his collarbone, jagged flame-like markings spread across his neck and face. His cursed seal had awakened. The sand trembled around him, not because of movement, but because it could no longer hold. Gaara's eyes widened fractionally. He could feel it: Kimimaro was still alive. "You should be dead," he murmured.

But Kimimaro pushed through the cascading sand, his bare chest exposed, his spine bristling with bony protrusions. Now in his Level Two cursed seal form, his skin had darkened, his body elongated and grotesque, he looked almost inhuman. "You underestimate my devotion," Kimimaro said, breath low but unwavering. "Lord Orochimaru's dream will not be buried."

Gaara didn't flinch. His gourd twitched behind him. "Then I'll show you something that can bury you." He raised both hands to the sky. Sand surged from every direction, over hills, under trees, from the cracks in the cliffs around them. The landscape responded like a breathing creature. The air shimmered with chakra. "Quicksand Waterfall Flow." The ground behind Gaara split wide. A colossal wave of sand rose like a tsunami, blotting out the sun in a towering mass. The sheer force of it bent the trees sideways. Lee stumbled backward, eyes wide. Then, without hesitation: "Sand Waterfall Imperial Funeral!" The tsunami collapsed. It fell with cataclysmic force, a mountain of sand crashing down on Kimimaro, grinding everything in its path to ruin. The entire battlefield disappeared beneath it, flattened, smothered, erased. Silence followed. The dust choked the air. The terrain had changed entirely, a crater where the battle once raged. Gaara hovered above the shifting dunes, eyes narrowed. 'Even he couldn't have-' A faint movement. From deep within the miles-wide blanket of sand, a skeletal figure emerged, slowly, impossibly. Kimimaro's body dragged itself upward, pierced through in multiple places by his own bone weapons, but still... alive. Gaara's face remained impassive, but his thoughts sharpened. 'He survived that...' Even for Gaara, there was a flicker of disbelief.

Kimimaro stood, bloodied, cracked, barely holding himself together. "I will not die... until I kill you." Gaara stood silently, eyes following the unnatural rise and fall of Kimimaro's breathing as the enemy shinobi stood bloodied, half-buried in the sea of sand. The cursed seal still burned like coal across Kimimaro's skin, but it was his eyes Gaara focused on, not the jagged, bone-like armor now warping his body.

"He has the same eyes..." Gaara murmured. Lee turned toward him, confused. "...as Sasuke."

Lee blinked, stunned. "Sasuke?" Gaara didn't elaborate right away. His gaze remained sharp, locked on Kimimaro as if trying to see past the fury, beyond the warped seal and into the soul within.

"They're eyes that search for purpose," Gaara continued, voice low. "Eyes that have nothing behind them but questions, no light, no rest. Only the need to be useful to someone... to matter to someone."

Beneath the crushing layers of sand, Kimimaro's thoughts flickered into memory. Darkness. Cold. Chains around his wrists and ankles. The cell. He had been born with bones that tore through his own skin. His clan, terrified of his kekkei genkai, locked him away as a child, hidden even from the moonlight. A living weapon they feared too much to kill outright, yet prized too much to free. He'd grown in the silence, allowed out only to fight. Not live. Not breathe. Only to kill. The day finally came when the Kaguya patriarch opened his cell with war drums in the air.

"The Kiri dogs are near. You'll kill them all." That was the order. That was his freedom. He moved like a wraith through the jungle, guided only by the scent of blood and the brittle memory of silence. He encountered shinobi cloaked in mist, Zabuza and Haku, but they lied, said they weren't with Kiri. He spared them. For what reason, he hadn't known then. Perhaps it was the way the boy with the mask had looked at him, recognition, not fear. Everyone else fell to his bone blades. But when he returned... The Kaguya Clan was no more. Slaughtered to the last child in their futile rebellion. The cages were empty. The patriarch who had opened his cell was nothing more than dust and blood. There were no chains left to hold him, and no one left to welcome him back. Was I ever human? he wondered then. Or only a weapon meant to die forgotten? He wandered, hollow, unfeeling, until Orochimaru found him. And for the first time, someone had looked at him and seen more than a blade. Orochimaru called him "beautiful." A perfect vessel. A necessary tool for a greater dream. And Kimimaro believed.

"My body still moves," he whispered now, back in the present, the taste of sand and blood on his lips. "Because Lord Orochimaru still needs me. That is my only purpose. That is why I do not die." The cursed seal's dark aura surged again, coating his limbs like armor. His body contorted further into its grotesque final form. Bony spines protruded from his back. A sharpened spear of marrow erupted from his arm. He tore free from the sand like a beast reborn in agony and obsession.

"LEE! MOVE!" Gaara shouted, flinging a burst of sand toward his comrade. Kimimaro was already airborne, a living missile of pale death, eyes burning with the devotion of a soul that refused to be allowed rest. Lee dove away just in time as

Kimimaro hurtled toward Gaara, his voice low and breathless but clear: "I will not die... until I have fulfilled my purpose!" Kimimaro's tackle landed with an eerie finality, bone-laced limbs slamming into Gaara's chest as the two collided. But instead of crumpling beneath the impact, Gaara's body sank slightly, cushioned by the ever-loyal embrace of his sand. The Armour of Sand groaned beneath the blow but held firm, cracks rippling like old scars across its grainy surface before sealing again. Gaara didn't flinch. Kimimaro's eyes narrowed, breath heavy, his form trembling with the curse seal's corrupting power. "You're well protected..." he hissed, displeased. Suddenly, a blur of green and fury streaked in from behind, Lee, fast and reckless, fists whirling in a corkscrew of raw taijutsu. His leg swept low, targeting Kimimaro's back. But Kimimaro twisted unnaturally, almost inhuman, the bones along his spine flexing midair. He countered without even facing Lee. A bone spear exploded from his shoulder, arcing backward toward Lee's neck. Lee barely dodged. Barely. The tip nicked his shoulder, slicing cloth and skin. Before Kimimaro could adjust for a killing strike, Gaara's sand surged upward and swallowed the attack, yanking Lee away in a protective shell of grit and chakra.

"Don't be reckless," Gaara muttered, not looking at him.

Lee, panting, cradled his arm. "I... I thought I could help..."

"You already have."

"But I'm slowing you down." There was a pause, heavy with unspoken frustration and guilt. Lee clenched his fists. He hated the truth in it, hated the thought of standing aside. But one look at Gaara's unwavering stance... and Kimimaro's monstrous transformation... "...Then I'll leave this to you." Lee stepped back, breathing ragged, and let the battle move beyond him. Kimimaro said nothing. He reached up and, with agonizing slowness, pulled his own spine free, a whip of hardened vertebrae and chakra. The sickening sound echoed like breaking branches. Before Gaara could fully react, the spine whip snapped forward, coiling around his torso and arms, pulling tight with crushing force.

"You are not untouchable," Kimimaro breathed. He took a step forward and his right hand shifted, morphing into a drill of bone, dense and sharpened by curse-enhanced chakra. It spun with a whirring vibration, seeking soft flesh through armor and sand. Kimimaro lunged. Gaara didn't panic. Instead, he closed his eyes, and listened to the minerals beneath the earth. To the hidden, hardened sediment far below the soft dunes. Channeling chakra into the soil, he summoned them upward, merging them with his sand in a swirling sphere of dense protection. The ground rumbled.

The sand shimmered. And with a roar of chakra, Gaara erected it, "Ultimately Hard Absolute Defence: Shield of Shukaku." It bloomed like a blooming meteorite, a dark, shimmering orb of compacted sand-fused ore. Kimimaro's bone drill struck it with full force. Crack. The sound was sickening. Not from the shield, but the bone. Fractures spread down Kimimaro's arm, his drill shattering into chalk-white splinters against the wall of mineralized sand.

His eyes widened. "...Impossible."

Gaara opened his palm inside the defense. "This is not the sand I was given. It is the sand I command." And outside, cracks spiderwebbed across the fractured vertebrae whip, Gaara's chakra grinding through it with merciless, glacial pressure. Gaara's eyes narrowed as he studied the broken remains of Kimimaro's bone drill. Even shattered, the fragments were unnaturally dense, unnaturally alive with chakra. "...That technique," Gaara said quietly, more to himself than to Lee, "it's not ninjutsu or taijutsu. It's blood... bone... inheritance."

Kimimaro straightened, spine still lashing in slow coils around Gaara. "You're correct. This power... it belongs to my clan. The Kaguya." His voice was rough but eerily calm, a distant pride hanging on every word. "A line of warriors bred for battle. I am the last of them."

Gaara's expression remained unreadable. "Then the Kaguya end here."

Kimimaro's smile twisted at the corners. "I will not die. Even if my body fails, I live on... inside Lord Orochimaru. My purpose, my soul, belong to him."

Gaara's sand rustled, subtle and rising, the veins of gold-dusted grit twitching like they breathed around his ankles. "He's brainwashed you." Kimimaro's gaze flickered. "You believe you have purpose, but you're nothing but a pawn. Orochimaru's tool. Hollow."

Kimimaro's lips peeled back in a snarl. "You... know nothing of devotion." Gaara didn't flinch. But inside, his chakra was waning fast. He could feel it receding like tidewater from his limbs. With a breath, he dispelled the Shield of Shukaku, the mineral-hardened dome collapsing into dust. Simultaneously, his personal sand surged up from beneath his feet and shattered the vertebral whip binding him, each grain slicing through bone like a saw. He landed on his feet. There wasn't much chakra left. But there was just enough.

He thrust both arms forward. "Prison Sand Burial." The desert floor trembled, then opened with a deafening roar. A geyser of sand surged up and coiled around Kimimaro's body, swallowing him whole in one brutal, grinding motion. His muffled grunt of defiance was lost in the avalanche as the sand plunged downward, dragging him two hundred meters beneath the surface. Pressure compacted the grains until the makeshift tomb compressed like bedrock. Then silence. Gaara exhaled slowly, sweat trailing down his temple. His legs nearly gave out. "It's done."

Lee leaned on one knee beside him, wincing. "You buried him alive. Even he... couldn't survive that."

Gaara stared at the dunes, quiet for a moment. "...He was already dead." But before the words could settle, the earth screamed. Spikes, no, bones, burst from the sand like spears erupting from the marrow of the land itself. Dozens at first. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Each pillar of ivory tore skyward in a twisted, chaotic forest. Gaara's sand reacted instantly, sweeping up around himself and Lee, lifting them high above the erupting graveyard. The wind howled. The desert below had become a white sea of jagged death. From atop the column of sand, Gaara clutched his arm, swaying. "...My chakra's... gone."

Lee's lips tightened. "At least... we managed to kill-" A sharp crack cut him off. From the base of a spiraling bone pillar, something emerged. Kimimaro. He crawled from the marrow of the world, his skin slick with sand and blood, his cursed seal active, bones protruding from every limb. His right arm had already transformed, into another spinning bone drill.

His gaze found Gaara's and locked. "You... will not insult Lord Orochimaru." He lunged. Gaara barely had time to blink. But then, Kimimaro's body stopped mid-air. Eyes wide. The drill arm trembled. He staggered. A rattle escaped his throat, followed by blood. He collapsed to his knees at the base of the bone forest. Then fell forward, lifeless. Still.

Gaara stared, unmoving. "He's..."

"...dead," Lee finished, whispering. "He died... before he could finish the strike." The wind passed between them, dry and indifferent. Gaara looked down at the body of the last Kaguya.

"Even the strongest weapon," he murmured, "can be broken... by time."