Susanoo's hand closed around Rasa. With just a light squeeze, Rasa's entire body crumbled into sand.
Uchiha Natsuki dispersed Susanoo, his Sharingan spinning rapidly. In an instant, he detected the chakra reaction beneath a distant layer of sand.
He stomped down, leaping forward, and flung three kunai, embedding them into the sand ahead.
Ssssss… the attached explosive tags ignited.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Rasa was blasted out from beneath the sand in a disheveled state.
Natsuki leapt high, slamming his palm onto Rasa's chest. A massive sealing formula spread across Rasa's body.
"A sealing jutsu!?"
Rasa's face twisted in shock. "You sealed my chakra!?"
Sand kept falling away from his body — but this time it wasn't a clone. It was his final line of defense, the Armor of Sand.
Natsuki brushed the dust from his clothes and exhaled calmly. His chakra reserves were still plentiful — the Uzumaki lineage's trait in full display.
"Rasa, nice to meet you. I'm Uchiha Natsuki."
Rasa's face turned ashen. "I know who you are, Uchiha Natsuki. What exactly are you after? Didn't your clan secede from Konoha? Why come to the Land of Wind to trouble us in Sunagakure?"
"Let me think…"
Natsuki pulled a scroll from his cloak and unsealed his Desert Travel Four-Piece Set — table, chair, parasol, and chilled tea. He sat down, poured himself a cup, and drank leisurely.
"I want to ask you something. If you fear a Tailed Beast going berserk, why not strengthen the seal? Why do you keep provoking Gaara instead?"
"How do you know our village's Jinchūriki is Gaara!?" Rasa's eyes widened, furious and alarmed.
It wasn't exactly a secret within the village, but for an outsider to not only know the truth but also Gaara's very name…
Natsuki tapped his temple. He really had no interrogation tact at all.
"You're a prisoner now. So answer me honestly."
"Hmph." Rasa snorted. "No comment!"
Natsuki frowned. "Since you don't believe your son can restrain Shukaku… why not become the Jinchūriki yourself?"
Rasa turned his head away. He no longer wanted to waste words with this lunatic. Were all Uchiha this deranged?
As the Kazekage, if he became the host and lost control, the entire village would be doomed. Besides, making Gaara the Jinchūriki hadn't been solely his decision.
Natsuki shrugged at his silence. "I'm guessing you thought: as Kazekage, if you became a Jinchūriki and went berserk, the village would have no one left to protect it, right? But if you don't even trust yourself… why force Shukaku onto your own son, then test him over and over? Are you insane?"
Rasa's heart jolted. His mind flashed back to the illusion world he had just endured. His lips trembled, but he said nothing.
Natsuki, impatient now, seized Rasa's head, prying open his eyelids. His Sharingan spun wildly, scarlet light filling his gaze.
…
A drunkard staggered down the street with a bottle in hand.
He brushed past a small red-haired boy.
The drunkard nearly fell, catching himself, and cursed with a hiccup. "Watch where you're going, brat!"
The boy slowly turned his head. His eyes were cold and lifeless, heavy with black rings beneath them.
A chill ran down the drunkard's spine. His eyes bulged. "You're…"
Again. That gaze again.
Gaara's expression twisted with hatred.
Memories surged — of scorn, of bullying, of being loathed.
"Get lost, monster!"
Why… why is it always like this…?
Bloodshot veins crept into Gaara's eyes.
"Aaaaah!" The drunkard's shrill scream split the night as his bottle shattered on the ground.
Hearing the scream, a crowd rushed out — only to see Gaara's small figure walking away.
"What happened!?"
"It's Gaara!"
"He's already dead!"
The news quickly reached Sunagakure's higher-ups.
"The Fourth Kazekage left instructions. If Gaara loses control again… we must kill him." Yashamaru's eyes brimmed with sorrow.
But this wasn't the first time Gaara had killed.
The daimyo of the Wind Country had already been cutting Sunagakure's funding. If word of Gaara spread, their situation would only worsen.
If so… then I'll bear this burden myself.
Yashamaru resolved grimly, rising to his feet.
…
"Still not working… nothing ever works out."
Gaara sat on a railing, staring down at his trembling hands, tears streaming.
"Why… why am I the only one who's such a monster? What am I even…?"
Suddenly, Yashamaru's words echoed in his mind.
"The medicine that heals the wounds of the heart… is love."
"Yashamaru…"
Gaara clutched his stomach, crying in pain — unaware of the six kunai whistling toward his back.
Sand erupted, wrapping tightly around him.
Gaara jolted, turning to see a masked Suna shinobi hurling more kunai.
Why… why is it always me?
His face twisted. Every time! Every single time!
He thrust out his hand, sand surging and binding the assassin.
Just as the man was about to be crushed, a shadow swooped in, breaking the sand and pulling him away.
Gaara snarled, sand surging after them — but the shadow kicked it apart, and within a few bounds, both figures vanished.
Gaara collapsed, clutching his body, wracked with pain. Who… who is trying to kill me…!?
Suddenly, a figure appeared before him.
Gaara looked up — it was Yashamaru.
His robes were clean, his expression heavy with conflicted emotions. He pulled Gaara into his arms.
In that instant, Gaara's heart quieted.
"Yashamaru… just now, a Suna shinobi tried to kill me." Gaara's small body trembled.
Yashamaru's heart ached. He whispered, "I'm sorry. It's alright now… it's alright."
Gaara sobbed. "Is it because I'm a monster? Is that why people always want me dead?"
Yashamaru gently stroked his head. "Don't think that way, Gaara. There are people in this world who love you. The Kazekage… and me. Deep in our hearts, we have always loved you."
"My dearest sister gave her life to bring you into this world. You are her legacy, the most precious treasure in existence. I love you very, very much."
"When she gave you the name Gaara, it was in the name of love. She wanted you to cherish yourself, to live well."
When Rasa had once ordered him to kill Gaara, Yashamaru had feared his late sister Karura would never have consented.
Over the years, he had come to see clearly that Gaara's violent outbursts were the influence of Shukaku — not his true nature. At heart, Gaara was kind.
Tonight, Yashamaru had almost lost him forever. Rescued at the brink of death, he clutched Gaara tightly, unwilling to ever let go.
Feeling Yashamaru's warmth, Gaara cried. But this time, his tears were not of pain… but of happiness.
---
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