On a rooftop in the southeastern corner of Konoha, the bodies of several Anbu lay still.
"It's much quieter now that I've plucked out the village's annoying little eyes." The speaker, a hunched figure in a black cloak patterned with red clouds, retracted a segmented, scorpion-like tail back into his robes.
He was Sasori of the Red Sand, an S-rank missing-nin from Sunagakure.
There were no signs of a struggle. The Anbu operatives simply lay where they had fallen, their lips purple and their faces a sickly blue, the telltale marks of poison.
A blond boy with a high ponytail grumbled at his side. "Sasori-danna, why didn't you let me handle them? My art would've taken them out with a single bang, yeah."
Deidara, the S-rank missing-nin from Iwagakure, pouted. "But no, you had to use your sneaky little tricks."
To a self-proclaimed artist like him, poison was a crude, cowardly tool.
In reality, across the successive Shinobi World Wars, the number of shinobi killed by poison far surpassed those lost to many other causes.
"Your 'art' makes too much noise," Sasori said, his voice a dry rasp. "The client paid a fortune for this. The Leader himself is here. If you compromise the mission for a cheap thrill..." He turned his head just enough to fix his partner with a cold stare. "How would you like to have Kakuzu and Konan hunting you down?"
Deidara froze. The thought of the Akatsuki's treasurer and the Leader's second-in-command coming after him made his expression sour. He shook his head vigorously, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, thanks. I'm good."
'Idiot,' Sasori thought, turning his attention back to the village below.
Similar scenes were unfolding across Konoha. Kakuzu's team had already neutralized another Anbu outpost, leaving behind corpses with gaping holes where their hearts should have been. The agents Pain's group dealt with died even more bizarrely, their bodies were left completely unmarked, as if their souls had been ripped out, because they were.
The Third Hokage had taken every precaution for these unprecedented Joint Chunin Exams. He had dispatched all available Anbu to act as silent guardians throughout the village.
But Konoha was simply too large, and its forces were stretched thin. A recent flood of high-level missions from the Wind Daimyo had sent many of their best jonin and Anbu out of the village, leaving their defenses vulnerable.
Even with every remaining operative deployed, they couldn't watch every corner. The massive exam arena itself was guarded by a mere eight Anbu squads, a dangerously low number.
Hiruzen was banking on the heavy presence of jonin inside the stadium, along with his own, to deter anyone foolish enough to try anything.
Down in the arena, Gaara was already locked in combat with Sasuke. Sasuke's speed was a blur, far too fast for Gaara's automated sand defenses to track. It wasn't a fight so much as a one-sided beatdown.
With his Mangekyo Sharingan, Sasuke had few that could rival him in strength left in the world. His power had grown exponentially. Gaara was strong, a monster in his own right, but against the current Sasuke, he was hopelessly outmatched.
Fortunately for Gaara, Sasuke wasn't in a hurry to end things. He hadn't drawn his sword, summoned his club, or even tapped into the true power of his Sharingan, he was merely toying with him.
Sasuke's growth had completely outstripped his peers. After awakening his Mangekyo, not even the standard progression of a Jinchuriki could keep pace.
A chorus of voices echoed in Gaara's mind.
'Let me out, brat!' Shukaku screeched. 'I'll crush him with one paw!'
'You're as violent as ever, Shukaku,' Chomei sighed.
'Hey, Big Tanuki! Be my friend!' Fu chirped cheerfully.
'NO!' Shukaku shouted back.
"So damn annoying!" Gaara snarled aloud. Already at a disadvantage, and now subjected to the mental noise in his head, unable to hear the outside world and having his focus constantly shredded, Gaara felt his control slipping, his rage boiling over.
"Ugh..." Gaara dropped to one knee, clutching his forehead in pain.
'Chomei...' Fu was the first to sense the shift. She reached out to the Seven-Tails within her. 'Something's really wrong with that quiet guy.'
She had just assumed his silence meant he didn't want to talk to them. It never occurred to her that he couldn't. Gaara had no idea how to use their shared "Tailed Beast channel", Shukaku had never bothered to teach him.
'He's on the verge of losing control,' Chomei's voice was grim. He recognized the signs instantly, the prelude to a jinchuriki rampage. In his thousand years of existence, he had seen it far too many times.
Sunagakure's sealing techniques were notoriously crude, even worse than Takigakure's. The seal barely contained Shukaku, allowing the beast to constantly fight Gaara for control. It was the reason for his instability, for the rampages that had killed so many Suna villagers. He was the Kazekage's son, but his people looked at him with terror and hatred, not respect. His childhood was so similar to Naruto's, except when Gaara snapped, he really did kill people.
For Gaara, the prevailing emotion was fear, for Naruto, it was hatred. Because Naruto had never killed a Konoha villager publicly.
The cork on the gourd on Gaara's back shot out. A torrent of sand erupted from its mouth, flooding half the arena in a heartbeat. The man-sized gourd held a seemingly impossible amount of chakra-infused sand, compressed countless times over. It was enough to blanket a small forest, a specialized tool for reshaping the battlefield into a domain where Shukaku's power could be fully unleashed.
As the sand swirled, Gaara's body began to transform. Sand armor crept up his arm, taking on the cursed markings of the One-Tail. He was on the brink of a full rampage.
"Hahaha! Finally, it's my turn!" Shukaku cheered.
'Chomei, can't we do something to help?' Fu asked, her voice tight with concern as she watched Gaara groan in agony. 'He looks like he's in so much pain.'
The Seven-Tails was silent for a moment. 'I'm afraid not, Fu. Once that idiot Shukaku gets an idea in his head, there's no stopping him.'
'That big tanuki is the worst!' Fu huffed.
"Damn it, something's wrong with Gaara," Baki muttered from the stands, his knuckles white. He glanced at the sky. It wasn't time yet. 'It's too early to start the invasion!'
If Shukaku manifested now, Konoha's forces would crush him in an instant. Should they move ahead of schedule? Baki was paralyzed with indecision. His gaze shot to the kage box, seeking guidance from the "Fourth Kazekage," but the man didn't even spare him a glance. His attention was locked entirely on the Third Hokage.
In that instant, Baki's resolve wavered, as he sensed something horrible was about to happen. 'What the hell is going on?!'
"Contestant Gaara, are you alright?" the proctor, Genma, called out cautiously. "Can you continue the match?"
"Raaah!" Gaara was already too far gone to respond. His roar of pain twisted into a feral, inhuman howl.
Watching Gaara tremble and writhe in agony, Fu's eyes grew firm.
'I have to help him,' she decided. 'He's my friend.'
From the moment she first saw him, this gourd-carrying, panda-eyed boy, she'd felt a strange sense of closeness. Whether he acknowledged it or not, she had already decided he was her friend.
And watching a friend suffer was not Fu's style.
So, under the astonished gaze of the entire audience, Fu leapt straight into the arena.
'What is that idiot doing?!' Shibuki stared in horror from the stands, a silent scream building in his chest. 'Don't drag Takigakure into this!'
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