They moved.
Itachi struck first. His hands formed seals so quickly they were almost a blur—Snake-Ram-Monkey-Boar-Horse-Tiger.
Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!
A massive fireball hurtled toward Gaara, the heat wave washing over him and distorting the very air.
Sand rose up, blocking the fireball.
Fire and sand collided with a sizzling sound; the sand turned glowing red before cooling down.
But Shisui had already circled to the side.
His figure was as fast as a flash of light, so quick that Gaara's sand could barely keep up.
A Kunai thrust toward Gaara's ribs, aimed precisely at a gap in the sand.
The sand blocked it again.
The Kunai pierced into the sand, sinking deep and becoming stuck.
Shisui let go and retreated.
With a wave of Gaara's hands, the sand split into two streams, attacking Shisui and Itachi simultaneously.
The two of them retreated.
Shisui's eyes spun faster. He was looking for an opening, a chance to use Genjutsu by making Gaara look him in the eye.
Gaara knew what he was looking for.
He closed his eyes.
Sand perception was faster than eyes.
He didn't need to see; he only needed to feel.
Every grain of sand was his eye, capable of sensing the flow of air, the fluctuations of Chakra, and the positions of his enemies.
Shisui froze for a moment.
"He closed his eyes," Itachi said.
Shisui frowned.
"Then we'll force them open."
The two of them charged forward again.
This time, they stopped testing him. Shisui's swordplay was as fast as lightning, strike after strike, each one aimed at a vital point.
Itachi's Fire Release came in wave after wave—Great Fireball, Phoenix Sage Fire, Fire Dragon Flame Bullet—scorching the air until it was scalding hot.
Gaara's sand defended desperately, but their combined attacks were too fast, so fast the sand began to fall behind.
The sand danced in the air, forming barrier after barrier, yet a strike or two still slipped through the gaps.
A flash of a blade went by, and a gash opened on Gaara's cheek.
Blood dripped down.
It dripped onto the sand and was sucked dry.
He didn't open his eyes.
The sand swirled frantically, enveloping his entire body.
The sand spun faster and faster, piling up thicker and thicker until it formed a massive cocoon.
The surface of the cocoon was smooth, reflecting a dull light under the sun.
Shisui and Itachi stood outside, looking at the cocoon.
"It can't be broken," Itachi said.
Shisui was silent for a moment.
"Then we'll make him open it himself."
His Sharingan spun to its limit.
The Three Tomoe merged together, transforming into a different pattern.
Mangekyo Sharingan!
The pattern resembled a pinwheel or some ancient rune, gleaming with an eerie light in the sunshine.
Kotoamatsukami.
But this wasn't an attack. It was a form of inducement; he was using Genjutsu to make Shukaku go on a rampage inside Gaara.
Gaara felt Shukaku's Chakra begin to boil.
The monster was screaming and thrashing, trying to burst out. Its voice echoed in his mind like the cawing of ten thousand crows.
"No... no... not now..."
He gritted his teeth, but Shukaku wouldn't listen.
It was too strong.
Usually, Nobunaga's Sharingan helped suppress it; Nobunaga's eyes could keep it down and make it quiet.
Now that Nobunaga wasn't there, it began to lose control.
Gaara's eyes snapped open.
Slit pupils.
Golden Slit pupils, like a cat's, or a snake's.
Shukaku's Chakra surged out of his body like a volcanic eruption.
The sand shell exploded, shards flying everywhere, striking toward Shisui and Itachi, who dodged them.
A massive figure emerged within the sandstorm.
Shukaku's half-body—a giant Tanuki, its entire body covered in tattoos made of sand.
It laughed maniacally, a sound like sand grinding together—piercing and unpleasant.
Its claws swiped at Shisui and Itachi.
The two retreated rapidly. The claws slammed into the ground, cracking the earth and sending sand flying.
But a faint smile appeared at the corner of Shisui's mouth.
"It's out," he said.
Gaara's consciousness drifted in the darkness.
He heard Shukaku laughing, screaming, and killing. Those sounds were far away yet very close, as if separated by a layer of water.
He wanted to control it, but he couldn't. His hands were flailing, his mouth was roaring, but those weren't his hands, nor was it his mouth.
They belonged to Shukaku.
In the distance, he could vaguely see Temari watching him.
There was fear in his sister's eyes, worry, and something else.
What it was, he couldn't see clearly.
Gaara only knew that his sister was watching him, watching him without moving, even though there were enemies in front of her attacking her.
"Sister..." Gaara wanted to call out, but he couldn't. His throat had been taken over by Shukaku, and all that came out was the monster's roar.
Shukaku's claw slammed down, crushing a Konoha Ninja into a pulp. Blood splattered on the sand and was quickly sucked dry.
Another one, and then another.
Gaara struggled in the darkness. He swam forward desperately, wanting to reach the light, but Shukaku was too strong, pinning him down so he couldn't move.
This despair was just like when he was a child.
Back then, he couldn't control Shukaku and often went berserk.
Every time he woke up from a rampage, people around him would be injured or dead.
Those people's eyes would look at him, filled with nothing but fear—pure, naked fear.
They called him a monster, a calamity, something that shouldn't exist.
Later Nobunaga came.
Every time he went berserk, Nobunaga would rush in to help him suppress it.
Those red eyes, those spinning tomoe, pulled him back from the darkness like an anchor.
Time and again, year after year.
Nobunaga said, "You're not a monster. You're very cute."
Nobunaga said, "When you grow up, you'll be able to control it."
Had he grown up?
He didn't know.
All he knew was that Shukaku was killing now. It killed Konoha people and Sunagakure people alike; it couldn't distinguish friend from foe. It only wanted to kill.
Shisui stood in the distance, watching Shukaku wreak havoc.
"That's about enough," he said.
Itachi nodded.
The two of them charged forward at the same time.
Shisui's blade thrust toward the back of Shukaku's neck. That was where Gaara's true body was located.
Shukaku's core, Shukaku's weakness.
Itachi's Fire Release blocked Shukaku's retreat; fire dragons flanked it from both sides, scorching the air.
Shukaku sensed danger. It turned and swiped its claw at Shisui. The claw was larger than a person, accompanied by the sound of whistling wind.
But Shisui was too fast. He dodged the claw and plunged his blade into the back of Shukaku's neck.
Gaara felt a coldness in his chest.
He opened his eyes.
A blade had pierced through his chest. The blade was black with a blood groove, and blood surged from the groove, staining his clothes red.
Shukaku's Chakra receded like a tide. That frantic, violent Chakra vanished entirely in an instant, as if it had never existed.
The sand scattered across the ground, revealing his body.
He knelt there, on the sandy ground, in front of Shisui.
Shisui stood before him, the blade still embedded in his chest.
Those Sharingan eyes looked at him, expressionless.
The Three Tomoe spun slowly, as if sizing up prey.
Gaara lowered his head and looked at the blade.
The blade was very cold, so cold it made his whole body tremble.
But he cared more about the blood gushing from the wound, staining his clothes red.
Because those clothes were sewn for him by Temari, who had said, "You've grown taller, your old ones don't fit anymore."
Temari's stitching was delicate and neat; every stitch had been made with care.
"Sister... I'm sorry... I've dirtied... the clothes you gave me..."