Gaara knelt on the sandy ground, wiping the blood off his clothes with his hands, but no matter how he wiped, he couldn't get them clean.
He suddenly remembered that when his brother Kankuro died, he had also been kneeling like this.
With a blade thrust into his chest, kneeling on the sand.
At that time, he had been standing in the distance, watching Kankuro sink to his knees while Sasori rushed over, holding Kankuro's corpse, motionless.
The direction Kankuro was looking at in the end was Sasori's direction.
He also wanted to look in a certain direction now.
He lifted his head and looked into the distance.
There, his sister Temari was still fighting.
The edges of her Giant Folding Fan were already chipped. Four of the fan's ribs were broken, with only the last one still holding on.
Her body was covered in wounds, and blood had stained her coat a dark shade; that warm brown coat was now unrecognizable from its original color.
But she was still fighting. Strike after strike, she slashed at the enemies before her.
Her movements were getting slower and slower, but every swing was forceful, as if she were putting every ounce of her strength into it.
She didn't know her brother was kneeling here.
She didn't know her brother was about to die.
"Sister..." he whispered softly.
His voice was very faint, as faint as sand flowing in the wind.
"I've stepped forward..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
Temari suddenly paused for a moment.
She didn't know why. She just suddenly felt a void in her heart, as if something had been pulled away.
The feeling was strange, like her heart had skipped a beat, and also like her entire being had suddenly become lighter.
The Konoha Ninja in front of her seized the opportunity and slashed a blade across her shoulder.
Blood gushed out. She took a few steps back and steadied herself.
Temari looked in that direction.
There, Gaara knelt on the sand. Shisui stood before him, the blade still thrust into his chest.
He lowered his head, motionless. Sand was scattered around him, never to flow again.
Temari froze.
"Gaara..."
She looked at him.
Looking at him kneeling there. Sand was scattered all over the ground, never to flow again.
His head slowly drooped, as if he had fallen asleep.
Blood flowed from his chest, trickling into the sand and seeping down.
Temari wanted to rush over. But her legs wouldn't move, as if they were nailed to the ground.
She wanted to scream. But she couldn't, her throat felt as if it were blocked by something.
She just stood there, looking at him.
The wind and sand blew over, blurring her eyes.
She blinked.
When she opened them again, he was still kneeling there.
Motionless.
He would never move again.
Nobunaga felt it.
His Mangekyo Sharingan saw three clusters of Chakra.
One cluster was Shisui's, bright and sharp.
One cluster was Itachi's, slightly weaker, but equally clear.
And there was one cluster that was being extinguished.
That was Gaara's.
That cluster of Chakra was like an oil lamp; the flame grew smaller and smaller, dimmer and dimmer, until with a final puff, it went out.
His hand trembled slightly.
Just once.
Tsunade's fist slammed down, and he almost failed to block it.
The wind from the punch grazed his face, carving a bloody trail on his cheek. Blood dripped down, but he didn't wipe it.
"You're distracted again. Being distracted on the battlefield will get you killed."
Tsunade said, her fists still stained with his blood, glistening.
Nobunaga's right eye was already nearly blind.
The black spot in his field of vision was growing larger, now occupying almost the entire right eye.
His Chakra was nearly bottomed out, and Susanoo was about to collapse.
The purple skeleton was disintegrating, the muscles were dissipating, and the wings were shattering.
But he was still standing.
"I know."
Nobunaga closed his eyes.
Then he opened them, looking at the three Sannin before him who had activated their Sage Mode.
Two toads, Fukasaku and Shima, were perched on Jiraiya's shoulders.
Snake scales had appeared on Orochimaru's face.
Purple markings had appeared on Tsunade's forehead.
"Again!" he said.
Susanoo rose once more.
That night, the battle finally ended.
When Gaara's body was carried back, Temari stood by his side.
She didn't cry.
Her younger brother had done it.
He had stepped forward.
He had protected her.
When he was a child, the four-year-old Gaara was treated as a monster by the villagers.
No one was willing to go near him.
He would sit alone in the sand for a whole day, his eyes empty, containing nothing.
There was only her, Kankuro, and Nobunaga.
She taught him to read. Teaching him word by word, writing stroke by stroke. He was very smart and learned quickly.
Kankuro taught him how to play. Taught him how to pile sand, how to catch insects, and how to smile. It took him a long time to learn how to smile.
Nobunaga taught him how to control Shukaku. Teaching him over and over, year after year. He learned slowly, but he was always making progress.
Later, he grew up and became taller.
He grew into someone who could protect her.
Now he was dead.
Dying before she did.
She held her brother's hand for a long time.
That hand was cold and hard, like stone. But she held it and wouldn't let go.
Then she lowered her head, resting her forehead against that hand.
"Silly boy," she whispered softly, "who told you to step forward..."
She didn't finish her sentence.
A small patch of sand became wet.
In this world, Temari no longer had any family.
That night, Nobunaga stood in the Kazekage office.
His right eye was completely blind. Due to the overuse of the Mangekyo Sharingan, the last of his vision had vanished.
He was now a blind man; there was only darkness before his eyes, and he could see nothing.
But he was still standing.
The door was pushed open.
Temari walked in.
He heard her footsteps. They were very light and slow, as if she were afraid of waking someone up.
She walked up to him and stopped.
She didn't speak.
There was a long silence.
So long that the wind and sand outside stopped and started, started and stopped.
Nobunaga reached out his hand and placed it on top of her head.
Very gently.
Temari's tears flowed down.
She opened her mouth but made no sound.
She just stood there, letting the tears flow.
The tears flowed into her mouth, bitter.
They flowed past her chin and dripped onto the floor.
Nobunaga stood there, his hand resting on her head.
Two people, standing in the darkness.
Outside the window, the bitter wind and sand continued to blow.
The moonlight could not shine in.
...
The sixth day of the war.
Before Temari could run ten steps out, someone stopped her.
A hand landed on her shoulder.
It was very light, but her feet felt as if they were nailed to the ground; she couldn't take another step.
She turned her head.
Nobunaga was standing behind her.
His right eye was closed, and blood flowed from the corner of his eye, drying into a dark red trail on his face.
That trail extended from the corner of his eye all the way to his chin, like a dried-up riverbed.
His left eye was wrapped in bandages. The bandages were already soaked with blood, turning dark red. He could see nothing.
But he stood before Temari.
"Don't go," Nobunaga said.
Temari froze, looking at him.
"Teacher..."
"Temari," Nobunaga said, "from now on, you must listen to me."
Temari was stunned.
Nobunaga said, "I promised you and your father one thing: to stand in front of you all."
He took a step forward.
"Now it's your turn."
Temari wanted to speak, but she couldn't.
Her mouth was open, but her throat felt blocked by something, and she couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Nobunaga reached out his hand and placed it on top of her head.
Very gently.
"This time, let me fulfill this promise."
Nobunaga withdrew his hand.
Then he turned around and walked forward.
Temari stood there, watching his back.
That back, she had looked at for twenty years.
She had always been looking at this back.
That back was very straight.
Now that back was walking forward.
Towards the battlefield, towards those people waiting to kill him.
"Teacher!" she wanted to shout, only to find her vision going black.
Chiyo, who had already received her mission in advance, caught her steadily.
Chiyo's hands were very thin, with protruding knuckles, but they were very steady.