11.

The First Transformation

The ground fractured beneath Gaara's feet as his chakra surged, a living tide of malice warping the battlefield around him. His sand, once a tool of calculation and precision, now moved with something far more primal—a hunger that did not belong to him alone.

The presence of Shukaku was no longer a whisper in the back of his mind.

It was awake.

And it was hungry.

Gaara exhaled slowly, his breath uneven. His fingers twitched, his nails lengthening into sharp, jagged claws as his body continued to change. His once-human features were warping, shifting, overtaken by the monstrous chakra spilling from deep within.

One side of his face had already been claimed.

Dark markings stretched down his neck, his left eye now fully golden and slitted, the same inhuman gaze that the One-Tail had always carried.

And yet—

Gaara was smiling.

His sand twisted around him, sharper, denser, forming massive tendrils that screeched as they lashed at the air, waiting to be unleashed.

This was power.

Raw. Absolute. Unstoppable.

He should not have needed this.

Not against anyone here.

Not against a mere Genin.

And yet, his body had made the decision for him.

His sand had hesitated.

And that was when he knew.

Lee was not prey.

Lee was a threat.

Across the battlefield, Rock Lee remained still.

Unmoved.

Unshaken.

His expression had not changed, his posture as effortless as ever.

But Gaara's new eyes—his monstrous, slitted eyes—could finally see it now.

Not fear.

Not arrogance.

But something worse.

Certainty.

Gaara's breath hitched.

Even now—even after Shukaku had begun to take hold—

Lee was still not worried.

That realization ignited something inside him.

Rage.

No—

Instinct.

He lifted his clawed hand.

The air quaked.

And then—

The sand attacked.

Not as a single movement.

Not as a wave.

But as a thousand lethal strikes at once.

It came from all directions—serrated, dense spears of hardened sand, twisting mid-air, shifting angles, bending around themselves to ensure there was no blind spot, no opening, no escape.

It did not matter how fast Lee was.

He could not outrun this.

The moment the attack launched, Gaara's slitted eye burned in triumph.

Lee was gone.

Gaara's pupils shrank.

No—

Impossible.

He had accounted for everything. He had eliminated all angles of escape. He had trapped Lee inside a field of unavoidable death.

And yet—

There was nothing.

Just a void where he had been.

And then—

Pain.

A blinding shockwave tore through the battlefield.

Gaara's entire body jerked sideways, his sand failing to react as something collided with his ribs.

The force sent him flying.

The last thing he saw before impact was a golden blur—a flicker of lightning, wind, and fire moving between dimensions of perception.

His back slammed into the far wall of the stadium.

The entire structure shook.

Cracks spiderwebbed outward.

Gaara's head snapped forward.

Lee was already there.

Not closing the distance.

Not chasing him.

Already there.

His foot lashed out, connecting with Gaara's stomach before the first hit had even registered.

A second impact.

Then a third.

Then a fourth.

Faster than thought.

Faster than sight.

Gaara's sand, his unbreakable defense, could no longer keep up.

It had lag.

Milliseconds too slow.

But against Lee, milliseconds were the same as an eternity.

Gaara's body moved not by choice, but by force—lifted, spun, sent careening through the air, his sand scrambling to react but failing.

Neji, high in the stands, was seeing something that should not be possible.

Lee had broken the rules of combat.

A shinobi's defenses—their armor, their jutsu, their counters—meant nothing if the opponent was beyond time itself.

The Byakugan could see it.

But the body could not react.

Even Gaara's absolute defense could no longer function.

Because it was built to stop human movement.

And Lee was no longer moving like a human.

Gaara gasped sharply as Lee's knee collided with his ribs.

The impact sent out a deep, concussive shockwave, warping the air around them.

Lee spun again.

A golden flicker.

Another impact.

Another.

Gaara's vision blurred.

He could not counter.

He could not think.

His body was moving without his control.

And then—

A final impact.

Lee's foot collided with Gaara's torso one last time.

Gaara's body folded inward.

The entire stadium trembled.

And then—

Gaara was sent downward.

Straight into the earth.

A single sonic boom followed.

Dust exploded outward.

The ground split apart.

Stone. Earth. Rubble.

The arena floor collapsed inward.

And at the center of it all—

Gaara lay still.

The crowd was silent.

Even the proctors did not move.

Because no one knew if he would get back up.

Neji exhaled slowly, his Byakugan veins pulsing.

"It's over."

Sasuke's Sharingan was still spinning wildly, analyzing, replaying the last few seconds, trying to process what had just happened.

But there was nothing.

Not a single moment where Gaara had an opportunity to react.

Lee's movements had transcended sight.

And if something could not be seen, it could not be defended against.

Gaara's sand twitched.

His fingers curled against the shattered stone beneath him.

Slowly—

He moved.

Not with struggle.

Not with pain.

But with instinct.

The sand around his body tensed.

Lee did not move.

Did not attack again.

Because he already knew.

This was not over.

Gaara pushed himself up, his breath slow, his fingers twitching.

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

And yet, his lips curled upward.

"Not… yet…"

The ground rumbled.

The sand around him screamed.

Temari's hands clenched around her fan, her breath caught in her throat.

"No, Gaara—don't—"

But it was too late.

The presence of Shukaku surged.

The sky darkened.

The air thickened.

Gaara lifted his hand.

The final stage of his transformation had begun.

And this time—

He would not hesitate.