One Month

The broken blade of the kunai flew off, and a shallow cut appeared on Sasuke's arm, blood trickling down.

Sasuke winced, his eyes widening in shock as he realized he had barely avoided a far worse injury. But Chihara was relentless. He pressed forward, his katana whirling with speed and precision that Sasuke could hardly keep up with. Each swing was a calculated move to exploit any weakness in Sasuke's defense.

Sasuke, despite the power boost from the cursed seal and the heightened perception of his Sharingan, found himself on the defensive. His movements, once fluid and strong, were starting to slow under the immense strain. The marks from the cursed seal pulsed angrily across his skin, but they couldn't mask the fatigue beginning to creep in.

Chihara, on the other hand, seemed almost effortless in his assault. His strikes were quick, controlled, and unforgiving, forcing Sasuke to dodge and block with increasing difficulty. As Sasuke attempted to launch a counter-attack, Chihara sidestepped effortlessly and sliced through Sasuke's defense again, landing another shallow cut on his side.

Sasuke staggered back, his breathing ragged, the toll of the curse mark and the constant drain of his Sharingan weighing heavily on him. His vision started to blur as exhaustion set in. Every muscle screamed in protest, his chakra reserves depleting at an alarming rate. He gritted his teeth in frustration, unwilling to admit defeat but knowing his body was reaching its limit.

With one final burst of energy, Sasuke lunged at Chihara, but the swing of his fist was slower than before. Chihara easily sidestepped, delivering a swift blow with the flat of his blade to Sasuke's midsection. The force sent Sasuke tumbling back, his legs giving out beneath him as he collapsed to the ground.

The room fell silent as Sasuke lay on the floor, gasping for breath. The cursed seal's marks began to recede, and his Sharingan flickered weakly before fading entirely. He had nothing left to give.

The proctor, Hayate, stepped forward. "The winner of the match is Chihara."

Chihara, still holding his blood-infused katana, glanced down at Sasuke briefly before flicking the blood off his blade. With a focused breath, he began reverting his sword back to its original massive form, the once slender katana expanding and growing into the familiar, hulking Kubikiribōchō. The transformation was quick, and once it was done, he hefted the heavy blade onto his shoulder.

Without saying a word, Chihara turned and made his way back to the viewing platform, the weight of his victory clear in his calm, measured steps. He glanced back once more at Sasuke, now being tended to by medics, before settling into the background once again.

As the rest of the matches in the preliminary round continued, Chihara remained on the viewing platform, completely detached from the battles unfolding below. His body was still, his eyes half-closed in a state of quiet meditation. The cheers, grunts, and sounds of combat echoed throughout the arena, but they were nothing more than distant noise to him.

His mind was elsewhere, focused inward, refining his chakra control and steadying his breathing. He didn't care to watch the others fight—it wasn't his concern. His earlier victory over Sasuke had confirmed his strength, and now, all that mattered was preparing for the next phase.

Time seemed to slip by, match after match going unnoticed as Chihara remained in his own world. Occasionally, he opened his eyes to check the progress of his chakra or adjust his stance, but his gaze never lingered on the other battles.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the final fight ended. The room grew quieter as the exhausted genin gathered, waiting for further instructions. Chihara slowly opened his eyes, his meditation over, and turned his attention to the proctor.

Hayate, still coughing intermittently, stepped forward to address the remaining competitors. His voice, though hoarse, carried a sense of finality.

"Congratulations to all of you who have made it through the preliminaries," he began, looking over the group of tired but determined faces. "The third exam will take place in one month's time. During this period, you are expected to train and prepare yourselves. The battles in the final stage will be one-on-one, with no interference from your comrades."

The weight of his words settled over the group. Chihara remained expressionless, absorbing the information. His thoughts briefly drifted to Sasuke, who had shown an impressive amount of power despite his loss. 

Hayate coughed again before finishing, "Prepare yourselves. The third exam will test not only your strength but your will as shinobi. Dismissed."

With that, the room began to empty as the remaining genin were led out by their teams and sensei, already discussing training plans and strategies for the upcoming month. Chihara, however, remained calm and composed, walking out on his own without a word.

-----------------------------

(One Month Later)

During the one-month span leading up to the final exam, Chihara dedicated himself to rigorous training, refusing to allow even a single day to pass without refining his skills. His mastery over Fire Release was already formidable, but he pushed himself to elevate it further, refining his control and the intensity of his techniques. He drilled endlessly, perfecting his ability to summon fire with greater precision and destructive force, making his attacks faster and more lethal.

At the same time, he focused on honing his blood control, the ability that made him unique and dangerous. He couldn't afford to get sloppy, especially with the finals approaching. Each day, Chihara would spend hours manipulating his own blood, ensuring that his control was flawless. The slightest mistake could mean defeat, and he was determined to ensure that wouldn't happen.

In addition to these refinements, Chihara began to expand his elemental repertoire. Earth Release was the next element he set his sights on. Given his innate ability to control the iron in blood, the transition to manipulating the minerals in the earth came surprisingly naturally to him. The concept of controlling dense, solid matter was similar, and with his keen understanding of chakra manipulation, he found the training method simple. He spent long hours each day with his hands pressed to the ground, slowly altering its shape, from shifting stones to molding earth into different forms.

Once he had mastered the basics of earth manipulation, he moved on to learning Earth Release jutsu. Though still new to the element, Chihara quickly picked up some fundamental techniques:

Earth Release: Earth Wall – A basic defensive technique, Chihara learned to create a sturdy wall of earth in front of him to shield himself from attacks. The wall could be raised quickly, offering a reliable means of defense in battle.

Earth Release: Hiding Like a Mole – This jutsu allowed Chihara to burrow underground and move through the earth with ease, enabling stealthy movements or surprise attacks. He could navigate through the earth effortlessly, emerging wherever he chose to strike his opponent.

(Chihara's POV)

I didn't believe for a second that I'd lose. After almost a year in the ANBU, my confidence had become unshakeable. In all that time, I had faced down opponents that would terrify most shinobi and come out unscathed. And the truth was, I hadn't even shown my full power yet. I had more than enough left in reserve—my signature abilities had yet to see the light in this exam.

As I walked into the stadium, I was hit with the sight of thousands of people gathered in the stands. The sheer number of eyes watching felt a little overwhelming at first; I hadn't seen a crowd this large before. But the feeling quickly faded. I wasn't here for them. The battlefield was the only thing that mattered to me.

I stood there, eyes forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other finalists. The tension in the air was palpable. Most of them were nervous, but I wasn't. My gaze drifted briefly over the competition, sizing them up. Some were rookies, others had some experience, but none of them—none—gave me any reason to believe I couldn't win.

Then, the proctor for the final exam, Genma Shiranui, stepped forward. His voice carried easily over the crowd, calm but authoritative. I kept my focus on him as he introduced himself, going through the usual motions of a Chunin Exam proctor.

"Congratulations on making it this far," he said, his senbon glinting between his teeth. "But the real challenge starts now."

A murmur rippled through the stands as Genma continued his brief explanation of the rules. My attention wandered only for a second, but I quickly refocused as he began to announce the matchups.

"Now, the matchups for the finals will be as follows..."

Names appeared on the massive board above, flashing briefly before settling into place. I paid little attention to the others until my name came up.

Chihara vs. Gaara.

After Genma announced the matchups, the other finalists left the field, leaving the first two combatants behind. I glanced at the board once more.

Naruto vs. Neji.

I exhaled lightly through my nose. Neji should win this. The Hyuga prodigy had always been strong and disciplined, and Naruto... well, he was unpredictable, but I didn't see him beating someone like Neji.

As the fight started, I watched with mild interest. Neji's techniques were sharp as usual, his Byakugan and gentle fist style picking Naruto apart. But as the fight dragged on, it became clear there was more talking than actual fighting. I closed my eyes, letting the voices fade into the background. I wasn't here to be a spectator, after all. My match against Gaara was all that mattered.

Time passed, and I tuned out the noise of the crowd and the battle. My breathing was calm, my mind sharp, quietly going over my strategies. It wasn't until I heard the sudden roar of the crowd that I opened my eyes again.

Naruto had won.

I raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. Interesting. So Naruto had something more up his sleeve after all. That unpredictability of his—it made sense now. But it wasn't something I dwelled on. My focus immediately shifted to my own upcoming match.

A little while later, I found myself standing on the field, face to face with Gaara.

The air felt different now, heavier. Gaara was as unsettling as the rumors said. His expression was emotionless, almost blank, but there was something off about his presence, something cold and dangerous. His sand gourd rested on his back, but I could already sense it moving faintly around his feet. He was ready to strike.

I locked eyes with him, my face betraying nothing. Whatever power he had, whatever it was that made him feared, I would meet it head-on.

Genma's voice rang out clearly across the field. "Let the match between Chihara and Gaara begin!"

As soon as Genma's voice echoed across the field, I didn't waste a second. My blade was out in a flash, slashing down toward Gaara, aiming to end the fight before it even started. But before my sword could reach him, a wall of sand surged up, intercepting my strike with unnatural speed.

I immediately jumped back, narrowly avoiding a tendril of sand that lashed out at my legs, attempting to grab me. Gaara hadn't even moved an inch; his eyes stayed locked on me, cold and detached. His sand was doing all the work.

'This isn't going to be as easy as I thought.'

I charged in again, slashing at him from different angles, trying to find an opening, but each time the sand rose up to defend him, completely blocking my strikes. Every time I got close, the sand retaliated, forcing me to dodge out of the way or be crushed. Gaara stood motionless, his hands at his sides, as if the battle was already beneath him.

Shifting my stance, I quickly weaved through a set of hand signs, the familiar heat of chakra building in my core. I exhaled sharply, unleashing a wave of flames toward Gaara. The Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu roared across the battlefield, engulfing the space around him.

The sand responded immediately, forming a dome-like shield around Gaara, completely protecting him from the flames. But I didn't stop there. While the fire raged, I leapt in again, aiming my blade at the few exposed gaps in his defense. My strikes were faster, more precise, but the sand still blocked each attempt, constantly reforming and shifting to protect him.

Gaara finally moved, lifting his hand slightly. In response, his sand lashed out violently, trying to overwhelm me with sheer force. I barely managed to dodge as a massive wave of sand crashed down where I had been standing just seconds ago, leaving a crater in the ground.

Focusing my chakra, I released another volley of Fire Release techniques, sending searing hot waves of flame to keep the pressure on Gaara while I continued my attempts to break through his sand with my blade. Each strike was deflected, but I could feel his sand moving slower now, like it was beginning to strain under the constant barrage of attacks.

The battlefield crackled with tension as I unleashed Fire Release: Great Flame Technique, a roaring wave of fire that surged toward Gaara. The inferno blazed across the field, lighting up the stadium with its intensity, and I could hear the gasps from the crowd. But the flames were more than just an attack; they were a distraction.

As the fire raged, I molded chakra into my hands, flowing it into the ground beneath me. My body sank into the earth like it was water, the Earth Release: Hiding Like a Mole Technique allowing me to move silently underground. The earth concealed my presence completely, and I felt the vibrations above—Gaara was still standing there, his sand likely reforming to deal with the fire.

I surfaced just behind him, sword raised high. The timing was perfect, the look of shock in Gaara's eyes told me I had caught him by surprise, but just as my blade was about to strike, that cursed sand leapt up to block it. Again.

'What the—?'

I landed on the ground, gripping my sword tighter. Gaara's sand had reacted without him even being aware. It wasn't just a defense; it was like an extension of his will, responding to danger instinctively.

"This is getting ridiculous," I muttered under my breath, feeling a flicker of frustration.

I needed to disrupt his control over that sand. That was the key. Gaara's emotions were the weakness. He was calm now, unbothered, but if I could disrupt that, shake his composure, maybe the sand would weaken.

I caught his eye, my Ketsuryūgan flashing to life. The blood-red glow of my eyes locked onto his, and in that moment, I cast a genjutsu, pulling his mind into a web of illusions. His eyes widened slightly as the technique took hold, his expression flickering with confusion for the first time.

Taking advantage of the moment, I dashed forward again, blade at the ready, aiming to cut him down while his mind was trapped in the illusion. My sword swung with precision, but once more, the sand rose to meet it—though this time, it was slower, weaker. I could feel it straining as I pressed forward, attacking relentlessly while Gaara remained ensnared in the genjutsu.

Gaara's sand still blocked me, but it was no longer perfect. It lagged, moving sluggishly, barely keeping up with my strikes. I could see Gaara's face tightening as he fought against the illusion, trying to break free, but I couldn't give him the chance. I slashed down, again and again, forcing him on the defensive.

Just as Gaara managed to get out of my genjutsu, I saw the opening I had been waiting for. My blade cut through the weakened sand defense, slicing across his chest in a swift, clean motion. Gaara staggered backward, his blood staining the sand beneath him. Before his sand could retaliate, I quickly leapt back, avoiding the furious tendrils of it that lashed out at me in response.

I landed, sword still drawn, eyes locked on Gaara. He wasn't reacting like a normal shinobi would to a wound. Instead, his body trembled, his eyes wide as he stared down at his hands, covered in his own blood. His breathing grew ragged, panic etched across his face.

"What the...?" I muttered, watching him unravel.

Gaara's chest heaved, and his fingers twitched as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened. He let out a scream—raw, animalistic—echoing across the arena. His voice was filled with fear, rage, and something else. The scream sent a chill down my spine, and I instinctively took another step back, gripping my sword tightly.

Then I felt it. Something was off.

My gaze shot toward the stands. The crowd—thousands of people—had fallen silent. As I looked closer, I noticed they weren't just quiet. They were asleep.

What the hell?