Rogue Ninjas

Tch, I forgot to ask him who sent him. I'm sure he's not one of the shinobi from Sunagakure. If he were, why would he be using a transformation jutsu?

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

"You did well taking them down. Though they were just ordinary chunins, they were some of the best. The evil in you is more than I thought."

"If this is your definition of 'one of the best,' then the academy needs a complete overhaul," Gaara said, his voice cold and emotionless, speaking to the hidden jōnin in the dust.

"Hahaha! That pride, that's what I'm talking about! Acting like you're above all just because you got a head start? Evil will never prevail as long as I exist!"

"Psycho..." was all Gaara muttered in response.

"I'm going to make you wish you had laid low. Death would be too easy for you. Step back, both of you. He's mine. I can't let him taint the air I breathe any longer."

Frustrated, the man threw off his overcoat, revealing his true identity. Gaara's eyes narrowed as he recognized the familiar garb.

It wasn't just any jōnin. It was a Kaze Anbu.

The Kaze Anbu forces were the elite special forces of Sunagakure, much like the Anbu of Konohagakure under the Hokage. Known as the "Wind Shadows," their role was the same as the Anbu—they handled covert operations, assassination missions, and anything else the village needed done in the shadows. They were not to be underestimated.

The man, already pulling out a blade, stood confidently before Gaara.

Is he a fanatic of some cult or something? Gaara thought, his mind racing. This guy was clearly unhinged and seemed to have a personal vendetta against the tailed beast.

Oi, Shukaku, do you know this guy? He seems to have a beef with you.

I have so many enemies, I've lost count, Shukaku replied, his voice casual, but if I don't remember him, then he's just a small fry.

The young man who had spoken earlier, the one without a weapon and dressed like a taijutsu specialist, stepped forward.

"You shouldn't rush in to steal someone else's kill, especially when the target is a tailed beast jinchūriki. At best, we should work together, don't you think?"

Hold up, Gaara thought, his anger rising. Now that I look closely, these men aren't wearing any headbands. Don't tell me they're rogue ninjas?

He could feel the heat of anger building in his chest as he glanced toward the castle, where Rasa stood at the peak, a look of hatred in his eyes.

This just goes to show how far Rasa will go to control you, Shukaku. All the more reason not to let him have you.

Meanwhile, atop the castle tower, Rasa watched the scene unfold with a sinister smile.

"Oh? You're just noticing now, Gaara? It seems I overestimated you. They're hired rogue ninjas, meant to kill you. If you don't make contact with the One-Tailed Beast, then today might be your last."

Gaara's expression hardened, his resolve solidifying.

"It seems I have to take this seriously."

With that, Gaara took a firm stance, grounding himself, palms open and steady. His feet dug into the earth beneath him as he readied himself for the fight to come.

It wasn't just any stance—this was a modern fighting method he had learned in his previous life: boxing. But, as with all things in this world, it had been altered to suit him and his unique abilities. The stance was closer to a palm technique than the traditional form of boxing, and with his exceptional medical ninjutsu and chakra control, he gathered a small amount of chakra in his palms.

He kept the sand around him, just half a meter away, as a defense mechanism. The sand was always ready to protect him—his trusted companion.