Convergence: A Sasuke Fanfiction

KONOHA

“I withdraw.”

Shino’s withdrawal was no surprise to us, but we still found it amusing that two out of three of the Suna-nin’s battles were forfeitures. Gaara really did make an impression in his battle against Rock Lee.

“Shino Aburame has withdrawn from the match,” announced Genma. “By default, the winner is Sabaku Gaara! The next pairing is Uchiha Sasuke against Sabaku Gaara! Please, the participants should make their way down now!”

We flickered into the arena and turned around to face our opponent still in the waiting area above. We met his hungry gaze with a questioning quirk of our brow, but as if to spite us Gaara turned around towards the stairs to take the long way down. It mattered little; the results would remain the same whether or not he chose to stall.

In fact, doing so was to his further disadvantage. We were still down seventeen per cent of our total chakra reserves from our battles despite the rest period we enjoyed between each match. The more time we had to regain chakra, the more hopeless this battle was going to be for him. A minute later, our gaze flickered to regard our opponent as he emerged from the exit below.

“Now then,” Genma said, chewing on his senbon. “At long last…

“Begin!”

Our figure blurred in reverse as a massive appendage of sand cleaved through the afterimage we left behind. “Bind!” we intoned, tugging on our chakra pool as invoked the Fūinjutsu trap we used against Neji Hyuga earlier in the last match. The proctor made no decision to have it removed so it remained there, at our disposal. And as before, ribbons of animated kanji sprung out of the dirt, latching onto our opponent as they rapidly sealed him away.

The arena fell silent in apparent shock as they stared at the cocooned suna-nin across from us. Just when it seemed like the match was over, the paper cocoon wrapping the Suna-nin began to bulge and swell horribly, the kanji holding the structure together straining to its utmost limit just before they burst. Chakra-infused sand spilt out explosively, near-perfectly concealing the spike that shot out to impale us.

We flickered out of the way before shooting forward in a foray. From his last match, it was apparent that our opponent was apparently very hardy and powerful, but this came at a rather obvious cost.

Speed.

He seemed to fail to perceive when our fist struck his face as he was launched several meters across the arena. His shield of sand rose to defend him a few milliseconds later, but we were no longer even attacking from that vector. It was comical how we didn’t even need to augment our attacks with Genjustu to ensure they hit their marks.

In this manner we continually pummelled the sand-wielder, but as expected, to little effect. A layer of hardened sand coated his skin, dispersing our blows tremendously.

Sensing the futility of a further taijutsu barrage, and content with the data we gathered on the technique, we immediately switched gears. Our Sharingan mutely whirred to life, its draw on our Chakra as minuscule as it was during our battle with the Hyuga scion. Flickering directly in front of our opponent we pulled him into a Genjutsu. It would be trifling to disable him with a high-level demonic illusion, but doing so in a gathering this large and varied would be unwise.

Despite Orochimaru’s vagueness, we were aware our opponent was most likely a Jinchūriki given his vast chakra reserves and the primal nature of his aura. In many ways, he reminded us of Konoha’s own resident Jinchūriki: Naruto. Being able to beat him with a Genjutsu would simply be outing one of our most vital skills over what amounted to nothing more than a glorified cock fight. Tactically, it would be stupid.

Strategically, it would be suicidal.

Instead, we opted for a minor Genjutsu. One that simply robbed our target of the ability to sense anything outside their own body, isolating their perception and focusing it entirely inwards. It was an original technique of our very own creation. We called it the “Demonic Illusion: Void Sea”.

The technique struck and held firm. As expected our target began to flail around blindly, attacking in every and all direction. What was unexpected was the wail that emerged from his mouth; sand streamers rose around him, shuddering and jerking in the air as if in pain.

“mOTHeR!” Gaara wailed in a manner horrid to the human psyche. “MoTHEr! PleaSE! I aM sORRY! FoRGIVe mE! pLEasE DOn”t LEavE Me! don’T LEAve mE ALoNE! I AM Sor—”

The grating, inhuman screams cut off suddenly and we felt the Genjustu we placed on our target dispel immediately afterwards. A wave of sinister chakra roiled off the boy’s hunched form. The tailed-beast? We stared curiously as he rose to his feet. Slowly, he looked up and his crazed eyes met ours.

Our left brow rose.

He screeched in response. “I wILL kiLL YoU!”

His hands clapped together to form the Tiger seal. And his lips began shuddering as crazed mutters escaped from his maw.

*jin*

*saru*

*hebi*

*saru*

*jin*

*saru*

*tori*

*tatsu*

…

The sand in the air began to swirl faster, condensing into the shape of a dome, before suddenly hardening. We stared at the earthen ball in confusion. Flickering over it, we gave it an exploratory jab before contorting out of the way of the numerous sand spikes that shot out in response to impale us.

We doubled back, eyeing the defensive technique in contemplation. The Suna-nin was obviously preparing a very powerful technique in that ball he had hidden in. A technique that apparently took a lot of time to settle up given his willingness to retreat despite the bloodlust he felt for us. We could sense the chakra within the earthen ball churning violently as he called upon his vast chakra reserves.

We could not let him finish whatever he was up to, we decided. Feh! Troublesome fellow…

Our hands blurred as we weaved hand signs. In our chest, we felt our chakra boil, and in the back of our throat, we felt it ignite, exiting our body as a torrent of searing flames. The fireball collided with the sand dome explosively, the over-pressure from the detonation driving winds that forced us to squint just to see despite already covering our eyes with a layer of chakra.

When the dust cleared, we were treated to the sight of a seemingly lightly damaged defence. Only a small portion of the ball was destroyed by the explosion. We expected that, but we never planned on neutralising our target in that manner so it mattered little.

Instead, we turned our attention to the slightly molten surface of the defensive structure. Molten sand slowly slagged off the surface of the ball to pool underneath. Content, we let our hands blur through another series of hand signs.

“Water Release: Water Severing Wave!”

A supersonic jet of water shot out of our mouth towards Gaara’s defences. At that moment, several things happened at once and it was only thanks to our Sharingan that we could perceive any of it at all.

As the layer of molten sand was struck by the chakra-infused jet of water it rapidly cooled, shrinking as it near-instantaneously cooled from its molten state, vitrifying. Cracks formed throughout the lattice structure of the newly formed glass layer, propagating vigorously through the mass of silica. A microsecond later, the kinetic properties of the water jet came into play. Travelling at nearly two times the speed of sound, the stream of water neatly punched through the glassed dome and shot out the other side. It continued onwards to strike the side of the Colosseum boring through it instantly.

A moment later the technique sputtered out, digging a jagged groove as descended, sputtering out of existence. We waited, watching as cracks spread out across the surface of the dome before crumbling to the ground. The clinking of falling glass resounded across the otherwise silent arena.

Gaara now stood in the open across from us, a gruesome hole torn through his right lung. Had it been a normal human such a wound would have been a guaranteed death, but with his Jinchūriki status, we couldn’t say for certain.

If we wanted him dead, it would have been a simple matter of just aiming a few inches more to the left, but we didn’t. Apparently, our newest associate, the Snake-sannin, predicted we might have some use for the boy’s prowess in future. And having seen what he was capable of, we were hard-pressed to disagree.

Our opponent looked down at his wound in confusion. He tried to speak, but only a bloody, sputtering cough exited his mouth. The next moment, he slumped over, unconscious before he even hit the ground in an instinctual bid to avoid the worst of the trauma.

Medical-nin flickered into the arena just seconds later, crowding over the boy as they began administering first aid. We ignored the group. We knew of the inhuman regenerative capabilities of Jinchūriki; one too many times we have seen Naruto’s wound close up in real-time. The suna-nin would live, so long as the medics in charge were competent.

Our attention panned to Genma. The proctor stared at us, his gaze turbulent with unspoken thoughts. But at the end of the day, he still had a job to do.

“Sabaku Gaara is no longer able to compete,” he declared to the rabid crowd.

“The winner is Uchiha Sasuke!”