"I said that hurts, you bastard!"
A boy in black—his face marked with purple paint and a large, bandage-wrapped device strapped to his back—held a child by the collar with one hand, dangling him in the air like a rag doll.
He sneered, clearly enjoying it.
"Forget it," a blond girl beside him said with a sigh, adjusting the massive iron fan slung across her back. Her hair was tied into four short ponytails, swaying slightly in the wind. "If Gaara sees you bullying kids again, you'll regret it."
The boy in black—Kankurō—grinned darkly. "He's not here, so who cares? I'm just having a little fun."
He tightened his grip, making the little boy kick and struggle harder.
"Let me go, jerk!" the boy shouted, swinging his legs wildly.
Kankurō laughed under his breath. "Feisty, huh? I like that."
A short distance away, two other children watched in fear. They wanted to help their friend, but the killing intent rolling off Kankurō kept them frozen.
"Hey, that's not how you treat a kid!"
Before Kankurō could even turn, his wrist went numb. His hand involuntarily loosened, and the boy slipped free, tumbling safely into the arms of a red-haired girl who had appeared out of nowhere.
The boy blinked, dazed. "W-what…?"
Kankurō's eyes widened. "What the hell—where did she come from?"
The red-haired girl adjusted her glasses, brushed off the boy's scarf, and smiled gently.
A moment later, a cameraman came stumbling up, gasping for air, a huge camera wobbling on his shoulder.
"Director! Wait up, for crying out loud! I can't—can't breathe!"
"Dong Dagu," the girl—Karin—snapped, crossing her arms. "I told you to work on your stamina. You call yourself a cameraman? Pathetic!"
Kankurō and the blond girl tensed immediately. They hadn't even seen her move. One second she wasn't there, and the next, she was standing in front of them, confident and unbothered.
"Who the hell are you?" Kankurō demanded, his tone defensive.
"Me?" Karin said pleasantly, flashing a perfect on-camera smile. "I'm Karin, field reporter for Red Sun TV. I'd like to ask the two of you a few questions. Would you mind taking a moment for an interview?"
She motioned to Dong Dagu, who scrambled to steady the camera and start recording.
The pair from the Sand looked confused.
"Red Sun… TV?" Temari repeated, frowning. "What's that supposed to be?"
Karin blinked, feigning surprise. "Wow, really? You've never heard of Red Sun TV? Where have you two been living?"
Before they could respond, a loud, cheerful voice cut in.
"Big Sister! Big Sister! Interview me instead!"
Everyone turned to see Konohamaru, scarf fluttering, running up with his two friends. He puffed out his chest proudly. "I know lots of stuff! I'll say anything for the camera!"
He immediately leaned into the lens, twisting his face left and right, utterly fascinated by his reflection.
Karin chuckled softly, amused.
But Kankurō's expression darkened. "You brat…" His voice dropped, venomous. "Keep talking, and I'll kill you."
The air grew heavy. The boy's murderous intent was so strong that even Temari stiffened.
Konohamaru froze, his bravado evaporating as he hid behind Karin, clutching his friends in fear.
"Now, now," Karin said sweetly, still smiling. "Little brothers shouldn't throw around words like 'kill.' That's not very… civilized, don't you think?"
Her voice was calm, almost teasing.
Kankurō's fists clenched. The more she smiled, the more it infuriated him.
"You think you're funny?" he hissed.
"Forget it, Kankurō," Temari warned, her tone uneasy. "Don't start anything here."
But he ignored her, unstrapping the bandaged object from his back. The wrappings unfurled like a serpent, revealing a wooden puppet with eerie, hollow eyes.
"Crow," Temari muttered, grimacing. "He's actually using it?"
Karin adjusted her glasses and murmured under her breath, "The president said a reporter must always stay calm on camera… no matter what. Smile, keep smiling."
Her lips twitched as her killing intent flared beneath the surface.
Dong Dagu gulped behind the camera. "Uh… Director, are you sure about this?"
"Keep filming," Karin said softly, her smile widening. "If I survive this, we'll have the best footage in the ninja world."
"Kankurō. Stop."
The voice was cold, sharp, and low.
Everyone turned.
The camera swung upward, zooming in on the source—a figure standing upside down on a tree branch above them.
A boy with short crimson hair, dark rings around his eyes, and a massive gourd strapped to his back. His stare was hollow, emotionless—like staring into the eyes of a corpse.
Karin's instincts screamed. The killing intent rolling off him was suffocating.
"Gaara…" Temari whispered, her voice tight.
Kankurō stiffened instantly. The confidence drained from his face, replaced by fear.
"You'll embarrass our village," Gaara said flatly, his voice devoid of warmth.
Kankurō swallowed hard. "I—It wasn't my fault! They started it! This brat—"
"Shut up," Gaara said without raising his tone. "Or I'll kill you."
The threat was casual—matter-of-fact.
Kankurō's mouth snapped shut. Sweat rolled down his neck. "I-I'm sorry."
Gaara's gaze shifted to Karin and Konohamaru.
"My apologies," he said. His words were polite, but his tone was empty—mechanical. "He's a fool."
Dust swirled as Gaara descended from the tree, landing lightly on the street.
Karin finally saw him up close—the red hair, the cracked gourd, the dark eyes… and the kanji for "love" carved into his forehead.
Her heart tightened. This kid… how much love has he been denied to carve it into his own skin?
"Let's go," Gaara said coldly, turning away. "We're not here to play."
Kankurō and Temari followed immediately, their earlier arrogance completely gone.
Despite being the youngest of the three, Gaara's presence dwarfed them all.
Karin blinked, realizing too late that her instincts as a reporter had kicked in.
"Wait! Hey, little redhead! I haven't finished the interview!"
Gaara stopped mid-step.
The air froze.
He turned his head slightly, one pale eye glancing back over his shoulder.
A deep, guttural sound escaped his throat—a quiet exhale that somehow carried the weight of a storm.
Karin's smile faltered for the first time.
That aura—dense, suffocating, filled with barely restrained madness—hit her like a tidal wave.
Even Dong Dagu trembled behind the camera.
The sand at Gaara's feet began to stir.
And in that moment, everyone on the street felt it—
The sandstorm of the demon child from the Hidden Sand had arrived.
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