Gaara appeared in a swirl of sand, descending to the center of the field with arms crossed and eyes as cold as the desert night.
"Come down," he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Hinata hesitated, instinctively stepping back half a pace as a chill ran down her spine. Her face turned pale, but she forced herself forward and descended into the arena.
"It's fine," Temari said, crossing her arms. "He'll be safe."
Kankuro smirked.
"Gaara's too strong for this. If I'd drawn her instead, I'd already be celebrating."
From the stands, Tenten turned to Neji.
"Neji… she's your sister, right?"
Neji nodded.
"The eldest daughter of the main family."
Tenten immediately fell silent, wisely choosing not to comment further.
Nearby, Sasuke's eyes narrowed. He began gathering chakra, prepared to open his Sharingan at a moment's notice.
From another platform, Asuma leaned toward his students of Team 10.
"Watch closely. She might just be the strongest genin of your generation."
Even before the match began, the air grew heavy—dense with tension.
…
The referee raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Gaara didn't move.
Hinata studied him for a moment, then dashed forward, her earlier shyness evaporating completely.
Her chakra surged into her palms—gentle yet deadly. A single strike could seal tenketsu(*chakra points), rupture organs, or paralyze limbs.
Crack!
Her blow struck something solid. A ball of sand had risen, intercepting her attack perfectly.
Hinata didn't falter. She shifted angles, weaving from front to side, then leaping high to flip mid-air. Her leg hooked downward in a swift arc, aiming for the back of Gaara's head.
Her palms followed—striking so fast they blurred into afterimages, filling the air with the rhythmic sound of impact.
"Ha! Futile," Kankuro snorted. "Gaara's sand is absolute defense—no one can break it."
But something felt off.
Hinata's Byakugan flared, veins bulging at her temples. Through its insight, she saw clearly—Gaara's chakra wasn't moving at all. The sand around him moved on its own, protecting him automatically.
Her expression hardened.
"I'm too slow," she realized inwardly.
Retreating quickly, she widened the distance between them.
"Is that all?" Gaara's voice was low, cold, and almost disappointed.
Hinata said nothing.
Instead, she unrolled a scroll from her waist, forming quick hand seals. A surge of chakra rippled through the air—and a figure appeared before her.
It was humanoid, clad in a tattered battle kimono, an iron mask covering its eyes. The puppet's skin was damaged in several places, revealing glimpses of the steel frame beneath.
This was the most intact of Hinata's three puppets. The outer flesh and synthetic covering couldn't be replaced without special materials, but its internal systems had been restored to full functionality.
"What's that?" Kakashi asked curiously, glancing at Kurenai, who stood nearby.
"It's a puppet," Kurenai explained. "But it's not quite the same as the ones used in the Sand Village. Hinata calls it a doll."
Kakashi nodded, understanding dawning in his single visible eye.
"A doll, huh? From the looks of it, you'd never guess it wasn't human."
In the arena, Hinata's Byakugan locked onto Gaara once more. The puppet before her vanished—completely disappearing from sight.
"So fast!" someone gasped, as the crowd's vision blurred.
Boom!
Gaara was sent flying like a cannonball, smashing into the wall with tremendous force. His speed was so great that even the sand protecting him couldn't keep up.
Cracks spread across his face like a spiderweb, splitting further with each breath. Gaara exhaled a heavy, turbid sigh—sand spilling from his lips—as he detached from the wall and fell to the ground. The wall behind him collapsed under the impact.
Hinata bent her knees and leaped forward, her movement smooth and precise. But before she could land, a surge of sand erupted from the floor, forming a massive hand that lunged upward to grab her.
Got her!
Or so Gaara thought—until Hinata's figure suddenly shattered into a puff of smoke, revealing a chunk of splintered wood.
A substitution jutsu!
Gaara's eyes widened in surprise. The next instant, a shadow loomed behind him. The pursuing puppet's palm struck his shoulder with a crack! The sound echoed through the arena—it was unclear whether it was his bone that broke or the sand armor that shattered.
Pain flashed across Gaara's face, twisting into fury. For the first time, he began to form hand seals. The gourd on his back dissolved into sand, which spilled out and spread across the ground like a living sea.
"Where are you!?" he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where are you hiding?"
The doll was quickly engulfed. Sand infiltrated every joint and hinge, grinding into the metal and forcing the puppet to a halt. Trying to move it now would only cause it to break apart completely.
Gaara wasn't the only one searching—spectators craned their necks as well, their eyes scanning the arena. Those who spotted Hinata kept silent; those who hadn't continued to look. The sandstorm swirling around made it almost impossible to see, and careless onlookers found themselves blinking grit from their eyes.
The immobilized puppet lay motionless near Gaara, half-buried in the shifting dunes. Gaara's gaze swept the battlefield, sharp and restless. Through the sand that acted as his second sight, he searched every inch of the field—but Hinata was nowhere to be found. Only two things remained: the broken puppet and the discarded substitution log.
Huh?
Something clicked. A spark of realization jolted through Gaara like electricity. His eyes snapped toward the wooden log.
At that same moment, the puppet lying nearby began to tremble. Then, without warning, it disintegrated—its limbs and torso scattering apart, the sand trapped between its joints falling away. The fragments danced in the air before snapping back together, reforming the puppet in an instant.
Now, though, it looked far from human. Without the soft outer layer of synthetic flesh, it resembled a steel skeleton—cold, skeletal, and deadly.
The puppet lunged forward, its palms radiating an intense, violent chakra. Gaara quickly gathered his sand to form a dense barrier in front of him, unwilling to take any chances.
But as he watched the puppet's movements, something felt off.
Why has it slowed down?
Gaara's eyes narrowed. He could see it clearly now—its movements were deliberate, telegraphed, almost… intentional.
Wait—she's showing me this on purpose!
Even Gaara, usually expressionless and detached, felt a shiver run down his spine. He tried to react—but it was already too late.
From behind him, hundreds of iron-hard hair needles streaked through the air like a deadly rainstorm. His sand shield caught a few dozen, but the rest pierced through, embedding deep into his body. The impact forced him to his knees.
From the stands, he looked like a human hedgehog.
Gaara let out a grunt of pain and turned his head. The substitution wood was gone.
Standing behind him was Hinata, her long, knee-length hair whipping wildly in the wind.
The Rabbit Hair Needles, combined with her Byakugan, had become a weapon of terrifying precision—a seamless blend of Gentle Fist and ranged lethality.
The chakra pathways within Gaara's body flickered and died one by one. His sand armor cracked and crumbled away, falling to the ground like dry earth.
"Gaara!" Temari cried out in shock.
Kankuro's jaw fell open, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Just moments ago, Gaara's destructive power had shaken the arena—yet now, he stood broken and motionless.
"It's over," Hinata said calmly.
Referee Hayate Gekko stepped forward, glancing at Gaara and preparing to announce the result.
But Gaara's voice interrupted him, low and defiant.
"It's not over yet!"
A dark, sinister chakra began to surge from Gaara's body, thick and suffocating.
Hinata frowned, her Byakugan widening. Inside Gaara, she saw it—a monstrous silhouette of chakra in the shape of a massive tanuki, straining to emerge.
Without hesitation, she unleashed another barrage of Rabbit Hair Needles, aiming to seal every potential chakra point where the entity might surface. The needles struck, but were blocked by a new layer of sand—sand that was no longer obeying Gaara's will, but moving on its own to protect him.
The puppet exploded into motion, its speed peaking as it slammed into Gaara, knocking him free from the sand's automatic defense.
The moment his body cleared the barrier, Hinata's pre-fired hair needles met him midair—a storm of steel. Thousands of them struck at once, sealing and suppressing every trace of the tanuki's chakra before it could manifest.
Each time the monster's energy tried to break through, Hinata's needles pinned it down again. She fought with relentless precision, her Byakugan tracking even the faintest chakra disturbance.
Finally, Temari, pale and trembling, could bear it no longer.
"We surrender!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the arena.
Only then did Hinata lower her hands, her expression calm but her breathing slightly uneven.
The match was over—short, intense, and dangerously close to disaster.
Hinata Hyuga was the victor.