Gaara POV – One Month Later
"Are you sure about this?" Chiyo asked for the seventh time in the past hour.
Gaara knew she was only concerned for him, but that didn't mean he had the patience to endure having his motivations questioned at every turn.
"If I wasn't, we wouldn't be here. Now get it over with," he replied tersely, his patience long worn thin.
Since his return from Iwa a month ago, Gaara had devoted every spare moment to studying one thing: the Sharingan—specifically, Kakashi Hatake's Sharingan. Or, if one wanted to be pedantic, Obito Uchiha's, but there was no point in splitting hairs over such a minor detail. A month of research had yet to make him an expert, but he knew significantly more than when he started. Most importantly, he was confident that the eye wouldn't go blind from overuse before he had the chance to wield its Mangekyō ability.
His theory on Obito's ability to use his Mangekyō continuously revolved around Hashirama's cells, which likely allowed him to regenerate faster than the strain could blind him.
Gaara, however, had his own solution.
The Blessed Seal of Theótita—a seal he had been perfecting for some time now—was nowhere near the strength of Tsunade's Strength of a Hundred Seal, but it was something he took pride in. It was designed to provide near-instant regeneration to the Sharingan. The connection between the implanted eye and his chakra network would run through the seal first, ensuring it acted as a buffer.
At a glance, the seal was nothing more than an unobtrusive black dot on his forehead, but its functions were anything but simple.
Chakra Regulation – The seal passively absorbed excess chakra, storing it much like Tsunade's seal, while also allowing him to manually funnel chakra into it when needed.
Restorative Function – Instead of conventional healing, which pushed the body forward, this function dragged it backward—returning the Sharingan to a previous undamaged state. It worked by first scanning the eye and then rejecting any inflicted damage, almost as if rewinding time. However, the greater the damage, the more chakra the process demanded.
Sharingan Power Supply – The seal provided a constant flow of chakra to counteract the Sharingan's passive drain, ensuring his reserves remained untouched.
Emergency Energy Source – If necessary, the stored chakra could be diverted to power ninjutsu in combat.
Despite these advantages, the Blessed Seal of Theótita was still incomplete.
Currently, it only relied on his chakra reserves, which meant sustaining the Sharingan over time was viable, but catastrophic damage—such as someone slashing the eye in half—could drain him dry. His long-term goal was to incorporate nature chakra absorption, much like a cursed seal, to create a virtually unlimited energy source.
When Gaara had explained this to Chiyo, her first question was:"Why not apply the seal to your entire body?"
The answer was obvious.
The Blessed Sealreverted things to their original state. If applied to his body, it would instantly erase all progress from training, leaving him perpetually stagnant.
"Are you ready?" Chiyo asked.
Gaara simply glared at her.
Taking that as her answer, she reached out with glowing green hands, and without hesitation, plucked out his left eye.
The numbing effects of medical ninjutsu kicked in instantly, dulling any pain.
Chiyo moved swiftly, beginning the delicate process of connecting the Sharingan to his optic nerve. What fascinated Gaara was how remarkably easy dōjutsu transplantation was in this world. It was as if the eyes had been engineered to be plug-and-play.
The moment the procedure was complete, his vision returned—except now, his left eye saw the world in startling clarity.
The difference was staggering.
His right eye, normal as ever, paled in comparison. His left eye, however, rendered reality in razor-sharp definition. He could see dust particles floating through the sterilized air, the faintest microexpressions on Chiyo's face, and for a fleeting second, it felt as if he could pluck the very thoughts from her mind.
Before he could even consider testing that theory, a familiar blue screen flashed across his vision.
NOTICE: Foreign Intrusion Detected.
Player has implanted a Sharingan in his left eye socket.
Perception +10
Wet Tinkering +20
Intelligence +5
Genjutsu +60
Endurance -10
Gaara barely spared the notification a glance before dismissing it and turning back to Chiyo.
"I assume everything went according to plan," he said.
"See for yourself," she replied, tossing him a mirror.
His reflection stared back at him.
The same familiar face, unblemished, unchanged—except for one stark difference. Where his right eye remained its usual calm teal, his left eye now burned with a fiery crimson glow, exuding the same intensity and menace that the world had come to fear from Sharingan wielders.
"Perfect."
Now, it was time to test this bitch out.
But first—
"What do you think of the formulas I submitted?" he asked, setting the mirror down.
Chiyo pursed her lips. "The idea is ambitious, but I'm concerned about the side effects—and the risk of permanently crippling yourself by going down this route."
"It's fine," Gaara dismissed. "While I was in the throes of your amnesia, I had an idea or two. With some fine-tuning, I should be able to mitigate most of the side effects."
The extra 20 points in Wet Tinkering were nothing to scoff at. His mind raced, processing countless improvements at once.
He could already see dozens of ways to refine his previous work—better, more precise methods for transplanting the Dead Bone Pulse into Shira. Even more exciting were the possibilities of harnessing Explosion Release, the Kekkei Genkai he had stolen from Iwa.
Transplanting it into promising Academy students?
That was only the beginning.
It took all his willpower to resist bursting into maniacal laughter.
Chiyo might actually try to kill him again if he did.
XXXXXX - JIRAIYA OF THE SANNIN POV
He hadn't expected a parade. Certainly not a festival or a national holiday in their name. But he had expected at least some gratefulness from the detestable Taki elders. They had saved the village's sole claim to fame, yet here they were, being cantankerous old codgers—he had Tsunade to thank for that delightful bit of phrasing.
To avoid offending their hosts, they had left Orochimaru with Naruto and Shizune at the hotel. And yet, after all that consideration, the bastards had left them waiting outside the meeting room. Jiraiya could already tell that if the clock struck twelve—marking a full hour of waiting—Tsunade was going to break the door down. The patience she was displaying was impressive, but even an idiot could tell it was wearing thin.
"Legendary Sannin?"
A head poked out of the council chambers five minutes before the dreaded hour mark.
Since they were literally the only ones in the waiting room, neither of them bothered responding.
"The Elders will see you now," the man continued.
In a blink, Tsunade had crossed half the distance to the door, dragging Jiraiya along with her.
"Introducing Jiraiya the Gallant, the one and only Toad Sage, and Tsunade, the Legendary Healer—students of Hiruzen the Professor, the late Third Hokage of Konohagakure."
Jiraiya nearly preened at the introduction.
Then he laid eyes on the elders of Takigakure, and all thoughts of flattery vanished.
From the start, the meeting was a disaster.
For one, he hadn't noticed it at first, but the announcer had conveniently failed to acknowledge them as the official envoys of Konohagakure. Even worse, the village's so-called leader wasn't even running the show. Instead, the actual decision-makers—a bunch of stubborn, self-important old men—were spewing so much bullshit that Jiraiya was tempted to pull out his own hair and stab them with it.
The actual village leader, Shibuki, sat silently to the side, watching as his elders openly disrespected Konoha's strongest shinobi.
What a spineless coward, Jiraiya thought with disgust.
"So what exactly are you saying?" Tsunade asked, her voice deceptively calm. A clenched fist was the only sign of her growing fury. It took real audacity to do what these village elders were doing—pissing off two S-rank shinobi with nothing to lose was a surefire way to end up in a shallow grave with a very painful journey there.
"What I am saying," said Hizuki—the mouthpiece of this farce—"in clear and unequivocal terms, is that we cannot support you in this civil war of yours. To supplant the Hokage of Konohagakure is no small thing. It is only out of respect for your previous deeds that we have not reported this to the 5th Hokage himself. That is why we even agreed to this meeting."
Jiraiya's fingers twitched.
"Have you not listened to a word we've said?" Tsunade demanded. "Danzo killed Hiruzen. He's no rightful Kage of Konoha. You would be taking the right side in this."
Jiraiya already knew this would go nowhere. Just another rejection to add to the growing pile.
"We only have your word for that," Hizuki countered. "And even if he did, the Daimyō has confirmed him as Hokage, has he not?"
"So you will not be helping us," Tsunade stated, voice flat.
"Even if we could, we would not." Another elder spoke up, perhaps sensing Hizuki was about to get himself punched into next week. "Would you have us send dozens of our jōnin to die in a civil war in exchange for nothing? Based solely on your promises?"
Tsunade turned to Shibuki, her final appeal.
"Is this your decision?"
Shibuki swallowed thickly. "M-Maybe you should ask one of the major villages. We… really can't help you with this."
Tsunade scoffed audibly and stood. Jiraiya followed.
"We will not forget that Taki broke faith this day," she declared, turning on her heel.
Jiraiya let her have the last word.
"So, what's the next step?" he asked once they had put some distance between themselves and the council's meeting room.
Under the shade of the great tree, he couldn't get a proper look at her eyes, but he knew that glint. That mischievous glint. People always remembered him as the prankster, but those who lived through their younger years knew better—Tsunade had a streak of her own.
"We seek a major village, of course," she said. "One of the Big Five. Or, well… Big Four, since we can't exactly go back to Konoha for help overthrowing the damn Hokage."
Jiraiya opened his mouth to reply—
And then he saw it.
A tiny tadpole, flickering into existence at the corner of his vision.
His body tensed. Naruto.
"That's our signal," he said sharply. "Back to the hotel. Now."
They vanished in a blur. Civilian speed be damned.
Jiraiya knew, logically, that it wasn't an emergency. Their actual distress signal would have been much harder to miss—like, say, Gamabunta appearing in the middle of the village.
Still, he wasn't about to take chances with the Akatsuki roaming around.
They arrived at the hotel swiftly, diving through an open window in perfect sync and landing in Orochimaru's room.
Naruto barely looked up from the letter in his hands. "Got a message, Ero-sennin."
Jiraiya sighed, against his will, smiling at the nickname.
Tsunade chuckled, ruffling Naruto's hair before plucking the letter from his hands.
"It's for me, brat," Jiraiya corrected.
The ink smudges on the edges of the parchment suggested it had been written in haste. The script was coded—one of the basic ciphers he used with his spies in The Land of Earth.
He read it once. Then twice. Then a third time.
"Jiraiya?" Tsunade prompted, seeing something in his expression.
He exhaled slowly.
"The Fifth Kazekage, Gaara of the Desert, led an attack on Iwagakure. He maimed the Fourth Tsuchikage, Kitsuchi. In a battle against Iwa's jinchūriki, he caused the release of the Four-Tails. Much of the Hidden Stone was destroyed. Estimated damages are in the billions."
A heavy silence fell.
He didn't mention the final detail—that two men in black-and-red cloaks were seen leaving the wreckage, carrying both of Iwa's jinchūriki. There was no point in alarming Naruto. He'd tell Tsunade and Orochimaru later.
"So what now?" Tsunade asked, voice grim. "That's one less great village to turn to."
Orochimaru scoffed. "I maintain the belief that we don't need them. My forces in Otogakure are more than sufficient. The three of us together would crush that old cripple Danzo."
Jiraiya sighed. "And how would we fare against the Second Tsuchikage? Or the Third? Especially under Edo Tensei?"
"I doubt his operatives could revive them at even half their power," Orochimaru retorted. "Besides, if you were so concerned, you shouldn't have forced me to release the jutsu."
Jiraiya's eyes darkened. "I wouldn't have had to if you'd told me Danzo forcibly made you teach it to his Root agents. That jutsu is an abomination. I couldn't accept it."
Tsunade, ever the peacemaker, stepped between them. "If you two aren't going to fight, step back."
They did.
"The question remains," Jiraiya muttered. "Where do we go for help?"
Tsunade smirked. "Between Cloud, Mist, and Sand, the choice is obvious."
Jiraiya groaned. "I still don't trust that Kazekage brat."
"I don't care," Tsunade shot back. "He's strong. He has motive. And he has a bone to pick with Danzo. He's perfect."
Jiraiya scowled. "I know you think he'll be easy to manipulate. But trust me—there's something foul in his eyes."
"I don't care," she repeated. "We need help. He'll give it to us. Orochimaru, your vote?"
XXXXX - TEMARI OF THE DESERT - TWO MONTHS LATER
"Faster."
Temari heard the command barked out as Gaara weaved effortlessly around Shira's stabbing attacks. Scowling, she swung both of her battle fans wide, unleashing a storm of invisible wind blades toward her frustrating little brother. Trapped in the middle of his exchange with Shira, he shouldn't have been able to dodge in time.
But, of course, he did.
Gaara leaned away from one of Shira's bone blades, then slammed a palm into his teammate's midsection before the older boy could react. Shira was sent flying out of range, leaving Gaara smirking at her before he did the impossible—again.
For what felt like the seventieth time this session, he twisted his body midair, contorting in a way that not a single wind blade so much as grazed him. The glowing red eye in his left socket spun ominously, almost mocking them.
"Release."
Temari blinked as Kankuro's hand pressed against her shoulder, breaking her out of the genjutsu. She turned to glare at him before casting a quick look at Gaara and Shira, who were still fighting a few meters away.
"Sharingan genjutsu?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
Kankuro nodded, and she let out a frustrated sigh. Seventh time. Even Kankuro—who mostly fought from a distance using his puppets—had been caught a few times already.
She had thought that forcing Gaara to fight without his sand manipulation or ninjutsu would at least give them a fair chance. Clearly, that had been wishful thinking. His fully evolved Sharingan was the ultimate cheat code. Even with Shira's newly acquired ability to manipulate his own bones, he was barely keeping up.
"Is this what the Senju felt? Fighting the Uchiha?" Kankuro muttered.
It was rhetorical, but Temari still felt compelled to answer.
"Most Uchiha never even mastered the Sharingan the way Gaara has in just two months. And even fewer ever lived long enough to evolve it fully. This is a different level entirely."
She remembered the day Gaara had come home with someone else's eye in his socket. At first, she'd been too furious to care about the details—too focused on chastising him for undergoing life-altering surgery without so much as a heads-up. They were his siblings, damn it.
But as much as she hated how he went about it, she couldn't deny the results. Gaara had been terrifyingly strong before; now, his growth bordered on the absurd. She had watched some of his kenjutsu spars with the ANBU Commander, and at first, they had been evenly matched. But now? Now, they were equals.
It was unnerving. The sheer efficiency of the Sharingan made her stomach twist.
Itachi Uchiha deserves an award or something.
If even ten percent of the Uchiha clan had been as skilled as Gaara was now, then maybe the massacre had been a necessity.
Temari snapped back to reality as Gaara effortlessly danced around Shira's flurry of bone blades. The boy had spikes protruding from his fists, elbows, and chest, attacking in a seamless, deadly rhythm. And yet, Gaara moved like he had already seen every strike.
Her eyes narrowed.
Shira's new kekkei genkai had been another mind-boggling development. Somehow, Gaara had figured out how to transplant bloodline abilities. Shira, a boy born with zero talent for ninjutsu, now wielded the Dead Bone Pulse as if he'd been born with it.
Temari exhaled sharply and looked down at her hands, gripping her fans.
Kankuro was shaping up to be a renowned seal master.Shira had a kekkei genkai that let him fight almost evenly with Gaara.And she?
She was getting left behind.
Sure, Gaara had reforged her fans into legendary weapons on par with the Hidden Mist's swords, but a weapon was only as strong as its wielder.
And she wasn't strong enough.
The snap of bone breaking jolted her out of her thoughts.
She looked up just in time to see Gaara standing over Shira, pressing one of his own broken bone blades to his throat. The older boy lay sprawled on the sand, glaring up at him.
"You held back," Shira grouched.
Gaara smirked, tossing the bone blade aside.
"Using genjutsu on someone with almost no resistance would've been too much like cheating," he admitted, offering Shira a hand. With a sigh, Shira took it and was hauled to his feet effortlessly.
Gaara hummed as he studied Shira's now-healed leg. "That was fast."
"It was a clean fracture." Shira shrugged. "You stomped at an angle to make sure the break was precise. The bone probably started mending the moment I hit the ground."
Gaara nodded, then crossed his arms. "So, what do you think you did wrong?"
Temari grimaced. Here we go.
Gaara never just won their fights. He had to rub salt in the wound by making them review every single mistake immediately after.
"I didn't guard my feet well enough," Shira admitted.
Gaara chuckled. "No. To my eye, you were full of openings. Guarding your feet wouldn't have mattered—I'd have just exploited something else. Your mistake is the same one you've been making since we started this training."
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're trying to use two fighting styles at once. You can't. The Dead Bone Pulse changed your entire combat dynamic. You can't fight like you used to—not with four extra bones sticking out of your body."
Temari tuned out as Gaara launched into an in-depth taijutsu lecture.
She knew taijutsu was important. She knew it was a key skill for shinobi.
But it was boring as hell.
It required too much repetition, too much effort for minor improvements, and nowhere near the flair that ninjutsu had.
And, well…
She was shit at it.
"Temari."
She snapped back to attention, realizing Gaara was staring at her.
"What I did wrong is obvious," she said quickly. "I kept meeting your eye."
Gaara smiled.
"Wrong."
Her stomach sank.
"What I used on you today was something I saw Itachi Uchiha use on the Five-Tails Jinchuriki in Iwa." His eyes gleamed with something close to excitement. "Han was a veteran shinobi. He knew not to meet the Clankiller's eyes. And yet, he did."
Temari frowned, intrigued despite herself.
"It confused me at first," Gaara continued. "Until I realized what Itachi did. He threw a fireball jutsu—knowing full well that Han, being a jinchūriki, would walk straight through it. But it wasn't the flames that mattered. It was the genjutsu laced inside."
Temari inhaled sharply.
"That's what you did to me," she muttered.
Gaara grinned. "Exactly."
His expression sobered as he ran a hand over his stolen eye.
"Unlike Itachi, I have the chakra reserves to just flood the battlefield with my energy. And since you were only expecting Sharingan genjutsu through direct eye contact, you never checked for anything else. The moment our eyes met, it was already over."
Temari exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together.
"What else did you do wrong?" Gaara asked, tone expectant.
She thought back, replaying the battle in her mind.
Finally, she sighed. "I can't find anything else."
Gaara's grin widened.
"Neither can I."
Her heart stuttered.
"You played your role perfectly. There wasn't much more you could have done with the arsenal at your disposal." His gaze softened. "We'll work on expanding that arsenal. But today? You were incredible."
Her cheeks burned.
Gaara turned away, setting his sights on Kankuro.
"...Unlike our brother, who's currently trying his hardest to blend in with the sand."
(End of Chapter)
Stat Sheet;
Name; Gaara of the Desert
Age; Thirteen
Level; 16
Title; Kazekage of Sunagakure
Chakra Capacity; 6.650/7,000 (Regeneration; 250 cp per minute)
Ichibi Chakra Capacity; 45,000/45,000 (Regeneration; 750 cp per minute)
Strength; 37
Speed; 73
Agility; 81
Endurance; 60
Intelligence; 95
Durability; 39
Perception; 99
Charisma; 69
Stat Points; 0
Skills;
Gamer's Mind Mark Two-ON
Taijutsu; 74
Kenjutsu; 63
Ninjutsu; 89
Genjutsu; 62
Fuinjutsu; 88
Medical Ninjutsu; 83
Wet Tinkering; 79
Sand Control; 81
Pain tolerance; 31
Meditation; 45
Shape manipulation; 72
Chakra Sensing; 23
Chakra affinities;
Wind; 69
Earth; 56
Fire; 57