On the arena stage, Gaara lay like a puddle of mud against the corner wall, gasping for breath.
He looked at the blond boy across from him, who was also panting. For the first time, there was no killing intent in his pale green eyes.
All that remained was an indescribable sense of wholehearted admiration.
He had lost.
And he accepted that loss completely.
"Hey, are you still fighting?"
Naruto wiped the sweat from his forehead and flashed a grin.
"If you're not, hurry up and surrender. I still need to go back and eat barbecue."
Gaara gave a bitter smile and struggled to stand, but his bones felt as though they had fallen apart. How could he possibly have any strength left?
He was just about to admit defeat.
"Wait."
Naruto suddenly raised a hand, stopping him.
The blond boy's previously carefree expression vanished.
In its place was an unprecedented seriousness and solemnity.
"Uncle Yoru said we didn't come to Konoha just to eat."
Naruto took a deep breath, his azure eyes gleaming with brilliant light.
"We also have to give these frogs at the bottom of the well a 'grand gift' they'll never forget for the rest of their lives."
As he spoke, he pulled three strangely shaped kunai from the ninja tool pouch at his waist.
They were shaped like tridents, their handles covered in dense, incomprehensible, bizarre runes.
"Th-Those are...?"
The Konoha ninja in the stands stretched their necks, their faces full of confusion.
But the moment some older veterans who had lived through the Third Shinobi World War saw those three kunai, their faces changed instantly!
"Flying Thunder God... special kunai?!"
An elderly, white-haired senior jonin dropped the sake gourd in his hand with a clang.
He gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white