Kill Gaara

That night, a genin led them to their accommodations.

It was a row of low houses beside the training ground, pressed against a rock wall. From the outside, they looked no different from earthen kilns.

"You, you, you, this room." The genin pointed at three people, then gestured at Lin Chongshu, Fatty, and another person.

"You three, that room." He never asked their names from beginning to end, too lazy even to say, "What's your name?"

Fatty still wore a smile. "All right, thank you. I'll definitely work hard from now on."

"You're still grinning like an idiot? They don't even care enough to know your name." Lin Chongshu squeezed past him and lay down directly. The bedboards were so hard they dug into his bones.

From next door came the chatter of Fatty and the others, discussing how many more exchanges they had held out today and how much closer they were to becoming the Kazekage's guards.

For the next two days, they were legally bullied by Temari and Kankuro. Temari beat them, then Kankuro beat them; after Kankuro was done, Temari beat them again.

They woke up sore all over, went back out after breakfast, ate lunch after getting beaten, took another round in the afternoon, and collapsed onto the bedboards at night without even the strength to turn over.

Lin Chongshu also began hiding his abilities.

On the first day, he could still trade blows with Temari. On the second, he deliberately slowed by half a beat. By the third day, he was knocked down in a single exchange and simply stayed on the ground.

Temari frowned once, probably wondering why this black-haired boy was getting worse the more he fought, but she said nothing and pointed to the next person.

The boys were covered in bruises, black and blue all over.

But aside from Lin Chongshu, everyone else was still quite excited.

Every day after getting beaten, Fatty would lie on his bed and summarize his performance. Today, he had nearly dodged the first horizontal sweep of Temari's fan; he could already see through that opening stance.

His tone grew more certain by the day, as if the position of Kazekage guard was already on its way to him.

Lin Chongshu never joined in.

He was waiting, waiting for this farce to end. Once they had used the punching bags enough, they should let them go back.

But the more he watched, the more something felt wrong: there were too many people around!

The six of them served as punching bags, while seven or eight chunin stood around every day. The two or three jonin beneath the rock wall, the ones without vests, never left either.

Baki came by sometimes too, standing at the edge of the field with his arms folded as he looked around.

Lin Chongshu took all of this in, feeling uneasy.

He only wanted to endure this as quickly as possible and return to his financial business.

The fourth night.

Lin Chongshu lay on the bedboards, still awake.

The string in his heart had been taut these past few days. His sleep had grown lighter and lighter, and the slightest noise would wake him.

Fatty snored beside him, occasionally letting out pained groans.

In the latter half of the night, the desert wind died down. The entire room was so quiet that only Fatty's snoring remained.

A chill suddenly seeped through the crack in the door, as though something had quietly entered the room.

Lin Chongshu's mind jolted. So light? An enemy?

He kept his eyes closed and did not move, deliberately keeping his breathing unchanged.

A shadow slipped inside, its feet making no sound on the sandy ground.

It first walked to Fatty's bed and stood there for several seconds. Then it moved to the other person. The two of them let out a few muffled, pained sounds before falling silent.

Finally, it stopped before Lin Chongshu's bed.

Lin Chongshu kept his eyes shut, his heart pounding so hard it nearly leaped from his throat. Were the other two killed? Why kill people as useless as us?

But he did not move. Beneath the blanket, his palm pressed against a small pinch of fine sand.

No matter the reason, if the other person intended to kill him, he could only fight for his life.

The shadow bent down, and one hand pressed against his forehead.

Chakra seeped from its fingertips. Countless voices instantly burrowed from his forehead into Lin Chongshu's mind.

Lin Chongshu felt the world spin. His thoughts began to blur, and fantastical colors appeared in the darkness behind his closed eyes.

Genjutsu? The fine sand hidden beneath his calf suddenly tightened around the little toe of his left foot and twisted viciously.

Crack! A faint, muffled pop came from the joint.

Pain—piercing pain—shot from his toe straight to the top of his head.

The agony scattered the chakra that had invaded his mind for an instant. He clenched his back teeth and swallowed his scream.

That hand stopped, but it did not move away or apply more force. It simply remained there.

In the darkness, Lin Chongshu could feel the person's gaze settle on his face, sweeping downward inch by inch.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. The fingers beneath his blanket stiffened, too afraid to move.

This person knew genjutsu and was surely far stronger than him. If he discovered that Lin Chongshu had resisted it, the consequences would be unimaginable.

But why had this person sneaked in to cast genjutsu on the few of them?

The person stood beside the bed, breathing so softly it was nearly inaudible.

The air was silent. Lin Chongshu could even hear his own heartbeat pounding against his eardrums, terrified that the person would notice his broken toe, realize he was awake, realize he had been pretending all along.

In the darkness, a hand reached out.

Its fingers traced up the side of his neck, moving slowly. The fingertips paused over his carotid artery.

Lin Chongshu's heart rose into his throat again. Should I resist and attack? If I strike now, can I hold out until someone else comes to help?

The person felt for several seconds, then continued upward and pressed against his clenched jaw. He used a little force, pressing on Lin Chongshu's back teeth through his cheek.

Lin Chongshu felt his heart skip a beat.

But the hand quickly released him.

The person seemed to have attributed that momentary abnormality to an unconscious twitch from a child having a nightmare.

He had absolute confidence in his genjutsu. An orphan incapable of refining even a trace of chakra could not possibly resist it.

That icy hand returned to Lin Chongshu's forehead.

This time, even more chakra poured in than before, deep and heavy, like a river flooding straight into his mind and forcing his consciousness beneath the water.

A voice rang out in Lin Chongshu's mind.

He did not hear it with his ears. It was branded directly into his consciousness, as though someone were carving words into his cerebral cortex.

"Shukaku killed your parents. You deeply hate Gaara. You have buried that hatred in your heart, and you will seize every opportunity to kill him."

"Kill Gaara! Kill Gaara!"

After an unknown amount of time, the voice still echoed in Lin Chongshu's mind, but the hand had already withdrawn.

Faint movement came from the neighboring room, followed by another stretch of silence.

Lin Chongshu opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. His back felt icy, his clothes clung to his body, and his little toe still throbbed painfully.

He reached up and touched the back of his neck. His hand came away soaked in cold sweat.