Gaara lay in a deep pit.
My head was buzzing, and I felt like the whole world was spinning.
From childhood to adulthood, thanks to that damned absolute defense, he rarely even experienced the pain of falling and getting a scrape.
Not to mention getting slapped hard across the face!
The burning pain, mixed with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, left him momentarily at a loss for how to react.
who I am?
Where am I?
How did that slap penetrate my sand?
Gaara was stunned for a good ten seconds before finally coming to his senses.
What followed was an even more overwhelming humiliation and rage!
"Kill... I'll kill you!"
Gaara struggled to climb out of the pit.
A frenzied killing intent reignited in his eye, which wasn't swollen from the beating.
The yellow sand on the ground began to stir, trying to coalesce into the shape of Shukaku once more.
However.
Before his sand could gather, a shadow suddenly blocked out the sunlight above.
"Bang."
Kenya jumped into the deep pit and landed steadily in front of Gaara.
He didn't even glance at the surging yellow sand.
He stretched out a large hand and grabbed Gaara's collar like he was picking up a chick.
They lifted him off the ground.
"What? Still not awake?"
Kenya looked at Gaara's fierce face, his tone carrying a hint of a father's helplessness in disciplining his rebellious son.
"At such a young age, he's already learning bad habits, Tenten talking about murder."
"What do you mean, a self-centered demon? Who taught you this chuunibyou (middle school syndrome)?"
Gaara struggled desperately, frantically scratching at Kenya's arms.
But Kenya's arm, covered in Armament Haki, was as hard as a lump of iron, leaving not even a white mark.
"Let me go! I'm going to kill you! My sand will crush you!"
Gaara roared madly, trying to mobilize the Shukaku Chakra within his body.
He could feel that his proud killing intent was like a gentle breeze in front of this man, not even enough to stir the Kakuzu of the other man's clothes.
"Still being stubborn, huh?"
Kenya shook his head and sighed.
"Looks like one slap wasn't enough."
Before he could finish speaking...
"Smack!"
Another crisp, loud slap across the face.
This time, Kenya deliberately held back a bit, but Gaara see stars.
Originally, only the right side of my face was swollen, but now the left side has also bulged up high.
Now, those signature panda eyes actually look much more even than before.
"You..."
Gaara was a little dazed from the beating and was about to speak.
"Smack!"
Another slap.
"I told you not to stay Tenten cultivating immortality! Such dark circles under your eyes at such a young age, anyone who didn't know better would think you're overindulging in excessive sexual activity!"
"Smack!"
"That's why you don't respect your elders! Don't you know how to bow and greet adults?"
"Smack!"
"I told you not to wash your hands after playing in the sand! You've made a mess of dust everywhere and polluted the environment, don't you know that?!"
The crisp sound of slaps echoed continuously in the empty, deep pit.
Every slap landed.
All of this was accompanied by Kenya's earnest but utterly "devilish logic" of persuasion.
Unreasonable.
Absolutely unreasonable!
Gaara's Shield of Sand, which he was so proud of, was completely useless in front of this man.
No matter how he summoned the sand, it was shattered by the dark Haki before it even got close to Kenya.
And the arrogant One-Tail Shukaku within him.
After feeling the shockwave transmitted through the palm, carrying terrifying Armament Haki.
It was so frightened that it retreated to the deepest part of the seal.
"Stop hitting! Stop hitting! That black power is too evil!"
Shukaku scurried around in the sealed space, trembling like a frightened kitten, not daring to utter a single word!
"Waaah... waaah..."
After being slapped more than a dozen times in a row.
Gaara finally stopped struggling.
His face was swollen and bruised, looking like a pig's head.
Madness and violence have long since vanished without a trace.
Instead, there was a deep sense of grievance and fear.
He stared blankly at the man in front of him.
He felt a suffocating sense of oppression emanating from this man, a feeling he had never experienced before.
But this sense of oppression...
It was different from the cold killing intent of assassins, or the disgusted looks in the eyes of villagers.
Instead, it carried a... strange, heavy sense of concern?
It's like... a legendary strict father disciplining his naughty son?
This "heavy burden of fatherly love" was particularly poignant for Gaara, who had lacked love since childhood and was used to being treated like a monster.
It was a physical blow that struck right to the soul.
"Alright, stop playing the victim."
Kenya looked at Gaara's dazed and obedient appearance.
Finally, they stopped what they were doing.
He loosened Gaara's collar, letting him fall to the ground.
Then, he took a slightly broken rice cracker out of his pocket and casually tossed it in front of Gaara.
"Eat something to nourish your brain."
Kenya looked down at Gaara.
"Stop talking about murder all the time. The world is a big place."
"Your little injuries are nothing but a fart in front of a true powerhouse."
Kenya pointed to the large gourd behind Gaara.
"Go to the gym more often when you have time, work out your muscles. Don't you get tired carrying such a big lump on your back?"
"Only by building a strong body can you grasp the true essence. Relying on that little bit of sand is just a way to show off in front of children."
"When you meet a true master, one slap will shatter your sandbag and your pathetic self-esteem into dust."
After saying that.
Kenya ignored Gaara, who was sitting on the ground in a daze.
He turned around, leaped, and easily jumped out of the deep pit.
Bottom of the deep pit.
Gaara stared blankly at the slightly dusty rice cracker on the ground.
He touched his swollen cheek again, and felt a sharp pain.
A sudden, indescribable feeling of bitterness welled up in my heart.
From childhood to adulthood, he has survived assassination attempts, experienced betrayal, and endured countless vicious insults.
But he never cried.
Because he felt that he was an Asura, and Asuras did not need tears.
But now.
He was facing a man who slapped him across the face until his head looked like a pig's head, but then threw him a rice cracker.
His eyes, perpetually cold and filled only with the desire to kill.
It slowly turned red.
Gaara shed tears of grievance, while Temari and Kankuro watched from the sidelines, trembling with fear.