Chapter 17: The Calm Before the Storm
The idiot next door had finally stopped making those rhythmic, bone-chilling scraping noises at night.
For the first time in months, Miss Saya woke up without a headache. Daimaru was gone. The village gossip said his squad had been shipped off to the border for some high-risk babysitting mission, and frankly, Saya couldn't be happier.
But peace didn't mean idleness.
The upcoming Chunin Exams were looming over her like a desert sandstorm. While most Genin were panicking about the deadline, Saya had a secret weapon: inside information.
(Internal Monologue: They think the exams are in May. Fools. My father's connections already confirmed the invitation from the Leaf. July 1st. We have an extra month and a half. While the rest of the village burns themselves out trying to rush their mission counts, my squad will be surgical.)
Her eyes fell on the dossier sitting on her vanity. It was an objective assessment of her new "junk" teammate, Shion.
"Zero aptitude for Ninjutsu or Genjutsu," she read aloud, a smirk tugging at her violet lips. "But Taijutsu talent... exemplary?"
It was more than exemplary. The report described a boy who, without a master or a clan, had developed something called the 'Seven-Day Breathing Method.' It was a raw, visceral style that allowed him to punch far above his weight class.
(Internal Monologue: Daimaru... that scavenger actually found a diamond in the rough. I thought he was just offloading a burden on me, but Shion is a monster in the making. If I play this right, I won't just pass the exams—I'll dominate them.)
"I've actually found a treasure," Saya whispered. She closed the file, her mind already spinning with ways to bind Shion to her family's interests. In the Sand, power was the only currency that never devalued.
Meanwhile, at the Northern Fortress, the only thing "exemplary" was the heat.
I leaned against the sun-baked battlements, watching a group of plump guinea pigs scurrying away from a mangy desert wolf. It was the most action we'd seen in a week.
"I'm going to turn into a pillar of salt," I groaned, checking my water skin.
"Stop complaining," Yome snapped from the parapet. She was training her vision again, staring into the heat haze until her eyes watered. "Sasha is coming over. Act like a ninja."
Sasha was a Chunin stationed at the fort—a guy in his early twenties who looked like he'd been carved out of sandstone. We'd sparred a few times. I'd lost every round, mostly because I was keeping my real trump cards buried. I used just enough Sand Manipulation to look competent, but not enough to look dangerous.
"You're getting faster, kid," Sasha said, wiping sweat from his brow after a brief exchange of blows. "But you rely too much on your eyes. Learn to feel the vibration in the stone."
"I'll work on it," I lied.
(Internal Monologue: Feel the vibration? I have puppets for that. Why would I risk my own skin when I can build a wooden proxy to take the hit?)
Speaking of puppets...
That night, in the flickering light of a single oil lamp, I put the finishing touches on my masterpiece.
It was a perfect mirror image of me. The same height. The same messy hair. I had meticulously carved the jaw joints and covered them with treated silk to mimic human skin. I'd even installed a pressurized reservoir of red dye under the 'flesh.' If it took a hit, it would bleed.
(Internal Monologue: Indistinguishable. In the heat of battle, this thing is my extra life. While the enemy is busy 'killing' this shell, I'll be behind them with a wind blade at their throat.)
I didn't stop there. I'd been obsessively studying Gaara's sand armor. I couldn't replicate his absolute defense—I didn't have a demon living in my gut—but I could compress sand into a brittle, high-density shell.
It was chakra-heavy, but it had a hidden perk: I could use it as a medium for a high-speed Body Replacement Technique. The armor would shatter, absorbing the impact, while I vanished into the shadows.
I was ready. My combat style was set. I was no longer just a Genin; I was a trap waiting to be sprung.
Two weeks later, the Oto-kaze Squad finally returned to Sunagakure. The village was buzzing. The official announcement had dropped: The Joint Chunin Exams in Konoha were a go.
I walked through the gates with my head high, ready to sign my name in blood and glory. But Oto Kaze met us at the entrance, and he didn't look happy.
"There's a problem," the Captain said, his voice grim.
"What kind of problem?" I asked, my heart sinking. "We finished the border mission. Our count is perfect."
"The count doesn't matter," Oto Kaze replied. "Sixteen teams signed up. The Council only approved ten slots for the journey to the Leaf. They don't want to waste resources on 'fillers'."
He handed me a scroll. My name was at the bottom of the 'Rejected' list.
"So we're out?" Yome gasped, her voice trembling.
"Not yet," Oto Kaze said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "The Council has decreed a 'Culling.' The six rejected teams have forty-eight hours to challenge the qualified teams. You want that slot? you have to take it. By force."
I looked at the scroll again. My eyes landed on the team we had to challenge.
Team 7: Kankuro, Temari, Gaara.
The air suddenly felt very thin.
(Internal Monologue: Are they insane? They want us to fight the Kazekage's children? That's not a challenge... that's an execution.)
"Daimaru," Oto Kaze whispered. "What's the plan?"
I gripped my puppet scroll so hard the wood creaked. I looked at my teammates, then at the towering palace of the Kazekage.
"The plan?" I barked a short, hysterical laugh. "The plan is to show the Council that some fillers have teeth."
But as we turned to leave, a shadow blocked the sun.
Gaara was standing on a nearby roof, his gourd vibrating with a low, hungry hum. He wasn't looking at my team. He was looking directly at me.
"I've been waiting," the monster whispered.
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[Will Daimaru survive a direct confrontation with the One-Tail's Jinchuriki? The 'Culling' begins in the next chapter!]
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