Hinata of the White Lotus

by froznx

On the verge of death in her fight against Neji, Hinata awakens an advanced version of the Byakugan. Now with the power of an ancient ally on her side, she begins to unravel the truth of their world and her place in it. As her powers and confidence continue to grow while facing off against increasingly dangerous foes, she becomes known as The White Lotus. This is her legend.

6. Hinata vs Gaara

Hinata of the White Lotus

Hinata vs Gaara

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Hinata's life flashed before her eyes.

The memories were vivid, coming in sharp, disjointed fragments that tugged at her heart and threatened to overwhelm her. But one moment stood out, burning brighter than the rest: the day of the Hyūga Affair. The day she had killed.

She had been so young—barely three years old, small and frail, her steps unsteady as she wandered the Hyūga compound under the watchful eye of her caretakers. It was supposed to have been just another ordinary day, but everything changed when the stranger from Kumogakure appeared. She didn't understand what was happening at first, not truly. There was a rustle in the night, waking her from a deep sleep, and then strong hands grasped her, pulling her away from the safety of her home.

Hinata could still feel the coldness of that grip, the roughness of the fabric that pressed against her as she was carried through the night. Her tiny body had trembled, her wide eyes welling with tears as she struggled to understand. She remembered the rush of the wind as they moved, the suffocating fear that settled in her chest. She wanted to scream, to call for her father, her mother, anyone—but her voice was trapped in her throat, choked by terror.

For the first time in her life, she felt utterly alone.

And then she saw her.

Ōtsutsuki Kali.

The visage appeared suddenly, a glowing, ethereal form that seemed to step out of the very shadows of the compound wall. Her hair flowed like a gentle current, and her eyes, deep and serene, locked onto Hinata with an intensity that chased away the darkness. She wasn't frightening, though she seemed otherworldly. If anything, she radiated warmth, her presence wrapping around Hinata like a protective embrace.

Hinata had thought of her as an angel, a guardian sent to save her in her darkest moment. Kali didn't speak, yet her calm, unwavering gaze seemed to whisper a single truth: You're not alone. I'm here.

For a brief moment, Hinata's fear faded. Even as her small body trembled, even as her tears continued to fall, she felt a sense of safety she couldn't explain. It was as though Kali's presence anchored her, giving her the strength to survive.

And then it happened.

Hinata didn't remember how, exactly. One moment, her fear was suffocating, her vision blurred by tears. The next, the man's hands loosened their grip, his body collapsing before her. She had acted without thinking, her young instincts driving her to reach for something—anything—that would save her. It was her chakra, guided by the Nichiren Byakugan she hadn't even realized was awake, that struck him down.

The world was silent. Her captor lay motionless in the traditional garden, and Kali's form stood beside her, watching. Hinata's small hands trembled as she stared at what she had done, her mind too young to process the enormity of her actions.

But Kali had knelt beside her then, her presence as steady and reassuring as ever. Even though Hinata couldn't hear her voice, she felt the meaning in her gaze: You did what you had to. You're safe now.

For a fleeting moment, Hinata believed that. She believed that this angelic figure had come to protect her, to save her when no one else could. But as the night faded and her father found her, the memory of Kali slipped away like a dream. The terror and chaos of the aftermath buried her brief encounter with the ethereal figure. All she remembered was the guilt—the knowledge that her actions had set events in motion that would lead to the death of her uncle and change her family forever.

But Kali had never truly left her.

Hinata knew that now, as she stood in the arena, her heart racing and her senses heightened. The ethereal figure she had seen as a child wasn't an angel or a dream. She was a part of Hinata, a guide that had been with her all along. Kali's presence was no longer a fleeting vision but a constant, steady force. As Hinata activated the Nichiren Byakugan, she could see Kali's form clearly, her hands weaving seals, the natural energy around them flowing into Hinata's chakra system like a river into the sea.

She wasn't a protector in the traditional sense, but someone who believed in her strength and stood by her, teaching her to wield it. Hinata felt the weight of that trust now, settling over her like armor. The lotus-shaped marks in her eyes burned with quiet intensity, the full power of the Nichiren Byakugan awakening as the fight against Gaara loomed before her.

She steadied her breath, focusing on the world as she saw it through her more powerful eyes. The natural energy flowed like a living thing, every tenketsu, every pulse of life visible in breathtaking clarity. Kali had taught her to see it, to harness it, and now it was time to prove she could.

This wasn't just a fight. It was a test of everything she had endured and everything she had become.

And for the first time since that fateful night, Hinata didn't feel alone.

The arena held its breath as Hinata and Gaara faced off, separated by only ten meters but worlds apart in presence.

Gaara of the Sand stood motionless, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression impassive yet radiating menace. His crimson hair caught the sunlight, casting sharp shadows across his face. The gourd strapped to his back loomed like a specter, its surface cracked and worn from countless battles, a grim reminder of the power it contained. For the first time, Hinata looked at him with her Nichiren Byakugan fully activated, and what she saw chilled her to the bone.

The sand wasn't just a tool or a weapon—it was alive. She could see it clearly now, its flow and movement interacting with the natural energy around it in ways that defied logic. It wasn't merely controlled by Gaara; it had a will of its own, an almost maternal presence that enveloped him protectively. The bond between Gaara and the sand was symbiotic, pulsating with a strange, powerful connection that reminded Hinata of the unbreakable ties between mother and child.

This was unlike her connection with Kali, yet Hinata felt a pang of recognition. Kali was her guide, a presence within her that nurtured her strength and honed her abilities. But this? This was something darker, something primal. The sand didn't guide Gaara—it consumed him, amplifying his bloodlust and driving him to destruction. She could sense it, the twisted, suffocating energy radiating from his being, a terrible aura that pressed down on the battlefield like a vice.

The crowd, so animated moments ago, had fallen eerily silent. All eyes were fixed on the two combatants, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air. The tension was suffocating, the excitement of the spectators tempered by an undercurrent of fear. Gaara's reputation preceded him, and the image of Lee being carried off the battlefield haunted the minds of those who had seen it. This was the boy who had nearly shattered one of Konoha's brightest stars without so much as breaking a sweat.

For Hinata, that memory loomed large in her mind as well. But she couldn't afford to focus on fear. Too much was riding on this moment. She had made promises—promises to herself, to Naruto, to her family, and to her team. She had come too far to let fear define her now. This wasn't just a test of her strength; it was a test of her resolve.

I will not lose.

The mantra echoed in her mind, steadying her nerves as she focused on her opponent. Gaara's gaze was unflinching, his turquoise eyes devoid of empathy, locked onto her as if she were already dead. The oppressive aura of his killing intent washed over her like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her, but Hinata held her ground. Her hands rose instinctively into the stance of the Gentle Fist, her movements fluid and deliberate.

The sand reacted. It burst forth from Gaara's gourd like a living beast, striking toward her with the speed and precision of a cobra. Its hiss as it sliced through the air was almost deafening, a sharp contrast to Gaara's stillness. He hadn't moved a muscle, his arms still crossed, his cold gaze fixed on her.

But Hinata was ready.

With her Nichiren Byakugan, she could see the sand's intent, the flow of energy that guided it. It wasn't just moving—it was thinking. She read the natural energy swirling around it, the slight shifts that signaled its trajectory. Before it even launched, she already knew where it was going.

In a single, fluid motion, Hinata reached into her pouch and pulled a kunai, her chakra flooding into the blade. The sand struck like lightning, but she was faster. Her kunai met it mid-air, aimed with surgical precision at a specific point only she could see—a tenketsu, a living nexus of energy within the sand itself.

The impact was explosive. The section of sand she struck shattered into pieces, scattering harmlessly to the ground. For a moment, it looked almost mundane—just sand hitting dirt, the fragments settling in soft clumps. But to Hinata's enhanced vision, the damage was catastrophic. The tenketsu she had struck had been severed, the connection between that portion of sand and the gourd irreparably broken. It wasn't just disarmed—it was wounded.

The sand recoiled violently, writhing like a living creature in agony. It flailed and retreated back toward Gaara, almost as if seeking comfort. For the first time, Hinata saw Gaara's eyes widen. His impassive mask cracked, replaced by a look of disbelief and… rage. She had done something no one else had managed before—she had harmed his sand.

The air grew colder, the oppressive aura around Gaara intensifying as his expression darkened. His eyes locked onto her with a murderous fury, and for a brief moment, Hinata felt as though she were standing in the shadow of death itself. But she didn't falter. She couldn't.

Gaara's sand reformed around him, swirling protectively in an agitated frenzy. It was a dangerous game she was playing, baiting him into anger, but she had no choice. Gaara was powerful, terrifyingly so, but his instability was his weakness. If she could provoke him, disrupt his focus, she could force him to make mistakes.

Still, Hinata knew better than to rush in. She remained in her defensive stance, her Byakugan active, reading every pulse of energy, every flicker of movement. This was her fight, her moment to prove that all her training, all her growth, had not been in vain.

Across from her, Gaara's sand began to shift again, faster and more erratic this time, its intent clearer than ever.

It wasn't just coming for her. It was coming to kill her.

Gaara's eyes glinted with cold fury as the sand in his gourd swirled to life again. With a sharp, guttural shout, he commanded, "Suna Shuriken!" A partial wall of sand materialized in front of him, shrinking as pieces of it chipped away, forming a continuous storm of shuriken. They flew at Hinata in rapid bursts, the sound of them slicing through the air sharp and menacing.

There were too many. More than she could strike down individually. Each shuriken moved with the speed and precision of a weapon wielded by an unseen master. It was a relentless, suffocating attack, perfectly designed to counter the ability she had displayed moments earlier. Gaara wasn't just angry—he was methodical, calculating her weakness and exploiting it with terrifying efficiency.

Hinata's breath hitched, but she didn't waver. Her feet shifted slightly, her stance lowering as she called upon one of the techniques she had studied from the scrolls of past reincarnations.

"Shugohakke: Sixty-four Palms!"

Her palms began to move, fluid and deliberate, leaving arcs of shimmering blue chakra in their wake. Faster and faster her arms swung, the arcs of chakra knitting together until they formed a glimmering, protective net in front of her. Each motion carried precision and grace, her Gentle Fist style adapted for defense rather than offense.

The storm of sand shuriken collided with the barrier. One after another, the projectiles battered against the chakra net, sparks flying as they were deflected. Not a single grain of sand breached her defense. Hinata's heart pounded as she maintained the technique, the barrage continuing for what felt like an eternity before finally beginning to slow. The remnants of Gaara's attack clattered harmlessly to the ground, merging back into the dirt.

Gaara didn't flinch, his expression unreadable. But Hinata could feel the weight of his presence bearing down on her. His attacks weren't just physical—they were psychological, each move pressing her closer to the edge of her endurance.

Suddenly, the air behind her shifted. Sand rose silently from the ground, curling into a claw-like tendril aimed directly at her back. The attack was nearly soundless, meant to catch her off guard. But Hinata's Byakugan caught it clearly, the subtle flow of natural energy betraying its approach. She spun, chakra-infused kunai in hand, and slashed through the sand with precision. Her strike pierced its tenketsu point, shattering it into harmless grains that scattered across the arena floor.

But this time, Gaara's strategy shifted. The sand on the ground didn't retreat entirely back to his gourd. Instead, it mixed with the natural earth around them, spreading out to increase his control over the battlefield. Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan caught the shift immediately. This wasn't just an adjustment—it was a transformation. The core sand from Gaara's gourd was now camouflaged among the ordinary dirt, making it impossible for her to distinguish between the two. Worse still, it gave him an effectively limitless supply of ammunition.

Hinata's pulse quickened as the ground itself seemed to shift against her. Tendrils of sand began to rise again, not just one or two this time, but several. And then, those tendrils formed four sand clones in a wide circle around her, each positioned to cover the others' flanks. Attacking one would leave her vulnerable to the rest. Hinata's breath came faster as the circle tightened. Her barrier technique could protect her from one direction, but not four. She could see Gaara's strategy now—he was probing her, learning with every attack.

Meanwhile, Gaara himself remained eerily still, his arms still crossed, his real body unmoving. He hadn't taken a single step since the fight began, controlling everything from his original position. For a mid-range fighter like him, this was ideal. He could attack and defend without exposing himself, while Hinata, a close-range fighter, was forced to react to his every move.

Hinata gritted her teeth, her mind racing. She couldn't afford to stay on the defensive forever. The longer she hesitated, the more control Gaara gained over the battlefield. The sand clones advanced steadily, their movements fluid and precise. Her Byakugan showed her everything—their positions, their intent—but even with her enhanced vision, the sheer number of threats was overwhelming.

The crowd above was silent, their anticipation palpable as they watched the battle unfold. The tension was suffocating, and Hinata felt the pressure building in her chest.

But she couldn't falter now. She had promised Naruto. She had promised her father. She had promised herself.

Hinata's grip tightened on her kunai as she shifted her stance. The clones were closing in, prepared to strike at any moment.

With a deep breath, she centered herself. Hyūga Hinata wasn't going to wait any longer. It was time to take the fight to him.

The arena buzzed with growing excitement as Hinata broke her stillness, darting toward the nearest sand clone. The audience leaned forward as one, captivated by the sudden surge of action. The long, quiet buildup of tension had finally erupted into a flurry of motion.

Hinata kept low to the ground, her kunai held tightly in front of her like a lifeline. The first clone barely had a chance to react as she closed the distance with astonishing speed. With a single, precise strike, she drove her kunai into the tenketsu point anchoring its form. The sand clone shattered instantly, its remains collapsing into lifeless grains at her feet.

But the victory was short-lived.

The remaining three clones sprang into motion simultaneously, their sand-crafted bodies surging toward her from different angles. Their movements were unnervingly fluid, each strike perfectly coordinated as though controlled by a single mind. The tension around Hinata doubled as the clones pressed in, their forms bristling with jagged edges of sand ready to slice her apart.

Hinata spun on her heel, narrowly dodging a whip-like tendril of sand that lashed out from one of the clones. She thrust her hand forward, her fingers grazing the air between herself and her closest opponent. Her chakra surged, latching onto the tenketsu in the very air.

"Hakke: Bansho Ten'in!" Hinata shouted.

The air in front of her ruptured, creating a powerful vacuum. The nearest clone was yanked violently toward her, its form crumbling slightly under the immense pull. It flailed as if caught in a storm, and Hinata dashed forward to meet it halfway. She leapt into its path, catching its disintegrating form and spinning it into a makeshift shield just as the other clones unleashed a hail of sand shuriken.

The shuriken tore into her improvised barrier, chunks of sand exploding away with each impact. Grit stung her cheeks as she held the disintegrating clone between her and the storm, sprinting toward the other two. The shield lasted just long enough for her to close the gap. With a sharp twist, she hurled the remains of the sand clone at its nearest counterpart, using the momentary distraction to attack the remaining one.

She struck with precision, her palm glowing with chakra as she drove it into the clone's core. The clone buckled, its form unraveling in a burst of sand that flew out in every direction. Hinata didn't pause to watch the destruction. She pivoted sharply, her Byakugan tracking the last clone, which staggered under the force of its ally being thrown at it. It raised a jagged arm to defend itself, but Hinata was already there.

Her kunai slashed cleanly through its tenketsu, and the last clone crumbled into a heap of inert sand.

The audience roared, a mixture of awe and exhilaration at Hinata's display of skill and ingenuity. But there was no time to bask in the applause.

The ground beneath her shifted unnaturally, and a cold wave of realization swept over her. The earth at her feet was no longer solid. Sand mixed with dirt, softening it into a treacherous trap. Her legs began to sink, the ground wrapping around her ankles like a living entity. It was quicksand, infused with chakra and alive with Gaara's intent.

Panic threatened to seize her as the sand climbed higher, constricting her movements. Hinata expelled a sharp breath, forcing herself to focus. She could see it—the tendrils of chakra flowing through the sand, the energy that bound it to Gaara's control.

She poured chakra into her feet, channeling it outward in a desperate burst of energy. The sand binding her legs exploded away, scattering in all directions. Hinata used the momentum to leap backward, twisting her body into a clean backflip that brought her just beyond the unstable ground.

She landed in a crouch, her breath coming fast as she assessed the field. The quicksand writhed like a living thing, the entire area now a dangerous morass designed to trap her. The remaining sand around Gaara surged to life, building into walls and spikes, creating a shifting fortress around him. He stood motionless within it, his eyes cold and unwavering as he watched her.

Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan caught the subtle movements of the sand. It wasn't just defending—it was preparing to strike again, even more ferociously than before. She could see tendrils snaking beneath the ground, hidden traps lying in wait to ensnare her the moment she moved.

She swallowed hard, her grip tightening on her kunai. Every step forward felt like a gamble now, the battlefield itself turning against her.

The crowd, now fully invested in the spectacle, erupted with cheers and gasps as the tension reached its peak. This wasn't just a match—it was a battle for survival.

The ground beneath Hinata trembled violently, a deep rumble resonating through the arena as Gaara crouched low, his hands pressing firmly into the dirt. The air grew heavy with the oppressive weight of his chakra, making it harder to breathe. His cold, unblinking eyes fixed on her, and Hinata felt the full force of his killing intent.

"Ryūsa Bakuryū: Sand Tsunami!" Gaara's voice rang out, low and guttural, the words carrying the promise of annihilation.

The earth itself seemed to give way as an unfathomable wave of sand surged upward, towering over the battlefield. The sheer size of it was beyond anything Hinata could have imagined—an enormous, churning tidal wave of golden grains, its crest nearly as high as the arena walls. It cast an ominous shadow that swallowed the light, plunging the entire arena into a suffocating gloom.

The crowd gasped in unison, their earlier excitement replaced with stunned silence. Even the proctor, Genma, seemed frozen in place, his eyes widening as he gripped the senbon in his teeth.

Hinata's heart raced, her breath quick and shallow. This wasn't just an attack—it was an overwhelming force of nature, something no ordinary shinobi could possibly withstand. For a moment, panic clawed at her chest, threatening to consume her. How was she supposed to fight against something like this? The enormity of it was paralyzing.

But it wasn't just the tidal wave that she had to contend with.

The ground beneath her feet shifted again, but this time it wasn't softening—it was rising. Tendrils of sand coiled around her legs, lifting her into the air and throwing her balance off entirely. Her feet slid as the sand beneath her pulsed and writhed, pushing her upward, straight toward the descending wave. She was caught in a perfect pincer attack, trapped between the rising sand and the monstrous tsunami that loomed overhead.

It was a death sentence.

The wave began to descend, crashing toward her with devastating speed. The sound was deafening, a roar like a raging sea in a storm. The weight of it, the sheer density of the sand, promised to crush her into nothing more than a smear on the battlefield. There was no way to block it, no time to counter it with a barrier or defensive technique.

For a split second, Hinata felt truly helpless. The enormity of the attack, the scale of Gaara's power—it was beyond anything she had ever faced. She was no match for this, no match for him. How could she possibly survive?

Her Nichiren Byakugan pierced through the chaos. She could see the flow of the sand, the currents of chakra that bound it together. Even in the face of such a devastating attack, her mind worked furiously, analyzing, searching for an opening. There had to be one.

And then she saw it.

Among the swirling mass of sand, there was a point where the currents converged, a single tenketsu anchoring the wave's destructive energy. It was small—almost imperceptible—but it was there. If she could reach it, if she could strike it with enough precision and force, she might just have a chance.

Her grip tightened on the kunai in her hands. It was an ordinary tool, simple and unassuming, but now it was her one and only hope. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to steady her nerves. The fear, the panic—they were still there, but she pushed them aside.

"I will not lose," Hinata whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the roar of the oncoming wave.

Summoning every ounce of courage she had, she shifted her body weight, using her chakra to anchor herself to the sand beneath her. With a sharp movement, she wrenched herself free, flipping backward in midair to gain momentum. The wave was almost upon her, its shadow engulfing her entirely.

Her Nichiren Byakugan locked onto the tenketsu point.

This was her moment.

With a fierce determination burning in her chest, Hinata launched herself forward, her kunai raised. Time seemed to slow as she hurtled toward the oncoming wave, her body a blur of motion. She could feel the crushing pressure of the sand closing in around her, but she didn't falter. Her focus was absolute.

Just one strike. That was all she needed.

The crowd held its breath, the arena silent save for the deafening roar of the wave. This was it—the moment that would decide everything.

The arena was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions as the tidal wave of sand descended, blotting out the sun and casting a shadow over the battlefield. From the stands, it was an impossible sight—a monstrous force that defied the capabilities of a single shinobi. The sheer scale of Gaara's Ryūsa Bakuryū made it appear as though nature itself had turned against Hinata, and for many in the crowd, her fate was already sealed.

Gasps of horror rippled through the spectators.

"She's done for," someone muttered, breaking the heavy silence.

A child clutched their parent's sleeve, hiding their face in terror. "She can't survive that, can she?"

Even the shinobi in the stands—seasoned warriors—shook their heads, some averting their gazes altogether. To witness such destruction was overwhelming, even for those used to the cruelties of battle.

And yet, there were others whose reactions stood in stark contrast.

Naruto gripped the railing of the spectator box so tightly his knuckles turned white. His wide blue eyes were locked on the battlefield below, his lips pressed into a determined line. He should have been yelling, but for once, his voice was quiet.

"Come on, Hinata," he whispered, barely audible even to himself. His breath came short, his heart pounding in his chest. The memory of her determined eyes—how she had looked at him and promised to win—kept flashing in his mind.

For Hinata, Naruto's belief wasn't just passive. It was fervent, unwavering, born out of the same conviction that had carried him through every trial.

"She's stronger than anyone thinks," he murmured, almost pleading with the universe to prove him right. His confidence was infectious, even pulling Shino out of his characteristic stoicism.

Shino's face was unreadable behind his signature sunglasses, but the way his hand gently gripped Naruto's shoulder spoke volumes. It was a rare, grounding gesture from someone so reserved. The subtle squeeze conveyed a message that words could not: He believed in her too.

As Naruto glanced at him, Shino's gaze stayed fixed on the battlefield. "She knows what she's doing," Shino said quietly. There was no uncertainty in his voice, and it steadied Naruto just enough to stop him from vaulting over the railing.

Back in the crowd, Kiba's voice tore through the tension like a battle cry.

"Go, Hinata!" he shouted, standing from his seat and cupping his hands around his mouth. Beside him, Akamaru barked wildly, his tail wagging with unshakable enthusiasm. To anyone else, it was as though they didn't understand the hopelessness of the situation. To Kiba, it didn't matter. He wasn't about to give up on her.

"You've got this, Hinata! Show them what you're made of!" he yelled again, ignoring the disapproving murmurs of those around him.

Kurenai, sitting beside him, had initially faltered when the sand wave began to rise. The raw power Gaara wielded was beyond anything she could have prepared Hinata for. She'd been afraid—ashamedly so. But hearing Kiba's unflinching support rekindled something within her.

"That's right," she muttered, her voice gaining strength. "You've worked too hard to fall now, Hinata." Kurenai leaned forward, her gaze sharpening. "We're all here for you."

In the Hyūga section, Hiashi watched with an intensity that belied his composed exterior. Beside him, Hanabi clutched her small hands together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of her sister's impending doom.

"Nee-sama…" she whispered shakily.

"Do not avert your eyes," Hiashi said, his voice stern but not unkind. His gaze remained fixed on Hinata, unwavering despite the danger she faced. "Your sister has endured more than you know to stand here today. Watch her now and understand what it means to be truly strong."

Hanabi's eyes fluttered open, her lips trembling as she forced herself to look. It wasn't easy, but her father's words grounded her.

Hiashi, for the first time in years, felt pride swell in his chest. "She will not lose," he said quietly, more to himself than to Hanabi.

Several rows below, Neji was caught in his own storm of emotions. His hands gripped his knees tightly, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of his conflicted thoughts. He had never allowed himself to believe in change. Change, after all, had been denied to him. But Hinata—she had forced him to question everything.

If she failed now, it would only confirm what he had always told himself: that destiny was absolute, and effort was futile. Yet the thought of her falling here, of him being the cause of her stepping into this match, made his stomach churn.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. He didn't even know what he was rooting for anymore.

High above the arena, the two leaders observed the fight from their elevated vantage point.

"This match is already decided," the Kazekage declared smugly, the shadows of his cowl hiding the sinister curve of his lips. "My son's strength is unmatched. The girl is talented, but it's a fool's errand to believe she could stand against him."

The Hokage, seated beside him, leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands. His aged eyes were fixed on Hinata. He had watched her closely throughout these exams, had seen her falter and rise, struggle and persevere.

"Perhaps," the Hokage said softly, his tone calm yet resolute. "But the true strength of a shinobi is not always in their jutsu. Let us see how she handles this." His lips quirked into a faint smile. "Young Hinata may yet prove to be full of surprises."

Back down in the arena, Gaara's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, his body trembling from exertion. The weight of his own chakra expenditure bore down on him, forcing him to lean heavily on his hands as he remained crouched. His legs felt unsteady, like brittle twigs threatening to snap under even the slightest shift of his weight. Every inhale scraped through his throat, dry and raw, and the pounding in his head matched the rhythm of his faltering heartbeat.

The tidal wave of sand had drained him more than he had anticipated. It wasn't just the sheer scale of the attack—it was the precision and focus required to mold and control the colossal force of sand, bending it to his will and ensuring it carried out its purpose with no room for error. His vision swam, dark spots creeping at the edges of his sight. He hadn't just spent his chakra recklessly; he'd poured nearly everything he had into that one moment, knowing it would end the battle decisively.

And it had.

As the swirling sand began to settle, a grim satisfaction tugged at the corners of his lips. He had done it. He had killed her. This girl—this infuriating, relentless girl—had pushed him harder than he expected. Her ability to remain calm under his onslaught, to dismantle his clones and even strike at the living core of his sand, had been more than an annoyance. It had been unsettling. No one had ever managed to make him feel vulnerable. Not like this.

But in the end, even she had succumbed. The monster within him had triumphed, as it always did.

Gaara tried to straighten himself, but his knees buckled slightly. He gritted his teeth, leaning further onto his hands to steady himself. His sand armor, usually a second skin, felt unbearably heavy now, each grain dragging on his muscles like lead weights. It was all he could do to maintain it. Without the armor, he'd be as fragile as anyone else—a thought that sent a sharp pang of resentment coursing through him.

This was the price of his existence, he thought bitterly. His existence, his identity, was tied to the fear and death he inspired in others. If his sand couldn't protect him, if his chakra couldn't crush his enemies, what was he?

But it had been worth it. The girl had proven herself a worthy kill, her resistance validating his strength and solidifying his place as the apex predator in this tournament. His lips twisted into a weak but triumphant sneer. He didn't need the roaring approval of the crowd or the recognition of his so-called allies. His existence was affirmed every time he erased someone else's.

And he had erased her. He had won.

His head throbbed again, and his vision blurred as he fought to stay upright. The sand around him whispered, shifting and coiling like a serpent ready to strike again if needed, but Gaara knew it was a hollow threat. He didn't have enough chakra left for another attack of that scale. His hands trembled slightly, though he clenched them into fists to hide it.

But none of that mattered now. The fight was over.

She was gone, he reassured himself, the thought a cold comfort as his body screamed for rest. She couldn't have survived that.

And yet, despite his assurance, a sliver of doubt wormed its way into his mind. He forced himself to look up, to see the remains of his attack, to confirm for himself that there was nothing left of her but sand and silence.

Then an explosion tore through the arena, a thunderous roar that reverberated off the high walls and sent shockwaves rippling through the air. For a moment, the crowd erupted into chaos—screams and gasps mingling with the crackling of ignited sand. A plume of smoke spiraled into the sky, dense and towering, obscuring the battlefield entirely. The audience leaned forward in their seats, their collective breath held as they tried to make sense of what had just occurred.

Gaara staggered, his knees threatening to buckle entirely. His gourd vibrated with the remnants of his chakra, grains of sand swirling defensively around him. The explosion wasn't his doing—he knew that. This was something else entirely. His chest tightened, a mixture of exhaustion and something alien creeping into his core: unease. He had used sand his whole life, knew its every property and behavior. That blast could only mean one thing: the dense particles of his own sand had been ignited, causing a dust explosion.

But how?

How could anyone have survived the crushing force of his Ryusa Bakuryu, let alone used it against him?

And then, through the smoke, a figure began to emerge. The arena fell silent as the haze dissipated, revealing the impossible.

Hyūga Hinata.

She was alive.

Not just alive—unbroken.

She stood atop the shifting dunes of his own sand, her posture upright and unyielding, her every step purposeful and deliberate. Her once pristine beige jacket was gone, discarded and smoldering on the battlefield, leaving her in her fitted black undershirt. The burns and scratches on her arms and face seemed almost insignificant, already fading as if the very natural energy she wielded was healing her. A single kunai glinted in her hand, the blade seemingly untouched by the chaos she had just walked through.

The crowd collectively froze, their disbelief palpable.

"That's… impossible," someone whispered from the stands.

"How did she—?"

"Who is she?" another voice muttered, awestruck.

Even those who had been jeering for her defeat earlier now found themselves transfixed, their cheers for Gaara faltering as the image before them unfolded. The sunlight broke through the thinning smoke, rays streaming down and casting Hinata in an ethereal glow. Her Nichiren Byakugan shimmered faintly, the lotus-like markings in her eyes glowing with a soft, otherworldly light.

To many, it was as though they were no longer watching a mere Genin.

"She looks like… like some kind of angel," murmured a young girl in the crowd, clutching the edge of her seat.

Even the Kazekage leaned forward slightly, his hidden face betraying a flicker of interest. "Hokage-dono," he murmured, his voice laced with veiled curiosity. "This girl of yours… she's far more capable than her profile suggested."

"…She's worked hard," the Hokage replied, his tone neutral but tinged with pride. "She's not the same girl who entered the exams a month ago."

Gaara's breath hitched as he stared up at her, his hands trembling as they pressed against the sand. The girl he had seen trembling in the hospital, the one whose fear had been so palpable it was almost tangible, was gone. What stood before him now was someone unrecognizable—calm, commanding, and utterly resolute.

She had changed, he thought, his hands clenching into fists. For the first time in the match, Gaara wasn't just angry or frustrated. He was… rattled. She didn't look at him as an opponent anymore. Her eyes, those glowing lotus-like eyes, looked down on him as if he were the one on trial, as if she were something greater than him. Something untouchable.

From the competitor's box, Naruto's wide grin broke the stunned silence. "That's Hinata!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the awestruck murmurs. "I told you all she wouldn't lose!"

"Unreal…" Kiba muttered, though his voice carried a mixture of pride and disbelief. Akamaru barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging furiously.

Hiashi's eyes narrowed, his stern expression betraying a glimmer of surprise—and something else. Pride.

Hanabi clutched the railing tightly, her mouth slightly open in awe. "Nee-sama…"

Hinata stopped walking, standing at the peak of the dune, her kunai still in hand. The crowd roared to life, their shock giving way to exhilaration. Cheers and shouts filled the air, a mix of voices crying out in disbelief and admiration. For the first time, the momentum of the fight had shifted—not because of a technique or an attack, but because of her presence.

Hyūga Hinata had defied the impossible. And now, standing tall and unshaken, she commanded the attention of everyone in the arena.

Gaara's breathing grew ragged as his chakra reserves plummeted. The tidal wave of sand had drained nearly all he had left, but the anger, confusion, and growing panic inside him drove him forward. His body ached, his vision swam, and the throbbing presence of Shukaku clawed at the edges of his consciousness, demanding release. He could no longer suppress it. He didn't want to.

"What the hell are you!?" he screamed, the words raw and animalistic, echoing across the arena. His sand, as if sharing his frustration and fear, coiled around him protectively, enveloping his body in a tight cocoon. It spiraled upward, layer after layer compacting into an impenetrable shell, leaving only a narrow slit for his eye to glare out at the world. From within, the air grew thick and heavy, and the darkness pressed down like a suffocating blanket.

Gaara bent his knees and pressed his palms to the sand inside the cocoon, closing his eyes. His breath slowed, his mind slipping deeper into the void. This was the process he knew all too well, the descent into madness where he relinquished control and allowed Shukaku to take over. The sand was his domain, and now it was alive with his rage. The battlefield itself was his to command, and there was no way she could reach him here.

A grin spread across his face as he whispered into the suffocating darkness. "Come, Shukaku. Finish this for me."

But the transformation was slow. His chakra reserves were too depleted, and though Shukaku clawed hungrily at the edges of his mind, Gaara felt the process stutter, faltering against his will. His frustration deepened, and for the first time in his life, a sliver of doubt crept in.

From her vantage point, Hinata could see the monstrous cocoon forming around Gaara, layers of sand spiraling inward with an eerie precision. The structure pulsed with latent power, almost as though it were alive, and the vibrations it emitted resonated through the entire arena. Each thrum of energy sent ripples through the sand beneath her feet, and she could feel it shifting and writhing, ready to swallow her whole.

For a long moment, she stayed perfectly still, her breathing shallow as she assessed the situation. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to move, but she didn't. Not yet. Her Nichiren Byakugan flared, tracking the flow of chakra weaving through the sand and the energy pulsing within the cocoon. She needed to understand what was coming before she acted.

Then it happened.

The sand beneath her surged upward like a living creature, jagged spires shooting toward her with deadly intent. The ground itself rippled as if it were water, disrupting her footing. Instinct screamed at her to retreat, but Hinata fought the urge. Instead, she waited, crouched low, watching, reading the flow of natural energy. The spires struck where she stood—only for her to spring to the side at the last possible second, the attack missing her by mere inches.

As she landed, the sand rolled like waves, threatening to pull her under. She leapt again, narrowly avoiding another spike, the edges brushing the fabric of her leggings. Her feet touched down only for the sand to shudder violently beneath her, forcing her to flip backward into the air once more. Every movement was a precise dance, calculated and deliberate, and yet it felt endless. The moment she escaped one attack, another rose to take its place.

Above, the crowd murmured, caught between awe and disbelief. To them, it looked as though Hinata was gliding effortlessly over the sand, her body moving like a phantom untouched by the chaos. But to Hinata, every movement was a grueling test of timing, precision, and resolve. She could feel the tension in her muscles, the strain of maintaining her focus as the sand lashed out at her from every direction.

Another spike of sand rose behind her, and her Byakugan caught it just in time. She ducked low, spinning on her heel to narrowly avoid the strike, her kunai slicing through the tendril as it came down. A ripple in the natural energy warned her of a second attack, and she twisted mid-spin, the blade of her kunai flashing as it severed another tendril from the earth. Each strike was a gamble; she couldn't afford even a single misstep.

As the assault grew more aggressive, the sand began to rise in thick walls ahead of her, corralling her into a corner. She turned sharply, aiming for an opening to her left, but the sand closed in, forcing her to double back. The ground beneath her quaked, and she felt it start to crumble. She sprang into the air, narrowly avoiding a collapse, her body twisting to evade another flurry of sand shuriken that whistled past her like deadly projectiles.

Landing was a challenge in itself. Each time she touched the ground, she felt the pull of the sand trying to trap her, the earth softening beneath her soles. She pushed chakra into her feet with every step, releasing controlled bursts of energy to keep herself balanced as she ran. Her eyes darted across the battlefield, tracking the ever-shifting flow of Gaara's attacks, her mind racing to keep up with the unrelenting assault.

The cocoon in the distance loomed larger with every passing moment, its power radiating like a dark sun. The sand was no longer just a weapon—it was an extension of Gaara's will, his unyielding determination to obliterate her. But Hinata's determination burned just as fiercely. She couldn't afford to falter now, not with so much at stake.

Finally, she saw her chance. Her Nichiren Byakugan caught a flicker of weakness in the sand's pattern, a momentary delay as one tendril recoiled to reform another. It was the smallest of openings, but it was enough. Hinata's eyes narrowed, her grip on her kunai tightening as she pushed off the ground with all her strength.

Her body moved faster than the sand could react, leaping over a final spike and landing atop one of the larger sand waves. The crowd gasped as she balanced effortlessly on the unstable surface, chakra anchoring her to the mound. The cocoon was directly ahead now, the final obstacle between her and Gaara.

Hinata began to move again, faster and more determined than before. Her footfalls barely touched the sand, her chakra flowing steadily to keep her aloft. Walls of sand erupted around her, but she weaved through them, her movements sharper and more fluid with each step. The sand lashed out at her relentlessly, but she cut through it, her strikes precise and devastating. The kunai glinted in her hand, a single weapon against a monstrous force, yet it was enough.

Each swing, each strike brought her closer to the cocoon, closer to her opponent. She could feel the pulsing chakra inside, the growing presence of something monstrous trying to break free. But Hinata didn't falter. She couldn't. Her goal was clear, and nothing would stop her now.

Gaara's grin widened inside his shell, the madness of Shukaku's presence seeping into his thoughts. He could feel the demon's claws tearing at his consciousness, the transformation nearing completion. He just needed a few more moments. Just a little longer, and she wouldn't even be a memory.

With a final leap, Hinata reached the base of the cocoon. Her kunai struck forward, the blade glowing faintly with chakra as she targeted the weakest point of the structure. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the sand, cracks spidering across the surface. The cocoon shuddered violently, and for the first time, Gaara's impenetrable defense began to crumble.

A blinding flash erupted through the cocoon.

The light was so intense, it pierced through the narrow slit in his shell, forcing his eye shut. A sound followed—an ear-splitting crack—and he felt the cocoon vibrate violently around him. His mind screamed as the light filled his thoughts, and before he could comprehend what was happening, the entire shell exploded outward, the compacted layers of sand scattering like dust.

He staggered backward, his legs weak, his breath hitching in his chest. And then he saw her.

Hyūga Hinata stood where his shield had once been, her figure illuminated by the golden rays of the sun streaming through the dissipating dust. Her Nichiren Byakugan glowed faintly, the lotus imprint in her eyes burning with resolve. Her black undershirt clung to her, dirt and sweat marking her skin, but her posture was unyielding, her grip on the kunai firm. She looked like a celestial warrior, unbent and untouched by the chaos surrounding her.

For the first time in his life, Gaara felt something he couldn't explain.

Fear.

"What… what are you?" he rasped, his voice trembling.

Hinata didn't answer. She moved.

Her steps were silent, fluid, as she closed the distance between them in an instant. Gaara tried to summon his sand, but it was sluggish, weak, drained of power. His armor flaked away as her palm struck true, glowing faintly with chakra as it pierced through the remnants of his defense.

"Jyūken!" Hinata's voice rang clear, her open palm slamming into his chest with terrifying precision.

The impact sent him flying backward, tumbling over the remnants of his own sand. Pain exploded through his body—sharp, piercing, like a thousand needles stabbing into his very core. He couldn't even scream; his mouth opened, but only a wet gurgle emerged. He felt his body convulse, blood rising in his throat as he coughed violently, the metallic taste choking him.

The pain was unbearable. It wasn't just physical—it felt as though her strike had reached into the very core of his being, disrupting something deep within. The connection to Shukaku severed, leaving only emptiness and agony in its place.

His vision blurred as he writhed on the ground, his limbs spasming. The world spun around him, the sounds of the arena fading into a dull roar. Through the haze, he saw her—standing over him, resolute and unshaken.

For the first time in his life, Gaara had been defeated. And it was by her.

As the darkness closed in, the last thing he saw was her glowing eyes, the white lotus blooming inside steady and unwavering.

Hinata stood over Gaara, her body trembling from exertion, the faint sting of her burns and the lingering ache of her muscles a testament to how far she had pushed herself. To the crowd, and perhaps even to Gaara, her performance had looked effortless—like she was mocking him with her grace and precision. But Hinata knew better.

Every step, every strike had been a desperate gamble, teetering on the edge of disaster. She had barely reached the natural tenketsu of the sand tsunami in time. And even then, her strike had been imperfect, resulting in the explosion that had engulfed her. The searing heat had burned through her jacket, leaving her vulnerable and exposed, but the faint layer of sage chakra coursing through her had shielded her from worse. The burns that still marred her skin throbbed with every pulse of her heartbeat, even as they slowly healed, demanding her attention. Yet she couldn't afford to falter.

Charging through Gaara's maze of sand walls and shuriken had been no less grueling. Each movement required a razor-sharp focus, her Nichiren Byakugan and her newfound connection to natural energy guiding her. She had cut through his defenses, yes—but not without cost. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until the battle reached its climax. Now, her lungs burned as she gasped for air, her posture slackening as she leaned over, her hands braced on her knees. Sweat poured from her brow, blurring her vision as it dripped into her eyes, the salty sting a minor irritation compared to the rest of her body's protests.

And yet, despite her exhaustion, she knew she was still better off than Gaara.

She hadn't expected him to collapse so completely after a single strike. But as she watched him now, writhing on the ground, she began to understand. This was someone who had lived his entire life untouched, shielded from harm by the constant vigilance of his sand. Pain was alien to him, a concept he had only inflicted upon others, never endured himself. What he must be feeling now—his first true taste of agony—was unimaginable. It wasn't just his body that was breaking under the weight of her gentle fist; it was his entire world.

Her Nichiren Byakugan showed her the disarray within his chakra network, the damage she had inflicted rippling through his system. The sand, usually so lively and protective, lay inert around him. He was vulnerable in a way she doubted he had ever been before. His body convulsed with a violent cough, blood splattering across his face and neck as he struggled to breathe. Some of it caught in his throat, and he began to choke, his hands clawing weakly at the ground as if grasping for relief.

Hinata's heart ached at the sight. The fierce, murderous figure who had loomed over her like an unstoppable force was now reduced to this—a boy, wracked with pain and helpless in the dirt. She could see the fear in his trembling movements, the confusion in his wide, unfocused eyes. He wasn't just suffering from physical pain; he was unraveling. And Hinata, despite everything, couldn't bring herself to hate him.

She knelt down beside him, her movements slow and deliberate. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light enough to avoid aggravating his pain but firm enough to guide him. She rolled him onto his side, angling his body so he wouldn't choke on the blood pooling in his throat.

"Breathe," she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over his rasping coughs. For a moment, she wondered if he even realized she was there. But then, his body spasmed with a final, desperate heave, and he expelled the blood clogging his airway in a messy spray. His breathing stabilized, though it remained shallow and uneven.

Hinata rose slowly, her legs shaking as she straightened. Her gaze lingered on Gaara's crumpled form, her heart heavy with compassion. She couldn't imagine the life he must have led, so isolated and consumed by pain that he saw the act of killing as a means of proving his existence. To her, he was no longer the monster she had feared—just a boy, broken and lost.

Gaara's hands twitched weakly, his fingers digging into the sand as if seeking solace in the only thing he had ever trusted. Hinata knew he wasn't going to rise again, not for this fight. Still, the sight of him struggling stirred something deep within her.

"You're not alone," she whispered, though she doubted he could hear her. She didn't say it out of pity, but as a quiet promise—a seed of hope, however small, that someone could reach him someday.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Genma approached cautiously, his footsteps crunching softly against the shifting sand. His ever-present senbon glinted under the harsh sunlight, but his usual calm demeanor was replaced by a wary tension. The crowd, once roaring with excitement, had fallen into an uneasy hush. The weight of silence pressed down on the arena, broken only by the faint rustle of wind and the shifting sands beneath her feet.

Hinata could feel their eyes on her. Disbelief rippled through the crowd like a shockwave, their collective breath held as they tried to process what had just happened. For a fleeting moment, the arena seemed frozen in time, as if the sheer improbability of her victory had rendered everyone incapable of reacting.

And then, slowly, it began.

A single voice shouted her name, tentative but firm, cutting through the stillness like a spark in the darkness. Others followed, hesitant at first, then building with confidence and energy. The sound grew, rising like a tide, until it became a deafening wave of cheers. The crowd erupted, their voices filling the arena with chants of her name, their disbelief transforming into awe and celebration.

"Hinata! Hinata! Hinata!"

The sound washed over her, almost overwhelming. Faces she didn't know—faces that had once doubted her, pitied her, or ignored her—now lit up with admiration and respect. The ground seemed to tremble beneath the weight of their cheers, their collective energy surging through the air.

But as her heart swelled with the unfamiliar feeling of acceptance, a sharp cry cut through the jubilant noise like a blade.

"Hinata!" Naruto's voice was different from the rest, sharp with urgency. His tone wasn't filled with the pride or excitement she had expected; it was laced with fear.

She turned to him instinctively, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. A tired but triumphant smile still touched her lips, a silent acknowledgment of her victory. She had done it. She had survived Gaara, overcome every impossible challenge he had thrown her way, and upheld her promise. This was her moment, and she would meet Naruto in the next round.

But something was wrong.

Naruto's eyes, usually brimming with confidence, were wide with panic. His hands gripped the railing in front of him so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He leaned forward as if he could somehow physically reach her with his warning.

"Hinata, look out!" he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

The warning came too late.

Hinata barely had time to register the alarm in his voice before a force like a battering ram slammed into her side. Pain erupted across her ribs as the air was violently knocked from her lungs. The world spun in a chaotic blur as her body was flung through the air like a rag doll, twisting uncontrollably. For a brief, suspended moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen, the roaring of the crowd dimming into a distant hum.

Hinata's body arched mid-air as a searing pain radiated from her side, the strike having come out of nowhere. She had let her guard down, distracted by the cheers from the stand. The blow was so forceful it felt as though a sledgehammer had slammed into her ribs, stealing all the air from her lungs.

She hit the sand hard, the impact jarring her bones. Though the soft ground cushioned her fall somewhat, the shock still coursed through her body, leaving her dazed and gasping for breath. Even so, the pain was overwhelming. Hinata coughed violently, trying to draw in breath as fire licked through her chest with every attempt. She pressed a trembling hand to her side and winced; even the faintest touch sent agony spiking through her. Broken ribs—at least one, maybe two.

Her thoughts raced. What had just happened? She had been sure Gaara was finished—convulsing, coughing up blood, too weakened to move. She had seen him, his defenses shattered. There had been no sign of a counterattack, no indication he was still a threat.

But she had underestimated him.

With trembling hands, she forced herself to turn back toward where he had been lying. Her enhanced vision came into focus just in time to see the truth. Gaara had not simply recovered—he had transformed—or, more accurately, begun to fuse with the monstrous sand within his gourd. His entire form was grotesquely altered, a nightmarish hybrid of human and beast. The left side of his body was almost unrecognizable, consumed by the sand's monstrous energy. A massive arm, thick as a tree trunk and veined with deep cracks, jutted from his shoulder. The tanuki-like appendage twitched with a terrifying mix of unnatural strength and predatory intent. His legs no longer supported him; instead, that monstrous arm acted as his anchor, digging into the sand and lifting his entire body like a marionette.

Gaara's face was a chilling split between man and demon. Half of it retained his human features, though it sagged lifelessly, his eye glazed over as if he were barely conscious. The other half, however, was utterly inhuman—a demented, tanuki-like visage. Its dull yellow eye gleamed with primal malice, and its mouth twisted into a wide, unhinged grin, blood from the earlier fight dribbling grotesquely down its chin. The grin never faltered, as though the beast was mocking her, savoring her pain and fear.

From behind Gaara trailed a massive, undulating tail of sand, formed from the remains of his gourd and extending like a serpentine appendage. It swayed menacingly, the tip still coated in fragments of crushed stone and dirt—proof of the devastating strike that had sent her flying. The tail cracked like a whip, raising small clouds of dust with every twitch. The sand around him rippled, alive with a new, chaotic energy that mirrored the unstable fusion of Gaara and the creature within.

Hinata's stomach churned as her Nichiren Byakugan revealed the horrifying truth: this form was not fully Gaara, nor fully the beast imprisoned within him. The strike she had landed earlier had disrupted the possession process, leaving Gaara's form in this grotesque, feral in-between state. The chakra of the sand demon, Shukaku, raged through his body like a wildfire, barely restrained. His movements were jerky and erratic, as if his body was being puppeteered by some savage subconscious. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat, raw and animalistic, vibrating through the arena like a predator's warning.

Hinata pushed herself up on shaky arms, her breathing ragged. Each movement sent new waves of pain radiating from her ribs, and her legs trembled beneath her. She could feel her body screaming at her to stop, to stay down. But she couldn't. Not now. Not with this terrifying, half-formed monster looming over her. She had to stand, no matter the cost.

Her mind raced as she tried to calculate her next move. The sheer size and raw power of Gaara's new form were staggering. Every shift of his massive arm sent tremors through the ground, and the tail swirled behind him, ready to lash out at any moment. She knew she couldn't take another hit like the last one. Even with her Byakugan, the unpredictable nature of this beast's movements made it nearly impossible to anticipate its attacks.

Yet as terrifying as he looked, Hinata could see something else beneath the monstrous façade: instability. The fusion was incomplete, its balance precarious. Gaara's human chakra flickered erratically, unable to fully harmonize with the beast's overwhelming energy. If she could find a way to exploit that imbalance, she might stand a chance.

Gaara—or what was left of him—snarled, the sound more beast than human. His monstrous eye fixed on her, radiating a hatred and bloodlust so potent it was almost tangible. His clawed hand dug into the sand, preparing to lunge. Hinata's pulse quickened, her own fear clawing at her resolve.

But then she heard it—Naruto's voice, faint through the pounding of her heart.

"You can do it, Hinata!" His words pierced through the chaos, grounding her.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself upright. Her body screamed in protest, but her eyes burned with determination. This was not the time to falter. Not when so many believed in her. Not when she had come this far.

Her hand tightened around the hilt of her kunai as she raised it once more. The pain was still there, but so was her resolve. This wasn't just her fight anymore—it was everyone's hope, her promise to prove that even the weakest could stand strong.

There was a deafening roar, more like a guttural bark, and the half-transformed beast hurled itself toward Hinata with terrifying speed. Her eyes widened in shock, her muscles tensing instinctively. She leapt into the air just as the enormous tanuki arm slammed into the ground where she had been standing not even a second before. The force of the impact cracked the earth, sending a ripple through the sand like a shockwave.

It was too fast! she thought, panic flooding her chest. The sheer speed of the creature defied its size and ungainly form. Even with only one arm and a monstrous tail propelling it, the thing moved with an unnatural agility, bounding like a predator closing in on its prey. The tells of its movements were obvious—its erratic, chaotic energy practically screamed its intent. But that chaos was the problem. The natural energy around it was a storm of fear and malice, making it almost impossible to track and predict its next move.

Hinata flipped midair, landing in a crouch several meters away, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She was barely on her feet when the beast bounded toward her again, its single massive arm sweeping across the arena in a wide arc. She pushed herself to dodge, skipping to the side just in time to avoid being crushed. But the attack's sheer momentum created a powerful torrent of wind, buffeting her body like a rag doll and sending her sprawling to the ground.

She gritted her teeth, her body skidding painfully across the rough sand. Her ribs throbbed from the earlier blow, and her arms ached from the effort of breaking her fall. It was relentless, she thought, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. She scrambled to her feet, glancing up just in time to see the creature turning itself around with a clumsy but forceful spin. Its dull, lifeless yellow eye locked onto her, filled with primal rage and hunger.

"Y-You…" the half-beast growled, its voice a garbled mix of Gaara's human tones and something feral and otherworldly. "Die! Die!" The words were guttural and broken, almost incoherent, but the intent was unmistakable. The monstrous arm and tail slammed the ground in fury, sending tremors through the earth. The sheer power of its movements made the arena feel small and fragile, as though the creature's rage alone might tear it apart.

Hinata's pulse quickened. She couldn't afford to take a single blow from this thing—its strength was overwhelming. Even the air pressure from its attacks had nearly incapacitated her. She couldn't keep this up. If it landed a single hit… The thought was chilling. Her breathing hitched as she realized that simply dodging wasn't enough. The creature would wear her down eventually.

She clenched her fists, steadying herself. There was no choice.

This wasn't a fight she could win through ordinary means. Her opponent was no longer human; it wasn't bound by the limits of flesh and bone. If she wanted to survive, she would have to push herself beyond her own limits. Her gaze fell to her left hand, trembling slightly as she brought it to her temple. She pressed her fingers against a specific tenketsu point, one she had studied exhaustively in secret but had never dared to use in battle before.

"Die!" the half-beast roared again, bounding toward her with terrifying force. Its massive tail swung overhead, threatening to crush her like an insect. She felt the ground tremble beneath her feet as it closed the distance in a heartbeat.

Hinata took a deep breath, her lips parting in a quiet prayer to herself. She could do this.

"First Gate: Gate of Opening—Release!" she cried, her voice steady and resolute.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Then, like a dam breaking, chakra exploded from her body in a radiant wave, far greater than anything she had ever wielded before. The air around her shifted violently, her aura flaring with a raw, unrestrained energy that made her feel weightless and impossibly strong.

The First Gate—the Gate of Opening—unlocked the natural limits of her body, pushing her speed, reflexes, and strength to superhuman levels. Her muscles burned, the strain of the gate's activation tearing through her with every heartbeat. Yet the pain was secondary to the clarity it brought. Her movements became sharper, her reactions quicker. For a brief moment, it felt as though her body and mind were in perfect harmony, her limits no longer a cage.

The creature's massive tail came crashing down, but Hinata was already gone. Her body blurred, disappearing from its trajectory entirely. The sand exploded where she had just stood, the force of the impact throwing debris into the air. The half-beast froze, momentarily stunned, its lifeless yellow eye darting around in confusion.

Hinata reappeared several meters away, crouched low to the ground. She exhaled, her breath steady despite the rapid pounding of her heart. She couldn't stop now, she told herself. She had to keep moving.

The creature growled, spinning its massive frame around to face her once more. But it was already too late. With the gate open, Hinata's movements were no longer something it could keep up with. She dashed forward again, her speed a blur, weaving through the chaos of the battlefield like a streak of light.

Hinata remembered her conversation with Kali vividly, the weight of the revelation pressing against her even now.

"Listen up, Hinata," Kali had said, her tone uncharacteristically serious as she floated cross-legged above the eight-trigrams design. The darkness of the realm was as oppressive as ever, but the glowing etchings of the trigrams beneath them illuminated Kali's sharp, determined gaze. "It's time you learn about my strongest technique—the true legacy behind one of Konoha's secret Kinjutsu."

"Kinjutsu?" Hinata had echoed, unease already creeping into her voice. Kinjutsu were forbidden for a reason. Dangerous to both enemy and wielder, they were techniques that demanded a heavy price. "Is it really necessary to learn something like that?"

Kali leaned forward slightly, her expression unyielding. "Your Byakugan allows you to see Tenketsu, and the Nichiren Byakugan lets you see Natural Tenketsu. But have you ever asked yourself: what are the most critical Tenketsu points a person can access?"

Hinata's breath caught. She knew exactly what Kali was referring to. "You mean the Hachimon?" she ventured, thinking of the Eight Inner Gates. The memory of Lee's fight against Gaara in the preliminary matches flashed in her mind—the devastating power of the gates, the unimaginable strain they placed on his body. "But… they're dangerous. Aren't they forbidden for a reason? The damage to Lee-san's body… it wasn't just Gaara's attacks. It was the gates themselves."

Kali clicked her tongue in disapproval, the sound echoing sharply in the void. "That boy and whoever taught him to use the gates are working with incomplete knowledge," she said, her tone tinged with irritation. "The gates weren't meant to be used with just your chakra. No wonder he sustained those injuries. What they're doing is reckless and shortsighted."

Hinata's brows furrowed, her mind racing to keep up. She felt a shiver run through her as Kali's implication became clear. "You… you don't mean…" She hesitated, her voice trembling. "Are you saying the gates can be used with Natural Energy?"

Kali smirked, the glow of the trigrams flickering slightly as if responding to her confidence. "Exactly. The Hachimon were designed to be used in tandem with Natural Energy. When the gates open, your chakra network is pushed to its limits, exponentially increasing your reserves. This also means the amount of Natural Energy you can absorb increases proportionately. The more Natural Energy you take in, the faster your body heals."

Hinata's eyes widened as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. "So… theoretically, the damage from opening the gates could be mitigated… even reversed… by Sage Mode?"

"Now you're catching on." Kali's smile turned into a proud grin, her voice carrying an almost maternal pride. "And that's not all. The techniques that boy tried to use—the Primary Lotus, the Reverse Lotus—they're nothing but cheap imitations of the real thing. The original technique is my own creation, the culmination of my entire life's work."

"The Primary Lotus and Reverse Lotus are incomplete?" Hinata repeated, almost unable to believe it. The sheer destructive power of those techniques had already been seared into her mind. To think they were but shadows of something greater was staggering.

"Correct," Kali confirmed with a note of disdain. "Those techniques lack the grace, the precision, and the true power of what I cultivated. The technique I'm about to teach you is not a single strike or flurry of blows. It's a dance—a series of movements that unlocks new power with every step. Every second gate you open allows you to perform a new phase of the dance, culminating in four phases. But mark my words, Hinata…" Her expression darkened. "You must never use the final phase unless you have no other choice. Opening the eighth gate still means death, even for someone in Sage Mode."

Hinata swallowed hard, the enormity of what she was hearing settling heavily on her shoulders. "Do I even have time to learn how to open the gates?" she asked, doubt creeping into her voice. "Lee-san trained for over a year just to open a few of them. I don't even know how to open the first one."

Kali chuckled, a sound both reassuring and foreboding. "You're a Hyūga, Hinata. You don't need to spend years training to open the gates. You can see the tenketsu points. All you need to do is press them yourself. The technique is dangerous, yes, but you are uniquely qualified to wield it. That's why your focus needs to be on memorizing the steps of the dance. For now, we'll begin with the first phase."

Hinata hesitated but nodded, understanding the necessity of what she was about to learn. Despite her apprehension, there was also a spark of curiosity and determination in her heart. "What's the name of this dance?" she asked.

Kali's grin widened, her eyes glowing faintly with pride. "The name should come as no surprise. This is the original. The foundation of what Konoha turned into one of its most feared techniques. This is Byakuren: The White Lotus."

The memory ended, fading as quickly as it had come.

Back in the arena, Hinata steadied herself, her hand trembling slightly as she prepared to press the second tenketsu point. Her opponent wouldn't allow her to do that so easily.

The half-beast lunged at Hinata with a guttural roar, its massive sand-covered arm ripping through the air like a wrecking ball. Hinata didn't have time to think. She charged forward, her body propelled by the searing force of the First Gate she had just opened, her chakra reserves flaring alongside the natural energy coursing through her.

For a moment, the world seemed to blur. Her feet barely skimmed the ground as she launched herself at the monstrous creature. She didn't even realize she had screamed until her Jyūken strike collided with its massive clawed fist, a sharp cry of exertion tearing from her lips.

The impact reverberated through her entire body. Pain seared up her arm as her muscles tore under the immense strain of the clash. Just as quickly, the natural energy began to heal the damage, stitching her muscles back together at a speed that barely kept her standing. But even with this regenerative aid, the sheer force of the half-beast's attack left her skidding back, her feet dragging deep grooves into the sand.

Her strike had landed true, but it had done nothing. No disruption of tenketsu, no weakening of its monstrous form. It didn't work like a human, she realized, her stomach sinking. The colossal arm was more like an extension of the sand itself, devoid of the vulnerable points she had trained her entire life to exploit.

Before she could recover, the creature roared, the sound tearing through the arena like a savage wind. Its tail whipped toward her from the side, a blur of crushing force. Hinata disengaged, flipping backward in a desperate arc. She narrowly avoided the blow, but she could feel the rush of displaced air sting her cheeks as it passed.

The ground cracked beneath the tail's impact, chunks of stone and dirt flying in every direction. Hinata landed in a crouch, her heart pounding. It wasn't just strong—it was overwhelming.

The half-beast twisted, its movements jerky but frighteningly deliberate. It lunged again, forcing her to dart to the side, each dodge a frantic gamble. She could feel her body straining under the effort, her legs burning from the unnatural exertion. Even with the First Gate opened, her speed wasn't enough to truly keep ahead of it. Worse, the half-beast was learning, its attacks becoming more coordinated and deliberate with every second.

The massive claw slammed into the ground, sending a ripple of force through the earth. With terrifying precision, the half-beast scooped up chunks of broken dirt and hurled them at her in a deadly scatter-shot. Hinata dove to the side, barely managing to evade as the projectiles struck the ground behind her, exploding into bursts of sand and debris. She rolled to her feet, but the half-beast was already on her, its tail arcing down in a brutal overhead strike.

She couldn't dodge this… not like this!

Her hand moved instinctively, her finger pressing against the tenketsu point at her right temple. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second, the memory of Kali's warnings flickering in her mind. Then she spoke, her voice shaking but resolute.

"Second Gate: Gate of Rest—Release!"

A surge of power unlike anything she had felt before roared through her veins. The flow of chakra increased exponentially, and with it, the visage of Kali behind her shimmered, drawing in vast streams of natural energy to maintain the balance. Hinata felt her muscles strengthen, her body filling with a power that bordered on unnatural.

She leapt just in time. The tail smashed into the ground where she had stood, the force of the impact creating a massive crater that sent shockwaves through the arena. The vibrations nearly knocked her off balance even mid-air, but she twisted, landing a safe distance away. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her body trembling from the strain.

The half-beast roared again, laughing maniacally as it slammed its tail into the ground repeatedly, the reverberations echoing like war drums. Each strike sent up a cloud of dust and debris, forcing Hinata to shield her face.

Slowly, she straightened. The power of the Second Gate swirled around her like a storm, the very air rippling with chakra and natural energy. Her hair whipped around her face, her sweater long discarded, leaving her light clothing clinging to her frame. Her breaths came hard and fast, but she could feel the raw strength coursing through her limbs.

And yet… even now, she felt the cost.

Her muscles screamed in protest, and though the natural energy worked tirelessly to repair the damage, the cycle of tearing and mending left her body aching. The strain on her chakra network was immense, her reserves burning away like fuel in a firestorm. Every move she made, every dodge and strike, came at a price.

This was what Lee-san must have felt… she thought, her eyes narrowing. But this… this was beyond that.

The power was intoxicating, but it was also terrifying. She had never imagined that her own body could feel this alive, and yet so fragile at the same time. This wasn't a strength she could maintain for long. She had to end this—and soon.

The half-beast turned toward her again, its twisted face sneering, its single arm raised high for another attack. Hinata clenched her fists, feeling the chakra swirl and condense in her palms. Her Nichiren Byakugan flared, reading the chaotic natural energy surrounding the beast.

The half-beast sensed the change in her aura, its instincts recognizing the surge of power emanating from Hinata. It let out a guttural roar and charged, its massive claw swinging down with the force to crush her into the sand. But this time, Hinata didn't flinch. Her eyes were wide, glowing with the clarity of the Nichiren Byakugan, every movement of her opponent painted in vivid detail by the chaos of natural energy surrounding it.

It came at her like a battering ram, but to her now-enhanced senses, its movements felt slower, more predictable. She stepped aside, pivoting on her heel, and raised her hand to deflect the strike. Her palm struck the edge of the claw, redirecting the monstrous arm downward into the sand with a deafening crash. The ground quaked beneath the impact, dust and debris scattering in all directions. The half-beast stumbled, its balance momentarily disrupted.

It roared in frustration and spun, the massive tail sweeping toward her like a whip. Hinata ducked low, her chakra-enhanced reflexes allowing her to slide under the attack just in time. Her movements were precise, controlled, but each dodge and deflection sent shocks of strain through her body. Her muscles screamed in protest, the unnatural power of the gates pushing her far beyond her natural limits. Her heart pounded in her chest, the toll of the battle pressing down on her like a weight.

She skidded to a stop, planting her feet firmly in the sand. This had to end now.

The half-beast lunged again, but this time Hinata was ready. She pressed her palms together and summoned her chakra.

"Shugohakke: One-Hundred-Twenty-Eight Palms!" she cried.

A web of chakra burst forth from her hands, weaving into an intricate dome of protective energy. The half-beast collided with the barrier, its momentum halted as though it had struck an unyielding wall. The dome shimmered with every impact, the creature slamming its claw and tail against it in a desperate frenzy, but it couldn't break through. Each strike sent ripples across the barrier, but Hinata stood firm, pouring her remaining strength into maintaining the technique.

With one final, enraged lunge, the half-beast threw itself against the dome. The barrier held, and the creature staggered back, dazed and unsteady. Its movements were slower now, the violent energy that had fueled it beginning to wane. Hinata knew this was her chance.

She lowered her hands, the dome dissolving into shimmering fragments of light. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling from the exertion. But she couldn't stop now. She shifted into a new stance, her hands raised delicately as though poised to perform a dance. Her feet found their place within the eight trigrams etched into her mind's eye. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, centering herself.

When she opened them, she felt Kali's presence stronger than ever before. It wasn't just her technique—this was theirs. Together, they would finish this.

"Byakuren: Some no Mai!" she called, her voice ringing out across the arena, and the first dance of the White Lotus began.

Her body became a blur of motion, each step flowing seamlessly into the next. She spun forward, her chakra-infused strikes glowing like white-hot embers. The first strike landed on the beast's massive claw, the force of her Jyuken shattering the chakra within. The arm convulsed, momentarily paralyzed, but Hinata didn't stop.

She spun again, her movements swift and fluid, striking the tail as it swung toward her. The energy from her palms surged into the appendage, disrupting its structure and leaving it limp. She continued her dance, each rotation bringing her closer to Gaara's core. Her strikes were deliberate, precise, targeting the natural tenketsu of the sand-infused form.

The third strike hit the beast's chest, forcing it to lurch backward. The fourth, fifth, and sixth strikes came in rapid succession, each one disrupting the chaotic flow of chakra that sustained the monstrous form. With each blow, the sand that formed the creature's body began to crumble, falling away in chunks.

On the seventh strike, Hinata leapt into the air, her body twisting gracefully as she delivered a powerful palm strike to the creature's back. The force sent it sprawling, its massive form crashing into the sand.

And then came the final blow.

Hinata landed softly, her feet sliding into position. She charged forward one last time, her body glowing with the radiant energy of the gates. With a final, resounding cry, she struck Gaara's core with both palms, the force of her Jyuken radiating through the sand armor and into his very being.

The energy from her strikes lingered in the air, creating the image of a lotus made of pure white light, its petals spreading outward in an intricate pattern. The audience watched in stunned silence as the glowing lotus hung suspended over the battlefield, its beauty and power undeniable.

As the light faded, the half-beast collapsed, its form crumbling away like a sandcastle washed away by the tide. The gourd on Gaara's back cracked and fell to pieces, the remnants of his monstrous transformation disintegrating into nothing. Gaara himself lay motionless in the center of the arena, his body limp and unconscious.

Hinata staggered, her legs barely holding her upright. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her vision swimming. But she had done it. The battle was over.

She had won.

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Chapter End

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AN: The last move, Byakuren（白蓮）is literally translated as White Lotus and is where the title for the story also comes from. The dances and their counting (eg. 初の舞 Some no Mai) was lifted straight from Rukia's Zanpakuto in Bleach. For this technique, I just did some slight rework on the Gates, the Lotus techniques, and the lore behind them- making it so the gates were always intended to be opened with natural energy and that Gai and Lee's Lotus techniques were actually imitations of Kali's legacy and the true techniques she created.

There are three more stages to this yet, but that's for in the future.