The door of the interrogation room was pushed open.
Rasa looked at the son who walked in.
This son was the weapon he had personally created, the last barrier of the village. But more than that, he was the deepest source of fear in Rasa's heart. He could not forget those nights when everything went out of control, could not forget Shukaku's maddened roars.
For the stability of the village, to turn this weapon into something perfect, he had issued six assassination orders.
Every assassination attempt had been a test and a forge. He used betrayal and loneliness as his hammer, and the threat of death as his furnace, trying to temper Gaara into a pure killing machine.
He had succeeded, and obtained a monster—one that even he himself feared.
But the person in front of him was no longer that monster.
Gaara's gaze felt unfamiliar.
Rasa searched his son's eyes for familiar emotions. He had expected resentment, had expected anger.
He had even prepared himself to face his son's questioning and roaring.
None of those emotions appeared.
Gaara stepped forward and walked toward the interrogation table.
His steps were steady, not making a single unnecessary sound.
He didn't look at the documents on the table about the village's survival or destruction; those files had already lost their meaning.
All of his attention was focused on Rasa. He stopped in front of the table, facing his father across a single plank of wood.
"Father."
Gaara spoke. The word, coming from his mouth, carried a strange sense of distance.
Rasa's body went rigid in an instant.
Throughout his life he had been called "Kazekage-sama" countless times, but this title, he had heard only rarely.
He didn't know what kind of expression he should show, nor did he know what he should say.
As a father, he was unqualified. As a Kage, he was now a failure.
"You turned me into a monster so I could protect the village," Gaara said, stating a fact. There was no trace of accusation in his tone. He was simply describing an event.
Rasa's throat moved slightly.
Yes. That had been his original intention, the foundational logic behind all his actions.
For the sake of the Sand Village, any sacrifice was necessary. His wife's life was necessary.
His son's childhood was necessary.
"But you led the village toward destruction," Gaara continued.
This single sentence denied the basis of everything Rasa had done.
If the result was destruction, then all previous sacrifices and justifications became foolish mistakes. Rasa looked at the subordinates around him, looked at his own current situation, and could not refute it.
"You told me that the meaning of my existence was killing. That I should prove my value through other people's fear," Gaara went on, his voice still steady.
This was the creed Rasa had instilled in him since childhood—to be an Asura who fought only for himself and loved only himself. Only in that way could a jinchuriki unleash their full power.
"But Shinju-sama told me that the meaning of existence is to protect the people you love. That you must find someone who is willing to die for you, and then live on for their sake."
Gaara took a step forward. That step shortened the distance between him and Rasa. He could now see even more clearly the deep wrinkles on his father's face and the ashen pallor of his skin.
"Now, between you and me… who was right?"
This question was like an invisible spear of sand, piercing Rasa's last line of defense.
All his life he had prided himself on being a thorough realist. He believed emotions were weaknesses, and bonds were burdens.
For the sake of the village's interests, he was willing to abandon anything. He sacrificed his wife Karura and sealed Shukaku inside his newborn son.
He remodeled his own child, turning Gaara into a feelingless weapon.
Rasa had orchestrated this war in an attempt to reverse the decline of the Sand Village. In his eyes, everything he did was for the "greater good" of the village.
But in exchange for that so-called greater good, what had he actually gained?
The village had been completely defeated in the war.
Their elite ninja forces had suffered devastating losses. He himself had become a prisoner in chains.
The cause he had devoted his life to had become a complete joke.
And the son he had once labeled a "failed product" was now standing here, passing judgment over his failed life.
Rasa's lips trembled. He wanted to argue for himself.
He wanted to say it had all been for the village, that he had had no other choice. But these words seemed so feeble and powerless in the face of reality.
Gaara did not force him to answer. He didn't seem to need an answer. That question itself was already the final verdict.
He turned around, no longer looking at his father. That turning motion was also a complete farewell.
He now faced the man who had been silent this whole time—Shinju.
Under the incomprehensible gazes of Rasa and the still-conscious Sand advisors, Gaara made a move that shattered their mental defenses completely.
He bent one leg back, lowered his body, and dropped to one knee with solemn reverence.
The impact of this movement far surpassed any ninjutsu.
Rasa's mind went blank.
His son, the jinchuriki of the Sand Village, the ultimate weapon of the Land of Wind, the existence he had poured countless effort and sins into creating—was, at this very moment, offering himself entirely to the enemy's leader.
"Shinju-sama."
Gaara's voice rang out clearly in the deathly silent interrogation room.
"The Sand Village has committed unforgivable crimes. I, Gaara of the Desert, am willing to spend my entire life atoning for these sins."
There was not the slightest hesitation in his words. This was the decision he had made after deep thought.
"Please… grant the people of the Sand Village seven paths to survival."
After speaking, he bowed his head deeply, his forehead almost touching the floor. This was the most humble posture a ninja could possibly take.
"From this day forward, I am willing to become the sharpest blade of sand in your hand, and to cut down all your enemies for you!"
Rasa stared blankly at this scene.
Everything was over.
The era he represented—that ninja world filled with schemes, hatred, and endless conflict—was completely buried with his son's kneeling bow.
A new era had begun.
Shinju rose from his seat.
He walked to Gaara's side, reached out, placed his hand on Gaara's shoulder, and gently helped him up.
"I accept your sincerity."
After lifting Gaara to his feet, Shinju casually glanced at Rasa behind him.
Rasa was slumped in his chair, his entire body like a deflated balloon. He was spiritless, his eyes already hollow.
In just a few minutes, he seemed to have aged twenty years. The unequal treaties he'd been forced to accept, coupled with his confrontation with his son, had filled his heart with a chaos of conflicting emotions.
"The Sand Village needs a new leader," Shinju said calmly. "Someone who can lead them away from hatred and toward my new order."
"So then, as the new 'Kazekage,' how will you guide your village to integrate into my new order?"
(End of Chapter)
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