Its joints crackled as it adjusted damaged parts. The puppet straightened its head, tested its range of motion left and right, and once it seemed functional again, it complained in a slightly hoarse, mechanical voice.
"Serves you right. Who told you to run your mouth? You were asking to die."
"You're really cold-blooded. No sympathy for your own people..."
Sunagakure's princess—she'd strike without hesitation even at an unconscious opponent, ruthless enough to make people shudder. For all her bright, straightforward personality, she was bolder and more brutal than boys her age.
Even in a "match" that was more show than true competition, Temari would never go easy.
She slung the Three-Moon Fan behind her, bent her knees, and gathered power in her arms. Then she whipped her arms forward twice.
"Quit talking! Ninja Art: Wind Sand Dust!"
A ferocious gale tore up dust from the ground, blowing back the senbon the puppet had casually fired. It swept across a wide stretch of the arena, and the puppet Temari that had been knocked down earlier was snatched up like a rag doll, slammed to the ground, and buried under the wind-driven sand.
Worse, the Substitute Puppet that had raised an arm to block was coated in fine grit, layer after layer piling on. Sand jammed into the delicate joints, making it impossible for Daigan's real body to control it properly.
And worst of all, Daigan himself—motionless in a shaded corner by the edge of the field—was revealed as well. As the rolling storm passed through a certain area, it was clearly blocked by an invisible human-shaped object, only for the wind and sand to vanish strangely a moment later.
Daigan adjusted fast—it lasted only a blink. But anyone with eyes could tell something was off.
"Enough already, enough. I'm covered in sand. It feels awful."
Daigan helplessly dispelled the optical invisibility. Hiding in front of Temari was pointless—she'd find him sooner or later.
The arena was huge, but terrain still limited what could be done. A cerebral setup like Nara Shikamaru's Shadow Imitation Technique to restrain Temari would never have worked without the tunnel Uzumaki Naruto had dug earlier.
"So you're finally willing to show yourself?" Temari said, irritation sharp in her voice. "Sneaky little creep. You're seriously annoying..."
She wore a confident smile. In a head-on fight, Temari believed she was unmatched with Wind Release.
"That's just how a puppet master fights!"
Daigan wasn't exactly a proper puppet master, but since his tactics were built around Wind Release and Puppet Technique, the influence was unavoidable. Besides, on a battlefield, killing enemies quietly was normal.
"If that won't work on you, then I'll switch methods!"
Daigan gathered Chakra under his feet, lowered his torso, and sprinted toward Temari at blistering speed.
At the same time, the nearby Substitute Puppet fired Wind Release: Vacuum Sphere in a continuous barrage, forcing Temari to spread the Three-Moon Fan in front of her to defend.
"Head-on, I'm strong too..."
Daigan knew Temari's Wind Release hard-countered his now-exposed approach, yet he still pressed in. If he weren't stalling for time, he wouldn't be this stubborn—there was no reason to wrestle her in her strongest domain.
Close-quarters combat was his chance.
Temari's taijutsu wasn't bad, but it was clearly weaker than her Wind Release. And with his visibly larger build, Daigan held an advantage.
Once he got in close, he could bind her tightly with Chakra Threads and start landing punches until the winner was obvious—it would come down to who could take it longer.
"A final clash, huh?"
Temari's lips curled slightly as she prepared to meet him head-on. She was about to finish it with one high-powered jutsu when, without warning, a small shadow sprang from the loose sand under her feet and clamped tightly around her right leg!
"That broken puppet doll again?"
Temari kicked it away with a single stomp. The puppet doll, nearly identical to her in appearance, had taken too much of her fury today and had long since lost its earlier elegance.
Then Temari snapped the Three-Moon Fan shut, used it like an iron staff, and smashed it down hard on the Substitute Puppet—whose movements were already sluggish—crippling it completely.
With that bit of satisfaction vented, Temari snapped her gaze back to Daigan as he closed in. She flung the Three-Moon Fan fully open, swung it with confidence, and charged straight at him.
The boy who couldn't dodge in time collided head-on with a wind dragon cyclone—only for it to turn into a streak of light and vanish under Temari's astonished stare.
"An afterimage? Damn—"
She didn't even have time to finish reacting before she felt someone behind her.
"Don't let me disappear from your sight so easily. It's dangerous! Let me show you what I'm made of..."
As he spoke, Daigan stabbed two fingers like a blade into the side of Temari's neck, making her head swim. His right hand grabbed her clothing and heaved with sudden force...
"Great winds rise, and clouds fly high..."
Snap.
A crisp cracking sound—something had broken.
Daigan froze in a half-kneel, still in the posture of exertion, staring blankly at the dark red belt torn in his hand.
"This... the quality's kind of bad..."
He'd been about to recite a couple more fiery lines and end the already-long match with a crowd-stunning throw. He hadn't expected this.
Daigan forced an awkward smile, held the belt in both hands, and offered it back to Temari.
"Sorry. I pulled too hard..."
They were both Wind Release specialists; stray wind blades whipping around meant minor injuries were inevitable. And Daigan had the habit of unconsciously applying Wind Release Chakra in his hands—one careless moment, and it would slice through fabric that offered little protection. Add a hard yank on top of that...
Of course, Temari's outfit was a fairly conservative dress, so nothing was exposed. The belt was just there to cinch her clothes so loose fabric wouldn't interfere with combat, and it doubled as a weapon belt.
Unfortunately, none of that was a reason Temari would accept for him ripping her belt.
"You idiotic, filthy pervert!"
Thud.
Temari snatched the belt back and punched Daigan square in the jaw. A sharp crack rang out as his jaw dislocated, and he collapsed onto the ground, foaming at the mouth.
"Winner: Temari!"
Shiranui Genma nudged Daigan's twitching leg with his foot. After confirming he didn't respond, he announced the result of the fourth match.
A thrilling, evenly matched fight ending like this left the crowd stunned for a beat—then the stands erupted into roaring laughter.
Unlike the praise that greeted earlier winners, Daigan's absurd defeat drew relentless mockery. Temari's face, meanwhile, burned bright red.
Winning like this is so humiliating... No. Fighting that idiot Daigan at all was humiliating.
As the stands filled with merriment, the medical team entered to carry off the injured Daigan.
"No treatment. We'll handle our own," Temari said, stopping the Konoha medics.
With one hand, she grabbed the puppet Daigan had dropped. With the other, she gripped Daigan by the back of the collar and dragged him toward the stairway.
"Let them. Don't interfere!" Shiranui Genma said, waving the medical squad away as he began preparing for the next match.
At the corner of the stairway corridor, Temari suddenly tossed Daigan to the floor.
"Stop pretending. There's no one around."
The moment she finished speaking, Daigan—who should've been unconscious—snapped his eyes open and struggled to his feet.
"That really hurt. Couldn't you go a little lighter?"
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