[Mad Tiger] Chapter 65

We made it to the tower.

I managed to stir up some ambushes and trigger a few traps along the way, keeping the enemy busy while having my own fun messing with the other "kids." Meanwhile, my sneaky little team slipped right through and made it inside—along with me, of course. They were greeted, escorted to a room where they were supposed to open their scroll, and before I knew it, the doors had shut behind them.

I got distracted by all the new scents. The tower was massive, multi-leveled, and full of hidden passageways, and I was too busy taking in my surroundings to squeeze in before the doors closed.

I had a rough idea of what would happen next—at least, according to the anime. The bigger mystery was what exactly the kids were supposed to do while waiting around for the rest of the teams. The second phase of the exam in this deathtrap forest was scheduled to last five days, and we had finished in one and a half. With nothing to do, Naruto and Sasuke might start pestering me about Kushina, so for now, I was officially Mister Very Busy Cat.

My main concern? Finding a way out if things went sideways. I needed to scout who had already arrived, track down Ino and Hinata’s teams, and see if they needed a top-tier, feline guide through the local flora and fauna. Plus, whatever Kushina and Orochimaru were plotting had my fur on edge. It had only been a week since we met with Itachi and Shisui—had they managed to connect with Kushina and Orochimaru yet? Did Shisui know what they were up to? Or were he and Itachi on a separate mission? What conclusions would Sasuke and Naruto come to? Was there any way to set things back on their original track?

So. Many. Questions.

And absolutely no answers.

I sighed, shaking myself out of it. My action plan was clear: scout the area, find the kitchen (priorities!), refuel, rest, map the tower’s entry and exit points, gather intel, and if necessary, venture back into the forest to assist anyone who needed my majestic expertise. Also, checking out the competition wouldn’t hurt.

The tower was circular, five stories tall, and had a bizarre layout—one I hadn’t paid close attention to before. Last time I was here, it housed that thing, that creepy statue that sucked the Nine-Tails out of Kushina. Thinking about it sent a shiver down my spine. If they took days to extract Gaara’s One-Tail in the anime, it might’ve taken just as long for Kushina, unless all those Uchiha had sped up the process. There were at least fifty of them in that clearing back then—maybe they took shifts.

The very thought made my fur stand on end.

Poor Kushina. To go through that kind of hell… Maybe everyone assumed she had just gone to the capital, only to be ambushed. Maybe her guards had been slaughtered. Maybe there had been traitors among them—Uchiha traitors.

Shisui and I only put the pieces together at the very end, when the daimyo’s palace fell. Even now, I could still smell the blood, the sickening chakra of a tailed beast—

Wait.

That wasn’t just a memory.

I actually smelled it.

My ears flattened as my heartbeat picked up. The scent was coming from a door left slightly ajar on the second floor. Cautiously, I crept toward it and peeked through the crack.

A flash of red hair.

I froze.

Gaara.

How the hell did I forget about him? He was a participant in this exam, too. And he was a jinchuriki. Just like Naruto.

I forced myself to breathe.

Okay. Okay. He’s still in his murdery phase, right? He killed people, but… did he ever hurt animals? I didn’t recall. Did I really want Naruto and Gaara to fight?

The door suddenly slid open so fast it slammed against the wall with a bang. I jumped, fur puffing up as my spine arched instinctively.

"It’s just a pussycat," (1) a female voice noted. Then, more gently, "Don’t touch it, Gaara. It might belong to someone, and that could cause trouble."

Feeling emboldened by her words, I strolled into the room—only to nearly jump again when the sand at the doorway slithered back toward that weird gourd-thing strapped to Gaara’s back.

So that’s how the door had opened. Not with hands—with sand.

Trying to look casual, I crouched and pounced at the moving sand, pretending to hunt it. The sand stilled. I glanced up and finally took in the rest of the room.

In the far corner sat a guy dressed in black. His face—oh lord, his face. It was so terrifyingly ugly that I nearly pissed myself then and there. He wore a hat with little ear flaps, but with his frown and dark paint streaks, he looked like Batman if the Joker had done his makeup.

Oh, right. Gaara’s brother.

And across from him, leaning against the opposite wall, was their sister, the blonde one—Temari.

Gaara himself sat directly across from the door, staring at me with those eerie, unreadable eyes.

"That’s definitely a tomcat, Temari,"(1) the creepy one chuckled. "Look at the way his—"

I glared at him, with all the scorn I could muster. Projecting the look of a cat who had seen peak stupidity and had zero tolerance for it.

The sand twitched again.

I didn’t miss a beat. I pounced on it, playing along with the whole hunter act, but eventually, it all slithered back into Gaara’s gourd. He was still staring at me, watching every move I made.

I had no clue what he was thinking.

But oddly, I didn’t feel threatened.

Unlike his brother, who was radiating irritation, discomfort, and maybe even a little fear, Gaara was… calm. Completely, utterly calm.

That made me braver.

I decided I was going in.

I padded forward, stopping at his feet. He didn’t react.

I purred. Nothing.

I placed one paw on his knee and gave him my best big, innocent kitty eyes.

Still nothing.

I put my other paw up, kneading gently at his leg to loosen it so I could climb onto his lap.

No response.

"Come on, dude, just let me up already," I grumbled, tail flicking.

For the first time, something shifted on his otherwise blank face. His gaze flickered toward Temari.

"I think the cat wants to sit on you," she coughed awkwardly.

I gave a slow, victorious nod. Gaara’s eyes widened slightly.

...Maybe nodding hadn’t been the best move.

"This is a weird animal," Batman muttered. "We should kick it out."

"Yeah, Gaara… Animals don’t usually approach you…" Temari agreed warily, eyeing me like I was insane.

I scoffed. Please. Yeah, sure, his chakra was a little unsettling, but I’d survived the Nine-Tails extraction. I’d walked through the mark of the Cat King himself, Nekomata-sama. What’s a little One-Tail aura gonna do?

Gaara, still silent, finally extended his legs.

I flicked my tail high, shot a smug look at Temari just to mess with her, and hopped onto my rightful throne—his lap.

Up close, he looked even younger than I expected. How old was he? He seemed so small and scrawny, all sharp bones and zero meat. A red chick, not a red panda.

I grabbed his wrist with both paws, yanked it toward me, and rubbed my face against it. Damn it, kid, do I have to spell it out for you? This is how you pet a cat!

After a pause, his fingers—hesitant and stiff—grazed my fur.

Finally.

I must’ve dozed off, lulled by the warmth and the slow, tentative strokes of a kid who had no idea what he was doing.

I woke to the smell of food—and something else.

Lazily stretching, I dangled over Gaara’s bony knees. Seriously, this kid was so thin.

When I looked up, Gaara was still petting me, his touch careful but oddly soothing.

Across the room, Batman was glaring at me like I was the embodiment of all his fears and hatred. His lips curled slightly, making his already terrifying, paint-smeared face even worse.

"Your dinner," rumbled a deep voice.

I had already caught the scent before he arrived—a tall guy, crouching down to set a tray on the floor. There were four deep bowls filled with rice and something that smelled suspiciously like curry.

A very spicy, very not-cat-friendly curry.

The guy had a white cloth draped over half his face, and on his visible cheek, two red triangular marks—almost like Kiba’s, but mirrored. Guess he got bored and decided to even them out.

I jumped down from Gaara’s lap and settled by the tray, sniffing the air again just to be sure.

Yeah. Curry.

Disgusting.

"That’s our food, stay out of it!" growled Batman.

I fixed him with my signature unimpressed glare, flicked my tail, and turned away with a huff.

There was a faint rustle of sand—Gaara had already pulled his bowl closer, chopsticks at the ready. The rest of the team relaxed and started eating.

My own stomach grumbled.

Alright. Kitchen scouting just became priority number one.

I didn’t expect my gracious presence to cause mass panic in the tower’s kitchen.

"Are you sure that’s just a regular cat, Kuchi-san?" one of the chefs asked, gripping a cleaver like his life depended on it. "I’m telling you, in the Forest of Death, you can run into a tiny squirrel that’ll scare off giant centipedes. No way a normal cat would just waltz in here! The only registered animal in this exam is a ninja dog, and this sure as hell isn’t an Inuzuka hound!"

"Maybe it belongs to one of the exam proctors?" Kuchi-san mused. "Maybe they brought it along for company. Here, kitty-kitty-kitty~."

Yeah. No.

I took matters into my own paws.

With a single leap, I landed squarely on the cutting table—right next to a half-butchered pig carcass—grabbed myself a prime cut, and bolted.

"HEY! HE STOLE THE MEAT!" screeched the guy with the cleaver. He raised his weapon, actually ready to swing at me.

I turned. Locked eyes with him.

And let out a slow, guttural, unholy growl.

Chakra flared through my fur, my claws flexed, and I arched my back, channeling the wrath of a thousand demonic spirits.

Kuchi-san went pale.

"Put the cleaver down, Kobiki," he whispered. "You were right. That’s not a normal cat. Look at that glare—like a demon. Who knows what it’ll do?"

The two chefs stepped back, hands nowhere near anything sharp.

"Easy there, kitty," one of them murmured. "You don’t mess with us, we don’t mess with you."

Satisfied, I chomped down on my hard-earned prize right there on the table, devouring it while they watched in stunned silence.

Then, with my tail held high, I strutted out of the kitchen like the untouchable king I was.

Fear me, humans.

And keep feeding me.

Nyahaha.

After some exploring, I came to a frustrating conclusion—this tower wasn’t exactly open access. Getting in was hard. Getting out? Even harder.

So much for meeting up with Ino and Hinata’s teams.

Then again, I had found something way more interesting.

Gaara.

In the anime, he had been completely unhinged. He killed people. He fought Naruto. He tried to destroy Konoha.

But later? He changed.

Was it possible that, just like Sasuke, his mind had been tampered with? Some kind of pre-set conditioning?

Without Nekomata-sama, I couldn’t pull an Itachi-style memory fix… but it was worth considering.

I perched on a ledge overlooking the main hall. This is where the fights would happen later.

"Another team is approaching," came a voice from the speakers.

Below, a mechanical door slid open, letting in a trio of guys in straw hats.

…And I had no idea who they were.

Huh.

I watched as a chunin proctor greeted them and led them further inside.

Had they always been part of this exam? Or was something off?

I was still contemplating that mystery when a very familiar scent reached me.

"There you are," came Gaara’s quiet voice from behind.

I turned.

And immediately froze.

Because standing right next to him—staring at me with wide, shining eyes—was none other than Naruto.

"NAMAIKI-CHAN!" he practically yelled.

Oh.

Oh no.

I didn’t even need to come up with an elaborate plan. The universe had simply decided, "Surprise, cat! Figure it out yourself!"

Now what?!

(1) Russian has gendered nouns and in this case the more accurate translation would be: "It is just a ‘female cat’” (my tr: “It is just a pussycat”) & “That’s definitely definitely a ‘male cat’, Temari” (my tr: "That’s definitely a tomcat, Temari,").