The Sakura
By: kawaii-Cherimu130
The shade provided by the blooming sakura tree cooled the heat off of Gaara's pale skin, as he sat criss-cross by the tree trunk, his head leaning up against the rough bark peacefully.
It had a very long, hot, and boring day in Konoha. Not much was happening, and no one had spoken about anything important like the war. For some odd reason, talking about the war seemed to make everyone jittery and nervous, so no one even dared to mention it. For some, the war meant one thing: freedom. For others, it meant death.
To Gaara, it meant nothing. Stuff like this always went on, and wars were always fought, so it didn't really matter how many men died, or how many women grieved over them, and how many childern grew up as orphans because of it. To Gaara, it seemed pointless.
To Gaara, nothing mattered.
Gaara closed his black rimmed eyes peacefully. Days like this were rare ; nothing but peace and quiet. Just what he perferred. Above him, a single sakura drifted off a tree branch. It gently guilded itself down to the ground, near Gaara's lap. He opened one eye and stared at the single flower with detest. How could such a beautiful flower fall from the tree so quickly? It wasn't even bloomed yet.
He reached his hand out for the flower, and tenderly picked it up. He placed it in his palm, and stared down at it with wonder. The flower looked so young, so unbloomed, yet it was broken by something. The wind, perhaps? Or maybe it was something more, just a little more...
Painful memories of his childhood flashed through his mind, and Gaara hurled the flower to the ground. That damm flower was gonna die. Gaara held his hand up infront of him and murmered, "Sand Coffin..." The sand engolfed the flower, surrounded it, only the sand didn't attack. "Sand Coffin..." Gaara repeated anouyingly. It still didn't kill the flower. He lowered his hand. Why didn't it work?
Stomp the damm thing, Shukaku hissed inside Gaara's head. kill it already and leave. You've got places to go, and a bloodlust to fill. Now hurry. Gaara was about to get up, but he stopped. The sakura seemed...like him in a weird way. The more Gaara thought about it, the more it made sense.
The flower was tiny, and it hadn't even bloomed yet, but it was still damaged. Gaara was only 6 years old when Yashamaru tried to kill him, leaving him somewhat broken, emotionally, and mentally. The flower, if opened correctly, would reveal the colors of white and pink. In China, white meant death, which Gaara loved more than anything else in the world.
The pink resembled love, which Gaara didn't have. The two colors were blended in together, almost like a yin-and-yang. One could not kill without hate in their soul, yet one couldn't love without knowing it.
Kill it, already! Shukaku yelled angerily. Gaara shook his head, hoping to rid his mind of the dreaded demon, only without success. Kill it!!! the demon hissed harshly. "No," Gaara whispered, picking up the flower. He cupped it in both hands, the feeling of wonder churning inside him. "This flower...a simple sakura, is...is like my existence. Both damaged, yet..."
Gaara shifted the flower in his hand gently, by turning it over. "so...unloved. Not too many people like sakura's...and not too many people, or none, like me..." Gaara cocked his head curiously. Surprisingly, Shukaku didn't say anymore, almost as if he was rendered speechless.
Gaara held the simpe sakura out in front of his body, almost as if it were a expensive ring that he was carrying to hand to the king.
A slight smile spread across his face as he realized he wasn't alone after all.