Gaara's entire body shook uncomfortably as he stared up at the hook nosed maniacal man at the stand. He pointed a slender, bony finger at Gaara with a look of disgust on his face, "yes, he's the one judge. I saw him transform into a monster at the chunin exams…if he hadn't been led away from Konoha, he would have surely destroyed the entire village."

Gaara shrank into his seat. The accusations kept coming, berating him down until he felt nothing inside. He was being tried for being a jinchuriki. The plaintiff was a group of extremists, a group who hated all jinchuriki. Their reason for bringing Gaara to court was to sentence him, punish him, for his crimes against Konoha during the chunin exams.

Gaara could barely remember his time in Konoha…when Shukaku took over, he lost consciousness for a while. When he was reawaken, it was to battle Naruto. Naruto had ultimately changed his world view on suffering and killing, Gaara was ready to turn a new leaf…but now he was receiving the wrath of those who hated the jinchuriki. Was this justice? Did he deserve punishment for his years of bloodlust? He wasn't exactly sure. His mind was clouded with doubt.

He knew no good could come from this trial…it was only a matter of time before he heard his ultimate fate. The judge and jury members eyed him with disdain…the outcome was surely going to be bad.

They took a recess so the jury could collaborate and make their decision. Gaara waited in his seat, unable to move as he was gripped with fear. He knew the jury didn't like him…he wondered what his punishment would be.

…..

Gaara never expected just how awful his sentence would be. The judge stepped forward, slamming his gavel onto the table to quiet the chatter of the crowd behind Gaara.

"Have the jury reached a verdict?" he asked.

The group of dastardly plaintiffs sneered at Gaara, arms crossed in a haughty manner. A member of the jury stood up, and Gaara felt his breath hitch. "We have your honor," the woman said with a twinge of hatred in her voice. "We find the defendant guilty. We sentence him to death."

Gaara felt all the air in his lungs escape, he felt like he had been kicked in the gut. The judge said more, the people behind Gaara were chatting, but Gaara heard none of it. His ears were ringing unpleasantly. Death.

That word. He never thought he would be sentenced that harshly. There was no way he heard it right…how could this be? The jury would sentence a 12 year old to death for his crimes to Konoha?

His hands were shaking, he held them out in front of him as they were shackled again. His body was acting of its own accord, limp and numb, disconnected from his brain.

He was taken back outside of the courthouse into the blistering sun, blinded temporarily by the light. Then he was shoved and pushed to walk forward, the crowd around him was full of people sneering and booing at him. Some tried to claw at him or spit at him, but the guards around him pushed them away, making a clear path for him to walk through.

…..

Once in the jailhouse, Gaara was stripped of all of his clothes roughly. He was given a small, tightly fitting loincloth to wear. The fabric barely covered him, it wasn't very modest. The brown material lay below his hips and stopped short just a few inches on his upper thigh. It was itchy against his skin, chafing his thigh and backside in a very uncomfortable manner. The lack of clothing left him feeling very naked and vulnerable. He wondered why they even bothered to give him the loincloth, the cloth was so thin and short it was almost as if he was wearing nothing. It was tightly pressed against his crotch, and the outline of his privates could easily be seen through the material.

His gourd of sand was thrown out, and taken far from his grasp. He was inside of a dank, dry room, devoid of a single grain of sand. His captors did not want him to escape, they feared what would happen if he was able to use his ninjutsu.

Gaara let everything happen with an air of numb silence. He was stunned silent by the trial outcome, and felt powerless to fight back. If he fought back, that would only prove to the extremists that he was a monster, and that all jinchuriki should be killed. If he could get through this process quietly…perhaps he could become a martyr, a beacon of hope for those who despised the tailed beasts and their jinchuriki…

But it was hard to keep that tiny flicker of hope inside of him when he was being treated like a mongrel, like something lower than dirt. The guards were not gentle as they tore off his clothes and replaced it with the brown monotone loincloth. They slapped him around a bit, cursing his name and kicking him to make him bow down.

Gaara already sported a few cuts and bruises by the time they were finished with him, leaving him panting on the stone cold floor, and watching him with loathing in their eyes. A new man then walked up, and Gaara recognized him as one of the extremists watching during the trial. Gaara flinched slightly at his malicious glare, and got up from the floor, trembling.

The man kicked Gaara in the side, and he fell down again, but did not make a sound. The man sneered at him, "You filthy jinchuriki…are you trying to hide the pain from us? Trying to show us that you are not weak?" He kicked Gaara again, and this time Gaara could not prevent the scream of pain that escaped his lips. "That's better," the man said, getting up and pulling something out of his breast pocket within his jacket.

He pulled out a tiny blue bottle, filled with a suspicious looking liquid. Was it poison? Gaara did not know…but maybe if he was going to die from a dose of poison, that wouldn't be too bad…One sip and then perhaps a moment of pain and then his life would be over…

The man saw Gaara eyeing the bottle. He smirked, "wouldn't you like to know what this is?" he asked in an evil, taunting manner. Gaara did not respond. He thought things would go better if he just stayed quiet.

The man began to pace the floor, his steps echoing off the high vaulted ceiling unpleasantly. "Truth is, I went through great lengths to get what's inside this little bottle," he said, shaking the bottle so that Gaara could hear a sloshing sound inside. "And I'm not quite ready to have you drink it just yet…you need to realize the pain you've caused others first."Gaara just stared at him, his hate for the man growing as each distrusting word escaped his lips, "Some of the others in our group think that giving you this little drink is too cruel…but I disagree. There's nothing more justified to me than you suffering in this manner." As he spoke, Gaara clenched his teeth and his hands curled into balled up fists, "You see, I was one of Rasa's most trusted advisors," Gaara's eyes opened wide with shock. His father? "And because of you, the 4th kazekage is now dead…Rasa was a great man. The best kazekage that Sunagakure ever had…and now, because of your actions, both of your parents lie dead beneath the ground!" the man spat the last sentence at him with rage and then slapped Gaara across the face. Gaara touched his stinging cheek, begging for the pain to subside.

"If you're looking for justice, then why aren't you going after Orochimaru? He's the one who struck the killing blow to my father," Gaara said. His resolve to stay quiet had failed. He truly hated the man before him with all of his being.

The man barked a laugh and then thrust the bottle into Gaara's hands, opening it up roughly. "Drink this you brat!" he yelled. Gaara tightened his lips, but the guards behind him were strong. They rushed forward and opened Gaara's mouth forcefully, then the extremist poured the liquid inside. Gaara held the disgusting juice in his mouth, not daring to swallow. "It's a potion with traces of your own mother's blood," the man said as he attempted to pour more into Gaara's opened mouth.

Gaara immediately gagged and spat the liquid out, not caring if he got some on the man's shirt. The man backed away as Gaara continued to spit out the stuff onto the floor, feeling disgusted with himself for ever letting it pass his lips. "How…How dare you!?" Gaara cried, curling his hands into fists again, this time ready to lunge. He pulled against the grasp of the guards on him, using all his strength to break free.

Gaara ran forward, but the man caught his fist in his hand and threw Gaara on the ground. Without his sand to protect him, Gaara felt every bang and bruise inflicted upon him. He was powerless without his sand, and he was already weakened from being manhandled by the guards earlier. His wrists were still shackled too, so he didn't have full control of his arms. He was defenseless against the maniac before him.

The man kicked Gaara's legs so that he was forced to sit down on the floor again in a somewhat awkward, tangled position. Then the man bent over him and snapped a finger at the guards. The guards obeyed the command and roughly opened Gaara's mouth again, digging their thumbs against Gaara's lips and allowing the sinister extremist to push the opened bottle back into his mouth. He shoved the bottle deep into Gaara's throat, making him gag. Then he tilted it, and the liquid poured down Gaara's throat. He was forced into drinking the foul liquid, with tears streaming down his cheeks. The only person he had ever loved in this world was his mother. And now, he felt like he was betraying her by drinking her own blood. It was a retched, unforgiveable act.

He coughed once the men released him from his grasp. He tried desperately to retch up the liquid, but his mind was feeling clouded. A foggy haze covered his vision, and he was having trouble thinking straight or moving his limbs. Before he could say anything to the cockroach of a man before him, blackness took over his mind. He fell hard against the cold surface of the floor, passing out.