They remembered the first time they saw their new brother. They remembered the first time they were told he was a monster. They remembered the first time he saw them. They remembered the first time they had seen him cry. They remembered the first time their father had tried to kill him. They remembered the first time he had killed. They remembered the last time they saw him cry.
They believed what all little kids believed: Grown-ups know everything. Grown-ups are always right. So when the grown-ups told them that they should stay away from their little brother, that he was dangerous, they listened. Why wouldn't they? It wasn't long before they realized that grown-ups could be wrong, too.
Temari crouched in the sand, her little arms wrapped around her knees. Kankuro was sitting beside her, drawing idly on the ground with one finger. They were watching their younger brother sitting on an old wooden swing, staring at the ground. He clutched a worn teddy bear to his chest with one hand, the other holding one of the chains on his swing. He was crying.
"Hey, Kankuro?"
"Mm?"
"Do you hate him?"
"No."
"Me either." It was silent for a moment.
"Tem?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you afraid of him?"
"Uh-huh."
"Me too."
It was that time of year in Suna. December. Holiday time. Temari received her first fan, bright red with three yellow stars. Kankuro was given a small puppet and taught to control it; it would be a while before he would receive a real one. Gaara got nothing. And so the older siblings dug through their old stuffed toys and found a bear that had first been Temari's and then Kankuro's and they left it on the bed that Gaara never used. The next day he was carrying it with him.
The first time Temari saw the demon, she didn't sleep for two days. She had nightmares for weeks. And for the first time, she was truly terrified of her baby brother. Maybe the adults were on to something after all.
Kankuro didn't hate his brother, but he didn't particularly care for him either. He wasn't sure how he felt about him. He did know he was afraid of him. But for some reason, Kankuro had this stupid urge to protect him. Protect him from what, though? A few days after he figured it out, the whispers and rumors about his brother stopped. There was nothing he could do to make them stop hating him, though.
Gaara had said he was sorry. Gaara had apologized. Gaara had meant it. The older siblings shared a private smile. When they got home, they were going to buy that Uzumaki brat a life time supply of Ramen.
They remembered the first time they saw him smile. They remembered the first time he called them his brother and sister. They remembered the first hug he had given them. They remembered the first time a villager greeted him warmly on the street. They remembered the first time he told them he loved them. They remembered the first time they told him they loved him too.