Disclaimer: Masashi Kishimoto created all of the characters in this story. I am not claiming them as my own.

Hello. I needed to make sure you all know this before you read my story.

This story is based on Gaara's childhood. I had a sudden impulse to write a story about his past when I saw a few pictures I thought were sad. I haven't seen the episode or read the manga with his past in it yet, but I've read an article on so I know a little about what happens. Please, if you comment on my story, don't say that what I write is inaccurate, because I'm only going by an article that doesn't go into much detail. Yes, I do understand that some of what I write may not go with what really happens, but I think it'll be more interesting that way. I don't want to basically rewrite what happens. Most of the stuff I've written with a quote in it I was just taking an educated guess on where or how it was used. Also, I had a dream before I wrote my story, and I could feel Gaara's pain. It was so unbearable. I want people to feel that through words. I'm hoping you all like my story and maybe my story will change the opinions of Gaara-haters. Well, I hope you enjoy it.

Six years ago in the Village Hidden in the Sand, the community was doing poorly. The Kazekage wanted the village to have stronger ninjas so they would not need to depend on other villages. He ordered one of the village elders to seal the One-Tailed Shukaku into the body of his unborn son. The child was to be an experiment---the ultimate weapon. The child's power was so strong that his mother died giving birth. She cursed the village for using her as a human sacrifice. Her dying wish was that her son would avenge her death. That child's name was Gaara.

A small redheaded kid, around the age of six, sat on the sandy steps in front of a house. He sighed as he watched the other kids playing together happily, seemingly avoiding the empty space in front of him. He drew his brown teddy bear closer, his only friend, and wrapped his arms around his knees. He looked up as a red rubber ball came bouncing towards him and rolled to a stop a few feet away. The redheaded kid stood up and walked over to the ball. He bent down and picked it up. He looked around for the owners of the ball and spotted them a few feet away with hatred in their eyes. "Here's your ball." He said with a friendly smile as he neared them. The kids began to back away. His smile began to fade. "It's yours, why don't you take it?" he asked, coming closer still. The kids ran away, leaving him alone with the ball in his hands. He looked down, tears welling up in his blue eyes. "Why...do they...run?" he thought aloud between sobs. "They always run...away...from me."

"Gaara, dinner's ready!" called a voice from behind. Gaara turned to see his uncle calling to him from the open door of the house. He smiled warmly at Gaara and beckoned for him to hurry. Gaara looked back down at the red rubber ball. He set it down on the ground so the other kids could come back and get it. He wiped his eyes and walked slowly back towards the front steps. His uncle, satisfied in seeing his nephew walking back to the house, went inside, leaving the door open for him. Gaara reached the steps and picked up his teddy bear, holding it to his chest with one arm. He climbed the few remaining steps and went inside where he was greeted by his uncle. The loneliness and sadness Gaara was feeling was reflected in his eyes, and his uncle could see it. He ruffled Gaara's red hair. "Come on, cheer up! I made your favorite, and then afterwards you can help me fix one of the old broken chairs." He said, trying to cheer up his nephew. Gaara laughed and playfully hit his uncle's hand away. "Yes, Uncle Yashamaru." He said smiling.

"Now hurry up, or dinner will get cold." His uncle warned. "Your brother and sister are out training with your father, Lord Kazekage, so it'll just be you and me." Gaara nodded and went to wash up.

"What's the matter, Gaara? You've hardly touched your food." Yashamaru asked with concern.

"Huh?" Gaara jumped, he shook his head to clear it. He had been stirring his food as he stared at the wall, his eyes distant. "Oh! Um..." He looked down at his food. He thought back to all of the times he had seen a kid fall and scrape a knee or an elbow and then begin to cry or run home. "Do wounds hurt?" He asked his uncle as he continued to look down.

"Hmm? You ask if wounds hurt? Why--" He stopped, a look of understanding appearing on his face. Gaara looked up eagerly. His uncle saw the innocence on his nephew's face and his expression softened. "Yes, they do. It's like when... well, when you stub your toe or--" He stopped and looked at Gaara. He realized that he still didn't understand it. "Never mind. I can't explain it to you." Gaara looked crestfallen. He pushed himself away from the table and slid out of his chair, his uncle silently watching him. Gaara picked up one of his uncle's tools. It was long and had a sharp point. Yashamaru didn't move, but instead sat back and watched. Gaara lifted the tool high and drilled it into his hand. He stared down at his hand. The spot where the tool had hit wasn't bleeding, there was no wound, and it didn't hurt. Instead, a layer of sand began to form over the small indention. His uncle looked on, his expression unreadable. Gaara set down the tool and continued to stand and stare at his hand. After a moment of silence, Yashamaru finally spoke. "Gaara, you need to eat. Don't worry about it anymore."

"But...why?" Gaara asked, looking back at his uncle.

"Why what?"

"Why am I the only one? Why can't I feel the pain like everyone else? What makes me so different?" He asked. His uncle sighed and stood up. He walked over to his nephew and kneeled in front of him, taking Gaara's hands in his. He stared into his blue eyes as he thought of the words to say. "You're not different, you're Gaara. You don't need to feel the pain of an open cut. You should be happy the way you are."

"Why don't I have any friends? Why do people run when I come near them?" Tears began to roll down Gaara's cheeks, but his uncle wiped them away. He sighed again as if he had had this discussion with his nephew many times before. "Don't fret about it anymore. You're better than them. Keep a positive outlook on life." Yashamaru pulled Gaara close and gave him a hug, not wanting to continue the conversation any longer.

After dinner, Gaara helped his uncle repair the broken chair. He was always happy to help his uncle with work around the house. It made him feel needed and loved. Yashamaru stood up and admired his work. He looked back down at Gaara who was still crouched in front of the chair putting on the finishing touches. "That's enough, Gaara. You've done enough tonight. Go outside and play." Yashamaru said. Gaara stood up and nodded at his uncle. He picked up his worn brown bear and headed out the door, but not without giving a glance at the chair and his smiling uncle. The cool night breeze blew over Gaara as soon as he stepped outside, making him hold his teddy bear tighter. At night was the best time to be outside in the desert terrain of the Sand Village. It was cooler than during the day, and the sun wasn't out so there wasn't a risk of getting sunburned. Gaara's pale skin was very vulnerable to the Sun's rays, so he wasn't allowed in the sun much. He tilted his head back and stared at the twinkling stars above. He rested his hand on the hard rock bar that served as a handrail; the warmth of the sun could still be felt. Step by step, he slowly descended down the five sandy steps that led to his uncle's house. Gaara saw that the red ball had disappeared and that the group of kids was back and playing with it farther away. He thought it would be smarter to just avoid them, so he headed for the village's playground. There were many kids jumping off the swings and landing in the sand, sliding down the slide, or just talking with one another. Gaara passed one group of girls, looking older than his sister, and heard a bit of their conversation. "There's that kid again." A brunette said.

"Yeah, he scares me. Why don't they just banish him already?" Another replied.

"I heard the Kazekage said he was 'a failed experiment.'" The third one commented. Gaara held his stuffed bear closer, trying to hold back his tears. He found an unoccupied swing away from everyone and sat down. "I'm better than them." He said, trying to reassure himself. "What they say is wrong about me. Father loves me, doesn't he?"

After awhile of sitting alone with his bear, Gaara looked up and saw a group of boys playing a game he hadn't seen played before. One kid would slide a rock while another would have three tries to hit it with another rock to make it keep going. The winner was the one who could make it go the farthest. Interested in the game, Gaara got off the swing and walked towards the group. They didn't seem to take much notice of him. "Hey, could I play?" Gaara asked. One boy looked up and a look of horror appeared on his face as if a demon was coming to take him to the fiery pits of the underworld. He pointed at Gaara. "Kaibutsu!" he shouted, "Die monster!" The boy threw the rock he was holding at Gaara's head with tremendous force and speed. Gaara flinched instinctively, but when he opened his eyes he saw that a wall of sand had blocked the rock. When the sand fell away, Gaara saw the kids running home. They were quite far away and must have been running like their lives were in danger. He bent down and picked up the rock. It must have been polished and made smooth by a sander because round rocks like this one were very rare to find. The boy who had thrown it at him must have treasured it dearly because many kids in the sand village coveted these rocks. Gaara looked up again and saw that the kids were no longer in sight. He clutched his heart. It hurt, not physically, but emotionally. He turned to go home, his stuffed bear in one hand and the rock in the other. Gaara saw the group of girls again; they were giving him a dirty look as if he had killed someone. Everyone gave him that look. The pain in his heart was almost unbearable now.

"There you are, Gaara!" Yashamaru exclaimed as Gaara walked into the house. "I was just about to send Kankuro out to get you." Gaara's brother looked up from the small puppet he was working on at the mention of his name. Kankuro had short messy brown hair, and was quite tall for his age. He had always been interested in puppets and drawing blueprints for them since he was very young. Gaara closed the door behind him and continued to stare down at the ground. His uncle walked over to him. "What's the matter?" He asked.

"I--" Gaara began to tell his uncle what he had heard, but then thought against it. "Um, nothing." He replied.

"Hey, Gaara, what's that in your hand?" Kankuro asked, leaving the table and walking towards his brother. Gaara looked down at his hand. "Oh, it's just a rock." He showed his open palm to his brother.

"Could I have it?" Kankuro asked.

"Sure..." Gaara replied, handing the rock to his brother and walking silently to his room. Yashamaru watched Gaara, he could sense that he was unhappy, but he knew he wouldn't be able to help him. The pain his nephew was feeling was beyond human comfort.

Gaara stared out of his open window at the tiny sliver that was left of the moon. A small chair was pulled up from the many nights he had spent staring at the sky, lost in thought, or silently crying. There were only a few pieces of furniture in the little room; a small handmade wooden chair by the window, an old wooden desk in the corner for studying scrolls late at night, a bed that's never been slept on, and a chest of toys, as well as a brown circular rug to cover the sandy floor. Gaara sighed heavily and slid out of his chair. He climbed onto the bed to reach the shelf above. Stretching his arms up, he felt around for what he was looking for. Gaara let out a scream as he knocked a kunai down and it fell towards his face. His hands flew up instinctively for protection. The kunai's point pierced his hand, but the sand forced it out again. Gaara fell onto the bed in a daze. He slowly lifted his hand up to examine it. Not a scratch. The kunai knife lied a few inches away, completely clean. Yashamaru busted into the room. "What was that? What happened?" He yelled, more angry than concerned. His eyes scanned the room and rested on his nephew. "What happened?" He asked, his voice calmer as he walked over to Gaara.

"The sand, it protected me." Gaara replied, still somewhat dazed. "What would have happened if it didn't?"

"Look." Yashamaru picked up the kunai, "You're hand would have been cut." He sliced a small cut on his finger and watched the blood slowly ooze out. "See?" Gaara's eyes widened at the sight of his uncle cutting himself. He bit down on his finger, wanting to stop the blood. Yashamaru pulled his finger out of his nephew's mouth and took out a roll of bandages from his pocket. "So, you do understand." He replied, carefully wrapping the cut. Gaara was shocked for a moment and then he answered. "I think I do understand the pain you're talking about. If that's the pain of a wound, than I must be wounded on the inside. I feel it all the time, although it's not a physical pain." He clutched his heart and stared into the dark eyes of his uncle. Yashamaru nodded solemnly. He patted Gaara's head and said nothing.

"152...153...154..." Gaara counted. One of his favorite pastimes was to count the many stars in the sky while the rest of his family slept. He gazed out the window. "160...161..." Gaara didn't sleep; he couldn't. He had a severe case of insomnia that was caused by the demon dwelling inside him. Because of his lack of sleep, Gaara had very dark circles around his eyes that often frightened younger kids. He pushed away from the window and headed out of his room. Gaara walked silently down the hall and stopped at his sister's room. Her blonde hair was out of its usual four ponytails as she slept peacefully in her bed. Many paper fans were hung around the room. Some were large and some were hand-sized. There were all different colors and shapes. One caught his eye. It was medium-sized and had an amazing landscape design; almost like looking out the window at rolling hills and spacious skies. He resisted the urge to enter Temari's room and take down the fan. Instead, Gaara walked farther down the hall to his brother's room. Kankuro's head was nowhere to be seen under the mass of blankets and pillows. He was actually a quite organized person, although his bed didn't show it. Gaara's eyes scanned over the many puppets on his brother's bookshelf, lined neatly in a row. Beneath that was Kankuro's large rock collection, which is what he had left his room for. Gaara quietly entered the room and crouched in front of the collection of rocks. All of his brother's smooth rocks were lined up neatly and equally spaced apart. In the corner was a pile of rough rocks that had yet to be sanded and polished. Gaara took one of the roughest rocks and left his brother's room. He passed his uncle's room and quietly left the house with the rock in his hand. Gaara shivered as he stepped outside. The temperature had dropped tremendously, making Gaara wish he had gotten his jacket before he left. Shaking his head, he set the rock on the ground. A look of determination crossed his face as he concentrated hard. Sand began to cover the rock, rubbing across the rough surface. It buffeted all the sharp edges and began to wear it away. Gaara was going to prove that his sand wasn't always bad.

BRRIIINNG!! A loud, annoying alarm clock went off as the time it was set for was reached. An arm emerged from the large mass of covers. It grabbed the clock and threw it on the ground, quickly silencing it. A grunt could be heard as the sheets began to stir. Kankuro threw the sheets off of him and sat up. Yawning and stretching, he got out of bed and walked to the tall mirror hanging on the wall. He examined himself in the mirror. Kankuro was the biggest of the sand siblings, both height and weight-wise. Although his sister was older than him, he was nearly twice her size. He messed with his hair a bit and then threw on some clothes that were draped over the back of a chair. Kankuro then began his daily routine. He carefully checked over all of his puppets, making sure no one had messed with them during the night. Everything was how it should be. He tallied his rocks next. "What? One's missing!" He panicked, frantically searching the room for his missing rock.