"Did you hear about Akashi-san?"

Gaara's eyes flitted toward the side of the road, where a pair of gossiping ladies were huddled together, whispering about the latest news.

"Yes, yes, she passed away… they say her daughter found her after returning home from a mission…"

"Takara-chan, was it? I remember her from when she was a toddler. She was such a sweet girl, but after the monster—"

"Ssshhh!" The other woman hissed, glancing conspicuously at Gaara, who was standing nearby and staring in the other direction, listening attentively. "He'll hear you!"

"Oh!" The other one gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.

A lull passed.

"…But after her father died, Takara-chan was never quite the same, was she?" The gossips started again almost immediately, despite Gaara not moving. He wanted to hear more about what these women knew of Akashi Takara…

"No, she wasn't... that was when she starting following… it… around."

"I would bet a million ryō it was because of his death. They were such a perfect family… her mother was so delightful and such a nice woman, and she loved her husband so much. They were living perfectly peaceful, normal lives till it went and k—"

"Shhh!"

Takara's father. Gaara never thought of him much, and Takara never spoke of him. He dimly remembered asking her once how he had died, though he couldn't quite recall the details. Still, he knew she said nothing conclusive about it, and he let it drop.

But now his curiosity was flaring. He knew so little about Takara, his new… friend… and she was not inclined to share herself at all. And she knew everything about him… wouldn't it be fair for him to do some snooping of his own?

Gaara abruptly decided to head toward the Kazekage Mansion. They had records of civilians there.

Takara was like a mysterious light. For many years she had followed him in secret, watching out for him and crying about him and caring about him. Such a strange, mysterious girl, who was shyly willing to be nice to him when all people hated him, so wonderful, in his eyes, but so mysterious. Always hiding and deceiving and following him.

All of this was running through his head as he shuffled through the papers. He wanted to know more and more about Takara, the person who was akin to his guardian angel. Always keeping a low profile, watching from far away… He needed to know more. The need for the answer to why would she do all this for me? drove him in his fervent search for the files on the Akashi family.

He dimly observed that his hands shook when he lifted a plain manila folder out of the cabinet, a label with the name AKASHI glaring at him in dark, bold print stuck to its corner. He pursed his lips at his trembling limbs, but slowly opened the file.

The first thing he saw were the pictures. Here was one of her mother and her father, and a few portraits of the three. A picture here with the Mrs. holding a wrapped bundle, her husband with his arm around her shoulder, smiling up at the camera as they posed for their first family photo with a newborn daughter. One here of a toddler Takara, her brown hair clipped back elegantly, smiling up at him, dressed in a while-and-yellow dress at what appeared to be a party…

Her hair used to be so long, he mused, staring at the girl's waist-length tresses. She's wearing such bright colors.

Gaara knew he could stare at this mini photo album for hours, so he reluctantly put the pictures of the Akashis aside and looked to the documents. He found that Mrs. Akashi loved to hold parties, to go shopping, to dress up her toddler girl in cute clothes. The report told that she was a doting mother and a social butterfly. Gaara moved on.

Here was the report on Takara, which was significantly longer, due her being in the Shinobi Corps. A page on her stats here, her mission history, her filed reports… Gaara saved that for later.

And then he found the page on her father.

Deceased. A carpenter. Brown hair, brown eyes, had a spouse who is now also deceased. One child enrolled in the ninja forces, still alive, genin-rank. Gaara's forehead creased as he read on.

A notorious drunkard. He had apparently splurged on alcohol and often came home intoxicated. Gaara then knew that the Akashis weren't really the perfect family Suna knew them to be. His mind flickered to the ladies' conversation:

"But after her father died, Takara-chan was never quite the same—"

How did he die?

Gaara turned his head down and read the part detailing his passing.

His hands began shaking again. His eyes widened. His breath began to come in gasps. This was not what he was expecting, not at all.

Killed by Sabaku no Gaara seven years ago, as of today's date of...

Killed. By Sabaku no Gaara. Seven years ago.

Six. She had been six. He had been six. He was six when Yashamaru—

His rampage. His killing spree. He had gone on a killing spree right after Yashamaru had died… and he had killed Takara's father, hadn't he? That was it, that was how he died—that was why Takara never told him about the circumstances of her father's death, because it was his fault he was gone, the reason why she changed, why she began following after him…

It must just be a ploy, Gaara thought. She changed, she was angry, when her father died. She must only be nice to me so she can kill me. She really was an assassin, wasn't she? A brilliant assassin. He would have never suspected something like this.

He half expected her to jump out of the shadows now and slit his throat. She was always in the shadows, always following him.

No, no, not an assassin, Takara had said she'd never do that—

But it's all just a part of her plan, she's tricking you—

No! Takara, she was nice to him, she cared—

Gaara clutched his head.

Yashamaru... Takara... they both hated him. The both pretended to care for him so he would lower his guard

He had murdered his first "friend"'s father. He was the reason now that she was an orphan. His "friend" may not even be a friend at all!

He abruptly dropped his hands and forced his breathing to slow.

He needed to see her.

He gathered up the file and took it with him.

He could not find Takara. She wasn't at the training grounds, nor at her house. She wasn't at her squad mate's house, her sensei's house. She wasn't on the rooftops. Where the hell was she?

Gaara found himself checking the last place she could feasibly be.

The civilian cemetery.

It paid off. The place was shaded by a few hardy trees, small and shrunken by the desert heat. The girl he had been so desperately searching for was leaning against the trunk of one of these shriveled trees, staring blankly into space. When Gaara noticed her to be in the proximity of her mother's fresh grave, placed next to her father's, he felt his stomach sink.

He took a shaky step forward. Takara suddenly snapped out of her daze and whipped her head around. Her eyes widened.

"G-Gaara-sama?" She gaped. She noticed his stormy eyes and his trembling right away. "Gaara-sama? Are you alright? Is the demo—is, uh, is Shukaku disturbing you?"

Gaara gritted his teeth and lifted his arm slowly to point at the gravestone nearby. Takara follow his movement and started when she saw that he was pointing to her father's resting place.

"I—ah… Yes, that's my dad's…"

"I killed him." Gaara said roughly, staring at her face, waiting for her to drop her confused expression and snarl and spit at him.

But Takara just stood there, mouth hanging open.

"H-How did you… find out?" She finally swallowed. "I, I mean…"

Gaara thrust the manila folder out. Takara blanched.

"What do you want with me, Takara?" He asked harshly. "Have you been following me all these years so you could find a way to avenge your father and kill me?"

Takara gasped. "No, no! No, Gaara-sama! I wouldn't—"

"Then why?" He snarled. "I killed your father! Why do you care so much about me?"

"I—I—"

"Why?"

"I—I don't know!" Takara cried. "But Gaara-sama, I would never hurt you, you, you mean too much."

"But why?" Gaara repeated, sea foam green eyes smoldering. "Why do I mean so much?"

Takara bit her lip. Why was this happening? Months ago Gaara didn't even knew she existed.

He was standing there, looking so angry, but so lost, so confused…

"You… were always alone." Takara finally managed to say. "You were always… by yourself. No one… tried to be friends with you and I, I… I saw you… and I thought… maybe…" She swallowed thickly. "I, well, I mean that my dad… he didn't pay a lot of attention to me. I mean, sure, I was sad but—" She paused at Gaara's darkening expression. "But—I moved on a long time ago, Gaara-sama… I never begrudged you for it. It… it's a matter of the past. It has nothing to do with me…" She faltered. "With me being your… friend… today."

Gaara was dumbfounded. "Takara…"

"Gaara-sama?" She said meekly, looking as though she was scared she'd displeased him.

What should he say? Takara had never been angry with him for killing her father?

Some sort of weight lifted from his chest.

"Takara," He said repeated. His breathing was uneven again. He was shaking as he stumbled towards her.

"Gaara-sama," She responded quietly, hands floating right before his shoulders as he got closer, like she was trying not to touch a precious porcelain vase. "Ah, hey, Gaara-sama…"

Gaara realized his cheeks were wet. He touched his face. He stared at the droplets on his fingertips. He looked at Takara.

"That's alright, Gaara-sama," Takara said awkwardly. "That's normal. Everyone cries."

He looked down at his hands again.

"...Takara."

"Yes, Gaara-sama?"

"…Thank you."

Badum, the end. First off, Akashi Takara belongs to not me, but Desert(.)Moon, author of The Obsession. Sabaku no Gaara belongs to Mr. Kishimoto, whose first name I can't seem to recall.

This has been bugging me for a while now and I really wanted to get it out.

Now, for analysis!

To me this is kind of like a characterization point for Gaara, who's adjusting to suppressing his killing urges and getting used to that fact that he has a friend now—Takara. If it was hard to pick up, the thing throughout all of this he's feeling guilt—he's never felt guilty before. He had killed his brand new friend's dad and she never said anything. He freaks out, of course, because he's really psychologically unstable and paranoid what have you.

And it's worse because this brand new friend is so amazing to him—no one ever loved him and poof, she's here and she's respectful and nice. She was there when he was fighting Naruto and she's openly worried about him. To someone who has always been alone his whole life, she's something akin to a bright blaze of glory. The kind of thing that gives you a fuzzy feeling. He's happy Takara likes him so much but it's confusing him because no one ever acted like that before. She also knows everything about him, so he really wants to know more about her, too.

And so he becomes a bit more human. He cries a bit, because of the guilt, and a bit because Takara so readily forgave (even if it wasn't something she was too upset about in the first place—she was six).

I also made toddler Takara a stark contrast to the current Takara for kicks. I like dat irony, I do. So I dressed her in bright colors and made her hair long—after all, her mom was there to keep up appearances. Why not have an adorable, lovely little girl to flaunt about? If she dresses her up pretty and acts all motherly, she can have all of Suna cooing about how they were such a beautiful mother-daughter pair. And it worked, pretty much.

That's pretty much it. I hoped y'all like it, especially you, Desert Moon. I adore your story. Keep up the good work!

tes.