Sands of Time [Gaara Oneshot]
He should not be watching her.
But she sat there, by the swings, all alone. Her cloud grey eyes down cast and her white blonde hair caught in the breeze. Every now and then she'd raise her head to stare down the street. Nobody approached her. The village of Suna had been afraid too long to trust an outsider.
Gaara leaned against the railing, his aquamarine eyes swept across the empty playground, but they inevitably found their way back to the girl. She was a magnet, pulling him towards her as he struggled to escape. There were two sides of him, one was attracted and the other repelled.
The sand itched at his skin, urging him to reach out with it's deadly grip and snuff out her pathetic little life. Gaara's hand lifted a fraction, hovering over the steel pole and the sand reared up.
The girl looked up with tear filled eyes and she seemed to see him for a moment, a single tear spilled over and streaked down her rosy cheek. A shadow draped over her face, she turned to look back down the street.
Three long days passed and still he could not bring himself to kill her. Why was it so hard? He had killed many people without a single regret or hesitation. Their blood and his sand had become one and it had made him feel so good. A rush of power through his veins as his victim's blood splattered against his cool face.
He had been like her once, innocent and unaware of the true nature of life. It is cruel and harsh, you can't rely on anyone but yourself. Love is just a fable told to fools. If life had been kinder, if love had really existed he would never have been treated like a monster, they'd be no demon sealed in his body. Maybe he would have died from the first assassination attempt.
But he had found his true calling. Gaara had dedicated his life to the destruction of others. What kind of foul power kept him from his ultimate goal? What was this puny girl to him? Nothing. A waste of space.
Her spirit had broken more and more each day. Her pretty girl clothes had faded, smudged with mud and torn in places. Her soft, round face was stained with tears and dirt. Pain written across her face like blood soaked words.
Her abandonment was a puzzle; she wasn't like Gaara. She didn't have a demon locked inside her, roaring for freedom. She was pretty in a soft, rosy way. She wasn't scary in the slightest and she couldn't even hide her agony.
Gaara watched her from the balcony without sleep. She waited for a long time, longer than anyone else would have, long enough to make him think she might be a bit off. Her eyes raked down the street and with every passer by her eyes brightened, then fell.
The next day the sun filtered through the dark, lifting the coldness of the night. The girl blinked into the sudden light. She stood, turned her back on the street and walked into the sun. There was nothing left of the vulnerable girl in her shoulders, she walked with a strength and determination.
She grew smaller and smaller in Gaara's acute vision until she faded completely. His hand tightened around the cool steel and it groaned. He jumped and perched on the narrow pole, he searched but he couldn't see her through squinted eyes.
Gaara landed on the hard ground without a sound. He followed the path she had taken, he looked down all the side streets, he even left the village to search the dunes, but she was gone.
The old swing creaked as he struggled into it, there was a time once when he could fit easily with room to spare, but now he had to squeeze in a way that was most unbefitting of a Kazekage.
His legs spilled over the sides and dragged across the sand, he could kneel and still be able to sit on the little plastic seat. He swung in a jolting action that looked like a lame bird. A soft, resonating chuckle vibrated in his throat. What would his advisors say if they saw him like this?
The early morning light warmed his face, highlighting his bright red hair.
It had been a long time – too long – since he had visited the playground of his childhood. He remembered being young and alone, swinging in the darkness and he remembered with more clarity than anything else in his life, the young girl who had waited to the side of the swings. She would never know how he had watched her or how she had changed his life.
It had been a slow change, a small patient seed that had sprouted after his fight with Naruto Uzumaki of Konoha. If he hadn't been so captivated by the girl he might not have been changed by his best friends words and he wouldn't have gone on to become the respected leader of his village.
A soft ringing laugh.
Pink spread across Gaara's cheeks and he was embarrassed that grown man could react like that. The girl stopped in front of him, her grey eyes sparkled. "Oh my," she whispered.
He didn't recognise her as one of his subjects, she was probably a visitor, he signed hundreds of those applications a week. The urge to jump out of the seat and brush fake lint off his clothes seized him, but he didn't move. This girl would have no idea he was Kazekage, she'd probably never know.
The girl watched him with amusement for a few more seconds and then she slid into the swing next to him, her slender build fit snugly into the seat. Her small creamy hands wrapped around the chains. She tilted her head towards him. "Reliving a childhood memory?" her voice was soft and sweet.
"Something like that," said Gaara.
The girl's white blonde hair swished as she rocked back and forth, catching the early light with a shimmer. Her thin eyebrows rose to meet her navy Konoha headband. Her stormy eyes were impossibly bright, her pink lips peeled back into a delicate smile. Wrapped tightly on her upper arm was the symbol of a medic ninja.
"You're not from around here."
"No," she said. "I'm not."
Her face darkened. Garra stared, an emotion bubbling within him. Words slipped from his mouth."Why come to a place like this?"
"Oh." She laughed. Her swing came to a halt, her head swivelled to him. "You mean, why would a young girl like me want to come to a strange village in the middle of a harsh desert?"
The Kazekage watched her without speaking. Her voice brushed against him like a welcoming caress. It was refreshing to have someone talk to him as if he was just a normal villager. To see a genuine smile, with no hidden intentions.
Her eyes darted to her lap and then the floated to the side of the swings. Gaara could still see the little girl sitting there, eyes downcast, clothes torn. What happened to her?
Her laugh was like bells ringing and he brought him back to the present like a slap to the face. She turned back to him with a smile. "Oh, I'm just like you."
"Like me?"
"That's right." Her head tilted down, her white hair fell framing her round face, her cheeks rosy and healthy. Her cloud grey eyes looked up at him through thick lashes. "We're alike, you and I." She shook her head and laughed again. "We're both trying to go back into the past, even though we know it's impossible."
Gaara knew then, from the look in her eyes, a flash of the little vulnerable girl. The little girl he had watched when he was younger had come back.
"Maybe so." The Kazekage smiled. "The past has faded in the sands of time, but the future is in our hands, ready to be moulded into something spectacular."