Sacrifice

Temari was a sacrifice, and she knew it.

Gaara began to look at girls with more than a hint of interest in his gaze, and Temari saw and reported the fact to the Kazekage during her weekly report on her little brother. She had no choice. Her brother was her brother, but her allegiance lay in another place, to another person, to another position. She was the sacrifice. The Kazekage could not afford to lose precious young villagers who were the future on Sunagakure. He could not, and he would not. Temari would just have to serve. It wasn't right, but no one cared. Who would have guessed that Temari's life and future would be turned upside down simply by the onset of puberty upon Gaara?

Gaara had an enormous appetite, and Temari guessed that it might be due to Shukaku. However, she noticed one thing. Everytime he took her, she had to be facing away from him, so that he couldn't see her face, see the grief in her eyes. In a way, it was his mercy to her, that she didn't have to see her own little brother hovering over her.

Sometimes, after Gaara left her room, she noticed that her bed sheets were stained not only with blood, but also with water. Were they Gaara's tears, or her own?

---

Kankurou, in his own way, was also a sacrifice.

After Temari became crucial to keeping Gaara controlled and sane, she could no longer be the one to fight and die, if Shukaku should ever take over Gaara's body. So he waited for the day of his death, and honed his weapons, hoping that he could protect his sister and his village. Life was life. Sacrifice was an integral part of the Sabaku family, and he was no different.

There were times when he tried to deceive himself, tried to reassure himself that he could, and would, beat Gaara when the time came. He did so because he wanted to believe that he and Temari could live forever, together, without anyone to hold them back or impede them. He wanted to believe that no one could come between them, friend or foe, sibling or stranger. He wanted her attention to himself.

And when he found out about the deepening relation between Temari and Gaara, he didn't know what to do, or what to say. He couldn't face Gaara properly, and they both knew that they hated each other.

---

Gaara, even more so than anyone, was a sacrifice.

Shukaku egged him on everytime he felt the urge to do something a little less than right, and more often than not, he ended up destroying everything around him at times like those. Sand flew everywhere, smashing pottery and vases with great destructive force, penetrating the skin of the surrounding people, drowning in blood.

Sometimes, all he wanted was acknowledgement – perhaps a nod from Kankurou, a smile from Temari, anything, just as long as it wasn't pitying looks or terrified cowering. No one pitied Gaara of the Sand. No one cared.

He continued going to Temari, even though they both knew that they didn't enjoy it. Somehow, that simple fact made the whole façade even worse. But he couldn't give up her up, because it was the only time he could touch someone and not have them draw away in fear, in disgust.

Kankurou began ignoring him and refusing to meet his eyes, and everytime they saw each other, Gaara could sense the resentment and hatred pouring off him. That atmosphere only lifted when Temari was about, so Gaara refused to stay in the same room with Kankurou alone. The few times their eyes met, Gaara saw a challenging look in Kankurou's eyes, daring him to do something, to do anything. Gaara left. He didn't want anything to do with someone who tried to take away what was rightfully his.

And so the Sabaku family were nothing but sacrifices, and until this day, they remain sacrifices.

Their names are engraved on their headstones, and their skeletons lie side by side, as though they are in a dream. No one visits their burial site, because no one would care enough, but also because there is no one left..

Kankurou lies on the left, killed by an Jounin missing-nin while protecting the Kazekage, who just happened to be Gaara, from assassination. Perhaps it wasn't the way he'd have wanted to go, but life was life, and Kankurou was the sacrifice. Always the sacrifice. Nothing more than the sacrifice.

Temari lies in the middle, as it has always been while they were alive. She played the role of caretaker and peacemaker, but in the end, she sacrificed her life to save herself. No one could stand the pressure for so long. Being near Gaara always hurt her, sooner or later. Life was life, and it was just her luck that she was killed on a mission. The mission succeeded anyway. That would probably have hurt her a little more than she should have, because it would have reminded her that she was expendable. The sacrifice.

Gaara lies on the left, killed by the compatriots of the missing-nin who killed Kankurou. No one expected him to die again, not so soon, and this time, there is no one willing to give up his life to restore his. He is the sacrifice for the entire village, but he is not enough.

There is no more Sunagakure. Instead, what lies in the desert, covered by drifting sand, is the outlines of broken houses. The corpses have long rotted away, and there is no one alive, no one left to restore the city. There is no village, there are no people.

There is only Shukaku, who feasts on what remains and discards what he does not want and does not need.

Kankurou. Temari. Gaara. The three lived together, and they died together. It was what they would have wanted. They could hate each other til death, but they still stuck together. After all was said and done, they were a family. The family of sacrifices. They did their best, but they were not enough.