I didn't cry when they told me my parents had died. I remained silent in the face of the two Sand Shinobi before me, their faces filled with pity for the small, orphaned girl in front of them. They fought bravely, or at least that's what they told me, until ninja from Konoha brought them down. One of the Sand ninjas patted me on the head, the other, this one taller than his companion, said he was sorry for my loss. All I felt was emptiness.
A whirlwind of sand surrounded the form of a young boy, his eyes filled with so much pain I was forced to look away. The other children dropped their toys and ran, screaming words like demon! Monster! Nothing but fear, fear, fear. Like an ocean's wave in a mighty storm, the sand lashed out, striking one of the children. Snap. The sound of a bone breaking. The others looked back at their fallen friend, but only for a moment, before fleeing in terror.
"Cowards." I thought bitterly, ignoring the horrifying melody of screams from the child with the broken leg. I did not move, and remained rooted to my swing. It was mine after all.
Raising his hand, the child with love inscribed into his forehead encased the injured boy before him in a layer of sand, crushing his hand into a fist, his knuckles bleeding, ending the life before him in a rain of blood. Stray red droplets flew in my direction, latching onto my face and clothes. My eyes met those of the boy in front of me, the one with pain and sadness in his eyes who had ended the life of another. But yet, I felt nothing.
He had approached me now, those powerful eyes piercing me with their gaze. Yet I could feel nothing, because I was nothing. I met his gaze head on. Nothing.
"This is my swing." My voice was hoarse from lack of use. It was a dumb thing to say to someone who had just slaughtered another child in front of me, but the swing was mine. Mine. At the time, it seemed completely consequential he understand that.
He tilted his head, as if puzzled, but other than that his expression betrayed nothing. "What is your name?" There was a raspy quality to his voice, something I liked but couldn't explain. He couldn't be any older than me, around six I assumed, yet he held so much power in his small form. Perhaps that was what fascinated me at the time?
"Kaya." I answered simply. I remember how it seemed so odd to me at the time, his wanting to know my name, but the thought crossed my mind that perhaps he wished to learn it before he killed me? If so, it seemed very polite of him.
He turned his back to me and…
walked away.
For the first time, I felt something, the emptiness inside me melting away for a short, blissful moment. I had felt surprised, he did not kill me like I had thought he would. And then, all at once, pain intruded upon me. He didn't kill me, and for that I was disappointed.
I did not learn the name of the mysterious boy until much later. In fact, I found he had many names. Gaara of the Desert. Demon. Monster. Those words again, but I found there were others which passed on the lips of adults; abomination, murderer, disgrace.
Shadows flitted by. Assassins sent to end the life of the boy who had intrigued me so. The market was deserted, civilians having long since fled for their lives once they sensed the choking sensation of blood lust. He did not move, instead he let the ninja approach, a boy, no more than eight, but there was no fear in his eyes.
Kunai were flung in his direction, and I watched as a wall of sand raised itself in front of Gaara, protecting him from the onslaught. Jutsu were used, only to be deflected by his sand barrier. Still Gaara did not move. He waited for the ninja to tire themselves out before merely raising his hand, crushing them mercilessly with his sand. And once more I witnessed the rain of blood, its wet substance drowning itself in my brown hair and staining my clothes. I would have to wash those later.
Light footsteps padded over in my direction. He paused, light-colored eyes meeting with my dark ones, the intensity in them making me feel alive. His gaze left mine, and once more he turned his back on me, leaving me alone.
Once again, he had not killed me. Perhaps this was his way of being kind? Well, I didn't ask for it.
There were more assassins. And yet Gaara did not flinch as he killed them all. Their blood raining down and choking the air, satisfying a lonely boy's lust for blood. He was twelve now, and surrounding him was a pile of bodies, freshly killed. The gradual rotting of their flesh staining the air. He walked by me once again, his back to me, but this time I called out to him. This time I would know.
"Why will you not kill me?" The words hung in the air, and he stopped, turning to face me. I waited. Sand left his gourd and wrapped around my ankles, holding me in place. I shut my eyes. So this was it, finally.
"Your eyes," He said, and the softness in his voice made me open mine. Or perhaps he simply had one of those voices where everything sounded soft? "They are the same as mine. One who has felt true suffering and loneliness. You have no purpose in this life, and this has left you with nothing but emptiness."
He relinquished the sand around my ankles, the grains scratching me lightly as they retreated back into his gourd. Then he turned away from me.
"You didn't answer my question." The finality in my tone made him stop, but this time he did not turn to look at me.
"I do not kill those who already wish to die."
And then he left me alone.
I laughed. The first laugh I'd had in years, it tickled my sides and burned my throat, but I laughed all the same. The boy with the gourd…
he was funny.
A/N- So I never really know what to say in these things. I'm assuming if you've read this far than I must've done something right with the story. Or maybe it was THAT bad and you simply had to scroll through this disgrace of a fanfiction. If that's the case, then all I can say is, it could have been WAY worse. And by that I mean lemon. YES. That kind.
Nah, I'm just teasing. But really, please leave a review, let me know what you think. I've had this idea for a little while and figured I might as well get off my lazy ass and write it. Probably one of the darker things I've written, yet looking at my story list, you'll probably notice I don't have a whole lot of happy stories anyway, so I digress. Haha, I must have some serious issues, ne?
Thanks for reading! And PLEASE PLEASE review!