Hidden Tiger of the Sand

Prologue

China Town, Sand Village

The rickshaw wagon wheels were stained with mud puddles as the farm carts bustled past in the moist April rain. The air was cut and it took extra effort for breaths, most likely because it was a flea market. Various languages were being shouted, as people stuffed goods in each other's faces yelling prices at one another. Others angrily stood their ground bargaining on the goods.

Gaara No Sabaku stood out from the rest, maybe it was because of his bright red hair, or his mysterious features with a tattoo (love) on his forehead denying his frontage of villainous looks and reputation. He wore a rice hat, and sang old Chinese melodies as he walked along the path. People pushed and moved harshly among themselves, but didn't touch the infamous "Sand Blood" as if he were a curse walking, a contagious threat that would destroy you upon touch.

But alas, someone dared to bump into him, though it was by innocent accident. He stopped his singing and walking to look at the careless looking boy not more than 13. He gripped the boy's head; the boy's eyes widened in fear and shook in terrifying unbelief. His friends scattered and the people hushed themselves staring at the scene. The 5 o'clock shadowed face of Gaara was stone cold and his eyes were a fierce green with pitch black pupils that bore into the young boy.

"Don't you have something to say, boy?" Gaara asked in his native language of Sand. The boy nodded mechanically, Gaara waited and the boy loudly said "I apologize Sand Blood for bumping into you foolishly, please spare my life!"

Gaara released him; the boy swaggered forward, bending down lifelessly. Gaara stared at him half interested, the boy made a beeline through the crowd running. The people were still quiet, whispering a few things randomly. Gaara turned his attention back to the road, and he began to whistle. He stopped abruptly and a few moments later it began to pour.

Gaara wandered around enjoying the commoner's life style. He didn't have to worry about the politics or becoming the next Kazekage, all he had to worry about was the food in his belly. It didn't matter to him that it was reeking of all kinds of stenches mixed together tickling his nostrils and poisoning his taste buds, nor that it was dirt roads that he walked on, and make-shift vendors he bought from. He liked it, because it would help him derive a good poem later on. He took out the pre-inked feather that he had found earlier from his pocket, and his receipt and began to write. On his hand, he frowned as the words began to erase in the rain. He sat against a wooden and cement shop, and began to write in the dry.

Brown is all around me, even the rain is brown.

This makes me smile, because to them they think my favorite color is blood,

While in actuality it is the very color I walk on.

Will they ever know me?

Who knows, but God anyway?

So for now I wander, town to town if I have to, to fit in.-

"Sir! Sir! Do you have a place to stay?" Boldly asked a young woman who couldn't have been past the age of 36. She had dark brown hair, identical to Neji's color but it was up in a firm pony tail with a white ribbon. Her banks where on both sides, but left open in the middle. She wore commoner clothing, which wasn't poor but not extravagantly rich. She had an umbrella, and was standing over him. They keys to the shop dangled from her hand, and she was leaning over him. Gaara stood up, said farewell, and was on his way again. She repeated the same question louder. Her persistence was almost funny, as if she wasn't afraid of him.

Gaara truthfully said "No" but continued on the path. The woman looked long and hard at him.

"Did you smile at me?" She asked loudly running to catch up with him, Gaara smiled again at her.

"So you are not heartless?" She asked softly, as if to herself. Gaara stopped and pondered that for a second. Gaara paused momentarily, "No, my dear I am not." Gaara said smiling the whole time.

"Huh." The woman said clicking her tongue, "In that case, I insist you come to my home." The woman smiled to him.

"Don't mind the noise." She strained as she pulled open a door forcefully, because it refused to budge but insisted on creaking. Gaara looked at the room, it was simple yet, livable; he thanked her for the room.

"So, do you have a name? My name is Tae chi, yeah I know, leaves much to the imagination of where I found such a rare name." Tae Chi laughed, leaning against the door way. Gaara smiled and told her his name was "Oi Pah" which was half true because Gaara had that nickname between his siblings.

"Lovely, so you like poetry?" Tae Chi asked, running backwards as she pulled out a mattress. Gaara looked at her, "I saw you writing it, you've become quite famous, if you're the one who posts them on Town Square." She smiled tiredly, she looked heavy but it was natural. After pregnancy possibly, but she wasn't super-big, or plump, she was just a little heavier than the chopsticks walking that were called "women" these days.

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