Suna Guardian

by Airan11

A child whose destiny becomes intertwined with the soul of another is guarded by a lone protector whose love, trust and friendship strengthen the fate of the future Kazekage. There is nothing stronger than the love shared between two friends. Gaara x OC

Important message:

Before reading this story, there are several things you will need to take in mind.

Firstly, there are many things in this story that have been changed and altered from the original anime/manga series. You may notice some weird differences that don't make any sense, but do not worry: they are intentional.

Secondly, I wrote this story a few months ago, both for fun and a test to see how much I have improved with my writing. If you don't like, don't judge or flame. I'll simply disregard them.

Thirdly, I do hope you like the story, it is long, but at the end I hope you will have enjoyed it!

On an ending note, Gaara is awesome ^.^

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The street was rowdier than usual despite the late afternoon sandstorm that usually hit the village. The temperate wind encompassed me in waves of bliss; I had always admired the warmth of the sand against my skin and the harsh rays of sunlight that coloured my auburn hair. It was a delight to walk along the village trails, the local marts would be open with the tantalising smell of ramen hypnotising my senses, and the pleasant hum of voices always provided a sense of security and joy in living in a village as lovely as my own.

The sand pitter-pattered against my shoes as I gingerly strolled out from a trail and into the wide berth of the centre of the village. Beyond me, the largest building in the village stood imposingly tall and impenetrable, a statuette of brown rock embedded into the ground. It was the building that housed our communication to the outer villages and gave orders to the ANBU about their assignments. Most importantly, it was the building the Kazekage resided in during his rule.

The Fourth Kazekage had been elected the ruler of the Sand Village a number of years ago, and many still admired him for his achievements and the protection he provided his village. I would admit myself; he was a strict man, authoritative and proud, though far from humble. My parents and my older brother worked for him. My father and mother were a part of his ANBU Black Ops team, and were currently out on a mission far from the village. My brother, however, was still young for a Sand Village ANBU shinobi, so he worked among the communication division in the highest turret of the building.

I was only twelve, but I had surpassed those beyond the ranks of Genin. I had already successfully taken my Chunin exams and I was now finally qualified for B and C rank missions, which was a far cry from the blunt D rank. I was a great shinobi and I abided my life thinking this way.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted from a nudge on my left. I spun my left arm away from the incoming threat, jostling the ingredients I'd bought minutes ago. It was a young child who had run passed, almost knocking over my groceries.

"Hey, kid! Watch where you're going, damn it!"

I also had a problem with my self control. But that wasn't the issue right now.

Ahead of me stood a large crowd, a great summation of the residents of the Sand Village. I recognised many, greeting them along the way, all the while trying to push myself further into the crowd to see the cause of all the commotion.

I had almost reached the opening when I heard muted whispers to my right.

"I heard the kid's unstable. We shouldn't go near him; he's not safe." An elderly woman stated, noticing my presence.

Her friend agreed. "You're right about that. The boy should be exiled from the village."

I furrowed my eyebrows in thought, trying to pinpoint what they were talking about. I gently pushed a young girl closer to her mother so I could enter the empty space circling the young, abandoned child.

And that's when I realised who they were talking about. In the space devoid of any crowd and attention sat a young child, close to the age of five or six. His vibrant red hair glistened in the heat of the afternoon sun, lighting up his pale, luminescent skin covered by sheets of ragged clothing.

My heart tore up at the sight, and I clutched at my chest, trying to stabilise my breathing, all the while not even realising that I was stepping closer to the child.

I was pulled back violently by the mother of the girl. "Where do you think you're going?" She chastised, shoving me next to her daughter. "You can't go anywhere near him! Where are your parents at a time like this? They should be here making sure you're not in trouble…"

Her continued pleas echoed dismally and finally faded into nothing. I paid her no attention, no matter the fact that she had just pushed me – because surely, she would be on the ground unconscious by now – but no, all I could focus on was the young boy surrounded by a sea of faces.

He was a boy that I knew, not well, just by name. Gaara of the Desert. Gaara the monster. Gaara the failed experiment.

Most of the villagers didn't know of Gaara's status: the fact that he had the One-Tailed beast sealed inside of him since he was a baby – sealed by his own father, the Fourth Kazekage. As my parents worked for the Lord Kazekage, I would hear of his plans whenever they were present at home – which was far from often – but I heard of the unpleasant life he had created for his youngest child.

He believed Gaara would be the ultimate weapon of destruction for the enemies, but a reliable form of protection for our village. He risked the life of his child for this purpose, all because his other children showed no positive signs of compatibility with the Tailed Beast. I believed the Lord Kazekage was a cruel man, but he was still my ruler – I could never mention such a thing in public.

When the Fourth Kazekage realised his son had become a discriminate failure by lashing out violently at the village residents, he cut off all ties to his son, and doomed him to a life of abandonment and cruelty.

And that's why my heart broke at seeing such a young child doomed to a life of isolation and violence, and not even by his own doing.

The reality focused clearly now as the crowd grew rowdier and violent. Opposite from my view, I watched as a middle-aged man threw an empty carton of eggs at the boy, and shouted in defiance. "Get out of the village, scum!"

The object hadn't hit the child, but the child perceived the movement from his peripheral vision as he turned his attention to the man. I could clearly see his eyes, the colour of shining emeralds, spark in surprise. They turned toward the man, anger lighting his features vividly – the black border surrounding his eyes making him look angrier than he appeared.

Gaara let out a primal scream and thrust a beam of sand at the man, sending him flying backwards, smashing into the crowd and tumbling sideways. Everyone turned silent, staring at the boy in bewilderment. Some looked afraid.

The boy realised what he had just done and stared down at his hands, envisioning all the evils in the world as his expression softened. Without another glance, he tore off to his right – the crowd lunging out of his way – frightened of his proximity, and ran into one of the village trails.

The crowd momentarily dispersed. Some had been expecting a fight to pursue, so they left, mumbling under their breaths to their companions. Others were anxious to return to their homes, afraid of the whereabouts of the boy and of the oncoming sandstorm, like the mother to my left.

I neglected both ideas and sprinted off in Gaara's direction. My legs pushed me harder and faster, but my mind was still back at the scene, watching what the villagers had said and done to him. That was enough to spark my anger and my physical stamina as I reached the end of the trail in seconds.

I was at a sudden loss. The next trail ran horizontally, so I had no choice but to go left or right. Worse enough, I hadn't seen which direction Gaara had pursued.

I couldn't come to terms with the fact that I had lost him – or that I had just been outrun. The only possible chance of finding him now would be to hone my ninja senses, and to give an acute attention to detail of the surrounding area.

Directly ahead of me was a stone barrier, the height exactly alike a cliff that bordered the entire village. It looked similar to a cliff face, the rocky detail would be difficult to climb, almost impossible for a child – but nothing was impossible for Gaara. Still, I didn't think he would take that option and leave the village. The outer lands of the area would provide a worse alternative than being caught in here. I knew of shinobi that were wickedly evil and they used their powers for their own advantageous gain – all for the suffering of others.

Gaara wouldn't have wanted to seek that. Nobody in their right mind would.

My vision scoped the immediate area instead, taking in succinct details around me with care and complete concentration. The left led to further stalls of food and items, and the right led to homes that some of the residents lived in.

And that's when I saw that I wasn't at a complete loss. To my right, a few metres up from the ground, there was an etched opening in the wall – it looked like a cavern. A cavern small enough to house a young child, even a ninja as small as I was could discreetly crawl inside.

Without pondering a second more, I tore off to my right, pushing against the flow of people and knocking their items to the floor. They were the least of my worries. Shouts and pleas were heard behind me, but I pushed on, reaching the cliff face in seconds.

I leapt for the opening and successfully landed along the edge of the block, my figure masked by the darkness of the cave. I began my hasty search as I crawled through the opening, my vision obliterated by the shadows, and suddenly I felt as if I were blind. I kept my hands a longer distance ahead to scour for an immediate stop – to prevent me from smashing face-first into a concrete wall.

It took me a few seconds more to realise that the cavern was flashing with bright red and yellow lights. Pushing myself ahead, trying to move faster as the cave's width tightened around me, I noticed that they weren't flashy lights, but fire.

And that's when I reached the epicentre of the cavern. From my height, I watched as rods of fire danced around the circumference of the small cave. My eyes finally adjusted to the lighting and noticed the young boy lying on his side in the middle of the cave with his back to me, his form quivering.

Instinct pushed me forward, unaware of the fall I was about to make. With a grunt, I felt the impact of my body slam against the rock, my bones cracked from the strong pressure. I heard a frightened cry as the boy leapt to his feet, putting as much distance between us as possible.

I crawled to my feet awkwardly, my legs still shaking. Searching for the boy's eyes, I tried to muster a smile despite the pain my body had just undergone. I raised my hand to signal a peaceful approach, but he was still scared out of his mind.

"It's okay," I mumbled, taking an involuntary step back as I hit the front of a rock face. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Erin, and I am a Chunin of the Sand Village."

He was still quivering slightly, his pale green eyes widened in fright; the darkness around his eyes heightened his fear. He didn't reply.

I also suspected he didn't believe me. "I swear it. I won't hurt you, Gaara."

He froze upon hearing the sound of his name spoken by a complete stranger – one that had taken an embarrassing fall – even for a shinobi. His hands wrapped around himself – whether he was doing it for his own protection or whether he was getting ready to attack me, I didn't know.

I couldn't take a chance to be defeated by a child – not that I would have fought him in the first place. All I could do now was reaffirm my objective and make sure that he believed me.

"I saw," My words suddenly broke up as my mind went back to the scene of his belittlement. "I saw what they did to you out there."

He shrivelled away, his back hitting the rock. I could tell he wanted to morph into the rock and never reappear. His head hung shamefully low, but I was still able to see the pain in his eyes. It cut at my heart, tearing off my circulation and weakening my breathing.

"That wasn't fair… what they did." I whispered, having the inability to speak audibly. Without realising it, I had taken a step closer, my body surprisingly stronger than it was a few minutes ago. He perceived my movement carefully, evaluating the scene with a keen eye.

"I don't think I could see anything like that happen again," I admitted. My eyes searched for his, hoping he was okay. "But not just to anyone, only to you."

His eyes widened in disbelief, I was sure no one had spoken to him as much as I had today. People barely looked at Gaara, happy enough to avoid him permanently. And then there were people like that man who believed violence was the answer.

My rage sparked and I felt my teeth grind harshly together. No one should ever be treated in such a way. No one deserved that kind of pain and ignorance, especially not a child like Gaara. My rage gave way to pain, and I collapsed to my knees as the bolero of fire blazed around me. Looking up into his watchful gaze, I realised I had closed even more distance between us.

"I will do anything I can to protect you, Gaara." My words were strong, despite the crumbling of my saddened heart. Grief engulfed me as I read the expression on his face: he was wary, and still afraid of me, but not as much as he had been. Perhaps he was starting to believe I wasn't here to torment him.

"Let me help you. Let me help you feel what it's like to be loved, and cared about." Instinctively, my hand reached for him. I could feel the strength in my bones as I reached out, almost as if my arm wanted to expand to his hand and pull him closer.

"Let me protect you, Gaara."

It may have been the strength of my words, it may have been the act of reaching my hand out, or it may have been a test of my reliability, but he stepped closer, leaving a few metres of space between us. The light of the fire danced on his face, illuminating his kind eyes and radiant features. His hair appeared brown in the darkness; his skin cream.

He frowned then, and looked down at his hands, and then back at my face. He took a deep breath and outstretched his hand, but he did not move closer. I took that as a sign of resignation, so I crawled closer – still on my knees, taking one step at a time, watching his wary gaze.

Our hands were inches apart. I felt the emptiness I kept bottled up explode out of me as the distance between us closed. There was a semblance of utter completeness the closer I approached him. I could almost touch his hand. Just a few more inches…

As soon as I felt the first prick of his finger against mine, a wave of sand ran along his arm and onto his fingers. Once the sand came into contact with my finger, it slashed and hacked at my skin. Such pain I had never experienced almost made my heart burst from fright, and with great rapidity I flung my hand away and stashed it inside my robe.

Shock outlined my features as I tried to stabilise my breathing. Slowly, carefully, I unfolded my robe and glanced at my stinging arm – an arm now mauled by gashes and slits. There was damage, but it wasn't enough to prevent me from operating as a shinobi. We ninja experienced pain all the time, and it was something I had to get used to as a Chunin.

As for Gaara, he didn't understand this mantra, and the horror on his face masked the reality of the situation. I could guess a number of things that he would be thinking at this moment, like why I was here in the first place, why the Tailed Beast inside of him had lashed out and attacked me, and why I hadn't run away crying and screaming.

Just as I had glanced at my arm, he too finally realised the severity of the situation. His eyes widened, involuntarily he had taken a number of steps closer, wilfully or unsuspectingly, I didn't know. But he realised his closeness to me and frowned, his head dipping low. I was still low enough to watch him glance at his hands with sickened frustration.

And then my entire body froze up as traces of sand began to run along his arm a second time. The sand swirled around his arm, covering his skin entirely and then shot off towards the entry of the cave. With Gaara's manipulation of the sand, he created a staircase in which to exit. His sight found mine, a deep hint of regret washed over his features. It was easy to see that he wanted me to leave.

I smiled, despite the hurt that radiated inside my body, and tried to ignore the heavying of my heart. "I've experienced worse, Gaara." I admitted sheepishly, glancing down at my thigh.

His green eyes followed mine, a puzzled expression lighting up his childish face. "Don't be afraid to hurt me, especially when you can't control it." I lifted my skirt a few inches above my knee and watched as Gaara's expression shifted from confusion to mild embarrassment. I had to admit, it was adorable.

But his expression immediately registered shock, his eyes bugging out widely, mouth agape. In a matter of seconds he had crouched to his knees, trying to examine the permanent damage to my thigh. Plastered on my leg, which appeared as a maze of cuts and burns, was a scar I had acquired a year ago.

Furrowing his brow, Gaara found my eyes again, sympathy and compassion flooding into me; so much that I almost reached out to cradle him. His eyes were begging for answers.

"A Jonin of the Sand Village broke into my house last year. He was searching for illegal documents that my parents had acquired, they're part of the ANBU Black Ops and they work for the Kazekage." I explained quickly, realising that I was speaking to the child abandoned by our Lord. I felt the anger rising again, but something in Gaara's face made the anger melt away. I couldn't stay angry around him, I realised.

"When he came to the house, I was the only one at home. Mostly, I live alone. With my parents and my brother working for the Kazekage, the house is usually empty." I stopped for a second, and shifted my position as I sat upon the rocky ground, trying to get comfortable. After a few seconds, Gaara copied me.

"I was lucky that day." I admitted. "My parents had been sent home to gather the documents. There was a breach in protocol in the Kazekage's own building; he knew there was a spy amongst the corporation searching for those exact documents." I hadn't spoken about this event to anyone, and I felt myself opening up to the young boy, admitting things I had never told anyone else. Things no one else had known.

"Of course, I was still at home alone as the stranger approached our house. I watched as his Ninjutsu tore down the door, half of the walls near the front of the house had been destroyed. I was only a Genin, and even today, I would have little chance of surviving against him." The fire illuminated the right side of Gaara's face, and I could see how utterly transfixed he was in my story.

"He saw me first, and realised I was alone. He was careless, his job would have been easier to kill me on the spot, but something had stopped him from doing it. He believed it was more effective to torture me so that I would reveal the location of the documents." Gaara flinched, and again, I had to resist the urge to wrap my arms around him. It was painful, being so close to him, but unable to touch him.

"Naturally," I continued. "My parents hadn't revealed such information to me, so I had no choice but to endure it. First, he chose a part of my body: my thigh. If I was incapacitated, he said, I would never be able to walk again. But he made the biggest mistake of all," My eyes focused on the flame beside me, though my mind was on that day a year ago. "He should have incapacitated my arms first. Without them, I would never be able to use Ninjutsu, one of the most valuable techniques adapted by the shinobi."

"It's difficult to remember the precise detailing of what he had done, but I was aware enough to realise that he had used the Wind and Fire Style elements against me. He controlled the sand with his wind, and used the tiny shards to cut against my skin. With his fire, he burned the skin, singeing it harshly, inflicting ounces of pain far beyond the simple gashes."

I sighed, my leg involuntarily flinching as I recalled the pain. "Thankfully my parents arrived within the next half hour. As soon as they saw the destruction of the house, and what he had done to me, my father had personally dealt with him. I don't know whether he killed him, I was nearing unconsciousness. My mother purposefully knocked me out so that I wouldn't see what happened next." I caught sight of Gaara's face, and it was enough for me to hastily recap the end of the story.

I tightened my hands that had laid to rest in my lap, remembering the finer details – details I didn't want to recall. "Through his stupidity, I endured his torture, rather than having been killed. It would have been the easier way out for me, I suppose. Less pain if he had killed me quickly. But I would have lost my life." My sight finally returned to Gaara's. A slight smile lit up my face. "And I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

His lip lifted slightly, albeit also sadly. We sat together for several minutes, basking in each other's company, even though we were also basking in silence. The telltale of my story had left me drained and tired, and gazing into Gaara's face, I could detect lines of fatigue in his expression.

And that's when my stomach grumbled.

Gaara's head flicked up to mine, an amused expression lighting up his angelic face. I couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Sorry. I haven't eaten much today." With a shaky chuckle, I stood up and brushed the dirt off my clothes.

I turned to look at Gaara. "I bet you're hungry too."

He dipped his head slowly, a slight smile to his lips. With his face so low, it was hard to detect his guilty expression, but I could sense it well.

"Come on. We're leaving from here." The child's eyes found my own, several emotions playing on his face. Fear and uncertainty. Within that though, I could see hope hidden in his eyes.

"Let's cook us some ramen. I hope you like some soft-boiled eggs and pork with it." I smiled brightly, starving at the thought. My mouth watered, my stomach churned.

Gaara's apparently did too. He stood slowly, wrapping his arms around himself again, unsure of how to proceed. Hiding my smile, I walked over to the entry and grabbed my bag that I had carelessly dropped from my ridiculous fall. I glanced over at Gaara, motioning for him to crawl through first.

I patiently waited for him to climb up, the sand assisting his balancing and height, and then I followed along before the sand would disintegrate and drop to the floor. Gaara pushed through faster because of his smaller figure, so I sped up and tried to ignore the moaning of my stomach.

As soon as we reached the village, wisps of sand belted against my face. I let out a cry, only to have more sand spray into my mouth and tickle at my face. I hadn't realised how much time had passed while I was with Gaara. The sun was almost down, casting a red haze over the entire village. My carelessness had forgotten about the afternoon sandstorm, and I was sure we had lucked out.

With a heavy sigh, I lugged one bag over my shoulder as my other arm grasped onto my maroon robe, shielding my face from the onslaught. Gaara followed behind me obediently, and as soon as the sandstorm had hit, it had astonishingly finished.

My eyes rose from under my shield, evaluating the atmosphere around me. A confused expression lit up my face. The sandstorm hadn't finished, it continued to willow and wisp around us, but Gaara and I were safeguarded against the effects. A circle of complete calm weather sheltered around the both of us, and that's when I realised another one of Gaara's abilities.

He was manipulating the sand to spray away from us, giving us a clear path to walk back to my home.

I smiled wholeheartedly. "Thanks Gaara."

He smiled sheepishly and looked at the ground, a slight pink pigment lighting up his cheeks. It made my heart swell with happiness and warmth.

We had made it home in less than fifteen minutes. With the sandstorm brewing outside, everyone stayed inside their homes, meaning the village trails were empty and easier to navigate through without worrying about knocking into someone.

My home was beyond the Kazekage's building, and I discreetly looked away as we passed it, wondering what Gaara was thinking as we did. We followed the trail leading directly south and then up some stone steps that led to housing areas. I opened the third door on the left and led Gaara inside.

With a hasty close of the door, I clicked the lights on, illuminating the bombshell that was my house. Gaara stood by the door awkwardly, a little uncomfortable. Sensing his mild embarrassment, I gestured for him to walk down the hallway leading to the main room of the house.

"I apologise for the mess." I spoke softly, kicking clothes out of the way. "I haven't cleaned this week."

Gaara examined everything with precise detailing and concentration. He looked at photographs, and at liquid paintings on the walls. He was transfixed at finding something he didn't truly understand the meaning of.

"That's my family." Gaara had been staring at the photo frame for almost an entire minute, a slight pucker to his lips and a small frown pulling at his face. I grasped the photo and sat on the floor, motioning for Gaara to sit down next to me.

"This is my father, Kana." He stood at the back of us all, tall and imposing, a hard and stoic expression on his face. His dark brown hair was long and billowing in the wind. Specks of sand decorated his hair, highlighting the places the pieces stuck. "He never liked taking pictures." My eyes moved on. "That's my mother, Mizuki." I pointed to her, standing closer to the foreground. Her golden hair sparkled in the sunlight, and her green eyes shone brightly in the picture. It was ironic, she had never appeared so happy in person. "She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."

My finger went to the next oldest person in the family, my older brother. He was an exact replica of my father; they could have been brothers. "And my brother, Ichiro." He stood in front of my father, sturdiness and professionalism etched on both of their faces.

Gaara's little finger spotted the final member of the family. His finger rested on the glass, and then he shifted his gaze to mine, a small smile radiant on his face. "Yep." I nodded shyly. "And that's me." My brown hair was shorter than it was now, but it was pulled back in its usual ponytail. Strings of my long fringe hung along both sides of my face, contrasting against the green of my eyes. I stood up front, the youngest and smallest of the family. "That's us, the Moriya family."

Gaara stared at it a while longer, another frown replacing his smile. I noticed the darkness now spiralling in his eyes, so I tried to distract him. "Come on, I'll give you a quick tour of the house."

The house was tiny, even for a family of four, but that was exactly why my parents had bought it. With their jobs as part of the ANBU they were never at home. The same went for my brother, though he returned sooner than they usually did. Mostly, I was left on my own. I cooked, I cleaned, I attended the shinobi Academy of the Sand, and I practiced my Jutsu in a field beyond the village.

I was content, but I was also lonely. I could feel a change in the air, especially with Gaara's presence. I felt wholesome and complete and happy, and I would do anything to make Gaara feel the same way.

As I placed the photograph down, I turned to face the rest of the main room. I pointed to the opposite side of the room to the single bed against the wall. "That's where you'll be sleeping." I could arrange a sleeping bag on the floor for myself.

The main room also consisted of a large wardrobe for the family's entire belongings, and the kitchen, which sat to our left, around the corner from the hallway leading to the front door. Behind us, further to the left, was a narrow corridor leading to the bathroom and the laundry room.

"Why don't you take a shower while I start organising dinner?" Gaara nodded thankfully, and stood by the bathroom door while I collected some new clothes for him.

"These were my brother's," The expression on Gaara's face was humourous, despite the situation. "Don't worry, he hasn't worn these for over ten years. We keep a lot of things in here." I added bitterly, recalling the wardrobe.

With that, I left Gaara and returned to the kitchen, spilling the contents of the plastic bag onto the counter. Various ingredients like noodles, pork and chicken were needed to make a delicious ramen soup, and I never exited a shop without them. I grabbed at the last ingredient held in the bag – a carton of eggs. My heart sank, recalling Gaara's experience earlier today. The sadness clawed at my heart, my vision turning red.

I grabbed a hold of the counter to steady myself and my breathing. At first I was angry, but the anger disappeared once I realised another emotion I hadn't possessed came into play. It scared me more than anything else. The truth was, I had never cared for anyone else as much as I care now for Gaara. The revelation frightened me a little, but it also filled me with strength and resolve. I would look after him. I would make him happy. And my promise: I would make him know what it feels to be loved.

I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding and let go of the bench. With a swift shake of my head, I started cooking. I chopped, boiled and cooked the ingredients, taking my time to create a meal of perfection. Once everything was in the main pot, I stirred it gently, allowing the ingredients to simmer and cook together, the flavours melting and mixing into a juicy concoction.

While Gaara was still in the bathroom, I set up a small table with napkins and chopsticks and filled two bowls of ramen. The smell incapacitated my senses, and I could feel my mouth watering, imagining the taste of the soup.

As soon as I set both bowls down opposite each other, Gaara had exited the bathroom. He walked down the corridor slowly, holding the ragged clothes he'd worn from earlier. Seeing him dressed in clean clothes with a small smile on his face made me grin widely in return.

I grabbed the dirty rags off him and threw them to the floor as I examined his new appearance. He wore my brother's old training pants, a dark grey colour that worked well with his skin tone. They were a little long, so I bent down and folded them up a few times. A white skivvy lay underneath his pale green sweater neck; the green matched his eyes perfectly.

"You look quite handsome, Gaara." I added lightly, grabbing his rags and throwing them into the trash. Gaara's face turned red, it was the most beautiful thing to see on a child. "Come sit, I know you're hungry." I knew I was ravenous, but I had to eat politely in front of a guest.

After my fifth slurp of ramen, he had looked up from his bowl with a sparkle in his eyes. "Do you like it?" I asked, swallowing the remains of soup I had in my mouth.

He nodded appreciatively, eyes wide. It looked like he hadn't seen food before, and it made me wonder how he lived all by his lonesome in that little cave. The pondering made me frown. Gaara noticed my expression and looked up at me in concern, but I hastily shook it off and placed a smile on my face, digging into the rest of my ramen.

Once we were done, Gaara helped me clean the dishes. I taught him how to wash and rinse, and at which temperature to use the water. I explained that egg stains needed to be washed with cold water, and they had to be scrubbed with disinfectant, and that everything else required warm, soapy water.

Nearing the end of the learning experience, my eyes grew wearisome. Gaara looked exhausted after his day, and I laid him down to rest on my bed. I tucked him in, ensuring he was warm and turned off the main room lights, leaving the kitchen lights on so that I could finish cleaning the benches.

As I finished up, I noticed Gaara was still awake, so I sauntered over and sat on the bed next to his body. I had the strongest urge to run my hands through his hair, to caress him into a deep, happy slumber, but I had a feeling he wouldn't have wanted that, nor would the Tailed Beast lurking inside.

"Are you okay?" I whispered softly, holding my arm an inch from his body covered by the blankets.

Gaara stared at me in the darkness, though I couldn't picture the expression on his face because of the lack of light.

"You've had a big day. You'll feel better with some rest, I promise."

He continued staring at me, and that's when I saw his lips turn up slightly. My heart swelled.

"I love you, Gaara." I didn't even realise I spoke the words until Gaara's expression registered surprise. I wanted to slap myself, but I had a feeling that would scare him. What had made me say it? Was the ramen making me speak gibberish? Had my body's effects from the fall been worse than I thought? I didn't know, and I didn't know what to say as Gaara continued staring, his eyes warm and very, very awake.

But why should I be ashamed to admit it? It was true, after all. I did love him. I had only known him a few hours, and already, I knew I loved him with all of my heart. I swore I would protect him and look after him. Wouldn't love fit in with that too? It had to, right? How could you swear to protect someone with your life, and not love them?

Or was I just making excuses?

Right now, I was blaming everything on my fatigue. I had to clear my mind and prepare myself for a new day. Making myself look like an idiot was not on the top of my priorities list.

"Thank you… for everything."

The words stunned me, and at first, I was unaware of who had spoken them. The voice was soft, though a little raspy and it was coming from directly in front of me. Gaara.

The urge to touch him was at its peak, and before I realised the severity of my actions, I leant down and kissed the left side of his forehead. Sand immediately welted up and sprayed at my face like the force of hundreds of tiny needles stabbing at me. The sand was pushing, physically forcing me backwards. I knew I should have expected the attack, but it still surprised me. I felt myself wincing at the pain.

I rubbed my forehead in return and muttered under my breath about how much I hated the Tailed Beast. Gaara hadn't moved, but he had shifted the covers of the bed closer to his face, only showing his eyes. There was guilt swimming in them, and I had to diffuse the situation and act like it had been nothing. I couldn't have him upset – it wasn't his fault.

"I guess that's my cue for me to get some rest too." I smiled warmly, still feeling tiny prickles against my skin. "Rest well, Gaara. I'll see you in the morning." Just one touch. Let me touch his hair, his face, his hands…

I leapt from his bed before I risked my life twice tonight and prepared a small bed for me on the floor. After tidying up the kitchen, returning the leftover ramen to the fridge and then changing into my pyjamas, I crawled into the cold covers, all the while thinking of Gaara and the change my life was about to take.

…

…

…

THREE YEARS LATER

…

…

…

"Gaara, not too fast, you'll drop the bag!" I shouted, trying to balance my own bags with both hands. Gaara and I had spent a lot of money on new clothes (Gaara didn't stop growing, I was worried he'd eventually outgrow me) and groceries for the house.

He slowed down to a jog next to me, his feet moving much quicker than mine. He was enthusiastic today, and I could tell he was excited about the clothes we'd just bought. Gaara had purchased brown cotton pants, a black t-shirt with black netting underneath and a white sash that would hang over his torso. He also wore a brown belt that would store his weapons for when he started at the Academy in the spring. My sash was a light brown, and we Sand Village residents always carried one, it was purposeful for avoiding the detriment of sandstorms.

Plus, they looked pretty cool.

My outfit included a long-sleeve netted top, and netted ankle coverings. I still wore my black skirt, cropped longer on one side so that I could hide the scar on my thigh. With a black chest-covered tank top, my maroon elbow coverings, maroon weaponry belt and brown sash – I looked like a legendary shinobi of the Sand.

Of course, I couldn't forget my Sand Village headband – a monument all dedicated shinobi wore on various parts of their body to signal their loyalty and bond to their respected village. I wore my headband high up on my left arm, though most wore it around their heads; I was always frustrated when the headband covered my sight during battle.

With Gaara starting at the Academy, I knew by the end of the year he would have been awarded his Sand headband, and I looked forward to seeing him wear it.

I must admit, things had progressively changed over the past three years. I was training to become a Jonin, though I was nowhere near the status. If I worked hard enough, I would rise in rank within the next two years. My missions were short and sweet, and I was able to successfully complete B rank missions now.

However, there were also a few problems with my rising status. The Sand Village residents were aware of my proximity to Gaara. They not only feared him, but they feared for my life. Sometimes, they even feared me. I paid them no attention, they were of no importance to Gaara and I, and I did my best to ignore the whispers and remarks when we walked through the village.

Today, however, was no such day for my ignorance to remain silent. We had gotten many shocked looks and obvious people moving out of the way. Gaara was indifferent to it all, and none of it bothered him, not with me in his life. I was different. I despised them for acting like childish idiots. I wanted to make them pay for their ridiculous ways. Everything they said and did was stupid and unnecessary.

I knew I was making my rage face as Gaara purposefully touched my arm, sending wisps of sand to bite into my skin. The shock of it momentarily made me snap out of my previous thoughts so that I could focus on the present situation.

I searched for his pale green eyes and smiled, calmness radiating through my body. "Thanks Gaara."

Gaara smiled back warmly, continuing along the path back to the house. I loved admiring the change Gaara had taken. He had changed remarkably in these past three years, and I couldn't be happier without him. He was much more open and talkative, always smiling and running alongside me when we were out in the village.

Sometimes I acted like an older sister, other times I would be more suited as a parent, but none compared to our friendship. We couldn't live without each other, and I couldn't see my life without him. He was my strength during the toughest of times, and there would never be a time when he didn't offer to help me.

"Gaara, I told you I'm not going to practice my Jutsu on you. It's way too dangerous."

We were standing in the battle field beyond the village. Most of the Academy students practiced their Jutsu inside the village, but I found it a far better learning experience to be out of the protection of the town. True, it was dangerous, but I could protect myself. And I would do anything to protect Gaara.

"I can take it, I'm stronger now." Gaara clenched his fists together, a fiery gaze in his eyes.

"No, you're not. I can't risk hurting you like that!"

"I'll be fine. I want to help you get stronger."

"But I don't want to hurt while doing it."

He grumbled, harshly kicking a rock and sending it flying metres away. He admired the distance the rock had taken.

He didn't look up from the rock. "None of the other kids will want to practice with me."

I shook my head, trying to keep a light heart, all the while enduring the pain his words caused me. "That's not true."

His sight still hadn't strayed. "You don't want to practice with me."

I walked up to him and bent down to his level. My approach made him turn to look at me. "That's because I don't want to hurt you. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

"I know that, but…"

"No. I mean it. I-I can't…" I was shaking, visualising the outcome if I had given in to his pleas. A beaten body, a troubled heart. All my fault.

Gaara noticed the change I had taken and frowned in resignation. "...Sorry."

"It's okay." I took a while to speak, trying to regain myself. I reached for his face and kissed his forehead softly, a little to the left, the spot he always liked. I knew the onslaught of sand would be coming now, so I prepared myself while quickly adding, "I love you, no matter what."

The attack had hurt, but it never surmounted to the first few months of meeting Gaara. I liked to believe the Tailed Beast was getting used to my presence. The sand scraped at my skin instead of stabbing it.

"Love you too." Gaara replied softly, eyeing the red spots on my body where the sand had hit me with shame.

And it was true. Gaara's sand attacks were much less violent than they had been, but they still hurt like hell. I didn't mind though, if it meant I was able to steal a hug or a kiss, then I would gladly take it. No Tailed Beast could stop me from loving Gaara.

Because the Tailed Beast still lurked within him, there were many moments where I envisioned where he would snap and attack me, but I never showed how afraid I truly was. I let Gaara take his time to calm down; to bring back the humanity that he always tried to keep alongside him, and to remind him of our precious moments together.

There had been times when Gaara's anger had gotten the best of him, and his transformation began to peak. Fortunately, or not, I hadn't seen his full form, I had been out on a mission at the time. During those days, Gaara had to take care of himself. As much as I loved being a ninja, being forcefully separated from him was like losing an arm. He was always at the back of my mind, which wasn't professional for a shinobi like me, but I couldn't help my thoughts.

We grew from the mistakes we made, and from them, we became stronger people. Our bond of friendship and loyalty was as powerful as it ever was. Losing such a valuable piece of love would tear me apart.

"Hey, watch where you're going, kid!"

The boldness of the man's voice snapped me from my thoughts. Instinctively, my head shot up towards the commotion. A middle-aged man carrying two heavy boxes was trying to push his way through the crowd. His glare was hard and unyielding, and it was directed at Gaara.

Instinct born only to me, I shoved both plastic bags onto one hand and grabbed Gaara, shoving him into my side. I winced as the pain of the sand cut into my skin, but I targeted the pain into anger, and glared back at him menacingly.

"What the hell is your problem, old man? Get out of the village trails or find yourself a better attitude!" I refrained from swearing, I couldn't have Gaara adapting any of my vulgar words.

"Tell your stupid kid to get out of my way!" The man shoved into me, and I knocked into Gaara, feeling the wrath of his sand as it pinched at my body. My anger heightened.

"You have no right to yell at a child! You should be disgusted with yourself!" I sneered, shouting after him. "We don't need people like you in our village!"

Appreciating that I had stood my ground and refrained from swearing, I turned back around, only to slam into a young girl around the age of ten or eleven. Her blonde hair stuck up at awkward ends, and her brown eyes glared daggers at me.

"You have no right yelling at my father." She spoke with a small voice, but I could sense her confidence.

I sneered, folding my arms across my chest. "You have no right telling me what to do, you little sleazebag. Now get out of our way!" I wanted to smack her, I really did.

But her eyes left mine and focused on Gaara. Her eyes widened in fear, and she stepped back as she caught her mouth with her hand.

"Those eyes…" The girl recognised Gaara and ran off after her father, never looking back.

I purposefully nudged Gaara to move on, though it only resulted in me being attacked a third time today, and with no luck, Gaara didn't move. He stood frozen on the spot, his eyes glued to the floor, wishing as if he could disappear.

I recognised this tormented expression he had on, he despised himself for the reaction he got from others. But the truth was none of it was his fault. His father was the one who had ruined his life and cast him away. The members of our village followed in his footsteps, abiding by his laws. I was one to follow my own path of life, and I dedicated it to making sure Gaara was okay.

Clearly, he was not.

I put my bags down and knelt in front of him. I gritted my teeth as I put both of my hands on the sides of his face and forced him to look at me.

The sand pulsed through his arms and onto mine, slashing and snarling at the skin. It dug into my flesh like needles, and I knew it wasn't going to stop until I let go.

"Hey, Gaara, look at me." I didn't get a response, so I slapped his face lightly.

"Come on, Gaara." I winced, almost removing my hand. The sand bit in deeper and harder, but I refused to let go.

"Remember what we always talked about? You're worth so much more than what they think of you." I tried slapping him again, but he still didn't look up.

Frightened, I gripped harder, my eyes watering just from watching the torment on his face. "Please. Please listen to me. You know how much I love you. You know how much you mean to me, please, please look at me." Stab… pinch… prick…

His eyes moved then, focusing on the dirty ground. His head remained low, but his eyes moved up toward mine, reading my tormented expression. His face showed no emotion, no happiness, and no warmth. "I'm worth nothing." He whispered hoarsely, his eyes never blinking.

"You're worth so much more, and you know it." The tears stung my eyes, but I tried to keep them in for Gaara's sake. That, and the sand was stinging me like a bitch. "You should know how important you are to me. You know I can't live my life without you."

His eyes didn't sparkle at the words like they normally did. They remained frozen, unmoving. I leapt up quickly, the tears over-spilling. I hastily wiped at them, the world focusing back from the blurriness. And that's when I realised everyone was looking at us.

"What the hell are you all looking at?!" I screamed louder than I had ever done before. I was angry and frustrated and sick. I was so sick of their bullshit and blatant disregard for a human's emotions.

I tried again and knelt by him, grasping onto his hands as tightly as possible, the tears flowing easily now. "Your life is so, so precious to me." I pulled his hands closer, holding them over my heart. The sand poured over to my body again, entering my clothes and snapping at my skin. I tried not to cry out from the intense pain.

"You… you are so precious to me. You need to remember that, Gaara."

His expression hardened, and as easily as it shifted, he started crying. Before I saw his first tear, I threw him against my body and hugged him as tightly as I could. He trembled and cried, and no matter how painful the sand had become, no matter how hard it was trying to push me away, I held on, allowing my body to collect the pain Gaara had carried.

Despite having our own private moment, I knew the villagers would be looking in on us. With a swift movement, I collected all our bags and threw them over one shoulder. With strength I didn't know I possessed, I picked Gaara up with one arm, and carried his straight body with his head caught under my collarbone so that no one would see him cry.

I put Gaara to bed earlier than expected and finished tidying up the house. After a quick shower and a change into my pyjamas I set a bowl of ramen on the table and ate as quietly as I could. After we had returned home, neither of us had been hungry enough to eat.

Instead, we sat on the building balcony upstairs and watched the sunset. It had become a shared pastime, and usually we ate dinner outside too. Today had a different set of circumstances, and we both needed to bask in each other's close company.

We had minor setbacks like the one today, but it was all a part of Gaara's experience and of growing up. I didn't have anyone to talk to during my time, but with Gaara around, I found myself revealing pieces of information about me and my family that I wouldn't have expected to ever talk about.

We were each other's strengths, and we helped each other as best as we could, but we never truly relied on each other. We knew we had to gain our own strength to take on the world. It was just times like these that screamed for a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to talk to.

With a quick rinse of my ramen bowl, I left the kitchen and proceeded to my bed on the floor. Gaara still occupied my bed, and I never would have asked him to sleep on the floor. It wasn't too bad, only a little hard, but we shinobi are trained to handle the toughest of circumstances, so I really shouldn't be complaining.

As I entered the main room, I noticed Gaara's gaze on mine. His eyes sparked from the darkness, beckoning me closer.

I smiled as I approached, and sat by his bed, running my hands through his hair. I used to hold myself back when touching him, but I was growing more and more accustomed to the attacks, and sometimes, I even welcomed them.

Gaara must have been aware of my weakness and pulled my arm away with a frown.

"Don't hurt yourself." He said in a small, raspy voice. As he moved, an object had fallen out from under the covers.

I ignored his comment and grasped the object half obscured by the sheets. It was a photograph Gaara and I had taken on the balcony a year ago. The sunlight lightened up our hair – his became a bright crimson, and mine showed sparks of red and brown. Both of our green eyes shined with happiness.

"You know, I still remember that day," I whispered softly, putting the frame back under the covers. "You had gotten your first acceptance letter from the Academy." I smiled, recalling the letter that arrived at our home. Gaara had been overjoyed at his first acceptance into a community. It saddened me a little, realising he had never been a part of the society, but I was also ecstatic at the fact that this may be his beginning.

"I was so proud of you."

He smiled from under the covers, trying to hide from the attention. It was one of the sweetest things in the world. It made me grin in return.

"Enough embarrassment for you then," I joked, tucking him in tighter. "It's time for you to get some sleep." I leant down and kissed his forehead, ignoring the prickling of the sand. "I have a new Jutsu to teach you. A Leaf Village shinobi taught it to me."

His eyes shone with radiance and disbelief, and he clutched the photograph closer, snuggling with it under the covers. I leapt from the bed, only to have an arm grab me from the darkness.

My natural instincts would have told me to pursue an attack against the stranger, but I recognised the faint whistle of the sand against my skin and the stinging of my flesh. Turning back around, I found Gaara sitting up in bed, his arm outstretched.

"Don't go." He whispered.

Before I had time to reply, he pulled me to the bed and immediately let go as he shuffled as far as the bed would allow. I crept under the covers with him, and raised the photograph so it sat in the middle of the pillow.

His eyes were still open, happy to see that I was unaffected by our proximity.

"I love you." He mumbled softly, swiftly closing his eyes and drawing his hands up to cradle his face.

I admired the scene for a little while longer. His relaxed face showed how much he truly looked like an angel. "I love you too." I whispered back, the lightness of my heart filling with completion.

…

…

…

THREE YEARS LATER

...

…

…

When I was a young child, one of the most valuable lessons my parents had taught me was to study hard and to never let anyone surpass me. Back then, I hadn't thought much about it, after all, I was only five. The most valuable thing in my life back then was my great appreciation for food and my love of art.

It took me thirteen and a half years to realise the truth of their words and the strength of my own heart. They wanted to believe it was possible for me to achieve greatness, though I wasn't sure if they truly believed, or if they were just feeding me false motivation. After all, they had my older brother – the child prodigy of the family who had become a Jonin by the age of sixteen.

Even so, when I realised my potential at the age of ten, I wanted to believe it was possible for me to exceed my brother's achievements. Becoming a Jonin at sixteen was almost unheard of, and many shinobi dedicated their lives to building their ranks as greatly as they could.

But saying one thing and then actually achieving it are two different perspectives. I could have become Kazekage by the age of fifty, and I would still be exceptionally proud of myself, even if I had pushed myself and tried to get in by the age of thirty.

The truth is, age is just a number. It doesn't matter how old one must be to realise their true potential and to exceed everyone's expectations. Getting there in the end is the greatest achievement one should remember, not the hard, sufferable years of training it took to get there.

Despite having been two years older than my brother, I couldn't have been prouder of myself. I had successfully completed one of the most important missions of my ninja rank – I had surpassed my own expectations and I had become one of the legendary Jonin of the Sand Village.

And I couldn't be happier.

"Congratulations on your achievement, Erin." A voice spoke to me from the darkness. I was currently held in the Kazekage's building, re-submitting forms of my new status. Golden brown hair shone in the light as a silhouette crawled out to greet me. "I heard you have gained the title of Jonin."

His purple eyes greeted mine kindly, a small smile on his face. "Um… yes. Thank you, Yashamaru." Yashamaru was a reputable ANBU shinobi and medical-nin who worked for the Kazekage. He worked alongside my parents, and they were respectable allies.

He was also Gaara's uncle.

"And you just returned from your first mission, quite the success I heard. Such a great start to your shinobi life. I am sure your parents are proud."

I rubbed the back of my head discreetly, a slightly embarrassed smile playing along my lips. "Yeah, I guess I was lucky. I saw my parents and my brother Ichiro earlier," I admitted, hoping I wouldn't have to talk for long. I still hadn't seen Gaara. "They were very happy for me."

"Well I could certainly agree, I would be exceptionally proud if my child had been made Jonin." There was an awkward pause where I suspected the conversation was over, and I almost turned around. But he spoke again.

"How is Gaara?"

It took me a while to answer, both because of the implied tone of his voice and the question he had asked. "He's fine, he's very happy." I quickly turned back to sign my paperwork. As I turned around, I purposefully looked at the clock. "And he's expecting me at home, so if you'll excuse me." I bowed my head slightly, showing respect. "It was nice talking with you, Yashamaru."

I briskly walked to the end of the corridor, only to hear his voice from behind me. "I will see you soon then, Erin. It was a pleasure speaking with you."

I sent a nod and then fled down the stairs leading to the lower floors of the building. Yashamaru had left me feeling with a queasy stomach; he was always a polite creep, though I had always felt like the awkward one during our conversations.

But why would he be asking about Gaara? I mean, sure, they're family. But he had never taken any steps to build a relationship with him, to teach him love and strength and unity. I was the one who had taught him everything he knows. I was the one who had spent my life ensuring he had everything he needed: a parent, a sibling and a best friend.

Why would he be showing signs of care now? It was too late. He had his chance to build something for Gaara, but he blindly missed it. He ignored the fact that his brother-in-law had sentenced his nephew to a life of seclusion and instability, and he did nothing to help him.

The only person I knew Yashamaru loved most was his sister, Karura. She had died while giving birth to a premature Gaara, and my parents had believed that Yashamaru had held a grudge against the Kazekage for placing the One-Tailed Beast inside of Gaara during her pregnancy. Once Gaara had been born, Karura had died giving birth, and another grudge had been sentenced upon Yashamaru's head: a grudge against his newly born nephew for stealing the life of his sister.

It was too much family drama for me to get involved in – which I guessed was a little too late. But I wanted nothing to do with Yashamaru or the Kazekage (though the last one would be tough to avoid, especially since he was the one who assigned me to my missions). But I would keep my promise and fulfil it as best as I could: to make Gaara feel love and to give him every bit of happiness he deserved.

So far, I was pretty sure I was doing a great job.

Desperate eagerness to see Gaara flared up inside of me, and I sprinted the rest of the way home, a wide smile planted on my face. My heart raced – though not only from my stamina but from the mere fact that I was going to see Gaara. It had been two weeks since I had left for my mission, and those two weeks had felt more like a lifetime.

I bounded up the stone steps leading to the housing facilities and almost tore down the third door to the left. Stumbling inside the house, I called for him.

"Gaara, I'm home!"

The house was unusually empty, and I knew by now that Gaara would have shown himself. It hadn't registered with me earlier, but usually Gaara would wait by the main hallway, anxious to see me too. But with an empty house, and my anticipation dwindling, all I could register was anxiety.

What had happened to Gaara? Was he safe? Did he forget that I was coming home today? He wouldn't have, would he? I knew he was practicing very hard at the Academy, but surely, even as a Chunin, he would be able to make time for me?

And that's when the thought hit me: the balcony.

With a quick jolt to life, I fled the room and slammed the front door, the sound reverberating through my ears and down the corridor. As I reached the stone steps, I took a sharp right and bolted up the stairs leading to a lookout of the village.

It was also a special place Gaara and I shared.

With my final bound, I reached the clear opening. The harsh rays of the sunset blinded my vision, casting a dizzying array of crimson to colour the atmosphere around me. I shielded the sunlight with my forearm, which gave credence to the sight of a shadowed silhouette metres ahead of me.

My feet moved alone, leading me closer to the shadow, my sight adapting to the dimming light. A young man stood ahead, his bright, ruby-coloured hair shining from the sun. But nothing could surmount to the shine of his wide set smile.

"Gaara." His smile was contagious. Everything great in the world spun around me, wrapping me in its gentle embrace. Love, life, comfort, friendship, warmth, happiness. Such guilty delicacies were a tendency I had always come by, and always welcomed.

"Congratulations." His voice had deepened, and was as raspier as ever, but there was a gentle, calming tone to his calloused voice. His smile gave way to a grin, and I found myself sprinting toward him, folding my arms around his sturdy back, his face dipping into my collarbone.

"I missed you so much." I tightened my arms, both from the emptiness of missing him, and the fact that the sand was tickling my skin. I pulled him away at arm's length to admire his features, my eyes dancing everywhere along his face. "Have you been okay? Has anyone bothered you? Have you been eating? I told you I made that ramen especially for you, so you better have had a decent portion each day. I can't have you starving in the house. You need to take care of yourself!"

He smiled lightly, pulling my arms away and allowing the gentle sting to disappear. "Breathe. A young Jonin like you needs to relax one's mind in order to bring peace to each mission." He grinned at my glary expression, but led me to sit along the edge of the balcony overlooking the village. "These past two weeks have been long and insufferable without you, Erin, but I have been fine."

"You don't know how relieved I am to hear that." I admitted sheepishly. "Not a day went by when I didn't think of you."

"Was it you who always lectured me about avoiding any distractions during an important mission?" He had caught my attention, so I turned to face him, regarding his thoughtful expression, a slight mix of amusement hidden in the planes of his face. "In any case, it is I who should be worrying about you. I don't know if I could live with the thought of you not returning to the village." His shining, pale green eyes stared ahead, but I could detect the solemnity of his words.

"I will always come back, for you." Gaara had shown vulnerability as a child, but during his growth, I had to admit, it took rare occasions for him to show his true weakness. It was my right to calm him down during such circumstances, especially if he was worrying about me. I tried to distract him by a turn in the conversation. "How's the Chunin life treating you? Have they made you a Jonin yet?" I added jokingly.

The haunted look in Gaara's eyes gave way to light, a comfortable expression on his face. "I'm doubting my ability to heighten my rank to a Jonin level," he added sarcastically. "After all, I'm only twelve. But I can see it in the near future, I hope."

"Anything is possible." I turned to stare back at the sunset, admiring the warmth on my skin and the light brush of my hair in the wind. A sandstorm would approach the village in a few hours.

"Anything is possible if you have the will to believe, and the strength to achieve. If the power in one's heart is feeble, it will only give way to foolishness. A true shinobi radiates courage and valor, two emotions that I am beginning to possess, all because of you." He regarded me with a thankful expression and reached for my hand.

"Since when did you get so wise?" I tightened my hand around his, the tickling of the sand pricking my muscles.

"I had a great Sensei."

I smiled, and turned back to face the light. "You're right. But I think your Sensei is far beyond the likes of great. She is amazing."

Gaara's hand tightened around mine, and without realising what he was doing, the tickling of the sand increased. Pain shot up my right arm, pulsing and pinching at my skin. With swift movement hidden to the untrained eye, I deftly snapped my arm away.

"Hey!"

Gaara laughed in return, the sound rich and warm to my ears. Despite the pain Gaara had purposefully launched upon me (which I had to admit, I deserved for the smartass remark), I couldn't feel any ounce of anger or irritation at him. I was just as amused as he was, and in most cases, he didn't laugh. It was moment's like these that I treasured most.

"I bet you're hungry." He spoke softly, reaching to his far-right. He grasped at two plastic containers and handed one to me. "I cooked ramen. I hope you enjoy soft-boiled eggs and pork with your meal."

The words sparked a sense of familiarity, and I realised that I had spoken the exact words on the first day I had met him. The flash of that day flooded my thoughts with a million memories and experiences. Instinctively, my heart warmed with elation.

I split my chopsticks and rubbed them together with anticipation. "I hope you're as good a cook as your Sensei is."

The air began to chill up after dinner as the sun had long-since set. The moon rose over the bordering rock of the village, the light glimmering in the navy blue abyss that hung over us like a friendly shadow.

The wind had also picked up, freezing me to my core as the gusts ran through my netted clothing. I could feel tiny needles prick against my skin from the sand blowing in the wind, though it was all too familiar, and easily tolerable.

I glanced at Gaara from my peripheral vision, as I had been doing for the past hour. It was accustomed to me, and I had done it during the many years we spent together. I always searched for thoughts through his facial expressions and tried to make sure he was never bottling anything in. I wanted Gaara to be open with me, to be able to talk about anything that was bothering him or his dreams and ambitions that he'd like to take.

Perhaps I seemed like an overprotective partner, but I could never help my true feelings. My motherly instincts always kicked in.

Staring at him now, I could detect a troublesome expression, his brow was furrowed, his mouth pulled down at the sides. He was in deep thought. I was just about to question it when he spoke from the darkness.

"I think I would like to become the Kazekage someday."

The sentence knotted my stomach together, a broiling pot of several emotions conflicting against each other. Pride, for having such a dream. Uncertainty, for desiring that dream. Fear, for what the dream would bring. Curiosity, for why he had thought of it.

I turned to face him slowly. "What makes you say that?" I asked lightly, my voice almost breaking.

"To be Kazekage commands honour, pride and sacrifices for one's village. I dream for the power to protect this village, and to fight for it when such opportunities present themselves. I… I want to be a part of this village… and I want to be important to these people."

My eyes hadn't strayed from his face. I was momentarily frozen from the shock of his words. They tore at my heart, the strings snapping apart. Gaara had dreamt for such acceptance and equality in the village, and the only way he believed he could achieve that was to become the Kazekage.

But another factor almost made my heart implode: the fact that Gaara would do anything he could to protect a village that feared and resented him.

"Why…" I couldn't put my thoughts into words. My mouth had dried up, no words could come through. My breathing had heightened, and my head suddenly felt dizzy.

"My father is the Kazekage," Gaara continued to look ahead, scouring the night with the passion of his thoughts and words. "I want to follow his footsteps. I want him to be proud of me."

The mention of his father made my heart thump deeply inside my chest, an ache that physically heavied my heart. I knew I was being selfish, but some part of me wished that he would have wanted my pride. After all, what had his father ever done for him?

Don't be ridiculous, Erin, and don't you dare be jealous. Support Gaara with all of your heart, and lend him strength when he needs it. You know he will.

I forced a smile and placed my hand down over his. "I will be proud of you no matter what." Tightening my hand, I added grudgingly, "And so will your father."

Gaara smiled up at me, his expression radiant and glowing. "I would like to–"

Gaara's words were cut off by the sound of sand pattering against the stone floor. Before I had the momentum to turn around, several harsh, clattering noises were heard next. With quick reflexes, I spun around in time to view what had happened.

A sand wall had erupted behind Gaara, shielding him from an incoming attack. The sand had held its position, but the kunai that had been thrown had fallen to the floor with the loud clatter, some sand had been taken down with it.

Shifting into battle mode, I struck out with my kunai in my warrior position and turned to face the threat. The darkness revealed a shadowed form at the top of the stone steps, the face masked by a black robe.

I noticed Gaara next to me, inspecting the scene, but I pushed him back behind me, a snarl on my face.

"Reveal yourself!" I spat out. A hunger to destroy this person consumed me, threatening to overspill and to cause harsh inflictions. The worst case scenario would be death.

The cloaked figure guffawed and stepped closer – though much too close for my liking. I realised Gaara had tried to step forth again, but I roughly forced him backwards.

"Don't get involved, Gaara! Stay behind me!" I didn't mean to come across as rude, but I had lost all ounces of my self control. I was driven by my instincts, by rage and an all-consuming need to obliterate this person.

"I will fight with you." Gaara grumbled, moving into step beside me. I was about to push him back a second time when another attack came our way.

The user manipulated several kunai by having them float in the air with the use of chakra. I recognised the Jutsu well, and I knew of a few people who possessed it – one of which was standing right in front of me.

"You will both die tonight." The voice was manly and deep, though I had already figured out our attacker. But I was ready to defend both Gaara and I. With his final words, he released a barrage of the kunai all at once. They cut through the air powerfully, and if it wasn't for Gaara's sand protection, I would have lunged out and defended us with my two kunai, deflecting them into other directions.

I had only seen this Jutsu twice before, once during my Chunin exam and the other was during a small training session with a family friend. The Jutsu wasn't very consuming of chakra, but the user must release his chakra from his hand over an area within which he can manipulate the kunai in suspension.

And I knew of only one shinobi who had mastered it.

"What do you want from us, Yashamaru?! If you've come here for Gaara, you'll have to kill me first!"

Yashamaru removed his black cloak, his golden hair glimmering in the moonlight. His face was planted with such evil, I almost stepped back. He laughed, the sound cold and bitter to my ears. "Why do you vilify yourself to protect such a creature?" Venom traced his words, and if it weren't for the fact that he may potentially kill me, I would have run up to him and stabbed him in the heart.

"Don't," I warned. "ever… call him that." I had gritted my teeth so much, that I was unsure if the words had come out at all. "Gaara is more of a person than you'll ever be. He possesses a soul. He has emotions, and he's one of the strongest people I know. You have nothing. All you will ever be, is nothing."

"It is not possible for one like him to possess a soul – not when he has a heart of darkness and a beast sealed inside of him."

Yashamaru's final words snapped something inside of me, and I found myself lashing out into battle mode.

I could feel the rapid burn of chakra through my body, the telltale signs of my strength flaming my muscles and my burning need to protect Gaara. With deft quickness, I bit into my finger as hard as I could, immediately drawing blood and with rapid succession performed the necessary hand moves, landing with a final blow to the ground.

"Summoning Jutsu!"

In my place before me emerged the two-tailed, two-headed wolf Shiruzen. His coat was a midnight black, and his eyes were like liquid fire, a sharp and piercing blue. Shiruzen snarled in rage and hacked at Yashamaru, ripping his green flak jacket.

Shiruzen continued to battle Yashamaru, while I abandoned my shinobi way and turned my back on the enemy. Facing Gaara, I knelt by him and grasped at his shoulders roughly. "When the opportunity presents itself, you need to get off this balcony!"

"But what–"

"Run to the training yard in the outskirts of the village, I'll meet you there once I'm done here. You cannot be seen! I don't know if Yashamaru has any spies in the village, so I'm counting on you to make it there safely!"

"I can't–"

"Gaara, please!"

I heard an explosive howl from Shiruzen, so I snapped back around, folding Gaara behind me in an invisible safeguard. I couldn't let him get involved. No matter how far he has progressed as a shinobi, I personally couldn't allow him to fight tonight. I refused to see Gaara injured... or worse.

The final howl was heard from Shiruzen, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke. I clenched my fists, hoping I had enough chakra to take Yashamaru down.

"A summoning beast? You truly believe I could be taken down by one of them?" He guffawed, releasing a kunai from his belt and pointed it directly at Gaara. "However, I can't say the same for Shukaku, I'm sure we would almost be equals."

"What do you want, Yashamaru?" I snapped. "Are you truly here to kill us?!"

He stared at me for a long time, his kunai still pointing at Gaara. "I'm here for the Shukaku. But your love for him makes this a tricky task. Difficult, but not impossible."

"I'd rather die than see Gaara be taken by you. You'll never have him."

"Erin—"

"Gaara." I warned.

"Your love for each other also makes it your true weakness. Such a waste both of your lives will be." He used his mastered shuriken technique and sent the kunai launching straight for Gaara. I easily deflected the weapon with my own, striking out in my battle pose.

"That's not happening tonight, Yashamaru."

Before he had the ability to reply, my hands moved rapidly to the untrained eye. I planned to use a technique I had learned beyond the village. It was a technique developed by a clan in a foreign village. During one of my missions as a Chunin, I had the opportunity to visit the Hidden Leaf Village and worked with many of their talented Leaf shinobi. One in particular was Kakashi Hatake, the Copy Ninja.

Thank you, Kakashi sensei.

My hands struck out. Tiger. Monkey. Boar. Horse. Tiger.

"Fire Style: Fire-Ball Jutsu!" With a large inhalation of air, the burning rage of the fireball cast itself out of my mouth, the warmth flaming against my lips. The flames burst around us, the heat burning lightly against my skin.

The flames charged toward Yashamaru, and before he could dodge my attack, I realised Gaara had used the control of his sand to paralyse his movements. The attack cast him in a ball of fire, the flames burning his skin, his scream heightening.

Before Yashamaru could act out against my fireball technique, I used the opportunity to send out my final attack for the night, finishing off Yashamaru. My hands flung at varying rates, trying to remember the sequence Kakashi sensei had taught me.

Monkey. Dragon. Rat. Bird. Ox. Snake. Dog. Tiger. Monkey.

"Chidori!" Lightning sparks flew out of my hand as a tiny ball of matter submerged from my palm. The strikes were warm like my fireball, but I could control the effect of the strikes and launch them upon Yashamaru with ease.

Gaara had continued manipulating the sand, holding the enemy in place. Smoke had filled the air after I had used the fireball technique, but with the clearing atmosphere, it was easy to detect the burns and scorches evident on his skin – the pain etched across his face. I refused my sympathetic emotions, and truly believed that he wasn't my family friend anymore. The ties had been shredded since his arrival here, and tonight, I would end it all.

I let out a primal scream and ran toward him, my speed granting me a closer, more powerful attack range in which to use my technique. I struck out with my right arm and launched the lightning straight into his chest, ploughing into his heart.

My hand was pressed up against his chest, but I had used him more than necessary. Rapidly breathing from exhaustion, I had leant against him more than I should have. My energy had been consumed by my attacks tonight, and my chakra was wearing thin. It had to be over.

But then I heard a small, but audible 'pop' as Yashamaru's body disappeared. Another puff of smoke erupted around me, and my heart froze in my chest, my eyes wide in disbelief. A shadow appeared behind me, and before I had the energy to spin around, I felt a biting and burning in my stomach.

Looking down at my feet, I could see the shadow cast by the moonlight, but most alarmingly, I could see a blade sticking out of my abdomen.

"Erin!"

Gaara. Gaara was still here. Still alive. My heart swelled despite the agonising pain in my torso, the ache spreading to my heart, strengthening my inability to breathe without feeling like I was being continuously stabbed.

There was a snigger of satisfaction directly behind me. Yashamaru. He had used a shadow clone, and must have escaped Gaara's sand the instant the smoke filled the area.

In one swift movement, the blade struck back out, the pain intensifying, my vision blinded by colours of black and white. With my exhausted efforts to stay awake, I fell to my knees, the pressure crackling my muscles, and then landed with my head smacking against the stone floor.

A tormented, strangled scream erupted from Gaara. Fighting the intolerable pain, I willed myself to stay alert, to do anything I could to protect Gaara until the very end. I forced myself to lift my head an inch; I had to keep my body constantly moving. Without my blood pumping through my veins, I would surely die.

My sight found Gaara with an overly calm Yashamaru a few metres in front of him. All I could see on Gaara's face was twisted, emotionally-draining pain. It stunted the breathing of my heart. I realised Gaara was speaking, his lips moving slowly, his wide-set eyes filled with an all-consuming rage. I wasn't alert enough to hear his words…

The young man raised his hand, the sand shuffling along his skin and forming along Yashamaru's clothes. The older man tugged at himself, trying to disperse the sand, but with immense strength, the sand covered every inch of Yashamaru's body.

"Sand Coffin!" I finally heard his voice, the voice of a deep-set angel. An angel whose face showed signs of pain, grief and fury mixed into one. The haunted look of a child seemed abnormal, but he was still beautiful. I wanted to comfort him…

My heart thumped painfully in my chest. Move, Erin, move!

Tears ran down Gaara's face, his face twisted into a startling mix of sorrow and satisfaction. Gaara gave one final tug of his tightened fist...

"Sand Burial!" I knew the effects of this final move – a technique that permanently ended one's life. The sand would either implode or crush the object within it, to the user's appeal. I also knew Gaara could control the pressure used in the attack, and by reading the emotions plastered on his face, I could see he wanted to completely liquefy his enemy.

With the final tug, the enemy's bones crackled harshly, and the sand imploded, sending a splattering of blood to cover the immediate area.

Gaara collapsed to his feet, his hands smacking straight into his face, over his sight. The boy trembled and cried and shuddered, and I could do nothing to comfort him. My body was failing to respond to the movements my muscles were trying to make.

I still had my sense of hearing, as I finally heard Gaara's final primal scream, a scream echoing the infinite pain and grief that was coursing through his body. The sand responded to his emotions, the demon feeding him his torment, threatening to break open his seal and to release itself into the world.

I watched as the sand crawled along every inch of his body, all the way up to his forehead. Gaara's screams heightened to startled wails as the sand tore at his skin, burning and stinging. The ordeal lasted a few minutes, but his sight finally returned to normal and that's when he noticed me.

With a frightened gasp, he fled over to me, and knelt by my head. With strength I didn't know he possessed, he moved my body so that I could face him front on, the pain continually cutting against my skin.

His face was destroyed by a deep puddle of blood on the left side of his forehead – the place I liked to kiss. I couldn't see what he had done to his skin, but there were marks that flashed across my vision, symbols I would have understood if my sight wasn't failing.

The worst part of my ordeal was seeing Gaara's pain. His pain became my pain. His tears became my tears. Without intuition, I hadn't realised I had spoken the next words.

"You will be… Kaze… kage…"

He shuddered, his body unintentionally also moving mine, causing more pain. His eyes closed in disbelief, the tears overflowing and splashing onto my face.

"I-I can't…" He was overfilled with too many emotions, and he hadn't spoken his words properly, but I could still understand them.

"You can…"

"I can't do it without you… please," His head hit against my chest, but I ignored the flaring of the pain. "Please, please, don't go, Erin, please." He cried and wailed and screeched. "Please, I need you, Erin. I need you, I love you… I can't…"

His face disappeared from mine for a second, and I was momentarily startled from the sudden darkness. I could still hear his tormented pleas, and I realised I had closed my eyes.

I refused to close them a second time, the last thing I saw had to be his beautiful, pale green eyes, outlined in black. The eyes I proved I could save, the eyes I had the duty to protect, the eyes I willed myself to love.

Love. Oh, I loved him. I loved him so much it physically hurt me. But first and foremost, I would do anything for him, even if it was at the cost of my own life.

And I had done it. I would die tonight protecting him.

I could feel my vision swallowing into darkness, but there was some light left radiating on Gaara's tormented face. Such intolerable pain for a child to possess seemed unnatural and twisted.

"Remember… what I said." I didn't know whether the words came out, my vision was fading, Gaara's face was blurring. Instinctively, I reached for his hands, and the last sensation I felt was the warmth of his skin, and the slight tickling of the sand rejecting me of his touch.

Love will guide him now.