Disclaimer - I do not own Naruto. If I did, there would be a lot more Gaara in there! Like, every episode having Gaara in there. Seriously. So I don't own it. Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto who likes torturing me by not having as much Gaara in there as I want.

AN: This was shamelessly inspired by the brown-haired boy in episode 7 of Shippuden - Run, Kankuro. I couldn't help but think about how after all the hate Gaara endured, he was finally a role model and a hero in the eyes of his villagers, and I wondered what they were thinking about him now, especially the children who weren't really exposed to crazy, psychotic, insane Gaara. I nearly squealed when I saw that scene (despite being heart-broken that Gaara had lost) and I finally decided to write something about the little boy, so here it is. It's basically a view of Gaara from a childish, innocent mind!

This first chapter is set pre-Chuunin Exams, so Gaara's around eleven.

Spoilers: Rescue Gaara Arc

Metamorphosis

Chapter One: Ante

Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis - All things are changing, and we are changing with them

The creak of the door shattered the silence of the night, causing the origin of the noise to cringe and freeze, not daring to move a muscle as the echo of the moving door rang through the stillness of the street.

The young boy turned, cautiously glancing up to the window that was located above the entrance into the house, head cocked, ear up in the direction of the glass.

No sound or movement was heard.

The boy breathed a sigh of relief and shut the door quietly. He edged a couple of paces away, once again looking at the window which remained dark.

The young boy smiled and began tromping down the streets, doing a small victory dance inside his head at the realization that he had successfully left the house undetected. He had even left through the front door which was right beneath his brother's window.

Take that, the boy thought. See? Being a ninja doesn't mean you're better than me!

The boy - Renjiro - traveled through the twisting streets of Sunagakure for a few minutes before arriving at a small park, less than half a mile away from the Ninja Academy. Renjiro immediately broke into a run, determined to find the swing set that he had risked his neck to play on.

This specific swing set had been the first and only swings that he had ever tried. Playing on the swings was one of his favorite activities. When it had broken five months ago he had been devastated. His best friend had just told him after dinner that it had been fixed. No amount of whining had budged his mother's firm decision that he would have to wait until the next day to go to the park. He had grudgingly gone to bed, only to lay awake for four hours, tossing and turning, thinking about the swing set. When he was certain his parents were asleep, and his brother wasn't just faking his unconsciousness, he had tumbled out of bed, dressed himself quickly (remembering that Suna nights were very cold) and left the house with all the discretion a six-year-old could have.

He was very proud of himself for having done it without his brother even noticing.

The young boy arrived at the swing set, panting only slightly from his sprint. He rested his hands on his knees for only a second - trying to regain his breath - before drawing himself up. He took a step forward, eyes directed towards the swing he had always used...

Only to stop dead in surprise.

Somebody was already on the swing.

Somebody was already on his swing.

Renjiro frowned. He eyed the seated figure with the distrust of a child deprived of his special toy.

The boy looked strange. Despite his coloring being distorted by the moonlight and shadows, Renjiro could tell he had red hair and pale, pale skin. His eyes were closed, and the lids were black in color. His bangs brushed his forehead, allowing only the beginning of the markings of a kanji sign to be seen on the boy's forehead.

Weird.

And yet, kinda cool at the same time.

Renjiro narrowed his eyes at the boy. He might have thought the older boy cool (he was obviously older than even Renjiro's brother), except for the fact that the weird boy was sitting on his swing.

"Are you done?" asked Renjiro as politely as he could.

The boy's eyes snapped open, zeroing in on Renjiro instantly.

They were kind of a strange color. Not completely blue, nor completely green. His eyes were more of a mixture of the two colors, blending together and yet changing frequently.

The boy glanced at him a moment, not bothering to move or answer.

"Are you done?" repeated Renjiro, just in case he hadn't heard.

The boy just stared blankly at him, as though he couldn't comprehend the question.

Renjiro huffed, annoyed that the boy had the gall to ignore him while he was still sitting on his swing.

The boy remained motionless.

Sand rustled around Renjiro's feet despite there being no breeze.

Renjiro scowled before stomping to the swing beside the boy, his bad mood setting in because of this unexpected obstacle.

Renjiro glared at the ground, his feet dangling a few inches above the restless sand.

This was why he wanted the other swing. Not only was it his swing, but he could also reach the ground on that one.

Renjiro tried rocking back and forth, trying to get the swing started, but had to give up when the chains all quivered.

He stared hard at the ground, willing himself not to let the welling tears escape down his cheeks.

"You're here without anyone's knowledge."

Renjiro raised his eyes, startled by the non-question by the boy who he had almost forgotten was there.

The boy wasn't looking at him, he was simply staring straight ahead, not even having the decency of at least trying to act well-mannered around Renjiro.

He had kind of a strange voice. It was rather raspy, but not in a harsh way. Renjiro couldn't tell if this was natural, or from misuse. His mother sometimes said a voice grew hoarse from lack of use, or overuse.

Despite the rhetorical statement, Renjiro raised his chin defiantly. "So?" he said stubbornly.

The boy still hadn't moved from his original position. "Why are you here?"

"Because I want to swing."

The boy glanced over at Renjiro. "Why?"

"Because I like flying high up in the air. It's fun. I pretend I'm a ninja sometimes when I do that. My best friend told me that her cousin said swinging up high is the same feeling ninja get when they're jumping really really far up in the air."

"You don't get scared?"

Renjiro shook his head vehemently. "No! 'Course not! It's fun!"

"It could be dangerous," the boy noted.

"Don't care," Renjiro retorted, not liking that this eleven or twelve-year-old boy was criticizing him.

"Why don't you just wait till you can be a ninja?"

"I won't ever be a ninja. I don't have enough chakra. My brother's one though. He goes to the Academy." Renjiro pointed in the general direction of where he knew the Academy stood. "He's going to be a real live Suna shinobi one day!"

"And you hate him for being a ninja while you cannot?"

"NO! 'Course not! I mean, I get jealous sometimes - and he's awfully annoying - and I say I hate him, but I don't really. Plenty of people can't be ninjas, so I understand."

"So why do you swing if it just reminds you of what you cannot attain?"

"I dunno. 'Cause it's fun! And it's the closest thing I'll ever get to being a ninja, and that's good enough for me!"

The boy finally turned to actually look at Renjiro, his face expressionless. He finally dropped his head down, his hair falling to shadow his face. He didn't seem to understand.

Renjiro turned to face forward, ignoring the weird boy as he tried to figure out a way to get the swing started.

The sounds of the gliding sand got a little louder as he looked up, wondering if he could try jumping onto the swing after pushing it.

An unexpected force suddenly gave him the boost he needed.

Terrified, Renjiro clutched at the chains, not knowing what had pushed him, his senses completely focused on the fact that he was in the air.

He was soaring high and free.

Renjiro swung up so high that he didn't dare crane his neck to see what continued giving him the force needed to continue the pendulum-like motion.

He whooshed past the boy who hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, completely ignoring the six-year-old who breezed past him, narrowly missing a collision with his shoulder.

Eventually, the force vanished, leaving Renjiro's swings to slowly die down to the merest quiver before halting to a complete stop.

Renjiro breathed a sigh of happiness. He was glad he had snuck out even though his mother would punish him like there was no tomorrow if she ever found out he had left the house at night time.

He glanced behind him, trying to see if there was another person who had pushed him, but all he saw was the sand that appeared to stretch endlessly in every direction.

A sudden movement caused the brown-haired boy to turn and stare at his elder who had (finally) arisen from the swing he had been seated at. The redhead moved a couple of paces away before bending down to pick up a gourd so massive that Renjiro wondered how he could have possibly missed the thing.

The boy shouldered the gourd and moved a couple of more feet forward before stopping and pivoting, facing Renjiro. "You shouldn't be out late at night," he said.

Renjiro couldn't tell if this was a friendly warning or a devious threat.

"You're not my mother," he shot back. "You can't tell me what to do."

Renjiro could see an emotion flicker into existence in the boy's eyes as he replied, "You never know what kind of creatures wander the streets at night."

"I'm not scared!" Renjiro declared hotly.

The boy turned around and began walking away. He stopped just before leaving the park grounds, swiveling his head around so that he could look Renjiro right in the eyes. "That is because you do not understand."

Without another word, he vanished into the shadows of the darkened streets, disappearing before the brown-haired boy could get a word in.

Renjiro stayed on the swing, barely noticing that the sand which had been abnormally restless ever since he arrived - despite it being a particularly windless night - had ceased its shifting and now lay quiet beneath Renjiro's feet.

The image of the boy as he had stood there saying those words ran through Renjiro's mind again and again, like a broken record.

Those eyes...that emotion...it bewildered the naive mind of the six-year-old.

By the time Renjiro wandered back home, right into the arms of his furious - yet very worried - mother, it was nearing five in the morning. Renjiro had yawned widely as his mother screeched and raved, handing him a list of punishments that he had taken without complaint.

He had hit the bed, his mother telling him he needed his sleep. As he lay his head down, slipping into the darkness of sleep, those aquamarine eyes entered his mind.

One thought entered his mind before he lost himself to unconsciousness.

Who is he?

Renjiro didn't spot the weird, weird boy from that night until nearly six months later.

He had gone to the market with his family. His mother had dragged his older brother off, insisting he needed new clothes for his new year at the Ninja Academy. He was following his father who was blindly walking through the twisting Suna markets, looking uncertainly around him. He rarely ever ventured into this area, opting to stay safe and sound in his own restaurant that was surrounded mostly by other food stalls and even a few weaponry shops.

Both he and Renjiro disliked souvenir and clothing shops and stalls.

His father was examining a quirky device, poking at it hesitantly when Renjiro spotted him.

He looked the same. His red hair was much more apparent in broad daylight, resembling the color of the blood that Renjiro had seen drip from his mother's finger last week when she cut herself whilst chopping spices. His face was still emotionless, and that enormous gourd was tied to his back.

Renjiro scarcely noticed the hush that journeyed through the streets. He ignored the vendor who accidentally knocked over a vase, and the people who scurried away in the middle of bargaining.

"Tou-san!" he whispered, tugging eagerly at his father's belt. He looked up at his father who had gone suddenly pale.

"What is it, Renji?" asked his father, not looking down at him.

"Who is that boy over there? Do you know him?" Renjiro pointed over to the strange, strange redhead who was walking calmly down the street.

Renjiro stared in wonder at the boy's forehead where the kanji he had noticed on that night was now completely visible. Renjiro recognized it as the kanji 'ai' which meant love.

Is that actually a tattoo? Renjiro wondered as the boy came closer.

Renjiro felt his father grip his shoulders, embracing him closely as though in protection.

The boy was right in front of him now.

Renjiro could hear the sand rustling, and watched as the sandy puffs that arose seemed to follow the boy who turned his head slightly, his aquamarine eyes focusing on Renjiro who stared fearlessly back with his wide brown eyes.

For a moment, the only sound Renjiro could hear was the sand. Grain against grain against grain against grain. He could hear it shifting, rustling, gliding, rubbing, swirling. Those weird light-colored eyes framed with that harsh kohl black were directly on him, not moving, not flinching.

And then he had passed right by and was continuing down the street.

Renjiro remained locked in his father's tight grip. He followed the boy with his eyes, watching as the sand almost appeared to trail after him.

"Tou-san," said Renjiro in wonderment. "Tou-san, the sand looks like it's almost alive, doesn't it!"

His father didn't reply, didn't move, until the boy had disappeared. Despite the long street, he hadn't vanished in the crowd which had parted like the Red Sea in front of him. It was only when he turned a corner that Renjiro could no longer see him.

"Tou-san, who was that?" asked Renjiro again.

"That was Sabaku no Gaara," said his father, his eyes still trained in the direction the boy had disappeared.

"A monster," ground out the owner of the stall. He spat on the ground. "A demon. That thing doesn't deserve to be alive."

Sabaku no Gaara?

Sabaku no Gaara. Renjiro had heard the name before. It was the name of Sunagakure's personal demon. The Sandman who roamed the streets at night, terrifying little children into obeying their mothers. Renjiro's father used to tell him ghost stories about Sabaku no Gaara, informing Renji that the demon would come to get him if he ever disobeyed his mother.

'The demon loves blood and death, Renji,' his father had said. 'When you're alone at night, it'll pounce and your blood will be spilled all over the sand.'

Renjiro was terrified of demons.

His nightmares revolved around the faceless, ghostly profile of Sabaku no Gaara, a demon that he had imagined large and scary with sharp teeth and dripping fangs, claws outstretched, and sand poised for attack, blood red eyes glowing with evil hunger.

Sabaku no Gaara.

A murderer. A demon. A monster.

"Make sure you never ever talk to him, Renji," his father was saying sternly. "He'll kill you. He's a killer, and he won't hesitate to add you to his list of innocent victims."

Renjiro was barely paying attention.

He was thinking of that night.

That demon will attack you when you're all alone at night. It craves the blood of the innocent, the victims who do no wrong taste even sweeter.

That night he had sat next to a demon and held a conversation with him. That night the had contradicted and talked back to a monster. That night he had talked to a weird boy who turned out to be a murderer.

A demon.

Renjiro was terrified of demons.

"Make sure you listen to your father, kid," the stall-owner was saying. "That thing will eat you alive for dinner. I don't know why Kazekage-sama still has it around. He should work harder at getting rid of it before it murders us in our beds!"

"Ne, ne," laughed a nearby vendor. "Don't be so harsh! I'm sure that it'll wait for a more proper moment to get rid of us all."

"Don't joke about this!" shouted a man. "He's right when he says that it will kill us one day. Do you really think that its mind is stable?"

"Renji, let's go," said his father. He tugged at his hand and Renjiro followed obediently, listening to the fading gossip and cries of the villagers as they spoke of the demon.

Renjiro was terrified of demons.

And yet, as he followed his father through the crowded, loud streets of Suna, he couldn't help but let the memory of the boy's face flash through his mind once again.

That is because you do not understand.

His face had been schooled into an emotionless mask. A mask that showed indifferent and uncaring coldness.

That is because you do not understand.

But his eyes had been so sad. So confused.

That is because you do not understand.

And Renjiro wondered if anyone in Suna really did understand the demon Sabaku no Gaara.

Renjiro was terrified of demons.

So why did his nightmares of the Sandman cease?

If he was really scared of those monsters, why did he return to the swing set at two in the morning only a week later in hopes of seeing that boy again?

That is because you do not understand.

Perhaps it was because his eyes had looked so lonely. So very, very alone.

Okay, this actually turned out completely different than I had planned on! I had originally intended this to be a one-shot focusing around the scene in episode 7, and it turned into a much bigger story that spans over a few years. I haven't planned this completely out yet, so I'm not sure if this will be a two-shot or a three-shot, but I doubt that it will actually turn into a multi-chapter fic. Three chapters tops!

I really hope that Gaara wasn't OC in here, though he might be just a bit. ^_^'

I would love to receive reviews from all of you telling me what you thought! I'll be working on the next chapter, but don't expect it to come out in like...one week. (My readers would have a heart attack if that happened.)

But anyway, please review!