I laid back in my crib, staring at a poster of human anatomy and vital points on the wall next to me while I considered my current situation. I found I absorbed information best when I wasn't actually making a conscious effort, a skill I'd been forced to develop to avoid missing my favorite TV shows due to homework.

However, at this point in time I found myself considering far more interesting subjects than the question of when the filler episodes for Naruto would end. No, I was deep in thought, trying my best to answer the two questions that I always asked myself when in doubt.

Why was I here, and what would I do now that I was here?

Naturally, my mind tended to wander towards the second question, it being a choice rather than a riddle, but I knew from experience that it was better to figure out the first question first. It usually helped the decision considerably.

Consider the possibilities, I told myself. What could possibly cause a recently deceased girl to wake up in the body of an anime character?

Alright, default possibilities – a prank by friends, a government conspiracy, or a dream. This seemed a bit elaborate to be a prank, honestly, and I don't see how the government would benefit from this, unless they wanted me to come back to their world as a super-weapon or something, which I doubted. As for the third possibility, a pinch discredited that immediately.

All default possibilities ruled out, I backtracked to the events prior to the incident, trying to rule out something unusual (aside from the glaringly obvious incident involving looking up to see the barrel of a gun). That morning had been bad, and I'd known the day would be far worse, but that alone couldn't be enough to do this. Lots of people died when they were having a bad day, and I'm pretty sure this didn't happen for the majority of them. Of course, it was possible that this was a standard resurrection or afterlife or something, but once again, I was doubtful. What else was there out of the ordinary? I was hungry from skipping breakfast, but that didn't seem relevant. The fact that I was running on a grand total of two hours' sleep might have had some relevance to Gaara's own sleeping habits, but once again, if that were a plausible reason, than this wouldn't be the first time this had happened. So what else had been making my day bad? Oh, yeah, forgetting my textbooks and bringing my Naruto comics instead, but that didn't seem…

Wait a sec. Backtrack. What page had I been on right before I looked up to find myself staring down the barrel of a gun? Oh, yeah. That picture of baby Gaara, sitting in the sandstone crib, surrounded by candles and covered in blood with the sand rising menacingly around him.

That might explain it. I'd died looking at a picture of the birth of someone who apparently existed in another dimension. Now that had to be the first time something like this had happened, what other idiot would die reading a Naruto comic? Let alone the most boring chapter in the whole series when it came to re-reading…

Well, I've learned my lesson about reading and walking at the same time…

Alright, riddle solved. I think. Now, onto the choice. What to do now? Try to get home or stay here? And if I chose to stay, should I play the role that had been set for me, or should I deviate from the plot, meet up with Naruto and Haku and Sasuke and live happily ever after?

Well, I don't think trying to get home was an option. Apart from the fact that it would be nigh impossible if my conclusion about how I'd gotten here was correct, it didn't seem that appealing either, considering the high possibility that I might have to start life all over again from scratch. Not to mention there was no one who really cared about me. I mean, it's not like my parents were abusive or anything, they just… didn't love me, I guess. I was an illegitimate child, so to mom, I was a reminder of the woman my dad had loved before her, and to dad, I was a reminder of the only mistake he'd ever made. My older sister and younger brother had caught on too at some stage, and they'd grown up being considered my betters. So basically, everyone who should have cared called me worthless. They said it in a joking tone, like it didn't matter, but I knew they meant it. Not that I was sensitive about it or anything, it just got annoying at times, and it was hardly an incentive to go home when presented with an opportunity like this.

So, I was staying. Now I just needed to figure out whether or not I should deviate from the original plotline. Honestly, it might be a better idea just to go with the original. Changing things might screw something up, and there was no way to tell whether or not my presence would magically put everything right like it always did in fanfiction. No, it would be safer to stay here and let things play out as they had before, play along with the sound's plan, stage the fight with Naruto, train so that I could defend myself against Kimimaro and Akatsuki where the original Gaara had been unable to… yes, that sounded like a good plan.

'…crap, that was a vital point? I think I hit one of the guards there when they were trying to get dad out.'

In the meantime, I was going to have a lot of fun looking at these posters. Who knew the human anatomy could be so interesting? If they taught this stuff in biology, I might actually have listened…

'

'Three Years Later'

'

You know, three years is a long time. Much longer than it should be. Honestly, I felt like I should be a lot older. Hell, it felt like I should be facing off against Naruto in the Chuunin exams any day now. As it was, I still wasn't even big enough to throw a kunai and hit the mark (though it was fun to try). I'd learned to walk properly around age two, and I'd managed to raise my voice and get more than a gurgle when I was only five months old. Apart from that, I'd sat in my room reading scrolls and attempting basic techniques.

But, of course, I'd been locked in this room for three years with nothing but sixteen scrolls of the bare basics of Ninjutsu. Of course, they probably expected me to be reading these things when I was old enough to throw a kunai properly, but that didn't change the fact that I couldn't even use hand-seals properly. I was determined to use these five years before I could begin on proper Taijutsu to study Genjutsu and Ninjutsu as much as I could, but it had proved difficult when I only had access to the basics of Henge, Bunshin, Kawarimi, Genjutsu, and theoretical Taijutsu, especially in the years before my hands were big enough to form the seals properly.

"Quit complaining, brat. It's giving me a headache."

"You don't have a head, you worthless pet sand-rock of a demon."

Shukaku wasn't actually that bad, when it came down to it. I didn't actually need his permission to use his power in battle, which was good, because I have a feeling he wouldn't give it, regardless of the situation. He could still control his power from within my mind, but he usually avoided it unless it was to protect me. Let's face it, he only existed on the plane of my own mind, which, coincidentally, I could control. If I wanted, I could turn him into a regular old raccoon and leave him to fend for himself against the monsters that couldn't show up in my nightmares anymore. The problem was, if I ever fell asleep, he'd turn the tables and I'd be the one stuck in the back of my own head while he went on a killing spree.

Apart from that, there was another benefit the original Gaara probably didn't have. Shukaku was surprisingly knowledgeable when it came to the use of his specific power in conjunction to Ninjutsu, and he was more than willing to share with me his infinite wisdom when such a time came that I could train properly. Turns out he was actually one of the most powerful priests in Suna, way before the first Kazekage was even born, but then he got too powerful and became an incarnation of sand. It was actually explained, albeit briefly, in the anime, though I'd never paid that part any attention before, and I'm pretty sure no one else did either.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't know the third eye jutsu?" I asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't even have a clue what that is, let alone how to do it, so just lay off already! Go back to practicing with your sand, try again to see if the hand-seals are working yet, anything, just quit asking me!"

"I was just asking…"

Despite my disappointment that once again Shukaku had not been able to supply me with what had become the top technique on my to-learn list, I decided to follow his advice and see if the hand-seals were working yet. Apparently, one's hands had to reach a certain size before you could form them properly, and mine just weren't there yet.

In a well-practiced motion, a standard test to see if it was working yet, I created a simple sand clone on the other side of the room and went through the basic hand-seals for a Kawarimi. As usual, it didn't work – but then again, what was I expecting?

I swear, the day I finally made this Kawarimi test work, I would celebrate by finally killing the bastard doctor who still came into my room twice a day to give me evil anti-sleep shots. I already knew the technique the original Gaara had used to keep from going to sleep, it was in one of the scrolls – the basic idea was to create a mental wall in one's psyche and place it between your consciousness and the place in your mind where it retreated to when you went to sleep.

Did I mention how much it sucks not to be able to sleep? It's been three years now – three fuckin' years – since I've slept. The dark rings are cool, I'll admit that much, but it's certainly not doing wonders for my mental state. Then again, my personality still hasn't changed much – what does that say about my original state of mind, I wonder?

I sighed out loud, closing my eyes and leaning back in my bed – the first thing I'd done after learning to speak properly was demand a proper bed instead of a crib. In the end, when my request had been refused, the demand had been upped to threats of bodily harm, backed by the demise of poor nurse Gina who was responsible for changing my blankets. From that day forth no one dared to deny me something I wanted – though for some reason, that didn't apply for technique scrolls.

I'd actually found myself killing quite often over the past few years. I didn't really care either – I mean, on TV, people always preach about how killing rips you in half and makes you feel all guilty and so on, but I'd never really bothered myself with things like that. My mind had a way of comprehending things like this in terms of actions and consequences rather than right and wrong. If a person died and their family spent several years mourning, then so be it. So what if it was my fault that they were dead and some kid would grow up without a father? It wasn't like it affected me.

No, I'm not heartless. I just don't care.

"Like there's a difference, brat."

"Actually, there is."

"Like what?"

"If I were heartless, that would mean I was emotionless. Caring is an emotion, and thus, so is a lack of care. Besides, I do actually feel something from time to time… just not when I kill people."

"Were you always like this or is it just my influence?"

"Hm, not sure…"

Shukaku heaved a mental sigh and went back to sleep the same way he always did when I got too frustrating – which was actually quite often. Sometimes I found it ironic that I was actually less alone here, with a demon in my head, than I was in my first life, surrounded by people who cared about me about as much as… well, about as much as I cared about them.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I answered with a wave of killing intent – one of my favorite tools so far. I had made it into a fine art, working up to the point where was able magnify simple annoyance to the point where I could make a Jounin piss his pants just by looking at him, even though I was still just an infant. I was also currently teaching myself to do the exact opposite, radiating waves of peace and calm to nullify the mind of my opponent almost to the point of hypnotism. Although I honestly wasn't having much luck with that one, it was really all I could practice on until I managed the hand-seals.

I found myself surprised to feel the person counter the killing intent I was sending at them with their own aura. You can always tell when they resist it, it's sort of like… how to explain it… well, it's like putting a drop of oil in a glass of water, and instead of mixing with the water or just falling to pieces, it stays together floating on the surface in its own little bubble. Needless to say, it was weird – and there was only one person I knew who could still resist my killing intent even at this level.

The door was opened, and I upped the killing intent, no longer fueled simply by annoyance, but something akin to true hatred. The difference was noticeable, and I watched with some satisfaction as he began putting actual chakra into his resistance rather than just the emotions that would have been enough if it were anyone else.

"Gaara, stop that," my father ordered sharply. I could already see him perspiring from the effort it took to resist my killing intent.

I smirked and let up on the killing intent until it simply hung in the air like the fine sand particles that floated lazily around my room. Yes, I really did love this technique – now I just had to get the aura-hypnotism (as it I'd dubbed it) right, though I suppose that wasn't happening any time soon.

I watched as my father strode forward into the room until he stood imposingly at the end of the bed. Not that he was really imposing, it just seemed to me like he was looming over me when he stood like that, what with me still being only a third of his size and all that.

"Gaara, there's something important I need to speak with you about."

'

Once again, I'm really sorry this chapter took so long. The holiday my family took to Sydney ended up being prolonged when the reservation for the people renting our hotel room after us was canceled, so we stayed for the majority of the holidays rather than just the intended few days. On top of that, I was having trouble figuring out what was going to happen next. I knew I had to write something starting at least two years before Yashamaru tried to kill Gaara, but I couldn't figure out what until just recently.

By the way, I'm very sorry for all the melodrama and 'Mary-sue'-ness surrounding Maya, but it's important for the sake of this story that her character is similar to Gaara's, and for that, she needs to have some sort of angsty past. If you have any complaints about her, please don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll see what I can do to improve her.

Also, I've had some complaints about the pairing I informed you of in the last Author's Note. Turtle Kid mentioned in a fanfiction called 'Sand in your Shorts', it's a GaaNeji fic, and I decided I liked that pairing better than Gaara and Kakashi, so if no one has any complaints, I think I'll change it to that. However, if you do have any complaints or alternate suggestions, or you simply think that this fic shouldn't be romance at all, please don't hesitate to tell me.