Chapter Nine
Gaara was surrounded by a sea of sand and a hazy darkness. The sand pitched and rolled like waves on an ocean, occasionally revealing pools of blood and broken bodies, only to sweep over them once again and conceal them within the depths. The wind howled, whipping the dunes into a frenzied, churning mass of waves, but Gaara paid them no mind. Above him the full moon hung low in the sky, along with the other heavenly bodies. Saturn's rings almost seemed to touch it, and Venus hovered nearby. Across the vast inky expanse lie Jupiter, Neptune, and the other planets, even tiny Pluto. The inky expanses between the heavenly bodies were filled with constellations and nebulae, resulting in a breathtaking display that softly shimmered. Anyone else would've openly gawked at the sky, that is, if they managed to find their footing long enough to actually be able to look up.
Gaara, however, ignored it as he strode swiftly to his destination. Shukaku had brought him here for a reason, and he needed to find out why. It had been a while since he had brought him to their world. His gaze never once left the dark foreboding area ahead, not even to watch his footing. The sand, despite its wild pitching and rolling, wouldn't dare to trip him.
As he walked he pondered the myriad things that he desperately needed to discuss with his demon, mostly centered on the last few moments before he was taken within himself. His step faltered a bit as the last sensations he remembered came back to him. A wrenching pain and writhing muscles, Hinata's frightened cries, and a stillness in his chest. He stopped then; standing still as the realization came to him. His heart wasn't beating, yet he wasn't dead. After a few moments he resumed his journey, there was nothing he could do about that, his primary concern was Shukaku. His mentor would know what was going on.
Ahead of him loomed a large cage, with a gargantuan shadow locked inside. A collar was attached to Shukaku's neck and the floor of the cage with a large chain. The door was partially open. Shukaku could, if he wanted, charge through the door, which only opened when Gaara was unconscious. When he regained his senses, the chain would snap taut and pull him back into the cage, the door slamming shut.
This situation was unique; most demons were imprisoned within a sealed cage, locked tightly and, hopefully, permanently. However, it hampered their vessel. They could only communicate with their demon rarely, and when they did they were often at odds, the host seeking to control the demon, the demon seeking to be free. Consequently, the host could access only about a third of the demon's power before the cage began to open, and the demon began to take over. If opened too far, the demon would break free, shredding the host, at best simply killing him/her, at worst, rending the soul. Sometimes the demon went so far as to consume the host's spirit, imprisoning it within the demon as an act of revenge.
Shukaku himself had been known for this when it came to his former hosts. In fact, he was exceptionally notorious for shortening the life span of them. He hated them, hated the fact that they tried to control him, used him, and thought of him as little more than a mindless animal. So he slipped through the cage and ate at their psyche, and sent his chakra running through them to destroy their bodies. Whenever he got too close to breaking free, the village leaders trapped the host and pulled him from its body, sealing him in a tea kettle or jar or a clay pot, whatever could hold the bloodstained sand that made transferring him to a new host easier. The bloody cycle continued, until the Fourth Kazekage came along with Chiyo.
For the first time, he was sealed within a fetus, a very young fetus to be exact. The fetus was a young male, and was very nearly killed by the chakra spillover from the demon. His body was simply too young and small, not even fully formed. The infant mortality rate was high among regular demon vessels, their small bodies simply unable to cope with the chakra, let alone a fetus. The Kazekage had almost consigned the village to a death sentence, since if the child died, Shukaku would've been free to ravage the village. But something had held the demon back, a tenderness towards the unborn child. Such a strange thing, affection was, it compelled him to try to save him. So he did the only thing he could do; he altered the child's very DNA, replacing his father's with Shukaku's own, making the infant his child.
However, he couldn't save Gaara's mother, or even speak to his child, since the little kit had been taught to fear him. Yashamaru had filled him with so many terrible lies, as had the vile Kazekage. But he had, on that horrid night, managed to contact his child at last. The grieving Gaara hadn't attempted to flee the demon's whispers, allowing him to instead sweep through him and draw him into their world for a long overdue chat. He comforted his child as best he could, but some wounds couldn't be healed by the demon alone.
The little girl that they found, now, she had changed things. His thoughts were on her as he watched his son stride over to him. Hinata had cleansed those infected wounds with her kindness and patience, her acceptance and affection. Gaara's wounded heart had, at last, begun to heal. It would always bear those scars, but the fact that he was healing cheered Shukaku and gave him hope. It was good that Gaara had a precious person, even if he still needed to figure things out a bit. The homicidal little psycho needed a bit more time to understand and acquire social skills.
Said homicidal little psycho was now staring at him, so Shukaku settled himself down in his cage more comfortably. He chuckled at the glare that Gaara shot at him.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me that I was going to have convulsions and then die? A little warning would've been nice!" he snapped at him.
"My apologies, my child, I thought you could handle it."
"I can, but-"
"You fear that she can't."
"Yes."
"She will be fine, and besides, now is not the time to worry about that. You must train like never before now, to master your new power. Prepare yourself, my child, your training begins now." Gaara nodded and assumed a battle stance as Shukaku swiped at him with his claw.
He was resting on a dune that was, for the moment, still and solid as a normal dune would be. His eyes were fixed on the sky, hands partially submerged in the sand. He inhaled and exhaled a sigh. The respite from his grueling training was only partially welcome, as unpleasant memories always came flooding back to him. Even now, after five years, he could still hear his Hinata's panicked cries, see those frightened, no, horrified eyes, and cursed himself for leaving her alone and defenseless. Was she even alive after all this time? If she was, could she ever forgive him?
After a moment, he felt the tug of his mentor, and rose to his feet. He walked swiftly to the open cage, where the demon was reclining. Shukaku grinned at him.
"What's with the dirty look? Surely you're not still upset over that little missy, are you?"
"What's it to you? Just hurry it up and get to the next exercise! I'm not going through this again!"
"So you are still upset over the little missy, that's good. I had feared that you would never be able to make another emotional connection after Yashamaru. You have it bad, don't you?"
"Shut up, you just don't get it, you bastard-"
"I have good news for you, then, child, but first you must tell me something. Don't you feel different now? Surely you must have noticed it by now." Gaara paused, and concentrated. Yes, he did feel something, something unusual. For the first time in years, his heart was beating. Shock rocked him to his core, could this mean…? He looked up at Shukaku, eyes wide.
"It's time, Gaara." Already his world had begun to fade away.
"Wait! You still haven't even told me what the good news is!"
"You'll see." Shukaku chuckled after him, as he faded away. Gaara cursed at him angrily.
He was stiff, sore, and cold. There was a weight on his chest and stomach, a warm, wet weight that shuddered and shook. Strange noises were in the background, squeaky feet, whispers, murmurs and mutters. Just what was going on? Where was he?
Gaara opened his eyes slowly, blinking them blearily. It was a dim room, but there were people outside it. He could hear them walking and talking to each other in hushed tones. The strong smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and other smells lingered in the air unpleasantly. Wait was he still-a sharp sound interrupted his observations. He looked down to see a familiar, huddled form weeping on his torso. It was Hinata, and she appeared much the same as she had been, so just how much time had really passed? He was still handcuffed to the bed, still in that distasteful hospital gown, and still only twelve, apparently.
"Hinata?" his voice was a croak, but it was enough to get her attention. Shocked lavender eyes gazed at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"G-Gaara?"
