The world was a blooming oyster.
The festival was disorienting in its magnitude - chakra sizzling in the air. A veritable explosion of the most brilliant colors - he couldn't help his wide-eyed staring as he walked through the festivities. Long kimono swishing across his legs. It was almost as if he'd never comprehended color before. Movement and so many people spilling across the streets, all dressed in dazzling clothing and jewelry - laughter and the smell of food in the air. The day was warm and perfect. The Mokuton festival commemorating the re-birth of the Mokuton kekkei genkai was as splendid as was right. Naruto couldn't wait until the Senju girl could use it properly, he'd always wondered what the Mokuton looked like in real life.
He wanted to have fun. He wanted to run around the market stalls with his friends (he had so many friends now!) and eat sweets and watch the singers and the dancers reenact the fight between Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. He wanted to laugh at Sasuke-teme pouting over being forced to join them. He wanted to spy on the dozens of Suna-nin invited to join the festivities (Now remember kids, we are doing this to tie the bond between our two Villages closer. So be on your best behavior. I'm looking at you, Naruto!)
They had gotten three entire days off from the Academy to celebrate. No running, no breaking bones, no studying chakra field fluctuations until his eyes hurt. Sakura-chan had been gushing over how much fun it was going to be for weeks.
But it was screaming in his head. And inexplicably so, as he trudged through the picturesque image of Konoha in celebration, something felt very wrong. He scuffed his worn sandals against a packet of sweets littering the ground, hands clenched slightly as he made his way.
He didn't brush against anyone on his way to the meet-up point. Even as he sped up slightly, thoroughly distracted as he moved from side to side in sight of the source of his unease. The crowd parted before him, heads bowed - parents pulling their rambunctious children aside. Even crowding against the market stalls. It made his heart hurt.
He wished he could take to the roofs, soar through the air and make it to Sakura and the others in no time. But he'd been temporarily suspended for being a hazard to air traffic. Which was entirely unfair considering he had been hunted by the stupid Pervy-sages frogs at the time. The things carried swords.
He frowned at the thought of that disturbing pervert, thankfully the man seemed to have left the village. Though some weird pregnant Lady he'd passed by in the street had given him a nice treat for - teaching the idiot a lesson.
The crowd started congregating toward one spot, most of them hurriedly finding the best places for the better view of the ridiculously tall stage raised in the center of the Village. It's structure tall and as awe-inspiring as the man they were waiting to see. The civilians especially seemed eager and delighted as they waited for Jii-sama to show.
Naruto started jogging faster at the sight, dust spilling onto his formerly speckless kimono. But Oden had been acting strange all morning, the overgrown loofah growling disapprovingly whenever he attempted to leave the apartment. It had taken time to circumvent the clever Wolf - which would now leave him late for the meet-up. Sakura-chan and Sasuke-teme would team up just to beat him up - he just knew it.
A couple of civilians cried out behind him, voices high-pitched and frightened. Sounds like that set all of his teeth on edge, he spun around, ready to jump away at a moments notice - and abruptly relaxed at the source.
The ten shinobi now attached to the buildings, clamoring on to them sideways - weapons drawn and alert. Glared at him disapprovingly for a second before disappearing elsewhere. He simply grinned back innocently as they left.
Oden - the white Lightning wolf now reaching his mid-chest approached him gracefully. Blue eyes uncaring of the stares they were receiving. Naruto sighed and called him over fondly, even though he was the most disobedient partner ever. He readied himself for a playful tussle, some half-heartedly berating words (Oden wasn't really allowed in large crowds) but there was something wrong now. Even more so than before, his nose burned. All of the hairs on his body stood on end. Why was Oden here?
Oden was growling, whining. High-pitched and pleading as he pulled at his kimono. Sharp fangs tearing holes in his expensive clothing. Large head butting against his to make him move.
"Oden..?" he whispered. Feeling as though all the air had left his lungs. As if the world was suddenly moving in slow-motion.
There is something wrongwrongwrong he thought again - just before the first screams started.
"Gaara, you wait for the signal - okay?" the human asked of him, voice pleading and too soft. It did not bother to inform of the child's momentary departure from the psyche, compliance seemed prudent within the circumstance. Their response to the inquiry remained but a silent stare. Adopted eyes leaving the borrowed arms crossed - unmoving within the crowds of humans spilling over the streets.
The borrowed mouth salivated at the thought consuming their essences- spit spilling to the ground. Gaara the child scattered back into the psyche at the sensation. Soft moans and hair-pulling at the pain of being awake when it was so close to the surface. His skin burned, his blood boiled. He wanted to tell the shinobi surreptiously standing guard around him that he wanted to leave - to stop. But Father would be pleased if they did this, he and Mother would make Father proud. That would make the hurting worth it. (Maybe Father would smile?)
The chakra that sizzled through the air tasted delicious, Gaara had never been conscious for the feast. Never acknowledged the taste of their flesh. Hesitantly he squinted through the hands covering his eyes - his brother Kankuro, his own hands tense and painted face stiff met his gaze with half-hidden fear and disgust. The one-stringed hand attached to his vicious puppet twitching slightly. Gaara whimpered and tried not to cry. To focus on something other than Mother's bloodlust and the pain. People were singing now, and it sounded happy.
He flinched at the sudden emergence of the teacher, trails of sand whipping around him protectively. Traces of chakra dispersing amongst the crowds. Arms clenched around his knees, face hidden in his hair the man ignored Gaara diminutive stature. Bypassing him completely in favor of the Suna-nin standing by his sides. Dark skinned face etched into its perpetual frown. Mother said - anger false, because the teacher smelled of sweat. Of nervousness hidden under a thin veneer. "This operation has one single chance at success" he gestured in the hands-moving-language Gaara wasn't supposed to understand. "Within a very small window of time. If any of you fail I will personally skin you alive." And then he disappeared elsewhere once more, calloused hands passing on a scroll Gaara could not identify. There one moment and gone the next.
He peeked back out into the crowd, curious even though he shouldn't be. Eyes following the brightest humans walking around. It had not feasted properly for years, the taste of the supernova of chakra trapped in the fragile bodies of others. The ones who had imprisoned it - they called themselves shinobi - would be the first, they would taste the best.
"Gaara!" someone shout-whispered before him, one hand on her long-sword. Feet perched a safe distance away. Their sand slithered across the ground, hissing against it.
There was another present - the One who Shone the Brightest hiding within the rotten confines of the human village. They had not encountered each other for hundreds of years. Though Gaara was confused at the familiarity, shaggy red head rising to look around for the source of the strange feeling. Sometimes he was Gaara, and it was Mother - sometimes they were one and the same. It made the world a confusing place to be in.
"Gaara," the woman asked once more, dark eyes fervent, her face now close, "countdown from ninety, just like we practiced. Exactly ninety."
Mother did not speak the human language, did not communicate through words - but rather a twisted amalgamation of images and feelings and painful growl-scream-howls. Mother's excitement made his brain burn, hands pulling on his own hair - keening and shrill even as he nodded his acknowledgment of the order. The nameless shinobi quickly backed away at a safe distance - before all of them shunshinned away.
Gaara counted down from ninety. He did so carefully and precisely, his voice a hushed whisper. Even as the bones in his arms started breaking and reforming - his eyes bleeding away to Mother's. Even as the crowds of humans noticed the Wrong, faces confused and worried. He counted down slowly and carefully. Their putrid chakra leaking out from the confines of the small body, the sand spilling across the ground - burning at contact. He counted slowly and carefully.
And when he hit zero -
He howled, and the wind screamed with him.