The Longest Road

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~Chapter 50. Stains

Gaara couldn't remember his first killing. Quite effortlessly, Shukaku had broken through frail barriers the jinchūriki had tried to set against the beast, and someone had died despite Gaara's efforts. The boy didn't even know how old he was when it happened. The outer world was distant to him from the very beginning, the most distinct thing being the sharp, raspy voice in his head. The voice he could never shut away.

Since Yashamaru's death he had never tried to sever his link with the bijū again. On the contrary, he began to listen to the voice of his 'mother' eagerly, following its orders and prompts. The chilling coldness kept him in its grasp but he had learned how to make it go away. The pulsating gushes of hot blood embraced him whenever he wanted, providing the warmth that he craved for. 'Mother' was satisfied too when he branded the world with her hatred, taking as many lives as he chose, leaving behind orphaned children, and bereft comrades of those who had died from his hands.

Only now he began to question if 'mother' existed at all.

From what Yashamaru had said Gaara gathered that his mother Karura hated him because she had to die as a sacrifice. It rather made no sense. If the woman had known she was going to die because of carrying the demon's vessel, she shouldn't have given her consent. From what Gaara had heard about his mother, he knew she hadn't been suicidal, which meant that she had been forced to agree to the sealing. Obviously Yondaime Kazekage had used her as a tool either, throwing her away when she hadn't been necessary anymore. If that had been the case, she most likely detested her husband even more than she hated her son that took her life away.

Gaara didn't actually know if his guesses were correct but the fact remained that 'mother' hadn't been particularly disturbed when he left Sunagakure. Apparently her hatred towards the village wasn't as strong as Gaara used to believe. Or, maybe, there was no 'mother' at all. Maybe Karura died and left the world behind, and the only thing that remained was the sand demon. Not that it really mattered though. If it was actually Karura's will inside the sand, she simply used Gaara as a tool either, and he decided that he didn't like it at all. His mother obviously sided with Shukaku, tormenting her son each time he resisted bijū's demands. For that reason Gaara didn't care anymore. Mother or not, there were games of his own that he wanted to play, and plots he wanted to develop.

Also, there were discoveries he hadn't known before that he wanted to make them.

When he turned his back to the girl, listening to her stifled weeping, the waves of heat rushed through him, the feeling intense enough to make his breathing hitch. He didn't actually plan to leave the girl alone but she didn't know that. She was supposed to make her own choice, and the redhead wasn't surprised at all when she called after him, sniffling and crying quietly.

"Wait... Wait! I—" she trailed off as he turned his head a little to look. Crushing her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded. "Don't leave me here," she whispered.

Gaara crossed his arms over his chest, watching her wordlessly. The sand bindings kept three victims-to-be firmly in their place, their fronts exposed in case the girl would decide that stabbing their stomachs would be easier. The girl stepped up closer, lifting the kunai with trembling hand.

"They won't forgive you," Gaara purred. "They will hate you until they wives will hate you, their children will hate you, and their comrades will hate you for what you've done."

Shaking her head, the girl rambled under her breath as if she didn't hear his words at all. "D—don't oh kami-sama please let—let me out of here I can't please please I—I don't want to, kami-sama—!"

Gaara watched her as she tried to imitate his movements from before but there was a great amount of strength and skill required to cut a person's throat efficiently. The girl was too weak, and all she achieved was causing a shallow wound. Blood trickled from it as the man made an awful noise and began to struggle against the sand. The front of his coat was stained with red, and the girl put her hand over her mouth in horror, only to realize her fingers were stained with blood too. Falling to her knees, she sputtered.

"Get up," Gaara said indifferently. "This is taking too long."

She raised her eyes, staring at him. Despair, loathing, and a bit of insanity, mixed in her expression. He could look past her defenses eventually, getting the taste of the most evil delight. Slaughtering was really satisfying but he would have never thought before that tainting an innocent soul could make him feel so complete. More complete than he had ever felt now he always thought the sight of people being crushed with his sand was what he enjoyed the most. He could make it fast and clean, or slow and bloody; an expert on painting with insides and blood. The girl's perfect image made him realize what he had missed. On her knees, she sobbed and shivered, her defenses crumbling as her pure soul was inevitably going to be stained with that she told him before that she wanted her revenge. At least she believed that she wanted it but she had no idea what she was talking about.

Until someone would show her.

The end of the chapter 50.

The next chapter: The damage done