Authors Note:
I'm gonna do one of these every time now I feel lololol. Anyway, good to be back on this shit, it's been a crazy long time since I last uploaded, sorry, but I've been completely swamped with school as well as putting work into planning my original stories. Anyway, this is a long chapter and it's only the first part of two. I love writing Gaara and a backstory chapter for him is 100% necessary for the themes of this arc, so I'm having a lot of fun expanding on him over the course of this and the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy.
Also note that if I'm going to post a chapter, this day (Wednesday EDT) is the day I'll post them.
The streets of Suna were quiet that night, the cold of the sleeping desert wafting through the Village like a particularly chilly drifter. Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, sat silently at his desk. He was a lanky man, face thin with beady eyes and hair a dusty red color. A heavy black cloak lay over his body, blanketing the numerous leather pouches he kept attached to his regular clothes. It should have been a particularly distressing night for him, but had a person passed by, they would have thought he was simply relaxing. A glass of blood red wine gripped in his hand and a distinctive slouch in his posture. The desk below him was clean and well-kept, topped with neatly stacked papers unbecoming of the dire situation he'd found himself in. The room was dark as was the village that stared at him through the window.
Knock knock.
A rhythmic tap at the door barely even registered on his features. His eyes darted up towards the sound but this motion was clean, quick and cold.
"Come in, Paza." He said, neatly placing the wine down against the table.
Another man walked in. Though his form was covered by a long, baggy white robe, the stout nature of his body was impossible to hide. Messy gray hair ran down to his shoulders, nots of it curling between the spheres of his foggy spectacles. He looked particularly distraught.
"M-my lord, we have received confirmation from Kiri. If Shukaku's jinchuriki is not handed over within the next two months, they will invade." Paza stammered.
Silence rested within the room. For just a moment, Rasa's brow furrowed but his face quickly returned to it's blank-eyed gaze.
"Chances of a bluff?" He asked calmly.
"Certainly, low my lord. It's been said for years that they've been devising a "Tailed Beast killing seal". The Taki Jinchuriki has already been killed and our troop deposited in Iwa say they've spotted Kiri troops coming in by the boatload."
"Well, that makes sense. They are targeting the ones without protection first. Taki had been vulnerable for years and Iwa's barley even a state at this point. I presume they'll save their remaining two for last, so that leaves Konoha and Kumo as the open variables. Any words on them?"
His speech was careful and controlled but with a "thinking out loud" quality that only punctuated the gears that whirred around in his mind.
"Kumo will presumably be spared. Konoha will n-not."
Rasa's hands clasped over his face as he leant down against a desk.
"An attack of this scale would completely surely destroy Kiri's economic infrastructure but it would do the same to any village in their crosshairs. This is not an invasion, it is a kamikaze."
Paza's face became even more nervous.
"Should we give up the old man my lord?"
The Kazekage thought for a moment. Then he looked over at his advisor.
"No."
At this point, it seemed Paza was about to break into tears. In contrast, Rasa was exceedingly calm considering he had just given the order to spit in the face of the most vicious military in the world.
"B-but why?"
"We cannot give up Shukaku. Its mere existence is the only thing that gives us any geopolitical power. Without it, we're no more than an Iwa colony. Besides, it is not us they truly want, it's Konoha. They've lost Yagura and their remaining Jinchuriki are a wandering nomad who does not answer to their government and a whirlpool girl whose clan identifies as part of the leaf. It's only natural they'd want to try and level the field. Unlike the other countries, we've kept the Jinchuriki's identity a secret and sealed it within a woman who is easily disposed of. All in all, I'd say we're in a very good position here."
"M-my lord, please- "
"Cease your begging Paza, lest you forget who built the ground we stand on. Either you adapt or die, and we have been given a potential millennia's worth of adaption. Extract Shukaku from its host. If they have a method of disposing of a tailed beast, I don't suppose it will be particularly delicate. Get the top fujinjutsu experts in the country together, give them forty million ryo each and create a synthetic seal to act in Shukaku's place."
For just a second, a glimpse of dissent ran across Paza's features.
"And if we can't?" He asked, quietly.
Rasa tilted his head slightly, sending locks of red hair fluttering over themselves.
"Where's your national pride Paza?" He asked sarcastically. "We have the top-to-bottom best sealing capabilities in the world. If this is really a "kill seal" as we believe, I think we should have little problem outwitting them."
"But- "
Yet again words flew from the man's spilled but this time Rasa was quick enough to refill them.
"That will be all for tonight. It's going to be a busy few months Paza, so I suggest you go home early tonight. Your family won't be seeing much of you for a while, I'm sorry to say, so appreciate the extra time you have."
The statement seemed innocent at first but the look that bubbled just behind the eyes of Rasa's blank stare. Inserting Paza's family into the conversation had been completely intentional, and whether that insertion meant "your family will die in the oncoming invasion if you can't get the fake seal working" or "your family will die and I will do it personally" was shrouded in plausible deniability. Paza was not really interested in the details so he muttered a quick goodbye and an awkward bow before dashing out of the room with haste.
Suna, and the entire Land of Wind had just been placed in mortal peril, with the only way of warding of this peril being a plan hyper reliant on him guessing a series of murky at best variables and yet Rasa cared little in that moment. He simply leaned back against the chair and picked up the glass of wine from his hand. It tasted as deep as blood as it dripped onto his tongue, the man careful to wipe any stray stains from his lips as he placed the goblet back down.
Any other leader in his position would have been paralyzed by fear at the thought of double-crossing Kiri but to Rasa, this was just another quiet night in Suna.
Temari could hear the awful grinding sound of the wrench against the puppet's innards from even the furthest depths of the stairwell. It only got worse as she went up, to the point where, as she emerged onto the roof of the housing block, she had to clench her hands to keep them from shooting over her ears.
There, sitting in the glistening pink of sunset, was Kankuro, crow crumpled in front of him. The ground had been peppered with bolts and hinges, some as a long as a person's arm with others smaller than a pinky. His eyes shot up slightly to see who had approached him only to return to the puppet as he realized it was simply his sister. A sigh slipped out from his lips.
"What do you want sis?" He asked, grumpily.
"I made dinner." She said bluntly.
"Not hungry."
His voice was almost mumbled from lack of focus, attention placed squarely on the puppet in front of him.
"That's surprising." Temari said back, a little bit too spitefully.
Kankuro glared back at her.
"Shut up." He grumbled (though not without sucking his stomach in first).
"Are you really going to spend all week working on that?"
"Probably."
Temari let out a small sigh but the way Kankuro glowered back at her, you'd think she'd just told him to jump off a bridge.
"Oh, big fucking deal. You've been working on your fan all the time and I haven't been giving you shit about it."
Not it was her turn to glare back at him.
"I've been working on my ninjutsu and taijutsu too, unlike you. Tell me, what are you going to do if she destroys Crow?"
Kankuro shrugged.
"She won't."
Temari's eyebrow raised.
"And if she does?"
"She won't."
The look of doubt that clouded Temari's eyes only riled him up more.
"Sis, come on. What's she gonna do? Punch him to death? The best she's got is some basic earth release and you saw how shitty her ninjutsu was. I've seen bigger pebbles trapped in the back of my shoe."
"Okay, okay." Temari relented.
She surrendered the point quickly. It wasn't like Sakura had been particularly impressive in her exams fight, at least, not to the point where she could foresee her damaging the puppet. Kankuro could simply camp out at the other end of the arena and he'd most likely be fine.
"Where's Gaara?" She suddenly asked, eager to change the subject
He pointed over to the edge of the building. Looking over, Temari spotted her younger brother in the grounded courtyard, sitting on a swing set. The playground was empty, almost eerily so, with Gaara's lone swings being the only evidence that time had not completely stopped in the area. The fact that his hair blocked any and all expression from higher up did not help.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
He gently swung up, feet dawdling over the edge of the swing as he joylessly swayed in the dreary slivers of the ever-darkening sunset. There was a dull monotony in his movements, cold, stagnant posture clashing against the joyful shifting of the swing. A whisp of cold air ran over his neck and sent his pores standing up. Not a shiver ran through his body but sand still leaked from the back of his gourd, gently wrapping around the boy as if it were a sentient blanket.
Usually, Gaara's sand seemed erratic and violent, almost monstrous in the sharpness of its movements. Here, it was thin and soft, wrapping the boy up in what could be likened to an embrace. Nevertheless, Gaara shrugged it off as if it were but a fly on his shoulder as his feet landed on the ground. The soles of his shoes grazed against the concrete and halted his motion entirely for the moment.
Do not bother. He thought, willing his sand away for the moment. It is always too cold.
His eyes hurt, heavy from waking. His ears throbbed, flooded with a mass of information that he couldn't possibly absorb in his current state. His body tensed as his mother cradled her against him.
Gaara was six years old. His mother had burst into his bedroom late at night, far later than he was used to. She was crying. He had never seen her cry before.
"Is everything alright, mother?" Gaara asked, rubbing sleep out of the pockets of his eyes.
His mother did not answer. She simply hugged him tighter.
"I'm so proud of you Gaara, so very, very proud. You're such a good boy, so smart, so kind- "
Karura of the Desert was a young-looking woman, with hair an ashy blond color and eyes that shone purple like violets. Her body was draped in a purple kimono top and a snow-white scarf. She was frail and skinny with her body looking almost malnourished under the thick robes she wore. Sometimes, when she was angry, Temari told Gaara this had not been the case before he had been born. His mother frequently reassured him that she was only saying this to anger him, but the few looks he'd had at the photos of her prior to his birth seemed to corroborate his sister's accusations.
"I'm going to be going away for a little bit, okay?"
Gaara, through his sleep-addled daze, looked up at her.
"Where?" He asked, not being able to formulate any fear in his voice except for the unease that was rapidly building up in his stomach.
He was too young to understand what her tears meant beyond the fact that they were something bad. His mother did not answer his question. Instead, she just let out another sob.
"Don't get into trouble while I'm gone, okay? It's a very scary world out there Gaara. Don't fight with your siblings, they are the only one's you can trust."
"Where are you going?" Gaara asked, a little bit more firmly.
Yet again, he was met with a sob and even tighter embrace from his mother. Her tears weaved through the red locks of his hair, running down to his face and stinging his skin with their heat.
"I love you so much Gaara. I love you so much- "
Knockknocknock!
Gaara's eyes darted towards the door whereas his mother acted as if she had not heard the knock. This was not a problem, as despite neither making the presence of the knock known to them, the door swung open anyway. At the other end of the door stood Baki of the Desert.
Baki was a tall, broad-shouldered man, who's face was divided between layers of his white cloth headdress and the streaks of his rusty red face paint. With half his face covered, his steely expression became that much more difficult to decipher. Gaara could not remember his features ever truly changing outside of some slight indents of frustration. Today, it was especially blank, almost too blank. It looked forced.
"Mistress Karura, Lord Kazekage requests your presence in the courtyard."
Karura nodded, allowing her tears even more opportunity to slip free before kissing Gaara on the head. Warmth bloomed through his forehead, but that warmth was more akin to a fever than anything else. Gaara's senses were awakening, their emergence accelerated by the flickers of anxiety that were running through his body.
Something's very wrong, isn't it?
A shrill, high-pitched voice echoed through his head. It was trying to whisper but even the echoing properties that bathed its words struggled to hide its squawking. Gaara's eyes darted around the room, ears braced in an attempt to find where the sound had come from. He could not locate it before he realized his mother was leaving the room. As she and Baki approached the door, she shot him one last glance. Her eyes were filled with a gradient of love and lavender, lilac qualities sunken in a way that seemed almost apologetic. Gaara leapt up to try and meet her but before he had even gained his footing proper, Baki slammed the door to his room shut. This was followed by a swift click that indicated it had been locked.
Anxiety surged through Gaara. Something was wrong, he could be sure of it even without the guidance of the voice in his head. Though there were no people occupying the head of his room, he still drowsily ran to the door. A quick tug of the doorknob confirmed that it was locked. Not a good sign, he was sure. Leaning against its smooth wood surface, he felt waves of sound bouncing through it. After a slight bit of adjusting, he managed to convert the fuzzy noise into something audible.
"Both of you stop it, now!" Baki barked.
There was an anger in his voice that Gaara had never heard before and he guessed it had been spurred by the two others that seemed to be squabbling.
"Mister Baki, I demand you to tell me where those men are taking my mother!"
That was Temari's voice. She was attempting to sound commanding but the bubbling undercurrent of concern that rippled through her words removed any edge she'd managed to muster.
"Oh, don't get mad at him, he's just doing his job."
And there was Kankuro's. He sounded irritated but not particularly concerned. It made sense, Gaara thought.
"I swear to deidè, Kankuro, shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!"
"Die mad about it bitch!"
"I told you to be quiet." Baki shouted.
This exchange had not done well in curbing Gaara's concerns. Sharp breaths racking through his lungs, he began to slam into the door but his young frail frame was in no shape to so much as rock it. After the fifth self-slam, he collapsed against the archway, letting out a small, frustrated scream into his arms. Before he could dwell on it though, a soft yet somehow sharp wisping sound began to radiate through the room.
Its sudden appearance incited his already well-awake nerves, eyes shooting open to try and pinpoint the source of the sound. The problem was, its form was so small that it took nearly thirty seconds for him to find the first trace of it. Small particles seeped through the floorboards, floating dreamily like dandelion fuzz and bouncing up into long strands. Gaara's eye widened at the mystical substance, looking closer at its makeup.
Sand.
As the grains contorted into a snake-like tendril, the voice once again buzzed through his head.
Go to her.
The sand slowly floated forwards, weaving into the crack of the doors lock. The sound of metal twisting hummed lightly through the air before, with a sharp snap, the hinges loosened. Gaara hurriedly hopped to his feet and charged through the door with enough force it made a full rotation against the wall as he burst out.
He made only the briefest, surface-level notes about the scenes outside. Temari was cradling an envelope in her hands, fingers clutching it so hard that she risked impaling it on her fingernails. Instinctively, his body rushed towards the hallway only for a hand to grasp him by collar of his maroon shirt.
"Get back in your room Gaara." Baki growled, teeth gritting.
"But Mister Baki-"
"I said get back in your room!" He yelled.
The fierceness of the order briefly stunned Gaara but the sound of footsteps in the hallway brought both their attentions upwards. A man stood there, draped in a sandy red cloak, hood and robes. His face was completely covered by a long red cloth, its rough fibers painted over by a collection of swirling black symbols. Gaara recognized him as a Secu-Nin, the most skilled and organized rank of ninja in the country.
"The young master is permitted to venture anywhere in the compound. Kazekage's orders."
Baki grimaced.
"But- "
Though the Secu-Nin's face was masked by the red cloth, a piercingly stern gaze still managed to worm itself through the rough matrix of thread and ink.
"Baki of the Desert, if you deny young master Gaara his autonomy a second more, you will be charged with treason against Suna and the Kazekage."
Baki lowered his head, hiding his expression in the clothed half of his face. For a second, Gaara felt the grip on his collar tighten before he was finally lowered to the ground. Baki soon stomped away, leaving the three sand siblings and the Secu-Nin to their own devices. Temari marched forward, eyes set down the hallway, only for the Secu-Nin to hold his arm out in the way.
"Only young master Gaara is permitted to travel out of this room."
Kankuro loudly snorted, his humor coming as a stark contrast to the anger on Temari's face.
"What?! Are you- "
Gaara cared little for her rant and instead charged forward in search of his mother. The path he took to the courtyard blurred through his mind, solid ground no different to dust as he stepped over it. The stain on the wall that had been left when Kankuro hit Temari with a water balloon, the little corridor downstairs where he and Temari played board games, the reading room he'd sit in with his mother when the others were at their homeschool classes. These little marks of familiarity only helped with identification, nothing more, as he dashed past them in search of the courtyard door.
Slam!
Despite being six years old, the force he mustered into his body threatened to knock the door off its hinges as he rushed forward. He tripped onto the ground, hands shooting out to brace the fall. A chalky mix of grime and blood ran over them as he stumbled back onto his feet. The compound courtyard was a large square of asphalt and questionably tended greenery. It didn't take very long to find his mother.
She stood in the middle of the yard, two Secu-Nin standing a good distance away from her. Her scarf was fastened tightly around her neck and her hands were folded in on each other. It was like she was praying.
"prosédio mojé dete sempriù. prosédio mojé dete sempriù." She repeatedly chanted, eyes locked shut.
It was Sunanese, but a thick, accented Sunanese that Gaara couldn't really understand. What he was truly focused on were the Secu-Nin loudly reading from a piece of parchment.
"Karura of the Desert, you are hereby found guilty of, among other numerous crimes, treason against the government of Suna, attempts to undermine the Kazekage and non-compliance with amendment three point seven one, also known as the secular government act. You are sentenced to death."
Gaara's blood ran cold, but his mouth had already started moving.
"Mother?" He screamed.
Karura's head snapped to face him. In all the panicked days and sleepless nights that would follow in Gaara's life, not for one moment would he forget the way she looked at him in that moment. It was an absolute horror that he would never truly be able to rid his mind of. A face so loving and frail contorting into a stark portrait of absolute terror.
"Gaara, no!" She squealed, hands breaking from there prayer as she lunged out towards him.
Wind cracked through the air. Gaara blinked in shock.
The next thing he knew, his mother was falling forwards with seven darts of wind lodged in her throat.
Rasa watched the courtyard from the windows of his chambers, absent-mindedly swirling the wine around the glass in his hand. The Secu-Nin marched forward with Karura in toe, one slowly unfurling the parchment as the other directed her to her standing spot of execution. His eyes were characteristically blank but where usually sat slim layers of focus was a pair of rough, glazed-over puddles. The stench of wine clung to his breath, rotting the inside of his mouth like a poison whose own cure was, quite devilishly, itself.
The hurried footsteps that echoed through the rooms entrance received hardly even a gaze from the man.
"M-my lord, your son is following them. The others are being evacuated as we speak." Paza panted, nearly falling over as he rushed into the doorway.
"Good, good." Rasa nodded, eyes rolling back to the window.
He ran a hand through his hair and a groan escaped his lips. For just a few seconds his eyes shot shut, rippling with uncomposed shimmers of doubt. When they reopened, they seemed even more distant than they had been prior.
"Tonight, the sun rises on a refortified Suna, one free of crime and safe from imperialism. A reforged capitol of peace and sanctuary to those who I have shamefully deprived such things from for so very long."
He took a rather large gulp of wine, before slamming the glass back down on his desk with enough force that it threatened to shatter its foundation. Streaks of the blood red substance ran across his face but a wipe of his sleeve promptly removed them.
"Be proud of yourself Paza. If you hadn't helped me trick Kiri all those years ago, then this moment may have been nothing but a distant dream."
The droopy look in his eyes made it seem like he may have preferred that.
"M-my lord, forgive me for asking this so late b-but what happens if K-Kiri gains word of this?"
Rasa giggled, the laughter popping from his mouth laced in bubbles of wine and spit.
"Haha. The Mizukage has recently been trying to pass through a reparation's payment to countries affected by the hunt. Her guilt is far too potent to allow even the vaguest threat of military action. It's best if they do hear about it honestly. "
He took another swig of wine.
"Paza, what we are creating here tonight is the ultimate weapon. Shukaku is only half of the equation, Gaara is the other. Kiri and Iwa don't have tailed beasts, Ay seems intent to seal Kumo off from the rest of the world and Konoha's remaining jinchuriki is merely a containment vessel. In his elder years, Hiruzen Sarutobi has become a contradictory cocktail of resentment, regret and compassion. Meld those features together and what do you get? Hesitancy. He is unable to act for the good of his village whereas I stand here, sacrificing my wife and child for the prosperity of my people."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes lazily drooping as he gazed out the window.
"Alas, the path of a righteous man is a very lonely one indeed."
Paza considered the Kazekage a great many things. An intelligent man, a cunning man, a wicked man but never, in all his years spent as advisor, had he seen his leader looking as deranged as he currently did. His words had begun to slur, if only slightly, with the grip of alcohol present on the edge of his breath. Normally straight posture had devolved into a loose slouch and eyes that were once so clear of doubt were now clouded like a thunderstorm.
Rasa watched the courtyard for a few more seconds. Upon seeing Gaara dash onto the asphalt, he suddenly sat up and grabbed a gourd from near his feet. Slinging it over his back, he exited the room grunting:
"I need to get in position."
Karura fell into Gaara's lap, lilac eyes fading into a deep grey. Her scarf fell by the wayside, blood trickling down her neck as the razor-barbed wind dissipated. More so than just cutting, it had made a visible indent on her throat.
"Mother." Gaara cried softly, as her decaying eyes shot up to meet his own. "Mother, no!"
He tucked his head between his chest and his shoulders, tears streaming down his eyes. This wasn't real, it wasn't, it couldn't be-
A burst of heat ran through his forehead. He cracked his eyes open to see his mothers hand resting against his forehead, shaky and cold yet unyielding in its warmth emitting properties. It was clear whatever vision she could make out at the moment was already hazy and blurring faster by the second. Her touch was simultaneously warm and freezing, prickling Gaara's nerves as her fingers were encased in a slight golden glow. It was subtle, no lighter than a dim ray of sunlight and gone just as quickly as it had come.
The tops of her eyelids twitched, heavy with the burden of sight.
"Mother, please-"Gaara mewled.
Karura smiled at him.
"I love you so much."
The words were not spoken, merely read from her lips.
Her touch was completely cold now and her face wasn't moving. In the same way one might savor the moments of an experience they find enjoyable, Gaara desperately clung to the previous second in hope that his mother's end may reverse itself.
"Wake up, mother, come on- "He sobbed, voice barley above a whisper. "Please!"
He tugged on the collar of her kimono top, expending every bit of energy in his body in trying to will her back to life. Of course, Gaara was no medical-nin. This expulsion of energy only took the form of clenched fists and screaming. Over a minute passed before he could fully reckon with the fact that the thing cradled in his arms was no longer his mother, at least, not truly. It was merely a corpse that shared her shape.
It was then that Gaara felt it.
An unnatural heat ran through his body, from his hair to his veins. His skin felt sticky, almost like it was insulating the fever-like heat.
"Mother- "He growled.
His breath felt hot as it blew back in his face. The call was not another attempt to stir her awake as much as a warning. He could feel his nerves, each individual one. They were bubbling up to the surface of his body and digging into his skin, ready to explode like miniature fireworks. They felt warm, no, they felt grainy.
"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrah!" Gaara yelled, as his nerves blazed forward with a heat he'd previously thought unknown to anyone not already fried to a crisp.
Streams of sand poured from his body, twirling around him like a circus top. At once they were delicately rippling ribbons and sharpened war spears. It felt like his skin and mind were melting away. A sudden joy surged through his mind and diluted the pain, twisting his psyche into an unwilling captor of its own design. Laughter spilled from his jaw, though Gaara didn't want it to. Drool fell from his mouth, as if he had no control of his own body. Sand coated his skin, no matter how hard his mind begged his body to thrash.
There was something else, someone else, in his head and whoever it was, their mastery of the psychic landscape was far greater than his own. He couldn't hold on for much longer…
Fwooosh!
A geyser of sand shot out of Gaara's body, higher than the compounds walls. Tides of sand spilt onto the ground while the geyser converted itself into a sort of self-sustaining fountain, a well of stone and shingle that vomited up wave after wave of sandy surf.
"Oh ho ho!" A shrill voice boomed out from the fountain, so loud that the entire village could hear it. "Suna, it is good to be back!"
A distinctly tanuki-like head popped out of the sand, remnants spilling over his cheeks as he did so. He was a large creature, body made entirely out of solid-looking sand. Beady yellow pupils lay on the banks of dark inky eye sockets while navy blue markings ran over his "fur" like the veins of a pale-skinned person. As the fountain of sand was absorbed into his foundation, Shukaku the One Tail reared his ugly head into the world once more.
From his place on the courtyard, he could just about make out the shape of the village on the horizon. It seemed quite still in the sunset, though slightly buzzing as more and more began to notice Shukaku's presence.
"Welp, would be rude to ghost my own welcome back party wouldn't it?" Shukaku laughed to himself.
With that, he boltedahead, large frame smashing through the entrance arch of the compound as if it were made of tissue paper. An entrance sculpted by the best architects in Suna was used as a quick exit for the tailed beast, splintered wood and stone falling by the wayside as he bounded towards the village.
Buildings splattered to the ground in chunks as Shukaku rushed through the desert village, seemingly intent to destroy anything in his path. Avalanches of concrete fell to the ground and flooded the streets, sending the Suna civilians running for their lives. Screams and howls filled the streets, most from the citizens but, admittedly, some from Shukaku himself.
"He rises!" A man yelled, running through the streets with his arms childishly outstretched. "He rises, Lord Shukaku has returned!"
He was dressed in nothing except a pair of underpants, a blue cape/hood combo and blue face paint that matched Shukaku's own markings. What was funny, is that, in the chaos of Shukaku's rampage, he almost blended in. The beast towered above the tallest buildings of the village, unmistakable to anyone even miles away from the village itself. Fortunately, he was not alone.
A tiny gold cloud swirled around his head, to him no bigger than a fly but an unfathomable number of times more deadly. It was Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, flying on a platform of his trademark gold dust, gourd strapped to his back as tendrils of sparkling gold shot forward at the beast.
Shukaku clawed at them, successfully tearing a few into clouds of dust only to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of tentacles that struck at him. One smashed into his face, echoing through his sandy skin while another wrapped itself around his stomach like a snake. It seemed for a second that Rasa had successfully restrained him, only for Shukaku to let loose a mighty raw. Spheres of wind chakra echoed from his mouth, sheer force dissipating the gold dust into confused clouds of grain and sending Rasa flying backward.
He landed harshly on a faraway building, his dust cloud exploding over him as it to smacked against the concrete top. A pained groan escaped his lips as he stumbled to his feet, gold dust itching against his skin. Looking up, he found Shukaku glowering back at him, beady little eyes managing to lock on to him despite the multiple streets that separated the two.
"Aw, why you gotta be such a party pooper Rasa? It's my first day out in forever, can't a guy have a little fun?!"
He scraped his claw along a nearby street path, sending an array of buildings flying through the air. They weren't aimed at Rasa though. Instead, they were hurtling right towards one of the most crowded streets in the village. Considering this street was crowded specifically because too many of them were attempting to flee danger, an entire housing block descending upon them only served to incite further panic in the street.
Rasa let out a slight growl and leapt forward, with the grains lost to the crash flying back into formation at his feet. With the sky now dyed dark with the coming of the night, Rasa's little gold cloud looked particularly out of place bathed in the starlight. Wind rushed against his features as he flew forward, biting his lip and bracing his feet as the cloud continued to pick up steam.
Shukaku seemed to have grown disinterested in the scene and had returned to rolling around in his destruction like a simple-minded kitten. Unfortunately, he'd left Rasa to clean up his current mess.
Rasa bit down on his gum as his fingers wove into seals. With one final finger snap, he leapt down towards the building tops, gold cloud mixing with the dust from his gourd and outstretching into a length of carpet. He landed onto a pillow of emerging gold dust whose grains clung to his soles as he ran along the stretch of buildings. The ever-growing gold dust stretch followed him, covering the opening of the street like a grainy gold ceiling. Instead of squashing the populous below, the buildings Shukaku had thrown landed safely in the grip of the gold dust.
Hoping back on his gold cloud, Rasa took off into the sky like a shining comet in the night. He soon reentered Shukaku's line of sight with the beast reluctantly standing up from his childish shaking. Chunks of wood and stone were now grafted onto his back, like leaves to a dog rolling around in autumn.
"Hot tip for next time Lord Kazekage, maybe don't seal your one and only tailed beast in your six-year-old sun, huh?" Shukaku squealed, swiping at Rasa through the air.
The Kazekage easily maneuvered himself around the beasts' claws, cloud plummeting downward before shooting back up again.
If only you knew, you fat oaf. Rasa grunted, clenching his palm and outstretching his hand.
From streets away, the ceiling of gold dust that had caught the tossed buildings rose upward menacingly. Chunks of wood and stone, chunks of homes and houses, stuck out from its grip spikes to a mace. With a swing of Rasa's arm, the gold dust hurtled forward and slammed into Shukaku. Masses of plywood and glass exploded from his body as he howled in pain and began to stumble back (destroying two more buildings as he tried to steady himself with his arm.) While Shukaku recovered from the blow quickly, it had at the very least angered him enough to squash his humor for the moment.
Before Shukaku could effectively counterattack, Rasa had already swooped down to his legs. Arms of gold dust darted between the length of the street and wrapped around Shukaku's thighs, tipping him over in almost comedic fashion. The ground shook as he landed, miniature tremors sending every building in the village quivering. His eyes had barely even opened, when Shukaku spotted shining grains of dust flying through the air, sparkling even in the dim glow of the night.
"Huh- "He groaned, before the ground before the ground beneath him began to feel significantly looser than it had before.
A whooshing sound soared through the air, as a massive, tailed-beast sized clump of gold dust emerged from the ground. At first, it was loose and almost formless, like a chunk of cloud fluff, but as it encased Shukaku, it took on a new found sparkling sharpness. His screams of horror were muffled and muted as he was encased in a large pyramid of pure gold.
Its grainy texture was layered, creating a gradient of gold colors as it rose upward. The higher the pyramid went, the purer the gold and the purer the gold, the heavier it's mass. A determined squint overtook Rasa's gaze as he held his hand up to the towering construct.
"Gold Coffin: Desert Eulogy!" He grunted.
There was a horrific cracking sound, almost like a bone being split in half, before the dust twitched into an inhuman combustion. The beautiful gradient of colors imploded inward with the sheer weight and force of the attack enough to grind any number of humans into a damp red dye. However, as this mass descended upon Shukaku's form, the immense amount of gold dust suddenly stopped. Tremors ran through its grains, indicating that it was trying desperately to squash the object in its path, but something was blocking it.
What? Rasa thought as his teeth grit.
Boom!
The gold dust exploded outward, scattering along the ground devoid of any autonomy. Where the large pyramid once stood was a geyser of pure sand, shooting Shukaku up into the sky.
"Man, if that's not the perfect snapshot of Suna architecture than I don't know what is!" The tanuki squealed as he launched up in the air.
The sand geyser exploded into a barrage of balls, each one barely the size of the soccer ball but several multitudes harder. Considering the sand that birthed them had been large enough to launch Shukaku higher than the entire village, you can guess how many orbs were now sailing through the air.
Rasa kicked the edge of his dust cloud, prompting it to shoot off away from the orbs. This was easier said than done. His foot was nearly taken off entirely as a heavy sand ball descended on the edges of the cloud, clipping off a heavy chunk of gold dust instead. A flick of his wrist sent more dust swirling around his form in a defensive formation, with the dull beige of the sand balls exploding against the shining gold of the dust.
Wind blowing in his face and nerves pulsing in his body, Rasa began to reflect on the situation at hand. Of course, he'd expected Shukaku to put up a fight but he hadn't expected his grip on Gaara to be this strong. It was no matter though. Suna, or at the very least, its capitol village, would stay protected for the foreseeable future. The path of the righteous was not only lonely, but dangerous too.
The sudden absence of thumping on his dust shield told him that Shukaku's orb arsenal must have been mostly expended. The sudden presence of thumping against the ground (as well as the sound of buildings collapsing) told him that Shukaku had landed. Dust coiled back into the cloud as Rasa looked back towards his foe. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that Shukaku still seemed to be hung up on the architectural complexities of Suna.
"Seriously man. Why's everything a fucking circle?!" Shukaku gleefully screamed as he tore an orb-shaped dome off the top of a building.
As if it were nothing more than a stray piece of trash, he casually chucked it towards Rasa. Oval-cropped shade descended on the Kazekage but an explosive flood of gold dust caught the building top and discarded it to the ground. However, with the ocular obstruction it had brought upon Rasa, he had been unable to see what exactly Shuaku's next move was going to be. The answer came in the form of a house sailing directly toward his cloud.
This one had not been a careless toss like the building top had been, but instead a cerebral dunk of a throw that was perfectly angled to squash Rasa against the pavement. The glass of its windows flickered through the dim of the night, as the front door descended towards Rasa in a forceful invitation inside. Time slowed down in his brain, as his eyes hungrily darted around looking for an escape. There was none. The house was too big and too close now for him to avoid. He could not go around it, he could only go through it.
His dust sprung up and covered Rasa's body like a suit of armor, turning his humanoid form into a blob of grainy gold. With little time to lose, he leapt forward and smashed through the incoming window. Glass scattered through his sandy armor, though a quick clench of his hand ordered it to eject them onto the ground (or at least, what constituted the ground in a house that was flipped sideways and plummeting to the ground). Before the law of gravity could hope to drag him out, the dust on Rasa's body scattered onto his hands. Sandy fingers dug into the wall (or, in reality, the floor), splintering the floorboards between them as Rasa began to climb forward.
His movements were hurried and hasty, knowing he had to move fast enough to beat the houses collision with the ground. A rumbling from above sent his eyes darting upward, only to find a large desk falling toward him. Blades of gold dust leapt forth from his back and sliced it clean in half, turning the wooden obstruction into a clear path for him to climb. Climb he did, quickly leaping through the house's layout with the aid of his gold gloves and the chakra pumping into his soles. Careful not to slip on the dampness that had surely come from a ripped pipe, Rasa flung himself through the bathroom and triumphantly smashed through the back window.
There was suddenly no stability, no ground beneath his feet. He was free falling. The heights of Suna's buildings, however broken and battered, greeted him as, for just a brief second of time, he hung in the air. Stinging from the air pressure, Rasa's eyes darted around in search of his cloud as he attempted to will it back to him. Like a heaven-sent gift, it appeared through the breath of the night, glimmering through the bed of destruction that had been laid bare.
Crush!
And then, out of nowhere, Shukaku's claw emerged and squashed it like a fly.
"Finally!" He groaned, the ashes of the dust cloud slipping from his paw as he released his grip.
A distinct jolt of fear ran through Rasa's body as he realized he was now plummeting towards the ground without his insurance policy on its way to pick him up. What little dust hadn't been lost to his house wall crawling shimmied down to his legs, attempting in vain to try and create another flying cloud.
Fwoosh!
The sound of wind, even stronger than the one currently wrestling against his body, filled Rasa's ears. His eyes darted up, but what they saw in front of them was not the Suna streets nor the buildings of said streets being flung at him once more. Instead, he saw Shukaku's paw hurtling towards him at break neck speeds.
"How's about a game of handball, pops?!" The beast roared, psychotic laughter bouncing between his words.
In one last ditch effort to mitigate the attack, the dust beneath Rasa's feet rushed over his body in a coating of fortified armor.
THWACK!
The center of Shukaku's paw connected harshly, swatting Rasa away like a bug. It was an action so painful and debilitating to him but to Shukaku, it had been so casual that he spent few seconds in the postmortem wondering whether he'd even connected.
In truth, the next few seconds (or minutes, perhaps even hours. He couldn't tell.) were blurred and fuzzy for the Kazekage. His vision was hazy and his hearing could only pick up short, sharp ringing. Sensorially, there was nothing except the smell of blood that clogged his nose and the rampant pain that had overtook his entire body. This feeling only intensified as the slap's flight path reached its endpoint, Rasa's lifeless form smashing through a far away building. The sheer force of the beast's blow sent him bouncing through a dark blurry haze before finally he wore out enough kinetic energy to stop moving.
It didn't even feel like he had limbs at this point. A spark ran through Rasa's bones, serving as the initial, most primal urge to move. He couldn't. He could only lie there, covered in fragments of shattered glass and brick and a torn blanket of gold dust. After what could have been anywhere from two minutes to two hours, Rasa concluded that his senses were far too awake for him to have died. The complete pain that was coursing through his entire body told him that may have been preferable.
…
…
Where am I?
Sand cascaded down Gaara's face as he sat up from the ground. The world around him was very different than the one he'd left hours earlier. Gone was the compound and its many passageways, gone was the village and its rounded architecture. In their place lay a large desert that spanned on to the horizon and beyond. Its desolate dunes lay coated in a golden glow, as the rising sun above began to flush out the last ripples of navy darkness in the sky.
This place…
It was unlike anything Gaara had ever seen.
However, he was not alone. Turning his gaze behind him, he spotted Shukaku sitting silently on the head of a high-sandbank. A brief jolt of fear bubbled up into Gaara's throat but he popped it with the grit of his teeth. He had to be strong now, not just for himself, but for his mother too. He shook the sand from his clothes as he stood up, soles sinking into the sands depths and leaving footprints in his wake. The closer he got, the more the beast's sheer size and height were put in perspective. A towering creature with sand for flesh and beady evil eyes, blue markings running over its body in little currents of color. Suffice to say, it took quite a long while for Gaara to convince himself he was not just having some surrealist nightmare.
What truly strengthened this effect was that Shukaku did not seem to be moving. He simply stood there, basking in the warmth of the sunrise.
"Hey!" Gaara called, fists clenching to try and quell the fear in his stomach.
Shukaku did not respond.
"Hey!" He called again; this time significantly louder.
A few seconds passed before Shukaku's pupils, beady and tiny as they were, suddenly snapped on to his form. Despite there being several kilometers between them, Gaara stepped back instinctively. Strangely, the sight of a towering tanuki spirit lumbering awake was actually quite terrifying to a six-year-old who currently had no idea where he was.
"What the fuck are you doing awake?" He grumbled, eyes slanting in anger.
Gaara once again suppressed any fear bubbling through his throat and met the beast's eyes.
"Where are we?" He asked, trying valiantly to stifle any trembling that lingered in his tone.
Shukaku's minimalistic features made it quite difficult to read his expression, especially when his mouth was shut. It was only when he let out a childish groan and began resting his head in his paw that Gaara managed to realize he was simply bored.
"How bout we get the explaining over quick, kid? I am a big scary monster. When you were a baby, your papa sealed me in your stomach because big scary monsters need to be protected too. Because you got two consciouses for the price of one, that means your mind needed to expand to house the two of us. This is your mindscape."
"So, this…this is my mind?" Gaara asked.
Shukaku's brow (or, at least, what resembled a brow) furrowed.
"Yep, you're right, that's what I just said."
"And my father sealed you in me?" Gaara continued.
His eyes were no longer locked to Shukaku's, but to his own hands. Shukaku himself just grew tired at the repetition.
"Not the quickest on the uptake, are ya'?"
Gaara's eyes snapped forward, an unexpected glowering running through his eyes.
"Where is my mother."
Shukaku shrugged.
"Dead, obviously."
A twinge of pain shot through Gaara's stomach but his gaze only hardened as a result.
"Are you positive?"
He'd been annoyed at the boy's questions before, but this was one seemed to frustrate Shukaku further. A deep, guttural groan escaped his slips as he slouched down against the ground.
"I mean, you saw her get fucking smoked back there. What do you think?"
Gaara's eyes feel downcast for a brief second. Then he looked back up at Shukaku once more. His hands were clenched so tightly that the pressured skin was morphing into an even drier white then it already wore. Small tears bubbled at the sides of his eyes while he bit down hard against his lip.
"Bring her back." He ordered.
"Scusi ma?" Shuaku mocked back in joking Sunanese
"I said bring her back!" Gaara barked, renewed intensity freeing any tears that sat on the cusp of falling. "Use whatever powers you have and save her, now!"
This order gave Shukaku a few seconds worth of bemusement, followed by just as many of frustration.
"Don't know what to tell you, kid. My thing is sand and that's about it. I'm not so much into medicine or whatevs. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna peace out of here and go back to wrecking the shit outta your village."
There was a sense of finality in his voice that only intensified as he began to turn around from facing Gaara. Unfortunately, the Suna boy didn't take the hint. His arms thrashed around in juvenile aimlessness, while his voice only got louder.
"No! My father did not "seal you in me" or whatever phrase you used to sit around like a fat, disgusting slob. Use whatever powers you have to fix my mother- "
"Oh, for fucks sake, shut up!" Shukaku barked, snapping around.
His claws ripped through the sand underneath him, sending a tidal wave of it flying towards Gaara. Before the boy could even hope to jump out of the way, he was crushed underneath a heavy blanket of grit and shingle. With that problem dealt with, Shukaku shuffled back around to face the rising sun-lit sky.
"Kids. Good for nothing, I swear to- "He grumbled to himself, eyes snapping shut as he prepared to resume movement in the real world.
However, the real world didn't seem to want his movement very much. Shukaku could not resume his position, no matter how hard he tried to drift back. An invisible wall had surrounded Gaara's mindscape and it was seemingly hellbent on not letting even the slightest bit of autonomy slip into his head. Growling in frustration, Shukaku opened his eyes to see the sun was no longer rising. Instead, it was sinking into the horizon line, plummeting into the awaiting mouth of the night.
"What?" He asked breathily.
Fwoosh!
The tanuki yet again swiveled around, to find the large pile of sand that he'd buried Gaara under had ballooned into a massive geyser of sand. From it, Gaara emerged into the desert once more, stomping forward in anger.
"You are sealed in my body monster; therefore, you answer to me!" Gaara screamed, eyes sizzling with fury.
Shukaku would have normally laughed at the sight of such a feeble looking child barking at him but the way the sand around him seemed to be interacting with Gaara made him strangely uneasy. He raised a claw to the sky, stating his own control over the sand of the mindscape.
"No." A feminine whisper echoed through the area, strong enough to reverberate to the both of them yet also quiet in a cold, emotionless sort of way.
"What the hell?!" Shukaku barked.
The sand beneath him plunged forth at Gaara's command, shifting into large ropes that tied themselves around Shukaku's waist. With a flick of his wrist, he beckoned them to begin dragging him down, the beasts heavy form sinking into sand that lay underneath.
"Ho-How the hell are you doing this?! You little fucking tyke, let go of me or I swear!" He squealed, thrashing arms being squashed against his sides.
Every bit of energy in Shukaku's chakra body was offered as a plea deal, begging the sand to slip from Gaara's control yet it refused to yield. The same cold female voice echoed into his ear.
"No."
Gaara's steps were heavy now, as was the anger in his eyes.
"You'll do nothing! You're in my body and my mind, so I can do whatever I want to you!" Gaara yelled, as Shukaku screamed in terror.
The scenario, a little boy somehow out-forcing the lumbering desert demon, would have seemed ridiculous yet here they stood, one controlling large arms of sand and the other squealing for their life as they were shoved into the depths of the desert. Shukaku's claw scraped against the edge of the sand, trying one last time to escape the abyss he had been forsaken to before the sand smoothed over his body and trapped him inside the never-ending tract. For miles it stretched on, and now, the only one standing there was Gaara.
Heavy pants fell from his lips as his hand stayed outstretched should Shukaku emerge yet again. His mind was racing, thoughts condensed into an abstract haze that even high scholars would have had trouble expressing, let alone a six-year-old.
Wind brushed against his back. A female voice hummed into his ear, though her voice was indecipherable no matter how hard Gaara tried to listen. It felt cold against his skin, yet somehow only made his pants worse. He was beginning to feel…sleepy. Sleepy and very, very cold.
It took a while for the blur of brown and orange to reveal itself as the world in Gaara's eyes. He lay still on a blanket of dirt and spread-out sand, eyes daring themselves to peek open little by little. From his blurred slits of vision, he could make out blobs of bright orange flame dancing in the crevasses of broken buildings. It was only when his eyes fully snapped open though, that he saw the full desecration that Shukaku had inflicted upon the village.
Entire streets had been reduced to rows of rubble, fire flickering over their corpse in an almost mocking display. Gaara very rarely ventured outside of his compound, but even he, with little attachment to what he'd overheard various housekeepers call some variation of "a crime-addled shithole", felt a visceral disgust at the destruction that lay before him. This disgust boiled up to his throat in a sudden wave of nausea.
"Blargh!" Gaara groaned, hurling up a stream of sand.
It stung against his tongue, to the point the boy desperately began to claw at it to try and loosen some of the residual grains. This seemed to be the least of his problems however, as a stampede of hesitant footsteps brough his attention sideways.
There, a large group of civilians stood. The ones better off sported sunken gazes and fearful posture, whereas the ones who were worse wore blood-stained bandage and limps. Every set of eyes there though, no matter how gaunt or frightened, was locked directly onto Gaara. Murmurers spread around the group, too faint for the boy himself to really make out outside of snippets.
"-The Kazekage's son, I think- "
"-Could he have- "
"-All that sand- "
"It just disappeared and here he is- "
There seemed to be a fizzling undercurrent in their voices. Of course, there was fear, sadness, confusion, all of the emotions one would expect from a population whose home had just been decimated by a giant monster but there was another one in there too. Gaara was an intelligent child, academically and mentally wise beyond his years, but he was still a child and this emotion was one usually discouraged among them.
It was anger.
"Ahahahaha! He has returned!" A loud laugh shook through the village as a man dressed in a mixture of a cap and a hood pushed through to Gaara.
He slid over to the boy, lowering himself down so as to put them on equal footing. Before Gaara had even had a chance to react, the man was bowing down onto his hands.
"Lord Shukaku, it is an honor to meet you. Others lost faith but I always knew you would one day return, I never gave up-Aah!"
He shrieked as another; larger man pushed him to the side. This man was tall and burly, towering over Gaara in a way that may have seemed more imposing had the boy not just been squaring up with a tailed beast. Unfortunately, the very human emotions of pain and fury that permeated the mans features made it so the size difference was about the only constant between the two encounters.
"How could you do this?" He growled, guttural and wounded.
The way the orange of the fire reflected these emotions was making Gaara uneasy. Suddenly, he noticed a certain heat pulsing through his body.
"I didn't, it wasn't- "He stammered, voice shaky.
"How are we meant to support our families now?! The entire fucking village is in tatters, it'll take years to rebuild!" He yelled, with an intensity Gaara had never before seen in a human or even an animal.
It wasn't just him though. The entire crowd around Gaara was starting to mumble furiously, anger and wrath bleeding from their eyes. It was at that moment that Gaara began to feel very, very caged in.
"I didn't mean to do it sir, honestly!" He yelled.
The man giggled but it was clear he didn't find the situation particularly funny.
"Oh?! You didn't mean to transform into a big fucking monster andbulldoze our livelihoods like this, hm?"
At this point, the crowd's murmurs had transformed into loud jeering and yelling.
"Get him- "
"He's a fucking demon- "
"Who do you think you are?!"
"The royal family shits on the working class again, what a surprise!"
The man was now stepping towards Gaara, who was just as quickly crawling away. Maybe it was the fury in his face, maybe it was the jeering of the crowd, but there was a certain manic quality to his actions that set Gaara's nerves ablaze. He was really feeling the heat now.
"8 million ryo worth of stock, gone, just like that! How am I supposed to feed my family?!"
Gaara did not answer.
"Well?! Say something!"
He reached his hands out towards Gaara, trying to grab him. It was then that the heat he'd been feeling separated from his body entirely. A wall of sand pushed out in front of his helpless form, blocking the man's hands and gently pushing him back. Gaara suddenly felt very cold. In a lighter situation, this obstruction may have calmed the mob down, if only slightly, but that was not the case here. It only made them angrier.
"Now he's using its powers!" A woman cried from the crowd.
"Get away, get away!"
" The demons unleashing itself!"
Gaara looked up with pleading eyes, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.
"It's not me, I swear! It's moving on its own!" He called.
Expectedly, this did very little to convince anyone.
"You fucking coward, drop the sand and atone- "
The man who'd stared this dogpile let out a deep growl and began to rush forward. The way he moved, the way he stomped forward, it all reeked of killing intent. Of course, Gaara's sand could detect this too and decided to give it back in turn. With a mighty lunge, the sand shot forward and contorted into a blade.
Fwoosh!
The unmistakable sound of flesh tearing filled the air as the man in front of Gaara was impaled through the chest by a sword of sand.
It was a moment frozen in time for Gaara, as complete shock overtook his body. His eyes registered only one thing and one thing only. Blood. Crimson red blood splattering over the ground. Now, as a child living in the most luxurious position a child could in Suna, blood was not a regular occurrence in Gaara's life. He was familiar with the concept of course but he'd never truly seen it in this way. Visceral, primal, spilling on the ground and staining it permanently with the mark of what was once a person.
Gaara screamed.
The crowd screamed.
Mass hysteria overtook the street, the crowd beginning to fall over themselves in an attempt to get away from the scene. For those who let fear seize their hearts that day, they lived to fight another. Those who felt an upswell of adrenaline were not quite so lucky. It was not that many, especially considering the size of the crowd but a select few felt the urge to attack Gaara in the frenzy. Now, the boy was far too frightened by this point to open his eyes. Instead, he had curled up into a cold little ball with his vision clenched shut.
Nevertheless, the sound of blood splattering on the pavement was still audible. The feeling of an extension of himself tearing through people was still palpable. Every slash and strike of the sand echoed through his nerves, much to his own horror.
"Stop." He begged, barely above a whisper.
There was screaming as the mob continued to whirl itself into a frenzy.
"Stop!" He screamed, still unwilling to open his eyes should they explode into an abyss of tears and horror. "Stop, stop, please!"
The sand did not. Not until any threat to Gaara had been well and truly neutralized.
The helplessness Gaara felt been facing Shukaku or the crowd was nothing compared to this. The feeling that no matter what he did, his power, his will was going to act on its own accord and he could do nothing to stop it. That was helplessness.
It felt like hours until the screams stopped and the footsteps dyed down. Despite the sweat that was running down his forehead and the dancing flames that lit the scene, cold still racked his body. When he felt the grip of pressure against his skin, he at first thought someone had managed to penetrate his sand. This was untrue. It was the sand, circling around him in a warm cuddle of heat. The absolute defense from the outside world.
If one were to chart a turning point for Gaara's personality, this would certainly be it. Prior to this moment Gaara of the Desert had been kept in the clutches of linen blankets and his mothers love. Now he lay reborn on a bed of only blood and sand.
"Get back!" A voice boomed.
Anyone who'd mustered the courage to look at his folded form was sent scampering away as Seku-Nin descended onto the scene. Gaara opened his eyes a bit to see his father walking forwards, arm slung over Baki's shoulder with bruises staining his skin.
The next few minutes were a blur in Gaara's mind. He and the Suna group marched through the desecrated city streets, taking no note of the fires nor the cries of the people around him. There was blood on his skin. There was blood on his skin. He looked down at his hands, an immediate revulsion running up his stomach as he saw the splattered remains of his attackers on them. Then he looked up at Rasa.
"Father?"
"Hm?" Rasa replied, not looking back at his son as he walked.
"Am I a monster?" Gaara asked shakily.
Rasa did not respond.