Invincibility is a curious thing. The sand that shielded Gaara from the attacks of his assassins and enemies also served as a barrier between his soul and the surge of humanity that swirled around him, eschewing him, fearing him, loathing him. The pain of the heart, the insanity of the beast inside him, the killing that validated him, they filled him, pressing at the shell from the inside, giving him a false sense of purpose, a false sense of reality.
While it had taken the battle with Naruto to show Gaara what a precious person was, the blond boy had no particular meaning to him. He was the measuring stick by which Gaara's strength had been found lacking, he was a foe to respect, he was a teacher in his own clumsy way, but he was not precious to Gaara.
No one had ever breached the sand before. It was a curious feeling, it stung, but the sensation was so alien that he didn't even register it as pain. The odd-looking boy with the silly haircut hadn't looked like someone to take seriously, with his posturing and gallantries. But he fought hard, with passion, with zeal, with his whole heart. Inside the shell of sand, Gaara flushed with excitement and bloodlust. To kill this boy, it would be a great validation of his strength. It would be a defining moment…why else had he crept into the hospital before the main exam? Without the boy's grandstanding sensei in the way, Gaara would kill the boy, the only one to draw his blood. It would be an honor.
Yes, an honor.
But that attempt had been thwarted.
In the aftermath of the events surrounding the Chuunin exam, it should have been more difficult for a Sand Nin to gain access to Konoha. It wasn't. He stole through the streets like a thief in the night, undetected and unhindered.
The boy's room was unguarded, and he slept the sleep of an innocent, fearing nothing. Death walked inside, silently, grains of sand floating around his body, forming intricate patterns in the air. He watched the black-haired boy as he slept, for a brief moment, he allowed himself to wish for such a simple thing as sleep for himself. A temporary respite from the monster inside…but he knew that such a respite did not and could not exist. It was a bleak thought, temporarily eased by the sight of Lee's chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
Before the battle with Naruto, before the knowledge of where the blond had achieved his inner strength had come to Gaara, the thought of merely watching his enemy sleep would never have satisfied him. He would have felt the urge to smother those contented breaths with his cursed sand, to strangle the sleeping boy, wringing his life from his body as he gasped. Now, however…he watched and guarded. The moonlight poured into the room, spilling from the round, shining orb in the sky…a full moon.
Gaara should have been restless, riding the killing edge.
But he watched Lee sleeping, clamping down with all his control, forcing the beast within into submission, and it was almost peaceful.
As peaceful as it ever could be, inside the shell.
Beneath the coarse grains of sand, Gaara smiled.