Exquisitely Alone
By Faria Lyton
Prologue: The Sand
Disclaimers:
I do not own Naruto. If I did, I would be drawing this, not writing it, and I would own a FAR nicer computer.
The world of Naruto is not real. If it were, I would be out trying to develop a technique for walking on air, not writing this fanfic.
I am not sane. If I was, I would do my homework instead of reading every half-decent piece of fanfiction ever written.
I am done now. If I wasn't, there would be no room for a story.
Despite how everyone avoided him, Gaara of the Sand was never alone. Ever. The voices were always there. Raging, pleading, threatening, cajoling, the cry for blood rang through his head eternally. It took all his willpower not to kill ever foe he faced, it drained him emotionally to stand firm so that an assailant might be… questioned.
Of course, it used to be harder. Before, he hadkilled every person met in combat. His willpower barely reached far enough to stop himself before he would have killed his only friends. Not that they knew they were his friends. Come to think of it, he'deven forgotten they were friends.
And it wasn't like he could be stopped. It saw to that. No matter how many kunai and shuriken were thrown at him, none would hit. No matter how fast they struck, the blow would be blocked effortlessly. No matter how powerful the jutsu, it wouldn't penetrate.
He couldn't stop himself, either. He'd tried, once, after his uncle had tried to kill him. After learning the one person he trusted wanted to kill him, he had lost it, and tried to slit his wrist with a kunai it got for him. The blade wasn't able to break his skin, its razor-edge was dulled beyond repair by the contact.
It was all the sand's fault. He'd been given it before he could say no, before he could say anything. It cried for blood, begged for it, tormented him, relenting only as he sated its unholy lust. He had come to believe that the absence of torture was pleasure, and the only way to gain this pleasure was through bloodshed. The more blood, the more pleasure, the longer it lasted. Eventually, he came to the only logical conclusion: the ultimate pleasure, the eternal relief from his torment, would be in the largest amount of blood:
All of it.
Every single living creature would one day fall before him, life (and life-blood) squeezed from them. But first, he would need power. And power meant tests. Like the one where he found what he soon saw as his salvation.
Of course, that's not what he thought it was at first. At first, all he saw was a remarkably unskilled ninja in… a bright orange jumpsuit. He was tempted to forfeit the test, set himself back a year, if only he could rid the world of that garish atrocity. Later, he would thank kami he had decided it wasn't worth it. Much later.
In all honesty, he had been shocked when that ninja had been able to stand up to him. Not that the ninja had been displaying any real genius, at first. For crying out loud, what kind of ninja puts an explosion note on a kunai, and then manually shoves it into an opponent's tailbone?
He was even more surprised when the ninja defeated him. He'd done everything to win, even letting the sand take control. When he had closed his eyes, he fully expected to open them to a scene of horizonless destruction, not a slightly battered forest and a stylistically retarded ninja.
That was when the name Uzumaki Naruto became worthy of his recall. The blond's next words had made that name so much more, less of grudge to be settled, more of a… hero to be emulated. Kami, he hadn't even believed in heroes.
Then he'd done his best to become one of these heroes, starting by fighting the sand. He'd soon learned that deny it the blood it craved made it weaker, quieting it… and dulling the pain. He also gained greater control over the sand, as it would do anything to beg a gift of blood from him. It's first feed since his defeat was in defense of one of Naruto's friends. No matter what his siblings, his first friends, may have said, their alliance with Konoha had nothing to do with the intervention. He was doing it for Naruto's sake, perhaps to gain his approval.
And soon he was a hero for his village, emulating the dream he had heard Naruto express, altering it for his own situation. If Naruto wanted to spend his life defending a village, he might as well do it too. He soon found a chance to prove himself.
The battle was simple enough at first. Contain any explosions caused by the Akatsuki chick (or guy, whatever that… thing was) caused, wait for the bastard (or bitch) to wear down, then incapacitate the fool and bring her (him?) in for interrogation.
In didn't work out that way. He had lost. Blasted by what he thought was his own sand.
As the world swiftly darkened, Gaara suddenly realized that he was wishing Naruto were there. Not so much to save him, but to protect his village until he could get back...
And maybe help him escape…
And then they could spar a bit…
But first… Gaara of the Desert's last conscious thought was remarkable trivial, …we really need to burn that garish rag…
Okay people, read and review.
Next chapter: Silence
Gaara didn't notice until the last concerned friend (Naruto, of course) slipped away, but it was quiet. As in… no noise. No demands for blood, no torturous screeches, nothing. The sand was silent.
Well, that's odd. Gaara thought as he relaxed slightly, expecting the torment to return at any moment. I never thought anything less than death would silence that beast… I'm thirsty…
He subconsciously reached out for the glass beside him with his power and opened his mouth… but the water didn't come. The glass was sit stubbornly sitting there, defying him. He tried again, focusing on forming the sand up around the cup.
Once again, nothing happened.
For a moment, Gaara almost thought that the sand was using his thirst torture him, but then he realized it.
The sand was gone.