He lifted a stained eye at the sound, the sand rather cold around his body and the weight and feeling of his gourd missing from his back. The other eyelid lifted as well, staring up at a gray-blue sky. Not a cloud, as usual. His fingers groped at the sand beneath him, a shiver overtaking him at the icy feel, despite the prevailing sunshine.
Why was it so cold-
"Gaara-Kun…Don't make me get you up…"
The voice, plaintive and sprightly, sounded off again, throwing him into an upright sitting position. The icy green flashed about, taking in his surroundings. Sand, yes, like his home, yet no village. It was as though a dune hadn't shifted out of place after he was taken by that…
That man, and his strange bird…
"Who are you!" He bristled, moving forward into a crouched position. If they wanted some this time, at least there wasn't a village to protect. "If you're part of that association that took the-"
"Oh…them…" Again, the quiet authority rang true and halted Gaara's accusation. "No…I haven't anything to do with them. In fact, up until they took you, I hadn't the slightest clue who or what they were!" A pleasant giggle echoed through Gaara's head. He cocked a nonexistent eyebrow.
Whoever this was as a female…
"Well…alright then, where am I. This certainly isn't the Sand Village."
"Sharp one, you are!" Another giggle; Gaara's mind immediately clocking this female at about 20-30 years old. Slowly, the wheels began to turn, the voice waiting patiently. An idea dawned on him, shock riding every syllable.
"…mother…?"
"Mother!" The voice giggled back. "Of course I'm not your mother! Your mother's too busy junking your father!"
Gaara mumbled something crass under his breath and tossed that idea out the window.
"But…" He paused in his livid muttering, his surroundings wiping clean of any color like a chalk-scribbled sidewalk in a hard summer rain. Alarmed already, it only grew when the ground disappeared out from under him. Gravity be damned, his body almost drifted horizontally in this blank white space! Gaara winced, bracing for impact…
But none came.
The back of Gaara's head settled against a cushion of cloth covered legs, fitting perfectly into the junction between them. A pair of slender, pale hands slid across his face, one coming to rest cradling his right cheek. A wave of warmth followed, the light touch of the fingertips bringing almost a tingling comfort with them. Gaara sank willingly into it, letting his eyes close and nestling up against the palm where this warmth radiated from. He briefly registered the other hand curling through his hair, twirling the crimson strands around the supple knuckles.
"…are you at peace, Gaara-Kun?"
He didn't even open his eyes, still basking in the almost overwhelming tenderness, the fingertips like warm sunlight on his skin.
"…yes…" Again, the question arose, though in his serenity, he found it difficult to speak at all.
"…who are you?"
"…you know who I am…" The same voice from before, but having the same serene touch as her fingers did.
"You knew me long before this event ever came to pass, before you ever became a ninja…After all…it was my prayers that saved you from Hell…or even the Tombs Village…" Gaara merely sighed in response, all too happy to recline in this warm, white tranquility.
"…I must've died…"
"Yes, Gaara-kun…you did die…"
He spent a moment pondering that, but didn't dwell."…I suppose it makes sense then, why you're here…" A rare, genuine smile crossed his lips. "No one treats me like this in life…"
"I would've…my god allowing…"
Gaara allowed himself a look, opening his eyes and staring upwards towards the strange woman's face. Amidst the white, the soft contours came into focus, framed by golden yellow hair that fell past her shoulders. Delicate and subtle cheekbones and an equally slight nose led up to the crown jewels of her visage, the eyes. The deep blue sapphire-like orbs were as soft and gentle as they were alluring, glittering with inner amusement that he couldn't quite see the reason for. For the moment, though, the laughter was replaced with tenderness, almost…
He studied this face watching his own, feeling almost guilty for looking.
"…do you remember me?"
"…No…there are no angels where I come from." Gaara's gaze began to reflect his curiosity. "…is that what you are?"
"Guess again, Gaara-Kun."
Gaara shrugged, letting his eyes close again. "…then what are you…"
"…Just a tribesgirl looking out for her best friend…"
Gaara's eyes flew open, the pupils narrowing. His mind began to itch, that phrase stirring the dust in his memory.
"…Tribesgirl?"
The hands lifted away from the sides of his face, the strange woman leaning forward and, much to Gaara's shock, ever so gently brushed her lips past his. His eyes flew open, partially from the contact, but more from the flood of images obscuring his vision. The face disappeared, his life rewinding in front of his eyes, halting upon a Gaara with his kanji fresh on his forehead.
"…is that…"
His background faded, warping back into his childhood.
"Remember me now, Gaara…"
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End of Prolog