Once upon a time, there was a child, a monster and a princess who liked sand flowers.


Chapter 1 - Flowers Aren't Meant to Grow Alone

The scorching air of Suna burned her lungs. Salty drops of sweat dripped in her eyes and at that specific moment, Himari couldn't quite figure out whether she liked their new home. A temporary home, had pressed her mom. The busy streets were packed with cartwheels, Sunday's shoppers and eager vendors. The town's inhabitants were like the desert itself, dry and unwelcoming. Suna, the girl thought bitterly. Land of sunburns, half-dead cacti and beige fashion. A sigh escaped her dry lips. Even if it had only been a week since their arrival, Himari had made up her mind. She didn't like it.

Her mother had thrown quite a fit when she had learned that Dad's new job required moving to another town. Again. This time, he had promised them they would be staying for more than mere months. A year, maybe. But Himari knew better than to believe sweet promises. They never stayed for that long.

Bangs obscured her eyes like a sheepdog. Except, she felt like the stinky kind of sheepdog after a long day, drenched in sweat and hair sticking uncomfortably at her forehead. Maybe she would have to cut them if she ever hoped to survive this insufferable heat.

As the girl passed by the crowded marketplace, frantic whispers caught her attention.

"It killed again last night," muttered an old lady, agitated. "The slaughtering will never stop."

What seemed to be her husband shushed her down, throwing her a stern glance. "Don't spit such nonsense, woman. Our Kazekage is taking care of it."

Grocery bags in her hands, the elderly woman shook her head, lips tight. "Well, he's not doing it fast enough."

A man had died last night. By the time they brought him to the hospital, the medics had declared there was nothing left to save. After that incident, her mother wouldn't let her out of the house after eight and it seemed the curfew would stick for a while, since 'the beast' couldn't be contained.

On her way back home, the young girl crossed the playground. A gaggle of children were playing a game, kicking around a small ball. About the same height as her, the kids looked around her age. Her mother's voice chanted in her head, encouraging her to make some friends. Himari huffed, annoyed.

As she was about to leave, a figure grabbed her attention. Red hair flying everywhere as though they never touched a comb and dark circles under his eyes, a little boy was watching the other children playing, hidden under the shade of a tree. He was smaller than her. Probably younger by a couple of years.

Suddenly, the ball got kicked away. Her eyes squinted against the ruthless sunbeams. Her gaze followed the ball as it rolled on the dirty playground until it reached the little boy's feet. Frozen in place, the kids all stared at the ball. The redhead clutched at the stuffed bear in his arms before he reached down for the ball.

One of the children spoke out. "Don't touch it, monster!"

The little boy's face twisted at the insult, and the air stiffened. Emotions flickered on his features as rapidly as one flipped through the pages of a picture book. A bit of pain, a bit of anger and finally, a disturbing numbness crept on his face. Wary parents fidgeted from their bench. Nervosity filled the air. It crawled under her skin. Like a scared rat, a mother darted to the playground till she reached her son. With an iron grasp around his wrist, she dragged him away.

"Do not run," the woman muttered under her breath. Like a broken record, she repeated it. On and on. "Just walk. Do not run. Or else, it'll chase after you."

Other parents repeated the same circus until the playground completely emptied itself. Himari felt her feet turned in the same direction as the gone children, ready to follow the adult's lead. But as her gaze landed on the little boy's face, something tugged at her heart, twisting it. His eyes reflected a starving sense of loneliness with a glint of something else the girl didn't have the words to describe. Now, she couldn't advert her eyes away from him. Unconsciously, her feet moved. While she walked in the direction of the little boy, the girl didn't notice how the sand on the ground moved like wicked snakes ready to bite. They never stayed long enough for her to make friends. Maybe this time, it would be different. Her feet stopped in front of him.

Bolder than she ever was, she extended a hand to him. "I'm Noya Himari," she presented herself. "Please, let's be friends."

The boy looked like she'd just slapped him in the face. Surprise travelled across his face, but it was washed off in a heartbeat. His eyes darkened. With a scowl, he glared at her.

"Friends?" he repeated, his voice low.

The word dripped from his mouth like venom. Like a curse. Her hand was still hanging in the air, and panic rose in her throat as she felt rough sand wrapping around her wrist, engulfing it in a tight grip. The grains scrapped against her skin, threatening.

"Y-yes?"

The word choked in her throat. Her eyes met an animalistic gaze – an emotionless pit of bloody cadavers, everlasting pain and killing intent. She had just done a stupid mistake. It was him. The monster everyone feared. Sabaku no Gaara. Even if her whole instincts were screaming at her to flee, she didn't move an inch. Do not run. Or else, it'll chase after you.

So, she panicked.

"I like plants," she squealed, eyes shut closed. "And f-flowers."

The sand stopped to swallow her forearm, staying still. He was listening. Hesitantly, she reopened her eyes to meet an expressionless face. Himari couldn't stop herself from trembling. It felt as if something was eating her insides, yelling at her to hide. To run. Far away. Gulping down her fear, she gasped for a breath of heavy air.

"I have a w-whole collection of them," she managed to choke out as beads of sweat slid down her spine. "Though, I'm not sure they'll survive the harsh conditions here. Would you… like to see them?"

After what felt an eternity, the sand dropped at her feet. He nodded.

...

That day, her mother was unpacking the leftover boxes in the living room.

"How was the market, sweetheart?" her mom shouted from across the room as she heard the door closed. "You'll never believe what I found in one of the boxes. It was your grandmother's. I thought it was lost. Just let me find it…"

Even if they were always travelling from a place to another, her mother insisted to fill the house with pottery vases, family pictures, scented candles, frames and other stuff, much to her father's despair. A collection of animal-shaped clocks covered the living room's walls and books laid on the coffee table, topped with teacups and trinkets. It was messy, and her mom's constant blabbering fitted right into the chaotic décor. Without all of it, their home wouldn't feel the same.

Her mother's rummaging through the carton boxes came to an end, and looking triumphant, she raised her head out of a box with a family album in her hand. At the sight of her guest, her smile magnified. Behind her, Gaara tensed.

"Oh!" her mother exclaimed. She blew some dust off the album, then stuffed it under her arm. "Who's your friend, sweetheart?"

Gaara flinched at the word. Or maybe he just recoiled at the scary size of her mom's ecstatic smile. She hadn't brought any friends home in a while and her mother looked overjoyed. Her frizzy auburn hair were barely holding into the messy bun on the top her head. Himari felt like ripping of the band-aid quickly was the best of her alternatives. "This is Gaara-san. We met at the playground."

Her mother's smile withered away, like a flower ripped off its water. Of course, she knew the name. She dropped the family's album into an open box. Himari turned her head. At her side, Gaara tensed up like a trapped animal, ready for the rejection. Knowing he would be rejected. But he didn't know her mother. After all, Himari's kindness came mostly from her.

As her mother's eyes softened, a soft smile tugging at her lips, Gaara's eyes widened slightly.

"Welcome in our home, Gaara-san," she said kindly.

...

Gaara wasn't the talkative type, but she got a few words out of him. Like she thought, he was younger than her, by two years. He didn't like tomatoes and he had two siblings. A brother and a sister. After their curt exchange, he fell silent. He frowned at some odd-looking flowers in her collection, growled back at the family cat and listened to her silly stories with a blank face. It wasn't bad. Not at all.

A peculiar thing about the desert was its opposite temperatures during the day compared to the night. With the sun gone, the air had refreshened to the point of making chills ran down her spine. In the starry sky, the moon shined a soft glow in the dark. Himari went up to close the window as Gaara flipped through one of the books in her bookcase.

"Mother wants me to kill you," he stated from behind her. He said it so lightly, as a matter of fact. Her heart dropped dead into her stomach. "She's angry."

"Do you want to?" she replied.

"I'm not sure."

A small sigh reached her ears. When she turned around, the redhead was gone. With shaking legs, Himari approached the flowers displayed by the window. Her fingers grazed across the petal of a delicate flower made of sand. He had spared her.

And with that, a strange friendship began to bloom.

...

A month later, half of her plant collection had died. Himari wept at their loss. Gaara replaced each of the dead plants with new ones, ones made of sand. His sand. Can't be killed anymore, he had said. That day, she had offered him a genuine smile since the gesture had washed a part of her sadness away.

Two months later, she learned that he couldn't sleep. So, she tried to stay awake with him, hanging out on house rooftops and admiring the moon. Each time, she failed. In the morning, she would wake up in the comfort of her own bed, with a few grains of sand on her pillowcase.

He showed her the best viewing spots in the city; she introduced him to ice cones.

She briefly met his father; she didn't like him.

His siblings feared him; she felt sad for him.

The summer ended. Suna's Ninja Academy opened its doors to the new students. He couldn't attend with her. He frowned, and she smiled. It was only the beginning.