Gaara: Gourd
Gaara's has this super cool gourd that...well. It just does stuff, but i wrote about it anyway. Especially for Ryou VeRua (my wonderful Beta) and Danish. I don't own Naruto, etc,etc. I know. I'm sad too. (yeah, same old disclaimer. I'll change it sometime...you just wait.)
Gaara had carried his gourd for as long as he remembered. It was a part of him, just like his bones and his blood. There was something about its presence that was warm and comforting. The weight on his back reassured him that somebody was there for him. It didn't matter that every once in a while voices came from it, strangling his mind as it gasped for some form of understanding. He couldn't stop the inevitable, and hearing voices was a sign of insanity.
Every time he killed, every time the demon called for blood and he fearlessly obeyed, he knew that if nothing else, the blood would join the sand in his gourd and add another person to his protective group. They were always there, the sand was always ready to defend for him, whether he wanted it or not. Mother might scream for blood, and he might have to wordlessly follow, but the title of demon was not one to be taken lightly, and Gaara was a demon of sorts.
When night fell, and all of Sunagakure was asleep, he was awake. Sometimes he would nurse a glass of some foul liquid that would help him stay alert until the sun rose again. Sometimes he would watch his brother and sister and wonder if some day they would help protect him too. Sometimes he spoke to them…the voices in his gourd. They told him they would never let him be harmed, never let him die. Sometimes he wasn't sure that was a good thing.