Author's note (2021/07/17):

Hey!

Just a heads up - this is a longfic that is currently over 430,000 words (and complete)! New chapters were added to fill gaps in story timeline (consistency who?) because this was my first fanfiction and my writing style has evolved since posting this first chapter 2 years ago. Now that I'm writing other works (both fanfiction and original) I tend to keep coming back to this one to fix things. Writing this ~400k fic kind of broke me creatively, so if you enjoyed it I'd appreciate to hear what you have to say. I'm a bad perfectionist and an 'expresso-depresso' so I'm never happy with anything I make. This is a rewrite of a fic i wrote when i was 12-13, so I certainly have my work cut out for me writing a trope from days of Quizilla gone past - but I like creative writing and maybe want to write a story of my own someday, so this is also great practice.

Thank you to anyone who is reading this and for the support with your feedback, favourites/kudos, and everything else! xx

Author's note (2019/08/16):

Hello everyone, thank you all for reading my story!

Since my initial posting to Quizilla in 2009 this story has been nearly completely rewritten from the posting I made to FFN in 2014, called "Wolf and the Tanuki". In late 2018 I began posting the rewrite to FFN as "Sand and Snow" and changed basically the whole story (whoops). I know OC-centric stories are critically paned (and for good reason), so if this story isn't what you were looking for, that is alright by me. I am posting this for my pure enjoyment of creative writing and the world of Naruto, and also because of my nostalgic attachment to the series.

Thank you for your patience; I hope you enjoy reading through my first work! xx

The Wolf and the Tanuki

Part I

Sand and Snow

~ Part I ~

Prologue

A Chance Encounter

"Get out of here, now!"

"When he speaks... listen to him..."

Endlessly, their voices echoed throughout her thoughts. Forcing her to stay awake as her instincts forbade her rest.

The hot sands below scorched her paws as she dashed across the barren landscape in aimless haste. The dry wind bit at her white fur, peppered by the grains as the beast ran. Her purple eyes saw the horizon and blocked everything else from view, refusing to look back at what they left behind. Their home, their village, their livelihood - everything. But there was no escape from what chased her hot on her heels. It had only been a matter of days but it felt like weeks to her bones that ached of winter. The heat was cruel, forcing its weight upon her fur-clad body. Panting soon escaped her fanged jaws, with dehydration soon leaving its bitter iron taste in her mouth.

The more the sun seemed to climb, the hotter the desert lands grew.

Finally, the beast slowed to a trot and paced along a high dune. Sniffing the winds, she did not sense any foes tailing her. But the one she was told to wait for had not appeared - their chakra was not even a faint presence on the desert winds. Panic rising, the beast turned back and let out a howl. The cry echoed throughout the lands, the winds soon falling silent. Patiently, she waited.

But no howl answered.

She howled again - and the world fell silent.

Her heart shattered.

A wave of pain passed through her, the beast shuddering as it shook its form and emerged as a young and frightened girl. Panting from exhaustion, she feebly stood on her feet while her weakened knees wobbled below. She still had to keep going - even if it killed her. As the sun rose further, she felt her time growing thinner while sweat and fever boiled beneath her skin. The heat scorched upon her skin as she pulled herself through the mountains of sand at her feet. Everything felt so alien to her – as if another world she never once thought she would see with her own eyes. Within the vast and barren desert of the Land of Wind, one does not travel unarmed and one does not travel alone.

Only fools expected to survive.

She decided she would do her best to become a fool – if that was what it took.

"I'm... not going to make it..." She uttered from her dry lips. "I'm not..."

The desert winds howled violently without end that day.

As the young girl in the ragged white kimono weakly tried to keep her pace through the sand, her fanged teeth clenched. Her fair skin was burnt by the savage sun and her exhausted lilac eyes held little hope of surviving the desert's tumultuous journey. This was a very strange land to her, the near complete opposite of her homeland in the north. Instead of snow and ice, there was sand and desolation. Instead of the cold mountain air, there was the strong heat and blinding sunlight. She was not used to it at all, her body quivering in the heat from each struggling movement. In her mind were racing thoughts, clouding her already foggy vision from the merciless desert. But she had to get away at all costs. She had to escape, even if it was the last thing she could muster from her trembling limbs. If she stayed in her village within the far snowy mountains, she would have been killed by the armor-clad invaders who stormed the tiny settlement in the darkness of the night - like most of the villagers who ignored or chastised her existence. Regardless, that place was her home. She was born there, raised there - and she nearly died there. Deep down, she knew she had to live on by any means necessary.

She had to survive.

As she eyed the endless sands around her, she thought it was pure madness if anyone dared to live in such an environment. All she knew from the desert was sand, swallowed ruins, and circling buzzards. The buzzards were approaching closer from the skies, circling above her as if she were a carrion waiting to be picked clean. Even they knew that her time was running out. On her aimless trudging through the sands, she did not see a single footprint other than her own. The winds saw to that, beating against the desert with every gust - concealing all evidence of life in their wake. Ringing through her senses was the far-off presence of many chakras congregating to a single area, as if her instincts of survival were pointing her to a direction. She felt as if a moth drawn to a flame, her senses telling her to reach it at all costs. Could it be a village, hidden away within the vast sands? If so - how was she able to sense it? Desperately, her troubled mind searched for an answer that would not come to pass.

Trudging through the dunes, her scorched feet fell weakened in her stance. After days of aimless travel, she finally succumbed to the effects of thirst and exhaustion. With a faint thud, she collapsed onto the desert sand at her worn feet. Her faded eyes could barely stay open as her breathing strained her fleeting consciousness.

…Am I… dying…?

As the desert winds swept past her straw-like golden hair, her vision began to darken.

Her last remaining strength had finally left her at last. Above, she could hear the buzzards circling once more, their black wings flapping in the unforgiving winds. Each flap grew fainter as her senses slowly failed with the approaching darkness. Was this truly the end to her short thirteen years of life? Having lost all remaining hope, she gave in to the darkness that grasped her.

...Hanone... I'm sorry...

Welcoming it with open arms from her faint glimmer of an existence…

Within only a few hours, his mission was completed.

Without a single flicker of emotion on his pale face, the stoic young boy with the crimson hair and ringed turquoise eyes crossed through the endless desert. Unmoved by its winds or the sands that danced amongst the air, he continued on his silent way over the billowing dunes. Marked forever upon his forehead was the etching of his mantra, the curse of his namesake. From the mere glimpse of the kanji on his skin, his comrades quivered as he would approach.

The demon, as they called him.

Gaara.

Once fraught with blind madness, the jinchuriki who dwelled within the desert lands had a different look to his ringed eyes. They seemed to carry a fraction of hope within them, not only pain - but understanding of the struggles he faced and outright caused to others. Slowly but surely, the boy called the 'Demon Who Loves Only Himself' was regaining the scattered humanity he lost from the childhood that he was stripped of years ago. Although Gaara was recently recruited as part of the regular troops of Sunagakure no Sato, he often did missions on his own with no backing from others, completing each assignment independently and without question. As he became more accustomed to working with the other ninja of his village as near equals, his conscience consistently worried for his comrade's safety of what lay dormant inside of him – Shukaku, the one-tailed beast. The fabled Sand Spirit, as the desert-folk called it. Every moment he approached another, he could feel its bloodlust seep through him, gnawing at his psyche in its bid to gain control. Reluctantly, he was slowly allowing those whom he worked alongside to approach closer. Against his wishes, however, two Suna ninja had accompanied him on his B-rank mission to the Land of Rivers. The Sunagakure Council insisted. Despite being in control of his own powers and mind for months, his village seldom trusted such a person.

He understood, but still resisted.

Only months ago, his young life had changed trajectory since the failed Konoha Crush mission due to an encounter with a foe of similar unique circumstance. Uzumaki Naruto, the jinchuriki of the nine-tails. He was a foil to Gaara's existence, valuing the lives of his comrades above all-else and cherishing his village that despised his very existence the same way - because he was a jinchuriki. Whereas before their battle, Gaara only sought to live for himself and kill anyone who stood in his way – allowing mania to control his thoughts and actions, much to the advantage of the unpredictable and greatly feared Shukaku. Shukaku relished in its bloodbath, its urges breaking through the cracks of his already damaged mind plagued by insomnia. As he lay on the cold forest floor that day in defeat, he knew he would never forget the look in his enemy's blue eyes as he saw him weep and pledge his life to his comrades.

Something within Gaara that day switched.

For the first time in ages, he felt his emotions swell into his chest as he saw what Naruto's eyes conveyed. Love, that was it, he thought. The dreaded word he would never admit he feared was the answer to his adversary's drive - his love to protect the ones precious to him. Just as his late uncle Yashamaru spoke to him that day as a small child, love was the only thing that could heal a wound to the heart. The wound in Gaara's heart was the reluctance to form bonds out of the fear of losing his very existence. In his deeply hidden anger and madness, he slaughtered anyone who dared cross him in order to prove his vile existence to the world. How wrong I was, he thought - startling himself from the conclusion. As he lay upon the forest floor with his face painted in his own blood, he finally realized it.

His thinking was flawed.

From that day on, he looked upon the world with a different outlook - and paid Shukaku and its murderous urges no mind. After the failed Chunin Exams, he was a completely changed person. Calm, controlled, stoic, and apologetic. Redemption was his new goal, and he strived for it with his best intentions at heart. By being in the regular troops of Sunagakure, he was edging closer to redeeming himself to his village and its people. He owed them a great debt for his previous acts of terror - and he knew he owed Konoha just as much. Desperately, he wanted to put his past behind him. The cold-blooded killer he once was still lingered in the eyes of his villagers, and he knew it would be some time until he would be accepted by his comrades as an ally – if at all. His most comforting thought was that he was no longer the feared weapon of Suna his father, the late Fourth Kazekage, created – but a young prodigy who was also the jinchuriki of Shukaku.

As he was making his way through the desert ahead of his two distant comrades, he saw a faint figure within the distance. Near buried by the sand, its figure appearing nearly white from the gleaming sun. Up above it, he saw the swirling black plumes of feathers soaring on the hot air above, circling with preying eyes. It was rare to see such buzzards gather in large numbers, but even rarer to see something attract such birds. Never before had he seen such a sight. Perplexing him, he focused ahead.

"What's that?" He asked himself, unsure of what to make of the strange sight. "Buzzards?"

It was an ominous sight. Slowly, the buzzards soared closer, their guttural calls echoing in the winds. Unrelenting, the forceful desert winds pushed against him in his paused stance, whipping his red hair against him as his ringed-eyes narrowed at what lay ahead. Curiosity getting to him, he closed his eyes and formed a single hand-sign. Swiftly, the sand around his feet swirled around him – transporting him within the infinite grains of sand. As if in an instant, he appeared before the figure from his sands' grasp. From the commotion, the buzzards guffawed and panicked, their large black wings flapping erratically in a cloud of death as they flew off into the pale skies. Their meal would have to wait for another day. Turning to examine what he saw from a distance, his eyes widened in silent shock.

A girl.

Dressed in a ragged white kimono, she lay unresponsive on the desert sands. From the unforgiving desert winds, her brittle gold hair swayed lifelessly in the brewing storm as he sensed it on the winds. Standing above her, she appeared to be dead - claimed by the desert as another unfortunate mortality. The buzzards had a knack for death, as the saying went in those lands. Kneeling down beside her partially sand-covered body, he could see a brief fluttering of her chest, her lungs desperately trying grasp the dry desert air to survive. Surprisingly, against all odds, the girl was still alive and breathing. She's alive, he thought to himself, perplexed and bewildered of the chance encounter, How?

Those who are from the Land of Wind are aware that the desert is dangerous and not for the faint of heart. Only fools traveled those lands without thinking of the consequences - and the desert claimed many fools in its eons of lifetime. Catching his curiosity, he wondered how she managed to survive for as long as she did. Although not yet dead, she was edging fairly close to joining the god of death at his table. Was she possibly from a different land?

A foreigner, he thought.

Her oddly dressed appearance made it seem as if she stepped out of the Warring States Era. Her white kimono was dirtied by the minerals seeped within the sand, its fabric torn at the edges. Her skin was too pale to be from the desert lands where he hailed, her hair too golden, and her obvious ignorance of the land only confirmed it in his mind. Suspiciously, he narrowed his eyes at her, examining her silent state of struggle. As he gazed down at her fragile defeat, he thought he seen a faint glimmer of her eyes in the blinding desert sun from her partially closed eyelids. They were of a light purple shade – reminding him of the subtle and gentle spring he heard of that lingered in the lands far east. Examining their violet hue, he could tell they held little to no evidence of consciousness, appearing near lifeless. She was moving closer to death each passing second, and her blank eyes conveyed her current state with ease and fair warning.

After a brief moment, the girl's eyes again closed as she lay injured and helpless on the dunes. Swiftly, the desert winds began to grow more violent, tossing more grains of sand onto her body. Turning towards the east, Gaara could feel a sandstorm growing in the distance. If left there, all chances of survival for the girl would disappear within the sands. Standing, he glanced at her defeat at the hands of the merciless desert – pondering his options.

Should he spare her?

As he looked down upon her, he felt his gut twist with Shukaku's chakra. The beast was stirring once more, the detection of her faint chakra exciting the monster that lay within. Seeping into his psyche, the thought of crushing her with his sand flashed through his thoughts intrusively. It had been a while since he crushed something, he could feel the beast remind him.

No, he thought – Not today.

"Gaara-sama!"

As he turned towards the call, he seen his fellow Suna ninja approaching from behind, finally catching up to him at last as their flak jackets shuffled against their chests as they ran. When the two comrades seen the girl at his feet, they froze in their path instantly. The sight of her near-dead appearance jolted them, their reactions distracting Gaara from Shukaku and its bloodthirsty urges – thankfully.

"A girl! W-Who is she?" One of the Suna ninja stammered, shocked. "What happened?"

"Could she be a spy?" The other suspiciously added. "She doesn't look like she's one of ours. A foreigner, perhaps?"

One of the ninja knelt down, placing their hand on her neck. "She has a pulse! She's alive, but just barely."

For a moment, the shinobi of Sunagakure gazed at the unconscious girl before them, their eyes narrowed in suspicion of her origin. While he examined her strange appearance, her breathing was becoming fainter as the moments passed, just holding on to life. Turning to Gaara, who was standing silently in expressionless reflection and hiding the torment that lingered behind his ringed-eyes, the Suna ninja awaited a command. No command came to pass.

"Gaara-sama, what should we do?"

Their words jolted him from his troubled daze.

Putting aside his disdain for Shukaku, Gaara glanced to his comrades first – then towards the unconscious foreigner. She appeared so helpless to him, so dire. If they abandoned her, there was no doubt in his mind that she would die.

Why should he bother to save her?

More importantly, why did he care?

Known in his homeland and throughout the great villages as 'Gaara of the Sand Waterfall', he was thought of as a shinobi who was cruel, relentless, and selfish. The eerie marking on his forehead conveyed the proof of his past mistakes, 'a demon who loves only himself'. They were wrong, he thought – and he knew it, too. Before him, as if by chance, was an opportunity to change his own thoughts of himself. It was right at his feet, her breaths growing fainter as the winds rose around them. Giving in to his gnawing conscience, he made his decision. Slowly, as if with great care, the sand underneath the strange girl surrounded and grasped her. Pushing back Shukaku's pleas in his psyche, he ignored the beast - its stirring quelling in dismay. With ginger caution, the sands began to take its time lifting her lifeless body up from the desert beneath until she was laying within a bed of endless grains. The sand's movement caught his comrades by surprise of his choice, their eyes widening as they watched the jinchuriki use his abilities for such an act.

To them, it was unheard of.

Sensing their stunned expressions, Gaara met their questioning glances with a stoic tone to his ringed-eyes. "We return to Suna." He spoke, turning towards their surprised faces. "The storm is coming, we should be on our way."

Silently, the two Sunagakure ninja nodded in agreement.

"Yes, sir!"

Carrying the unconscious girl with his sand, he walked past his comrades as the desert winds howled and drew closer. Sunagakure was still a fair journey away, making evident time was of the essence before their lives would also be at risk from the approaching sandstorm. Hesitantly, his comrades soon followed out of fear for his prowess.

"You're making a dire mistake..." Shukaku growled in his psyche. "Kill the girl, now... while you have the chance! Or else I'll do it myself!"

Paying no mind to the monster that writhed beneath his skin, he kept on.

I will do no such thing, Gaara affirmed in his thoughts, And I already told you... I'm done with meaningless killing.

Stirring with rage, Shukaku swirled in torment but turned silent. Only months after that chance encounter did his jinchuriki no longer relish in the acts of senseless violence. It were as if he were a different person - a silent, calm, and empathetic boy soon replaced the host the beast once knew. And the girl he insisted he save only steered him further from his previous path. Disappointment and resentment grew within the one-tail's heart, writhing for escape one day to prove its worth.

Soon enough, the desert horizon gave way to the village that lay beyond the sands.

Sunagakure.