Ch. 7: The Demon is Outside
"Won't you come inside with—" Temari says to him warmly.
"No, I'll just…" His green unfocused eyes draw askance, up to the sky, "I'll wait over there, by the swing."
Temari gives an unfettered sigh, the kind she is infamous for. It seems to convey, in Kankurou's mind, what a sigh should not be able to convey. She's irritated, concerned, upset, sympathetic, and slightly put off. "Are you sure? Nobody will—"
"I'm fine, Temari." He rasps.
"Alright then." She says somewhat dejectedly.
Kankurou doesn't really get why she sounds so worried, if Gaara doesn't want to come inside the store then there's no problem. Better too he muses, people don't take very well to Gaara in the public eye.
"You ought to be more concerned for your brother." Temari snaps at him as she picks out some fruit, or vegetables, or something. They all look the same to him when they're not mixed in food. They're weird and lumpy and in his opinion should come pre-cooked, not placed in box-like things where people are supposed to pick the 'ripe' ones. They all look equally odd and un-ready if you ask him.
"What for?" he grumbles leaning against the wall as Temari's fingers press against a green lump. A lemon he thinks. "If Gaara doesn't want to come in, it's best for everyone. The people inside would freak and he doesn't want to enter; there's no necessity for concern."
She throws the green lump at his head. "You don't think do you?"
"I must think," he scowls, picking up the lump he tosses it back inside the box, "otherwise how would I make even relative sense of your stupid rants? With a nut like you for a sister, I have to think, because nothing you say means what it means."
"Everything I say means what it means, idiot; you just don't think."
"Oh really? Then do tell: why should I be concerned, sister dearest?"
Her lips twist into a scowl. They only ever use the label 'dearest' when they're annoyed with each other, as Temari hates being called as such and so does Kankurou. It's a title reserved only for malicious spite.
"No need to get foul." She mutters. She's moved on to tomatoes. Or maybe apples. "I'm just saying. You've never really paused to consider his position, have you?" No, no, they are definitely tomatoes.
"What position? And why would I need to consider it?"
"Think, Kankurou, you were given a brain for a reason." She sighs her famous sigh and drops the red tomato from her light clutch. "Haven't you ever pondered, even for a second, what it's like to be him? Have you ever bothered to think, that maybe just maybe, it's not that he doesn't want to come into these stores or restaurants with us, but he's resigned himself to the fact that everyone feels happier if he doesn't? Have you ever wondered if he thinks he's as bad as the whole damn village calls him?"
Kankurou never has liked having these conversations with Temari. When she really thinks about something and opens her voice to speak her mind, her words tend to cut through air like a knife. They seep into your skin and poison you, or maybe remove the poison; after all this time he's still not sure what exactly it is her words do. He just knows that once the words begin to swim in your system, things you hadn't known become clear. Things you probably hadn't wanted to know to begin with.
There are times he thinks this is a terrible thing, as the knowledge Temari usually departs isn't happy knowledge; but then…ignorance has never helped anyone now has it? Temari's eyes are cold, that cold that doesn't make you feel bad, but the cold that awakens you from a self-inflicted blindness.
The truth is, Kankurou has always tried hard to avoid any serious thinking about Gaara. He may do things for the boy, he might have run away from the boy, he may fear the boy, he may (maybe) love the boy, but he can't…he won't…he's never wanted to wonder about the boy. To think. Because even without thinking he's known that it can't be a positive conclusion. Temari's always been good at unmasking his secret shame.
She turns around and returns to pressing her slender fingers around the fruits – vegetables, whatever.
How must it feel?
Gaara was different now. Ever since that failed mission in Konoha, he'd been very different. More…human-like Kankurou supposes. Naturally the red-head was awkward and stumbling and had trouble being human. Gaara wasn't sure what certain sayings meant, and what phrases were jokes, and didn't understand that they could fight without really fighting. He had trouble processing the whole thing. It was like he was a baby, but one that could talk and walk and, well, had…killed people. It was strange and unusual. There were times Kankurou wondered if Gaara would kill him even now. He had always wondered and feared that before. Kankurou had always left the door unlocked when he was younger, but that had been so he could reach Temari more quickly if Gaara chose to attack her, or so Temari could reach him more quickly if Gaara chose to attack him. He'd always been terrified of Gaara, and he still was.
Less so, but the fear was still there.
Now though, Kankurou had another reason for leaving his door unlocked. He didn't want Gaara to think he didn't…care for him. Because even though Kankurou was a little scared of the boy, he did sort of…love him.
Kankurou straightens. "I'll be outside."
"Where you going?" she asks absentmindedly, frowning as some pear or apple or something apparently doesn't seem to fit her standards. The smile that seems to threaten to tug up her lips and the glint in her eye are evidence that she knows exactly where he was going.
"Oh, shut up, Temari. I'm not giving you ammunition so you can gloat or something. I'm going outside."
"Fine, fine, fine. You're such a queen, you know that?"
He scowls. "And you're a bitch, but what point is there in drudging up news like that?"
She smiles, a little one, but a smile nonetheless. "Well, isn't the world full of wonders," she says so softly it's almost a whisper. Although, he would never call ANY words slipping from his sister's mouth a whisper. Even when her voice is a tremble so low you can't hear it, it couldn't be called a whisper. Temari is incapable of whispers. "Both my brothers have a nice beating human heart."
"Now we just need to find you one." Kankurou grumbles at her as he exits the store. He isn't surprised as the apple-pear-thing she'd been scrutinizing hits him in the head.
Kankurou finds Gaara standing a few feet away from the infernal tire swing Kankurou had never much liked in his childhood. Gaara stares at his feet or maybe at the swirling sand at his feet. He looks agitated, annoyed, maybe filled with a little self-loathe. Kankurou knows enough about self-loathe to spot it when he sees it.
As Kankurou forces himself to think about his brother, he thinks the redhead must be filled with self-loathing.
A good distance away from Gaara are a gaggle of chortling children. They're whispering and gossiping, pointing at Gaara in that horror struck fear that children always seem to find so amusing, in that twisted sort of way of theirs. Kankurou's always thought children are the worst of the demons. They listen to the words and whispers of the adults and swallow only the most repugnant, only the most horrific, because those are the words they recall most. And the mantra in their head becomes so resounding that they begin to believe it. But then, there are those children, like Temari, and maybe Gaara if he hadn't been infused with the demon so early on, that are born thinking, and in thinking manage to save themselves and few others. Because they're capable enough to form their own opinions, to realize, that almost every word they hear tends to be a lie (at least in Suna). Sometimes, though, it's not so much a lie, he thinks, as an omission of truth.
Such is the case with Gaara.
They call him a demon.
Not a lie, just…not right. He harbors a demon, but that didn't make him a demon. The villagers (including himself, when he thinks about it) were at the root of his transformation to the monster they feared before the redhead had ever even become it.
"Hey, Gaara."
The redhead looks up at him, unblinking. He returns his gaze to the floor. "Did you and Temari…" the rasp in his voice isn't quite as grating as it used to be, it's almost as if Gaara is becoming used to the sound of his own voice and learning how to speak in the 'melody' (as Gaara termed it) that humans tend to. "F…Finish?" Gaara says that when he and Temari talk, it's like there is music behind their voice.
"Not quite. Temari is still busy squishing fruit. Or vegetables. Or something."
Gaara's eyes narrow briefly. He's talking to that thing again.
"Is it hard?" Kankurou asks despite his disinclinations.
Gaara frowns. "Is what…hard?" His green eyes looking up at him unblinkingly.
Kankurou sighs. "I—never mind."
There's a sadness in the redhead's eyes – there's no mistaking it; Gaara turns his head back to watching his feet. Or the sand. Or whatever. "Why do you do that?"
Kankurou looks down at his younger brother. He's confused at this question. What could Gaara mean?
"You…You start a question and then you just…stop. You do that with everyone…except Temari."
"'Cause Temari doesn't care if what I say sounds moronic." He answers without thinking. It's true. No matter how stupid his question is, Temari never looks at him like he's an idiot. She may call him one, but she never means it.
"…I don't." Gaara pauses. "Care, I mean. About how it sounds…"
Kankurou realizes he may have unintentionally insulted him. "Oh. I mean, I just thought it would be…what's the word Temari is always saying...? Insensitive! I thought it would be insensitive if I asked you about … you know…it…"
Gaara frowns. "It?"
"Sh-Shukaku."
"Ah." His eyes are calm and the sand swirling at his feet seems more meaningless than anything else. It just seems to be an intriguing design weaving in and out. "It's…difficult. He's always talking. I…ignore him as best as I can."
"Hn." Kankurou can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have something inside of him, talking all the time. When he really thinks about it, he supposes it's only natural that Gaara had become inclined to listen to the shukaku in the past, since no one else would talk to him.
The gaggle of kids seem to be trying to push one of the kids in their direction, but the child protests terribly in a blind fear. Kankurou can see Gaara's eyes tracing the children. And what Kankurou sees makes his heart break. There's no sadness or sorrow, but the resigned acceptance of a fate he's seen too many times. "I'll never be anything else will I? No matter what I do…" He rasps.
"They don't know any better." Kankurou finds himself saying. "They've been brought up on old wives' tales and don't realize that…that's all they are – tales."
"Tales shape people opinions."
"Then you just make new tales."
"How would…" Gaara began, but Kankurou was already walking over to the throng of children. He knelt down and began conversing with them. They were odd little things. He shows them a little puppet he usually carries in his pocket. They giggle and chortle as he moves it about.
"Again!" One little boy cheers.
"You see Gaara over there?"
The little boy nods fearfully. "They say he's a demon!"
Kankurou rolls his eyes. "He's just quiet. But he can do lots of fun things with his sand."
"Like what?" the smallest girl queried.
"Anything you want him to."
Kankurou is bombarded with questions. A doll. A dog. A flower. Sheez, these kids had no imagination at all.
"Can he make a playground?" The smallest girl asks quietly.
"Probably."
She fidgets. "…Will he make one if I ask him to?"
"Kaori!" the children scold her. "He'll murder you!" they hiss conspiratorially.
The girl fidgets and looks at Gaara. "Ano…"
"He won't do anything." Kankurou assures. "He's weird. But won't harm anyone."
"Kaori!" they hiss at her.
"You want to talk to him?" Kankurou asks kindly.
She swats away the hands of the children trying to pull her back and she nods timidly. Kankurou walks back to his younger brother, the little girl walking shyly behind him. The throng of children whisper ever-more vehemently.
Gaara peers at Kankurou curiously. "What are you doing?" He didn't even look at the little child hiding behind him.
The little girl, Kaori, peers from behind Kankurou at Gaara. "C-can you r-really make stuff w-with your sand…?"
Gaara's eyes go wide for a brief minute. Pure shock fills his green eyes. "A-are you talking to me?"
She nods timidly.
The sand swirling at his feet moves rapidly shaping a small sand bird. Controlling the sand he makes the little bird fly slightly around the little girl. She giggles softly playing with the sand bird. Catching it in her tiny little hands she looks at Gaara thoughtfully. "You're not so scary." She extends her hand. "I'm Kaori."
Gaara looks at the hand as if it were a foreign object.
Kankurou snickers quietly and leans in to whisper in his brother's ear. "You're supposed to shake her hand – gently. It's a way of introduction."
He frowns. "I'm supposed to…?"
"Oh, it's okay, if you don't wanna shake my hand. No adults ever do." She makes a face. "They think I'm weird."
It was the little girl's hair, Kankurou figured. It wasn't quite a normal color. A violent excessively bright violet; on second glance, he noticed her eyes were the same shocking color. Her skin was also very pale, too pale for a normal kid in Suna.
"I don't think you're…" Gaara begins. "I'm Gaara."
"I know." She chimes. "Everybody knows. They all say to stay away, but I think they're wrong. About you, I mean." Her eyes go wide in joy. "Can you make a slide?" At Gaara's confused expression, she ducks her head. "I'm sorry, am I bothering you?"
"N…No…I…" Gaara quits talking and moves the sand; it sweeps under Kaori's little feet and bounces her up. She looks a bit scared, but willing. He has the sand twist in and about as the little girl slides up and down. Kaori is soon giggling in absolute mirth and the crowd of children she'd left behind watch her in jealousy.
Soon enough Gaara is bouncing around the entire gaggle of kids in his sand slides. Kankurou sits on the floor smiling at the entire episode.
He rather likes the look in Gaara's green eyes. It's happy and still very shocked.
Kankurou notes grocery bags drop beside him and feels arms drape around his neck. "Now isn't that the cutest thing." Temari says. He can almost see the grin on her face.
"Temari!" he complains, wiggling out of her hug.
She rolls her eyes. "Weirdo."
"I think he has it hard, Temari."
"I think he does too." She smiles. "But he has a good brother like you to make it just a little less difficult. I saw the whole thing, you know."
"I didn't do much."
She shrugs. "All he needs is for someone to care."
Gaara isn't a monster. He's never been a monster. He was always just a little boy. A little boy, coerced to become the monster Suna feared from the pressures of the people themselves. There might be a demon living inside Gaara, but the true demon…
It's outside.
Living in the decrepit and gossipy souls of the Suna people.
Looking at his little brother, he thinks Temari's right.
Maybe caring is all it takes.
A/N: Woohoo! I'm back! Ahh.. I'm finally allowed to write again. (Will try harder to stay on top of work from now on...maybe.)
Oh, and Kaori means strong. Just a thought in case you wanted to know…