A young man sat on a building as many people walked below him. Despite the tight security around Gaara, no one noticed him.
Hari was twirling a stick in his hand, humming a little tune. It had words he could not recall, but he had the vague memory of strange lyrics and how it was led by a cheerful old man.
Of course, he could not imagine that Sandaime was the one who sang the song. That old man harped and harped about the Will of Fire, but he did little to actually preserve it.
He was in a position to nurture the future generations better. He could improve the Academy System to give a better change for all children - clan or civilian - to thrive.
He could stop the entire system of child soldiers.
He had a grandfatherly demeanor, but he was still a killer underneath. A stubborn one at that too.
Well, it was hardly Hari's business. He decided a long time ago that he would rather roam the lands than ever return to Konoha.
Even if he was looking for the rest of his memories, the Uchiha Clan would never be home. His fragmented memories assured that.
He was only here because he made a promise. At least the dead, in this case, lingered for a good cause.
Rasa meant to create a weapon and was seemingly shocked at the fallout. What an idiot.
Rasa may have a brain, but theories are not facts. The fact that the man was willing to sacrifice his own child for this?
One of the worst of the worst.
Anyone who treats their kids like that deserves to have some sense beaten into them.
Hari hummed thoughtfully, before throwing the stick up and catching it. There was a warmth in his hands as the stick melded into his hands, before disappearing.
Hari had no intentions of getting involved in any wars. He was willing to help civilians, but he held no love for the shinobi system and the Hidden Villages.
If he did get involved, they might either try and kill him or drag him to join their village. Hell, if they learned what he could do, they might try and throw women at him. He would prefer body experimentation over that.
Hari shuddered at the thought.
Hari stood up and dusted off his clothes. He adjusted his fluttering cloak and he felt the air shift as he stepped into Kamui.
He had some ideas of how to screw with Rasa a bit, before taking Gaara away. Mainly just because he could.
Rasa did not survive a war and dragged his Village from the brink of collapse to deal with this.
He glared at his food with an icy glare.
His three children were not with him, which was better. The elder two were being trained to become strong shinobi. His youngest was currently hiding in his room.
Of course, his ANBU made sure Gaara would not fall asleep. If not, Rasa would deal with that annoyance again.
It was such a disappointment. Gaara was a failed experiment and a danger to the village.
Rasa clicked his tongue unhappily, but attempted to bite into his food again. He needed to eat and he already checked the food for poisons several times.
He hoped he was being delusional.
The salted meat made him gag, but he forced himself to swallow. It was the most horrendous taste ever! It tasted like rotten food, blood, and vomit. He would prefer a sandy taste over this.
Rasa signaled for one of his ANBU to check and try the food.
"Rasa-sama, it tastes normal," a quiet murmur answered him. He could hear the subtle confusion in their voice.
Rasa simply nodded, before biting the awful meat again.
He wanted to throw up. The only reason he kept eating was because Suna was already so strained for resources. If anyone caught wind that the Kazekage threw away food, there would be a riot.
Rasa kept biting the food, silently cursing the Wind Daimyo and Konoha. All his problems were their faults.
Hari, wearing his cloak, poked his head through the wall. If anyone could see him, Hari thought wryly, they might call him a ghost.
He stood back and dusted his clothes. Making Rasa seem a bit crazy was a bit fun, but Hari was far from over.
Hari gave a cheerful hum, before walking away from the man that should win #1 Worst Dad Ever.
He may not be the best prankster, but Hari held grudges very well and could be very petty. He definitely held a grudge against Rasa, on Gaara's behalf.
He would leave Rasa alive considering his promise, but that's it.
Rasa has been having a terrible week.
First, it was his clothing. Everything he wore was a few sizes too small, no matter what he wore. Even the new clothing he bought didn't fit him!
Then he woke up to his hair being glittery neon pink. Every movement of his head created a trail of glitter. Too many people gawked at him or snickered behind his back.
A henge did not work to hide it either.
Despite grilling his bodyguards, they all swore that no one approached him. It was as if it magically appeared.
They even scouted for seals, but found nothing.
Then everything he ate tasted rotten and the water he drank tasted like piss. It has been like that for a week and no one believed him! He was resigned to suffer quietly.
His chair kept alternating between being scorching hot and chillingly cold. Despite checking multiple times for burns, nothing was there. Considering the council was always hounding him, he could not move offices.
The final straw was that all his paperwork appeared to be mysteriously blank the next day. It was several days worth of paperwork… gone, just like that.
Someone was doing this to him on purpose and there would be hell to pay.
When a Council member appeared to nag him about Gaara, Rasa was at the end of his rope.
He threw the scroll at his soldiers, who nimbly caught the order in their hands.
"This is a S-rank mission. I expect results. If not, I will deal with my son myself," Rasa scowled. His head was pounding.
Rasa was the Kazekage. He was entrusted to create new techniques and use his abilities to save the village. He would do whatever it would take to fulfill his duty.
"I'll always protect you, no matter what… Gaara."
No. Karura would understand. She always understood the importance of Suna and was even willing to go along with this experiment… at the cost of her own life.
This was the shinobi life and sacrifices were something that haunted them everyday.
Hari watched Gaara. There was a deep hatred in him, but also a deep loneliness.
Loneliness could make a monster. Hatred could also be a cry for help.
Hari was very lonely as a child. He was hated and unable to understand why. Perhaps it was because he would never be good enough for the Uchiha Clan. Perhaps it was because of something he could not control.
He could feel the hands of someone bigger than him trying to strangle him. He could feel the hatred in their eyes and the fear swelling in his throat.
I don't want to die.
Rasa tried to use assassination as a tool to test a child. Of course a child would try to fight back.
Hari did the same.
When someone was lonely and full of hatred, all they craved was kindness and love. Why Rasa thought love was a weakness was beyond him.
Hari would know better than most people. He remembered the kind hands of the villagers that helped to soothe the ache in his heart and burning anger in his veins.
Hari stood in the middle of a sandstorm. A young boy with hair like dry crimson blood stood before him with distrust and hatred that threatened to swallow him whole.
The sands whipped around them and many civilians fled, screaming.
The sand tried to hurt Hari, but it could not touch him. A lot of things couldn't hurt him anymore. Gaara was afraid of getting hurt like Hari once was.
"Mother… doesn't like you," the boy said quietly.
"I know. It'll be okay, Gaara," Hari replied softly.
The roar of sand drowned out any more words.