Disclaimer: Naruto is property of Kishimoto Masashi and blahdy blah blah…

A/N: “Kinenhin” is the Japanese word for “memento” Done for an LJ challenge at the lethalempathy community. Enjoy, one and all!

Kinenhin

VVVVVVVVVVV

When they were younger, they were fools.

VVVVVVVVVVV

In his mind, there was nothing to be had of love.

He had mentally reaffirmed this notion myriads of times over during the course of the years, since age six to the present day. The meaning of such a confusing emotion was lost to him, far beyond the grasps of his understanding, and because of this, he dismissed it in its entirety.

He had to. Ever since that day.

His uncle had died by his hand that night, all because he strung him along to the end, like a mindless marionette, with the false belief that he cherished the boy, held him in high esteem. How stupid. He should have just come out with it the day he was born and spared him the pain.

This is it. Please die.

He didn’t die, however. Instead, he had made a crucial, fateful conclusion. He embraced what he was, not who he was. He severed all - if any –ties with loved ones and replaced them with an obsessive, destructive, maniacal adoration of himself alone. Proof of such adoration was signed and sealed when he first succeeded in physically scarring himself, particularly on his forehead above his left eye, which, since the death of his uncle, bore a grim proclamation of his view of life.

Love…

…only yourself…

He, his worthless siblings, and his bothersome sensei continued their trek over the rotted desert and into the Fire Country for the pointless Chuunin Exams.

There are facts in this universe whose truths can never be altered. They are what they are, and they are nothing else.

Everyone knows that the grass is green.

Everyone knows that the sky is blue.

Everyone knows that to Sabaku no Gaara, love is a long forgotten concept.

But…

There is another fact that can’t be changed…

… Sabaku no Gaara would always remember his first kiss.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

What the-

Every boy, every girl, every human being residing in the Hidden Sand Village knew just who unofficially claimed the lone swing near the village’s Ninja Academy. It belonged to him.

The tiny, hunched-over bundle of flesh and cloth that sat indifferently on said swing must not have received that handy little memo.

“What are you doing?”

The figure –it looked like she was a girl- remained firmly in her spot, ears closed to the boy’s query. Gaara quickly looked her over, finding nothing familiar about the girl who kept her eyes sealed to the ground. None of his female classmates wore a red ribbon wrapped securely within her hair. Speaking of which, no one he had ever encountered in this village had pink hair. She must have been from out of town. It explained why he could not connect anything about her with his memories.

It explained why she was on his swing.

“Excuse me.”

She didn’t give any indication that she snapped out of her reverie, but she did hear him this time. With indifference to whoever spoke, she slowly tilted her head backwards and upwards until her blank, fathomless green eyes met his icy, curious gaze.

“Hmm?”

“You’re in my swing.”

“You live at the Academy?”

“Well, no.”

“Then how do you know that it’s yours?”

His brother- whom he encountered on rare occasions- always bickered about girls being nothing but trouble.

“Because no one else uses it but me.”

“…I see.”

She turned her head down to the dust that swayed over her feet with the lukewarm morning breeze. Gaara simply stood adamant in his place at her back. Didn’t she understand? No matter where she came from, even she must have heard something about him, who he was, what he could do… to her.

“Well?” she began in a low, partly shaky undertone.

“Well, what?”

“If you plan on making fun of me, or want to use my head as target practice for rocks, then make it quick, would you?”

He stared into her crouched shoulder blades with confusion in his heavy eyes. She was expecting pain? Used to it, perhaps?

“I-“

He was at a loss. What was he supposed to say? There were plenty of suggestions that echoed and resounded from the depths of his thoughts: I want you to get out. I want you to run from me, like they all do. I want you to fear me, because I don’t know how to deal with anything else but fear, because I have never seen the likes of you before, someone who looks at me, not with fury or with fear, but with…emptiness.

What came next shouldn’t have come at all.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

That made her turn around.

“You… don’t?”

Oh well, it was too late to say anything else.

“No.”

A smile.

Her smile.

She smiled…

…at him.

For the longest time in his life, Gaara forgot that the simple task of breathing was a necessity if he wanted to live.

Her smile slowly dissolved when she realized he was turning all different shades of blue.

“Hey, are you alright? You shouldn’t hold your breath like that, you could pass out.”

Gaara immediately broke his windpipes open and exhaled excessively. He couldn’t afford to pass out, not now, not ever, because that was a direct equivalent of sleeping. And that would unleash a whole different dimension of problems, so holding his breath was not a good option.

“Sorry. It’s… no one else has done that to me before.”

“What? Steal your swing?”

“Well, that and… no one’s… ever smiled at me…”

The girl pulled an expression that made him believe he had spontaneously sprouted an extra limb. Much to his relief, that wasn’t the case.

“No one?”

“Well, my uncle does, but no one else.”

“Why not?”

Gaara was more than ready to open his mouth and spill out everything this oblivious girl before him should have been informed of before he came to his village, stole his swing, talked to him…

He closed his mouth.

This was yet another record.

The first time anyone other than Yashamaru had the audacity to talk to him.

He thought thoroughly for a moment. Maybe if he let her stick around, he’d garner even more personal records.

“Well,” he began, hoping the girl wouldn’t prod for anything more than what he told her, “ I kind of scare people.”

She didn’t.

“You’re not scary.”

“…” Silence. Widened eyes. Forehead creased in bewilderment.

“Well, you look a bit weird. I just noticed you don’t have eyebrows, but you’re not that scary,” and with that, she flashed him another smile.

There it was, that breathlessness again. As quick as he could, Gaara forced some much-needed oxygen back into his lungs and, with all the effort in his being, chiseled a slight smile onto his own face.

I hope this doesn’t scare her.

Judging from her next reaction, he hadn’t done half bad.

She presented her dainty hand to him. “I’m Sakura.”

Gaara had seen Yashamaru do this a few times, when he would meet with the village elders. A handshake it was called, if his memory served him right. His uncle explained that this particular gesture signaled the existence of trust between individuals, a sense of cooperation, of…

Friendship.

Once again, he smiled, and slowly, gingerly, fitted his calloused fingers around her alabaster smooth palm.

“Gaara.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He couldn’t remember the last time- or even the first time- he had felt this carefree.

Every other day for the past six years of his existence, as he wandered without a final destination around the village, he couldn’t help but take note of the heated glares, the shaking knees, the breathy gasps, all because he was in their midst; a wolf amongst sheep.

Not this day.

Today, he could only direct his undivided attention to the shine in her eyes, the dimples on her cheeks that only appeared when she smiled, the healthy shimmer of her sleek, short hair- which he discovered in pure disbelief not minutes before was naturally pink. That was unheard of.

Today, he especially directed his attention to his hand ever in hers, always in hers.

Yashamaru would take him by the hand on few occasions, whenever he came with him to the village’s hospital, when they meandered and browsed in the market; his grip was firm as iron, unrelenting in its restraint. Keeping him away from what could harm him. Shielded. Spoiled.

His hand in Sakura’s was far more different, far more complex. Her grasp was feather light, with almost no constriction, never squeezing but still holding him. With Yashamaru, his palms would slip with sweat, and his grip would lose its potency momentarily, before reaffirming itself into a cemented lock on his fingers. With Sakura, however, his hand stayed naturally in place, clasped to hers regardless of his will, one’s palm drawn to the other in an almost magnetic bond.

There was a constant ache in his chest.

And yet…

… it didn’t feel all that bad.

In fact, Gaara didn’t seem to mind it, much to his bewilderment; it was bearable, an enjoyable pain. How such a contradiction could exist was leagues beyond his six-years young logic, but he paid it no heed. He was content to leave it be, so long as it could let his focus remain on the strange, intriguing, adorable girl at his side.

As his focus shifted back to the corner of his eye, he noticed her grin grew in length and a strained ‘Oooh!’ left her lips.

“Hey, look!” She wagged her pointer finger at a distant vendor.

“What is it?”

“Let’s get dango!”

“Dango…?”

“What? You’ve never had it?” she mused. He wondered in anxiousness if this ‘dango’ was an important centerpiece in everyone’s day that he was supposedly missing out on. He felt heat rising on his cheeks, which for some odd reason, he couldn’t attribute with the merciless desert sun.

“Here, I’ll explain,” she began with a smile. That’s her twelfth one so far. “It’s a snack dumpling made from mochi. The ones I like to get are red, white, and green ones with sugar coating and red-bean paste inside. Sounds good, huh?”

“Uh… yeah. I guess.”

“You don’t sound that excited. It’s really sweet, I promise. Let’s go!” With that exclamation, her phantom clasp on his fingers tightened and she pulled him along, around the crowd, through the hazy, euphoric smell of roasted almonds and vanilla, finally ceasing with a quick halt in front of the dango stand. The man stationing the counter seemed somewhat shaky as she peeked up at him in anticipation, Gaara noticed.

Because I’m here…

“Er, w-what can I g-get you two?”

“Two sticks of sanshoku dango, please!”

“Er, s-sure thing…” and with that, he disappeared from the counter in a cloud of dust.

“Hmm, maybe he drank too much coffee” Sakura noted offhandedly. “My dad sounds like that whenever he does. He could go on talking for hours!”

However, Gaara knew better. “Yeah… maybe.”

Not that he could tell her though.

Then she really will leave me. Then she really will fear me. Just like they all do…

“Gaara?” He was staring at no particular point on the ground beneath him. Sakura became worried.

Just like they all do…

“Hey…” She nudged his shoulder, which gently brought a close to his sudden daze.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You should sleep more. You’ve got a lot of dark circles around your eyes. My mom says if you don’t sleep, you daydream more, which isn’t good.”

“…I see.”

I should.

But I can’t…

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Since you’re here, yeah, I’m great.” He formed his second smile of the day; trying to nail it would require some practice, he imagined, but she didn’t seem to mind his amateurship that much. He noted her cheeks were turning pink. Maybe it was a bit too hot for her.

“Let’s sit down, Sakura.”

“O-okay.”

“Uh,” the cashier came back. “T-two orders of sanshoku dango!”

“That’s us! How much is it?”

A quick, quivering glance at the redhead beside her made him forget the purpose of money. “I-it’s on the house! Enjoy!” He vanished yet again.

Sakura’s stare lingered on the place he occupied moments ago. “…Huh. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go sit under that tree!” She grabbed both the plates from the counter and nudged her head towards a dried up palm tree.

With a sigh, he grunted in agreement and followed.

Because I’m here…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The dango, he found out, wasn’t half bad. It was a tad bit sweet for his liking, but it’s chewy, grainy texture made it worthwhile, and he liked it for the most part. Sakura, of course, devoured her entire stick in no time, and she needed help from Gaara to point out the splotches of mochi and red-bean paste on her cheeks and around her lips so she could wipe them off. Gaara couldn’t help but let out a snigger when she couldn’t locate one dot of red-bean paste located smack dab in the middle of her right cheek.

“The right one.”

She raised a hand up to the left side of her face.

He giggled a bit more. “Your other right.” Blushing in slight embarrassment, she redirected her hand to her right cheek. She still couldn’t find it for the life of her.

“It’s more up.” She skimmed her hand a bit too high.

Another fit of sniggers. “Too up. Go down a bit.”

“You sure there’s red-bean paste on my cheek? You’re having a bit too much fun trying to help me clean my face.” Her hand shifted downwards, but left, away from the persistent little blot of red.

He sighed while he finished chuckling. “Here.” Slightly unnerved by the fact that he didn’t have a napkin at his disposal, he opted for tugging the hem of his shawl upwards towards her fair-skinned cheek and slowly smeared the red-bean paste off.

When he was done, she noticed her whole face was about as red as the paste he just disposed of.

“You alright? You’re heating up.” He pressed his chapped hand to her burning forehead. At the touch of his palm, her face grew warmer still.

Blushing?

“U-uh, I t-think we’ve b-been in the s-s-sun a bit too l-long,” she murmured shakily.

His hand didn’t move.

Blushing… He could feel another smile creeping over his chin.

Because I’m here.

“Right.” He reluctantly slipped his fingers away from the skin of her brow and gave a misplaced strand of her cherry hair a complementary tuck behind her ear. Now, he found her face was positively glowing.

What a fun little game he had going. The pleasant ache in his chest was throbbing ecstatically.

“T-t-t-thanks… it was tickling m-my n-n-nose all m-morning.”

“Sure.” With that, he once again interlaced his small fingers with hers and away they walked.

Her hand was shaking like a puppy out in the rainstorm of the century. He pondered for a moment, wondered if this was anything like the wonderful pain that surrounded his heart.

With that thought in mind, he smiled his fourth smile of the day. Another broken record.

Because I’m here.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“Gaara-kun?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

He stared at her with widened eyes, a bit taken aback by her apology. “What for?”

“Well, um, I sort of just grabbed you from the Academy and made you come with me around the village the entire day without asking if you wanted to come. I mean, all I really know about you is your name, and that you have an uncle, but nothing else, and you probably don’t know anything about me either. I guess… I was so scared about being alone in a different village that I just grabbed you out of nowhere. I’m sorry if you didn’t want to be with m-.”

“But I did. Don’t be sorry.”

“Really?”

He shifted a bit on his side of the bench, gaze returning to the sinking sun that bathed them both in bold, rich hues of crimson and gold.

“Yeah. I… I’m alone too.”

“…Oh.” She scurried closer to him, her heart thrumming a frantic tempo in her ears. Her hand quivering slightly, pulse pumping beneath her chin, she slithered her fingers ever so gently over his. Gaara gaped at their- once more- conjoined hands and responded reflexively by rubbing his thumb tenderly over the knuckle of her little finger.

“How come?” She whispered. He could have confused her utterance with the brisk twilight breeze, her voice was so soft.

He was dreading what she wanted to ask. “How come what?”

“Why are you alone?”

“…” She’ll be scared of me if I tell her. She’ll never want to see me again, never want to hold my hand again. She’ll want to run, run, run…

Smooth one, Sakura. He probably wants to leave you alone now. He probably wants to go somewhere where he’ll never have to answer that question ever. He wants to run, run, run…

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…”

No. She won’t run. She’ll never run. Never.

“My mother died when she gave birth to me.”

A deafening silence. An ear-splitting pause.

She gasped out her response. “…what…”

“I don’t know why she did, but as long as I can remember, my father has always looked down on me because of it.”

“Your father?”

“He’s the Kazekage.”

Her viridian eyes were the size of soup bowls. “Really!”

“Yeah. And also… since the day I was born, I-” He halted. What he was about to say next would determine her fate, whether she ran or stayed, whether he was alone or had finally found solace in a close person, a companion, a friend. “I’ve been able… to control sand.” Breathlessness. This is it.

Her eyes were the same size, only now they glimmered in unrefined, pure awe. “You… can…?”

His voice was still gone. He nodded curtly.

Her eyes set themselves on the darkening sky before them, lost in deep, serious contemplation.

Here it comes.

“Show me.”

Bam! That hit him harder than a endless swarm of shuriken. Not that he would know how that felt in the first place, but still, he could reason that facing an onslaught like that couldn’t be pleasant in the least bit.

“What…?”

“Can you show me? You know, how you control sand?”

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t do anything. He lost all his senses, all his thoughts, all his vocabulary. Everything seemed to shine in a new light and he regarded them as if he had never seen them before, as if they were completely alien to him. The sun was absolutely freezing. The grass turned red. The buildings were suspended upside down from the sky. Black morphed into white. Two plus two equaled five.

“…Y-y… y-you r-…really want t-… to stay?” His voice returned in bits and pieces, his tongue readapting itself to twisting and turning with every word and letter.

“Huh?…”

With a shake of his head, his surroundings lost their eccentric ambiance. The sun resumed baking his skin. The grass that squirmed beneath his toes was green once again. The buildings and complexes in the background were firmly on the ground and would remain there until the day the desert said otherwise. White was white, black was black. And two plus two ultimately equaled four.

“I mean… do you want to stay, you know, to watch me control the sand?”

All her previous smiles paled in comparison to the one she wore before him now. All her teeth were in plain view, her dimples caved in on themselves. “Of course!”

He couldn’t recall correctly if this was his eighth or ninth returned smile of the day, but such a trivial thing didn’t matter to him anymore. Sakura was still here. That mattered.

With that train of thought chugging around his mind, Gaara ever so gently wrapped his hand around her slender wrist- he was slightly irritated that this meant her hand would no longer be on his, but he let it pass- and held it up on level with his chest, her palm facing the maroon sky. Her inquisitive, viridian eyes were locked on her wrist, as if the whole affair would be over with the simple bat of her lashes. Gaara heaved out a breathy chuckle and closed his blackened eyes.

A small lobe in his delicate brain flexed.

Sakura turned her attention away from her wrist when she felt something grainy tickling her bare shoulder. Her eyes widened to their limits as she watched the slim snake-like tendrils of sand hover and twist over the skin of her forearm, their flow beautiful and terrifying, like the entranced swaying of a specter across the rotted wood floors of a hollow, haunted house. Half-enchanted, half-anxious, she continued following the moving sand with her eyes. They slithered over the pin-straight hairs on her skin and curved majestically around the crook of her elbow. Gaara wanted to show her that such an ability could be as gentle and hypnotizing as it was harmful and deadly, as the other villagers tended to describe it. Not that Sakura was aware of that, and he certainly was in no frame of mind to tell her that any time soon. The tendrils circulated around her wrist before revolving slowly in the palm of her ivory hand. Circling, folding, unfolding… Sakura gasped in delight when the clumps of sand finished moving and hardened on her fingers.

A rose. A rose made of sand.

“So, do you like it?”

“Of course! Can I keep it, or will turn back into sand?”

“It’ll stay hard unless I command it to turn back into sand.”

“Thank you!” She gingerly placed her most precious flower on her small lap and did the unthinkable. Her arms constricted around his torso and met at his spine.

She hugged him.

That blasted breathlessness was back with a vengeance.

Not… not even Yashamaru did this for him.

Gaara witnessed other children, mostly his classmates, being held like this, embraced by their parents or loved ones in way that silently proclaimed those lucky toddlers more upheld than any priceless heirloom. They were loved.

And here he was, icy jade eyes open with no intention of shutting, her warmth seeping through the worn fabric of his shawl, through his skin, through his bones, through his blood.

She was so warm… so beautifully, painfully warm. His heart was jumping ecstatically against his ribcage, out of control, his pulse erratic. Her soft, pink tresses brushing against his neck, his ear, and his cheek and her nose digging into the hollow of his shoulder did absolutely nothing to ail his inner torment. He felt like he was dying.

Move.

It took him the better part of a minute to realize that if he didn’t return the action, then the embrace would diminish. And he refused to let that happen. Not now. Not ever.

Move.

His nervous system was still intact, but why his limbs weren’t responding to the lightning-quick messages from his brain to lift his arms, wrap them around her as hers were around his, to hold her closer and closer still was beyond him. He was mentally fuming right now.

Move, move, MOVE.

Sakura’s hold began to loosen out of confusion and Gaara’s eyes welled up in raw pain. The ache around his heart that he was learning to cherish turned torturous, lashing at his arteries, tearing his lungs apart, twisting the knots in his stomach upon themselves. He couldn’t let her go, he wouldn’t let her go. Never. Never. NEVER. Sakura needed to stay with him, he NEEDED her to.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine, mine, mine.

MINE!

The crushing impact of his oxygen-robbing embrace took Sakura completely by surprise and she could have sworn on that day, distant, inane images from her short life began to present themselves in her vision, the melting desert sunset fading into a void of nothing. Gaara couldn’t hear her trying to force the air around her back into her constricted lungs, didn’t see the tears cascading from the depths of her eyes, didn’t feel her shaking spasmodically in his clutches. His inner struggle continued onwards, senses shut off from the world his body belonged to.

Take her, claim her, annihilate anyone who comes near her, anyone who looks at her, anyone who speaks about her…

No. She’ll run. She’ll run for good.

Make her stay, chain her to you, keep her close to you and you alone. Any others who say different must DIE.

No, no, no…

Mine.

…mine…

No…

No one’s.

She belongs… only to herself…

The sand and sky around him returned in patches and fractions, his senses coming back into light with sloth-like slowness. His need to hold Sakura close was replaced with the need to breathe and his lungs contracted in and out with ragged wheezing. The muscles of his arms relaxed and retired from their rigid hold, and with that came the return of Sakura’s use of her respiratory system. She swallowed as much air as her tiny frame would allow her to gulp down and gasped, her head light and her sight rusty while Gaara’s spasm passed beneath her arms with every breath he released.

He felt the urge to cry often, but rarely indulged in physical manifestations of his emotions. There were other things that demanded his attention more than his valueless tears, like making sure he kept a good distance from others whom he endangered and watching his own back. The dam in his eyes was crumbling, chunks of its foundations falling away. Sakura noticed that his breathing was somewhat even now, but he still trembled and kept his eyes to the earth; right now, by his logic, it was a sin to even look at her. He didn’t deserve to, not after nearly suffocating her with his bare hands. Her eyes softened, almost on the verge of her own waterworks.

“Gaara…” she whispered into his rusty red hair. His shaking multiplied and he tried to burrow away from her hands on his head, from the sweetness of her breath, from the warmth of her being. Nonetheless, she kept him in place and cupped his chin in her cotton-soft fingertips. His eyes met hers when she tilted his face up to her and she felt her heart crackle like thin ice, each new splinter ready to give way to her anguish, each creaking layer another omen of the inevitable fall. She knew what he wanted, and she knew he couldn’t have it. But all the logic she possessed had been tossed out the window the moment she took his hand that very morning.

“Go ahead.” She felt the unbidden tears in his eyes as if she shared them with him.

“… I can’t.”

Her fingers- her blessed, holy fingers- cupped his round chin. She needed to coax him. He needed to let go of his turmoil.

“It’s okay. You’ll still be the Gaara I know.”

He understood. He agreed. He gave way.

The tears came before he could finish burying his face within her milky shoulder. He had never cried like this before, because he was afraid of what he would have to admit the day that he did. Emotions could get the better of Sabaku no Gaara. Information like that just couldn’t be passed along to anyone. It would only carry with it constant taunting, constant fear, and constant hurt, and that’s why he avoided it. In the midst of this evening, however, his sorrow was being hidden by the softness of her cool skin, and now that he had found his solace, his shelter from all things that lived and all things that could register his weakness, he couldn’t- Oh God, save him, he just couldn’t stop. He had never deserved this, never did, and never would. His soul had long ago reserved a one-way ticket to the bowels of the underworld, and said ticket always reaffirmed itself whenever he couldn’t hold back the need play Grim Reaper to the innocent who were not meant to die at his tiny hands, whenever he wanted to slather his fingers in the crimson sweet milk of their veins. He came to this cursed world in a demon’s birth, shared his skin with a demon’s spirit, and bore a demon’s damnation.

Long story short, he should never have sought salvation in the arms and warmth of a lowly mortal, his most precious, beloved, lowly mortal.

But he did.

And he did find salvation, as well as a long-sought sense of humanity.

The lowly mortal held the weeping demon and told him a story of an insecure little girl from the Hidden Leaf Village who had no friends back home.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“It’s not that big.” Gaara took the better part of a half-hour before he wrangled his emotions in check and lead Sakura around as they meandered through the labyrinths of back alleys and discreetly hidden markets that slumbered in silence under the tinted evening sky and awaited the economic hustle and bustle of early dawn.

“Is too. Even my dad’s said it’s a bit big. He told me I’ll grow out of it, but I don’t believe him.”

“Why are you so upset over a forehead? It’s not like your nose is big, now is it?” On that note, he gave the tip of her nose an affectionate poke with his index finger, which prompted a hearty giggle from the depths of her tummy.

“But still, it’s too big for the rest of my body.”

“Oh, stop that. It’s fine.”

Sakura would still doubt so well into her adolescent years, but in this hour of this night, she’d believe him. She offered to him that smile he never grew tired of. He responded with his own, which had significantly improved, since he had all day to practice. Something offhand resurfaced and his smile diminished as soon as it was born. Sakura didn’t fail to notice this.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you have to leave tomorrow?”

“My dad’s business meetings with the village elders ended today. I can’t stay by myself, you know.”

“Then stay with me.”

She heaved out a sad sigh at his request, truly desiring to take him up on his offer. The temptation was spread out before her mind’s eye, but circumstances blocked it all indefinitely from her grasp. She had no choice.

“I can’t, Gaara-kun.”

“Says who? Who says we have to stay in one village or another, just because someone bigger says so?” His fingers briskly clenched her upper arms and tugged her light frame nearer to him. “Please. Stay with me, Sakura.” His face found its way into her candy tresses of its own accord. “We can have fun everyday. I promise, we’ll never be alone again.”

“I-“ Sakura was at a loss. She had never encountered someone her age more stubborn than the mule she rode across the desert days before when she and her father first set out for the Hidden Sand Village. “I have family in Konoha. I can’t just run away from them all. They’ll be worried sick about me.”

Gaara’s heart tightened with realization. This was where the rift between him and Sakura become infinitely wide. She had loved ones who were awaiting her safe return, who emitted a sense of worry that stretched out even from miles away. Gaara- dangerous, demonic, monster Gaara- had no one, save for Yashamaru, but even he didn’t seem to display the same, solemn concern these “family members” harbored for their youngest fledgling. He had no one here. No one here. No one here.

The sudden light in his eyes rivaled that of the full autumn moon that treaded across the darkness of the twilight with painstaking sloth.

“Sakura! I’ve got it!”

“What is it?”

“Can I come with you to Konoha?”

“What! But, don’t you live here? They could make you a missing-nin!”

“Well really, I’m not a shinobi yet, so I can’t become a missing-nin. And… I don’t have anyone here, Sakura. I never talk to my brother and sister or my father, and everyone else hates me. I like you, Sakura. Please, can I come with you?”

Sakura gaped at the redheaded boy before her. He was willing to trail after her like a loyal lapdog just for the prospect of maintaining a possibly everlasting bond with her and her alone- the ugly duckling, out of all the people he could have chosen. And… he liked her. He said so with no trace of remorse or reluctance. It was a signed and sealed deal. All he needed was Sakura’s word.

“Well, my dad only reserved two pack mules for the trip back.” Gaara’s face fell immediately. “But, if you really want to, then come to Konoha as soon as you can. I think it’s a bit bigger than this village, but you should be able to find me.” She tugged a lock of her eccentrically colored hair for emphasis.

“I’ll come! I promise, I’ll come as soon as I can! I-“ He was cut off.

He felt a fleshy softness upon his chapped lips that heated his whole face reflexively and made him feel like he swallowed his heart whole in one gulp. He felt incredibly heavy, yet euphorically light all in the same instance, as he experienced a mix of sensations cast asunder throughout his young body. His senses were blocked once more, save for his eyesight. The crickets around him halted their sonata and the desert air temporarily lost its trademark scent of spices and smoke. He couldn’t even register the delightful emotional pangs anymore. The breathlessness was never going to end, he was sure of it.

A kiss. His first kiss. His only kiss. His favorite kiss. Sakura’s kiss. Sakura’s kiss.

I’m dreaming. No, that can’t happen. I’m dead. I died. I have to be dead.

He only noticed Sakura’s rosy lips had left his when she flashed him a toothy smile that covered most of her beet-red face.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh… w-why-why d-di…” His concept of language hadn’t fully returned yet, but Sakura easily caught his gist.

“So you’ll have a reason to look for me! Come look for me, and I promise I’ll find you, Gaara-kun!” With that, she wrapped her narrow arms around his statue-rigid form for the last time for what would be a long time. And as the breeze kicked up again, she ran past the vacant market, into a back alley, through the shadow, out of Gaara’s sight.

Feeling was slowly creeping its way through Gaara’s system, beginning in his toes and working its way up his ankles, knees, thighs, waist, stomach- which even now still felt it was trying to digest a bowling ball-, torso, fingers, wrists, elbows, shoulders, and finally his neck and head. No matter how often he had replayed the whole incident in his mind while he recovered from his numbness, it still retained a surreal ambience that perhaps he could have only otherwise discovered in dreams. Instinctively, he brought his quaking digits up to his own lips, expecting them to have melted from her touch. They were still intact, much to his relief and he allowed himself the luxury of blinking after keeping his aquamarine eyes completely open for the past five minutes.

What was this ticklishness at his throat? He certainly didn’t need to cough and he couldn’t possibly have just come down with a sore throat. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, either.

Laughter. There was laughter in his lungs.

It crept out in almost inaudible portions at first, but then came in louder bouts, more and more, further and further, until he let his dams come crashing down and drowned himself in his voiced jubilee. His genuine glee resounded off the walls of the deserted market as he sprinted home, his umpteenth smile stretching from one ear to the next. He would see Sakura once more. It was a given, a done deal, utterly impossible to deny.

In the blanket of darkness on a nearby wall, an anonymous figure watched the red-haired boy blankly. This certainly was not his day. The would-be weapon of the Hidden Sand was learning to feel, striving to be human, and that simply would not do. It was about time to open up a new door to Gaara’s perspective, permanently put the demonic little runt in his rightful place: at the hands and whims of his superiors.

Cool eyes as blue as the unreachable depths of the ocean narrowed in spite. Tonight, it would all end… one way or another.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

His suitcase was significantly light. He never possessed much, but he preferred things simple, as it made things easy to rationalize and order. It was a bit into the tainted hours of the early morning, but the darkness of nighttime still held sway, so Gaara figured he had at least a few hours until he could finally break for the world beyond the village walls and for the comfort that only Sakura’s smiles and hugs and kisses could carry. With that thought in mind, he silently crept out the window of his room and clambered up onto the roof of his uncle’s residence. He perched himself on the very edge of the roof and began his ardent vigil for the first light of day.

It didn’t last for long.

He clearly heard the phantom whoosh of the desert sand at his back and felt the ripples in his defense as the kunai kept on coming. Gaara turned his horrified eyes to the unknown assailant, who issued forward yet another barrage of kunai directly at him.

Wha… why… why me? Why me, only me!

The demon within his depths began to chuckle wickedly. Just what he needed: a little bit of blood.

At Gaara’s mental calling, the sand about him constricted itself in a merciless grip around the so-called assassin. Lifting him at his whim he sealed his open hand and his fate from that night forth.

Flex.

In the midst of the desert on that shadowed night, it rained red.

Gaara’s human state of mind reinstated itself and he found himself shaking at the knees at its return. What had he done? Who would do this to him? Why couldn’t they leave him solitude if he was so greatly despised?

Who? Why?

His fingers twitched and trembled as they frisked the fabric on his assailant’s face.

Silence. Disbelief. Shock. Anguish. Fear. Pain.

Yashamaru…!

“Impressive, Gaara-sama.” His voice sounded as gentle as it did when they last conversed days before, only now it rasped with the sting of his coming death.

Everything hurt. Everything went numb. His breath left him, completely different from the way it did in Sakura’s presence. His lungs felt like they would burst. His voice did instead as a scream of agony echoed into the tainted heavens and flew through every corner of the village. He grasped at his throbbing head. It was too much. He felt like his skin was shattering. His heart was paralyzed from the hurt that cut so deep, Gaara thought he would began hacking up his life blood any moment now. It couldn’t be. It was a lie. All a lie. All of was just another sick trick of his unstable mind.

Sakura…help me. Help me. Save me. Hide me.

There was a bandage on Yashamaru’s right ring finger. It was real. All real. His unstable mind had no hand in this cruel reality of a joke.

“W-why… Why… Why is it!” He stuttered repeatedly. “Why you…? Why…!”

Love is… care and devotion you feel for the precious ones around you.

Gaara-sama, you are my precious one around me!

“Always… You were always… Only you were my…” The tears were endless, even though he had thought they were all but spent while Sakura cradled him tenderly against her neck.

“It was an order,” Yashamaru murmured after some time.

Gaara’s drenched eyes expanded. That statement left him terribly confused and wholly enlightened all in one shot.

“By your father,” he continued. “… Kazekage-sama.”

My father…?

His stomach churned and twisted upon itself and surrendered its contents. He had never felt this painfully sick before.

“Father? Why… why would he want me dead?”

The $50 million question finally dawned. Yashamaru let a blood-tinged grin reveal itself. The demon twerp above him had laid out a trap for his own self, laid out the bait only to become the prey that fell for it. Time to lay out the final stretch of his ploy.

“You were born… to be possessed by Shukaku of the Sand… Until today, you have been watched over as an experimental subject… However you are yet unable to control the powers of the living spirit Shukaku… Before long, your existence would become a hazard to the village itself. We simply couldn’t let that happen…”

Gaara was more than aware of the maniacal spirit tucked away in the recesses of his mind. However, the fact that he was being observed and studied from afar because of this without him being any the wiser took him entirely by surprise. However, an idea of how this turn of events came about made the pain somewhat duller.

“Then… then you had no choice. It was because of Father…”

“No. You’re mistaken,” he blankly deadpanned.

What! Mistaken…?

Yes, I did receive Kazekage-sama’s orders, but… if I wanted to, I could have declined.”

No… you don’t mean…

“Gaara-sama,” Yashamaru started once more. “Deep down inside… I have always…”

Liar! You told me I was precious!. You can’t say it! Please! Please, don’t!

“… hated you, for coming into this world, taking away the life of my beloved sister.”

NO! YOU CAN’T BE LIKE THE OTHERS! YOU JUST CAN’T! YOU CAN’T!

“I tried my best to love you by regarding you as your memento… but I couldn’t. She never wished to give birth to you… She was sacrificed for the sake of this village and died cursing it…”

Mother?

“Perhaps… from that moment on, I’ve been carrying emotional scars that never healed…”

The wounds that hurt us both. The scars that littered both of our hearts.

“Your mother… gave you your name. ‘The child’s name is Gaara’: ‘A Demon That Loves Only Himself.’”

She gave me my name? But then, you can’t be right. She had to have loved me to give my own name…

Another voice as gravelly as whetstone interrupted from his insides. It spoke in a mocking, degrading tone.

You may want to pay attention to this part, kiddo. This stuff’s important, I assure you.

“Love only yourself… and fight only for yourself. She wished and believed that your existence would be eternal if you lived in this way.”

Eternal…I could last forever…

“But… she didn’t give you the name… out of concern or love for you…”

She… didn’t…!

“The name was given to you… with the hope of your eternal existence… so that her grudge may live on and be known to the world…”

No, it can’t be true. Please don’t say it! Please don’t say it! Please don’t say it!

“You were never loved!”

“LIAR!”

Gaara usually upheld a timid demeanor, so Yashamaru was slightly surprised when he lashed out at him, stubborn to cave in to the truth just yet.

“YOU LIE! I AM LOVED, NO MATTER WHAT YOU TELL ME! SAKURA-CHAN, I KNOW SHE DOES! SHE WALKED WITH ME, HELD ME, SHE EVEN KISSED ME! SHE-”

“She left you, Gaara-sama.”

It hit him like a cannonball to his gut. She… didn’t leave him. He swore she didn’t!

But she did, brat. You better face facts.

“No… she- she told me… her father and her only had two pack mules, so she told me to come on my own when I got the chance…”

“Come for her?” he inquired with twisted amusement in his dying voice. “Tell me, do you really believe that she loves you?”

“Yes! I’m sure of it! And you can’t tell me differently either!”

“Can I? If you’re so sure that she loved you, don’t you think that love would have moved her to stay with you?”

“What…?”

“She knows that you’re alone, knows you are without anyone, and claims that she holds you dear. But tell me, don’t you think that pity for your loneliness and her love for you should have made her want to ensure that you never suffered loneliness anymore? Why tell you that she had to go and ask you to go through the trouble of finding her in a place miles away from here when you were right there in front of her, hers to cherish and adore forever if she stayed? I will tell you. Because in truth, she didn’t fully love you either.”

“NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT-!”

Come look for me, and I promise I’ll find you, Gaara-kun…

Look for her…

He was right about one thing. She had told him to look for her. What if she had lied to him about where she lived? What if Sakura wasn’t her real name? What if it was all just a setup to make him believe that found a friend whom he would never see or hear or feel ever again? What if…?

He peeled his vest open and a tendril of smoke billowed up.

“This is it. Please die.”

The dunes of sand nearby shook as the vibrations of the explosion rattled against the walls of the complexes of the Hidden Sand Village.

His shield gave rise once more, granting him the protection needed to thrive on in his pathetic, gloomy life for eternity.

So that her grudge may live on and be known to the world…

Come look for me, and I promise I’ll find you Gaara-kun…

Stay with me, Sakura…

I believe my sister had always loved you…

Love…?

It’s automatic perfect defense is proof of maternal affection…

Your mother’s will remained in the sand to protect you…

It’sloveloveiscareandevotionyoufeelforthepreciousonesaroundyouyouwereneverloved

LOVE.

The demon had won. What remained of his human heart shattered into thoughtless oblivion. He no longer hurt, he no longer felt, and he certainly no longer loved. With one exception, of course…

The wisps of sand grinded against his brow, furrowing into the layers of his pale skin, their pattern exact.

They subsided at last, and Gaara relished in the feel of his own blood on his face. The warm southwestern breeze went frigid and brushed over his new scar. Even when smothered in crimson, the strokes still shone through and completed the kanji.

“Love”.

Love only yourself…

…and fight only for yourself…

The monster, the murderer, the infamous Sabaku no Gaara was born.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He relieved himself of his long reverie as patches of woodland ground passed beneath his feet. They had only about another day’s journey before the gates of the Hidden Leaf Village lay before them. There he would further reaffirm his purpose, there he would satisfy his insatiable hunger pains for blood, there he would serve his purpose as the ultimate weapon and there his village’s second coming would commence and all the world would bow at the feet of the soon-to-be infallible Hidden Sand Village.

There, he would find her, the first and last friend he ever encountered, the supposedly lonely girl with eyes that shone with a green truer than his own, the spiteful little bitch who had it coming to her in fucking spades.

There, he would find Sakura… that is, if all the personal information regarding her homeland she had told him half a lifetime ago was the truth.

When he recalled her soft kiss over the years, he would grudgingly discover bits and pieces of the sensations that he couldn’t register back then. He rediscovered that her hair smelled like raspberries, with traces of vanilla, roasted almonds, and some other sickeningly sweet scent that he couldn’t place but still drove him mad nonetheless. He also found that there had been traces of sugar on her lips from the dango she consumed hours before. He confirmed right then and there that her kiss had tasted like dango.

With a twisted attempt of a grin wryly slithering onto his face, he wondered if her blood tasted like dango as well.

He’d make sure he figured that out the moment he set his foot into Konoha territory. If he ever got around to finding her, that is. He couldn’t simply conclude that she would be there.

After all, Sabaku no Gaara was no fortune-teller.

He had no clue that he wouldn’t have to find her; all in all, they would bump into each other while he berated his idiot brother.

He had no clue that the bouts of breathlessness would be back with a ferocity that made him wish that Shukaku would only be so merciful as to let him kill himself.

He had no clue that he would combat the apparent “love of her life” in a duel to the death while the village burned behind them.

He had no clue that she would spark a fire in a loud-mouthed blondie when she stood her ground before him to protect someone precious to her.

He had no clue that the loudmouth was just like him.

He had no clue that the Hidden Leaf Village would take him in as a monster and spit him back out with a renewed sense of humanity he thought had left him years ago.

He had no clue that he and Sakura were destined to meet again many more times, to reminisce, to regret, to remember, to feel, and to draw their strength from one another once more.

There are facts in this universe whose truths can never be altered. They are what they are, and they are nothing else.

Everyone knows that the grass is green.

Everyone knows that the sky is blue.

Everyone knows that to Sabaku no Gaara, love is a long forgotten concept.

But…

There is another fact that can’t be changed…

… Sabaku no Gaara would always remember his first kiss. Along with all the others he had no clue would come after it.

VVVVVVVVVV

When they were older, they were wise.

But then, they wished that such wasn’t so.

Because they realized that when they were younger, they were fools…

…And to be a fool is pure bliss.

VVVVVVVVVV

Tsuzuku…

Phew! I’m wiped. And for those of you who made it to the end of this ridiculously long oneshot, congratulations! I’d give you a certificate if I could.

However, certificate or not, reviews are still very much appreciated. Flames are welcome if you feel that I’ve wasted your time. So what do you say you give that Submit Review button some click-click lovin’?

NOTE: I may just make a sequel to this, which is why I wrote “To Be Continued” (Tsuzuku) instead of “The End” (Owari). But that will come in due time. For now, I need a breeeeaaaaaakkk.

Happy reading!

Sayaka-sama