Chapter 1: Heedless

(READERS DESCRETION ADVISED: This fanfiction can be graphic, you have been warned. This Gaara fanfiction is specifically for Gaara not Gaara and Kankuro with Sakura (not Haruno) thanks for reading) 

Within the vast expanse of the cosmos lies a unique planet inhabited by humans who possess the extraordinary ability to harness their chakra, thereby wielding materialistic powers beyond imagination. However, among these gifted individuals are those born without such unique skills. In this world, one civilization stands out—the Land of Wind. This arid nation is nestled within miles of sprawling desert sands stretching its borders. Cradled within this formidable terrain is the capital village known as Sunagakure. It held a natural defense against potential invaders. Few foreign powers dared to confront the daunting challenges of Suna's harsh environment, with its relentless sandstorms and scarce water sources.

The very geography of Sunagakure lent itself to its security. The village was situated within a fortified valley, sheltered behind imposing solid rock cliffs. Access to the village was highly restricted, limited to a single narrow passage between two imposing cliff faces. This natural bottleneck made any ground assault an exceedingly difficult endeavor.

The architecture within the village bore the marks of its climate. Most buildings were constructed from clay or stucco, materials well-suited for keeping interiors cool amidst the relentless desert heat. Suna shinobi adhere to a distinct dress code, carefully designed for functionality and environmental adaptation. They typically wear uniforms in hues of blue or black, concealed beneath flak jackets that sport various shades of beige. These earthy tones help them seamlessly blend into the desert surroundings.

Moreover, their uniforms often include protective shoulder guards, adding an extra layer of defense against potential threats. Suna shinobi commonly don headpieces comprising a head wrap and cloth neck covers to shield themselves from the harsh desert elements.

Many practitioners of Sunagakure are skilled in Wind Release techniques, a specialization closely associated with their village. These techniques may be executed with or without the aid of fans, a signature element of their style.

In terms of philosophy, the shinobi of Sunagakure prioritize the successful completion of their missions above all else, viewing this accomplishment as paramount in their lives.  One evening, bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun, an eleven-year-old girl with hair that flowed down to her waist and eyes as crimson as rubies played joyfully outside in the sandy fields. She was surrounded by other children her age, their laughter filling the air as they chased a white ball, their tiny feet leaving imprints in the warm sand.

Their joy took an unexpected turn when the ball landed with a soft thud on the roof of a nearby building perched just out of their reach. Confusion rippled through the group, and the children tried to figure out how to retrieve their beloved plaything.

Amidst the commotion, a small boy emerged from the shadows. His dark red hair was tousled and wrapped in a tanned cotton shawl, starkly contrasting the children's colorful play clothes. His somber, insomniac eyes remained fixed on the ball lying innocently by his feet.

The other children shrank back, overcome by fear and prejudice, their faces twisted with contempt for the small, melancholic boy. In their haste to distance themselves from him, one girl accidentally bumped into Sakura.

"Sakura, stay away from him. He's a monster," a young boy cried out, his voice trembling with fear as he retreated from the scene.

"But... he's just a kid like the rest of us," Sakura replied softly, her voice tinged with confusion and compassion.

"My dad said we shouldn't talk to him because he was born to bring nothing but war and destruction," a girl sobbed, echoing the prejudices she'd heard from her family.

"I heard he killed his mother," added another child, spreading unfounded rumors with the cruel innocence of youth.

"Let's get out of here," one of the children suggested, their collective anxiety driving them to flee from the boy they feared. As they ran, leaving the boy behind, his cries of despair followed them.

"Wait! Stop! I haven't done anything wrong! I just wanted to play!"

Desperation filled the boy's voice as he reached out to his fleeing playmates, tears streaming down his cheeks. In his anguish, he summoned a massive hand made of sand, its fingers stretching towards a young boy who had almost reached safety. The sand hand snatched him, yanking him back with a force that caused another boy to bleed from his ankle. Sakura's friends barely escaped with all their limbs intact, but the little boy's heart on the rooftop lay shattered into countless pieces.

Unbeknownst to him, Sakura stood just behind Gaara as he sank to his knees, his head hung low, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of his solitude. Uncontrollable tears coursed down his young face, and he sniffled quietly, his gaze locked on the disappearing forms of the other children. His hands pressed tightly against his head as if trying to hold his fractured world together. Sensing his despair, Sakura knelt beside him, her fingers tenderly threading through his disheveled red hair. The soothing touch caused his tears to subside, and he turned to look at her, his eyes still shimmering with sadness.

"Hey, my name is Sakura. I'll play with you. What's your name?" Sakura asked gently, her touch wiping away the remnants of his tears.

"Gaara."

Just then, an adult approached hastily, urgently calling out Gaara's name. This person knelt beside Gaara, cradling him in their arms, their own tears mirroring Gaara's grief. Unaware of Sakura's presence, the adult carefully examined Gaara for any injuries, lifting his arms and tilting his chin to check for cuts or bruises. This individual had short, tousled blonde hair, dark purple eyes framed by an amiable smile, and a somewhat androgynous face.

"Don't ever do that again. You need to stop hurting other kids," the adult admonished Gaara.

Gaara pouted, his defiance showing. "Stop following me around."

"Let's go home. Your father is going to find out what you did."

With a firm yet gentle hand, the adult helped Gaara to his feet, leading him away toward the more affluent neighborhoods of the village.

Sakura observed them as they walked away, leaving her alone in the deserted field. With no one else in sight, she hurried back to her family's residence, her cheeks flushed with mixed emotions. As Sakura stepped into her home, the comforting scent of her mother's cooking enveloped her senses, welcoming her back after hours away. Sitting at the kitchen table, her father was engrossed in the latest issue of the Sunagakure newspaper, deeply immersed in the village's current affairs. His short, spiked black hair framed his composed expression, and he was dressed in long, dark grey robes that gave him an air of authority.

Her mother, however, was absent at the moment. Sakura attempted to enter the house discreetly, hoping to slip upstairs without drawing her father's attention. But as she entered, her father's keen instincts alerted him to her presence. He turned his head, his expression clouded with a frown.

"You're late. Sit down," Sakura's father, Kenjiro, stated firmly. He slid a chair across the floor with a deft kick, positioning it across from him. Sakura, aware of her lateness and not wanting to provoke further displeasure, complied wordlessly.

Sitting opposite her father, she stared at the rice bowl filled with various vegetables and meat. Kenjiro folded the newspaper, placing it in front of him. Crossing his arms, he regarded Sakura intently as she began to eat. She kept her head down, hoping to avoid potential conflict with her father.

Kenjiro's stern voice cut through the air, demanding answers. "Where were you?"

Her voice barely a whisper, Sakura responded, "I was outside playing with my friends."

A mocking laugh escaped Kenjiro's lips. "Friends? You don't have friends."

His dismissive remark stung, and Sakura decided to lie boldly, growing increasingly frustrated. "Yeah, I do. My friend Gaara and I are best friends, and we play out in the fields."

The laughter vanished from her father's face, replaced by a stern frown, as the name of the village's infamous "monster" hung heavily in the air. He warned sternly, "Gaara is dangerous. Stay away from him. If you die, I won't have anyone here to fulfill my needs."

Sakura's fists clenched in her lap, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She asked another question, trying to divert her father's attention. "Where's Mother?"

Kenjiro's smile was self-assured. "She's out shopping for my clothes. Of course, I have to look my best when I am at work."

Feeling a growing sense of discomfort, Sakura declared, "I'm done with my food."

Her father's response was swift and commanding. "You know what to do. Go to the couch."

Sakura rose from the table, her steps deliberate but filled with fear. She offered a quiet excuse, "I'm going to bed early. I'm tired."

She could hear her father's wooden chair scraping against the hard wooden flooring behind her as she walked away from the table and towards the staircase.

He grabbed her by the back of her neck as she faced away from him. Kenjiro growled, "I said go to the fucking couch."

Retaining an assertive grip on Sakura's neck, he propelled her to the living room onto the couch. Sakura's body hoisted over the sofa at a ninety-degree angle. Her knees crammed on the cushions, slumping inside the folds. Kenjiro tore her underwear into fragments. With his left hand on her neck, he withdrew his penis and fondled it. 

Kenjiro whispered in her ear, "If you're a good girl and sit still, I won't force you to clean up." 

He plowed his penis inside of her and rammed as she cried silently. His eyes enjoyed the inconsistent thumping of his torso vibrating her cheeks. 

Kenjiro slanted forward to thrust quicker. He said, "Tell me you love me. Say, "I love you, Daddy." Say it." 

Sakura cried, "I love you, Daddy." 

One final thump and fluids busted inside. Kenjiro extracted his hand, shoved her off, and observed her curl up fatally, coughing on the couch. 

Her father retreated into the bathroom, leaving Sakura alone to grapple with her emotions. She rushed upstairs, her attempts to hold back tears proving futile. Once in her room, she collapsed onto her bed; her gaze fixated on the shimmering stars outside her window. She awoke to the symphony of birdsong and the cheerful laughter of children playing outside. As the soft morning light streamed into her room, Sakura rose from her bed, feeling the gentle pull of a new day. She descended the wooden staircase, its age-old creaks familiar beneath her feet, and found her mother in the entryway, clad in her imposing Anbu uniform, meticulously packing her bag.

Sakura approached her mother with a hushed voice, "Mother..."

Her mother paused, lifting her gaze from her task, and a warm smile graced her features. Her red eyes, so striking against her raven-black hair, held a tenderness that always reassured Sakura. "Hey, sweetie. I'll be out on a mission today, so don't wait for me for dinner. I'm not sure when I'll be coming home tonight or if I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

Sakura nodded, her concern growing. "Where is Father?"

The smile faded from her mother's face, and as she closed the front door behind her, she replied hushedly, "In the kitchen."

Left alone with her father in the house, Sakura felt her heart quicken with anxiety. She feared what her father might do to her now that her mother was gone. Trying to maintain a façade of normalcy, Sakura casually made her way to the backyard Onsen, a place of comfort and solace. She gracefully disrobed on the wooden deck, her movements unhurried. Stepping into the inviting, steaming water, she hoped to cleanse her body and soothe her emotional wounds.

For fifteen minutes, Sakura immersed herself in the serenity of the outdoors, the hot water embracing her like a warm hug. She listened to the quiet rustling of the wind and the distant footsteps of passersby near her house. At times, a peculiar sensation crept over her as if someone were watching her from beyond the fence. Yet, she remained submerged, choosing to linger in the safety of the Onsen to avoid encountering her father for as long as possible.

Emerging from the tranquil pool, Sakura wrapped her robe around her body, tying it securely. She ventured into the kitchen with apprehension and curiosity, half-expecting her father to be gone. However, to her surprise, he still sat there, facing away from her, as though he had been waiting for her all along.

Sakura stood on the threshold of the kitchen, her gaze drifting past her father's shoulder to the kitchen table, which was conspicuously bare. A sense of emptiness filled the room, mirroring the void in her heart. Sighing, she quietly inquired, "Father, where's my breakfast?"

Kenjiro, without uttering a word, pulled out his chair, swiveled to face her, and settled back down with his legs spread apart. His index finger pointed insistently to the floor in front of him, a gesture that sent a heavy, sinking feeling through Sakura. She sighed again, her shoulders slumping with the resignation of knowing what to expect today, just like every other day. Sakura's shoulders sagged, and she sank to her hands and knees. Her head hung low, and in the oppressive silence of the room, she couldn't ignore the sharp, distinct sound of her father's zipper being undone.

Kenjiro smiled mischievously, "I've got your breakfast right here." 

He gently stroked the top of her soaked head as he pulled out his dick. She gazed at the flesh flexing from its miniature shape extending no more than six inches long. Kenjiro immediately scrunched her face to open her jaws. He plowed his dick all the way inside her moist throat. A single tear descended from her eye. The distress caused her reflex to bite hard. Kenjiro screeched, slamming his elbow on her head. She pulled away, crying and gasping for breath. 

"Fucking bitch!" Kenjiro cried out. With his bleeding, flaccid dick dangling out of his pants, he clasped Sakura by her hair and hauled her up the staircase. She screamed and kicked her cries and futile struggles in their home's soundproof confines. Kenjiro thrust Sakura into her bedroom with a violent shove, slamming the door shut and locking her in, sealing her within this nightmare. "Don't come out until you're ready to apologize."

Kenjiro's panicked screams echoed through the house as he rushed downstairs for the first aid kit. Meanwhile, Sakura, clutching her throbbing head, staggered to her bed, curling up in agony. Tears streamed down her face as she wept through the morning and into the afternoon, seeking solace in the oblivion of sleep.

The once-silent house burst to life as Sakura's mother returned, her mission accomplished earlier than expected. Her first instinct was to head into the kitchen and prepare a meal. As Sakura stirred from her slumber, she could hear the clinking of pans and her parents' voices drifting in from the kitchen. Her father's rage seemed directed at her, labeling her as ungrateful, and her mother's disapproval hung in the air.

Sakura listened as the argument volume escalated, accompanied by loud crashes and banging, further shattering the fragile peace of their home. The shrieking muffled the sound of Kenjiro beating his wife. 

In a hushed voice, Sakura confessed, "I can't bear this any longer." 

With resolute determination, she stepped onto her bed and pushed the window open, slipping out onto the roof of her house. Swiftly, she closed the window behind her, sealing off the chaotic sounds of her parents' argument from the outside world. Sitting there, she sang a song that echoed her loneliness, as nobody could truly understand her. She called the song "Lonely Sunagakure."

Gaara heard her voice from his house and sneaked out, traversing numerous pathways to reach her. He hid behind the gate to her house, watching her with a twinkle in his young eyes. Her long black hair swayed in the breeze as she turned her head. Her mother called for her.

"Sakura, dinner is ready!"

"I'll be right there," Sakura replied. She crawled to the roof's edge, attempting to wrap her body around the pole. A gust of wind suddenly blew her off the top. Gaara reached out, and his sand flung towards her, gently pulling her down. She landed on the ground, covered in sand.

"Are you okay?" Gaara inquired.

"Hey, Gaara. Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you for saving me."

"You didn't run away..." Gaara remarked quietly. "Usually, everyone runs away in terror..."

"I won't run away, but you can't be here. My parents won't be happy to find you here at our doorstep. I'll come by to see you later, okay? We can practice using our chakra so we can become Genin together. We can be friends."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, friends." Sakura giggled.

"Sakura!" Her mother called out.

"I've got to go, sorry!"

"Wait! Your voice... Can you sing for me next time?"

"Sure," Sakura giggled, "I have to go. Bye, Gaara."

The door closed behind her, leaving Gaara alone in her front yard. He stood there and watched the shadows by the window move. 

In the dining room, Kenjiro sat at the table, eating his dinner while diligently working on reports for the Kazekage. Hitomi had carefully served her daughter's meal, placing it on the table before Sakura arrived. As Sakura entered the room, she wore a forced smile, attempting to conceal the turmoil.

She took her seat, and a heavy silence settled over the table. Sakura ate her food in contemplative silence, her mind consumed by thoughts of Gaara. Her parents exchanged knowing glances, expecting the other to initiate a conversation with their daughter.

Sakura continued to eat, her expression pensive and resolute. She was determined not to give up on Gaara, believing he had done nothing to deserve the treatment he received from others. She needed to devise a plan to spend time with him discreetly, away from prying eyes. Her first step was locating Gaara and discussing her ideas with him, but it would be challenging.

Kenjiro gently folded his newspaper and placed it on the table beside his now-empty food bowl. Concern etched on both his and Hitomi's faces, he began to address their worries.

"Your mother and I have noticed that you've been isolating yourself ever since you met Gaara," he began, his tone carrying a mix of care and concern. "We're worried that he might be a bad influence on you. That's why we've been thinking about assigning an Anbu to look out for you during the day while we're on missions, just to keep you away from Gaara."

Sakura, her frustration growing, dropped her chopsticks onto her plate with a clatter and clenched her teeth in frustration. She vehemently protested, her voice laced with defiance, "I don't need protection from anyone, and I can handle myself just fine. Besides, you guys are the elite Anbu squad leaders assigned to the Kazekage. Who in their right mind would dare to attack me?"

Hitomi said, her tone softer but still concerned, "Okay, we won't assign an Anbu, but if anyone ever hurts you, Sakura, we'll have no choice but to take action. When that day comes, you can no longer complain about this. Do you understand?"

Her frustration palpable, Sakura sighed in reluctant agreement, muttering, "Fine."

Once she had finished her meal, she retreated upstairs to find solace. From her bedroom window, she stared outside, tears streaming down her face while playing with the flowers on the ground. Soon, she heard footsteps approaching directly in front of her. Looking up, she was met with the concerned gaze of Gaara.

Sakura gasped, her surprise evident. "What are you doing here?"

Gaara smiled, his eyes reflecting his own troubles. "I live close by, so I wanted to come by. I don't like being at home. My siblings hate me."

Curious, Sakura inquired, "Why do they hate you?"

"I'm a monster. I possess a dangerous sand spirit. That's why everyone is so afraid of me," Gaara confessed.

Without hesitation, Sakura jumped out of her window and enveloped Gaara in her comforting embrace. "You are not a monster, Gaara." 

Gaara, overwhelmed by the warmth of her kindness, clung to her, tears flowing freely. "I'm all alone and scared."

With unwavering determination, Sakura reassured him, "Not anymore, you're not."

Gaara wiped the tears from his eyes, looking at her with hope. "What do you mean?"

Sakura gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "We can meet in secret. Nobody has to know, Gaara."

A glimmer of joy sparkled in Gaara's eyes as he processed her words. "Tomorrow morning, my uncle will let me play outside on the field."

Encouragement filled Sakura's voice. "I'll meet you there, and we can play together."

Gaara's eyes shone with newfound happiness. "Really?"

Sakura nodded, confirming her promise. "Yes. Now get out of here before someone finds out you're gone."

With a bashful blush, Gaara turned to leave, knowing that his future looked brighter with her in it. He walked away, disappearing into Suna's dark, lonely streets, with hope blooming in his heart.

The following day, Gaara clutched his stuffed bear, sitting by a serene lakeside. The early morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the village as Sakura and Gaara clandestinely met at their secret spot in the sandy outskirts. It was a hidden oasis, a small, tranquil nook snuggled in the vast sea of sand dunes. Only they knew of its existence, a place where they could escape the judgmental eyes of the village and be free to play. He practiced his sand manipulation, attempting to bend the grains to his will. Sakura soon arrived, her voice a soothing melody that reached Gaara's broken heart. He turned to find her beautiful face and couldn't help but smile. "Sakura!"

"Gaara!"

As Gaara stood to greet her, the sand he'd been manipulating gently cascaded back to the earth. They embraced, their smiles radiating as if it were the most significant day of their lives. Gaara eagerly led her to witness his intricate sandcastle creations, and together, they spent their day. She crouched in the soft sand, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. With nimble fingers, she began crafting intricate sandcastles adorned with seashell-like decorations. She had a natural affinity for refined grains, easily molding them into elegant shapes. As they worked together, their laughter filled the air, blending with the whispering of the wind. Gaara carefully manipulated the sand, helping Sakura create intricate towers and bridges, his control precise and delicate.

Their morning of play seemed idyllic until a stern voice pierced the tranquility. "Gaara."

Startled, both children turned to see Gaara's uncle, Yashamaru, standing a few feet away. His ordinarily gentle eyes bore an uncharacteristic hardness.

"Uncle Yashamaru," Gaara acknowledged with a tinge of apprehension.

Yashamaru's gaze shifted from Gaara to Sakura, and his expression darkened further. "What are you doing here, Sakura?"

Sensing the tension in the air, Sakura stood up, brushing sand from her clothes. She held her head down, ready for a stern, disapproving discussion between them. 

Gaara said, "We were just playing, Uncle Yashamaru."

Yashamaru's voice remained stern. "Gaara, I've told you before. You cannot be around this girl. She is the daughter of the Anbu scout leader."

Gaara's brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "But why, Uncle? Sakura is my friend."

Yashamaru's eyes bore into Gaara's, his tone unwavering. "Gaara, you are the Kazekage's son. You carry the power of the One-Tailed Shukaku within you. You must not let your emotions cloud your judgment. With her influence, this girl could endanger us all if the two of you split."

Sakura couldn't help but feel sadness and anger at Yashamaru's words. She clenched her fists but said nothing.

Torn between his loyalty to his uncle and his friendship with Sakura, Gaara looked down at the sand beneath his feet. "I... I understand, Uncle."

Yashamaru nodded with approval. "Good. Now, Sakura, you need to go home. And Gaara, you must stay away from her. It's for your own safety."

With a heavy heart, Sakura turned to leave, her footsteps carrying her away from the secret oasis. Gaara watched her go, torn between his loyalty to his family and his bond with Sakura, his friend.

As Sakura disappeared into the distance, the morning sun cast long shadows over Gaara and his uncle, leaving him to wrestle with the complex emotions that swirled within him.

Sakura sat alone by the intricate sandcastle she had crafted in their secret recreation spot. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting sharp shadows on the shimmering grains of sand, but Sakura paid it no heed.

She lay there, her thoughts as heavy as the sand beneath her, as if the world were conspiring to keep them apart. The judgments and prejudices against Gaara were not lost on her. Despite their genuine friendship, the villagers' cruel whispers and Yashamaru's warnings weighed on her heart. She feared they might never be allowed to be together.

Tears welled up in her amber eyes, tracing salty paths down her cheeks, dampening the sand beneath her. She felt isolated as if she and Gaara were being unfairly punished for circumstances beyond their control.

A soft voice broke through her sorrow as the sun reached its peak, casting long shadows. "Sakura."

Startled, she turned to see Gaara standing there, his bright red hair illuminated by the fierce sunlight. His presence alone brought warmth to her heart.

She sat up, wiping away her tears. "Gaara..."

Gaara knelt beside her, his innocent eyes filled with a compassion that melted her worries away. Gently, he reached out and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. "Sakura, no matter what my uncle says or they all think, I will come and play with you."

Sakura's eyes met his, and a fragile smile graced her lips. "Promise?"

With a solemn nod, Gaara affirmed, "Promise."

From that day forward, Sakura and Gaara connected at their secret oasis hidden under the shade of the nearby buildings. They would steal moments together every afternoon, casting aside the world's judgments. They shared their dreams, secrets, and laughter in the company of their beloved sand creations.

Gaara showed Sakura how he had been tirelessly training to manipulate sand, bending it to his will. Under the scorching sun, he demonstrated his newfound abilities, shaping the sand into intricate forms. With a smile, Sakura playfully challenged him, "Can you make ice cream, Gaara?"

Gaara's determination shone in his eyes as he concentrated on the sand. Gradually, the sand around them shifted and transformed, creating a giant ice cream cone topped with colorful scoops of sand ice cream. Sakura's eyes widened with delight.

"Wow, Gaara! It's amazing!" She laughed, feeling the warmth of their friendship dispelling her earlier sadness.

Weeks turned into a blissful routine of play in the sand and stargazing late into the night. During these moments, Gaara and Sakura's friendship blossomed, brightening their lives in ways they could never have imagined. At the time, their families remained blissfully unaware of their secret escapades. They would often be perched on a rooftop, gazing at the stars for hours. Gaara's Uncle Yashamaru silently appeared behind them one fateful night, taken aback by the unexpected sight. He observed their interactions, his curiosity piqued.

In the stillness of the night, Gaara turned his head to gaze at Sakura, her eyes twinkling like stars in the moonlit darkness. His heart quickened as he spoke, his voice soft as a whisper, "Hey, Sakura..."

Sakura, her face reflecting an adorable softness in the moon's gentle glow, turned her head to meet his gaze. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she responded, "Yeah, Gaara..."

His question caught her off guard, the oddity of it making her blink in surprise. "What's it like to feel pain?"

Sakura hesitated, taken aback by the unexpected inquiry. "What?" she replied, her voice laced with confusion.

"I've tried to cut my skin with a Kunai Knife," Gaara continued, "but I can't seem to penetrate the sand barrier covering my body."

Sakura searched his eyes, trying to understand the depth of his question. "Pain comes in many forms, Gaara," she began, her words thoughtful. "Physical pain can be endured and healed, but emotional pain lingers, shaping who we are. You can recover from it, but it stays with you, always."

Gaara absorbed her words, his gaze fixed on her. "Can we recover from this... from this life..."

Sakura's heart ached for him. She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I hope we can have a better life together."

Just then, a disapproving voice interrupted their quiet conversation. "Gaara..."

Startled, Gaara turned to see his uncle Yashamaru standing nearby, his arms crossed. The moonlight cast a stern shadow over his features.

"Uncle Yashamaru!" Gaara exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and unease in his voice.

His uncle, clearly frustrated and disapproving of their closeness, simply stood there, arms crossed, expecting them to understand his unspoken demands.

Gaara sighed, resigned to his uncle's interference, and stood before him. "Gaara, why are you so obsessed with her?" Yashamaru finally asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Gaara felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks but firmly met his uncle's gaze. "I like spending time with her."

Yashamaru sighed, realizing the truth behind his nephew's feelings. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he followed Gaara, his voice playful. "You have a crush on her, don't you?"

Gaara, caught off guard by the directness of the question, stared at his uncle for a moment before walking away. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Yashamaru simply continued to smile knowingly as Gaara disappeared into the night.

Once Sakura returned home, she sat on her familiar rooftop, her voice carrying the weight of her melancholy as she sang her despairing songs into the night. The stars above seemed to shimmer in sympathy with her somber melody. She noticed a solitary figure walking below. Her heart lurched when she realized it was Gaara, tears glistening in the moonlight as they streamed down his face. He walked alone, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his emotions, lost in his thoughts.

Without a second thought, Sakura crawled down from her rooftop, driven by a powerful urge to reach out to him. She chased after Gaara, her voice calling his name softly but urgently, "Gaara!"

He turned to see her approaching, his eyes filled with surprise and gratitude. Sakura could see that he had been crying, his face still wet with tears. "Sakura..."

She reached out to him, a mixture of concern and compassion in her eyes. "What happened? Why are you walking alone like this?"

Gaara's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, "I was trying to give someone I had hurt medicine and apologize to them. But they... they didn't accept it. They told me to go away."

Sakura's heart ached for him as she gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Gaara."

He nodded, his gaze downcast. "I just needed some time alone."

Sakura understood the need for solitude but couldn't bear to see him so despondent. "How about we spend some time together for a little while?"

Gaara looked up at her, his eyes searching for any signs of judgment, but all he found was warmth and understanding in her gaze. He managed a faint smile and nodded in agreement.

With a determined glint in his eyes, Gaara manipulated the sand beneath them, forming a sturdy, winding staircase that led up to the roof of a nearby building. They ascended in silence, the moonlight illuminating their path.

Once they reached the rooftop, they sat together on the edge, their legs dangling over the side. Sakura was steady beside him, offering him the comfort he desperately needed. She gently touched his back, and he leaned into her reassuring touch.

"It's going to be okay, Gaara," Sakura whispered softly, her voice filled with genuine care and compassion. "Sometimes, people need time to heal, and it's not your fault if they can't accept your apology right away. What matters is that you tried."

Gaara's shoulders relaxed as he listened to her words. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope in the darkness that had often consumed him. He leaned his head against hers, finding relief in her presence.

Together, they sat in silence, taking in the serenity of the night. The world may have been unkind to them, but in that moment, they found a refuge in each other's company, a sanctuary of understanding and shared pain that gave them a sense of peace.

The moment's tranquility was abruptly shattered by the sinister whisper of metal cleaving through the air. Four deadly kunai knives, their gleaming edges reflecting the pale moonlight, were hurtling directly toward Gaara and Sakura. Gaara's instincts ignited like wildfire in a fraction of a heartbeat, and he summoned forth a protective wall of swirling sand with astonishing speed, forming a formidable barrier that deflected the deadly projectiles.

Sakura, caught off guard by the sudden threat, could only gasp in response as she witnessed the flurry of knives deflected by the sand shield. The intensity of the situation painted her face with astonishment and fear.

As their eyes darted towards the source of the attack, they beheld an enigmatic figure, a Jonin enshrouded in secrecy. The unknown assailant concealed their identity behind a fabric veil covering their face, with bandages meticulously wrapped around their head. Adorning their forehead was the unmistakable insignia of a Sunagakure shinobi. Clad in the traditional garb of a Jonin, they presented a visage of anonymity.

With a chilling aura of menace, the mysterious Jonin had conjured an arsenal of kunai knives that danced like phantoms around them, each ominously pointed directly at Gaara and Sakura. The stark, monochrome contrast of their black attire against the dark blue of their gloves only deepened the enigma.

Sheltered behind the protective screen of Gaara's sand, they sat, a perplexing tableau of confusion and apprehension. While Sakura's eyes betrayed a hint of astonishment, she was not entirely surprised that someone would dare to target the Kazekage's son. The shadows that had clouded Gaara's life were no secret, and her steadfast loyalty was his sole bastion of solace.

"What?" Gaara's voice resonated with a potent blend of incredulity and anger, his teeth grinding together in frustration as he tried to fathom the motives behind the attack. "Why me?"

Gaara hurled his sand to seize the Jonin and plowed his body against the round form on the facility's roof. His body pulverized like blood squirted blood out from all directions. The Jonin's bones crumbled under the force. His body slid to the ground and slumped over, covered in blood. Sakura stood up with Gaara and concealed herself behind him. She asked, "Who is it? Why did they attack you?"

Gaara's response was choked by the overwhelming shock of the situation. His trembling hand fumbled with the fabric obscuring his face, and as it slipped away, he drew a sharp, agonized breath. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, staining his clothes as he cried out in anguish, "Why, Yashamaru?"

Sakura gasped. "Yashamaru?" 

Blood pooled down from his lips and splattered across his face. "It was an order." Yashamaru weakly said, "By your father. Lord Kazekage" 

Gaara crumpled to his knees, burying his face in his left hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. Equally overwhelmed, Sakura sank beside him, clinging to him in an attempt to provide some solace. Through her own tears, she whispered, "Gaara... Why would the Kazekage order you to kill him?"

Yashamaru, his voice weak and blood seeping from his head wounds, replied with difficulty, "He was born and possessed by the sand spirit Shukaku." He turned his gaze towards Gaara, his words heavy and solemn. "However, Gaara, you can't control Shukaku. So you pose a threat to our village. Before any more damage is done..."

Tears streamed relentlessly down Gaara's face as he managed to smile, his voice heavy but strangely calm, "So you had no choice but to follow Father's orders."

Yashamaru, still gazing at the darkening sky, responded with an unfathomable sadness, "No, that's not it. I indeed accepted Lord Kazekage's order. But I could have turned it down if I had wanted to turn it down. You stole my sister's life when you were born. You were my late sister's legacy. However, I was not able to love you. My sister didn't choose to have you. My sister became a sacrifice for the village. My heart has borne the wounds of that moment, and it has never healed. My sister gave you that name. She said, 'This child's name is Gaara. A devil that only loves itself. Love only yourself, and fight only for your own sake. Then, you will continue to exist.' That was her wish. But she didn't name you out of love or concern. You were never loved. Please, just die."

Sakura, her heart aching for Gaara, was at a loss for words. She comprehended the immense pain he was carrying, for she, too, understood what it felt like to be an outcast and unloved.

The sand consumed Gaara, inching up from his toes to his head. His eyes, filled with a ferocious mixture of pain and anguish, briefly met Sakura's gaze. As the tears streamed from his eyes, they mixed with the blood flowing from his forehead. Overwhelmed with fear, Sakura collapsed onto the rooftop, her breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. She gingerly lifted her head, her eyes locking onto the monstrous entity before her, its malevolence strangely softened by the hint of recognition in its gaze.

Upon closer inspection, Sakura discerned the peculiar features of the beast. Its eyes, framed by the black sclera, held bright yellow irises adorned with a unique and enigmatic pattern for pupils. Within the yellow irises, an intricate design emerged — a black diamond shape encircled by four dots. Thin black stripes crisscrossed the yellow, creating an elaborate and unfamiliar pattern that seemed to convey the essence of the creature's torment.

Sakura's scrutiny revealed more secrets; the patterns adorning the beast's body were not as black as she had initially thought. Instead, they consisted of delicate blue wavy marks and dots that enveloped his entire form. Even the cat-like ears that graced his head were tinged with a subtle shade of blue on their outer edges.

A solitary tear welled in the creature's eye in this strange transformation, coursing down its monstrous cheek. The incision, an incongruous testament to the anguish that dwelled within, mirrored Sakura's own feelings of empathy and despair for the boy she had come to save.

"Gaara, let me help you!" Sakura cried out desperately.

"My mother didn't love me..." Gaara responded, his voice filled with anguish.

"No, Gaara, your mother loves you so much that she couldn't bear to see you like this," Sakura pleaded.

"Liar!" Gaara shouted.

He raised his monstrous sand hand, which had only four claw-shaped fingers, and swatted Sakura away as if she were a mere insect. Her body hurtled through the air until it collided with a nearby structure. A cloud of dust enveloped her as blood oozed from her mouth, and she bore the painful marks of claw-shaped wounds. Blood obscured her vision, but she managed to tilt her head towards the footpath, where she saw her parents rushing towards her with fearful expressions. Nearby, a male shinobi dressed in a tan vest with a headdress that concealed everything, but his eyes widened his eyes upon spotting her lifeless form. He urgently approached, baffled by the presence of this child and why she had not evacuated with the rest of the civilians.

Her head turned weakly towards him, her gaze fixed on his face. Sakura could barely move; her body weakened to the point where she couldn't speak or alter her facial expressions. Concerned, the shinobi gently lowered her body to the ground so he could better assess her injuries. Her parents finally reached the scene; their faces a mixture of shock and confusion as they tried to comprehend what had happened to their daughter. The wonder of the situation was overwhelming for all three of them.

"Why was she up there?" the male shinobi inquired.

"We left her at home, but we never expected her to come here and try to reason with Gaara," her father replied.

"She's not afraid of him?"

"No, I think she might have a crush on him," her mother admitted.

"I doubt she'd ever want to see his face again after today."

As the conversation continued around her, Sakura's focus drifted away from the voices. Her head remained turned toward where Gaara had stood, calling out for help. In her semi-conscious state, she shed tears for him. Everyone around her cried out, but she remained unresponsive.

In her mind, Sakura slowly awoke in a pitch-black space. Beneath her feet, she felt a faint layer of water. She glanced around but found no one else present. A sense of uncertainty washed over her; perhaps she had passed away. If that were the case, she reasoned, she would accept it. The thought of a life without Gaara seemed devoid of meaning. Suddenly, a menacing growl rumbled directly behind her. She turned slowly to confront the source and found herself face-to-face with the massive sand monster Shukaku.

"Shukaku, right?" Sakura inquired, her voice quivering.

In response, the beast let out a roar, the force of the sound nearly pushing her off her feet. Her long, beautiful hair was tousled by the blast of air from the creature's roar. Stumbling back, she fell into the darkness. Her body slammed onto what felt like solid ground, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself in the same dark, infinite void. She lay there, gasping for breath and turning her head, but it wasn't the sand monster she saw.

Standing before her was a tall, ethereal adult woman with a headband resting on her forehead. Her eyes were missing, replaced by hollow, obsidian voids that radiated a dark, eerie haze. The woman wore a black, short-sleeved crop top with netting underneath, revealing her midriff, and a short black skirt. More mesh adorned her legs, along with long black stockings that extended to her knees. Sakura could barely make out a strange, glowing symbol between her breasts.

"Who are you?" Sakura inquired, her voice trembling.

The woman raised her finger and pointed directly at Sakura's face. Suddenly, the water beneath her disappeared, and she was plunged into an enormous, empty ocean. Gasping for air, she struggled to breathe, but a black male shinobi, shrouded in a thick, dark haze, lifted her by the neck and began squeezing the life out of her. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she was pulled back into the same dark abyss from which she had emerged.