The Sands of Time: Gaara's Story (Chapter 2)
Read Chapter One Here Read on AO3
Chapter Summary: Gaara and his siblings have surprisingly been promoted to chunin after their failed attack on The Leaf Village, but that's hardly a reason to celebrate. Gaara feels listless and sad, not knowing how to reincorporate himself back into the world he tried for years to shut himself out of. Thankfully his sister seems - at least a little - receptive to him, and with the upcoming annual Chunin Party, maybe Gaara can finally become accepted by his village. Meanwhile, the sand siblings' promotion had stirred up conflict in one of Suna's founding tribes. Will this spell trouble for The Sand Village and for Gaara? Will be finally get a friend???? (probably not) Enjoy! Words: 2126
Warnings: Sad Gaara, Rasa mention (cause he SUCKS)
Author's Notes: This took me a long time to publish because I am an idiot (no other reason).THERE ARE NO ORIGINAL CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER.
Chapter Two: Eldest Sister
The morning sun had come over the golden horizon, pushing away the shadows of the night and banishing all the desert’s nocturnal creatures back into their lairs.
Gaara, too, returned to his home upon the sun's arrival, though it wasn’t the fear of the heat that bothered him much. Being born in the desert, he was used to it now - perhaps even built for it. Rather, his retreat inside was to avoid the villagers who were beginning to stir within the streets, chatting happily amongst themselves as they went about their day; a ritual Gaara found he hadn’t much use for, and which the villagers had no use for him, either.
After his defeat in his fight against Uzumaki Naruto, Gaara found himself floating around in a listless limbo. He had seen the strength one could gain in friendship and in the sheer determination to protect others, but the concept still felt foreign and hopeless to him, like a desert mirage that could never really be touched.
With some bitterness, Gaara observed that every day that had passed since he had returned to his village from The Leaf, he had been suffering from a deep, unceasing ache in his heart. Of course, this ache had always been present in his life, but it had been lessened by his radical sense of self preservation: To kill everyone that he deemed similar to himself so that he may feel truly alive. Of course, it may have been a flawed concept, but the hatred kept him buoyant against the waves of the world’s ocean which had been desperately trying to drag him down to the darkness, into the depths, where he could be forgotten about in time.
Now with nothing to cling to, Gaara desperately needed an ally, yet the outside world didn’t change for Gaara. People still avoided him, and he was aware of the hatred in their eyes and in their voices when they were forced to interact with him.
It wasn’t as simple as saying to them, “I’ve changed, please forgive me.” People don’t forgive that easily, and that’s even without the difficult fact that some of the villagers had a personal scorn against Gaara. There were some people in the village who had suffered directly at his hands; perhaps he had injured them or someone they loved, or maybe Gaara was the reason that there would forever be a cold and empty seat at their dinner tables where a loved one used to place themselves.
Even to those who hadn’t suffered from his chaos, there were those who were wary of him out of caution. Rumors spread around the village, seeping into every crevice and home, just like the very sand that coated the land and wherever these grains landed, truth or exacerbated, they were swept up by the villagers and carried around as amulets of protection.
“If I just stay away from him, I’ll be safe!”
It wasn’t fair, but it was just the way things were in that desert, in that space and time and existence that Gaara occupied.
“Perhaps those troubles were for another time”, Gaara decided as he skulked down the vast halls of the estate, heading towards his living quarters so that he could once again take refuge in his room. He needed to think some more, to form a plan and to learn how it would be possible for him to connect to the people of his village.
Gaara turned the corner to see Temari coming down the hallway towards him. Neither of them were surprised to see each other as they had been aware of each other’s presence the entire time. Having the training of a Shinobi offered certain benefits to the five senses. A ninja could keenly interpret their surroundings outside of that of a normal person, and that was even if the ninja wasn’t a sensory type.
“Good morning, Gaara.” Temari greeted him. Her voice was polite and conjuling, with her familiar submissive lilt used specifically towards him.
Neither of Gaara’s siblings had treated him any differently since their return, mostly because Gaara hadn’t seen much of them. Typically both of them avoided him at all costs, but whilst Temari tried her best to appease him when she had to face him, Kankuro usually had the nerve to pick fights and speak his mind, but that was when they crossed paths. Gaara had been strangely excited about the prospects of encountering Kankuro in one of these interactions and to show that he could handle them differently without threatening to kill him, but Kankuro seemed to have had very similar ideas as his younger brother as he, too, had rooted himself in his room and only left for the bare necessities.
Temari passed Gaara without another word, but he had paused to watch her go. “Temari…” He offered quietly, his voice sounded rusty and dull. Temari froze midstep, her entire body ridgid as she slowly turned around to look at him.
“Yes, Gaara?” She asked, still with the politeness and still with the lilt.
“What…” Gaara started, his brain was desperately trying to grasp some form of question for her, or perhaps something of interest to say, and yet he had nothing to offer. His mind was as dry as the vast dunes outside the village. “How…are you?” He asked clumsily, aware that his question lacked any indication of curiosity. Instead, it had some sort of an estimation type quality, like the tone used to caution a guess while answering a difficult question.
“Um…Fine,” Temari cautioned, puzzled by her brother’s uncharacteristic banter. “And you, Gaara?”
“Fine…” He said slowly, unable to look up at his sister.
“Good,” Temari said, “That’s good.”
“Yes…”
The two lingered a moment longer, both itching to remove themselves from the situation but not quite knowing how. It was Temari who spoke first.
“Well, I better be going, I’m training today.”
“Yes,” Gaara agreed, “I understand.” He turned away from her and continued down the hallway, hearing as her steps also picked up. Gaara was just about at the end of the hallway when he heard his sister call out once more.
“Oh and Gaara?” He turned around to look at her, surprised to see a small smile on her face. It wasn’t one that was strained and it didn’t look forced. “If you need to talk, just let me know. I’m open to it anytime.”
With that she turned and strode away, leaving Gaara in utter speechlessness.
***
“The decision of the council is as shortsighted as it is disappointing. I had expected more from you, Joseki.” Tobacco smoke swirled around the dim room. A large, round man was sitting, cross-legged on a thickly padded cushion. His clothes were well-made, crafted with threads from far-off exotic lands, and he donned his tribe’s symbol on a beaded necklace among other trinkets. Bringing his pipe to his mouth, the man took a deep inhale, the orange glow of the tobacco embers lighting his face, of which his features were sullen and unhappy. “You have displeased me, greatly.”
“Lord Kōji, I have done all that you asked of me, but the council’s first priority is to safeguard the village.” Joseki, as old as he was, sat kneeling across from the large man. Though his shoulders were tense, his demeanor was assured. “The majority ruled.”
“The majority of the council flounders and buckles at any conflict that arises. When will the elders understand that all of their quick-fix strategies are what’s corrupting Sunagature?” Kōji growled. “My tribe has sacrificed good men and women, honorable shinobi, to this village and yet still we do not get a say in the affairs the council discusses. The Sand would be nothing without the Tsunzu tribe.”
Joseki allowed his head to bow respectfully in front of the tribe’s leader, but he frowned deeply. “Though Lord Fourth’s children acted irresponsibly during their mission in The Leaf, they are skilled shinobi…” Joseki trailed off, he thought of Gaara and scowled. “Lord Gaara is a concern, but his powers may still benefit the village, and Lord Kankuro and Lady Temari have acted honorably.”
Kōji spat out an incredulous laugh. “I will never see Rasa as Kazekage! His promotion was another ill-conceived scheme. Had Lord Third returned, he would have laughed in Rasa’s face.” Kōji coughed horsley, mumbling under his breath in disgust, “Gold dust…Pathetic.”
“I see there is nothing else for us to discuss,” Joseki concluded, his limbs shaking slightly with strain as he got to his feet. “I have done all you have asked of me. I had advocated on behalf of your concerns, but I must insist that the majority ruled when we elected to promote Lord Fourth’s children.” Joseki turned to leave the room, but stopped when Kōji spoke one more time.
“Those words,” Kōji growled, his eyes glinting like licks of fire, “are a declaration of war.”
“What do you mean?” Joseki demanded, outraged.
“You will see,” Kōji warned, “how Sunagature will thrive without the talents and hardwork of the Tsunzu tribe. Which is more valuable to you: gold dust, or water?”
***
Gaara’s room was dark. He had turned on his lights and climbed into bed to reflect, but he found even in his empty room, the brightness of the overhead light made him feel exposed; and so Gaara now lay with his thoughts in the darkness.
Though it may be like torture to the average person, Gaara was used to spending time laying idle, as sleep was not something he had the luxury of practicing. In this time of stillness, he allowed his eyes to close, his mind to ease and he crept into his own form of sleep - or perhaps meditation would’ve been a more appropriate term.
Suddenly he stirred, bolting upright as a sudden thought drove him to action. Peering at his calendar, he noted the date.
“The first of September.”
It was a date that Gaara knew of, but it had absolutely no meaning to him up until that very moment. It was the date of the annual Chunin Party; a time where newly graduated Chunin got together for the last night of irresponsible fun before becoming more serious in their careers…Or supposedly.
In reality, the annual Chunin Party was more of a popularity contest. The name was simply historical, dating back to the year where a record number of Suna ninja were promoted during the Chunin Exams, and who had decided to celebrate their collective victory with an all-night party. The story went that so many individuals were invited, that every ninja in the village had attended that first year. Now it had become an open event where ninjas of all ranks attended - and even those who weren’t ninjas at all. It was as simple as being invited and showing up for the fun.
Gaara had never gone to any of these parties before and he was suddenly allured by it, like he had been bewitched somehow. It may have been a foolish thought, but he reasoned that if he could just show up to the party, perhaps people could see that he had changed - Perhaps even he could even make a friend!
Though now he was struck by an obvious obstacle: The invitation.
Gaara had never been invited to the Chunin Party, and if he were to be honest with himself, he never really desired one up until that moment, and so just as rapidly as the idea came, it caved in on itself. Gaara reasoned that if he showed up invitation-less, they would simply allow him to waltz in out of fear, but for some reason that felt cheap and empty. If he was meant to go, the reason would be legitimate and intentional.
Sighing, Gaara stepped away from his calendar and glanced miserably around his room. “There’s just no use,” He thought as his eyes landed on his window. He could see now that the sky was beginning to darken as the day came to a close, and with a deep, sad inhale, he left his room to haunt the rapidly emptying streets of his village.
***
In the hallway Gaara encountered Temari again; her clothes dusty from her day of training. She greeted him kindly again, but this time her voice had taken on a more sincere quality than her usual lilt.
“Hello, Gaara.”
Gaara nodded at her, turning away from her almost on muscle memory but then something else took hold of him. “Temari…”
“Yes?” She was still slightly guarded, but her demeanor was more relaxed. The next sentence out of Gaara’s mouth surprised and startled both of them.
“Could I…Come to the party?”
“Oh!” Temari exclaimed, her eyes widening and Gaara could see in them her mind was reeling.
“...Oh!”