The sky had only just begun to pale, and the desert chill had yet to fade completely when Shira slipped silently out of his home.
He made his way to the familiar rocky training ground, only to find, to his surprise, that a small red-haired figure was already waiting there.
Gaara sat beneath a rock with his knees drawn to his chest. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up. The deep circles under his eyes always gave him a slightly weary, timid look, but a faint light flickered in his green eyes.
"You really came." Gaara spoke softly, with a barely perceptible trace of delight.
"I said I would." Shira smiled and began loosening up his arms and legs. "You're up early."
"I couldn't sleep," Gaara murmured. He said nothing more about why, but Shira understood perfectly. Shukaku's restlessness and the hostility of the entire village made every night an ordeal for the boy.
Shira asked no further questions and simply began warming up: basic stretches, jogging, and push-ups.
He deliberately slowed his pace to make sure the red-haired boy beside him could keep up. Gaara quietly copied him, his movements a little clumsy but unusually earnest.
In the desert morning, the two outcast children worked up a sweat together in silence. The only sounds in the air were the wind and their breathing, gradually falling into rhythm.
By the time they finished training, the sun had risen high.
"I should get to the Ninja Academy," Shira said, wiping away his sweat.
Gaara's eyes dimmed for an instant, and he lowered his head. "Oh."
Shira looked at how lonely he seemed and sighed inwardly. He knew Gaara was forbidden from attending school with ordinary children, and that someone had been assigned to educate him. Hmm, probably Baki? Gaara was probably taught more about controlling Shukaku and killing techniques.
"Want to come along?" Shira asked on impulse. "We can just take a look from outside."
Gaara looked up in surprise, a flash of longing in his eyes, but fear quickly replaced it. "Father... won't let me go near..."
"We'll just look from a distance. It'll be fine." Shira held out his hand.
Gaara hesitated, then cautiously took Shira's hand. The two children avoided the main roads and followed secluded paths toward the Ninja Academy in the center of the village.
The Ninja Academy's training yard was far more rudimentary than Shira had imagined: a patch of sandy ground and a few battered wooden posts, nothing more. But almost all of Sunagakure's children of school age gathered here, and the place was full of energy.
Yet when Shira appeared at the edge of the yard with Gaara, the lively atmosphere froze in an instant.
It was as though every child had been seized by the throat at once. All the laughter and roughhousing stopped abruptly.
Countless gazes turned toward them, full of undisguised fear, disgust, and rejection. Almost all of them were fixed on the red-haired boy beside Shira.
"It's... it's Gaara..."
"The monster's here! Stay away from him!"
"What's he doing here?!"
Whispers hissed like venomous snakes as the children backed away in fear, as though Gaara were the source of some plague.
Just then, a blonde girl with four braids and a boy with spiky hair hurried over.
Shira recognized them-Temari and Kankuro, Gaara's older sister and brother.
There was no trace of familial warmth on their faces, however, only tension and distance more complicated than anyone else's.
"Gaara!" Temari's voice held a note of sternness and barely perceptible fear. "You shouldn't be here. Go back!"
Kankuro glared straight at Shira, trying to redirect the blame. "Hey! Who are you? Why did you bring him here?"
Shira answered calmly, "I'm Shira, a new student here on trial. He just came to have a look."
At the same time, he was a little baffled. So Temari and Kankuro's attitude toward Gaara had already started to change by this point? Hakiro Rasa, you bastard...
"Have a look?" A tall boy who was obviously the leader of the children stepped forward with a sneer, giving Shira a contemptuous glance.
"I've heard about you, the useless merchant's son who can't use a single Ninjutsu! No wonder you hang around with a monster like that. A loser and a monster, what a perfect match!"
The vicious words came flying at him like knives. The other children joined in the laughter, as though they had found the perfect target for their frustrations. Since they didn't dare attack Gaara directly, it was much safer to attack this "loser" and the pair of them together.
"Get out of the school, loser!"
"You're not welcome here!"
Temari and Kankuro pressed their lips together without saying a word in Gaara's defense. They even stepped slightly aside, making their intention to distance themselves from him clear.
Gaara's body began to tremble, not from fear, but from anger and the stirring urge for destruction within him. Sand began gathering silently around him.
Shira tightened his grip on Gaara's hand and murmured, "Oi! Don't be rash. Look at me."
He stepped forward and put himself in front of Gaara, calmly sweeping his gaze over the hostile faces before settling on the boy leading them.
He neither shouted in anger nor shrank back in fear. Instead, he spoke in an almost indifferent tone:
"So the Ninja Academy is a place where you learn to use Ninjutsu with your mouth? Looks like I really do have a lot to 'learn,' huh."
His reaction caught everyone off guard. His composure, so unlike that of someone his age, and the sarcasm in his words brought the laughter to an abrupt halt. The leading boy flushed red and found himself at a loss for a reply.
Shira paid them no more attention. Taking Gaara by the hand, he turned around.
"Let's go."
Gaara let Shira lead him away as the sand around him slowly fell.
He looked back at the children, who were still standing there in a daze, then at the back of the boy in front of him, who was just a little taller than he was.
For the first time, someone had stood in front of him while he was being attacked from all sides.
After they left the school grounds, silence settled between them.
"I'm sorry," Gaara suddenly said in a small voice. "I dragged you into this."
"You didn't drag me into anything." Shira shook his head, his gaze growing firmer as he looked toward the distant training ground.
"They reject us because they're afraid of power they can't understand, or because they look down on potential they can't see."
He turned to Gaara. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is how strong we become."
After taking Gaara back to the lonely area where he lived, Shira returned to the training ground alone.
Rejection? Isolation?
He took a deep breath of Sunagakure's scorching air and assumed a training stance.
If anything, it had made things clearer to him. In this world, sympathy and pity meant nothing. Only absolute power could break down prejudice, protect what he wanted to protect, and let him follow the path he had chosen.
"Seven Heavens Breathing Method..." he murmured, recalling the principle of using specialized breathing to greatly enhance physical ability. "The first step is attaining the utmost lung capacity and breath control..."
He began another round of training, more focused and more frenzied than before.
Sweat dripped onto the sand and evaporated in an instant.
He knew that from today onward, his days at the Ninja Academy would not be easy. But he knew even better that those who laughed at them would one day understand-
Just how much power lay within Gaara, whom they regarded as a "monster."
And he, whom they called a "loser," would use pure Taijutsu to shake all of Sunagakure.
Gaara stood in the empty street, watching Shira disappear behind a sand dune, a strange feeling in his heart.
It wasn't the restlessness and murderous intent Shukaku brought him, but a warm feeling that made his nose sting a little. For the first time, he had someone he could call a "friend."
He hurried toward his cold, empty "home," practically running inside.
"Yashamaru! Yashamaru!" He raised his voice, unusually for him, with a barely perceptible note of excitement.
A blond young man in a light-colored ninja vest came out of the inner room. His features were gentle, and he wore his usual tender smile. "What is it, Lord Gaara? You seem a little different today."
This was Yashamaru, the younger brother of Gaara's late mother, who had been assigned to look after Gaara's daily needs and, to some extent, keep watch over him.
He was almost the only source of light and warmth in Gaara's bleak childhood.
"I..." Gaara caught his breath, his green eyes shining. "I made a friend today!"
"A friend?" Yashamaru's smile faltered slightly. A complicated emotion flashed through his eyes, so quickly it was almost impossible to notice, but it was soon concealed beneath an even deeper tenderness.
"That's wonderful! Can you tell me who your friend is, Lord Gaara?"
He crouched down to meet Gaara's eyes and listened patiently.
"His name is Shira!" Gaara struggled to put his words together, trying to clearly express an experience that was entirely new to him.
"He... he can't use Ninjutsu, and everyone at school laughs at him and calls him a loser. But, but he's different! He's not afraid of me! He even trained with me, over by those rocks!"
The child's words were a little jumbled, but Yashamaru understood. Smiling gently, he reached out and brushed the grains of sand from Gaara's red hair. "Is that so? Training together sounds like fun."
"Yeah!" Gaara nodded vigorously. "Then we went to the Ninja Academy, and those people, they called me names again, and they called him names too, but..."
He paused, recalling what had happened. "Shira stood in front of me. He wasn't afraid, and he wasn't angry. He just stood there in front of me..."
As he said this, Gaara's voice grew quiet, thick with an emotion he couldn't understand himself. The feeling of being protected was so unfamiliar to him that it made his heart tremble.
Yashamaru listened quietly, his smile still gentle, but deep in the eyes watching Gaara, a trace of profound worry and... pity silently flickered.
He knew the Lord Kazekage's attitude toward Gaara better than anyone, and he knew better than anyone how dangerous it was in this village to form any kind of "bond" with Gaara. Especially for a child who was also vulnerable and had no backing.
"He held my hand," Gaara said, raising his own hand as if he could still feel that brief warmth and strength, "and told me not to be rash."
Yashamaru reached out and gently held Gaara's small hand. "He sounds like a very brave and kind friend," he said softly.
"Yashamaru." Gaara looked up, his eyes full of a pure anticipation he had almost never felt before. "Is this what love is like? Does what Shira did mean... he loves me?"
The question was like a needle, unexpectedly piercing the softest and most painful corner of Yashamaru's heart.
He looked at the child before him, who longed for love yet was destined to be hurt by "love," and his throat tightened.
He worked to maintain his smile, his voice growing even gentler. "Yes, I think this is one kind of love. Caring about someone and wanting to protect them-that's a very precious feeling."
He couldn't extinguish the faint spark of hope that had just kindled in the child's eyes, even though he knew the flame might eventually burn Gaara himself, and even the child named Shira.
"That's great..." Gaara said softly. Unable to keep the corners of his mouth from rising, he revealed an awkward but genuine smile that truly belonged on a child's face.
He turned the name "Shira" and the brief events of the day over in his mind again and again, as though they were the sweetest spring water in the desert.
Yashamaru watched Gaara's rare smile, but his heart felt as though it were tightly bound by desert thorns.
He was happy for Gaara, but what he felt more strongly was an ominous premonition.
The Fourth Kazekage would never allow Gaara to have a "friend," such an uncertain factor. And that child named Shira, he feared...
Yashamaru pushed his thoughts aside and simply patted Gaara's head even more gently. "I'm truly very happy that you've found a friend, Lord Gaara. Now, go wash your face and get ready for a snack."
"Okay!" Gaara nodded obediently and headed into the inner room with a light step.
Yashamaru remained where he was, gazing out the window at the desert stained orange-red by the setting sun. The gentle smile gradually faded from his face, giving way to an almost inaudible sigh.
He hoped the child named Shira would be strong enough and fortunate enough. For every bit of warmth around Gaara could bring an even greater danger from the shadows.
And as for himself, burdened with a mission and shackles, it seemed all he could do was try his best to protect this brief glimmer of light before that danger arrived.