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Dark Soul	By : Shi_koi Category: Naruto Crossovers > General Views: 995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Stargate, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Title: Dark Soul

Series:
Story #2. Sequel to 'Sand Walker'

Fandom:
Naruto / SG-1

Author:
Shi-koi

Warnings:
Gaara-centric, violence, blood. Normal Naruto-verse stuff. Alternate
timeline – Gaara isn't the Kazekage yet. Note the 'yet'.
The writing style changes from present to past tense in places,
usually when Gaara has to interact directly to another person during
a scene, so be prepared for that. Eventually it will have chunks
from Naruto's perspective as well, but not for a long time.

Genre:
Crossover, action/adventure, mild angst.

Pairings:
None

Summary:
(Crossover) (Naruto – SG-1) Sequel to 'Sand Walker'. Set after
the fight at the Valley of the End, and before the beginning of
Naruto Shippuuden. This is one vision of Gaara's journey to be
human.

*****

Gaara
doesn't bother to return to Sunagakure. He can feel the sands
calling to him, and the weight he didn't know he held on his
shoulders had somehow lightened. Then there was the sand in his
gourd.

He
stops by the glass sphere and seals it in a scroll for
transportation. He can't help but admire it one more time before it
disappears in a swirl of smoke. It's beautiful, certainly, and a
mark of the old Gaara. This sand around him, full of Naruto's
sacrifice is a part of the new Gaara.

Gaara
walks slowly through the forest surrounding Konoha, purposely
leaving the road. His sand captures small animals along the way,
pulping them and absorbing their blood, flesh and bone. Gaara can
sense the sand's excitement and anticipation, and he's reminded of a
young child let out to play.

When
the sand is sated for the time being, Gaara summons his sand shield
and transports himself to his desert, savoring the familiarity and
presence he can feel in each grain.

Gaara's
wired for adventure though, and after only a few moments he's gone
again, on another world, one he loves almost as much as his own.

Gaara
likes this desert, it's long and wide and he can travel for weeks
before hitting the oceans on either side, but it's not
overwhelmingly vast. Gaara's been to a few planets which are made up
completely of sand and rock and dirt and dust, most of which are
devoid of life. They aren't fun.

Gaara
follows a caravan as it meanders across the shifting sands, floating
by on a cloud of his new sand. He can hardly hold back the sand's
impulse to dive, roll and speed by, although Gaara himself knows
that part of the problem is that the sand is picking up on long
sublimated desires to act like a child.

Instead,
Gaara settles for a few swoops when he knows he's out of visual
range. His more sedate flight is saved for when he nears the
caravan.

There
are around forty camels with their cargo walking along, and a few of
them are pulling large sled-type structures with families sitting on
them, mostly with women, young children and a few elderly people. It
looks like an entire family and all their relatives are relocating.
Gaara is curious. He hasn't seen something like this before and he
comes down close, skimming a few feet above the sand by one of the
sleds.

There
are shouts, calls, shrieks and even a few screams when he nears, but
the children are mostly unafraid. The smallest ones babble
excitedly, trying to touch his sand, but their mothers are holding
them tight.

The
caravan stops to watch. One girl, no more than four or five manages
to catch a hold on a stray wisp of his sand, and Gaara cranes his
head down to stare unblinking at her. She's as cute as a button,
with wide black eyes and chocolate-coloured skin. Her head is
covered but a few wisps of curly black hair peek out from the sides
of the cloth. Her mother stares at him in fear, trying to hold her
daughter back, but she's touched the sand, and now it wants to play.

A
long curling tentacle of sand unfurls itself from Gaara gourd and
wraps itself around the girl, lifting her from her shrieking
mother's arms. Another male holds her and tries to quieten the
crying woman. Gaara turns away, watching the girl.

The
sand has folded itself beneath her and raised her on her own cushion
to Gaara's level and she's ecstatic. She is fearless as she reaches
out to touch his blood-red hair and her fingers linger on the
crimson tattoo on the left side of Gaara's forehead. She doesn't
know that Gaara's had it since he was six, that it was scribed there
in sand and chakra as his uncle lay dead before him or that it says
'Love' in Gaara's own language, but right now, Gaara doesn't care.

The
girl seems amazed at his pale skin and by his green eyes. Her
fingers trace the coal-dark skin around his eyes, as black and heavy
as Kohl, except that it doesn't rub off on her fingers.

Gaara's
not used to pure childish curiosity, nor to the fearlessness she
displays despite the reactions of the others in her caravan. There's
a lump in his throat, and he doesn't know quite how to react.

Gaara
gets the sudden urge to be playful, and he tells the sand to gather
them up, giving the girl the ride of her life above the caravan. He
stays well within visual distance of the caravan, but the reward of
the girl's clapping and high-pitched bubbling laughter gives him the
warmest feeling he's ever experienced in his short life.

When
she opens her arms Gaara gathers her up and the sand lowers them to
the solid flat sand beneath them. When Gaara takes her back to her
mother there's relief and awe in her eyes, although the girl cries
when Gaara steps back. It isn't hard for Gaara to summon some of his
special sand to him and in front of the girl he crafts a small
necklace with a glittering, perfect, red diamond in the
center of a thin smooth gold strand. They don't know it, but it's
unbreakable, molded, shaped and preserved with Gaara's chakra. The
diamond is one he's made himself, and when a jeweler checks it a few
weeks down the line, they will be stunned at the purity and
perfection of the gem.

There
will never be another red diamond on this world.

But
for now, the girl is happy. The sand carries the necklace to the
girl and loops the chain around her neck, and Gaara can't help but
wonder how things would have been if he'd been that cared for as a
child. The girl lifts the gem and babbles happily to her mother,
pointing at the gem then at Gaara's hair before hugging the gift
towards her.

Gaara
takes flight again, hovering close to the caravan train. There is
reverence on many of the faces below and only a few of them are
openly fearful. Gaara wonders if he should cut his losses and run,
but he doesn't want to leave, not really.

The
girl, sitting in her mother's lap, waves at him exuberantly as he
passes by on another lap of the caravan.

Gaara
waves back. Just. Barely. Hardly more than a quick flick of his
fingers, but she sees it and her smile widens, showing off gleaming
white teeth. The other children are congregating next to her, giving
her looks of amazement. Gaara snorts. She's holding her own little
court.

The
caravan makes good time across the desert, and they settle down a
scant hour before dusk. They set things up with the ease of long
habit, arranging tents and campfires in less time than the average
traveler.

The
children, buoyed by the girl's success, clamor for Gaara's
attention, calling up to him in his perch in the darkening sky.
Gaara finds himself liking the attention, free of hateful glances
and bitter words. These children are open and honest about their
interest and there's no malice in their eyes or voices.

The
sand gently lowers Gaara to the children, and within minutes he has
them staring rapt as he creates sand animals and shows them playing.
Small sand dogs run in circles chasing their tails as the children
clap, little squirrels chatter with each other and dart up the
children's backs to sit on small shoulders amidst laughter and
tentative strokes against faux-sand skin.

Soon
a large area is made up of many creatures, including horses, lions
and even the odd mammoth-sized bird. The children takes turn riding
them, chittering sounds of glee coming from them in steady stream.

When
they start to tire, and the scent of their supper is heavy on the
rapidly cooling air, Gaara creates a small statue of their favourite
creature, no larger than the palm of hand, firing them with his
chakra. They 'Oooh' and 'Aaah' at the display,
cradling the small animals carefully in their hands when Gaara's
finished. He watches with his arms crossed over his chest when they
run back to their parents, proudly showing off their prizes.

The
mother of the first girl tentatively offers a bowl of the thick stew
cooked on the fires and a plate with thickly cut warm bread. She
gives Gaara a small but sincere smile when he accepts the offering,
and he eats quietly and quickly, pretending not to notice the relief
on the adult faces around the camp.

The
younger members of the caravan whine and plead with their parents
about having to go to bed, and Gaara has to hide the unintentional
quirk of his lips. Once the children are tucked away in bed Gaara
listens unabashedly to the older members of the caravan as they talk
around the fires and he hears himself mentioned. He's the only
person near with red hair, and who 'walks in the air on a path of
sand' so he's fairly certain they mean him.

They
talk in hushed tones of their journey, and Gaara can hear the fear,
this time not because of him. Grazing grounds have become sparse and
this family – he was right – are relocating to another
village closer to a large oasis, quite near to the city he'd visited
last trip. They talk of bandits who've been plaguing trade lines and
killing all of the non-valuable members of the caravans they attack.

Their
plans for defending the train of camels is crude and too easy to
disrupt, but then again, they haven't had anywhere near the amount
of war or battle training that Gaara has had. They are
desperate, and their plans show it. If they were attacked, Gaara
estimates that against a force of only ten men they'd lose nine out
of every ten men, and the rest would probably be killed shortly
after.

Gaara
wouldn't normally have cared, but he can't seem to put the girl's
smile out of his mind, nor the looks of simple happiness and
acceptance on the faces of the rest of the caravan's children. When
he tries to imagine how he'd feel if they were killed he is
surprised at the intensity of the pain which grips his chest. His
heart.

The
rest of the caravan, barring six sentries are asleep within the
hour, and Gaara settles on a bed of sand nearly a mile above the
camp. He would never admit it, but he's also keeping a lookout. He
uses his third eye to watch the camp for him and he places a
genjutsu around himself and his sand so he can't be seen.

The
next morning there is a lot of shouting from the children, who are
disappointed by Gaara's disappearance. A few of the elders quiet
them by telling them stories, many of which bear a character
resembling Gaara himself. Most of them Gaara's heard before through
previous eavesdropping on other travelers, but this time the stories
are changed slightly to accommodate Gaara.

It
seems that, since they don't know Gaara's name, or his origin, that
they are content to speculate through traditional folktales and
word-of-mouth equivalents of fairy tales. Gaara's heard mention of
him in relation to a God who was formed of the sand, who guards the
shifting golden plains and who punishes wrongdoers. Others speak of
him as a Demon who roams the sands, killing those who forget who
rules the earthy sands.

The
old man who tells most of the stories makes sure there's a clear
moral to each fable, teaching desert savvy as well as ensuring that
these children – who will one day grow up to be desert
dwellers – remember the harshness of the desert.

Gaara
listens quietly, if nothing else, the tales are entertaining. There
was a time once when Yashamaru did the same for him, telling tall
tales of distant lands and amazing creatures which fought and died.

Then
Gaara found himself one of them. A creature. He wondered sometimes
what happened to the forest he and Naruto decimated in their first
fight. Gaara had released Shukaku and his true form was over a
hundred and thirty feet tall, not including the size of his tail,
held like a scorpion for half the fight.

Naruto
had managed to summon the Toad Boss Gamabunta, who almost matched
Shukaku in the height department, but when he and Naruto jointly
transformed into the guise of the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox, the damage
from the two forms combined was utterly incomprehensible.

At
one point the transformed Gamabunta had uprooted a sixty foot tree
and waved it around with one tail, throwing it as a ninja might
throw a kunai blade at Shukaku and Gaara.

In
the end, Naruto had beaten him. He can still remember Naruto's
words. They were what changed his life.

“Don't
get near me!” It was the first time he'd been defeated.
For the first time in years, Gaara'd felt terrified. Vulnerable.
Helpless.

Naruto
had seemed so sad when he'd dragged himself towards Gaara,
determined to save his friends. “The pain of being
alone...is completely out of this world, isn't it? Being
alone...being incomplete. What you must feel. What your pain must
be, I don't know why...but I understand your feeling so much, it
actually hurts. But I... I have people who are important to me now.
I won't let you hurt my important people. If you do...I'll stop you,
even if I have to kill you!”

Gaara
hadn't been able to move. His whole body was empty of energy, of
stamina and chakra. “Why... Why can you do this for other
people?”

Then,
in those blue, blue eyes, he'd seen himself reflected. “My
loneliness... That hell... They saved me from it, and they
acknowledged my existence. They're important to me... That's why. “

He'd
remembered Yashamaru then, remembered and felt...drained. Love
wasn't real, was it? “Love is the spirit of devoting
yourself to someone important and close to you. It is expressed by
caring for and protecting that person.”Naruto had beaten
him. This kid he'd dismissed since he'd first laid eyes on him, this
kid he'd thought was a weakling loudmouth...had defeated him, had
fought through his terror to save his friends. Love... Is that
why he's strong? A maelstrom...is that what you are, Naruto?

That
had been Gaara's turning point.

No
matter how many times Naruto had been put down, beaten and thrown
aside, he'd still pushed himself upright, still forced himself to
fight until he had nothing left to give.

Naruto
had shown his true strength; and it had been more than Gaara's.

When
Gaara turns his focus back to the caravan below, he finds them
beginning to move. The low braying of the camels and multi-toned
babble of the children is interspersed with the crying of a few very
young babies and loud shouts from the men as they call back and
forth down the long line of animals.

This
day's travel is the same as the day before, and the day before that.
Gaara keeps vigil above their heads, still invisible to their eyes
thanks to the genjutsu still wrapped around him.

The
sand is getting jittery and is craving blood. It's not feeling as
vicious as Gaara's last gourd and Gaara is starting to think that
more than just Naruto's power and Chakra was mixed in with his blood
offering.

When
the caravan stops at mid-day for a quick meal and to water the
animals, Gaara eats a food pill of his own creation. The usual ones
can keep a man going for three days and three nights by boosting his
chakra and providing a dense dose of much needed nutrients, minerals
and proteins. Gaara's focus is more on keeping his stamina high and
his belly sated. Gaara's food pills can last a person for over a
week.

The
chakra boost isn't needed and he has specially crafted soldier pills
for that. His food pills are useful for times like this, when he
needs food, but doesn't want to spare time to cook. Or to draw
attention to himself.

Gaara
uses the time while the caravan is moving to slowly convert more
sand into his own. He has a seal he can use to warp space in his
gourd to allow many times it's own capacity to be stored inside it,
but first he has to create the sand, then bond it to the seal first
before applying it in blood to his gourd.

The
seal is a fairly new one, and one of the reasons why he wasn't as
worried as he should have been when his gourd was destroyed. The
sand before was old, and very stubborn. It wouldn't have liked
having a sudden influx of new sand inside with it, unlike his
summoned sand, which disappeared back onto a separate plane of
existence and never needed feeding, or chakra.

The
more chakra Gaara gave to the sand, the more sentient it became. Or
rather, the more of Shukaku's personality and desires leaked
through. It didn't have any of Shukaku's actual self in it, but
rather an unstable mix of both Gaara and Shukaku.

It
was also completely loyal to Gaara, having bonded with him when he
was still in his mother's womb.

Each
grain of sand that Gaara converts is imprinted with a minuscule
amount of chakra before being sent back to mingle with the rest of
the sand in the desert. Gaara has this down to a fine art and can
convert any sand in a two mile radius in a steady stream simply by
applying his chakra in a constant vein beneath the surface of the
sands.

Once
the sand is imprinted Gaara will sift through it for grains strong
with mineral deposits and those with weak deposits. He can
pressurise the sand into exactly the type he wants, for different
purposes. The denser sand is hard and heavy and uses more chakra to
command, but is perfect for shields.

Mineral-weak
sand is good for flying since it's just as strong, but a lot
lighter, and Gaara has better control of the sand's maneuver. Medium
density sand can be used for anything and that's the type of sand
he's marking for his gourd. The other sands he'll add to his
summons.

When
the caravan settles for the night this time, Gaara gets a familiar
tingle on the back of his neck. It's the same feeling he first got
when Yashamaru tried to kill him by attacking him from behind when
he was in tears because his overtures of friendship had been
rebuffed. Another two people had called him a monster.

It
was the first time he'd killed a man. Yashamaru had been the second.

Gaara's
had the feeling on a few occasions since then, and the feeling has
never let him down. Gaara has occasionally ignored the familiar
warning when it sends shivers down his spine, but he's always lived
to regret it.

The
caravan seems to not notice anything, the entire camp going about
their business as normal. They eat and sleep and post the usual
first six sentries before the whole camp seems to shut down, even
the animals are silent.

The
night is clear and cool. There's no wind, or rain, or moisture. The
cold seeps up through the ground and rises into the air slowly as
the temperature drops from both sides. The moon is out and bright.
It's only about two nights away from a full moon and the light it
gives off bathes everything in a gentle silvery glow.

Gaara
loves the night as much as he hates what it carries with it.
Watching the night pass by in silence has long been a favourite
past-time. It's usually odd to see the empty streets of his home
after the bustle of the day, but he grew to appreciate the quiet and
the peace it brought.

But
then Shukaku became stronger, and Gaara was scared out of his mind
that the beast was going to consume him from the inside out.

Gaara's
come to a sort of peace with the creature he houses. Regular
application of blood and chakra keeps Shukaku happy, and allows
Gaara the time to meditate, which is the closest he's ever going to
get to being able to sleep.

In
return, Shukaku has stopped trying to escape and take over Gaara's
consciousness, he knows Gaara would simply do something crazy like
destroy half the known world to make a mark and kill himself at the
same time.

Shukaku
has no intent to die.

The
camp is attacked at four in the morning. The sentries are attacked
first and Gaara only just manages to replace them with clones to
make them appear dead. Sand clones can take a lot of damage.

There
are around twenty or twenty-five attackers. Most of them are male,
but there's one or two females and three of them actually look
younger than Gaara.

The
entire caravan is awoken by the screams and hollers of the attackers
as they plunge into the camp.

Gaara's
ready.

And
excited.

The
attackers are stopped where they are by arms of sand oozing up from
out of the ground. Their screams have become terrified and a few of
them are hacking away at the sand in horror. One man has fainted,
another empties his guts out on the sand beside him.

Gaara
allows the genjutsu to fall away and waits while the fires in the
camp light up and the occupants of the tents stumble out. The men
are armed, barely, but they stop dead when they see what's happened
to the would-be bandits.

The
few children that are awake spot Gaara hovering in the air and
screech excitedly, garnering their parents attention.

Gaara
lowers himself until he's close enough to step forward onto the sand
below.

One
boy tries to rush forward to Gaara but he's held back. A few of the
men return the children to their tent and leave them in the safety
of their mother's arms. Gaara looks different and he can feel it.
His veins are thrumming with the desire for blood and he knows he's
allowing Shukaku to influence him.

Gaara
throws his head back and laughs. It sounds like a voice from hell.

Blue
chakra flares to life around him, burning around him like a reverse
flame. He brings his hands up and faces the first bandit. The acrid
scent of the man's own urine is pungent in the air, but Gaara
ignores that. The man will be dead in a few seconds.

The
sand rises. Gaara slowly closes his fist as the man screams from the
pressure.

“Sabaku
Kyuu!” Gaara commands, and the 'Desert Coffin'
encases the man completely.

Gaara
waits for a moment. Then his voice becomes even darker, laced with
vicious enjoyment.

“Sabaku
Sousou!” The 'Desert Funeral' command makes the
sand compact, pulping the man before he manages to scream again. The
sand pulses and wet messy noise come from it. When the sand clears,
only a few items drop down. The clothes the man wore, shredded into
rags, a few small items he wore for decoration that the sand didn't
want, his boots and a small piece of bad bone.

There
are a few moments of incomprehension before someone screams and
realisation dawns.

Gaara's
smiling darkly.

The
second bandit, slightly older and a bit broader starts pleading for
his life, but Gaara ignores him. He may have been lenient before,
but his sand is hungry and these people have as good as offered
themselves on a platter to the Demon inside him.

Gaara
raises both arms to encompass just over a dozen of the attackers. He
can sense that there are a few more beyond the edge of the camp, but
he allows them to stay free, after all, what good is a warning if
there's no-one left to tell of it?

This
time his “Sabaku Kyuu!” command encompasses all
of the attackers selected. The sand rises and covers each of them in
their own sand coffin. The last three bandits are screaming. They
are further away, but to Gaara that's no problem.

Gaara
sinks into the sand below him and rises behind the furthest man in
less time than it takes to blink. He places his hands up and sand
gathers in small circles, taking shape as golden-hued shuriken.
“Suna Shuriken!” Gaara hisses, and the man is
shredded before the eyes of the shocked witnesses. The blood is
quickly absorbed by the sand, the bones and flesh sucked down into
the ground to be eaten by Gaara's gourd.

A
half dozen shots ring out from one of the men inside a 'Desert
Coffin', but the sand is too dense for them to get through, and
the only signs of the bullets are a few dents which slowly re-form.
Gaara allows the sand back enough to see who kept their wits enough
to try and escape.

The
sand falls away to reveal a youth not much older than Gaara, who's
panting heavily in the fresh air. He glares angrily at Gaara, and
brings the small revolver up to aim at Gaara, even though he's
trembling so hard he can barely aim.

Gaara
stares at him, but the kid doesn't back down. Gaara snorts and turns
his back on the kid, turning to the other 'Desert Coffin'
structures. He holds up one pale hand and starts to clench his fist
slowly, commanding “Sabaku Sousou!” slowly but
firmly.

Sounds
like a meat grinder reverberate throughout the sand and the sand
turns red briefly, before the blood is absorbed. A few items deemed
distasteful are discarded by the sand and are left behind when
Gaara's gourd re-forms.

The
kid behind Gaara vomits noisily, falling to his knees and clutching
his stomach. When he's finished, he spits and snarls at Gaara
angrily through the tears in his eyes. He calls Gaara a demon, but
isn't prepared when Gaara smiles at him.

“I
like you.” Gaara says in a tone which terrifies the kid even
more than the bloody display of power. The sand lifts him and throws
him towards where the other members of the group – who didn't
attack – are waiting. He lands heavily, breaking his arm with
a wet-sounding snap! but he stands anyway despite the pain.
Gaara can see that he's decided that if he's going to die, he'll die
on his feet.

“I'm
going to let you live,” Gaara states, “because I like
your spirit. There aren't many who are willing to stand against me.”
Gaara turns around and walks away, pretending not to notice when the
kid's eyes widen and he starts to run. Gaara knows that he'll join
up with the few bandits who didn't attack and he's kind of
relieved that the three youths had only been watching.

The
last two of the would-be raiders are not in a very good state. They
are both hyperventilating and shaking, and one of them is screaming
incoherently while the other one is scrabbling frantically at the
sand chaining his legs with his bare hands.

The
sand has fed well, and Gaara knows that the other raiders are still
watching, so he decides to make an example out of the two men that
are left.

Gaara
lifts a hand and holds it palm out at the screaming man, slowly
lowering it until the man is lower than the level of the sand's
surface. There's a hole above the man's head and when Gaara makes a
fist, there's a wet cracking sound and a geyser of blood sprays up
from the hole, raining down in a four foot circle onto the sand and
the second man.

From
behind him, Gaara can hear the sounds of retching.

The
last man looks crazy from fear and he cowers when Gaara raises his
hands, bringing them in a triangle formation with him in their
sights. The sand from around him rises into the air and forms into a
cloud a dozen feet over his head.

Gaara
speaks. “Suna Hari Shigure!” The 'Sand Needle
Rain' jutsu is horrifyingly effective as long thin spikes impale
the man through nearly every inch of his body.

The
sand dissolves back into a shapeless mass of singular grains, and
the man is still standing, bleeding out of his entire body. He seems
to waver for a second before he falls, and Gaara knows he was dead
from the moment the sand hit. Sand creeps over the downed body of
the bandit and slowly drags him beneath the surface of the sand to
be eaten, loud cracks and squelching sounds filter up before the
sand spits back the remains it doesn't want.

Gaara
crosses his arms as the blood splattered across the sand by the two
men is slowly absorbed. Gaara's sand has never felt quite so full,
he usually has someone telling him to stop playing, or is so
overcome by an overwhelming bloodlust that he forgets all about
feeding his sand and just wants to kill.

This
new sand is different. Gaara can still feel his bloodlust roiling
beneath the surface of his skin and in his sand, but it's not taking
him over, sending him into a berserker rage.

Gaara
thinks that Naruto's blood has something to do with this. It's as
though he has a part of Naruto with him, helping him maintain his
tenuous control.

Gaara
wonders how much it would take to allow him to lose control now.

When
Gaara finishes contemplating, he finds that the sand has cleared up
the blood and all the tents have been emptied of their occupants.
Gaara can sense the remaining bandits rapidly making their escape
from this place which has become a deathtrap to them.

Gaara's
focus is turned onto the camp. Many of the witnesses are looking
disturbed, but there's something else there. No-one is meeting his
eyes, and Gaara gets the niggling feeling that they're about to
declare him a deity of some sort. He doesn't want that.

Gaara
sighs.

One
of the braver members of the caravan asks what Gaara knows they're
all dying to know. “Are you...a God?”

Gaara
shakes his head. He can still remember Yashamaru's words, telling
him of what his mother said as she lay dying. This child's name
is Gaara. An Asura that loves himself. Gaara felt his
mouth twist with a half angry-half betrayed snarl. An Asura. A demon
who defied Gods. Gaara knew he was a symbol of his mother's hatred.
As his uncle told him before he died, 'You were not loved.'.

“I
am not a God.” Gaara intoned in a voice coming as close to
unemotional as he could manage, which was just between icy cold and
hard with dark hatred. “I have been named an Asura. A Demon.”

Blue
chakra started to glow around Gaara, twisting around him,
interspersed with low trailings of sand dancing around his feet. He
started to rise in the air, hovering nearly a foot above the sand.
Gaara could feel it's anger as his own feelings bled through his
steel-fisted control. The sand which was so deep and volatile it
took Gaara's emotions and magnified them, pulsing with it's own
power and feeding it back to Gaara.

“I
am Gaara of the Desert! I was born from the Sand, I am of the
Sand and I exist because of the Sand.”

The
tents were emptying now, and Gaara had no idea of what he looked
like in the night, casting off an incandescent blue light, his eyes
looking murderous and sated all at once.

“I
am in every step you take. In every tear or drop of sweat you shed.
I am in the blood and the flesh of those with the Desert Spirit.”
Gaara could feel his power expanding as he spoke, and a moment of
utterly perfect clarity struck him. Every grain of sand in every
world on every plane of existence harmonised with him for an
instant, and for that one moment he could touch anywhere, any when
and could do anything. Life had never seemed so perfectly...clear.

Gaara
could hear the laughter echoing in the sand beneath him on this
world and the sighs of the sand on other worlds, planets and
dimensions where he had yet to tread.

For
that instant, the people of the caravan saw Gaara as a being of pure
energy and they were awed.

Maybe
it was a good thing Gaara was otherwise occupied.

In
that moment Gaara felt the call of the sand echo from a few miles
away, and he let the sand take him, disappearing before the eyes of
the caravan in a gentle swirl of blue light and sand.

Gaara's
legend would continue and strengthen.

*****

Tbc

*****
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Dark Soul