#narut

Gaara week 2022

DAY 1 - Identify Yourself | Cruel Strength

Trigger warnings: violence, death, blood, murder, graphic description of violence

em português depois do corte; portuguese version under the cut

Akamaru trembles: Gaara’s cruel strength

Gaara felt hungry. He could feel his blood pulsating within his veins, causing his temples to throb violently, his hands trembling with anticipation as he opened the gate and, posed between his older siblings, stepped into the dark forest. He could smell it. Taste it, even, if he paid it a little more attention. He was surrounded by death. And he liked it. He liked it very much.

From the corner of his eye, the boy could see Kankuro and Temari gaze back at him with worried faces, apprehensive, distressed even. It must have been because he was smiling, Gaara supposed. And he never smiled. At least, he almost never did. And, when he did, it was seldom because of joy or happiness or emotion. It was always out of anxiety. A sick anxiety, almost uncontrollable, an anxiety that put dirt on his hands, a pulse of death, a powerful desire to kill. A suffocating will to live.

The smile quickly dwindled, giving way to the serious complexion that rarely left his face. He was to be seen as a threat, and not as a clown. And though he no longer smiled, Gaara felt his heart beat faster when they stumbled upon those three ninjas from the rain village. He felt the adrenaline rise, shaking his blood, his stomach, the kanji stapled on his forehead. This was going to be delicious.

He completely ignored Kankuro’s words. He cared very little about their scroll, about that stupid exam, about anything at all. What mattered was that he had set his eyes on a prey and he would not be letting go of it. He started from the one that talked the most. He was quite entertaining, in fact. Kept saying that the sand siblings would die for having crossed his path. Gaara found jest in the absurdity, in the pathetic needles the man made rain from the sky as what he swore would be the final blow, but moved not his lips even by an inch as he swallowed him from his feet up to his head in thick sand.

The man went into despair as he realized he would never get out of that chrysalis, that deathly cocoon. Gaara enjoyed watching him beg, yet to him such cries held no meaning. The only meaning they ever had was when Gaara, with a twist of his hand, exploded the ridiculously fragile body of his opponent. He felt the smell, the taste of blood that mixed in with the sand, giving him more strength, more power, more mortality, more life. Without a sound, he appreciated the sight of the red rain that stained the umbrellas he had borrowed, and relished even more in the panic of the remaining two who then surrendered, handing over the scroll and taking off, running for their lives. But they would not run for long.

Gaara grabbed them by their feet, the sand dragging them towards him, pulling them in the direction of the starving boy who thirsted for death. He wrapped them the same way he had with the first, from their feet to their heads. He left their faces untouched; he wanted to see the despair in their eyes once life began to evade their bodies. They screamed and begged as had done their successor. Once again, the urgent, despaired words meant nothing to the young shinobi. Only death had a meaning. And only death meant.

Gaara felt the monster within himself cry out in pleasure. As he cut the young men’s lives short, he felt it mingle with his own existence, mix with his power. He felt hungrier. He wanted more, he wanted so much more. His existence was still too feeble. And only if he killed would that existence grow. 

He knew of those three hidden behind the bush. He could feel their fear nourish his hatred, his cruel strength, his ominous desire, his deathly pulse. He wanted them to himself, wanted to crush them with his sand, to absorb them into his domain, to murder them and seize their remains, to incorporate those into his own. But he heeded his older sister’s words. Despite the quickened pace of his heartbeat, Gaara allowed the adrenaline to cease. He would have time, they had promised. He would have time, plenty of it, to murder. Those three could live another day. But they would not have the same luck should they ever cross his path again.