Chapter 3

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-Matsuri POV-

Temari chased after Tenten when she suddenly dashed into the thick brush to put some distance between us. This left me alone with Gaara, something he and I didn't want. I couldn't count on my fingers the number of times I've reached out and offered a kind hand to the boy, but the same goes for the amount of times my approach has just pissed him off.

When it comes down to it, I honestly want to be his friend. He knows my intentions are pure because we've spent countless hours in one another's heads.

During our first M.A.T. session, I realized he was unbearably terrified of everyone he's ever met. The crippling fear mentally froze me, but his reaction was to lash out in anger to protect himself and keep everyone else at bay. After that first session, I'd nervously asked him if he was alright, and he threatened to kill me with his bare hands if I didn't mind my own business and keep my mouth shut.

Then, when our training intensified, I was finally shown why he was the way he was.

His mother died giving birth to him, and his father abused him physically and mentally for his entire childhood. That small, helpless child was blamed for something out of his control. That fact alone made me want to somehow help him. None of his family members, not even his siblings, lifted a finger to protect him.

When he was thirteen, his dad came home drunk and attacked him with a broken beer bottle, and Gaara accidentally killed the man trying to defend himself. Since his body and mental health showed proof of the continuous abuse he'd suffered, he wasn't punished. It didn't matter either way because the damage had already been done.

His brother Kankuro was seventeen then and became emancipated so his younger siblings wouldn't have to go into the foster system. He and Temari never directly apologized to their younger brother for pretty much allowing him to be hurt for over ten years. Still, their relationships healed enough that they could at least live together.

I'm not sure what glimpses of my past he saw, and he didn't offer any hints by acting differently, which only added to my anxiety. It's not like I have a crazy traumatic background or anything. There are only a few bad things that I can recall having happened in my life so far. My dad died in a car accident with me in the backseat when I was around nine or ten. Other than that, when my mom finally got back out there a couple years later and got a boyfriend, he became violent toward both of us.

That's why I signed up for The Program. I want to use the prize money so my mom and I can escape him. He's only hit either of us a handful of times, but it was pretty rough when he did, so she and I walked on eggshells to prevent setting him off. It's been maybe a year since the last time I'd been hit, but that's because I rarely went home after school, so I wouldn't have to see them.

A fist nearly collided with my face, tearing me from my thoughts, and I barely managed to duck out of the way and shoot a few feet back. There wasn't a point in wasting energy trying to land hits on him because he wouldn't feel them anyway. Instead, I focused on letting him wear himself out.

Hateful teal eyes bore into mine as he continuously attacked, and I kept dodging. Gaara knew what I was doing, and it was only pissing him off further.

After realizing he'd lost the ability to feel pain, I focused my training on speed so I'd be able to dodge more easily. Not only did I anticipate having to fight him at some point, but it wasn't a bad idea anyway because I'm so much smaller than everyone else, and it was harder for me to gain much muscle.

Call it playing to one's weaknesses.

I held back the urge to smile proudly as our tragic little dance continued. It was easier than I thought it'd be to predict Gaara's movements. Maybe being mentally linked so often had actually offered some benefits.

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