A/N: Here it is!! The moment you've all been waiting for! **Violence and Gore**
There was no ambush, no weapons flying his way or attacks from every side. The only thing Gaara was aware of when he finally stepped into the opening of the large cave was the crippling silence in the air. The tents that had littered the shore had been cleared and in their place stood the shinobi responsible for all of this, their glares and hateful sneers the worst he could remember seeing in his life. Yoshio Suzuki stood a little more in front of them, his kimono clean and eyes cold, and at his feet Momoko lay struggling for breath.
The sight of the blood that caked on her skin, the scars and cuts and wounds that littered her body had his heart throbbing painfully. It was unexplainable, the anguish he felt seeing her dull eyes looking up at him so tiredly, and he used that feeling to fuel the anger that brewed inside of him. He came to a stop just before them, his arms crossed and eyes as cold as they had been in his youth.
There was no need for introductions or explanations; they knew all of that already. Gaara had memorized each name and face before him, and they had never forgotten his after all these years. They wanted revenge for the lives he had taken and in turn, they would take hers if he wasn't careful enough. There was an odd understanding between them, one that forwent the witty foreplay so many battles had.
"Let me take her to Suna to be healed, and I will return for you to do as you wish." Gaara offered, the anger barely concealed in his words as they bounced off the cave walls.
"Come on," Yoshio almost teased, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "You know that won't happen."
Gaara hated his taunting and would have told him so, had it not been for him trying his very hardest not to lash out and kill every one who stood before him. Sand began to seep from his gourd and spill onto the cave floor beneath him, but at the first sight of it Yoshio slammed his foot down hard into Momoko's bruised side, drawing a coarse yelp from the beaten girl. The sound of it grated against Gaara's ears and it took everything in him not to rush to her side.
"Keep the sand away," Yoshio said, and pressed his heel down a little further into the whimpering girl, "I see even one grain move and she's dead."
Gaara watched the shinobi behind him snicker and sneer, and nearly ignored his demand so that he could get the whole thing over with right then. He had waited too long to have her back and now that those responsible stood lined up before him, he could hardly hold himself back. Gaara nearly threw caution to the wind and began his attack, but then his eyes met Momoko's and he paused.
She looked so small right then, curled up in chains against the cold stone floor. Momoko didn't even try to change her gaze to anything other than pain and desolation, despite how hard Gaara tried to reassure her with his own tender eyes. He could make out words carved into her arms and legs, cruel names that would stay on her marred skin for the rest of her life. Momoko bared the same kanji scar he did, carved cruelly into her forehead, and the idea of her having to go through such pain made Gaara's nerves nearly give out. All of this, every bit of blood that stained her skin or wound that tore it open had been his fault. His guilt outweighed his anger in that moment, and the years he had spent hating himself for what he had done finally came to fruition as he shouldered off his gourd and let it fall to the ground with a heavy thud that echoed in the space around them.
"Get him."
Two grinning shinobi stepped forward to close the space between them, and Gaara willed his shield to stay down as they grabbed him roughly and forced him to his knees. Their grips were too tight, nearly cutting off circulation in his arms, but he didn't much care in that moment. Once he was completely restrained and at their mercy, Yoshio finally took his foot off of Momoko and stepped forward.
"G-Gaar-a," Momoko barely managed to gasp out through the pain the blow had left on her body, and the sound of it put a horrible pit in his stomach.
"It's alright," He reassured her, even as Yoshio came to a stop before him, "I-"
A sharp slap across his face silenced his words, and Gaara tasted blood for the first time in a long time. The sand shield on his face instantly cracked and crumbled at the force of it, the limp sand falling to the ground in front of them.
"Look at you," Yoshio spat, shaking out his hand from the force of the hit, "Having the audacity to try and comfort her now. How cruel of you to make her believe you're even capable of compassion."
Gaara said nothing, instead turned his glare up to meet the amber eyes that looked down at him. Yoshio bristled at the sight of it, and sent a sharp kick right into Gaara's stomach. The force of it made the blood that had welled in his mouth spew from his lips, but he didn't give him the pleasure of hearing him cry out.
"S-Stop!" Momoko weakly protested, trying to reach out for them but Hikaru stepped forward and yanked her back and up to sit on her knees, her short hair held painfully in his fist. She could only whimper, having little energy to do anything else.
"Let her go," Gaara hissed through bloodied teeth, but it only earned him another blow to his face as Yoshio huffed.
"You're not in a position to make demands, Lord Kazekage," Yoshio mocked, and the rest of his band snickered at the tone, "In fact, you should be begging for both your life and hers."
Gaara kept his mouth shut, his glare hateful as Yoshio mockingly raised a cupped hand to his ear as though waiting for the words. When no begging came, he tisked.
"The beast can't even put his pride aside to save her," The man announced, louder now for the rest of his band to hear, "But are we really surprised?"
They sounded their disapproval, hurling their horrible words and names his way. Gaara paid them little mind though, the majority of his focus still on the woman who struggled to stay up.
"Let her go." He hissed again, these words with more venom than the last. Once again he was met with the same response, and the kick landed painfully into his side this time.
"She'll stay where she is," Yoshio spat, "To make sure you don't try anything with that sand of yours."
One of the men that held him kicked the gourd with enough power for it to roll a ways away from them. Though the distance didn't affect his ability to use it, Momoko was still discouraged at the sight of it. She didn't have the strength to struggle, especially with how hard Hikaru gripped at her hair, but that did not stop her from whimpering out at the sight of Gaara's blood.
"H-Hikaru," Momoko tried to reason, feeling tears well in her eyes as Yoshio continued to beat her partner in front of them, "P-Please, please."
"Be quiet," Hikaru replied bitterly and tightened his grip in her hair, but once again his words fell short of the hostility they were supposed to have.
Being a shinobi had prepared him for pain, had made him more callused to it and made it easier to endure. He hardly ever felt it in the past due to the sand that had guarded him his whole life, so the pain that shot through his body at every kick and punch still felt vaguely foreign to him. But he endured it with gritted teeth, and didn't give Yoshio the satisfaction of crying out or seeing him grimace with each hit. Even as blood poured from his likely broken nose and dripped past his split lips and down his chin, Gaara didn't make a sound.
It didn't last too long, and Yoshio was panting from the excursion when he finally let up. The men at either side of Gaara made sure to hold him tightly; their grips already bruised his pale skin beneath his coat.
His silence obviously grated on everyone's nerves, as they had eagerly looked forward to seeing and hearing his pain. But Gaara was not a weak person and he would not fuel their sick desires, so he cared little for the way they began to angrily shift about when they were not given what they so wanted.
"You're as stubborn as you are disgusting," Yoshio spat at him, but Gaara didn't dignify his words with a response, "You won't be silent for much longer, I can promise you that."
He reached out for him and took Gaara's bruising face into his hands, and Momoko felt her heart drop at the sight.
"C-Close your eyes, Gaara!" She tried to call out, "Close-!"
Hikaru put a hand over her mouth to keep her words muffled, but she still tried to talk through his fingers as her tears began to roll down her bloodied cheeks. Gaara kept his eyes on her, every part of him wanting to rip off the hands that so roughly held her, but his attention was soon drawn elsewhere by the feeling of Yoshio's long nails digging deep into the flesh of his face. He flinched at the feeling, blood instantly dripping from the wounds, but he didn't show anything more than that.
Yoshio forced his head back so that he would stare up at him, and Gaara struggled for only a moment until he caught a glimpse of amber. He had read about this kekkei genkai and what it would do, but reading was different than experiencing. No matter how he began to thrash, or how hard he was restrained, Gaara could not turn his eyes away from the expanding amber.
Momoko's cries faded away, as did the rest of the world as everything went black.
He knew this feeling: the wind getting sucked out of his lungs, his throat feeling full of water but nothing at all. He had felt this once before and having to relive the moment all over again had Gaara struggling hard not to sink further and further into the abyss of this new reality. His body thought it knew what came next, and fought against the darkness that seemed to pull him down into the treacherous waters of his mind.
There was no light.
There was no sound.
There was nothing.
And then there was lavender.
The first thing Gaara was aware of was the smell of it that lingered in the air. It was just traces of the scent, but it was enough that it pulled him from his thoughts and brought him back to the rest of the world. He was looking out an open window, to the calm waters of a lake and green rolling hills behind it. The sight felt familiar, like he had stared at this view thousands of times, but he didn't know this place. He didn't know the trees that swayed through the wind or the lavender amongst the tall grass. It was a place his heart knew but his mind did not.
"Papa!"
He did not know who called or why, but he knew they were calling him. It drew his eyes from the window to the room he sat in. The ceilings were high and the walls were decorated with a white floral wallpaper. The furniture was in a style he didn't recognize, regal and the color of cream. White curtains billowed in the breeze that rolled through the window, filling the bedroom with more lavender and light. The canopy on the large bed swayed with the breeze, and he saw just a glimpse of flesh and gold before the voice called to him again.
"Papa!"
It drew his attention to the grand doors at the front of the room, where a little girl now stood. Her hair was long and flowed in crimson waves to her waist, and pale blue eyes stared up at him with a familiar gaze. She smiled at the sight of him and made her way to the armchair he sat in and the pretty ivory dress she wore flittered as she moved. Her name was on the tip of his tongue, and he felt himself reaching for her and pulling her into his lap when she was close enough. She laughed, the sound making his heart weak and his lips pull into a smile. The girl fisted the fabric of his shirt- a white, loose cotton shirt with long sleeves that billowed in the breeze and tucked into the brown trousers he wore- and cuddled comfortably into his chest.
He didn't know how he knew this girl or why he so thoughtlessly accepted her and this world, but his body and heart acted on their own.
"Shh, my dear," Gaara gently scolded, with no real malice in his words.
The girl peeked up and to the bed where the curtains of the canopy had calmed.
"Is she still sleeping?" She whispered back, her voice hardly a whisper at all and Gaara heard himself laugh, soft and fond, for the very first time. Before he could answer, another pretty voice did so for him.
"Not anymore."
His eyes left the girl in his lap and they trailed across marble floors and up white curtains until he saw where they had parted and an angelic face peeked through.
Momoko smiled at them, her face soft and her eyes like the girl's. Surrounded by white, her hair tousled from sleep and her gaze tender, the sight took Gaara's breath away. Had the girl not been in her arms, he would have kissed her breathless and taken her right there.
"Im sorry, Momma," The girl said with a little frown, "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's alright," Momoko replied kindly, before opening the curtain for them, "Your brother is still sleeping, though, so try to keep quiet."
At the invitation, the little girl in his lap perked up and scrambled down so she could make her way to the bed. Gaara felt himself rising as Momoko also disappeared behind the canopy, and he stopped for just a moment at the edge of the bed before pushing the curtain aside.
Momoko had settled back into the large bed and puffy sheets, and he could see now even under the loose ivory nightgown that her stomach was large and swollen with child. There was a young boy beside her, no more than two years old and hair the color of hers. He was as beautiful as his sister, who had now curled up on the other side of him, with a pale complexion and freckles across his cheeks. The sight of the three of them, of his entire world lying in linen, made Gaara's heart so full he feared it may burst. The fog of his mind had cleared completely, and he slipped right into bed on the other side of his wife and let his arm drape over her and around the two children that slept in the curve of her body.
The woman sighed contently at his touch, settling back against his body and turning her head to smile at him over her shoulder. He smiled back, happiness in his heart and warmth in his eyes, and she moved one hand to reach back and thread through his hair.
"Aren't they beautiful, my love?" She asked of the children who lay beside them.
"You all are," He replied, and the answer made her eyes bright with mirth. Her hand trailed from his hair to his face, and he let his eyes close at the feel of her soft fingers against his cheek.
"This is what we could have had," Momoko said, "What we could have been."
His brows furrowed, but for some reason he couldn't open his eyes- why couldn't he open his eyes? The touch of her fingers still brushed against his cheek as she spoke.
"If you weren't a monster, we could have had a long and happy life."
His eyes shot open, and the white was gone. There was no Momoko, no children or ivory curtains or rolling hills. He saw grey and black, smelled fire and was suddenly very aware of a burn in his throat. Gaara sat up quickly, coughing to the point of tears as nothing but ash fell out of his mouth. It stung his throat and tongue as it fell from his lips, and he sat heaving against the sand as he emptied his stomach entirely.
The air was thick with smoke and reeked of fire. He looked up, a hand over burning lips as he tried to understand just where he was. It was Suna, in front of the Kazekage Tower. Buildings before him were burning, collapsed, and blood pooled in the sand. There were faceless bodies littering the ground; people, his people. There was a heat on his back and when he turned he saw the Kazekage Tower was on fire, the largest fire in the whole village.
"It's been too long, old friend!" A familiar voice, a voice he hadn't heard in years, cackled.
He turned back quickly, his eyes scanning the street in front of him. The scene changed for a moment, flashed to a familiar dark room and figure looming above him, before Suna was back.
"Remember these days?" The voice yelled into his ear, "Remember how much fun this was!?"
He looked down to what had been the pile of ash that came from his throat, and instead saw puddled blood. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, realizing that soot had turned to blood and his skin was soaked with it. His fingers trembled before his eyes but Gaara quickly moved his hand from sight, trying to find his composure. It wasn't real, none of this was real- he just needed to remember that.
"Gaara!"
The puddle had a surface as reflective as any mirror, and the sight in it made his blood run a little cooler.
Half of his face was warped and twisted, pulled back with sand and violet markings. His eye had been engulfed entirely in black with little but a bright pupil staring back at him. It was a face he knew too well, a face that had haunted him for years. The sight of it again after so long, of this grotesque disfigurement and the implication behind it, made Gaara nearly break his own resolve. What was worse than seeing it again was seeing it on him now: he was not the child he had been, he was the man he was now. His Kazekage robes were bloodied and torn, and the fact that he was even wearing them while bearing this face tore something inside of him apart.
He moved away from the puddle, scrambling back with a hand clenching at his face for some proof that it wasn't real. He knew it wasn't, it couldn't have been, but the sight was nearly too much to bear. That wasn't him-
"Isn't it though?"
This voice was different than one that jarred him enough to look back to the street. No one was there, but the words were so clear in his ears. He needed to gain control of himself, forget the lavender and ash and try to remember that nothing here was real.
"Yoshio!" He called out, finally standing from the ground, "Enough of this!"
There was laughter, shill and too loud, both in his ear and ahead of him. Still, no figure stood but the bodies that littered the street. With no reply and no chance around him, Gaara collected himself, stepped over the puddle, and made his way down the bloodied street.
As he walked, he tried not to look at the corpses of his people. He kept his eyes ahead, trying to focus on the street he knew and the place he now figured he was being led to, but at the feeling of something snapping under his feet, Gaara paused. He tried to keep his eyes up but his body felt stiff, seized by some strange force that wouldn't let him move forward. It felt like someone was pushing on the back of his head so hard that it hurt his neck as this invisible hand forced him to look down.
It was a yellow globeflower beneath his foot, its stem now snapped from the weight of his step. Finally the pressure let up and Gaara was able to raise his head again and look forward, before he was allowed to walk again.
Mapira lilies, dahlias, irises, cosmos, orchids, roses, calla lilies, blue bells. Each stem crunched beneath his foot, louder than it should have been, but Gaara was determined not to let it get to him anymore. He had already gotten too caught up in the illusion of the white room and beautiful family, and his reflection nearly made him lose his cool, but he refused to. Too much was at stake here, and he'd be damned if he gave in.
The closer he got to the marketplace, the more he dreadfully began to recognize the bodies that littered the streets on either side. At first it was the people they had lost, Yoshio's family along with the other shinobis' , but the further he got the more familiar the faces became. The first he recognized was Baki, Hana, and then the guards who had died the night Momoko was taken. Their bodies were twisted and broken, but their lifeless eyes all looked right at him. He wanted to stop almost immediately, already knowing how this would progress, but his feet didn't allow him to do so.
He saw his parents next, his father's pale face twisted in a sneer even in death and his mother's cold lips pulled into frown as she laid beside the mangled body of his uncle. Though they were lifeless, and hardly recognizable underneath the blood and sand that coated their skin, they somehow still managed to look disappointed. Their faces made Gaara's heart begin to ache, but he refused to show how rattled by it he really was.
Then were shinobi from the Leaf, some who had been there for him and others he knew by association. The first one that had struck a cold cord had been Rock Lee, whose arm and leg had been mangled and bloody once again, bone poking through flesh, and Gaara could only look for a moment before he turned his eye away again. There was Sasuke with his cold dead eyes, then Sakura who he had felt more companionship for since he had started seeing Momoko. Her hair was matted with crimson and sand, and beside her Naruto lay on his back staring up at him with empty blue eyes.
Naruto hurt more than the others, the sight of his friend in such a state nearly making him go weak. It was hard to convince himself to push on, to remember that it was just an illusion, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from how his once grinning lips were split and pulled into an ominous frown. Gaara reminded himself now with more effort, even as the stems still snapped under his feet, that none of this was real.
He nearly forgot that when he reached the opening of the market place and saw Temari and Kankuro laying before him.
Their bodies were torn apart, wounds still bleeding and their blood pooling into the sand beneath them. The fire around them danced in their dead eyes as they stared at him, cold and empty. Finally, he was allowed to pause, forced to pause and stare at them and the way their bodies had been carelessly tossed aside as though they had never mattered at all. Though his mind screamed and fought that it was an illusion, that it wasn't reality, the pain that seized his heart was all too real.
"Stop," He gasped out, gripping tightly to his heart as he tried to fight against the force that held his head in place, "Stop!"
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Yoshio finally spoke, this time not the omnipresent booming but instead as though he stood before him. Only then was Gaara able to turn his head, and he saw what this had all been leading up to.
The flower shop was burning, it's windows popping from the heat as the flames climbed high into the air. The pretty door, the flower beds outside, the stairs that led up to her home- all of it was consumed in it's hot fire. The worst of all, though, was the sight of Momoko's body that lay lifeless before it.
He fell to his knees at the sight, unable to tear his burning eyes away from the crimson sand and the lifeless blues of a gaze he had loved so much. The bodies and the flowers leading up to this moment had finally reached their climax, and the pain at seeing Momoko without any life in her eyes was nearly too much to bear. It left him breathless as he was forced to look at the scared and broken body of his partner, the anger inside of him nearly on par with his dread.
"No matter what you do, how much time passes or how much help you get, that feeling will never go away." Yoshio spoke as he came out of the flames of the burning shop, coming to a stop just before Momoko's body, "Not even for a moment."
Gaara had known loss before, had felt that horrible breaking of his heart when his uncle chose death over him. He had mourned the lives of his parents, his villagers, even himself- but this wasn't that same. This wasn't an ache or even burn, it was a sharp pain that made even his fingertips prickle. It felt like someone had wrapped their fingers around his heart and squeezed with all of their might, like he couldn't even breath between the dull beats of it. The pain was so overwhelming he forgot that this was an illusion, that none of them were truly dead yet.
Yoshio had expected him to lash out, to attack through his pain as he had in the past and try to make others hurt as he did. He expected that same young boy from all those years ago, who's eyes burned with anger and hands spilled innocent blood, to come right back to the surface and prove his point that Gaara had never really changed at all.
What he didn't expect were the tears that welled in Gaara's eyes as he raised his head to meet his gaze.
"I am so sorry that you've had to live like this," He gasped out, still clenching tighty to his heart through the pain.
"What are you-?" Yoshio cut himself off, the sight of his tears obviously shaking him to his core, "You're crying?!"
"I did this to you, didn't I?" Gaara choked, trying to use all of his strength to stand, "I made you feel like this for all these years." The regret was so clear in his words that Yoshio thought they may have been fake.
"Don't mock me!" He shouted back, his usually cool demeanor slipping away in this moment of surprise, "As though you can feel pity! As though you could understand my pain!"
"We're in my head, aren't we?" Gaara tried to reason, his words nearly breaking from the ache that still hurt his heart, standing to his full height with glassy eyes, "You would know if I was lying."
Im sorry.
None of you deserve this.
I'd take it all back if I could.
Yoshio looked up at the sky with wide and wild eyes, the words seeming to echo through the streets outside of his own doing. Maybe it was because his emotions were high, or because he was too attached to the fantasy he had created, but his control over the illusions around him seemed to waver for just a few moments at a time. It was because of that look on Yoshio's face, the surprise at hearing this world echo words he did not allow, that Gaara saw his chance. If he could use that to his advantage, make Yoshio realize that Gaara was not the monster he had spent his whole life believing him to be, maybe he could get through to him. Gaara drew his courage from inside himself, trying his best to do justice to Naruto and try to help Yoshio just as he himself had been helped before.
He struggled to take a first step forward, having to fight hard against the force that pushed him back, but he managed it with shaky limbs.
"I-I know what you're feeling right now," Gaara struggled to say, struggled to take another step, "I know the pain of thinking the world has turned its back on you."
Run! A child's frantic voice echoed through the burning square, as the bloodied sand around them swirled and took the shape of the children from Gaara's memories, the ones that ran at the sight of him, Don't leave me by myself near him!
"Stop!" Yoshio shouted, the cool façade cracked completely at the sight of memories he was not forcing from him.
"I've felt the pain that comes with losing the only people in the world who made you feel safe, feel loved."
The only thing that can cure a wound of the heart is love, hearing his uncle's voice again, crisp and clear and warm after so many years made the tears in Gaara's eyes finally fall, I believe that my sister loved you, Gaara.
Gaara struggled to walk closer, the energy it took to take another step nearly exhausting him, but he couldn't let himself stop- too much was at stake. The sight of his uncle kneeling before his younger self formed for only a moment before it fell away again. Around them, the fires seemed to burn brighter and the wind picked up, carrying the smoke and sand on it. But Gaara didn't focus on that now, instead he kept his eyes on Yoshio who stood frozen in his spot, staring at him in disbelief as he fought to come closer.
"I-I spent so much of my life wanting the very thing you want now: revenge on the world that hated me, that took away the love and life I should have had."
"S-Stay away from me!"
If you get in my way, I'll kill you too.
The sand memories took the form of the bed Rock Lee lay in as a young version of himself tried to kill him, and Naruto Uzumaki stood across from him with hatred in his eyes.
This wasn't really about him anymore, Gaara realized the closer he got and the more tears began to drip down his cheeks. This wasn't to survive, to win the battle, to save Momoko; now, Gaara wanted to reach Yoshio the same way Naruto had once reached him. He had recognized the look in his eyes the moment Gaara met him; it was that cold detachment from the world that he himself had felt in his youth. In all his pain and despair, he had cursed the world for making him a monster, all while making a monster himself. Yoshio's heart had hardened because of what Gaara had done, and now it was only right that he try to fix the damage he did.
"You have every right to hate me!" Gaara shouted over the wind that began to howl around them, having to now fight harder to get closer to Yoshio, "You've lost so much of your life to what I've done, to the hatred I forced upon you, but you don't have to carry that pain forever!"
It's almost unbearable, isn't it? Naruto's voice echoed above the howling wind and cracking flames, The feeling of being all alone. I know that feeling; I've been there in that dark and lonely place, but there are others, other people who mean a lot to me.
As Gaara got closer, Momoko's body faded to dust and Yoshio tried to step back and away from him, but even he was struggling to move against the howling wind. Yoshio's hands were pressed against his ears, his white hair whipping around him as he tried hard to block out the sounds of Gaara's voice, to the words he said, but that didn't stop the Kazekage in the slightest. If anything, it only helped to push him forward.
"You don't have to hurt for the rest of your life, Yoshio! Healing doesn't mean you've forgotten them!" Gaara yelled, the sand that carried on the whipping wind now lashing across his skin, but he tried to pay it no mind, "There are other people in this world who understand you, who can love you and help you through that pain!"
I love you, Yoshio, Hikaru's voice echoed through this illusion, I'll never stop loving you, not even for a moment.
"B-But then you just get away with it!" Yoshio protested, tears now rolling down his own cheeks, "Y-You have to suffer for what you've taken from me! What you've taken from everyone!"
"I will!" Gaara exclaimed, finally close enough to be able to reach for him no matter how hard the violent wind around them tried to stop him, "But that's my burden to carry, not yours!"
Yoshio jerked up, his eyes finally meeting Gaara's, and he expected Gaara to hurt him as he finally got close enough to touch him.
Instead of pain, of more wounds or more loss, Gaara took Yoshio into his arms and held him tightly.
"I will never know true peace for what I've done to you," He said into his ear, holding him close as the wind and fire circled closer in on them, "But that's exactly what you deserve now, peace."
The moment the word left his lips the world went quiet, the sand and fire stopping in the air, suspended by the illusion. There was no whipping wind, no crackling fire, just the trembling arms that held him tightly.
"I'm so sorry, Yoshio," Gaara spoke sincerely, "For everything you've had to go through. But I promise you that there is so much more to life than hatred."
Yoshio stood, stiff and trembling, unable to move as Gaara held him tightly and spoke words he had long since thought wouldn't be enough. Maybe it was because he fought so hard to get here, or the tears that had rolled down the Kazekage's cheeks as he struggled against the wind, but something in him finally seemed to break completely. He sobbed, watery and ugly, and the sound of it only made Gaara hold him tighter.
"I'm sorry," The Kazekage whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Everything suddenly went black, his arms becoming empty and what felt like water forcing itself down his throat. In a rush of air and pain reality came hurtling back to him, and Gaara opened his eyes with a sharp inhale of breath. For a split second he saw Yoshio still staring down at him, tears now falling from his amber eyes, before his sand sprang to life all on it's own and pushed him far away.
It felt like the world had gone slow and fuzzy, like the sound had flickered out. A split second felt expanded to a whole moment as he watched in horror how Hikaru looked to where Yoshio lay unconscious on the stone floor. Gaara saw the anger that flared inside his eyes, the rage that occurred in a flash, and he barely processed how the light caught onto the katana in his hand as he forced the entirety of it through Momoko's core.
"No!"
His sand pushed the men away from him in a violent burst as Momoko cried out, her teary eyes wide as the blade cut her open, the blood already seeping through the ruined nightgown she wore. Gone was his caution, his compassion, and the sand did it's own work of throwing all of the shinobi aside as he ran to her on shaking legs. Hikaru was pushed away from her and hit the stone wall with a crack, his katana pulling out of her at the motion, and Gaara reached her just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.
"G-Gaar-a," She gasped out, her body trembling as he turned her over in his arms.
"I-It's okay," He tried to reassure her over the hammering in his heart and the fear that began to consume him as the blood stained more and more of her nightgown, "It's okay, Momoko, I'm here."
"Y-You are," Momoko struggled to say, a weak smile on her lips, as Gaara fumbled to put two thoughts together, to get the roll of gauze from his staining coat, "Y-You came,"
"I did," He rasped out, his trembling fingers struggling to pack her wound with the gauze, a weak attempt at trying to halt the bleeding, "I-I'm going to take you home, Momoko, just hang on."
It felt like he was so far away. Her body was so weak already, and the blood that seeped from the gaping wound only sucked what little energy she had away. Momoko could feel his arms around her, could have sworn she heard the slow beating of his heart- or was that her heart?
"I-I-I love you," She gasped, and the words made him freeze for a moment, wide eyes turning from her wound to the way she watched him with a clouded gaze, "G-Gaara, I love you s-so much-"
"Don't!" He panicked, his heart beating wildly and painfully as he kept trying to press more pressure to her wound. She didn't feel it. "D-Don't start-"
Even though the edges of her vision had started to go black, she could see the way his wide eyes had grown glassy as he looked at her. She reached up, her hand trembling and hardly in her control as she laid it on his cheek.
"I love you, I-I love you, I love you, I love you-" She sobbed, "I-I love you, I-I-I-" Her throat felt tight and she was so tired.
He was vaguely aware of voices raising in the background, of the sound of an explosion followed by clattering wood and gusts of wind. None of that mattered, the only thing that mattered was the hot blood that burned into his skin and light that faded from his love's eyes.
"Momoko, please!" He was yelling now, "Please just hold on!"
"I-I love you," It was barely a whisper now and the tears finally fell from his eyes. "I-I love you so much Gaara,"
"I-I love you too-" Gaara sobbed, his bloodied hand moving from the wound to hold tightly to the hand that rested on his cheek, and the sudden way she looked so at peace made Gaara nauseous, "Please, please, Momoko,"
"I-I love, I love, I love..."
The words and his world died on her lips.
It felt like everything went quiet. Like there was nothing beyond the weight in his arms and the dull eyes that stared back at him. Her hand had gone limb but he held onto it tightly to the point where he may have broken it.
He whispered her name once, said it twice, yelled it a fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh time. There was no response, no beautiful smile or kind gaze- not even a twitch of her hand. The silence was excruciating, as was the way her chest had stopped heaving and her head lulled back when he shook her.
Someone grabbed his shoulder, said something into his ear but he couldn't understand a word. He was sobbing- how long had it been since he had done that? All he could do was hold her and stare back at eyes that had already left him, grab tightly to the hand that he realized he was holding to his cheek.
Hands pried at him, grabbed at her and Gaara fought against them hard as they tried to pull him away. He was yelling, crying, clinging to her with the little strength he had. He fought hard as someone's arms wrapped around the middle of him and pulled him away, and Gaara couldn't care less for whoever was yelling his name into his ear. He felt his elbow come in contact with something, heard a sickening crack, but he didn't care. He could only focus on her, on the way her body was lifted from the ground by someone who wasn't him.
He couldn't leave her, she needed him, she needed to be with him, he needed to help her, she couldn't leave him-
There was a pain in his head, quick and sharp, and then the rest of the world faded to nothing.