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Gaara looked at the sand. It was obedient. It had never been this obedient before.
He looked up and stared at Shinji.
Something was surfacing bit by bit in those eyes. Very slowly, like bubbles rising from the very depths of the water.
"Teacher..."
"Hmm?"
"...Are you not afraid?"
Shinji looked at him. Those eyes were deep and quiet.
"I'm not afraid."
Gaara didn't say anything, but the rims of his eyes were a bit red.
Then Shinji said another sentence.
"Besides, I think you're quite cute."
Gaara was stunned. This time he was truly stunned, more so than all the times he had been stunned just now.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The tips of his ears slowly turned red. First the tips of his ears, then his cheeks, and then his entire face.
He lowered his head. The sand at his feet shrank back halfway as if startled, then stopped, not knowing where to hide.
Cute?
No one had ever called him cute.
Everyone looked at him with the eyes one would use for a monster. Fearful, disgusted, and avoiding him at all costs.
What was 'cute'? He didn't know. But he knew his face was burning.
In the distance, Temari stood there, taking all of this in.
She watched as the tips of Gaara's ears turned red, the sand shrank back and stopped, and his head buried lower and lower.
But the corners of his mouth seemed to curve up just a tiny, barely noticeable bit.
She suddenly felt a bit of a sting in her eyes.
She lowered her head and looked at her hands. They were wrapped in bandages. She remembered what he had said that day. You can cry if it hurts.
She didn't cry, but she seemed to understand one thing.
In this world, there really was someone who would reach out to them. Not as monsters, but as children.
The wind blew in from the doorway, and sand fell onto the wooden floor, making a fine, rustling sound.
The sand at Gaara's feet slowly retreated, bit by bit, back into the gourd.
The last wisp of sand paused at the mouth of the gourd before falling inside.
It was very well-behaved, as if it understood something.
Temari stood where she was, watching this scene. The wind blew past her, lifting her hair, but she didn't move.
She saw Shinji stand up and glance in her direction.
Their gazes met, briefly and lightly.
Then Shinji turned and left, walking into the wind and sand.
Temari stood there and suddenly smiled.
She turned her head to look at Gaara. He was still standing there, head lowered, looking at his feet.
The sand had all retreated into the gourd. But he didn't leave; he just stood there in the sunlight.
Temari walked toward him.
"Gaara."
Gaara looked up. That little spark was still in those eyes.
Temari looked at him and smiled again, a bit wider this time.
"Coming back tomorrow?"
Gaara thought for a moment and nodded.
Temari reached out, wanting to pat his head.
Her hand paused in mid-air, then descended, gently landing on her younger brother's hair.
Gaara didn't dodge.
Shinji stood not far away, watching Temari's hand land on Gaara's hair.
That hand was very light, as if afraid of disturbing something.
Gaara didn't dodge.
The wind blew in from the doorway, messing up the hair of all three people slightly.
Temari's, Gaara's, and the one standing not far away who hadn't dared to come over.
Kankuro's.
Kankuro stood at the edge of the training ground, holding a small puppet in his arms.
The puppet was crudely made, with wood stubble still showing at the joints; it was clearly something he had carved himself in secret.
He held the puppet very tightly, so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.
His whole body was huddled in the shadow cast by the corner of the wall, like a small animal ready to run away at any moment.
He didn't look at Gaara, nor did he look at Temari. He just kept his head down, staring at his toes.
Shinji noticed. He had noticed from the moment he stepped into the training ground. That child had been standing there from the beginning, motionless.
He was there when Temari practiced with her fan, he was there when Gaara walked over, and he was there when Shinji crouched down and said, "You look very cute."
But Kankuro didn't come over. Not even once.
He just held that crude puppet, standing in the shadows, watching. It was as if he were separated by something invisible.
Shinji withdrew his gaze and didn't walk over immediately. Some children need you to walk to them, while others need you to wait for them to walk to you.
Kankuro was the latter.
The next day, there were consistently two people on the training ground.
Temari was practicing with her fan, her moves already steadier than yesterday.
Gaara stood in the corner, the sand at his feet flowing slowly. He would occasionally look up at Shinji, then quickly lower his head again.
Kankuro was still standing at the edge, still holding that puppet, still huddled in the shadows.
But today, he took a step forward. Just one step.
Shinji saw it, but he didn't move.
The third day, Kankuro took two steps forward.
The fourth day, he took three steps forward.
The fifth day, Temari couldn't take it anymore.
She put down her fan, strode over to Kankuro, and grabbed his wrist.
"Get over here."
Kankuro stumbled from the pull, and the puppet in his arms almost fell to the ground. He scrambled to hold it tight as Temari dragged him forward.
"Sis... Sister."
"Standing there watching every day, what are you looking at!"
Temari didn't look back, dragging him across the training ground.
"If you want to watch, then come watch!"
Kankuro was dragged in front of Shinji.
Temari let go and gave him a push forward.
Kankuro stumbled a step and found his footing.
He looked up, glanced at Shinji, then lowered his head again, holding the puppet even tighter.
Shinji looked at him.
This child was ten years old. Purple face paint was applied to his face, the mark of a Puppeteer, but his hands were shaking.
It wasn't because of the cold; it was because of fear. Fear of being seen, fear of being scrutinized, fear that he wasn't good enough and that the puppet in his hands couldn't protect him.
Shinji had seen too many children like this. On battlefields, in ruins, in those corners where no one would spare a second glance.
He crouched down, just like he did with Temari and Gaara, meeting his eyes at eye level.
"Let me see the puppet."
Kankuro was stunned.
He looked up at Shinji. There was the same wariness as Temari's in his eyes, and the same emptiness as Gaara's.
But more than that, there was a sense of being at a loss.
No one had ever asked him this question.
No one wanted to see his puppets. Those things he made were always carved, repaired, and held in secret.
His father said he had talent and gave him better materials, but he never asked, "Let me see."
It was just "practice"—practice puppetry, practice manipulation, practice until he could kill on the battlefield or be killed.
He looked down at the puppet in his arms. It was crude, simple, with wood stubble still showing at the joints.
"...It's not pretty," he said. His voice was very small, as if he were talking to himself.
Shinji reached out his hand. He didn't try to take it, but just held his palm open in front of him, just as he had with Gaara that day.
"Let me see."
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