When the line TOP 9: The Monster Whose Childhood Was Stolen – Gaara finally appeared across the celestial screen, it felt as though all the air in the Hidden Sand Village had been sucked away in an instant.
Crowded streets, training shinobi, children at play
Everything stopped.
A deathly silence followed.
A silence deeper and more suffocating than the desert at night.
Then whispers spread like a plague, followed by countless stares that carried no attempt at disguise.
Fear. Disgust. Hatred. And beneath all that, a faint curiosity people wished they could deny.
Those gazes converged from every corner of the village onto one figure: a red-haired boy standing alone in the shadows, a massive gourd strapped to his back.
Gaara.
He lifted his head abruptly. Those unmistakable green eyes, outlined by dark circles, locked onto the place where his name hung in the sky.
A monster. Was that what he was?
He had long grown used to the title.
But seeing that title displayed publicly above the world itself, forcing every soul to judge him, stirred something new inside him. A surge of anger mixed with confusion and panic he didn't even know he carried.
The gourd on his back trembled. Sand leaked through the seams, swirling around his feet with a low growl like a beast answering its master's rage.
Inside the Kazekage's office, the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, shot to his feet, gripping the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His face was pale, lips trembling uncontrollably.
"No… impossible… how could it be him?"
The thing he feared most had finally come to pass.
That heavenly curtain was like an all-seeing eye, peeling away every layer of deception until its gaze landed squarely on his son, the most unstable weapon the Sand Village possessed.
Gaara's teacher Baki, along with Rasa's children Temari and Kankuro, stared in stunned disbelief.
None of them had expected Gaara to be dragged into the ranking.
When the tension in the Sand Village had stretched so tightly it felt ready to snap, the image on the sky brightened once more.
The footage began in a simple birthing room.
A beautiful woman lay on a bed, drenched in sweat, her breath thin and fading.
Her name was Karura.
She gazed lovingly at the newborn cradled beside her.
"No matter what happens, I will always protect you… Gaara."
These were the last words she left behind.
Her voice faded, and her body dissolved into golden grains of sand that drifted gently into the infant's tiny frame.
The scene shifted.
Toddler Gaara stumbled down a few steps and tripped. Before he hit the ground, a thick cushion of sand rose from nowhere, catching him softly.
A ball flew toward the back of his head. Sand surged again, forming a small barrier that blocked it completely.
A deep voice echoed from the sky.
This is the will of the mother who dwells within the sand. Absolute Defense.
Shinobi across the world stared in confusion.
"That… actually sounds pretty great? Always protected by your mother's love? Lucky kid."
"Exactly. If I tripped as a kid, my mom would've yelled at me for not watching where I stepped."
"Absolute Defense? That bloodline ability is insane!"
In the Hidden Leaf Village, Kiba scratched Akamaru's fur while frowning.
Nearby, Shino adjusted his sunglasses. Something about this felt wrong. He doubted things were anywhere near as simple as they appeared.
The heavenly curtain changed scenes once again.
On a sunny afternoon, a group of Sand Village children kicked a ball around happily. Not far away, little Gaara hugged his teddy bear, eyes full of shy longing.
He hesitated for a long moment before finally gathering the courage to walk toward them.
"I… I want to play too," he whispered.
The children paused. A girl smiled and kicked the ball toward him.
"Sure, come join us!"
Hope flickered in Gaara's eyes.
He reached out, eager to catch the symbol of friendship.
But the moment he moved, the uncontrollable sand acted on its own, surging forward like a wild beast.
A loud thud.
The sand missed the ball and instead scraped harshly across the girl's cheek, leaving a bleeding line.
She froze. Then screamed.
"Ahh! Monster! You're a monster!"
The other children panicked and ran in all directions, shouting that same word.
Monster.
The once cheerful playground fell silent.
Only Gaara remained.
He stared at his hands, confusion and pain swallowing the brief light that had shone on his face moments earlier.
He wandered to a nearby swing and sat down, burying his face in his knees.
In the Hidden Leaf, inside Ichiraku Ramen, Naruto slurped his noodles until that lonely red-haired figure appeared on the sky's projection. His chopsticks halted mid-air.
The image overlapped with memories he wished he could forget: disgusted glances, whispered insults, voices calling him demon, fox, monster…
A sharp pain pierced his chest.
"So… he's the same as me…"
The chopsticks slipped from his fingers and fell into his bowl.
He suddenly couldn't eat another bite.
The scene on the sky shifted from day to night.
Gaara sat alone on a rooftop, hugging his knees, quietly crying.
A soft voice approached from behind.
"Gaara, it's late. Why aren't you sleeping?"
Gaara whipped around, fear and sorrow melting instantly when he saw the familiar figure.
His uncle, Yashamaru.
Yashamaru sat beside him with a gentle smile. When he noticed the cuts on Gaara's arms, he pulled out ointment and began tending to them.
"Did you get hurt again?" he asked, clearly pained.
"Yashamaru… am I… a monster?" Gaara choked out.
Yashamaru paused, then spoke even more tenderly. "Of course not. You know, physical wounds heal quickly with medication. But the wounds inside the heart are much harder to cure. And there is only one medicine that can heal those wounds. Love."
His words were warm sunlight in Gaara's long, freezing night.
The only light he had ever known.
But that light was doomed to be extinguished.
The scene changed abruptly.
In the dim Kazekage office, Rasa stood with his back to a kneeling figure.
"The elders are growing impatient. They want to test the stability of this… weapon."
"Tonight, you will assassinate Gaara. We need to know his limits."
The camera shifted.
Yashamaru knelt on the floor, face twisted with pain and disbelief.
"Kazekage… he is only a child. He is your son."
Rasa turned slowly, his expression cold as stone.
"He is not my son. He is the weapon this village created. Your sister died to make that weapon."
"This mission is your chance to show loyalty to the village. Your last chance."
The Sand Village erupted.
"What… Yashamaru was acting under the Kazekage's orders?"
"We blamed Gaara all these years because we thought Yashamaru betrayed the village…"
"So it was the Kazekage… he lied to us."
Shock, fury, and disbelief twisted the faces of countless villagers.
The truth they had relied on all their lives shattered like glass.
Rasa staggered in his office, feeling the weight of the village's glare pressing down on him. Respect drained away, replaced by cold anger.
Even Baki, Temari, and Kankuro looked at him as if seeing a stranger.
The heavenly curtain continued.
Moonlight bathed the rooftops in silver.
A masked assassin struck like a phantom, blades aimed at Gaara's heart.
Gaara dodged desperately, shouting, "Who are you? Why? Stop!"
He didn't want to fight back.
But the sand protecting him did not share his hesitation.
A final fierce strike.
The sand hardened into sharp spikes, impaling the attacker.
Silence.
Gaara stared at the body lying in a pool of blood. No triumph.
Only horror.
He staggered forward and removed the mask with trembling hands.
It was Yashamaru.
Time froze.
Gaara's mind went blank. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
He stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground as the whole world went silent around him.
He looked at Yashamaru's face, twisted in pain yet wearing a strange, bitter smile.
With the last of his strength, Gaara screamed.
"Why… why?"