A few months had passed since the night the village had shaken under the weight of that monster.
The memory of Shukaku's roar still clung to the walls, carried in the cracks of plaster, the patches of sand swept from rooftops, the half-finished repairs on streets that had been gouged apart.
Everyone remembered where they had been when the sky split open, when the Kazekage stood against something that dwarfed him.
Everyone in the village knew about it, from the lowest orphan to the highest elder in the council.
It was an event that marked everyone, from young to old, poor to the richest, even the most battle-hardened carried unease in their silence.
The thought alone was enough to chill conversations into uneasy quiet, for there were few in the village who could face a Bijuu, fewer still who could defeat or suppress it.
Even though some time had passed, there were still talks and whispers about what happened, although they always froze when the embodiment of that terror walked by.
Gaara was gradually becoming the figure of fear he was destined to be.
The mark, the symbol, the Japanese kanji character for Love, was carved to the left of his forehead in red.
The cold, hateful look in his eyes grew sharper with each day, worsened by Shukaku's torment, robbing him of sleep and leaving him hollow.
His presence drawed more attention than before due to that event and the new change taking place in him, making him the most fearful existence in the Ninja Academy, even by the older trainees or instructors much less the ones in his class.
It was a blistering afternoon approaching evening, the scorching heat was unbearable as the newly fourth years in the Ninja Academy were enjoying their free time, after a full hardous day.
Shira was exercising while carrying a few weights throughout his body, with a especial focus on his legs, torso and arms. The weights he was using were no longer patched linen sacks filled sand but actual weights that the instrutors facilitated him.
After all, it didn't look good that one of the top trainees, the best in Taijutsu, was seen in the village or training carrying completely dirty and carrying around those patched sacks filled with sand.
Daiana was on the side reading a book while sitting with her legs crossed. It was a book that focused on the anatomy of the human.
Though reading it for the third time, she still caught details she had missed before. She had begun to love this reading scrolls and books that opened worlds without moving a step.
They were filled with information that covered every aspect in the world and too a great detail of it too. Every book felt like a journey she was taking without moving from the same place.
The human body, seals, jutsus, history, and so on. Works that took a lifetime imbued in paper by ink.
Beside them was a multiple of Isan, with some sleeping on the hard floor, others sparring with each other, there even were also a few medidating peacefully by the side.
Anyone that would witness this sight would be shocked by the amount of clones Isan had formed, except for the part that if one looked closely, especially at the ones sparring, there was no physical contact between them.
Just then a sudden unease spread through the area wherer they were.
Sand began to shift where there had been none.
Gaara stepped out from the shadow of a nearby wall.
The mark on his forehead caught the light, sharp against his already pale skin. The murmur among the students faltered immediately before dying of completely.
A boy near the front let his practice kunai slip.
The clatter struck stone, thin and cutting in the quiet.
Gaara's gaze moved across them one by one until it stopped on the group of three: Shira, Daiana and Isan.
Shira had already stopped near Daiana, breathing heavily and sweat marking his shirt while Daiana was staring at Gaara with her book closed now against her chest.
The only oddity was the large amount of Isan's clones were continuing their variety of activities, except for a single one. This one was laying down on the ground, seemingly sleeping, but he had one eye open staring directly at Gaara in the distance.
Sand was shifting at Gaara's feet, the mere sight of it sent chills down the spine of every trainee in there.
No one dared to approach, talk or move towards this small red haired boy.
A low murmur slipped from Gaara's lips, broken, half-whispered.
The sand around him began to swirl faster and quivering, rising and falling in restless waves, grains rattling against one another.
Several trainees backed away while trembling a little, fearing that it was about to happen then and there.
Shira immediately stepped forward unconsciously, placing himself in front of Daiana, his whole body covered in sweat.
Daiana had already placed her book down and was also getting ready to take action at any given notice.
The pressure intensified as Gaara was approaching the two of them while clutching his head.
Suddenly a burst of sand rushed at Shira, who responded in kind and bursted forward kicking the sand away.
The surrounding trainees seeing what was about to unfold, were about to retreat and flee when they felt drowsy and incredibly sleepy. Some of the weaker ones fell squarely on the hard floor while the strong willed ones struggled to remain standing but ended up in the same situation.
Shira and Daiana were a bit alarmed by what just occurred around them, but their primary focus was on the sand demon before them.
"Gaara."
A voice suddenly sounded from the ceilling as a shadowy figure dropped down as Isan's clones slowly dissolved into nothing.
Gaara's eyes snapped upward as sand rushed at the shadowy figure and binded around it.
"Argh...", Gaara grunted as his head hurted even further, a feeling of killing overpowering his every other sense, as he extended his hand up. "Sand... Coffin."
The pressure of the sand surrounding the shadowy figure increased exponentally, crushing the figure that burst into a cloud of smoke.
"Gaara."
Hearing a voice from behind, Gaara rapidly turned while his sand also rushed following his direction, until a hand patted him on his head, causing the sand to still and slowly drop to the ground.
"That is enough. There is no one that will bother you here.", it was Isan that continued to pat slowly and ruffle the red haired boy, that was narrowing his eyes in response while clenching his hand fiercely.