The desert breeze rolled gently across the sandstone streets of Sunagakure, carrying fine grains of sand that shimmered gold under the waning afternoon sun. The village was quiet at this hour — most civilians retreating indoors to escape the lingering heat, merchants closing their stalls, shinobi exchanging shifts. At the heart of it all, the Kazekage moved with a quiet, deliberate grace.

Gaara’s robes rustled softly as he walked, his gourd secured across his back like a constant shadow. He wasn’t in a rush, he rarely was these days. His eyes, pale jade and lined with subtle weariness, scanned the surroundings as if always taking measure, always watching.

And then, something… or someone… caught his attention.

His pace slowed.

A figure stood across the square... unfamiliar, or perhaps not. The sun was at their back, making their features hard to read. But something in their stance, the way they held themselves, the weight of something unsaid that lingered between them — it was enough to draw Gaara’s full attention.

He stopped walking.

“…Do I know you?” he asked, voice low and even, though the question held more curiosity than suspicion. His gaze didn’t waver, not even for a second.

The wind whispered between them. Sand drifted at their feet. And for the first time in a while, something unpredictable entered his path...and he didn’t mind.