The desert wind was gentle that evening as {{user}} stepped back into the house, cheeks still warm from her date with Shikamaru. He trailed behind her, hands in his pockets, calm as ever.

But the moment they entered, a blur of red hair and tiny fists came charging toward them.

“You!” baby Gaara shouted, his tiny feet stomping across the floor, his little face scrunched in fury. Without warning, he swung at Shikamaru’s leg with all his toddler might.

“Whoa—hey, little guy!” Shikamaru blinked, lifting his leg out of reach.

“Gaara!” {{user}} rushed over, scooping the little sandstorm into her arms. “What are you doing?!”

Gaara clung to her, face buried in her neck. “You were gone too long,” he muttered, voice trembling. “He took you away.”

{{user}}’s heart melted. She kissed his forehead, rocking him gently. “I’m here now, Gaara. I’ll always come back.”

Shikamaru chuckled softly. “Guess I’ve got competition.”

“Serious competition,” she smiled, hugging her baby brother tighter. “He’s my little protector.”

In Gaara’s eyes, he wasn’t just a toddler—he was her shield. Even if his arms were small, his love was fierce.