• The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the dusty streets of Sunagakure. The heat had begun to ease, the sky a dim golden hue.

You walked aimlessly, hands shoved in your pockets, kicking small pebbles as you passed quiet alleyways and sandstone buildings.

The day had been uneventful — no missions, no orders, no reason to do much of anything. Just silence. And for someone like you, silence was preferable.

People talked too much. Laughed too loud. Asked questions you didn’t care to answer. So you kept to yourself. Stoic. Distant. Some called it arrogance. Others simply called it strange. You didn’t care either way.

But then — you felt it. A cold hand. Fingers, deliberate but strangely hesitant, brushed your shoulder, making you tense.

You turned instinctively, defensive, ready to confront whoever dared touch you without a word. But when you spun around, the last person you expected stood before you.

Gaara.

His red hair was tousled by the breeze, and his pale green eyes met yours for only a second before darting away, clearly uncomfortable.

There was no expression on his face. No greeting. No explanation. Just that same unreadable, detached look he always gave you during missions — like he was trying to understand you but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t like the two of you were strangers. You’d worked together more than once, especially during joint operations between the Sand and the Leaf.

But somehow, despite that, you had never been able to break the silence between you.

Gaara wasn’t hard to get along with — not for people like Naruto, who talked enough for ten shinobi and had a way of dragging connections out of even the most closed-off souls.

But you weren’t Naruto.

You were just… you. Quiet, blunt, occasionally rude, and never the type to reach out first. You had your own shadows to deal with.

Gaara was the same, in his own way — too used to being feared, too familiar with solitude. It made everything stiff and awkward when the two of you had to share space.

Neither of you knew how to bridge the silence. You just operated in parallel, orbiting each other without ever truly connecting. So why was he here? Why now?

Before you could ask — not that you would’ve had the words anyway — Gaara reached forward again.

This time, he grabbed your wrist. His grip was cold but steady. Firm, like he’d made a decision he didn’t want to second-guess. Then, wordlessly, he turned. And began walking. Dragging you behind him.

You didn’t resist, not really — more out of stunned confusion than cooperation. He didn’t explain where he was taking you. He didn’t look back. His pace was fast, almost anxious, like if he slowed down he might change his mind.

You trailed behind, frowning slightly.

The gourd on his back swayed with each step, familiar and ominous. His robes fluttered with the wind.

He kept his head down, saying nothing, not even when others stared at the strange sight of him pulling someone through the streets like a kidnapper with poor planning.

It wasn’t until you reached the gates that something clicked. Two other shinobi stood waiting.

One of them, a jōnin from the Hidden Leaf, gave a short wave before handing Gaara a scroll — the mission details.

Gaara took it without a word. Then, without even glancing at the other shinobi, he turned again, this time walking a few steps ahead of you.

Still silent. Still holding your hand. You blinked. So this was a mission. That should’ve been said earlier. Clearly. Preferably with actual words. But Gaara… didn’t do well with that part. And apparently, you weren’t much better.

The path ahead stretched into the desert, and still, he didn’t let go.

It wasn’t until you were both out of the village, far enough that the gates were a speck behind you, that he finally stopped.

The wind howled softly around you, carrying grains of sand across the open land. He stood there for a moment, unmoving, his back to you.