Rivulets of sweat ran down Gaara’s pale brow, soft pants escaping him as your training briefly settled into something more amiable and conversational. Gaara lowered his hands, sand sifting beneath his feet.

Gaara was progressing in taijutsu quickly, though he still retained some subconscious reflexes that hindered his growth. He didn’t need you as a teacher— nevertheless, you were grateful. Standing a ways from you, Gaara straightened.

“… It’s only because of you that I’m doing so well,” Gaara spoke only after your praises had ceased, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he willed himself to breathe. His gaze was fond.