TW: Depression

After the previous incident, an additional three days had gone by and Gaara had begun to wish that he was back in prison. Not that the work had become unbearably labor-intensive, but the growing tension between him and every other individual on the farm had become suffocating.

Every night when he returned to bed he would have to meet the scowls of the farmhands who collectively made it known how unwelcomed he was. He had quickly learned this held no real physical threat to him, except for the emotional trauma that would resurface and lay bubbling somewhere underneath the skin. Such incidents did not incite any emotional pain, rather it became a distinct feeling of emptiness in his abdomen that he carried for most of his young life. Now, it seemed strange that this familiar feeling continued to bother him, like continuous punches stealing his breath away. Gaara shook his head and took it out of the gutter, which he found himself returning to more and more frequently these days.

It was early in the morning and he had just opened the gates to the open field so the cows could graze. Making his way down the pebbled path to the entrance gates of the manor. The day prior he had been instructed by Zabuza to unload crates off from trucks, carry them into the back of the house, and lay them down the servant's kitchen. He didn't think much of this but as he arrived at the cargo truck he noticed, brother number one standing and talking to the driver. Gaara couldn't remember his name but his bowl cut made him recognizable miles away, but even more than that was his wide smile with two rows filled with pearly whites. His presence made him a bit uncomfortable since he had not gotten to the better side with Naruto's other brother. Gaara didn't bother much in bringing attention to himself, so he began taking out some boxes from the back and setting them on the floor to stack. Once he had arranged a pile of three he bent down, picked them up, and made his way to the back of the manor. He couldn't help but notice the rattling inside the boxes every time he took a step toward the manor. When he reached the door to the servant's kitchen he balanced the crates on one arm while simultaneously opening the door with the other. A group of ladies greeted him with warm smiles and a quick wave motioning him to place the crates in an empty closet. He could hear a couple of them whispering to each other and giggling. Uncomfortable with the light and cheerful atmosphere of the female cooks he made his way through the door.

Making his exit, to continue his rounds of lugging several other similar crates into the building. Surprisingly as he reached the cargo cart a second time, he saw the oldest brother acknowledge him with a curt nod.

"Haven't seen you around buddy" He began.

Buddy? Gaara thought.

He locked eyes with him for a brief moment before he resumed his job of stacking crates.

A thin line formed upon his lips as he exaggerated a sigh.

"So.....I've heard what happened. You know between you........and my brother" Brother number one made a point to pause between words.

He continued by saying, "Not from him of course. He's too much of an egotistical maniac to talk through problems. But that doesn't matter, Iruka has explained everything to me and what occurred was unjust so I apologize in his behalf" He bowed his head and the fringes of his hair fell over his face.

The action brought Gaara to a halt who had been doing his best to ignore his words until now.

The son of a judge bowing his head before a servant. He would be named a bafoon for telling such a ridiculous story except for it wasn't a story. He couldn't remember the last time he had been sincerely apologized to, but it felt strange.

His face grew warm and began to sweat in areas most uncomfortable.

He took a second glance and nodded slowly.

"I have reflected on my actions and I am not completely void of fault" Gaara said rather quietly.

"You speak rather eloquently for a servant. What is it you did before coming here?" Brother one asked.

"Nothing to be proud of" he answered.

"I am not regarding your crimes. I am asking for who you were before your affiliation with the gang. You do distinguish between the two correct?" He asked curiosly.

"Why must you ask?" Gaara responded.

"You answer like a poet. Very ambiguous and extremely annoying. I ask because I want to know who my father has brought in that believes in his heart of hearts deserves a second chance" he answered.

"But I know nothing of you sir. This would hardly be a fair exchange" He said in a moment of impudence.

"There you go again taking liberties. I hope this isn't a habit of yours." He seemed more amused than ticked.

"Well what is there to know.....I am 32 the first son of the Great Judge Jiraya. I've studied law at Vincent University and I am currently under the wing of my father and working with him as a prosecuter" he replied.

"Your name?" Asked Gaara.

"Guy" he answered simply.

Gaara repeated "Guy? As in man? How can someones name mean man"

"My father has a very dry sense of humor" he chuckled.

The rest of the conversation came easily by both. Gaara found someone who he was able to ask even the most ridiculous questions without feeling belittled by the other party. All the while Guy found Gaara a very amusing partner.

Both had stumbled upon various topics, until there were no more crates to be carried in and his job was complete.

In the last string of conversation, he asked Guy what the boxes contained.

"Decorations for my little brother's party. My brother has a flare for the over dramatic. I've been told it's genetic. He begged father to host a grand party and invite his friends. Although it's obvious his real objective is the second son of the mayor" Guy stated.

As those words slipped out of Guys mouth so nonchalantly, Gaara's throat knotted and speaking suddenly seemed like an impossible task.

"Now that I remember. You've yet to answer my question. Who were you before your crimes?" Guy asked captivated.

Gaara thought for a bit and silence dragged between a moment to several seconds. When the answer daunted upon him.

"It seems I cannot remember who I was"

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Yall.......I read the Captive Prince series and my writing style takes a 180 shift. I apologize 😔.

-proxi