Scorched Ire

Chapter #1:
Re_birthday

"Can you please finish your story? What happened after the boy died? That can't be the end!"
—Sabaku no Gaara, age 6.

[...]

Coming to my senses after such a long time in the darkness, the numbing limbo, my five senses were so sharp I could practically hear the heartbeat of the person holding me. No wait. I wasn't exaggerating, I could truly hear the frantic—and weakening—heartbeat.

Arms encased me, unfamiliar arms. I didn't do hugs. Because a) I'm too old for that, being twenty-six and all and b) I was sure no one in the living world would want to hug me with the way I act around them. But that wasn't the point. The important thing was that the arms were large enough to wrap themselves around my whole body.

I thrashed—and ended up squirming—in the hold but it didn't do much. And damn it, the continuous squalls of some bratty infant was getting very annoying.

Was I kidnapped?

I didn't think I qualified as a kid anymore to be kidnapped. As far as the world was concerned, I didn't exist. I lived alone, having emancipated years ago, I had a decent job and other than back issues, I had quite the boring life.

nothing excitable, always alone

I was fine with that. I didn't ask for excitement in the form of being kidnapped. My family wasn't rich, I don't think they have it in them to pay whatever ridiculous ransom the kidnappers had set. Doesn't mean I wasn't about to try escaping. Again, never ceasing, I struggled to escape the caging grip on me.

A soothing voice cooed at me. It wasn't malicious, it was genuinely gentle and kind, tired but happy.

That wasn't the sort of voice you'd hear from a kidnapper. Unless said kidnapper was tired from having lugged you into this place and was very happy with the idea of the money they'd get once my parents coughed up the wanted cash. Fat chance. My parents split up when I was just a kid; my dad was a florist and my mom was a clerk. They don't have much money on them and being on not-so-close terms with them, I didn't think they'd be willing to give up their money.

We were a family of misers. Money mattered a lot to us if you can't tell by now.

Again, I was straying from my current, distressing problem.

I couldn't see clearly, everything was blurry but that wasn't unusual. I was as blind as a bat without my glasses. Still, my vision was blurrier than usual. Something, someone stroked my cheek, still cooing meaningless nonsense.

"Gaara... Natsuo... my precious, precious—..."

I stilled. I wasn't sure I heard right, but before I could think about the names the woman had spoken, she was now kissing my head, laughing softly through her sobs. She was crying.

Even though I didn't know her, didn't know what was happening to me, I stopped struggling, heart throbbing in pain when her sadness radiated through me.

"Sleep," she whispered. "and everything will be... fine... just know that I truly, truly—"

I heard no more, couldn't concentrate when I felt myself being picked up. The screaming and vibrating increased and I was uncomfortably aware of something tearing at my back, something torn away. As if someone had tried to pull my skin off my body.

"—these two are joined at the back—what do we do?"

"—need only one—"

"—that one's so quiet, is it dead?"

"Take the larger one then—I won't let the sealing be delayed any longer, twins only complicate the sealing process, perform the surgery and separate their backs—"

And everything went black.

It wasn't until much later that I realized I was the one who didn't cry.

( ｡◕‿‿◕｡)

I had enough brainpower to piece together what had happened. In my past life, I was not the guy you'd go to when you wanted help in Maths or anything like that, because there were a lot of kids in my class who could finish Math problems faster than I could eat a sweet.

I wasn't an idiot though. I was just surrounded by freakishly intelligent people, that was why I appeared as an idiot most of the time. I was the guy who'd be able to tell if you're lying or if you need someone very perceptive—this is the great player of Doubt—by your side in whatever situation.

I noticed instantly, once my vision had cleared, that I had, somehow—impossibly—been thrust into another world, a fictional world that shouldn't exist and thus defied all the laws of the real world, in the body of a frail and premature infant.

The world of ninja and chakra and tailed-beasts: the Naruto world. Except that there's no Naruto or even Konoha.

No, of all ninja villages I had to be born into, it was the village of desert sands and heat. It was a miracle that I didn't shrivel up into a husk.

And that wasn't all, I was the twin brother of Sabaku no Gaara. I wasn't the Jinchuriki which was what made it so hard for me to live since I was born prematurely.

Medic-nins and this old lady—Chiyo—kept flitting in and out of my life, trying to find out what was wrong with me and pumping my heart with the chakra I needed to survive.

Having chakra was an odd sensation for me but I adjusted and I strove to live.

I didn't know how long passed, between the three modes of infants which was sleepeatsleep, before there was a change in my boring routine. Particularly, having visitors.

Temari and Kankuro. Thinking of them as older siblings when I had none in my past life was odd. Kankuro didn't have paint on his cheeks yet, he kept poking, pinching and prodding me until Temari slapped his hand away.

She was nicer but even though she was curious, she never tried to prod me when I'd try to bite her fingers off. Not that I could bite her, I haven't had any teeth yet.

The Yondaime Kazekage dropped in occasionally but I only needed one hand to count the number of times that I'd seen him. He didn't hug me, touch or hold me, just eyed me coldly as if to assess my worth. I couldn't help but notice that his face seemed to soften when he was speaking to his older children.

I wasn't jealous. I was used to being second-best. The not-so-liked child in the family, cast aside for my sweeter younger siblings.

Where my younger siblings (regardless whether they were step-siblings or half-siblings) would be sweet and polite, I'd be sarcastic and troublesome. I was difficult child, as my mother would always complain and I had grown deaf to her shouts. I never get into an argument.

The best way to deal with angry people was to speak calmly, smile and pretend that you're not affected. Works every time. I guarantee it—I'm speaking from personal experience. Such was the downside of being the imperfect firstborn, you'd receive less love (once you have siblings) and parents often go wrong with their firstborn because they have no experience.

I dunno about the rest of the world but that sort of treatment was common in my reality.

I was used to it.

So used that I could no longer tell between jealousy, hurt, anger and apathy.

Seems the same to me—boring.

( ｡◕‿‿◕｡)

They serenaded me when it was my second birthday. It was a small group consisting of no one but my older siblings, myself and a caretaker. My sperm donor wasn't even there. But I was used to spending my birthdays alone.

One of the older, more motherly caretaker stroke my hair; I heard her murmuring her displeasure at the absence of my father. "Unbelievable... his own son's birthday and he doesn't attend... poor boy must feel so neglected..." Then she'd speak to Temari and Kankuro. "You two must always keep in mind to protect your brother and love him. Make him feel important."

I was actually surprised she liked me so much. That she sounded like she truly cared—and perhaps, to some degree, she did. At the thought that she truly loved me like one of her own, my cold heart warmed, a fuzzy and bubbly feeling surfacing and it was hard to suppress.

I was a hyperactive child so I moved around a lot and generally annoyed my caretakers and older siblings. Only Aiko didn't seem weirded out, she treated me with unusual patience and gentleness that the other caretakers did not show. They knew, as well as I did, that I was not the Kazekage's favorite and that made my value to them drop several prices.

Aiko patted my head, drawing my attention back to the current. "Make a wish, little summer boy," she crooned. She was, however, to exception to baby-talking. I held enough respect for her to not spit in her face when she did that close to me—the other caretakers were not so fortunate.

I had outgrown this a long time ago. Recent years before my last death, I had not even celebrated my birthday which had fell on the 7th of May. 7th of May... it was ironic that I died the same day I was born.

What did I wish for?

My mind worked furiously for an answer but I could find none. Seeing everyone's expectant and impatience gazes, seeing the candles melting into the cake, I decided to forgo the wish and blew on the candle, managing to blow out the three candles in one blow.

By then, Kankuro had stolen a cherry.

I huffed. "Happy re-birthday to me."

Sunagakure, May 7th; 1834 hours

"My summer boy, you know a lot even though you've never seen the outside world much. What an intelligent child you are!"

The auburn-haired boy laughs. "Aiko-obaa-san, you won't believe me even if I told you how I knew so much."

She hums, smiling, the smile lines around her eyes crinkling when she does so. "Really," she says dubiously, leaning forward expectantly to hear the young boy's answer. "Try me. Whatever you tell me won't be any odder than the things I've seen in my seventy-eight years of life."

He giggles, cupping his mouth and leaning close, his voice lowers to a whisper. "This isn't my first life. Today is my original birthday... come on, Obaa-san, wish me a happy birthday!"

And Aiko laughs because children have such imagination.

[click]

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but Natsuo.

Natsuo = his name means 'summer life'

Author's Note: I've read an SI being reborn in Suna but not as Gaara's sibling before so I decided to try my hand. Yes, Natsuo is male in both this life and the last.

Question: How do you envision Natsuo's and Gaara's eventual relationship to be like?

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