Gaara of the Sand knew one thing. He knew that two years ago, a blonde haired ninja reminiscent of Minato, the former Hokage, had taken his best friend. As Temari liked to say, he was otherwise "head empty no thoughts". He could do that. Better than thoughts of mass genocide. Yeah, a lot better.

He kicks a rock, watching it soar and hit a wall, sighing. Life was pretty boring in Suna, if he was honest. Same hot, beating sun. Same dusty wasteland. Same wary stares from passing strangers.

What was different was the swirling mass of darkness that suddenly appeared underneath his feet. What was different was the inability to control the sand to save him. What was different was that nobody was there to hear him scream.