Characters: Temari, Karura, Gaara, Yashamaru
Summary: The sand obliterating lullabies, and the sting of that slap on her face, are almost all she can remember.
Pairings: None
Author's Note: Here's hoping you all like it. You know the drill, guys: read, enjoy, and review.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Temari's most distant memories, weak lights on the edge of the horizon of the sea, are those of her mother's lullabies.

She will rest in the crook of her mother's arms, her head pressed against Karura's heart, and listen to the small woman sing. When she sings, Okaasan has a slightly husky voice, soothing and hypnotic. Her songs of far-off places and legends of old send her daughter off on fantastical dreams, and, happy, Temari waits for the next lullaby, nestled in her mother's arms and small lap.

Afterwards, Temari struggles to retain the words. It was so long ago, so far in the distant past, that the words are straining to fly away from her. She holds it in her grasp with the tightest, most desperate fingers, and even then, grains of knowledge fall away from her like sand.

Sand.

Grainy sand.

Sand that absorbs everything, and gives nothing back.

Sand that buries.

Sand that obliterates.

And it starts to obliterate Temari's memory, piece by piece, sung word by sung word.

.

Of course, the sand had help. Enter Yashamaru, unwitting assassin of memory.

When Temari is four, she doesn't quite grasp what is wrong with her new baby brother. Her resentment towards Gaara is more than a spark of anger; Temari isn't old enough to understand the significance of the word "jinchuuriki", but she's old enough to know that her mother died to have him and that Gaara's the reason Okaasan isn't there anymore.

But she has a hard time holding on to hate, and she can't fail to be sympathetic to the fact that Gaara can't sleep.

She takes the baby in her arms, clumsily, after watching him writhe in his crib, all alone, cold and untouched and with the aura of isolation humming all around him, buzzing like angry bees. He squirms and cringes like something's hurting him, and Temari's brow draws up, uncomprehending but starting to get an inkling of what goes on in him.

Temari knows Gaara would be so much happier if he could just sleep for a little while. Babies are always happier after they sleep, at least that's what Yashamaru's told her, but Gaara can't sleep and Temari knows that's just not right.

No one ever wants to touch Gaara for some reason and when she picks him up, though he's a small baby he feels dense as lead in her arms.

She stares at him for a moment.

And then the words of one of Karura's lullabies start to come back to her.

Temari gets through two stanzas before the sound brings Yashamaru running. He stands, wild-eyed in the doorway, breathing as though he's run a marathon while Temari smiles proudly up at him, wanting him to see what she's done.

Yashamaru's reaction is swift and immediate, and Temari's head snaps to the side, stinging painfully, almost before she feels the sharp sensation of her uncle's open hand slapping her cheek.

While she's still in shock, Yashamaru plucks Gaara out of her arms and places him back in his crib, trying, like everyone else, to touch him as little as possible.

Then, crying almost as hard as she is, Yashamaru takes Temari up into his arms and tells her never to sing those songs again, especially not to Gaara.

Temari does as he says. And she forgets those songs.

With those songs, she forgets everything else, too.