Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto!

A/N: So here it is...I know that I promised you guys all something a bit different and believe me I did try, but after going through more than a dozen different rough drafts. three editors, and having my computer crash on me and delete all my notes. I decided to go by the beat of my own drum. And to be blunt I'm quite happy how it turned out. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and tell me what you think! I'm always here too please!

Summary: She never expected to die. She never expected to kill. She most definitely never expected to replace a sociopath.

When I get bigger, big enough to go somewhere by myself, I want to go to a land that's far away. I want to go to a faraway island. I want to go to an island that has no people. I want to go to an island that has no pain or sadness. On that island, I can climb a tree when I want to climb, swim in the sea when I want to swim, and sleep when I want to sleep. When I think about the town without me, I feel a sense of relief. I want to go far, far away.

~ Kayo's Poem (Erased)

Chapter 1

Even now, years later, she wonders if being here was either a mistake or the act of a cruel god.

Not many can say they lived through death, but practically fewer could say they had died and somehow wound up trapped inside the body of a baby. A baby who under no circumstance should have existed, thus she shouldn't have either.

But Gaara was always destined to be a special child, even if what she preferred were a steady peace and idyllic quiet.

However, she'd quickly learned that such naiveté was a fleeting dream that could never be. Not for her, anyways - especially when one had a psychotic demon embedded into their being, an entire village out to get you, a family who was fearful of your very existence, and a father who mercilessly sent out hardened assassins to smother you in your crib.

Yes, Gaara was only four years old and already her new life was starting to seem more and more like a living nightmare than a second chance.

(x)(x)(x)

Walking alone in the village at the dead of night was a common occurrence for her, and though in her old life this would have attracted the suspicious glances of onlookers, on this particular night, as with everyone that came before, the streets were completely deserted, with entire businesses and villagers packing up early and barricading themselves within their homes.

Gaara knew why they did this and, strangely enough, it didn't really bother her. She couldn't fault them for their insecurities of her and the stories that parents filled their children's heads with to keep them behaved and indoors at night. The ones that spoke of her relentless blood-lust towards Suna's citizens. But that's all they were — rumors.

The fact of the matter was that she's never once gone out of her way to express the attention or act on the need to kill or harm another.

Even the more begrudging shinobi her father sent after her could never make a dent past her impenetrable shield, which made it easier to simply incapacitate her would-be-killers and go about her way.

And despite Shukaku's verbal protests, she repudiated crossing the line that would see her taking a life.

Never once did she ever harbor any ill hate or resentment for her assailants as they were j just following orders; albeit twisted and immoral orders that asked them to take the life of a little girl without hesitation, but orders all the same.

This was her life now, and she accepted it as best as it would allow her to, as she had long since come to evaluate her circumstances and discovered one single terrifying truth.

She had involuntarily replaced Sabaku no Gaara.

Now, she had her own theories and speculations on why this had happened. Some ranging from multi-world travel to a cosmic phenomenon that saw her thrust in a world straight out of a manga page, but in the end she came to the conclusion that none of that mattered- not anymore, at least- she was here and alive and whether she wanted to be or not, she was now a part of this world.

She was stuck in this body, in a shell that wasn't her own, raised to be a key pawn that balanced the scales of power amongst each of the five great nations.

A jinchūriki.

One who was capable of holding one of the nine tailed beasts and was hated and reviled by one's own home for it. It was a thankless job, but necessary to maintain peace.

Gaara carefully walked through the dimly lit streets, always observative and wary of her surroundings. She wisely kept her face shielded with a yellow veil scarf that draped loosely around her thin neck from the soft blowing sands of the village, causing a few strains of sandy-brown hair that touched at her shoulders to obscure her features.

Her dark indigo-colored eyes that were always aloof with indifference never failed to cause some resemblance and grief from her immediate family- Temari and Kankurō in particular who saw their mothers — Karura's, soft loving face reflected through her image.

It also prompted them to remember whose fault it was that she was gone, which led to a deep strain in the relationship with her siblings.

She wrapped a hand loosely around the fabric of her clothes. A simple purple outfit — a dress which ended at the knees, with simple ninja sandals embellished on her feet.

She looked up at the sky. A full moon. Normally she would never even think to be out this late, as it was during this time of the month that the demon within her became even more restless and persistent.

However, since everyone had called it a night, she saw no harm in venturing outside during the late hours. It beat having to spend her days secluded in her bedroom with nothing to do but drowning out the manic laughter and demands of the Ichibi to feed its insatiable appetite for blood.

She never listened, but that didn't make it any more unsettling.

A part of Gaara wondered if something was wrong with her seal. Unlike most seals, which kept the host and the beast mentally separated and isolated from the other, hers seemed more corrupted and unstable, which allowed the Ichibi access to her mind without barring it from communicating with her.

When she asked her Uncle — the only person who didn't seem to harbor any true hostility towards her about her plight — he was less than forthcoming about the problem than she initially would have liked. However, he did loosely mention that Suna wasn't all that well-versed in the art of sealing compared to many of the other villages. Most of its prominent fūinjutsu masters had lost their lives during the last war, severely weakening the villages ability to design or replicate effective seals, which meant that Gaara was left with a half-baked, faulty seal that could collapse on itself at any moment. Thus making her a literal ticking time bomb that could go off without warning — Kami, no wonder most of the village wanted her dead. Wasn't that a scary thought?

It would explain why her male counterpart was much more prone to violent outbursts and sociopathic tendencies that left Suna in a literal state of panic. This deep imbalance could easily be contributed to Shukaku's, voice encouraging a child to partake in violent acts, or a village that wanted desperately to see a monster, rather than a lonely little boy curled up into a ball.

Needless to say, Gaara had no intention of going mad. Or dying, for that matter.

Because she knew the motives of the demon, she quickly learned to ignore or suppress the sand demons words and false promises. That's not to say that she didn't have her own mental scarring from the incidents, but nowhere was it nearly as bad as believing that the tanuki was her mother.

That was a thought she wouldn't even bother entertaining.

Gaara knew that Shukaku would revel in seeing her crash and burn, then succeed, until she was forced to rely on its power. Ergo, she needed an alternative for herself. The result would be her dwindling the use of the beasts sand property and replacing with something just as effective.

In conclusion, her hopes were for a technique that would not solely rely on one source, thereby limiting the Ichibi's influence over her and widening her horizon to something other than pure, uncontrollable chaos.

Stopping at the steps of a building that was more so a clay dome then a library, she beckoned and steered the vast sand that blanketed the village towards the keyhole of the locked door, allowing her entry.

This was perhaps the only place she could visit that she exactly found some level of solace in. Working on and checking out books that revolved around her education- writing, vocabulary, kanji, etc. She devoured all the information this village had to offer. Her Uncle would repeatedly comment that she was highly intelligent and resourceful for her age, though it didn't mean much by comparison.

This was a world that sprouted child prodigies easily. For Pete's sake, Sasori graduated at 7 and became a chūnin at 8. By comparison, she wasn't that special, so she didn't bother hiding her intellect.

Be that as it may, she methodically took her time scouring the multitude of scrolls and books that encompassed every shelf and crook that littered the building. Her eyes narrowed, trying to find her prize amidst a swarm of various titles and publications. Until at last her sight zeroed in on her objective, located on a thin little paperback. It was buried on top of the highest shelf at the back corner of the room.

Carting out a ladder and stretching her arms out to its limits while nearly losing her balance in the process, she clasps the dusty old book that reek of age and must ripped and wrinkled with one or two tares by time.

Giving off a mischievous gleam, a half smile grazes her lips as she unfastens the cover, automatically scrunching up her nostrils as a few pesky dust particles threaten to invade her sinuses as she begins to read through the printed words etched in front of her, regaling chakra control and meditation techniques.

Something Gaara quickly took the hint at was the strong encouragement for children to be bred into shinobi at an early age, so it came as no shock-value to learn that she might become one herself.

It would be expected as the container of the Ichibi and the child of the Yondaime Kazekage. She had no choice in the matter - but that didn't mean she couldn't have a say in how she got there.

She wasn't looking for acknowledgment from the village, though having her families wouldn't be too much of a nuisance.

She didn't desire the grandeur the title of a Kage procured or the hassle it brought with it, and she sure as hell didn't want to attract the attention of 10 highly inept missing-nin who wanted to capture her for some nefarious purpose. She'd get stronger and learn to tame the beast within her. One day, if she was perhaps lucky enough to survive this whole mess…

She'd like to reach that steady peace and idyllic quiet — that wouldn't be too bad of a pipe dream, right?

A/N: I know some people will kick me for this...but (eh)