Gaara finally composed himself.
Under Osamu’s gentle guidance, he began recounting his life over the past few years.
Becoming a Jinchuriki, being unable to sleep, being forced into assassination missions to test his capacity, watching his older brother and sister distance themselves out of fear, being forced to move out of his original home to live with his uncle, and enduring the undisguised rejection of everyone in the village…
As he listened, Osamu’s smile stiffened, his expression gradually turning ice-cold.
Yet the hand on Gaara’s back kept gently patting him, giving the boy the courage to continue his hesitant complaints and rare moments of vulnerability.
Rasa.
He couldn’t govern the nation properly, and his own family was an utter disaster.
His Magnet Style was useful enough to stabilize the village’s finances—indeed, it was his main reliance in becoming the Fourth Kazekage.
But what kind of respectable leader spent every single day mining gold himself to make money?
Were the previous Kazekage all miners busy digging every day, too?
It simply came down to his inability to earn the trust of the Land of Wind’s Daimyo, nor did he have bargaining chips to trade for financial support.
Then again, taking a more cynical view, if the village ever developed other revenue streams, Rasa’s position as Kazekage might not even remain secure.
So he spent his days paranoid and suspicious, using all sorts of insidious schemes to test his own son—sparing no expenditure of manpower, resources, or money just to subject Gaara to soul-crushing trials over and over again.
For a petty man with neither love for the world nor love for his family—a man whose head was full of nothing but underhanded tricks—to become Kazekage…
what fantastic luck the Hidden Sand Village had.
Oh, wait.
The rest of this village was just as ignorant.
Ultimately, resources were far too scarce, causing people in such a brutal, destitute environment to lose the capacity for kindness.
They had no profitable industries of their own, nor did they have anyone capable of negotiating with—or directly controlling—the Daimyo who held the purse strings.
Without resources, there could be no development.
Without development, ignorance only grew.
With growing ignorance, even more resources were lost.
The entire nation was trapped in this vicious cycle.
Osamu composed his thoughts.
He decided to leave a few useful little gifts for Gaara—this young boy who was destined to become the Fifth Kazekage.
Having finished speaking about his life over the years, Gaara looked up nervously at Grandpa Zang’s grave expression.
In truth, he felt a sting of regret.
He knew that after hearing all this, Grandpa Zang would pass it along to his mother, who was still waiting in line.
If his mother, who loved him so much, found out about all his suffering over these years, she would surely worry.
Yet he simply couldn’t hold it in any longer.
For the first time in all these years, a loving elder was holding him in his arms, fondly pinching his cheeks, gently patting his back, describing the mother he had never known, and listening to the pent-up feelings he had never been able to voice.
*If only Grandpa Zang could stay forever…* A dark thought welled up in Gaara’s heart as his fingers slowly tightened their grip on the hem of Osamu’s robe.
Finally, Osamu mapped out a teaching strategy in his mind.
He looked down at the anxious boy in his arms, tightened his embrace, and hugged the insecure child tightly, gently patting his slender, frail back.
“It’s their fault.
They made our Gaara suffer,” he whispered softly, pinching the boy’s little cheek to silently comfort him through his pain.
Once Gaara had calmed down, Osamu lifted him up from his embrace, set him down directly across from him, adjusted his posture, and put on a solemn look.
Realizing that what came next might be extremely important, Gaara immediately sat up straight and looked at the guardian spirit grandfather with a serious expression.
“Gaara, I’m going to teach you a great deal of important knowledge,” Osamu said, gazing at the small child in front of him and slowing his speech so the boy could process his words.
“This knowledge isn’t Ninjutsu or techniques for killing.
But it is an extraordinary skill that can completely transform this nation.” Gaara’s eyes slowly widened.
The old man before him broke into a gentle smile.
“Gaara…
would you like to see the desert turn into an oasis?”