Gaara and Shukaku spent a very pleasant day together.
Shukaku was deeply astonished that the bouquet Grandpa Zang gave Gaara could be brought into the mental space.
Not knowing what it had realized, it soon calmed down again.
Then, they discovered that the bouquet of flowers could change shape according to both of their wills.
So the two huddled together and spread the blooms across the entire space of consciousness.
Soft petals and leaves crowded close together as Shukaku lay in the middle, sniffing continuously and rolling around in delight.
“Not bad, kid.” Shukaku looked over at Gaara, who was still tidying up the flowers, and let out an emotional sigh.
“I haven’t seen flowers like this in many years…
How nostalgic…” Hearing Shukaku’s praise, Gaara stood up, patted the grass clippings off his legs, and said briskly, “It’s my first time seeing so many flowers too.
Grandpa Zang is amazing!” *Indeed very amazing,* Shukaku thought.
To be brought into a mental space, to grow automatically according to the space owner’s will, and to even have a soothing effect on a Tailed Beast…
Such a unique creation, yet that man had given it away so casually.
…Could he and Old Man Six Paths— Shukaku shook its head violently, casting aside the rather unreliable conjecture.
Seeing that everything was mostly tidied up, Gaara waved to Shukaku, who was still lost in thought, and left the mental space.
Outside, Grandpa Zang was writing something down.
Seeing him wake up, he did not stop his brush, but earnestly told him to wait a moment.
Gaara had a bad premonition.
He was a very intelligent child.
Years of being ostracized and rejected had made him precocious, leaving him acutely sensitive to subtle shifts in other people’s emotions.
Right now, he wanted to go to the straw checkerboards, continue taking care of the sand saxauls, reinforce the sand willow branches, and after a long, busy day, return to this “home” where his uncle was often absent.
He wanted to eat and study under Grandpa Zang’s company, then fall peacefully asleep in Grandpa Zang’s arms.
Grandpa Zang would carefully remind him to put on his gloves, lovingly help him brush the yellow sand off his clothes, sternly tell him that he must eat his vegetables, and patiently break down every piece of knowledge bit by bit to teach him.
His embrace was warm and burning, thawing Gaara’s gloomy, freezing heart until it melted away.
However, parting was destined from the very beginning.
Grandpa Zang had told him that he had to return to the world of the dead, where many people were queuing behind him, waiting for their chance to return to the mortal realm to visit their families.
He had merely accepted a commission from Gaara’s mother to act as his guardian spirit for a brief period.
Yet Gaara was still unwilling.
The love he possessed was only this tiny bit, only this little bit…
Why couldn’t Grandpa Zang stay by his side forever?
Even so, he listened obediently to Grandpa Zang’s words, sat on the bed, and waited for the moment finality arrived.
Osamu finally finished writing down the instructions for using all the items.
Letting out a long sigh of relief, he folded the thick stack of paper and handed it to Gaara.
“Grandpa Zang…?” Seeing the child’s cautious, pleading eyes, Osamu felt a trace of reluctance.
However, that trace of reluctance was not enough to stop him from moving on to the next point in time.
Osamu needed death.
He needed to consume those Momo Points through death; he needed to end his journey in this absurd world as soon as possible.
Just as he had wished from the start, he would rather have died under his sister’s company in the beginning, in that peaceful and tranquil land.
“Gaara, I’ve prepared a great many items for you, all bound to your use.
These are the instructions.
You must read the manual carefully before using any of them.” He crouched down, pulled the child whose eyes were brimming with tears into his arms, and gently patted his back.
“Good child, parting is also a lesson you must experience as you grow up…
If we use flowers as a metaphor, you are just a tender sprout that has barely emerged, while I am already a withered branch buried in the yellow soil.” Gaara held the transparent soul tightly, tears falling uncontrollably.
“But…
but I only have you…
Grandpa Zang…” “There will be more, Gaara.” Osamu held Gaara’s shoulders, looking at him earnestly.
“You have to believe in yourself.” “I’ve said it many, many times: you are a good child.” “You have a heart as clear and gentle as gold.
You are hardworking, sincere, intelligent, and very cute.
You are Grandpa Zang’s favorite child, and the child your mother loves most of all.” “You must be certain of this, and also believe that in the future, you will have precious friendships, love, children of your own, and countless unbreakable bonds.” Osamu looked at Gaara, whose face was covered in tears.
The old man’s withered hand rubbed the child’s soft cheek, just like the day they first met.
“You must remember, Gaara.” “Grandpa Zang loves you, and Mama loves you too.” As his words fell, Gaara’s arms held nothing but empty air.
The child looked blankly at the room filled with translucent items, and at the thick stack of instructions in his hands.
Outside the window, wind and sand howled, while inside, Gaara’s heart wailed in grief.