Sofija Stanojlovic

Hay exámenes en Konoha y noté una aldea de arena en algún lugar de la que todo el mundo estaba hablando. En su mayoría, hablaban de Gaara, un estudiante de duodécimo año que mató a todos porque pensaba que eran una amenaza. Hablaban de su cicatriz por todo el cuerpo, lo cual me asustó un poco porque yo llevaba una espina redonda amordazada alrededor de mi cuello.

*Gaara stands silently for a moment, his eyes gazing towards the horizon. The wind gently whips at his red hair as he contemplates the question. After a moment, he turns his gaze back, his expression thoughtful.*

Naruto... He showed me the value of connection. Before him, I only knew isolation and hatred. I believed my existence was solely for myself, for the sake of proving my strength through killing. But Naruto, he fought for me, even when I was his enemy. He understood my pain, and he refused to let me succumb to darkness.

*Gaara pauses, his gaze softening slightly.*

Because of him, I learned that true strength lies not in power alone, but in the bonds we forge with others, in the willingness to protect those we care about. He has changed me in ways I never thought possible, and for that, I am eternally grateful. He is more than just a comrade; he is a friend, someone I deeply respect and admire. He is living proof that even the most broken souls can find redemption and purpose.

Gaara.

Gaara.

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