The Wishful Thinker
The strange older looking girl that had just appeared when he was polishing this lamp was named Miyako Kurosawa. She stared down at him unafraid, and almost bored, waiting for her question to be answered, and instantly Gaara knew what he wanted.
A/N: Hey guys, be kind to me this is my first fanfiction on this website so I need good feedback; I need constructive criticism, so no flames! That's really all for now; tell me what you think darlings! I need to know if I can continue this story or if it's just a hopeless endeavor.
1: A Wishful Thinker Indeed
The shrill of a bell and the loud resonating voices of happy children fill the afternoon heat. Thankfully the sun is creeping back down the horizon to sleep as small feet beat the pavement, and some the sand, leading away from Sunagakure's Ninja Academy and into the arms of smiling mothers and fathers as they gladly make their way home. These families turn away from the majestic building-like fortress in the middle of the sand as they follow happy children to their respective homes. From one of the Fortress' many large windows a small, round face peeks out longingly as the other children all wander away. The face looks away when they can bear no more, fiery red hair glinting in the dying sunlight's last rays.
"Father, can't I go out and play with all the other children?" The quiet voice of the redhead pleads, looking into the dark room with sad sea foam green eyes. The dying sunlight lends a small ray to slant into the room, illuminating the polished wood of a desk and the back of a high dark brown leather chair. A pregnant pause stretched between the father and his son, before said father sighed heavily.
"You act as if you possess friends, monster." The Father then said to his son, who instantly flinched at the harsh words. He tried to suppress his sobs as his eyes misted dangerously, knowing that it would only make his father angrier. One slipped through his lips involuntarily and he clamped his tiny hand over his mouth fearfully, eyes wide as he tensely awaited his father's reaction.
"Go." His deep voice rumbled; his back still turned to his frozen son. The son was so shocked and stiffened that he did not hear his father's command.
"I SAID GO!" He roared moments later, spinning around and throwing a large book in his son's general direction.
His father's exclamation jolted the son out of his stupor and he quickly ran out the door to his father's endless rampage of screams about how he was nothing but a monster.
Tears streamed freely as he ran and ran until his little legs gave out from exhaustion and he fell to the sandy ground at the mouth of an alley. He laid there quietly sobbing as he tried to regain his bearings and his breath. By the time he had calmed himself the moon had just peaked in the sky, shining dim light onto Suna: a half moon.
He realized that he could not lie out in the open street, as the villagers would surely find him and attempt to kill him, attempt being the operative word. So he crawled his way into the alley and hid among the trash while he thought over his father's words and the similar words of those like him.
They were true, he was a monster. Nothing could hurt him, he didn't even know what pain felt like, and he often pondered it after one of his father's episodes. In fact, he not only pondered it but had even attempted to feel it, in vain; nothing could purge his sand wall, nothing.
Then again he wondered if that was enough to truly label him a monster. When his father had first used the term he had looked it up, confused, but able to recognize that it was an insult, a hurtful, horrible insult. When he'd found the definition he set out to read about other monsters, seeking clarification that he was indeed what his father had said, after all he could've said that out of his right mind…right? Although the monsters he read about did not seem to fit him at all, his father, as well as many other villagers, continued to call him by the vile name.
He tried to change himself, he tried to be nicer and kinder, he tried to use his cursed sand in a good way, but they all rejected him, had shouted even more horrible names and ran away from his kindness. None of the village children would play with him; in class the teachers trembled nervously in his presence and allowed him to do whatever he pleased, avoiding him at all costs.
That's when he realized it: No matter what he did, no matter how he acted, he would always be a monster to them. So he avoided them, he stayed out of sight of the villagers, tried not to bother his teachers and only seldom tried to play with the village children. This day was supposed to be one of those seldom days, it had been months since he had been out last, and he wanted to see if he could find at least one child that wasn't afraid of him.
With his mind made up and his tears all dried, he set about slowly getting up to make his way out into Suna, until a loud clatter sounded near him. He held his breath, and peeked over the trash bags to see light pouring into the alleyway from an open doorway. He could hear yelling faintly from inside as a tall man stumbled out, wobbling unsteadily on his feet. He observed that the man was a ninja, what with his Suna jounin uniform and his Suna haite gleaming in the moonlight.
"Oh shut up, Kagome! I'm taking out the damn trash already, so why don't you get off your lazy ass and do something useful, like cook me some dinner!" The man shouted as he carefully wobbled over to the boy's hiding spot. He pulled himself into a little ball as the man's footsteps got closer; holding his breath and listening intently. He heard a loud clang in front of him, before a shrill female voice shouted something he could only describe as vulgar at the man; so he shouted back, so he waited until the voices drifted away before peeking from his hiding spot.
The coast was clear and he breathed out a huge sigh of relief, sinking into the unpleasant smelling trash bags like they were the softest pillows. It was amazing how emotionally exhausted one so young as he could become after only a few hours, but to be fair he had far too many burdens for someone as young as him.
He began to feel the weight of said burdens as he sat there continuing to ponder, his eyes threatening to mist again as he thought: "I just wish they could understand…"
He sat there a few minutes longer before deciding that it was probably about time to head home; he didn't feel quite up to searching for a friend anymore, besides, father might worry about him, at least he hoped.
As he raised himself from his sitting position a golden gleam caught his eye, and he turned his head towards it, curious. Slowly he moved towards it, somehow mesmerized by the mere thought of something golden in a trash pile. He found that the gleam was buried under a small mountain of trash, and his sand plus his little hands set to work on digging it out.
Soon he unearthed his treasure, surprised to find an intricate bottle lightly dusted with sand and, well, dust, was lying inside.
The bottle was a dark color - maybe black?- with swirls of gold around the slender neck and along the widened base; it had a matching stopper atop that had only an unreadable symbol in gold to decorate it. There were also faint characters along the perimeter of the bottle, but the sand and dust was making them hard to read.
"This is the lamp of-"He squinted as the characters became harder to read, and began to rub the dust away with his tiny hands. He grinned triumphantly when the characters were distinguished, but frowned in confusion as the bottle started to vibrate lightly in between his palms.
"What the-?" He yelped as the characters glowed brightly and…burned him? But how? The lamp landed in the soft sand, beginning to vibrate more violently, as the characters pulsed like strobe lights and the stopper to the top of the bottle flew off, making the boy reel away in slight fear.
Finally though, the bottle…calmed. The lights faded away slowly and the bottle stopped shaking altogether. He continued to stare at the object distrustfully, slowly rising all the while watching the bottle in earnest.
He did not notice the purple smoke billowing from the now uncorked top, nor did he notice it snaking around and then behind him to solidify into…a woman.
When he figured the bottle would no longer attack him, he cautiously went towards it, still curious about its origins.
"A child?" A voice like a wind chime murmured behind him, making him spin around and gasp at the suddenness of it all.
There stood a slender woman, shoeless, with a dark side slit skirt that was adorned with a belt of what looked like gold coins, she wore a bikini looking top of the same color to cover amble breasts that were studded with golden studs, her face was hidden with a veil of the same color with gold trimmings and her long, voluminous hair was tied up by dark fabric. The rest of her was glowing olive skin and piercing dark purple eyes.
"Who-who are you?" The boy murmured nervously, he hadn't heard her approach and was sure that no one else was around before he messed with that bottle…
"Sabaku No Gaara, I am the genie of this bottle." The boy, Gaara, watched amazed as she kneeled down to his level, made the bottle appear in her hands and held it out to him.
"G-genie, those exist?" She only nodded once, curiously silent, still holding the bottle out to him. "Is that for me?" She nodded again. "Why?"
"You have freed me from the bottle, little master, and therefore have earned from me five wishes." She placed the bottle in his timidly open hands carefully, rising to stand to her full height again.
"Wishes? So…you mean you'll grant me anything I ask for, just because I rubbed this bottle?" The nameless genie nodded and then spoke again in a sweet voice:
"What is it that you desire, little master?"
"Can I think about it?" He asked after a few moments of silence and her unwavering stare.
She bowed, "of course."
"We can talk first while I think of what I could want." He plopped onto the ground before patting the spot next to him with a big smile.
The genie obediently sat next to her new charge and waited for him to start the conversation.
"Well, what's your name?" Gaara inquired.
"My name is Miyako Kurosawa…" The genie answered after being shocked into momentary silence.
"Why did you hesitate to reveal your name? Was it secret?" Gaara whispered the last part conspiratorially.
"No, its just that…no other master has ever asked me my name before." She confessed.
"You've done this before?"
"Many times." Miyako answered vaguely.
"How long have you been trapped in that bottle? How old are you? How did you get in there?" He questioned rapidly, both fascinated and kind of nervous about the answers.
"I have been trapped in the bottle for far longer than both you, your father, your grandfather and your great-great grandfathers have lived combined."
Gaara's eyes widened to the size of saucers as his little mind tried to comprehend how long that was; he continued to struggle with the math as he listened to her answers.
"With that said, it is obvious that I am far older than I look and by far much older than you."
He waited breathlessly for her the answer to his last question, curious about that one most of all.
"Unfortunately I cannot tell you about the circumstances behind my servitude to the bottle, as it is a part of my binding to the bottle."
Gaara frowned, but he wasn't too upset, something told him that he wouldn't fully understand her explanation anyway. So instead he fired off even more questions for her to answer: What was it like being a genie? Who was her favorite master? What did the inside of the bottle look like? How did she even fit in there?
And so the pair talked for hours, or more like Miyako talked for hours while Gaara just listened, mesmerized.
It was only when he ran out of questions and they were lying in the sand side by side looking at the big, bright moon that Gaara actually contemplated wishing.
What did he want? Well…if he had to think about it, he wanted most to be normal, to be looked upon by the villagers not with contempt, but with joy, or at least contentment if he couldn't have that.
Yes, that's what he should wish for, for the monster inside him to be extinguished and for him to finally have a normal life-
'I'm not a monster…' His earlier thoughts rang in his head.
That's right, he wasn't a monster, he was just Gaara, he wasn't ugly or evil or inhumane, everyone just misunderstood him, no one bothered to look past what their ears told them and actually look at Gaara.
That's what he needed, someone to understand him, someone who actually cared! He needed someone to talk to like he had talked to Miyako-chan tonight, what he needed was-
"I know what I want to wish for!" Gaara said abruptly around midnight, startling the drifting genie awake.
"Yes, little master." She was immediately all business again; snapping a composed mask over her sleepy face.
He composed his thoughts carefully, thinking of how to word his wish so it would not be misconstrued.
'I know that Miyako-chan wouldn't try any loopholes on me, but from what I've read on mythical-or erm, other creatures, genies tend to take things quite literally."
"I wish you to be my friend and companion, to always be by my side and always try your very best to understand me." Gaara finally said, grinning at his craftiness.
Miyako stifled her surprise with an air of coolness. 'What an interesting wish…" She mused to herself. 'And the way he worded it, even if I desired to, I could find barely any loopholes to work with in that statement. Smart kid.'
"As you wish it master, so it will be." Miyako bowed low to the ground from her kneeling position, before her eyes shone a bright purple and dark purple magic collected, surrounding her and enveloping her in what looked like a tight cocoon.
Gaara watched, stupefied as she disappeared inside the magic, wondering what on earth she could be conjuring up at his simple request.
He waited by the cocoon, not daring to even touch it or breath on it for fear that it might disrupt the magic.
Finally the purple magic started to dim, and then slowly blacken, making Gaara flip out.
'Ah! What if she died? What if it went wrong? What if I wished for something bad? Is she breathing? Should I break it open?' His sand was swirling madly at the direction of his thoughts as he hyperventilated unseeingly, unaware that the magic cocoon had broken open and released it captive already.
"Gaara?" A smaller version of a sweet voice murmured, curiously looking at the worried child.
"Gaara?" A little girl, with a dark skirt adorned with golden beads, a tiny bikini top with golden studs and her long, curly hair, tied up with a dark piece of fabric, started to shake the little boy gingerly on the shoulder.
The sand grabbed at her harshly, but loosened its grip at the feel of her small hand and continued to let her prod at Gaara.
Eventually he snapped out of his trance at his insistent poking, gasping at how close her face was to his face.
"Who-?"
"It's me, silly!" The little girl giggled as Gaara scooted back from her, looking her over.
"M-Miyako-chan?" He stuttered at her new appearance, slightly confused.
"Yeah! This is what you wished for, remember?" She continued to giggle at his disbelief.
"Y-you're-"
"Are you alright now?" She asked quietly, suddenly next to him, rubbing a small hand through his fiery mane.
He blushed and jerked out of her soothing embrace, "You're face is uncovered!" He exclaimed.
"Well, friends can't hide their faces from each other, now can they?" She loped back over to Gaara and grabbed his hand.
"Let's go play!" She grinned widely, showing off large pearly teeth, and pulled Gaara away from the alley and out into the village.
For some reason Gaara's mind was not registering the word "play" as he had more objections to make. "B-but, the villagers-"
"Are not awake right now." She finished with a large grin. "Are you a chicken Gaara? Don't worry, I'll protect you." Miyako teased, before running off, a big smile on her face.
It was then that Gaara realized, his wish had really come true, this was all really happening, and Miyako wanted to play with him, another person wanted to play with him, and that's all he needed to know.
"Last one to that sand hill's a rotten egg!" He cried, using his sand to get a bit of leverage over the giggling girl.
And they played the whole night away.