Sandbox Meeting
Gaara walked beside his uncle Yashamaru until they both stopped outside a deserted playground. Most of the village children were seated at their desk learning about the Ninja Way at the academy.
"Why can't I go with Yashamaru?" the red head asked.
He was scared to be left alone. Whenever there was, nobody around his mother in his head told him to do bad things. And Gaara did not want to be bad but it hurt when he did not listen.
"I have to meet with the Hokage-sama for important business," Yashamaru answered growing annoyed, he had already explained this to the jinchuuriki before.
He forced himself to calm and put on a fake smile to reassure the young boy.
"Don't worry I'll be back before lunch."
Gaara was not happy about this, but then again he was not happy about a lot of stuff so he accepted the fact that no matter how much of a good boy he tried to be he was still alone. He accepted this because it was always that way but it still hurt that even Yashamaru sometimes did not want to be with him.
The jounin reached out to pat the child's head, but before he touched the red head he pulled away and shippuden to the meeting place.
Left to his own devices Gaara sought to distract himself before mother made him do something bad. He did not know how to swing without someone to push and he quickly grew tired of the slide. Plopping down inside the sandbox he examined his knew surroundings. He found that it was not that different from the playground in Suna. Minus the scorching sun and the fact, that in Suna the playground itself was in the sandbox. But the lack of other children was usual to him even on the cooler days when the Ra gave the people a break. The children of the village would not set foot in the playground as long as he was any where near it.
He did not know why other kids and even the adults were afraid of him what made him different from everybody else. And he tried to tell himself he that he did not care that he was the one labeled to be the monster as long as he was Yashamaru important person. He believed Yashamaru words. He had to.
"Gaara" it crooned.
The sand in his hand slipped through his fingers as his grip hardened. Gaara ignored the call; he hated his mothers' gifts they always got him in trouble. To distract himself he began to make the sand before him swirl. As he concentrated really hard, the swirl of sand grew into a mini tornado.
"Cool!" a voice exclaimed
His concentration broke as a small hand reached out for his sand. It was just for a moment, for just a second he lost control. A cry of surprise came from the boy as the sand struck his innocent hand.
"Sorry I didn't mean to." Gaara quickly apologized to the other little boy.
Cringing Gaara did not dare to look up into what he expect to be the other's hateful glare.
Gaara's little hand fisted the shirt above his heart where he hurt as he waited for the familiar words to be echoed by the other. Monster. A freak the other children did not want to play with him because he wasn't …
"Don't mind don't mind it was an accident right."
Gaara nodded his head in agreement.
"Does the wound hurt? His hand remained fisting his shirt above his chest.
"Nah I had worst this one time when I painted over the all the Hokages' statue faces the villagers got me good but it was worth it you should have seen all those old geezers painted face and this other time…"
And the little blond blue eyed boy continued as if he was on a role. Gaara could not help but gap not because of the word vomit unleashed upon him but someone his age was actually talking to him.
He closely examined the boy who was now sitting next to him jabbering away as if he too had not had a chance to talk to someone his age in a long time. His blond hair were spiked higher then his own. His clothes were roughened with leaves sticking to them as if he just popped out of the bushes.
Gaara wouldn't have been surprised if the blond had dropped from some kind of tree judging from the band aids and bruises on his legs. Noticing the red head staring at his bruises the blond proceeded to tell his companion how he got each and everyone of them.
"And I got this one when I fell out of my hiding place in the tree," the blonde pointed then proceeded to move to the next scar.
Gaara hummed to show he was still listening which seemed to send the boy into another rant. Looking back to the welcome intruder face Gaara was surprised he missed the three scars on each of his cheeks. They reminded him of whiskers like those of a neko and he wondered why the blonde didn't regal to him the tale of how he got them.
"That thing you did was cool Panda-kun show me how." The blonde gave him a mischievous grin.
He meant fox, his blond companion resembled a fox and from his tales he had the humor of one too.
"I'm a boy," Gaara corrected a little self conscious about the bags surrounding his torques eyes due to lack of rest. He wanted the other to like him maybe just maybe he can be his blond kitsune waved his hand as if whether Gaara was a boy or panda bear mattered little.
"Come please show me, show me how." the blond pleaded.
Shrugging it off Gaara thought a panda was better then a monster which everyone who knew him thought he was. He quickly decided not to tell the kitsune that he was a monster since the boy didn't seem to already know. Concentrating really hard that his head hurt Gaara created another smaller more stable mini tornado of sand.
"Cool how you do that? The fox grew excited
"Yashamaru says that the sand that protects me is my mother's love." The little red head explained proudly puffing up his red cheeks like a raccoon.
"I wish I had a mother to give me protection," the blond sadly said.
Looking again at his new friend's surface wounds the red head realized that the kitsune also had a hurt in his heart like him. They were the same.
"I'll protect you. You can be my important person." Shyly the newly dubbed panda added, "If you want."
"That means were friends?"
"Yes"
"Hooray!"
Smiling the two jinchuuriki continued to play in the sand. Both were happy to discover that neither of them was alone and that there was another person who was the same.