A/N: Crossposted at AO3. Hope you guys enjoy it and tell me your thoughts. It's the first fanfic of a series of three.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Yashamaru was worried about Gaara.

It seemed that ever since his sister died, that was everything he seemed to do, so much that Rasa appointed him Gaara's primary caretaker, to the relief of all the other candidates. He understood their fear, Shukaku's shadow always looming over anyone close to his nephew and his dangerous and uncontrolled sand making the situation even harder to sympathise with. But Yashamaru could never fault the baby his sister loved till her last breath and that he, too, had come to love more than anyone. Not even if Gaara hurt him.

Yashamaru traced the bandages over his left arm, thinking about how Gaara had been extra subdued since the last incident. A simple training simulation ended with his arm shredded as his nephew's sand spun out of his control and viciously attacked the closest victim it could find. Yashamaru had tried to assure Gaara that he knew it was an accident, but to no avail. The child had not even attempted to go outside, something he was usually eager to do, probably afraid of hurting anyone he physically came close to.

His siblings were no help. Temari was prickly, she did not appreciate how hard making friends was when being the daughter of their stern Kazekage and having the local monster as her brother. The fact that Gaara was clearly their uncle's favorite didn't do any favors, so she mostly ignored her youngest brother, being cold and cruel when she couldn't do so. Kankuro was the same as the rest of the village, so terrified of his younger brother that he treated him like a ticking bomb. He avoided Gaara just as much as Temari, if not more, and eventually the youngest child learned to not count on them for anything.

They were only following the lead of their father, Yashamaru supposed, but that fact only made it worse for the isolated six-year old. Rasa was unhappy with Gaara's progress, the boy's hesitance to hurt anyone making it hard to train to harness the Shukaku's power to the scale of destruction the Kazekage wanted. Yashamaru knew his brother-in-law's patience waned everyday, but hoped he could help Gaara be more confident in his abilities and shield him when, not if, Rasa did something drastic.

He sighed as he looked at the academy curriculum papers in front of him. Since Gaara was too much of a liability to send to the academy, Yashamaru was not only his caretaker, but his teacher too and had to plan lessons as such. So, the Academy sent him the activities children his age were doing so Yashamaru could apply them to him. He was taking a pause on the physical training while his arm healed, more for the safety of others if he was unable to contain Gaara than his own. As he decided between going over history or math the next day, a file for the Cultural Information Exchange caught his eyes.

Yashamaru was aware of the program, as Rasa was deeply unhappy with it. Suggested by Konoha's Third Hokage, the program's objective was to create a deeper bond between the younger generation of allies by having the students of each village's academy write letters to each other. It was supposed to let them soon-to-be shinobi gain insight in their closest ally's culture to make them working together easier when the time comes. Rasa thought it was a waste of time and resources, having their messenger birds carry letters between villages each week, but he wanted to appease the Third and ended up agreeing. Yashamaru never said, but he also thought the program seemed quite pointless when it came to actually working together.

Now, he wondered if it would actually be useful for something. Gaara was too afraid to be near people physically, the idea of potentially hurting them making the kid sick, so having a friend he would only know through letters would do him some good. No child in Suna would be willing to have anything to do with Gaara, but an ignorant one from Konoha would be none the wiser. Also, the letters were proof-read by the teacher (in this case, by Yashamaru himself), so no sensitive information would be shared. Rasa probably wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't be paying enough attention to find out.

'Guess I already decided, then' Yashamaru thought. He would send a message to the Academy to put Gaara's name to the list of the program and inform him of it as an assignment so he would at least try.

If it didn't work, he would just find something else. He would not let his nephew turn into a ball of despair and self-loathing, he would not fail his sister.

In Konoha, Umino Iruka is stressed out.

It was like the universe was working into making regret not only becoming a teacher, but accepting this specific class of students. The Third Hokage had recently informed them of the Cultural Information Exchange program and all the teachers were deeply unhappy with it. All of them saw it as pointless and even if Iruka saw the potential of the idea, he couldn't stomach how much more work it would be for them. They would all read the letters their students sent and received and make corrections if necessary, which it surely would since it was classes of six to eleven-year-olds. He and Mizuki went out for a drink as soon as the news hit them, commiserating over the extra time they would surely do.

But the absolute cherry on top was that, when sorting through which student's letters each would read, Iruka got lucky enough to get Uzumaki Naruto's name. The jailer of the Kyuubi, the monster that killed his parents. Initially, when he found out that he was supposed to teach the brat, he almost gave up being a teacher altogether, but was convinced otherwise by Hatake Kakashi to go on. Now, seeing the series of events that made this situation possible, he feels like he is in the middle of a cosmic joke.

Before he was his teacher, Iruka disliked Naruto in a detached way. It was almost impossible to not associate him with the demon that ruined his youth by leaving him orphaned and killed the Fourth Hokage. He tried to tamper it down when he began teaching, but that was just accompanied by a much more personal dislike of Naruto, now. The boy was loud, brash and never paid attention to the lessons. On top of that, he was also incredibly arrogant, causing lessons to be disrupted often. Mizuki found it funny, but Iruka found it just really annoying.

So of course he would be the one to have to read the boy's letters. But, as misery loves company, Iruka is comforted by the fact that he will not have to suffer through Naruto's letters alone, as his still undecided penpal - as they were still waiting from the applications from Suna - will probably not get along with Naruto. He wasn't even trying to jinx the kid, but he still hasn't met someone that actually liked him.

"Don't forget that next week we will be sending your letters, so use the model we gave to start writing already." Mizuki said, snapping Iruka out of his thoughts. His friend always seemed undefeated and cheery, even though his fellow teacher was zoning out in the middle of the class, leaving him alone to deal with the class by himself. "And remember that it's mandatory."

Mizuki said the next word while looking at Naruto, who was pouting. The blond hadn't been happy with the program and had complained loudly when it was announced, but had quieted down after a scolding from Iruka. The boy in question had to admit that, even though he wasn't interested at the idea of having to write and read letters at the beginning, he was feeling kind of excited now. It would be nice to have someone paying attention to things he said, even on paper.

Naruto didn't have a lot of experience in conversations, the people he talked to the most being the family that ran the Ichiraku Ramen stand and the Third Hokage. He liked to talk a lot, but people rarely listened, so someone that would at least have to read through his letter and respond was an exciting prospective to him. The boy was thoroughly convinced that people didn't like him because they didn't bother to get to know him and, by that logic, his penpal would surely love him. He ignored the part of him that was scared that he would be simply cast aside, like always, and continued his theatrics to hide his excitement at the idea of having a friend.

The other children chatted about what they would write on their letters, spirits high now that they got used to the idea. Two children, putting their things aways for dread of getting home too fast, weren't in the same mood as their classmates. Both considered talking to a stranger pointless, unused to easy conversation. One didn't see the point of writing to someone who was miles away when the person they wanted to talk to the most was in the room. The other was also uninterested, as the people he wanted to talk to the most were dead.