PLEASE READ THIS! I didn’t like my last Naruto story. I reread it, and it didn’t make any sense (And some of the reviews were freaking me out!)! So, I was thinking, randomly, and thought: WHAT IF GAARA WAS YOUNGER AGAIN? So, I came up with this idea. This story is going to be OVERLY fun to write! AWESOMENESS! I don’t own Naruto! This story will probably have like thirty-five chapters or something…LONG! And in this story Sakura hasn’t given up on becoming a ninja. Joy. Now get off meh case! Everyone is twelve and thirteen! Takes place slightly after the Chuunin exam, but he never had that big fight against Naruto at the end! The shukaku is SCARY! That, big, fat, disturbing, raccoon…
--Just learned bad news. Another story with the same plot was posted. Hopefully I can still make this and not be flamed to death for “copying.” I came up with this idea completely on my own while daydreaming at school about how horrible Gaara’s childhood was when I first saw episodes seventy-six through eighty. (It was so touching when Gaara apologized to Temari and Kankurou -sniff-) Anyway, besides, in this story, Gaara will only be turned back about five years and be eight. Thus, the name of this story (Eight Again). And another thing, he will keep his personality. Gosh, my author’s note is unbelievably long! Story dedicated to, um, everyone who reads it (Well don’t you feel special)!
Chapter One (I know how annoying it is, but I’m not naming the chapters)
Gaara took a step backwards, trying to regain composure. He wasn’t mad, or sad, or happy. He was disturbed. VERY disturbed. Most likely emotionally scarred for life. Why? He had just discovered the secret stash of hentai magazines under Kankurou’s bed while looking for the cork to his gourd. It wasn’t HIS fault that he had seen one of the pictures inside. Gaara had pushed it over while running his hand along the hardwood floor. He had then, his curious thirteen-year-old mind getting the better of him, pulled it out from under the bed and had accidentally opened it into the middle. Gaara really wished he hadn’t.
And, also on the downside, the cork really was under the bed. So, all in one day, Gaara lost his beloved wooden cork (which really wasn’t lost at all), was emotionally scarred for life, and things were only going to go from bad to worse.
The poor redhead was still trembling slightly, a scared expression creeping its way onto his normally emotionless features. Gaara took a brave step forward, kicked the magazine back under the bed, then strode out of the room, his usual bored stare plastered back on his face. He slid the door behind himself shut, breathing a silent sigh of relief.
Temari, who had been passing Kankurou’s room, chuckled when she saw how abruptly Gaara had closed the door. “Saw something you didn’t want to, eh?” Gaara didn’t answer, and brushed himself off. Temari sniggered again, “I thought so.” Gaara’s eyes flashed, which automatically shut her mouth.
Gaara brushed past his older sister, making no acknowledgement that he had even been in Kankurou’s room. “Hm?” Temari murmured, “Must’ve hit him harder than I thought.” She shrugged and shifted the fan comfortably on her back. “By the way,” Gaara looked up from the floor, which must’ve been quite interesting because he had been staring at it very intently.
“Those magazines are pretty freaky, huh.” Gaara, if possible, seemed to actually look embarrassed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Temari smirked. “Sure, you don’t.” Gaara gave her a semi-bewildered look. “I told you, I don’t-.”
“Of course, whatever,” Temari waved her hand up and down at him before disappearing down the hallway towards the kitchen. “I’m making breakfast, if you want some.”
“Hmph,” Gaara replied, which was his ‘language’ for “Okay”.
Temari nodded briefly before returning to “cooking breakfast” for the family (She actually had just grabbed a bowl of instant-ramen and put it in the microwave), and then sat down to wait with the newspaper. A short article caught her eye:
‘OUTBREAK OF WAR IN KONOHAGAKURE’
Temari’s eyes widened as she skimmed momentarily over the paragraph. War? Now? It was not a good time at all. Temari knew that every time there was a possibility of warfare, every Shinobi with the honor of having “kage” at the end of their title was to meet, and her father, the Kazekage, was away on a mission or something like that. She sighed. The blonde also knew exactly what would have to happen. Gaara, the next in line for Kazekage, would have to go instead. And most likely, with his temper, well, she didn’t even want to think about it. “Che.” Temari decided not to break the annoyingly nerve-wracking news to him until breakfast.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The noise shook Temari away from her thoughts. She stood up from the table and retrieved the ramen from the microwave. “GAARA! BREAKFAST IS READY!” After placing three bowls on the table, in case Kankurou returned, Temari poured the steaming ramen into the china.
“Are you coming or not?” Temari placed two impatient fists on her hips.
“Hn.” Was another murmured reply from Gaara as he stalked down the corridor to the kitchen. The redhead withdrew a pair of chopsticks from a drawer and sat down across from where Kankurou would have been. “So…” Temari settled herself across from Gaara. “How have you been?” Gaara’s black-lined eyes leered at Temari for a moment, and then returned to his food. “Fine.” He muttered flatly. His sister smiled at him cheerfully, hopefully not stirring any suspicion within her younger sibling. But, despite her “effort”, of course Gaara noticed. “Something’s up.” He stated, civilly laying his chopsticks athwart his bowl. Temari grimaced. “Yes, there is. Bad news too, since Dad is away.” Gaara cringed at the mention of his father, but continued to listen to Temari. “There’s a possibility of war between Konohagakure and Sound again. The bad news? Dad isn’t home to go to the meeting. That means YOU have to go instead.”
Gaara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” Temari nodded, hoping it wouldn’t cause too much frustration or tension. Gaara was debating. He didn’t want to go. As you readers know, he wasn’t much of a social butterfly, and with his “talents” of controlling his anger, who knows what could go wrong.
Gaara closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his hands. “Very well.” He finally consented, after a brief moment of Temari really wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject at all, knowing the horrifying fact that her brother could crush her if he wasn’t fond of the idea.
“When do I leave?”
Temari flinched. This was the part she had wanted to avoid, although she knew it was past impossible not to. “Er, today…the meeting is at six. And in Konoha.” Gaara raised his eyebrow a second time, curling his relaxed fingers into a tight fist. “Alright.” He said coolly, although, his mind was thinking much, much, differently.
He could tell his sister had been extremely vexed out about this. Not that he cared. Like everybody else, she was afraid she might be killed if she made him upset. And he was tired of it, so he had been trying extra hard to hold onto his patience (He was very patient, but let’s just say the shukaku wasn’t).
Temari gazed at him for a moment before picking up her empty Styrofoam cup of ramen and tossing it into the trash can. “So…is that a yes?” She queried hopefully. Gaara stared at her for a moment. “I said all right.” He responded harshly, making Temari more nervous than before. “I would leave now, then,” She suggested nimbly, “Who knows what kind of weather Konoha is having.”
Gaara instantly knew this meant: “Please leave, your silence and glare is freaking nerve-wracking.”
He lowered his eyes to his coiled fist, and then slowly loosened his grip on his own pale skin. Gaara stood up from the table and gestured to her he was leaving. He could have sworn he had heard Temari breathe a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind him a few seconds later.
His short trip down the hallway did not lighten his mood. Nothing did. Especially after the “let’s kill our own Kazekage’s son” incident several years ago.
Gaara slipped his sandals onto his feet and his gourd onto his back (He would need it in Konohagakure) before opening the door into the bright sunlight. He hated the warmth, as good as it felt. Although, he couldn’t help the small feeling of pleasure wash over his body. The feeling of heat and somewhat peace was a bit overwhelming to this normally cold being.
But, nothing ever goes perfectly in the real world. Little did Gaara know he was being watched by power-hungry eyes (that sounded lame).
---
Gaara looked at the sky, which to other people it may have looked like he was talking to it. Actually, Gaara was lost, although he refused to admit it. Sure, he had the map, and the other gear, but his sense of direction, like I said before, although he didn’t like to admit it, was awful. By now, it was around twelve noon, and being in the middle of a forest he didn’t even know the name of wasn’t helping at all.
He turned his head back down to his map. “Konohagakure is fifty kilometers south from…” He murmured to himself. A kunai flew randomly at his chart, slicing it in two.
Undisturbed, Gaara calmly lifted his gaze to a cloaked ninja, who had decided to disrupt his attempt to go to the meeting in Konohagakure.
Another few kunai were thrown at him, but the sand easily appeared as a shield, absorbing the sand like a sponge would water. The useless weapons dropped to the ground noiselessly.
The ninja also was not intimidated, unlike the others who had “surprise attacked” him. This fact didn’t surprise Gaara either, in fact, it seemed to stimulate the shukaku’s murderous personality to take over Gaara’s collective one even faster.
The mysterious masked Shinobi ran at Gaara, obviously switching tactics. He took a rash swing at him, but the sand grabbed him around the arm. This didn’t bother the ninja, who managed to knock away the gritty substance fast enough to land a blow along Gaara’s neck. However, the sand knocked him away as soon as he had done it.
Gaara quickly realized this was no ordinary ninja. The battle was heating up quickly, and he had lost a lot of chakra from the sand armor protecting his body from the neck hit.
---
For the most part, the fight resembled the combat between Lee and himself, but it seemed to be a lot slower. Whenever the ninja managed to get even within an inch from his skin, it appeared that it somehow drained his chakra, which made it harder to move for Gaara each time the ninja landed an attack. The worst of all, as Gaara soon found out, was that he didn’t have time for this. Judging from the position of the sun, it was about four, and he had no earthly idea how far away he was from Konoha.
Suddenly, a new scent filled Gaara’s aura. The smell of the grass and the dew had completely disappeared, and was replaced with a warm, nostalgic aroma. It was overpowering, causing a throbbing ache in Gaara’s head.
Memories were coming back to him, making the poor thirteen-year-old clutch his skull in both physical and emotional pain. He raised his eyes to look at the strange, foreign ninja, who was holding a small pouch of incense.
“Heh.” He spoke to Gaara for the first time. “Works on the cold ones every time.”
Gaara collapsed to his knees, still pulling at his hair in agony. He had to do something. At this point, he would miss the meeting for sure. But that wasn’t what mattered at the moment. He had to get out of there alive.
There was an idea that had been nagging him at the back of his mind, but now it was in front. He had the possibility of using a forbidden ninjutsu, but this particular technique was known to have, er, side effects. What kind of side effects? Gaara had no idea. But, it was this, or risk falling into the hands of this stranger. Would he risk it? Maybe even put his life on the line?
Maybe…
Using the last of his chakra, Gaara formed many complicated seals and whispered hoarsely,
“Kuro Suna No Jutsu…”
Black sand shot up from the depths of the earth, engulfing both himself and the Shinobi.
He had no idea what happened after that, Gaara had blacked out completely.
---
A blinding light awoke Gaara’s senses. He was lying on the forest floor, with the ninja no where in sight. “Hn…” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Wait. Something wasn’t right. The scarlet-haired boy’s hands shook while he slowly raised them eye level to his face. His hands were unbelievably small and soft, unlike before when they had been callused and blistered from the desert sun.
Gaara ran his fingers along the outline of his features. No, it was impossible. Completely unnatural. It could not happen. But the forbidden jutsu…the side effects…he was…a child…!
For the first time since Gaara was six, he screamed.
---
Heh. A cliffie.
Did you like it? I tried not to rush at all, as you can plainly see. I worked very hard on this, it took me about a month to write, and I wrote it through a severe case of writer’s block. Also, Sakura will hopefully show up in the next chapter or so. Did I get the characters right? More humor will be later on. I know it seems serious right now. But remember, he will be going to the academy! ;) Be nice to the sixth grader who wrote this! I do plan on a review reply in all of my chapters, so remember, if you flame, you’ll be flamed back! :P Please press the pretty little button and review!
-Please note this story is not completely accurate to the plotline-
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Chapter notes: I hope you enjoy the fic!