Gaara had crouched down, crossing his arms around his knees as he gazed at the butterfly that landed on his mom's flowers. It was pretty—colorful and small, smaller than even him. He liked it. Just like Mom's flowers, he wanted to touch it too.
This isn't a flower, though. That must mean I should be allowed to touch it, right? Surely she wouldn't notice—it wasn't her flowers. I'll just—"
He reached out, intending to touch it.
"Gaara! Food is ready! If you don't come inside soon, I won't make dessert today!" Kurura called from inside, her voice echoing from the kitchen patio into the garden just outside.
Ah… it flew away… Wait—dessert? No dessert!?
"I'm coming, Mom!"
Sitting around the table, the Sato family enjoyed their evening meal.
"Gaara, you have to eat more meat—not just your veggies. Don't you want to grow up big and strong?" his mother lectured as she watched her son happily eat everything but the pork in his niku jaga.
Caught in the act of avoiding his food, Gaara visibly flinched, then avoided his mother's peering gaze.
"Honestly. You're just like your father. He does the same thing when he knows he needs to sleep properly." Kurura shook her head, shifting her gaze to her husband.
Rasa suddenly found his bowl very interesting and took a long drink.
"You two…" she sighed. "What am I going to do with the two of you?"
Rasa took the moment to finish his bowl before speaking. "Anyway, dear, isn't it about time we finally tell Gaara?"
This time, it was Kurura's turn to look away. She scooted her chair slightly, inching her way toward her unsuspecting son, then suddenly wrapped her arms around Gaara in a firm hug.
Gaara looked at his mom in confusion. He liked hugs—but this one felt a little off. He had a bad feeling, one he was certain he wasn't going to like whatever came next.
Kurura looked away from her husband, lips slightly pouting. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Rasa sighed, exasperated. "Honey. You know the school year begins in just a few months. What will you do then if you're already like this today? We've talked about this—we even agreed. C'mon."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she harrumphed.
For some inexplicable reason, Gaara felt like doing the same. So he did.
Rasa sat across from his wife and son, feeling utterly betrayed as both of them pouted and refused to meet his gaze.
What is this? Teaming up against me—without one of them even knowing why? How could his son do this to him? They were just on the same side moments ago. Sigh… figures. Just goes to show who the favorite is.
He should've known this would happen. After all, this was his wife. It was time. I'd have to bring it up, wouldn't I?
"Don't you want to see him with kids his age?"
"Ugh!" Kurura grimaced, tightening her hug around her boy.
"What about his classes? You know you can't be on leave forever."
Kurura grunted, agitated.
"Honey, think about it this way. Don't you want Gaara to make some friends?"
"Ughhh!" Her grip began to loosen. Rasa knew it was time to press the moment.
"Think about all the pictures you'll be able to take."
"Tch! Fine! I know! I know! Stop that already! It's unfair—can't I be the one? He'll need me there, won't he?"
Rasa grinned—an evil one. "No. It's my turn, remember? For the first week at least."
"You're evil!" Thoroughly disgruntled, Kurura returned to her seat after giving Gaara one last squeeze.
Sighing in resignation, she finally let the matter go. She moved her chair, now facing Gaara. Taking his small hands in her own, she tried to steel herself as she spoke.
"Gaara, honey, we've decided that in a few months, you'll be going to public school."
Gaara looked confused. "School? What is that? When will I go? Shouldn't everything be good? You'll be with me, right?"
He didn't know what school was, but shouldn't it be fine? After all, Mom would be there too.
Hearing those questions, Rasa looked at Kurura. She definitely didn't want her baby to go—that was plain to see. But he also knew this had been her choice. She was the one who brought up public school, coming to him because, in the end, it was the best option for Gaara.
Neither of them knew how to explain this to him.
Rasa did know, however, what he had to do.
He crossed the table, picking Gaara up with ease, and placed him gently back into Kurura's arms before taking Gaara's seat himself. Now seated directly across from them, he spoke.
"Gaara, we want you to grow. To grow up in the world, be a part of it, and become the best you can be."
Gaara stared, not quite understanding. Can't I grow here? Does the house not count as part of the world?
"To do that," Rasa continued, "you and a bunch of other kids go to a place called school. Your mom and I won't be there, but there will be teachers—people who help kids grow."
Other kids… Am I not the only one? Why haven't I seen them?
Teachers? Not Mom and Dad—why not?!
Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "Why!"
Rasa continued as Kurura hugged Gaara tighter. "Because it's something every child goes through. Don't you want to be just like your mom and dad?"
"Mmmh, no. Uh uh." Gaara shook his head, blatantly rejecting him.
…Well. That hurt a little.
"That's because you don't know what we do," Rasa said, steadying himself. "School lets us become what we want. I bet you can't guess what we do."
"Don't you just go really far for a long time, and then come home really late? While Mom plants cool things and cooks really good food?"
"Ugh!" Rasa groaned.
"Kek—" Kurura almost cackled, catching herself just in time and covering her mouth.
Rasa looked positively aggrieved. Kurura, on the other hand, looked delighted—definitely improving her mood.
It wasn't his fault that he worked all day. Kiddo is definitely picking sides. Back-to-back betrayal, it seems.
"Ahem." He coughed. "Your dad is—" He paused, hoping to make an impact. "—a Support Hero!"
Gaara blinked. Support Hero? Never heard of it. Isn't there only a hero and a non-hero? So his dad's not a hero… but is?
His head spun.
"I got it! You're a cop! You work with the real heroes—that's so cool!"
Kurura burst into laughter.
…He really shouldn't have been surprised.
"Dad, I'm tired. Can I get dessert and figure it out tomorrow?"
Rasa sighed. He should have expected this. Gaara was still just a child—and in hindsight, they'd been worried for nothing.
"I suppose we'll continue this tomorrow. Our son wants his dessert, and it's almost his bedtime."
He glanced between his yawning son and his still-giggling wife, wondering what he was going to do with them.
Gaara woke the next morning, shifting restlessly in his bed.
Sand was scattered everywhere.
He was used to it. His mom said it was his skin shedding—and skin sheds… but wasn't this more than usual? There was enough to build a small sandcastle.
As he rubbed his eyes, even more sand fell from the friction.
Mom and Dad said I'll have to go to some place called school soon… They said it was good for me. They wouldn't lie, so it must be.
Well… they'd better have food as good as Mom's. And plants!
He jumped up and reached for the shoji door—
"Gaara! Remember to clean your room and make your bed! Or no veggies for you!"
Oh no! I forgot!
"Will do, Mom!"
Holding the bucket his mom prepared, Gaara stared at the sand, agitation clear on his face.
Why can't it just move on its own!?
To his surprise, it did—flowing rapidly into a small stream and pouring neatly into the bucket.
Cool. I get to eat sooner!
With that, he promptly ignored what had just happened.
Walking into the kitchen, Gaara noticed his dad was already gone.
"Your father has already left for work," Kurura said gently. "Gaara, sweetie, your father takes a lot of pride in his job. He is a hero—just a different kind."
"Really!?" Gaara's eyes lit up. "That's awesome! What does he do!? What's his hero name?"
Kurura answered his questions patiently, smiling all the while. She was happy he understood—happy she knew exactly how to help him now.
This time, she steeled herself completely.
She was ready to let him go.
When Rasa opened the door that evening, he didn't even get the chance to step inside.
"Dad!" Gaara tackled his leg. "Why didn't you say how cool you were!? You went to school for that, right? When do I get to go!?"
…It seemed his worries had been for nothing.
Over the next few months, Kurura and Rasa focused on teaching Gaara manners, social cues, and—most importantly—the walk to school and back.
Then April came.
Gaara left his house early, wearing his standardized first-grade yellow safety gear over a set of normal clothes.
He was nervous, but his parents' words stayed with him. He saw so many people—and other kids wearing the same thing he was. He followed the route carefully, never straying.
That was, until—
"You there! Red-haired yellow panda!"
Gaara turned, puzzled. Panda? Red hair? Where?
"I'm talking to you! Wait—you're no panda!"
He spotted the pink girl sprinting toward him.
He frowned. "I'm not a panda! My name is Gaara." He paused, then remembered his manners.
Catching up, the girl bent over, exhaling loudly before launching straight into words. "I'm Mina! You've been leaving sand behind while you walk—did you know that!? Gaara… that's a cool name! Your hair is so red! Oooh, and your skin's sandy! And your eyes are like mine!"
Gaara was overwhelmed.