Kodomo
By Areku1993
Rikka stared at the playground, her eyes finally falling on the cause of this destruction. The little redhead boy was sitting in the middle of it all, clutching his teddy bear and crying. The children lay around him, unconscious, but not bleeding too bad. They'd live.
Rikka had long black hair and brown eyes. She was twelve years old, and currently a Genin for the Sunagakure ninjas. She was here to pick up her little sister, but the girl was no where to be seen. Rikka knew well enough that this boy was the Kazekage's son, the "little monster" all of the other Genin claimed him to be. But seeing him cry like this made her feel terrible.
Picking her way through the heaps of unconscious children and knelt down, ruffling his hair. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened to these children?"
Gaara looked up, wiping tears from his pale bleen eyes, still sniffling. "Nobody wanted to play with me... They said I was a freak... And now they're all sleeping." Then he smiled hopefully. "Will you play with me?"
Rikka hesitated. By the damage to these children, this boy WAS dangerous. But despite her age, Rikka had a rather good head on her shoulders, and had enough common sense to say, "Sure. What do you want to play?"
"Hide and go peeks!"
Rikka froze and forced a smile. "Hide and go peeks" for this little boy could mean "Hide and kill Rikka!" for her. Hm...
"Let's play a better game!" Rikka suggested in an enthusiastic voice.
"Like what?"
She opened her mouth to automatically say Tag, of course! but thought better of it. If Gaara didn't win, it could become Kill! instead of Tag!
"I know! How about I push you on the swings? That's fun. Then we can play a little more, and I'll take you home to your father!"
Gaara nodded happily. It wasn't exactly play, it was just swing, but Rikka was smart enough to suggest it in the first place.
Rikka stepped towards the swing, but Gaara didn't move. Rikka looked down at him as he tucked his teddy under his arm and held his arms towards her, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Up!"
Gaara, only four, didn't really know the love of a mother, only a father, and immediately attached to every nice female he met. Excluding Temari. Who wasn't every nice, even as a five year old.
Rikka looked down at him, but smiled and picked him up, hefting him on her hip. (WOAH did you see how many h's there were?) The swings were only ten meters away behind them, but Rikka didn't want to endanger herself and make him walk.
Walking at a steady pace, Gaara's chin resting on her shoulder, Rikka made her way to the swings. She tried to set him down, but when she bent over, he clung to her like a monkey.
"Gaara-- Is that your name? Gaara? Yeah.-- why are you doing?"
"Story!"
Oh God. Rikka thought. This kid is smart...
"Alright."
Rikka sat down on the swing, shifting him on her hip. "Well... What do you want to story to be about?"
"You choose!" Gaara beamed at her.
"Okay. Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His father was the king of his country, but didn't treat him very nicely. The other kids didn't like the little boy because he had strange powers..." Why am I doing this? I just met the kid... Oh, but he's so ADORABLE! Rikka hugged the adorable thing, continuing. "...That the other kids thought were scary. But the little boy just wanted friends.
"So one day, when the little boy was on the playground, he met a little girl name Rikka." He doesn't know my name, right? "Rikka was older than him, but really nice. Rikka played with him, and told him stories, and whatever he wanted to do. But Rikka was very, very sick with a hidden illness, and died the next day. Though the boy mourned her death woefully, the other children began to play with him.
"Seeing how Rikka wasn't afraid, the other kids found their courage to play with the boy, too. As the boy grew up, he fell in love, and got married, to take his father's place as king and live happily ever after. The end!"
"Was that about me? And you?"
Rikka flinched. GENIUS KID! "You're such a smart little boy." She ruffled his hair. "How did you know?"
"The little boy sounds a lit like me. Are you really dying?"
Of course. The Kazekage made no effort to hide the Earth's ugliness from his son, and probably forced Yashamaru to explain all about death.
"No, of course not. It's just a story, Gaara."
"And is your name Rikka?"
"Yes! You're so adorable. You could be my little brother..."
"I already have two siblings, Kankurou and Temari," Gaara replied. "They're mean to me, and they don't like playing with me either. They're scared. Just like all the other kids."
Rikka felt small, wet tears on her shoulder. She hugged him and smiled. "You need friends to be happy! Try to explain to them that you're not scary."
"What if they don't listen?"
Rikka smiled. "Well, Gaara, sometimes you have to create your own happiness. Find a little hobby you like. Painting, or writing, or even becoming a shinobi! Sometimes you have to look underneath what you think is nice, to find the soft happiness below."
Gaara wasn't sure why, but he burst out crying. He didn't understand very well but he knew Rikka's words had some deep meaning.
Rikka, silently, stood up and walked off, hugging Gaara as if for dear life.
Trailing through the streets of Sunagakure, Rikka glanced at all the people who shot her and Gaara glares and sighed. Was this boy real that big of a deal? He was so sweet...
Stopping at the tallest, biggest building in Sunagakure, she shifted Gaara on her hip and rang the doorbell. A young girl with short blonde hair looked at her and shouted, "YASHAMARU!"
Yashamaru scurried up. "What is it, Temari?" The man looked up at Rikka. "Hello..."
"Is this yours? He was crying." Rikka handed Gaara over to Yashamaru. "Gaara, right? Everybody thinks he's a monster. But to me he's just a sweet, lost little boy." She ruffled Gaara's red hair and smiled as he turned his head. "Bye, Gaara. I'll come back tomorrow, if you want, okay?"
Gaara nodded slowly and smiled. Rikka spun on her heel and grinned. "Good bye!"
Rikka never did come over again, and couldn't have.
People began to disperse as the sermon ended. Hours later, Rikka's family still remained, silent and depressed. What was most unexpected were the unknown visitors from the Kazekage's house.
Rikka's parents and her little sister looked up. Gaara, tightly holding Yashamaru's hand and his teddy bear, came over the hill and pushed there way inbetween stone slabs to reach them.
"How did she die?" Yashamaru asked, letting go of Gaara to run around as he pleased. The boy stood silently, looking down at the mound of earth and sand that covered Rikka's lifeless body.
"Internal illness..." Rikka's mother replied. "She's been fighting it for a long time, and I suppose it just kicked in. We're lucky it's not contagious. Who are you?"
"I'm nobody, but this little boy was a dear friend of your Rikka's," Yashamaru explained, turning his eyes to Gaara. The boy was pounding on Rikka's grave with his fist, calling into the ground, "You said you'd come over!"
Yashamaru knelt by Gaara. "Gaara, Rikka is dead."
Gaara paused, and looked down at the sand and dirt. "Really?"
He took several steps back. Yashamaru, in realization, stepped back as well. In a shower of earth and sand, the grave exploded, exposing Rikka's coffin supported by beams of sand. A tendril of sand reached up and opened the coffin.
Rikka's face was pale as she just lay there, content-looking, with her Sunagakure headband tied firmly around her forehead. The villages believed that when a shinobi died, they would be trained in Heaven to -kage level skills, so they kept their headbands so God could send them to training.
Gaara looked at her sadly as the sand closed it and sent it back down in the hold, covering her with sand and dirt again. Turning, the young boy just walked away.