Chapter Text
When he opens his eyes, Gaara worries for a small moment about what destruction he’s caused this time before he realizes that he’s still asleep. Dreaming. He’s in an apartment, small and cluttered with empty ramen cups and open milk cartons. The window’s open and the air coming in from outside feels fresh and cool. There’s nothing like this in Suna, he thinks, and he’s never had a dream this nice, this bright, this vivid before. He takes a deep breath of the air, feeling the strangeness of moisture, humidity. He wonders briefly how his mind could even conjure up an image, but then he’s distracted by the quiet.
It’s too quiet, he realizes. Even in dreams, he can hear Mother whispering to him, her anger never far from the surface of his thoughts. Mother’s voice is gone entirely here. He presses at the thought, like a bruise, wondering if it will hurt, but it doesn’t. He frowns to himself. He feels… something, but it’s buried down deep, in some dark place that he’s never visited before. It feels cavernous, damp, he thinks he might hear water sloshing, before he pushes that thought away and slides out of bed, wanting to enjoy this dream before it fades or changes as it inevitably will.
He tries to summon the sand, and for a moment, fear grips him when he cannot. Even though he’s in this strange climate, he should be able to feel it around him, hidden in the dirt, in the building materials, in something, but he doesn’t. He looks down at the floor and realizes his feet are not his own feet at all.
In fact, his skin itself isn’t the same. He raises an arm up to look at it, turning his hands over. It’s a golden color, much like sand itself, and completely unlike his usual skin tone. This isn’t his body, he thinks, feeling the strange proportions. He’s taller now, somehow, perhaps totally different all around. He pushes the panic back, reminding himself that he’s dreaming. He’s only dreaming...
When he finds a mirror, Gaara sees messy blonde hair and wide blue eyes staring back at him in shock. There are small scars on his face that resemble whiskers. He touches them hesitantly. He’s never had a dream this real before, or perhaps he’s never remembered it. Every detail is so clear, he can feel the skin of this different face beneath his fingertips. He steps back from the mirror, wondering what else there is to see.
This apartment is quite small and cluttered, as he noticed on first waking up. He finds that he’s hungry, but he ignores that. From the looks of the place, he’d be hesitant to eat anything here. He needs to go outside. The world beyond the window looks like nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s a lively-looking village, full of people, and in this strange new body, he can explore without - well - regardless, he just wants to see before it all slips away. He finds clothes in the closet, although not many to select from, mostly oversized t-shirts, which seem unusual considering his size. He slips on the least obnoxious-looking of the options, and finds his way out into the world.
Everything’s so green. Tall trees tower over him, waving branches with leaves rustling in the wind. There are small birds on the branches, calling out to each other. He even thinks he sees a small fluffy rodent-like creature scurry up the tree. He’s never been out of Suna before, and he’s definitely never seen anything like this. People’s clothes are different, here, too, not having to worry about the sand or the relentless sun. He finds himself feeling like he’s been transported to a different world entirely as he walks around the village.
When the initial wonder wears off, he notices something odd. It’s the way people look at him. He thinks this body appears fairly young still, just as he usually is. He thinks there’s no reason for random villagers to look at him the way that they do. It’s not quite the same way that they look at him in Suna, but it’s something similar that sets his teeth on edge. How could they know? Can they sense the darkness within him? He waits for the anger to come, for the sand to start swirling around him, but it doesn’t, and somehow he feels relief at that. He never meant to hurt anyone, especially at first. Not until… But no, he won’t think of that now, in this dreamlike place. He looks down at these new hands. There is something stirring deep inside him, but it’s buried. He places a hand on his stomach, wondering at that feeling, but shrugs it off. At least he still has this quiet in the dream, this control. Even if the villagers still look at him… it will have to be enough.
Gaara continues his wanderings around the village. It’s nothing like his own village. He slows when he sees a group of others around his own age outside of a building. He wonders, briefly, if he could join them, say hello. He wonders if that’s allowed in this dream. He looks down at his hands again, wondering if he might accidentally hurt someone. So far the dream has been fairly normal.
When he looks up, there’s a shinobi glaring at him.
“Naruto!” the other man yells, and he's so close to Gaara’s face all of a sudden that Gaara feels helplessly surprised. Usually the sand armor would protect him, would lash out if something got too close. This body feels so vulnerable and unprotected that he flinches at the older ninja’s closeness. The man continues, “WHY are you showing up late again this morning? You better not be up to pranks again!”
Gaara blinks blankly at this curious stranger. Late? Gaara’s expression alone is usually enough to ward people away, but the man seems totally unimpressed. In fact, he grabs Gaara by the collar and starts dragging him towards the building. Gaara’s never been dragged anywhere before, and the experience is surreal. The others are all now staring at him. Some of them giggle, and he hears the pink-haired one say with disgust in her voice, “Naruto’s in trouble again.”
If only he had his sand! He’d - well, he considers this as he’s deposited in the middle of the group of kids who are looking at him curiously but not with fear as they do in his village. He realizes that he’s still not all that angry actually. In fact, he doesn’t feel much of anything other than an undercurrent of curiosity towards the students and the older ninja who looked to be a chuunin instructor.
Both the students and instructor seem to be waiting for something, but he’s not sure what. The instructor called him Naruto - apparently the name of this body. He's starting to feel unsure if he's really dreaming at all, or if perhaps he's under genjutsu. It’s getting weirder and weirder the longer it’s lasting, but not in an unpleasant way.
Most of the kids scatter, somehow unsatisfied with the results of the confrontation. The chuunin instructor also walks off muttering under his breath, and Gaara merely watches him leave. Academy, he thinks – so this is what ninja Academy is like. He's never been allowed to go. Private tutors can hardly stand to be in the same room as him - let alone trusting him in a room full of the village’s future, untrained shinobi. He's an unsheathed weapon, barely contained at the best of times. He stares down at the unfamiliar hands and wonders if this is what the dream is about. Something he's not sure he remembers ever longing for, but now that he has the opportunity, he's feeling something unfamiliar wash over him. Some sort of electric thrill of excitement he analyzes.
“What are you doing?” someone asks, and Gaara lifts his head to find a kid with a spiky ponytail raising an eyebrow at him.
When Gaara doesn't reply, the other boy starts looking vaguely concerned. “Did you hit your head or something?” he continues, giving Gaara a curious look. A few other kids are also still looking at him oddly, as if they’re expecting a reaction from Gaara that he’s not providing.
Gaara shakes his head slowly, cautiously. “Not that I can recall.” The kid frowns in response, looking at him as if he’s a puzzle to be solved.
Gaara has so many questions he wants to ask. What's the name of this village? Where are they in relation to Suna? Does Suna even exist? Maybe the most important of all - is this really a dream? Because it’s feeling less and less like a dream as the moments pass, but Gaara can’t figure out any other explanation for it. He’s not sure if he should voice these concerns. What if this isn’t a dream, and he’s trapped in an enemy’s genjutsu? Another assassination attempt from Father, perhaps? A test of some sort. There are still too many variables. He ends up saying nothing further, which seems to be yet again the wrong response. The kid gives him a sharp look. “C’mon Naruto, are you okay? You’re acting weird today.”
Gaara shrugs, and then looks up at the blue sky and the trees, something warm and unusual stirring in his blood, something that feels like contentment. “I feel good,” he says, honestly. He’s startled at the idea as soon as the words leave his mouth. Without the dark whispering, without the simmering anger beneath the surface of his thoughts, he does feel surprisingly good. He looks around at the other students and notices the pink-haired girl is giving him weird looks too, but he doesn’t mind. They don’t look at him the same way the adult villagers do or the villagers in Suna do, so he doesn’t mind at all.
The other boy finally shrugs and looks away, as the rest of the group heads inside the building. Gaara follows behind. He might as well. If this is a dream, it’s possibly the most bizarre dream he’s ever had, and that’s saying something.
---
The chuunin instructor - Iruka, he’s gathered after listing to some of the scattered conversations - tells them to take their seats, which poses a new challenge: he’s not sure where to sit. He hangs back, waiting for everyone to go to their spots, and then notices that there’s still one left open next to the pink-haired girl. Process of elimination...
When he sits down, she sniffs and tosses her hair at him, but he ignores it. He’s never been in a room with so many others his own age before, and he finds the experience fascinating. Many of the other kids are still only half-awake or drawing on their scrolls. There’s a boy eating chips and sitting next to the spiky-ponytail kid from earlier. He has a few empty wrappers stuffed in the bag next to his chair, and the ponytail kid has his head on his crossed arms. The most unusual thing about this situation is that the chuunin instructor keeps giving Gaara odd glances, as if he’s expecting him to do something out of the ordinary, but Gaara’s not sure what to make of that. He supposes he’s probably acting unusual since he’s not sure what his usual behavior should be like.
The lesson is on the history of Konoha, which is apparently the name of the village he’s in. Gaara’s heard of Konoha - it’s in the land of Fire. He doesn’t know much about it beyond that. He thinks Suna’s relationship with Konoha is tense, but he couldn’t say why. As a weapon, he’s not expected to know much about politics apparently.
Most of the other students seem bored by the lesson. The instructor calls out to a few of them to answer questions, which helps Gaara learn some names - Shikamaru from earlier and Chouji with the chips. Hinata, who blushes and stammers when called on, and Kiba, who seems to be as sleepy as the small white dog hiding in his jacket. The instructor doesn’t seem to bother to call on Gaara, and he’s starting to wonder what kind of reputation Naruto has.
Regardless, he’s drawn in by the lecture, utterly fascinated by the depth of history in this village. Gaara realizes that he doesn’t even know this much about Suna, really. By the time they break for lunch, he’s still wanting to hear more. He frowns as the other students all stand up, pulling out bentos, but he realizes that he brought nothing and hasn’t eaten all day.
Shikamaru appears next to his spot, and elbows him. “Yo, Naruto, let’s head outside,” he says, and Gaara’s too taken aback at the physical contact to reply. Shikamaru frowns slightly. “What, no bento again today?”
Gaara finds himself nodding at that, and a very unfamiliar look crosses Shikamaru’s face. Some emotion Gaara’s sure he’s never seen directed at himself before. He wonders at it, but Shikamaru shrugs, “You’re welcome to have some of mine again.”
“Won’t you be hungry then?” Gaara asks, honestly curious. He’s not sure of the customs here, but usually bentos are prepared as single lunches.
Shikamaru gives him another odd look. “Of course not, my mom always packs an extra bento for Chouji anyways.”
Gaara nods in reply, unable to give any other sort of response to the offer, and follows Shikamaru out to what appears to be the customary lunch area. They sit under a tree while Shikamaru and Chouji talk about nothing in particular. Gaara can feel Shikamaru’s eyes darting over to analyze him further every once in a while, but Gaara can’t bring himself to mind too much. He lets their conversation lull him into a relaxed state until it’s time for them to go back inside for class.
---
In the afternoon, they have sparring practice. Gaara feels momentarily worried, sees the scared faces of villagers in his mind and expects to hear the dark commands of Mother, but nothing happens. He doesn’t have the sand, he realizes again, and it’s just as surprising as it was earlier in the day. He cautiously tests his chakra levels, finding them much larger than expected, but other than that, this body holds few surprises. And it’s only a sparring match. He feels something like excitement yet again when realizes that he doesn’t have to worry about hurting anyone. The excitement concerns him on some base level, as if he should be wary of it, as if the act of feeling such an emotion will cause something terrible to happen, but... isn’t this only a dream after all?
The instructor calls out, “Naruto and Sasuke, you’re up.”
The pink-haired girl (Haruno Sakura, he’s discovered after her own match with another blonde girl named Ino) giggles, and Gaara wonders what she finds so funny about the match-up. Sasuke gives him a dismissive look, but gets into the position to spar anyways. Gaara will have to stick to basic moves. He doesn’t have the sand to protect him after all.
Sasuke’s fast and comes at him like he has a grudge, but Gaara’s survived several assassination attempts by now, and he’s not about to let an Academy student from another village best him. The instructor ends up calling it as a draw, giving them both surprised looks when he breaks them apart.
Sasuke nods at him, giving him a more calculating glance this time, and his other classmates are staring at him extremely oddly now, whispering to each other, but he’s not sure why. The kid with the puppy - Kiba - is the first to congratulate him. “Way to go, man,” Kiba says, slapping him on the back. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Gaara’s shocked momentarily by both the physical contact and the affection in the gesture. Although it sounds like Gaara wasn’t expected to do very well in the match, Kiba seems pleased that he didn’t lose. He wonders at this sort of relationship. Something like friendship? Although the adult villagers seem to look at Naruto with similar eyes as his villagers do, some of the students are open to closer bonds. Gaara says nothing in reply to Kiba, unsure of how one would respond in this situation. Kiba looks puzzled but shrugs. The puppy on his head barks happily.
Gaara could really get used to this, he thinks, and he finds himself, not for the first time, wishing that the dream would never end. He’s starting to think this isn’t a dream at all, and there’s something within him that’s deeply glad for that. Without Mother’s voice in his head, he feels a freedom unlike anything he’s ever know before. And anyways, the school day is nearly over, but there’s so many things left to explore. An entire village, in fact.