Five Children and It

Fudging It

A/N: I'm sorry there's no differentiation between when they speak English and when they speak Japanese, but it should either be obvious or shouldn't matter. If it does make it difficult to read, I'll see what I can do. (Oh, and also, the fact Gaara initially doesn't understand a word of what people are saying and then starts to gradually catch more and more of it until he's following the conversation is partially my oversight, but also (and I am going with this) because you sort of need to warm up and get into a still-being-learnt foreign language when you're listening to people speak before you can understand what they're saying, in my experience.) And... please forgive me on Shukaku's language... it's Shukaku. And (yes, yes, this A/N is long) Gaara assumes Violet is English because she is speaking English, as he hasn't been paying much attention to the other candidates. I do know she is in fact American.

Warning: Bad Language and graphic descriptions of violence throughout

...

Gaara blinked. The man in front of him was not as tall as he wanted to be, not as good with people as he needed to be and definitely irritating. It was a pity the Chuunin exams had been a couple of weeks ago, or this man would not have been a man anymore. Indeed, this man would not have been a human being anymore. Perhaps not even recognisable as a human being anymore, unless you happened to be a medical student or perhaps a taxidermist.

If Gaara had been anyone else (indeed, behind him, Baki seemed to be reconsidering his offer of parenthood), he would have been sincerely considering walking back out through the gates. Then acquiring a blowtorch and a canister of petrol. As it was, Gaara simply blinked.

All around him, children sneered and glared and gaped. Gaara turned. Blinked. But that was all he did.

The man - in the top-hat, the goggles and the gloves - looked down at them. Awkwardly.

(Baki, behind Gaara, subtly readied his kunai. It would not work to bring down the boy should he attack, but it would distract. For a moment. Probably. Hopefully. Most likely not. In any case, they couldn't kill the chocolatier on live TV. It wouldn't be diplomatic.)

Up on the makeshift stage... in fact, it was a stage, since it had just been performed upon... the man in the ridiculous top-hat smiled stiffly, and said,

"G-"

Something. In English. The English dictionary in Gaara's pocket laughed tauntingly and jabbed its hard edges into his thigh as if to say 'Ha! What a silly little boy! Doesn't even know our language!' From inside his head, there came a sarcastic clapping noise.

Well, well... slurred the Ichibi, smugly. I told you.

Go away thought Gaara. You are irritating.

To either side of him, the children and their parents seemed to be at a loss for what to do. Apparently they'd already labelled the man an incurable-

Nutcase. Mental fuckup. Whack-job two twigs short of a basket case. Congratulations, Spazimodo! You seem to have found a frien-

Shut up.

You should have studied harder last night. Maybe you could've talked to him about your similarities.

...Shut. Up.

Like the colour red, for example...

...

Or your terminal fear of rejection.