Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Title: Leading Sunagakure

Summary: Kazekage Gaara is the newly-appointed leader of the Village Hidden in the Sand. However, with power comes responsibility… Watch (and poke fun at) Gaara and his siblings as they endure mishaps and solve problems… horribly.

Warnings: Possible OOC, Possible Yaoi, AUish, Language, Crack, and OCs (minor)

Chapter II: Reduction of Public Protesting

“Lord Kazekage! We have a biiiig problem!”

Gaara whipped around and snatched whoever was racing towards him into the air with a hand formed out of sand.

Daisuke, his newly-appointed and self-proclaimed survivor of the “Council Slaughter” that had happened just a few days ago, waved weakly. “Don’t kill me.”

With a roll of his eyes, Gaara dropped the teenager. “Yes? What is this problem?”

“It seems that numerous public protesting groups and boycotts have sprung up in various places,” Daisuke read from a notepad, “including the central—and only—public restroom, the bathhouse, my mother’s house—who, I might add, makes the best strawberry cheesecake—all entrances to Suna that have been barred up to keep people in—or is it out?—and since you have refused to show yourself to the 'Gaara Fan Girl' population, there is a huge group of females outside of this very building.”

Gaara blinked slowly and waved a dismissive hand. “I thought you were going to give me new problems.”

Daisuke’s face fell. He had been excited to deliver his first news to the Kazekage. “Well… er… aren’t you going to take care of it?”

“That was Kankurou’s job.”

Daisuke stared. “But he’s not the Kazekage.”

“And I’m sure Suna thanks me for that.”

“Sir?”

“He was second choice for Kazekage, you know.”

With a shudder that came with imagining all of the pornographic theaters, strip joints, and reduction on the cost of naughty magazines that would have inevitably been installed in Kankurou’s rule, Daisuke came up with an idea. He perked up and raised his hand eagerly. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!”

“Cease those primate noises, and speak already.”

“Well, I have an idea to fix all of those protest and boycott groups.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s have a council meeting to discuss it!”

The Kazekage groaned and rubbed his aching forehead weakly. “What a fantastic idea.”

The sarcasm went unnoticed.

“I know, right? Let’s gather everyone up!”

“You do realize that the entire council was slaughtered, right?”

A gasp. “Oh, my god!” A pause. “Really?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, you weren’t a part of that.”

“I know! Thank goodness for that!” Apparently he hadn’t heard the “un” part of “unfortunately.”

There was silence as Gaara stared the teenager down.

Finally, “Why, exactly, are all these people protesting?”

“The restroom is too dirty; people think the bathhouse, a large puddle that showed up just yesterday, is not up-to-date like the neighboring Leaf Village’s; my mother refuses to make her legendary cheesecake until a few demands of hers are met; people want to be able to leave the village without signing up to be a shinobi; and your fan girls haven’t seen you in over two hours.”

“Right.”

“Uhm… so… what should we do?”

“Hire a janitor for the restroom; slap everyone for forgetting that we’re short on water and don’t even have a bathhouse; kill your mother; inform everyone that if they try to leave without becoming a shinobi first, they will be pelted with kunai and dragged into enemy territory; and let’s dress Kankurou up in some of my clothing and change his hair. If we throw him to the fan girls, that should satisfy them for a while.”

“But… my mother makes the best cheesecake! We can’t just kill her!”

“Does this cheesecake benefit the economy?”

“Well… no… but—”

“I’ll have my sand visit her later.”

With a sigh, Daisuke lowered his head to quickly pray. “May God be with her.”

Quirking a non-existent eyebrow, Gaara said, “That’s it? You’re not even going to try to stop me?”

“Eh, she was a bitch when I was younger, anyways.”

“I see.” Gaara turned to leave. A sudden thought made him stop. “Oh, and instead of putting that ridiculous eyeliner on Kankurou, just punch him until his eyes are black enough. Everyone thinks this,” he gestured to the black rings around his eyes, “is eyeliner. The nerve.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s an inherited characteristic. I came from a long line of raccoons,” Gaara droned.

“Whoa, really?”

“Indeed.”

“Wait until the fan girls hear this! Bestiality! That'll scare them away for sure!”