Summary: The legendary tales of Sandbox Gaara, the meanest bully around on the daycare playground…and his undying love for a certain ramen-loving kid. ChibiGaaraxChibiNaruto

Chibi Day Chronicles

Chapter Three: Like a Chicken Butt

Gaara glared at the flailing boy next to him, eyes threatening to dig holes into his forehead. The boy, however, seemed to be immune to his glare-of-ultimate-doom-and-despair™.

"Alright, Gaara-kun, let's give this race all the passion of our flaming youth!"

Somewhere on his forehead, Gaara felt a vein throb dangerously.

For their designated play-time, Iruka-sensei had decided to schedule a class event. Of all the things the evil man could have concocted, he came up with the worst possible idea of all: a three-legged race.

Initially, the small redhead had tried to maintain an open mind. After all, in the best case scenario, Gaara would be partnered up with Naruto. If that happened, the boy wouldn't mind dying then and there, in the arms of his most wonderful beloved. Oh, how Gaara wished it could be so.

But Gaara's hope betrayed him and Iruka-sensei, that accursed spawn of the boogey man, had instead decided to instill upon him the worst case scenario. Thus, did Gaara find himself, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, lips frowning deeply, as he contemplated about how he would inflict upon this Rock Lee the most violent demise possible.

To make this worst case scenario yet even worse, his beloved was partnered up with none other than him, Uchiha Sasuke—the second on his list of people to feed to his pet raccoon, the first of course, being Iruka-sensei.

Gaara didn't always loathe Sasuke. In fact, at first, one could even say that Gaara liked the other three-year-old boy. In him Gaara had felt a sort of kindred spirit. That, however, quickly changed after Sasuke began harassing Naruto. (But really, it was the other way around—not that love-blind Gaara would ever admit this.) Every day that stupid chicken-butt-head would pick fights with his Naruto and every time, Gaara would seethe. What only infuriated the poor redhead more was that no matter how many times he tried to perform his vengeance upon the Uchiha, he seemed to somehow wiggle his way around it. Gaara would admit he was a clever one, that chicken-butt-head.

After realizing that glaring at his overly animated partner would, in fact, not blow up the boy to smithereens, Gaara turned his head to fixate his glare on the aforementioned Uchiha. As he'd expected, Sasuke was already picking a fight with his poor love.

"You better not make me lose, Sasuke!"

The black-haired boy rolled his eyes. "That's my line."

"What did you say?" Naruto raised one chubby fist, great blue eyes glowering. "I triple dog dare you to say it again!"

"I said you're the loser here, dobe."


"Okay class, line up at the starting line and get ready to go!" Iruka placed the whistle at his lips and motioned for the children to position themselves along the chalk line that cut through the playground.

"Finally!" Lee screamed in excitement. "It's time for us to show the passion of our youth! Are you read Gaara-kun? Gaara-kun? Wai—Hey—You're going the wrong way!"

Gaara only growled in response as he turned and made his way towards the sandbox on the other side of the playground. He would show Sasuke what he'd get if he dared to talk to Naruto like that, even if he had to drag along a kid with a bowl-cut and ADD to do it.

Lee yelped as he hopped haggardly on one foot, the other was being dragged along with the furious redhead. "Gaara-kun! The race, it's going to start soon. If we don't line up, we'll lose."

But the redhead heard nothing and continued to fight his way towards his arsenal of sand. That Sasuke! He'd show him, he would!

Lee, however, was panicking over another matter entirely. "Gaara-kun please, the race! Our youth depends on it and It's about to begin and-" The whistle went off.

First, all Gaara felt was a strange wind blowing along his ears, and then the world was turned upside down, and then, then, a sort of flying sensation.

It took the redhead a good five seconds to realize what was happening: Rock Lee was sprinting full speed ahead for the finish line, and Gaara, who was attached to him, was floating along.

How very strange.

The three-year-old only gazed blankly as the scenery passed by: smudges he thought must be other people, the green must be the grass, and, ah, yes, the finish line.

"First place!" Lee screamed at the top of his lungs, little arms straight in the air in a sign of victory. Beside him, Gaara merely lay limp on the ground where he'd fallen after the momentum of Lee's insane speed subsided. Mentally, Gaara moved Lee up the list from third to first.

"Eh?" Lee pouted. "What's going on?"

Finally returning to reality after fantasizing about how exactly he'd get Lee into Shukaku's mouth and into his tummy, Gaara picked himself up and stood. He looked over to where Lee was staring.

And his stomach sank.

Half-way between the start and finish line, the rest of the students had gathered into a half-circle and in the middle of that circle were none other than Sasuke and Naruto.

Perhaps they'd been shoved and lost their balance, perhaps they simply hadn't gotten the rhythm right, but there, on the grass, lay the two boys. On top of one another. Kissing.

Again, Gaara hit the ground, but this time, all he could see was black.


"Gaara, wake up."

The small boy struggled his eyes open, squinting when bright light hit his pupils. Sitting up, he brought his hands up to rub at his heavy eyes. His brows furrowed and lips pushed out in an unassuming pout. Where was he?

"You finally woke up!"

Gaara blinked slowly and looked up, surprised to see his older siblings. Temari, who was six years old and the eldest, peered down at him in concern, a fan in one of her hands—explaining the odd breeze. Next to her stood Kankuro, who was five and, Gaara noted grimly, had once again made his way into their nanny's make-up drawer.

"Thank goodness, Gaara, you gave us quite a scare." The green eyed toddler glared up at Iruka who only smiled down at him.

Clambering down the sofa that he'd been laid down upon, Gaara looked up at his older sister. "What happened?"

The taller girl shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. Sensei called us down. He said you fainted."

Gaara frowned, trying to remember what happened. It was all so hazy...he remembered being mad at that stupid mushroom-head Lee and then floating and then—oh no. Gaara remembered now, he remembered. He knew why he had fainted, why his head hurt and more than anything, his chest.

Without saying a word, the red-haired boy made his way towards the door, turned the knob and swung it open.

Kankuro, who'd previously been distracted by his doll—action figure—finally looked up. "Gaara? Where you goin'?"

Iruka frowned deeply, also rather confused with the odd turn of events. "Gaara, come back."

Of course, the toddler did not listen and only continued to walk out of the hallway and into the playground. He made his way towards the far end to his beloved sandbox. But instead of scooping sand into his palm and rushing into the classroom where the other kids must be, Gaara merely sat on his mound of sand sadly.

At the ripe age of three, Gaara was learning the meaning of heartbreak.

Yay, another chapter!

Also, I was thinking of changing up the fic's premise a bit. For example, for the next chapter I was thinking of forwarding a few years and writing about the cast's experience—and Gaara's romantic woes—in elementary and after that, junior high, high school, and so on. I think it'd be lots of fun, but tell me what you guys think of the idea!

Thanks for reading. Support is much appreciated,