The Attire of Young Warriors
The word was simple: one syllable, flatly intoned, and absolutely without expression.
“No.”
It was accompanied by a cold glare that was hardly rivaled by any other on earth.
In truth, Lee thought they had probably gotten off pretty light. He was mildly surprised that the simple word and cold glare hadn’t been accompanied by something like a desert coffin.
Gai, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was courting death by sand nin. “You have to!” he said, presenting Gaara with a wide grin, complete with sparkle and accompanied by a thumbs-up. “It’s the attire of all young warriors!”
Gaara didn’t even blink. “No.”
“Think about how handsome and dashing you’ll look!”
Gaara’s gaze shifted, ever so subtly, to Lee.
Lee sensibly took a step backwards.
“I even had one made in your size!”
Most people Lee knew would have at this point been sputtering, wondering how in the hell Gai actually knew their size, anyway. Gaara, however, just got an even icier stare. How it wasn’t affecting his teacher, Lee figured he didn’t really want to know. That was the power of sheer obliviousness, he supposed.
“And since you and Lee are such good friends now, you’re part of our team!”
Gaara twitched.
It was the only sign that homicide was imminent, but Lee knew it well.
“Of course, we’ll have to do your hair to match, too – ”
Gaara twitched. Twice.
Lee choked.
“ – so right this way, young man – ”
Lee stared hard into the trees and said, “Sensei, what’s that?!” and when Gai turned to look, he made a run for it. He was only dimly aware of Gaara keeping pace beside him as they dashed through the trees of Konoha, and finally found a convenient hiding place.
Gaara stared at him. He was still twitching.
Lee felt nervous.
Finally, Gaara made a small scoffing noise. “I’m never coming to visit you again.”