Given Poison
Cuz im just a little girl you see
But there's a hell of a lot more to me
Don't ever underestimate what I can do
Don't ever tell me how I'm meant to be
"Just a Little Girl" Amy Studt
"What have I told you?!" He demanded of her, as he always did, his voice rough, eyes cold.
He never looked at her kindly.
Not once.
Temari often wondered if she did what he desired – if she became that girl – would he give her just a tiny smile.
Pretty.
Docile.
Lovely.
That's what good little girls where supposed to be.
Patient.
Well-mannered.
Loving.
She was supposed to close her lips and smile and nod and just be, a little girl. The sharp and poisoning threat of this reality swallowed her coldly and passed sharp pangs inside of her.
"Be more like your mother." They would tell her, lips pursed, eyes cold. It was her…destiny. Her fate. What they wanted – needed her to be. It only made sense. Her mother's blood ran through her veins, why couldn't she be the same way?
Why couldn't she be happy swallowing this bitter role?
Why did she want to fight it?
"Lots of stupid things." She muttered under her breath.
There were days when she craved a kind action. From anyone. She wanted him to look at her – just look at her once without malice, he didn't even have to smile. She felt…like no one cared.
Like she didn't matter.
She could only matter if she was…that girl.
Temari wondered too if her mother had been happy playing that role.
"Get out of my sight." He snarled.
She wasn't even worth reprimanding.
She couldn't bear that particular role. She couldn't be the docile sweet girl who cooked and cleaned and sewed and watching her father and brothers…live.
She saw Kankurou playing with a kunai once. It was very sharp and pointy and…dangerous.
That last thought swam through her head like a taunt, like a drug, like a dare.
So she rifled through the possessions in the house until she did managed to find some kunais. They looked better in her hand she decided then. The cool metal of the woman licked her skin lovingly. She loved the way it felt as her fingers closed around it; in her mind this was who she was destined to be. Who she wished she could be. Who her father and the rest of the damn village would loathe her to be. The blade then in pure vindictive cruelty sliced open her hand.
Most would have dropped the item on impulse, but Temari did the opposite, she squeezed, and the blade dug in deeper, pooling her crimson blood around it.
Being a ninja was not a woman's duty. A shinobi was not allowed to feel. A shinobi went through excruciating pain. A shinobi had to carry out mission they might disagree with. A shinobi would inevitably have to kill. A shinobi always died at a young age.
She could recite the passage they'd told her since she was old enough to think.
You can not be a shinobi Temari. It will bring you no happiness You are just a little girl in a boy's world. You will not be able to do it..
Why?
The question always burned at the tip of her tongue, at the back of throat, behind her eyes. Why couldn't she, why couldn't she try to be who she felt she was supposed to be? Why couldn't she choose the source of her unhappiness?
She could be stronger that anyone if she tried hard. She could beat most everyone, she could.
She could.
Temari slowly let go of the blade. She headed over to the sink and washed off the blood carefully from both her hand and the blade. She wrapped her hand delicately. Closing her eyes she leant against the wall, thinking.
She always thought too much.
Maybe that's why she couldn't accept the person the village was trying to force her to become. Because she knew she could do better. "I have dreams." She whispered to the nothingness. She could be better.
Rumors ran rampant that her mother cursed the village as she died.
Cursed it and wished its ruin.
Sometimes Temari wished its ruin. Only sometimes.
She figured others might wish it more often.
Temari did not put the kunai back.
She slid it underneath her pillow.
Nights on end, she would practice with it constantly. Cutting her hands up in the process.
She hid it well at first.
But he found out.
How could he not?
Being Kazekage and all.
His cold eyes watched her as they always did. In disgust and contempt. He probably never wanted a daughter. Especially as the first-born. "I've heard what you've been doing at night."
"So?" She spoke back defiantly. As she always did: back straight, eyes determined, self-righteous sneer. She figured he hated that. Everyone groveled at his feet. Oh leader of our village what can we do for you?' she figured he hated the fact that the few who spoke out him where his own family. Gaara hated him. Kankurou hated him too. Temari? She was past wanting a smile. She was past all of it. She hated him also. She still wondered on occasions what would happen if he did smile at her. But she no longer wished it. Not from him.
"Ninja tools are not toys, you STUPID girl."
"I am not stupid." She looked him in the eye. Very few people did. She always wondered why. "And I know they aren't toys."
"Cease your ridiculousness, child, or I will have to take forceful actions with you."
"Try." Temari knew she was being provoking. She knew she was bending too far, but she didn't care. "You can't make me be someone I won't"
"You will—" He began angrily, eyes flashing.
"I will become a ninja, father." She spat the title out.
He laughed. Cruelly and with obvious disbelief. "You? Hah, girl, you could never—"
"I could do anything I wanted to. Just watch me."
"Who do you think you are?" His voice was low and steady. Dangerous. Volatile. Threatening.
Another dare, another drug, another sweet bet lingering right before her willing to be taken. "You underestimate me, Kazekage." She said simply. "I am Temari of the desert. I will become a ninja. I will become a ninja you and your council members will value very highly."
"And how do you intend to do that?" He spat. "I am Kazekage."
"And also very desperate." She smiled. Full of promise, full of contempt, full of hate, full of determination. "You'll see."
She was a different girl.
She could not be anything but who she wanted to be. She would not let the poison kill her slowly inside. She would choose her own poison and she would bear it well.
She would make them all see.
Determined.
Motivated.
Powerful.
That's what she would be.
Unique.
Diverse.
Happy.
Screw pretty, screw docile; she had better things to waste her time on. She had things to prove and a life to have.
A/N: I wrote this today, while listening to that song. I have a fic I EVENTUALLY intend to write about Gaara, Kankurou, and Temari and their thoughts and trials as they grew up. Kind of like WoTSoC but different. Just in case you wanted to know. (Well that and the more people bug me the more inclined I am to write it. Laziness overtakes me alot. I've started writing so many things that just never get finished and sit on the top of my printer. That or they ARE finished and I'm too lazy to type them up.)