Characters: Takeo (future Kazekage), Karura
Summary: The refugee line snakes like an ant trail and she's like a desert Sphinx.
Pairings: Kazekage x Karura
Author's Note: This is during the Third Great War, but before the Yondaime Kazekage becomes the Kazekage. The Kazekage, obviously, is Takeo.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
She's a few months over eighteen now and in the hot and dusty wind, her fine gold hair blusters past her ears, swirling around the deep brown of the cloth of her hitai-ate. Karura waves her hands to keep the caravan moving in the right direction, and sighs, adjusting the fan strapped to her back in an attempt to keep it from resting so heavily on her spine.
"There's so many of them," Karura murmurs as Takeo comes and stands beside her, dwarfing the smaller, younger woman. Both have been assigned to oversee the migration of refugees towards Sunagakure.
The older jonin nods grimly and casts his eye down what looks almost like an ant trail snaking down upon a sea of dunes, off into the horizon. "The Leaf nearly decimated Harasakyuu." The border town had been up in smoke the last time he saw it—the two of them had nearly been the only Suna nin able to escape.
Takeo scowls at the thought of the Leaf, face contorting as it always does when faced with the specter of the enemy. "Have you noticed, Karura? Suna's becoming less coordinated; it's been two years since the Kazekage died, and the wear's starting to show on Suna. With a leader we'd be more than a match for Konoha. But without…"
Dark green eyes flecked gray flash as Karura stares up at him, and suddenly smiles, the enigmatic smile of a desert Sphinx. "You sound frustrated."
"I am," he growls.
Karura's smile widens slightly and shows the momentary flash of white teeth. "Then why not do something about it?" she asks, before heading down the line to help the other remaining nin with the refugees.
Takeo stares after her for a moment, distracted. Some quality in her voice speaks without any words needed and he can hear it, tantalizing and reminiscent of sharp desert winds blowing sand in his face.
It's something to think about. And so is she.
