Coronation: Noun. The act of crowning a king, queen, or other sovereign.
When Gaara became Kazekage, there was a coronation. The word itself wasn't perfect- it insinuated a level of pomp and circumstance, with marches and speeches and ermine-trimmed robes, none of which fit in all that well in the Village Hidden In The Sand, mainly because marches in the middle of a hot desert day were a bad idea, speeches kept people out in the sun, and no one was dumb enough to wear ermine-trimmed anything. Still, Gaara was presented with the hat and the robe, he was officially announced as the Fifth, and someone had brought wine. There was no cheering. The ninja of Suna did not cheer. There was a quiet sort of acceptance, a series of nods and finally a strong round of clapping, which was more than Gaara had expected, at any rate.
The party that was thrown after Gaara was announced as the new Kazekage had little to do with him, personally. It had more to do with the stability of the village, the feeling that now that they had a new leader, they had a direction again. To live in Sunakagure was to constantly be at war- with the elements, with the Wind Country's uncaring government, with other ninja villages. An army without a General was quicker to fail than an army with one, even if the new General talked to himself and didn't sleep all that often.
Temari and Kankuro, the latter of whom had more than a little to do with Gaara's selection as the Fifth, threw their own little party. Calling it a party was pretty much the same as calling Gaara's appointment a coronation- the word didn't quite fit. There was food they all liked, including Gaara's coveted green tea ice cream. They locked the doors, ignored all summons, and simply sat together, enjoying the quiet of one anothers' company and privately, carefully, erasing what they could of the fourth kazekage from the wing of the Citadel they shared. They'd been allowed to stay when they returned from Konoha, because Baki had argued that they weren't yet legally adults and until a new Kazekage was found, the citadel belonged to them. Now, of course, they would be staying.
Time passed. Slowly, Temari and Kankuro imposed order on the Citadel, putting its unused rooms to use. The Iron Fan, it seemed, had a knack for ordering more than just her brothers around. She became Mistress, Hostess, and unchallenged Grand Poobah of the Citadel's desk workers, inventory specialists, medical ninja and artisans. Gaara immersed himself in paperwork, learning the ropes of his new job and doing his best to protect everyone he knew.
Kankuro spent more time at the Playhouse- that large red dome with its many colored flags, marking the barrier between Suna proper and the questionable district. He trained with Frog, Mantis and Sparrow; he argued with Dragon and bowed in deference to Chiyo, whose word, at the end of the day, was Law.
And when Chiyo died, giving her own life for the Fifth Kazekage, Kankuro had a coronation of his own.
The Trials were private; none save Puppeteers watched, or participated, or even knew, though Baki had strong reason to suspect when Kankuro did not return to the citadel after Chiyo's funeral. It was believed by the regular Suna ninja that the previous Troupe Master named a successor, like the Damiyos of Wind Country named heirs.
This was not true.
There was no gathering when Kankuro arrived at the Citadel, two weeks after Chiyo's funeral. It was late and no one saw him coming home save his silent shadows, Frog and Sparrow- old companions from his genin days. At the door of the Citadel they watched him enter and then left for the stronghold of the Playhouse, confident he would soon return.
Temari and Gaara had no idea what had happened until they saw the gauntlet.
Chikamatsu's Gauntlet, it was called, a thing of beauty, all gold and rubies etched over with scenes from Kabuki plays. The legend said that there had once been two, a matching set that Chikamatsu had worn while he sat at the Mat Against The Wall, entertaining the children of the village that did not yet exist while their fathers built it from the unforgiving stone of the desert.
The second gauntlet was lost, so they said, when Chikamatsu's right arm was ripped off and eaten by Shukaku as the first puppeteer drew his soul into the kettle where it had resided until Gaara.
Many things were said of the gauntlet, mainly by suna nin who weren't puppeteers. It was said that the gauntlet changed sizes, depending on who was wearing it. It was said that it contained powerful genjutsus, hidden traps, and poisoned blades the likes of which had never been replicated. It was said that the gauntlet could warn its wearer of danger and made him or her immune to all poisons.
All Kankuro had to say of the thing was, "It's heavy."
Temari, predictably, was the most irritated. The puppeteers scared her, in a way- so strange, so alien, so secular. That her brother was now their leader did little to dissuade her from her assertions that they were all 'creepy bastards' but she did nod once, in approval and pride.
Gaara said nothing, but he did not need to; Kankuro could see all his brother wished to say in his eyes.
Mainly the gauntlet went unworn, for Kankuro did not like to be hindered in battle. When the Five Countries declared open war on Akatsuki he led his puppeteers into battle alongside the other ninja of the sand without hesitation. Like Gaara he had little use for the finery of a station; like the ninja of the Sand he saw no point in ornamentation where there was work to be done.
Once, though, they appeared together. Troupe Master and Fifth Kazekage. It had taken all of Temari's considerable skills to convince them that yes, they needed to wear the outfits befitting their stations and yes, she expected them to look their best and YES, she would be very angry if they did not.
So it was that the brothers walked their sister up the wide aisle, ignoring the grinning of the Sixth Hokage, who could barely hide his glee behind the whisker marks on his cheeks. Gaara wore his hat, and his robes, and had foregone the gourd of sand if only because it clashed horribly. Kankuro wore the black hakama with its red and yellow stitching, kept the arm wearing the jeweled gauntlet stiff, and hoped that his paint- the intricate design of a samurai lord from a comic tragedy who married his daughter to the spirit of a river- looked properly severe enough.
Temari was a vision in gold and white, and had grown to greatly resemble their mother.
Of all the Suna ninja who attended the wedding of the Iron Fan and the Shadow Weaver, it was Baki who realized what was happening. It was Baki who saw past, present, and future, and who realized that these three- who had survived together, despite all odds, in that harsh country that devoured its children- were at that moment having their own personal coronation.
Time would pass. Other fights and other missions would do their worst; Troupe Master Crow would die preventing an invasion of Sunakagure from hostile forces, his gauntlet passed on to a young puppeteer named Fox. The Iron Fan would become a mother and grandmother, a great leader, the Fifth Kazekage would live longer than any Kazekage before him and would be put to rest as the most beloved leader of the Hidden Sand.
Forever they would be remembered- Fan, Puppet, and Tanuki- in that moment when they were strongest, before they were to be sundered.
In the land of Suna, where the wind constantly beat against the stones and where life and death had barely a hair's breadth between them, the Sabaku Three would live forever, as any Damiyo or Lord or Samurai in a great story.
The puppeteers would record it- as they recorded all things- in the plays they performed. These plays would be seen by suna nin for generations, until the very names Gaara, Temari and Kankuro carried with them a kind of mythic significance. A time would come when puppeteers invoked Kankuro's name before performances, when sandstorms were called the breaths of Gaara, where if a woman danced the four directions of the wind particularly well she was known as the embodiment of Temari.
It was the eternal coronation.
The word finally fit.
A/N: …my hand slipped.