Death of a Comrade
Inspired by the poem of the same name by Martin Carter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Temari was broken. Totally and utterly.
She still couldn't believe it - couldn't understand why she was standing here in all black, the colour of mourning, sounds of lament surrounding her.
She stared out at the sea of people in front of her but she didn't see them. Her mind's eye was filled with the sight of the grave in front of her. The gravestone was in the traditional shape of the Sand Village's symbol but it was significantly larger than the others, to signify that it belonged to someone of importance.
In that grave lay her youngest brother, the Godaime Kazekage. Gaara.
As she looked down upon it, her mind drifted back to that day. They had been so hopeful, she and Kankurou and all of the other shinobi who had gone to meet the ninjas from Konoha and help them retrieve Gaara. But by the time they got there, it was too late.
'Too late' - the words were etched in her brain.
"We got here too late," was all Naruto could say when they'd arrived, when he was forced to tell them that he'd broken his promise and been unable to save their brother.
She had gotten so angry then, even though she knew it wasn't really Naruto's fault. Even as he said the words, she could see the pain and guilt written on his face. But her brother was dead and she had to blame someone. So she lashed out at Naruto and said all sorts of things that she now wished she could take back. She would have said more but Kankurou stopped her.
She was shocked at how Kankurou had taken it. He was in pain too, she could tell, but he didn't get angry like she did - he just closed up. Shut himself off from everyone, even her. He practically stopped talking altogether.
Her eyes moved from the grave now to Kankurou. His eyes were fixed on the grave and he was standing, surprisingly next to Naruto, their faces mirror images of each other - identical masks of pain, guilt and regret.
Kankurou was the one who had convinced Naruto to stay for the funeral. The Uzumaki had wanted to leave with the other Leaf ninjas, feeling that because of his failure, he didn't deserve to attend but Kankurou had changed his mind with one sentence,
"My brother would have wanted you to be there."
Her eyes drifted again, now taking in the crowd for the first time. Had she been in a different condition, she would have been shocked at the turn out. There were more people than at the previous Kazekage's funeral by far, in fact, it seemed like almost the whole of Suna had attended. She looked up as Gaara's face came to mind.
'Can you see them, Gaara? They accept you now. This is what you wanted, isn't it?'
A gentle wind passed by then, ruffling her hair and carrying in it a whisper. Always those words,
"Too late."
A/N: I would really appreciate a review. Constructive criticism is welcome, flames are not. This fic came about because I always wondered how Temari and Kankurou would have reacted had Gaara not been revived. I didn't see any other stories that dealt with this so I decided to write one myself. I'm not sure that these would have been their reactions but this is what came about. Please tell me what you think.
Btw, if you are a reader of An Unknown Engagement, expect an update either today or tomorrow, God willing. And I'm really sorry to keep you waiting.