x.:The Story is in the S.A.N.D:.x [Gaara Keep Your Ears to the Ground:.x
Disclaimer: Naruto and all of its character's are the property of Masashi Kishimoto. This is merely a story built off his original version. Please do not sue. Review with your honest opinions, please!
Sand. Miles and miles of it, as far as the eye could see. Various dunes and hills sprouting up in sporadic places.
When the wind would pick up, the small grains towards the top would dance along the seemingly infinite blanket, and find their way to another spot.
The sweltering heat would fade with the sunset, and instead, be replaced by a bitter cold.
The moon would rise from beyond the horizon, bathing the surrounding areas with silver light, making it glow, shimmer with sinister radiance.
It was the desert, a land of desolate planes reaching outwards to all sides. It had claimed the lives of many, young and old, sick and healthy, rich and poor. It was merciless, a place where the elements ran free to wreak havoc upon anyone who dared provoke it's wrath.
If one found themselves brave enough to journey through the barren conditions, it would take weeks to even spot the closest thing to an oasis in the entire thousand-mile stretch of the almost vacant wasteland.
Such a village did exist though, Sunagakure. Hidden Sand. The only location that managed to survive the broiling heat of the arid region.
The desire to reside in such a habitat puzzled their enemies, and allies alike.
But those who had chosen to stay from the beginning had no desire to leave, despite the fact that they were surrounded by a constant, domestic threat.
That residential danger was the very thing that had invoked the creation of the late night curfew. An important rule that nobody dared disobey. It had been issued for a reason.
After all, they lived in the midst of a homicidal maniac.
They hated him, but try as they might, there was no way to get rid of the Shukaku container. They were stuck with him.
His name, Sabaku No Gaara.
And said jinchuuriki, was currently lying nearly unconscious in his dark room, located within the Kazekage's fortress. For the first time in his life, he had almost died.
He, and his true, blood siblings, had returned from their mission to infiltrate and destroy Konoha about two days ago.
It had been forty-eight hours since he had faced the most dangerous, fateful, and life-altering event in his short, tragic life. The fact that he, and his brother and sister had failed held no true relevance. What really mattered was the discovery that they had been deceived.
Yondaime, Gaara's father, was dead. Upon the discoveries made by a jounin team, he had been for weeks.
He was in far too much pain, and far too tired to ponder everything that he had discovered from fighting with Naruto, but in a cliché sense, it had invoked some type of bittersweet epiphany. To discover that there were other people...just like him...he'd never thought it possible.
Being alone was something that he was so accustomed to.
Every now and then, a small groan erupted from within his throat. He couldn't really help it, or acknowledge how pathetic it probably sounded from the outside, but pain wasn't something that he was accustomed too. Pain, or defeat.
However, outside of his room, passing the hallway, down the stairs, behind locked doors, and in the center of the building, the future of himself, and Sunagakure was about to be discussed.
The council of elders sat around the circular plank of wood, stationary within the midst of a pregnant silence.
What was it that they were waiting for? Two very important letters. One from the council of Konohagakure, and another, from the country daimyo.
A knock interrupted the quiet, and caused a few of them to jump from surprise.
They all turned their attention to the source of the noise, and watched as four fingers weaved their way between the cracks of the sturdy door, and slid it aside.
As anticipated, it was Baki. And clutched in his hand, was a folded piece of paper.
He stepped inside, his shinobi sandals flapping against the hardwood floor. Their eyes followed his movements, as he circled around the meeting area, to the only vacant chair. The one that was usually occupied by the Kazekage.
Baki placed his palm upon the back of the chair, and dragged it outwards, but hesitated. It didn't feel right to sit there...especially after what had happened.
Yet, sensing the irritation of his companions, he lowered his body into the only vacant spot uncomfortably, and placed the letter upon the table.
He cleared his throat, and it echoed around the hollow room. The elderly males sat up within their seats, breathing heavily through their nostrils. And for a few more moments, they stalled their impatience.
It was then, that Baki spoke. "Excuse the long wait, the Daimyo's reply took longer than expected. Konoha has responded as well, and their letter was simple. They desire a meeting with us to negotiate a treaty. They have accepted our surrender."
There was no need for exchange of speech. A few nodded, and others continued to look to the jounin for further information.
He cleared his throat again.
"As for Daimyo-sama's news on what to do about the election of the new Kazekage...he concurs with the idea of Gaara succeeding his father, as Godaime Kazekage."
A few mumbles followed this proclamation, as well as the sight of one of the elders gripping his cane, and pushing himself to his feet.
"Baki-san," his throaty, phlegm filled voice sounded, quieting the whispers of the other elders. "I have been in this council for thirty years, and never have I seen such rash and blatant decisions take place. We cannot simply appoint Gaara as the Kazekage because he is Yondaime's son. It is far more complicated than that. All of us have borne witness to the wrath of Gaara when he has lost control over his emotions, and Shukaku. Having our leader be that unstable is not wise."
The jounin sighed, and said "Kami-sama, I understand your reasoning, but there is more. Please, have a seat and allow me to continue."
The man nodded, and shakily lowered his withered body into the chair, receiving a few significant glances from the others.
"The Daimyo has already thought all of this through, and come to the conclusion that without assistance, indeed, Gaara will not be able to inherit his father's position. That is why, he has asked one of the oldest organizations within Kaze no Kuni, for their guidance."
"What type of organization is it?" one of the younger members of the group asked, leaning forwards eagerly in his seat.
Baki exhaled. "They call themselves Gakkai no Monban. The Watcher's society."
"The watcher's society? I believe I've heard of them. Did he give you any more information, Baki-dono?" The elder from before inquired, taking time to smartly lace his fingers and settle his elbows upon the table.
"Yes." He replied. "Gakkai no Monban operates something like a cult...except their teachings have nothing to do with religion. They send their students to ninja academies, and require that they graduate at a very young age, before returning them to the home base. Within the base, they continue to train and condition them to provide unique services to any village that needs it."
Whispered conversation broke out amongst a few of the party members, whose brows were furrowed in confusion and misgiving.
Another elder to Baki's left interrupted them by tapping his cane on the floor loudly, so the heavy sound of wood against stone echoed around the room, and brought their attention back to the front.
"Let him finish." The man grumbled, closing his eyes.
"Arigato, senpai." Baki mumbled quickly before returning to discussion of the issue at hand. "According to Daimyo-sama, they have sent a representative who specializes in the area that we need. She is an average shinobi, but holds an expert rank of tutoring children and adults alike about changing their views on life, and how to get there. She is believed to be very gifted."
"Excuse my interruption, Baki-san," another man spoke. "but gifted or not...does Daimyo-sama truly believe that she will be able to handle somebody like Gaara? According to Temari-san and Kankurou-kun, Gaara is indeed willing to take up duty as Kazekage and change the way that he has been acting...but it is going to take time and serious effort. We need a person who is experienced in this area."
Baki let out another exasperated exhale of air, and slumped down in his seat a little. They were never going to get out of here if he had to explain every single thing. And most of it...he didn't even know himself. At this point, he could either allow them to continue speaking about this, and send a tedious letter to the Daimyo that would further delay the process; Throw himself out of the window; or side with the country leader, and the mysterious organization.
In the end, after pausing and allowing the others to continue with their uneasy mutterings, he chose the latter.
"Please, gentlemen, if I could capture your attention for one moment." He said, taking on a more professional and dictating posture, his chest puffed out and his spine straightened. "I understand that you have a lot of misgivings about this decision, but I believe it is for the best. As for whether or not the representative is experienced...you must look at it from a logical point of view. How many people do you know that have counseled a jinchuuriki?"
A few of them exchanged significant glances, and nodded in agreement, allowing Baki to feel confidence refill his facade.
"I believe that before passing judgment upon this person, and the order from which she comes, we should await her arrival, and then decide if she is trustworthy."
"But Baki-san..." another interjected earnestly, his forehead crinkled in worry. "What if this ends out badly? What if Gaara murders her? What will we do then?"
Baki shook his head, and quite uncharacteristically lifted his hand to his mouth. He inserted his thumbnail between his upper front teeth, and his lower, biting it for a moment, as though attempting to give himself more time to mull over his utterance.
"What will we do if we don't get help?" He asked. "What if Gaara's revelation doesn't continue? This is our only chance to start over, and fix what we did back then. I know that we have no idea about what this organization has in mind...but for now, this is the best we can do."
After his words, once again, silence retook it's rightful place.
There was nothing left to be said.
hr
Temari and Kankurou found themselves sitting in the midst of an unusual anticipation; their emotions scrambled so violently, that even physically they were feeling different.
The male half of the duo was experiencing an abnormal bout of lethargy.
Kankurou was often labeled as being lazy because of his body type, and brutality. But in fact, he was the complete opposite. His life was devoted to training with his lethal wooden weapons of destruction. He acknowledged more than others that even though he was very skilled in the art of puppeteering, he held an immense weakness that was obvious to any enemy that he faced who held some type of common sense.
Without his puppets, he was nothing. If rendered weaponless, there was an enormous chance that he could find himself defenseless, and under the power of an enemy. And inside, though he would never openly admit to it, it scared the hell out of him.
He was splayed across the couch, with his feet up on the far armrest, and his neck awkwardly leaning on the other.
Temari sat opposite to him, slouched over with her arms across her stomach, in an aqua-colored La-Z-Boy recliner.
She too was experiencing an incommodious affliction within her body. For some reason, her organs were squirming and writhing for an unanswerable response from her mind.
The last time she'd been sick was years ago, and that was when her father insisted upon her fighting against a colleague despite the fact that it was freezing cold, in the dead of night, until she was able to overcome him.
She never got the chance, because she ended up collapsing half way through the battle, and was faced with having to pay a visit to the local hospital.
Wincing, she shifted position in a desperate endeavor to calm her contorting abdomen.
Both of them knew that a lot of changes were about to take place, and so much had happened in the previous two days, that they were experiencing an information overload, which probably had something to do with their strange behavior.
Upon hearing their terrifying, half insane brother apologize, they had no idea what to think.
At first, both assumed that he was referring to the loss of the battle...but after listening to his delusional, but honest rambling on the way back to Suna, they came to the understanding that he had finally realized that all of these years, what he did and thought and concluded, was wrong.
Could it really be that he felt remorse? The idea was crazy to say the least. But his apology was so genuine. It was the first time that he'd ever taken that compunctious tone.
When returning home, they had also obtained the shocking information that their father was dead.
Ironically, Temari was the one who took it more emotionally personal, and became instantly depressed. Kankurou was rendered completely detached from all emotion. Gaara didn't know, and even if he did, both of his siblings doubted that he would care.
The living room of their personal flat had a natural light radiating from the window in the ceiling, and pooling around the room. The weather was, as usual, humid and sticky.
They could hear the buzzing voices of the villagers outside, but other then the occasional shifting motion, or heavy exhale, in the rapidly shrinking vicinity there was nothing.
At this point, all they could do was wait. The village council had no intention of allowing them to attend, no matter what the circumstances called for. They were under aged, and in their eyes, still mere children.
RING. RING. RING
The ringing of the telephone startled Kankurou so violently that his body convulsed. Temari felt her skin prickle, and jolted as well, but brought herself to a standing position whilst her brother calmed himself; and padded across the flat to the telephone.
For some reason, that noise was ominous, and sounded deeper, and more blatant than usual.
Nevertheless, upon reaching the small table on which the telephone resided, she closed her fingers around it, and lifted it upwards slowly, silencing the boisterous reverberation that turned her flesh to goose pimples.
She pressed it against her ear.
"Hello?" She mumbled into the outward speaker. Her voice seemed less deep; less imperious then normal.
"Temari." The tone of her sensei breathed into her ear.
"You have news?!" she inquired quickly, momentarily forgetting the sharp pains in her stomach. Kankurou's drained body language faded, and he jumped up immediately to hurry over and listen as well.
He paused for a moment, and replied "Yes, I do. I can only give you a brief overview right now, because I don't know all of the specific details."
"Tell us." Kankurou muttered from her right. Temari turned the phone slightly so both of them could listen at the same time, whilst standing side by side. Normally she would have pushed him away and called him a vulgar name, but at the moment her personality traits weren't really intact.
Baki's tone sounded heavy, reluctant, as he replied "Well, Daimyo-sama sent us a letter with his advice, and opinion on how we should handle this...but I have decided that I should consult the two of you first, to at least set up an interview."
Both siblings knew what he meant by " i handle this /i ", but as to what he meant by interview, they were completely perplexed.
Yet before they could ask any questions, he continued.
"Our counsel has agreed to his decision, which is to bring in a professional."
Temari's grip on the hard plastic loosened slightly. She and Kankurou exchanged a glance.
"They want to send us an expert? Are there experts in dealing with things like this?" Kankurou asked incredulously, lowering his gaze to the speaker again.
Baki sighed in agitation. "We don't really know, Kankurou-kun. The letter that we received was very vague; but I assume that we will understand more when this person arrives. We don't know much about them. Besides the fact that it is a girl, and that she comes from an organization called The Watchers Society, our information is absent."
"Just one question, Sensei." Temari added quickly. "Indeed, if this girl is coming here to assist us in making Gaara better...where is she supposed to start? Wouldn't it be better if somebody from Suna did this?"
The adult, male jounin brought his right hand up to the area between his eyebrows, and squeezed the small portion of skin above his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. "Temari, you keep asking questions that I don't know the answers to. Let me put it this way; after living here all of these years, in complete fear of Gaara, who the hell do you think would have any desire to be with him twenty-four seven?"
Temari opened her mouth, and closed it again.
A thick quiet followed, accompanied by a tiny feeling of satisfaction on Baki's part.
Even though he had no idea whom this person was, in a span of three hours, he had already managed to convince two very headstrong parties to do something that he hardly believed in himself. And that was an accomplishment in his book.