I've always loved the Sand Sibs, so here's my tribute to Gaara, Kankurou, and Temari. None of them, nor anything else in Naruto 'verse, belong to me.


"You're not serious."

"Fifteen minutes ago, Her Majesty's personal steward was standing just where you are now, and gave me these orders."

Kankurou's younger brother, Gaara, Sand's supreme shinobi, extended a rolled –but no longer sealed – scroll. Kankurourefused it.

"Masago Mikkako wants a Sand shinobi to be her personal bodyguard? That doesn't make sense, Gaara. Ever since that incident with Orochimaru, her Sentinels barely tolerate us, let alone trust us, despite your best efforts."

"Despite all our best efforts." Gaara turned away to look at the desert beyond his office window, as he often did when deep in thought. "I don't understand it either, Kankurou. That's why I want you to go."

A small smile, the one that could almost have been ironic if one didn't know Gaara well, pulled the corners of the Kazekage's mouth upward. "You're cleverer than me. I'm sure you'll uncover the truth of the matter."

Kankurou studied the serious lines of Gaara's face intently. "Will you be alright alone?" His tone came out flat, but Gaara understood him well enough to perceive the brotherly concern. The burden of the Kazekage was a heavy one, and whenever they were able, Gaara's older siblings took whatever portion of it they could carry.

"Temari will be home soon. She insisted on having the baby here, even though Sakura told her she shouldn't be traveling this late in the pregnancy."

Kankurou shook his head. "There's no figuring out that girl. I wouldn't worry about her, though. Shikamaru will look after her." It occurred to him that Shikamaru would probably keep an eye on Garra too, and relieve the pressure in any way he could. Observant, intelligent, and kindhearted, Shikamaru had won Temari's heart, and her brothers' friendship. The thought relieved him a little.

"Kankurou."

Distracted, Kankurou looked up to find his brother facing him again. "This may be the opportunity to repair the breach between the Country of Wind and the Hidden Sand Village that we have been waiting for. That's really why I'm sending you, because you know me best. I trust you to make promises and strike bargains as I would."

That small smile appeared again, kind and almost out of place on Gaara's thin, severe face. "Considering that I would make those promises and bargains almost entirely based on your opinion, anyway. Yours and Temari's."

"I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning." Kankurou's eyes slid toward the morning desert, and with a sinking feeling, he saw the first swirls of an early spring sandstorm gathering speed. Gaara followed his gaze and smiled a little.

"Or not."


"No."

"Kankurou-dono, please, Kazekage-sama requested that we oblige the Masago in everything we possibly could. These are the clothes her steward brought."

"Absolutely not."

"Kankurou-dono…"

"Sheesh, Kankurou. When did you get to be so picky about clothes?" A very pregnant Temari stood in Kankurou's doorway, flushed with heat, but smiling broadly.

"Temari!" He dropped the fancy clothes to the floor, much to the dismay of the liaison who had produced them. "We didn't expect you until this evening."

Her smile became a ferocious frown. "He," she said, jabbing her thumb somewhere off behind her, "didn't want me out in a sandstorm like this." She spread her hands wide over her abdomen. "That bastard carried me ever since this morning at top speed." No frown could have hidden the pride and pleasure in her tone, but Kankurou knew better than to point it out. He grinned instead.

"Poor guy, having to lug a cow like you around all day." Pregnancy cut her reaction time down enough for him to dodge her blow, and he deftly stepped around her into the hallway where Shikamaru stood rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't screw with her right now, Kankurou. She's been pretty irritable lately."

"Irritable!" Temari whirled on them both. "If you had to deal with this, day in and day out," she paused for a breath, but Shikamaru cut her off before she could resume her tirade.

"I am dealing with it, day in and day out," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes narrowed. "You," he announced firmly, "should be resting. It's been a long day."

Before she could protest, he'd swept her up in his arms. "You… you…" She tried again. "I am not –"

"Don't argue with me."

Temari blinked, and then looked at Kankurou, who was trying – rather unsuccessfully – not to laugh. She flushed angrily. "What is so damn funny, Kankurou?"

"Nothing, Nee-chan." The humor faded, but not the happiness, and he could feel his grin slide into a warm smile. Reaching for her bulging belly, he rubbed it and was rewarded with a promising kick.

"This one isn't going to take after either one of you," he predicted. "That's a mean snap kick he has. Close-combat type, for sure."

"Could be a 'she,'" Temari retorted.

"Could be," Kankurou agreed mildly. He surprised her by tugging lightly at her hair. "I'll let you get some rest. Welcome home, Nee-chan." Nodding at Shikamaru, who shifted Temari slightly in his grasp to wriggle his fingers in an approximation of a wave, Kankurou retreated back into his bedroom with the frazzled liaison.

"Go tell Gaara – Kazekage-sama – that his sister is back in town." The prospect of a new nephew or niece would be sure to brighten Gaara's day.

"But, but, Kankurou-dono…"

"Go!" The fussy little man skittered out of the room and down the hall, leaving a Kankurou grimacing at the clothes on his bed.

"Ugh."

For a man who dressed in simple, practical black all the time, the kimono, hakama, haori, and obi were an insult. Subtlety was a ninja's greatest weapon in a crowd, and her Majesty Masago Mikkako had just robbed him of it.

Gaara's gentle smile suddenly came to mind, and with a groan, Kankurou shut his door and began to disrobe.

Everything was pure silk. The kimono was a dark blue, with the symbol for loyalty on the sleeves, chest, and back in a steely charcoal grey. Black hakama pants, accented with stripes of that same charcoal grey, a grey obi, and a short black haori completed the foppery. The only thing that roused his intrigue or (admittedly reluctant) admiration was the lining of the haori, which was adorned by a delicately painted village scene in blue, grey, and white. Elements of the Sand village were present, in the tall, rounded structures seen in the foreground, but the Sandstorm Palace, the center of Wind's bureaucracy and home of Wind's Queen, could be detected in the distance.

Her Majesty Masago Mikkako made no bones about her purpose in summoning a Sand shinobi to her side. Ten years ago, Sand had joined the Sound in an attack against Hidden Leaf Village, in direct violation of Wind's treaty with the Country of Fire. At that time, the Masago had been only seven years old, but her ministers had been outraged. Relations between Wind's Hidden Village of Sand and Wind's governing bodies had been strained ever since. The message in the clothing was clear – Wind intended to elicit Sand's deference, by one means or another.

Kankurou's lips pulled back over his teeth in anger. By tradition, the Kazekage stood equal with the reigning monarch. Any Kage had equal footing with a daimyo – that was the case in every nation which was powerful enough to have a hidden village, and most especially in the Five Great Nations. The garments and the orders were an affront to tradition, to Sand, and most gallingly, to Gaara.

"I didn't like them much either."

"Gaara." Kankurou didn't bother to turn around when his door opened.

"They should fit; I had them altered as soon as they arrived."

"I can't wear these."

"You'll have to discuss your internal conflicts over Her Majesty's choice of clothing when you arrive at the Sandstorm Palace. But until then, you'll wear them."

"There's no conflict, Gaara," Kankurou all but spat. "I can't wear them."

Something horribly sad flooded Gaara's face, and forced Kankurou to submit. "Unless you ordered me to," he said grudgingly.

The sadness lifted, though the seriousness remained. "I order you."

"Dammitall."

Gaara smiled a little, breaking the tension. "Let's visit Temari. She's been gone a long time." His eyes became distant. "I missed her." There was a faint note of wonder in his tone, and it tugged at Kankurou's soul to hear it. Was I such a terrible older brother, that missing a loved one should be such new experience for him? A wave of guilt suddenly came over him, and as he followed Gaara out and down the hall, he pictured the kimono and its ugly message.

I'll wear it for you, Gaara, because you think it's necessary. But my loyalty belongs to Sand, and its Kazekage, always. I won't let you down. Never again.