Reading the Wheel
This is my first fic, so please be nice. It takes place Pre-chuunin exams. Just a little family fluff I came up with in my spare time. Oh yeah, and this is totally cannon.
I got the idea for this from another story called "Gypsy's Dance" by Herbblade. It's an awesome AU, and you should read it if you like NejiTen, NaruHina, and SasuSaku.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's characters. If I did, this would be an episode or something not a fan fiction! Duh!The OC's Hoshi and Yue are mine though.
Chapter 1: The Land Luck Forgot
Fate is a very funny thing. Sometimes it shapes us, sometimes we are the ones to shape it. It can raise up the humblest poor, and topple the mightiest kings. Yet, somehow, it remains invisible to the eyes of man. At least, it does most of the time.
Suna is a land most would say fortune has abandoned; a land of heat and sand, inhabited only by those with the will to survive. Where there is water, small towns spring up. But the towns are as harsh as the land they spring from, and as such are usually avoided by travelers.
It was into such a town, on a blisteringly hot day, that three siblings strolled. They were children, though one would never say it to their face, seeing as they could (and probably would) kick the speaker into next Tuesday. One does not mess with sand shinobi.
The oldest (as most would guess her to be seeing as she was the tallest) wore her blond hair pulled back into four ponytails. Her pale-lavender short skirt and matching top (complete with fishnet) showed off tanned skin and toned muscles. Slung across her back was an outrageously large fan. To top it all off, she had that kind of look on her face that says, "Go on, make my day."
The second shinobi, a boy who for some reason was wearing black in the middle of a desert, had painted strange designs on his face in purple. He sported a sort of hat/hood that was definitely...unique looking. He was carrying an unusual bundle wrapped in strips of cloth.
However it was the third, the youngest, who most caught the eye, and it wasn't just because of the kanji for love engraved on his forehead. He had a shock of red hair, a lean frame, and carried no weapon aside from the gourd on his back. But his eyes, his blue-green emotionless eyes, they warned those whom they looked upon, "Stay away."
The girl, Temari, was pissed. The chuunin exams were in less than a month, and she had wanted to get a little "target practice" on this mission. Of course Gaara (that would be the red-head) had taken care of all the enemies before Temari had time to twitch. And by taken care of, I mean, well... let's just say there was a lot of blood involved.
Kankuro, the boy wearing face paint, was also pissed. Why? Because Temari was pissed. And when Temari was pissed, she yelled at people. And by people, that meant Kankuro. Thank Kami her mouth had gotten too dry to yell anymore about an hour ago. Hopefully there wouldn't be any damage to his hearing.
As for Gaara, well... he really didn't care.
The avenue of packed dirt the three trod seem to be the main street of the town, despite it's emptiness. The desert heat usually drove people indoors by this time anyway. One particularly loud building, a tavern by the look of it, sported a sign advertising cold drinks. With a thirsty growl, Temari stalked towards the entrance.
Kankuro sighed. "It'll be a pain in the ass if she ends up killing someone," he grumbled, "Move it Gaara. We've got to follow her." Gaara turned to glare at his brother with cold eyes, "What did you say?" His voice was dangerously soft, sending shivers down Kankuro's spine. Pale under his desert tan, Kankuro gulped. "N-Not that I'm ordering you around," the older boy stammered, "Y-You could stay here or go somewhere else or something if you want."
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut. For Kankuro, an eternity passed before Gaara finally turned towards the tavern and started walking. Kankuro gave a sigh of relief, then felt a surge of irritation. He was older! He had been a ninja longer! Why should he have to listen to the spoiled brat? Muttering curses, Kankuro trotted to catch up with his siblings.
The tavern was a scene of anarchy. Drunks yelled cat-calls to women serving drinks, arguments turned into brawls, and shady men eyed fat purses on comatose victims. Temari had pushed her way through the throng and was placing an order with the barkeep. She pointed at an empty table. Eying the headband she wore, the man nodded and turned around to his work.
Guessing how the conversation went, Kankuro started pushing his way towards the indicated table. Gaara had no such problem. The tavern-goers almost instinctively mover to clear a path for the shinobi. The two sat down at the splintering round, their chairs creaking threateningly.
With a grunt, Temari shoved her way out of the mob. "Baki better get here soon," she growled, taking a seat, "This place is a dump.
Baki was their teacher, their sensei. He had stayed behind to negotiate for supplies. Since Gaara had made the townsfolk slightly, uh, nervous, Baki had instructed his students to go on ahead.
"We wouldn't even have to wait here if someone had just restrained themselves a little," Kankuro grumbled bitterly, ignoring the scantily clad girl setting down their drinks. Gaara, who ignored this statement, continued to stare blankly at the table. "Oh get off your freakin' soapbox," Temari snapped as she took a swig from her tabbard, grimaced, and swallowed, "Like your puppet would have been any less creepy." With an internal sigh, Kankuro raised his hands in surrender. Soapbox? he thought, sipping his drink. He nearly spat the liquid out. Forcing himself to swallow, he gasped, "That is terrible! And he's not that creepy."
"HE?!? It's a freakin' puppet! How can it have a gender?!? Next you'll be telling me you named the stupid thing."
"..."
"You actually named it?!?"
"Ahem," a voice interjected softly. The three siblings stared at eh girl who had interrupted their argument. She was young, about a year younger than Gaara. She dressed in the style of the desert nomads: a full-length, off-white, hooded robe tied about the waist with a sash of royal blue. Her hood was down, revealing a sharp chin, delicate nose, and pronounced cheek bones on her tanned, thin face. Curly black locks had been cut short, ending just below the chin. Clear grey eyes, underscored by cascading lines tattooed across her cheekbones and down her jaw, danced with hidden mirth. The girl bowed.
"Pardon my interruption siblings of the sand," she intoned politely, "My master wishes to tell your fortunes."
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So, how was that? My spelling is probably wrong in a couple of places since I'm typing this on WordPad and it doesn't have spell check. I know I use unusual turns of phrase, so tell me if you can't understand it. Actually, just review period please. I promise the next chapter is more exciting.
