A low whistle pierces through the dirty prison. It's a beautiful high note, butting its way right through the thick summer night. The prisoner holds her hands in front of her, watching the silver moonlight play across the slender knuckles.

"I've got a three hundred yen question for you."

The voice comes from her fat uncle. He has a name, she just chooses not to remember it. Call it an informal rebellion.

The thought almost makes her smile.

She clears her throat, "Question away, sir."

He stiffens. He hates it when she calls him sir. "What's a sixteen year-old Jounin prodigy doing in a drunk tank?"

She rolls over, staring at him with those insolent yellow eyes. "I'm pretty sure that at sixteen, the Jounin isn't considered a prodigy anymore, just above average."

"Come on," he says, stepping back. "I paid up. You can come home now."

Home.

A very relative term.

"Can I ask a question, sir?"

He winces again, but just says, "Shoot."

"Why was your question a three hundred yen question?"

"That was how much your bail cost."

His niece looks down, tangled, matted hair falling over her face. When she looks up, there's something in her eyes that's almost genuine. "Thank you," she says sincerely.

She walks out of the prison, paying no mind to the guards that leer at her. One of them, a pot-bellied man with mean eyes, calls, "See you next year, Kyo."

She waves a hand behind her, not looking up. Her uncle on the other hand, he's got half a mind to punch the little ass wipe.

"Excuse me, sir?"

They're just outside of the police station. She's staring at him with those unnerving, unblinking eyes. She doesn't look sixteen. She's just a little girl. A little girl who got hurt.

"Yeah, Kyo?"

"Is it okay if I take a walk? It's such a pretty night."

Something about her words sound an awful lot like good-bye. But her uncle smiles and says, "Of course, kid. Your aunt and I love you, you know."

"Yeah. Thank you. For everything."

She heads in the wrong direction.

She doesn't know where she's going, but she knows that she's going.

Not back to the drunk tank, no. Not anymore. She's not going to be there next year, celebrating that perverse anniversary. The back of her neck aches and she rubs that spot tenderly.

Time to start over.

To start new.


Kankuro leans against the counter, staring at his sister like she's the idiot. "I really think that it's a good idea."

"Well I think that it's stupid."

Stupid? Um, no. Try brilliant.

"Of course you do. You're a girl!"

Temari's expression becomes stony. "It's not just that I'm a girl, Kankuro- a girl that can and will kick your ass straight through to next week, by the way- I don't think that it's the right thing to do."

"You don't understand, Temari. He'll love it."

"He hasn't exactly expressed interest in-"

"He's a guy, Temari. Trust me."

"No!" She stands up, slapping her hands down on the table. "No. I don't have to trust you and I don't even have to try to understand, Kankuro. You are not getting Gaara a stripper for his birthday!"

The tea shop goes silent, staring at the Sand Siblings. While it is true that they are both staying over in one of the smaller towns that rest on the outskirts of the desert, everyone knows who they are. More importantly, they know who Gaara is. He's the Kazekage… As in the resident bad ass of the desert.

"I'm with the guy on this one."

The brother and sister both turn to look at the hooded figure at the end of the bar. The stranger turns, nodding at the both of them and raising her drink up to her mouth. She downs it in a single go, and smacks her lips together afterwards.

"What?" Temari says, eyes narrowing.

"I'm with your, uh, well, I'm assuming that he's your brother. Get the kid a stripper. He'll love it, I guarantee."

"How could you guarantee something like that?" Temari asks.

"Yeah, do you even know our brother?" Kankuro adds in, frowning deeply. I mean, he mostly wants the stripper for his own enjoyment. He doesn't really know if Gaara would like her, or if he even likes women.

"Gaara of the Sand right?" The stranger turns so that she's facing them. She holds her hand out a couple of inches above her head, "Yay-high? He's got that little mark on his head and he's kinda got this stink face like he hates everyone and everything."

Okay. So maybe this girl knew their brother. Or, at least, she knows of him.

"What makes you think that he'd like a stripper?"

Temari's got her arms folded across her chest.

The stranger shrugs, "Well, he seems like a kinky guy. Leather!" She snaps her fingers and points at Kankuro. "If you're gonna get him a stripper, make sure that you go for the leather."

Kankuro starts nodding. "I can see that working."

"Who are you and how come you think you know so much about our little brother?"

Good question, Temari. Good question.

The stranger takes another drink. "Oh me? I'm nobody."

"What's your name then?" Kankuro asks. By now, he's come up by the stranger, sitting down next to her.

"My name doesn't matter."

Temari's starting to get suspicious. "Is there a reason why you don't want us to know your name? Will we recognize it if we heard it?"

What's this twenty questions?

"I don't know," the stranger says, shrugging. She waves at the bartender for another drink. "You might know my name. You might not. I was never really all that big in the shinobi food chain."

"Shinobi, huh? What village are you from?"

Kankuro butts in now, and his eyes are dark. No headband. That's a bad sign. No headband means no village. No village means rogue. And rogue means a pain in the ass.

"Mist," she says. "But that was a long time ago." She smiles, downing the last of her drink and slapping the glass along with a few bills down on the table. "Now, I hope that that's the last of your questions because I'm leaving now."

"No you aren't," Temari says, grabbing the girl's wrist. "We'll tell you when the questions are done."

Ugh.

Yeah, it's Kyo if you haven't guessed. Three weeks and a couple of odd days and she finds herself in another drunk fight.

These customers, however, aren't fat fishermen. They both look tough.

At the height of her strength, she could've swept them off their feet and then spat a couple of snarky one-liners in their crying faces. Now, though? Now, she likes to think that she's wiser, but everyone knows that that isn't the case.

So, take them or answer their dumb questions?

"I don't want to fight you princess," she whispers, drunken breath beating against Temari's face. "But I'm done with the personal questions. I've got a right to keep my business as my business."

Oh no. Temari is not a princess.

This should be easy.

The girl is wasted. She has to shut one of her eyes to stop herself of seeing double of the other girl.

Oh, Temari thinks pulling out her fan, this one's going to be a breeze.


"Temari got her ass kicked," Kankuro grins, laughing. He stands next to his younger brother at the foot of Temari's hospital bed.

Gaara frowns, this is the second time that they've sedated her in the last hour. He nods at one of the medics, "You should put restraints on the bed. Just in case."

Yeah. Just in case.

"So… Gaara," Kankuro asks, leading the way out into the baking desert heat, "How do you feel about leather?"

Leather?

"Leather on what?"

"On a girl."

Kankuro's stopped walking and he stares very seriously at Gaara. The moment of truth. The grand finale. Stripper or no stripper. Right here.

Gaara shrugs, "Sounds fun."

Kankuro stares, jaw dropped. Finally, he manages to grin, running to catch up with his baby bro.

Kinky bastard.