A/N: I mixed Japanese and American funeral rites with totally fictional details here. I did that because Naruto is ultimately a fantasy world.
Chapter Two: The Funeral
Staring up at the Hokage Monument, Gaara inhaled slowly. "I'm not sure I can do this. But I have to."
The siblings stood at the base of the staircase carved into the mountainside, with Kankuro taking position at Gaara's right side and Temari at his left. All three were dressed in black kimono that had been loaned to them for their attendance to Naruto's memorial service. Kankuro was not looking forward to watching his brother suffer through the memorial, but he knew that Gaara needed to attend for both emotional and political reasons. And so he was determined to get his brother through the ordeal.
"We'll be at your side," Temari said quietly.
Gaara nodded once, then seemed to steel himself. "All right. Let's go."
They joined the sedate procession of shinobi headed to the area atop the monument where the memorial would take place. The Hokage had considered it the perfect spot for Naruto's service, and Kankuro had to agree. Only the kages and Naruto's friends were allowed to attend; the larger population of Konoha shinobi and some Allied shinobi had gathered at the base of the monument instead. There simply wasn't enough room for everyone who wished to attend, so everyone else stood vigil below and held incense, lighters, or candles. The glow was the only bright spot in the otherwise overcast, grey afternoon.
"The outpouring of love and honor here is amazing," Temari said. "I wonder if Naruto would've guessed just how many people would come."
"No." Gaara frowned as they climbed the stairs. "I wouldn't have guessed the number of Suna shinobi who came to rescue me or welcomed me home. Jinchuuriki . . . just can't comprehend this. Not easily."
It was a memory Kankuro shied away from. For a few minutes, he had thought he'd lost his brother, whom he counted as tied with his sister and granddad as the most precious person in the world. The eternity in which he'd waited to see if Chiyo's jutsu would work had been so painful that sometimes he thought he'd left a piece of himself standing there, forever trapped in that moment where he watched the energy enter his brother's corpse and prayed it would be enough to restore him. It hurt to be reminded of that moment, and it hurt even more to remember the time during which Gaara believed no one loved him.
Kankuro had never been able to tell him that it wasn't true and never had been. He had always loved Gaara, because for him, the issue had always been one of fear, not hate. And although fear could morph into hate, in Kankuro's case, it hadn't. He had secretly wanted his ototo; he'd simply been too afraid to reach out.
Unable to speak in the face of that pain, Kankuro simply squeezed Gaara's shoulder, offering silent support. As usual, Gaara didn't react. Once again, Kankuro had to wonder if he could really offer the level of support Gaara needed or if the person Gaara most relied on — had most invested in — was Naruto. The thought made Kankuro ache, but all he could do was hope he could fill part of that void.
"Well," Temari said at length, "he deserves every bit of it."
Gaara nodded. "And more. I only wish I'd been able to save him the way he saved me."
Kankuro cringed, but they'd reached the top of the stairs, so he didn't reply. They joined the line of people waiting to light incense and give condolences to Team Kakashi, who was standing in as Naruto's family. Several Konoha shinobi, as well as the other kage, came up to Gaara as he waited in line and offered their condolences to him. He accepted their gestures politely, although he said little in return. Kankuro had no idea what to do other than hover at Gaara's side, much like Temari did.
Once they'd lit incense and prayed, Kankuro and his siblings took their seats among the mass of metal folding chairs that had been set up in front of the altar. When the invited guests had cycled through the line, a priest chanted a sutra, and then Tsunade stood up to speak.
"I doubt Naruto would have wanted an entirely traditional service," she remarked. "Truth be told, he probably would've preferred we throw a party."
A few murmurs of agreement passed through the crowd.
"I think it's a good idea, so there'll be a reception tonight in the civic center. All you who have been invited to the memorial service are welcome to attend." Tsunade paused and glanced over the crowd. "However, what I want to do now is invite a few of you to speak about Naruto. I think he would've liked that, too. I'll begin, and Hatake Kakashi will follow. Then Haruno Sakura, Umino Iruka, Killer B, and finally, the Kazekage."
Gaara straightened in his chair, and Kankuro realized this was the first he'd heard of it. Still, Kankuro appreciated that Tsunade was giving Gaara the chance. At the same time, he had a sinking feeling; with that many people speaking, the memorial service was likely to drag on forever. He wanted to be respectful, but he also saw no need to prolong the suffering.
"When I first met Uzamaki Naruto," Tsunade began, "I had no intention of ever becoming Hokage. In truth, I — "
Tuning out the words, Kankuro watched Gaara as the Hokage spoke, wondering how he would handle speaking about his best friend during his funeral. The death of a loved one was not something Gaara had ever faced. Since he hadn't been close to his own family, Gaara hadn't grieved the deaths of their grandparents and father, and given the circumstances surrounding their uncle's death, Gaara hadn't exactly mourned him, either. The only person whose death had haunted Gaara in that way was their mother, and even that had become needlessly complicated.
Having finished her speech, Tsunade sat down, and Kakashi stood. He gazed out over the crowd, and when he spoke, his tone was grave. "There is much I could say about Naruto, but when faced with this moment, I can find only the fewest of words, which would be that — "
Temari glanced at Gaara and patted his knee. "Did you know you would be speaking?" she whispered.
Gaara shook his head. "It won't be a problem," he whispered back.
Kankuro's attention returned to Kakashi when Gai stood and followed him out. Apparently Kakashi was done speaking already and was also departing. Just as obviously, Gai was making sure he didn't remain alone.
When Sakura stood, Sai followed her up. She stared at the podium for a long moment, then seemed to collect herself. "The thing I'll always remember about Naruto was the way he seemed to turn people around," she began, her voice shaky. Sai stood silently by her side, seeming to act almost like her bodyguard.
Gaara exhaled heavily at hearing her words. "Indeed."
Kankuro began to wonder if he should accompany Gaara as well, if for no other reason than as his bodyguard. He wondered if Gaara would prefer to have someone at his side for this. However, he knew well that Gaara would never ask even if he did. Should Kankuro just make the assumption and act on it? If questioned, he could defend himself with the concept of serving as bodyguard. No one could really argue with that. Mostly, though, he simply wished Gaara would want him to be there for him.
Stopping abruptly, Sakura left the podium, Sai following her. Kankuro hadn't been listening, but he suspected she'd had to stop or risk crying. Iruka stood and headed up in her place. Kankuro wasn't sure who this guy was or what relation he had to Naruto, but he could tell by the man's posture that he was crushed. Apparently Killer B came to the same conclusion; he stood and joined the man.
Iruka nodded to his impromptu escort and took a deep breath. "To me, Naruto was more of an ototo."
Suddenly understanding why the man was upset, Kankuro hastily tuned out his words. Once more he saw the image of his brother's dead body laid out on the grass. Trying to distract himself and still wondering what to do, he leaned over and whispered to Gaara. "I should go up with you."
Gaara glanced at him, but he neither argued nor agreed.
"As your bodyguard," Kankuro quickly supplied.
A simple nod was the only reply.
For a moment, Kankuro felt trapped in despair. As grateful as he was to Naruto for inspiring Gaara to change his life, he occasionally felt invisible next to Naruto's iconic place in Gaara's mind. What was worse, that idolization didn't bode well for Gaara's ability to cope with the loss.
Iruka stepped aside, letting Killer B take the mic. "I didn't know Naruto for very long, and I can't believe that he's gone. We shared a similar plight, and we had quite a fight."
Kankuro raised an eyebrow, stunned that this guy was going to rhyme his way through an entire tribute. He wasn't sure whether he could listen to it or not. Several chairs down from them, the Raikage rubbed his nose with his fingers in obvious exasperation.
Beside him, Gaara squeezed his hands into fists. Since Gaara never indicated that public speaking bothered him, it was a sure sign he was upset. Kankuro decided no one could stop him from accompanying him, including Gaara himself.
As soon as Killer B finished, Gaara stood and made his way to the podium. Kankuro stood, nodding to his sister to indicate he had it covered, and followed him up. On one hand, he felt distinctly out of place; on the other hand, he knew he had to support his little brother. If I can, he thought, depressed.
Gaara remained quiet for a moment much like Kakashi had, looking out over the crowd. "Uzamaki Naruto had the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met," he began solemnly. "He could befriend almost anyone, even in spite of themselves, and he had great compassion for anyone who had suffered loneliness and pain. It was an aloneness he understood too well, a pain he had lived with every day of his life. But he never let that anguish consume him. He fought it."
Kankuro listened to the speech knowing that Gaara felt that he had originally failed; however, he also knew that their stories weren't perfectly parallel. For many years, Gaara had been separated from Temari and him and reared like an only child, which might be similar, but unlike Naruto, he hadn't even been allowed to enter the academy until he was nine. What was more, Gaara had been psychologically tortured by their uncle's lies, and their father had also tried to assassinate him six times. These were not things Naruto had faced. Kankuro felt his brother was being too hard on himself.
"Most everyone here knows that Naruto saved my life," Gaara continued, his voice quiet but steady. "He saved it on every level possible: not just my physical life, but also my sanity, my destiny, my worldview, and my heart. That is not a debt easily honored or repaid."
Internally, Kankuro flinched. In an odd way, he felt as though he were being permanently punished for his early failure to be a nii-san. When Gaara was six, he'd finally been brought home to the main house, but by that time, he had descended into insanity and violence. Kankuro and Temari had been terrified of him, and he'd shown them nothing but hate. Kankuro hadn't known what to do, and Gaara had resisted his feeble efforts. Without Naruto, Kankuro was sure Gaara would still be resisting him, but being constantly reminded of that hurt.
"Many people share that debt with me." Gaara glanced over the crowd. "Like me, you experienced Naruto's inexplicable ability to alter your beliefs and change your life. In short, you could say that Naruto made the world a better place one person at a time. During the war, he made the world a better and safer place for all of us. But in the end, the only thing I really want to say is this: Uzamaki Naruto was my friend, and I'll always miss him."
Gaara turned and headed back to his seat, and Kankuro followed close behind, thankful that the torture was nearly over. He wanted to get his little brother away from the oppressive grief and sounds of crying, away from all the reminders of death and mourning. Kankuro hadn't endured such a soul-numbing funeral since their father's, but at least in that case, Gaara hadn't been mourning the one dead.
Then again, as Kankuro remembered it, their father's funeral hadn't been pleasant for any of them.
Yondaime Kazekage's wake was scheduled for 8 PM. At 7:00, Kankuro descended the stairs wearing a black kimono and haori jacket with five kamon printed upon it, the kamon being his family crest, which was a circle containing swirls like wind. His hakama pants were black- and white-striped, and his outfit was completed by a black obi and pristine white tabi socks. His face was free of paint, which made him feel vaguely half-naked. It wasn't the first time he'd worn a mofuku kimono though, the most recent time being his paternal grandmother's death a year earlier. Fortunately, he hadn't outgrown his clothes yet.
Temari awaited him at the bottom of the stairs, her mofuku and accessories being those she'd inherited from their maternal grandmother. Her face was ashen despite a touch of makeup, and she tightly clutched a small, black fan. Kankuro walked over to her and squeezed her arm gently. Although they usually gave each other a hard time, they had set aside their daily razzing in the face of their pain, and Temari had confided that she was haunted by the sheer amount of unfinished business and unspoken words between her father and her. Kankuro could understand her sentiments.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
"As I'm going to get," she replied drily.
With that established, Kankuro found the only person unaccounted for was Gaara. He wasn't sure Gaara would attend the funeral since he had such an explosive and negative relationship with their father. With Gaara, one could never be sure. In some ways, he spouted the typical village rhetoric about duty and honor, making him quite conservative. Even his speech was often overly formal and unlike other kids his age. Kankuro assumed their father had trained that mindset into him, hoping he would fall in line with his "duty" as a jinchuuriki to protect the village with Shukaku's overwhelming power. However, in other ways, Gaara was a total social outcast and rebel, indifferent to social customs or occasionally unaware of them. If he skipped his own father's funeral, the villagers would simply chalk it up to his identity as a monster and pariah.
Yet, as Kankuro and Temari stepped into the foyer and slipped on their formal zori, the door slid open and Baki entered with Gaara in tow. To Kankuro's surprise, Gaara wore a fine silk kimono and haori, complete with black- and grey-striped hakama, snowy-white tabi, and matching vinyl zori. The outfit certainly was new; Gaara had never attended any of the previous family funerals. He'd never attended a wake or funeral for anyone.
Temari recovered first. "You look very nice, Gaara."
Given the quality of the kimono, Kankuro knew the outfit had to have cost more than Baki's yearly income, and he wondered where it had come from. "Yeah, nice, jan."
Baki seemed to sense his question. "It was my ototo's when we were children, and my father's before that. It's the best I could do on short notice, and it seems to fit Gaara fairly well. But the kamon are wrong, of course."
Given how expensive kimono could be, especially with all their accessories, second-hand kimono were normal, so Kankuro didn't find it odd. However, since Gaara had been mostly rejected by their father, it seemed horribly ironic that his mofuku had the wrong family crest. Still, despite the faux pas of the kamon, Kankuro could only feel grateful that Baki was willing to share. "Thank you very much." Probably to his siblings' shock, he not only used polite speech but also bowed to his sensei.
"You're quite welcome, although it's nothing." Baki slid the door back open. "Shall we? We're late as it is."
Kankuro nodded, and Temari linked her arm in his. When they stepped outside, Kankuro considered Gaara, who stood three feet apart from them. Alone. Outside of the family. Bearing the wrong family crest.
It's not right. The thought almost burst into words, almost escaped Kankuro's lips before he could stop it. In Kankuro's mind, they were all children of the same mother and father; they were all part of the same family. Their father's choice to rear Gaara in a separate household with a separate guardian didn't change that. Their father's assessment that Gaara was a useless liability didn't change that. All the pain and fear and rage that had passed between their father, their uncle, Gaara, Temari, and him couldn't change that. And suddenly, in the face of their father's violent and untimely death, the entire situation seemed ludicrous.
Gaara had glanced Kankuro's way, apparently feeling the weight of his stare. Taking a gigantic chance, Kankuro stuck out his other elbow, signaling to Gaara that he was included and equal. A long pause followed in which Gaara stared expressionlessly at said elbow, then he stepped over and pinched the kimono sleeve between his forefinger and thumb. Gently, Kankuro extracted his other arm from Temari and took Gaara's hand in his, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. Gaara silently stared at him, his eyes wide with shock, and Kankuro presented his arm back to Temari, who gave him a small smile of approval.
"We're ready," Temari told Baki, who had watched this ritual closely.
Baki nodded. "Let's go."
Once again, the siblings followed Baki through Suna's streets, and once again, the villagers had lined the streets, some holding candles, others incense, and others colored rocks. Flowers were a rare commodity in Suna, so colored rocks and gems inlaid with fancy designs were placed on tombs instead. Kankuro appreciated their show of grief and solidarity, but mostly he felt overwhelmed — a problem exacerbated by his being responsible for planning his father's funeral, which he was in charge of by right of being the eldest son.
This village has so many problems, Kankuro thought, caught between despair and frustration. It's not just the funeral. Baki helped me with that. No, there're so many plans, decisions, issues . . . all this shit I never used to have to think about. Hell, I'm only 14. Can I ever get my old life back? The thought seemed selfish, but he couldn't help it. His emotions began fluctuating wildly, jumping from despair to anger to guilt, and he set them aside, trying to appear stoic and honorable for the thousands of mourning villagers they passed in the streets on their way to the funeral hall.
"Such a turnout," Temari said, her grip on Kankuro's elbow growing tighter. The closer they got to the funeral hall, the tenser she became.
"Is their grief real?" Gaara muttered, frowning.
Given how many people began whispering when they saw Gaara, Kankuro suspected his brother was getting irritated. "Hard to say," he admitted, tucking his arm closer to his side and making Gaara step closer to him. Gaara glanced up at him, his expression unreadable, but Kankuro gave him a tiny smile of reassurance. He expected Gaara to jerk away from him in response, but to his relief, he didn't. Somehow, it felt oddly right to have both of his siblings at his side like a normal family.
Despite using the largest funeral hall in the village, they had more people than could easily be accommodated, and so Baki had to yell out and command the crowd to part for them. Once a path was cleared, Kankuro and his siblings were escorted in the building, where two of their second cousins had been keeping watch over their father's body while Kankuro and Temari performed their personal ceremonial bathing process at home. The process was meant to purify their bodies prior to the wake and supposedly prevent them, as their father's guards, from carrying evil spirits into the funeral hall. Although Kankuro wasn't a firm believer in the reasons for the rituals, he did hope Baki had insisted that Gaara carry out the same bath.
With a wave of unease, Kankuro realized he'd arrived at the moment he most didn't want to face: seeing his father's body again. He wasn't sure what the mortician had done to help the condition of the body, but being a desert community that usually performed burials rather than cremations, they did practice embalming. The mortician would have done his best to preserve what was left of the body and fix its appearance. Kankuro paused at the end of the aisle, taking in the multi-tiered altar, which was decorated with countless gems and stones, and the casket in front of it. Because they were each holding onto him, Temari and Gaara paused with him.
Temari seemed to sense his distress. "We'll all go up together," she whispered.
"It's not him," Gaara added bluntly.
Surprised to hear his brother's brusque assessment, although he did agree with it, Kankuro forced himself to move forward. He stopped at the table in front of the casket and bowed, although he ignored the incense and instead gazed at his father. Kankuro had chosen to have his father buried in his Kazekage kimono, which had enabled them to use the traditional half-veil to cover most of his face. The upper half of his face had been reconstructed by fitting a mirror in the casket to reflect the "good" side of his face and create a double image. Kankuro could tell a great deal of makeup had been used as well.
"He doesn't look natural," Gaara noted, still blunt.
Kankuro wasn't sure whether he was going to cry or whether he was going to have to swallow a highly inappropriate snort of laughter. His father had always detested the use of the phrase "He looks so natural!" In truth, the man in the coffin didn't look like his father at all, but seeing this representation of his father underscored his death. The world blurred as tears collected in Kankuro's eyes, and he tried to distract himself by lighting a stick of incense and sticking it in the waiting incense urn.
"We're lucky he looks even this good," Temari agreed, her voice strained. She followed by lighting a second stick, and her hand shook as she stuck it in the sand.
With horror, Kankuro realized both Temari and he were going to lose it, and the entire council plus their sensei were standing only a few feet behind them, although no one else had been allowed in yet. He felt his tears escape, and he heard Temari sniffling. A gentle tug on his left arm redirected him, and Gaara pulled him away from the altar and casket, the action forcing Temari to follow as well.
"Sit." Gaara positioned Kankuro in front of the chairs for the family.
Kankuro sat, Temari joining him. They leaned into each other, and Temari repositioned her hand so they could hold hands, each of them squeezing the other tightly. Kankuro's impending breakdown was staved off, however, by the sight of Gaara returning to light a stick of incense. Although Kankuro had forgotten to pray and suspected Temari had too, Gaara bowed his head and closed his eyes. Shocked, Kankuro wondered why Gaara had chosen to show their father any respect at all or what he could have possibly prayed.
From that point forward, the process became a mind-numbing blur of condolences, sutras, chanting, incense, and prayers. Kankuro found the entire process to be both painful and boring, and for hours he sat in his chair while distant relatives, council members, and friends paraded past. By the time the priest finished the sutra and everyone left, Kankuro thought he might go insane. He'd also grown hot in all the layers of his outfit and wanted to shed both the haori jacket and the hakama pants.
Baki was the last person to leave. "Do you want me to keep vigil with you?" he asked, hovering by the casket.
"We're good," Temari said, sounding as tired as Kankuro did. "Please go get some sleep."
"Yeah, it's okay. We can handle it alone," Kankuro added, his introverted nature having been overpowered by the sheer number of mourners. In truth, he wanted to be completely alone. "Thanks again for helping get this all set up."
Baki bowed to them and departed, and Kankuro turned to his siblings. "We have some seriously stupid funeral customs. Is this really supposed to provide us closure? It's just torture." He paused, wondering if this would be one of the times his siblings told him to shut up. There was nothing in the process that really helped Kankuro, though, and he questioned what he was supposed to be getting out of it.
"I'm exhausted," Temari agreed. "Father wasn't particularly all that fussy, either. If it's supposed to pacify his spirit, then I can't imagine it's really what he'd want. He was too practical for all this, although he'd bow to the traditions."
Gaara shrugged, his voice flat. "It's about honoring the dead."
Wondering if Gaara would stay, Kankuro watched him briefly. He was surprised his brother had lasted this long, especially since several of the mourners had stammered through their condolences when they'd seen Gaara was present. Even their second and third cousins had given them wide berth.
Gaara apparently sensed his curiosity. "Do you wish for me to leave?"
"Nah, man." For a moment, Kankuro was struck with the irony that their job was to keep vigil so that evil spirits and monsters couldn't steal their father's soul, but there was a monster standing in the room with them right then: Shukaku. And the reason there was a monster in the room was because their father had chosen to put him there by sealing him into his son. Once again Kankuro felt the inappropriate urge to laugh, this time caustically.
"Why not?" Gaara gestured at the empty hall. "No one wanted me here tonight. No one expected me to be here, and they were scared to see me. After all, without him, there's no one to stop me if Shukaku goes on the rampage. Without him, they're fucked."
It was the most Gaara had said since returning from Konoha. Unfortunately, he was also getting irritable. Kankuro, though, didn't have enough emotional or spiritual energy left to get scared. In fact, his entire world had been narrowed down to his siblings — his final two close family members — and his need to protect them and keep them alive. Fearing that his family would simply vanish and leave him utterly alone in the world, Kankuro found that some things that had mattered before didn't matter now. He stepped toward his brother, trying to find the words to say.
"Gaara . . .," Temari said, her voice soothing, "we wanted you here tonight,"
But Gaara wasn't listening. "He wouldn't have wanted me here, either." His voice was rising with each sentence, his cheeks flushing with pain and anger. "To him, I was a failure, a burden, a liability to be erased."
Temari stared at the floor. She couldn't argue that. No one could.
Kankuro closed the gap between his brother and him. "But he's gone now." He reached out, wondering if he dared to touch Gaara, who suddenly seemed made of glass and easily breakable.
Growling, Gaara slapped his hand away and stepped back. "Is he? Will they really stop trying to assassinate me now? Or will they just try harder? This is not the future I want. I want to — I want to — " He grasped his head in his hands, pressing hard against his temples. "If I died, there would be no funeral. They wouldn't even bury me except for the fear I'd haunt them if they didn't. They'd like to toss me out into the sand for hyenas to eat, and if they did, no one would give a shit!"
With sudden insight, Kankuro realized that Gaara was coughing up a piece of his heart. The boy who never talked to him, never confided in him, never let him see inside of him, was inadvertently opening up in the midst of his tirade. As much as it hurt to be literally slapped away, Kankuro felt his spirit rise to the challenge, although it burnt up what little energy he had left. "I would care. I know you don't see me as anything other than a teammate — and an unwanted teammate at that — but if you die for any reason whatsoever, then they better give you a funeral and bury you properly or I'll fucking kill them all."
Silence.
Kankuro stood frozen in place, his fists clenched and the burning rage in his voice — the absolute conviction of his feelings — hanging in the room. It wasn't a performance. The power of the truth made Kankuro's stomach tremble in his gut and new tears sting his eyes. He was going to make damn sure his brother lived; he was going to protect him. But if he failed, then he wouldn't also fail to see his ototo taken care of. He wouldn't let his body be treated in such a vulgar way.
Slowly, Gaara lowered his hands from his head and stared at his brother. The pain and anger had bled from his face, leaving only wide-eyed shock in its place. "Why?"
With sudden, simple clarity, Kankuro had his answer. Just like he hadn't been sure he loved his father until he'd died, he hadn't been sure he felt love for his brother, either. He knew something bound them together, but he'd been convinced it was the mystical force of blood or something of the like. However, the truth was simpler: love. The bond between them was bent and incomplete, but despite the fear lacing it, it was love.
It wasn't an answer Gaara could accept.
Kankuro reached inside himself, trying to quickly generate a second answer, and he realized he had one. "I don't want to die alone with no one to care I'm gone." Now that his father was dead as well, that possibility seemed far more likely to Kankuro. "I don't want it to happen to Temari; I don't want it to happen to you. And there are only three of us left." Three seemed like such a tiny number. "If I died and you didn't care, there would only be Temari to bury me and mourn me. If Temari died and you didn't care, there would be only me to bury her and mourn her. We aren't married; we don't have kids of our own. Who would even care? Who would inherit Karasu or our jutsu? Our legacy would stop. I just can't — " He realized with horror he was going to cry again; his vision was growing blurry. "I just can't face that thought. We're all we have left. I can't just let you fade away like you never existed. I can't just let you stop."
Rushing over, Temari pulled him into her arms. "It won't end that way," she whispered, but then they were both crying — crying because their father was dead, crying because almost their entire family was dead, and even crying for Gaara, whose pain they'd caught a small glimpse of by staring straight into death's face.
Once they'd collected themselves, Kankuro glanced back at Gaara, expecting to find nothing but empty space. Gaara had never stayed around for either emotional displays or for extended discussions of his situation. And yet, to his surprise, his brother had remained. He was sitting on the floor right where he'd been standing, almost as though his legs had collapsed. Worried, Kankuro released Temari and walked over to him, kneeling in front of him. He wished desperately that he could hug him, that he could extend the bond he had with Temari to Gaara. However, he'd already been slapped away once; he wouldn't risk it twice.
"You okay?" he finally asked.
Gaara shook his head no, but he didn't speak. Kankuro remembered belatedly what he'd overheard Gaara say once: "I don't want to cease to exist."
"I won't let you just stop," Kankuro repeated more quietly. The fear that any of them might be tossed aside and forgotten like the orphans they were had made him fearless before Gaara. "I won't let you be swept away like grains of sand. If you die before I do, I'll keep your picture on the family altar. I'll burn incense for you. I don't care that you don't consider me your brother."
As though he could neither move nor speak, Gaara remained collapsed where he sat, looking stunned. Kankuro was trying to figure out what to do when he felt the most absolute sense of presence, as if his father were standing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, but of course he found no one. He wondered what it meant.
For the rest of the night, the siblings kept vigil, none of them sleeping as they waited for the morning and the funeral.
Midnight arrived. Gaara departed from Naruto's wake — the party Tsunade had promised. Sake had been provided in abundance, although half of the people present were underage. Blind eyes had been turned to those chuunin who had sneaked a drink, and as a result, the party had spiraled out of control as the night grew long. Kankuro, who had been known to cheat on similar occasions, had refrained; therefore, he noticed when Gaara slipped out. Taking his roles as bodyguard and nii-san seriously, Kankuro had located Temari, who was consoling Shikamaru and his friends, and told her he was following Gaara back to their hotel. She seemed torn about what to do, but Kankuro had assured her he would take care of their brother. With practiced stealth, he then slipped into the street, following Gaara at a distance.
The music, shouting, and singing from the party, which had mushroomed into a general wake for all those lost, drifted into the night air. Paper lanterns glowed in vendor's booths, windows, and doorways, bathing the road in red, blue, and yellow light. Had Kankuro not known better, the atmosphere would have been closer to a festival, and the fact they had won the war could not be ignored. Sounds of genuine celebration floated from several restaurants he passed, along with the smells of fried meat and dumplings.
Gaara, though, had shown no signs of happiness or relief. Even now, his shoulders were slumped. Kankuro observed him carefully, knowing that the other kages and Killer B had asked him to share a toast to Naruto. No one cared that Gaara fell four years short of being able to imbibe sake legally. Tsunade had explicitly waved Konoha's law for him when she offered him the cup, and being outside of Suna's borders, Gaara had technically not been bound to their law. So he had accepted the cup — not once or even twice, but three times: once for the formal toast to begin the party, once with the Hokage and Tsuchikage, and once with the Raikage and Killer B. As a result, Kankuro was deeply impressed that Gaara was walking in a straight line.
After a minute, Gaara halted in the street and stood still. Kankuro quickened his pace, catching up with him.
As his brother reached him, Gaara stared up at him listlessly. "I knew it was you. I could feel your chakra."
Kankuro took in his brother's glazed eyes and was even more impressed he could walk straight. "I wouldn't bother to hide from you."
"I feel nauseated. And hot. And weird." Gaara's voice was louder than usual.
"Is that why you left?" Kankuro gently took his elbow and resumed walking, heading toward their hotel.
Gaara nodded; the motion was somewhat exaggerated. "Sake tastes like Temari's fingernail polish remover. Except hot."
A small smile lifted the corners of Kankuro's mouth. "And how do we know this?"
"Smells like it."
Kankuro wasn't sure he could argue that. "I think you're drunk. Good thing I'm here to take care of you, huh?" He'd never been drunk himself, but he had several older friends he'd had to haul home after missions-gone-wrong.
As usual, Gaara didn't reply; Kankuro swallowed a sigh.
"So, what's next?" Gaara asked abruptly. "Anger?"
For a moment, Kankuro wasn't sure what he meant. "You mean the stages of grief?" He shook his head. "There's really no such thing. People don't always experience all the emotions of the so-called stages, and they don't always experience them in any kind of order. Some people never feel anger. Some people feel almost nothing but anger. Just give yourself permission to feel what you need to feel without drowning in it."
Gaara remained quiet for a moment. "Easier if stages." He stumbled faintly, leaning into his brother's grasp as he did.
"I suppose so," Kankuro admitted. "But Gaara . . . you just need to give yourself time and take care of yourself." He gestured down the length of Gaara's body. "Not like this, though."
"Did it for the toasts," Gaara pointed out. He paused, then shrugged one shoulder. "Got me through the wake. Can't feel anything."
"Can't hardly walk, either," Kankuro chimed in, matching his brother's curt, if slurred, speech. "Just wait 'til you wake up in the morning. The amazing headache and lingering nausea will make up your mind for you."
Gaara grunted but didn't argue. "Nii-san?"
Kankuro halted just as abruptly as Gaara had earlier. "Yeah?" Gaara never called him by anything other than his name.
"Dizzy."
"No more sake for you. As in, ever." Kankuro wasn't sure he was teasing. He stepped in front of Gaara, hunched down, and extended his arms. "Piggyback ride time. Just don't puke on me, jan. I'll kick your ass, I swear."
After a pause, Gaara slumped onto his back, and Kankuro used his chakra strings to get his brother in place and secure him. Fortunately, there really wasn't anyone around to witness this less-than-dignified carrying of the Kazekage; everyone else seemed to be packed into some party or another. Kankuro took advantage of that fact, vaulting from the street to the nearest balcony, then onto a roof. Leaning his head against his brother's shoulder, Gaara groaned faintly but otherwise didn't complain.
A three-minute sprint brought them to their hotel, and since their room was on the top floor, Kankuro jumped to their balcony. He set Gaara back down, disarmed the traps he'd set up earlier that evening, then guided his brother into the room.
"Sick," Gaara announced.
Kankuro did what he'd done for his best friend on several occasions: got him to the bathroom, and after a few minutes of vast unpleasantness, transferred him to the bed. Gaara flopped down unceremoniously, curling up on his side, and Kankuro settled on the mattress beside him, watching his flushed face. At least he's not an emotional drunk, Kankuro noted, hiding his shock that he had found out what kind of drunk Gaara made at all. His brother had spent the first fifteen years of his life struggling to control a bijuu that acted drunk; it seemed both ironic and painful that in his sixteenth year, he would recreate the behavior on his own.
Then again, grief occasionally did strange things to people.
"Are you worried?" Gaara asked, twisting onto his back and staring up at him.
"Of course. Why?" It seemed an odd question.
"You said you'd always worry about your ototo." Gaara rolled back onto his side; his loose movements seemed more like those of a ragdoll.
Kankuro reached out and squeezed his arm, surprised his brother remembered what he'd said the day he'd been revived. "And I will. Always." He paused, hurting for a reason he couldn't articulate. "So don't push me away, okay? My best friend pushed me away when his dad was killed on a mission. I knew what it was like to lose a father, but he still wouldn't let me in. Don't do that to me, dammit."
Given the way Gaara was staring blankly at the wall, he didn't seem to be listening. However, he inhaled slowly and then spoke. "I won't." He closed his eyes. "Don't ever want to be alone again."
Feeling more like a father than a brother in that moment, Kankuro reached up and brushed Gaara's bangs back from his hot forehead. "No problem, man."
Gaara didn't pull away from the touch. "Stay with me?"
"Sure." Hearing those words, Kankuro knew nothing would pry him from Gaara's side.
Nothing.
A/N: Thank you to Anonymous, Mystical Sand, InoShikaChou, and SunaKunoichi18 for their reviews! Thank you to everyone who reviews, favs, or follows!