The Question of the Day

Temari walked down the sandy streets alone, heading towards the ramen bar.

She had left her brother at home, feeling foolish, but unable to help it. Her curiosity had been piqued, and nothing she told herself about it not being any of her business actually worked.

Her father used to tell her, back when he had acted like a father, that curiosity killed the cat, but only if they weren't clever enough to avoid it. He had encouraged her to look at things from all angles and analyse all the outcomes, so that she could avoid the fate of the curious cat.

She had been thrilled to death with his attention and had studied and trained harder and harder, forcing her mind to become more cunning than the other stupid shinobi that hung around. In turn, her father used to call her his 'little kitten'.

...but that was a long time ago, and now she hated cats.

Temari walked into the mildly busy place, escaping the dry heatwave sweeping through the desert, and saw Daagana pounding at dough, hands quick and sure, no hesitation about set or pressure – practiced. She watched her for a moment, before breaking the brunette girl's concentration with, "Um…hey."

Daagana turned around, surprised.

"Good morning, Temari," she said, smiling. Her entire torso was dusted in flour, and there were smudges on her face, with a large one smearing the patch on her left cheek.

"How's your face?" Temari asked awkwardly, and oddly enough, Daagana's smile didn't falter.

"It's fine," Daagana reassured her. "Hiniku is a training to be a medic-nin, so it's good to have her around. She says I'm the perfect test subject."

She shrugged her shoulders to get rid of the kinks and busied her hands with preparing a bowl of ramen.

In the back of her mind, Temari didn't think that they had specialized medical classes in the academy – if they did, she definitely would have taken them; she'd been an over-achiever back then. The minute she became a genin though, she'd learned to prioritize – things like bragging rights and useless knowledge stopped being so important when you were fighting for your life.

"Why are you smiling?" Temari asked tersely.

"Why not?" Daagana replied, ladling steaming broth into a bowl.

"Being physically and emotional abused by your mother seems like a pretty good reason not to."

Temari wasted no time and put no effort into being tactful. She had come here for answers.

The only sign that she'd hit a nerve was the small pause Daagana took between dressing her dish with nori, and grabbing a handful of bonito.

"Giia isn't all bad," said the tanned girl with a practised air. "I know she loves me, even if she doesn't say it. She's overprotective, that's all – back when I was little, one of her boyfriends said I was going to be beautiful. Wouldn't you be careful with your daughter if some man did that to her?"

Temari sneered outwardly, annoyed with herself now that she recognized the signs of Stockholm syndrome. And yet, a large part of her felt more and more intrigued, seeing it in action.

There were things you read about in books and can understand from just definitions, but seeing psychological disorders in person was completely different. While she had studied torture and mind breaking, she had never actually believed that someone could 'fall in love with the person who peeled off their fingernails', as her rather sadistic sensei had put it.

Still, she didn't miss the hitch in Daagana's tone when she said the word love, as if even she didn't believe what she was saying.

"And I guess…I guess Giia must have been scared that I would leave her behind if I became more beautiful than her – which doesn't make any sense because she's just so beautiful and I'm not even—" The tiny girl caught herself, realizing that she had gone off on a tangent.

"But either way," she said, clearing her throat self-consciously, "that's all it is. No big deal."

"You didn't answer my question," Temari said, ignoring the fury at her indifference. "How are you smiling? Why?"

Daagana placed a bowl of ramen in front of the irate kunoichi. Temari had watched the girl make it, but she hadn't realised it had been for her – she hadn't even placed an order. Coping mechanism, her brain supplied solemnly.

"I guess…" Daagana wiped her palms on her apron and actually had to think about her answer now that her excuse to busy her hands was gone.

It bugged Temari to no end that this girl would continue to be beaten again and again, knew that she was being hurt for no reason, and still wonder why it was happening.

"I guess the answer is, what else am I supposed to do?" She smiled with a loneliness that made Temari shiver. "She's my mother."

After that, Daagana turned away to make ramen for another customer that had come in, shutting down the conversation, and Temari couldn't find her voice to say a damned thing.

Temari brought her giant fan down with a wicked slash, slicing a rock clean in half.

Kankurou appeared beside her in a puff of nin-smoke, his puppet hovering behind him. "Where's your head at? You missed me by a mile," he jeered, though he kept a wary distance – when Temari got like this, she was liable to take his head off and not even bat an eyelash.

"Anything else!" Temari suddenly shouted, and he took a large step back. This had not been the answer he expected. "She could do anything else! Who the fuck gets beat up just because?!"

With that, Temari delivered a shock wave of wind that seemed like it leveled the desert itself. Her breath came out of her in sharp ragged bursts as she threw her fan down and kicked it.

Kankurou backed away slowly.

So it was that time of the month.

Giia wasn't going to be very happy when she found out that the strongest kunoichi in the village was snooping around in her business.

I was as shocked as anyone when Temari entered the shop and asked such blunt questions…but it wasn't like she was the first. People always worried when they first found out but, eventually, they left it alone.

Eventually, they realise that it isn't Giia that's the problem, it's me – I'm not a very good daughter and Giia just gets frustrated with my incompetency.

A small part of me whispered, I don't deserve this. She's horrid.

I clamped down on it, reminding myself that even if she was a bad person, she had still given birth to a worse one.

It was mid-afternoon and the lunch rush had come and gone.

There was a couple sitting together at the bar, making gooey eyes at each other. They came in quite frequently and, to my horror, I think I'd witnessed the birth of their romance. They'd come to the ramen shop on their first date, awkward and oblivious. He'd paid and she'd blushed. Then, a few weeks later, he'd been brave enough to order a drink in front of her. Lucky for him, he'd found the only woman in Suna who could drink him under the table. They'd left in each other's arms, hiccuping and blushing, and ever since, they'd been stuck like glue and occupied the corner seats on an almost regular basis.

It wasn't even a unique story.

Ojiisan's ramen bar was blessed, according to local superstition – good things just happened here, for everyone.

Except you, a bitter voice whispered from inside. Because there's something wrong with you.

I watched them from the corner of my eye and quietly sank into myself. Maybe there was something wrong with me…

"You're green," Hiniku teased, breaking me out of my funk. She was dragging a sack of rice from the back, seeing as the one out here had run out.

She propped it near the cubby where we kept it and came up to me, giving me a sad look. "One of these days, Gana, somebody'll come for you too, I promise."

"You make it sound like I need someone," I said, laughing perhaps a little too unnaturally, stirring the fish stock with more force than needed.

"If anyone deserves someone to love them, it's you."

She bumped my hip with her hip, making me drop my spoon.

"Hiniku!" I exclaimed, staring at the pot in dismay.

"Anyway," she continued on, as if nothing had happened. I gave her my best glare, but I don't think it was very effective. "Ojiisan needs you to work the morning shift tomorrow, so you have to stay over tonight."

She slapped down her bowl with triumph and grinned at me like a cat who'd found the cream, her blonde curls framing her face despite the ponytail they were tied back in, her cute nose twitching.

Rip all her perfect hair out, said the voice – it was becoming more and more prominent in my mind. Carve her skin and see the blood flow. Red goes so well with gold…

NO! No, I don't…Hiniku is the best thing that has happened to my life! She's even offering me a place to stay, away from Giia—

I thought Giia was just misunderstood? You deserve the pain, don't you? Stop being such a coward.

I shook my head fiercely, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

"I doubt Giia will let me," I said, and luckily, my voice didn't give away my…thoughts.

Are they even my thoughts?

What's…what's wrong with me…?

"Who cares?" snorted Hiniku, used to my reply and knowing that I was just going through the motions of refusing. "Besides, who buys her ugly shoes and nasty perfume? One would think she'd let you do whatever you want, what with how much money she owes you."

Hiniku sniffed haughtily, irritably, and I knew she was trying very hard to hide her contempt towards Giia. "I expect to see you at six o'clock," Hiniku ordered playfully.

If anyone could stand up to Giia, it was Hiniku.

She took it upon herself to watch out for me, ever since the day I'd started. Even though she was a full two years younger than me, taller, and more confident, she was as protective as a mother would be...or at least, what she said a mother should be.

I remember listening in fascination as she talked about her mother, and I thought she was lying at first, but then…I knew Hiniku, and I knew what she looked like when she lied, and she wasn't. Her mother was…was wonderful.

She had been a jounin, and her father had been a medic-nin, both of whom had died in the last Great War. I loved hearing stories about them, and Hiniku never got tired of telling them. I knew tonight too would be full of wonderful stories, and I was so excited.

A small part of me, though, wished I had stories to tell.

Only a small part though.

The sand siblings walked behind Baki, heading towards the Kazekage's office.

It was the only place Temari saw her father nowadays - he hardly ever came home, and when he did, they barely exchanged a few curt words.

How tragic it must look from the outside, thought Temari, before mentally shrugging. They were shinobi, and this was just a consequence of their duty to Suna – family came second; it was one of the first things they taught in the academy.

Gaara didn't seem too thrilled to see their father, though Temari supposed that was a given. Gaara didn't really have a wide range of moods; deadpanned or crazed were his only settings.

Probably a by-product of the dozens of assassination attempts.

How and why Gaara didn't just kill their father was something she would never understand. She and Kankurou wouldn't really weep over it.

When the four entered his office, Rasa was standing, staring out the wide window at the village. Sunset was drawing close and the orange twilight blinded her.

"Lord Kazekage," Baki said, bowing. The siblings didn't follow suit.

"What's this all about?" asked Kankurou, always the most impatient one out of the three siblings.

If Rasa was upset by his son's lack of propriety, he didn't show it.

"We are planning an attack." The Kazekage's eyes flickered over them intimidatingly, until they fell on Gaara and stayed there. "On the Village Hidden in the Leaves."

I slipped down the hall, trying my hardest not to wake Giia and her latest conquest.

It was close to eleven o'clock already, but I smiled to myself. When Hiniku said six, what she really meant was 'anytime you can get past Giia'.

I never actually made it to her house when she asked me to be there, and at this point, it was more of a sarcastic tradition than an actual appointment. Tonight had taken especially long – Giia had continued the almost-too-painful-to-watch foreplay till around ten.

She usually played some sort of loud music to drown out the groaning coming from her room; our house wasn't big and the walls were thin, so the neighbors could hear everything, though Giia liked to at least pretend she wasn't moaning for the entire neighborhood to hear.

As soon as the music stopped, meaning she'd thankfully fallen asleep, I slipped out of the hou—shack that we lived in.

After that, I was free and sprinting down the street.

The village was still very much alive at this time of night, between the night stalls and whore houses that were open all hours, but I veered off towards the residential neighbourhoods where Hiniku and Ojiisan lived.

In terms of location, I lived closer to the ramen shop than they did, my house being in 'Poor Side' and theirs in the Seijo district to the west. Sunagakure was made up of many different districts, but essentially quartered into four distinct sections, with the Shinobi Administration building at the centre.

The North Quarter was where the very well-off villagers lived, with mansions bigger than mountains with waterfalls and palm trees. The East and West Quarters were where the majority of the population lived and worked. It was an even balance between shops and middle-class family homes.

And lastly, the South Quarter, also known as 'Poor Side', was the slum...where I lived. I hadn't lived there my whole life. Growing up, we moved quiet often, but there has never been a time in my life where I didn't have a roof over my head – Giia was always very good about that.

Now, there were times when I chose not to sleep under that roof, but those were of my own making. She still provided. She still loved me enough. Because, by logic, if she didn't, would she still keep me around?

The streets were dark on this side of town, with only the street lamps to cast shadows every hundred feet or so. Running as fast as I could, I could make it to Hiniku's house in fifteen minutes, as long as there were no stops along the way, or any –

A figure dropped down into the street in front of me and I skidded to a halt. It was Gaara.

Part of me thought this was just random coincidence, and then the other more insane part of me realized this was probably delayed punishment. He'd caught me stealing, and Temari had let me off with a warning. That probably hadn't been enough for him; not enough pain or bloodshed. I wasn't dead, and that was a problem for him.

He regarded me blankly, not like a male would look at a young girl in the dark, but like a cougar eyeing a trinket.

I wasn't a meal just yet.

Remembering my manners and hoping they would keep me alive, I bent into a shallow bow.

"Good evening, Gaara-sama."

I swallowed, and after a moment, bravely started walking again.

He didn't move as I passed, and I didn't look back the entire time I ran to Hiniku's house. Though…

He didn't seem demonic enough to be labelled 'Sand Demon'. He had just…stared at me. At least he hadn't crushed me into dust.

Crush him first, before he crushes you.

That's just suicidal. Shut up.

Not suicidal. You know what we're capable of.

There's something inside me, something – ignore it. Ignore it and it will go away.

The front door was opened before I even made it all the way there and Hiniku wasted no time in pulling me down into a pile of pillows in the living room.

"What's the story about tonight?" I asked, shaking off my unease from my earlier encounter, and my increasingly alarming thoughts.

"Hmm..." She put her finger to her chin and looked at the ceiling. "Oh!" she exclaimed happily, propping herself on a fluffy cushion. "Did I ever tell you about the time that mama and papa worked together to take down a power-hungry lord?"

I laughed, knowing for sure she had just made it up.

"No, I haven't heard that one yet," I replied, smiling indulgently.

"It's true, Gana," she insisted, twirling a blonde curl on her finger. "Mama was dispatched by the Kazekage to go and check out this evil man. Her orders were to confirm the information, but not engage."

I snuggled deeper into the pillows and readied myself for a good one.

"When she got into the compound, she saw three, no, six hostages and there were nine ninja in there, ready to kill them. Mama told her superiors the situation but they told her not to engage. And what did she do?"

"What?" I gasped, feigning suspense.

"She went in anyway," said Hiniku proudly. "She went in with her kunai and shuriken and killed all the ninja, and brought all the hostages home!"

"Hey, Hiniku," I said, face deadpanned.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"You said your mama and papa took down an evil lord. Your papa wasn't in the story," I said teasingly.

"Well, well – I'm not finished with the story yet!" she sputtered.

"Fine, fine," I said, nodding placatingly. "Please continue."

"Thank you," she said huffily. "Now, mama and papa..."

Gaara sat on the roof and listened to the stories the blonde one told.

His plans for the night had not included meeting the small girl in the street, or letting her live for that matter, but it wasn't lost on him how the voices in his head went quiet when she came close.

For those few moments, Shukaku had been blissfully silent. It was the first time he'd heard himself think in a long time.

He knew the stories were fake, but, by the way they were told, it didn't really matter.

The story went on to tell how her mother and father had battled the evil lord, and her mother died a most gruesome death. Her father, who was only a medic-nin – like Yashama—don't think about him he's bad he's evil I hate him how could he traitor liar only love myself no one else I'm a monster – was enraged and killed the evil lord, and brought his wife back to life.

Gaara frowned. The man should have left the bodies behind, and gone home with the glory. He didn't understand why the man stayed and tried so hard to save the woman.

"Pathetic," he said under his breath, and jumped onto another roof.

The Next Day

It was a good morning.

Good, because Ojiisan gave me the early shift, and good, because that meant I didn't have to go home to Giia and whoever else was there. Mornings were always the slowest shift and for a while after we had opened, I was the only one there.

Half an hour of washing dishes, chopping bamboo shoots and mixing broth later, a boy walked in. He looked my age, and was sporting a deep blush.

"Welcome!" I said, smiling over my shoulder. "What can I get for you?"

He looked around the shop like I hadn't even spoken and, when he couldn't seem to find what he was looking for, he frowned.

"Is, uh...Hiniku here today?" he managed to say, his blush deepening.

I wiped my hands on a towel and turned to get a better look at him. A mop of curly red-orange hair, freckles more abundant than skin, strong arms, and was that a kunai pouch?

"Why are you looking for Hiniku?" I asked as I crossed my arms. He looked like someone who went to the academy with her, but what business could he have with her before class?

"I just had to ask her something," he said defensively, glancing around again like he was making sure he hadn't missed her, or that she wasn't hiding from him. It finally dawned on me what this was and my jaw slacked a bit.

"S-She'll be here in the afternoon. Come back then," I told him and offered a smile.

He returned it once he realized I'd given him what he wanted and flashed me a dimpled smile. He left a happy boy, leaving behind a very lonely girl.

So Hiniku was going to get her love before me, huh? That was…really nice. Good, expected even.

Yeah.

Rip her pretty hair out, and she'll be yours forever.

Temari leaned on the wooden frame outside the ramen shop and watched the ginger boy scamper out excitedly.

I doubt she even has a reason to live. Even Gaara has a reason to live, twisted as it is, she thought derisively, trying to justify her inexplicable need to fix the idiot girl.

She was just…irritated, that's all.

Of course! Why else should she care about some random stranger who looked too fragile and yet too brave, who defended someone who was slowly killing her on the inside, who looked so happy even then—

She didn't care. She was Temari, and caring wasn't in her job description.

Or so she liked telling herself.

The blonde kunoichi that had recently taken an interest in my life walked in as I was staring at my shaking hands, mapping the calluses and cuts with a blank fascination that was becoming worryingly more common day by day.

"Daagana?" she said, and I jerked my head up.

"Huh? Oh, hello Temari," I said, recovering quickly and going back to chopping vegetables, trying to hide the fact that my hands were unsteady and my knuckles were white as they gripped the knife.

"Hn..." she answered and took a seat without another word.

It wasn't the stool she sat on yesterday or the day before. It looked like she was going down the line, trying to get a feel for each position. Third day in a row was impressive though.

"Daagana," Temari said after a little while.

"Hmm?"

I wasn't even surprised by her intro. She seemed to start all her conversations with direct statements.

"Did you go to the academy?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered honestly.

It was a harmless enough question, with a well-known answer, but I could feel her suspicion. "Is that today's question, then?" I added, just to poke a little fun at her, but when I turned around, she wasn't smiling.

"So you know how to fight then?" she pressed.

"A little, I suppose," I shrugged.

Going to the academy and working to feed Giia had been more than I could handle, and in the end, I had to choose the more practical option. Being a ninja would have paid decently, but I couldn't afford the long years it would take me to get that far.

There were things that Giia just had to have, and working as a waitress made sure I could get them for her. I still kept a few little thing to remind me of my time there: my pouch, my wallet, my transcript (just in case).

It had been so much fun, learning how to handle weapons and do projectile math, but I couldn't be a child forever, as Giia had put it. I had to grow up and be an adult, and having a stable job was the most expedient way to do it.

"Then why don't you defend yourself?" Temari snapped, a little more forcefully than I think she meant to.

She didn't even have to tack on a cause, we both knew who she meant, but I still shuddered under the weight of the question. How was I supposed to provide her with an answer she would accept when there wasn't one? I knew whatever answers let me sleep at night would not be satisfactory to Temari.

I stared at her, at the stubborn tilt of her lips, at the sharp angles of her eyebrows, at the marble set of her face, and all I saw was the intimidation that had earned her a place on the strongest team in Suna. Nothing in her features begot trust, but…

Her eyes were a deep aquamarine, glittering with honesty and…something that I'd seen in Hiniku's eyes all too many times, though I couldn't really name it. Something that felt suspiciously like a wall within dissolved at the look in her eyes.

"...I think...it's because...I don't know how," I admitted quietly.

"Then I'll train you," she said eagerly and jumped up. "Come on– "

"No, Temari, it's not like that. I know how...it's just...how do you fight your mother?" I asked, admittedly more pathetically than I intended.

She sighed and sat back down. Lacing her fingers together, she stared at me over them, like this was some sort of interrogation. In response, my mouth opened on its own and words flew out to try and make her stop staring.

"Besides, she doesn't mean it," I said in a rush, eyes wide in earnestness. "They're accidents most of the time, and I'm clumsy – I fall over myself—"

"She slapped you across the face in the middle of the street," Temari said steely.

"She was just embarrassed!" I exclaimed in justification, the excuses pouring out of my mouth as easily as breath. "Your family is just so important, she didn't want me to make a bad impression. I'm sure your mom scolded you for your manners once or twice too."

I chuckled nervously, seeing the unimpressed lilt of her eyebrows.

"My mom died a long time ago," she stated matter-of-factly and I blanched at my error.

"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean...how did she die?" I asked. It's like I can't do anything right…

"You don't want to know," she muttered dryly. "I wish I didn't know."

She turned her head and let her arms fall. She seemed a little disheartened and while I was sad for her, I was happy that she wasn't firing off questions left, right and center.

"Did you know her well?" I tried again softly.

"Of course," she said blankly, like it was a stupid question.

Because of course she knew her mother well. Children are supposed to know their mothers well.

You don't, and you never will. Your brain is defective. You're defective.

"She was the happiest person I knew," she whispered with a wistful smile on her face. "Even when my father was around, she could always get him to smile. She was the best, but..."

I stood quietly and waited for her to finish, but when she didn't, I decided that the topic was closed.

"Would you like some ramen?" I asked. Ojiisan always made me ramen when I was upset.

"Ramen sounds really good right about now," she huffed in amusement, almost like she couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.

I nodded happily and started to make her a bowl when another customer walked in. "Welcome! What can I—"

"Daagana."

Her voice was pitched low, and my smile faded the instant I turned and looked at her.

Today, Giia was wearing a rich blue kimono with gentle waves embroidered on the edgings, the cloth falling around her in waves, accentuating her curvaceous figure. I knew the necklace she was wearing had been nicked from the shop down the street when the store owner wasn't looking – she liked to wear the things she'd stolen and then parade them in front of the people she had taken them from.

It was a power trip for her, but the only reason she stole was because I didn't make enough money to sustain her shopping habits. If I was better, she wouldn't be bad.

Temari was not-very-subtly glaring daggers at her.

"I don't have any more," I said quietly and shot a nervous glance at Temari.

"What?" she hissed, glaring. "What did you do with it?"

Giia obviously wasn't catching my cues. I was just trying to follow what she had instructed the other day. Don't embarrass myself and I wouldn't embarrass her. But if she would just notice who else was in the bar...

"I haven't gotten paid since the last time—"

"How do you expect me to impress the Kazekage, hmm?" she demanded in clipped tones. "In these rags? Where is the money?"

Giia reached across the bar for me, but Temari had seen enough.

For one, Giia had mentioned her father and that was enough to get any of the siblings mad; two, she was reaching for me in public, which gave Temari the right to enforce the law, as a shinobi; third, Temari, I knew, had been itching for an excuse to manhandle Giia.

As the disgusting woman reached over the counter, Temari grabbed her fan from where it was leaning on the bar and swung it down on her.

There was a loud cracking sound, and Temari quickly pulled back her fan. The look on Giia's face was horrid, like she couldn't breathe, and in fact, Temari doubted she could. She had used full force.

Temari was surprised she was still alive.

Suddenly, Daagana grabbed her hand and quickly said, "Hurry."

Temari let the younger girl, who looked torn between happiness and guilt, drag her out of the shop, flipping the sign from 'open' to 'closed' as they went past it.

She looked back and saw Giia slump off the counter, and when Temari looked at Daagana to see her reaction, she was pleased to note the beginnings of an unconscious smile on the girl's lips.

Temari, for the first time since meeting the girl, thought that maybe this wouldn't end tragically.