Disclaimer: yeah, no. I don't own.
Note: I revised several parts in chapter 1 and 2, you might want to take a look. Not necessarily big changes, although YMMV.
III
Consciousness shook her harshly after what seemed to be hours, judging from the dim interior of the place she was in. Unlike how sedative-induced sleeps usually ended—with lucidity slowly seeping in—Temari woke up with a jolt, eyelids snapping open and a scream escaping her throat. The scream, however, was muffled by the gag they had placed in her mouth, and the jolt caused rope to dig more into her skin. The comforting coolness of the two small iron fan she hid in her sleeves was absent, leaving her feeling vulnerable.
"She's awake," said a male voice—not his voice, she knew—and she wanted to tell them exactly how awake she was. The gag unfortunately got in the way of that. At least they had the decency to give her clean cloth for the gag, although that did not pacify her state of mind at all.
To be completely honest, she had suspected the mission would go awry the moment she saw Shikamaru taking the seat across her. Why she was surprised when she found out that he had been planning to get in her mind, she had no idea either. She had been harboring a suspicion that the Nara once felt something for her, but that hardly meant that he would be weakened by it. When his teacher died, he only got craftier instead of reckless.
A hand—small and relatively softer than ninja hands in general—touched her shoulder. A girl with black hair pulled her up and rested her back towards a wall. Squinting, Temari tried to put a name on the face. This girl looked somewhat familiar, despite something being not right.
The girl took off the gag and offered a bottle. Temari sniffed it—clear. She considered the likelihood of it being poisoned, but then decided against it. If Shikamaru and his team wanted her dead, she would not even have woken up. She took a tentative sip, not even noticing that she was thirsty until she felt herself gulping water from the bottle greedily. After her thirst was quenched, she felt a prick on her arm, and drowsiness soon caught to her again.
The girl—Temari knew that face, she had seen it before—watched her as she was brought under once again. The recollection clicked just then, and she called out, a bit numbly as her senses had begun to dull, "Sakura…san."
She was Uzumaki Naruto's medic teammate who once saved Kankurou's life, and now she was in charge of Temari's.
Sakura's lip twitched into an almost-smile. "Temari-san," she called back hesitantly before Temari finally was dragged back into sleep.
The safe house was less of a house and more of a small, one-room shack, wooden walls and dirt floor covered by a leaked makeshift roof of some sort. There was not even a half-decent washroom—or any washroom at all, for that matter—a trivial matter supposedly for a shinobi, but Ino could wish. They put the Suna woman in ropes and gag and then placed her by the wall in the furthest corner from the door. She was out cold, at least for an ample six hours, before making some noises. Sakura tended to her and sedated her again.
If given the choice, Ino would want a bit of those sedatives herself.
She did not tell anyone what exactly those painful memories Temari showed her. She did not want anyone to think her of weak, because she would never be able to make them understand with words how horrific the images were, how they lashed out to her and dug their barbs in her consciousness. Telling would never do the fragments of carnage any justice.
Because that was exactly what she was showed: carnage. But shinobi were used to the sight of slaughter—some even embraced blood, a few even relished in the pain. What Temari offered her, however, were pieces and slivers of past battles—the select worst ones—sewn into one, slamming into Ino's psyche mercilessly. Anyone who had experienced battles would know how the only thing keeping them alive was the adrenaline, the rush of the moment that kept them from being struck by mind-numbing cold sweat. After the battle was over and the casualties were numbered, the adrenaline would drain away and there would only be fear left behind.
Many of those who had gone through wars tried to drown these recollections under; Temari chose to bring them up to the surface as a weapon against Ino.
Just exactly what kind of person would do that?
Not only had Temari successfully inflicted trauma on Ino, the woman had also hurt her pride as a Yamanaka. While her father would at least be able to extract some information from an unconscious subject, Ino could only sift through one jumbled image after another after Temari was already sedated. There was no longer any conscious attack, but flashes of corridors and buildings without a precise sense of orientation could hardly serve their mission. Worse, Ino could not find any recollection on Temari tipping off anyone in Suna about their mission. This could either mean that Temari was faithful to their cause, or that she was a very good double-dealer who knew how to conceal memories—not too far a leap, considering the kunoichi was capable of attacking back when her mind was about to be raided.
The team had agreed to assume the latter. Even if they tried to proceed with the mission—and succeeded—Kaze no Kuni knew where to point the blame assuming Temari had told them. Leaked information or not, it was wiser to retreat now.
And all these happened just because Ino had chosen to compete with Sakura in medical ninjutsu, instead of following the Yamanaka tradition in which she could very well excel in.
Crossed-legs and quiet was Shikamaru, his fingers bent and connected at the tips into his signature meditative pose. Their initial plan was to flee incognito after the deed was done, relying on the disarray and chaos the security system of Kaze no Kuni would turn into once they found the corpse of their leader. Their plan B—the one catering to the scenario in which the contact betrayed them—was to have Ino extract all possible information from the informant and dispose her after they were done. They would return with the info, report to the Godaime, and consider Konoha's options from there.
Shikamaru could not help himself from feeling rather glad he did not have to kill Temari—not yet, anyway. After all, killing her would not have been done for gains, but for remedial measures. It would have been just one of those things that had to be done to keep secrets unspoken.
Nevertheless, he had not considered the chance that somehow Temari had been trained in mental defense. Even less accounted in his big board of equations was Ino's actual capability, or lack thereof, in extracting thoughts from people.
He did not know if he should blame it on himself for overestimating his long-time teammate, or on his family for implanting the belief that the Yamanaka are all experts of the human mind. Both, maybe. Both had spun together and brought his team, and Konoha to an extent, into this conundrum.
They could always resort to the original plan B and hide or destroy the body if they ran out of options—he had told his teammates as much. The fault with that plan was that they would not be able to bring anything home, and Konoha would not know where to stand.
No, he had to bring home something. They would have to take Temari back to Konoha and turn her over to Torture and Interrogation. Then maybe the actual professionals in extracting truth would get something out of her. There had to be something important underneath all those defense layers.
He just had to figure out exactly how they would smuggle a jounin who was near royalty from her own country.
Shaking Sakura's shoulders lightly, Shikamaru roused her. Sakura started, one finger already latching on the ring of a kunai before she realized that it was just Shikamaru and they were not under any attack. "What is it?" she asked warily.
"How much do you know about temporary death?"
Sakura smiled a rather wistful smile. "I know enough."
Shikamaru did not probe further into her expression—that was not vital to the plan. He only needed to confirm that Sakura could do her part in this—he would not walk in the same mistake that brought them there in the first place. "Thanks. Go back to sleep, I have some work cut out for you tomorrow morning."
He watched Sakura curling back to sleep, his mind already forming the finer details of the plan.
When Shikamaru explained to them the plan at dawn, Ino was the first one to understand and slash her own arm with a kunai, tearing the fabric of her sleeve along with the skin underneath. The blood dribbled down and stained her hands and the kimono, but she barely winced. This was nothing. Just flesh wound. Her tears she saved for when she needed to tell the story.
Ino turned to Sakura and asked her to punch her straight on the jaw. Sakura only looked at her uncertainly.
Gritting her teeth, Ino said, "Our friend died when those rogue ninja attacked us and took our cargo, and we leave unscathed?"
Comprehension flashed on Sakura's face, and she punched Ino hard enough to make a swollen bruise.
They were close to the border already, having passed the civilian villages before. The people stared and some approached them. Several made sympathetic comments. A few actually offered them meal and a few ryou, and even a place to stay for a night. None had noticed how the dead girl with short black hair on Shikamaru's back was actually Sabaku no Temari, sister to the Kazekage. None had questioned her death, with two senbon piercing through her neck.
The sun was harsh on the dry lands of Kaze no Kuni—sweat mixed with smeared blood, sticking skin to cloth and dust. The gashes they made earlier that morning on themselves had begun to dry and flake by the edges, spreading dull itches around the wounds. They walked slow, civilian-paced, taking one step after another heading northeast.
The biggest discomfort to Shikamaru, however, was the deadweight slung on his back. Arms hanging from either side of his neck and head lolling forward, bouncing ever so slightly with every step taken, Temari was eerily dead to him. He knew it was meant to be like that—in fact, he would be very disappointed in Sakura if she had made Temari any less dead—yet the unnatural cold skin and listless limbs felt much too authentic. Very authentic, in fact, that he began to question if she would really wake up when the time came.
Ino had offered to carry the body the whole way, but Shikamaru rejected the idea. Civilian women commonly could not carry a grown person and still walk normally. He was the tallest and most built in the team, and so he would carry Temari. Ino actually looked abashed when he told her that.
"When we are clear through the Kaze no Kuni border, you can carry her for the rest of the way."
This seemed to appease her for the time being.
Shikamaru had chosen a trail that was fairly far from any watch posts, but without knowing the exact patrol schedule of the border guards there was a considerable chance of them running into some. He only hoped luck was on his side that day after it cruelly abandoned the team for the past few days.
Looking at the three men standing tall ahead of them with their Suna hitai-ate glinting under the sun, however, Shikamaru started to believe that luck did not exist.
The three Suna shinobi jumped from their spot and landed right in front of the team, observing.
Keeping his tone humble like a lowly merchant would, Shikamaru asked, "Can we help you with anything, sir?"
"Identify yourself," the one in the middle demanded. He was the shortest compared to his peers, but his muscles were the most defined and the others seemed to bow under his authority.
"Souma, sir," Shikamaru lied, "These are my friends. We're just herb traders from Kawa no Kuni, sir. Our cargo got robbed, we're injured and our friend was killed. We just want to return home." Shikamaru's head was bowed down, his body bent under Temari's weight more than it ought to.
"Who robbed you?" This time it was the one on the left. His voice was stern, although Shikamaru could sense a hint of sympathy lacing it.
Shikamaru shook his head. "We don't know. I think they are ninja, they bring ninja weapons and our friend died with needles through her neck."
Upon this, the one in the middle leaned forward to observe the senbon through Temari's neck. He seemed to be unsuspecting, but when he took a step back and looked, really looked at Shikamaru's face, his countenance changed and he pointed a finger.
"You—I know—"
His speech was cut off as Shikamaru's kunai tore through his throat, fast. Blood sprayed Shikamaru's face and clothes, some sticking even on Temari's skin. The man fell, face-down, his shocked expression frozen. Shikamaru shrugged Temari off and left her beside the dying man—the two subordinates had ran, and as Shikamaru turned towards them he saw his three teammates hot on their tail.
"Don't use ninjutsu or chakra!" he shouted, more to Sakura and Neji than to Ino. Having their signature moves spread all over the battleground would only point the blame to Konoha, and they could not afford that.
They seemed to hear him, thankfully, as Neji unsheathed his tanto and Sakura pulled a kunai out. Soon enough, the two subordinates were also sprawled on the dirt, blood pooling around their body.
"Strip them."
Neji looked at Shikamaru sharply. "Excuse me?"
"I said, strip them. Take their valuables, their weapons, everything. If we're gonna make this look like it's done by some outlaw missing nin, it's only logical we do it."
Neji still defiantly stared at Shikamaru, his pale visage stained by spots of blood.
Shikamaru groaned. "I didn't say we have to keep their stuff. Burn them, bury them, drown them later but for now just take their things."
He didn't wait for Neji to respond, and immediately went to the Suna nin he killed—the leader of the patrol squad. Shikamaru kicked the body over and the dead man stared right at him, eyes open and gaze empty.
Shikamaru turned over and retched, his shoulders shaking as he vomited bile.
He soon felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ino peering warily at him. Grimacing, he said to Ino, "I know that man."
"What?"
"I know that man!" he snapped, finger pointing at the dead Suna nin and his glassy eyes. "I know him because he was in the fucking war under my fucking division. When we won, remember that night with the big bonfire and gallons of sake, he toasted with me and told me about his pregnant wife."
Ino's lip was trembling. "Shikamaru…"
Shikamaru only laughed mirthlessly. "He said he'd name the kid Shouri, for the victory we won. And then—listen to this—he fucking thanked me. He thanked me and now I killed him."
Fingernails dug into Shikamaru's shoulder, and although he was not facing her he could tell Ino was crying. Shikamaru gently closed the dead man's eyes, whispering hoarsely, "I killed a kid's father for the sake of one half-dead treacherous informant who played mind games with me."
Shinobi were people who, since they were old enough to walk, had been trained to kill. Shikamaru knew that. He had killed before. He should be able to cope with this. Mouth still bitter, Shikamaru searched the pockets of the body, taking what little ryou the man had with him along with some scrolls and a fairly good knife. He stuffed the items in his pack unceremoniously.
Standing up and wiping bile from his mouth, he turned to his team with a steeled expression.
"Come on, the sooner we leave this place the better."
As usual, do tell me what you think.
