The second Monday in April dawned bright and thankfully cooler than the first two weeks of the month had been. A playful breeze twirled in the streets, tugging on the head scarves of women and tossing fine dust onto the backs of camels and the men who lead them. Vendors and clients called prices back and forth as strays begged for their meals from soft-hearted children.

The marketplace of Sunagakure twisted a winding path through the center of the village like a massive, banded snake. The different sections of the street were divided based on what wares were peddled there, marked by the different, vibrantly colored awnings that blocked the shops from the searing heat of the desert sun. The Garden section, with its awnings in various shades of green, sold supplies for growing fruits and vegetables, as well as being the only fresh produce market in the city. It was here that the Spring morning found a young woman sitting on a corner in the shade, scooping out the fleshy center of a kiwi with a wooden spoon. Sunako popped a morsel of the vibrantly green fruit into her mouth, savoring its tangy sweetness before folding the empty skin up and tossing into the street. Within seconds, it was lost to sight and memory under the traffic of hundreds of feet.

She stood slowly, brushing the dirt from where it had settled on her white seamstress's apron before taking a breath and jumping into the fray. The sea of people surged forward, pushing her along like a riptide. She was swept past the red-veiled butcher's shop, walls of hunting and trapping supplies, and leather goods. The tiny Jeweler's district passed in a flash of violet, and she found herself under the protective white canvas screens of the Textiles section of the marketplace.

The Textile district was the only area of the marketplace in which the awnings stretched clear from one side of the street to the other, as the sun could easily leech the colors, and therefore the value, from some of the more vibrant pieces. Combined with the reflective color of the canvas roof itself, the Textile district was, consequently, the coolest place in the market. Here, women often stopped to take a rest from the omnipresent sun, and rarely did they leave without buying string, fabric, or other little crafts that they could use to pass the hottest hours of the day, when being outside would be unbearable anywhere.

Today, however, the tight press of bodies was so close in the street that heat was building to breathtaking levels even under the white screens. Sunako found her little stand, where Mrs. Ti was haggling the price of a finely woven bag with a middle-aged kunoichi. The medicine bag, with its little compartments for various herbs and tinctures, had been something of Sunako's own creation, and she smiled when she saw Mrs. Ti and the woman settle on a price for it. That bag had quickly become popular with both the nurses at the Sunagakure hospital and the medi-nin who frequented the little shop. Sunako typically made them according to custom order, based on what size and type of supplies the individual carried with them, though it wasn't unusual to find a standard one in the home of Sunagakure's mothers, as heat sickness, minor cuts, and burns were common ailments amongst the children of the Hidden Sand.

As another customer stepped up to take the female ninja's place, Sunako swept aside the hanging mat that separated the customer area from the workers' area. Back here, three looms stood, one leaned against each wooden wall, with a basket of different colors, textures, and widths of yarn next to each. Sunako's duty today, though, was not to weave, but to make more yarn from the delicate strands of silk fiber collected in a canvas bag by her loom. It was a slow process, making yarn, as Mrs. Ti's standing spindle had broken some weeks ago, and the craftsmen further down the market street didn't know how to make one. So they were stuck waiting for the new spindle to arrive from another craftsman in the next town. In the meantime, Sunako and the other two weavers of the shop had been given the tedious task of making yarn through the use of a drop spindle, which was nothing more than a wooden rod with a knobbed end.

Sighing, Sunako eyed the bag of fine fibers warily and sat down at her loom. She dug around in her purse and fished out the heavy, folded paper. For perhaps the fiftieth time in the four days since she'd received it, Sunako reread Gaara's note and smiled. She had put the order in for jasmine tea leaves only twenty minutes ago with a shopkeeper in the Garden section, and had decided to take a small lunch while she was there. The kiwi had been just what she needed to sate the thirst that had built up while traveling the hot, dry street. The shop owner had promised her that the order would be in long before the next Monday, so she had plenty of time to get them before Gaara returned.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn't hear Mrs. Ti call her name until the elderly woman poked her head in past the hanging carpet and startled her.

"Sunako! There's someone here to place an order for a cloak. Can you help her please?" Mrs. Ti's voice was sharp as she gave the young woman a stern look. 'Be professional,' it said. This customer was someone important. Not the regulars who came by the shop looking for fabrics and standard wares. Sunako felt her stomach tighten a moment in anxiety, and stood quickly, straightening her apron and smoothing her hair as best she could before breezing through the curtain.

The woman she saw made her freeze, as anxiety coursed a straight path from her stomach to her heart. It was only a second, but she saw a spark of humor behind the blonde kunoichi's eyes.

"Temari-sama." Sunako bowed and mentally patted herself on the back for not tripping over either her words or her feet as she crossed the small area to stand before the sister of the Kazekage, and one of the strongest ninjas of their village.

"What's honor brings you to our humble shop?" Temari watched the girl carefully as she folded her hands before her, standing straight and proud. Her words were a formal, practiced etiquette that Temari had grown used to hearing as the daughter of the late Kazekage, and now the sister of the current one. However, it held a warmness of tone, an easy friendliness that was unexpected and surprisingly refreshing. Most of the villagers had gotten accustomed to seeing her around the marketplace, and she often stopped to chat with the vendors, but few were more than polite, if not borderline groveling. Therefore, when Temari wanted something purchased, she usually sent a liaison to put the order in for her. Today was an exception.

"I need to order a cloak, and I've heard that you have some fine weavers here who may be able to manipulate the material I'm looking for." The blonde smiled dotingly, though her eyes were distant and calculating. Temari didn't need the cloak; she had more than enough clothes to wear in a year already. She had come to see what kind of person this girl was, whom her brother had taken such a curious interest in. At first glance, she seemed a perfectly normal young woman. She wasn't strikingly beautiful or particularly interesting to look at, and her chakra flowed in the pattern of any normal individual.

Even so, there was often more to people than meets the eye. It wasn't that she didn't trust her brother's sense of judgment, but Temari was much more familiar with the types of mind games that only females played, which could cripple even the strongest of men.

"Wonderful," the girl chimed, "What type of material are you looking for? We may have to order it, but if you have a supplier that you know and prefer, we can contact them." She had fished from one of her pockets a little notebook and looked at Temari with an expectant smile.

Temari grinned. No one, no master weaver or elite scientist had been willing to try what she was about to suggest. Part of her wanted the girl to simply to give up, and part of her wanted to take the challenge, regardless of the fact that she would fail even if she did.

"You don't need to worry about the string, I've had the fibers prepared for some time now. However," Temari's grin grew wider, and slightly wicked, "you'll have to spin it before you weave the cloak itself."

There was nothing really unusual about the female nin's request, but something about the gleam in her eyes set Sunako's teeth on edge. It seemed too covert, too funny to the older woman to be something as simple as wool, cotton, or even silk.

"What kind of fibers are they?" Sunako watched the blonde carefully, a feeling of dread creeping up her spine, burning cold.

"Spider's silk."

The words were spoken so simply, as if it were commonplace, but the grin on Temari's face belied her casual attitude. This was a project for a master weaver, perhaps someone with ever greater skill than that, not for a weaver woman holed up in the corner of the Sand Village bazaar.

"Impossible." Sunako could feel the shock from Mrs. Ti reverberate through the air behind her. Never had she turned down a commission from anyone, not matter how difficult or complicated. She may request extra time to complete a piece, if possible, and her work was always phenomenal. It was one of the reasons Mrs. Ti, and therefore Sunako had become so successful in the last couple of years. They had made a name for themselves. They would take any project, and complete it above and beyond expectations.

But...

"So you won't do it, then." Temari couldn't say that she was surprised, though she was shocked at how disappointed she was at the girl's immediate refusal. As if she hadn't put any thought whatsoever towards the possibilities of the project...

And then...

"Oh I didn't say I wouldn't do it." Temari's eyes jerked up from where she'd let them drift to the ground, only to meet the younger woman's brilliantly blue orbs. In them she saw mirth and defiance, as if the challenge put before her was elating. Then she spoke again, and her grin nearly split her face with pearly white. "I just said it would be impossible. But you and I both know that I've already done one thing recently that would seem either miracle or insanity to most," Sunako shrugged, as if someone had commented on the heat of the day, then smiled again, "So what could another insane impossibility hurt?"

Temari could have jumped for joy and hugged the girl where she stood from the excited blood pumping through her veins. This girl, she decided, would be good for Gaara. She had fire in her, she did. It burned low and warm in her friendly demeanor, but sparked at the challenge, and suddenly Temari felt as if she could be swept away by the heat of it.

And then suddenly, the blonde ninja saw the burning knowledge behind the blue eyes, and knew that the girl had perhaps known all along that this challenge was a test of her character. Despite herself, she felt impressed with the young woman. Perhaps she was not beautiful or powerful, but this girl had spirit. She was clever, this one.

"I'll make the necessary arrangements. My liaison will bring you the fibers and my measurements, as well as a sketch of the design I would like the cloak to be patterned with."

Sunako nodded. "Very well." But as she turned to leave, Temari heard the girl call her name.

"Hmm?"

Again, she grinned, that playful, cheeky grin. "When next you see Gaara-sama, please let him know that I'm not as unobservant as he seems to believe I am."

Temari let out a sharp bark of laughter as she turned to walk away yet again. This time, she made it all the way back to her home without interruption.

Very clever, indeed.