A/N: First of all, thank you to the guest Fox Kit Princess and user Rain-kawa for the reviews - I really do appreciate them :) Second of all, I apologize if the story is slow so far (that's how it feels to me), I promise it will pick up speed later. And it's my birthday and so this is today's fruit and my gift to you guys XD I made it my goal to post today just for that fact.
Anyway, on to the story and I hope you guys enjoy!
Suomi's eyes popped open, having completely forgotten drifting off now, and her torso shot up out of her resting state at the sound of the comment. Gazing across the room, her light eyes settled upon a shadowed silhouette that had etched its way into the chamber. The few features she could make out were striking against the faded, cool desert sky; the person who owned the voice wore a long, flowing, ivory Sand Village robe atop a basic of blue, and, in a fiery contrast, the boy's hair was a deep red that rivaled the sun's daily paintings strewn behind the horizon of Sunagakure's walls. The young male's eyes, rimmed with darkened shades, seemed almost absent at the angle, but she could feel them bore chasms into her started person even still.
As the boy sat stunningly draped across the cutout-styled windowsill, she realized he must have been there for some time - for his position was a casual one (as casual as stalking can be anyway). The first thought that came to her mind was to compliment him, even if they appeared to be the same age, for his abilities of stealth were exceptional, but she knew what was expected of her and it was in her best interest at the moment.
Turning her head to face the doorway, hoping to cry out and call attention to her predicament of a stranger trespassing, she was distracted by shadowed movement flooding the room and a rough, coarse, gritty substance covered her mouth. Luckily, her nose remained untouched and she was still able to breathe, despite the vise secured against her lips.
"Do not yell," his tone was detached, but it held a strong connotation of threat. She slowly turned her head, in jerky intervals like an old metal, wind up toy, and saw that he had lifted his hand in front of him to control the sand that muzzled her. The frightened girl hesitantly nodded, and the natural weapon began to pour down from her face, gather into a single branch, and the golden grit finally flowed back to its master as if it were a lost soul and he a psychopomp.
All the while, her consciousness searched rapidly through her thoughts for the one name she felt she so desperately needed. At last, a name fell from her lips clumsily, "K-Kankurō-san...Kankurō-san!" she called more frantically with her strained voice reaching a new octave. The red haired boy remained a perched statue as she screamed, but then immediately withdrew from the space, as though he might have been a mere vision, and a few more moments passed before the blonde's door was violently erupted open. Revealed was a brunette boy whose black shirt hung lopsidedly over his shoulders and thin, beige pajama pants latched close to his form.
"What's happening?!" his voice exploded into the room, only adding to his booming entrance.
"Who are you?" She shrank back to the wall standing beside her bed as she muttered the feeble words.
"Who d'you think?" the paintless shinobi answered curtly as he crossed the hardwood floor, no longer sensing danger, before once again demanding a report of the situation.
"Kankurō, duh," she thought to herself stupidly. "There was a someone at my window," answered only by his silence, she figured she should elaborate, "Male, attractive, approximately my age, red hair, white robes, even tone of voice."
"Gaara," he appeared frustrated while mumbling the name, as he wove fingers through his usually hooded, tousled hair.
Her tired eyes grew wide with realization and her mouth hung slightly agape. "That was the Kazekage, the monster of the village." A small, hidden smile crept upon her expression in the darkness as she continued to ponder, "What an out-of-character choice, Elders, bravo."
The puppeteer soon left the scrubbed space, swearing obscenities under his breath as he went, and Suomi's tightened muscles slowly relaxed, her shoulders now slumping forward in a droop. Her head lazily tilted in the direction of the window, and this time - she was not at all surprised to find the figure looming there, as if it had grown comfortable in the spot. No implication of alertness flickered through her light eyes nor did she utter a word after disobeying the sand wielder. She had become completely subdued with exhaustion and only peered over him with a half-lidded, glazed view.
Several moments of silence were exchanged, the only sound coming from the restless winds that howled past, before the handsome shinobi spoke again, "You yelled for your handler anyway; that was a rational decision." Gaara then stood up in the window space, demonstrating his short stature yet intimidating personality, allowed his robes to graze the top of the sill, pivoted to face the village, and finally leaped down onto the elevated sand that hung just above the skyline. His form was a favorable one as he rode away with his arms crossed, almost reminding her of the way Deidara rode on his "masterpieces", and she thought about how odd it must have been for him to return to Sunagakure. Cheers had been erupting in the village weeks before, when he supposedly came back from wiping out her previous bosses, and it definitely differed from when the entire village shunning the boy out of repulsion and fear. Had he despised them for suddenly regarding him as a hero - after so many years of mistreatment? Though, he was their leader, so maybe he had already grown to forgive them, unlike any other Sand Shinobi might. Suomi knew she would never possess that kind of emotional strength and could finally relate back to the ones who now kept her captive.
She took a few more seconds to gawk at his exit before uttering under her breath, "He's not only alive, but he can also still manage his chakra release without Shukaku. You, sir, are a superb Kazekage indeed." The blonde then rested her head against the inviting, but aged and moth eaten, pillow and welcomed a much needed slumber.
Once the girl finally woke again, morning light flooded through the open window, allowing the sand from the storms in with it. Glaring at the golden dust that pooled over the floor and littered her sheets, Suomi mentally scolded herself for not shutting the glass opening the previous night. She grumbled a couple of curses before slipping out of bed and redressing into the formal robes of olive and white. Even with a spring complexion, the drab robes made her feel a twinge of displeasure as she missed her original Akatsuki coat - or rather one of the coats of the deceased puppet master. She mulled over the thought of Sasori actually being dead, while lazily tying her hair up into a bun using only another thick stand of her dirty blonde locks. "I wish I could have done him in myself," she snarled with disgust as she turned the worn knob with a steady grip and strolled through the clay constructed doorway, searching for nourishment.
With her sense of direction being distorted, despite her previous occupation it always had been, she felt lucky that she possessed the skill that let her retrace any of her taken steps. And after pacing through winding halls, she located the kitchen to see it completely vacant of others. Taking this as a good omen, she foraged for any easily preparable scraps possibly left by the main residents of the estate. She didn't want to rummage for long, so she picked an apple dowsed in a swirl of warm colors from off the counter and harshly bit into it. However, being the weakling that she was, her bite did not procure any of the fruit and instead only left sunken teeth marks in the firm thing. Suomi puffed out hot air and once again pressed her teeth over the skin of the apple; finally, she was able to rip off a chunk of the food and gain at least some nutrients.
"It really shouldn't be this hard to eat an apple." She glared down at it, disapproving its struggle to stay out of her stomach, while unattractively gnashing on the hunk in her mouth. Though her pale eyes slowly softened as she realized her diet had been horrible while passing her days in the cell, hindering the strength she somewhat possessed in the first place. The teenager then wondered what exactly she would do now that she was out. Did she see a future branching out from her past? Could she even wander about the village to think, and if so, did she have to wait for Kankurō to escort her?
Remembering a detail, the kunoichi sank back against the tan, riveted cabinetry of the island, clinging to the only shadows available in the kitchen, and focused her chakra into her hands. After weaving several signs and biting her thumb so that it dripped blood, she poured the least amount of possible power into the scrollwork that fanned out from her palms, slapped against the terracotta tiles of the floor, and whispered, "Ninja Art: Summoning Jutsu." A plume of smoke made a popping noise as it unfurled from the technique, parting to reveal a tiny, onyx colored creature the size of her pinky nail. She smiled giddily to herself, delicately tapped a single index finger on its head, and let a few more helping drops plop into the blob. An eye on the creature then blinked open, fluttered from the new sense that was granted, and peered up at the enormous girl, awaiting directions accordingly. The user twirled the same finger through the air, signaling a perimeter scan that sent the creature trudging toward the edge of the wall before silently gliding into the limited darkness.
Minutes passed before the moist, damp creature apparated in front of her again, and when it did appear - a much larger appendage shaped like a hand began to pool from its pipsqueak of a body.
"Two, huh? I suppose that's appropriate; the chakra bonds were released after all." She then thanked the odd organism, who retracted the ligament, and it poofed its way out of sight. One day, she thought often to herself, she would have them do a reverse summoning, so she could at last see their natural, or perhaps unnatural to her, environment.
Suomi lifted a knee, pushed her weight onto it, and stood up to leave the dismal space. If two ninja were tagging along behind her, she was sure she could leave the mansion safely, and if they did have an issue with it - they could always stop her.
As she headed out the main entrance, wearing her retrieved dark sandals, she wondered where exactly she expected to end up in the village now that she was "home". Were there people there who still even remembered her? The blonde shut the door firmly behind her, causing a wave of sand debris to cascade down from the frame, and she shrugged away any plaguing doubts of perhaps fallen comrades and her future; she would start at her roots and work from there. Clouds of sand followed in her dusty tracks.
