I'm debating within myself to up the rating of this fic or not. If I do, it'll happen next chapter or not at all.
Thanks for all the support, ya'll. This is by far my longest 'oneshot' to date. Sheesh.
Disclaimer: see part 1
Gaara wasn't sure which way to go, but he was reasonably sure he just needed to head to the tallest structure in the sprawling village. It was the work of a moment to scale the nearest building, Shukaku stirring in the back of his mind, reliving carnage from fifty feet up as a giant sand monster wading through wood and stone buildings while people ran in abject terror. That had been lifetimes before Gaara, but his lips curled into a smile all the same as if it were his own memory. Konoha in old times had been primitive, but now they were very nearly as modern as Suna itself and seemed to contain at least five times the population as his home village. This was a thriving hub, set smack in the middle of fertile farmland and adjacent to lush temperate forests. No wonder it had burst its walls so long ago. From his new vantage point three stories up he could see that the streets wound in various directions, rather than the neat city planning that characterized Suna. This was a place where new things were being added to the old, but the old was not torn down to make way for new concepts. He suspected, just from that observation, that this council would prove stubborn.
The blistering warmth coming off the roof tiles should have hurt, but his sand protected his hands for the initial climb, and gave an extra layer of traction and insulation on his feet. Leaning his head back he smelled the hot ceramic on the wind. It had been some time since he'd stretched his abilities, so when he allowed some demon augmented jumps to a rooftop a house away he was pleasantly surprised at the ease. His knees jarred at the impact, as he forgot to temper the landing, but the pain eased quickly out of his joints. Shukaku rumbled about how much more fun they could have if Gaara just relaxed and let him take the reins, so to speak…
Gaara stilled and for a moment their psyches battled it out silently, Shukaku struggling to eclipse him rather halfheartedly. It wasn't angry, more obligatory. Gaara had found that remaining dominant had become easier and easier the longer the state persisted, but seeing as they were doing something more interesting than sitting on a mountaintop Shukaku hadn't been mounting any true offensive. They weren't working to counter purposes, yet, but Gaara was sure once he located the fox that they would have different goals at last. They would see who was the stronger when that moment arrived, and Gaara felt feral anticipation to prove his strength in a real test.
Meanwhile, both tanuki and human were in agreement that this village needed to get in line about Sakura's situation. She was theirs, and her safety was paramount so that the journey to Kurama was possible without perilous amounts of distraction.
From rooftop to rooftop, he slid quickly towards the large domed building he was reasonably sure was the town hall with no one the wiser in the city below. The multistory building was central-ish, or as central as something could be with all the sprawl around Konoha. Scaling the top of the dome was easy enough with his sand making each hand and foothold as sure as if he had glued himself to the surface. Twinges from his abdomen told him his scars were twisting and pulling as he climbed up, but it just reminded him more strongly that Sakura was waiting for him in the secured cell he had created for her. No doubt he'd be hearing about that later.
The top of the dome actually flattened out, revealing a very dirty glass skylight. Gaara wiped his sleeve over it, and through patches of dirt he made out two semi circles of figures. That looked enough like a council chamber to him to interrupt. Shukaku suggested crashing through the ceiling in spectacular fashion, but Gaara opted for the slightly more subtle intrusion through a fourth story window that had been opened to allow airflow through a stuffy office space. No one was there, just papers held down by large ledgers. Gaara wandered into the hallway, eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of sunlight.
Grim uniformed men gave him a curious glance as he passed through hallways, but they probably assumed he had passed through previous security checkpoints lower down. He exuded enough confidence that he encountered no real resistance until he found himself in front of grand double doors and two burly men guarding said doors who seemed disinclined to allow him to enter.
That wasn't acceptable.
"Council is in session, you'll have to deliver whatever message you've come with later." The one on the right looked him over dismissively. It was true the guy was head and shoulders taller than Gaara, and probably had at least seventy pounds of muscle on him, but Gaara wasn't used to disrespect. It made him think of the journey he had undertook with Sakura to reach Suna and how every encounter with other people had grated against his pride. People were insects that should be grateful he didn't squash them.
Perhaps Shukaku was getting more canny, Gaara mused as he forced his twitching muscles to calm. That last thought had almost felt entirely like his own.
"I said move it, kid!"
He must have just been standing there, staring at them. The men shifted on their feet, uncomfortable, and seemingly silently sending messages back and forth trying to decide who had to escort him back to wherever it was they thought he should go.
Sakura didn't want anyone hurt, he knew, but there was nothing wrong with incapacitation. It was almost an interesting test for himself to bind them without the accompanying bone-breaking squeeze. Both men were cocooned in sand up to their snorting noses and frightened rolling eyes before they could even shout or move in his direction. The temptation to squeeze just a little, just for the fun of it, blew through him but he resisted as the phantom Sakura of his imagination admonished him to act in good faith.
Whether she knew it or not, she owed him for this kind of self-control, and he'd extract a price for it later.
The doors opened easily, and Gaara surveyed the room quickly. The only person he recognized and who recognized him with a start was the dark-haired man who had locked him up in the first place. His jailer was standing off to the side with a deep scowl. Otherwise, there were two semi circles each made up of six people in the room ranging in age from perhaps early forties to a wizened little man who looked more like he had been exhumed to attend this. A balding man with prominent jowls was in the middle of making some sort of emphatic point, and most eyes were on him, but a few noted Gaara's calm entrance to the sealed chamber with mild interest.
The dark-haired man who had been slouched against the wall, peeled away and walked toward Gaara while Gaara finally tuned in to the shouted words from the balding man.
"… walls are undefendable, low and useless as they are, did I not say less than five year ago that new walls should…"
The dark-haired man spoke, so low Gaara had to strain to make out the words, "I don't know how you got out or how you got in here, but if Sakura is out too you should both have just made a run for it." If things went south and Gaara was forced to slaughter the entire room, he would make a note to spare at least this man, for all he had locked them up this morning.
"… and if my zoning charts had been honored, there would not have been so much residential construction at the edges which now pose a vulnerability has doubtless there will be resistance to any reasonable evacuation plan that I…"
"Sakura is still in your jail." Gaara supplied, not bothering to whisper to the dark-haired man who looked at him with bare shock before schooling his expression again. "As is that blond woman," he added as an afterthought.
"Ino?"
Gaara nodded, assuming he had guessed correctly since he hadn't paid much attention to the woman who had argued with Sakura.
With a pinched look, the dark-haired man replied, "That doesn't even make any sense!"
"Nara, what is the meaning of this disrespect!?" The bald man thundered behind them. While the dark-haired man started with a low groan, Gaara merely leveled his usual calm stare in the man's direction. Before anyone could stop him, Gaara strode easily to the center dais that would have been much better lit if the sunlight hadn't been caked with such grime above them. He thought he heard a weighty sigh from the dark-haired man, but his worry was misplaced, as he would see. Gaara didn't have anything to fear in this room. The gas lights that lined the wall burned balefully, and Gaara realized how stuffy a room felt when there were no windows.
"I'm here to inform you that your judgement of Sakura Haruno is incorrect. She should be released immediately."
There was a bark of laughter from a woman in the semicircle to Gaara's left, but otherwise the council seemed to regard him with haughty countenances.
"How charming that yet another one of her friends has come to provide a testimonial to her good character, but she knew the consequences of returning to this village." The bald man spoke, looking like if he could he would pat Gaara on the head like some pitiable creature. "She'll be hanging at dawn in front of this building without fanfare and buried in an unmarked grave while we prepare to defend this village against the onslaught that is to come!"
Shukaku reminded Gaara that it wouldn't take much to pop that man like a fat tick and as his blood splattered over the rest of the council it would be so much easier to get things done.
Gaara spoke with the utter conviction of the truth he knew. "I promise you hanging her at dawn will ensure your village's doom."
"Nara, who is this boy?"
"Councilman, he arrived with Sakura this morning." The man named Nara spoke, looking in Gaara's direction with something like an apology.
"Her so called betrothed? Why is he here? Is this some angle you are hoping to play, Shikamaru?"
Shikamaru Nara looked like he was fighting a swiftly growing migraine. "No, councilman. But I did say that you should speak to both him and the lady that arrived with them this morning before you came to any judgement about—"
"So it is an angle! Impertinence! If your father were still here he would—"
The woman who had laughed earlier spoke up, and Gaara noted her dyed blond hair and clear gold-brown eyes. "Do shut up Hatsuhiro! Can't you see Shikamaru was surprised to see him here?"
"We all know you can't be impartial in this matter, Tsunade."
Gaara took a second look at the woman he knew to be Sakura's respected teacher. She had spoken of Tsunade with a fondness bordering on reverence. All Gaara saw was a busty older woman who looked like she was about as close as he was to kicking every ass in this room. She sized him up as well, unimpressed with what she saw.
"The demon isn't interested in your village." Gaara's words broke through the internal tension of the council and brought their attention back to him in full force.
The bald man scoffed. "I would love for that to be true, but you must understand we can't simply accept the word of a random stranger when lives and property are in the balance."
"I can provide proof. Will you reconsider your verdict if I provide proof?" At the word 'proof' the woman he knew to be Tsunade seemed to come to life again, actually leaning forward in her chair to get a better look at him. Shikamaru, obviously more intelligent than the council members, was edging closer to the door with a nervous look on his face. He'd obviously put some suspicions together but perhaps hadn't quire arrived at the final conclusion because he didn't have the look Gaara had come to expect from his cultists. Something between awe and that fear that poured cold sweat down the sides.
"And I suppose you'll need to travel a very long way back to your home to find said proof and in the meantime we would be expect to stave off the death sentence while you lead us on a wild goose—" His words clamped off in his throat with a gurgle as the skylight finally broke under the weight of all the sand Gaara had called on top of it. They hadn't noticed since it hadn't been providing much light to begin with, but they all shrank away as glass shards cascaded down with the sand.
Gaara turned his face up to the deadly rain, forming his most favorite tendrils even as he gathered enough around his body for a partial transformation. It felt so good, so natural, to feel the living sand slither against every inch of his skin. The wind whipped around everyone in the chamber, blowing hair and clothes as if they were all at the edge of a precipice. Which, in a sense, they were.
"As I said, I have no interest in your village, but I assure you if you don't release Sakura Haruno I will tear a path of destruction until everything you hold dear is razed." He couldn't hide his glee, his deep voice almost a cackle above the roar of the wind, feeling Shukaku's desires bleed into his. While tapping into so much of his power he almost felt drugged. "Stand there too long gaping at me, and I might just do it anyway to hear the screams…"
The bald man seemed to have lost his voice, averting his eyes and swallowing convulsively while grappling with his terror. Rather than watch his adam's apple bob around, Gaara's gaze swept around until his horrible grinning countenance landed on Tsunade staring at him with a thin lipped frown. Tough old bird. What horrors had she experienced that this little display just netted displeasure?
"While this is proof of your identity," she said in the room that was now silent but for the wind whistling around them, "I don't see this as proof of your intentions. Sakura's sentence was predicated on the assumption that by not dying she would bring your wrath on this village. What guarantee do we have that you won't kill us all?"
The winds died down. Gaara supposed if the whole point of this was to ensure them of their relative safety, and therefore of the uselessness of Sakura's sentence. Scaring them into submission would be ultimately counterproductive. Satisfying. But not comforting.
"You," Gaara let the sand bleed off of him exposing his humanity, such as it was. Shikamaru started as Gaara caught his eye. "Find the woman who drove the wagon that Sakura arrived in this morning. Bring her here. She's well acquainted with… paperwork." This was going to require more discussion than Gaara was comfortable with, but Temari enjoyed a good argument. He was sure the more he had to speak to this lot, the more murderous he would become so she would be an excellent proxy.
The bald man seemed to have found his voice again, "And what are we to do while Nara goes running off to find this friend of yours?"
"Wait." Gaara said with finality as a tendril of sand pushed a stiff limbed Shikamaru out into the hallway before shutting the door firmly.
All those formerly haughty stares found him again, and Shukaku sent a pleased shiver through Gaara as he noted the abject, and poorly masked, fear. The fullness he felt in his heart should have been wrong, but Gaara knew he was a broken thing to derive so much satisfaction from it.
Temari wasn't particularly pleased to have been dragged into this, but she had enough sense to be respectful. Only her furious whisper in his direction about not being his secretary gave away her disgust at being called on to help draft some sort of peace accord with this village. Bald man wanted a five paragraph preamble, Temari wanted to stab him in the throat with her fan. All in all, it was going about as well as Gaara figured it would.
Half the council was working with Gaara and Temari to draft the language of the accord in broad terms, while another half led by Tsunade was drafting an amendment to the law that had required Sakura be sentenced to death in the first place. His mere presence seemed to be speeding up a process that Gaara had a feeling would normally take them days rather than several hours.
Bald man, brave when arguing with Temari, still shot hateful looks in Gaara's direction with a tremble in his hands giving him away. He loathed him, Gaara knew, but that reaction was so pedestrian it was boring.
"The corollary must be present or this is useless. Read my lips, any discrimination against the direct descendants should be prosecutable. Blood relations will need protection from all the bigots that inevitably will refuse them service out of ignorance." Temari argued with passion. To the villagers, she appeared to be fighting for imaginary future children, but little did they knew how personal this topic could be to her.
"How dare you impugn the good character of the people of Konoha! We don't need threat of litigation to do the right thing!" Bald man insisted.
Temari wasn't about to let it go, "Then if it will never occur it won't harm you to write it down, will it? I didn't even put up much of a fuss when you stipulated that if free housing was to be provided it had to be properly zoned. Really you meant segregated, and I could take it for the insult it was if you can't look past this one little thing."
As much as he enjoyed watching them argue, he enjoyed even more how things had turned out. If the fox needed proof of his good faith, this accord provided a template to the new way of life the fox had implied he needed to find. Destroyer to protector. And the insistence on using the term jinchuuriki was the icing on the cake. This was a model that could be farmed out to other communities, other demon hosts. Naruto had big ideas and lots of energy but no focus. The demons were concrete thinkers, at least Shukaku was, and how hard could guarding one or two little villages be? So what if the tithe was money and food instead of blood?
I rather like the blood…
A seat on the council, and the power to veto motions that made his life materially worse weren't much to concede for protection from a demon host. Particularly when said protection was almost entirely from Gaara's own wrath.
This won't work. They will come to fear me, revere me, as they did in the early days. The cycle will repeat and this village will become as Suna. Twisted as we are.
Shukaku's mood was dark. He was remembering a time when he had tried to be loved instead of feared. That particular incarnation had not lived very long. Assassination had been the inevitable end for every avatar that had shown weaknesses like trust and compassion. Shukaku was strong and cynical from so many lifecycles of seeing the worst, of forging his shells into bloodthirsty warlords and despotic demagogues. Gaara's response to betrayal so young had been suitably murderous, but he had grown tired of the death, withdrawn. Half a decade on a mountaintop had put things into perspective even if that time had not been spent in reflection.
He would have died on that mountaintop without Sakura, but more important than a second chance at life was a chance at reinvention. Hope was such a foreign emotion, Gaara wasn't sure if that tightness in his chest was hope in truth or just particularly sharp hunger pangs from not having eaten yet today.
Temari appeared to have been signaling for his attention while he was lost in himself.
"I said, do you want your own feast day? I think we can make a convincing argument that it could take the place of the sacrifice day."
The bald man whined in their general direction. "Budgets are only prepared for the sacrificial activities every ten years. I don't see how a yearly feast makes fiscal sense."
"Give him the damn day, Hatsuhiro. People like a reason to celebrate." Tsunade had apparently wrapped up the work with her own committee and she wandered over, cracking her stiff back. Considering how ample her bosom was, it was highly likely she suffered from a lot of back issues in general. "We'll find the money. That's the whole point of a budget."
"You're not even on the budget committee, Tsunade." The man said with a sniff in her direction.
Tsunade didn't say anything in response, she just narrowed her eyes and popped her knuckles one after another while the bald man's jowls positively quivered.
They got the holiday.
"I like her." Temari said.
Once the initial document was written, scribes were summoned to create additional copies. As there was no more work to be done for the day, Gaara told Temari than she and Shikamaru should probably procure some mining picks and release Sakura and her friend before the day was over. He would stay and sign the draft documents along with the council. Temari seemed more than happy to leave the chamber, and dragged Shikamaru by the arm as if she were leading the way despite having no idea where anything was in this village. Shikamaru for his part just look relieved to be getting out of Gaara's presence.
Since people were busily pretending like he didn't exist as a defense mechanism to their confusion and mild terror, as soon as the document had been inked and signed, Gaara found them all in deep conversations with one another. He wandered out into the hallway with a shrug, noting how quickly the guards at the door put space between him and them. It wouldn't have mattered, but seeing the big men with lips quivering had at least cheered him.
The building was empty, he noted, as he made his way from the fourth floor down. They must have evacuated the town hall at some point as a precautionary measure should negotiations sour. It was wise, but it wouldn't have prevented much had he truly wanted to go on a rampage. He was disappointed in how they underestimated his destructive capabilities. Finally exiting onto the street, the afternoon light had him blinking, a sudden enough change that everything seemed whitewashed until his eyes adjusted.
Imploding his cult. Signing up for local politics. Getting betrothed. It should all have seemed earth shattering, but honestly the only thing that seemed important other than rubbing all of his progress in that fox's face was Sakura. His pink haired catalyst. She was spitting mad in a jail cell at that moment, no doubt.
You made us beholden to this place! Shukaku was still grumbling.
But like any demon he also saw how Konoha would be beholden to him as well as the years spread out like a map in his mind. He liked the idea of tithes, of gifted properties and feasts in his honor. It was the prestige the cult has given them, but probably fewer thrones of bone involved. And probably no more vats of blood. Sakura had called it barbaric, in any case. Worse, old fashioned.
Tsunade came out of the building, hitting the street with her shoulders back, looking slightly downwards at him from the extra height her heeled shoes gave her.
"Take a walk with me." It was the closest thing to an order he had ever been issued in his life, but Gaara felt generous and so nodded his agreement.
They were briskly making their way down the street, Tsunade taking moments to wave to people occasionally as they called out her name. With time to observe her, Gaara started to see where some of Sakura's mannerisms had come from. Quirks of expression when she saw something that amused her, turns of phrase as she replied to the odd question people stopped her with about their health. Sakura presumably had a mother, but Tsunade was clearly the woman Sakura aspired to be.
"Just because you can level a block of houses with a wave of your hand doesn't mean you're good enough for my student." The acidic comment came out of nowhere.
Yes, definitely who Sakura aspired to be.
Gaara wasn't entirely amused even if she had delivered the words with a half-smile. "You're either brave or stupid to speak to me like this."
"This isn't an area I've got a lot of success in, and I'd like to spare my student heartache if I can. Back in that room you spoke about her, your so-called betrothed, like she was incidental." Her expression was wry. "And you just signed away your ability to attack citizens of Konoha without just cause, in case you didn't recall."
What he considered cause and what they considered cause were probably divergent, but he wasn't feeling like engaging any more on the topic of the accord.
"You think I intend to keep her as a trophy of sorts." He didn't need to prove himself to anyone, but Sakura respected this woman and her good opinion would help his campaign. "I changed as a result of meeting her. She's important."
Tsunade arched a plucked blond eyebrow at him. "You changed yourself for her? That's more than a lot of men would do." Not what he had said, but she had received her version positively so he didn't correct it. They took a turn off the main street and wound around side streets before she spoke again. There were no more people near to provide the illusion of safety. Maybe this woman truly had no fear, and he found himself admiring her arrogance. "Sakura has ideals, and she's stubborn about sticking to them—a quality that makes her a fantastic student and an increasingly formidable healer, but…"
Words seemed to fail the older woman for a moment as she readjusted her green jacket around her shoulders. She didn't like talking about this, but clearly she thought it necessary.
"Her expectations for her romantic life were never ideals built around reality. If you break this part of her, I don't think she'll be as effective in other parts of her life going forward. She already lost her life once, and your appearance in it will make it harder for her to return to her own version of normal."
Ah, there it was. Gaara understood selfishness. Tsunade was concerned for Sakura, but she also seemed concerned to lose Sakura's brilliant medical mind—her potential. They both wanted something from her, and there was a sliver of a possibility that there was no sharing.
"I am not forcing her into anything. She makes her own choices."
With a grunt, Tsunade accepted his words. "Good."
They seemed to be walking somewhere with a purpose, and another fifteen minutes passed before Tsunade stopped in front of a quaint family residence. He spied the cart Temari had been driving earlier parked next to it, empty of goods. This must be the Haruno family residence.
"I agree that her expectations are often unrealistic." Gaara provided, as close to casual conversation as he had tried with a near stranger. With his seat on the council he suspected he would see more of her in the future in a professional capacity.
"I found if you make her think it's her own idea, she comes around to your point of view a lot faster." Tsunade, for whatever reason, had just offered him advice about how to win over her pupil. It didn't make any sense to Gaara, and his expression must have made his confusion plain. "Just because I failed in this area doesn't mean she needs to emulate me. Not that I'm rooting for you, but I won't oppose you either. She makes her own choices, as you promised."
Was it a promise? If push came to shove and the only way to keep her near him was to trap her, would he do it? This whole acknowledging the free will of others thing seemed to get in the way of his goals more than he was used to, and he didn't particularly enjoy it.
Why be something you're not? You know the life you were built for.
Tsunade had already left without another word or backward glance. After a moment, Gaara slowly approached the threshold of the Haruno home. He nearly crushed his copy of the accord in his hand, ink possibly not even dry, as he contemplated if all this effort was worth it.
The door swung open and a tense woman with serious green eyes greeted him. "I thought…" Something wistful evaporated behind her façade, and the woman's words became coolly polite. "May I help you?"