Chapter 10: The Eyes of the End Are Scarlet in Color

I had insisted on wearing red for my meeting with Gaara. I had insisted on it because I knew three things, without any shadow of doubt: One, Gaara, upon meeting me, would have no interest in me whatsoever, because I wouldn't even register on his list of people he might kill to "prove his existence" because I am simply a civilian.

Two, once I managed, somehow, to catch his attention, his entire focus would turn to me, and he would ignore those around us in favor of plotting and immediately executing my demise.

Three, he had, due to its association in his mind with blood, death, and himself, an obsession with the color. And I knew that it was the best chance I had for perhaps dissuading him from immediately attempting to take my life because it would, I thought, in the Land of Fire's vicious, hot, and broiling sun, come ablaze and perhaps rather startle him enough in the intensity of its color to stay his hand for a moment.

And that is precisely what it did. Everything I do, after all, I do for a reason. I turned Kimimaro to me because I knew that the most loyal man in the world, if successfully turned from the original object of his respect and affection, becomes something beyond what he was before, and will give everything, everything, to the person who has "saved" him from what he was before. I gave him what Orochimaru wouldn't, and for that, I gained a retainer whose devotion to me was beyond anything else imaginable on the planet.

I acted like a woman who has nothing at all to hide in front of Kakashi and Team Seven, not because I had done something so commonplace as forgetting myself in my excitement to meet them, as I'm sure they assumed, but because she who gives up all her cards freely, carelessly, and with a smile on her face will never be the one expected to keep the rest up her sleeves. I had been sincere in my attentions, and it had been absolutely evident in my demeanor. Kakashi, the only one barring, perhaps, Sasuke, who might have harbored any suspicion, would have been entirely unable to find any evidence of a lie in me, and in believing me so open, so honest, he had blinded himself to what I wanted to hide.

And now, I dressed in red, blazing, scarlet red, to take advantage of Gaara's obsession with blood, so that I could buy myself time to, if I were to use a fishing metaphor, reel my hooked little guppy out of the lake.

I took both of his hands in my own.

"Gaara-kun, would kissing your forehead be too much right now? Should I save that for another day? Or is that alright? I have missed you so…"

He was speechless, I presumed. Not really. More like taken somehow aback and instead of needing to recover, he had proceeded right to analyzing everything I did. I couldn't blame the poor boy. If everyone around me was too terrified to go within a fifteen-foot radius of my person, and suddenly some loon of a woman came up to me and grabbed my hands and threatened to kiss me, I would be a little out of sorts too.

With an understanding and perhaps pitying smile, I stepped back.

"Too soon…I'm sorry."

I reached up tentatively to stroke into some sort of order a stray strand of fire-red hair and then released him, stepping back not nervously, but in a way I knew he would understand was meant to give him some space.

"Well, I have a meeting with the Hokage this evening…and I must collect my other guard. Perhaps, Gaara, dear, if you have the time, we might meet again…Do you enjoy gazing at the moon? It's best from the rooftops, I would think."

I bit back a little (hysterical) giggle and instead bowed (only a little) respectfully.

Normally, I would think it counterproductive to encourage someone to stalk me, but it was necessary. And judging from the expression on his face (which was barely there, anyway) he would be trailing us to the hotel, and would likely spend the night on a nearby roof.

I had fascinated him. And it was only a small step from there to my true goal.

"Good day to you, Gaara. Kankuro, Temari. Naruto, Sasuke."

I inclined my head in the manner of a real princess and walked off with a disquieted Kimimaro. Ah, I would need to explain myself to him later.

"That boy is following us, Ikite."

It was so discreet a murmur, I nearly missed it.

"I know, 'Maro. Don't mind him."

He didn't say anything, as I knew he would, and we walked on.

"Princess Izanagi, the Third Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Lord Hokage, Izanagi Ikite, Princess of the Land of Rain."

Inclining my head graciously, I swept my right foot back in a subtle curtsy and then, rather suddenly, smiled at the older man before me.

"Lord Hokage. It is an honor to meet you at last."

The kindness and carefully concealed curiosity in his face made me suddenly want to be sick. The man before me was living out the end of his days. I could have saved him. Instead, I was aiding and abetting the man who would be his murderer.

There was a feeling to put into words.

"Princess Izanagi…I have heard many things about you, you know."

Like what? I'm not only going to let you die, I'm going to undo what little good came of your death and then disgrace your memory by using you to control the Leaf Village.

"Good things, I would hope?"

He laughed, and I let a small smile steal across my face. His good humor was contagious. And if I didn't relax and…enjoy the brief calm, so to speak, I would be giving myself away. And I couldn't do that. Couldn't.

Everything had to go exactly according to plan.

Kimimaro, Hidan and I were led to what I presumed was the Hokage's office. There, awaiting us, was the lovely fragrance of some sort of tea I didn't recognize, and two shinobi I presumed were to be the Hokage's guard once the ANBU escorting us left. (Which, honestly, really meant "hid"). I knew them. Both of them. And I knew the little secret they kept…

"Are these your guards, Hokage-sama?"

He nodded, and I bowed to them gently, then slipping my fingers daintily into Kimimaro's hand and permitting him to lead me to the seat that awaited me. Hidan trudged in behind us, leaning against the wall in an ill-mannerly fashion that suited him to a 't.'

"Lord Hokage, would it be possible to have chairs brought in for our guards? I…I don't feel right sitting if they can't."

He looked surprised, and I was jolted by Kimimaro suddenly grabbing my wrist.

"'M-Kimimaro?"

He let go.

"I apologize. I don't know what came over me."

Red eyes. He had seen red eyes snap not threateningly, but in some pleased sort of surprise to Ikite's patient, if a little embarrassed and thus awkward form, and he felt, suddenly, as if she had been touched by some strange thing, and he felt an unidentifiable chill move through his arm, forcing him to grab her. The male that stood on the other side of the Hokage was looking too at Ikite in easy-going surprise, and slowly, almost reluctantly, Kimimaro gathered himself and moved his hand from the woman he had bound himself to.

"My apologies, my lady."

He had grabbed my hand. Randomly, entirely out of the blue. It was unlike him, and that made me incredibly uneasy. But that thought was erased when four chairs were brought in, and I turned a cheery expression on the Hokage.

"Thank you, Hokage-sama."

Our guards were seated. Well, three of them were. Hidan flopped gracelessly into his seat and yawned, clearly bored and rather finished with the novelty (that he hadn't cared for in the first place) of meeting the Hokage. I rather hoped that he would…well, for lack of a more polite sort of phrasing, keep his mouth shut.

We were served tea, and, as if anticipating my desire that our guards join us in the partaking of sweets and pastries, I noticed that the Hokage had extra cups brought. This pleased me, not only because I didn't want Kimimaro and Hidan to have to stand there like mannequins, but because it was a sign that I was successfully presenting the image of myself as a rather shy young girl who was not born of royal stock.

Which was what I was going for. Sympathy. Pity. Trust.

"How have you liked the Leaf Village so far, Izanagi-san?"

I smiled, turning innocent eyes to him, and launched my enthusiastic tale. I spoke and spoke until the tea was cold and another pot of it was brought in, I told him everything (or what he would presume to be everything), from the awe-inspiring sight of the gates towering before me, opening to a sprawling city the likes of which I pretended I had never seen to the delightful simplicity of the greatest ramen in the world.

And then I "remembered" myself and stopped mid-sentence.

"I apologize, Lord Hokage. I-I seem to have gotten a bit carried away."

I shot an embarrassed grin in his direction and took a surreptitious sip of my now cool tea, hiding behind the little cup and the swath of fabric that made up my hanging sleeve.

He smiled in a very fond, grandfatherly manner.

"Praise for this village is always welcome to me, Lady Izanagi. An apology for such gracious enthusiasm is not necessary here."

Feeling a little bit of red steal across my cheeks (because, honestly, I prattled like a child), I looked away.

"Thank you, sir."

He laughed. And somehow, with very little else occurring, our meeting was over. I knew that we wouldn't actually manage to get anything done, the first meeting would of course be intended as an ice-breaker sort of thing, but it ended so quickly, it surprised me.

I had survived. I had kept hidden what I needed to, from the most powerful man (arguably, I suppose), in the Country of Fire.

It was only when we arrived back at the hotel, once Kimimaro and I were safe in our room and Hidan, grumbling about how utterly boring that meeting was, had left us, that I found myself once again able to breathe.

Kimimaro folded my splendid robes as I changed behind a paper screen into a soft pair of shorts and a loose shirt. Only then, stepping out of the screen and flopping onto the bed in a graceless Hidan-like manner, did I decide to ask 'Maro about what had happened earlier.

"Kimimaro?"

He paused mid-action and turned his vacant expression towards me.

"Yes, Ikite?"

There was no reason for me to be anything but blunt with him, so I sat up, looked him in the eye, and asked, without any sort of prelude or explanation, "What happened?"

He knew exactly what I was talking about without asking.

"I didn't like the way that woman looked at you."

Of all the things I could have possibly expected, that was not it. That was completely and utterly bizarre, and seemed as if it were an answer coming from some other, foreign place, and not from Kimimaro's mouth. Kimimaro is not a hothead. And that sort of comment suggested either a man who had achieved an ungodly height of impulsiveness or a man wildly besotted. Kimimaro, I will reiterate, was neither.

So the fact that he would answer in such a seemingly careless way made me feel…unnerved. I mean, what sort of look could possibly…

"I didn't notice Kurenai looking at me in any particularly strange way, 'Maro…?"

He glanced almost idly out the window before turning back to what he was doing, quietly observing aloud, "That boy's watching you." I smiled.

"I know."

He didn't say anything in response to that, but apparently decided to return to the topic we were previously discussing and, having finished putting away my clothes, came to stand at my side of the bed, his stony eyes trained directly on mine. I blinked.

"'Maro…?"

"Don't involve yourself with that woman. Even if she is a part of your plans, Ikite. Promise me you won't involve yourself."

What?

"I…promise? Kurenai Yuuhi is of no consequence to my plans, but…'Maro, what a strange…"

He wordlessly pulled the soft blanket supplied by the inn over me as I watched him, almost intrigued. He had never, ever spoken to me of my plans before. He had listened, yes, as I explained what I thought he needed to know, and he had asked a few questions for clarification (dealing with Tobi/whoever he was, for example) but he had never interfered.

"…thing to say. 'Maro, what did you mean by that?"

He shrugged in a rather too-casual gesture for him, slipping into bed beside me, turning off the light beside him and closing his eyes as the room grew suddenly dark.

"That woman is a danger to you, Ikite. That is all."

And those last three words were meant in the most literal of ways, because he then proceeded to turn away from me in a movement that did not only convey dismissal, but was the physical end of the conversation. I glanced briefly at the window, wondering where it was that Gaara was hiding, before letting my eyes slide shut and drifting off to blissful oblivion.

"Is he here again…Kimimaro…?"

A week had passed since I set my proverbial "bait."

"Yes." Kimimaro intoned rather quietly, conveying quite easily to me that he did not understand how this was possibly a part of the plan. We were once again alone in our room at night. I didn't have a clue where Hidan was, but then, I'd pretty much told him to do as he pleased. Within reason. Hmmm, I needed to organize a trip…Hidan wouldn't be able to go on much longer reigning in his murderous impulses like he had been doing…and I had a feeling Leaf would be boring in the month it took for the chunin candidates to train.

Honestly, it would have been more convenient to go to Sasori while I waited for the big day, but that would ruin the time line and cause all sorts of unsavory troubles.

"Shall I remove him…Ikite?"

I shook my head, playfully batting at Kimimaro's soft, white hair.

"Absolutely not. I forbid it, completely and utterly."

He didn't look too happy about it, but he nodded careful assent. I sighed, now dwelling on what would happen in a months time. (Honestly, there had been very little point to arriving here so early…barring the necessity of getting to Gaara early. The only portion of the exams I was permitted to actually attend was the finals). And that got me thinking of what Tobi had said. Written, really, but I digress.

"'Maro, we're going to be split up for a little while in the future."

This was, apparently, not something he was ready to hear.

"No." He intoned, quietly, assertively. I shook my head.

"It's necessary, 'Maro. I'll soon be going to the Sand Village. Or, more specifically, and more in accordance with my wishes, I will soon be abducted to the Sand Village."

"You…You wish to be abducted?"

I nodded rather cheerfully and glanced carelessly towards the window.

"Don't worry. The kidnapper is someone you know."

He followed my gaze and stiffened, turning an incredulous (well, as close to such an expression as I figured he'd likely ever achieve), utterly baffled (once again, in his own way) look in my direction.

"Him?" He demanded, looking almost affronted.

I nodded.

"Yes. That's what I'm hoping for, at least."

Kimimaro did not approve.

"Ikite…You plan to have that boy abduct you? You would trust your life to him like that?"

Without preamble, I kept my gaze even on his own and affirmed that statement. You'd think I'd informed him of my engagement to Jiraiya or something. His rejection of such a thing bordered on violent. It was actually kind of heart-warming.

"The killing intent that radiates from that boy, Ikite. If you were a shinobi, you would understand. You cannot go with him."

"I must," I answered in form of rebuttal, my gaze disapproving and tender all at once on his. "I need him to trust me. I need him to be unable to leave me. That boy is the future Kazekage of the Sand Village. He will be my dear ally, in time. I will do what is necessary."

He turned back to laying facing away from me.

"As you wish, Ikite."

I bit my lip. That was a dismissal, a weary one, a frustrated one, and I felt bad for forcing him to it, but he had to understand. Taking Naruto's place as Gaara's "savior" was absolutely vital to my plan. There was no way to argue that. And the plan was what I loved for.

Feeling a bit weary myself, I closed my eyes, shifting so that my head sunk more comfortably into my pillow. I had a month. A month to ascertain precisely what was planned for Hidan and Kimimaro, a month to ensure that Gaara wouldn't be able to leave me behind. A month to perfect this early stage of my plan.

What had I achieved so far…? I had successfully become Tobi's advisor. And in terms of my more permanent goals…I had gotten the first of the two scrolls I desired by negotiating with Orochimaru. I had turned Kimimaro to me, I had retrieved the ring, and more importantly, I had assured myself temporary control of the Leaf Village according to the terms I had quoted to Orochimaru. I was playing the long game, now, for the Sand Village.

I had thrown any doubts that might have been had about my person away through my interaction with the Hokage. I had managed to attract the attention of Gaara, and I had intrigued him. I needed to speak to him, now, and I would only get one chance. If I succeeded, the Sand would be mind. If I failed…well, I would put the option out of my mind, because my life and my goals depended directly on my success.

I needed to speak to him…When? When would be the best time…it would have to be spontaneous, of course, but I could still exercise some modicum of control over the situation by ensuring that I was available at certain times. So…when? Where? The location, too, I would have limited control over. I had a month…With my thoughts thus ensnared in the insatiable hold of ambition, I felt myself drifting off, slowly, but surely.

So preoccupied was I with my scheming, the earlier incident and the potential importance of Kimimaro's strange behavior was lost to me, and I drifted to blissful sleep.

The Eyes of the End are Scarlet in Color/End.