A/N: Thank you to all reviewers. You give me the motivation to continue.
Fic 10. Prompt 71. 'Broken.'
Some days, Kankuro wants to hit his brother, to rip and tear the smaller form to shreds for dragging him back from the abyss of death, for staggering back to Suna with him over his shoulders and Naruto beside them, for leaving Kankuro trapped in a body with legs that have become unresponsive stone to his every command. For leaving him broken.
And he rages at Gaara, flings paperweights and puppetry tools and kunai, and Gaara just stands there and takes it, face immobile as the hunks of wood he can no longer call legs. He calls him stinging words that he wishes he can take back the second after he says them, words like 'freak,' 'demon,' and the ever-popular 'monster.'
And Gaara just stands there and takes it. Kankuro hates him for that, for the unflinching acceptance of the words. He wants him to fight a hopeless, dying battle, to fight back for everything that Kankuro can no longer fight for, to be something, anything, other then this unmoving brother that can walk while he cannot, this boy- for that is what he still is- that doesn't appreciate the gift he has been given.
He tells him this, and more. He spits and hisses, until the door slams open and Naruto, eyes blood-red and fingers flaring chakra claws comes into the room and wraps a cold hand around his throat and he loves this, loves this pain that confirms that he is alive. Naruto ushers Gaara out of the room, the gentleness belying his fury, and tears him into tiny bleeding pieces with words alone.
He tells him of Gaara's anguish over failing him, of Gaara's pain for each death he has caused- dimly Kankuro remembers the count, four-hundred by his twelfth birthday, more now- of the fact that Gaara still, even now, wakes shaking in the night with visions of the curse his mother wanted him to be the embodiment of. He paints a vulgar picture of Yashamaru's cruel words in a gentle voice, of sorrow singing softly forever beyond the horizon.
And Kankuro, as the door shuts behind the man who has torn him down and built him back, sinks his face into his hands and weeps, for he knows that however broken he may feel, however sick and longing and bereft he may think he is, Gaara still is bearing a burden that no one, not even Naruto, who would live for him, die for him, kill for him, cannot ease.
Deliberately, he pushes himself into his wheelchair, picks up Karasu, and begins the long, painful task of relearning his chakra pathways, the task dedicated to the brother who has overcome everything.