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The First Shifting Grains
CADEL
CHAPTER 10
Four Suna Nin inspected the corpse hanging limply over the edge of a roof.
Not at all macabre but reasonably clean and efficient: a simple blow to the head followed by a quick slice of the throat.
The dead shinobi's last moment was an ironically ignorant end.
Two ninjas darted around the body and began to search out a scent like blood hounds on a hunt. Another checked over the body and confirmed it beyond resuscitation. The fourth was the leader of the team and after a grim examination of the situation; he ran towards the Kazekage Dome.
Standing at attention in front of their Kage, the captain obediently bowed.
"We have an infiltrator and one known casualty. The body is being transported for further examination as we speak."
The Kazekage stood with his back turned away and nodded. "I see."
It was perhaps the odd tone in which his leader spoke that made the shinobi realise that something was amiss in the room. Where the Kazekage stood was a mess, not the usual office clutter but an almost vandalised disorganisation.
"Kazekage-sama…" There was a moment of bland hesitation then the ninja continued, "Is everything alright?"
The Kazekage suddenly turned around. "A team has been sent out to track the attacker yes?"
"Affirmative Kazekage-sama, we believe there to be only one so far. The attack happened roughly ten to twenty minutes ago so the infiltrator should be still within a nine kilometre radius of Suna. Aside from the one kill, we don't know what the attacker's purpose or intent is."
The Kazekage added as he sat back down. "Find the infiltrator."
The ninja gave a quick nod of his head and bowed deeply. "Hai, Kazekage-sama."
"Seiichi-taichou," the Kazekage pinned the man with stern eyes. "The other factions are watching. When you find the infiltrator, do what you have to."
III
Gaara couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right.
There was an interruption in the usual cocktails of scents in the air, a foreign trail had been introduced into the mix.
After several unsuccessful attempts at sleeping, the genin leaped out of bed, grabbed his cloak and strapped on his gourd. Enough was enough. It was time for an investigative hunt. As soon as Gaara jumped out his window, he knew his hunch was right.
Squad teams were running all over the place, searching and tracking all the arcs of the village's circumference. Then the genin spied two Hunter Nin perched on the outer wall, gazing down at the desert stretching before them. It only meant one thing. They had an infiltrator.
Restless and curious, Gaara stationed himself at his usual training patch outside of the village walls and crouched low.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Gaara suddenly released the sand from his gourd and into the ground, scattering the grains across the vast plain in every direction. One square metre held hundreds of chakra infused sand grains and within minutes there was enough covering the land that so much as a small trample from a rodent would alert Gaara of its presence. The grains were now a living extension of the jinchuuriki's senses.
Ironically, despite his sudden heightened eagle-eye, Gaara completely missed the presence of a tracking squad behind him. And it seemed that they were also unaware of the jinchuuriki as well.
So it made sense that both parties suddenly drew out their weapons.
The ninja squad immediately dispatched an array of projectiles in a flurry of movements. Gaara in turn, jumped in lithe arcs and landed in a crouch a few metres away tense and ready to face the threat.
"Wait! Hold your weapons!" The order came from further behind as a man in his late twenties moved to the front.
The squad's leader eyed the small figure and tilted his head. Not a moment later he signalled for the team to back away.
"Perhaps it'll be more practical for you to remove your hood." The leader suggested neutrally.
It was then that Gaara belatedly realised that he was still donning his night cloak and that his recognisable features were hidden under the cowl. With deliberate slow movements the genin pushed back his hood and turned to fully face the opposing squad. There was a moment were every face in the five man squad flickered from surprise, realisation then concern when Gaara's identity had been unhidden. A man at the back even stumbled a bit.
The genin eyed the familiar leader and finally asked, "Was there something you wanted…Seiichi-san?"
There was a flicker of genuine surprised but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
The man tilted his head again. "I apologize on behalf of my team for attacking you," Captain Seiichi bowed lightly. "It was influenced by the current caution to threat."
The squad waited in anticipation for Gaara's response. He would either ignore it or reject it and they would hope for no more than that.
"Someone has died tonight." It was a statement than a question. "Freshly spilled blood clings to you." His eyes pinned Seiichi in place.
The captain's head inclined ever so slightly in confirmation but he remained largely closed off. The two eyed each other till Gaara broke eye contact and turned his head.
"You're tracking in the wrong direction."
This definitely got a reaction from his current observers. A few frowns and narrowed eyes full of suspicion darted towards Gaara as he waited. Their taichou was once again not very reactive, he only seemed curious more than anything else.
"May I ask Gaara-sama," He notice the boy's nose scrunch up the tiniest fraction at the suffix. "What you're doing so far away from the village?"
With a cool gaze the boy shifted his eyes to the horizon. By now, the yellow, reds and gold hues of the desert had turned to burnt purples and inky blues.
"The same as you." He answered simply. "Hunting."
The pause that followed swallowed the sound of the wind and muted the ambient rustle of dust, rocks and sand. But it left the imagination in the ninja squad's mind to follow whatever wild and gory ideas to roam from such a loaded answer.
But the captain never let his gaze wander from the boy as a thought danced in his mind. The child was not how he remembered him. Something was amiss. After a moment, he realised it was the jinchuuriki's gaze. The boy's eyes used to reflect desolation, like the worst drought, like prolonged famine but now – it was a flood. They were a dew melon green, a pale liquid that was vicious in depth.
Maybe that was the reason why the pragmatic captain had a spontaneous moment of faith in the unknown and asked:
"East or west?"
Gaara blinked at the unexpected question, but after a few moments the boy shifted his eyes to the left.
"West."
Not wanting to risk breaking this abnormal civil exchange of information with their jinchuuriki, the captain gave a bow and quickly shunshined away with his squadron.
Shifting the gourd on his back, Gaara crouched down and placed his palm flat on the sandy ground.
The most infinitesimal vibrations were translated from his chakra to his brain, mapping an inner world where everything was a massive hive of information, based on the movements of whatever creature touched his sand. It meant Gaara could track in real time. He could 'see' the squadron and their captain already a few kilometres to the east to where he sent them. He had not been truthful with the directions but it meant he had some time to find the infiltrator first.
He closed his eyes again and concentrated. A beat later he found him.
The stranger was running south-east of Gaara's location. The distinct lightness of the footfalls and the tingling sensation of chakra hitting the ground reinforced that he was a shinobi.
Without a moment to lose, Gaara retracted his sand and bolted towards the intruder.
III
It only took Gaara, seven minutes to find him.
Spying from behind a large boulder, the jinchuuriki couldn't tell which village the shinobi came from. The man was discreet, wearing dark uniform and with half his face hidden beneath black fabric, he bled into the background.
It took less than a second for Gaara's sand to snatch the infiltrator and string him up.
The intruder couldn't comprehend how one moment he was sprinting on solid ground, then suddenly he was mid-air. Reducing the possibility of a fight, the genin wrapped his sand around both hands and feet, sufficiently immobilising the intruder.
Soon they were face to face.
"Why have you infiltrated my village?" Gaara asked quietly. His voice neither low nor high but held a steel edge to its tenor. "Who has sent you?"
The ninja remained stoically silent.
Gaara pressed further. "It would be wise to answer."
The sand suddenly tightened and the sound of his wrist breaking cut the silence between them. Gritting his teeth, the infiltrator turned his head away.
"The man you killed wasn't your target was he?" the boy commented.
More silence and Gaara broke his other wrist.
"Collateral damage." The ninja finally divulged while hissing in pain.
"Was the Kazekage your real target?"
No answer. The man groaned in pain as his toes bent backwards.
"You don't look like an assassin." Gaara commented lightly. "No, your job is something else."
The jinchuuriki leaned forward and looked closely. The ninja couldn't be more than a chūnin. How odd.
Despite his face being covered by a protective cloth, Gaara could make a hint of cocky smile underneath. "Why don't you ask your father?" he snarled to mask the pain of his fingers breaking underneath Gaara's sand.
Both the man's thumbs snapped audibly and Gaara leaned back to stare at him in disinterest.
"Why ask him when I can ask you?"
The infiltrator shut his eyes as Gaara began to tighten the sand around his limbs further. The shinobi bit his lips from crying out, but it was futile as he heard another three of his fingers break under the pressure.
"I w-won't tell you any-anything…" The man cried out rebelliously. "So you can go ahead and kill me!"
Gaara used his sand to levitate off the ground and bring himself to the captured shinobi's eye level.
"Ninja-san," Gaara lifted the man's chin carefully, the gentleness of his hold contradicting the situation and explained, "I think you've got the wrong idea. I won't kill you nor will I torture you any further." He let go of the man's chin. Confusion marred the shinobi's face as the jinchuuriki gave him an almost kind expression. "I don't enjoy this, your death isn't necessary nor is it wanted, but you will tell me what I want to know."
There was a collapsed sort of silence that stretched between man and boy.
"Are you from Oto?" Gaara asked suddenly as he studied the man's eyes.
Those dark pupils didn't change. They remained tiredly defiant but Gaara saw enough to know there was no recognition when he mentioned Sound.
"You really don't know anything do you?" Gaara finally deduced. "You're just a dispensable pawn."
"We're all dispensable." The ninja grounded out half-heartedly.
Gaara shook his head. "Maybe, but even I know that what you are, is a sacrificial messenger." He gave the man a hard stare. "Since your superiors found it unnecessary to give you any information to relay, I'm going to assume that you were just the mail man." The ninja scowled at the boy's wording. "And mail men always leave a gift behind, don't they?"
The shinobi's head was turned away from Gaara as much as he physically could and stayed silent. It didn't matter. The shinobi would be interrogated when he was brought back to Suna.
Just as Gaara descended back to the ground, the infiltrator suddenly spat out a senbon from his mouth and aimed it at the genin. Gaara automatic sand defence shot up and shielded him before the senbon got close. The captured ninja sneered then opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly his throat sliced opened before Gaara could understand what happened.
Blood sprayed out from the man's neck and saturated his dark uniform with a bleeding stain that continued to grow. Some renegade splatters dotted Gaara's face as he watched the man hang limply from his sand, the ground beneath his corpse gradually staining red, drenching and soaking the gravel with hot liquid.
Gaara eyed the dead man with something akin to sadness and then turned his head to stare at the new guest.
"You followed me."
The Captain was perched hawk-like on a stone formation a few metres away, one still extended after dealing the killing blow to the infiltrators neck. He remained where he was without any intention of moving closer as he stared at the jinchuuriki with impassive yet sharp eyes. The genin noted that the captain was alone and none of team mates were with him.
"A genin shouldn't mislead and misinform his fellow ninja and superior."
"It's not misinforming when you're already aware of the fact."
The older shinobi gave him a blunt look. "One has to wonder why you felt the need to lie in the first place."
Gaara returned his stare with inquiring eyes. "The situation becomes doubly more curious when the Kazekage's silencer is involved."
And indeed that was the main reason why Gaara deceived the captain in the first place.
Loyal, straight-forward and incredibly solid in personality and character, the jounin Captain Seiichi was mainly used when the Kazekage wanted something done discreetly.
The remarkable thing about Captain Seiichi was his averageness.
He was not an assassin, he was not ANBU and the man was not spectacular in any overt way. Even in judgment the enigmatic captain remained neutral. It reflected in the way he had always treated the jinchuuriki with a dichotomous mixture of impartiality, dismissal but also intellectual caution. The man that Gaara focused his cool gaze on was dependable to whomever he placed his loyalty with. In fact, his devotion would be almost naïve if it were not for his razor-sharp intelligence.
After his immediate family and Baki-sensei, Seiichi-san had been his most assertive, discreet and dependable jounin during his reign as the Fifth Kazekage. He had been the same for Gaara's father.
It was also the reason he was garnering Gaara's full suspicion. And it seemed the sentiment was returned.
With narrowed gaze that was aimed at the jinchuuriki with microscopic inspection, the captain regarded the boy with a kind of predatory suspicion and even a dash of curiosity. The genin knew the man would not speak so he inspected the corpse that he'd placed on the ground.
With a contemplative mutter, Gaara remarked, "Killing him was unnecessary." He knew full well that was exactly what his father had ordered the captain to do.
"Better it be quick then slow." The captain remarked nonchalantly.
Gaara raised one eye-brow by the tiniest fraction.
"You assume I was going to kill him slow." The genin left the body behind as he approached captain Seiichi and stopped when they were face to face. "I wasn't going to kill him at all."
When the loaded silence finally broke between them, the captain moved away from the genin and pressed down on the intercom attached to his neck.
"All units cease search. The infiltrator has been caught. Despatch the collectors south-east of sector 5." When the man had finished giving out his orders, he gave a curious look in the genin's direction. "I confess I was hoping you'd do it for me instead." With a shrug reminiscent of Shikamaru, Captain Seiichi gave Gaara a level gaze. This time there was no hostility, just a thoughtful look when he analysed the boy. "I guess both of us didn't get what we want tonight."
III
When the night finally calmed and the search team had left, Gaara didn't go back home. He couldn't.
Standing on top of a pillar of sandstone, the genin stared blindly out into the open desert and felt something tickled his senses.
There was an abnormal pulse. A heartbeat that should not be there.
Gaara had assumed his unease had stemmed from the infiltrator running amuck in his village but he was wrong. After captain Seiichi had killed him, the genin felt reassured that the reason for his restlessness would disappear.
But it didn't.
He could still feel it, a nudge in the back of his senses that demanded attention. It was a disruption that Gaara couldn't ignore. Whoever it was, they hovered closely on the outskirts of Sunagakure but never made any aggressive moves.
His eyes saw nothing, but his senses said otherwise.
There was someone out there, someone staring right back.
And they felt vaguely familiar.
It was time to find out.
Every time the genin moved closer, the presence moved further away. The stranger didn't want confrontation. If not to attack then perhaps he was here to spy?
The presence was near gone now and Gaara couldn't tell if he was west, east or south. Coming to a decision, the genin closed his right eye then channelled chakra into his sand and made a connection with his optic nerve.
"Daisan no Me" Third Eye.
Gaara levitated the artificial eyeball and began to probe the horizon. It was an ideal instrument for spying.
Whoever this stranger was, didn't want to be found and Gaara couldn't see him despite that fact he could feel that the stranger was now close by. He still needed visual. Keeping his right eye shut and channelling a constant stream of chakra to his optic nerve, he concentrated on manoeuvring the eyeball from place to place. Now and then he'd spy an unnatural trudge in the sand but nothing else.
After twelve straight minutes of searching, Gaara saw him.
It was a movement in his peripheral vision, a dark solid body darting off to the side and then completely out of view. It looked like midnight wings for the briefest of moments.
Gaara had seen enough.
Surprised and suddenly very weary at the discovery, Gaara dispersed the eyeball and regained normal sight. He looked back at the inky horizon and imagined where the stranger was possibly roaming, darting from rock to rock.
Rubbing his right eye out of irritation and exhaustion, the genin decided to leave a message for his spy.
Gaara pulled out a cloud of sand and catapulted it out into the desert. On a random boulder somewhere far away, this hovering fleet of sand stuck itself to the surface of the rock and began to make shapes, slithering and twisting its body to create lines and strokes. Then the sand firmly set itself in place then hardened.
On this random boulder in the middle of nowhere, was a small message left for his spying stranger. A message Gaara hoped the stranger would not answer.
III
A knock came from the door at early dawn.
It was far too early for anyone to be disturbing Kankuro's REM cycle but he grudgingly trudge downstairs.
"Hang on." The genin griped as he tried to wipe the irritation out of his tired face. "Just a second…" When the door swung open the genin yawned. "…yes? Can I help you?" Kankuro mumbled.
There was a surly looking young man with a sling bag crossed over his shoulder standing at the front door. His sand turban covered his neck and forehead but it didn't hide the tired look on his face.
"Mail." His voice droned tiredly.
Kankuro raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Are you serious? It's six in the morning."
The man shrugged like the genin's words meant very little. "Look I'm just the delivery guy."
Glaring at the man, Kankuro mumbled, "Why don't you just send it through the pigeonhole from the head office? It goes through a security system; my family doesn't take direct mail."
The mail man blinked. "I work with the civilian sector for carrier mail, letters, scrolls, parcel deliveries' and what not. This hasn't anything to do with ninjas."
"It's pretty damn early, you're stealing sleeping hours for god's sake." The puppeteer added while crossing his arms.
The mail man continued to wear a dry expression that conveyed no sympathy. "Well, it'd be better if you actually had a mailbox, that way I wouldn't have to disturb you." The man had the audacity to roll his eyes at the genin which irked Kankuro more.
"We don't need a damn mailbox. Like I said, my family doesn't accept mail without check-ups through the main office." Kankuro growled with annoyance.
The mailman blinked like he was still half asleep.
"I was going to shove it under the door but then I got zapped." The mailman lifted his middle finger and for a moment, Kankuro thought he was flipping the bird at him, until he saw that they were red and covered in black soot. "Don't appreciate the burn kid."
"Argh, whatever, just give me the damn letter." Kankuro snapped then snatched the offending piece of mail and slammed the door in the mailman's face.
When the ordeal was over and Kankuro had calmed down, he inspected the suddenly offensive letter. Standard white and no discernible symbol, the letter was simple and light. Kankuro flipped it over and found an unexpected word scrawled on the front in black ink.
To: Sabaku no Gaara.
The puppeteer blinked then blinked again.
It was a letter for Gaara? Now if that wasn't the last thing he had expected. He lifted the letter up to the light and tried to see through it, but he saw nothing. With a sudden itch in his fingers, the puppeteer tried to push away the urge to see its contents. After all, it wasn't the norm for Gaara of all people to get mail, and through the civilian sector out of all things.
The genin decided to leave it on the main kitchen counter and hoped Gaara found it later.
He really did intend to leave it alone, but it was strange how all of the sudden the genin just couldn't ignore the white envelope anymore. His eye kept gravitating towards the letter like a magnet stuck in an orbit. Even when Kankuro had already slipped into bed, he found it an almost impossible to fall back asleep, his previous drowsiness replaced by twitchy nerves and itching curiosity.
With a sudden irritated growl, the puppeteer threw off his blanket and went back down stairs to glare at the object.
He cursed his curiosity and picked it up with a great deal of hesitation and scrutinised the black inky words that spelt out his baby brother's name. He waged an ethical war in his head. Eventually his sneaky shinobi side won over his conscious.
It was strange how fast the puppeteer found himself boiling water on the stove and waiting for the steam to rise.
Lifting the letter above the rising hot steam, Kankuro waited a few seconds till he was certain the sticky seal had weakened from the heat, then he carefully wedged a kunai under the loose corner of the opening and neatly slid the blade across the lid.
With a perfect slide, the letter opened without a single tear in sight.
Letting out a breath he didn't know he held in, Kankuro gingerly pulled out the folded piece of paper and read its content.
For a few moments, all he did was stare because his mind did not comprehend the words scrawled neatly on the parchment of paper. They were simple, uncomplicated and neat, words that had no meaning yet had a purpose in every stroke. It wasn't a puzzle, it wasn't a riddle and quite frankly it was simply blunt with no intentions of subtlety or double meaning. Yet the young genin didn't understand it at all.
With a frown the puppeteer finally murmured, "What the hell is he up to?"
"Who's up to what?" inquired the voice from behind.
Kankuro jumped around and quickly hid the letter behind his back and swiftly tucked the envelope under his sleeping shirt. Mustering forced calm to ease the pace of his heartbeat, the genin presented a normal façade.
"Temari, hey!" he beamed with unnecessary volume and vibrancy.
"Hey?" With an inquisitive frown she asked, "Why are you up so early? That's not like you."
"Oh, yeah couldn't sleep, dreams ya know." Kankuro replied with a casual shrug.
Temari raised an eyebrow. "They must be some exciting dreams to have you up by this hour."
"Yeah I guess…" Kankuro frowned for a moment then scowled at his sister's sly comment. "Wait – Not those kinds of dreams!"
The blond kunoichi just shoved him over and reached for a mug. "Seriously I don't want to know. Pass me the tea would you."
Temari frowned as she looked over to the stove to her brothers left and suddenly asked, "What's with the pot of water?"
"Hhm?" he looked over to the stove and realised what she was asking. "Oh, just making some coffee."
"We have a boiler for that." Temari dipped her tea bag into the mug and pulled out a carton of milk.
With a shrug, he replied, "I felt like boiling water manually for once, it preserves the taste better." Kankuro lied. "You should try it."
Temari raised another eyebrow then shrugged. "Whatever, just don't forget to turn off the gas."
Once the genin was safely in his bedroom, he glared at the letter.
Kankuro, I have something I must ask of you. The puppeteer sighed and glanced out the round portal of his room, his father's words circling in his mind. Things just got complicated.
Later, at an unknown time, Kankuro placed the letter on the kitchen counter top for its owner to claim.
Later, at an unknown time, the letter was no longer on that counter top, disappearing with its owner. Yet its absence did not take his problem away.
III
Feeling a little absent-minded, Gaara strolled through the streets of Suna, allowing his feet to aimlessly push him forward.
The main roads were not necessarily crowded but during midday where the sun was at its highest and the heat was the most intense, very little people dwelled outside.
The jinchuuriki walked with a pale scarf wrapped around his head and neck, the loose silk reflecting the heat off his crown and obscuring his face. But his iconic gourd hung tightly on his back and was recognisable enough for the villagers still outside.
He needed to think. He needed to do more than just think. He needed answers, because if there was one downside of time traveling, it was just another chore that had to be sorted out. Only this time it will not end because it was a chore he had to live in, breath in, and quite frankly roll-in-the-bloody-mud in, while never being able to take a shower to get rid of the sticky grime. And as time went by, Gaara began to feel the dirt, sand and stones sticking onto that drying mud, till it was dragged him under like quicksand.
A few apprehensive civilians skittered around him as he passed by, a couple of children blatantly stared at him with prying eyes that held either morbid, daring curiosity or just plain terror.
Gaara rubbed his dark-rimmed eyes. Sometimes, he felt like a naked leper.
With a loud sigh the scared the rice-seller, the jinchuuriki picked up a few apples from one of the stalls, placed a few coins on the counter and pretended he didn't just notice the shopkeeper run back into his small house. The sound of crunching filled his ears as Gaara bit solidly into his apple and wondered if they were imported recently, he was sure Suna didn't grow pomaceous fruit.
It was only in the corner of his eye did he see a familiar figure standing tall on one of the cubic structures of Suna, his arms crossed and his gaze strong. The Fourth Kazekage was blatantly staring right at Gaara from above.
And Gaara stared right back.
It must have been just a few seconds, but in that brief moment when father and son locked eyes, something tangible snapped between them. Soundless static.
His father's gaze was always so strong, like steel and stone. Unwavering and immovable. They weren't like his own, but it was close enough. In the end, Gaara's less than stellar childhood had become something that defined him, eventually making him understand the immense severity of the world without clinging to the crippling, naïve sentiments that spun pretty illusions.
He didn't know that there could be people with his eyes. That was until he met others like him: Naruto, Sasuke, Nagato, Obito, Kakashi and even Kimimaro.
Comrades in misery and neglect, it truly was a strange and backwards way to be connected to someone.
Now as he looked back in hindsight, Gaara wondered if his father was also alone in his own way.
III
The Fourth Kazekage watched his son's green eyes staring back at him with an unidentifiable expression.
Amongst the few people in the streets and the large dirt road and monolithic buildings, Gaara looked tiny in comparison, with his small frame and deceptively thin wrists that could orchestrate an impressive display of carnage.
Premature yet far too advanced, Sabaku no Gaara was too much and too little at the same time, with no constant medium or stable centre.
His son shifted his entire body to face him, the boy's thin neck craning up. With very little warning, Gaara pushed off the ground and catapulted himself gracefully over rooftops and balconies.
Not a moment later, the jinchuuriki was crouched lithely on the rails to the Kazekage's left.
For a few minutes, neither son nor father moved from the respective places and stood in silence, pretending for the entire world that the other did not exist. It was Gaara who moved first.
The genin leaned on the rails with his arms pressed against the warm metal. "Kazekage-sama."
His father's eyes shifted towards him only by a fraction and then replied, "Gaara." Another strange moment passed and then the older ninja asked, "You're having a late morning."
"It's noon now." Gaara answered simply. After a few seconds of thinking, the boy finally decided to mention last night. "But last night was far more interesting."
The Kazekage did not react, but they both knew what Gaara was implying by his statement. Are you aware that I know?
It wasn't threatening and there was no inflection in his tone, but the Kazekage seemed to have a blasé kind of sharpness to his speech. "Was it now?" Exactly what do you know?
Gaara then replied, "Strange characters emerge with the night." He continued looking at the round domes of sunburnt clay.
The Kazekage hummed in polite contemplation, but revealed no other sign that he knew what the genin was talking about. The Fourth had been informed about Gaara's involvement in the night's events and acknowledge that his son was indeed aware of more than he should. With his usual stern face and crossed arms, the Fourth let the familiar scents of his village waft around him as a warm breeze brushed by.
The Kazekage was a little caught off guard when Gaara decided to speak again.
"Suna is falling."
Gaara looking right at him, his pale dew coloured eyes were solid and clear. The boy didn't look away, he didn't react when his father all but stabbed him with his eyes and his pupils narrowed at such a blunt statement, a statement that The Fourth knew to be to root of almost all his problems. He didn't need his son to tell him that, although hearing it from Gaara was strange.
There was no judgment. Just certitude.
"Suna is not falling." The older ninja counteracted.
His son turned back to look at the village, his eyes squinting at the gleam from the sun. "Everything falls at some point."
The Fourth took a moment then answered.
"We all live in the cycle of birth, life and death Gaara." The Kazekage commented, "But the village will never fall as long as there are people to remember it and uphold the values of our home."
"Maybe," the boy leaned on the rails and ignored the heat from the metal. "But when the last person to remember dies, then what? Our memories are as solid as smoke and just as changeable. Sometimes what we remember to be something can have an undesired effect." He never shifted his eyes away from the village landscape as he continued to talk in a low quiet tone. "That is…if the values within the village are even correct in the first place."
The Fourth was hard pressed not to frown, Gaara was not one to sprout philosophy and let alone on something like this.
"That's a strange statement for you to make."
Indeed it was, for Gaara was the epitome of distorted perception on value and morale. The boys mind had been morphed and mutated by the demon in more ways than one, in more ways than the Kazekage could help. And despite what had been shown in the past, it really did unsettle him to know that if the time came, where Gaara truly couldn't comprehend loyalty and value even to himself, then he would have to kill his own son personally. Such responsibility was only ever fuelled by the fact that he was a Kage, always duty first, duty before family, duty before love or any other attachment. Duty, duty, duty…
"As I said, Suna will not fall." The Kazekage savoured the heat of the sun on his skin and said with powerful calm, "I will not let it." Not even to you my son.
Gaara closed his eyes for a brief moment then glanced at his sire. "I know." And it will kill you, father.
For a moment The Fourth Kazekage held his son's gaze and knew, without doubt, that Gaara really did understand.
With some amount of incredulity, the older shinobi knew that the jinchuuriki understood that he had to do these things, based upon the binding responsibility he had to the village. That was the burden that came with power. A burden, for some unknown reason, seemed to be something his son could understand with undiluted clarity.
"I had hoped, a long time ago, that you would help me with this task." The Kazekage moved away from the roof edge and turned around, his back facing away from Gaara and the village. "That hope had long since passed. You are now evidence of my greatest failure." I will have to bear with this alone.
With those last words, Gaara's father walked back the way he had come, leaving his son gazing at his back in the blistering midday heat.
In that moment, Gaara thought that his father seemed more alone than him.
III
Dusk had fallen.
Midnight followed with a dim wash of silvery moonlight that made the sand glitter like a carpet of diamonds. The desert was more alive in the dark than it was in the sun.
Gaara perched himself a few kilometres from the village, his gourd strapped tightly to his back and his weapons sharpened and ready.
The jinchuuriki hoped for a nonviolent outcome. He knew it was a long shot that his guest would find his message. And if he did, that he would understand it or even care. And even then, it was unlikely that they would ever meet face to face.
But Gaara would not take the chance of not doing something.
The young genin didn't know how long he played the waiting game but it had to be close to two hours till something finally happened. Gaara remained perched as he waited, his body language as relaxed as he could make it while still balanced at the edge of fight and flight. Then an odd gust of wind rotated itself towards Gaara, the breeze felt warmer than the typical desert air, an unnatural channel that ran lightly past the boy's face.
It was within this unnatural wind that carried something towards Gaara, a small object riding on the breezes back.
Gaara snatched the floating object out of the air and stared down at the gift.
It was a leaf, glossy and deep emerald.
Not a moment later the presence double in intensity till the air itself felt thick and hot.
"Sabaku no Gaara," The voice was deep, low and powerful, seemingly echoing from every direction. "Jinchuuriki number one."
Gaara closed his eyes for a moment then turned around to find a dark silhouette of a man standing against the light of the moon.
"Uchiha Itachi," Gaara searched out his sharingan eyes hovering in the air like blood fireflies. "Massacre prince."
Then suddenly, his world tipped back and the sky dripped into a horrifying red.
.
A/N:The Ages of the Sand Siblings:
Gaara – 11 years.
Kankuro – 12-13 years.
Temari – 14-15 years.
Your reviews spurned this chapter into existence, and for that I thank my readers with all the passion of a madman.
CADEL
[EDITED – 15 APRIL 2015]