Hokage By Necessity
-Chapter Fourteen-
Dō / The Guests At the Door (Part I)
A bowl of rice was offered and the pig took it in the spirit in which it was meant, snuffling and grunting in unstudied eagerness. It didn't mind that the grains were uncooked, the warmth lent by his blood more than enough to satisfy its negligible requirements for edibility. Pigs were undiscerning omnivores, capable of flourishing on table scraps, forest roughage, and whatever else might come their way, which made them a perennial favorite among the poor.
This household kept one for the same reason. One day, this pig that fed from their table would grace it. He'd rested here and though his hosts had been unwitting, it felt wrong not to leave some sort of offering behind. But he'd come down from the mountain with little more than his clothes, the wheel, and three-day's rice.
He hadn't eaten the rice, because he'd walked up the mountain as a boy bearing a hideous and disfiguring rage, clinging to it more tightly than any other worldly possession. He had come down a man free, but the shadow of that old self followed him as he went about his task. Rice, dutifully polished until it shone white, was too fine. He could subsist very well on much humbler fare.
But there was no reason for the rice to go to waste. Scratching fondly at the pig's head, he chuckled as the beast shook his hand off.
When the pig had cleaned the better part of the rice and stood only to worry the bowl, he retrieved it and wiped out with dew-damp grass. Setting it back in his pack, he stood and shouldered it and the wheel, moving onward.
While the sleep he'd allowed himself had rested his body, there would be no peace for his mind until the problem that had drawn him back into the world was resolved. He could feel the rage attempt to intrude when he considered what they had done, but he let it pass by with as little disturbance as a summer breeze.
He still could not imagine that they had really all been such fools as to think that such a technique as the Kuchiyose: Edo Tensei would cost nothing more than chakra and a host-shell when used on such a grand and destructive scale. That was to say nothing of that unnatural army they had bred, if that was even the correct word to use. They had interrupted the natural cycles of the world.
In doing so, they'd done something to the natural flows, like a tidal shift out of rhythm. Limited, for the moment, but capable of drawing down great calamity if left unchecked.
It wasn't simply a matter of some man of great evil being reincarnated with memories intact, though that might well have already happened. With the grudges and dissatisfaction of a lifetime weighing down a soul, any person stood to become less than they were. Those that had died violent deaths might devote a new life to revenging the old, those who had known loss might see what should have been a fresh path as little more than an opportunity to continue old feuds.
He couldn't in good conscience allow the process to continue. The normal way of things was pitiable enough, but being entrapped in the world by binds of memory that weren't broken by death and what came after went beyond what any person should be called on to bear.
So he would work to correct the state of the world, though he would leave the burden of dealing with souls that returned with less than benign intentions to other hands. It was a great work, but he was comforted that he was not alone at it. Other disciples had come down into the world as well.
They would undo the harm. He had no great love for this world of suffering, but compassion for the beings that inhabited it was the compass that guided him in a world he'd thought he'd left behind forever.
It wasn't the heat she feared or the foreign scrutiny or even being openly rumored to have staged the most successful coup in the history of the village, succeeding where Uchiha Madara, the generations of Uchiha to follow, and Shimura Danzo had failed.
No. That wasn't why Sakura's anxiety increased with every mile that they traveled from Konohagakure.
It wasn't until she faced weeks without that she realized exactly how dependent she was on certain activities to maintain the more or less seamless illusion of calm and strength that the people needed from their Hokage.
Most obvious was the drinking.
It wasn't just a security hazard, though it was that. It was more that she turned into a foul-mouthed harridan who thought that breathing was a good excuse for a match against any opponent who could stagger upright long enough for her to brawl with them.
Or, rather, not so much turned as reverted, bringing on the devolution of Sakura. She'd pretended otherwise for most of her life, but the truest her was the one revealed by the alcohol. Sakura was at her core brash, somewhat vulgar, and given to emotional outbursts. It had taken years of seeing the results of giving in to that in failed missions and dead patients, combined with several other powerful incentives to finally make her pay heed to the emotional conditioning that had failed to penetrate in the Academy. And polite words had smoothed her way, until she found they tripped glibly from her tongue even when they weren't necessary. An early instinct to lie when the truth was too painful to say become a habit that defined first her career and then her life.
She couldn't risk things in Suna that worried her in Konoha. She'd been caught one memorable night by Shizune in a hospital supply closet, sobbing to a discarded slipper that had become Hidari-san in the course of their conversation that she understood the pain of having been left behind by Migi-san, that she knew very well that no one wanted just a left slipper. She hadn't risked sake since.
So she would avoid bars and except in unavoidable social situations, avoid alcohol altogether. That upset her, both that she had to and she had such weakness as to feel the need to lose herself, however briefly.
The second was related, because sometimes it wasn't the complete abandonment of self and responsibility that she sought. Sometimes it was the feeling of being utterly protected that she remembered from before the first sundering of Team Seven and had never managed to recapture as an adult. That was the best rationalization she had to offer for a persistent habit of hiding in closets to mull over her problems.
That said something very sad about her, Sakura thought wryly, that her major foreign policy decisions for her first visit abroad as Hokage were resolutions to not drink or hide in the Kazekage's closets. But she had very strong incentives, for she was certain if the shame didn't kill her, Hanabi would.
The progress-Sakura couldn't very well call it anything as simple as a trip-had given her enough time to familiarize herself with the kunoichi, even if the others of her permanent detail were proving more difficult. But as she'd thought Hanabi was going to murder Suigetsu for the mere suggestion of belligerent sexual tension between them, she was grateful for the more reserved members of the delegation.
Though there was some scientific curiosity at work as to whether that might be the easiest body disposal she'd ever participated in, she was glad that they'd come to a bloody agreement about proper distance, with Hanabi demonstrating that the Gentle Fist style could bypass the issue of Suigetsu's technique by doing damage directly to his chakra system. Luckily, it could also reverse most of the damage, so, as Hanabi had scathingly pointed out to Suigetsu, she hadn't actually compromised the strength of the squad.
As for her two not-children, she'd adjusted to their public personas. Mamoru was somewhat shy, diligent, obedient, and oddly at ease with casual touch with his guardian, even going so far as to instigate it. It had startled Sakura and she'd handled the first instance of it so poorly that Mamoru had found a moment to take her aside and murmur, "You would not hesitate if I was actually a child."
Sakura hadn't wanted to explain that she'd thought she existed in a desert of human interaction until recent events had begun to shed light on what had been hers if she'd only been wise enough to ask for it, so she'd only nodded. Mamoru had hesitated. "This is an easier role to play than you might think. Until my memories returned, I was truly a child. Even now, there are times when I think these memories might be nothing more than a nightmare, something I might hide from if I wished hard enough. We are who we were, but that is not all we are."
He was her shadow in a way that somehow managed to be childlike and natural even though his purpose was to protect her from Yu.
Yu remained arrogant, self-assured, and vaguely condescending, which honestly made him a very convincing little boy. But some of his unnerving control disappeared along with his extensive vocabulary, making him oddly more like the man she remembered facing on the battlefield. One man among several to have impaled her or attempt to, something that she was trying very deliberately to ignore. In the way of catastrophic injuries, his had been memorable, but honestly a pale reflection of the poisoned blade she'd had rammed through her when she'd been far less adept at regeneration.
His child-self was also warm to his new guardian, plainly stating that he'd felt his mother had only wanted him as an Uchiha when Tenten had asked. Sakura hadn't gotten precisely that impression from the woman, but it certainly made more sense than the fact of his reincarnation. Though she had been worried that the others might suspect something amiss, she wasn't too worried about anyone coming to the conclusion that he was Uchiha Madara. That would take a leap of logic and a paranoia she thought well beyond most people. Even if they happened to be shinobi.
Once, when they'd had a brief moment where they were left relatively alone, out the earshot of others, she'd caught him chuckling to himself. "Very technically speaking," he'd murmured, "the head of Uchiha clan is now Hokage. Odd that plan would come to fruition now, of all times. It's laughable, how circumstance makes fools of us all."
By the time they'd reached Suna, they'd fallen into a functional rhythm. Sakura was the only foreign Kage that would be in personal attendance, as the Alliance continued to be a rather tenuous thing and the security risk that all the Kage would pose if they gathered made another meeting of the five unlikely unless dire circumstance made it necessary.
Temari-as per usual for the last several years-was the head of the shinobi that Gaara and his council had appointed to act as liaisons to the foreign-nin they would be hosting, but it was Gaara himself who was present to welcome Sakura into the village. The Konoha genin squads that they would be putting forward had not traveled with her, instead being scheduled to arrive in two days time when the final registration for the exams proper would begin. Until then, she was the personal guest of the Kazekage.
Gaara smiled at her faintly as she drew close to the gates, her detail assuming a more orderly formation than the one they'd traveled in. His entourage was much smaller, limited to his brother, but his shinobi watched from the walls and even with the loss of the one-tails, his own personal chakra had slowly filled the reservoir that marked where Shukaku had once dwelt. Gaara was no less powerful than ever and he didn't have anything to fear from her, but what was most telling to her was that he had enough control over his Council to prevent them from making this a diplomatic statement.
If she'd been receiving Gaara into Konoha, she had no doubt that she wouldn't have gotten off so lightly.
On Gaara's left, Kankuro grinned openly at her. "Did you enjoy all that scenic sand on the way in?" he asked.
"Yes," Sakura drawled. "I'd missed it, but luckily, if the last time I was in Suna was any indication, I'll have at least two weeks of finding it in unexpected places after I leave to ease my sense of loss."
Kankuro snickered, then cocked his head. "I see you brought some midgets with you."
"I...acquired some children unexpectedly, after the arrangements were finalized. These are my wards." Both Mamoru and Yu murmured polite greetings.
"So these are your midgets?" Kankuro's facepaint conspired with his natural expressiveness to make his surprise something almost comic. "Is it, ah, bad manners to point out they look a lot like that teammate you were obsessed with back when you were fourteen? Like, in the bone structure kind of resemblance, not just hair and skin tone."
She hadn't expected that, but Kankuro had spent several years refining his humanoid puppets until they moved and appeared almost as natural as corpse-puppets that Sasori had used, though his limit for using those puppets at their full potential had plateaued at five-no once in a generation genius was he, but neither did he have ambitions that would require a puppet army at his command. He'd claimed lack of creativity and based them on real people-and then ran counter to the expectations of appearance by equipping them with skillsets unrelated to their real-life counterparts-so if anyone was familiar with underlying bone structure, it would be Kankuro.
"As it turns out," she said dryly, "the Uchiha clan is in far less danger of extinction than most people previously thought."
Kankuro opened his mouth to ask another question, but Gaara said, "Enough, Kankuro. It's too hot out here for discussion."
His brother snorted and said, "It is that," though he wore his uncompromising black without any sign that it was uncomfortable. Likely his clothes were of a different fabric than they used in Konoha, though she knew a loose and draping cut would have done better to diffuse the heat. It was probably the only really useful function her Hokage robes would have in their lifetime, but she wasn't wearing them presently.
Gaara turned and led them into the village. Somehow a crowd hadn't formed, though the villagers were open in their expression of mixed curiosity and, on some faces, a wary hostility. A few called out greetings to Gaara, which he answered by the slightest of nods. Effusive he wasn't, but well-loved he clearly was.
She'd never been to his personal residence before, despite the occasional mission in Suna, but she was unsurprised to find its exterior the same featureless mud-brick as every other structure in the village. With its sandstorms, it was both pointless and dangerous to have extraneous decoration. The buildings rose like termite mounds out of the desert, creating a confusing maze of narrow alleyways that made the wind howl and shriek during storms. Like the termite mounds they resembled, there was subterranean layer to the village not apparent at first glance. A complex network of tunnels made movement between buildings possible during inclement weather, as some of the sandstorms could last for days, and most houses had rooms below ground to offer respite from the scorching heat.
All this was made possible by the plateau of easily worked stone that formed the defensive walls of the village and was found as bedrock less than a foot beneath the sand of the semi-natural valley, knowledge of which had decided Sunagakure's location at its founding. It also acted as a natural barrier to the size of the village, hence its vertical architectural style, sand itself making a poor foundation for houses of any great size.
Gaara still lived with his siblings and the interior of the residence bore testament to that fact. It was all tasteful, but in very different tastes, as if they'd drawn lots on who got to decorate which room. It was a house inherited from their father, so perhaps it had been done purposefully to erase all traces of the man who'd caused so much pain with his devotion to his village.
Whatever the reason for it, it was certainly more homelike than her apartment.
Her room, for example, was dominated by a bed in the Sunagakure style. The mattress was set directly on the floor, as timber was used as sparingly as possible, but it was far thicker than the futons used by some of the more traditional clans in Konoha. The coverings were all rust and crème, but more pillows than she'd owned in her life, of all shapes and sizes, littered the top of the bed. Thick rugs softened the floor and coordinated with carefully chosen pottery pieces. On the nightstand, a strongly-scented display of desert sage drowsed in a bowl of water.
Her contemplation of doing something similarly impressive when she was forced to move elsewhere died before the idea could even fully form. It sounded exhausting, for a place she spent no more than five or six hours and the greater part of that asleep. Perhaps that was another potential mission to be handed off to someone else, much like her grocery shopping. Although she'd lived alone for a long time, she had it sense it might be appropriate to ask her new housemates if they had any suggestions.
Interior design by Itachi.
The thought was enough for Gaara to catch her sniggering into her fisted hand when he entered the room. "You seem to find something terribly amusing. Hopefully that means you're pleased with the room."
Sakura tried to gather her composure, but she was overwhelmed by another fit of laughter. "Yes," she gasped when she could speak again. "It's lovely, Gaara."
"Good. You may feel free to tell Temari that. I had to hear about her preparations for days. She'll be dining with us this evening."
Her detail and her wards were upstairs with Kankuro, the former discussing the finer details of her security arrangements and the latter having been given permission-or rather encouraged-to amuse themselves with a few decommissioned puppets that Kankuro had unearthed from his workroom. Both Mamoru and Yu had looked deeply skeptical of this, as it sounding entirely too much like 'playing', but last she'd seen there was a low, heated discussion of puppet modifications.
So, for the moment, she and Gaara were effectively alone. It was the best and perhaps her only opportunity for her to make the request that had been brewing in her mind since their last rendezvous. "Gaara, I know that it's somewhat untraditional, but would you might terribly sparring with me while I'm here? Please. Think of it as indulging my pathological need to break things," she wheedled.
Gaara chuckled, his low, almost rasping voice making it a very pleasant sound. "Well, I wouldn't want the Hokage to be dissatisfied with any aspect of her visit. And I imagine with your skillset, sometimes finding an adequate partner must be difficult, if you want to really test your strength."
Sakura shrugged, knowing that it was probably only due to her connections to the succession of Kage that made them very patient with the catastrophic damage she did to training grounds. That, and it made for very good practice for the Doton users. "Less so than you," she admitted easily. "You must have to consciously negate your sand defenses if you want to pretend that you're sparring, not just timing the inevitable defeat of your partner."
"Much as you enjoy breaking things, I enjoy watching the attempt," Gaara replied with that faint smile. "It never really loses its charm. But you're correct. If I want to spar, I have to do so without the better part of my jutsu. Though I am curious what might happen if we pit your raw strength against my sand. I would be most impressed if you could break through my shielding."
"So it's agreed that you stand there and make a very infuriating target, while I whale fruitlessly against your perfect defense. We have an accord, Kazekage-sama."
"Oho, an accord," Kakuro's voice came from down the hall. "What's this? Making secret agreements already?"
"Nothing so interesting," Sakura called back.
"Come on, you know you want to," Kankuro teased, coming to lean against the doorframe. "Since you're here with us and I told them that Gaara's got the whole crushing home-invaders thing down pat, most of your detail has gone to scope out the testing areas and their quarters. They left the Crane and the kids. Also, kids. Can I bring that up again? I thought your teammate would combust on human contact or something."
Friends or not, Sakura had no intentions of revealing the duplicity of her Council, so she just smiled. "Evidence to the contrary," she said with a shrug.
"Uh-huh," Kankuro replied, not looking terribly convinced. But he let the topic die. "So, what's this about an accord?"
"Sakura wanted to spar. I agreed."
Kankuro's gaze swept over both of them. "Now that's a match I'm going to have to watch."
"Who invited you?" Gaara quipped.
"Now that's just cruel. Sakura's the best chance I have of seeing your defense breached without an accompanying crisis and you aren't even going to let me watch? I'm going to tell Temari. So you might as concede now, before she uses her sisterly wiles to force your hand."
"Sisterly wiles?" Sakura asked, one brow rising.
Kankuro and Gaara nodded in concert. "Never underestimate the little things a sibling can do to make your life miserable," Kankuro advised sagely. There was a grunt of agreement from Gaara.
The face-painted nin sobered abruptly. "I never did convey my sympathies in person. About Naruto and the other one."
The muscles in Sakura's jaw clenched. "Thank you," she said tightly.
But the look in Kankuro's eyes was understanding. "You must be thoroughly sick of hearing that, though. So I'll say it just the once and we'll put it to rest for the rest of your visit. Technically you're here diplomatically, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy Suna's hospitality. You look like you could use some R&R."
"So flattering," Sakura murmured, though humor was laid heavy in her voice.
"I take it that's not the first time you've heard that either. Seriously though, the new haircut is cute, but you look like Gaara back in the bad old days."
That won him a black stare, but she was surprised when Gaara spoke. "Stop it, Kankuro. They're her limits to find."
Kankuro scowled. "Yeah, yeah. Don't listen to good advice. But I've got some stuff to do, so you kids play nice together while I'm gone. I'll tell the Crane to keep your wards out of my workshop before I leave, so you take a nap or something. Both of you. "
Sakura glanced over at Gaara, who explained. "My siblings feel that with the coming chunin exam, I've also been neglecting myself. So while I am hosting you, before the exams begin, I have been told that I am forbidden my office and that I should consider playing host to the Hokage my only duty. He means well."
"Thank you, Gaara," Sakura said softly as he turned to leave.
His expression was inscrutable. "I know what it is for your body to ache for rest but to fear sleep more than the misery." Gaara paused in the doorway. "Kankuro was wrong in one thing. I liked your hair better before. It matched the fierceness of your eyes."