Sands of Time

by Pikapixie The Demigod

And then she realized- that her mother had never hugged her, never comforted her before. The only one that had ever been there when she needed it, or even that was able to figure out when she needed comforting, the only shoulder she'd ever cried on belonged to- Gaara. And now Gaara was gone. Sequel to BLAEE

20. Shinobi

...

~ Gaara never fidgeted. Even at eight, he recognized that as a sign of weakness, of discomfort. Far too revealing, in the word's of his father. ~

...

Satomi had been wandering the Elemental Nations for quite some time now, a swordswoman without a master; a Ronin.

Not many people knew that Satomi was excellent at gambling. Card games, specifically, and Hanafuda was her specialty.

Gambling was often a great method of information-gathering. If you went to a gambling house, the slums of a given village, the players often weren't too keen to give away information. But players had their pride, and oftentimes if you beat them at something- drinking, card games, gambling- they would try to save face, which tended to lead toward useful information.

This was a useful tactic when she had still been gathering information for the Akatsuki. She had been their number-two scout next to... whatever Zetsu had been. Kami, Zetsu had creeped her out. They'd always stared at her strangely. Especially the black one. Like they were going to murder her in her sleep or something...

At the moment, though, she wasn't doing any of these things. It was on accident, really, that she found herself in the bar. It wasn't huge, wasn't too busy; but it wasn't really small either. Well-lit. Hanafuda tables. They brought alcohol to you. All in all, pretty high class.

"How did you get so good?" the man across the table said suspiciously, leaning forward slightly, unknowingly semi-revealing his deck. "Nobody has ever beaten me three times in a row before. It's unnatural."

Satomi sighed, taking another sip of sake. Junmai Daiginjo, the good, refined stuff. She was honestly surprised that the Izayaka had such high quality rice wine. She made a quick glance over her shoulder, ignoring the full-time gambler across the table and spotted the gags of groups, five or six men swarmed with tattoos- it probably had something to with the Yakuza hanging around.

"Your cards are showing," she muttered offhandedly as she continued her sweep of the gambling house. "Whenever you lean over; your hand shows."

Before the other man could speak, cut off from his original stream of near-accusational questions, a raised word from the table nearest her right side caught her already waning attention. Satomi was getting bored.

"- going to join the Shinobi Alliance my brother was telling me about," one man of the three players was saying. He was average looking, with the standard red top and brown flak of an Iwa shinobi. Black, short hair. Probably used Doton Release. "But I heard the fight was against Uchiha Madara."

"... Uchiha Madara?" she murmured to herself, startled, but in her surprise must have raised her voice louder than she'd meant to, because the same man turned to blink at her, eyebrows creasing in a solemn expression.

"Yeah, that's what the Kage are saying happened at the Summit. Apparently, Madara declared war on shinobikind itself."

"Madara's been dead for eighty years," Satomi said sharply in her disbelief. "After he attacked Konohagakure with K- the Kyuubi," she corrected herself. "It's not possible."

The Iwa man shrugged. "That's what the Tsuchikage is saying. Supposedly, whoever this guy who's claiming to be Madara really is, he's planning on reviving something called the Ten-tails-"

"What?"

"Yeah." He frowned. "Where've you been? Rumor has it Akatsuki already has seven out of nine tails."

"..!" In her surprise- and admittedly, mild horror- Satomi's throat closed, leaving her speechless, and she could only stare at the unnamed shinobi. Shit, she thought as he blinked right back. Shit, shit, shit...

"Nobody even knew what was going on until Sunagakure's Kazekage called on everyone for a Summit. Apparently they've been picking jinchuuriki off one by one- I mean, I knew they had ours, but I never would've guessed it was some crazy master plot."

"So," she said weakly, "Sunagakure finally elected a new Kazekage?"

"What?"

"The former Kazekage died by Akatsuki's hand, correct?"

The Iwa shinobi frowned, now suspiciously. "The Kazekage didn't die. That was just a rumor. He's actually supposed to be a commander in the war. Where did you say you were from, again?"

...

~ But still, he felt extremely uncomfortable in this sterile room with unpopular magazines on the table, the sharp scent of antiseptic floating in the air; trapped awkwardly between the corner where he sat and Fumiko's parents, a safe two or three chairs away. ~

...

The redheaded woman's face, already pale, whitened like a fresh sheet.

And then, with a surge of blackness like she'd been ripped apart, the gambler disappeared.

Actually disappeared.

Into thin air.

"... It was the alcohol," he muttered, going back to his cards. His wide-eyed playing mates, still eyeing the empty chair and the gaping shinobi across from it, nodded blankly and turned back to their decks.

...

~ Mai was still at the Academy, though he wished at the moment she were here. The five year old had seemed to accept him, at least, and although she still jumped if he moved too quickly she would have at least sat beside him and talked. ~

...

Dear Lee,

This might come as a bit of a surprise. Most of my letters do lately! I don't know if you'll be on a mission or not, or if you'll be home at all, but I'm already a little late in sending this. This is a little sudden, but could you and Neji come over to Suna? I went into premature labor about a month and a half ago, but things have been so busy that I completely forgot to tell you! So I was wondering if you wanted to meet

"Hey," Fumiko chided with a laugh, shaking her hand out in surprise. Little black droplets of ink scattered across her page, highlighting the giant splotch of darkness that soaked her pen and the paper. She hurried to pick up the bottle, but it had nearly emptied completely.

Hajime blinked at her innocently like he hadn't just whacked over her inkwell.

"Don't you want to meet your godfather?" Fumiko laughed again, then stood, swinging her child up into the crook of her arm. It smeared a bit of black into his skin, but she would give him a bath later. She headed for the crib, where Hiroki was already awake but quiet for now, content to lie and kick his legs. "That's the last time I let you lie on the desk."

When he was settled Fumiko stretched her arms above her head, then sat back down at Gaara's work desk to take stock of the damage. Most of the words were legible except for the meet, but she could just keep on writing where the splotch ended. It wasn't like most of Lee's letters weren't smudged with all sorts of somethings.

She picked up a new brush, humming, and continued to write after dipping it into what remained of her nice black calligraphy ink.

meet them. Sorry, Hajime knocked over my ink. Hajime is Neji's godson, the oldest by a few minutes. Hiroki is yours. Lee, they both look exactly like Gaara! It's the strangest thing. And they're so small! Tell Neji that I have another chakra thing to tell him about.

Hope to see you soon,

love,

- Fumiko.

Hajime started to whine, so there wasn't really time to check it over properly. She just folded it up, tied it, and put it in Asuka's bag, which still sat in her room despite the fact that he had an actual messenger's tube she could use in the aviary. Fumiko dropped it over her wrist and then stood again, quick to cross the bed, snatching her cloth pouch off the corner at the foot of the bed.

"Hey now, hey," she soothed lightly and draped the pouch across her shoulders. She reached in and picked up Hajime first, since he was the one fussing, and tucked him into the fabric. Then she ducked down again for Hiroki. "Say, wanna go to the aviary with me? Hmm? Hm?"

Messenger bag in hand, she struck off towards the door and down the hall, nearly crashing into a paid servant in her haste to clear the door frame.

He swerved, and she yelped slightly, falling sideways against the wall to avoid him, before turning around. "Oh! Sugar!" She bit her lip, then grinned a little sheepishly as he finally looked her way, eyes still wide. "I'm sorry."

"It's no trouble, Lady Fumiko," he said smoothly.

Hiroki grunted at all the movement but otherwise made no protest. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He smiled, and his eyes flickered like he couldn't help himself down at her pouch. Hajime's arm was waving but other than his little fingers, there was nothing he could see aside from the fabric itself. "I have to say the Tower's even more popular now than it was when they were first announced!"

"I haven't even gone down past the guest level since they were born!" She laughed, shifting her weight to her foot. "Is it really that bad?"

The man just shook his head bemusedly. "Not one of the staff can get away without a few questions and pictures. Everyone's expecting a big reveal, like it's an event. But, don't let me keep you, Fumiko-sama," he said suddenly, backtrack fast. "Please, continue with whatever business you were tending to."

"Oh- uh... okay." She grinned, cupped her arms around the pouch to bounce it. "Sorry again!"

He said nothing, only flashing another thin smile before turning and continuing on his way. Fumiko turned in the opposite direction, headed for the stairs that lead upward toward the aviary. Maybe while she was at the upper levels she could drop into Gaara's office and say hi.

...

~ He knew the only reason Mr. and Mrs. Mitsuwa were even in the same room with him was because they were waiting for Fumiko to come out of surgery. Her bones were growing again; she'd needed parts of her leg removed, shaving down her calf a little more. ~

...

Neji pursed his lips, pencil tapping lightly against the page in front of him.

Give his ideas on the matter, or no? It was a suspicion, nothing he could really confirm. But if there was someone left that his Byakugan hadn't seen during the mission, then that could potentially cause an issue later... He let the tip drop to indent the first line of an I.

"NEJI-SAN!"

The door to his quarters bowled open, rice paper tearing, spilling a somersaulted roll of green spandex and black hair. It rolled right into his chair, and in his surprise Neji didn't even move out of the way, didn't slide back or jump up or even brace his feet against the floor.

The seat toppled over, Neji still in it, and he let out a sharp, uncontrolled grunt as he was swept to the floor in a pile of chair legs and limbs.

Lee, of course, was up before he was, springing to his feet like he'd never tripped over the bottom of the entry way. Neji, in comparison, was slower to sit up, calmly pushing the chair away and reaching up to brush away the hair splayed out across his eyes. Before he could stand, though, Lee beat him to it, grasping his shoulders and jerking him to his feet.

"Neji-san! Neji-san!" Paper crinkled against Neji's arm in his teammate's fingers. A letter? "You will never guess what!"

"What, Lee?" he managed through gritted teeth. Lee beamed, then let go to shove the paper in his face.

"We are going to Konoha! We must inform the Hokage immediately!"

...

~ The same probably applied to every other person in here giving him a diverse set of sideways, fearful, resentful, and angry glances and glares. They just couldn't leave. He ignored them, as he always did, wishing again for the company of the Mitsuwa sisters under the scrutiny. ~

...

"Cat! No!" Mai grabbed him by the scruff before he could spring out of his crouch, holding him up to her shoulder level. He mewled indignantly, squirming and pawing and still hissing at the messenger bird that had just come through her door.

"Mai! I let a bird in! It's for you!"

"Gee, thanks so much for the warning, mom!" She scowled. "Oh, for Kami's sake, calm down! Stupid animal." With her free hand, Mai pulled open the flap of the burlap bag the big bulky bird had dropped on her desktop. Muttering under her breath, she pulled out a manila folder, flipping it over to see the sender.

She'd just been lucky to have the reaction time to flash across the room from where she'd been doing practice tai chi with her new swords to the desk her cat had been sitting on before the feline jumped. No offense to it, but she was pretty sure that bird would have beat the hell out of her pet.

Her eyes skimmed the kanji, and then the arm holding her cat dropped down to her side. She ignored Cat's yowl of displeasure. "Oh, shit," she said. "This is from Chuunin corps."

She knelt quickly to deposit Cat on the floor, then waved at the bird distractedly. It snarked at her once before up and leaving, careening through her bedroom and to the hallway without banging into her punching bag like some birds did, so she knew she wasn't supposed to reply. For some reason that made her nervous and she straightened, tugging at her earring with her free hand as she turned the envelope back over to look at the seal.

Her Chuunin test results. It had to be. Baki must have finally gotten around to submitting his report to them.

It had been no small relief that the 'exam' Baki had shoved her through was almost purely physical. Sure, he asked her complicated questions about kunai direction and wind flow and deflections and crazy stuff that would've been absolute gibberish on paper, but he'd been asking her to actually present how and well, she could just do that shit on the field.

There'd been lots of combat with shadow clones and other chuunin and even other genin, varying weapons and rules and exceptions, lots of repetitional work. Sensory games that lasted minutes; child's play compared to ANBU's games, ninjutsu tests, a Genjutsu she'd bombed entirely on purpose- of course she could've activated her eyeballs and scooted out, but as it was she couldn't tell the difference between genjutsu and reality to save her life, and if it wasn't just crazy shit she couldn't escape.

The only thing she wasn't sure about aside from the genjutsu test was the psyche test, the freaking one hundred and sixty three question written bullshit with multiple choice and short-essay-responses and Not-at-all to All-the-time personality quizzing. Here and there she'd answered things dishonestly, but that was hard to gauge because were they trying to see if she already had mental issues or that she was too innocent for a warzone?

Mai flopped back against the bed, ignoring the slightly painful press of one of her sheaths, trapped between the sheets and her hip. Legs draped over the side, she wasn't surprised when Cat dug in his claws and raced up her pant leg, still disgruntled-looking but curious, snuffling at her elbow when she raised the package to give him a path to her stomach.

"What do you think, huh?" she asked the animal, smirking slightly. "I bet we all made it. They need firepower."

"Mew-mew." He headbutted her elbow.

"That's all you ever say."

"Mew."

She rolled her eyes, then, bypassing the entire over complicated process of digging her fingers under the flap and breaking the chakra-less seal and getting wax and glue under her fingernails and tearing it into shreds before she could actually take out the paper inside, she just ripped the top of the envelope off.

Mai tipped it slightly to see what was inside, then yelped when a small pile of papers rained down into her face, sitting up wildly and flailing at it all. Cat made an alarmed, screeching noise and bounded to the other end of the bed, tail thrashing.

After a second and a few breaths she composed herself and picked up one of the sheets of paper that hadn't fallen to the floor, squinting at the suspiciously paperwork-esque format.

"Hey," she said. "Hey, this is registration stuff!"

Numbers and words and circle-these's and ranks and style and all sorts of specialized questions to pinpoint her specialties in missions both team and solo, and there was even a normal little set of checkboxes next to a bold-print ANBU: Yes or No, and If Yes, please specify subdivision and rank and code words.

Cat, curious but wary, edged closer. Heedless, Mai stood, stretching her arms up leisurely, loosely holding her wrist, paper still in hand. Then she stepped over the scattered papers on the floor, heading for her blades, abandoned on the floor. She swiped them, dropped them in their sheaths.

"C'mon, Cat, let's hit the town," she said, jerking her fingers with the paper in it to wave him onto her shoulder. Cat scrambled to leap off the bed to her legs, muscled up her thighs and the back of her shirt. "Let's go find my teammates, eh?"

...

~ So he didn't fidget, despite the desire to tug on the hem of his poncho. Gaara merely sat there, staring at the wall, consciously keeping everything except, perhaps, for boredom from flickering into his expression. Blank. ~

...

"Gaara," came the voice outside his door. "I brought lunch! Tetsuki's helping."

The door itself opened, and Gaara let his eyes slide up from his papers. Fumiko came in first, holding the twins securely one in each arm. They both looked to be either sleeping or extremely sleepy, unroused by their mother's loud, happy tones.

Close on her heels was Tetsuki, a younger aid in the Tower with black hair and black eyes and a nervous air about him, balancing Fumiko's usual meal tray. There were just bowls and a thermos on it, and silverware, of course- probably something that she could just throw things in a pot and wait for it so she could still tend the twins whenever they called for it.

Seemingly almost forgotten on her back was the lightly clattering quiver, staff clicking about inside it. She sat herself easily on the stool beside him, unaware of his gaze, settling both twins on her legs so they were flat. When she looked up again it was to Tetsuko carefully putting the tray down, uncertain and careful not to put it on top of anything, not at all like Fumiko, who just plopped the food down on his work.

She beamed at him. "Thanks!" she said cheerfully, rubbing at Hiroki's chest. The dark green of a healing bruise was flowered across her wrist, a block, maybe, or she'd spun her staff into an impact. "I really appreciate it, there's no way I could've got that up here all on my own."

The man stuttered out a response, eyes on Gaara the entire time, before awkwardly bowing and backing out the door. It closed softly, barely clicking into place, and he could hear Tetsuko's harried footsteps as he headed back for the stairs.

Fumiko giggled. "I think you scare him," she said.

"I scare many people." Gaara smiled and picked up a bowl sloshing with clear liquid. Mushrooms, onions and chives floated about inside it. There was already a broth spoon in the bowl, so he picked lightly at it.

"Only when you stare at them." She grinned, then elbowed his arm. "You look like a sculpture when you do that."

Gaara blew out a breath at her, a slight sigh that ruffled his hair. When she only grinned wider he went back to his food after casting a quick glance down at the twins. He couldn't help but monitor the chakra in the room, this suddenly very important room with everything inside it. Even the twins had chakras, though they were stained heavily with Fumiko's own bluish-brown, muffled bright blues and greens.

His paranoia had increased, he noted with a touch of displeasure. The mailed threats shouldn't have been bothering him the way they were; he'd always gotten plenty of those with nothing to come of it, but the typed out warnings against Fumiko and their children just touched nerves he didn't want touched. But that was okay. In his experience, a touch of paranoia never led a shinobi astray.

"Did you hear?" he said suddenly to take his mind off it. "Baki came to report the other day. All of Team Otokaze were promoted to Chuunin status, as soon as they fill out their registration."

"Fantastic!" Fumiko grinned. "So Mai'll be fighting too, then. I'm glad. Having her there will help us out a ton- the- war." she stammered suddenly, voice tripping. "Help the- the war effort."

Gaara said nothing, pursed his lips tight, listened to the bright song of green and blue and brown.

"... Gaara..."

"Hmm?" His blood rushed, heartbeat picking up slightly. Her tone had changed, going from happy to hesitant in a lighting strike's time. He kept his eyes on his food, wondered if it was obvious or not that he was avoiding her eyes, avoiding her tone.

"... Be... careful. You're gonna spill that everywhere, silly." Her tongue didn't even slip as it changed course, and she laughed, knees kicking into a gentle bounce as one of the twins gurgled.

He smiled back, small. "Right."

...

~ "Family of Mitsuwa Fumiko?" someone- a nurse in green scrubs- called from the far side of the room, door open behind her. Mr. and Mrs. Mitsuwa slid to their feet immedietly, and Gaara waited to trail them, keeping a chaste distance ~

...

"Oi," Shikamaru said, a little irritably and a lot tiredly. "We're here because Fumiko invited them and because I need to talk to the Kazekage about the Alliance, not because we're trying to assassinate or kidnap her. This is the letter-" Here he tapped the paper on the desk. "And we're all really tired."

"Fumiko-sama didn't say she was having company."

"She has kids," he said with exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She probably forgot."

Lee wasn't particularly interested in the conversation, nor was he particularly tired, bouncing up on his heels to try and see up the staircase. Surely Fumiko was expecting them? It had only been four days since he had received the letter, and it had only taken that long because the Hokage Tsunade wanted to tag Shikamaru with them and make the trip an official political mission.

"I'm sorry, sir. We can send a runner up to her room to make sure, but you'll have to wait here."

Shikamaru sighed, then rocked back onto his heels, hands dropping to his pockets. He looked up, eyes dragging across the ceiling. "What a drag," he muttered. "Fine. We'll wait out here."

'Here' was the lobby of the Kazekage Tower, bustling with people and without even chairs for those waiting, merely a few potted cacti here and there, and bare floors besides. He had noticed that the people of Sunagakure tended to be very minimal in nature.

"Now what are you doing here?"

Lee blinked and turned to the voice to find Temari, hands on her hips, fan on her back. After a few half-seconds of surprise, he beamed. "Temari! We are here to visit Fumiko! She invited us to-"

"Right, right." Her hand waved dismissively. "Godparents, and all. But why are you here?" seh asked again, this time directing her attention at Shikamaru who had loped closer from the main desk along with Neji, who gave her a curt nod, which she returned, still with that dry smirk.

"I'm here to talk with Gaara about the Shinobi Alliance plans," Shikamaru answered. "It's a pain, but Tsunade-sama requested it specifically-"

"I want to see the twins!" Lee inturrupted. "I am a Godfather! I will do my best to protect them and their-"

"If you say 'youth' I will hurt you," Temari threatened, but then sighed. "Anou. I'll take you guys up, I remember Fumiko saying something about inviting you two. Tsubaki-san, they're with me."

Tsubaki-san didn't look too pleased at being undermined, but she nodded. "Of course, Temari-sama."

Lee, already knowing where to go and without waiting for a nod from Temari or Shikamaru, their team leader, or Neji, his former Genin teammate, whooped loudly and raced up the stairs as quickly as his four hundred pound ankle weights would let him.

...

~ Against the rules, he was sure, that nervous nurse let him pass into the hallway. ~

...

People usually knocked on her door before coming in. Mostly because she was the Kazekage's girlfriend, and nobody wanted to disrespect her while she lived in the Kazekage's Family's staying quarters, but also because much of the time, whoever was opening the door was afraid of Gaara being in there and accidentally taking an unexpected visitor out.

Even Kankuro and Temari knocked. Kankuro, because he was getting wary of walking in on her naked, feeding, or otherwise doing something he didn't want to see, and Temari, because she was polite that way and implemented every etiquette save for curbing her sarcasm. The only people that really opened her bedroom doors without prior warning were Gaara and Mai.

This was part f the reason why she was so startled when the door flung open like it'd been punched without any warning, and for a second she stumbled a retreat towards the back of the room, Hajime and Hiroki in her arms- she'd been rocking them, about ready to take them to get baths- but then she heard the intruder's voice, and instantly brightened.

"Fumikooo!" Lee yelled, sticking up a hand like he was either going to wave or salute her as he skidded to a stop just inside her bedroom. "Yosh! We came as soon as we got your letter!"

"Lee!" Fumiko exclaimed, beaming fit to match his. "Ha ha, you scared me!"

"Ah! I apologize!" His smile twisted a little sheepishly, and his raised hand went to the back of his head. "I did not mean to- Neji tells me I should stop bursting into other people's rooms!"

"No, it's okay," she promised, but then all of a sudden both twins were crying, startled by the noise of the door and Lee's sudden shouting and their mother's own jerked movements. "Oh, hey, shh, it's okay, it's just Lee."

Lee was in front of her with enough speed that it rustled her hair when she stopped. "Which one is which?" He demanded, although Lee demanding sounded more like extremely loud excitement than anything else.

"This one's Hiroki, your Godson, and Mai's," she said, lifting him in her right arm slightly. "And this is Hajime, Neji's and Temari's Godson. Where is Neji, by the way?"

"He is here!" he reassured her, reaching excitedly for Hiroki, poking his little hands so that they grabbed at his fingers, and then laughing delightedly. "He is just slow! Shikamaru is here as well!"

"Shikamaru?" Fumiko blinked, then smiled again. "Ah! I'm sorry, you want to hold him, don't you? I was just going to give them a bath, but that can wait. Oh, this is great! I can't wait to tell Gaara you're all here!" Carefully she passed Hiroki into Lee's arms, still snuffling and fussing, and he took the infant surprisingly gently, like he knew exactly how to hold them.

"We will stay for a week!" Lee exclaimed. "Tsunade-sama decided to make this a political mission, and to add Shikamaru to our team to speak personally to Gaara about the Alliance plans! So, we are technically getting paid to come here!" He grinned, Suna sunlight sparkling off his teeth.

"Sweet! Hey, I think Hiroki likes you," she observed as she switched to holding Hajime with both arms. He was starting to quiet, shocked startlement wearing off, and surprisingly, so was Hiroki, despite his proximity to the loud noise that had set him off to begin with.

"Yosh! Good!"

"Lee? Are you in here?"

"Hai, Neji!" Lee called over his shoulder, then twisted to face them as they stepped into the doorway, holding out his arms. "Look! Look!"

"I see," Neji said, voice and expression fairly neutral save for a small, friendly smile. "Hello, Fumiko-san."

"Hello, Neji-san," she said stiffly, mimicking his formal tone, face serious, and then she broke into a laugh, nearly skipping closer. Shikamaru stepped in behind Neji, followed by Temari, who nodded at her with a little smile that wasn't, actually, a smirk. "No need to be stuffy! We're all friends here!"

"I found them downstairs," the eldest Sand Sibling informed her with a cautious glance toward the still-ecstatic Lee, but Fumiko both trusted him and kept an eye on him, and knew he was still fine with Hiroki despite his vibrant energy. "You forgot to let Tsubaki down at the desk know they were coming."

If she could have smacked herself, she would have, but as it was she gasped. "Sugar! Sorry, you guys," she said apologetically, hefting Hajime again. They were both wrapped tight in swaddled blankets, their preferred state of travel, warm to their tiny bodies.

Neji blinked, eyes flicking down to the bundle in her arms, and then for just a second his friendly stoicism slipped distractedly. "Is that...?"

"Hajime!" She grinned happily. "You Godson, Neji. And Temari's too!"

Instead of asking to hold him, like she'd been sure he was about to, he furrowed his brow. "You gave one child both Mai and Lee for Godparents?"

Fumiko burst out laughing, which startled Hajime a little, but the baby was used to his mother's antics and relaxed almost as quickly as his little eyes had jumped open. "He'll be good at Taijutsu if nothing else!" She proclaimed.

"Fumiko, why is he so small?" Lee called.

"He was born super early. They both were."

"Premature, then." Neji said, nodding. "Like Gaara-sama, it seems."

"Well, I have to go," Temari said, flashing a smirk. "You kids have fun. I'll let Gaara know you're here, I'm heading that way anyway."

"Thanks!"

"I'll come with you," Shikamaru said. "I need to speak to Gaara as well. It was nice seeing you again, Fumiko. I'll see you during dinner?"

"Duh!" She grinned again. "Curry tonight, and I can make grilled mackerel, too! Oh! Oh! And Herring soba! Everyone's favorites! We're going down to the market place, for sure. Come inside, Neji. I'll have some of the maids make you up guests rooms in just a second."

Neji stepped inside, and with a final, thin smile Shikamaru let the door close. Fumiko could hear his slouching footsteps trailing after Temari's already fading raps.

"Neji, it was true!" Lee decided, and Neji flinched slightly at the sudden proximity, but Lee seemed to be racing about the room somehow without jolting Hiroki, who looked only mildly concerned with his situation, confused at the strange presence. "They look almost identical to Gaara! Ha!"

"Here, Neji," Fumiko said, and gestured with her full arms at him. After a second's blank confusion, he seemed to understand and reached gingerly to take his godchild out of her arms with a similar awkward air as Mai, only more at ease. Fumiko could tell, though, that he didn't really know what he was doing, and was just copying her own former posture.

"He does," the Hyuga realized as he looked down at the infant. "How odd. It's barely a blend of features, nearly entirely identical to Gaara, except for the eyes."

"I know, right?" Fumiko trotted to the closed door now that her arms were free, then opened it and peered about. "Katsuchi!" she called upon spotting the man as he came around the corner. He glanced at her, surprised. "Katsuchi, hey! Hi! Could you please let Sunako know to set up three of the guest rooms? Please?"

"Of course," he called back.

There was a startled yelp behind her, and, distracted, she pulled back inside without waving. Then almost burst out laughing again as she realized that Hajime had gotten a little fistful of Neji's long black hair, and it kind of looked like he was trying to pull him away from it.

...

~ They walked to one of the overnight rooms, where Fumiko would stay to make sure nothing had gone wrong and also until her prescription got made up. The nurse nodded at them, smiled, but her eyes flickered to his every- it was sad that he counted- five to six seconds. ~

...

Gaara had been surprised to hear about Lee, Neji, and Shikamaru's rather swift arrival. It was starting to look like that any given leaf ninja would drop everything on one of Fumiko's urgent letters and come immediately.

Well, perhaps not that surprised about Lee. But Neji's arrival was... well, maybe not surprising after all. It was a tried and true result. At least Tsunade had made the best of their request and turned it into something appropriate that needed to be handled anyway.

Nara Shikamaru was smart. Gaara had always known he was smart, right from the very beginning, even before his match with Temari- he was tactics-smart, choosing to hold back or to use his words quickly if he felt threatened, he didn't run head-on into a situation like Naruto had. Face to face with Gaara, that was how he had handled the situation.

Over the years, it seemed, his tactics had grown more aggressive. Not necessarily more reckless, but with more risks involved. Gaara respected that, because it vastly broadened the horizons of his skills, and he was talented enough to make up for risks with higher probabilities of success than others. Often he was the only one that could understand or carry out his own plans.

If there was anyone to discuss the coming, entirely hypothetical war with, it was Shikamaru. Level-headed and practical, he came up with every worst-and-best case scenario and everything in between, coming up with counterattacks and defenses and offenses. The hypothetical, indeed, was where the strategist thrived.

Lazy, yes, but when motivated with a serious air about him, the Nara was unrelenting in his pursuit of possibilities.

The entire work day had been pushed aside to discuss, going beyond the Raikage's hazard requests and pushing their own barriers. They took the submissions they already had, the chakra types, the specializations, the probable enemies, how they could use anything and everything to their advantage.

Eventually, Neji opened the office door, cutting immediately into their almost-finished delve.

"Excuse me," he said levelly. "But Fumiko asked me to come get you. And to ask you-" Here he nodded at Gaara, who blinked- "If you could come down to eat, as well."

Well, it wasn't like he was going to finish his other work any time soon. Gaara sighed. "We'll be down in a moment," he said, and again Neji nodded before closing the door. Gaara tracked his signature to the stairs, then signed quickly to the few ANBU stationed in his office. They would leave only after he and Shikamaru had, protocol with any foreign ninja.

After a few moments of tucking papers and maps into folders, Gaara stood. Shikamaru followed suit, trailing him to the door, a careful three or four steps distance kept between them.

Shikamaru was quiet until they reached the stairs, speculative gaze burning into the back of his skull.

Finally, he said, "What are you going to do, when she asks you?"

"When who asks me, what?" He asked bluntly, well-aware exactly what the Konoha nin was referring to.

"Fumiko," Shikamaru clarified, although Gaara knew the Nara had caught his hesitation. "About the war. There's no way she'll let you go alone. It isn't in her nature. If she hasn't said anything yet, it's because she doesn't want to ruin what she has."

"She can't come."

Shikamaru snorted, a harsh sound Gaara hadn't been expecting. He stopped short in the middle of the staircase, hand on the railing. Shikamaru continued walking, only stopping when he was a few steps below the Kazekage. "I don't think you'll really be able to stop her."

"Then why bring it up?"

The ninja shrugged lazily, hands in his pockets. His eyes drooped, as they always did. Shikamaru often reminded him of a cat, stretched out in the sun. "I don't know which way is the best," he said in lieu of answer. "Letting her go or forcing her to stay. Definitely, she probably wouldn't make much difference either way, whether she has multiple skills or not."

"But?" Gaara could hear the irritation creeping into his own voice.

"But I think," he said, seemingly unaffected by his narrowed gaze, "That she's more like her sister, and more like you, than you realize." His droopy, relaxed eyes moved to catch his, but easy as they were there was a spark of something more intense, a front wall like red, flameless coals.

That was so unexpected, so completely not what he had expected to slip out of the ninja's mouth, that Gaara felt his face smooth out with surprise. "What-"

"Gaara!" came the familiar voice below them floating up the stairs. With it floated the telltale smell of mild curry and fish, a strange, somehow soft accompaniment. "Neji told me you were coming, but you were taking forever! You okay?"

"Yes," he said, eyeing Shikamaru, who merely watched him in return. "Yes, we're coming."

...

~ They opened the door to the off-tune, drawling sound of singing, and were greeted immediately by a doctor who proceeded to say words Gaara didn't understand, and so his attention wandered to the singing. ~

...

In hindsight, it probably would have been a better idea to have curry one day, mackerel the next, and Herring Soba after that, rather than having them all on the same day, because then she was out of favorite foods after the first dinner and was stuck coming up with different recipes.

Dinners with their Konoha friends were amazingly fun, loud and diverse and cheerful, more and more the more of them that came. Lee was a big part of that, but so was Tenten, and Uzumaki Naruto and Kiba, and Ino and Sakura. Everyone always contributed.

The meals after for the next week consisted of lasagna, Sukiyaki, Kaiseki Ryori, salmon and beef fajitas, Okonomiyaki, and in honor of Uzumaki Naruto, different kinds of ramen. Breakfasts and lunches varied anywhere from rolled omelets and bacon and fish to hamburgers and rice dishes and soba.

Mealtimes were her favorite times, because she could cook while Lee or Temari or Kankuro or Mai or Neji or someone looked after the twins nearby and talked to her, and then they all got to sit down around the table and hang out, give or take a Gaara.

But she also liked their game tournaments, which seemed to have become something like a tradition, given that Lee asked right away when they were going to pull out Shogi or Go or Sorry or Monopoly or one of her many other games. And she liked the moments where Neji helped her bathe the twins and Lee helped feed them and when she taught them both how to swaddle and hold and play.

Shikamaru, to her surprise and immediate delight, with a dry smirk that suggested he'd known the entire time exactly how she was going to react, pulled out a cigarette case and pulled out a chocolate cigarette, slightly different than the recipe she'd given him but still.

It was with them that she, for the first time since giving birth to the twins, went outside the Tower. Lee's natural exuberance seemed to repel any curious, traditional, stuffy Sunagakure citizens, but those who got closer and who also happened to be angry people, overly happy strangers, and reporters were quickly sent off by Neji's white-eyed stare, even Shikamaru's lazy, slouched demeanor, eyes always pinned to a person, seemed to unnerve them.

It felt good to be outside again, with the heat on her skin and the sand blowing into her body, even better to be outside with her friends that she never saw anymore. Temari, Kankuro, or Gaara watched Hajime and Hiroki, given that they really weren't anywhere close to being ready for Suna's harsh environment.

Needless to say, she was kind of sad when, a week later, they finally had to leave.

"Say hi to everyone for me," she said as she hugged them all goodbye. Lee squeezed back.

"Of course! And we will tell everyone about Hajime and Hiroki, too!" he declared. "And then someday we will all come down together to visit! Or you can come and visit us!"

"Definitely!" Fumiko nodded. "I guess- I'll see you guys soon."

Neji gave her an odd look, but said nothing about it. "Yes," he said slowly instead. "See you soon."

Shikamaru's look was more knowing. Shikamaru had many different looks, all hidden under the same guise of lazy tiredness, and in this case it was knowing, supportive. Gentle, if anything about him could really be described as such. "Yeah, see you."

"First one through the Konoha Gates wins!" Lee challenged, dancing backwards as Fumiko released him out passed the gates and jogging in place. "Loser has to run five hundred laps around the village!"

"Lee, we haven't even left yet," Neji muttered, but turned away to start walking with a final, polite 'Goodbye'. After a moment, Shikamaru sighed and slunk after them both with a slow wave over his shoulder.

As they left, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "Byyyee!"

Ninja were fast. Within moments, they faded away into Lee's sandstorm trail and were gone over the crest of a dune.

...

~ Fumiko's eyes were unfocused, and it didn't really seem like she'd noticed them yet. The hospital bed was huge on her; big aluminum railings that were probably supposed to keep her from rolling off made her look like a prisoner. ~

...

As soon as she reentered the Tower doors, she was flagged down by Tsubaki at the head desk. The dark-haired woman looked concerned, so she wasted no time in hurrying over, excusing herself past a few people who looked annoyed before they recognized her face.

"What's wrong, Tsubaki?"

"There was someone here earlier asking about you," she said. "But when I tried to tell her she couldn't see you without your knowing, she disappeared."

"She left?"

"No. Well, yes, but..." She pushed up her glasses, a little flustered. "I mean she actually disappeared."

"Like a jutsu?" Fumiko frowned. "Did you tell Gaara about it?"

"Of course. We sent a runner up to him as soon as it happened. He had someone check around on the floor and stay posted there, but they couldn't find anyone. Whoever it was, they aren't still in the Tower." Still there was that concerned look, and she leaned forward slightly, ignoring the line that was starting to clog up behind her. "I just wanted to let you know. You should be careful, Fumiko-sama."

"Huh." Fumiko chewed at her lip thoughtfully. "Well, thanks, Tsubaki. I'll keep an eye out. Did the runner tell you where the kids are?"

"In the Kazekage's office, by his orders." Tsubaki smiled. "I believe Kankuro-sama is with them as well."

"Oh. Good." Fumiko smiled back. "Thanks for the heads up, again."

"Of course."

With a final thanks, she moved out of the way so the next person could talk to the receptionist, then headed to and up the stairs, mind buzzing.

She wondered who it could've been. A foreign ninja, maybe? An enemy, or a friend? It could have been any number of people. She also wondered if Gaara had sent anyone out to trail her and decided that yes, he probably had, and either they'd remained out of sight or lost her in the crowd before they could approach her.

But it didn't matter. Whoever it was was gone now. She passed through a few of the other floors on her way back up, planning to stop only briefly in the bedroom to change out of her sandy clothes into new ones- because it was better not to be covered in sand when you held premature infants- before heading up to the office to ask Gaara about the strange visitor.

It didn't matter, she thought as finally she stepped into the hallway of the Main Quarters, but still, she was curious. After all, as much as it might've been an enemy, it might have also been a friend. She hadn't gone through all of her letters yet, she was never done going through letters; maybe someone had let her know they were coming and the people in the aviary just hadn't recognized the name enough to put in in her personal mail pile?

But who did she know that could disappear? Or was it someone new? Or-

Fumiko stopped dead, halfway between the staircase and her bedroom. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Someone who could disappear...

A noise made her jump and whip around in the direction she'd come from. The nursery, she realized. The nursery they weren't using yet except to change the kids and hold the clothes and toys.

Against her better judgement, she crept up to the door and put her ear up to it. There was nothing to hear, really. But the room was carpeted, if someone was just standing there, she wouldn't hear it...

She opened the door.

And there she was, suspicions confirmed, standing in the middle of the room, gazing up at the artwork on the walls. But at the sound of the door creaking her eyes came down sharply, shoulders already fizzing black for a second like she would try to escape. Upon meeting her eyes, though, hers widened slightly, then faded to a nervous squint.

"Um," she said before Fumiko could even open her mouth. "... Congratulations on the babies?"

Fumiko continued to stare at her, frozen. Akatsuki, her mind whispered. Just looking at her and her red hair brought back the memory of explosions and pain and oh, Kami, why was she in here, she knew about her twins, was she still working for the Akatsuki?

"Can we maybe ta-"

Fumiko slammed the door shut before she could finish and ran, shouting for Gaara, to the stairs.

Of course she knew it was basically useless, but she tried anyway. Maybe if she got up high enough, or if her chakra was distressed enough, Gaara would feel it and- and what? Was it happening again? Was there another Akatsuki coming to the village?

She'd made it probably just a third of the way up the stairs when the air directly in front of her darkened and she yelped, taking a quick step backwards- off the step.

Something gripped around her wrist, and it took a second for her to realize it was a hand, fully formed from the black two-dimensional dust, and her eyes tracked from Satomi's fingers to her arm and eventually to her face, which seemed kind of pained, and almost- awkward, lips pressed into a thin line.

She opened her mouth again to scream, wondering in the back of her mind if maybe there was someone nearby, if maybe Kankuro was in the hall or a servant or anyone- but Satomi spoke first before a sound could pass her lips.

"Wait!" She put up her free hand. "I wasn't want to talk! I swear! I'm not here to hurt anyone, I'm not with the Akatsuki anymore- anybody I was friends with is either dead, dying- one of them's buried in a hole- I mean he kidna can't die, I don't think..." her frantic voice tapered to something more confused. ".. Maybe malnutrition...? But Nagato was not who I thought he was, Deidara blew himself up- I don't even know where Kisame is! I'm pretty sure Itachi's dead- I don't know how... maybe his sickness?"

"Wait, Itachi is dead?" Her voice came out as a high squeak. "What-"

"I'm sorry!" The words were timid and rushed.

She just stared, not quite sure exactly what was going through her own head. Moast of what she'd just heard had been quick and slurred together and didn't really make a lot of sense at all but- what?

"What?" she echoed.

"I am not explaining this well, am I?" She sighed, something of a tired, strained smile flitting across her face.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I can give information on the Akatsuki and everything I know. And perhaps even some things they did not."

"Things they..." Even Fumiko could feel the bewilderment on her face, and she was still kind of hovering precariously over the empty space of the stairwell with Satomi's fingers still wrapped around her wrist. "What are you- what are you doing here? Let go of me!"

Satomi flinched and obeyed, and she let out a strangled kind of screech as she started to fall backward, but then the kenjutsu user startled and grabbed her arm again, until at least she caught a good footing on the star beneath her before her hand sprung away once more, like Fumiko's skin was a branding iron, hot and glowing.

She grabbed wildly onto the stair railing.

Fumiko could feel the blood draining out of her face, the rapid beating of her heart. Here was the girl who'd been so kind only to rip the rug out from under her feet, who'd eaten her cookies and been an Akatsuki in disguise. Here was the girl, a red cloud manifested, who had helped send her spiraling into depression and Gaara into the afterlife.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered.

"I know, I know, I know!" she said quickly. "I actually know quite a bit about Madara, so I can tell you what to expect and-"

"Unless you wish to die, get away from her." Satomi jumped, flinching. Her head whipped around to see Gaara at the top of the stairs, looking despite the icy coldness of his tone a little disheveled, without his hat, robes a little messy like he'd run down the stairs from his office, which granted he probably had. "Now."

Satomi flinched again. "Wait! I am actually here to-"

Even with her poor civilian eyes, Fumiko could see the way Gaara's eyes narrowed to slits. Unlike her eyes, however, her hearing was well above average, and even without that she would easy have heard the threatening hiss as Gaara's sand, probably without his even meaning to, started to bubble and roil; the dancers around his face along with the chakra-infused weapon of his gourd.

The redhead stiffened, shoulders squaring off where she stood. Her eyes narrowed. "Look, I know I haven't made the best decisions regarding your village. But there's no need to posture, I'm actually here to help."

Of course Satomi wouldn't realize that Gaara's reaction was, actually, not posturing, and that she really probably needed to leave because he wasn't trying to intimidate her; Gaara was just really, really angry and his sand was reacting to it.

Quickly and kind of hoping Satomi wouldn't notice at least for the first few seconds- she was acting strangely and it was kind of confusing but she was taking no chances- Fumiko backtracked down the steps toward the main floor. If something was about to happen; if Gaara was going to blow up the staircase with his sand or otherwise make it shake at all, she'd really rather be on solid ground.

Gaara must have done something else- narrowed his eyes more or pursed his lips or something equally revealing- because suddenly Satomi's defensive posture slipped slightly. "Oh. You are not posturing. You are simply enraged."

The almost offhand tone of her voice, tinged with a bit of realization, seemed almost underwhelming. And it was also just enough to set Gaara off, because his lips slid back and the cork of his gourd had to have dissolved, because sand shot up vertical above his head before twisting like a snake.

"Please remember," Satomi said as the sand aagged like a tetris peice towards her, turning to Fumiko slightly. "I am not the real enemy here."

Gaara sand burst through nothing but the fading shadow of darkness, scattering down the steps like a dry waterfall.

...

~ Wary of the doctors' reactions to his voice, Gaara said nothing at all, content to just watch as she cut off from her singing to ask the nurse adjusting her IV, in a slightly alarmed tone, where her leg had gone. ~

...

Fumiko would fully admit that when Gaara offered to have a sleepover; come back to the room early and set up a fort and watch a movie and play board games, she knew right away it was because he wanted to have an excuse to stay awake and alert, what with Satomi still an uncertain.

But she would also fully admit to taking full advantage of the situation.

It'd been a while since they last had a stayover, after all. Only now, when they huddled underneath the fort with popcorn and chocolate to watch movies on the tv they'd dragged back in, they huddled with the twins, Gaara holding Hiroki in his arms, Fumiko with Hajime lying on her legs, both of them blinking around at their strange new environment, yet perfectly content in their familiar holds.

Sometimes she wondered if they could sense chakras. It would make sense- at this point they would probably be more sensitive to it than most, and it would explain why they didn't even need to be touching to know when their parents were nearby. That would be cool. But there was no way to tell. They couldn't even really smile yet beyond reflex, let alone speak...

"What did you expect, an exploding kunai?"

One other thing she would admit to was that she wasn't really paying any attention to the movie,, sitting curled into Gaara's side with Hajime on her lap and Hiroki within touching distance.

Sometime during the night it had started to storm. Storm bad. The clouds had darkened during Connect Four and thickened when they pulled out Stratego, and when finally they pulled out the old box of movies the skies had opened up with rain and lightning and thunder fit to wash away the ground.

She had always been afraid of thunder and lightning, or at the very least afraid of the noise they made, or the sudden unexpected flash of light. Sudden sights and sounds were, well, sudden. It wasn't even fear, she was just freaked out for the few seconds she was confused and tried to hide. But, well, at this point, there was no point at all in being afraid of anything. Not when she was so close to Gaara.

A lot of scary things over the years had underestimated her best friend, and a lot of scary things over the years had also disappeared. She supposed that by effect that made Gaara a scary thing, technically, but he had never scared her.

No, that was a lie. When they first met and he'd tried to kill her, that was terrifying. She'd been so scared of him she'd thought she would puke. But after that, never. Never, ever. He'd thought he had a few times, she knew, and a couple of times he'd made her scared for him or people around him, but not scared of him. Actually, it had always been the opposite.

He still scared everyone else, though.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?"

Gaara smiled, small and half-drawn. His legs were crossed but he drew them tighter and dropped him chin on her head. She lifted her eyes up to look at him without dislodging his face. "I asked what you're thinking about. Your expression was... odd."

"Lightning and thunder are scary," she said thoughtfully, "And to everyone else so are you."

"That's because I am," he said, and she laughed.

"No scarier than Mai."

"She can be scary too," he pointed out.

"Huh. Maybe."

"Excuse me, Advisor. I don't mean to interrupt, but just for the sake of variety, might we actually hear from the witness?"

...

~ Fumiko lost interest in the answer and looked towards the window, pointed to the sand outside it, and then her head turned and she finally saw them all, and her eyes lit up in the flicker of fluorescent lights. ~

...

She woke up to the sound of three different screams: Hajime's, Hiroki's, and her own.

Gaara was already pulling the blankets away, taking down the minimal rest of the fort to give her air, and she let herself just lie there for a moment, chest heaving, skin slicked over with sweat.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, brushing a bit of sticky hair away from her face. Light flooded in from the window with a sudden lightning strike, and she realized it was still raining. She could hear it pounding the windows and the walls, thick and heavy. That brief light lit up Gaara's face, and he seemed to be ignoring the screams of the children in favor of looking at her.

In her mind's eye, she saw the blood. She saw the moon turning the color of blood, and she saw it staining the cracks in the sand, and staining the skin of her friends. In his teeth she saw it, on his porcelain skin.

"I'm going, Gaara." she whispered, and he blinked, drew back slightly.

"What?"

"I'm going with you. I'm going to fight."

His lips pursed. "What brought that on? What did you dream about?"

Gaara was, if not changing the topic, than skirting around it, avoiding it.

"You knew already," she said. Thunder crashed at the same time, but from the look on his face, she knew he had heard her despite that. "I know you did, Gaara."

Gaara said nothing, eyes bubbling for a second. Then he moved away, rolling back onto his back next to her and staring up at the ceiling. When he said nothing, she sat up quietly, slid off the bed to get her prosthetic and then stood, walking over to the crib and picking up both twins.

"Shh," she murmured. "What is it, babies? What is it, huh? Did mommy wake you up? I'm sorry." Fumiko rocked them gently, speaking in soothing tones, hoping they would be able to go back to sleep with the thunder and the lightning and the rain. Or was that what had woken them up in the first place?

Gaara said nothing, merely listening to her sing and speak and shuffle around like slow pacing. Finally- minutes, maybe even hours later- the twins calmed down, quieted, even fell asleep, Hajime first and then Hiroki, but she put them both back in the crib at the same time.

Then she stood there for a minute, hands on the top of the crib, just staring at them as they slept, tiny chests rising and falling. They looked a little ridiculous in their diapers, as they always did, even the smallest sizes were too big.

There was another flash of lightning and subsequent crash of thunder, but it didn't wake them.

Then it was like somebody pressed play again in Gaara's mind.

"You can't," he said, not even bothering to be quiet. If anything would wake the twins it would be the storm raging outside the walls.

"Yes I can." Sighing, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the pull as her sleeve pulled down a little away from her wrist. This hadn't been how she wanted to bring it up. It wasn't where she wanted to talk about this. Not after waking up from a nightmare and scaring Gaara half to death in the middle of the night, scaring her kids half to death in the middle of the night.

"You can't." She couldn't see his face in the darkness, not from this angle, but she could imagine the twist from his voice. "You-... don't."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, and moved to sit back down on the bed. "I have to."

"No," he insisted. "Stay here. Stay here and be safe. We don't need you."

Fumiko tried not to let that sting, biting her lip. She knew he didn't mean that in a mean way, or even in a way that was supposed to make her feel like she wasn't needed. In Gaara's mind it was just a fact, and, she had to admit, it was a fact. The war effort really didn't need her.

"I can't," she said. "Gaara, I can't stay here."

"Yes you can."

"How can you even say that?" she demanded. "You of all people know how hard it is to be able to do something but stay behind just because someone told you not to! And it isn't like you ever listen."

"I'm not just someone. Neither are you." His tone was hurt, and she looked down at his face from where she sat, and was startled to see it in his eyes, too. So far as she knew nothing she'd ever said had hurt him. Not even her teasing. "I know I'm not being fair, but- but can you really blame me?"

"I would let you go."

Gaara flinched. "It's just- it's different. I'm the Kazekage, and even aside from that, my sand-"

"I mean if we were switched," she said forcefully, turning to look at him fully. "If I was this all-powerful shinobi and you were just a civilian with fight training and C-rank jutsus. I would let you come."

"That's because you trust too easily!" Gaara sat up, and she was confused for a moment because he actually sounded angry. His nose scrunched as he scowled at her and flung out an arm. "You don't think people can fail! That they can lose!"

Her own anger flared like the white starburst that lit up the room, and she pointed at him in protest. "And you don't trust people enough, Gaara! You don't trust me not to die!"

"You have died!" His voice was exasperated.

Fumiko could feel the flush blooming in her cheeks. "So have you!"

"What about Hajime and Hiroki?" Gaara demanded, and he stood up, shoving off to stand above her on the opposite side of the bed. Fumiko had to crane her neck to look up at him. "It's bad enough that I need to go, but you can't leave them here alone!"

"I need to help, Gaara! I've been training and training. I can fight!"

"You don't need to prove anything to anyone," Gaara said. "Least of all yourself."

"I don't have anything to prove!"

"What then?" he snapped. "You're just one person. It won't make a difference if you're there! All you're going to be doing if you go is putting yourself in unnecessary danger!"

"You're missing the point!" she screamed, really screamed, and Gaara looked taken aback, eyes widening slightly, black rims of his eyes thinning as he did so. Now tears that had built up the entire fight behind her eyes, brimming, spilled over, and she clenched them shut and balled her hands into fists, shaking her head violently. "It doesn't matter that I'll be just one shinobi out of a thousand! I don't care if I get shot down and sent right back here! I don't want to leave the kids here- I don't! But it's because of that that I need to fight!"

"Fumiko-"

"Don't you get it, Gaara?" Now she looked back up at him, eyes hard and sharp as a blade. Her fists clenched even tighter, nails biting into her palms like her teeth chewed away at her lips. "This isn't something that doesn't involve me!... this isn't some stupid mission that I could get killed on when I could've stayed home instead! This is bigger than that- these guys, these Akatsuki, they killed you once! They've... killed so many of the Sand. They'll kill you, and me, and Mai, and Hajime and Hiroki and everyone if someone doesn't do something!"

Gaara softened, blue-green eyes going guilty for a moment. "Fumiko. I understand, really, I do. But you don't always have to be there with me."

"It's not just about supporting you! This is different! It's about everyone! And me! I'm a part of this, Gaara, like it or not. I'm not a shinobi, but I'm going to have to be! Don't you see?" she pleaded, not bothering to swipe away the tears dripping off her chin to the blue comforter. A streak of lightning flashed outside, lighting up the room for a second before fading. "I want to protect everyone! I want to fight for Suna- and I want to fight for you! For you, Gaara- not just with you!"

"Fumiko."

"No! Shut up! You have no right to be getting mad at me!" On the word no her voice cracked with a hitch but she kept going. "You knew I was thinking it! You did! You were just avoiding it! I'm sorry. I should have brought it up but I could just see how sad you looked whenever I tried. And- and I don't want to go to war. There shouldn't even be one. But I- I need to-"

"Stop." His face was ashen. "Just- stop. I have to..."

"Have to what?"

"I have to think."

"Th- what?" She blinked, stunned, as he sat down, so that his back was to her and he was facing the wall. He rubbed at his face, then dropped his elbows to his knees and stared at the sandy floor. After a second passed and he didn't say anything, she got up on her hands and knees and crawled over, hovering uncertainly just behind him. "Gaara..."

"Don't- don't apologize." The rain still pounded outside; even without the thunder it was hard to hear his murmur. "I- I forget, sometimes."

"Forget?" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Forget what?"

"You- you're usually right." He sighed, and kicked at a bit of the sand beside the bed. It stayed in the air, swirling about a foot above the ground, and Fumiko knew just how stressed he was right now, stressed and worried and anxious and miserable. "Even though you trust a lot- you're not stupid. But-" He looked at her, and his eyes were steely, still determined. "But I don't think I'm wrong either."

"No, you're not." With her free hand, she wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. "No, Gaara. I don't think it's wrong to try and protect someone. And in any other situation I wouldn't mind, but- but this is the world." Her fingers tightened unconsciously. "Literally everything we know. And anyway, if you lose, it doesn't matter if I'm there or not."

He smiled at her tightly with no humor. "Yes, I suppose."

"So we're both right," she amended. "And we're both wrong. And we're both trying to save the world, so you know. Stress."

Gaara snorted. "Shikamaru was right," he said. "You're more like a shinobi than I gave you credit for."

Here she smiled, and she could feel it break across her face like a sunrise despite the weather. "Thanks, Gaara."

...

~ She waved in a slow way, like she was underwater. ~

...

Mai wasn't exactly happy when she learned that she would have to get her Chuunin picture for hr ID and get her Chuunin vest in the Chuunin corp.

It wasn't because she was lazy or didn't want to walk any farther than the Tower, and it definitely wasn't because she wanted to stay home all day, not that it seemed like she had much of a choice.

Nah. It was because it was raining puppies and kunai outside, and she was stuck.

So she ended up going stir crazy in her house for the next three days, and then when finally the storm let up she dashed outside- it was still raining, but the lightning was gone and the rain was just normal rain like you would find in Ame or Konoha, and she shunshined to avoid the worst of the rain, but still, when she finally got to Chuunin corp, she was pretty much soaked.

So of course they told her to wait until she was dry because this was an official documentation of her advancement and so she needed to look presentable. Mai was pretty certain that was bull, but still, she didn't want to look like a wet Inuzuka on her profile picture- she could only imagine the shit she would get every time she stopped at an outpost.

So Mai passed the half hour it took for the flames in her hand to dry the rest of her skin both laughing at the sour-slash-angry looks she was getting from the guy at the desk and the more disturbed ones from her fellow waiters in the lobby and tapping her toes absently against the ground to pass the time.

"Okay, I'm dry," she finally was able to tell the man at the front desk. He was pretty average looking, with dark brown hair and plain brown eyes, and he looked both bored and haggard. She wasn't really surprised, given that he probably had to deal with stupid people on a constant, regular basis.

"If you could refrain from setting fires in the lobby in the future, it would be much appreciated," he said dryly. "Go to storage on the second floor, they'll give you your vest."

"I did not set a fire. There's a difference between being on fire and setting a fire. " She grinned. "And it was just my hands, anyway. Also, I was wondering if I could just skip the vest all together and-"

"I'm sorry, miss Mai, but you have to wear your vest for the picture at least."

"But that's stupid," she protested. "I'm not gonna wear it anyway!"

"Rules are rules, miss Mai."

"Stop calling me miss Mai." Mai scowled and crossed her arms. "Oh, I can just tell we're gonna get along soo well. I'm advancing to Jonin as soon as possible after the war is over."

"Storage, Mai-chan."

"Damn, was just rude."

...

~ "Hi!" she cried, happy and contented, and it would have sounded perfectly normal save for the slur in her voice.

...

There was literally every single size of vest in that room. It was almost scary. And the one she was given fit perfectly, although she had to say that requesting the ones without arm guards had maybe been more trouble than it was worth.

Her chuunin vest was beige, peppered with scroll pouches and pockets and zippered up in the middle, but it lacked any and all bulky neck and arm and waist guards, though she didn't mind the steel in the flak itself. Not that she would ever want to wear it to an actual mission, but if she ever did have to wear it somewhere she would at least have the one most equipped to her fighting style.

Then came picture time.

"Smile for me, Mai-chan."

"Just Mai, thanks."

"That's improper. Now smile."

"You're improper," Mai retorted with an easy grin, knowing full well that was immature and resisting the urge to stick out her tongue just for kicks. "And I am smiling, just take the picture already."

"Smile nicely."

"Nicely? I dunno where've you been, but I've never been smiled at nicely when someone tried to kill me. Also, is there any way I could pay you to let me take this thing off?" She gestured to the vest. "I would rather look like me."

The woman behind the camera pinched her nose. "This is the only picture you're getting. Do you want to brush your hair?"

"Does it look like that would do anything to you?"

"No need for sarcasm, Mai-san. I was just making sure." She sighed, face pinched with irritation. It was an older lady, probably in her hate fifties judging by the grey streaks in her hair. "You wouldn't believe how many people come back for redos."

"There is every need for sarcasm, considering that you just called me Mai-san. Seriously, how hard is that? We're on the same level officially, I don't answer to you, you don't answer to me."

"Are you like this with Lord Kazekage?"

She snorted, then grinned wider. "Every second of every day. And he can't do anything about it."

...

~ Gaara strayed behind on instinct when her parents moved forward to check on her and ask a million questions despite the surgeons' previous rundown of the procedure. Gaara hadn't really understood much of it, and neither, it seemed, had Fumiko.

...

Gaara had said nothing about their fight, or about the war, since the rain stopped. So it was impossible to tell if she'd won, or if he was just tired, and didn't want to fight again. It seemed to drain him completely whenever she stood against his judgement.

But Fumiko didn't really blame him. He was just scared. Everyone was scared. And if she thought about it, really thought about it, she didn't know what would happen if they came back, if Shinobi won and everyone came back together to celebrate and count the dead and there was only one of them left.

Him without her, and her without him. Them without Mai. One with and one gone. The Sand Siblings ripped apart. There was an endless number of possibilities, and an endless count of friends and acquaintances that would probably die.

Or there could be none of them left. Maybe it would just be Mai- because it was hard to imagine Mai dying in a warzone- and she would be alone with the twins, and she would have to explain to them someday that their parents were heroes, martyrs, statistical numbers out of thousands of dead. KIA, or MIA.

There was an impossible chance that they would all come out okay, that out of everyone going in to this war her friends, at least, her family, would come out okay.

Watching her embroidery thread stain with black ink, and watching her own blood drip into the bowl from a little scratch on the inside of her arm, the best place to draw a copious amount of blood without causing permanent muscle damage or even leaving a scar- she tried to make a list, to separate the want to survive from the need to survive.

Gaara. Mai. Kankuro. Temari. Her parents, if there was fallback to the villages, and if her mother joined medic corps. Yoshiki. Baki. Shiragiku and Eishi. Uzumaki Naruto, and Lee, and Neji and Shikamaru. Tenten, Sakura, Ino, Choji, Hinata, Sai. She didn't know Kiba or Shino very well but she did know them. Ame. Tsuchi. Yoshihisa. Matsuri. Sari.

She didn't know very many people. But there were so many others that she remembered the faces of, people she saw every day, shinobi that were kind, kind to her and kind to Gaara.

Carefully she removed the thread, laying it out on a paper towel to dry and glancing back at her sketches of seals, simple storage seals. One for her staff. Two for water. Starting from her wrist, they would spread to the inside of her elbow, on the tip of her new wound, Water, Staff, Water. And she would make a hundred more, a thousand, to put away in the pockets of her vest and in her bag and her pouches.

Seals for lightning and seals for fighting and simple seals for sealing, empty. Exploding tags.

But the seals she had designed to wear were permanent, and not only could they be used more than once, but they were condensed. A condensed seal was painted all over a huge area and pulled tight into a simple scroll that looked like normal scribbles and kanji.

This she'd already done. It had taken a few days, and although she hated it she'd used the nursery floor, rolling up the carpet and pushing it to the side and sketching the magnified seal first in pencil and then in ink before finally shrinking them down to three simple seals on a fingerless glove tailored specifically to be durable, made with the same materials used in shinobi clan's clothes.

It would've been easier to just bring more seals. But this way, she could hold six charges in each seal, and reseal more when they were empty. Six seals in one seal, or rather six compartments folded into a single circle of kanji and ink smaller than her palm. Twelve shots of water big enough to fill a hot spring pool halfway. Six extra staffs that she hadn't built yet.

But from what Fumiko knew of war, she knew that it was filthy. Pictures revealed the grimy circumstance, the blood and the mud and the ash. And seals could be ruined, the ink could run- and the more complicated the seal was, if that happened, the more likely it was to explode, and then she would e minus two limbs, or maybe even dead.

And she figured there was one way to fix that.

While the thread dried- seven entire spools of plain white, strong thread that she'd painstakingly dyed in ink mixed with blood and infused with chakra; seal material- Fumiko patched the shallow cut she'd made with three butterfly bandages and wrapped it in gauze and medical tape. It wouldn't need stitches.

She wiped the sharp end of her staff, the point she'd used to cut it, clean on her shirt and then stood, tucking it back into it's sheath. It was just a myth, after all, that it was impossible to get blood out of white clothes. The laundry staff did it all the time, here in the Tower.

Fumiko didn't know if Gaara had agreed to let her go or not. But, as much as it pained her to admit it, she was going either way. Unless he had her incarcerated there would be no stopping her.

And Gaara wouldn't do that to her. There were things he didn't do, that he wouldn't do. If it was between her physical health and her mental health, she knew he would want her to be happy. She didn't deal well with mental issues, and he knew it, and she knew it.

So, whether he agreed or not, she was going to war. And she needed to be ready when she did.

There were ink smears all over the floor, residue of her first and second attempts at magnification seals, something she'd only ever studied before.

Sugar, she was dizzy. Blood loss, she surmised. Not at the dangerous level, but she was woozy. Fumiko brought a hand to her face, fingers warm like always, to blink and steady herself.

There was a soft sound, a tiny cry, and she went to the back of the room, the corner where the twins laid in their carrier. The corners had been the only part of the room not covered in sealing, and she had learned enough from being around paranoid ninja all the time that often the most unsafe place in a room was near the door.

She picked them up, ignoring the heady scent of bloodied calligraphy ink hanging in the air.

"Easy, easy," she sang quietly. "Easy, loves." And then she looked at them both. Her arm twinged under the bandage Hajime's head rested on, still a sterile white, which was good. "You know I love you," she murmured. "I love you both. So, much." She bounced them lightly. "Know that. Please... know that."

She took a step forward to head towards the door, leave the glove and the drying threads in the room and turn off all the lights, shut the door and bring the twins to their crib, maybe take a nap herself until Gaara got off and came down...

There was a crinkling noise under her shoe, and she glanced down over the heads of her boys to see a square of paper under her sandal.

Fumiko frowned; took a step back of it. She was pretty sure that hadn't been there before when she'd cleared off the floor for the seal. Actually, the power marks of the seal had been right there, so what...?

She knelt, careful to maneuver so the twins ended up on her legs, heads resting on her knees. Then she reached out gingerly until her fingers snagged at the corner and slid it closer along the floor before flipping it over curiously.

The note was written in pointed calligraphy, full of sharp edges and careful lines that could've been traced with rulers. There weren't a great many words written, but they had her stumbling back up, hurriedly adjusting the twins' heads against her elbows again, leaving the page on the carpeted floor and getting maybe two and a half steps away.

I am going to teleport in. Please do not panic.

- Shometsu Satomi

"Hi. Satomi here." Fumiko whirled, and it was like magic- one second she hadn't been there, the next, Satomi was standing in the middle of her nursery. "So... our conversation was interrupted before."

"Interrupted?" she blurted. "Gaara thought you were trying to kill me or something."

"That would be a reasonable thought," Satomi admitted. "But also not true."

"You asked after me and when the receptionist said you couldn't just go up to my room you teleported to my nursery." As she spoke, Fumiko edged away slightly towards the door, both hoping she wouldn't notice and knowing she already had. Hiroki's head pivoted curiously like he could sense Satomi's strange, multicolored chakra.

"Your- fiance...? Is that the correct term? Has four ANBU in your room right now," she said matter-of-factly. "That is three more than the last time. I told you before, I would prefer not to fight."

"It's his room too," she defended, then shook her head. "Wait- how do you know that?"

"Well, who else would be in there while you two were out?"

"No- how do you know how many ANBU-? Were you in our room?"

"Because..." Satomi's face seemed genuinely confused now, and she cocked her head slightly. "Because I sensed their chakra..? Is that not normal?"

No. No, it wasn't normal for a foreigner to be able to sense unfamiliar even jonin-level chakras, let alone ANBU's with their masking abilities. ANBU could slip past active sensors. ANBU could trail Gaara without his knowing when they had been kids.

Fumiko just tightened her hold on Hajime and Hiroki. "No."

"Oh." Her eyes flickered to the wall, like she could see straight through it to the bedroom. "Well, they should learn to mask their chakra better. They just flattened it, made it less definable. I could not tell who they are, but they are certainly there. Think of it like... two-D image, rather than three-D."

Right, she thought weakly. Just tell the ANBU they needed to work on their chakra masking skills.

Right.

"Hey, Fumiko, can I borrow your-" The door opened carefully, first slowly and then all at once in typical Mai fashion as her sister suddenly filled the room with her rough voice. "sealing... ink... who the hell are you?"

Satomi seemed to wilt slightly. "Must I always be interrupted?" she questioned without looking at her.

"Interrupted? Who're you, anyway? I don't know you."

"My name is Shometsu Satomi. I assume you are a friend of Fumiko's?"

Right away, Mai's hand flickered for one of her sword handles. "Friend?" she demanded. "Fumiko, do you even know this person? Wait, is everything okay?"

She wanted to say no, but she wasn't really sure. Besides, she didn't want Mai to pick a fight with this particular person- fast as she was, Satomi could dissipate and teleport wherever she pleased. While she said she didn't want to fight... Fumiko didn't want to take that chance.

Before she could say anything, Satomi said hesitantly, "I have sealing ink if you need it, miss...?"

"Mitsuwa Mai," Mai growled lightly. The telltale sound of steel, as she pulled her blade up partway, uncertain, suspicious. "I'm her sister."

"There is no need to be hasty, Mai-san," Satomi said hesitantly as Mai's chakra flared, an automatic scan for exits and room sizes and obstacles if a fight should break out. "I am actually here to give information on Uchiha Madara, who you will be fighting soon."

"Uchiha Madara is dead," Mai snapped. "We're fighting some other Uchiha. But how would you know anything, anyway? Everything we have of his is practically fairytales and history books."

"While this body is only around twenty-one, we have lived many, many lives, well beyond the Warring States Era."

There was a charged silence, startled.

"Are you on drugs?" Mai exclaimed and came the rest of the way in the door, slamming it behind her with her free hand. "Or just Schizophrenic?"

"Negative for both assumptions." Satomi was starting to look a little irritated. "I would explain if you would give me the chance-"

"Many, many lives? You're insane." She drew her sword the rest of the way out and it vibrated. Hiroki giggled, strange in the wake echo of it's bark. "How did you even get in here, you crazy-"

"Seeing as though neither of you are going to listen," she said, and Mai tensed. The corner of Satomi's mouth twitched ever so slightly. "Like this."

Mai yelped, loud, when she started to disappear, flaking away like chakra smoke into nothing. Her sword arm fell, and she backed up. "Shit- what-" Eyes narrow, she swiveled to face her. "Okay, am I on drugs? Or did that actually happen? Because if that did happen- explain. Who in hell-"

"It's a long story," Fumiko said shakily. "She works- or used to work, I think- for the Akatsuki."

...

~ "How are you feeling, honey?" her mother questioned, and Fumiko's smile grew in a strange way, covering the entirety of her face in a mindless manner unlike her usual energy.

...

Fumiko woke to the light sound of shushing.

Wiping her face, she yawned, then glanced sideways to the foot of the bed, where Gaara smiled at her, flushed lightly, dressed in his Kazekage's robes and reaching down into the crib, presumably to calm imminent squalling.

"Mm-m-mm," she hummed. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven," came his quick reply, and he straightened, brushing at his white uniform. He raised an empty bottle, and, sitting up, she could see another lying cleaned out on the corner of the bed. "I just fed the both of them while you were sleeping, so they probably won't be hungry again for a few hours."

"M'kay." Fumiko stretched her arms above her head, then slouched with a huff of contented air. "Going to work?"

"Yes."

"M'kay," she repeated, then swung her legs out to the floor. Carefully she slid to the ground, and Gaara came around the bed's corner to help her down as she fished about for her prosthetic. When finally she set it all up she stuck out her hand, and with a small, answering smile he lifted her up by the arm. "Uff. I'll see you at lunchtime, then."

"I'll be waiting for you."

"Mm." Fumiko tilted her face up for a kiss, and when it didn't come, Gaara momentarily clueless and glancing up in the direction of the clock, bounced to the ball of her foot and tugged on his shoulders until they met in the middle. Caught unawares, he didn't even blush, just closed his eyes after half a second's confusion. "Love you," she said when she pulled away.

He put a hand on her head, which she reached up to touch, and just looked her in the face for a moment before speaking. "You, too."

...

~ "Goo-ood," she sang. "I'm super warm. Where's Gaa-ra?"

...

Breakfast was simple, just some boiled rice and miso soup. It was easier to cook things she could leave on the stove and check on occasionally, rather than engage herself in something intensive that she couldn't step away from for long periods of time.

Even before Temari, Mai stepped in, already with a smudge of oil across her right cheekbone that betrayed her early-morning training. Fumiko glanced out the window, at the sun, it probably wasn't any later than seven thirty or eight.

"Hey, sis," the fire-user greeted, raising two fingers.

"Mew!" her kitten mewled loudly from her shoulder. Cat, as her sister called it, was a little grey Ash Shorthair, chubby-looking with fluff. The breed, she knew, came from up north, nearer to the Land of Snow. She didn't quite know the story, just that Mai had picked up the orphaned stray somewhere and decided to keep it.

"Hi, Mai," she said back. "Hey, can you start the coffee for me? I'm a little late, I needed to change Hajime."

The child in question, along with his twin, was sitting rather happily, it seemed, in the newly arrived baby carrier on the table, a soft sandy yellow embroidered with a glossy tan swirl pattern like eddies. It had a handle and looked a lot like a cushioned seat, and they could tuck blankets and toys into it easily. It was definitely more cumbersome than her pouch, but it was good for times like this, when she was cooking or otherwise stuck doing something she couldn't have the babies with.

Mai grunted. "That stuff is poison," she grumbled, but still headed for the pantry. As the old saying went, she knew where the cups were- along with everything else in the kitchen- and no longer really counted as a guest. Cat, as she ruffled through the pantry, leapt off her shoulder, barely making it to the counter.

"It's been a few days," Fumiko said, stirring deftly through the rice with a wooden spoon before pointing it in the direction of her newly minted Chuunin sister. "Where've you been?"

"Here and there." She pulled away with a jar of coffee grounds in hand, then grinned her way, a shark-toothed smirk. "Actually, I've been getting some prelim stuff now that I'm a Chuunin. Gaara told you, right?"

"Yeah! Nice going on that." Fumiko beamed back. "So you'll be fighting with us, then?"

"Yep." Her arrogant, prideful smirk lightened into something more amused as she crossed across the kitchen to the countertop above the cabinet with the coffee maker. "But I would've anyway, even if I didn't pass the thing. Too many people to keep track of, and anyone that could really keep track of me would be a waste to leave behind."

"I guess. But it's still cool." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "So now... you're emancipated and stuff. Are you going to move into an apartment? Or..."

"I'm not staying here, no." The machine beeped. "I'll find my own place."

"Mrr."

"Oh, excuse me," Mai muttered almost as an afterthought to the cat's disgruntled hiss. It had already wandered near the stove, but stayed well away from the fire, content to sit and stare and basically beg for food scraps. "We'll find our own place."

"Are you going to wait?"

"Nah." Her playful demeanor diminished slightly, and she sighed, leaning back against the counter with her elbows. Fumiko could only see her disturbingly silent expression out of the corner of her eye, morose and pensive, nearly blank. Her eyes tilted to the ceiling, and she shrugged. "I'll stay in a regulated place, so when we come back I can get the same one. Then, I dunno."

"Why?" She turned off the flames on the miso and the rice, then turned to face her, head tilted. "You don't really spend much time there anyway."

"I spend enough time," she answered vaguely, one hand twitching slightly in an aborted wave. "Besides, I need more space for my things. I can't keep everything hidden away under the floorboards much longer, my floor'll explode."

Although the sentiment sounded sarcastic, something led her to believe it was entirely too true.

"So, when?"

"Soon," she said airily. "I haven't got all my paperwork in yet, but as soon as I'm registered and I get my new ID and stuff, I'll be all kinds of legal to file for official emancipation."

Cat finally jumped down off the counters to the floor, skidding slightly on the tile before regaining his balance. He trotted over to Mai's feet, but didn't climb up her body like he often did, instead flicking his tail until it brushed her ankle and sitting, blinking up at Fumiko with it's bright eyes.

"Oh." Fumiko chewed her lip, reaching up to tug lightly on the little canvas bag holding Neji's prism.

"Hey, what happened to your arm?"

"Huh?"

"Your arm." She pointed both her finger and her gaze at the fresh bandaging on her elbow. "What happened to it?"

"Oh, I was- I was making seals."

"Seals with blood?" She grimaced. "Oh. Gross."

Instead of answering, she studied Mai's eyes, which, despite the easy confidence she exuded from her skin, flickered here and there, shadowed and jumpy, only meeting her eyes once or twice in their restless vision. Mai's eyes.

"Interesting. Perhaps you're connected to the bloodline somewhere."

She could remember Sasuke's voice, and his eyes clearly even after so long, his power-riddled heavy chakra the color of bloody mud and lightning, with the same dead electric intensity. They way they had spun red, dragging for only a split second all the power, energy, life from her skin, her veins, her heart, without even the slightest flicker of emotion in his tilted head or his flat mouth.

"Though I can't say it was anything less than stupid to take me on with only two tomoe."

Mai's darting eyes stilled, narrowed on her gaze, a staring contest that it didn't look like she was all too sure she would win. Unlike Sasuke's coal eyes, blacker than oil and duller, her sister's were a lively shade of brown, speckled with gold and lighter shades of chocolate, burning with visible energy.

The sharingan, from what she had so briefly seen of it, withdrew into the eyes with a curious demeanor, the entirety of the blackness of the Uchiha eye concentrating into three solid points- or however many were developed, she assumed- and the red bled in from around the rims, or perhaps it was red underneath the blacked out iris? She wondered, then, if Mai's own tomoe, if she really did have them, would be tinged brown.

There was a loud, shrill shriek that made them both jump, Mai's hand going instantly for the hilt of her sword, Fumiko flinching back into the counter, more instinctively at her sister's reaction than the actual noise herself. Whenever, she had learned, a shinobi twitched, it was smarter to err on the side of caution and hide, or at the very least, move.

She'd survived quite a few assassination attempts that way.

Mai relaxed, though, without even drawing her sword, eyes jerking to the machine behind her. The coffee had finished, that was all. Fumiko suddenly became aware of the intense, loaded silence that had pressed against her ears just moments before. But now the spell was broken, the buildup had dissipated, escaping like air from a popped balloon and draining out the opening door.

"Goddamn this stupid thing, it was just the stupid coffee," Mai muttered.

"Oh, good. Coffee's done. Just in time." Temari had opened the door just as the coffeemaker trilled, eyes heavy-looking in a normal, tired way. She didn't seem to be getting much sleep lately- it seemed like once again she would be the collaboration point between Sunagakure and Konoha, and she was working hard to keep up.

"So's breakfast," she said after a second of blinking confusion, mind slow to catch up to the situation. She smiled, eyes pinching shut for a moment. "Miso soup and rice!"

...

~ "He's... here," the older woman answered uncertainly, and cast a quick look at him over his shoulder. Gaara held back the sigh, knowing all these fearful gestures were useless- if he'd wanted to attack them, he would've. But he didn't. Wouldn't.

...

"Hey, Mai, wait a sec."

The kunoichi paused, caught nearly lifting her foot, arm lifting up, for a simple moment the perfect picture of a shinobi, lithe little muscles defined, coiled, tense like she could flit away with all the whirling grace of a hummingbird. Then she turned, and her hand fell to her hip, heel dropping as she rocked back on the balls of her feet.

Her cat paused as well, meowed irritably at his owner's legs.

"What?"

Kankuro filed past her to the door with a quick sayonara. Temari had already left, eyes open wider and with a weary grin. All that was left to do now was clean up and take a tray up to Gaara, feed the twins, who were starting to fuss as they woke up in their carrier. But.

"Can we... can I talk to you?"

"That sounds ominous," she remarked dryly. "What about?"

"It's just- um. About the Summit." She smiled, a little more hesitant than usual, without teeth. "I want to talk about what happened at the Gokage Summit."

Mai's look was long, lips shifting into a blank line. Tired. Flighty eyes still, quiet.

Then she sighed, and waved her hand over her shoulder, continuing in her step. For half a moment Fumiko thought she was going to avoid everything and go on her way- and it wasn't like Fumiko would be able to do all that awful much about it if she did- but before she could find her words Mai backtracked a few steps and looked back.

"Well?" she said. "Are you coming?"

She blinked once, twice, then jerked slowly into movement, smiling as she picked up the twins' carrier, softly shushing Hiroki who was starting to cry and tickling at his chest with her fingers as she followed her sister in the direction of her bedroom.

Mai opened doors in a peculiar way, stepping back or ducking her head down depending on whether the door opened inwards or outwards, and she could always feel the kunoichi's chakra flare slightly, echolocation in it's purest shinobi form. And then she relaxed, always to just a certain degree, and let the door swing open, always walking in first herself.

This was how she went through the door to her and Gaara's room, hesitant for that flash like something was going to come flying out to attack her. But then she went through like it had never happened, like she hadn't ever been wary of going through a threshold, and flicked on the light. Fumiko followed on her heels, Hiroki starting to cry now in earnest.

Unlike Mai, who stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking wired, Fumiko herself followed Cat the cat and sat down on the bed, scooting to the middle of the mattress so she could pull off her prosthetic and sit cross-legged with the sock still attached and so she could pull down her top and pick up Hiroki to feed him.

Mai watched her, carefully, an action Fumiko didn't even notice until she looked back up, holding the now more than two pound baby's head steady with one hand, his body with the other. Hajime, still content but not sleepy, winked out at the world like an explorer.

There was a silence, then, and an awkward one at that. Fumiko was used to cutting straight to the point- in this case, Do you have a sharingan or not? - but Mai, however, preferred to dance around uncomfortable topics, rewind and lead the brain in circles until the conversation shifted in another direction. Maybe something more subtle would be better, like Mai, what exactly happened at the summit between you and Sasuke?

But that, she realized with a mild bit of concern, sounded just as pushy and direct as the first question. She bit her lip, dragging it between her teeth for a moment, weighing the options-

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Wha- wha?" At her startled stutter, Mai's arms tightened in their cross, fingernails pinching into the skin of her elbows until they turned whiteish-tan under the pressure, and she scowled. Never once in her life had she heard her sister apologize, except for maybe once- "I don't- I'm sorry, Fumiko, but we can't go back there."

"I said I'm sorry," she grunted. Hesitated, then sighed slightly, air still trapped in her chest. "So quit looking at me like that, okay?"

"What?" she repeated, then shook herself mentally. "I mean, why are you sorry?"

"My- you know. My thing. My- bloodline." Her nose scrunched with distaste. "That Uchiha thing."

"Why didn't you tell me you had the sharingan, Mai?" That, perhaps, had been the most pressing question following whether she'd actually had it or not. Because Mai, contrary to popular belief, wasn't usually a very closed-off person unless something was hurting her, physically or mentally. Otherwise if something bugged her, you would no.

This shouldn't have been eating at her. And if it had been... Well, where Fumiko hadn't known her sister before, she was pretty sure she did now. At least a little. The quiet intensity with which she tried to overpass and protect everyone. The secrets she held as an ANBU. Why she would hide this from her, knowing that she knew what she knew, was beyond her.

"Actually, I wasn't planning on telling anyone at all." Mai scowled. "I wasn't planning on using it at all. Unless it was the last resort. The only reason you found out is because it was Sasuke and I was pretty sure he would kill my ass anyway."

"You weren't... anyone?" Fumiko was bewildered. "Why, though? Are you embarrassed about it? I mean it's really strong and stuff, so why would you hate it so much?"

Mai sighed. "I hate bloodlines," she admitted. "They're just not fair. And don't give me that 'life's not fair' bullshit, because I know it's not, but bloodlines are just... like cheating." At her blank look, Mai's eyes narrowed again and then rolled, frustrated. Her hands came off her elbows to gesticulate. "They don't have to work for it. They don't have to try for it. They just have it, and sometimes that makes them automatically stronger than everyone else."

"But I thought you could train the sharingan?" Hiroki, full of milk and once more growing fussy with sleep, kicked until she moved him away from her chest. Instead she tucked him into her arm, something warm to hold, something comforting.

"You can train the sharingan, but not for it. Do you think Sasuke would be half as strong as he is without his stupid bloodline? He wouldn't be able to use Amaterasu, would be vulnerable to Genjutsu, wouldn't have Susano'o armor, wouldn't be able to use Mangekyo Tsukoyomi to put people in nightmares- hell, he would be just like the rest of the world! He probably wouldn't be half as good at Katon, for crying out loud!"

Fumiko opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off as Mai swung out her arms angrily, almost defensively. "Mai-"

"Would I be worse? Is the bloodline in my body the only reason I can use Katon? Does it make me stronger?" Her voice was rising, decibel by slow decibel. "I want to be stronger by my own power! I don't want people to look at me and think, 'oh, she's got the sharingan, better watch myself!'" Mai's tone was thick with sarcasm, and she tilted her head, scowl shifting wide, crossing her arms once more. "'She's from the genius clan of the leaf's bloodline! Maybe I should be careful when I fight her!'"

"You don't want to be recognized for it," Fumiko realized. "That's why you hide it. You don't want to give yourself an unfair advantage over others- nothing that they couldn't get themselves-"

"I'd rather be stronger than someone just for that," she said, volume slipping from angry ranting to normal peevishness. "Because I'm stronger, I trained harder, I'm smarter, whatever. They can't get around the fact that I'm stronger than them, that they should respect me, even if they don't. Like I said, Sasuke would be just another shinobi without his bloodline. You think I want people going around saying the same about me?"

"Of course not." Fumiko said quietly, and now she tucked Hiroki back into the carrier with his brother, then folded her hands over her lap. "But, still... people wouldn't judge you for it. At least, not us. Not your friends. Why didn't you tell me? Or Gaara? Or..."

"Uchihas are bastards," Mai spat. "The only things they're known for are fighting on the wrong side of the creation of a village, their sharingan abilities and Katon, the fact that one of their own slaughtered their own kin- and now Sasuke, who's just as much of a bastard. That name doesn't have anything but bloodstain."

"But you're not an Uchiha," she argued. "You just have Uchiha blood!"

"Same difference!" Mai took a few steps back, still hugging her arms in close to her knees. The sunlight lit on her black hair, the wild curls turning white in every piece of contact. "You don't know! I'm just as rotten as he is, but at least I paved my way with good intentions and not just blood! As soon as people know, that's what they'll say. Now everything makes sense. Gaara was horrified, wasn't he? Stunned beyond belief. I know you told him."

"Of course I told him. Gaara doesn't care-"

"He does. Not enough to hate me, but he does." Now her arms dropped to her sides, first rigid so that she looked almost at attention, then loosely as she exhaled, muscles coming undone. "I dunno if you've noticed, but he loathes that name. I don't blame him. Dishonored, bloody, ill-intended, full of hate. Powerful, only to use that power to hurt people."

"Mai," Fumiko said sternly, and also kind of softly- "I dunno if you've noticed, but I have the same blood as you."

Her sister froze in the little patch of sunlight, and her hands worked, fisting and unfisting, nails digging into her palms. Her jaw tightened, and she rocked slightly onto the heels of her feet, and she could feel, see the anger the words made seethe under her skin.

"That is not the same thing," she finally murmured, and her voice was chilled like ice. To anyone else, it would seem like a threat. "We are not the same kind of people, Fumiko."

"Neither are you and Sasuke."

She gave a little laugh, for once not scornful or sarcastic, just a soft little quiet sound. "You would think that, wouldn't you?"

Obviously, she didn't. Fumiko worried at her lip again, fingers twisting against her thighs, confused. What was the block here? What was she missing? What was her sister so scared of, so protective of? It didn't make sense. It should've been obvious; Mai didn't go around killing people for no reason, she was never intentionally cruel to anyone who didn't deserve it, she tried to be considerate of the people around her that she cared about...

What parallel was she drawing between herself and Uchiha Sasuke?

The only thing those two had in common were their eyes. And even those were different. Sasuke's eyes had unlocked Mangekyo, the one feature of the Sharingan bought by abandoning everything close to your heart.

"Can... can I see it?" She twisted the white fabric of her shirt between her fingers, gazing determinedly at her sister, who blinked.

"What?"

"Your eyes." She nodded. "Can you show me?"

"Uh... why?"

"Because I want to see them," she replied, trying hard to keep the natural curiosity out of her voice, but also the demanding tone she knew might color her inflections if she let it. Mai hadn't told her, and she hadn't told her because she was ashamed of it. She wasn't about to force her to show it off. "Can you do it on command? Or is it just like a life-or-death thing? Since you haven't really trained with it I don't know if-"

"Yes, I can turn it on. Like a goddamn light switch."

Fumiko patted the space on the bed in front of her, on the edge so her sister would feel safer- shinobi, she'd come to notice, liked to either have their back to things or be on the edge of things, both, if possible. Her sister, despite her young age, was no exception. Mai hesitated, then moved forward, and gently Fumiko moved the carrier to rest beside her, where she could put a hand in to touch her twins.

Gingerly the katon-user sat, angled so one sword hilt dangled over the edge and the other laid out flat behind her on the comforter. Then, at Fumiko trying-not-to-be-but-probably-hopeful look, she sighed, and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again, still brown.

And then her irises started to fizzle and draw in towards her pupils, which separated and spun, bubbling apart like floating oil in water. They seemed to darken, sucking in the flecked coffee of her eyes, unveiling a layer of red. In the light, the tomoe compressed, contracting into the small, fine comma-marks they were known for, spinning slightly for a second before they seemed to click into place.

Mai blinked again, rapidly, before looking at her straight on. "There," she muttered. "See?"

"They're different," Fumiko blurted. She'd been meaning to say that anyway, whether they were hugely similar to Sasuke's or not, but this close up, she could see that they really were different than Sasuke's. The tomoe's black wasn't quite so deep. Against the red, it was harder to tell, but after having up-close experience with the sharingan, she knew.

"Different?" Her sharingan eyes narrowed. With the suspicion in her gaze the two tomoe spun, and she scowled, raising a hand to her face. "I- sorry, I didn't mean to do that-"

Whatever 'that' was, she wasn't sure, but she grabbed at Mai's hand, pulled it away from her eyes, leaned forward to touch her sister's tanned skin with the other. Mai flinched, but tensed, not trying to pull away. Fumiko thumbed the corner of her left eye, staring.

"Your tomoe are tinged brown," she exclaimed.

"My what are what?"

"The little black things in the center," she explained quickly. "Sugar, in all the sharingan pictures I've... Sasuke's are just black. Yours are too, but they're- less black. The tomoe in the eye must absorb the iris! Nobody's ever been able to tell absolutely for sure, since you can't distinguish an Uchiha's iris from the pu... sorry," she said sheepishly.

"... Okay." Now she reached up to push away her hand with two fingers, and Fumiko let go of her wrist and let herself fall back down onto her butt. "Does that mean something, at all?"

"Your vision might be diluted," she speculated, bringing a hand to her head. "Or something, but I dunno. I only read the research papers, I didn't write them."

"Research papers?" she demanded.

"But, Mai! This is great!" Her hands clapped together. "So far as we know you're the only sharingan user without black eyes, so yours are completely different from every other Uchiha's!"

Immediately, the tomoe in both of Mai's eyes drew together, and out of them seeped the brown she knew so well, covering over the red like a film, completely hiding it all the way to the whites of her eyes. They dilated back to their normal size and shape, and then vanished completely as she closed her eyes and shook her head.

When they opened again, Mai looked away, staring at a fixed point on the floor. Fumiko knew that she wanted to cross her arms again, give herself something to let her arms do, her muscles do, but she didn't, refraining herself to just curling her fingers against her thighs. "They still do the same thing," she said. "I still got them the same way. So what if they look different?- I look different than a Uchiha. Mostly."

"We don't know if they do the same thing or not," Fumiko mused. "But I don't think they'd be any stronger than the average... wait. You got them the same way?"

In the Konoha archives, and in the hospital archives, there were tons and tons of studies and research experiment write-ups on the Sharingan. They ranged anywhere from two to four or five generations up, back when the citizens of the leaf had gotten suspicious of it, probably, or maybe a village elder who wanted to see if it could be replicated, stolen, nullified... Either way there were many, and sometimes, the people at the desk- depending on which person was accompanying her- let her pass into the higher levels.

She remembered almost everything she read, especially if it was something that interested her. She liked learning about jutsu, the way the chakra worked, ins and outs- and anyway she tried to learn as many things as possible about Uchiha Sasuke and even just stuff in general, because who knew who would need that information?

One entire report- an incredibly long, detailed report probably compiled of dozens of different observational data over time- had detailed the process from a civilian eye to a primary, secondary, and final stage, fully matured. There had been nothing about the Mangekyo, something that Fumiko wondered was common information even amongst the clan itself, while they were still alive.

When an Uchiha experiences a powerful emotional condition, usually with regards to a person precious to them, she remembered one passage in particular had read, their brain releases a special form of chakra that affects the optic nerves, transforming the eyes into Sharingan; for that reason the Sharingan is described as an "eye that reflects the heart." Often, as per the Uchiha's so-called "Curse of Hatred", this emotion is a negative one, brought on by stress or loss.

"Yeah." Mai gave her an odd look. "I'm pretty sure there's only like one way to do it."

"When did..." Her hand drew up to her neck, to the pouch and braided leather around it. "I mean, how did..."

Her sister stared at her for a moment, and then sighed.

"Do you remember," she said, eyes diverting again, this time to her hands, and she picked up Cat as she spoke, who meowed softly as his owner dropped him in her lap to pet him absently. "After the Invasion of the Peins, how you said you met someone in the afterlife, but you couldn't remember who it was?"

"Yeah."

"That was-" Here she paused, was silent, then swallowed. "You met my- I mean he was my- He was my Taicho. From- from Shadow Corp. He died during Akatsuki's attack on Sunagakure, on patrol with the rest of my unit, when Yura went bat shit crazy."

Her eyes widened, but before she could open her mouth and speak past her suddenly dry tongue, her sister plowed on, voice an odd mix of shaky nerves and dead acceptance. "I found out- later, like way later, after I got back from Konoha, you know, after Kankuro was okay. That he had died, I mean. I'm glad I had my- my mask on, at least, that kept it hidden when my eyes kind of- you know."

She gestured to her face.

"Mai..."

"And- you know- there was a funeral." Mai was zipping past her sharingan, face still with that strange expression, like she might just laugh if she wasn't so ancient. "It wasn't like we didn't find him, not like some of the others. Yura had stabbed him, he didn't get all caught up in the explosion and stuff like that, but it didn't really matter because I burned him-"

"You what?"

"I- burned- him," she repeated, slowly. "Incinerated him, actually. No shroud or anything like that. I think Rabbit got his ashes, but whoever it was, they probably just dashed it around in the desert. I wasn't there for- I mean I didn't do it for my other teammates. It's what happens when ANBU die. Id've thought you knew, working the desk after so many deaths."

"I-"

"Isn't it funny, though," she kept on, expression unchanging and blank, "I was supposed to be on that Unit, with them. Instead I got the Sharingan, and, I dunno, some chakra exhaustion, maybe-"

"Mai-"

"I'm getting off topic, though," she said suddenly, and her head whipped up, voice all at once louder than it had been just seconds before. "The second one, I was dying in the Invasion of Pein and-!"

Whatever she was going to say next whuffed out of her lungs as air as she jerked forward, mostly involuntarily. Mai was almost taller than her, now, but it didn't matter. She just wound her thin arms around her sister's shoulders as her face dropped into her collarbone. Her sister made a little confused sound, and then was silent.

Cat wiggled away, padding a few inches across the comforter before lying down.

"Never mind," Fumiko whispered. "Never mind, I don't want to know, you don't have to tell me."

Mai slumped. "There's a lot you wouldn't want to know," she said, though it was muffled, and her sister didn't try to move her mouth away from her shirt and her skin to speak clearer.

"I'm sorry."

"I've killed thirty two people." Mai murmured that like it was a secret, pulling out of her lips while she was tired or drunk or otherwise unaware of what she was saying, like from a dream. "Three of them, my age."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, because she didn't really know what else to say. For once, she was out of words.

"Most of them were bastards. But some of them weren't."

She knew if she apologized again Mai would tell her not to, and maybe break this fragility that was her younger sister, so she just held her, and prayed the twins wouldn't start to cry. This wasn't even, she realized, Mai without her shield. This was Mai with a cracked shield, slivers spilling out through the webs.

It hurt. It hurt like it had hurt to watch Gaara grind bodies to dust, and then to stand before his fellow villagers while they knew he'd done so. It hurt like it had hurt to see him trying to stab himself, asking why he couldn't be loved.

It hurt to know that her sister was hiding so much.

She was thirteen.

It wasn't right.

"Fumiko," Mai mumbled against her shirt, still limply unmoving. It wasn't a question, but it sort of was, like she wasn't sure if she was actually there or not. It sounded like a question, feather-dull voice or not.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going insane."

"That's okay," she promised, and tightened her hold on her sister, who didn't respond in the slightest. Her skin was warm to the touch. "That's okay, Mai. I think the rest of the world is, too."

...

~ "Hey- hey, Gaa-ra, lookit my stitches. They're huge." ~

...

Eventually Hajime cried, and Fumiko fed him before setting both gakis down into the crib she'd hauled to the foot of the bed.

They'd realized, then, that a crapload of time had passed, and Fumiko had apologized, reluctantly excusing herself. "I forgot to bring Gaara his breakfast," She'd explained, almost tripping backwards out the door. "He probably doesn't even know he's starving."

And now she was alone on the comforter- well, with the exception of Cat- wiping at her face and realizing with no small amount of horror that she'd cried into her sister's shirt.

That had been a strange moment. A deathly one, like she hadn't been existing, there, except for in the points where her skin touched Fumiko's, where the warmth bloomed. But there'd been nothing else, no rushing in her mind, no twisting in her gut, no trippy paranoia chakra-scanning everything and taking note of the exits.

She hadn't even felt herself speak, only heard her own voice.

She'd talked like an idiot. Like a first-year greenie Genin who'd just killed a rabbit for supper. It wasn't like other people didn't have it worse. Twenty-nine people and a few minors was nothing compared to some older shinobi, or even- especially- compared to Gaara. Nor was the death of a single loved one, and she hadn't even known his face until way after she'd figured out he'd died.

And where had all that bullshit about bloodlines come from? When did it become okay to whine about having a strong ability? It was stupid and irrational.

But then again, it was Fumiko. It wasn't like she knew the difference between rational and illogical to begin with. And believe it or not, she wasn't spectacular with telling emotion, either- the best she could do was notice when something was off, never why, unless it was Gaara, because she knew all Gaara's faces, voices and tells. It was why she asked, why she couldn't help but ask.

So of all the people she told, it might as well have been her older sister. She would take that and absorb it and frankly, do nothing with it but understand, wouldn't ask her to go to therapy or go into detail or offer her own advice. She would tell Gaara, and the idea of that made her flush with shame, because she would always tell Gaara.

But that was the only person she would ever tell, likely even if she'd had permission to talk to people about it.

She was a little worried about Gaara, though. He was a shinobi as much as she- more so- one that she looked up to- and so he wouldn't push or prod or wheedle, but he would watch. And he was the Kazekage. He could put her on forced mental leave, thin out her missions, try even to hold her back from the coming fight.

And she also just- didn't want him to know. That was stupid too, she knew. It wasn't like Gaara was the perfect ninja either. He was extremely emotional, moreso than some, even if it didn't seem like it. He had an outlet that would never judge him, and Mai knew that she could have one, too.

She didn't know if it was pride, or if it was because she liked the light she was painted in, or because she didn't know how to not keep the hurt, or even if she just didn't want to bother anyone else. Maybe it was just her training messing up her head. Maybe...

She jumped at a sound, then relaxed and realized it was only one of the twins whining. She was already near the crib, black and sleek and totally not what they would've gotten if Fumiko had picked it out instead of Gaara, so she leaned over it hesitantly.

Both were awake, and Hiroki was fussing more than his older brother, but neither sounded like they actually needed anything. But she also recognized enough to know that they would work themselves up to a froth if someone didn't hold them.

Mai propped her chin up on her knee. "Join the club, kid," she told him. "Sometimes we just have to deal with shit."

She knew, on some level, that once these gakis were old enough to really process what she was saying she was going to have to really curb her language, because as funny as it would be she didn't think Gaara would really appreciate it if one of his kids' first words was a swear.

At the sound of her voice, Hiroki whined even louder.

"Trust me, you don't want me to hold you," she muttered. "One of these days I'm gonna drop you and you'll pop. Or something."

There was another few minutes, where maybe they would calm down and go to sleep again, like Hajime seemed to be doing. But then all at once Hiroki started to cry, a loud, snotty, shrieking sound that made her cover her ears on instinct.

"Damn it, you have lungs!" Mai scowled. "Fumiko will be back in, like, ten minutes!"

This, unfortunately, didn't assuage the gaki. And she knew Temari wasn't here- she had gone off to Konoha and wouldn't be back for two weeks at the least- and that Kankuro was off on a two-day thing, she hadn't really paid attention enough to know what his mission was. So nobody would come rushing in here to soothe it. Him. Soothe him.

Hesitantly she reached a hand into the crib, leaning over the side from where she sat on the bed, and touched him like she saw Fumiko do sometimes, just touching at his chest and stomach with a handful of fingers.

His skin was unbelievably soft. Infants, she'd come to realize, were ridiculously fragile, not durable in the slightest. Even Fumiko's skin was more calloused than theirs, from all the sand blowing about that they hadn't yet been exposed to. Against her clean, but definitely beat up hand, it felt bizarre.

"Hey, shut up now, okay?" she said, but her godson didn't shut up, waving his arms about until he caught hold of her thumb and then not letting go, and continuing to cry. "Kami, you're so loud. Was I that loud?"

Even more hesitantly, she reached her other arm in, and carefully picked the child up, supporting it's head like everyone was telling her to because they were so freaking breakable that they couldn't even lift their own heads yet, and then scooted back on the bed to avoid dropping him to his death.

And then she just kind of held him, awkwardly jolting her arms up and down in a mimicry of what everyone else did. Was it because she was infertile? Did you have to be fertile to have those instincts? It was probably because she was used to hanging out with people who could survive an exploding tag to the face.

But eventually her nephew started to quiet, still kind of huffy and peeved but not as loud. If he could speak, or control his muscles very well, she could imagine him rolling his eyes. Took you long enough.

"I'm going to be such a bad influence on you," she told him. "Little terror. Guwaa Warugaki."

Abruptly she frowned at him, memory shooting to the forefront of her mind unpleasant and unexpected.

"Miss? Miss, I'm scared."

It was annoying, the little flashes. Some of it was smeared from Sakura's jutsu, but it was enough to be extremely irritating. The way the pink-haired medic had explained it, whatever she'd dreamed was literally traumatic enough to shut her everything down. Brain damage equaling a vegetable.

She knew, whatever the parts left out, well, left out, that the majority of it had been Sasuke slaughtering both her friends, family, and even complete strangers. Her home. But she wasn't afraid of Sasuke- okay, maybe she did shiver a little at the thought of coming face to face with his eyes again- she would refuse to feel ashamed about that, he'd put her in a goddamn traumatized coma for crying out loud.

But she wasn't afraid of Sasuke, or at least she hadn't been before he'd sicced that nightmare on her. And she'd researched the sharingan for obvious reasons; she knew that the Mangekyo Sharingan- while she hadn't known about it before the event of seeing them- supposedly showed you your own worst nightmare, your biggest torment, your fear.

So she had to surmise, looking at Hiroki and listening to Hajime fall asleep, her nephew's eyes staring straight at her, that it was something to do with death. But everything was still fuzzy. Maybe it was watching them die? She'd been pinned, hadn't she? Helpless.

Hiroki made a sound, something like a gurgle, or maybe a sneeze. She looked back at him intently, careful to keep his head and body tucked into her arm.

Maybe he was a porcelain doll now, but someday, he'd grow. And he would be strong. There was no way he wouldn't be, with Gaara as his father and shinobi as his family. His brother would be strong, too. Nobody even knew yet if they had Magnet Release. Bloodlines aside... They already had huge chakra stores. Any child of Gaara, and even moreso any child of Fumiko, would have huge chakra stores.

So they wouldn't need to be protected for too long. That didn't mean she wouldn't, jsut that they wouldn't need it. Sasuke knew they existed. But this wouldn't be like in her dream. Even if she was immobile, she was pretty sure the only reason she hadn't escaped was because it was just that- a dream. An illusion.

It was something to think about, though. Enough that she started to wonder what would have happened if she'd used her sharingan during that freaky-ass nightmare.

...

~ "Honey," her father started, shooting him a dark look completely different than her mother's nervous habit. "I don't know if that's such a good-"

...

It was three am when Gaara finally pushed his paperwork away and went to the bedroom to sleep.

It was three am when he realized the lights were on in his room, and it was three am when he opened the door and found Fumiko sitting quietly on the bed with a needle in her hand and a long trail of thread spilling off the side of the bed and coiling on the floor stiffly. There was a basket on her nightstand, tightly woven and flooding over with the same stiff black thread.

In her hands she held what looked like a white glove, and she was threading the needle into it over and over. Looking closer, Gaara realized that she was sewing over an already existing design, made with ink. A seal.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't even look up, but he did see her smile, if not a little tiredly. "Making my seal permanent. The thread's dyed with seal ink."

"Oh." His eyes caught her arm as she pulled it up, needle in hand, to tug the thread tight. He couldn't see the bandage with her long sleeves, but he knew it was there, hand spotted it the day after the storm had ended. "... Are they sleeping?"

Now she looked up at him, fingers stilling. "Yes." Her lips quirked up in a smile, less tired, but then it faded just slightly, like an old, worn photograph. "It's for- water, and a few extra staffs. I haven't made them yet, but I will. Y'know- in case one breaks or something."

"... Fumiko..."

"We need to be honest, Gaara," she said, and then looked back down, fingers resuming their work. "I mean, we could really die. And we have to figure something out together, a place for Hajime and Hiroki to stay when we leave. And I need to sign up. Which means I need to be a shinobi. Which means..." she continued before he could interrupt. "That we need to work together for this, Gaara."

"I know." he said, and then he was quiet for a second. And then he sighed, and Fumiko looked up at that sigh and at the crinkle of paper as he reached into a pocket of his robes he hadn't yet shed. And she blinked as he unfolded them.

"What's that? Did you put something in your pockets you weren't supposed to again?"

He stared at her name, and at the tiny print of numbers right beside it: 62-03.

And he held them out for her to take, held them out so she could have them before he burned them, before he recalled it, before he could think of all the ways this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and as she looked at him, curiosity and concern in her eyes, he said, "No."

...

~ "Gaa-ra," she demanded still with that grin; it didn't really seem like she'd even processed his words. "It's all red." He moved closer, skirting the bed to the other side to avoid standing directly beside her parents, and her head turned, completely forgetting, it seemed, about the fresh new stump of her calf. "There you are!" she exclaimed, flinging up her hands. "I thought you dis-app-eared."

...

It was familiar, the gentle, hushush sound of a paintbrush on canvas.

She'd been finishing this final commission in fits and starts. Her glove, almost completed, lay hidden in her nightstand drawer, and another cut staff, already partially partly carved out, waited in the pseudo-nursery, her new, temporary workshop. She probably wouldn't need six staffs, so perhaps she could make one or two and then use variant weapons with the same wood that the seal would still accept...

She sat on a stool in her bedroom, painting on the final dabs of color across the last few flowers. The mist was done, the mountains, the sky, most of the field, most of the shading. She'd been here for hours, but it did't seem like it'd been long enough.

Hajime and Hiroki were in their crib just beside her. She wouldn't say she wasn't wary of Satomi, despite her words, and she didn't want to leave the twins unattended anywhere or be too far from them if there wasn't someone else to watch over them.

She was just putting the final kanji to her signature MF when there was a light rap on her door. "Lady Fumiko?"

She recognized Tadashi's voice. "Yeah? Oh, come in, it's fine."

The door opened, and Tadashi stuck his head in, eyes flickering everywhere at once for a moment to scan the room before falling back to her. "I just got a message from Tsubaki-san downstairs. Lord Baki is waiting to talk to you on the lobby. He says it's urgent."

"Did he say what it was?" Fumiko put her paintbrush down on the stand and stood, wiping uselessly at her pants to smear off some of the paint on her hands. "Did something happen?"

"Not so far as we know," he said with a stiff shrug. "Everything appears to be fine. He just wants to speak with you."

"Okay. Tell him I'll be down in a minute."

As the door closed, she turned towards the crib, and the carrier at the foot of it. "Come on, kids," she said, leaning over the top to pick up Hiroki. "Let's go visit your uncle Kankuro, huh?"

...

~ "No, I've been here the whole time."

...

After leaving the twins with Kankuro in his workshop, Fumiko headed downstairs to the lobby. As she made it halfway down she could pick him out from the crowd, standing almost impatiently off to the side of the main floor room, to the left of the door.

"Ne, Baki!" she called and waved, clunking the rest of the way down the stairs, catching several people's attention, but they looked away soon enough once they knew the source of the curious greeting. Baki looked up as well, and detached from the wall to meet her halfway across the floor.

He smiled, the light, almost strained kind that the older shinobi tended to smile with, but it was genuine. "Fumiko-sama. It's been too long. How are the children?"

"They're good!" She smiled. "And it's been forever, Baki! I don't think I've seen you since- it's just been too long! But, um..." She tilted her head curiously. "What did you need? Tadashi said you needed to talk with me?"

"Can we walk?" he asked instead of answering, and without waiting for a reply he turned and headed for the main doors, hands tucking into his pockets. Fumiko started and followed after him, making her way through the crowd and to the door without bumping into anyone, not really an achievement since people tried hard now not to collide with any of the Kazekage's family.

Finally she broke out of the crowd into the baking sunlight. Sand bit at her cheeks, whipping her hair over her shoulder immedietly, gusting through her clothes, tight though they were. "Baki! Wait up!"

He didn't stop, but he slowed down when she caught up so they could walk side by side.

After a moment spent with her curiously glancing up at his face every now and then before looking back down at the sand to keep from tripping, Baki finally spoke.

"Gaara told me about your argument," he said. "I'm sorry that happened."

"Me too."

"But he admitted to me that you were right. Gaara really does value your opinion, Fumiko-sama." He cast her a sideways glance, not unfriendly. "I agree as well. You should be allowed to fight if you so wish, as with anyone else."

"Baki, where are we going?"

"Just somewhere with more fresh air," he didn't sound sarcastic despite the words/ "Not far, just to one of the balconies."

"Oh." Fumiko was silent for a moment, looking out at the sandy desert environment of people and tight, tall buildings, thinking. She bit her lip, considering. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Here we go." He stopped beside a building, one of the outposts near the Tower for watch. Baki opened the door first, to let her in, and she walked inside quickly, turning to face him as he closed the door. "There shouldn't be anyone else up there."

She followed him up the stairs without a word, confused. When they reached the top to the catwalk ledge, he opened the door, and this time he stepped inside first, much like Mai with his immediate cursory take-in of the area before opening it the rest of the way to let her through, and she stepped out into the air once more. Heat permeated this place, pressing tight to her skin.

"Okay, Baki." she said when he closed the door, turning once more to watch him. "What did you really want to talk about?"

"The rules say that you have to be at minimum a Chuunin to fight in an officially declared war," he explained without further ado. "This rule was put in place to keep the political powers above us to use children and those not ready for the battlefield from going out unprepared and getting themselves killed. It's to protect the next generations of ninja."

"I know," she said. "It's why Mai had to take that Chuunin test."

Baki nodded. "But," he said, "There are certain exceptions to that rule. For instance, many of the advisors on the Head's council aren't Chuunin or even Jonin themselves. Many are simply Genin, and a few are even civilians with familial ties to ninja. This way, we can connect to both aspects of the village- the civilians and the shinobi."

"So you mean that if someone high up in the Kage business of running the village could go if they wanted?" she asked curiously. "Even if they aren't Chuunin? I guess that makes sense. I mean it isn't like they're helpless."

"Exactly." Baki nodded again. "But they have to be registered as ninja, at the very least."

"Well, yeah. If you were never a ninja, even if you know ninja and how they work, it doesn't mean you know how to defend yourself, or if you can put anything into action." Fumiko reached up to tug on her necklace. "They can get a promotion to Genin, can't they? Like I did. If the Kazekage- Gaara- thinks they'd be okay?"

"You already know that Gaara registered you as a Genin without following the system. There was no test for you, nor was there any other kind of observation. He can't do the same thing to make you Chuunin- at least, not until the war starts and we're in a declared state of emergency. Then he could promote you in the field."

"Right. I asked him about it and he said he would try."

This time Baki shook his head. "He spoke to me about it, which is why I'm here. Gaara-sama couldn't bring himself to prepare to do this on his own."

"Do what?" she asked, but before she even closed her mouth her eyes widened, and she bit her lip hard enough to aggravate a sore. "Wait, I'm Gaara's second in command. Does that mean..."

Baki didn't nod nor shake his head this time, though he did watch her with a cool kind of observation. "Fumiko-sama, as both a Genin and Gaara-sama's official Second, you can fight."

His hand, which had stayed tucked into a pouch on his side- a kunai pouch, perhaps, or to hold exploding notes, at least that's what it'd looked like at first glance- pulled out, and in his fingers he loosely held a strip of dark blue fabric.

"Is that...?"

It was in her hand before she could even reach for it, and as Baki's hand pulled away, her fingers curled around the metal lightly, fabric trailing out into the air. In the wind, the tails swayed. She could see her own flabergasted expression in the shiny steel forehead protector, face marked by the perfectly carved kanji in the center.

"'Shinobi'?" she read softly.

"It's symbolic. As an Alliance, there will be one force, not many. We will fight together, and not as separate parts."

So it was happening.

And now that it was, she wondered briefly if she'd ever really wanted to win.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and she looked up with wide eyes at Baki, whose mouth pinched slightly. "I wish you luck," he said. "I truly hope you survive, Fumiko-sama."

"I will," she said with a firm nod. "We all will. We have to."

His expression turned grim, but he managed a small smile, wry and dry. It was a hard smile, marred by experience and common sense that she refused to accept, common sense he'd gained on the field, and the guardedness that came from hoping far too much, far too many times. "Let us hope so."

...

~ "I know." she smiled again, eyes unfocused, and giggled suddenly. "It was all the doctors could talk about!" ~

...

Hey so I know this fun game

It's called don't kill the author

GAHHH I'M SO SORRY! This took forever to update! Like, exactly 3 freaking weeks! I swear I have a legit reason- it's mostly because Satomi shows up, so I had to collab with Lily, and life was plotting against my fanfictions because college trips, PSATs, school spirit days and visiting families kept us from collaborating until literally last weekend!

On the bright side, I'm almost completely done with the next chapter, and will have that up by Thursday or Friday depending on review count

So! You guys are probs going to hate me now and this is the worst time to bring it up I betcha, but I've decided to go on a 2 month long haitus in between parts one and two of SOT! Don't worry, we've got two more chapters before that happens. Why? Because I finally got bit by the plot bug and I'm going to write an original book! Hopefully get it [published someday but yknow :P dreams

Quick question- should I make part two an entirely different story, or leave it here and just label it as such on the chapters?

Another note- guys, I've hit 186 reviews on this story. That's the most I have ever gotten on a story. I want to try to hit 200 because DOUBLE HUNDRED GUYS CMON- that means 14 more reviews! 2 more chaps, plus any chapters yall haven't reviewed on.

Srsly like I average about 300-400 (and more) views per chapter every time I update, give or take. If you all reviewed once on a chapter, including guests, I would have over 400 reviews and wouldn't that be spectacular.

Cookie to the one who can spot and identify the modified quote!

Also Mai baby... so so so sorry. I honestly didn't even realized why she hated it until I wrote that scene- and it was the first one I wrote, since Satomi showed up so early! Lol

I think that's all I wanted to talk about. So so sorry for the late update!

Also thanks to my beta, Nameless-am-I (spel? yeah I think)

REVIEW!