25 – To be Welcomed
The rest of the trip to Suna was uneventful, and the Sand siblings found it to be uncomfortably quiet, and they couldn't seem to be able to place why, until Temari realized; Ryoka had stopped humming.
Before, the quietest trace of a song could be heard as they walked, easily mistaken for the whistle of the wind, and now it was silent. Silent and somber. Temari had considered asking Ryoka or Gaara about the 'death in the family' he had referred to, but thought better of it. She wasn't one to pry.
She had wondered offhandedly how to approach the subject of men to Ryoka, but quickly remembered that Ryoka's age of twelve was of a significant difference to her fourteen, and Ryoka seemed like the type that would be a late bloomer in terms of romance anyways. She decided to wait.
"Shiko," Temari asked suddenly, earning the attention of the quiet jinchuriki. Her gold eyes had lost the frightening emptiness of before, but when she looked close enough, there was a trace of deep loss that hadn't been there previously. She swallowed quickly, realizing with an embarrassed flush that she had been staring. "Do you have a place to stay in Suna?" she asked quickly.
Ryoka didn't respond for a moment, seeming to be thinking, then slowly shook her head, but her hand went to her bag, and Temari understood that she intended to rent a room or temporary residence until she did whatever legends did to make money. It was strange how it was slowly becoming easier for them to read Ryoka's intentions through her actions and micro expressions.
"You should stay with us," Temari offered, but Ryoka shook her head before Temari had even finished her sentence. She tried to continue. "Really, it's no trouble, the mansion is way too big for us, and since Father-" she cut off abruptly, and then awkwardly restarted. "…since it's just the three of us, we could use someone else. It would be fun." She smiled hesitantly.
Ryoka didn't answer, seeming to have already made her decision, and was unresponsive for the rest of their journey, to Temari's disappointment. They walked through the steep canyon that naturally hid and guarded Sunagakure like a landform fortress.
They spoke quietly with several guards before being admitted, and Ryoka was forced to allow them to search her before she was permitted to enter. They noticed her eyes flash when the guard approached her, but showed no other sign of resistance as she willingly offered her bag to the man.
"She is a shinobi, so disregard the standard weapons," Gaara's voice startled the man but he nodded hastily. Another approached, informing her that he would be in charge of searching the specific items on her person, and Ryoka took a nervous step back as he took hold of her arm.
"Its procedure," Temari rolled her eyes. "Suna's got their panties in a twist after what happened. It'll be over with fast, so don't worry."
He reached for her scarf, ensuring nothing was concealed in the folds, and she eyed him warily, her posture radiating warning signs.
Temari remembered overhearing what Tsunade had said to the raven haired girl before they had left.
"I remember you hate being touched. Don't worry, I won't pick at old scars, so to speak."
She chewed on her lip, and just hoped the guard would be quick about it.
He checked her waist band and asked her to take off her shoes. He seemed suspicious at first of the pockets they held, but quickly realized they were weights when he tried to pick up the boot to get a closer look and couldn't even lift it off the ground. He pulled harder. It didn't budge.
Scratching his head in awe, he watched as the tiny, seemingly muscle less girl easily picked up the shoe and slipped it back on when he gave her the go ahead.
He ran his hand over her arm guards, feeling the same weights and confirming that they were unsuspicious, and noticed her flinch as he did so. As the last precaution, he began to pat down her waist and she recoiled away, jumping back and landing in a crouch a distance back, her expression more than a little alarmed.
"He's just making sure you aren't hiding anything, like explosive tags," Kankuro told her raising an eye brow. "You can take it easy, Shiko."
He just backed off, not pushing the last procedure. He had seen the silvery scars that overlapped her body when he had checked her arms, and was not eager at all to try her patience. If the children of the previous Kazekage trusted her, he wouldn't delve too deep. He was no fool.
"I-It's okay," he cleared, bullets of sweat appearing on his head. "You're free to go through. Enjoy your time here."
She gave him an unnecessarily wide berth as she passed him, not relaxing until they were well into the village, standing before the mansion that could only be where the Kazekage and his family lived.
It felt strange being back in this place. She hadn't been here since she was six years old.
Temari tugged on her hand as she began to continue walking.
"At least eat with us," Temari requested, though it sounded more like a demand. The blonde was reminding Ryoka more and more of Tsunade with each passing day. "We have to talk about what's going to happen next, and there's something I want to talk to you about alone later."
Ryoka didn't answer, but she didn't resist as Temari led the way into the giant adobe mansion. She did however, slide her hand from Temari's grip, which the kunoichi didn't seem affected by.
"Seems quiet now that he's gone," Kankuro muttered, looking slightly on edge as they walked up a set of carpeted stairs to the dining hall. Temari could only agree. They hadn't been particularly close to their father since he had tried to assassinate Gaara the first time, but it was strange not to hear him ordering around the servants and shinobi.
Ryoka wondered when she should let them know that she had tried to kill the Kazekage and had already been exiled from this land once. She turned her gaze to Temari. Would they hate her for it? They had lost their father, though it hadn't been at her hands. If they had tried to harm one of her family before they died, she likely wouldn't be too pleased.
Troubled, she decided to think it over later. They undoubtedly deserved to know, but it wasn't a priority. Suna was in a state of political chaos, and with the Sand siblings as the only heirs to a position of power, they would undoubtedly be cast straight into the center.
They passed a few servants, some of whom began to whisper after they turned corners, wondering who the strange girl with the gold eyes was.
Dinner was ready by the time they entered the dining hall, and the four of them sat in an awkward silence around the too big table, until their Jounin, Baki, entered, taking a seat next to Kankuro with a sigh. His eyes were lined with deep shadows, and for a moment he seemed too tired to even eat.
"Did you all return without trouble?" he asked finally. Temari and Kankuro glanced at each other and then looked at Gaara and Ryoka, whose expressions gave away nothing.
"Yes," Gaara answered flatly, without looking up.
"I've met you unofficially before, but it's a pleasure, Nadeshiko-san," Baki nodded at her and she inclined her head politely. "I must apologize that this is the first time we meet without precautionary suspicion. Now that the truth behind Suna's involvement in the exams has been uncovered, I must ask. Will you continue as a shinobi of Sunagakure? I can have you enlisted as soon as you give the word, and that will be one matter I can leave at rest."
Ryoka shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She still hadn't touched her food. The prospect of eating after the events of the past three days repulsed her. In all honesty she had never even considered becoming one of Suna's shinobi, let alone a citizen. She had only lived by wandering, and now he was telling her to stay. She would have to wear a headband with the mark of the desert, rather than one of Shadow or Leaf. The thought had barely even occurred to her.
"Why wouldn't you?" Temari asked haughtily. "I know you were only temporarily assigned to be with our team for the Exams, but you came back with us didn't you? What village did you call home before?"
She met Temari's eyes calmly.
"It doesn't exist."
Kankuro was unfortunate enough to have been taking a drink when she spoke and he choked, spitting the water out and causing it to spray across the table in a very unmannerly fashion.
"You spoke!" he spluttered, eyes wide. Then he noticed Baki and Temari's disgusted expressions and made a big show of politely wiping his face with his napkin. "Uh, sorry."
"Doesn't exist?" Temari repeated quietly. They all knew what that meant. Like the Uchiha massacre in Konoha. Erased. Annihilated. Forgotten. Baki watched her with an unreadable expression, while Temari's was one of sympathy. None of them had realized Ryoka's past was less than easy, though she should have guessed, seeing as Ryoka had traveled to Suna alone as a mere child.
"I see. I was informed that you were a special case when we received you on our team. I take it you were not actually born in this desert then?"
She shook her head slowly. He seemed to be thinking.
"Normally that would make our higher ups have a fit, but since our political system has been completely compromised for the time being, I doubt allowing an immigrant to become one of our military personnel would cause too much of an uproar. I trust my students," he nodded at the siblings, "and they seem to trust you, but I will leave the final decision in your hands. If you show up to train with them tomorrow morning, I will enlist you in our shinobi ranks. If not, you will be a citizen of Suna until I am informed otherwise. You are welcome to remain here as long as you prefer. Any objections with that?"
She shook her head again, glad that she would have time to mull it over.
He turned his attention to the siblings.
"Now, let's move on to the real issues at hand."
Kankuro groaned, clearly not a stranger to the political lecture he was about to receive. Temari kicked him under the table, a reminder to show respect to their Jounin sensei.
"I know you are tired, so let me just put this bluntly." Baki folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair.
"The Kazekage is dead, the council is scrambling to find a successor, and the rest of the world thinks we are a joke for being manipulated by a single rogue ninja from the village we failed to attack, let alone win against."
Temari winced.
"Well when you put it that way," Kankuro muttered, leaning forward.
"What do you three plan to do in the immediate future? As the children of the Kazekage, the people will be looking to you for an example of strength and as inspiration that all is not lost." he stared at each of them individually.
"We will have to renew our alliance with Konoha. Orochimaru screwed over our political system and basically exploited every loophole we had. Now we have to go back and reform the system so that it can't be repeated," Kankuro said darkly, taking a drink of water.
"We will probably have to arrange exchanges, treaties, perhaps even joint missions with Konoha to regain their trust, but this will be difficult without the Kazekage or an officially inaugurated Hokage on their end," Temari continued, already beginning to look tired.
"I'm going to join the regulation forces."
Four pairs of eyes turned towards Gaara, each of them reflecting the others' surprise.
"Gaara... Why would you want to do that?"
Gaara didn't answer, instead shifting his gaze to each of them in turn. When his flat stare met Ryoka's, she offered an almost imperceptible nod of approval. She liked the idea.
Sensing that the conversation would soon delve even deeper into the one subject she had no interest in grasping, she quietly slid her chair back, about to clear her dishes away when a servant beat her to it, assuring her that it wouldn't be necessary.
The conversation paused as she did so, and she inclined her head at them, ready to show herself out.
"You won't stay?" Temari's voice sounded disappointed.
"C'mon, Midget, one night won't hurt," Kankuro's lazy drawl drew her attention to him as he rested his hands behind his head, grinning. "We haven't had a guest in years."
She shook her head, returning the seat to its proper place tucked into the table, and excusing herself.
"Tomorrow morning."
Gaara's reminder surprised her, and sent a slight shiver down her spine, but she didn't pause, continuing on her way out the door. Once it closed behind her, she immediately disappeared and ran from rooftop to rooftop, sucking in the cool night air. She scanned the village for the tallest building and noticed with a twist or irony that of course it was the mansion she had just left. She moved to its roof anyways, settling onto the smooth cement and staring over the rest of the village, shivering slightly as the wind blew her hair around her.
Would enlisting as a shinobi make it easier or more difficult to help Gaara? And even if she could somehow ease his suffering, what about her own? She still couldn't take a life, couldn't bring herself to deliver a fatal blow, and never had, save for when the Nanabi was influencing her.
They would ask brutal things of her that she wasn't willing to complete. She wanted to save Gaara's soul. She felt nothing for this village, and had no obligation to protect it. Gaara was simply the Wanderer's next target.
Her legend had picked battles to tweak, lives to save, situations to assist in, and troubles to solve, one at a time, and the Wanderer in her chose Gaara as the next victim of the cruel world that she wanted to help. She simply hadn't realized how large of a task it would be until she had seen him kill in cold blood. Not that it mattered. She would remain at his side until his soul was stitched back together and then fade away back into the shadows as she always had.
But he was joining the regular forces, too. If she didn't enlist, and he encountered difficult situations on his missions as he undoubtedly would, it would be nigh impossible to reach him if she wasn't physically there. Gaara wasn't the type to come back and spill his troubles. He would simply brood for hours, and she would be helpless to watch it torment him.
She sighed, undecided, and rested her cheek on her knee, watching in fascination as little swirls of condensation formed in the air and drifted away from her mouth with every breath.
She closed her eyes, hoping to meditate a while and regain her strength and chakra stores from the depleting journey in the sun. She was at a disadvantage in the desert, where the sun shined the most brightly, something she would have to learn to overcome.
"You're a jinchuriki."
Ryoka's blood seemed to freeze in her veins as the words reached her ears. Not once since she was a little girl had someone managed to sneak up on her so soundlessly.
Her eyes shifted to the side and she saw Gaara standing next to her. She wondered if he had searched for her or if all jinchuriki just had a fondness for high places. She decided the latter was more likely.
"As are you." Her response was almost lost in the wind, but he stared at her for it, hearing the implication in those three words. 'What difference does it make?' hung unsaid.
Her eyes were drawn to the moon. She could tell he had questions, was burning for knowledge about how others perceived the world, and how people like Naruto managed that crippling sense of isolation and remained in the light rather than falling into the darkness.
"Why are you here?" her question was slightly stronger this time, a sweet melody rather than just the hum of the wind.
He took a long time to answer.
"I come here every night."
Coincidence, then. They both happened to like watching the sky at night. She returned to staring at the moon, and they said no more, the silence feeling much more comfortable than it had before.
"Was it difficult for you… the same way it was for him… and me?"
She nodded, recognizing his reference to Naruto. That was the only him Gaara acknowledged, besides perhaps Kankuro.
"How did you overcome it? Was it through…" he seemed to struggle to find the words, before resorting to quoting Naruto. "…protecting important people?"
Ryoka winced, reminded of her failure to do exactly that.
"Something like that," was her only answer, and Gaara could tell she was done talking. Speaking was more difficult than she had anticipated, the words seeming reluctant to come forth. She wondered if there were still traces of old fear lingering from the torture, the same way she recoiled from touch and was incapable of crying.
She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing, and tried to clear her mind, nodding off into the meditative state that kept her calm without the troubles of nightmares.