Um, so here's the next chapter. Gaara-centric at about 6400 words. No stats here this time, nor will reviews be answered here. Kinda tired and wanna just rest up for the coming week (SPRING BREAK!), which I'll be spending rereading the series from as far back as I own it (volume 14 up to present). I like to do it about once a year or so to keep my love and inspiration for this going strong.

Disclaimer the First: Not sure when anything else will be updated, but if this next week goes as I want it to, then expect something to update (either one of my trio of Naruto fics or the DP fic; doubtful that I'd start a new DP fic, but I wouldn't put it past my muse to direct me into doing such a thing). Updates and whatnot should pick up around May, since that's when my college semester ends.

Disclaimer the Second: Got caught up in Rise of the Guardians fanfics/fandom. And Tumblr. both might not be the greatest of influences on me...

Lucidity

Chapter 37

Negotiation

"You can't win against me." Hidan stated, looking almost remorseful at the downed platoon. He looked directly at the Ichibi Jinchuuriki – or, specifically, the vibrating black gourd of sand at the Jinchuuriki's back. "Especially not with that sand." The Jinchuuriki bristled, most likely feeling insulted at the dismissal of the black sand. "In fact, I think I'll let you have one free shot. If you can beat me using that sand on your back, I'll lift the curse on your village, and we can proceed with the fight as expected."

A lie, but one that the Jinchuuriki would be desperate enough to overlook in the face of emotional bonds. Hidan hummed, tapping the handle of a Kunai against his chin, waiting for the Jinchuuriki to make his move.

He didn't have to wait long, as the gourd exploded into a massive could of sand that rose into the air, invisible against the night sky, the only hint that it existed – and was speedily moving towards Hidan – was the black shadow it cast on the blue-gray desert below. He watched lazily as it moved towards him, and closed his eyes, focusing on the distant thrumming ever-present at the back of his mind for over three years now. With an almost lazy tug, the thrumming floated to the forefront of his mind, morphing into a thundering cacophony, like thousands of drums beating out of tune with one another. The thundering got ever louder still, until Hidan lifted his hand, fingers tilted as if to gently welcome and caress the oncoming sand.

"It truly is stunning, how the almighty Jashin works." Hidan murmured, watching as the ebony sand curled and spiraled, branching off into tendrils that curled and wound their way around his arm and body, just far enough above his skin to set every nerve alight with the chilling warmth it exuded. When it settled in the air around his legs, an always-moving tornado of sand in miniature, he called out to the Jinchuuriki. "It seems, then, that you've lost. Your beloved sand is mine, now."

At his feet, the tornado coalesced into a set of stairs leading towards a platform, and he walked up it, coming to a stop on the platform of ebony sand floating several feet away from the edge of the mesa. He watched with satisfaction the various emotions playing across the Jinchuuriki's face: shock, surprise, a hint of fear, anger.

It was the fear that made this not-killing thing that Leader enforced worth it. The fear that, for all their strength and skill and power, they were still mortal. Still humans, with their pitifully fallible thinking and actions. It was this sort of enlightenment that had made the process of becoming an acolyte of Jashin bearable; Hidan was now fully aware of his placement in the greater universe, and was now a wholly spiritual being existing within this physical body for a single purpose – to ensure that as many souls were introduced to the enlightenment Jashin provided as he could, for as long as this body of his held out.

"What have you done?!" The Jinchuuriki's shock was clear in his voice, and Hidan merely chuckled at the uninitiated child.

"Do you remember the curse I inflicted upon you all those years ago?" Hidan called down, the sand platform beginning to move towards the Jinchuuriki. "And how it drew the souls of those whose blood stained this sand of yours?" All around him, the excess ebony sand floated, orbiting him like a Shinobi squad protects their client. "Did you really think that slaying those souls would end the curse inflicted on this sand?"

The Jinchuuriki gaped, while from behind him a pair of figures flew into the air, their joints clacking as they moved. There was a faint shine in the air, like dew-covered spiderwebs, that Hidan's eyes traced from the flying figures to the hunched-over figure of the newest Kazekage.

"Your puppets won't stop me, Kazekage." Hidan said, flicking the Kunai in his hand across the back of his left wrist, feeling as the skin parted and the tendons were cut. Below, the long-haired puppet froze, going limp as it started falling to the ground. It didn't fall more than ten feet before it jerked, and started flying towards him once more. With a sigh, he absentmindedly jerked the injured hand towards the oncoming puppets. The ebony sand followed his movement, dispersing in the air to flow into and around the puppets. There was a grinding noise, and even though they were still approaching, the joints were locked in place. They continued on their path for several feet before stopping several meters below Hidan.

"Why do you need the Jinchuuriki?" The elderly Kazekage called out, her voice surprisingly strong. "What purpose does a group of A-class and S-class Missing-Nin want with them?"

"I don't believe that you're in a position to be asking questions, Kazekage." Hidan called back, twirling the Kunai between his fingers. "But... don't think that I'm not beyond negotiating a deal."

"Sunagakure does not negotiate with rogue elements!" The Kazekage retorted.

Hidan clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "See, that's where you're wrong. But this is also where you can take advantage of a wonderful opportunity."

"Opportunity?" He heard the Jinchuuriki repeat, and let the grin come across his face as he responded.

"Yes, opportunity. You see, I follow the teachings of the almighty Jashin, and one of the edicts is that death is mandatory to those whom are cursed by an acolyte must die. Now, the good news here is that there has not, technically, been a curse placed all of you Suna-nin. This means that, should we come to blows, I can very easily end this curse. However, to do so means that I would have to place my curse on one of you." Hidan calmly explained. "Now, this is where the problem lies. You don't want me to place my curse on you, and I cannot place my curse on the Ichibi Jinchuuriki. So, here is my proposition. You be a good, cooperative Hidden Village and give me that one, lonely little Jinchuuriki you have there, and I won't have to kill all of you. This deal is more than fair to you. In fact, you could easily say that this solution is to your benefit. By willingly handing over your Jinchuuriki, the Land of Wind will be free from participating in this war you've declared. Indeed, none of your Shinobi will have to sacrifice their lives for a futile cause. So how about it; surrender a single Jinchuuriki, and save countless thousands from meaningless death as a consequence of this war. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Gaara stared in horror as his sand – the sand that he had personally had control of for longer than he could ever remember, that had acted as comfort when no one else offered any – responded to this monster instead of him. It was horrifying; he could still feel it, could know exactly where each and every grain was and how they moved and shifted, but at the same time any action he wanted them to go – dispersal and entombment of the Akatsuki member – was ignored. He felt violated, like a piece of his soul was being molested and he could do nothing to stop it.

"I'm sorry lad." Chiyo spoke up from beside him, holding her injured left arm close, pressing it up against the gash in her torso. "He makes a tempting offer, and does hold the advantage should we choose to decline."

"You can't!" Kankuro hissed, crouching nearby with Temari. "This is Akatsuki you're going to barter with. Missing-Nin top the list of people not to negotiate deals with, and that organization is full of them. You can't possibly trust his word!"

"Don't be absurd!" Chiyo scoffed, glancing at the younger puppeteer out of the corner of her eye. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were the senile one, boy!"

"You have a plan." Gaara didn't phrase it as a question, but fact. Chiyo inclined her head.

"Curses are Seals, and in the end, all Seals can be undone." Her head tilted towards the red-headed Jinchuuriki. "Your control over that special sand of yours is gone, but you can still control the desert, right?"

Gaara nodded, understanding flitting through his eyes as he realized what she was planning. It was a dangerous gamble, but here in the desert, with sand surrounding them for kilometers around, he was certain in his safety. A sharp nod passed between Kazekage and Jinchuuriki.

"We accept your terms!" Chiyo called out to Hidan, who frowned at the response.

"Send the Jinchuuriki out!" Hidan replied. "Alone! Anyone does anything to screw this deal, this Kunai gets a one-way ticket to the aorta, with stops at the superior and inferior venae cavae."

"Do as he says." Chiyo calmly told the red-head, a glare silencing Gaara's siblings. Gaara glanced back at his brother and sister (biologically, at least; Naruto and Fu had taken such spots in his heart long ago), who were watching him worriedly. While their sibling relationship was in tatters, it was slowly mending into something resembling friendship.

"Don't worry." Gaara felt himself saying, a platitude that felt more like a promise, the kind that Naruto always made – which meant that no matter what happened, things would be alright. "I will return."

"Gaara..." Temari began, but trailed off as he turned, walking steadfastly towards the deranged Akatsuki member. The desert sand crunched beneath his feet as he walked. Gaara drew a deep breath, reaching deep within himself, going towards the pained, angry screams of Shukaku. With that came a surge of Yokai, and a feeling of being, like Gaara was innately aware of every grain of sand for miles around. It was at the cusp of this ocean of Yokai that Gaara stood, letting the feel of the desert engulf him. With a flicker of thought, he made the sand at the feet of his siblings shift, forming words – instructions to be followed and relayed to all in the platoon.

No sooner had he sent the message was the triple-bladed scythe flying towards him, and he was forced to dodge.

Only, the rebellious black sand was curling around Gaara, holding him in place as the scythe moved ever closer. With methods of retreat and dodging prevented, he was left helpless when the outermost blade made contact strafed his chest, gathering a thin trail of blood along the edge. As the ebony sand let him go, Gaara pressed both hands to the slice in his shirt, over his heart. While the desert sand below flows in tiny rivulets along his skin from his feet to his hands, stitching together and numbing the pain as best the miniscule grains could, the screaming protestations of his ebony sand at being used against him echoed within his very soul.

The scythe finished its arc, curving through the air and returning to its owner. The sand platform shifted, and Gaara didn't need to see to know that it was forming the strange symbol – a triangle within a circle – that was synonymous with this mysterious cult of Jashin. The blade harboring Gaara's blood was lifted up to Hidan's mouth, and a tongue slipped out, sliding across the bloodied blade, collecting the crimson liquid with fervor. Once the blade was clean, the tongue retracted, back to hiding in the orifice it came from.

"This is almost too easy." The silver-haired Akatsuki member shivered in delight as his skin became blacker than night, with almost glowing white pictures of bones appeared over his body. Once the color stopped fading from his body, Hidan took the Kunai in his hand, slowly dragging it along his cheeks. With a quick flick, a long, thin cut was created on one cheek, going from cheekbone to chin. Gaara felt a sudden blossoming of pain on his cheek – the same one that Hidan had injured himself on – and a hand flew to his face, fingertips gently dabbing at the cut that was there. Behind him, there was a collective gasp from the platoon, and he turned his head, watching behind him as the entire Suna platoon found themselves devoid of a similar injury. "On behalf of Akatsuki, I thank you for your consideration." Hidan outstretched his hand and, with a flick of the wrist, the black sand was curling around and encasing Gaara's hands, compacting tight enough that movement quickly became impossible. The outstretched hand upturned, and the ebony sand curled around and ensnared Gaara's feet as well, and he was lifted into the air. "I shall now take my leave in peace. Anyone tries to stop me, and..."

The threat was left unsaid, and everyone understood. Gaara was a hostage, much like they had just been, and any attempt to stop the silver-haired Akatsuki member would only end up hurting the Ichibi Jinchuuriki. Gaara continued to rise in the air, until he was facing across from Hidan.

"Are you afraid of death?" It was a taunt, Gaara knew, and one whose bait he would not indulge.

"This sand has been mired in the lifeblood of dozens." Gaara knew that Hidan was listening with interest, even as he was turning away to begin the move towards Akatsuki's base. "For many years, I believed that it was imbued with the spirit of my mother, and chose to believe that the screams of Shukaku was her spirit trying to contact me."

"Your mother's spirit..." Hidan hummed, scratching his chin with his nails. A phantom sensation came across Gaara's upper throat, just beneath the chin, of claws digging at the skin. It distracted from the jarring movement that came when the ebony sand jerked into motion. "That explains many things about this sand. Not idly does one of Jashin's curses ensnare an inanimate object. Your mother must truly have loved you, to imbue her soul into this sand."

Green eyes widened, and Gaara was soon looking at the sand encasing his limbs with intensity he'd not before had. His mother's soul – had been there all along? Through all the blood and death, she had been there, protecting him from beyond the grave?

Yashamaru had been wrong in his words, all those years ago?

"You didn't know?" Gaara's attention flew back to Hidan, and green eyes met glowing purple. "Well, how about that..." The deranged man seemed to trail off, his eyes watching the waxing moon with interest. "I could tell you."

Gaara blinked, confused at the abrupt change in subject. "Tell me what?"

"What she's saying." Hidan gave Gaara a look of absolute condescension, meanwhile pulling out a roll of gauze and wrapping it around his injured wrist. "Oh, don't give me that look. I am blessed by Jashin. This body is little more than a tool to house my existence; I have long since achieved enlightenment transcending this mortal plane, and can perceive things beyond your comprehension. So!" He clapped his hands together, a hungry grin on his face. "Shall we get this séance started?"

"You... wish to help me?" While many conceptions about encountering enemy Shinobi had been turned on their head because of life with Naruto, Gaara was completely speechless at this almost uncharacteristic behavior from the psychopath.

"Oh, no; I still want to curse you into death and beyond." And here Hidan's grin slid away, only to return far more ravenous and malevolent. "But making you suffer instead of dealing the killing blow will have to do. After all, I shan't have use of your body after your death, and having Sasori turn you into one of his puppets just won't satisfy like a living, breathing person would."

That... had to be the single most disturbing sentence Gaara had ever heard. And he'd lived with Naruto for the past three years.

"You derive pleasure from the death of your victims." It was a statement of fact; one that Gaara would hold by until the end of his life if anyone asked about the madman before him. "Their deaths give you pleasure unlike any other."

"Nothing so physical, you uncultured philistine. All pleasure I receive is purely of the soul. I took a vow of abstinence when I converted to the Church of Jashin." If anything, the psychopath looked disgusted at the idea of such a thing (which just put this experience down as the single most disturbing thing to happen to Gaara in his entire life). "I'd ask if you wanted to convert, but that wouldn't be good for Leader's plans."

"What are those plans?" Gaara figured that the man would spill everything out of hubris. Instead, Hidan just gave the red-head a maddeningly leering grin.

"That would be telling, now wouldn't it?" The Missing-Nin's head tilted, and purple eyes shone bright under the light of the moon. When placed against the backdrop of the skeletal visage, Gaara was stricken with the sudden likeness between Hidan and old paintings depicting hell-gods. Perhaps belief in Jashin was created out of fear to those very same gods... "You never gave me an answer."

"An answer?"

"The spirit of your... mother, was it?" Glittering purple eyes hidden within black pits leaned in close, almost eclipsing Gaara's vision. He tapped the ebony sand entrapping the red-head's hands. "Can you imagine the words she must want to say? How she feels about being responsible for all the blood staining your hands?" Suddenly, the eyes pulled back to reveal a grin stretching from ear to ear. "Really puts the fear of god in you, doesn't it?"

Gaara didn't say anything, instead focusing on the cascade of desert sand building up in the air behind Hidan. He already knew about this curse from Yugito's tale of her encounter, along with how to stop it – remove the caster from the sanctioned area, and the curse would not take effect.

Without a response, Hidan was getting impatient, and the grin twisted into a frown, before morphing into a grimace of rage.

"Hey. Pay attention when your betters are–" Whatever he'd been about to say was lost to the winds when the deluge of desert sand attacked, wasting no time in surrounding the Missing-Nin, and Gaara allowed a smirk to grace his features at the madman's lack of situational awareness – only for the orb of desert sand to explode open in a deluge of brown and black, revealing an irate Hidan, glaring at the Jinchuuriki. "You are trying my patience, Jinchuuriki."

"Good." Gaara jerked his head, and another deluge of sand surged from below, exploding into a massive wall that separated either from the other's view. Tendrils slid from the wall, joining the tiny rivulets running to his bound hands and feet, causing an explosion of sand that freed him from his bonds.

"Enough!" The snarl came from above, and Gaara saw Hidan standing atop a platform of ebony sand, his silver hair disheveled, strands dangling over his furious face. "You will come quietly, or I will be forced to use more... drastic measures."

To ensure his point really sunk in, Hidan took out one of his pikes and stabbed it deep into his leg, straight through to the other side. Gaara gasped as his own leg collapsed, a blotch of red dotting his leg just above his knee, staining his pants leg as the bleeding spread..

"Don't worry. It's not as bad as it looks. The bleeding will stop soon enough, but you won't have to worry about bleeding out from lack of treatment." Hidan's voice was disturbingly calm, but there was an instability to it, an insanity that Gaara could almost feel. "Do not assume I won't land a killing blow the first chance I get." At Gaara's shocked expression the beginning of a smile danced at the edges of Hidan's lips. "Do you understand now, the pain we cause one another?" The pike was yanked out, and Hidan wiped the blood off using his cloak before dragging the tip along his arm. "The soul-deep agony that cannot be denied? This is the kind of pain that will drag you down to the worst pits of Hell without proper understanding and atonement for your sins." The pike was pulled away, retracted and returned to its spot within the folds of the cloak. Both hands came together in a flurry of seals, before clapping together. "Now, feel the pain that your mother's soul feels."

The ebony sand exploded, flying through the air towards Gaara. A dark haze could be seen against the moonlight, ephemeral wisps of smoke that flickered and curled around the ebony sand, making it appear as if it were wreathed in dark fire. The deluge of desert sand moved to intercept, but the unfamiliarity Gaara had with it made the reaction time a fraction of a second too slow, and soon he was being smothered by the ebony sand, the ephemeral fire burning deeper than skin, setting fire to his veins and spreading to encompass his entire being.

The black fire was a numbing burn, an agony that penetrated deep, deeper than bone, and created a pain that felt far worse than anything physical. Not even Shukaku's screams at its worst was this painful, seeming like a small irritant in the face of this soul-deep agony that burned. Gaara heard screams, so loud and pained that they could not possibly have come from anything even resembling human, but a small, deadened part of him recognized those screams as his own. He didn't think it possible for a human to make such guttural, raw sounds; was this what dying felt like?

"Gaara..."

And then, the burning fire stopped. Gaara cracked one eye open, careful not to agitate his far-too-raw nerves with too much stimuli. White light shown out from all sides, bright enough to reveal the endless expanse, but not so bright that it hurt to look at it.

"Gaara... I'm so sorry..."

There it was again; a voice, one so familiar yet foreign that it made his heart ache with wounds he never new existed.

"Who..." He tried to speak, but it came out in a dry rasp that hurt to make. Still, he tried again. Finding out who the owner of this agonizingly familiar voice was sounded like the single most important mission he would ever embark upon. "Who are you?"

"I'm so sorry..." The feminine voice sounded closer, and was less of an echo than it had been previously. "I wanted this to be an honor... something you could be proud of... I never knew your father would..."

"Who are you?!" Gaara turned around, eyes wide open as he searched for the figure the voice belonged to.

"I can't... just remember that I will always love you, no matter what you do..." She can't? What can't she do?

"Please, tell me who you are!" Gaara's vision blurred as the sting of tears bled into his eyes, the salty liquid overflowing and trailing down his face. He didn't quite understand why she was making him cry, but whoever she was, he recognized her voice – just not the person behind it. Why couldn't he remember?

"My name... Karura..."

Time stopped.

Karura? His mother? His real mother, not some thing masquerading as her? Was he– could she really be–

"Mother?" The word, despite having been regularly used in his earlier years as a way to deny the reality of the eternal whisper at the edges of his mind as coming from the murderous Shukaku, weighed heavily on his tongue. It felt... foreign, filled with raw want and desperate need.

"I am so, so sorry... your father... he only wanted the best for you... he lost sight of what was truly important..." She sounded so regretful, and it picked at wounds he never even knew he had. They were wounds of the heart, Gaara realized, and could only be healed with one thing.

"Have you come to give me medicine?" There was a bubble of laughter that was too-soon choked by a sob.

"You've already gotten it... I gave it to you the very first moment I saw you..." It stung, and he felt a different sort of pain, one that dug deep and prodded at nerves and emotions that he'd never thought existed within him.

It was the feeling of being loved.

"Thank you." The words came out in a choked sob, and he was left slumped on his knees, quietly sobs echoing in the white expanse. "I... thank you."

Gaara didn't think he could handle giving this sort of medicine, not if receiving it turned him into such an emotional mess.

"It's love... you don't need to thank me..." Oh, how he wished she was really, truly here. How he wanted to hold her close, to feel her touch and listen as she whispered words of comfort. "I don't blame you for what you did... I am proud of you, my son... and know that I will love you forever..." Something was different now; her voice sounded like it was fading away. "I wish we had more time... I'm so sorry... tell your brother and sister I love them... I love you, Gaara..."

And then she was gone, leaving Gaara alone in the world, his mother's love pulsating within.

He had been told once that the sand that followed him around was a symbol of his mother's love for him, a dying wish to protect him from harm. And so she had, preventing even the most minor of injuries to happen to him over the years. Now... now he was to stand on his own power, to step out of her protecting shadow and into her loving acceptance of his own power. It was time now for him to survive without her protection.

When next Gaara opened his eyes, there was no pain. He was wrapped in darkness, but it was comforting. Familiar. All around him, sand was falling away, dropping down into the desert below, revealing a calm expression to to the silver-haired Missing-Nin.

"What... what are you?!" The man was hysterical, the triple-bladed scythe in his hands and at the ready. With a snarl, the falling sand – no longer ebony, but now returned to the previous earthen brown color from years ago – coalesced into a singular arm that reached out, moving to grab at Hidan – only for the Missing-Nin to bounce out of the way, falling to the ground and jumping out of the way of whatever arms of sand reached out to grab at him. He brought the scythe down on one of the columns of sand, the blades stabbing deep within, only for it to get stuck. Without missing a beat, Hidan jumped off the handle, flying away and towards a lone rock outcropping.

Blackened fingers slid around the cable connected to the end of the scythe, yanking the blades free and sending the scythe flying back towards its owner. The Missing-Nin grabbed it out of the air by its blades, the sharpened edges digging into his skin – but he paid little attention to it, instead gripping the handle in his other hand and dragging the lowest blade against his palm, slicing it open. In the moonlight, the blood appeared both a deep, rich reddish color and a deep, empty black as it dripped down onto the rock. Wasting no time, Hidan stepped in the puddle, using the heel of his sandal to create a circle of blood, and then forming a triangle within, the edges touching against the inner lining of the blood circle. The moment the sigil was completed, the scythe's blades were brought up against the Akatsuki's member's neck. Immediately the onslaught froze, pillars of sand that were hanging in the air began to fall apart, thin rivulets soon becoming thick waterfalls that fell and joined with the dunes below.

"That's right," Hidan snarled, a feral grin on his face as ragged breathing seethed through clenched teeth. "You can't hurt me while I have this curse in place. Now, you are coming quietly if this is the last thing I ever do!"

A sphere of wind, the size of a man's head, came barreling though the air, slamming into Hidan's midsection. The sudden attack threw the man off, upending his balance and nearly sending the Missing-Nin flying backwards. Gaara grunted, the phantom pain of the hit affecting him just as much as it was the Akatsuki member. In the moonlight, there was a faint blue shimmer against the air, like spiderwebs waving in the wind, and the scythe was yanked from the Missing-Nin's hand, before a clacking wooden creature – one of Kankuro's puppets, Gaara belatedly realized – opened its' chest, enveloping the off-balance Hidan and pulling away from the cursed symbol.

"Got him!" Gaara didn't need to look to see that his siblings were there, executing the plan. With the an captured, now they could–

Pain shook through the red-headed Jinchuuriki, and he was down, falling from the sand platform to the desert below. Reaching up with one hand, the desert moved, flying up to meet him and slow his descent, while his other hand pressed against his side, to the slowly growing red splotch that was seeping through his shirt and under-armor. Blood, so dark in the night it was almost black, dripped from between his fingers, and his breathing felt wet and ragged.

"Bind him!" The words were screamed, though whether they were from his mouth or not was unknown, because all that his world was, was sideways and tumbling down a slope of sand as he tried not to jostle his injured side or leg any more than necessary. Eventually Gaara stopped, and he was left with a sideways view as Kankuro was flicking chakra strings left and right, while Temari rushed towards the injured Jinchuuriki.

"The symbol!" And this time he knew the words spoken were his own, just as he realized what had happened. "In the puppet! Get it away from him!" A thought came to him, and he reached out to grab at Temari. "Don't injure him. His curse is in effect."

She nodded, and turned to join her other brother, who was off to the side, standing near his puppet. Hidan's screams could be heard coming from within the bloated belly.

"Do you think you can stop me? Huh?" There was a faint noise, a chok sound, which was faintly recognized as a blade chopping at wood. "This will never end, do you hear me?"

Gaara snarled, a faintly weak sound that lost itself to the hiss of pain it became. His leg and chest were still hurt, and would have to be looked at by one of the medics, but Gaara could still fight; physical movement had never been integral to his fighting style.

"Open it." Gaara slid into something resembling standing, with a pillar of sand molding into a dull-brown duplicate of the red-head underneath one arm. Temari hesitated in her motions, and she looked back at him like he was crazy.

"Are you crazy?" Kankuro's hands were a blur in the air as he tried to find a way to immobilize the captured Missing-Nin without injuring him.

"That is a debate for another time." He turned to Temari. "Distance yourself. It's better that I alone end this battle."

"But–"

Gaara silenced her with a glare. "Do not take away my kill. His death is one I've wanted for many years."

Kankuro looked like he wanted to protest, but upon meeting his brother's eyes, he nodded, displeasure heavy on his face. Temari also looked like she wanted to protest, but nodded in agreement anyway. The two siblings shared a look, and then they leaped away, distancing themselves from the battle to come. Along with the puppeteer flew the puppet, its' chest now wide open and empty.

"Big mistake!" Hidan's cry came from behind, and Gaara didn't need to even move to know that the sand was already reacting, flying up into a wall between the madman's scythe and the Jinchuuriki. For the briefest of seconds both opponents were frozen in time, before the wall collapsed outward, flying towards Hidan to immobilize him, only to grasp air. "Don't think that little trick of yours will work!"

Gaara coughed, his breathing labored, and felt warmth and the taste of metal in his mouth as blood began to fill his mouth, spilling out over his lips and into his hand. This battle could go on forever, but his injuries meant that he couldn't prolong its end.

"Don't think this is all I can do!" Gaara snarled, flinging one arm out to direct the sand. With a physical act to accompany the thought-command, the sand moved faster, and all-too-soon the Missing-Nin's arms and legs were bound, with more sand slithering up to completely encase the silver-haired man. "I've learned from our previous encounters."

"Have you?" Hidan smirked that damnable smirk before sucking in a breath and dislocating one of his shoulders. Gaara watched in shock as his own shoulder was dislocated, and it was all he could do not the scream and crush the Missing-Nin into dust right then and there.

"How?!"

"I've risen above such physical limitations that you Shinobi seem to have." Hidan's tone was like one would use to scold a child. "The symbol does have to be physical for the curse to take effect, nor do I need a weapon or freedom of movement to share this pain with you. You will never win."

Gaara snarled, a guttural sound that held the threat of the Biju held within. His eyes flashed a bright golden yellow, the irides a four-pointed star with tiny black dots in the space between the points. At the same time, the entire desert began to roil, churning with life as the sand started to form into a massive shape full of claws and teeth and sharp, jagged points. "I beg to differ."

The replica of Shukaku surged upwards, maw agape and filled with a tongue of sand the promised pain and agony. Hidan barely had any time to react as his entire body was engulfed within. The giant beast shook it's head like a wet dog would in the moments before it shook the rest of its' body dry, and only when Gaara was well and truly convinced that the Missing-Nin could no longer tell which was was up and which was down did he regain control, locking Shukaku back down to the depths of his mind he had banished it.

As the sand broke down, Gaara made sure to keep just enough covering the silver-haired man so he wouldn't be able to have any sort of reference point to spiritually imprint the sigil of that thrice-damned Jashin upon. With a flicker of a thought, Gaara's eyes went to his now-injured arm, and he watched carefully for any sign of injury, only to see it remain as unblemished as ever. Good...

"The time is long overdue for your death." Gaara coughed some more, and more blood filled his mouth. This would have to be quick; he lifted his uninjured arm away from the wound on his chest, and outstretched his hand towards the lump of sand floating in the air that held the Missing-Nin. "You were an excellent kill."

His hand clenched into a fist. The sand lump compressed in on itself, and a faint squelch-crack was heard, along with several smaller, less noticeable cracking noises. With a sigh of relief, Gaara waved for whichever of his siblings had remained close enough to watch the outcome to approach, and watched with satisfaction as the sand fell to rejoin with the dunes below, glistening under the moonlight with the stains of blood.

It was over.

He barely noticed as Temari returned, nor did he take much notice of the medic she'd brought with her. It was only until he was being helped back to the platoon (and to Chiyo for any information he might have gleaned on Akatsuki from the battle) that he finally spoke up.

"Temari," he began, unsure where to start. "What did... what did mother sound like?"

Because it couldn't have been her. Not possible.

Even though there was that small part of him, deep down, that really wanted it to be her. To get a message of love like Naruto did from his own.

"What did she sound like?" Temari seemed to muse on the question before she muttered to herself that of course he wouldn't know. "Well, she sounded... comforting. You knew, once you heard her voice, that everything was safe, and would be alright."

"Like..." Gaara searched for the right words; it would not do to say the wrong thing and have her misunderstand. "Like a presence in your heart that... was always meant to be there, protecting you from wounds of the heart?"

Temari looked at him sidelong, a million and one thoughts and emotions apparent in her eyes. "...yeah, just like that."

Gaara said nothing, for there was nothing more to say.

"She was so thrilled when she told me and Kankuro that you were coming." Temari's voice broke through the silence, and Gaara found himself studying the few clouds that could be seen in against the light of the almost-full moon. "She made the two of us promise to be the best big sister and big brother ever."

He wanted her to stop talking, because at this point it was undeniable that the voice was her, and he didn't want to break down here, in front of people that had no right to see him at his most vulnerable.

"Thank you." He pulled away as much as he could, given the circumstances. "I should go consult with Chiyo the next course of action when we reach the rendezvous point."

It was her.

His name had really been given out of love.

His mother really, truly loved Gaara.