I do not own Naruto. Or Death Cab for Cutie.
Killer Bee escorts her all the way back to the border, and his actions throw her for a loop.
It takes two days from where they're at, and the whole time she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her muscles are sore from being so tense, constantly waiting for him to attack her, for him to stab or slice or maim.
But he doesn't.
He raps and rhymes and does his duty without being cruel, escorting a criminal out of his country. Kumo has no alliance with Kiri, and somewhere she knows that they actually kind of dislike each other, so his actions are surprising to see. Bee is professionally doing his job without vigor or malice, and he is treating her like a person instead of a piece of scum. He might even be a little bit friendly.
The act of him showing her mercy by staying his hand absolutely appalls her.
Ryuishi knows she's fucked up, knows she isn't right, but it's never been shoved in her face like this before. When he leans in to stoke the fire at night, she recoils like he's reaching out to strike her. When he speaks instead of shouting, she is unsettled because she is so ready for more bad news, more responsibility, more stress. She doesn't sleep because she keeps waiting for him to end her, and when he compliments her roast mountain hen, she feels dread settling in her gut, even though she knows he's not lying.
Killer Bee is courteous and capable, and he isn't rude. Other than the minnow comment, he never insults her. He isn't out for her blood, isn't interested in her abilities. He doesn't care what she's done and doesn't throw himself at her with a fanatical devotion. He doesn't look to her for guidance or care. He treats her like he would any other person, and she doesn't know what to do about it.
When she crosses the border and leaves his sight, she is overwhelmed with something she might call bitterness.
How much has this world fucked her up? At what point did she expect every physical interaction to lead to pain? When did she start anticipating every word to be a tease, taunt, insult or baseless compliment? How come she was surprised when conflict didn't arise? Why was she so uneasy when he treated her like a normal human being?
Ryuishi ruminates all the way to her home, and is still bewildered when she reaches the sandy beach. How long has she spent without a friend now? Five, six years? Her sixteenth birthday just passed not to long ago, so six years. Six years of wandering without her boys by her side. Six years she has spent traveling alone, only to return to an empty house.
The teenager plops down in her empty living room and shoves her face in her hands, an overwhelming feeling of isolation washing over her.
She tries to think of Gaara and Naruto and how much she cares for them, but realizes that she is, to them, role model of sorts. Sure, they ease the ache a bit, but she isn't herself with them, not truly. She is happy to be Aneue and Nee-san, but she is rose colored and haloed in their eyes, not the gritty person she really is. To Orochimaru and Kagami, she is a business partner, capable and intuitive, helping them help themselves. To the Mumei, she is some distant being, divine and placed on a pedestal.
True, these are all pieces of herself, and they are all important bonds in their own right. She has to give credit where credit is due, after all. They are important social structures, and she loves them all in their own way, but they are… well, it's hard to explain.
She belatedly realizes that the only ones who ever saw her in her entirety, from cold and ruthless to loving and kind, were Kisame and Zabuza. They saw her weep and cry and rage and shout. They saw her in the mornings, untidy and groggy, and before missions with crisp war paint and well-kept hair. They saw her joking and angry and everything in between, and they were her world.
She huffs out a bewildered, slightly hysterical laugh. She doesn't have that anymore. She has no peers, no comrades or besties. She doesn't have somebody who she can just talk to or hang out with, without expectations. She hasn't had one for six years.
She unpins her hair and drags her fingers through it, laughing again. Weird, it's so weird to think that her only experiences with people have been the fucked up shenanigans she has going on right now. Fellow plotters, fanatical followers, two five year olds, and people who literally want to kill her. That's the people she's been meeting all this time.
She briefly entertains the notion that if anyone from her past life saw her now, knowing the things she's done… well, they might not recognize her. Then she thinks on it again, about how her old best friend had always been there to temper her more erratic and cold behavior. How glancing at her sister could quell her violent urges and how talking with her family tamed her more ruthless side. And then she thinks that maybe they would recognize her after all, and it is both comforting and painful to know that she has always had the capability to be this kind of person.
Ryuishi shakes her head, clearing out the thoughts inside. There's no point in dwelling on it. It's not like she can go out and pick a friend up, it just doesn't happen like that. She gets up, tosses her bag on the counter, and trudges to her shower, intent on catching up on her tanning. She's getting lines where the halter-neck crop top wraps around the back of her neck and ribs. That just won't do; she hates tan lines. She spends her week off alternating between sunning naked on the beach and stocking up on provisions, letting her mind wander and her emotions calm.
A week later, Ryuishi finds herself on the streets of Suna, lazing around with her giant fucking basket, hair trailing free in the desert wind. The thing is, she forgot how much trouble long hair is to wear down. The long black locks—an island girl mix of wave and loose curl that looked so great in the mirror this morning—are full of fucking sand. It keeps brushing the sides of her cheeks and getting motherfucking everywhere.
She's glad she decided against the vivid blue sarong. In her hotel room, she had thought of all the scars crossing her shins and thighs, a clear giveaway of a hard life. Now she is certain that the airy fabric would have somehow blown wide open, giving the people of Sunagakure a free view of her killer matching undergarments. Even though modesty is a foreign concept to her, she thinks it might have scared away customers and maybe traumatized the elders in the crowd.
It isn't right away this time, and she sells a little over half of her basket, but eventually a small redheaded child is clinging to her leg. There is no babbling this time, or tears, just a flicker of joy lighting up his face before he's clinging to her like she never left.
It's surprising that he found her so quick though, because it's only been about half a day since she got here. She supposes that she is one of the more kindly regarded merchants, and word of her arrival must travel through the ranks of children like wildfire. The candy lady who has the best goods for reasonable prices, a known sucker for cute faces.
Maybe, in another life, they would have hated her for accompanying Gaara, but here they simply expound upon the lie she gave them when she first came to the village. The whole village knows of the young trader who lost her brothers in the war. If they see her trying to replace them with him, it is none of their business.
That being said, there has been consequences. The last time she came here, she had her roomed searched by turban-wearing ANBU, probably while she was out playing with their castaway prince. She could smell them on her things, the faint stench of metal and dust. A civilian would have never known, but she is far too used her scent not to have recognized it. Obviously, they found nothing, or she would be dead.
There are certain feelers being sent out to her alias as well, but her false paperwork is excellent. The owner of the candy company in the Land of Rivers who wore a necklace of feathers guaranteed she was an employee, and the bribes to make her fake records paid off when they searched for registration numbers and birth certificates. To any undercover agents, she checks out one hundred percent as a war orphan and legitimate merchant.
It's like she said before: paper trails are easy to create in this world, at least compared to her old one. Plus, the fact that a few other traders followed her lead have made her a valuable asset to the village economy as well. The trader's pool is larger than it once was after the war, but small enough to hear if one goes missing. They kill her, and they scare off any hope of recovering from their severe economic depression by scaring off the ones that follow. Besides, she's supposedly a civilian, and the jinchuuriki can handle himself, to their knowledge.
It's not like anyone would miss her if she went missing anyways. Maybe the Mumei would start a war, but she doesn't think they would get very far as they are now. Orochimaru would probably miss her in the way one misses a close pet, and Kagami would probably sigh and take over her position, but other than that? It's been six fucking years since she saw her boys, and there hasn't been so much as an errant rumor. Her family is a literal world away. Gaara and Naruto would turn out fine, just like in the manga and anime. She's adrift without an anchor, and just, fuck everybody else. Fuck them for only seeing the missing-nin, or the Lucky Dragon. Fuck them for fucking her over.
Again, she shoves the thoughts out of her head. Seriously, what is up with her lately? She's all emotional and bitter and shit. She thinks she might be getting stress sick, because her throat itches like a motherfucker.
Ryuishi stares down at the bowl in front of her, then blinks and looks around, spotting Gaara glued to her side. Somehow, she went into deep thought mode and blanked out a little, only superficially aware of the world around her. Well shit. That means her and Gaara have been walking around all day in silence, which is both awkward and weird.
"Ah…" she starts, attempting to make some sort of conversation. Only, she can't really think of anything to say to a four year old. She's fresh out of kid-friendly topics, and her head still feels sort of empty. She's sure that if someone attacked, she would be able to whoop ass, but here and now, she doesn't know what the fuck is going on.
She looks over and sea foam green eyes stare up at her, silently assessing.
"What time is it?" she asks the now five year old. The domed, boob-like buildings don't have windows most of the time, and she has been zoning out. Don't judge her, it fucking happens.
"Sunset," he answers.
"Ah," she replies, "I guess I've been pretty quiet. Sorry, I lost track of time."
Gaara looks at her then, really looks. His stoic face is pretty good this time, calm and impassive. His spicy stew is almost gone, and that's weird because she isn't hungry for once and hers is almost full.
The boy reaches out a hand, and it takes her a moment before she figures out why. His fingers stretch and graze over a burn on the back of her wrist, a gift from one of the bounty hunters. The grainy yet smooth texture of his shield feels weird on the wound.
He notices these things. Even though some people call him a child, and even more people call him a monster. He sees Aneue, and how sometimes how loud sounds make her jump, and how she doesn't like to be touched from behind. He hasn't seen her like this though, and it scares him a little. She's quiet, and she's been quiet all day, moving like a puppet on the end of chakra strings. Her face is like that of the adults around here, like the time she stood over him after she made him bite his tongue. It's closed off, quiet and still in a way that Aneue's face shouldn't be. She should be laughing and using bad words and carrying him, talking about things that don't make sense. She should be eating her food really super fast, spilling a little bit and getting it on her cheek like she always done.
Only… she just ate a few bites, and she's staring at the wall in front of them. But she doesn't look like she's seeing a wall. She looks sad and angry and alone, but she isn't, because he is here with her. He looks at her hand, the one that's been bothering him all day. It has an open burn on it, and it looks ugly and raw, like a giant blister that popped. He can smell medicine on it, like the kind they give out at the store. It must hurt, and he knows that now, what hurt is. It isn't good, but she's not saying anything about it, like she's used to things hurting. It can be explained away easily enough. She's a candy merchant, and it wouldn't be hard to believe that a batch of melted sugar got a little out of control. Civilians get hurt all the time too.
But his belly is squirming in a funny way, and he thinks that his Aneue is only one person. He hasn't seen anyone come in with her, or leave with her. The roads can be dangerous, and she's pretty. Father and Uncle said that pretty girls can get hurt in special ways, and he knows that bandits sometimes prowl the sands outside his home. The roads can be dangerous. Who protects Aneue? She told him her family is gone, so she doesn't have an uncle to help her.
Suddenly, he feels the urge to do it. Aneue is his. All his. She belongs to him, and he can protect her. He isn't a shinobi yet, but he's learning, and he's still stronger than a civilian anyways.
The thing inside him grumbles, and he hears something that is almost like whispers. It doesn't like her, because she feels hollow and unnatural, but it agrees that they own this one. If they own it then it can't be used against them, and they can keep it away from others.
Yet, Aneue is like the wind. She can't be kept in one place, she has to move around and travel. He knows he can't keep her, is scared to find out what would happen if he tried.
But. But, but, but—
He needs to know what happens out there, so maybe he can help.
"What happens when you're not here?" he asks.
She doesn't feel like lying right now, so instead she looks him in the eye and smiles a tired smile.
"Want to watch the stars together tonight?"
Gaara picks out the spot, leading her by the hand to a building he can climb up with ease. But she can't do the same. Not while cloth-masked Anbu watch them from the darkness, eyes glued to her, watching her for a sign. Just one slip up, just one mistake, and they pounce.
Gaara gets it eventually and makes her a seat of sand to bring her up with, and she take a moment to really appreciate it. No acting, now, it's truly fucking amazing to float above the world on a chariot made of a million shifting particles. It's like, the world's craziest hanging chair.
"Holy shit, Gaara! This is awesome!" she cries from her perch, and the boy looks delighted with her praise. It rises higher and higher until they reach the summit, a flat area carved into the top of one of the domes with a view that takes her breath away. The desert is painted with color in the twilight hour, and even without her glasses, the sprawling expanse of Suna leaves her breathless.
The last golden-red of the sun sinks below the horizon, and it permeates into soft magenta and brilliant indigo in the sky around them. Insubstantial wisps of clouds stretch thin like gossamer cloth, weaving around the sky. For a moment she forgets her grumpy worries and she laughs, loud and bright, picking Gaara up in her arms and hugging him tight.
"It's beautiful!" she tells him sincerely, peppering his face with kisses. The stoic face leaves, replaced by something that looks like unbearable smugness. "This will be a great place to see the stars, but are you sure you won't get in trouble?" she asks, just loud enough for other people to hear.
Gaara shakes his head no, and his eyes dart quickly to the most obvious ANBU's spot. She pretends not to notice the action, or any of the watchers themselves.
"Father and Uncle will know where I am," he says, just as loudly as her.
"Alright. I just don't want anything bad to happen."
The little boy nods and grips tightly onto her loose hair, and to be honest, it hurts a little bit. But it's okay, Ryuishi's had worse hurts, and she's going to have even more. There's no problem with giving Gaara some leeway.
Her heart beats softly in her chest, and the faint smell of cardamom and dust wafts off of him, clinging tightly to the inside of her nose. She used to question why her nose worked so well, in this life and her past, and pegged it down to her poor eyesight. Some people got a little bit better hearing, she got a better sniffer. It probably wouldn't hold up in an actual, honest-to-god scientific experiment to prove it, and is most likely her just posturing. But the fact remains that she's sensitive to smells, and it's why she likes to surround herself with calming, deep scents. She inhaled enough rot, death, decay, blood, piss, shit and vomit on the front lines. Sometimes she can even smell the faint traces of irony, salty blood soaked into her skin. She doesn't want to though, so she lets Gaara pull her away from the dark places her mind is heading, and into the now. Little by little, he brings her back to where she needs to be.
"Thank you," she whispers, and he nods against her shoulder like he understands. Maybe he does, and maybe why that's why he doesn't push like Naruto.
She plops down on her butt, letting Gaara rearrange himself until her is cradled against her, his little body resting against her chest, his head under her neck. It's cute and cuddly, and the kid radiates heat like a motherfucker, so when the temperature outside drops, hers doesn't.
Gaara says nothing when when her ice cold arms wrap around him or when she rests her chin on his head, so she keeps them there as stars begin to twinkle into life, color draining out of the sky like water out of a sink. The wind is still as crazy as ever, whipping her hair out like tangled tentacles behind her, and she can hear the sound of everything in the vicinity being sand blasted to hell. The scrape of silica is accompanied by the sound of howling as the air rushes through the canyons and streets below.
"Will you sing?" comes his voice.
"Uhhh…" she answers. It's one thing to croon playfully or sing under her breath for the kids, but with ANBU so near, she's a little bit leery. Not that ANBU haven't heard it before, but still, having an audience gives her a tiny bit of stage fright. She's a teenager again, what if her voice cracks? Does she know any appropriate songs, or is it all bullshit?
"Please?" he asks, and she breaks because he's such a cute fucker. He really did her a solid, sticking with her, and she is one for rewarding good behavior.
She sighs and clicks her tongue, looking out over the landscape. "You want any one in particular?" she asks, and then immediately regrets. What happens if he chooses Fergalicious, or Party Rock?
"The one that goes like," and here he hums a few notes. Ah, well, at least it's not bad. Not much wrong with Death Cab for Cutie's 'I'll follow you into the dark'.
Still, she coughs a bit, like she's clearing her throat before she starts. She's a little self conscious, but the ANBU can go suck a dick. Or a clit. Or whatever their preference is, she really doesn't care, but also she totally does. Ugh, her head is a confusing place.
"Love of mine, someday you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight,
waiting for the hint of a spark."
Gaara nods and his eyes go heavy lidded. She's pretty sure he can't sleep, and but he is… dozing? Maybe dozing is the right word. Whatever it is, he's tiny and secure in her arms. Even though she might be feeling shitty, the tiny, trusting child leaning into her gives her no choice but to step up.
Above them, silver pinpricks of light shine through the darkness, and she focuses on them instead of the emptiness that stretches out forever between them. The light of a half moon shines down, and the world is painted in silvery white and grey. The desert landscape seems to glow. It's sorta magical, she thinks, tucking her legs up into a crossed position and wrapping herself around the child in her arms like a shield.
Her dark hair spills around them as the wind dies down a bit, heavy like a scented shroud on her back and tumbling down around the child, and she imagines she might look a bit crazy, huddled around a child who can't sleep, singing him songs from a world away, but it's nice and it's calm, so she doesn't care too much.
Ryuishi clings to him like the anchor he is. When she has to be the person he needs, her heart feels fuller. She always did have a problem being protective.
AN: Tuh duh! So, lots of stuff going on. I got a lot of complaints calling for suspension of belief when I said that the two kids were not watched like hawks. Which , in my mind, is sorta BS. SO much crazy shit happens to them in the manga and anime that would have no chance of happening if they were watched, and also, I already explained how Ryuishi was getting around security. I would also prefer that if you have criticisms, that you PM or leave a message I can respond to so we can talk about it rather than going 'It's all Mary sue' and gallivanting into the abyss. Honestly, if real shit is going down, I want to fix it, so you have to help me fix it. SPEAK TO ME.
That being said, we have the start of an arc within an arc here, so, feels ahoy. Also, WE MADE 1000 favorites, follows and reviews! AHHHHHH! THANK YOU!
I would like to thank all my reviewers, favoriters, followers and lurkers! I hope you find money on the ground.
I want to thank my lovely beta Enbi, who helps me so much it's crazy. Like, just bananas.
Question: What do you nonsense do you see Ryuishi getting into if she had stuck around and lived with under Orochimaru's close(er) personal care? OR What do you think would have happened if Ryuishi chose to become a honeypot instead of a assault fighter?