Lost and Found

By: Junsui Kegasu

Kankurou was nervous; there was no other way to put it. The policemen that had been summoned were tall and intimidating. They looked down on him as though he was a young child of half his sixteen years. This demeanor made him nearly too nervous to speak and he was tempted to chew his sleeve. The only thought chaining this temptation down was that he needed to act professional or this could result disastrous.

"Do you know where this man is now?" one of the officers asked, a clipboard and pen in hand. After merely fifteen minutes of interrogation, Kankurou found his voice conspiring against him, cutting off his ability of speech. He opted, after a brief pause, to shake his head, feeling ill.

Apparently, his mute response was unsatisfactory. The other man, who seemed to be the more exasperated of the two, shook his head, sighing. "You said the assault occurred at 2:40 in the afternoon, correct?"

Realizing he couldn't nod/shake his head out of this, Kankurou inhaled deeply, searching for his voice. "I-it happened then, but D-dad left at th-three-ish," he stammered, inwardly flinching at his pathetically weak stutter. He hoped the officers could understand his logic; he didn't want to speak again. The time was now 4:30; Kazekage probably wasn't home.

Or…

How could he have been so ignorant? He had thought that since what had happened had been the final straw for he, Temari, and Neji, his father would realize he had done an evil thing and flee. Realization hit him then: his father didn't care anymore. If he had, he wouldn't have even risked doing it without threatening him or Temari and forbidding Neji to come into the house.

Did he realize this was the end? Did he want to get arrested? It would seem like something their father would do, with the excuse being: "I can finally get rid of you", but he had a reputation that he stoked with pride. It was all horribly confusing, and Kankurou realized that the police officers were staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Somewhat startled, he blushed gently, embarrassed at being caught inattentive. "S-sorry…I…was just thinking…" he summoned up his courage; this was the end! "T-that…I th-thought that…Dad might…might flee 'c-cause he knew that he'd re-really get in trouble, this time – "

"This time?" one of the officers, the nearly kinder looking one, asked, marking a note on his clipboard. Kankurou nodded.

"The ab-abuse has been going on for years," he explained. "We've t-tried reporting it, bu-but no one would believe us."

"And why not?" Couldn't he get back to the explanation? Kankurou was slightly annoyed, but he also knew that this would be coming sooner or later.

"Because…w-well…" he realized something. "I n-never mentioned his name, d-did I?"

"No, you didn't, and that would be helpful," the more exasperated officer snapped icily, making Kankurou shrink away inside, feeling belittled.

"S-sabaku Kazekage," he muttered, his heart sinking. They wouldn't believe him, there was no way.

"Sabaku Kazekage," the officer that had snapped deadpanned. "Yeah, sure, kid."

The kinder officer silenced his partner by raising a hand. "Listen, son, this is a serious matter, we need you to honestly identify your father so we can find him-"

"DON'T YOU SEE IT?" Kankurou screeched suddenly. Why? Why wouldn't anyone believe him? "HE'S BEEN LYING TO YOU!" he continued, pointing an accusing finger. He was sick of this, sick of being pushed aside for his accusation to be laughed at later. "Please," he begged, his voice losing the angered edge and reducing to a cracking simper. "Please believe me."

There was silence for a few moments, as if the officers were thinking it over. From their facial expressions, Kankurou could tell that at least the second officer wasn't convinced. Losing hope, he let his gaze sink to the floor, chewing on his lower lip. Finally, the first officer spoke, making the teen jump in bewilderment.

"We'll check it out. This is something really serious to lie about though, we have other people to help," he said, not meaning to make Kankurou feel bad, though he did.

However, a sudden rush of euphoria, making his face break out into a grin, overwhelmed his slight feeling of guilt. "Th-thank you…you…you really don't know, but this means…means so much to me."

"Well, it is our job to help…where do you think your father might be now? You said that you didn't think he was home-"

"That's what I was trying to explain before," Kankurou interjected, with much more energy and confidence than before. "I thought that perhaps he wouldn't go back, because I made such a big deal out of it – rightfully," he added, "I thought he might see it, too, and flee because there was no way we weren't going to tell anyone this time. But, I've realized that if he cared that much, he wouldn't have…had…" he trailed off, euphoria dissolving. He didn't want to confront what had happened to his brother, not with the term, just not yet. "Have…d-done what he did," he finished in a mumble, staring back at his feet.

The first officer nodded, the second one scowling, as if he was truly fed up with the teenager before him. "Okay, that does seem logical, what's your address?"

"6392 Buraudouei," Kankurou told them. "He drives a black Nissan Altima, if that helps," he added, remembering the new car that had been bought a year ago and that he and his siblings had only rode in once, that time being the drive from Sunaga to Konoha.

The officers nodded. "Thank you, we'll be going now. Ebisu will come back to tell you that we have him, and you can confirm. All right?" the first one told him, nodding at his partner. The other officer scowled, obviously displeased, but fixed his sunglasses and sighed, nodding. "Okay, we'll be off, then," he said, turning around and walking through the door.

Kankurou was seized with happiness. Now that the difficult part of actually reporting the abuse was over, it seemed that it was a free ride home. He wasn't thoroughly convinced of that yet, it all seemed to be a dream, but he was willing to accept it as reality. Finally, after eleven years of pain, optimism was getting through.

Waking back to the chairs, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Neji was back. He took a seat, turning to the younger teen. "Hey, is he doing alright?" he asked, keeping his voice to a tone kind to the sleeping Temari next to him. Neji gave him a small smile, but Kankurou really wasn't sure what that meant. He couldn't exactly shrug it off, so he waited, staring at Neji until an answer was given.

"He woke up when I was there," was the simple explanation, with nothing to support it. Kankurou was surprised; Gaara was so small, that any dose of whatever they used to sedate him probably would've kept him out a while. Had he heard he and Temari then? Neji didn't elaborate, but he felt that it was best left at that.

"The police are going to find Dad," he told him, the feeling of pride swelling again in his chest. "I think…I think he wants to be arrested. But, then there's his reputation…he was sober when we got home, I could tell." Kankurou wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or Neji anymore, but the younger teen was listening, nodding his head in response.

"Where are you going to stay after that?"

Any positive feeling that had resurfaced recently crashed back to their blackened pit. That was a good question; where were they going to stay? He wanted to stay in Konoha; it had done so much for their little family in the short time they had been there. However, they did have someone…

"I…I really don't know…we have someone, though. A guardian," he said, feeling uneasy. "But I haven't seen him since Mom's funeral." Was it possible that Yashamaru had stayed in the same house all these years? It was, very possible, actually; Yashamaru was by no means rich and he wouldn't have been able to afford moving. "I have something I need to take care of," he told anyone who was listening, standing up and leaving the room.

Neji watched with confused eyes, wondering where Kankurou was going. He didn't follow, though, knowing that the older teen probably needed time alone to sort everything out. Their entire lifestyle was changing, the black fading and revealing old, faint-but-repairable colors. He only hoped that he could be part of that new lifestyle, to help them learn how to live without fear.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he was almost sad that Kankurou had said that there was a guardian they could go to. Chances were that it was from the city they had moved from, and then, Neji wouldn't ever see them again, possibly. He knew it was selfish, but he and Gaara had just begun to sprout as a couple, and he didn't want to leave the redhead, not yet. Not ever.

Did Gaara want to go back to that city, the one that held the majority of his childhood? Some people, once they moved, never wanted to go back. The memories were often too painful. Could this possibly be the case? Neji thought that it very well could be; so much stuff (bad stuff, he knew) had happened there. After all, that was where the majority of the abuse had happened.

No, he was being selfish. If Gaara wanted to go back to their hometown, that was up to him. He'd have to learn to deal with it, maybe beg Hiashi to let them visit or to have him go over there. They'd keep in touch somehow, wouldn't they? Most long-distance relationships (friendship or more) never lasted, the miles swallowing up the connection and burying it under the earth, after a while, fading to nothing.

Hiashi…wait, there was something…

'CRAP!' Hiashi thought that he would be home at four! It was practically five now, if not past it! Standing up quickly, not bothering to say anything because Temari was still asleep, he darted through the same doors Kankurou had, looking for a pay phone.

He went through three rooms before he found one in a children's waiting room. Feeling awkward standing there, his fifteen years seeming very out of place amongst sick toddlers, he dug through his pockets and unearthed a quarter, sliding it into the machine. He dialed his number and waited, somewhat patiently, for someone to pick up.

"Hyuuga residence," came a high-pitched voice. Hinata and Hanabi sounded nearly the same, but Hinata stuttered, so…

"Hanabi, look, I have to talk to Uncle Hiashi," he said, trying to make it quick.

"Oh, Neji, he's so mad at you!" the nine-year-old chirped happily. "You were supposed to be home at four!"

"I know, Hanabi, this is seriously urgent, let me speak to him!" he told her; trying to keep his voice in check since very close by was a mother with a sleeping infant in her lap.

"Fine, fine, hold on." Hanabi put the phone down, and Neji couldn't hear what was happening on the other end until he heard another phone click.

"Neji? Neji, where are you?" his uncle demanded, sounding annoyed. "You were supposed to be home an hour ago."

"Yes, Uncle, I know that, but…something really…really urgent came up," he said, feeling his voice crack. "R-remember the friend I had over a couple days ago? The redhead?"

"Yes, I do remember…" there was a suspicious tone to his uncle's voice, one that almost made Neji worry. He went on to explain the predicament and that he were at the hospital. By the time he was finished, he had been reduced to tears. The mother next to him shot him a bewildered look.

"Yes. Yeah, I'm fine," he said, unconvincingly.

"Are you sure? Neji, I'm going to come over there, is that okay? Will your friend or his siblings mind?"

"They probably won't…go ahead…just…don't bring Hanabi, please, she won't understand the seriousness of this," he asked, hoping his uncle would understand.

"Fine, I won't bring either of them, and I'll be right over, okay?"

"Okay, thanks, bye." He hung up, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. The mother cast him a sympathetic glance and reached over to the table beside her to hand him a tissue.

"Thanks," he muttered, blowing his nose and throwing out the tissue on his way out. Well, now Hiashi knew. In less than a week, The Secret had transformed from a denied-but-secretly-true rumor to what was sure to be headline news. He felt sick, but at the same time, happy that finally, it was ending, and that he, a mere adolescent, did something about it.

Even after Neji had left, Gaara was very unsure of these people surrounding him, touching him. Though he had calmed down from before, he was very uneasy when white gloved hands prodded him, in areas where it already hurt, shooting pain through his body. He tried to tell them to stop, but they remained deaf to his little whimpers. Once, one of the men had told him that this was for his own good.

Gaara wasn't so sure of that. He wanted Neji with him. Neji was a comfort factor, these cold hands weren't. He needed that melodious voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear, warm, not sterile, unprotected arms wrapping around him. He needed something – anything – but this. It felt that it had been eternity, but according to the clock on the wall, it had only been about twenty minutes since he had left the room.

Finally, the white-clad men seemed to be done with him. They had assured him repeatedly that they wouldn't hurt him, but even so, Gaara had begun to get very nervous, especially as their touch went lower and lower down his scrawny body. Once their hands left, he found it was easier to breathe, but the silence that had been cut by monotonous medical drone was back, filling the room.

Everyone lied; silence was a sound. It filled a room quicker than a carbon monoxide leak, filling his ears and contorting his senses. Sometimes, he liked that. Sometimes, it helped him get away. Right now, when all he wanted was to escape thoughts and memories, the silence assaulted him, piercing delicate eardrums and filling his head with images he wanted for force away.

"Shut the fuck up, you little whore!"

Whimpering, he turned his head back to bury it into the stark white pillow, trying to will the image away from his mind's eye, perhaps to be reflected on years from now, and only maybe then, when it wouldn't hurt so bad. It hurt now, it had hurt then, and he wanted to forget. Oh, how he wanted to forget. Usually, he would forget things after a while, losing track of where bruises and abrasions had come from and eventually losing interest. This, he knew would be impossible to force away, and the pain would be as fresh as it had been just a few hours ago.

Nothing had ever hurt like that before. He had thought at first that the blindfold wouldn't make a difference, as he was far used to his father's harsh blows. However, even though he knew what was to come, and he dreaded it, trying to, at the same time, make his body will away some of the pain beforehand, it had hurt like nothing else. He had been cut, burned, beaten black and blue and broken, but never torn apart from the inside, feeling muscle rip and the blood drip in a sickening rhythm down his leg.

He knew, and he was pretty sure (coming to this conclusion with an intense wave of nausea only kept down by the fact he had not eaten in a couple of meals) that his father knew it, too, that he was too small for something of that size ripping through him. The only relief he had that kept him from hating himself like nothing ever before was that he knew his auburn-haired tormentor hadn't done it to pleasure himself, but merely to inflict pain on his son. He was used to that, it stopped depressing him around the age of five. If he had just been used a sick form of pleasure with no other motive, he knew that he would spiral into a charcoal coated pit of despair, never to surface.

That was the only reason why Neji had been able to touch him. He had read a book once, and the girl raped hadn't let anyone touch her, no one at all. He was so selfish; he wanted Neji's touch, his comforting words. He knew he didn't deserve them, but did that mean he couldn't ask? Other people asked, didn't they? Why couldn't he?

"You selfish little bastard! Is this what you wanted? Is it? ANSWER ME!"

There were those memories again. Why wouldn't they go away? Were they intent on plaguing him for eternity? He wanted…he wanted Neji. He wanted Neji more than he wanted Kankurou, because he knew Kankurou was angry beyond console, angry with himself, angry with their father, and Gaara didn't like to see him angry. He hated to admit it, but when Kankurou was angry, he almost looked like their father, an image that would haunt him for eternity.

He loved Kankurou, he really did, but he was just too angry. He loved Temari, too, but Temari…she was too emotional. He couldn't bring himself to shed any more tears, though he did try, but Temari would bawl at the sight of his pathetic body. He didn't blame her; he could only imagine how helpless he looked, hardly able to move without pain filling his senses, pain worse than what he had ever felt before.

He hated being helpless. As used to it as he was, he hated it. It made him feel like a small child, which in a sense, he could've easily pulled off. He hated being small, hated being so easy to hurt. If he were stronger, Temari and Kankurou would be happier. Hell, even his father would be happier. Perhaps their life would've been better, but he had to be defective.

D E F E C T I V E

The word was branded on him darker than his deepest scar. Neji was like the whiteout that could cover it up, make him look beautiful. He wanted that whiteout, wanted it so bad right now. Where was Neji? He felt so selfish, but something inside him, a voice refusing to be silenced, told him that Neji could heal him. He wanted to be healed, right now. He didn't want to be tainted anymore.

It had taken Kankurou a long while, but finally, he managed to find a directory of the phone numbers for Sunagakure. He remembered the address, just not the number, which was somewhat strange, but nonetheless okay. Finding what he was looking for, 15 Meiru Ave., Kankurou speed dialed the number, holding the cheap, plastic payphone to his ear with unhindered anxiety, his lower lip disappearing to be gnawed on by his teeth.

"Hello?" came a friendly, but tired sounding voice on the other end.

"Yashamaru?" Kankurou tried, knowing that his hope was very obvious.

"Speaking," came the same voice, casually.

"Yashamaru, this is…this is Kankurou," he said slowly, wishing with all his heart that the blonde man would believe him. It was a possibility that he wouldn't. The last time they had spoken, Kankurou had been five, and his voice had definitely changed drastically since then.

"K-kankurou?" Yashamaru asked, in disbelief. "Oh, no way! It's been so long! I haven't been keeping in touch at all, how's everything been going? I wanted to contact you when that rumor came out, but I never got the chance to, and then you moved…and…wow…"

"Yashamaru…about that rumor," he started, truly unsure of how he was going to word this. He heard the faint noise of Yashamaru's breathing changing, as if he was anticipating something. "It…it was true."

Silence rang for a few moments, crucial information inserting itself into the bowels of the brain. "Oh…oh, my god…Kankurou…it…it was?" Yashamaru managed after a few moments, sounding breathless. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he said truthfully. "Gaara…he's…he's not. Y-you see…it's been going on since…since just after Mom died…a-and…it…I-it…it finally got…got too far," he stammered, voice giving out on him.

"T-too…too far?" His uncle sounded fearful, running through possibilities.

"He…he…oh, Yashamaru…r-r…rape," he whispered, finally confronting it with words. His chances of denial, carefully planned out, died before him, but he forced down violent sobs. Again, silence filled the conversation, suffocating, choking, until…

"Oh…oh, my…my…I-I'll be there…as…as soon as possible…"

Without so much as a 'goodbye', his uncle ended the conversation leaving Kankurou feeling worse than he ever had. They say that after the death of someone, it often takes a long while for it to truly sink in. Everything had been so high-speed and dreamlike, he had been subconsciously hoping he would wake up and his brother would be okay, not in this white Hell. Now, having actually confronted what happened, reality had sunk in, for good this time, hollowing out the feeling that had been euphoria moments before and turning it into raw guilt.

He wandered back into the ER lobby, taking a seat next to Neji and plopping his head in his hands. He heard the younger teen beside him shift in his chair and felt the hand on his back, trying to comfort him. No words were spoken, but this silence was a comfortable one. Kankurou didn't feel like explaining why he was so upset, and Neji didn't know how to comfort him.

They sat like that for what seemed to be hours before anything significant happened. Doctors had been filing in and out of the rooms, calling out the names of patients in their monotonous drawl. It was always obvious whether or not the news was optimistic or not by the sometimes obnoxious reactions from parents and other important people. When another one of the white-coated men stepped into the waiting room, Kankurou, Neji, and Temari (who had recently woken up) thought nothing of it, until the man spoke.

"Is there anybody here for Sabaku Gaara?"

As one, they jumped up, trying not to sprint over to the news bearer. Their curiosity apparent, the doctor told them, in his unwavering tone, that Gaara was soon ready to be released and that while he would be walking with a limp for a week at the longest, the bleeding had stopped and nothing was infected.

"Well, can he walk out of his room?" Temari asked, concerned.

"He has not left the bed yet," the doctor told her. "But the nurses are preparing him to move. Since he had been sedated before, and he hasn't moved at all in the last hours, he'll be rather unsteady on his feet for a while, but sitting upright will hurt possibly worse."

In a simultaneous wince, all three of them understood. Nothing more needed to be said. "We…still need to stay her for a little bit," Kankurou said, somewhat awkwardly. At the doctor's questioning glance, he continued. "The officers are working on putting…who did this in custody."

Nodding, the man granted them permission to stay until everything was sorted out. He led them down the hall to Gaara's room again, opening the door. Inside, two women wearing pink and purple scrubs were helping Gaara from the bed onto shaky, pale legs resembling toothpicks until the ankles, where they bulged gently from the bone.

Neji, at this sight, was partly relieved that his redheaded boyfriend was okay, but partly horrified at his size. The hospital gown, unlike all his loose clothing, did nothing to hide his weight. The jut of his ankles, wrists, and collarbone stuck out as if they were black against the ivory skin. Though his legs shook slightly, however, Gaara stayed upright, one small hand gripping the bed tightly, the other held out before him, as if testing himself to see if he could take a step.

After an eternity that Neji spent trying to will himself into thinking that Gaara was not that painfully thin, the boy took a staggering step, his hand leaving the bar and held out, not all the way, but enough to keep balance. At the sight, he couldn't help but smile.

'He's finally healing.'

Okay, I said this was going to be the last chapter…but you know what? Too much stuff happens…sorry, next time will be the last; I swear it.