Chapter 6: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
AN: I feel compelled to mention this isn't a TemGaa story. The bond they have is just sister-brother. There will be more TemShika as chapters go by, I think. But it's GaaNe and TemShika. No TemGaa. Though I have no problem with that pairing!
Disclaimer: Bah! This story doesn't even make sense sometimes, so obviously it doesn't make dollars. (hah hah... hah... no.)
o
Swing low... sweet chariot...
Comin' forth to carry me home...
The door swung open, and a gust of crisp autumn air was let in, before it swung shut with a bang, and Temari kicked off her running shoes.
"I'm home!" she called, feeling just a little guilty for being late. Not late. Just a half hour or so different than the time she usually got home. It wasn't her fault she had decided to take a short detour to meet some friends for a few minutes of hang-out time before retreating to the bungalow she resided in. And maybe some people were smoking. Well, some people had... but Temari wasn't into that sort of thing. Not that she hadn't tried, of course.
As she walked past the mirror, Temari paused. Something wasn't right. After further inspection, she discovered one of her earrings was missing. She had had it as she left school, she remembered catching one in her hair.
"It must've come out when I tripped over that guy..." she murmured, wrinkling her nose at the memory. She then tilted her head back, and yelled, "Hey, is anyone here!"
"We're in the kitchen!" Kankurou's voice came. Temari threw her bag onto the couch as she walked through, stopping dead as her eyes found his.
"What the Hell happened:
Indeed, it was a sight. Gaara sat on the kitchen counter, looking out the window in an annoyed fashion, while Kankurou mopped at his forehead. Which was rather bloody. Temari stared, as the older brother wrung out the washcloth in the sink, then gently brought it back up to dab at Gaara. And Gaara wasn't brutally injuring him.
"Is anyone going to answer me!" she asked, rushing fowards, "Oh my God, Gaara, are you alright?"
The younger boy nodded, and Temari sighed with relief. She turned to Kankurou for further analysis.
"Again?"
"I'm guessing so," Kankurou grumbled, "Though Gaara's not the one who was hurt. Much, anyways."
Just after they'd moved in, Gaara had arrived home from school, not only late, but with his hands bruised and covered in blood. After a bit of coaxing, he told Temari he'd been attacked. Not attacked, really. But a group of older boys, high-schoolers, had come across him. And tried to beat him up, for whatever reason.
Needless to say, Gaara came out of it alright. In fact, the only injuries he sustained were from falling - a scrape on his arm, one bruise on his ribs, and one on his knee. But there was blood, still.
It wasn't his fault they didn't know how to properly use knives.
"Gaara," Temari put her hand cautiously on her younger brother's arm, hoping he wouldn't go beserk and try to kill her. She relaced when he didn't make any movements. "Was it the same people?"
He shook his head, quiet. Kankurou continued wiping the dried blood from Gaara's forehead.
"They come at you:
He responded in a nod, his eyebrows furrowing. Temari bit her lip in concern.
"Are you alright?"
A shrug.
"Gaara, please..."
He refused to speak.
Temari turned to Kankurou, who had managed to wipe Gaara's forehead clean. There was a tiny scrape above his right eye, and neither dared ask where the rest of the blood had come from. The ends of Gaara's scarlet hair had become damp, and hung heavily over his pale skin. Temari turned to Kankurou with a grateful smile.
"Thanks for taking care of him.:
"No problem."
Gaara hopped off the counter, his eyes meeting Kankurou's for approval. The older brother nodded, and Gaara looked down at his hands, almost sadly, before dipping them into the sink, and letting cold water pour over them. Dirt and blood. It was disgusting.
"Damn, Mariko chose a great time to leave, didn't she?" Kankurou said sarcastically. It went unappreciated, Temari heading for the back door.
"I'll cook dinner, okay guys?"
"Tch! You couldn't cook to save your life!"
The girl paused in the door frame, her eyes hardened.
"I know, Kankurou."
With this, she left, and the two boys left in the kitchen soon heard the creaking of a chain, as Temari climbed upon the tire swing that decorated their backyard. And soon after that, there was a scream. Peeking out the window, Kankurou discovered that everything appeared fine. Temari swung back and forth, high as she could, then tilted back her head and screamed. She let the blood rush to her head, and paid no attnetion to anything.
It was so beautiful, the world she saw from upside down. She wanted to live there. But she couldn't.
o
Kankurou flipped through the channels, watching the programs while reading his assigned novel. And occasionally he'd glance over to Gaara, who was staring at the ceiling. He wondered if his little brother had a brain at all. Or perhaps Gaara was one of those geniuses, like that Einstein guy. Maybe Gaara would figure out something amazing, and become famous.
Kankurou pondered this for a while, before deciding thoroughly against it. Maybe Gaara was just bored. Or maybe he was stupid. Either way, it was beginning to get real cold, and Temari was still outside.
"Oi, pipsqueak," Kankurou said, "Wanna go check on our sister?"
Gaara eyed him, before sitting up and hading for the back door. And after he had left, it seemed extraordinarily quiet.
The older boy wasn't sure what had compelled him to do what he had done that afternoon. He was the first one home, for once, and had been going through the cupboard looking for snacks when Gaara had come in. His first reaction was a rather predictable "Holy shit, Gaara!" which involved him staring for a few moments, before something possessed him and he somehow dragged Gaara to the sink, where ten minutes later, Temari found them.
It wasn't like Kankurou actually cared about Gaara, though. Of course not. He just knew Temari would be mad if there was blood on the floor...
Yeah. Right.
o
Music trickled through the unmoving atmosphere of the art room once again. Kakashi was currently in the staff room, gossiping or re-loading on caffiene, leaving only Neji, on his own in the back. He glanced up at the clock, noting the time mentally. 5:15.
Pursing his lips, he stepped back to observe his most recent photographs, drying on the line. All black and white. It was easier to do, but he had decided that the pictures would undoubtedly look better without colour. Well, except for the last one. But they all turned out alright, in his opinion.
Pensively, he stared at the one colour photo, not that there was much colour in it anyways. Shades of grey parted to reveal of shock of red hair, and a black-clothed boy. His head was turned just slightly, so the creamy skin of his cheek was visible. It was a beautiful photo. But one Neji didn't intend to show anyone.
"Gaara..."
o
The sun was swelling, large and full, just barely able to be seen over the tops of the trees that adorned the subdivision. People seemed to think planting trees would make the fact that your neighbours were barely ten metres away disappear. It didn't, but Temari couldn't see them, so she didn't care. She swung, back and forth, keeping her eyes on a fixed target so she didn't get dizzy and vomit. Her throat was sore from screaming, and she had no will to do so anymore. She was empty.
It was hard.
The chain creaked, as the motion slowed. She sat with her body inside the tire, hanging onto the chain. The ground blurred beneath her. All the blades of grass just became one mass of green. She hadn't bothered to put her shoes back on when she'd gone out, and it had been an hour or so... but she was still out there.
She glanced up, surprised as she saw Gaara leave the house, and walk towards her. He stood next to the tree she swung from, and pulled himself up, as to sit on one of the lowest branches. Temari never did quite understand how her brother became so strong. He was small, yes, but so was she. And she had enough attitude for two. But Gaara... well, at least he wasn't being injured much.
"How are things?" she asked, only half expecting an answer, and she was surpised when she got one.
"Fine."
She smiled gently. "Were you afraid?"
He looked at her strangely.
"Everyone is afraid sometimes, Gaara," she said quietly, "I was afraid when I came home and there was blood in the sink."
"They had a knife."
His voice was low, and the words were spoken quickly. Temari winced.
"They?"
"Just three," Gaara murmured.
"Had you seen them before?"
He answered by shaking his head, no. His sister, desperate to keep him talking, tried once more.
"I'm sorry for being late tonight..."
He gave her a look, that might've meant 'shut up', but she didn't much care.
"I am. I'll walk you home again, if that would help," she tried, but it didn't seem to be working.
"No thanks."
"Okay."
She swung back and forth, watching him. Her blonde hair met the wind and tossed, unruly, and her pigtails were begining to become loose. Sighing, she let one foot drag against the ground to slow herself down.
"I should make dinner soon..." she leaned back, letting her back stretch, "What do you want, Gaara?"
He shrugged, and she laughed, though nothing was really funny. It just made her feel better. Then a shiver ran through her, reminding her of the October chill, and she hopped off the swing, nearly slipping in the mud that ws a result of the previous days rain. Peaking of which, storm clouds were covering the east, and seemed to be approaching quickly. Anticipating a storm, Temari headed for the house, once she'd regained her bearings.
"You should come in, Gaara, it's cold," she said. The boy leaned back against the trunk, seemingly ignoring her. She sighed, and tok off her jacket. She jogged back over to the tree, and through it up to him.
"At least wear this!" she called up, "I don't want you to catch a cold!"
A cold...
With an almost entertained expression, Gaara reached down and pulled up the jacket, draping it about his shoulders. Temari, satisfied, headed into the house, planning dinner. And if Kankurou didn't like it, that was problem! It wasn't her fault no one ever taught her how to cook.
o
Droplets pelted the ground, the same as the night before. A figure strode through them, not bothering to lift his feet as he walked through puddles. His hair had become plastered to his scalp, and his clthes were wet and heavy. He'd forgotten his unbrella that day, but this didn't bother him. He hadn't had it the previous night either, and he was fine. Well, not fine. He actually had a rather nasty cold. But that didn't really matter.
He entered the house quietly, shrugging off his wet coat first, and hanging it over one arm while he undid the laces of his shoes. A girl shorter than him rushed in, seemingly glad.
"N-Neji-niisan! We w-were worried about you," she started, but he ignored her, wringing out his hair lightly.
"Tell your father I'm fine."
He said nothing more to her, heading up the grand staircase on his left. She watched him, bowing her head. If she had more courage, she would've yelled after him, demanding he explain his absence, or at least apologize... but she couldn't. She heard him sneeze as he reached the landing, before slamming he door to his room.
o
The rain hadn't touched him. Through the canopy of leaves, some drops had gotten through, but he was for the most part dry. He looked up, the clouds shifting and churning in the sky. The percussion of the droplets continued relentlessly, sharp cacophony. Gaara closed his eyes, letting the fresh breeze sweep around him, cool against his skin. His skin was cold, and moisture was beginning to form on him.
He didn't even move, as he heard the screen door open.
"Gaara!" Temari called, "Are you still out there? It's pouring!"
He turned his head, watching her through the foliage. Finally, she caught sight of him, and poked her head out of the house further.
"Dinner! Come on, I made pizza! The microwaveable kind!"
Gaara nodded, and hopped down from the tree, heading quickly inside. Temari smiled, watching his slightly damp hair drip onto the carpet. Whether anyone else knew it or not... he was still a little boy to her.
And she was his big sister.
Swing low... sweet chariot...
Comin' forth to carry me home...