Chapter 70
Fear

Whisking through the winds, Gaara stopped firmly on the sands at his feet.

He was in pursuit for hours, flying over the vast orange sands in haste to get to his foreboding destination. Chakra was not to be wasted, he remembered, not even in situations as dire as these. Was he choosing love over duty, he asked himself, No – they were one in the same. A Kage must use their strength and wisdom to protect the village so it may prosper and survive for future generations – to protect the ones most precious and dear. He was doing just that – just as he did those seven years ago when Nomasaki was taken captive by Ishi for her Kekkei Genkai. History was repeating itself, it seemed, but the lesson echoed was a fickle one. Whatever Tenbu had in store for when he eventually arrived, he imagined it would be similar to what he witnessed ravage his village streets. The flash of blue fire was still fresh in his sights, its haunting screech and blast rumbling through his memory.

The ritual. The Sleeper Agents. Shinto.

He had to stop them at all costs – as the Kazekage – as any Kazekage would.

Evening approached like a veil in the darkening sky, the warm air dwindling as the cool took over. The Land of Claws was within his sights, the twisted lands of the wastes curling over the horizon beyond the orange dunes. He hesitated for a moment. Turning to the far west, he gazed into the desert sandstorm he left behind. Deep within the unknown plain of sands, no man had dared to venture out of fear of death and starvation. Buzzards were a common sight there, claiming any wayward traveler who sought to brave the sweltering lands. Fools became its victims, becoming buried by the merciless sands and winds that lay the lands to waste. It was in those lands where he remembered tales of his forgotten people.

His clan.

Unheard of in generations, the true name of his clan was lost within the sands of time, known only to his village as the Kazekage family. Centuries ago, they were said to have lived within the untamed desert lands, feared by any who crossed them. Rumored to be victims of rampant mania and madness throughout generations, the clan fell into obscurity, their true name lost forever. It was only until a man of that bloodline named Reto rose as a conqueror and united the families of the desert into Sunagakure – and became the First Kazekage.

That was where the name began.

"When one of the Kazekage clan is born, they carry the curse of mania in their veins."

Such was a common expression by the Suna elders – and Gaara was living proof of its ferocity. Once. The madness was said to have been inflicted upon those with extraordinary chakra, sweeping through the generations like a silent virus of the mind. Not even the legendary Third Kazekage was immune. Magnet Release said to have been the precursor. Despite the best and bloody efforts of those who sought to destroy them, no enemies could find their long-forgotten settlement. No one could. Some of the elders began to cast doubt if the clan continued to exist if at all, believing the children of Rasa of the Gold Dust were the last living descendants. Such as the vanished Senju of Konohagakure, those with the Kazekage bloodline were scarce amongst the living. They were lost within the infinite grains of sand, shrouded in the mystery that bound them. Maybe if fate allowed, they would re-emerge peacefully as the Yamamori did – but that was truly wishful thinking. The desert gods were said to have flipped coins every time a descendant was born, and the gods could no longer spare such coins – or risks.

Sensing what lay ahead, Gaara readied himself for the border in the horizon. Turning towards an approaching rumble that raced towards him within the sands, he whipped his head towards it as his guard stiffened. In great speed, a giant mass of sand was billowing to his direction, rolling under the dunes in its wake. In a billowing echo of doom, the ground quaked beneath him. Surprising him, he knew the chakra. The first sixteen years of his life taught him its feel, nearly second nature. His seal had been broken for near four years, but he could never forget the air of the beast's strength even if he tried.

"It can't be–!"

Rising from the sands with a jeering laugh, the great tanuki rose from the depths. Just as he remembered, the beast emerged towering over him, its single tail whipping behind as the purple inscriptions that coated its shape shone in the fading sun. Sand coating over its figure as the beast stood, it looked down towards its former jinchuriki in a strange and fond way. Freedom in its vast desert had changed it, perhaps. "It's been a long time, runt." Shukaku said. Observing Gaara carefully from above, it peered towards him and looked him up and down. "Well, I see you're a runt no more – but a man! You're no longer the squirt I remember you as. Say… have you gotten taller?"

Gaara met its gaze, a stern expression forged on his face. "Enough with the small-talk, Shukaku. Let me pass."

"Hasty, are we?" The beast mused, leaning back. It gestured a large claw towards the horizon at their side. "If you're looking for those ones with the beast-ridden chakra, they are due northeast – near the heart of the wastes in the Land of Claws."

Taken aback for a moment, Gaara's eyes widened slightly.

Beast-ridden people.

Remembering the words from Kyo spoken on the mountaintop months ago, he vaguely remembered the Kumatsume – the bear-people. The Land of Claws was their home, Ishigakure their village. Those black-clad assassins with the beast-carved armor where there as well – Tenbu. "Beast-ridden chakra?" He pressed, urgently. "The Kumatsume – Tenbu?"

Shukaku gave a nod from its great head, its jagged jaws unmoving. "They scoured the desert only a night before… chasing after the path of a group of shinobi from Suna. My senses never lie!" The beast narrowed its blackened eyes towards him. "The wolf-girl was among them, I remember. Her chakra I can't forget… even if I tried!"

Gaara felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.

Her.

Urgently, he stepped closer. "Are you certain? Was it Nomasaki? Could you sense her?"

"Hmm? Is that why you're in such haste?"

Narrowing his eyes grimly, he averted his glance from the tanuki. "They have her – Tenbu. She was taken captive. I have to save her before it's too late!" He looked back to meet its eyes again, his expression firm and unmoving. "They're planning on using her as a sacrifice for a forbidden jutsu… I have to stop them, I must."

Sensing the courage in his ringed-eyes, Shukaku leaned closer towards the human that stood before it. It had been two years since they parted ways, near five years since they parted souls – but Shukaku could still see through his emotions. His eyes were a dead giveaway. Within them, there was no fear, no contempt, no hatred. Shukaku could plainly see trust, bravery, and most surprisingly – love. He wondered if it were the same human, remembering the scared child who would rampage and the brooding monster who thirsted for blood. The man before him had grown, and it was a true sign that the years had indeed shaped him.

A Kazekage he was born to be, the beast thought.

Accepting his words, the beast nodded. "Then I suggest you proceed with caution… take a tailed-beast's word and don't let down your guard. Those beast-people are unlike any I've sensed." Pointing a claw to his chest, the tanuki narrowed its eyes. "As much as I despise the Fourth and his blasted Gold Dust, you're of his blood. You have his Magnet-Release flowing in your veins, am I not mistaken?" Surprised, Gaara stood with eyes wide. Where was the beast getting at, he wondered. Meeting its eyes, he gave a stern nod in silence. "Then use it." Shukaku spat. "Nature energy may be strong, but with magnet-release integrated into your Ultimate Defense, they won't stand a chance – but use it sparingly! It takes up enough chakra… for humans, at least."

Finding it in him to show gratitude in such a pressing time, a small smile found its way upon his lips. "It's not like you to give advice unprovoked. I'll heed your word, then."

Taking his leave, he strode past the towering creature of sand on his path towards the treacherous wastes. It was mere hours away, and not a minute to spare. The reinforcements were tailing him, planning to arrive as soon as they were able. No word from Konoha had reached Suna when he departed, but he held hope that someone – anyone – would answer the call. He had only hope left.

"Runt," Shukaku spoke, watching his back. "You love her, don't you? That wolf-girl."

Stopping upon the sands, he did not turn back. "Yes… I do."

The beast let out an amused scoffed laughter, catching the corner of his eye from its jeering. "Keh – I always knew! Even back then, I could feel it… The way you looked at her spoke a thousand words. Wolves are far worse than foxes, but even a tanuki can learn to tolerate a beast such as that… given time, of course." As the grains of sand began to fall from its body, the tanuki gave a parting glance before being swallowed by the sea of sands below. "Come back alive and maybe we can talk once more… Gaara the Kazekage!"

In a quaking rumble, the giant tanuki melted into the sands below. Billowing, the large mass rumbled under the sands back into the recesses from which it came. Watching the one-tail disappear into the vast sands of the orange desert, Gaara turned himself back towards the horizon at his back. The wastes were standing still, their twisting curves lumbering over the land like a valley of death and stone. He was close. Darkness clouding the dimming skies, time was of the essence.

As the winds rose around him, he vanished into his sand towards where death lay.

Awake, her body twitched in shocks of pain as they rumbled through every nerve.

For hours Nomasaki lay writhing in silence as the glowing ores forbade her rest. Small electric-like pulses thundered through every open wound, her muscles unable to move at her will. It felt as if the very life were being sucked out of her. Biting her lip, she forced herself up. She fell. Gritting her teeth, she felt the blood leak from her lip as she managed to rise to her elbows. Falling to her side, her heavy panting was all that could distract her from her sorry state. She was done for. Her life was as good as gone – her mission a failure. Moro and Sohei were dead, the others, too. Her thoughts clanging in a foul stirring within her insomniac mind, she remembered the scattered tales of Ishigakure from the Suna elders, Zenken of the Wastes, and her father from his stories and letters. For centuries, there had been conflicts between Yama and Ishi before either had become an established shinobi territory, the latter village being the ones to nearly wipe her clan's existence from the face of the earth. In a great war generations before her time – the First Shinobi War, the Yamamori and an unknown clan hailing from Ishi fought for many days and many nights, with the Yamamori facing defeat by a dawn laced with blood.

It must have been them, she thought, The Kumatsume.

The bear-people.

Since the defeat near one hundred years ago, and the Yamamori had since been heralded as a bad omen by her mountain-folk. Some were said to have fled to other lands out of fear of the hunt by more enemies, while the few and brave remained in their mountain homeland. Disease would claim those who stayed, as her mother told her one day on the front porch of her home as she asked about her grandparents. A fever swept through the mountains many years ago, taking many with it in its cruel wake, both villager and Yamamori alike – including her grandparents whom she had never met. Eventually, years later, her mother would be another victim. She still remembered the great fire of her funeral pyre, her tears hot on her cold cheeks while few villagers remained to mourn with the orphaned wolf-child. By Tenbu's foul luck, a fever did not claim the wolf they chased after.

Curse them... curse them all...

If she were captured back then by the first who sought her those seven years ago, this would have been her untimely fate. Tenbu had planned carefully. Hiding under the guise of a village certainly took Sunagakure by surprise – Ishigakure more so. For years they chased her, sought her, tracked her, and now she was theirs. Caged in her jade prison, she was the key to restoring the power of the Kumatsume – and the key to the end of the Kazekage dynasty. Death was staring her in the face in the shadows, its looming presence taunting her with each breath she wasted in hopelessness.

No, she forced herself up again, I refuse to die here!

Gnashing her fanged teeth, she once again pushed herself to her limits.

"I… have to get out of here–! Ungh–!"

The jolts of pain were too great.

Jade pulses zapped through her and around her between the ginkō ore of the barrier, glowing eerily in the blackened and dimmed cave light. Every movement rippled through her core, travelling from her fingertips to her scar and writhing down her ribs to the pit of her stomach. Not since that day she was given the scar had she faced such terrible pain. A movement in her pants pocket struck her memory. Clanging against the single kunai she had in her holster on her thigh, she heard the glass ring silently. Glancing down towards it in desperation, she could see a glimpse of the flask, the sands inside swirling viciously in its prison.

Gaara's gift to her only months ago.

"If you ever find yourself in danger and I'm not there, please use it. That way, I can always protect you."

His words ringing within her memories, racing for a had to do something – anything – whether it was rash or hand twitched painfully as she pushed herself towards the pocket. Wincing, she steadily, she felt the canines once absent from her jaws grow within with each had to be brave – strong - unafraid. Remembering the wolves of that pack, her mind raced behind her closed eyes. Her wolfish nature calming her, Hanone's words shining through.

Wolves do not fear, she remembered, wolves devour fear.

Eyes opening, she forced her hand to glide against the oily black stone. The jolts stabbed through her as her fingers clung to the curves of the cave floor, pressing for the far-off pocket she saw within her grasp. The pain rumbled through her once more.

Wolves do not fear, wolves devour fear. Wolves do not fear, wolves devour fear.

Sweeping the black fold of the pocket, the flask moved farther from her fingertips. Gnashing her emerging canines, she pressed further, grazing against the flask's seal with her nails. She was so close to grasping it, if only her body did not feel as if it were on fire. Edging again, she stretched her pained arm as far as her body would allow.

She could almost taste the sand.

Wolves do not fear, wolves devour fear!

Holding the flask within her trembling fingers, she let out a pained grunt as she smashed the glass container against the blackened stone. Her palm bloodied by the shattered glass, she watched as the sand swirled and punctured each of the glowing ginkō ores of the barrier. All at once in a blinding jade blur, the sands burst the ores, their presence and energy vanishing with a heavy breath and explosion of golden grains.

Breathing easily, Nomasaki bit her lip as she pulled out the glass from her punctured palm. One by one, the broken shards sprinkled against the oily black stone. Looking down at her palm, the cuts formed rivers of red onto her skin. She could care less about the scarring. She already knew the sting of glass, the scars from her beast-ridden rampage still fresh on the skin of her human back. Ripping her sleeve, she carefully wrapped the black fabric around her hand and closed it with a knot.

"There… at least the pain is dulled."

Her limb still ached from her wound suffered in the ambush. Luckily, it did not fester. Examining it, she sighed in relief as she noticed the wound was closed and pink with healing. Although her thigh still throbbed when she moved it. If she were to fight, her speed would be hindered. She had to play out her escape carefully, as blind to chakra as she now was. Trying to stand, she felt a strange warmth course through her veins subtly, silently as if a distant wind. It roused her, gave her a moment's courage, and left as she exhaled. Surprised by the feel, she felt herself ache with longing.

The blood, the blood.

Her heart plead internally for her intuition to be true.

Grappling onto her scarce hope, she stood on her wobbly feet. There were no others in the cavern as she scanned it, no one to see her emerge from her prison of crystal. It appeared the desert gods she ignored granted her the fair luck of no one hearing the blast either – or perhaps the god of death she evaded allowed his hand to slip. She had no room left in her heart for any such faith – not even fate had any room. She had to believe in herself, for she was all she had left.

A glimmer on the far side of the blackened cavern caught her eyes. Her katana was propped up against the wall, the blade still intact and unbroken. Beside it, her scratched forehead protector sat still, the dirt still evident from her collapse on the mud. A deep intent near split the Sunagakure emblem in two, the rest of the evidence from the strike dried above her brow. Hastily, she pushed herself to run. Tying the forehead protector around the belt loop of her pants, she grabbed the sword firmly in her wounded hand. Her sheath was missing, but she had to make do with what she had – she had no choice.

Something shuffled in the darkness.

Whipping her head towards the noise in alert, she met the terrified glance of a girl a few years her junior. She stood sheepishly between the shadows and the dim candlelight, her mismatched garbs and sunk-in features illuminated for her to see. It was a different one than earlier, she reminded herself. Letting down her guard, she stepped forward before the girl could flee from the frightening woman with the blade.

"You there – come." Nomasaki called after her. Luckily, the girl shyly turned back, pausing in front of the light. "What is your name?"

The girl met her eyes timidly, fear lingering within their green hue. "Sana."

"Are you of the Kumatsume?"

Sana nodded hesitantly, shame growing in her glance. "Yes… I am a servant of Koga-sama and Kenzō-sama… their kin-folk."

Examining her from the distance between them, Nomasaki noticed a leather brace enclosed around the girl's pale neck. It was near shielded by the matted dark hair that fell over her bruised

shoulders, its silver hoop gleaming subtly in the dark. It gave her a bitter feeling. "That brace around your neck," She pressed, her eyes saddening. "Are you a slave?"

Averting her dulled eyes from the stranger, the girl nodded. She grasped the silver hoop painstakingly, her dark hair shielding her expression of shame. "My people are sworn to serve. We were taken as captives during the exile and forced to work in these mines for years – for ginkō ore. Some of us haven't even seen the sun… and... -," Shaking in fear, the girl slowly showed the curse seal that marked her tongue in its black ink. "...we are to serve until death."

Nomasaki's gut churned in disgust.

Another curse mark... like mine.

Slavery had been abolished generations ago, long before her time. The last slavers of the continent were chased off by the valiant efforts of the Five Great Nations, but lands a world away were rumored to still profit from its cruelty and exploits. Anywhere beyond the silver waters of the shinobi lands were deemed a dangerous territory of such criminals. It was unheard of to meet a slave in person, let alone a slave within the continent from which it was free and considered a great crime. They were unspeakable monsters, Tenbu were – monsters coated in the flesh of humans. They were no better than wolves in sheep's clothing to their own kin, preying on the weak. Enslaving their own clansmen to work the mines – purely despicable. Her impulsive nature getting the better of her, her mind hatched a desperate idea.

"Let me free you from that brace,"

"Please, don't–!" The girl pleaded, stepping back. "If either Koga-sama or Kenzō-sama find out, they'll surely kill us – they'll punish us, beat us."

"I can help you… trust me," Nomasaki assured, her eyes kind and heart begging. She found herself placing a palm over her chest, as if to convince the girl otherwise. "I'm of Sunagakure, I know the Kazekage – and my father is the chieftain of Yamagakure. We can help your people–,"

Nervously, the girl looked up to her with wide green eyes. The fear was still there, but there was a glimmer of hope she had not yet seen. She could tell by the look from her eyes that they were cut from a similar cloth, one that was beaten and berated by Kenzō and his schemes – but it was the growing hope and courage that warmed her. She felt as if she were looking at a version of her former self, propelling her to help the girl as much as she was able.

Nomasaki grazed the blade against her neck, eyeing her cautiously. "Do you trust me?"

Swallowing her fear, the girl shut her eyes tightly with a nod. Swinging the blade in an air-like motion, the leather brace fell to the cave floor with a heavy clacking noise. Clutching her neck with a gasp for air, the girl frantically traced the freedom she felt. It were as if she had never breathed freely before. Reaching into her holster's pocket where the flask once lay, she pulled out her last kunai and held it to her handle-first. With wide and curious eyes, Sana observed it carefully from afar with a scared child-like wonder to her glance.

"Take this kunai and free every slave you see. Escape as soon as you can – don't let them catch you – just run!"

Timidly, the girl clasped it into her cold and burnt hands. Nomasaki could tell by the way her eyes looked at the weapon that she never wielded such a thing before. It would not be used for killing – it would be used for justice. The Kumatsume patriarch will be losing all his slaves that early morning, a fair price for his vile disregard for the world around him and all those he made suffer. Looking up with worried and frightened eyes, the girl watched as Nomasaki walked past her into the shadows.

"What will you do?"

Coming to a pause before the darkness, Nomasaki's narrowed violet eyes stared down the path she had chosen. Holding the hilt of the blade tightly in her stinging hand fresh with cuts, she knew what she must do, shedding the shroud that her mask once gave her. She was a shinobi, she remembered, and all the fear she once held had finally left her.

For the first time in days, her blood began to boil.

Her path of the shadows called her to face her enemy and she stepped onward.

"I will fight."