Hello again! Thanks for your patience. I was toying with some ideas so this one took longer than expected, but hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
Case No: D0003528
Time of Incident: 10:31 AM
Location: East Division
Involved Parties: Nin-60-217
Incident Summary: At approximately 10:29 AM, Nin-60-217 changed shifts from West Division to East Division.
Festival preparations underway. Nothing amidst upon first entry.
At 10:31 AM, Nin-60-217 arrived at assignment point. Noticed strange figure trailing him before disappearing down nearby alley. Nin-60-217 pursued subject alone*.
Loud scuffle ensued. Assailant quickly fled alley and disappeared. Several villagers reported assailant as wearing "a long, hooded robe." Face not identified.
At 10:38, Anbu arrived at scene. Members intercepted note left at scene. Taken in for further investigation.
Nin-60-217 discovered in alley, minimally responsive with wounded shoulder. Taken in for additional care.
Status: East Division on high alert. Kazekage and Council notified. Details forthcoming.
Time of Report: 10:42 AM
Reporting Officer: Anbu Nin-32-050 *Failure to follow protocol.
The shadows of the corridor hid the six bodies—Gaara, Tojuro, Hibiki, Temari, Kankuro, and Shikamaru—from the unforgiving noonday sun. The ambiance only steepened the ominous tone with which Gaara relayed the details of that morning's incident.
The enemy had struck again. And this time, against their best efforts, the villagers were now quite aware.
"...217..." Kankuro mumbled, vexed by this one detail, when it registered. "Amagi! Damn it, is he alright?"
Tojuro raised his chin. "Yes, it would seem that it was your protégé who got ahead of himself..."
"He is recovering from his injuries. He will be fine," Gaara said.
Tension relieved from Kankuro's shoulders though concern still lingered on his face. He hoped those under his command would be smarter than to pursue a high-level threat on their own. But Amagi was a young, impetuous new recruit to the Counter-Terrorism Division who often tried to overcompensate in battle. Unfortunately, this was not the time to be prideful.
Shikamaru wrinkled his forehead in deep thought. The assailant fled back towards the public? A strange choice considering everyone was aware of their presence now. Even if their face was a mystery, several could at least identify their attire. A very strange choice.
In front of him, Temari ran down the events of that day. There was the early morning ambush by the council advisor, then the roof: flowers, more flowers, menu…
The guards swapped shifts around 10:30. That's when we left. She cursed underneath her breath. She must have flown past Amagi's assignment point on her way to the border, just as the attack was taking place or slightly before. In any case, she had missed the action completely. Her fist instinctively tightened. A second attack and she had missed it.
"You said there was a note. What did it say?"
The Senior Head scoffed. "That is hardly business to discuss out in the open. And Anbu is still investigating." He looked off, making it a point to stroke his long, frail beard. "Hmph. If you ask me, they should have been the only agents on this from the beginning."
"What did it say?" She demanded, edging herself closer towards the two higher ranks. Tojuro cocked his head in the opposite direction. That was fine, she wasn't expecting much help from him anyway. She looked to Gaara who appeared in a trance, silently peering through the archway of the corridor. Slivers of sunlight caught his bright red hair which was a stark contrast to the grave intensity that weighed on his features.
When he finally spoke, he was addressing everyone yet no one specifically. "It demands the removal of our village from the Shinobi Alliance, as well as the relinquishment of all of our missions tasked through the Shinobi Union."
Wh...what? Temari turned to Shikamaru but even he was visibly caught off-guard. Kankuro balled his fist.
"No way." His voice was dangerously low. "No way. Absolutely not."
"Brother, please keep a calm mind," Gaara said.
"Someone wants us gone this bad, huh? So much they'd attack us in our home." He slammed the inside wall causing the surrounding infrastructure to rattle for a few moments. Everyone else took the reaction in stride but Shikamaru took a step back. He had never seen Kankuro this incensed before. His anger was almost emblematic in that it was indeed his, but also seemed to emanate from another source entirely.
Was it because of Amagi's condition or the suspected betrayal of another allied nation? Or something else? Shikamaru couldn't place it.
Behind them, Hibiki was a chattering mess. Her whispers weren't as quiet as she believed. "This is bad. Really bad. If he shows up at the festival? It could be a disaster, all that hard work, all the preparations, everything would be for naught—"
"The festival will continue as scheduled," Tojuro interjected. "Lord Kazekage and I have already agreed on that. In the meantime, we'll increase security and notify the other nations of our...circumstances." The elder's gaze fell upon the only foreign shinobi in their midst who, upon meeting his stare, instantly looked away. "Rest assured, they will not get the better of us."
Just then, Temari took a sudden, forceful hold of Gaara's arm. She had heard enough. A flash of shock rushed the leader's face but she paid it little mind as she dragged him away from the others. The elder rolled his eyes: the youth really had zero manners. For the umpteenth time that visit, Shikamaru was unsure of what to do.
"Temari, what is the meaning of this?" Gaara insisted.
The two made it a considerable distance, arriving at the section of corridor overlooking the open sandbox which had once been the site of play for Gaara and his siblings. Actually, it was mostly him who occupied the space. For some reason, the other two were rarely around to play when he was.
He could still hear the grainy crunch of his shovel heaving against the sand. The lonely rattle of his plastic pail plopping to the ground was as familiar as birds chirping at sunrise. He soon realized he didn't particularly need these tools due to his cursed abilities. But the shovel and pail made for decent company so they remained by his side.
Yet, there was no time to reminisce if that was even possible. Temari whipped him around to face her, clutching him by the shoulders. Her iron grip would not let up.
"Tell me what's going on."
"Ex-excuse me?"
"Something isn't right here. You're leaving out details. Don't lie to me, Gaara."
His cheeks flushed a deep red. Gaara glanced away. He was by no means full of himself, but he was pretty sure the Kazekage wasn't supposed to be accosted like a child in public.
"I have nothing to hide nor do I have reason to lie."
"And I guess Tojuro is being honest, too? Is that it?"
"He is simply doing what's best for the village, as am I," Gaara said, coolly brushing her hands off his shoulders.
Temari slid her hand over the bridge of her nose. It was as if her little brother had been thoroughly brainwashed. He was too smart to let himself be misled like this. Still, there was more to consider now. She had to admit that today did cast a sliver of doubt on everything she believed until then.
...Could there be a fellow nation who wanted them out of the alliance? Possibly. There was no guarantee every nation would be completely satisfied with the conditions of peace, even after all they'd endured together. But that was what the Shinobi Union was for. As Chief Organizer, Shikamaru had sworn by its intentions himself: a neutral space to talk over their issues, allocate missions fairly among the five nations, and reduce massive conflicts from happening later down the road. That's how he put it when he asked her, rather shyly, if she'd consider being the Suna representative. She blinked a couple of times at his request. Was this the same Shikamaru who napped between naps? His newfound ambition was different. Admirable. She found herself wanting to be part of the vision he was so thoughtfully constructing and was (secretly) enthralled that he had asked her to be part of it.
But that didn't mean that everyone else felt the same way she did. Members from Iwagakure still gave her dirty looks on occasion. Some feuds ran deep.
"Lord Kazekage, let us continue." The Senior Head's voice echoed from the other end of the corridor. "We must finish discussing our counter-initiative."
This snapped the eldest sister out of her spiraling thoughts. She dropped her voice to an urgent whisper so only Gaara could hear.
"Listen, I don't get why you and that snake are suddenly best friends—"
"Temari, please."
"—but I know it's an act. I know you, Gaara. Yesterday, you told Shikamaru to search his office. Which means at some point, you were suspicious of him, too. What changed?" She was practically pleading with him, insisting he give her something. Anything.
Unfortunately, there was no answer he could offer that would suffice. His gaze returned to that sandbox which looked as lonely as ever. There were currently no little ones running around the house. And even when there were, it wasn't like they could just be regular children. Making the perfect sandcastle while weathering a barrage of flying kunai from every direction was hard, even with his ultimate defense. The sandbox was never simply a place to play. It was a warzone with him as the prized target.
He sighed at the forlorn memories. The past was no simpler than the present.
"I must go." Gaara shifted away abruptly. "But I assure you, I did not order a search into any council member."
Temari was left a statue, dumbfounded. He was done indulging the conversation. A very different attitude from their conversation the first night.
Making his way to the other end of the corridor, he paused and turned back. Maybe he would explain himself. His smile was forced.
"I will take care of this from now on. You just worry about the wedding, okay?"
He left his sister who, for all her efforts, could not respond or move. Gaara had lied to her face and chosen a snake over his sister. Most jarring, he had insinuated that the safety of her own village was not her concern. Her bottom lip began to quiver.
He was acting as if she'd already left.
At the far end of the corridor, the Kazekage regrouped with the Senior Head as they both departed the remaining stragglers.
"We've already said too much..." Tojuro mused. He directed one last glance towards the Leaf shinobi, then Hibiki. She straightened up so fast, even the strands of her long mousy brown hair stood at attention. Shikamaru realized that the advisor wasn't just planning their wedding. She was ordered to keep an eye on them. Wonderful.
Kankuro made his way to Temari. His anger had cooled to a low simmer, enough to see that his sister needed support. He put a firm hand on her shoulder but the sudden contact did not register. Gaara's words were stuck on a broken loop inside her head.
"Leave it be, Temari."
This did manage to reach her. Her response was quiet, unconfident. "He wouldn't even listen."
"I know."
"He didn't care about what we found..." That file she'd taken from the border now weighed heavily at her side. She never even got a chance to mention it.
"We should hold off on our initial suspicions and consider the current threat at hand," Kankuro said finally.
She glared at him. Not you, too.
He sensed what she was thinking. "All I'm saying is be calm about this."
"Oh, you're one to talk," she grumbled, swatting off his attempt at a comforting hand. They lingered there for a moment, standing above the empty sandbox. If they listened carefully, they could have heard the echoes of two children bickering in dusty tees and shorts over sinking sandcastles (theirs never lasted the same way Gaara's did). Now the two were adults stuck at an impasse. It didn't matter what either said, they believed what they believed. They had their own emotions to sort through.
"I have to go check on something," he muttered, moving past her. So he was withdrawing first. Temari looked away so she wouldn't have to see a second sibling walk away from her on unresolved terms. She missed his aggravating presence as soon as he was gone.
She glanced toward the far end of the corridor. There Shikamaru stood, shoulders slacked, head tilted down. His discomfort was evident from a mile away; he would not look directly at her though she knew he was watching. Waiting. What was he thinking? Probably wondering if it was too late to return home. She wouldn't blame him for the thought. This vacation was getting more troublesome by the day.
But he had yet to complain about it, or much of anything since they got there. He was taking everything in stride. That must have meant something.
A sudden gust of wind pulsed through the air, ruffling her clothes every which way. The current rippled down the corridor, disturbing Shikamaru from his bystander act. He caught her stare, the look of having lost a hard-fought battle, and offered her a weak smile. She returned the sentiment. Alas, they still weren't alone.
"Hey! Sorry, I know this is a serious time. But considering there's little we can do about the matter ourselves, I've taken the liberty of securing a third floral arrangement for us to look at—this one in white so it matches superbly with our theme..."
Shoot me.
The east end sat on edge. Whispers of the attack were making rounds. Shopkeepers watched their doors. Restaurant patrons trembled over their lunch specials. Several musicians and performers had packed up their items and taken leave for the day. The streets rang empty save for the chatter of nervous feet. One keeper of a newly developed inn sat dejected at the front desk, battering himself for his cursed luck. This was his opening day. The skirmish happened right across the street. Nearly half of the reservations he'd booked had been canceled by noon.
Above, perched on the roof of this inn, Nin-32-050 observed the activity below. A set of bandages swirled around his head and a long cloth draped the lower half of his face, exposing only a pair of sharp, weary eyes to the world. If there was a festival coming, the public spirit did not indicate it.
Behind him, he sensed a set of feet touching down on the roof. As they approached, he didn't bother to turn around. He already recognized the footstep pattern.
"You're still up here?"
No response. His teammate, Nin-54-199, shook her head. Like him, her hair stayed hidden under layers of headgear, and her brown flak jacket blended in smoothly with its surroundings. "The suspect isn't dumb enough to stick around, you know," she continued.
He sustained his focus to which his teammate sighed, unsurprised. Dubbed the "Hawk" among his comrades, Nin-32-050 was a senior member of Anbu and a talented medical-nin. He'd seen a lot. He'd lost a lot. But he was also one of the most capable shinobi, always aware of himself and his surroundings. She didn't doubt that he'd be the first among them to arrive on the scene at that morning's attack. That was just the Hawk's nature.
"Well, you page us if you see something." Nin-54-199 turned to leave. "I'm going to notify the border—"
"Do you remember the Jinchuriki?" His voice was rugged as if he hadn't spoken all morning. She turned back.
"Lord Kazekage, you mean?"
He nodded slowly. His attention remained on the grounds below. "Do you recall that night?"
Nin-54-199 considered the question. If she fished deep in her memory banks, to a time before the Fifth Kazekage was just that, she could recall a small redheaded boy not much younger than herself. Stumbling around the village, alone. Was he alone because he was the Jinchuriki, or because they assumed he was a threat? It was hard to recall.
"That night he attacked. When the One-Tailed Shukaku unleashed his rage."
"Oh. I suppose." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It was so long ago, I must've forgotten some of it."
Her response was followed by silence. She figured the Hawk had tired of the conversation, taking that as her cue to leave.
"It was dreadful."
"Huh?" She stopped.
"There was so much fear. The village was terrified. I was one of the shinobi who had to restrain it. Many of my comrades did not survive that night." The Hawk's words were haunting. "Be glad you were too young to remember."
The two teammates felt the weight of the sun bearing down on their backs. So this was the price of living a long life as a shinobi. Unwanted memories and unresolved trauma. The Hawk was not one to share too much with anyone. She didn't know what constituted an appropriate response. Despite all the rigorous emotional training the Anbu had put them through, Nin-54-199 dared chuckled.
"Don't even sweat it," she said. "We'll find the enemy, make 'em talk. Everyone will have forgotten about today."
The Hawk shook his head. "You are too easy-going for this job."
She hunched down and clapped his shoulder. "Lighten up. Or you'll pass out."
In her departure, the Hawk found it hard to take this parting advice seriously. He peered out at the adjacent alley, the site of that morning's attack, now vigorously marked off with gaudy strips of tape overlapping both entry points. Two non-Anbu shinobi stood guard. If he looked closely, he could just make out the dents in the wall where the young shinobi's attacks had landed, failing to reach their target. He envied her nonchalance. Give it a few more years, he thought, and she would see. How complicated this job could become.
Below him, the innkeeper threw himself exasperatedly over the desk. Another cancellation.
The halls of the medical unit were hushed and eerie that evening. Two victims, two attacks, all within the last two days. Kankuro gave the guards a firm nod as they registered his identity. At this point, no one could be too certain.
On the fifth door on the left, the former Senior Head Lord Ebizo remained unconscious, breathing through the mercy of an oxygen tube. If only he was Kankuro's biggest worry.
At the end of the hallway stood a small vestibule, likely designed to hold family and friends while they waited to see their loved ones. The visitor tugged at the collar of his suit. The overhead lights were unusually bright; the heat was getting to him. As he reached the last door near the vestibule, Kankuro lamented the fact that there was no family around to see this particular occupant. It really was just him.
He pushed through the door slowly. Amagi lay still. Breathing, but fast asleep. His shoulder was tightly bandaged up. As the puppeteer stepped closer, he could see the occupant had suffered a slight head wound, evident by the patches of swollen red skin on his temples. Kankuro could feel his hand shaking against his will. Fifteen. The kid was only fifteen years old. He didn't deserve to have been defeated this badly.
Kankuro remembered distinctly when the boy entered his team. The rest of Counter-Terrorism Division snickered at the eager sprite ready to prove himself. In passing, they would pinch his face and comment how "cute" he was for such a serious job, infuriating the boy before Kankuro would tell the others to quit it. The mocking only further stoked Amagi's fire.
"I'll improve my technique," Amagi told him one day, referring to his in-progress mastery of weapons through chakra threads. "I'll show them all!" Kankuro was slow to respond to his subordinate, choosing instead to listen.
In truth, he saw a lot of himself in Amagi.
The boy had lost his mother in battle early on. His father was habitually neglectful and ridiculing; he went away for rehabilitation after the last war. By the time Amagi reached his team, he was on his own, bearing a giant chip on his shoulder.
In the present, Kankuro stood by his bedside, restraining a rogue tear. Was this burden Amagi felt the reason he pursued the hooded figure by himself?
He could've called me, any of us. Kankuro steadied himself on the bedside table. Surely they'd come to his aid if they knew. But did Amagi realize that?
Or…
Kankuro recounted the past few days. It was sobering, realizing he hadn't been the most present captain as of late. Something had changed. Between appeasing the council's demands and keeping his sister's secrets, time had gotten away from him. Temari's letter had flipped their whole world sideways and he was stuck weathering the aftermath. No wonder Amagi didn't call him for help.
Ever so slightly, his eyes began to flutter, as if he were about to wake up. Kankuro crouched by his bedside. There was so much he still had to know about that morning. Alas, they stopped suddenly and the boy settled back into sleep. Kankuro stood up. He came expecting too much from his protégé who had already done his very best that day. Kankuro pulled a single yellow flower from his suit pocket. He placed it in a glass of water and sat it on the bedside table. At least when he woke up, he would see that someone cared about him.
The captain made his way to the door but something wouldn't let him leave. Not before he made a promise.
"I'm going to find the bastard who did this to you." His hand shook on the doorknob but his voice was steady. Lethal. "I promise, they won't leave here alive."
