ooo
Her reply arrived by messenger bird later that afternoon. Gaara locked his office door to read it; he'd cracked the seal on the scroll with his thumbnail before returning his desk.
I was certain you would take care of my student; I am relieved to hear you do not intend to prove me wrong. Uchiha Sasuke was disappointed to learn that Sakura's return shall be delayed—but no one here will deny that a good medic is invaluable.
I do not feel her immediate return is imperative, though there are those here who may disagree. Please keep me updated on her status so I may know how best to answer their questions.
He read it again, nodding to himself. Sasuke was upset; by omission, Tsunade was not. She'd also provided Gaara with some shelter from the supporters of Sasuke's marriage—as well as supplying him with another buffer of time.
Though he wasn't sure what he'd use the time for—except to steal Sakura away completely.
Gaara'd recognized his own possessive nature long ago. First it'd helped him function, as a reason to keep going in a world that feared and hated him . . . but in time it became a foe that could bring about his downfall. Once he'd even enjoyed being driven by it—a state culminating with a full-on psychotic break in his first chuunin exam, when he'd cared more about killing his chosen prey than about a stadium of potential victims.
He remembered only fragments of that day: killing, wanting to kill, being unable to kill Naruto . . . and vividly amidst that, Sakura, the brief flash of her image conflating with Yashamaru's until his first instinct the next time they met was to avoid her. And even though he'd remained territorial after Shukaku was stolen from him, he liked to think he'd learned to better control himself. With a little mental redirection, he'd decided, this weakness could become a strength. He'd picked up the gist of it from his father, with one of the only ways Sand could begin to control his actions.
These are your brother and sister. They're yours. If they are to stay yours, they need to be protected.
It hadn't always worked out as intended. He remembered pinning Temari to a wall once with sand and calmly, quietly telling her he was the only one with a right to kill her. He'd been nine years old. He wasn't sure that she'd ever truly forgiven him, and couldn't bring himself to ask her without turning over his own painful memories.
But the base theory remained sound: Sand was his. No one else could have it. The people were his. No one could hurt them—and they supported him, they appreciated him, they even seemed to like him, so he would defend them with his life.
Leaf's kunoichi, though, was not his.
Yet.
But she could be.
Because if he brought her into Sand, she'd be one of his people. And if he counted her as one of Naruto's friends, she'd be doubly under his protection by association. And if the Uchiha wanted to use her in a way that so clearly echoed Gaara's past . . . it would surely be Gaara's obligation to change her fate.
It had been wrong. It would be wrong. And it wouldn't change his own history—pretending it would was illogical, and so he wouldn't put the whimsy to words—but stopping the past's repetition would be the best way he could ever condemn his father's actions.
It was his city, and she was currently a part of it.
Yet one of the things Gaara'd had to learn was how to cover for himself, to hide any of his vagaries or strange fantasies from the public lest they think he was losing his mind again. His response to Tsunade thus carefully avoided mentioning any of his slowly stirring, barely-recognized plans.
We are in agreement, then. I would be interested to see the reasons some might have to hasten Sakura's return. Her presence here protects lives that would otherwise be lost or endangered; that is all they need to know.