Hiya.

I know I've been MIA as of late and I'm really sorry about that.

When I went to fix that, THIS story grabbed a hold of me and wouldn't let go. It's 10 chapters long and is FINISHED. Yes, you read that right. I completed this before posting it. The chapters could use a go in the spelling and grammar spin cycle (since they're raw drafts) but are otherwise DONE.

I wrote out the chapter summaries over a year ago then shelved it, came back to it a few days ago, and then wrote the whole thing out. My compilation word document of all 10 chapters is roughly 31,000 words. I can't believe I wrote all that so quickly after such a long break from ff writing.

Anyway.

This was such an alien process for me I don't even have chapter names for them all. Maybe I'll go back over it at a later date and name them but my brain is fried on that right now. So, uh, I'm nervous to say: this is a strange story for me. At least from the perspective of how it felt writing it.

EDIT: because this site doesn't do tags & I feel I need to add this:
Warnings: Semi-slowburn. Infidelity—in side pairings. Politics. War. Pining. And the most important thing: Kankuro is a whore. ;)
Side-pairings: NaruHina. Eventual ShikaTema mention. Karin/Suigetsu. One-sided (but hopeful) SasuIno. And like I 'tagged' on AO3: the GaaSaku here isn't consistent but there is only GaaSaku in romantic interactions, if that makes sense.

Hope you enjoy. ^_^

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Chapter One.
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"Company, halt!"

Gaara pulled his horse's reins to come to a stop and dusted his boots carelessly as his General started sorting out the infantry. His second in command boasted an intimidating presence, his booming voice worked at bringing the formation—which had come slightly undone due to the terrain and exhaustion of their journey—back into place.

While he waited, Gaara glanced around impassively at the once fertile farming land; it wasn't war that made this land uncultivable, of that he was sure. But the reasoning behind the salting of this earth by barbarians didn't matter to him. He only cared that this cornered off part of the Land of Fire still held the embers of the fight; the men in these villages could use a bath, but they were beefy, passably adept at weapon use, and well organised for such rabble. It was just a shame they'd put these talents to such pointless pursuits as defending this useless plot of land.

All he cared about was that his enemies could not use this land against the Land of Wind. And if this rabble could be turned to their cause, they could be moulded into a fighting force (for a diversion squad, if nothing else). They hated their king as much as Wind despised that old coot, for abandoning this area during a plague years ago. But Gaara didn't trust that old man not to come back and reclaim it. Especially since his reason for abandoning it was over; his forces were needed at the eastern borders, to defend against the Water Queen. Some said Mei Terumi was a witch. That she'd beguiled the Hōzuki Clan warlords into doing her dirty work.

Gaara had met her. She wasn't his type.

The people beguiled by her were just weak.

All the more reason they had to secure their land and mark out more territory. And a large part of that was done in the taking of resources, be that crops, animals, mining privileges, or the people themselves.

He scoffed silently to himself as he perused the enemy peasants. His contingent had stopped a good twelve feet from the entrance to the main village. There were several other villages—if one could call them even that—surrounding this one, but the Elder here spoke for them all. It was the largest congregation of humans in this area, so it didn't surprise him. If there were any bodies of warrior material, this was the place to start.

Gaara felt uncomfortable, as his usual missions involved just sweeping through areas like this and leaving no witnesses to his blood thirst for battle. He was the best weapon his people had in light of the guerrilla and covert attacks they were suffering at the hands of the Fire King—the mad king. He was forcing their hand.

They needed to undermine Fire as much as possible before open war began.

A soldier from his personal guard came up to him. "We're done here, Commander. There are just farmers and little wannabe soldiers past this line."

Gaara nodded as his soldiers laughed. "Farmers have muscle," he said. "They can be trained."

Baki frowned, clearly agreeing with the soldiers. "They're uncivilised and know nothing of Wind tactics-"

He broke off as Gaara urged his horse forward, ignoring him. But he followed his commander, motioning for the lieutenants in Gaara's personal guard to do the same (they were less a personal guard and more like his favourite fighting lackeys that he took—almost—everywhere). Baki was wary of this intent look in Gaara's eyes but said nothing as they stopped just shy of what looked to be the leader of this village. The man was tall, beefy, and yet held a placid expression on his face.

"You are the Elder," Gaara said. "You speak for your people."

"That I do." His voice was rich and friendly, despite the bulging muscles and metal tipped wooden spear he was using as a leaning pole.

Gaara's horse snorted. "In the name of the Wind King I request entrance to speak of a matter of great importance."

The Elder looked surprised. "A Wind soldier makes a request? I was not aware you did not know how to do anything but take and demand. Please," he said, sweeping his large hand behind him and ignoring the indignant looks on the faces of Gaara's men. "Welcome, Lord Gaara."

The redhead frowned at the Elder's use of his name but figured his familiarity with his name came from his reputation proceeding him. Even when his missions involved leaving no survivors, word somehow got around who he was, and what he was capable of. Gaara was renown throughout all the kingdoms—sometimes for good things but mostly for bad. Depending on your point of view.

Gaara dismounted from his horse, handed it over to a Lieutenant, said "come, Baki," and followed the Elder as he turned to lead the way in. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, just in case. Baki motioned for Gaara's personal guard to follow them in—it was standard procedure in these situations.

The eight Wind fighters drew in curious faces of what little crowds there were here.

"What's the plan?" Baki whispered.

"Wait."

"Yes, sir."

The Elder led them to the heart of the village where it seemed most of their fighters waited. But Gaara wouldn't call them fighters. Unarmoured farmers with pitchforks, poorly made steel, and clearly undisciplined as they scowled at the invaders. But they were men. And men with physiques like theirs could be trained into a guerrilla force to fill in the gaps of the Wind army in King Rasa's forthcoming plans to invade the Fire's outer towns. It would take a lot of hard work and breaking down whatever loyalties they may still hold to their king, but it would be worth it.

They just needed time.

"You've salted your earth," Gaara said, noting the lack of vegetation in the area.

The Elder shook his head. "Not us."

"Your king?"

The Elder frowned, showing his displeasure for the first time. "Why have you come?"

"You owe your king no allegiance."

"Ah, you seek to turn us."

Smart man.

The Elder continued. "We may seem a quaint lot to you, but we are proud. We fight with the fury of a hundred Fire and Wind soldiers." A cry of approval erupted from those present. "But fury does not win wars, yes?"

"No."

The Elder chuckled. "My name is Kizashi, young one. Elder of all you see before you. But even this will soon fade. If I fight you, my people will die. But I will not order them to lay down their spears for you. Not for nothing."

"A challenge, then," Gaara said.

Baki shifted uncomfortably behind him, no doubt wondering why Gaara wasn't just taking this village by force. The young commander needed them to not see him as a barbaric invader, if he wished to recruit them.

Kizashi stroked his chin. "Ah yes, there you would have the advantage. We are good fighters, but not soldiers. However, there is one among us who has trained. This warrior will fight your warrior, yes? Is this how you see this going?"

"The terms are sound."

Kizashi laughed. "My dear boy, I am no fool. The terms are unequal. But… this warrior is eager to fight you to prove their worth."

Gaara looked around, trying to figure out who this warrior was. None of those assembled looked like they were ready to attack him—nor like they were capable.

"I will allow this warrior to make the bargain with you that is in the interest of your plans for us."

Gaara narrowed his eyes at the old man. What was his game? He was intelligent but also eager to lead his best fighter to a slaughter. For Gaara's confidence in himself was rivalled only by his skills in battle. He had never lost a fight; barring one, to a very obnoxious blond that most people didn't realise had done the impossible. He'd never lost a battle. Any battle. And there was no way a warrior from a backwater village had anywhere near enough power to take him on, let alone last very long going toe to toe with him.

The Elder was right: his is unequal.

But honour had no place in his mission. His father had given him an order and he was going to carry it out.

Kizashi tapped his spear to the ground. "Come!"

The warrior that finally graced them with his presence was an inch shorter than Gaara, but covered in armour, and an old-style mask that hid his face, hair, and skin. But the way he walked in, intrigued the redhead. His movements were those of a trained fighter, his gait sure and powerful, though his physique was scrawny for someone at this alleged skill level. The hilt of his katana was all that was visible, but it looked well crafted.

Where did he train?

"This warrior will fight your warrior."

"He will fight me," Gaara said, not taking his eyes of this warrior. If people like this existed in these outlier villages, they could mount a great campaign. A fighter of this calibre, trained up in the style of Wind, would be useful against Fire. This looked fruitful.

The corner of Kizashi's mouth quirked upwards but he nodded, apparently finding something in Gaara's comment amusing. "Then this is a fight of first blood and not to the death."

Gaara nodded. "Agreed." It would be a shame to kill such a warrior, after all.

"Lord Gaara."

Gaara didn't look back at Baki. "Hold."

No matter how impressed he was by the appearance of an actual warrior in these backwater parts, this fighter was still no match for the demon of the sand. He moved forward, leaving his excess weapons with Baki, and stepped into the makeshift ring that was being formed, with the villagers as the boundary. This warrior was something else, the way they moved, shifting into a battle stance he didn't recognise, their katana at the ready.

"It is customary to greet your opponent properly before a battle," Gaara said, indicating to the warrior's mask. He wanted to see the face of the man who he planned to lead this rabble into the battle against Fire. "Give your name and set your terms for the fight, good sir."

The warrior glanced at Kizashi who was chuckling with barely contained mirth—surprising and disturbing to the redhead. The Elder nodded his head in agreement, his eyes intent on Gaara however, and the warrior started to undo the ties holding their mask in place.

Gaara stood and stared as the mask fell to the ground, his eyes widening and his lips parting; his mouth suddenly very dry as he couldn't take his eyes of her face. He swallowed heavily. She was beautiful, her short hair the colour of cherry blossoms, her eyes a shade of green brighter than his own, and her skin flawless and smooth. She looked soft enough to…

"I assume your code does not preclude fighting women warriors?" Kizashi asked, grinning at Gaara's reaction.

Gaara cleared his throat. There was no way he could go back to taking this fight as serious as he was planning to. Even if this woman proved to be half the warrior she appeared to be, he could never convince his father to put her in their army, let alone in charge of her own battalion (even if the soldiers were her own kin).

What the good is she to me?

"No." He glanced at the Elder, frowning at the man's uncontained joy. He had to get this under control. An unexpected pretty face in a backwater village of toothless grannies and unwashed men was not an excuse to lose his cool.

This village is crazy.

He'd stepped into this mess, so now he had to clean it up. But there was no way he was going to let this girl walk away with his dignity, regardless of the fact that she had no chance against him. Women had a way of getting under your skin no matter who won the "fight".

Gaara forced himself to calm down and act unaffected. He pretended he hadn't just called this woman a man and pushed down his inner turmoil over her unexpected appearance as he addressed her. "Your name and terms, if you please."

She was stone faced and tense, her voice stern with an undercurrent of melody that belied the fierceness in her eyes. "Sakura. And if I win, you'll find our people a new land to settle and then leave us in peace, coming to our aid against any who were to bear arms against us. And if you win—"

"When I win," Gaara interrupted, forcing a smirk to his face and feeling emboldened by the growl she emitted at his wording, "you'll become my personal servant—" (Sakura gripped the hilt of her sword and shifted into a defensive stance) "—and your brigade will join my guard, to do what I want," he gave her body an exaggerated, sweeping stare, "when I want."

Standing next to Baki, Gaara's personal guard laughed. Their jeers frustrated the General and he sighed at their immaturity, mentally berating the young Lord.

The look on the Elder's face didn't change but the tension in the air made him shift, as though Gaara had personally offended him.

"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sakura demanded.

"Just what I said. Are you ready or not?" Gaara unsheathed his sword and angrily, she did the same.

She wore her emotions on her sleeve, this one. Like all women do. He smiled, remembering that he'd already won, and this fight was just a formality.

"Bring it, you baka!"

Gaara preferred not to make the first move. He waited for his opponents to charge at him, but Sakura was digging her heels in the ground, growling, and taunting him to come at her first. He decided to break with tradition and held his sword out, ready to swing.

Half-way through his first motion, Sakura suddenly moved.

Damn, she's fast.

Too bad she was a she. If he was the type to just lay with anyone who tickled his fancy, he'd be a lot more excited about her body parts. But a male warrior with her skill would've been preferable in the light of his mission here.

Oh, well.

Gaara changed his direction mid swing and kicked out at her as his sword came down, careful not to hit her head on. She was nimble though, darting out of the way of his sword while barely avoiding his foot. She was using brute strength and speed and clearly knew nothing of how much power real warriors held. Sakura spun around and kicked out at him as he recovered from his swing and miss, getting Gaara in the gut.

His moment of contemplation had cost him. But he wasn't remotely beaten, let alone harmed.

Nothing was more beautiful to her in that moment, than the look of surprise on his face.

Gaara didn't collapse; clutching his stomach, he remained standing.

Fuck, she's strong.

For such a petite thing, she packed a lot of power, reminding him of a certain slug princess. If she could be trained up, she'd be just as formidable as that uniquely powerful woman warrior.

Stay focused.

"Enough of this," he growled.

She smirked at him as she readied herself again and charged. That was more like it; the way he wanted it. Gaara waited for her to get so close he could feel her warm breath on his face, before spinning, grabbing the hilt of her sword and throwing her to the ground. He twisted the blade in her hand to cut her before her butt hit the dirt.

She's misjudged the distance between his face and the point of her sword and scowled at him.

Sakura looked like a ravenous beast, even on the ground and Gaara felt a tremor go through his body and hit him in the groin as she snarled. Her anger was electrifying. The fight was over, but she jumped to her feet and attacked him again. Maybe she didn't realise he'd cut her?

Gaara grabbed her, pulling her body flush against him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" She screamed, struggling in his grip.

"You've lost," he said.

"Fuck you, arsehole."

Gods but this woman was enticing.

He ignored his body's reaction to her squirming against it and hit her in the side of the head with the butt of his sword. She fell like a sack of potatoes.

"Well this was disappointingly fast," Gaara said, now using his sword like a walking stick. "Night, night, little warrior princess."

Her vision blurred and darkened.

Shit.

"Fuck you."

He grinned. "Maybe. But not today."

She passed out.

…

XXX

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This is going to have weekly updates (because I'm a tease like that). Please review. :)

R&R

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