Wow. This week. This week...this week. Gah. This week kicked my ass.
Well, thanks for all your super awesome spectacular reviews. I love you, I love you, I love you.
And now...enjoy!
Chapter Five: Decapitation
"Temari…whatchya doing?" Kankuro calls cautiously. Of course, he knows what she's doing; she's been doing it religiously for the past three days, all to the detriment of the training posts. Kankuro is pretty sure if she keeps this up, there won't be any wooden posts left in all of Suna, and dammit, wood is expensive—they have to import it!—and for a moment, Kankuro wishes she would take out her aggression on less expensive materials, like rocks, or sand. But not people, he adds hastily, especially not little brothers. Kami help me…
Temari ignores him, continues throwing her kunai at a training post with a hastily-drawn face on it; a face that looks suspiciously like a certain Konoha jonin he knows.
A kunai hits the wooden post with deadly accuracy, right in the middle of its scrawled eyes. "Yosh," Temari mutters, reaching in her holster for another knife.
"Um…Temari? …Te-ma-ri? Temari!" Kankuro snaps at last.
Temari whirls around with a hiss and chucks the kunai at Kankuro instead; he snatches it out of the air by the handle. "What the hell is your problem, brother? Can't you see I'm in the middle of killing Shikamaru—er, I mean, the training post?"
Despite the urging of his common sense, he hands Temari her kunai back, hilt first. "Yeah, I know, except that Gaara—"
"I don't care," Temari snaps, chucking her kunai at her target once more; this time, it lands on the Konoha spiral emblazoned over the post's 'stomach.' "I'm busy. Leave me alone."
"Temari, it's important—"
"What could be more important than me destroying Shika—I mean, this training post?" she snarls.
Kankuro starts to sweat. "You have a mission."
She brightens at that. "You mean, my request for that ambassador mission went through? I'll be able to go to Lightning for the next year?"
Kankuro braces himself for an attack as he mutters, "No. You're supposed to escort an incoming diplomatic team."
"Incoming diplomatic team?" Temari whispers, the quietness of her voice not masking her malicious undertone at all. "What diplomatic team?"
Kankuro believes that normally, lying is wrong; sure, he's a ninja, and he's had to use deception on missions, but outside of missions, he's always been truthful. Well, okay, sometimes he wasn't quite so honest with the girls at the bar—Sure, honey, I'm in love with you; Did I ever tell you that you're beautiful? No, actually, I'm a virgin—but when it comes to friends and family, Kankuro would never, ever, lie.
Yes, Kankuro is an honest son-of-a-bitch—except for right now.
"I—er—don't know where the team is coming from," Kankuro replies with a shrug. He hopes he sounds nonchalant, and that Temari attributes the sweat running down the sides of his face to the heat of the day. "Gaara didn't tell me. He just wants you to come to his office."
"Kankuro, if this team is from Konoha—if this team contains Nara Shikamaru—I will kill you." It is not a threat; it is a promise.
"Hey, hey, don't shoot the messenger! I don't know who or what or where, just that Gaara needs you in his office, okay? See you later, Temari!" Kankuro calls over his shoulder as he speeds away over the rolling sand dunes.
When he's a safe distance away, he glances back over his shoulder; he sees Temari sparing the training post one last glare before unfurling her fan. "Wind jutsu—Blades of Wind!" she roars, swinging her weapon in an arc. A moment later, the training post is decapitated by a thin slice of air. The head, replete with scribbled face and cartoonish eyes, rolls on the ground.
Kankuro shudders and continues running over the sand dunes; he promises himself that he will marry a nice civilian girl, one without an anger management problem and lethal jutsu.
"Gaara, what's the meaning of this!" Temari snarls, not bothering to temper her ire despite the fact that Gaara is also her Kazekage.
"Temari," he rumbles, his voice inflectionless, "I can't have you leaving the village—"
"But you need an ambassador to Lightning, and I'm perfect—"
"Temari," he interrupts, his voice as sharp as a kunai, "I can't let you leave the village while I suspect that you might have Zombie Plague. And I can't do without one of my top jonin for an entire year; I've sent Baki's son, Odoriko, in your stead. He's a chunin now, and he's more than proven himself in the war—"
"I wanted to go," she grumbles, finally taking a seat across from Gaara with a petulant sigh.
"I'm worried about that plague; you're not going anywhere, especially not for the next nine months."
Temari raises an eyebrow. How much does her brother know? After all, he is the Kazekage; he can request the medical records of any of his ninja, his sister included. Medical confidentiality my ass, Temari inwardly fumes, her hands itching to strangle the nearest doctor.
It will not do to show her ire; she cannot afford to give away her position, especially not to her brother. "Nine months, brother? That's awfully specific," she murmurs, her steely gaze in contrast to her quiet tone.
But if Gaara is uncomfortable under her glare, he does not show it. "I've gone through the old records about possible pathogens carried by edo tensei victims. It seems like the disease abates after nine months."
Temari stifles the urge to raise her eyebrows again. Instead, she masters her composure and replies, "I see. You seem fairly certain that I have the plague…"
"All signs point to it: nausea, fatigue, irritability—"
"I'm not irritable!" she snarls.
"Difficulty sleeping, increased violent tendencies—" Gaara's sand blocks the kunai that Temari throws at him; nonplussed, Gaara continues, "And mood-swings. Thankfully, the plague, once contracted, is not communicable. So we won't have to put you in isolation, unless you break out in puss-filled blisters."
Temari pales at that—is that a symptom of pregnancy, being covered in oozing blisters? She will have to check in her book later. For now, she masks her surprise and snaps, "Fine. At least you believe me about the plague, unlike some other brothers I know."
"We don't know too much about the plague," Gaara replies evenly, leaning back in his chair and clasping his fingers together. "It seems to effect women, mostly, but now that the zombies are gone, no more kunoichi will get infected. At least, that is my hope. You will go to the doctors for weekly exams—"
"Awww—"
"Just to make sure the plague isn't worsening. But until we're sure that you are going to survive the plague, you will stay in Suna."
It sounds like a death sentence. She can't stay in Suna and have this baby—then everyone will know. And she is not ready for everyone to know. According to the book, she will probably start showing signs of pregnancy in a few weeks; that is not enough time to decide what to do about this thing growing in her guts. It's certainly not enough time to figure out what to do about Shikamaru.
The solution hits her like a kunai to the temple—that's it! Once she starts getting fat, she'll give herself boils and go into isolation! There's an herb in the buttercup family that beggars rub on their skin to give themselves blisters, terrible oozing things that guilt passersby into giving them money.
"Temari? Are you all right? Temari?" Gaara calls.
"Oh, sorry. I was just—thinking! That's all," Temari says with a nervous giggle. "Anyway, Kankuro said you had a mission for me? Please tell me it's a diplomatic team from Mist, or Lightning—"
"It's team Ino-Shika-Cho from Konoha," Gaara mutters, staring at her without blinking.
"What!" she shouts. She nearly overturns the desk, but Gaara has already reinforced all the office furniture with sand. "What the fuck, Gaara! You know Shikamaru and I—"
"Sit down," Gaara barks. Temari blinks at him and throws herself down into her chair with an angry huff. She crosses her arms over her chest and glowers at her youngest brother, but he ignores her.
"Temari, I don't give a scorpion's ass about your personal life. You are a shinobi of the Sand, and you will take on this mission—"
"But—"
"You are eminently qualified to take on this task. I will not give it to anyone else. That is final. Do I make myself clear?"
Temari rakes a hand through her disheveled hair. Gaara is speaking to her in Kazekage mode; he is not her brother in this moment, but a stony-faced, sand-weathered leader and warrior. She knows she won't get anywhere with him right now; she bows her head and gnashes her teeth. "What are the details of my mission, Kazekage-sama?" she snarls.
"You are well-acquainted with Ino, Choji, and…Shikamaru. I need you to play on their weaknesses and get them to agree to a deal."
Temari raises her head, her wrath partially placated by the nature of her mission. "Play on their…weaknesses?"
"Yes. Konoha is coming here to borrow our ninja who specialize in construction. Whereas Konoha was decimated by the last war, Suna—by virtue of my sand-jutsu—was spared.
"Our construction specialists are efficient, and can build structures in a short amount of time using the least amount of chakra. Konoha is going to want them not only to build, but to teach the Konoha earth-style users their jutsu."
"But that's—you're going to share secret Sand jutsu?" Temari breathes.
Gaara simply shrugs. "It's not an offensive or defensive jutsu; I will allow it. However, for such a great boon, I want a few things in return." Gaara rises from his desk and hands Temari a scroll. She unrolls it warily.
"You want—this is not an even trade, Gaara," Temari muses as her eyes scan the scroll. "You're asking for a lot. You want Konoha to lend us Haruno Sakura for a whole year so she can raise up a crop of medical nin. You want two permanent ambassadors of your choosing to serve in rotation in Suna. You want them to give you the secret of the protective barrier jutsu around Konoha so we can replicate it here. And last but not least, you want one of the ambassadors to be chosen to enter into an arranged marriage with you."
"It's an even trade. My construction ninjas build them new houses in record time, they give me Sakura to train medical ninjas. My construction nin teach them jutsu, they teach us the barrier jutsu. As for the ambassador bit, that's for our mutual benefit; we, of course, will create our own embassy in Konoha." The corners of Gaara's mouth ghost up in a smile. "Think you can handle it?"
Temari snorts. "They're not going to like this contract. The Hokage is going to be loath to part with Sakura, and she'll be even more reticent about teaching you the barrier jutsu—a jutsu that, if Suna knew, we could easily break the Konoha barrier."
"But they'll also be able to break our barrier, once we have it up," Gaara adds in a low voice. "We'll be even. I don't care how you do it, Temari, but Suna needs Konoha to agree; you are to use any means necessary to get Konoha to agree to the terms of this contract."
Temari taps her chin, lost in thought. On the one hand, the last person she wants to see is Shikamaru. On the other hand, she has just received her Kazekage's express permission to torture Shikamaru—for the good of Suna, of course. "And you want me to play on Shikamaru's weaknesses?" Temari muses aloud.
"You know Shikamaru's team better than anyone," Gaara replies. "Make his life a living hell, for all I care. I know Tsunade has told her envoy that they are not to return to Konoha without a signed contract; so they're here until they agree to all the terms we've set. Shikamaru is stubborn, but you can break him. I have faith in you."
Temari rises from her seat in one fluid motion. "Kazekage-sama," she intones, half-mockingly, "I will take this mission."
"Good," Gaara murmurs. "I knew you would, once I explained it to you. The team is expected to arrive by sunset; please prepare for their arrival."
Temari offers him a shit-eating grin as she nods her assent and strides out of the office, her head held high.
Gaara smiles to himself and looks out the window. If this goes according to plan—which it will, Gaara has faith in his own diabolical scheme—then Suna will have much to gain by his political maneuverings, and not just the items listed in the contract.
"Shikamaru, for the last time, man up," Ino snarls.
"Come on Shikamaru," Choji grouses, "we're supposed to be there by now. I'm hungry, and that Suna barbecue place closes in—"
"I'm going as fast as I can!" Shikamaru snaps. However, the truth is that he's literally been dragging his feet for the last three days. He's a genius, he knows what's coming. There are only three distinct possibilities why his team, of all possible teams, have been called to do this deal with Suna.
One: Gaara is going to kill him for having sex with his sister.
Two: Kankuro is going to kill him for having sex with his sister.
Three: Temari is going to shred him with her wind-jutsu for some unknown offense that he has committed against her person.
Then again, there's always a fourth possibility: a combination of scenarios one, two, and/or three.
The gates of Suna loom in the twilight; the electric-blue of the desert sky, juxtaposed with the golden gates, makes them look almost like the gilded entrance to the afterlife. Shikamaru gulps at his own analogy; the afterlife is precisely where he is heading once he passes through those walls.
Ino takes his arm and practically drags him the rest of the way to Suna. His limbs feel leaden, even heavier than they have felt over the previous three days. His heart is in his shoes, his stomach is in his mouth, and his brain feels like it's been shoved half-way up his ass; he cannot think at all.
His teammates spare him no pity; even Choji starts to drag him after a while, so that Shikamaru hangs like a limp corpse between Ino and Choji. Choji is usually a kind person, but not while he is hungry; Shikamaru is going to get no help from his best-friend until Choji has satiated his hunger. Meanwhile, Ino and Choji lead Shikamaru, like a condemned man to the gallows, towards Suna.
"Welcome to Suna, honored visitors," comes an ice-cold voice. Shikamaru's head snaps up: it is Temari. Her face is an inscrutable mask, but her green eyes glimmer with obvious malice.
Even so, Shikamaru cannot breathe, and not just because he is the source of her fury. Temari is beautiful. She stands in front of a burning torch, and is backlit by an orange and gold halo. But Shikamaru swears that, even despite the effects of the fire, Temari is glowing. Time stops for a moment, and Temari is the living statue of the Fire Goddess, shining with the light of the sun, burning with the flames of anger.
She smirks at his slack-jawed expression, and the spell is broken; she is still beautiful, yes, but instead of reverence, he is filled with terror. "You must be weary from your journey," comes Temari's stilted, formal reply. "I will show you to your rooms."
"No need for formalities, Temari-chan!" Ino calls after Temari, who has turned, ostensibly to guide them towards their lodgings. "After all, we're friends…right?"
Temari looks over her shoulder at Ino. "Please. My title is Temari-sama of the desert. But if you insist on being informal, Temari-sama will do. Please follow me, honored guests," she replies, as haughty as any princess.
She does not address Shikamaru directly, nor does she even look at him again after that brief smirk at the gates. Temari leaves them at an inn—not at the Kazekage's royal apartments for official guests, but at a tavern.
There are so many things he wants to say to her, but every time he opens his mouth, the words die on his lips. He tries to catch her gaze, but she pointedly ignores him; by the time Shikamaru regains his composure—by the time he's ready to apologize for whatever it is he has done—she is gone.
He realizes that Temari's cold attitude towards him burns worse than her anger. He's pretty sure he would prefer Temari's death threats and deadly assaults on his person than her aloof manner.
"She must really hate me," Shikamaru whispers, pushing around the barbecue on his plate.
"Yep. You done fucked up, son," Ino replies around a mouth full of chicken.
"Ino!" Choji screeches. But it is too late: Shikamaru has pushed aside his plate and is heading towards his room.
"I'm tired," he mumbles. "I'll see you all in the morning."
"Shika, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like—" Ino calls after him, but the door to his bedroom slams shut before she can finish. "Shit."
"You done fucked up, girl," Choji mutters under his breath; he earns a half-hearted swat from Ino before they both stare gloomily at Shikamaru's closed door.
"This mission is going to be a train wreck, Choji."
"You mean it's not a train wreck already?"
Ino shakes her head and wipes her greasy fingers on her napkin. "You know what, it's not like me to be a negative Nancy. Choji-kun, we have a teammate in need. And a teammate in need is a teammate indeed! We've got to help Shikamaru!"
"By meddling in his personal life?" Choji mumbles dubiously. He doesn't like where this is going.
"By meddling in his personal life," Ino affirms, smiling brilliantly. "I know just the thing."
a/n I sense a shit storm coming...:X
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