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02.
ten years old, overconfident

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"Hah-hah!" Temari whoops, completing the flip without breaking a sweat. She does a little twirl, cocking her head and closing her fan, and the spectators clap politely. The judges too, though their faces are shrouded, have doubtlessly been impressed. Wind users are a treasure in Wind Country and because she is the daughter of the Kazekage, the normal rules don't apply.

She steps off the stage, casting a wary glance at the empty seat of honor. So her father had been too busy to watch her examination; no matter.

"That was awesome!" her brother exclaims, bounding up to her and grappling about the fan.

"Of course it was," she preens, flicking his nose. He scowls; she laughs; and they both erupt into giggles.

"Didja see their faces?"

"Old Man Yuuta practically choked on his napkin!"

"Really?"

"You were easily the best!"

"Now you're just exaggerating," Temari scoffs, grinning cheek-to-cheek. "Hey, speaking of which, how're your puppets going? You'll be up here next year, after all!"

"Two years."

"Year and a half."

"Fine." He hands her back the fan and crosses his arms, falling into step as they make their way back to the Kazekage's palace. Temari tilts her head, catching sight of her brother frowning at the ground.

"What's the matter?" she asks, all no-nonsense older sister, "Is someone making fun of you for using puppets again?"

"No!" he scowls again, sniffing: "And you didn't hafta talk to Father about that. I could've handled them by myself."

"Kankurou, they were burning your weapons."

"Baki says I'm supposed to be close-range... close-range..." he pauses, stumbling over the new vocabulary, "Well, you know."

"Close-range combat?"

"Yeah! That one!"

"Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"

"It means you shouldn't interfere!" Kankurou pouts, stomping onwards. "'Sides, Father said I was s'pposed to watch your back."

"Really?" Temari demands, eyes lighting up, "He said that?"

Her brother's silence is answer enough.

She laughs, ruffling his hair and skipping ahead, steps suddenly lighter.

"Hey! Temari! Wait up!"

"Hurry up then!" she calls, smile brilliant, "You're gonna have to be a lot faster if you want to be a genin too!"

And like that, the two of them gallivant past the shuffling stilted streets of Suna, bustling and bumbling their way into the central administrative building: home. There are more servants running about than usual, Temari immediately notices. And then the servants notice them.

"There you are!" one of the maids exclaim, grabbing her wrist. "Temari-sama, Kankurou-sama, we've been waiting for you!"

"What?" both siblings simultaneously splutter.

"Did you forget? There's a party tonight!"

Temari manages a self-assured smile and wave in Kankurou's direction before the servants drag them into adjoining dressing rooms. She feels her stomach sink as someone hands her a beatifically-embroidered silk dress; so this was the reason why the Kazekage hadn't bothered attending her genin examination. State events are all the same. She knows better than to complain.

"There," the attendant says, lips weakly curved.

Another slight turn to catch her own reflection. Even terrified, the servants know just what to do.

"Thank you," Temari murmurs, dipping her head minutely. This woman has a husband, has children, has a home. "You may retire early for the evening."

"Oh thank you, thank you so much Temari-sama," she breathlessly blesses, kissing the hem of her robe. Temari feels the same sickening clench, a bout of unwarranted envy. The servants have families and yes, their families are no doubt dysfunctional in their own right.

She doubts any of them are terrified of their own baby brothers.

"The collar's too tight," Kankurou whines, pulling at the knot of his tie.

"It's a formal event." They all are.

"I can't breath."

He doesn't put much effort into his pleading face and he doesn't need to. She rolls her eyes, sighing, before kneeling down and undoing the tie.

"You should really learn to - " she begins, only to have the door creak open and Kankurou's hand to gravitate to her wrist, holding on for dear life.

Instinctively, she looks into his eyes. Not that it's necessary of course; not even their father in the worst of his moods can cause Kankurou to get like this. No, there is only one person who can elicit this kind of reaction from her brother. She takes a deep breath, gingerly prying Kankurou's fingers from her wrist. The problem is, he refuses to move.

"Kankurou." The sooner she redoes his tie, the sooner they can leave.

"Temari," his voice quakes.

"Oh, for the love of - " she yanks her wrist out of his hand, deftly looping silk through silk while making keeping the knot relatively loose. Pulling firmly, she stands up, smacking the backside of his head. "Gaara," she coolly greets, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask a favor from the birthday boy. A quick and painless death, that is.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Kankurou squeaks, digging his fingers into her arm.

Their younger brother blinks, before his lips twist into his trademark smile.

"I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you."

And of course all the servants that had been in every corner would take his presence as a cue to excuse themselves.

Kankurou's grip tightens. Temari's right eye twitches. Gaara continues standing.

"Happy birthday," Temari says; the most of a peace-offering she's willing to give. And then she drags Kankurou through the door.

"Wait."

She turns a blind ear at the sound. Spitefully.

Wrong move; stupid move. The sand blasts both of them up and out, trapping Kankurou against the wall and leaving Temari sprawled out on the floor. She reaches for a weapon that she realizes belatedly is not there as Kankurou screams and struggles.

"Temari! Temari! Temari!"

The pitch of hysteria in his voice hits a nerve.

"Don't worry," she barks, cold and clean-cut. He freezes obediently and she turns around, only to discover that it wasn't her words he'd been obeying.

Gaara advances towards the two of them. Her stomach refuses to rise and she sees his bored expression and thinks: 'this is it, this is how I will die'.

"It's too tight," he says - to her - and she does a double-take.

"You pinned your brother to the wall over a tie?!"

"It's too tight." He pauses. "And you tried to run away."

"Run away?" she echoes. She shakes her head. "Let Kankurou down first."

He frowns, reaches up, and clenches his fist. Kankurou shrieks.

"Tie it or I'll kill you," he says, reminding her who, exactly, she's talking to.

The monster of their village. Her mother's murderer. Her demonic little brother.

Her father's favorite.

Temari's hands shake and her vision swims as she works to undo and redo the tie (and it was quite tight, she's forced to admit). She finishes and stands up. Gaara tugs at it and, evidently satisfied with her handiwork, gives a little tilt of his head. As if on command, the sand rushes back, dropping Kankurou to the floor. He's hacking and coughing and shaking, but he's alive nonetheless.

She runs to him, ignoring Gaara altogether.

"He's crazy," Kankurou gasps, desperately clawing his way into a standing position.

"Shhh," she hushes, glancing from left to right, "Who knows who's listening!"

"Who cares who's listening!" Kankurou cries, "We're going to die here! Tonight, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe next week! We'll be killed!"

He sobs into her shoulder and she lets him.

"Don't worry," she lies, holding him close. "I won't let you die. Father won't let us die."

Kankurou chokes on a laugh.

Gaara's eighth birthday party passes without further incident, though neither of his siblings are present for the actual event. The Kazekage notices but knows better than to comment, slipping yet another packet of poison into his favorite's drink instead.

...