Chapter Three: Puppet Corps Gang
In the morning, Kankuro climbed the stairs, retreated to the nearest bathroom, and then stood in the middle of the common room, awash with abject misery.
A simple scan told him what he didn't want to know: He was still alone.
"Fucking damnit." His voice was a whisper. His cats emerged and swiped at his legs, but he didn't bend down to pet them. What do I do? He decided he'd recheck Baki's then try to locate Miya. Past that, a logical choice would've been to check with the Council for news, but the dropped pot and the midnight stalker dissuaded him from that idea.
The primary possibility was simple: Someone was trying to kill Gaara again. And possibly all Yondaime's children.
Makes a horrible amount of sense, Kankuro thought, frowning as he stared at the floor. Gaara announced the other day he wants to be Kazekage. The Council has been getting along without a Kazekage for two years now. Maybe they've decided to make sure none of us can claim the title. And if so they'd definitely take out Baki, too, because he cares about us and works to protect us.
For a moment, Kankuro thought he might panic.
"I wish Baki were here," he whispered to himself. To the cats. To his grandpa. It wasn't just because Baki was older and more experienced. It wasn't just because Baki always seemed to know what to do. It wasn't even only because Baki had taken an interest in Yondaime's children and protected them.
To Kankuro, Baki was a best friend, a confidant, a singularly precious person. As close as Kankuro was to Shiro, this was different. His relationship to Baki was deeper somehow. Not just filled with more philosophical talk, either. It was like a rock-solid foundation under his feet.
Baki stared at Kankuro, standing no more than three feet away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Temari and Gaara were stricken as well. But he couldn't explain to them why Kankuro's agonized whisper cut him to the core. I am here. I am. Baki pressed one fist to his chest. Oh, God.
Gaara walked over and took his arm, gently pulling him away before he could make a fool of himself trying to touch someone he couldn't.
"I'm sorry," Gaara said.
Baki looked at the floor. "'Sokay."
Gaara stroked his arm, apparently compelled to return the care Baki had shown him yesterday. Baki couldn't deny that it helped.
"God," Temari said, "this sucks."
Kankuro sighed, then headed upstairs, taking a five-minute shower and donning his uniform. Once he'd tied on his three puppet scrolls, he returned downstairs, grabbed a protein bar out of the cabinet and a water bottle from the refrigerator, then stopped in the foyer to put on his sandals. He completed the entire process with the blank numbness caused by suppressing panic. Then he left, heading to Baki's house first.
The three people he wanted to save watched him from the hallway, staring after him with bleak hope.
Unsurprisingly, Kankuro found that Baki wasn't home. He stood on the doorstep, the protein bar more like sawdust in his mouth, and finished his breakfast as he thought.
He needed to find Miya now.
With grim determination, he headed to First Street, where all the little cafes were. Sometimes Shiro and Miya met there for breakfast. If he had any luck left, they had done so this morning, and he could catch them. He scanned the street closely as he headed to their favorite coffee shop. The passerby seemed sinister today. Frowning. Staring. From the corners of his vision, Kankuro detected flickers of movement, and he wondered if he were being tracked.
God, are they already dead? Will I die this morning, too? He pushed the thought away.
Miya wasn't sitting down at the coffee shop, but incredibly, she was walking down the street in the direction of the market, a wicker basket with a checked red handkerchief in it swinging on her arm. Her light brown hair was tied back in a long ponytail. She wore a bright, absentminded smile.
Kankuro saw the familiar ponytail and ran forward several steps until he could see her more clearly and verify it was her. Once he had, he sprinted toward her. "Hey! Miya-chan!"
"Hmm?" Miya swung around. Her eyes widened at the sight of Kankuro running towards her. "Kankuro-kun!" She hastily bowed. "Ohayo." When she straightened, she asked, "What's wrong? You seem like you're in a hurry."
Kankuro decided he better not say much in public. "Yeah, I am." He tried to sound as normal as possible. The mere fact he was talking to her at all confirmed his fear: Gaara should be back and wasn't. And to Kankuro, that pointed rather clearly to a plot to kill his ototo. God! "Hey, you seen Gaara this morning?" He had to find some way to pump her for information that wouldn't be blatant to eavesdroppers.
Miya's mouth opened in surprise. She checked herself, frowning in thought. "No, I haven't." Miya glanced around and put on a smile that was clearly skin deep. "Haven't you seen him, Kankuro-kun?" She tilted her head, but her pointed look towards a nearby alley was anything but casual. She took his arm and walked away from the alley, leading him back towards the coffee shop. The bright bounce in her step was also fake. "It's so good to see you this morning."
Kankuro took the cue and let himself be pulled along. "You, too," he said, a picture of feigned cheer. "Nah, I haven't seen him. He must've headed out early this morning. But, man, I didn't get to hear about your mission yesterday. How'd it go?" He hoped that would narrow down the information he wanted verified.
"We got back by six o'clock," Miya said with a small laugh. "The oasis was an easy mission. Gaara-san did fine. He is a good leader. I like him a lot." Message: I'm worried. We better find him.
Kankuro glanced at his best friend's girlfriend, taking in her light brown eyes, noting the faint spattering of freckles peeking around her nose and eyes, and realizing she wasn't as annoying as he'd first thought she was. She was actually kind of cool. She's worried about my ototo. And she wants to help. "I'm glad," he said sincerely. He scrambled to form a plan and realized that Shiro really was one of the few people he could trust in this moment. "So where's your significant other?"
"Oh, Shiro-kun?" Miya pretended to think. "He's at the Theatre. He should be. I saw him head out for there, and he said he was going to be there." She shrugged. "Well. I'm sorry I can't help more. Tell me when you find Gaara-san and be sure to hang out with me and Shiro-kun sometime soon. We'd like that." She patted her basket. "I'm afraid I have to be shopping. Mother is expecting me to be back with the groceries in less than an hour." Miya gave him a concerned look. Message: You should go to the Theatre as quickly as possible. I can't come with you. That'd look suspicious, especially since I'm out on an errand already headed the other way.
Kankuro nodded, signaling that he'd understood her. "Thanks, Miya-chan." He released her arm. "See ya!" He sprinted away, staying down in the streets despite the crowd. If he took to the rooftops, he'd be easier to capture because he wouldn't be in plain sight.
Within a few minutes, he'd made it to the towering front door of the Theatre, which was the main building of the complex that housed the Puppet Corps. Roughly forty percent of Suna's shinobi were in the Puppet Corps, making it the most powerful division in Suna. So powerful, in fact, that it functioned pseudo-independently from the Council and had once fought Niidaime Kazekage to a standstill when he'd demanded to assume full control of the Theatre and its inner workings.
This level of power, this independence, was precisely what made Kankuro relax as he stepped into the forty-foot high foyer. No non-puppeteer would chase him into this building. And if they did, they'd never get past the foyer. Non-puppeteers weren't allowed past the foyer. Not even the Kazekage was permitted past the foyer without a direct invitation from the Troupe Master and an escort. If the man or men tracking Kankuro tried to take him from inside the Theatre, they would be instantly killed.
Kankuro allowed his shoulders to slump as he took in the familiar white and black-tiled floor, the white walls, and the wrought iron chandeliers. Temporarily safe.
Only when he saw his team standing by the "box office," which was the front desk, did he belatedly realize he was fifteen minutes late for duty. Even for someone as perpetually late as he was, fifteen minutes was pushing it.
He turned toward Shiro, Daiki, and Kenji and then frowned.
"Sempai!" Kenji called out. He waved. His demeanor always changed around Kankuro. Kankuro was one of the only people he wouldn't make fun of. Sometimes that elite group didn't even include Daiki, his best friend. Kenji was by far the shortest person in the group, especially so when standing next to his best friend. Kenji's round face was worried. "How come you're late?"
Daiki, standing next to Kenji, was silent as usual, but he did look curious.
"Yeah, man," Shiro called from his position leaning against the desk. His spiky, brown hair, which his sisters all claimed looked like a broom, was still wet, but his grin was shiny. "You're late even for you!"
Kankuro walked over to his friends, stopping by Shiro's side. They were roughly the same height, so Kankuro met his gaze easily. "Costume room. Now."
It was an order.
He led them across the foyer to the side door, taking them down a hallway that bypassed the "auditorium," which was the exhibition dojo for tournaments and performances. Backstage there was a room where one could apply one's face paint, but since it was usually only used for tournaments, it often served a second purpose: a safe meeting room for teams.
More to the point, it was soundproofed for that purpose.
"Hai!" Kenji scrambled to obey, grabbing Daiki's arm and yanking him along when his friend didn't move fast enough.
Once they were there, Kenji looked up at Kankuro with wide eyes. "Something is up."
Kankuro gazed at the boys who'd been his friends or acquaintances since the academy. Shiro, who was a perfectly average-looking guy, was happy-go-lucky, although right now he was frowning. Daiki, who was tall and ultra-thin, was reserved and often silent. And Kenji, who was short and plump, was highly intelligent. What he needed them for right now, though, wasn't the traits everyone saw on the surface when they looked at them. He needed their friendship, and he needed their skill.
For Shiro, that meant craftiness.
For Daiki, that meant spying.
For Kenji, that meant researching.
"Gaara and Temari never came home last night," Kankuro said bluntly. "I checked Baki's house. He's not there either." His arms and legs felt cold as he coughed up the details. "I don't want to talk much here. Even here. But I don't like this. Miya verified Gaara came back with their team yesterday. I don't know about Baki's team and Temari, but I found a pot in the middle of the
kitchen floor. Randomly. It wasn't there when I left yesterday. And in the middle of the night, someone was slinking around outside the mansion."
Shiro listened to this with wide eyes and for once didn't speak immediately.
Kenji's jaw dropped. "Oh my God!"
Daiki flinched slightly at this outburst.
Kenji's eyes narrowed. "So they came home and vanished again, and no one knows where they are. We have to search your house for clues. You've gotta know something's around there that can tell the story. I'm sure of it. Holy crap, Sempai, someone is trying to kill you. You know you've gotta be next."
"Dramatic," Daiki said. He paused, looking thoughtful. "Probably right." He ran a hand through his ragged blonde hair. "Your brother's missing."
"And someone tried to kill him," Kenji said. "I'm sure of it. People're always trying to kill Gaara. That's the way they are around here." Kenji usually filled in Daiki's conclusions. He had to. Daiki always stopped talking before he was really finished. "And you're his brother, so they're trying to kill you, too. Maybe they're even going for you on purpose. Who knows." Kenji thought. "You definitely need help." He glanced around at the group. "We're gonna have to involve teachers at some point." He sighed.
Daiki blinked at that sudden prediction.
"I can feel it," Kenji explained, glancing up at his friend. He spread his hands. "This is big news."
Shiro nodded, having dropped into his Serious Mode. "Kenji's right. They've probably made another attempt on Gaara. Must've caught Temari at the same time. And Baki-sensei. Since someone was lurking last night, Baki-sensei and Temari might have been taken on purpose, not as some kinda 'You-saw-it-so-we-gotta-take-you-too' kinda thing." He glanced at Kenji. "I don't wanna say it, but I'm thinking you're right, man. And with Chiyo-baasama being retired, my guess is we'll end up taking this either to the Troupe Master himself or to Sakuya-sama."
Kankuro frowned. Sakuya, who was codenamed Princess after her first puppet — as all puppeteers were — was a peer of Chiyo's and had refused to retire. He and his friends had nicknamed her Creepy Old Lady, and for good reason. He didn't cherish the idea of asking her for help. At the same time, Kankuro had a basic difference of philosophy with the Troupe Master, who was all about logic, reason, stoicism, numbers, efficiency, and end results. He didn't want to ask him either.
"We were scheduled to train today," Kankuro said, launching a plan immediately. "I'll say I'm taking you guys out for desert training, and then we'll go to the mansion and search for clues."
Kenji nodded decisively. "Right."
Daiki nodded as well.
Shiro looked to Kankuro. "Lead the way, Crow."
Kankuro did just that, stopping by the front desk to log their pretend destination and then heading to the private wing of the Kazekage Complex. He completely bypassed the public section, the jonin, and the council, not trusting them at all.
When he reached his front door, Kankuro scanned the wing for chakra signatures. Just like the night before, all he picked up was his grandpa's spirit, now in addition to his friends. Reassured that no one was lying in wait, Kankuro slid open the door and stepped into the foyer, ditching his sandals.
"All right," he said, leading them into the living room. "Let's get started. They would've had to have come through here, and clearly someone went into the kitchen as well."
Shiro pulled off his sandals, set his bandaged puppet in the foyer, and joined Kankuro. "Was there anything else out of place?"
Kankuro shook his head. "Not today. Someone did drink Temari's bubble tea the night before, though, so someone's been in the mansion."
"Okay, that's weird." Shiro sounded creeped out.
Kenji and Daiki followed suit, taking off their sandals and leaving them next to Kankuro's and Shiro's. Kenji looked around with curiosity. This was his first time in Kankuro's house. Daiki didn't display a similar curiosity, even though it was his first time, too. He looked steadily at Kankuro, taking in Kankuro's responses instead.
Kenji spread his hands out and squinted one eye. He was often called a dork for doing it, but he couldn't concentrate on using his sensory talent if he didn't. "I don't sense anything. The energy's pretty stable in this room. Nothing was moved." He was great at sensing the residue of chakra on inanimate objects. He called it chakra dust. If the chakra dust hadn't moved, it meant objects weren't disturbed. He'd found things for his friends before using that method. He dropped his hands to his sides and turned to Kankuro. "You better show me the kitchen. Show me where the pot was and maybe I'll find something. There has to be something to the fact that a pot was lying on the floor. We'll just have to figure out what it is."
Daiki touched his chin, paused, and then nodded.
Kankuro's cats had emerged from nowhere and were brushing against his legs. He carefully stepped over them and headed into the kitchen. "I found it in front of the sink," he said, stopping in the middle of the floor.
His cats followed them in as well, walking around the edge of the room and heading to their food and water bowls. Kankuro watched this, thinking it odd, but didn't comment. Why not just walk across the center of the floor like usual?
"I don't like it," Kenji said suddenly. "It's weird in here."
Daiki rubbed his arms. "Chilly."
Kenji squinted, holding out his hands again. "No, it's more than that." He crept towards the sink. "You said this spot? This spot here?" He stared down at the floor in front of him.
Kankuro remembered that he'd shivered the night before when he'd entered the kitchen. "Yeah."
Shiro stepped into the doorway, staring down at the spot. "Well, if — " He stopped abruptly. "Uh . . . guys?" Shiro's entire posture straightened in a way it rarely ever did. "Look at your ankles."
Kenji immediately looked down. "Yikes a million!" He scratched at the light green vine tattoo on his ankle. "It's glowing."
Daiki looked down without comment. His black barbed wire tattoo was emitting light as well.
Kankuro lifted up his pants leg slightly and stuck out his foot, examining his ankle. The black barbed wire tattoo on his left ankle was glowing green as well. "All our initiation tats are going off." He had no idea what to think. All puppeteers were required to get them; they only came in three designs and three colors and always went on one's ankle. Far from a simple initiation rite, though, the tattoos were widely known to do . . . something. No one was quite sure what, and the senior puppet masters such as Sakuya wouldn't tell. But the reigning theory based on observation was that the tattoos were protective charms. Given that tiny archaic symbols were inked around the vines or barbed wires, it seemed likely that a jutsu was involved.
Shiro walked over and stuck out his leg. The red vine tattooed onto his ankle began glowing green immediately. "Dude. Something's totally up with this room."
Kankuro glanced at his cats. "Must be why the cats walked around the edge of the room to get to their bowls."
Kenji nodded seriously. "There's definitely something spooky going on here." He passed his hand over the place where Kankuro said the pot was. "And this part of the room doesn't feel right." He thought of something that made his jaw drop and bowed to Kankuro humbly. "I am so sorry, Sempai. I don't wanna look crazy." He pressed his palms together and blurted, "I'm gonna tear up your floor, man."
Daiki's eyes widened in surprise. He blinked and then furrowed his brow.
Kenji dropped to his knees without waiting for a response and felt around on the floor. "I'm looking for something, and I'm not gonna find it without checking both sides. Of everything."
Daiki just watched him.
"Uh, dude . . .?" Shiro stared down at him.
Kankuro eyed the tatami mats with great suspicion. "No, he's got a point. It's gotta be a jutsu, right? That's the only thing that makes sense. And for a jutsu, you need either a caster or a circle or both. Only right now we've got neither."
Shiro's brow furrowed. "Oh . . . right." He backed off the mats, giving Kenji room.
"Thanks, Sempai!" Kenji got his fingers under the edges of the first mat, the one right in front of him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I know I'll find something. There's gotta be an explanation like that."
Kankuro joined Kenji on the floor. "Good idea." He gripped a second mat with his fingers and tugged. At the same moment, they both pulled up a mat, exposing the floor underneath.
"Holy God," Shiro muttered.
Daiki stood back by the table. "Good instincts."
Kenji almost dropped his mat. "Holy crap! It's like a — like a —" He didn't finish. He just stared at it.
He and Kankuro held two halves of the same symbol.
Kankuro stared at what looked rather like an oversized summoning circle except the symbols were all wrong. In fact, the little triangles, swirls, and crane-figures looked like pictures from history books — specifically pictures of symbols used in ancient jutsu.
Rather like the ones decorating Kankuro's ankle at the moment.
"It's old," Kankuro said flatly. "And given the lack of blood and damage, I'd say it doesn't summon stuff." He looked up at Kenji. "This is so your department, man. I need you to commit this thing to memory, go find out what the fuck it is, and figure out how to reverse it or break it or whatever the hell it needs." Desperation and anger shot through him. "This is my fucking family we're talking about here!" He included Baki in that category without even thinking. "I've gotta save them." A horrible thought hit him. "Oh, God," he whispered. "If I still can . . ."
Shiro walked over and squeezed his arm.
"Sempai." Kenji was stern. "This jutsu doesn't kill things, and it doesn't summon things. It could teleport things, except this part is wrong." He pointed to a section near the middle. "It doesn't go anywhere. So whatever happened, it's not directly lethal. I think. You've got time." He squinted, committing the symbol to memory. "You've got help." He replaced the mat. "I've got a photographic memory. Don't worry. I'll go find what it means." He stood and brushed off his knees. "Even if I have to ask the Creepy Old Lady. I'll murder it out of her."
"He means talking harshly," Daiki said unnecessarily.
Kenji glared at him. "Well? You coming or not? You know I can't reach the top shelves in the library." He smirked. "Or even the middle shelves."
Daiki accepted this assignment, falling in behind Kenji. Kenji saluted Kankuro as he walked out of the kitchen. "I'm gonna find your symbol, and we're gonna find your family — Baki-san included."
"Thanks, man." Kankuro watched his two friends head out, marginally comforted by Kenji's assessment.
Shiro turned to him and gave him a hug, thumping him on the back. "It'll be okay, man. You know Turtle's a killer at this research stuff. No matter how rare it is, he'll track it down."
Kankuro hugged him back. "Yeah." Once released, he leaned against the sink. "This is not good, man. For something this complex, we're talking conspiracy. Probably with an elder councilman or two involved."
Shiro extended his chakra strings and moved the remaining mat back into place. "You didn't check with the council for a status update, did you?"
"Nah, man. I had a really bad feeling from the start." Kankuro sighed, feeling his pulse in his head. "If they killed my siblings and my — " He tripped over his own words. He stopped and glanced at Shiro. " — my other best friend, I'll wanna kill 'em all."
Shiro accepted this declaration. "There are a lot of puppeteers who'd help you, man. Not just us."
Baki, Temari, and Gaara stood in the kitchen on the other side of the room. They'd watched Kankuro and his friends in wide-eyed silence.
Baki felt incredibly off-balance at watching this drama unfold without him, even though he was technically in the middle of it.
At Kankuro's declaration that he was Kankuro's other best friend, his heart almost stopped. He almost said I was his teacher. But he didn't. He called me his friend. In spite of the fact that he was trapped in another dimension and hadn't had much to eat since a half ration this morning, Baki felt incredibly happy. And he's said I'm like family. Family. He glanced at Temari and Gaara. I wonder if they feel the same way. If they can.
Then again, Baki figured that Temari was stunned by finding out that Kenji wasn't just some dorky fifteen-year-old otaku. She wouldn't be talking any time soon.
Kankuro wandered over to the kitchen table and dropped into a chair. "I have no idea what the fuck to do. I mean, Turtle's on the research, and I can set Spider out on surveillance if I can just figure out where to put him." Since Daiki was so silent, everyone talked around him as though he wasn't there. As a result, he collected copious amounts of information easily. "And you can go stick your nose in where it doesn't belong and charm people into spilling their guts."
Shiro laughed and walked over to the table, leaning his hip against it and crossing his arms. "I sure as hell can."
"But really, finding out who did this is secondary to finding out what they did and getting my family back." Kankuro propped his elbows on the table and sank his face into his hands.
Shiro tilted his head. "Well, I guess, man. But finding out the who might help you with the what."
Kankuro parted his fingers and peered out at him. "Good point." He lifted his head. "But if you go poking into the wrong place you might end up dead. Whoever it is is serious, man. Way serious."
Shiro, predictably, just shrugged and grinned.
Kankuro sighed. "We don't know where to send you."
"You trust my mom, right?" Shiro asked, walking over to the refrigerator and wrenching the door open.
It was a gimmie question. Shiro's mom called Kankuro "Ro" — something that only his maternal grandpa had ever done — and had asked Kankuro to call her "Mom." "Well, sure, man."
Shiro pulled out a plastic container, opened it, and sniffed. "I'll ask her advice. She might even go with me. She's training to come out of retirement, after all. She'd probably like to brush up her skills on something for her 'other son.'" He grinned at Kankuro.
Temari listened to this conversation with a furrowed brow. "Go where?" she asked, even though she couldn't participate in the conversation.
"To the council," Gaara said.
Baki glanced at Gaara sharply. "Perhaps. That would be dangerous."
Gaara shrugged one shoulder. "That might be why Shiro wants to bring his mom."
Baki turned back to Kankuro and Shiro. Kankuro was frustratingly close. If he could just reach out and squeeze Kankuro's shoulder, he would feel a whole lot better.
Kankuro shook his head. "No, you guys just determine who's following me and how many of them there are. And if they're ANBU. That would be the first, best step." He had a very bad feeling about who they were dealing with.
"Okay. I guess that makes sense." Walking over to the microwave, Shiro nuked the container of chicken yakisoba, then carried it over to Kankuro, setting it down in front of him and then getting him a pair of chopsticks.
Kankuro stared up at him. "What's this for?"
"Hey, you don't fool me, man." Shiro crossed his arms. "Seriously. Look me in the eyes and tell me you actually cooked supper or breakfast."
Kankuro looked away, letting his gaze fall on the food. But I'm not hungry.
"I thought so." Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. "Eat. You need to. We might have a fight on our hands later. And don't worry so much. I know how much you love Temari and Gaara. And Baki-sensei, too. But they're tough. They're probably just being held captive. They can take that."
Shiro could be terribly blunt sometimes, even about emotions. Kankuro grabbed the chopsticks and stabbed the noodles. "Yeah . . . well . . ."
Shiro squeezed his shoulder and let go. "Will you be okay here by yourself? I mean, if you're being tracked and all . . ."
Kankuro glanced up at him. "I'll deal. Find out who's on me. And don't return here alone."
"Don't leave him alone," Baki protested, staring at Shiro. Then he looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. "God." He thought his heart would break if he had to stand here and watch Kankuro eat lukewarm yakisoba alone. In fact, he wanted to put his fist through a wall. Can't you see he's being brave for you? How can you be so caring one moment and the next be so stupid? Baki normally felt he had a forgiving attitude towards Shiro. Right now, he really just wanted to kill the guy.
"We'll be here," Gaara said.
"But he doesn't know that!" Baki looked up at the ceiling instead of directing his anger at Gaara.
Temari chewed on her lip.
"Hai, Captain!" Shiro grinned at him, then sobered again. "We'll make it as quick as we can, man." He rushed to the foyer, slipping on his sandals, grabbing his puppet, and then heading out.
Kankuro stared down at the yakisoba, which he forced himself to eat. He couldn't taste it. Like the protein bar earlier, it seemed to turn into sawdust in his mouth. I just want them back home, he thought, spearing a piece of chicken. I just want them home safely. He had the bad feeling like he wouldn't be able to stand to let them out of his sight for days afterwards.
If he could get them back.
Unfortunately, he wasn't sure they would understand. Temari would probably call him clingy and shake him off. Gaara would gaze at him with that wide-eyed incomprehension he displayed about some emotional things; Kankuro wasn't sure that he understood yet just how much he loved him.
And Baki . . .
Well, no matter how desperately Kankuro felt like he needed Baki to stay, he'd been unable to communicate that to his former sensei. So at the end of the day, Baki always went home. For the first time, Kankuro admitted to himself how much he didn't want him to. I want my family back.
Suddenly, the noodles before him wavered. Kankuro had trouble swallowing, but for the sake of the possible upcoming fight, he kept forcing the food down. The tears streaked down his cheeks unchecked.
"Oh, no. No . . . " Baki walked around to where Kankuro sat, almost stumbling at the sudden rubbery feeling in his legs. He reached out and touched the invisible barrier between them.
"He never cries," Temari said in a scratchy whisper. She looked horrified. "Grandfather beat it out of him during training. He beat it out of both of us. He can't cry. If he's crying, it means — " She broke off and covered her face with her hands.
Baki turned on his heel, took one look at Temari, and yanked her into his arms. She clung to him, trembling. He stroked her back, unsure of what else to do.
"My ototo," Temari mumbled. "No, no, not me. He's the one — he's the one that's so upset he's —" She shouted in frustration. "God, this sucks! It's too horrible." She pulled out of Baki's arms and went to Kankuro's side. She punched the invisible barrier in frustration. "Come on! Please. Damnit!" She dropped to her knees. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I never showed it."
Baki watched her with wide eyes.
Gaara inched his way over to her bit by bit. "Oneesan?"
Temari punched the floor of their prison. "I didn't do it when I had the chance, okay? I didn't ever tell him he was — God, it sucks! It's so stupid! I didn't do it when I had the chance. I didn't show anything. I'm just like Grandfather. Dammit!"
She yanked all the ponytails out of her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders in a mess, and raked her hand through her locks. "I'm sick of this! If I'm ever getting out of here, I'm telling you how much I care. I promise. I don't care if it's tough; I don't care if it's cool. I'm not gonna be a shinobi if being a shinobi means I can watch someone make you hurt so much and never do anything about it. It's not what I wanted!"
Gaara knelt by her. He put his hand on her back. "He can't hear you," he said quietly. "But I think you should tell him. When we get out."
Temari trembled. "We better." Her face was slowly turning red. "We just better. And when I get out, I'm fucking killing whoever put Kankuro through all this pain."
Meanwhile, in the real world, Kankuro became distracted by the tingling on his arm. He glanced down at his right arm, remembering that the priest he'd befriend at Central Temple had once told him that if his arm tingled all by itself — not a normal case of the shivers — it meant the spiritual energy in the room had spiked.
His gaze traveled to the tatami mats just a few feet away.
Fucking creepy.
Something felt wrong.
Kankuro glanced toward the kitchen doorway.
A man with shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair stood there, staring at him.