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The First Shifting Grains
CADEL
CHAPTER 9
Gaara pressed a hand against his seal and closed his eyes.
Shukaku was restless. And so was he.
The genin stood alone as he faced the undulating mounds of sand and stone, each dark shape inking its silhouette against the dark blue of the night sky.
His fingers itched, and the slow heat of his chakra circulating underneath his skin made him tingle with anticipation.
He was far away enough from the village to indulge in a bit of an outlet. His bones ached for it.
So the jinchuuriki scanned the horizon one last time, then closed his eyes. Lifting his hand, Gaara took one slow meditative breath inwards, then pushed everything out.
A torrent of sand began to rise out of the terrain.
It was a monolithic creature, twisting and hovering with the movements of his breath. Each time his exhaled, the massive wall would quiver and vibrate with barely contained energy, each grain waiting to burst into action. A quiet beat later, the sand began to shape the landscape, cutting and crushing the desert into something unfamiliar.
Each hit made powerful impact and each lash sliced into stone.
Even with Shukaku temporarily snubbed out, Gaara's veins burned with acid. It was exhilarating.
After three hours of continuous experimentations, Gaara finally crouched low and closed his eyes to rest. His control was good, but he was quick to tire.
Gaara shifted his eyes to the sudden movement in his peripheral vision.
The crouching shape of an ANBU soldier was perched gracefully on a boulder far away, his turban gently whipping back, a silk tail glowing under dim moonlight.
The hard lines of the masked did little to bleed away the whiskers on the porcelain.
The Fox had come back.
Gaara had expected his father would send someone out for supervision.
The ANBU stayed a fair distance away, his proximity was a gesture of politeness, indicating that he was neither friend nor foe.
The genin huffed and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Gaara decided to stop abusing the landscape in trade for simple sand manipulation. He gently moulded the sand around his feet to move in small ripples and waves, making several concentric patterns on the desert floor, none of which made a single sound.
The sand looped and arched like pale ribbons, connecting together then flying apart in dazzling fractals. The jinchuuriki artistically pulled and twisted patterns on some great invisible canvas that only he could see.
It was a curious display of moving calligraphy.
Many minutes later, when the temperature of the desert dipped low, Gaara finally ceased his 'play' and settled his sand back into his gourd.
The Fox had edged a little closer at some point, his silhouette perched like a gargoyle, his dark Oni eyes tracking the genin's movements like a hawk.
Gaara tilted his head. The ninja mirrored his movement.
That ANBU was a strange one.
With the tight energy finally gone from his veins, the genin decided it was enough for now.
Gaara gracefully stood and headed back to Suna – his foot prints leaving a great Zen garden made of sand and stone behind him.
III
Gaara appreciated the emptiness at one in the morning.
The dim lanterns flushed the dark alleyways and pull out strange shadows and curious characters. However, Gaara's peaceful walk was short-lived.
The sounds of hissing voices and pained groaning echoed out from a dark side street to his left.
Two men were brawling in dirt, unaware or uncaring of the bits of rubbish sticking to their bodies as they wrestled. They tumbled in the midst of bones, stale bread and strips of rotting meat, and Gaara could immediately see that neither of them were shinobi. Their 'fight' consisted of nothing more than pushing and shoving, like children rolling in the mud.
Gaara was about to leave, but then he saw the side door open, and watched as an old man came hobbling out.
"Please stop, you'll wake the other villagers up." He requested with a rusty deep voice that was both sleepy and dry.
The two men didn't take notice of the old man's words.
"She's mine!"
"No she's mine!"
"I'm the man she wants! Who the hell would want a beggar like you?"
"Big words for a dolt with a brain the size of a sunflower seed!"
"Take that back you asshole!"
"Make me!"
The heated conversation carried on in a similar manner and the old man stood awkwardly to the side, at lost at what to do.
At some point, when the fight had escalated to actual punches, Gaara could only watch as a stray limb connected to the old man's chest. The elder shop keeper helplessly tried to balance himself on his cane, but eventually collapsed to the ground against his door.
Neither one of the brawlers noticed.
Gaara's eyes narrowed.
The old man wheezed, sucking in air as he tried to regain his breath. A thin trail of blood slowly oozed down the old man's shoulder, staining his yukata red.
No one saw how fast the sand came bolting towards them.
A moment later, the two fighters found themselves hanging upside down by their legs.
Both faces turned blank with confusion, unsure why the sky had suddenly switched places with the ground. The tightening on their legs brought their attention to the ominous sand around their ankles. Sudden realisation bled into their eyes when they finally saw the jinchuuriki.
He was a pacifist yes, but old habits die hard. Gaara felt he was entitled to indulge.
"I wonder how you would taste." Gaara whispered with exaggerated widening of his eyes.
Both men stopped breathing.
"P-please, don't eat us!" one managed to beg. "W-we'll do anything, just let us go!"
The young genin tilted his head to the side like a bird playing with a worm. "Why? What use do you have if you can't even notice the simplest things?"
Gaara nodded towards the old man still struggling to get back up with his walking cane.
"I can hardly imagine any kind of creature would want you two, let alone a woman." Gaara hissed quietly. "Perhaps…" the genin took a step forward, "you will be more useful to Shukaku."
The two men were no longer protesting anymore and waited for their imminent end. Gaara raised his hand and they visibly flinched back, watching between guarded, terrified eyes. The sand crept down their limbs and towards their torso, gently wrapping around soft flesh and bones.
Gaara gave them one last condemning glare and then clenched his fist shut.
Their choked off screams echoed through the closed off alleyway.
But the carnage never came. There was no artwork of meaty fluid splashed across the walls. No blood splatter strewn on the ground.
There was only silence. Followed by a rude ripping noise.
All that was left were two men gracelessly dumped in the middle of rotting organic matter. Other than mild bruises from the fall, they were untouched – more confused than hurt.
Not a moment later, when the shock wore off, they noticed something important was missing.
They were completely in the nude. Wearing nothing but their birthday suits and displaying their unmentionables in all their glory.
They blinked at each other as the unwanted visuals continued to baffle them, strips of their clothing falling to the ground. When their graceless and humiliating situation finally sank in, the two men scrambled back, attempting to hide their privates with pieces of garbage.
Gaara sighed in a way that an old man might at a pack of nasty children. "It seems I'm not in the mood for junk food tonight."
Without warning, Gaara whipped his sand out against the wall next to their heads and scared them into bolting out of the alleyway. The speed of which they ran was impressive.
The young boy closed his eyes.
There might have been no blood, but there was most certainly a lot of flesh.
Turning his attention back to the old man, Gaara walked closer to inspect the injuries. He was frail, but still managing to stand on his own two feet without assistance.
"Are you alright?" Gaara asked neutrally.
The old man adjusted his cane and winced when he moved his shoulder.
The jinchuuriki eyed a bloodied nail on the wall.
He raised his hand to further inspect the wound, but the old man suddenly hissed and drew back with a violent jerk. Gaara paused in his step and pulled his hand away.
Before the genin could make any further decision on the matter, the old man shuffled away, pressing himself against the wall and grappled at the doorknob.
Forgetting his cane, he rushed back into the house and bolted the door, leaving Gaara standing in the alleyway.
The young genin lowered his gaze to the walking cane.
He swiftly picked it up, leaned it against the wall, and made his way back home without a second glance.
III
Kankuro was rarely in such a foul mood.
But he found he could barely string a sentence that didn't contain a curse.
He spent forty hours making plans for his new puppets. He smoothed out all the flaws, and then he meticulously made each nail, bolt, and gear to a perfect fit.
Only to be completely ruined by a freak accident involving boulders, steam and walnuts.
Of course, being a shinobi meant he was to expect the unexpected. So off he went to create the entire thing all over again, and this time, he resolved to make it even better.
So Kankuro began from scratch.
Half way through writing out a new plan that involved poisoned edged retractable blades and sense distorting hallucinogens, the young puppeteer had knocked over his glass of juice.
Fortunately Kankuro quickly pulled it away and saved most of the plans from a sugary destruction.
Unfortunately in his haste, he knocked the candle on other side and his plans disappeared into fiery oblivion.
The genin began to develop a nervous twitch that had not been there before.
And he was pretty sure he burnt his left eyebrow as well. He was starting to look like Gaara.
Mark three.
He was going to do this entire thing outside, seeing as the house was proving to be more hazardous than he previously thought.
It was decent weather for an outdoor project, and he could test out the long range automatic projectiles, so Kankuro busied himself in a haze of forced determination.
Apparently his puppets were rather amazing to the kids in the neighbourhood.
They watched in awe whenever Kankuro made his puppets move. It was a rather nice feeling being recognized for his hard work, a stroke to the ego that Kankuro felt he needed. It did start to get a little annoying however, especially when they interrupted him to ask more questions and demonstrations.
Can it fly?
Does have knives?
Make it talk.
Make it sing.
Sing? That last one made no sense.
After repeating that Kankuro could no longer indulge the little kiddies, they sneered and said his puppet was a useless piece of junk anyway.
After Kankuro manage to refrain from swearing like a sailor, he decided that it was way too hot and he needed to get a drink…this time he would keep it away from his project to avoid any potential disasters. So after a refreshing glass of cold tea, Kankuro came back out to continue on his project.
Only to find that the puppets head was completely severed (something even enemy ninja had failed to do) and kicked to the other side of the street. The strings were in a complete tangle and the blueprints had completely disappeared.
Kankuro's world dripped red.
He had to wrangled his sudden homicidal urges, because killing children was Gaara's thing and very much frowned upon.
Whatever Zen Kankuro possessed had been slowly scraped away with sandpaper. So he picked up the remains of his poor puppet and went back inside for an impressive sulking session.
This time, he refused to touch any of his blueprints, and began sharpening his kunai and shurikens with barely contained irritation.
III
Temari's day started out good.
Then she swallowed a mouthful of rotten milk.
Tossing away the rancid carton, she resorted to eating some tasteless dry fruit instead.
By the time the kunoichi left the house with her war fan strapped to her back, she decided it was best to forget the terrible start to her day and also the terrible churning in her stomach. She made her way down to the training grounds, but was interrupted by a drunken man on the street. What idiot drinks this early in the morning?
The drunkard attempted to touch Temari's backside, which resulted in the sudden snap of said man's wrist.
Of course, afterwards Temari found out that the man was in fact a distant relative of the daimyo, so naturally threats began to pour out of the man's sour mouth. The blond kunoichi hardly listened and whacked him over the head again.
That was after he poured an entire bottle of sake on her dress.
So Temari turned right back around to get a new change of clothes, but in her haste, she bumped into an elderly lady on the street.
Fortunately Temari caught the woman before she fell.
Unfortunately the old hag was a prude.
When she smelt the sake on Temari's dress, she began to rage at the kunoichi for being an irresponsible drunk, and other less than nice words.
Temari began to develop a twitch that was not there before.
After the lecture, Temari decided that she really should have stayed home. But she reasoned that ninja were to expect the unexpected, so she continued home.
Changing out of the alcohol soaked dress should have been a simple matter, but after long minutes of searching, Temari realised she had nothing to wear. All her training clothes were still sitting in the washing basket.
It seemed Kankuro had forgotten to do his rotation for the washing, leaving Temari with no clean clothes to wear.
Pushing the sudden urge to commit fratricide, Temari wrenched her wardrobe open and searched for anything to wear that was training appropriate.
Now, Temari was a reasonable girl with little regards for fashion and useless materialistic things.
But even the strong and pragmatic Temari could not see herself wearing a horrific piece of clothing that had unnatural clumps of lace and was a truly ghastly shade of fungus green.
After a moment of wondering why she even possessed such a demonic thing, Temari turned to the only other thing she could wear.
Her training uniform from three years ago. It was the only thing she managed to fit in…but only just.
The item of clothing was so tight, her belly was exposed under the mesh and the skirt was too short. But she managed to squeeze into it and decided to keep wearing her black shorts underneath to keep some modesty, despite it smelling like alcohol.
By the time she began walking to her destination, Temari found herself objected to the stares of everyone. Mostly men.
She reeled in the need to break femurs because she knew her clothes, or lack-there-off, would attract attention. The tight, belly exposing training outfit that squeezed her breast in all the wrong ways made her look like a whore…just like the damn old hag was raving on about earlier.
After being whistled and leered at like a half-naked circus clown, Temari raced to the training grounds, not to get away from them, but to keep them away from her. The kunoichi was at breaking point after the third attempt at being slapped on the ass, and found she was close to committing multiple homicides that would make Gaara proud.
Taking into account that both Kankuro and Temari were in equally bad moods, their meeting at the training session could only end in disaster.
III
Baki had a pleasantly mild morning with little to no incident.
His students would be offended.
So he was a little surprised to find Temari and Kankuro attempting to earnestly maim each other.
Training a dysfunctional and unstable team of genin, Baki expected every encounter with his students to be unexpected. But despite having a murderous killer on the team, Kankuro and Temari balanced out Gaara's volatility with their own grounded and blunt personalities.
So it was strange to find Kankuro and Temari in an all-out fight that seemed more vicious in nature than just innocent training.
Their kunai's met in the middle with a sharp clang and sparks erupted from the forceful contact.
The two siblings growled at each other and separated as soon as they met.
"You useless excuse of a human, can't you even do one thing right?!" Temari spat as she threw a wave shurikens at her brother. "Your only chore is to do the laundry!"
Kankuro ducked and kicked Temari from her feet only to narrowly escape a kunai to the neck.
"I did do it!" he growled back. "But I didn't see your stuff! You left them underneath the blanket pile! How the hell was I supposed to know they were there?!"
Temari gave him a solid punch in the jaw.
"Common sense you little shit!"
Kankuro punched her in the stomach and kicked her behind her knees.
"I forgot only once! If you're so angry about it, do your own damn washing ya useless slob."
Temari swept Kankuro from beneath and whacked him under the ribs, followed by bending his fingers back with a vicious jerk.
"Say that again and I'll cut your tongue out." She hissed maliciously.
The puppeteer twisted out of her grasp and shoved his knee into her back then slammed her face into the ground with his elbow.
"Only if you can catch me princess." He taunted derisively.
Pulling out their weapons again, they escalated their assaults.
They aimed for vital nerves and soft spots with serious intent to maim. Neither gave the other any room as they continued both their verbal and their physical spar.
Baki watched on, baffled at the level of undisciplined violence behind every punch and kick. It was impressive. It was also reckless.
The jounin spied Gaara approaching the border of the training field, and took note that the youngest sibling had been watching for some time now.
"They seem angry." Gaara pointed out as he approached.
Baki blinked and then answered, "Yes they do."
"Should they be stopped?"
Baki noted that the question didn't sound like Gaara asked because he wanted to know. The jounin turned back to watched Temari and Kankuro.
"For now it'll be okay, they need to vent. No use keeping in all that pent up frustration." Baki answered. "Will you be joining us today?"
Gaara took a seat on the floor next to his sensei and nodded. "Yes."
Baki nodded, then froze when he fully comprehended Gaara's answer. He asked merely as a formality. He didn't expect Gaara to actually say yes. He never said yes.
Baki cleared his throat.
"That's…good to hear. I was going to get Kankuro and Temari to do some casual sparing, but seeing as those two have started without us, you can spar with me."
A small part of Baki wondered when the last time Gaara had actually spared with anybody. The genin nodded and stretched out his legs. Teacher and student moved a little farther away and made some space for them to begin training.
Giving the signal, they both slipped into their taijutsu stances.
III
There was a moment were neither student nor teacher moved.
Then Gaara shifted his stance and lashed out in a basic offensive manoeuvre. Baki neatly counterattacked it.
After a simple undercut and a back kick which Gaara executed accurately, Baki realised that the boy was not putting much power in his moves. It was light the entire way through their spar and they only used basic taijutsu, never making any fancy moves or sneak attacks.
The jounin admitted that it took a moment to become accustomed to the idea that Baki could actually make physical contact with Gaara's body at all. He managed to tap the boys shoulder, and he brushed his foot against his thigh. There were moments where Baki found himself hesitating to penetrate Gaara's personal space due to the habit of expecting sand to suddenly bolt up. But it never came.
Its absence was…disconcerting.
Baki blocked a punch and side stepped another kick. The jounin's eyes sharpened.
Where was Shukaku? Its absence was not missed, not by a long shot. Perhaps Gaara had excelled at controlling his sand better than anyone had expected.
Either way, the jounin was certain of one thing. Something had drastically changed.
A solid kick connected with the jounin's stomach as Gaara lashed out another back kick towards his sensei's neck.
Baki dodged Gaara's increasing assaults and intercepted every hit with his own. The pace began to rise and Baki knew they both silently agreed on a more serious fight.
After twenty more minutes of their escalating spar, they both hit their crux with a sudden volley of attacks that weaved through each other offenses and defences.
At some point, Gaara's eyes shifted to the right, as if distracted by something, but that was all Baki needed to connect the final move and solidly kick Gaara against a boulder.
The boy's body hit the rock with a heavy thud and slid down to the ground.
As their spar grew higher in complexity and speed, Baki had begun to expect Gaara to meet every one of his katas, which the boy did to his mild surprise.
But Gaara didn't stop that last kick at all.
Baki edged closer. The genin was slumped over, his face completely out of view as the dust settled around him.
Despite being his sensei, Baki could honestly say that he had never knocked Sabaku no Gaara out before. And with good reason. The teacher approached and examined the extent of his student's injuries.
He was a little stunned when a fist suddenly flew at his face. But as a skilled jounin, he easily blocked it.
But it had been a decoy.
Gaara suddenly pushed off the ground and swept Baki completely off his feet.
The older ninja avoided a mouth full of dirt by quickly stopping his fall with his palms, and back flipped into a half crouch. He gave a quick glance at Gaara who casually dusted off his clothes.
With the smallest of smirks, Baki turned to his student.
"Good." He rubbed his jaw where a bruise was starting to smart.
Their fight had been almost anti-climactic, but no matter what he had expected, it was a new experience.
"Your taijutsu is slower than Temari's, and your hits are less powerful than Kankuro's, but you're sneakier than both."
Gaara shifted his cool gaze to his teacher. "I can't beat you, not in a taijutsu fight." It was an honest admission.
"Probably won't be able to win against your siblings either. Not in taijutsu at least." Baki added neutrally. "So you use manipulation, distraction and underestimation as a substitute for your lack of finesse." Baki was mildly surprise that Gaara used anything other than his sand at all. That was something new.
The abnormally civil training session became increasingly bizarre when Gaara asked, "What do I need to improve on?"
Baki ignored the small part of him that was startled by Gaara's willing request for advice and answered, "You're not a locomotive fighter, so taijutsu doesn't match your style, but you have the basics expertly memorized and executed. Normally I would say to improve your speed, but I personally don't think it would contribute to your existing skill set, so the best course of action is improving your stamina."
Gaara thought for a moment. "Higher stamina eliminates rapid exhaustion and improves the likelihood of increased endurance, speed and accuracy."
Baki nodded at the boy's accurate analysis. "Conquer that and you conquer all."
The jinchuuriki nodded. "Perhaps I'll work on it later."
Baki slipped one of his blades back into his pouch.
His view on the village's jinchuuriki had always been a little different from other shinobi. His constant and unhealthy proximity to Gaara made sure of that. But the jounin didn't see Gaara solely as a demon vessel. He was a student. And Gaara felt like one of students at that moment as he watched Gaara pick a pebble from his hair.
Baki sighed inwardly and decided that his entire cohort of little genin were all bi-polar.
After a contemplative moment, the jounin asked, "Are you controlling your sand at the moment?"
The genin shifted his pale eyes towards his sensei and answering, "No."
"You were holding back your defence while we were sparring." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes." He answered simply.
"Why?"
Baki could've sworn he saw Gaara's non-existent eyebrows raise a tiny fraction.
"Sparring would be difficult if you couldn't make contact, yes? I thought it'd be best to keep the automatic shield at bay."
"I wasn't aware you had such control over it." Baki added with questioning eyes.
Gaara gave a look that was neither caring nor dismissive. "It seems that I do."
There was a moment of silence in which Baki just eyed his unstable student, no discernible expression present on his face or in his eyes.
Deciding not to push his luck, he left it at that with a simple nod.
III
Temari and Kankuro once again met in the middle with a clang of metal on metal, feral rage glinting dangerously against their blades.
Baki decided his student could kill each other another day.
"Alright, that's enough you two."
He was promptly ignored as Kankuro sliced into his sister's arm with a wicked grin.
Temari in turn, swung her closed fan and slammed her little brother into the ground in one hit.
One of Kankuro's kunai deflected off Temari's weapon and shot straight towards Gaara. Of course the jinchuuriki's automatic sand protected him instantly.
The jounin frowned. Killer instincts were good, deadly skills were great, but vicious intent on maiming your own family member was not. This was no longer a spar.
"I said that's enough!" Their sensei finally commanded.
Finally taking notice of their impatient teacher, the two sand siblings glared at each other through a curtain of sweat and blood.
"You're dismissed for the day." Baki repeated.
"What? But we only just arrived." Kankuro complained while still glaring at his sister.
"We come together to train, not slaughter each other."
Temari slipped her fan back on her back and snorted. "We were just sparring."
Baki narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure where all this anger is coming from, but as shinobi, we are disciplined to not let our emotions interfere with our missions." He glared at his students. "That was not sparring."
Kankuro dusted himself off and ignored his cuts and bruises. "Whatever, I'm going." Then the puppeteer promptly left.
Temari didn't say anything and picked up her weapons, slipping them back into her pouch. Baki shook his head and called out, "We have training tomorrow, same time."
Of course he was ignored again.
Baki was once again left with his last student and found Gaara had suddenly become his calmest student. He picked up the remaining weapons and rubbed his brow as exhaustion overwhelmed him. He really was getting too old for this.
"They seem a little…tense." Gaara suddenly stated.
Baki turned to Gaara's voice from behind him. The boy was still standing there, his eyes watching his sister leave the training field.
The jounin shrugged, "They're probably just frustrated."
Gaara silently followed his sensei. "About what?"
"Lack of progress." Baki sighed.
"They're progressing fine." Gaara suddenly argued.
Baki ignored the tone and explained. "They're one of the two strongest genin in the village and they've been gradually rising in power and skill. Yet they're not hitting the expectation they've set for themselves." Baki knew Temari and Kankuro were by far one of the most promising shinobi of their generation. "Temari is already Chūnin level and Kankuro is well on his way there, yet they're still genin."
Gaara turned away and glared at the floor, the pebbles between his sandals were dry and grey.
He had forgotten the large part he played in his sibling's shinobi career. Baki-sensei was right – his siblings were very skilled for their age and have already begun mastering their specialties – yet they remained low ranked.
Gaara understood that he was to blame.
Temari and Kankuro could only progress as long as the conditions surrounding Gaara allowed it.
They had been held back mainly due to his unstable personality and the lack of cohesion in their unit. It must have been doubly terrible for Baki-sensei because the jounin was responsible for all three of the Kazekage's children, while knowing there was an axe above his head.
They didn't fit. They wouldn't fit. At least not until Gaara's fated meeting with his orange maelstrom friend and that was a year away.
Guilt the genin thought he had resolved years ago twisted in his throat.
Gaara turned to his teacher. "It won't last long. They'll get better in their own time."
Baki looked at his student strangely and levelled him with a curious gaze. A moment later he gave a humourless laugh.
"I should hope so, or your father won't be pleased." It was a weak joke that he didn't expect Gaara to appreciate but surprisingly the boy's lips turned upwards by a fraction.
"You know sensei," Gaara began. "You're good with children. Ever thought of having some of your own?"
Baki nearly swallowed his tonsil. "What?"
Gaara just looked at him with no trace of jesting. Yet, Baki was sure that the boy had attempted a…joke? Or at least some version of teasing. And if not, then he was being serious. All notions were not comforting. In his confusion the jounin failed to notice Gaara already walking away.
But he did note with some startle that Gaara had called him sensei for the first time.
III
Gaara inspected the baked delicacies with a critical eye.
The young jinchuuriki looked left then right but found the area around his front door empty. How baffling.
As soon as he took off his shoes, Gaara saw Kankuro lugging his puppet Crow down the stairs, the scowl on his face was as menacing as the one painted on his puppet.
Looking back at the basket in his hands, Gaara had an idea.
The jinchuuriki poked his head around the corner and spied Kankuro sitting crossed-legged on the living room floor, tinkering away with the gears inside his puppet. His finger worked deftly but there was irritation and frustration in every movement.
Without warning, Gaara shoved the basket of pastries at Kankuro.
"Here."
"Wha…?" The startled puppeteer blinked at Gaara then at the hamper. Not entirely sure what to do with it, he slowly grabbed the basket by the handle and awkwardly held them in his lap. "Er…thanks?"
"It's not for you." His younger brother suddenly added. "Give it to Temari."
The puppeteer blinked again at the odd statement. "What?"
"Woman like desserts don't they?"
"…I guess?" Kankuro answered in confusion.
"Give it to her." Gaara repeated, unfazed by his brother's lack of comprehension.
Kankuro stared a little too long.
Then he slowly asked. "Why?"
His younger brother shrugged. "Food makes people feel better."
Kankuro just blinked again in both bafflement and disbelief. What the heck was going on? Food makes people feel better? Kankuro was sure that 'food' meant something different for the Gaara and 'better' had a whole other meaning which he really didn't want to find out.
He looked at the hamper then back to his brother. He was still standing there with an odd expression that might have been called expectant…had it been on anyone else's face.
"Um…okay. I'll uh…do that." With another odd look, the puppeteer slowly stood up and promptly power-walked out of the room.
Gaara blinked at his brother's quick exit then nodded in approval.
He guessed Kankuro really wanted to make up with Temari after all. That went a lot better that he'd expected.
III
It was three in the afternoon when Temari spied Gaara in an odd place.
The young jinchuuriki was standing by a rubbish bin in an alleyway near the civilian district.
She squinted to make sure there wasn't any sand in her eyes because she was pretty sure her baby brother was holding a walking stick. After a few moments of careful deliberation, she cursed herself and approached him.
"Gaara?" she asked hesitantly, not at all keen on breaking the genin's attention.
The boy didn't turn to her immediately but continued to stare at the cane in rapt fascination.
The blond kunoichi patiently waited for Gaara to respond but all she saw were Gaara's eyes suddenly sharpening. He suddenly moved to the side window of an old shoe repair store and peered in, nose pressed and his face flat against the glass.
Temari jumped back in alarm when the sound of splintered wood echoed in the narrow alleyway.
She stared wide-eyed as Gaara kicked open the door down and walked in like it was his house. Giving herself a moment to gape, she promptly followed her brother inside. She watched as he searched the rooms, rummaging around and peering into every part of the small shop.
The blond couldn't understand what her brother was doing breaking into some run-down shoe-repair store in the middle in the civilian district.
"Gaara," she began with a hesitant hush, "What are you doing?"
The boy didn't answer and continued searching.
Temari spread her chakra outwards and tried to feel for the presence of another person. It didn't take long because the moment she detected the person, Gaara had already found him. He was in one of the back room that served as a bedroom and also a workshop.
An elderly man in his late fifties was sprawled on his back, seemingly asleep were it not for the fact that he was on the floor.
Temari crouched closer and watched Gaara begin to inspect the old man with surprising gentleness. Her brother reached for the man's pulse and then pried the man's mouth to search for anything in his airways.
"We have to take the man to the hospital." Temari insisted. She supressed a scowl at Gaara's continuing lack of response. "Come on we –"
The old man suddenly mumbled something incoherent and his eyes momentarily opened but closed just as fast. He was still semi-lucid but still too ill to be aware of his surroundings.
The kunoichi stopped as she watched Gaara suddenly lift the old man's shoulder and peel the yukata away from his skin.
On the back of his shoulder blade was a small puncture wound.
It was almost undetectable, but the swollen skin around the wound was angry and red. Temari didn't have to be a medic to understand that it was infected.
Gaara suddenly stood up, searched briefly and came back with a medical kit from one of the draws in the room. He deftly pulled out a small packet from the kit and ripped it open with his teeth. To Temari's surprise it was a small wooden flat, sterile stick. She wasn't even sure what it was used for.
She watched with mild bafflement as Gaara gently pried open the old man's jaw and inserted the stick down his mouth.
Instead of naturally alerting the gag reflex to spit the foreign object back out, teeth suddenly clamped down on the wood and held it in place.
She didn't know what that meant but it seemed that Gaara did.
"Lockjaw." He stated quietly.
The muscles around the old man's face were tense and tended to twitch with small spasms. The spasms included the rest of the body as the muscles seemed to revolt against him. To add to the list of symptoms, the beginnings of a bad fever was apparent by the perspiration on the old man's forehead and his old age wasn't doing him any favours.
Without another word Gaara wrapped his sand around the semi-lucid elderly and gently lifted him off the ground.
For a moment Temari was gripped by a terrible uncertainty, but it was short lived as she watched her brother do nothing more than transport the old man out the door.
He made his way to Suna's hospital with Temari hot on his heels.
III
Instead of using the door, both siblings entered the hospital through a large open portal on the second floor.
They gave the nurses a terrible scare as they jumped in. Gaara ignored her and every other odd stare he received as he moved through corridor towards the receptionist desk.
The poor woman manning the desk had the colour in her face drained to white as Gaara approached her, a body hovering behind him.
Gaara finally stopped at the desk and with nothing more than mild acknowledgement, he requested, "I need a doctor."
If it was possible, she became two shades paler and promptly fainted, gracelessly falling off her seat.
Gaara took a moment to examine the unconscious receptionist then looked around to see if there was someone else who could be more helpful. He didn't have to wait long since the head doctor came rushing down the hallway with two nurses and a jounin trailing behind him.
The new staff immediately stopped at the entrance of the lobby and wearily eyed the genin. The head doctor took a moment to steel himself and turned to the jinchuuriki.
"How can we help you Gaara-sama?"
"I need a doctor." Gaara repeated, his tone almost hasty. "I have a patient that needs assistance."
A nurse edged closer and inspected the receptionist on the floor then nodded towards the main doctor. The physician eyed the boy with apprehension then asked the nurse, "What happened to her?"
"She just fainted sir." The nurse replied with some relief.
The doctor nodded without taking his eyes off Gaara. The jounin behind the doctor had drawn his weapons at the ready, eyed narrowed sharp like razor blades.
"…I'm the head doctor, so maybe I could help you?" The doctor offered diplomatically, while becoming aware of the beads of sweat forming on his brow. He shifted his gaze to the old man in the jinchuuriki's grip. "Just place the man down and we'll take it from there."
The sand shifted and moved forwards towards the doctor with the old man inside. With a gentle release, he placed the limp body on the floor and took a step back. They cautiously watched the jinchuuriki's every movement.
Temari who had been standing to the side suddenly felt irritated by their lack of action.
"The man needs medical attention." When they failed to move, she barked out, "Now."
The nurses soon followed the orders and carefully lifted the old man onto a bed and rolled him away.
The jounin was still staring at Gaara with his weapons drawn out.
Gaara on the other hand ignored him and walked towards Temari.
Her brother leaned in and quietly instructed, "Inform them he has a tetanus infection."
With that, Gaara made his exit out of the same portal they came through, leaving Temari standing in the hospital hallway.
After a moment, she did as instructed. The doctors immediately agreed with her and went as far as to praise her for the accurate medical observation. After some thought, she didn't correct him that she was not the one that made the assessment.
It was as Temari was leaving the lobby, she overheard two people talking in hushed whispers by the water cooler.
"Is it true?" hissed a voice from around the corner. "Was it here?"
Temari spied around the corner and saw a middle aged civilian woman talking to a nurse.
The nurse seemed openly edgy.
"Ah…well, the child in no longer here." She seemed reluctantly to confirm the woman but wanted to soothe her worries at the same time. "The vicinity is safe, I assure you ma'am."
"That thing is not a child." The woman hissed. "And if it managed to come in here, how safe can this place be?" she clutched a fearful fist to her chest. "My son is here to get his tonsils removed, how can I be sure the demon won't go crazy and kill him?"
The nurse calmed the woman down while sending surreptitious glances around her, clearly just as unsettled as the woman.
"Please, I apologize for any concern we may have caused you, I'm sure the demon won't come back." It sounded like the nurse was trying to convince herself.
"It better not!" snapped the civilian woman. "That thing is surely up to no good! Coming into a hospital of all places to cause trouble," She shook her head in open fear and anger. "Evil, pure evil! It's better off dead!"
The nurse didn't say anything in return as she gently manoeuvred the distressed civilian down the hallway.
Temari moved away from the corner and stared after the women.
The blond kunoichi had heard many things about Gaara through second hand conversations for many years. Rumours of the little boy with an insatiable taste for blood had always run parallel with her memories of youth. In fact, the blanket of prejudice towards Gaara was so intense, that she understood he had become a scapegoat of sorts. So quick for people think the worst and she knew because she did the same.
Just as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, his dangerous and homicidal nature was simply just a fact, one which she had never disputed.
So the tightness in her belly felt distinctly uncomfortable. Her fingers itched in irritation as she watched the civilian and the nurse disappear around the corner. She was unsure of how she felt about all of it.
But at the back of her mind she already knew.
It was the injustice of blatant prejudice that Temari, for once, had been there to see. She witnessed Gaara's small deed, almost like he was capable of benevolence and maybe if the world was a little kinder, that might have been exactly what it was.
It was unsettling to be on the other side – on the other side where she was forced to see things through a different coloured glass.
Temari liked it better when Gaara was the bad guy and everyone was good.
III
Kankuro shifted on his feet as he waited for his father to speak.
The Fourth Kazekage had his hands clasps firmly behind his back as he peered out the window of his office. His eldest son waited in apprehension.
"I take it that your leg is better now?" The Fourth finally spoke.
Kankuro was startled out of his own thoughts. "My leg?"
His father turned around to give his son a critical look. "Yes, the leg which was cut open during last week's Ichibi attack."
The genin quickly nodded. "Oh yeah, it's better Kazekage-sama, thank you."
"You can drop the honorifics Kankuro." The man added. "This isn't an official summoning."
The boy relaxed slightly, "Oh…was there something you wanted father?" Kankuro asked curiously.
"How are things at home? Has there been any progression within your unit?"
Thinking back on the recent hostility with Temari at home and the ever present paranoia with Gaara around, Kankuro open his mouth, only to shut it again.
Finally the young genin replied, "It's…not bad."
The Fourth sat down and signalled for Kankuro to do the same. "Baki tells me that you've all been progressing well in your training. I heard that your puppet Crow has been modified again."
"Yeah well," Kankuro began hesitantly. "There hasn't been that much progress, things keep…interrupting me." He shrugged trying to forget his horrible bout of bad luck for the past week. "Home is fine I guess, nothing really worth noting."
The Kazekage laced his fingers together. "How is your sister?"
"Good, no change since the last time you saw her. Still snarky."
The puppeteer began to get the feeling that his father was fishing for something.
"And Gaara?"
Kankuro looked back up at his father and searched for a proper response. "Gaara is…being Gaara."
"I've been informed that his behaviour within your unit has been considered stable?" The Fourth commented lightly.
"'Stable' is not the word I'd use." The genin gave his father a strained look. "Baki-sensei would have already informed you about our team progress."
The Kazekage stared at Kankuro, "Yes, but Baki-sensei isn't his brother and neither does he live with him. Your insight in Gaara's behaviour is the one I want."
Kankuro should have known that his father had wanted something more than just a friendly family meet up.
"Gaara has been…unpredictable of late." The genin finally answered.
"Unstable?"
"Well no, not exactly. He's always unstable but…it's more like he's been acting out if character." The Kazekage waited patiently for Kankuro to continue. The puppeteer wracked his brain for the right words. "His hasn't been following his usual pattern of behaviour."
"How so?"
"I don't know…" the puppeteer admitted lamely. "Sneaky? No, not sneaky…more like he's watching, constantly watching and observing and just being really, really weird. At least a little more than usual."
"Do you suspect a hidden threat in his deviant behaviour?" his father suddenly asked firmly.
Suddenly finding the conversation sounding more like a mission report, Kankuro answered, "I can't be sure but it's safe to assume that anything Gaara does is dangerous. It's just that he hasn't done anything at all since the demon got loose a week ago." The boy scrunched his brow. "I've never known Gaara to have stayed this subdue for so long, not in my memory at least. It's too quiet…I feel he's going to do something when the calm ends."
The Fourth Kazekage stared a little longer at his eldest son and then gave a nod. "I see."
Kankuro scratched his head. "Honestly, it's gotten Temari and Baki-sensei on edge, they're feeling the tension and it's bugging out some of the other shinobi as well."
"Your sensei tells me that he comes to team trainings now." Kazekage mentioned with a deceptively light inquiring voice.
The genin nodded "Yeah at least five times now."
"He doesn't train with you does he?"
"No, he just watches." Kankuro shook his head. "No actually, I forgot about today's session…I think he was sparring with sensei."
The Kazekage pinned his eldest with his questioning eyes. "Is that so? What was the outcome?"
"Uh…" Kankuro shifted on spot and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I don't really know…"
His father raised an unamused eyebrow. "You don't know?"
The genin resisted an embarrassed flush as he realised he let the unusual incident slip him by. "I wasn't really paying attention at the time…"
The young genin almost cringed when his father continued to pin him down with his eyes.
Gaara's participation in that training session was just another addition to the long line of things that went against his typical behaviour. He was just too busy trying to maim his sister.
"Er…I'm sure sensei could give you a debriefing."
After a moment of silence, Kankuro's father shifted some paper on his desk and leaned back into his chair.
"Your brother has always been special, special to this village and vital to our military power, regardless of his mental stability." The Fourth stood up and looked at Kankuro in the eye, the whole weight of his words heavy in his stare. "But as his father I've been forced to do things no father wishes to do. I need you to understand this."
Kankuro carefully hid his confusion and nodded. "I do."
"And as Gaara's brother, there are things that you might have to do that you may not wish."
The puppeteer tensed as the heavy words began to sink uncomfortably in his stomach. He looked up at his father with a strange foreboding in his gut.
"Kankuro, as the Kazekage of Suna and also your father, I have something to ask of you."
III
Night slowly crawled over the desert, bleeding its colours cold.
A silent figure stalked over the sand dunes to gaze down at the glittering lights of Sunagakure.
A cloak whipped back like dark wings stretched against the sky as the silhouette crouched low and dangerous.
All that could be seen in the inky darkness was the unwavering stars painted above…and the red wheel of a spinning sharingan.
.
A/N: I sincerely apologize for the wait. We have a new baby boy in the house. Hazzah!
P.S - I'd like to also mention that a serious onset of tetanus takes much longer than one night to set in, but for the sake of the story, I sped it up.
Keep it Kool.
CADEL
[EDITED – 12 APRIL 2015]