Akemi sped out of the room as fast as she possibly could, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. What an asshole. What a total asshole! She couldn't even think of another curse in her head for the man, she was so furious. He had hit every insult in the book. He called her selfish, conceited, a monster, like something that your children would hide from in the night when a branch scratches at your window. A demon from the shadows. Someone that struck fear in the hearts of everyone that had even heard of them.

A tear fell down her muddy cheek. Then that was what she would be.

She felt as if she ran into a force field, the wind knocked back into her chest. There she was, once again, belly up with her eyes facing the luminescent ceiling. Her fist pounded on the ground, teeth gritting as she let the tears flow freely. She hated everything about this place. Every single grain of sand around her, every single molecule of stagnant air; she couldn't stand being here. She would rather die than be locked in this cage of a village surrounded by cliffs. She would rather die.

Kankuro pounded his feet behind her, his steps heavy and slow. Akemi closed her eyes, rubbing the tears from her cheeks. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She couldn't cry. No. Not in front of him. He'd just badger her into oblivion, teasing her for a moment of weakness. She could never. She set her lips firm, gluing them to one another.

"So, this 10 foot restraint thing," he started, both of his hands perched on his hips. "Definitely keeps you on a short leash." He paused for a moment, looking down at the girl below him quietly before sighing. His hand extended over her face. "…Erm, sorry about that."

Akemi flipped herself around, ignoring the hand and stood in front of the man herself. Her eyes were sharp and pointed directly to his, her pupils small and calculating. She rubbed her hands against her murky clothing and flipped her hair as she continued at a slower pace down the hall. Kankuro shook his head. "You're welcome for the offer, I guess?"

They stayed silent as they took corner after corner. They travelled down stairs and through doors, but the windows constantly passed them. Akemi bit the corner of her lip, stopping before a pea green double door. This was the Kazekage's office. How the hell did they end up back here?! She continued past it and took a different door and different sets of stairs, but still ended up in front of those dumb, putrid doors. She went down at least six flights of stairs! There was no way that they could be back at the same spot! She huffed angrily. "Alright, what gives?!"

Kankuro chuckled a little behind her before moving forward and tapped two fingers to the door with a feather-light touch. The colors quietly melted into a goopy brown that was even more disgusting than the green and finally settled to a steely grey with two porthole windows just above her head. "I just wanted to see how long it would take you. Not bad for not knowing you were in a genjutsu the entire time." He gave her a wry smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

"A gen-whaty-what?" she murmmered, her eyebrows creasing. "What does that do?"

Kankuro was speechless for a minute. The girl knew how to do ninjutsu like puppetry and sandstorms and sand dragons large enough to wipe out a few hundred men, and she didn't know what a fucking genjutsu was?

"You really don't know ANYTHING about being a ninja huh?"

She looked at him dead in the eyes. "I'm not one of you. I never had to learn," she muttered lazily, her fingers trying to separate dried blood from clumps in her bangs.

Kankuro's mind fluttered. Akemi Nakahara knew nothing of the ninja world. Nada. She didn't know what chakra was for Kami's sake! The girl learned how to do one of the most complex techniques in all of puppetry ninjutsu simply from concentrating and practice. She skipped so many steps and just sort of did it. "Well, it would certainly make your life much easier."

Once she was slightly satisfied, Akemi moved to push open the door, but Kankuro was there before she even had the chance to touch the metal. "Ah ah ah~! Not yet!" he sang out, his warm hand latched around her arm. She pulled it back like he was acid, a heated flush radiating over her cheeks. "Do you mind?!"

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, a hand ghosting through his tousled hair. "Look, I'm just saying, it would make you so much faster and you'd have better control of that chakra of yours if you at least learned a little of what we do. Maybe you could control those puppets enough to not nearly kill yourself too," he said with ease. "Buuuuut, if you're too stubborn to do so, I can't force you. That's not my job. I'm just supposed to keep you safe."

"Aura," she said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just… Something we call it," she said quietly, her eyes diverting to her bare feet, her short toes curling onto the tiles. "Every person has an aura, something about them that makes them, you know, them. My father and I can manipulate our auras to form strings. We believe that each person's aura is a different color depending on their lineage." She paused a moment, her fingers ruffling along the grimy gown she was forced to wear during her stay in the dungeons. "I mean, it definitely showed. My father and I have gold while others have different shades of blues, greens, reds, whites… That's why we dress in those colors. It's showing respect and praise for our auras; that everyone is different, but we come together to fight as one because we're all passionate about the same thing."

He had liked the idea of individuality. In the ninja world, flak jackets and ninja headbands were an all too common sight. The Tori no Suna never looked the same, each person identifying themselves in a different way to show that they were different and not like their comrade. "But, what are you all passionate for?"

She averted his gaze for the very first time in any of their entire encounters. "Whatever my father says."

So that was it. She and the rest of the Tori No Suna followed her father blindly, like sheep to the slaughter. Their blind devotion was almost sickening. "That man forces you to kill on command, Akemi-san. You can't seriously just do what he says, can you?"

"You know nothing, about us, Kankuro-san. You know nothing of our hardships. Of what we have to do to survive. When you're outside of these walls, yes, you are free, but freedom comes at a very deep price. You know nothing at all." With that sentiment, the subject was dropped. Kankuro clammed up and let the girl pass.

The sandstorm that had been moving through the area left noting but dry heat in its wake. Akemi pulled her hand up to her forehead to shield her eyes while her guard walked into the sun like Apollo himself. He basked in the sun, letting the rays bounce off of his skin as he shook out his hair. "Aw man, that feels great, eh, Akemi-san? I'm sure you missed the sun just as much as I did," he lounged, his hands cradling the back of his head.

She stayed silent, the gown sticking to her already sweaty body. The temperature in this infernal city was unlike anything that she had ever felt before. There was nothing but fire all around her. Everything was hot. There was no relief in any sweep of air. Everything was stagnant, just like that damned building. The only sign she gave was a groan as she plucked the coarse material from her bruised skin.

"We should probably clean you up before we do anything," he muttered, sending a disproving glance to the girl. She thought the fluorescent lights always gave everyone a horrible, sullen look, but in stepping out into the light, he realized that was just her actual appearance. The girl needed a good shower and maybe a haircut. Kankuro had no clue if all of that dried blood would come out of her maroon tendrils.

She let him take the lead, "Show me the way, oh wise one," she shot, obviously slightly offended by his underlying message. She stunk. She didn't look good. Although she was upset that he had put it in that connotation, she couldn't give up a hot bath and maybe a meal. She could probably eat anything that man put in front of her.

They moved side by side through the village, unfortunately passing through a marketplace on the way to their destination. All activity ceased the second the two of them entered into the main area, multiple civilians backing away in fright. Akemi eyed each one warily while each one in return stared back in a mixture of fright, hate and anger. Eventually, she tucked her head down and trudged on. These people thought she was a criminal, a murderer.

And maybe she was. Maybe she killed a loved one, ran them over dead with her ship. Maybe she caused them enough bodily harm that she crippled one for life, unable to supply for their family any longer. That was enough to be angry with her about. There was nothing in these people that showed compassion or even the slightest bit of pity. They showed full blown hate, and Akemi was alright with that.

A little girl moved before her, staring up at her with dark brown eyes, offsetting against sunny blonde. She had tears at the cusp of her thick eyelashes, her dirty fingers trembling. "Why did you kill my mommy AND my daddy? Couldn't you let me keep just one?"

Just one. She moved past the girl. "There's no 'just one' on a mission. You'll understand."

The civilians, in hearing her comment, began screaming.

"MURDERER!"

"KILLER!"

"MONSTER!"

Rotten fruit flew past her head, which Kankuro was able to help her bypass quickly. The man was still pretty slow and grunted as he knocked most of them away. Her arms were wrapped around her head as she started to run. She was a true demon to these people. A foul monster.

"You don't deserve to live!"

She snapped. She turned around abruptly and shouted for everyone to hear. Her fingers were flayed out as she waited for the golden wires to come shooting from her fingers to strangle each and every one of these people, but threw them down when she eyed the black marks on her wrists. "YOU'RE ALL HYPOCRITS, YOU KNOW. YOU THINK YOUR PEOPLE WERE THE ONLY ONES WHO DIED? YOU'RE JUST AS MUCH OF MONSTERS AS I AM." She pivoted on her calloused heel and strode out of there, her head high.

Kankuro was in shock for a moment, as were his people. They stared at her wide eyed as she moved away before gawking back at him. "Aren't you going to do anything about that, Kankuro-sama? She just disrespected our lost ones! She had the opportunity to destroy the village and was going to take it! Aren't you going to punish her? Kill her! We don't need that burden!"

The words flew at him from all angles. He started to walk to keep Akemi in his range and tried to answer everything as best as he could in the process. Before he knew it, Akemi had flown back, crashing into him from behind. She started to charge, but he grabbed her under her chest before she could get her feet back on the ground. She was growling loudly with her teeth bared and violet eyes bulging from their sockets, nearly ready to scream at the men who had decided to take it upon themselves to punish her while he couldn't. Obviously, the bruises and blood on her body meant nothing to them. They wanted their own slice at the rogue.

Kankuro hauled her half a block away from the angry civilians before she eased herself into a simmer, her scapula relaxing into his chest. He plopped her on the ground and watched her knees wobble. Her eyes pleaded with him but those full lips; they were still as stone. "Can we go now?"

He didn't need to be told twice. "Yeah. Let's get going."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

In all of her twenty years of living, Akemi had never seen a building so large before. The Kazekage's mansion was a bit ridiculous with its manicured molding in that disgusting goldenrod/pea soup green combination, but that was the least of her worries. The building expanded at least five stories above the ground with wide floor to ceiling windows.

It was a military mishap; there wasn't anything "protecting" about the place. If this was where the leader Suna and his family was to live, she would have expected stone and mortar lined with expansive walls of hardened sand guarded by dozens of ninja. After all, that was her father's dream. Sure they were living in individual tents and thatched huts right now, but at least there was outside booby traps to ensnare criminals. But, when Kankuro showed her to her room, her entire viewpoint of the place changed immediately.

Inside was a queen sized bed in a rich shade of cerulean, draped in an ivory net. Matching curtains were drawn from the full length windows, allowing the afternoon sun to spill lazily onto a floor carpeted in cream fuzz. The furniture was a dark mahogany, as was the dresser, writing desk and vanity, which held a large mirror and powder bench; a luxury she hadn't ever had back at the home base. There was a bathroom attached to the room as well, along with a walk in closet. She wouldn't have a need for it, but it was a nice touch.

She gave a long whistle. "Wow. You're really breaking out all the stops, eh Make-up?"

Kankuro tightened immediately. "Hey, if it was me, you'd probably still be in that cell. You might be a horrible person, but this is the only room we have available right now. That and you're also a political prisoner, so we have to treat you a little nicer, remember? I don't really feel like sleeping next to you in that dingy dungeon every night until we figure out what to do with you."

Akemi slowly padded through the room, the carpet folding around her toes. If she could imagine walking on a cloud, this would be it. Her fingertips drifted across the mahogany of the dresser, fingering the scratches along the surface. "Whose room was this?"

Kankuro grew silent before stepping into the room himself. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out an old frame, blowing on the dust that had gathered along the glass. He looked at it hard before placing it face down. He turned on his heel and started towards the door. "I'll have your clothes brought up to you. You can clean yourself up. There are toiletries already installed in the bathroom. If you need anything else, just ring. I'll send a maid up."

He stopped in the door jamb for a moment, turning back towards his charge. "By the way, as long as you're here, there's no limit on your walking. You're free to move among the grounds, but the second I need to go somewhere, so do you, you got it?"

And with that, he abruptly shut the door with a click.

Akemi clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Well, she certainly tabbed a touchy subject it seemed. She strode quietly towards the desk and lifted the image that he placed downwards. Her eyes were glued to the dilapidated picture.

It was a drawing; something akin to a snot-covered doodle a two year old would create in school to bring home to place on the fridge. There were odd colors all around with the likes of scribbled green lines for the sky and purple stick figures for the bodies of the people. There was a larger stick figure with a stern face and a smaller with a smile and stripes across his face, which Akemi quickly realized to be her guard. Next to him, he was holding hands with a small blond stick figure with a purple, triangle body, obviously the sand bitch. But beside her, there was another person, another triangle body, but this one was drawn in pink. The eyes were purple and her hair was a mixture of yellow and brown. The artist obviously couldn't decide which color to use. She had a small smile on her face and a purple scarf around her neck.

Under the image was the word "family" in squiggling kanji. The image was torn down the middle, but was mended together by three small pieces of tape. A small "K" was printed in the bottom right corner.

She snuffed. Gaara wasn't even a blip on the radar at the point this was made. Kankuro had made this as a child and someone had decided to frame it; to store it for safe keeping, as if it had value. She flipped the image down, leaving it where Kankuro had placed it before striding away. The guy had some major daddy issues, she knew, so family was probably a fragile subject that she didn't dare to learn about. He'd probably clam up again or just be extremely angry. He seemed to take family stuff a little extreme just like that bitch of a sister he had.

She paused her thoughts. Something clicked. It was all they had.

Akemi had her mother, her father, and her two brothers. The Sand Siblings had nothing but each other. They were leading an entire nation, forced to grow up years before their time while they were still trying to figure out how to make their sensitive unit work for the first time. Sure they loved each other, but for Gaara coming back and learning exactly how to love, Akemi could only imagine how difficult that might have been for the elder siblings. From going to a monster to a brother in a matter of a few days, it must have been difficult for Kankuro and Temari to accept their little brother not only as leader, but truly as their sibling.

She was glad she was never that strained with Taigo. He was a good seed; full of life and a good listener. He would do anything their father said, always serving at his every beck and call, the damned goody-two-shoes. He had dark features like his father with those bright turquoise eyes, but such a small, fragile face, Akemi sometimes forgot he was seventeen and not twelve.

She and Taigo would often train together in hand to hand combat as he had not learned the ways of the Golden Strings, nor was he capable of learning since his aura was red. Although she was older, Tai had a great skill with the long range "meteor hammer", a ball and chain type weapon, and short knives. Tai could crush rib cages as easy as rice cakes with the heavy ball that he whipped like a lasso or he could cut you to ribbons with his switchblades. Akemi had always taken extreme caution when dueling with her little brother, often using her strings anyway to save her own skin.

She would never forget a particular scrimmage when she was thirteen and he just a mere ten. He had hurled his meteor at her so hard, it ricocheted through a rock before she stopped it with her strings, a cold sweat on her brow. He had pouted, "You cheater! If you didn't move, maybe I'd be next in line, you wimp! You take hits from your puppets backfiring all day long, Akemi-chan. Why are you afraid of a little meteor hammer?" To which, she would always respond with a smile and ruffling of his muddy hair, "I'm not doing death blows Tai, so maybe you shouldn't either. Brutality is good, but only too much might freak some people out. Plus, little brother, I don't want to be knocked into another universe without you in it."

She shook the thoughts from her head. She wondered if Taigo was worried about her, if he missed her. She sure missed him. He might be an annoying bugger with no spine, but that didn't mean she loved him any less. They were blood. It didn't matter that they were totally different personalities, he the bright light and she the darkness embodied. She loved him because he was her brother. That was all that counted. It was a simple love.

What was it that those damn Suna kids didn't understand?

She stumbled on weak ankles into the bathroom, which was a slightly better color scheme with rosy mauves and matte taupe. It didn't match her exterior room, but she could deal with it. Her eyes were glued on the porcelain bath tub at the other end of the room. Immediately, she turned up the faucets and let the water run warm, the sensation tingling down to her toes. She found lavender bath salts and placed them in as well before sliding her sore frame under the fragrant water.

The amount of red that spewed into the water was disgusting. She didn't realize that she was so bloody and grimy. She took a damp washcloth and ran the fibers gently over her body, taking care around whip marks and cuts. The dry blood freed itself and dyed her tub a murky shade of merlot. She drained it disgusted and refilled it. After the task was done, she sank down into the clear water and inspected herself for the first time.

She was bruised all over with bones coming across in stark ridges along her skin. Her fingers nimbly strummed across her ribs, dull goosebumps coming over her arms. She massaged her biceps and her thighs, allowing the hot water to soothe her skin. It was absolutely heavenly. She took bath oils and ran them as best as she could through her hair, finding some of the strands too stuck together to undo. She would need a haircut to get rid of the crusty strands of maroon.

Once she was satisfied, she exited the bath to find mauve towels above the toilet. Wrapping herself in the fluffy warmth, she strode from the room and flopped on the cerulean bed with a small giggle. She never allowed herself to enjoy this sort of living before. She had always thought that people who lived in these big houses were just overusing resources, but now that she was living this way herself, she understood why. She never had this large of a room before with such a comfy bed or an attached bathroom. Her fingers ran across the blue silk of the duvet slowly. She could never imagine owning such luxuries.

She turned her head towards the door to find a small package left inside of the welcome mat. Ditching her towel on the bed, she moved completely naked to pick it up. She shook it a second and, not hearing anything, took it to the desk to cut it open with a pair of scissors. Inside were all of her old clothes, as well as a new wardrobe consisting of lightweight skirts, airy, long sleeved peasant tops, sweats, and ninja issued sandals along with tape for binding. There were different colored head scarves also, which would come in handy against the whipping winds. Another, smaller box was below all of all of the new fabric, which he displaced immediately. She found a small card at the bottom of the box of goodies, eying the chicken scratch.

'Akemi-san,

I took it upon myself to go shopping for you to get more Suna-appropriate clothing, as yours are not quite appropriate for either the temperature or the eyes of our citizens. I also inserted head scarves for your convenience, whether you'd like to use them to hide the color of your hair or for more environmental purposes, it's up to you. Enjoy your stay. We'll be watching.

Temari No Subaku'

'Not appropriate for the eyes of the citizens'? She eyed her outfit. Her backless sapphire blue keyhole top was slightly torn, but easily mendable. The khaki shorts on the other hand were totally fine except for a few small blood stains along the short legs. Her leather utility belt was completely intact as well, except for her small knives and poison syringes which had been knowingly taken from her to ensure the people's safety as well as the safety of herself. Finally, her feather petticoat that she always wore loosely around her hips was gnarled and bent, most of the multicolored feathers fraying against her fingers. She didn't see how it wasn't appropriate at all. Sure, she had an angled amount of midriff showing from the cut of her top, which was held together by just three leather straps, but the rest of the outfit was pretty tame. Just khaki shorts and shin-high brown combat boots along with her petticoat of reds, whites, blues, greens, purples and gold.

She sighed, fingering the crusted outline of her petticoat. She would need to restring the entire thing. She and her mother had worked so hard to create the damned belt, and here she was, going to have to make the entire thing OVER because they didn't fold it or store it properly. The colors blended into each other beautifully; there wasn't a single seam in the transitions.

When she first put it on, she thought the thing reminded her of a peacock, but she came to like it with her father's convincing. She was royal, She was the only daughter of the Rogue King. She deserved to stand out. She deserved to be respected.

Ignoring the sand slut's warning, she quietly fastened herself into her outfit, sighing into the familiar feel of nylons and cotton against her skin. She tied her belt a little tighter than usual before staring into the vanity mirror. It wasn't too bad. She looked like she needed to eat an entire cow, but otherwise, she felt more like herself. She tied her shoelaces to her boots and wrapped some tape around her wrists to hide the ugly, black markings from the seals. They truly were an eyesore and made her cringe every time she saw them. The less she had to, the better!

She took a silver encrusted brush she found in the dresser and ran it through her hair as best as she could, bringing the knots to the bottom. Finally, she took a pair of fabric scissors and simply sheared the pests off. Her shoulder length hair quickly turned into a pixie cut, as she had continued to cut in trying to make the tendrils all the same length. Sighing, she placed the scissors down, even though she still wasn't satisfied. She would be bald by the time she found a length she enjoyed.

Her stomach growled adamantly, signaling time for that cow that she was supposed to eat. She flittered through the door after dumping the strands of blood-crusted hair into a trash bin.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It didn't take long for Akemi to spot the kitchen. She immediately began to rummage through the pantries of the gigantic space, grabbing everything from lunch meats and cheeses to waffles and maple syrup. She grabbed a fork, knife, spoon and glass of milk, prayed for a moment, and dug in with manners a little less than a barbarian.

She had forgotten what some foods actually tasted like. The sweet tang and crunchy flesh of an apple, the demure mellowness of a soft banana, the smoky flavor of a juicy piece of turkey; everything was old and new at the same time, sending lovely shivers up and down her spine.

She felt every morsel of food slide swiftly down her esophagus before flopping into the pits of her stomach. Each portion that made the journey and reached its destination only encouraged her gorging more, the last piece replaced by another. She couldn't stop. She didn't even falter in her speed when feet were heard trolling down the stairs. "Mhmmm, something smells good. Hey Tema, did you make that cake that was-"

The feet stopped. So did Akemi's mouth. She turned very slowly, her hand grasped around a chicken leg, her mouth filled with leftover mashed potatoes. Kankuro stood at the base of the stairs, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

There was a long silence. Akemi placed down her chicken leg as if to not startle him and slowly let the potatoes drop down to join the rest of her meal. She dabbed her sauce-stained lips with a napkin before placing it down gently next to her plate before turning back to Kankuro. "Sorry. I was a bit hungry."

He still stared at her, the same open mouth expression. "Akemi-san, did you really…?"

"Yes and I don't regret it."

"Yeah you will. You should have eaten slowly and only a little bit at first. You haven't eaten in three days! Your stomach probably isn't used to all of that food yet. It's going to reject-"

The rogue scoffed. "What are you, my mother?"

Kankuro crossed his arms, his eyebrows knitting in frustration. "Look, I'm just trying to help you out here. I've been living off of hospital food for the past few days. It sucks. It really does. But gorging isn't going to make it better."

Akemi looked down at her feast, nearly three fourths of it already gone. She was heading into the dessert portion with different packages of cookies, cakes and frozen ice cream bars, all three luxuries she never could particularly find or afford. She ripped open a package of brownies, and plopped one in her mouth in defiance at Kankuro.

The puppet master sighed, pulling his hands behind his neck. "Fine. Suit yourself. Don't ask me to hold back your hair when you start… Hey, you cut your hair?"

One the package was all but full, Akemi let her fingers graze the top of her botched pixie cut. Her let the tips of her fingers run over the healthy ends, twisting them to a point over her forehead. "Yeah, I couldn't get all of the blood out," she murmured, her eyes dark.

Kankuro's jaw softened. "Look, I'm sorry. I know girls have this weird attachment to their hair, so that was probably pretty hard on you. I mean, even I thought it was pretty when I first saw it, and with your Narcissist complex, I can only imagine-", he trailed, spying her clenching fingers.

Akemi glared. He stammered with a blush on his face. "I'm not saying that it looks bad, more like, uh, different! Just, I wasn't really expecting you to look like this, I mean, you're hair's still pretty, it's just in a different way and I, uh…"

"Hold up," Akemi motioned, the puppet master's lips flopping like a guppy. "You said the same thing twice."

"What'd I say?"

"You said my hair was pretty."

Kankuro blanched. Did he? Did he say it was? He certainly had always thought so, but would NEVER say it aloud to the rogue. From that first fight with the Tori no Suna girl, he couldn't help but mesmerize himself in the way that the dark red tendrils glittered against the sand, the radiance of the hue offsetting the jewel toned blue of her top. Even when it was grease covered and smeared with blood, her hair had depicted a painting in his eyes, the depths of the shades of red bouncing off of his retina like a trampoline. But, just because he thought so didn't mean he actually said it, did it?"

"I do not recall such a sentiment," he replied honestly. "Although, now that you mention it, from an artist's perspective, it is one of the most brilliant shades of sinopia I have ever seen."

She looked at him crudely, at the smile on his lips as he leaned against the banister. She had never even heard of that color before. "…Are you sure that's a color?"

"Absolutely!" he said, as if offended by her lack of knowledge. He took a seat diagonal to her, placing his hands on the table. "Come on, every great artist should know that one! Sinopia is a red-brown color that originated as an undertone for frescos. Naturally, the shade is a bit lighter than your hair," he paused. "But, according to some, the darker the sinopia, the more beautiful the fresco." He laughed for a moment, standing from the table and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Of course, then that would turn into Venetian red, but I don't think that's your color either. A Venetian-sinopia blend? Indistinguishable and unnamed by any man."

With that sentiment, he began his journey up the stairs. "By the way, Akemi-san, we're heading back to see Gaara at nightfall. Apparently, your Daddy-O had already sent something in regards to you. If you're going to yak, I suggest you do it before you leave and not on Temari's shoes. Just a warning." The door shut behind him and all was silent.

Akemi had lost her appetite, the cakes before her now looking more vulgar than she remembered them to be. He told her she was beautiful; at least, in an artist's perspective. That didn't necessarily mean that Kankuro held feelings for her, right? No. He had simply told her that she was pretty. There was no way that the man that she had nearly killed had any feelings for her other than extreme hate and malice. He had better not, she thought, an annoying bubbling reverberating through her tummy. I'll kick his ass harder than I did before. I can't have some sand brat on my tail.

The rogue started to clean her things from the table when the bubbling in her stomach turned into a sizzling wave of nausea. She grunted in frustration, cursed Kankuro's name, dropped her plates into the sink and bolted up to her room without even closing the door. She hurled all of her stomach contents into the porcelain throne, the stinging in the back of her throat a reminder of her once delicious meal and the pretty ridiculous bile that had spewed from the puppet master's mouth minutes ago.

She was getting too soft; letting something like a man's words get her nervous enough to throw her bowls into a sewer system. She couldn't stay here much longer. Hopefully her father had something better in store than just letting her rot away in this fucking place.

0o0o0o0o0o

This chapter brings in the start of my next semester at school! Make sure you leave me a few comments and reviews! I love love LOVE reading what you guys have to say about this! Continue to be the most amazing people you are!

Until next time!

Epsilion.