Destiny of the Cursed
Chapter 45: Waking to a nightmare
There was darkness; too much darkness and too much cold in the surroundings, and the agony he felt was relentless, making the boy on the cold, hard ground wonder 'why?' exactly. Try as hard as he might, he couldn't rack his mind for any useful information, for anything at all to remind him why he was suffering the way he was. All he remembered were the explosions, the smell of smoke, dirt and blood, and the bone-chilling screams that rang in his ears.
The more he thought about it, the more his head seemed to split apart in agony. The pain was the most overwhelming, he decided. It wasn't as painful as it had felt when Shukaku was extracted from him—nothing could compare to that moment; the pain was borderline inhumane—but the current agony coursing through his body remained unbearable nonetheless.
There was a source of endless noise too, just a few steps away from where he was, but the constant stream of statements were difficult to decipher using a pounding brain and so only some of the words were recognizable.
"…I know that, but when?"
"…have to wait, I'm sorry. You know there's too much…"
"—could've died. I don't know what I'd…"
"Don't go there, Tem. We promised not to say—"
In the chaotic mess of voices, one voice stood out the most, whispering quietly, softly inside his ear and it made him want to never wake nor open his eyes and acknowledge the others surrounding him, despite the pain and the cold. It repeated his name over and over and over, chanting it like a prayer and the boy suddenly remembered the sensation of cool tears dropping against his face, the acrid scent of blood lingering near him.
Gaara. Gaara. Gaara, Please… You can't die. I won't let you…
Was that what was happening? Was he dying? Why then, did it feel so painful?
The voice gradually became sadder, somehow broken and hysterical, sounding as if the person—the girl—breathing in his ear was sobbing or perhaps, gasping in pain. I love you, I love you… Though still uncertain, the shinobi could feel dread creeping up his heart, making breathing difficult, making his aching head hurt even more so.
There was something wrong, he knew it, and yet, the pain in his bones rendered him unable to move, unable to do anything but listen. There was something about this girl that bothered him greatly and made his chest tighten against his will, almost as if his heart wanted to give up on him.
I love you, I love you…I love you…
Somewhere behind the veil of darkness covering his sight, the chaos and noise had increased drastically. Not only were the people shouting—angry, terrified and startled— but there was an alarming series of high, shrill beeps of a machine as well, drowning out the murmurs of the girl in his head. Furrowing his brows in bewilderment and sudden terror, Gaara reached out to his side, willing his hands to come in contact with the girl whispering in his ear but came across nothing but thin air.
Fear seized his system and the redhead desperately searched the darkness, trying and failing to find the girl hiding from within the shadows. 'Don't go', he wanted to say, as his hands blindly grasped for something, anything, 'don't leave me.' The girl's voice was barely audible now, fading away with the rest of the pitch blackness and the pain.
I love you…I love you…I'm sorry…
Suddenly, light exploded from beneath his eyelids and Sabaku no Gaara sat up with a gasp, his aquamarine eyes wide and crazed, the agony threatening to consume his body. Everyone inside the tent halted their movements, frozen in disbelief as they stared at the boy with a shock of blood red hair plastered on his sweat-drenched forehead but the boy himself could care less about being the center of unwanted attention, his mind racing, a haze of confusion and panic clouding his rational thinking.
'What happened? Where am I? What am I doing here? Why does it hurt so much?'
The barrage of questions was overwhelming and it did nothing but worsen his lack of breath. With a pained hiss, the boy clutched at his aching head and his eyes watered slightly as he noticed a little too late that his throat was too dry for comfort. There was a burning sensation both in his torso and his back, his muscles feeling stiff and taut, almost as if he hadn't used them in his whole life.
Looking down, Gaara noticed—with a rapidly developing feeling of nausea—that his whole upper body was wrapped in white bandages and the dried spots of blood indicated exactly where it hurt the most. The burning pain in his back worsened as well, if possible.
There was a moment of ringing silence, and then a flash of what could be considered as a memory whizzed through his mind: of him lying with his back against the rough rocks, of a voice, deep and rumbling, that constantly spewed out incoherent words, of immense pain, the feeling of something cold and sharp piercing through his very soul.
There was a fleeting moment wherein he remembered exactly how he had felt back then, the fear, outrage and overwhelming worry for somebody else threatening to drive him insane; but it was gone so fast that he was once more forced to feel the sharp throb of pain of his healing wounds.
Evening out his ragged breathing and acknowledging, for the first time, the scared crowd of people standing before him, the redhead stiffened and the fear that he felt earlier returned with intensity tenfold of that of the previous. He fixed his apprehensive gaze on one of the anxious people dressed in white—a medic, he realized—and asked in a low, hoarse whisper, "What's…going on?"
The medic squeaked under the inquiry and sent the others a hasty glance asking for assistance before blinking nervously at the young man whose aquamarine stare seemed to never waver and yet at the same time, looked so lost. "C-Call them in!" He told another medic, hurriedly shoving him out of the tent. "Hurry, Isamu!"
"H-Hai!"
No sooner than when the latter had said it, he entered the tent once more, this time bringing with him two more people in tow and Gaara allowed himself to drop his guard a little at the familiar faces that his eyes focused on.
"Te…mari. Kankuro…"
"Oh my god." The hoarse whisper rushed out of his sister's mouth as a breathless and relieved exhale and Temari strode forward, shoving medics out of her path unapologetically in order to reach her youngest brother's side. The blonde propped a knee on the mattress in her haste as she flung her arms around the boy and crushed him against her. "Gaara." Despite the uncomfortable ache of bruises that stung him mercilessly under Temari's force, Gaara didn't have the heart to deny his sister's obvious relief, not when she was a shaking, muttering mess that threatened to suffocate him.
"You're alive. Thank goodness. Thank goodness, you're alright." Temari's words were all in a rush to escape her mouth, wanting to be heard all at the same time. She wasn't sobbing or wailing, not even close to hiccupping, unlike how the other females were inclined to do in such circumstances but Gaara decided that this was worse, the way his sister shook uncontrollably, as if something or someone had finally broken the strong as steel Temari.
"Temari..." Leaning against his eldest sibling and burrowing his face in her shoulder in order to calm her down and reassure her that yes, he was alive and yes, he was not going anywhere, Gaara drew a deep breath and relished in the warmth that Temari radiated, the tent he was situated into—much too bright and warm—a far cry from the cold darkness that he was previously drowning in.
By his other side, he could feel another presence making itself known to both of them, the newcomer carefully sitting down on the bed and wrapping its long arms around him and his sister. "We were so worried, jan." Kankuro murmured from behind them and Gaara distractedly took notice of the sudden absence of the medics; they had been polite—or perhaps intimidated by his siblings—enough to give the three of them some privacy.
"The medics said you were in a critical condition. We thought you'd never wake. We were going crazy."
His brother's voice was rough, dry and quieter than Gaara had remembered it to be but calmer compared to Temari's. Reluctantly shifting inside his sister's embrace, Gaara craned his neck in order to spare his brother a glance and as soon as his tired gaze blinked focus onto Kankuro's features, the redhead jerked away from his sister in order to reach out and urgently lay a hand on his brother's face. "What is this?" The young Kazekage demanded, sounding so forceful and upset even with his pathetic, broken voice. "Who did this to you?"
"Is it that bad?" Kankuro managed a sheepish grin under the redhead's worried glare. The wound was still fresh, an angry red cut that started from the end of the shinobi's eyebrow and extended down, stopping short of reaching Kankuro's jaw. "I got it during the last battle. Some asshole wielding a huge blade decided it was fun to swing it around."
Extracting his arms back in order to reach a hand up and trace the jagged cut on the right side of his face, the puppeteer waved a dismissive hand, "This is nothing to worry about, Gaara. It'll fade." Then he snorted, and added in a worried, scolding tone, "And seriously, otouto, you should be more worried for yourself. That Uchiha prick really did a number on you."
As Temari finally pulled away from Gaara, there were red tracks smudged on the sides of her eyes, the blotchy spots that stood out against the blonde's sickly complexion indicating dried up tears. Temari sniffed as subtly as she could, the back of her hand wiping the remaining wetness without any gentleness of any kind. Turning to face Gaara, any hints of ease disappeared and Temari adopted a worried expression once more. She reached out, her calloused fingers brushing crimson locks away in a surprising gentle manner as she voiced out in question, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." He responded automatically, choosing to ignore his sister's tight-lipped grimace when his voice broke into a short coughing session that left his throat raw. Never mind that his eyes watered at the sore sensation lingering in his throat and that his body was screaming for him to cease all movements; the air of confusion and cluelessness around him was too suffocating to disregard further.
"Temari, Kankuro", he began in a cautious tone, already dreading the answer he was bound to receive, "Where are we?"
"Medical camp." Kankuro said from his right as the older boy laid a comforting hand on his back. His brother seemed to know everything else that he wanted to ask, for the puppeteer added in a grave voice, "You've been out cold for three days now. Chakra exhaustion, torn muscles, several lacerations and severe blood loss resulting from the two deep wounds you sported—one on your side, the other on your back, short of puncturing a lung—according to the medics. It's a wonder you're even well enough to speak now, jan."
Another flash of an indistinct memory flew past his brain, but the boy waved it off, his attention caught by a more worrisome detail. "Three days?" Gaara echoed in a croak, eyes narrowing in a mixture of disbelief and sudden frustration. He sat up straight, tense and as stiff as a board as he continued, "What of the war? And who is handling my platoon?"
As the dilemmas of his situation made themselves known one by one, the pain was soon forgotten and Gaara pulled himself out of bed just as his sister stood up and out of his way. "I need to get back to the battlefield." The change in altitude brought up a feeling of dizziness but even that wasn't enough to derail the redhead from his mission. He wobbled to the far corner of the tent, pushing past his siblings to grab his coat and vest.
"Gaara." From the way her eyebrows furrowed deeply and her breath hitched, it was obvious that Temari was upset. "You've only just woken up." She reminded him, clenching her hands in order to keep her emotions in check. "The others are doing fine by themselves. The other Kages are up and about, and Uzumaki and Killer Bee-san are there with the rest of the platoons too. Let them handle Madara and the masked man."
"I'd listen to Tem on this one, Gaara." Kankuro supported his sister's plea with a deep frown, his eyes trained on the dried blotches of blood in the bandages wrapped around his youngest brother. They were quickly put out of sight as Gaara shrugged on his maroon uniform and turned to face them. "Now, I ain't insulting your abilities when I say this, but you have to know that you're not exactly in a good condition to fight right now. Besides, we received a report that Kabuto was defeated by an unknown somebody. Doesn't really matter who it was; the Edo Tensei jutsu was stopped either way."
"That piece of good news isn't enough." Gaara told them in protest, glancing up in order to give them a leveled stare as he rummaged their shared belongings in search of a soldier pill. "You said it yourself, we're still against Uchiha Madara and his fake."
His hands bumped against a container and immediately, he plucked it out, opening the bottle and popping one of the dark green tablets into his mouth. He swallowed it dry and didn't have to wait long to feel a fresh wave of chakra entering his weakened system. Everything felt alive once more, his eyesight brighter, his movements faster and more alert. The pill unfortunately heightened his pain receptors too, for every wound felt much sorer but Gaara took it all in stride.
"My sand is essential in battle." He said and spared them a look. "And so are yours."
Kankuro deflated at the reminder, his shoulders slumping as he recognized defeat. Temari, however, wasn't as easy to give up. "Fine." She snapped in annoyance, narrowing her teal gaze at her brother. "I'll lead the Suna squad then. With my help and Kankuro's, I'm pretty sure we're all set. We won't need your assistance any longer."
"What are you so worried about?" Gaara asked her so suddenly when he finished fastening the strap of his gourd, in such a genuinely curious tone that it made the blonde halt her angry tirade. Both Temari and Kankuro stopped their movements, their worried gazes fixed on the young Kazekage.
"You'll be there to watch my back, won't you?" He asked them, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "I trust the two of you with my life. And I know you won't disappoint me." At his statement, Temari broke her gaze and scowled, hissing profanities under her breath as she marched towards her pack. "Give me five minutes." She growled at her brothers, her annoyance at losing the argument rising in full bloom. "Now you two get out of here, before I change my mind and hit you both with my damn fan."
Despite the weight of the circumstances, Kankuro couldn't help the bittersweet smile that took over his exhausted expression. "Alright, alright. Easy there." He told Temari, placing his hands up in mock surrender and beckoned for Gaara. "Come on, jan." He pushed one hand against the flap of the tent, exposing the camp to the redhead as the older boy ushered him out. It was almost sunset, the remains of yellow light barely visible from beneath the forest located in front of the camp.
As he was pushed out of the tent, Gaara took in their surroundings with a wary scan, his lips thinned as he followed with his eyes several critically wounded shinobi being brought into their own designated tents. At the sight, Gaara frowned faintly, confusion hitting him anew. "Kankuro." The redhead called out of the blue, interrupting the silence that spanned out between them. Beside him, his brother grunted in response. "Yeah, Gaara?"
The younger of the two hesitated for a moment, a wave of anxiety flowing through him as he began in an uncertain tone, "How…", Gaara swallowed thickly, glancing up at the puppeteer and waiting for the boy to meet his gaze before he continued, "How did the medics find me?"
From where he was fixing his brown jounin vest, Kankuro stiffened and his hands halted their work as his dark gaze turned to Gaara. An odd expression settled on Kankuro's face and it did nothing to ease the growing nervousness that the redhead felt welling up inside his chest. "You don't remember." His brother deadpanned in a worried tone, his eyebrows furrowing. The lack of face paint made Kankuro's emotions more readable than ever and Gaara felt his heart skip a beat as he saw panic flash through Kankuro's eyes.
"I remember fighting against Madara. With the Kages." Gaara supplied hastily and watched as the brunette somehow grew a little relieved. "But I don't understand how the medical team found me." He looked down, aquamarine eyes glowering at the ground as the cloud of confusion hanging around him proved to be thicker than ever. "I was…farther than the others. I was the last one left."
"You—", Kankuro broke off his statement when the redhead looked up fast, averting his gaze away from his brother's face and instead directing his shamed expression to the side. "When they found you…you weren't alone, Gaara."
Furrowing his eyebrows, Gaara grimaced, staring at the latter with disbelief. "That's not possible." He argued, making the move to cross his arms, only to change his mind and set them back down in discomfort. "I fell unconscious when Madara struck me. There wasn't—" Realization made him stop in midsentence and as he fell silent, with his eyes widening so suddenly, Kankuro glanced at him in concern.
"Gaara? Gaara, what's wrong?"
Kankuro's voice went unregistered as bits of memories came back to Gaara all at once, scenes of battle flashing before his very eyes and making him see a certain brunette kneeling on the ground, kneeling just beside his head as his vision blurred from the agony—the very same girl whose voice whispered in his ear, calling out his name desperately.
Gaara, Gaara. Gaara. Gaara! GAARA, PLEASE!
Flashback
Darkness surrounded him and the scent of blood was everywhere; on his face, on his hands, the metallic taste stuck in his mouth, and the warmth of it present underneath his back, pooling all around him, dark, crimson and thick. There were explosions erupting somewhere not very far from where he was lying, facing skyward and choking on his own spit and blood.
"G-Get…" There was that voice, the stubborn yet equally helpless voice, whose determination never seemed to waver, even though it was the very same voice that released those heart-shattering screams of agony every time the explosions sounded off. "Get a-away from him, YOU BASTARD!"
Gaara didn't understand who the person was, and didn't remember why she was there exactly; he was certain that they'd sent everyone away from here before engaging in a fight with the Uchiha Madara. And it seemed that they were correct to assume that there was no one from the platoons that could handle the legendary figure. Even they, the Five Kages, hailed leaders and the greatest shinobi in their respective villages, weren't enough to stand against Madara.
And yet, this person…no, this girl, was fearless, even when facing the man.
'W-Who…is she?' The dazed redhead could only ask himself, unable to crane his head up or even move a muscle; the excruciating pain that earlier tormented him was no more, but it left him numb to the point of being immobile and utterly helpless with his eyes unable to do so much as to blink open.
Another series of explosions erupted, causing the ground to shake at the impact left. The last one was the most destructive, as far as Gaara could tell, since it was the loudest and the aftershock it brought was quite lengthy. There were no more that followed after that and the sudden silence was unnerving. There wasn't even a groan of protest or pained gasping that usually followed suit. From afar, the motionless redhead heard the distinct voice of Uchiha Madara drone out, deep and taunting.
The sound of shuffling rocks, rolling away, crushed underneath staggering feet and without warning, clammy hands settled on his bloody neck and the very same voice belonging to the fearless girl breathed out against his face, the warmth of her exhale a comforting change against his cold skin, "Spare him…Please."
End Flashback
"Gaara!"
Snapping out of his trance, the redhead found himself face to face with his worried brother, Kankuro's hands gripping both his shoulders with a frown. When aquamarine met moss green eyes, the puppeteer grimaced at his younger sibling. "Gaara", the older lad exhaled, letting go of his brother's shoulders reluctantly, "what—"
"Katana." The boy interrupted so suddenly that Kankuro was rendered speechless. Glassy sea foam-colored orbs flickered up, staring helplessly at Kankuro's wide eyes, and dread crashed through Gaara's system, his blood running cold as he inquired breathlessly, "Where's Katana?"
The sight of the feared Kazekage running through the dirt path with a hysterical kind of haste—aquamarine eyes wide with a secret fear, jaw tight and mouth murmuring incoherent words and his red hair wildly brushing with the wind—was a spectacle for anyone to behold.
Somewhere from within the camp, hot in pursuit with his trail were his siblings, both respected Suna jounins interrupting several patients from their slumbers and stirring up fright in the medics as Temari and Kankuro screamed at the top of their lungs for Gaara to GET BACK HERE, GAARA! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? and that YOU'LL OPEN YOUR STITCHES, YOU IDIOT!
All their efforts were proven to be all for vain as the redhead all but blatantly ignored their calls, the young lad blinded by a more pressing matter. With his heart pounding in protest against his ribcage and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, Gaara ignored the painful burn of muscles and the sting of wounds as his stitches were pulled at.
Finally, his eyes darted up and he recognized the tent number carelessly given away by an unsuspecting medic he ambushed and threatened earlier. Without warning, Gaara burst inside the tent, sending the flaps flying away and his eyes hastily settled on the unmoving form on the bed. Briskly and with his heart roaring inside his chest, Gaara rushed inside, filled with the intent to reach the side of the bed.
"I wouldn't, if I were you."
Eyes widening, Gaara's breath hitched inside his throat at the sound of the familiar voice, just as confident as he knew it was and yet sounding oddly cold.
'Katana.'
With little hesitation, Gaara turned around, more than ready to embrace the girl behind him and berate her for the unnecessary worry she had unintentionally caused him. His relief was cut short, however, when instead of welcoming arms, he was met by the glinting tip of Katana's silver sword. "What…?" He trailed off in disbelief, staring incredulously at the weapon pointed dangerously at him, "Katana—"
"I'm not her."
His head shot up quickly as Gaara finally looked at the girl and true to her word, instead of the lively grey eyes that he was expecting to see, Gaara found himself staring back at lifeless ebony eyes that burned with cold anger. The relief he felt vanished and Gaara narrowed his eyes at the kunoichi standing before him, glancing down at the blade positioned at the base of his throat before glaring back up at the girl.
"You." He said, half parts disappointed and half parts outraged, his grief momentarily forgotten. "What are you doing here?" The tone of his voice continued the rest of his biting statement: you're not supposed to be out.
A sick kind of amusement briefly crossed the copy's gaze before cold indifference settled back in her eyes once more. "Me?" She echoed innocently as she held the sword with a steady hand, looking accusingly at the boy. "What about you?" She asked mockingly, pressing the cool blade against the lad's skin and reveling on the sudden stiffness of his shoulders.
"You've got some guts, boy." The Katana look-alike sneered and Gaara realized with a harsh scowl of his own that he hated seeing that such expression of hatred on Katana's face—no matter that she wasn't really Katana. "Barging in like that, asking me what I'm doing here and acting as if you own the place…when you're the reason I'm stuck outside."
"What do you mean?" Gaara asked, narrowing his gaze on her and remaining undeterred by the iciness of her tone. The chill of the katana was seeping into his skin and he could feel the slight pressure against his flesh, but he had been through hell and back; a sharp blade against his jugular was child's play. "I'm afraid I don't understand." He stated, and it must've been the mixture of exhaustion and anxiety that pushed him over the edge, because before he could stop himself, he added in a harsher tone, "Because as far as I'm concerned, I try my best not to ever interact with the likes of you."
Complete silence took over and it seemed as if the temperature inside the room dropped to a negative value as the tent was filled with the copy's immensely cold rage. "Quite the ungrateful little freak, aren't you?" The copy remarked ominously in a whisper, breaking the silence and sounding just about ready to murder Gaara in cold blood. Her eyes glinted in the dim light of the room and Gaara tensed, reflexively intensifying his glare on her.
For a blood-curdling moment, the blade moved closer—close enough to puncture the skin on his pale neck and make him bleed rivers—and Gaara wasted no time in whipping his arms up and slamming the copy down on the floor with his sand, the brown particles heavily bearing down on the thrashing curse and creating a cocoon around her form.
"You fucking BASTARD—"
"Enough!" Gaara bit out angrily, grimacing at the creature that kept on fighting her way out of his sand. Out of reflex, he tightened the hold of the sand around her and scowled deeply at the string of foul words that escaped her growling mouth. "This is all your fault!" She all but roared at him, ignoring his demands and squirming inside the sand coffin. With increasing anger, Gaara glowered down viciously, his hand squeezing in a threatening manner. "Stop struggling, or I'll—"
"You'll what? Kill me?" The double automatically snapped back in retort and her tone made Gaara stop in his tracks. He'd had encounters of Katana's look-alike before, and while all of them mostly displayed the copy's obnoxious attitude and explosive temper, none of her previous lividness could compare to the raw emotion burning in her eyes as she hissed the threat at him.
"Do it, then, boy." The curse spat again, distracting the redhead from his thoughts. "Do it. Crush me. And end your little girlfriend's misery along with me!" The copy wasn't just angry; she was hysterical and outraged, mouth twisted into a snarl and her onyx eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
With a growing feeling of discomfort, the redhead took note of the redness around the latter's eyes and the drying moisture down her cheeks. She had been crying. The realization made him sick for unknown reasons and despite the ire he felt for the double, Gaara lowered his arm. "Enough." He said again, in the same hard tone he used earlier but all the coldness had vanished and been replaced with a heavy underlying exhaustion. "This is not helping anyone."
Besides, Gaara thought grudgingly, she was right. If he tried to hurt her in any way, he'd be hurting Katana as well. The brunette herself had shared him that piece of information years ago. Reluctantly, he allowed the sand to loosen its grip and slide away but not before shooting the curse a wary glare and pointedly taking a step back when she went near him to be able to get to the benches.
To his surprise, instead of glowering back, the latter avoided his eyes and directed fiery gaze to the unmoving form on the bed. Carelessly, Gaara followed her line of sight, unconsciously stepping forward in order to see clearer. As his eyes fell upon the patient, air left the redhead's lungs and it was as if the weight of the world fell upon his shoulders.
Despite wanting nothing more than to look away, to turn and close his eyes tightly in order to erase the sight he was seeing now, Gaara found himself unable to do so much as to even blink, and to his growing horror and nausea, the boy was stepping closer and closer, until he stopped by the bedside where the full impact of the fight against Madara Uchiha was displayed in detail.
The unconscious girl on the bed was nothing more than a broken mess, a body of wounded limbs and blood-soaked bandages, several of the said bandages wrapped around her ribs and chest. Around the brunette's neck, a dainty string dangled, holding by the very end the hourglass that he gave her as a parting gift.
Bruises—some light purple, a few colored fading green, others an ugly blue and many still painted in angry violet—marred Katana's skin and as aquamarine eyes traveled upwards, to the girl's face, Gaara took note of the chalk white pallor, her bandaged forehead and of her pale, bluing lips still tainted with a bit of dried blood.
By the opposite side of the bed, near the copy, the heart machine was situated, beeping in a monotonous and heart-breaking pace. Reaching out, the redhead allowed his fingers to hesitate before finally brushing against the length of Katana's forearm with a gentleness he hadn't known he possessed.
The silent young lad dropped his gourd by the bed post and settled himself down on the side of the bed, ignoring the protesting creak of the bed frame as he leaned down, his hand brushing away the splayed brown locks on the girl's forehead before he pressed his lips against the bandages there. He closed his eyes and took in the coldness of skin underneath his touch, realizing late the presence of continuous moisture sliding down his face and realizing even later the fact that they were tears.
It was as if his whole being wanted to explode from the anguish he felt. Pressing his eyes closer, an attempt to block out the pain squeezing his chest, Gaara knocked his forehead against Katana's, his hands sliding down to the side, twisting the bed sheets into tight fistfuls until his knuckles shook and turned white from pressure.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to scream until his throat bled, scream until the searing agony in his chest was reduced into empty hollowness. Flashes of memories whizzed before his eyes, scenes of spilled blood, of the sickening crack of bones as a body was brought down against the ground without mercy and the tormented cries of pain, the voice belonging to a person so familiar that it hurt, hurt, hurt.
He could vividly remember the way her grey eyes smoldered with emotion—worry, dedication, an outright stubbornness that Gaara both loved and hated, and such love that made her irises turn into a brilliant silver—the way her hands grabbed at his collar roughly as she crashed their lips together, how she held onto him as if she never wanted to let go. Her parting words echoed in his ears, the brunette glaring fiercely into his eyes and angrily ordering him—"Stay alive."
Flashback
"Stay safe." He told her in a whisper, unwilling to let go, yet stuck with the fact that this was the only way to keep her safe. The stiffness in her form as he held her was heartbreaking and Gaara knew that deep inside, Katana must hate him in some way, because what he was doing was simply not fair. But then again, none of the things in this world were fair either.
"The hourglass I gave you…hold onto it." It was the only thing he could say to reassure her and the redhead knew that even that wasn't enough. Even to his ears, it sounded as nothing more than a pathetic lie.
As the tension in her body increased, Katana shoved away his hands from her arms and Gaara was caught in surprise as he was pulled forward by the collar, the brunette's hands tight and rough on the fabric of his clothes as she lowered his face down onto hers.
As soon as their lips crashed into a demanding kiss, Gaara's willpower all but crumbled down into dust and he sighed silently, giving in into Katana's desperate plea. He pressed his eyes shut and kissed her back, slowly, gently despite the girl's heated ministrations.
She tasted like mint and blood, Gaara thought distractedly and felt himself melting against her as her hands came up to the back of his neck and her fingers buried themselves into the thickness of his hair. In response, he wound his arms around her torso, pulling her impossibly closer despite the fact that there was no space left between them. He wanted to disappear; to stay just like this and never let go. But his wishes were useless and little by little, Gaara felt the nagging need for air.
They broke apart, Katana pulling away first with a breathless gasp that made Gaara's heart stutter. He reluctantly loosened his hold as she stepped away, watching dejectedly as she raised a threatening finger in front of his face. "Stay alive."
End flashback
'I should've listened to her.' Clenching his fists tighter around the balls of white sheet under his grip, Gaara gritted his jaw, the silence leaving him to wallow in his sadness, frustrated beyond belief and outraged with himself. 'I should've been more careful! Then maybe she wouldn't have gone there to help me…Maybe she wouldn't have been in this situation right now…' Slowly, he reached down to grasp a hand, limp, frail and lifeless inside his warm touch. It was all cold skin and unresponsive muscles. Gaara disregarded all of that and instead, intertwined their fingers, just like how they used to do so many times before.
He remembered how she uttered his name in a mantra, over and over and over, unrelenting and so, so stubborn despite the presence of her tears. Gaara. Gaara. Gaara, Gaara. GAARA! It made him wonder briefly just how devoted the brunette was to him, at what lengths she'd go for him. It made him wonder and question himself rather critically if he would ever do the same thing for her.
'Katana…' As desperately as he wanted to say her name out loud, to apologize, to cry and plead for her to open her eyes and dammit, please wake up, please look at me pleasepleaseplease, Gaara found himself too ashamed of himself to even try, 'Katana, I'm so sorry…'
"She's in a coma."
He heard his sister's quiet voice by the entrance of the tent, but the redhead made no move away from the girl on the bed, not even when his brother joined them not a second later, panting and catching up with his breath. "Gaara", Kankuro gasped from behind, coming to a stop beside their sister, "W-We…we didn't want you to see this, jan." His brother's helpless statement made his chest ache and sting with an agony he didn't know was possible to experience. "You weren't ready."
From where he sat, hunched over an unconscious person, Gaara sucked in an impossibly deep breath, releasing it as a harsh exhale. "Temari. Kankuro." He said in a murmur, his voice on the verge of breaking down and crumbling apart, "I need a moment alone."
"But, Gaara—"
"Please."
His siblings fell silent at his stubborn insistence and with sad words of 'we'll be right outside', the two of them left their youngest brother alone in the presence of a comatose girl and her cold look-alike. Silence stretched itself between the three and in what felt like an agonizing eternity, Gaara did nothing but brush his lips and fingers against Katana's pale skin, breathing out incoherent words and thoughts put together senselessly as he brought their foreheads together.
I love you. I'm sorry. Wake up. I love you. Please forgive me. Don't leave me. I love you. Please. Please. Wake up, Katana. Please.
The thoughts were all a jumble in his mind and it seemed that everything just had to get out of his system, the sentences stumbling over the other. Every word that left his mouth stung him like a blade and every time he whispered 'wake up' only to have it fall on deaf ears left him with a heavy conscience and a heavier heart.
Finally, the boy opened his eyes and from beneath his wet eyelashes, he stared dejectedly at the closed eyelids of the girl he loved. Clearing his throat as an indication for the conversation that was bound to happen, Gaara sat a little straighter but didn't take his eyes off Katana. "My siblings…" he began, using his knuckles to stroke a cheek and sliding his fingers through chestnut locks to straighten them out, "They are aware of you."
"Yes." There was a slight pause, and then, "They were the ones who saw me bring you and the girl back here."
"What happened?"
From the corner of his eye, he distractedly noticed the copy shrug in indignation, the movement of her shoulders harsh and jerky. "It was Madara." She said with a snarl in between her words, her tone clipped and irritated but laced with an underlying hint of frustrated sadness. "He had the Rinnegan. Played with her after he was done with you, and tossed her around like a rag doll. You could only guess the end result." At the quick explanation, Gaara nodded curtly, rage flashing through his gaze at the mention of the legendary man's name. 'So he did this…'
"Madara left after the brat convinced him to spare you your pathetic life. Of course, he had to stab her in the back first." The look-alike snorted in disgust and she shook her head, her glare pinned on the floor below. "She tried to heal you—or revive you—and she did. The brat released every bit of her remaining chakra, unconsciously expelling me from her body as well. She fell unconscious after that."
Onyx eyes flickered up, staring pointedly at Gaara's face, the latter knowing that the redhead knew she was staring too, despite the fact that he made no move to acknowledge it. "The two of you would've died and I was left with no choice but to carry you back myself. I was the one who brought both of you back to the medical camp, after I got out of her body."
"And now you don't want to go back?"
There was no malice left in his tone—he was much too mentally and emotionally drained to even have the strength left to be accusing—but the copy misunderstood it anyway, growling low and retaliating in a biting voice, "Don't think this is my choice, boy!" She snapped, muscles tensing so suddenly. "If it were up to me, I'd go back in a heartbeat." The copy was too angry to even notice what she had confessed out loud. "The problem is that I can't."
For the first time since he laid eyes on Katana, Gaara finally spared the copy a glance. "Why not?" He asked, studying the girl's troubled expression. The girl's dark gaze met his and the copy pressed her lips in a thin line, her eyes darting towards her container before returning to stare back at the boy again.
"I don't know." The copy admitted finally, sighing in defeat and slumping down on her seat as she pinned her glare on the ground, for once looking vulnerable, "I tried. I tried going back and I. Fucking. Couldn't. It's as if her body's rejecting me. All those times that I went in and out of her body, she was always conscious. And now that she's in…" Gesturing blindly at the patient, the curse spat out in frustration, "that state, I just couldn't."
"I see." He muttered with a slight nod, looking down at the unconscious girl and feeling his heart clench in grief. Bending down, he pressed his mouth against unresponsive, cold lips, ignoring the harsh squeeze of his heart as the girl failed to kiss him back, and breathed out a silent promise.
The redhead stood up in one fluid motion, grabbing his gourd in the process, and turned to face the person sitting on the bench, looking so much like Katana yet so unlike her at the same time that it hurt. "Thank you." He said curtly as he slid on the straps of his sand container, voice devoid of any distinct emotion. The copy glanced up at his statement and looked so surprised that Gaara added helpfully, "For saving me as well."
For a split second, the boy would swear seeing genuine gratitude flashing through the copy's eyes but it was gone so fast that Gaara wasn't sure if it was real or not, and he was left with a sardonic girl once more, who snorted out loud and smiled in a manner that wasn't so welcoming. "Don't take it so personally, boy." The tone of voice she used when speaking indicated some sort of omniscience, as if she had lived long before he was even born. "I didn't do it out of love or pity or whatever it is that you're expecting to hear. It was purely out of self-preservation."
Glancing at the patient on the bed, a thoughtful look crossed the copy's features. "This brat…Katana—", surprise flashed through Gaara's eyes when he heard the look-alike say Katana's name for the first time and if he had been any other person, he wouldn't have the ability to suppress it just in time as the copy looked up, "—was stubborn enough to give up her life in order to save yours. If I left you where you were—and I wanted to do that badly—and she woke up to hear that you had died, there's no doubt that she'd probably just kill herself again." The copy smirked, slow and amused. "She's such an idiot."
Watching the way the copy's hard gaze softened ever so slightly as she stared at Katana, Gaara felt some of the tension in his body ebb away and he gave the latter a last nod of acknowledgement, "I have business to attend to. Stay here and don't go anywhere."
"I wouldn't dream of leaving."
Reaching a hand out for one of the flaps, Gaara noticed just then the weapon that the copy had wielding, leaning against the bench. The sword was out of its sheath, the casing probably misplaced, and the redhead just then noticed the drying blood that caked the usually stainless blade. Whose, Gaara didn't know but the cold dread that crept up to him like a shadow told him otherwise. "Whose blood is this?" Gaara found himself murmuring in question, already half-afraid of the answer he would get. He wasn't disappointed.
"Katana's." The copy said in a deadly whisper, her expression darkening as she remembered. "Uchiha Madara struck her the final blow with her own sword." Breath hitching, Gaara nodded mutely and choked down on the bubbling nausea inside his throat. The hatred that ran through his veins, however, was a different thing entirely. That, he allowed to take complete reign over him.
The redhead craned his head back, giving the look-alike one last look, "I'll be back." With no further explanation, the Kazekage stepped out of the tent and into the cold surroundings of the medical camp. As soon as he was out in the open, night had completely taken over, the darkness around them lessened only by the torches of fire that stood on the sides of each tent. The young Kazekage found himself facing his platoon, shinobi and kunoichi alike standing outside of the tent the whole time, waiting for their general to show up. 'Temari and Kankuro must've gathered them while I was away…'
When the first few soldiers saw him, everyone dissolved from chatters to hushed whispers, falling into sudden silence. Gaara allowed his gaze to travel, scanning each face and seeing the determination and loyalty of each and every one that stood before him. The redhead also didn't miss the several worried glances sent his way, the wounds and bruises on his face and the dried tear tracks on his pale cheeks no doubt catching the attention of many.
Try as he might, the young Kazekage couldn't find the words of encouragement his men needed to hear from him. How could he, when he himself was reduced to this broken shell of what he was once, his heart heavy with sorrow, spirit shattered and weaknesses bared out on the open for everyone to see?
From the side, his siblings must've had noticed the hesitance in his stance by now, along with exhaustion, agony, heartbreak and many other burdens that weighed him down, but if they had, then they offered no inquiries about it. Mustering up the courage he knew he had no more, Gaara sucked in a deep breath and hardened his gaze, willing himself to hide behind the mask perfected with years of practice. He will not—and could not break. Not now. Not in front of the people looking at him for guidance. His hands balled into fists and then his voice rang out, cold and hard, unnervingly steely.
"Everyone, move out!"
At his command, a deafening chorus of 'Hai, Kazekage-sama!' rang out, echoing throughout the dead silence of the medical camp and bringing some sort of life to the glum surroundings. As they leapt out and ran, with Gaara leading in the very front, the redhead narrowed his eyes at the distance and clenched his fists by his sides, feeling the chill of the night creeping through his clothes, reminding him of how Katana's cold lips felt against his.
'Uchiha Madara…I'll make you regret what you did.'
End Chapter
Author's Note: Well, this is...sad. It's sad, people. I have no other words to describe it. But in the first place, I did aim for a tragic chapter so I guess this is actually a job well done for me. I'm sorry to not have updated for so long. Q.Q You guys know me, I'm a lazy bummer. That, and the fact that I've got so many projects in school. -.-"
Anyway, I hope this is an okay chapter for you guys. Tell me what you think about it, yeah?
Enjoy and review!