Author's Note: I know, I know-one whole year without a chapter update, what the hell, am I right? An apology or a 'thank you' won't be enough to express my deepest gratitude for your patience and regrets for making you guys wait this long. So instead of any of those, I'll just leave this right here.
(P.S. I'm pretty sure I was leaking brain matter out of my ears as I wrote this; it's hella hard, my writer's block is terrible and I am in dire need of practice when it comes to writing; I could only hope this chapter is worth your while.)
Enjoy and review!
Destiny of the Cursed
Chapter 50: What's Left of Us
broken (adjective)
past participle of break
split apart into fragments after having been struck with something hard
(broken bones, broken knuckles, broken hearts)
destroyed by adversity, to be badly hurt by grief or misfortune
(broken souls, broken thoughts, broken smiles)
no longer whole, no longer in working condition
(broken pieces of what's left behind, useless, pathetic, disgraceful)
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Katana Yotsuki
(a broken soldier, a broken girl)
'Pathetic. Weak. Worthless. What use are you to anyone anymore?'
The crash of waves against the rocky cliff side didn't do much to drown out the taunting voice inside Katana's head. She took in a series of even breaths, delivering a solid punch to the wooden post, and then another, and another, until the tingling pain building up in her knuckles was finally bad enough to serve as a distraction from the emptiness she felt festering in her gut.
There was a telltale rumble of the sky but even as several rain drops collided against her sweat-drenched skin, Katana paid it no heed, too absorbed with the way her fists connected against the wooden surface, denting it with every hard blow and leaving behind faint stains of crimson.
The air smelled like blood and sweat and tears and reminded her too much of the battlefield.
Katana wanted to throw up.
But perhaps it was better to feel this way, for her to feel overwhelmed to the point of being sick to the gut instead of feeling like she was hollow, like she was some porcelain doll that fell and shattered into a million pieces and was left behind. It was better to feel this way than to feel useless.
'No one wants a broken soldier, little girl.'
"Shut up." She snarled out, speaking and breaking the deafening silence for the first time.
She threw in a punch, growling profanities under her breath and allowed her feet to join in with the beating, hitting the post with a force so great that she knew she'd be badly bruised tomorrow. "How dare you?" She hissed under her breath as she attacked the post despite the heavy downpour all around her, narrowed eyes straining to see through the tears and rain.
"How dare you?"
A particularly cruel roundhouse kick sent the post creaking ominously and the distant flash of lightning followed it.
"I am strong enough."
Another punch, another kick, another creak of protest, a roar of thunder.
"I've been strong enough all this time, what the hell do you know?" She screamed at the weeping horizon, desperate outrage flashing through her glassy gaze. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. "I am not—" punch. kick. "—helpless. I am not pathetic!" She refused to let up, uncaring of her skinned knuckles and bruised feet, uncaring of the way the wood bent dangerously underneath her blows, uncaring of the way her vision dimmed with every second and the way her body shuddered from the chilly air—
"I am not weak!"
Her hands formed a pattern of seals, uncaring of the agony, uncaring of the shame, of the fear.
As soon as chakra stung her bloody fist, she brought down, shutting her eyes as the wood shattered violently and a thousand splinters flew in all directions, piercing flesh and resembling needles as they dug into her skin. Katana fell to her knees before the mess, shaky, bleeding hands banging angrily at the ground, and a rough sob escaped her aching throat.
"I am not broken."
regret (verb)
expression of sorrow and guilt for a past event you wished happened differently
(This isn't how it's supposed to happen. This isn't how it is. She's not supposed to die.)
to feel sorry and sad about a mistake
(I dreamt of you, just before you flatlined. I brushed it off as just that. Just a dream.)
to feel a sense of loss and longing for somebody or something that is no longer there
(She's going to be fine. She's going to be fine…isn't she?)
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regretful (adjective)
Sabaku no Gaara
(Please forgive me. I love you. I'm sorry. Katana, please. Don't leave me.)
"Well, well."
The humorless laugh rang hollow in his ears, loud and endlessly echoing despite the howl of the wind all around them, as if the voice came from inside his mind instead of in front of him. It made Gaara's blood run cold, disgust and outrage churning in the pit of his gut.
"It seems like I underestimated you terribly. You're tougher than you look. But", Madara's cracked lips turned up into cruelest of grins, baring bloodstained teeth, "it would also seem that I was right about the girl. She didn't last very long, did she?"
"Shut up." Gaara snarled, and by his sides, his hands twitched with the urge to crush something. If it weren't for the fact that killing Madara would only result to his revival once again, the redhead would have done it as soon as he laid eyes on the bastard.
Laughing manically for the last time as sand slowly crept up his face, Madara hissed, "I might have lost the war, what did you lose—"
"Gaara?"
A series of knocks on the door startled him into consciousness, the redhead suddenly sitting ramrod straight in his chair. A dream, Gaara thought, as he took in a careful breath, remembering through the haze in his mind that he'd been planning to stay up late to finish paperwork. Madara's face resurfaced in his head for a split second and Gaara grimaced. No. Not a dream. A nightmare. Furrowing his eyebrows as another series of knocks collided with the wood of the door, Gaara wondered who could possibly be outside at this hour. "Come in."
The knob clicked open and the door revealed a pair of turquoise eyes staring worriedly at him, his sister's mouth curled into a frown of displeasure.
"Everything alright?" Temari asked as she closed the door behind her, not so subtly taking in the redness around the rim of his eyes and the almost chalk-white pallor of his face. "I thought I heard you calling."
"Temari." Gaara forced out, grimacing at the rough exhaustion in his voice. He thought his sister had returned to her tent this afternoon. "What are you still doing here?"
"I can ask you the same thing." She said, displeasure clear in her tone.
She glanced out of the window behind him and unconsciously, Gaara followed her gaze. Outside, the sky was painted dark blue, turning almost black as it went higher. Light flashed off from a distance, followed by a low rumble of thunder. They didn't have to wait long before the sound of the harsh downpour joined in. "It's late. You know you're not allowed to overexert yourself yet."
"It's been five months." Gaara said, shouldering on when his sister began to protest, "Besides, I was just finishing up. I guess I must have fallen asleep." Sitting up properly, the redhead glanced down at an open folder on his desk, noticing the blank signature line. He reached for his discarded pen. "I'll leave after I finish this—"
"You're still having nightmares." His sister said as a matter-of-factly and Gaara halted in mid-action, biting back a curse as images flashed through his hazy mind once again. There was pain brewing at the back of his head, possibly an effect of his uneasy sleep. Temari psychoanalyzing him was the last thing he needed right now. "You told me they stopped when she woke up."
"They did stop." Gaara signed the paper, his grip on the pen a little too strong. He set it down immediately for fearing of snapping it into two. Glancing up at his sister, he allowed his façade to drop away, showing just how drained he felt. Gaara settled for a nonchalant shrug. "And now they're back. It's unfortunate."
Temari rolled her eyes and fixed him with a glare. Ironically enough, the dark shadows under her eyes were made to rival his. "Don't give me that crap. Does she know you're still going through this?"
Gaara took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He hated the fact that Temari was too smart for her own good. Closing the folder and piling it on top of the others, he stood and faced his sister. "No." He said, keeping his face neutral as he watched Temari frown in disapproval. "And I'd prefer to keep it that way."
"Keeping it to yourself clearly isn't helping you."
"Telling her won't solve my problem either." Gaara shot back instantly, feeling only the tiniest amount of guilt at Temari's deep grimace. He made his way towards the door and reached for the knob, continuing, "It'll only trouble her further and she has a lot of things to worry about as it is, one being her evaluation today. She doesn't need me to be a burden to her as well."
"About that—"
Gaara stopped. There was something off in Temari's tone that he couldn't quite explain and when he craned his head to look back at her, Temari's pinched expression only served to confirm his worries. "What is it?"
"I overheard them talking about her on the way here." She began, hands balled into fists by her side. Disgust was clear in her somber voice. "The Suna councilors, I mean."
"What were they saying?"
"Nothing good." Temari strode to where he was and instinctively, Gaara pulled the door open wider, letting his sister pass through first. With a nod of thanks, the kunoichi resumed her pace and glanced at the redhead as they walked the empty hallways. "They don't approve of her, Gaara. By the looks of it, they're not going to shut up about that fact, too."
"They don't approve of anything." Gaara sighed, closing his eyes weakly. He could feel today's events wearing him down, fatigue settling deep into his bones. The council meeting had been long and tedious, as well as headache-inducing, draining every last drop of his energy. It didn't help that he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in the past few days without nightmares plaguing him. "Don't worry. I'm well aware of how they feel about Katana. They kept raising the subject at every given opportunity during the meeting. They're not exactly subtle."
"I hate to say this", Temari muttered under her breath, "but it seems like they've been given one more reason to dislike her now."
Confused, Gaara turned to Temari with a frown. "What do you mean?"
"Gaara", his sister started hesitantly, her eyes cast down to the ground, and Gaara felt pinpricks of dread creep up his system, "Katana failed her evaluation."
The lights were too bright.
Katana had already turned the lamps down to something resembling a dim flicker, but it still made her squint. The fresh bandages around her arms were wrapped too tightly, cutting off the blood circulation in her veins, and more than once did she flex her fingers in an attempt to restore feeling into them, her hands too clammy for her liking. The air was too stuffy; it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out and Katana's lungs were struggling to catch up, always at the brink of hyperventilating—
Don't think about it. Katana snapped internally, grimacing.
Determinedly ignoring each discomfort gnawing at her, Katana kept her glare trained down at the sword she was polishing, running the rag down the length of the blade for the nth time that night.
You're making it up in your head. You're fine.
Katana cleared her scratchy throat and reached out to take another sip out of the glass on her bedside table. It was almost half-empty now.
You're okay.
There was a sudden rustle from the opening of the tent and Katana turned to look up, unexplainable relief washing over her at the sight of a redhead tiredly shuffling inside. "Gaara", she greeted, startling the Kazekage into acknowledging her presence. As soon as he faced her properly, the tight lines of exhaustion on his pale face made themselves evident to her, as well as the thick, dark rings around his bloodshot eyes. He looked seconds away from collapsing, Katana noticed, frowning immediately. "You look tired."
"Katana." Her name was a rough sigh out of his lips, the creases on his face digging deeper as he stared at her. Gaara blinked twice, both times slowly as if dazed, and his mouth took on a worried grimace as his aquamarine gaze fell on her bandaged limbs. "What happened to your arms?"
Katana froze.
"I—training." She forced out, shifting in her position on the bed. "It was from training. I got a bit carried away. It's fine, though." Clearing her throat and looking down on the weapon in her lap, Katana hesitated for a split second before she put it away, leaving it leaning against the bedside table, and looked up at the redhead once more. She mustered up a strained smile and gestured for him. "Join me?"
"These look painful." Gaara murmured as he walked to where she was and dropped down beside her, warm hands immediately gathering up her bandaged ones. His thumbs carefully brushed over her knuckles and a pensive look took over his face. Katana fought the urge to look away, heart stuck in her throat. The barely-there sting of her busted knuckles kept reminding her of what happened. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Doesn't hurt that much." Katana mumbled under her breath, shifting in her seat, and dropped her head against his collarbone. She made a grateful sound when the redhead wordlessly pressed closer to accommodate her added weight. After what seemed like hours spent unmoving from under the ice cold rain, the warmth Gaara radiated felt wonderful. "I'm just glad you're here." Katana said as she finally allowed her tired eyes to close for a bit and rest. "Today was exhausting."
"I figured." Gaara said, his voice taking on a more somber tone. He let loose a brittle sigh, kissing her forehead in return. "I heard about your evaluation. I'm sorry."
"You—" Katana sucked in a trembling breath, mouth falling into a thin line as she recalled the humiliation of losing against a simple genjutsu, and swallowed hard. Wrenching her head up from where it was lying on his shoulder, Katana met sad aquamarine eyes and clenched her fists in her lap, disregarding the sting of skinned fingers. "You know." She said, and then forced out another chuckle. This time it was humorless, rough and agonizing as it escaped her. "Fuck, what was I thinking? Of course you know—"
"I know." Gaara repeated brokenly and the sound shattered the beating monstrosity inside Katana's chest. "Temari told me everything. You don't have to explain yourself to me."
Against her will, Katana's eyes stung, and the familiar sensation of disappointment and shame weighed down on her, making her ribcage squeeze dangerously tight until she was choking for air once more. Her hands shook from where they gripped his clothes and she closed her eyes in defeat, trapping the tears before they could fall.
"I'm sorry." She ground out, trying to keep the shaking of her hands under control. "I made an error in judgment. It won't happen again—"
Gaara shook his head. "Don't apologize."
'He doesn't want your apology.' Madara snarled in her mind, and bile crept up her throat. 'He doesn't need it. He doesn't need you.'
Grey eyes opened to desperately glower down at the ground. "It was a mistake—"
"Katana." Gaara interrupted for the second time, voice hushed, and Katana swallowed back her pathetic attempt to reassure. The redhead slid a hand over her jaw, his movements slow and careful as he closed the distance between their faces and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her impossibly softly—again, and again, and again, until all Katana could do was close her eyes and kiss back, one of her shaky hands covering Gaara's warm one on her cheek.
"You'll get through this." Gaara whispered against her mouth, their lips brushing against each other's as he spoke. His voice held such determined certainty that it broke Katana's heart further. "You always have and you always will, because you're strong that way."
What if I'm no longer strong? The question that had been bothering her since her failed evaluation rose again to the surface of her mind and for a split second, Katana actually considered the implications of it. What if he really did break me? Katana thought hollowly, her throat closing up. She didn't want to know the answer to those questions—she's not broken, she's not, she's NOT—but at the same time, not knowing them made her guts churn unpleasantly. What then, Gaara?
"Thank you." Katana whispered instead before kissing him again. "What happened at the evaluation won't happen again. I'll make sure of it."
"You'll pass it." Gaara said reassuringly, meeting her eyes. Aquamarine eyes were full of conviction and bright—too bright—with tenderness. Katana forced herself to look away, unable to imagine how she'd be able to stomach it if Gaara would stop looking at her that way. "You will."
"I will." Katana repeated and pretended that the bitter aftertaste of a lie on her tongue wasn't there.
"Hey." Sasuke.
After all the time they've spent separated, it felt clumsy, talking to each other again. They'd forgotten their rhythm before.
"Hn." What is it?
"The next evaluation's coming up in three weeks." I don't know what to do.
"I know." What do you want from me, Katana?
"You got time to kill?" I need your help.
A derisive snort. "You're that desperate, huh?" Don't ask me. I'm not the right person for this. You know that.
"Just thought my training could alleviate some of your boredom. You haven't been doing much these days." I don't care. Help me, Sasuke.
"Hn." What if I hurt you again?
A tight smile, a defeated sigh. "I'll be at the empty field tomorrow morning." Please.
They had never been good at words. Not in the way both Naruto and Sakura were.
"5 AM, sharp." Sasuke called out, just as Katana turned her back on him and began walking away. "Don't be late." I'll help you, you idiot.
"I won't." Katana shot back in reply, putting one foot in front of the other in a steady pace. She didn't look back. Thank you.
But somehow, it worked.
"Kai!"
Katana's breathing was ragged with effort, the chilly air freezing the inside of her lungs, and there were bullets of sweat building up along her hairline, making dark strands of hair stick against her sickly face. "Kai!" She snarled at the fake Uchiha Madara, the strain of released chakra weighing her limbs down. "Kai!" She'd been wasting chakra for the past half-hour or so, and still the illusion refused to break. "Goddammit, kai!"
"Kai." Sasuke echoed calmly from where he stood at the side, and the genjutsu shattered.
Katana bit back the profanities that threatened to escape her, frustration running deep in her veins as she glared at him. "I had it." She snapped.
"Right." Sasuke deadpanned without remorse, striding towards the huge tree in the middle of the field. With an exhausted sigh, Katana shook her head and followed suit, grudgingly accepting the water bottle the Uchiha handed her. No sooner than when she had dropped down to sit next to him, Sasuke cleared his throat, giving her a pointed look. "You can't break it."
Katana frowned. "What?"
"The genjutsu." Sasuke clarified impatiently. "You can't break it that way."
"What way?" Katana snapped, irritated. The loss of chakra, along with her general lack of sleep and constant restlessness, was doing terrible things to her temperament. "I've been expelling chakra again and again, and I could feel it going out of me, Sasuke, so believe me, the chakra should've been more than enough—"
"It's a genjutsu." Sasuke bit out, interrupting her angry tirade. "It's an illusion. It's not real."
"I know what a genjutsu is!"
"Then why do you insist on fighting a nonexistent enemy?" Sasuke demanded, glaring at her.
"I—what?"
Sasuke made an aborted noise of exasperation, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Katana scowled at him. She stared as the dark-haired lad took in a deep breath, grimacing. "What I mean is", Sasuke began slowly, glancing at her, "we've been at this for five days and you're still treating the illusion as if it has a physical manifestation, when it's actually about inner control. You're directing each chakra release to where Madara is standing, but you're forgetting that he isn't there."
Katana met his dark eyes, and seeing the knowing glint in them, averted her own gaze to the ground. "I know that."
"Do you?" Sasuke asked lowly, eyebrows pinched downwards in the slightest. "He's dead, Katana. He's not going to just suddenly reappear."
"I know." Katana snapped.
"You don't." His voice made no room for doubt. Sasuke blinked at her. "You still think he's going to come out of the blue and hunt you down, don't you? You still think he's going to claw his way out of whatever hole he got buried into and creep into your room at night and loom above you while you sleep—"
"Right." Katana cut in heatedly, humiliated and anxious at the same time. "Thanks, that's very helpful, you asshole, that visual's surely gonna help me sleep better—"
"What I'm saying is that it's ridiculous." Sasuke spat out, giving her a glare. "You're a chuunin. You should know better than to let your fears take hold of you. Besides, it was your boyfriend who sealed Madara away for eternity. I've got no doubt he made the seal ten times more difficult to get out of, and then some, just to spite Uchiha Madara."
Katana's head snapped up in surprise and she blinked at Sasuke, wide-eyed. "Gaara?"
"Do you have other boyfriends?" Sasuke asked dryly, arching an eyebrow.
"I—" Katana hesitated. "He didn't tell me that."
"Maybe he didn't think it was important." Sasuke said and the Uchiha lowered himself down on the grass without warning, his hands coming behind his head and his eyes closing. The action was familiar and looking at him lie on his back without a care, Katana could almost see a twelve year-old Sasuke doing the very same thing during a surprisingly free day, ignoring Naruto's loud voice, Sakura's insistence to pester him, and Katana's halfhearted protests at everything. "From what I've heard, you fell into a coma saving his life. He owed you that much."
"It's not about owing things to people." Katana said, ignoring the lingering doubt in her mind. Gaara didn't feel like that, did he? With a tired sigh, she ran a hand through her hair to soothe her building headache and then paused, looking down at the Uchiha. "Wait, 'from what you've heard'? Have you been gossiping?"
"Shut up." Sasuke grumbled without heat. "Sakura tells me things."
Katana raised an eyebrow but otherwise kept quiet and silence descended between them. With nothing to keep her distracted, her thoughts ran free, her mind falling back to what Sasuke said earlier. "But you're forgetting that he isn't there." Maybe he is here, Katana thought grimly, staring at the wide expanse of grass and dirt before her, just not in a physical form. Because otherwise, how can you explain why he keeps on haunting me? Katana drew in a slow breath, blinking sluggishly. Exhaustion was making her bones feel like liquid lead, heavy and uncooperative, and the lack of sleep kept on making her see spots every time she blinked. It was as if she dangled between reality and delusions, unable to tell the two apart, and it left her with the sensation that while she wasn't dead, she was never quite alive either.
"Sasuke", she began in a whisper and despite the silence, she knew she had his full attention, "do you ever feel like you're…" Katana trailed off, releasing an inaudible exhale. She couldn't even say the word without feeling like she was choking. "Like you're—"
"Broken?" The ex-avenger supplied in a low murmur, unmoving from where he laid. Hearing the word spoken out loud made Katana sick. Despite feeling like she was dying on the inside, she cast her eyes down on the grass at her feet and pursed her lips, nodding jerkily.
"Yeah." Sasuke said, hushed. For a moment, he sounded almost sad. "Yeah, I do."
"Oh."
"Focus on shutting down your chakra flow and then disrupt the genjutsu with a regulated amount of chakra release." Sasuke said just as Katana thought their conversation died away. She glanced down at him, startled. "Learn to control your fear, so it doesn't control you." Sasuke continued and opened one eye, glaring at Katana. "I don't care what your issues are", he grunted out in irritation, "but you're not a fucking genin."
Katana stared at him, speechless.
"And stop taking over my genjutsu, it's fucking rude."
Despite her situation, Katana let out a weak chuckle.
One week was all it took for them to turn Katana's situation into their twisted advantage.
"…doing everything we can, and yet our funds continue to decrease drastically—"
The bleariness in Gaara's vision was beginning to worsen. It had been three hours since they last took a breather and for three whole hours, all Gaara had listened in to were endless complaints about finances and budget cuts—and the thing was, the young Kazekage himself didn't even think the changes were drastic.
Unfortunate, of course, Gaara thought idly as he blocked out the droning voices, closing his eyes for a minute to ease the pounding in his head, but I wouldn't go as far as to call it 'drastic'. They can do without their extravagant office furniture for a while.
"Kazekage-sama, are you listening?"
Goddamit. Even before he raised his head and opened his eyes again, Gaara had already heard the disapproval coloring the councilor's tone. "Yes." He said with a careful nod as he leveled Hara Etsuko with a stare, keeping his rising temper in check. It wouldn't do him any good to snap right now. "Forgive me, Hara-sama. It's been a long day."
"With all due respect, Kazekage-sama", his councilor snapped and Gaara's fists curled under the table reflexively. Don't let him rile you up. Calm down. "It's been a long day for everyone involved but it seems clear as day that nothing seems to be happening about the budget—"
"Honestly, Hara-sama." Someone sighed from behind and the redhead glanced to the side, blinking in relieved surprise at the sight of his brother entering the meeting room in brisk strides. Kankuro's face was bare for once, void of his face paint, and his mouth was a hard, grim line Gaara rarely saw. There was a thick file in his hand, the folder bent under his harsh grip. Something was wrong. "Nothing's happening because there's no real problem at hand. The budget's still within a respectable amount, just less, so you probably can't splurge on exported tea leaves now. Tragic as that may be, jan, you're overreacting, as far as I'm concerned."
"How—H-How dare you—!"
The puppeteer rolled his eyes at the offended sputtering Etsuko gave out, the old councilor going red in the face with indignation. "Sorry, was I being rude? I just followed your example of respectfully addressing Kazekage-sama here—"
"Kankuro." Gaara sighed heavily, feeling exhaustion roll off him in waves. "Please don't start."
"Don't worry. I didn't drop by here for nothing." Kankuro told him darkly before bending down low enough to be able to whisper into his ear. "Found something on your desk when I dropped by at your office. It looked urgent, so I took it and gave it a brief look. You're not gonna like it, Gaara." With that, the puppet master dropped the file in front of Gaara and in the clear view of every councilor, causing an uncomfortable silence to fall on each and every one of them inside the room.
Startled at the hasty change of mood, Gaara's aquamarine eyes narrowed in suspicion and he grimaced as he saw most of the councilors avert their gaze away from him nervously. Ignoring Kankuro's noise as he pulled up a chair and sat beside the redhead, Gaara flipped open the folder and when his gaze fell on the words written on the first page, the young Kazekage felt his heart slow to a stop, the air in his lungs rushing out of him all at once.
At his left, Kankuro's grimace dug deeper. "Gaara."
With a steady hand, Gaara closed the folder once again, taking care to reign in the growing anger that had pooled at the base of his gut and was slowly crawling through his veins. "What is the meaning of this?" His question, though pitched lower and quieter than his brother's call, was sharp enough to cut through someone's throat. Gaara gave his audience an insulted stare, curling his hands into fists when they simply regarded him with wordless apprehension. "I won't ask again."
"A-Anou", one of the councilors, a scrawny man Gaara knew as Arai-sama, began in a trembling squeak, "i-it's a list, K-Kazekage-sama. O-Of a-all the eligible c-clan heiresses in K-Kumogakure."
"I know what it is." Gaara deadpanned, narrowing his eyes at the man who spoke, and left the councilor gaping at him in fear. "I also know that this is not the kind of file I need to pay attention to. Why is it on my desk?"
"W-Well…" Arai-sama trailed off, helplessly looking around for a fellow councilor to help him out. "B-Because—"
"Now, now, young Gaara-sama." Isobe-sama spoke up from the other end of the table and Gaara turned his glower at him, unfazed by the man's soothing voice and calm eyes. Isobe Yusei was a nice man—nicer compared to Hara Etsuko, at least—but Gaara wouldn't go as far as to classify him as a good man. "Forgive us if we crossed a line. We were only trying to help. You did voice out a desire to build an alliance with Kumogakure during our previous meetings. We simply thought that the list would be of help to you."
"It's not." Gaara bit out without regard for manners or formality, and ignored Isobe-sama's disapproving frown. "The list is worthless to me since I'm already with someone." He scowled a little darker, and Isobe-sama shifted nervously in his seat. "I thought I informed everyone about this already. I'd rather not waste time repeating myself."
"We know, Gaara-sama." The tall councilor said in a placating manner, and a few other councilors nodded in support. "However, we are…" Isobe-sama cleared his throat thoughtfully, "concerned with the qualifications of the candidate you've chosen."
Gaara grimaced deeper at his choice of words.
Beside Isobe-sama, Arakawa-sama hummed in agreement, his round cheeks bulging as he frowned in thought. "While it is true that she belongs to the Yotsuki clan and is the daughter of the esteemed Raikage-sama himself, Yotsuki Kana—"
Gaara bristled in the slightest, and Kankuro snapped from his seat. "It's Katana—"
"—is more strongly affiliated with Konohagakure rather than Kumogakure" Arakawa went on without pause, blatantly disregarding Kankuro, "seeing as how she has lived there longer, is adopted by Konoha's Copy Cat, Hatake Kakashi, and the fact that she has already sworn allegiance to Konoha as one of its kunoichi. All this leads us to question whether she's the right person for the job, Kazekage-sama. How are we so certain that Kumogakure even considers her one of them?"
Gaara gritted his jaw in offense, and struggled to keep his thinning patience in check. They did a background check on her. Without my permission, or her consent. Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, Gaara gave Arakawa-sama a hard glare. "Yotsuki Katana is a highly valued member of the Yotsuki clan, as well as an admirable shinobi of both Kumo and Konoha. She is a warrior of the highest caliber, and has earned the loyalty and respect of several shinobi from both villages. Her connections with the Raikage and with Konoha's Hatake Kakashi only serve to make her all the more important."
Despite his attempt to sound as detached and business-like as his councilors, Gaara couldn't resist the tinge of protectiveness that colored his statement. Katana had worked too hard and suffered through so much—she didn't deserve to be questioned like this, no matter that she was unaware of it. "I'm sorry, Arakawa-sama, but I don't see where the problem lies. Considering all of this now, it's clear that Yotsuki Katana is more than qualified to help us achieve an alliance with Kumogakure."
"Not to mention", Kankuro piped in beside him, irritation evident in his unpainted face, "we can strengthen our alliance with Konoha at the same time. I don't know if you missed this piece of information, since you clearly know so much about her", the puppeteer offered Arakawa Daishiro an obviously fake grin, "but you forgot to mention that Yotsuki Katana belongs to Konoha's Team 7, along with Haruno Sakura and Uzumaki Naruto, Hokage-sama's apprentice and the war hero himself."
And the Uchiha, Gaara thought distractedly, feeling the slightest hint of relief that his brother decided not to add that. Even when he'd allied with them during the battle against the Juubi, Sasuke Uchiha still held a mostly bad reputation. It didn't help that he belonged in the same clan as Madara.
"Katana shares a strong bond with most of the heir and heiresses of the renowned clans of Konoha. Through her, not only can we have an alliance with Konoha—we can also gain the favor of its individual clans." Kankuro continued as he leaned back on his chair and raised a defiant eyebrow, much to the offense of the council members. "Tell me, is there anyone from that list you made that can offer as many opportunities as Yotsuki Katana presents us?"
A long silence followed Kankuro's almost rhetorical question, the council members left to stare speechlessly at the brothers, save for some who murmured things under their breaths and seemed to question their earlier uncertainty about Katana. Thank you, Gaara wanted to tell his brother as the whispers of reconsideration increased in number, except his stare was still pinned on Isobe-sama's dark, unreadable gaze and the redhead refused to waver. Aquamarine eyes glared back at the older man, unblinking, and in a moment of uncharacteristic pride, Gaara tilted his chin up in the slightest angle possible, an action he was certain Temari would be most proud of. You cannot control me.
In response, Isobe-sama let loose a quiet sigh and, from across the table, broke away his gaze and inclined his head in an apologetic bow. The bud of fear that had been growing underneath the outrage he felt earlier faded, and Gaara released a breath he wasn't aware he held. The worst case scenario he had been bracing himself for didn't happen.
"Forgive us, Gaara-sama." Isobe-sama began reluctantly, catching the exchanged looks of the other councilors. "It seems that we were mistaken—"
"Were we?"
Gaara tensed as the lazy drawl cut through Isobe-sama's apology, and everyone turned to face Hara Etsuko's eerily calm smile. Unlike with Isobe, when aquamarine eyes dared to meet Hara's cool gaze, the councilor's eyes glinted with malicious glee, as if he knew something the others didn't. With Kankuro's low cursing an incoherent sound in his ear, Gaara realized that he dropped his guard too soon.
"For those who are unaware of this fact", under the table, Gaara balled his hands into tight fists, a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched Hara-sama stand up and address the whole council, "Yotsuki Katana has just woken up from a four-month comatose. Of course, while we are delighted to hear this", Hara said, in a manner that showed he could hardly care less, "we are now presented with the question of whether she's still as valued a member as Gaara-sama had said earlier. Her revival had been incredibly unexpected, you see. Almost everyone didn't think she'd survive."
"Watch it." Kankuro growled under his breath next to the redhead, unable to suppress the rise of his temper.
Despite knowing he'd be merciless, the sting of the councilor's words still felt like cold needles pricking Gaara's heart and he tightened his grip further until his knuckles were white with pressure. It took every ounce of his will not to lash out a hand and snap Hara Etsuko in two—it took even more effort to remain silent and keep his face neutral as he listened to the councilor go on with his tirade.
"Recently, Yotsuki Katana underwent an evaluation that will determine whether or not she is well enough to return to her duties as a shinobi. She failed the evaluation." Hara declared, and a chorus of murmurs and troubled whispers erupted inside the room, much to Kankuro's annoyance and Gaara's increasing dread.
"And, as if that in itself is not shameful enough", Hara barged on, raising his voice dramatically, "the girl failed the last part of the exam, a very simple test designed to assess a shinobi's mental health. According to my sources, not only did Yotsuki Katana fail horribly at it, she also suffered a breakdown and lashed out at her comrades, putting them in danger. All of this leads me to conclude two things: One, if Yotsuki Katana is not qualified to continue her duties as a shinobi any longer, then she is hardly qualified to handle this position, as she can no longer be considered valuable. And two," the councilor turned to the redhead, and the sight of his sharp smile made Gaara's insides boil with bloodlust, "Yotsuki Katana is a volatile and mentally unstable individual, and the Kazekage is risking his life by being with her."
No sooner than when he said that, the council room exploded into a chaotic mess of scandalized gasps, disturbed whispers and heated discussions, accusations thrown back and forth. Clenching his jaw, Gaara sent Hara a quick glower before clearing his throat, calling out, "That's enough."
His warning fell on deaf ears.
"That's a bold claim, Hara-sama! I for one think—"
"—have any proof of it? We shouldn't just—"
"—further proof do you need? The girl's a shinobi! What sane person would choose—"
"—is in potential danger. We must put this to a stop before—"
"—blowing this out of proportions, jan!" Kankuro yelled in protest, finally standing up from his seat. "Katana's not—"
"Isn't she, Kankuro-sama?" Hara's voice bounced against the walls of the room, despicable and arrogant, grating on Gaara's ears as he spoke, unknowingly digging himself a deeper grave, "The girl might've been an admirable shinobi once but it's clear to everyone now that this is no longer the case. It's a terrible thing, of course, but we must move on from her and find a more suitable candidate. There's no reason Suna has to settle for damaged goods—"
Something inside Gaara snapped.
"Enough." This time, the order was emphasized by sand violently exploding at the middle of the table, stunning everyone into an apprehensive sort of silence, enveloping the room in tension as the only sound that can be heard were the councilors' shallow, nervous breathing.
Everything was deceivingly still inside the room for a minute, like the calm before a storm, silence taking over everyone, and then cold aquamarine eyes flickered up.
The temperature in the room dropped to a negative degree.
"K-Kazekage-s-s-sama—!"
One of the councilors stuttered out in panic—Gaara didn't know which one, he didn't care which one—as several others began to choke visibly at the brutal shift in the atmosphere, the sudden amount of hostile intent inside the room enough to make any man drown in bullets of cold sweat. By his side, Kankuro immediately made a grab for his forearm, alarm scribbled all over the older shinobi's face as he said harshly, "Calm down, Gaara!"
Kankuro's voice didn't register in his mind. Nothing else did, except for Hara Etsuko's quivering form across the table, the councilor's eyes wide in a combination of horrified realization, helplessness and—
Fear, Gaara noted, aquamarine eyes flashing with a dark, vicious satisfaction that burned alongside the ice-cold fury in his gut. Good.
For a moment, as the council members shared a flinch and stared at him with terrified wide eyes, Gaara felt the same liquid hatred flowing through his veins, bloodlust pooling in his gut and rushing through his head the same way it did back when he still had Shukaku. This time though, it wasn't Shukaku's voice roaring in his mind that had his hands itching to break something—
"—it would also seem that I was right about the girl." A manic grin, a dark chuckle, "She didn't last very long, did she?"
"She's in a coma and unaware." A bitter snap, dark eyes cast down on the ground in a glare. "It doesn't matter."
"Isn't she, Kankuro-sama?" A haughty challenge, ignorantly writing off everything Katana had gone through, everything she had ever suffered for, "There's no reason Suna has to settle for damaged goods—"
—it was the echo of everyone else's statements dismissing Katana as someone unimportant, as someone weak and fragile, as someone disappointing, as if her everyday struggling to overcome what had happened wasn't enough agony already, as if she didn't do everything and more in her capability to go against the strongest shinobi that ever lived, as if she hadn't had the strength to wrench away from Death's tight grip on her and wake up gasping and in pain, the fight in her eyes unending.
As if she was the one to blame for her predicament.
As if every single one of her suffering wasn't Gaara's fault.
"Hara-sama", the councilor's name was a disgusted murmur spat out of the redhead's mouth, the rough scrape of a chair as Gaara stood up echoing inside the room. Everyone shrunk back to their seats as the Kazekage fixed his gaze on Hara Etsuko. "Do you have any idea how Death feels like?"
"D-Death?!" The older man gritted his teeth, hiding his discomfort behind a sudden burst of outrage. "Is that a threat, Kazekage?!"
"Answer the question, Hara-sama." Gaara snapped, unfazed by the accusation. "That's not a request."
"Of course I have no idea, you brat." Hara hissed out, banging a fist on the tabletop out of frustration. "What kind of foolish question—"
"I've died once", Gaara cut off, eyes narrowing dangerously, "when Shukaku was forcibly extracted from me. It was the most agonizing thing I've felt in my entire life, and the extraction lasted for a whole day." With his blunt nails digging into the flesh of his palms, Gaara took in a calming inhale, unclenching his jaw enough just to say, "However, compared to Katana's, my agony is nothing. Her suffering lasted for four months, and with every breath she took during her coma, she fought to stay alive."
"Gaara." His brother whispered just low enough for him to hear, forest green eyes clouded with grim worry. "Don't do this to yourself."
"During the last fight, Uchiha Madara broke almost every bone possible in her body." Gaara continued, paying no heed to Kankuro's plea, and ignored the gut-wrenching, agonized guilt in his heart as he recalled how small she looked, laid unconscious against the white sheets of the medical bed, bruises and scars painted on her skin, as well as the events that led up to that point. "Aside from that, she also suffered from chakra exhaustion, torn muscles, severe hemorrhage, internal and external, resulting from multiple deep lacerations. The probability of her surviving had been less than half. No one thought she'd survive. At the time, even I had lost hope. Yet regardless of everyone's lack of belief, Katana woke up, and she did it all on her own."
"That doesn't matter though, does it?" Gaara bit out in a low whisper, swallowing back down the nausea he could feel building up at the base of his throat. "Because all of you believe that unless we have something to gain from her, Katana doesn't deserve an ounce of your attention. Well then, let me tell you exactly why she matters." He leveled them all with a determined glower, hating the desperation that was surely present on his face. "Yotsuki Katana matters…because she risked her life to save mine."
The stunned silence and the collective wide-eyed expressions of his councilors were almost worth the stinging pain in his chest at being reminded that he was exactly the reason why Katana was suffering.
"Yotsuki Katana matters." Gaara echoed again, voice rough with frustrated agony as the fight within him died out slowly, the flames of hatred in his chest burning out to ashes of bitter regret that stuck itself on the back of his throat. "She matters everything, Hara-sama," he forced out, shoulders slumping in defeated admission and eyes closing painfully, "because Yotsuki Katana fought Madara to protect me. Katana matters because she chose to die, so I wouldn't have to." Forcing himself to meet every single one of his councilors' stares despite the vulnerability he was certain his eyes possessed, Gaara titled his chin up and glared, clenching his teeth.
"As the Kazekage, I owe Yotsuki Katana my life." The redhead declared hoarsely, trying to ignore the fact that he just bared out his only weakness in front of the least trustworthy people he ever knew. "And for that, Suna owes her everything."
Two weeks was all it took for her progress to come crashing down.
It had been an uneventful, silent afternoon spent inside the tent, with Gaara poring over the remaining paperwork and Katana trying to shove back down the feeling of suffocation and restlessness deep within her as she wiped clean her weapons. So when the redhead finally looked up from where his face was buried under thick wads of paper and suggested an evening stroll, Katana had all but grabbed the chance, tying her sword around her waist and intertwining her fingers with Gaara's before leaving their tent.
"How's the paperwork going along?"
"Slow." Gaara's sigh was explosive, making Katana crack a smile at the amount of irritation the redhead normally didn't display around other people. She watched as he ran a hand through his wild hair, messing it up even more. "If I had any less respect for her, I would start to think that Hokage-dono might be adding her stack of paperwork on top of mine. I don't remember leaving so much unfinished."
"Trust me." Katana huffed out in amusement, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's not beneath Tsunade-sama to actually do that. She treats paperwork as if it personally offended her."
Gaara let loose a short hum. "So it's not a lack of respect on my part?" He sent her an overly-innocent look, and Katana fought back a grin, bumping shoulders with him.
"No." Katana shook her head, stifling her smile. "It's not."
"Good to know my respect for elders is still intact. I'd hate to be considered disrespectful."
"Like you actually care about any of that, you dork." This time, Katana didn't bother hiding her laughter, chuckles escaping her. "Careful. Your sarcasm is lethal, Kazekage-sama. You might kill someone."
"I spent a good amount of time honing it." Gaara shot back smoothly, expression schooled into an unaffected mask—only the light in his eyes and the slight twitch of the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "It would be a shame if it wasn't lethal."
"You're impossible—"
"Kazekage-sama, watch out!"
The warning came too late.
As both of them whirled around to look at the direction of the voice, Gaara was tackled down in mid-turn by a blur, the two of them hitting the ground in a mess of sand, screams and hissed out profanities.
"Gaara!" Grabbing at whatever her hands first landed on, Katana forcefully yanked and pulled away the heavy figure that had fallen down on top of the redhead, adrenaline pumping painfully through her veins as she drew her weapon and stood protectively over the fallen Kage. "What happened?" She demanded, glaring at the person responsible for the sudden attack.
"He's one of them!" The shinobi—a built man older than them by only a few years—screamed hysterically, struggling against the hold of the surrounding soldiers that responded quickly as soon as they saw the situation. "He's one of them, don't you see?! He's going to kill us all!"
"Calm down, Ara-san!" One of the soldiers said, looking up to send Katana a deeply apologetic glance. "We're very sorry for this, he's not in a very good mental condition right now—"
"—going to kill us! He's going to kill us—"
"It's fine." Katana cut off, tensing up as the man in between them refused to stop fighting, thrashing his arms about and waving the bloodied kunai in his hand—
Air left Katana's lungs and the rest of the shinobi's apology was forgotten. "Gaara", she ground out in restrained panic, turning around sharply to face the redhead. "Gaara, are you—"
Blood.
There was so much blood. Crimson coated the length of Gaara's neck, the thick fluid soaking through his collar, his fingers stained with it, and Katana's heart stopped dead inside her chest as she dropped to her knees, her sword tumbling noisily to the ground as her hands came up to cover the wound.
"Katana—" Gaara started, and Katana gritted her teeth.
"I've got you." She reassured hastily, mind racing. "I've got you, Gaara—just let me—"
Her throat closed up painfully, and she couldn't breathe.
'Calm down!' Her twin roared from deep inside of her, and Katana flinched, the sudden throb of her head causing her to take a mouthful of air, and then again and again, and soon her throat felt raw, her eyes watering reflexively at the acrid stench of blood, and she could feel her lungs burning with effort but none of that mattered, not when Gaara was bleeding out again, his red hands grasping her wrists tight and oh god, Gaara, you're bleeding, you're bleeding, it's not stopping, Gaara, Gaara, please let me—
"Katana." Gaara's voice was soft and clear, apprehension coloring his tone. "Katana, I'm alright, it's okay—"
"You're not, you're not, you're bleeding", Katana could hear herself babbling incoherent thoughts, words tumbling over the other in desperation to be heard and her voice was breaking, her head full of echoing screams. She tried pulling her shaky hands out of his grip, the blood making everything slicker. "Gaara, please, I have to stop the bleeding—"
"It's not mine." Gaara said, holding on to her wet hands again, and that was all she needed to hear. Katana swallowed back the thick lump in her throat, closing her eyes to force down the gasps building up at the base of her throat. Pressing his forehead against hers in an attempt to soothe, Gaara lowered her hands from his neck gently, and continued, "The person who attacked me cut himself with his kunai during the fall. I was able to stop the blow with my sand before he could hit me."
"So he didn't—You're—You're not—"
"I'm alright." He told her, voice firm despite the immense worry in his expression. "Katana, you have to calm down. You're hyperventilating."
"I know. I'm sorry." She forced out, frustrated and ashamed as she clutched at her head, trying to shake away the images of Gaara pale and unresponsive on the ground, all cold skin and warm blood when she touched him. "S-Sorry—give me a moment, I-I can't—"
"Hold on." Was all the explanation she received before Gaara teleported both of them back in their tent, the redhead wordlessly following Katana down as she slid to the floor, pressing her head between her bended knees and shutting her eyes as she tried to flush out the remaining panic in her system. For a while, the only thing that broke the stale silence was the sound of her stuttering breath and shaky exhales as Katana forced her breathing under control once more, and by the time Katana opened her eyes once again, she found herself inside the V of Gaara's drawn up legs, her back pressed against his front and their hands—surprisingly clean once again—overlapping one another as they held a small trinket that pulsed steadily at every other second.
The hourglass necklace, Katana thought with a tired blink, after a minute of staring at the string dangling out of their grip. Their room smelled like soap and cinnamon, Katana realized after another beat, and the only illumination in their tent came from the dim light of an oil lamp. Behind her, Gaara's breaths were even and deep, a few stray crimson hairs entering her vision from where the redhead's face was pressed against her shoulder. Is he asleep?
"Are you alright now?" The greeting was muted, spoken against her shirt, and rough with exhaustion. Hearing it made Katana's heart want to cave in on itself in guilt, and tightlipped, the girl closed her eyes again, feeling the telltale sting of tears behind them.
Don't cry. Don't cry, goddammit, you're not a child.
"I'm sorry." She whispered under her breath, ignoring the way Gaara craned his head up to look at her in concern. "I'm sorry." She said again when he disregarded her first apology and took one of her clammy hands in his warm one, raising it until he could press a kiss on the back of it. "I'm sorry." She croaked hoarsely, looking down at her lap and forcing away the prickling sensation at the back of her eyes when Gaara bent forward to kiss the top of her head. "Sorry." She sighed raggedly, giving up on holding back the tears as Gaara brushed every teardrop away with his careful fingers and gentle lips, pressing tender kisses wherever he could reach.
"What are you apologizing for?" Gaara murmured in between dropping kisses on her tear-streaked face.
For dying. For worrying you. For leaving you by yourself for four months. For breaking the promise. For not being strong enough. For not being able to save you. For being scared. For breaking down again. For crying. For being like this, pathetic and lost and helpless and weak. For everything.
"I don't know." Katana admitted, and it was at least half-true. She didn't seem to know anything anymore. "This is all so stupid, I'm so sorry—"
Gaara wiped away the wetness from her face and kissed her quiet. "Don't be sorry." He didn't tell her to stop crying. He didn't tell her to act like the goddamn shinobi she was supposed to be. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
She snorted, disbelieving of anything he said and yet oddly reassured by it at the same time, and turned to burrow her face on his shoulder, disgusted at the sensation of drying tears. "I'm getting your shirt wet." Katana protested, sniffling and a little angry at herself. All her progress, all her efforts five months ago—wasted, all because she chose to panic at the sight of blood. She was ruining everything. "It's disgusting."
"It's fine." Gaara said.
"No, it's disgusting." Katana insisted, shaking her head and feeling her face burn in embarrassment. She would pull away, but the sense of comfort he radiated was something she couldn't bear to lose. "I don't know how you can deal with me right now, I'm a mess."
"It's okay." Gaara whispered again, keeping his voice soothing and gentle and Katana hated herself for relaxing so easily at the sound of it. He sounded like he knew what was going on, like he understood the chaos that was wreaking havoc inside Katana's head. And maybe he did; Katana wouldn't put it past him. "If you want, I can cry on your shirt later, just to make things fair."
Katana barked out a broken laugh, shoving the redhead away half-heartedly. She could see the smile he had through her blurred vision, faint and hopeful but fragile as well, too fragile for her liking—like it was going to crumble away if she touched it. The rings around his eyes were darker than ever, thicker too, and Katana sobered up as she realized that he must have relapsed into a series of sleepless nights again. The war had changed both of them, maybe in ways that weren't so good.
"I love you." She told him quietly and didn't miss the way his eyes turned sadder. She kissed him, reveling in the sigh he gave against her lips, and felt his body melt against hers, losing its tension.
"I love you, too."
His breakdown was just a matter of time.
There was blood on his face.
There was blood on his face, and blood staining his skin, pooling all around him, the stench of it thick enough to make his eyes water. He was choking on the taste of rust and iron, spitting out red, but Gaara felt numbed, unable to move yet free of any pain. It's not mine, he thought blankly, mind slow. It's not mine.
Then whose was it?
A drop of wetness made him look up and crimson threatened to take over his sight. Still, Gaara blinked away the sting of it and once the blurriness began to fade away, the grating sound of wheezing echoed in his ears and red became ashen grey.
"Spare him." Katana rasped, looking down on him with dead eyes, and there it was, that agonizing, crushing pain as his heart crumpled and his ribcage collapsed on itself. "S-Spare him…please."
Katana, he wanted to say. Katana, don't.
Katana, run, he wanted to scream.
But he was a second too late and she was falling, falling on him, heavy and sudden, limp and cold and—
Katana woke up to cold, shaky hands attempting to strangle her neck.
At the first press of calloused fingers against her jugular vein, grey eyes snapped wide open and Katana jerked awake, choking out alarmed profanities. Her hands scrambled for purchase, shoving away the intruder's hands and groping for the kunai under her pillow, her eyes wild and manic as they blinked in the darkness of the tent.
For a whole minute, Katana got stuck on the horrified thought that this was it, whatever or whoever she'd killed or gotten killed had come back to take her life and this was how she was going to die, terrified and confused and half-asleep and—
"K-Katana?"
It was that voice, low, rough and raw, that cut off the panic welling inside of her, leaving nothing behind save for a tremendous amount of confusion and the remnants of adrenaline. Swallowing to relieve her sleep-dry throat and to push down the heart that leapt to where it didn't belong, Katana began hesitantly, "Gaara?" Her fingers shook from where they were curled around the kunai's handle.
"Katana."
Her name was an exhale, a sob and a gasp, all three at once, and it was then that her hand managed to find the lamp switch by the bedside table, yellow light exploding inside the room and making her recoil.
"Gaara." She croaked out at the first flash of crimson in her blurry sight, awfully relieved. "You scared me. What's wrong?" All air left Katana's lungs as soon as grey eyes met glassy aquamarine, the area around Gaara's eyes red and wet with tears, the thick rings of exhaustion darker than ever against his pale skin. His hair was a mess, desperate gasps ripping themselves out of his throat as he stared at her, wide-eyed and hysterical with relief.
"G-Gaara." Katana stuttered, dumbfounded, and the kunai slipped out of her hand.
"Katana." Trembling hands reached for her again and this time, Katana was too stupefied to do anything but stay still, inhaling sharply once Gaara's ice cold touch brushed the side of her neck. She kept her breathing even, to try and get the redhead to do the same, her grey eyes trained at Gaara's distraught expression. Her heart broke as Gaara let out a wounded noise, his eyes closing shut and his head ducking down when he finally found what he was looking for. "You're alive." He managed to rasp out, shoulders drooping down as tension left him. "You're alright."
"Yeah." Katana said hastily, the remnants of drowsy confusion still clinging to her brain, but she closed the distance between them as soon as Gaara's hands fell away. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here." She grasped his clammy face, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair that clung to his forehead, thumbs stroking his cheeks. "Gaara, I'm here. I'm here." Cold hands held on to her wrists and Gaara gave a shattered sigh, quivering in her grip. "Was it a nightmare?"
"I'm sorry." He choked out instead of an explanation, his face twisting in agonized heartache. "I'm sorry. I couldn't—I couldn't save you—I couldn't do anything—I'm sorry, it's all my fault, I'm sorry—"
"What? Don't say that—"
"I could've prevented all of this. I could've prevented everything—I should've—"
"Hey, hey." Katana shushed him, giving him a slight shake, and said, "This is not your fault, Gaara, you've got nothing to apologize for."
Katana stared at him as he shook inside her hold, little tremors creeping under his damp skin and against her palms, and her chest tightened at the way his eyes were still clamped shut as if in pain. Gaara swallowed with difficulty, agonized guilt carved onto his pale face. "You should've ran away. Because of me, you were…" He trailed off, dropping his head against her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"
"I'm not." Katana breathed out, shaking her head. She tipped Gaara's chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I'm not sorry." She whispered fiercely before kissing him, shutting her eyes at the trembling sigh he gave against her lips.
"Did you honestly think that was even an option?" She asked once they broke apart, her heaving disbelieving inhales and him releasing ragged sighs. "Me leaving you behind?" Katana clutched his face, silently demanding for him to look at her. The second helpless aquamarine eyes met her gaze, she gave him a resolute stare, and said, "Saving you, that was my choice. You don't get to decide that for me."
Gaara let loose a stuttering exhale. "You died because of me."
"And I'd do it again." Katana said without batting an eyelash, her voice void of any hesitation. "I'd choose it again, and again, and again, Gaara, if it means saving you." Heaving an exhausted breath, Katana brushed away the hair that clung to his damp forehead and pressed a kiss there. "Okay?"
It took a while for the redhead to respond but Katana waited patiently, counting their breaths in between, and finally, Gaara gave the softest of sighs, reluctantly nodding once. "Okay."
"Okay." Katana echoed again.
She held him close for a quiet moment, letting the adrenaline wear off and waiting for everything to fall back into place when a thought occurred to her. "You know", she began carefully, testing the waters, and only continuing when Gaara made a questioning noise, "I know you said something earlier about crying on my shirt too, to make things fair, but I thought you were joking. I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."
Gaara huffed a weak laugh, his posture utterly defeated as he slumped against her and buried his face on the crook of her neck. Tiredly, he said, "I never joke."
Katana smiled, a touch melancholy. "I guess you don't."
She kept training.
"You can do it, Katana!"
"Kick teme's ass, Katana-chan!"
Naruto and Sakura's yells of encouragement did nothing but cut through what remained of her concentration and Katana dodged the illusion's sharp swing, rolling away and barely getting back to her feet. "Kai!" She shouted uselessly, gritting her teeth when the genjutsu didn't even waver this time. From where he stood just a few meters away, Sasuke's grimace dug deeper, his stiff form radiating displeasure.
"Focus." He called out to her and was ignored when Katana ducked to avoid a roundhouse kick from the illusion.
"Kai!" Katana raised her arms to block what felt like a very solid punch from Uchiha Madara, her stomach revolting in fear and disgust as the fake grinned at her. "Kai, dammit, kai!"
Uchiha Madara chuckled lowly, face inching closer as he shoved against Katana's braced forearms, and Katana swore that she could smell the rotten stench of death as he exhaled, the puff of air hitting her skin. He was an illusion, an illusion—so how was it that everything felt as real as it could possibly be?
"You're not here. You're not real." Katana hissed under her breath, glaring desperately at him before trying once more. "Kai!"
Madara didn't move from where he bore down his weight on her. "Is that so?" He breathed out, Sharingan eyes flashing in the sunlight, and Katana's muscles froze at once, paralyzed. Grey eyes widened as her chest constricted in shock, all air leaving her lungs and her heart refusing to continue beating.
He…casted a genjutsu. Her mind supplied helplessly, limbs heavy and useless even as Madara took ahold of her throat and then lifted her up in midair, and she was left dangling by her neck. But this is impossible. I was already in one.
"Were you?" Madara hummed curiously, smiling when terrified grey eyes traveled down to his face. "Because you know", he drawled out, the hand around Katana's neck squeezing painfully without warning, "it might be very possible that I'm still alive, all this time, and that none of these things really happened. Maybe I was the one driving you insane, and that voice of mine in your head had been the only thing that was real. Your friends? Could have been an illusion all along."
Katana's breath hitched agonizingly. "That's not true." She whispered, voice breaking. "You're dead."
"Am I?" Madara let loose another chilling laugh. "What makes you think I haven't been toying with you since you've blacked out, making you think you actually survived after you've gone against me? That comatose?" He clicked his tongue and Katana flinched despite being immobile. "Don't tell me you fell for that." Madara grinned up at her and for a horrifying minute, Katana saw what he was implying, saw the broken terrain behind him and the smoke and dust that rose from the ground. The stench of drying blood and bile crept up on her, her vision growing dimmer and dimmer by the second, until she was blinking crimson and she was back right where she'd started.
"No." Katana said and then tasted copper, her throat closing up violently as blood spurted out of her mouth. "N-No." She couldn't move her hands, or her legs, her fingers only twitching in the slightest—everything was broken and screaming with agony.
"K-Kai." She gasped out in a desperate attempt and Madara's cold fingers dug harder around the skin of her neck, choking her as he laughed. Her gaze snapped away to glance at her surroundings, searching for something, anything at all, that could break the nightmare she was in. Her eyes landed on a dark red form next to them and glued themselves there, Katana's blood running cold at the sight.
"Oh?" Madara followed her gaze, something akin to morbid delight crossing his ashen features as he saw what it was that Katana was staring at. "Oh, young Kazekage right here?" He raised a foot, watching Katana's blank expression, before swiftly dropping it down to Gaara's chest, ignoring Katana's aborted scream of horror. The sickening crack of ribs echoed like an explosion inside Katana's ear. She choked on a sob, unable to look away even as tears began to blur her sight, mixing in with the blood coming down from her forehead. Madara's face crowded her vision, blocking Gaara, and all see could see was endless red and swirling onyx, the Uchiha's dead Sharingan eyes fixated on her own.
"He's dead." She heard him drone out calmly, his grip on her neck tightening in earnest. "You saving him, that was a nice detail, wasn't it? I knew you'd approve. But now that you've finally woken up, the truth must hurt even more."
The sound of his laughter drained what was left of her and Katana could hear the bones in her neck creaking under the harsh treatment, the skin around her throat yielding slowly. Uchiha Madara was breaking her, little by little, taking his time, taking one second after another. "That voice inside your head?" Madara's soft murmur was right by her ear and black took over her vision, her eyes finally failing her. "That was the only sliver of truth that connected you to this reality. And the truth is, you…were never…strong enough—"
"KAI!"
Light burst before her eyes and her feet slammed back down on the ground, the crisp air choking her as it filled her lungs a moment too soon. As soon as Katana collapsed down to her knees, she clutched at her stomach and dry heaved, shutting her eyes at the sharp stinging of her throat. Is this real? She asked herself frantically, heart banging in outrage inside her chest. Is any of this real?
"Katana!"
Her brain registered Sakura's voice slowly and Katana looked up just in time to see her friend falling to her knees beside her, Sakura's firm hands steadying her swaying form. Naruto darted to her other side, worriedly placing a hand on her back, and Katana slumped against him, feeling cold tremors run down her spine. Naruto's chest felt solid, his heartbeat strong enough for Katana to feel even underneath his clothes, and Sakura's grasp on her was warm and dry. They're here, Katana shook with the force of her relief. It's all real.
"I think that's enough practice for today." Sakura said, mouth twisted into a frown. "You've pushed yourself too far this time."
"Katana-chan", Naruto piped in lowly, brushing away hairs that clung to her damp forehead, "let's go sit over there, okay? Can you stand?"
Katana shook her head, stopping Naruto when he mistook the action as an answer to his question. "No." Katana wheezed, shaking her head again, and focused on catching her breath. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute. I'll give it another shot. I just have to try again—"
"Are you insane?" Sakura turned her glare at her, scowling. "You just collapsed on your feet, this isn't a joke Katana—"
"Please." Katana whispered under her breath, stunning Sakura into silence with the amount of desperation in her tone. "I'm not—" broken, I'm not, I'm not "—done yet. I can't give up. Not now." Forcing herself to stand on shaky feet, she glanced at Sasuke, ignoring his tight frown, and took a deep breath. "Sasuke, do it again."
She kept training.
She trained daily, determinedly.
Desperately.
Destructively.
"Katana." Stop this.
"I'm fine, Sasuke." I'm not broken. I'll prove it to you. "Again."
"Are you sure?" Stop doing this to yourself.
"Again." I'm not broken.
She pushed herself, again and again and again.
Past her limitations.
Past her breaking point.
And then she fell.
Sasuke stared at her expectantly. "How was it?"
Grey eyes lowered themselves to the ground, and Katana clenched her fists. "I failed it again."
And she shattered.
End Chapter
Author's Note (again): It is now 1 AM where I am, and my eyes are giving up on me. Please tell me my hard work has at least made your day better (or worse, depending on your point of view; the chapter is kind of really depressing again, isn't it? Don't worry, it'll get better, I promise).