Author's Note: (I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, hahahaha) Hey guys! Here's another (hella overdue) update!
Enjoy and Review!
Destiny of the Cursed
Chapter 51: Picking Up the Pieces
Flashback
"Useless." Madara spat, the cracks on his decaying face digging deeper as he sneered. "Is that all you've got—"
"Stop."
Just like that, the unwavering figure of Uchiha Madara vanished into thin air. Katana gasped and staggered to one knee at the command, instinctively lowering her head as she struggled to catch her breath, bullets of cold sweat trailing down the sides of her face. The relief that filled her insides at the lack of Madara's presence—illusion or not—was immense and overwhelming and—
Disgraceful, she snarled in her mind, eyes pinned to the ground, half-lidded in disappointment. Moisture pricked at the back of her eyes and her throat tightened reflexively. You trained for this every day and still failed it. You're a fucking disgrace. Don't breathe too loudly. She snapped at herself, closing her mouth even when the lack of oxygen made her vision white at the corners. Don't show exhaustion. Don't show weakness.
It was bad enough that she failed to break the last illusion again; she didn't need an audience witnessing her internal breakdown, too. Keeping her head down—more to hide the frustrated quivering of her lips rather than to show respect—Katana waited for Tsunade to speak up again and braced herself for the verdict.
"Go compose yourself." The master medic said after a moment of silence, startling Katana into looking up. It wasn't like Tsunade to be gentle, or forgiving for that matter. Blinking in confusion, Katana stared at her, hoping to get some sort of explanation. When the woman didn't seem inclined to offer one, she pushed herself to stand on shaky legs.
"What about the results of my evaluation, Tsunade-sama?" Her voice was a tired, rough rasp, a product of many sleepless nights. These last weeks, exhaustion had clung to her like a second skin, a parasite bearing down heavily on her stiff shoulders.
"Later." Tsunade dismissed curtly, already poised to walk away from the field they were in. "Come see me in my office once you've rested. I'll talk to you then. In the meantime", the medic turned to give her a brief onceover and for a split second, Katana swore she saw golden eyes soften in something resembling pity. The sight made the hollowness in her chest fester even stronger and in the back of her mind, Madara's voice echoed out a cruel chuckle. "You should take it easy, Katana."
End flashback
The peacefulness in the room was going to drive her insane.
It was too quiet, even with the monotonous hum of the air conditioner from above, and Katana fought to keep her breathing under control. It was turning shallower and shallower by the passing second, the chilly silence of Tsunade's office reminding her too much of patrol nights, where they'd had to hold in their exhales, barely breathing with the heavy apprehension in their guts, eyes sharp and paranoid as they scanned the darkness that surrounded them. It had always been too quiet, too peaceful, just before a bone-chilling scream would ring out and the bloodshed would resume once again, forcing them to fight blindly in the dark. A particularly bad night had wiped out half of their platoon that way.
Grey eyes flitted across the room as Katana shoved the morbid memory back into the depths of her brain, trying to distract herself. The cushion underneath her was soft, uncomfortably so, and she shifted in her seat for the nth time around in order to get rid of the feeling that she was going to sink into it until she disappeared. There were several fat folders on the Hokage's desk, haphazardly stacked on top of each other, Katana noticed. A few more piles were leaning against the edges of the wall, forgotten and gathering dust.
Or purposely ignored, maybe. Katana mulled wordlessly, her mouth quirking up a bit at the thought. This is Tsunade-sama we're talking about, after all.
The door clicked open without warning and in the dead silence of the office, it sounded like an explosion. Clenching her fingers around the armrests of her chair, Katana took a sharp inhale, making herself dizzy with the sudden abundance of air in her system, and barely resisted the instinct to snatch up her weapon and whirl around. Something told her the ANBU wouldn't appreciate any attempts to maim the Hokage—if it was the Hokage that entered—even under the claim of self-defense.
"At ease." Tsunade's greeting sounded rehearsed, as if she'd already said it to several other shinobi before Katana. "It's just me." Footsteps calmly approached from behind but despite the verbal reassurance, it was only when the master medic came into full view and sat down across her that Katana was able to relax her grip on the armrests. In front of her, Tsunade propped her elbows up on the desk and laid her chin on intertwined fingers, bright golden eyes staring unblinkingly at Katana.
"You look tired." The older woman began out of the blue, leaving Katana lost as to what to make of it. With her heart still stuck inside her throat from earlier, Katana kept her mouth shut and opted for a curt nod. "Have you been sleeping well?"
Katana frowned. Tsunade was usually so straightforward. "Tsunade-sama, I—"
"Scratch that." Tsunade interrupted. "Have you been sleeping at all?"
"Yes." Katana lied without missing a beat, looking at Tsunade straight in the eye. She didn't like where the conversation was heading and it was best to move on from it. "About my evaluation—"
"We'll get there." Tsunade waved an impatient hand through the air, erasing Katana's attempt to change the subject, and grimaced tightly, her gaze narrowing at the younger kunoichi. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Katana." She said, and Katana scowled in response. "Now answer me truthfully: when's the last time you slept?"
Glowering sullenly, Katana had half a mind on keeping her mouth shut and refusing to answer the question—after a full minute of unsuccessfully staring Tsunade down, grey eyes averted themselves to the floor and Katana let loose a bitter sigh. "Three weeks ago." She muttered under her breath.
"When was the last time you slept a complete eight hours?"
"Two months ago."
Tsunade raised an eyebrow. "You woke up from your coma two months ago." She pointed out.
Katana blinked back and shrugged jerkily, unfazed. "I know."
"You haven't slept properly at all since then?"
"No."
"Why?"
Because I keep dying in my dreams, her mind supplied almost immediately, and Katana clenched her jaw before she could blurt it out and humiliate herself further. Because I have nightmares of the people I love dying, and I dream of the war, of corpses dragging me down, of drowning in blood—and sometimes, when I wake up, I can't distinguish what's real and what's not anymore. Because I think the voice in my head has been telling the truth. I think I am broken.
She settled for not saying a word, glaring at the tiled floor instead. Tsunade sighed heavily and leaned back on her chair. There was a deep, worried furrow between her eyebrows.
"What have you been doing with your time off since the last evaluation?"
A horrid lump latched on her throat at the question, blocking the words from escaping her mouth. Katana had to swallow twice—both times painful—before she could find her voice once more. When she spoke, the sting of disappointment and shame in her chest was back. "Preparing myself for this evaluation. I asked Sasuke to help me."
"You're not supposed to prepare for an evaluation." Tsunade scowled darkly with a scolding glare directed to Katana. "It's an assessment of whether you're well enough to get back on the active roster list. It's not an examination where you have to show that you've gotten stronger. Failing it doesn't mean you're weak, Katana." Tsunade said firmly, the tone of her voice demanding for Katana to look at her. Katana did, raising her gaze up to face the Hokage, no matter how reluctantly she did it. "It means you're not yet well."
"But I am well." Katana argued tiredly, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose at the familiar sensation of a headache brewing at the base of her skull. "I've been training daily ever since you gave me the permission to do so. I gained back most of the muscle mass I lost during my coma. My stamina's back to normal, my wounds are fully healed, and my reflexes and chakra control have improved greatly since I woke up—"
"And yet you look like Death spat you out." Tsunade cut in pointedly, unimpressed. "You haven't had a decent sleep since two months ago."
"I was stuck in a forced slumber for four months." Katana grumbled. "Staying awake for the whole of two months is nothing."
"That's not how comatose works, you brat."
Katana opened her eyes just in time to see Tsunade rubbing soothing circles against her temple, the older woman's lips turned down into a grimace. A vague sense of guilt hit her but before Katana could form an apology—what she's supposedly apologizing for, she didn't know—Tsunade cleared her throat and whatever Katana had to say died down in her mouth.
"I know you, Katana." Tsunade said with a grim kind of seriousness surrounding her. "And I trust you. You're one of the best shinobi I have. So for you to fail to break a general illusion—not just once but twice—is unexpected. And worrying, to be honest."
Katana gave a tight-lipped nod. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Tsunade said. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm stating it as a fact. Physically speaking, you're in top shape. Mentally, however—it's obvious that you're not in the best condition right now." Golden caramel eyes were soft with understanding and sympathy as they met Katana's gaze. "You're not okay, Katana."
"I'm—" Katana took a sharp inhale, releasing it shakily as she stared at Tsunade, suddenly at a loss for words. Hearing it spoken out loud, and by Tsunade herself no less, felt like a cruel slap across her cheek. There was a telltale itch in her gut, as if her whole being wanted to crawl out of her skin and hide away. Blunt fingernails dug into the wood of the armrests in an attempt to fight off the sting at the back of her eyes and Katana swallowed back a stutter. "I'm—" I'm not giving up. I can be okay. I can. Just give me a chance. I'll prove it. I can be good enough again, just let me prove it, I can be good enough again, please, please—
"I'm not saying you'll be like that forever." Tsunade piped in again, silencing the storm inside Katana for a moment. "You're not alright now, but you will be eventually. That much I can assure you. You're not the first shinobi I've come across with psychological issues, Katana."
Katana nodded, not trusting her voice not to betray her again.
"I'll tell you what", reaching for a folder on top of a stack, Tsunade glanced at Katana briefly before looking down to scan the document, "since having nothing to do obviously isn't helping you get better in any way, I'll assign you to missions—but nothing higher than a C-rank. Is that alright?"
"Yes." Katana said hastily, cool relief tangible in her system despite the solid ball of shame in her gut. It wasn't over for her just yet. "Yes, it's more than alright."
"Alright." Tsunade echoed with a concerned sigh, handing the file over to her. "Maybe busying yourself with something other than the evaluation will do you good. You're dismissed."
Closing her eyes in defeated resignation, Katana bowed before the older woman and ignored the dark whispers at the back of her mind. "Thank you, Tsunade-sama."
"How was it?"
The chill of the nighttime breeze did nothing to prevent Katana's neck from burning in humiliation at the voice. "Sasuke", she acknowledged, pained. "I didn't think you'd still be here." She'd been avoiding him all afternoon, trying to delay this inevitable conversation between them—he had been helping her out for weeks for this evaluation; of course he would want to know its outcome. Whirling around to face him, Katana masked her expression into a composed one, and told herself her heart wouldn't break no matter his reaction. "I failed it again."
Onyx eyes stared at her for a full minute before they fell to the side, lowering halfway in what resembled resignation. "It doesn't matter." Sasuke said with a shake of his head before pushing himself off from the wall he was leaning against and stepping away. "You should rest. It's been a long day."
"Yeah." Katana pressed her lips into a thin line, gratitude mixing in with the shame. Taking in a tentative breath, she added, "I'm sorry."
Sasuke gave her a dark scowl for it. "Stop apologizing." He bit out, and then turned his back to her. "I'll see you tomorrow at the field. Same time."
Katana swallowed heavily. She told herself her heart wouldn't break, no matter his reaction. "Good night."
But as grey eyes watched the Uchiha's retreating back, with his tense shoulders hunched low and defeated footsteps heavy against the cement, Katana closed her eyes to rein in the frustrated sting beneath them and her ribcage seemed to squeeze around her heart.
I'm sorry, she thought desperately, and her heart broke anyway.
"K-Kazekage-sama. T-They asked for you."
Gaara looked up at the mention of his title, blinking owlishly up at the nervous medic before him. I've seen him before, the redhead mused, suddenly troubled. This has happened before.
"P-Please, K-Kazekage-sama."
Muscles and bones alike protested with a twinge when he stood up, needles shooting up his legs with every step he took towards the tent, as if his feet had forgotten how to walk. There was a growing emptiness inside of him, gnawing on itself, and Gaara wondered why dread crashed into him like ice water as soon as he entered the tent and saw the pink hair of Sakura splayed across white sheets, her body covering the patient on the bed.
"You called for me?" He asked, voice low with tiredness, and he watched as Sakura slowly turned around, her green eyes lifeless and red-rimmed.
"Say your goodbyes, Gaara-sama." She said and Gaara's chest tightened in protest, suddenly breathless. This was not how it was supposed to go.
"What?"
"She's gone, Gaara." Sakura told him, her words ringing in the shell of Gaara's ears, just as she pulled back the covers and revealed a dreadfully motionless girl. "Katana's dead."
Gaara jolted awake with a start, air clogged in his throat and crimson strands of hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. As aquamarine eyes blinked away the sting and blurriness, two trails of dampness made their way down his cheeks, and Gaara bit back a stuttering breath. He knew it must just be his imagination but there was a lingering stench of decay in the air that refused to be ignored and it took every last ounce of his willpower to push the taste of bile back down. It was a dream, Gaara told himself firmly, desperately, Nothing more. It was just a dream. Wiping a hand down his face to erase the tears that escaped, Gaara looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
It took a moment for him to shake off what remained of his disorientation and another moment still before he realized that he was in their shared tent, the flame of the oil lamp by the side barely illuminating the dark shadows of the room brought about by the night. Papers lay haphazardly scattered before him on the tabletop, and it was only then that the redhead remembered closing his bloodshot eyes in the middle of doing paperwork, and apparently, forgetting to open them again. It had been happening more and more often lately. The painful twinge in his neck was testimony to his untimely nap.
The tent flaps rustled then, pushed aside and open just as a familiar figure stepped into the room, and Gaara looked up to see lifeless grey eyes staring at him—no, through him, as if his presence wasn't registered—and the redhead didn't dare breathe for a frightening second. The sight of it made crimson and ashen grey explode behind his eyes, made the scent of Death stronger, as if it was clinging to his clothes, made his ears ring with the unending whispers of spare him, spare him, hurt me, kill me, just spare him please and he wanted nothing more than for it to stop, to stop, stop it, she's not dead, it was just a dream—
"Gaara." Her voice, though rough and cracking at the last syllable, was softened with concern. It was enough to bring him back to reality, and Gaara shook his head, remembering to suck in a shaky breath. At the opening of the tent, Katana had her eyebrows furrowed at him, the tired lines on her face digging deeper. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I think I have. The redhead clenched his jaws before the words could escape him and swallowed tightly. "I'm fine." He said, risking a glance back up her eyes once again. He hadn't been making it up in his mind—Katana's eyes were dull, missing their usual spark of life, darkened only by worry. His heart dropped down to his stomach at the implications of it. "How was the evaluation?"
"I failed it again." She said without preamble, deceptively nonchalant even when her hands shook with the faintest tremors by her side. The statement echoed in the silence of the tent and Katana shifted her feet, movements sluggish with the heavy weariness that clung to her form. Fighting back a grimace, Katana crossed the room to set down her weapon and a folder on the bedside table, turning her back to him. "But that's okay. Tsunade-sama agreed to give me missions despite it. I'll be training with Sasuke again tomorrow."
"I see." Gaara said and bit back the strong urge to start apologizing and never stop. No matter what everyone else said otherwise, he knew better; it had been his recklessness that forced Katana to jump into his fight and save him; it was his fault she'd been in a coma for months. And it wasn't fair, he thought as he gritted his jaw in guilt and self-loathing, that it was Katana who had to deal with the repercussions of his actions. Even now that she was back to consciousness, she never really stopped suffering. Gaara made a move to stand, only to pause once Katana dragged a chair towards his direction and sat beside him, propping her chin up on folded arms.
For a moment, it was utterly quiet, Katana regarding him with aching softness despite the dark shadows of exhaustion underneath her stormy eyes, and the redhead trying to keep in check the hatred he'd been harboring for himself ever since he'd seen her unconscious on a hospital bed. It didn't help that Katana kept looking at him as if he made everything better, as if his presence was enough to make her forget whatever troubles she had at the moment. She had no idea how utterly wrong she was.
"How was the council meeting earlier today?"
"Horrible." Gaara found himself blurting out before he could realize what it was he said, and startled himself in the process. He frowned. "I mean—" The words died in his mouth as soon as a snort cut him off and Gaara curiously looked over to see a rare grin playing on Katana's lips, smoothening out some of the harsh lines on her face. Beautiful, he thought at once, heart stuttering at the sight. He'd almost forgotten how breathtaking she looked when she smiled. Giving an internal resolute nod, Gaara masked his expression into a deadpan glower before Katana's smile could fade away. "It sucked." He bit out, fighting off his own amusement when Katana snickered. "I mean it, every one of them is a bastard."
"Gaara." Katana gasped in between weak laughter, eyes widening in mock scandal and mirth. The spark of life Gaara had been searching for in her eyes resurfaced for a quick moment. "Stop it."
"It's decided. I'm firing all of them."
"Oh my god." Katana dropped her head against the tabletop as she chuckled, her wide grin stretching nicely across her cheeks. "You're impossible." This time, Gaara was helpless to stop the faint smile that pulled at the edges of his mouth. "I'm going to have to stop you right there. Don't do that. You need them."
Gaara scowled at the suggestion. "I do not." He said with exaggerated offense and sent Katana muffling another bout of laughter, shoulders shaking, and the redhead finally huffed in amusement. Aquamarine eyes were soft with affection as they watched Katana calm herself down with a shake of her head, her wide grin fading into a worn-out smile.
"No." Katana sighed in agreement, raising her head to look at him properly, and reached for one of his hands. Intertwining their fingers, Katana laid her head back down on her free arm and peered at Gaara through half-lidded eyes. "I think you've proved time and time again that you don't need them." She said, voice taking on a hushed note. Melancholy flashed through her grey gaze, vanishing away as soon as it appeared. "Perhaps you're just too kind to get rid of the people you don't need anymore."
Gaara looked down at their joined hands, his thumb gently sweeping over her skin. He had a feeling she was no longer talking about the Suna councilors. "That's not true." He murmured, gathering whatever remaining courage he had to look at her in the eye and hold her gaze. "I think I've always established just who I need in my life. My people, my family, my friends, Naruto", he smiled at Katana's short, amused huff, "and you." Gently, almost reverently, Gaara raised their clasped hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over her scarred knuckles, trying to reassure.
Gaara didn't miss the way she tensed at the action. He didn't miss the way her eyes turned glassy in pain, nor the way her hand jerked in his hold as if trying to get away, and he regretted putting that expression back on again. I'm sorry, Gaara wanted to say as he let her hand go, grief-stricken and helpless as he watched her face crumple. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you feel better, I'm sorry.
"Katana—"
"I'm okay." Shaking her head, Katana trained her stormy eyes on the tabletop and heaved a quivering breath. She hesitated, and then reached for his hand again, squeezing it. Her grip on him was tight, her fingers trembling—uncomfortable.
"I love you." She croaked out, and it was Gaara's turn to close his eyes in agony. "I love you, you know that?"
Don't say that. I don't deserve it. "I know." Gaara whispered instead, and didn't dare kiss her again.
"I love you."
I don't deserve you, Katana. "I love you, too."
She whispered it to him at the dead of the night, when everything was just too still, too silent, too cold, like the dead, and he remained the only thing that reminded her she was alive. Counting his even breaths and letting the sound of his exhales lead her to an odd sort of peace, Katana shuffled closer to leech off the warmth he radiated, careful not to wake him.
"Gaara." She murmured under her breath, voice hushed and terrified, dripping with longing. Even after all that had happened, his name still sounded right coming out of her throat, the syllables of it still a comforting weight in her mouth. Briefly, Katana wondered if the same could still be applied to him, if her name was still Gaara's source of comfort, despite everything.
Or if it had, instead, become his source of burden.
Gaara had no need of a damaged shinobi. He didn't deserve to be stuck with her.
Her mind went back to the way he had kissed her hand, mouth barely brushing her rough skin, how he'd looked at her with sorrow in his eyes and an 'I'm sorry' ready to leave his lips, and how her first instinct was to get away from him, because she was broken and she couldn't risk breaking him, too. How, in a devastating moment, he closed his eyes and couldn't even stand to look at her when she said 'I love you'.
She thought back to when he said 'I love you, too', and how much it sounded like an apology.
I'm not okay, she allowed herself to think, deep in the back of her mind, I'm not okay, Gaara.
Refusing to give herself the permission to touch him, Katana drew her arms close to her torso, and watched the steady rise and fall of his back. "Gaara", she said again, and shut her eyes tightly, "would you still love me, even when I'm broken?"
Her words rang empty in the darkness of the night.
He whispered it to her in the morning, when the sun had barely come up and the first rays of light were still gentle, warmth seeping through the fabric of their tent and illuminating her sleeping face in such a brilliant manner. Gaara's gaze was soft as he studied her expression, taking in the arch of her eyebrows and the length of her lashes, the slope of her nose and the curve of her cheek—and his heart broke once he noticed the dried tear tracks on her skin. Nightmares, most likely. Wiping them away with careful fingers, Gaara thought to himself, not for the last time, why can't I make her stop hurting?
"Katana—" He breathed out her name and wished he had the guts to continue what he had to say, wished he could let the unending apologies piling up in his mind spill forth from his lips. He remembered the way she stared at him when he had kissed her hand last night, her grey eyes wide with sudden agony, and how she shook under in his grip as if she couldn't even stand him touching her. 'I love you', she had said last night, and it sounded too much like a desperate reassurance in Gaara's ears. A reassurance to him or to herself, he didn't know for certain.
What he did know was that he didn't deserve any of it, not after all that had happened. Not after all that had happened to her.
I'm not okay. He thought helplessly, unable to say the words. I'm not okay, Katana.
"Katana." Gaara said again, this time a sigh of defeat. Brushing the stray strands of hair from her forehead and wishing once more that he could take away her pain, the redhead closed his eyes and let loose a heavy breath. "Would you still love me, even after all the suffering I've caused you?"
The only response he got was a long, hollow silence.
For the first time since her comatose, Katana woke up to an empty tent, and the lonely silence rang in her ears.
"Gaara?" She croaked out in question, blinking away the blurriness that clung to the edges of her vision. The sound of her own ragged breathing answered her, and in a gut-wrenching way, it felt like a rejection. Releasing a tired sigh, Katana pushed away the sheets and climbed out of bed, ignoring the deep exhaustion that settled in her bones even when she'd just woken up.
"Might as well start the day." She muttered to herself, barely recognizing the rough murmur that came out of her throat as her own voice. "Not like it's going to end any faster."
There was no need to worry about zipping the tent close; no one ever came to their room at this time of the day anyway, save for her and Gaara. Taking ahold of the hem of her shirt, Katana stripped it off and gave a little sigh at the breeze that entered through the gap of the tent. The crisp air was a relief to feel against her heated skin and this time, her exhale was a little more enthusiastic as she dropped down to a chair, her eyes closing shut once again to relish the cold.
Minutes passed by before Katana raised her head and blinked blearily once more, but once her gaze focused she froze, the heaviness of her limbs forgotten as something cold and hard dropped down to the pit of her stomach. Katana stood, shakily, her eyes following the movement in front of her. There was a mirror that she hadn't taken notice of before, strategically placed in front of her seat, and now, she couldn't pry her stare away from her reflection even if she tried.
Dressed down to dark navy pants and her black bra, Katana saw every healing wound painted on her skin, every raised welt, every faded stitched-up scar. Where there was once smooth, even skin, now there were jagged ugly marks everywhere and large discolored patches of sickly green and fading yellow bruises.
Madara did this, she thought, her hands quivering in the slightest by her sides. For a moment, his voice echoed in her mind, sadistic and rumbling, 'you're not strong enough!'
She looked like a mutilated freak, a disfigured creature held together by stitches and desperation, slowly falling apart from the inside. Even when standing—just like right now, with her shoulders rolled back and her posture stiff—all Katana could see was another animated corpse, staring right back at her through the mirror. With clammy, trembling fingers, Katana applied the barest of touch against a thick red line across her side, where her ribs had probably cracked and split the skin. She could almost imagine the agony again, could recall the searing, white hot pain that threatened to consume her as Madara's Rinnegan lifted her up only to slam her down against the earth like a rag doll.
"Don't." The voice inside her—her twin—warned darkly, speaking after remaining dormant and quiet for so long. "Don't think about it."
The warning came too late; Katana couldn't stop even if she tried, her fingers tracing and trailing every disgusting scar, memorizing the feel of rough, puckered skin under her touch. She remembered the acidic taste of blood and bile as they burned holes in her tongue, her vomiting forceful enough to leave her throat feeling like it was bleeding and raw. The words broken, foolish, pathetic rang in her head, turning her breath chilly and erratic, igniting a horrible stinging sensation behind her eyes. She felt the pounding on her head again, heard the sickening crack of her skull against the sharp edge of a rock.
'No one wants a broken soldier, little girl.'
Madara's constant drone inside her mind was nauseating and Katana hated every word he spewed forth but there was no way to silence his voice, every insult, every derogatory word seeping into her like poison. Katana swallowed the lump in her throat, helplessly glaring at the scars littering her body.
Madara did this to her.
He almost killed Gaara, killed her, stuck her in a comatose for months, scarred her own body beyond recognition and turned her into this—this—He ruined her—
There was a crack, followed by a sharp sting of pain shooting up on her knuckles, and Katana blinked to stare back at the broken shards of glass, hundreds of her own reflection glaring back at her with their chests heaving in badly contained outrage. "Shut up." She grunted to no one in particular and wasted no time turning her back against cracked mirror, snatching up her dirty shirt to wipe off the blood from her knuckles before throwing it over her shoulder to cover the glass.
She walked out with a long-sleeved shirt that covered everything and a busted hand that throbbed every time she clenched it into a fist but Katana couldn't find it in her to care anymore.
"Kai."
The word escaped her mouth, pushing past her lips for the millionth time around, and Katana has all but forgotten its meaning. "Kai." She bit out again, voice low and rough from overuse, and in front of her, Uchiha Madara let out a bellowing laugh.
Katana flinched, and by the side, Sasuke's crossed arms tightened even further.
"Katana." Sasuke called, speaking for the first time, and Katana finally took her eyes off the illusion to glance at him. There had been tension between them since this morning, cold and brittle, that Katana didn't want to address in the first place. His onyx eyes refused to look at her but she could practically see the worry radiating off him—it felt like a personal insult. "Let's take a break."
"I'm a little busy." She snapped without missing a beat, keeping a tight lid on the irritation simmering low in her gut. Facing the illusion again, Katana gritted her teeth and bit out, "Kai!" Madara only grinned at her.
"Enough." Sasuke said, and the sound of the illusion breaking was an explosion in Katana's ears. Grey eyes stared blankly at the spot where Uchiha Madara had been standing not a second ago—now just a patch of grass and empty air—and Katana counted her breaths, anger burning underneath her skin. "Let's take a break." The Uchiha repeated, despite the sharp glare drilling holes on the side of his face. "We've been doing this all morning—"
"I had it." Katana snarled at him, voice dropping low in an uncharacteristic bout of outrage. Her hands formed into trembling fists before she could control herself. "I fucking had it, you bastard!"
"You're chakra-exhausted." Sasuke reasoned, as calm as he could be, turning away from her to walk towards their belongings. "I'm not an idiot, I've been monitoring your levels."
"So what?" Katana demanded, hot on his trail. Dimly, she knew she was overreacting but her temper accepted nothing reasonable, it seemed. The frustration from this morning reared its ugly head to her direction once again, and Katana was infuriated enough to see red. "I could've taken it, you know that! A few more seconds and I would have—"
"Collapsed. Again." Sasuke deadpanned, unimpressed. "You're too reckless lately. Push yourself even more and you'll break again." He turned to face her, his eyes finally meeting her grey ones, and Katana loathed the amount of sympathy she saw in them. It was like looking at everyone else after they heard that she failed her evaluation. Sasuke averted his gaze to ground just as Katana clenched her jaws, and she dreaded the sudden silence that fell over them.
"Sasuke", she began gruffly, trying and failing to hide the desperation in her voice. "We're wasting time. We have to—"
"Helping you has been a mistake. I shouldn't have agreed to this." Sasuke breathed out, a soft admittance of defeat. For the first time since she had known him, Uchiha Sasuke sounded painfully lost. "I don't want to help you anymore."
Just like that, all of Katana's anger vanished in a second, and her heart fell like a stone into her gut, heavy and cold. Throat closing up, she blinked rapidly, disoriented. It felt like being submerged under ice water without warning. "What?" He didn't sound like the Sasuke she knew, the one who had too much pride to give up on anything. Katana shook her head and grimaced, perfectly fine to be in denial. "Stop screwing around. This isn't the time for this."
"This isn't helping you." Sasuke cut in before she could say any more, tone grim. "This isn't—I'm not—" Sasuke fumbled with his words, his frustration becoming visible in the way he took a sharp breath and released it in the same second, his throat bobbing around a painful swallow. "I thought this could help you. I thought I was helping you."
"You are." Katana insisted stubbornly, already at the point of pleading, and ignored the wave of humiliation that washed over her. She had sunk too low. "You are helping me. I'm getting better, Sasuke. Just give me another chance, I can do it, just one more try—" Please. Please, I can be okay again.
"Katana." Pale hands wrapped around her wrists carefully, and it was only then that Katana registered the fact that she'd closed the distance between them and had gripped fistfuls of Sasuke's shirt. Looking down at her with a silent apology in his eyes, Sasuke gently pried her off him. He took a step back, dropping her hands. "I can't help you."
"Sasuke—"
"You're not okay." It felt like a rejection. Like a dagger to the heart. Even Sasuke had given up on her.
"Sasuke." Katana called out helplessly, feeling her body cave in on itself, aching and useless and broken. She watched as her teammate turned to leave, with his head hanging low and his shoulders tense, his hands limp by his sides. In that moment, Katana wanted nothing more than to disappear.
For the first time since her comatose, Gaara stepped into the tent and realized he was alone, cold darkness enveloping him all around.
"Katana?" He called out despondently, despite having scanned the room three times now and knowing fully well the girl wasn't there. Letting loose a sigh that felt as if all air was expelled from his lungs, Gaara set down the folders he held on the table and ventured further into their tent, stopping to look down at the piece of paper on their bedside table, sitting untouched right where he'd left it that morning for Katana to find.
Emergency Kage meeting, the message read in his neat script, I didn't want to wake you. I'll be back late. Take care, Katana.
Glancing briefly to his left, Gaara halted in his steps, cautiously taking in the sight of Katana's shirt carelessly thrown over the mirror. It wasn't like Katana to be disorganized. Frowning, the redhead made his way over and pulled the clothing down from where it hung. Immediately, dozens of distorted reflections of himself gazed back at him and Gaara's breath fell short at the dried crimson flecks that were painted in the middle, right where the mirror had shattered.
Flashback
"She's a traumatized soldier. It's inevitable. Almost every shinobi struggle through it right after the war." Tsunade said it as a matter-of-factly, her expression schooled into a mask of professionalism with only her golden eyes betraying the depth of her concern. "Of course she'd be failing her evaluations. Be patient with her."
"I am." Gaara ground out, grimacing tightly. "Believe me, I will never pressure her." He ran a hand through his crimson hair, messing it up. "But if that is the case, can you ask her not to take it just yet? You don't realize how painful it is to watch her struggle everyday because of this. Isn't there any way to help her?"
"At this point, her recovery relies solely on how willing she is to accept help. She's showing signs of self-destructive tendencies. She's bound to only spiral even lower if I try and stop her. Knowing that girl, Katana would probably think I'm implying that she could never be a shinobi again." Golden eyes fixed themselves on his glum expression, studying the dark bags underneath his eyes for a moment. Tsunade paused, considering. "Does she know?"
"Know what?"
"That you're not alright either." Tsunade said without preamble, watching him like a hawk. "Does she know you're struggling through the same thing?"
Closing his eyes and biting back another sigh, Gaara tipped his head back onto the cushion of the chair. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Not exactly." He muttered, and heard Tsunade's disapproving snort. "She has it far worse than I have. Telling her about this would only add to her burdens. I'll be alright."
"That's what you think. You've developed a guilt complex, for goodness' sake." Tsunade shot back under her breath, and Gaara opened his eyes just in time to see the Hokage shake her head. "You two brats will be the death of me, I swear."
End Flashback
Before it could even fully sink into him what he was doing, Gaara was marching outside with purpose, startling the people around him. Katana, he thought anxiously, worry gnawing at his tired heart, please be okay.
The moon was bright and full, looking like a white spot in the midst of everything painted in darkness. Looking down, Katana let her legs dangle by the edge and considered the waves that crashed against the cliff side, wondering if they were strong enough to consume her whole should she choose to fall.
"Don't do it." Her twin snarled deep inside her mind, and Katana offered nothing more than a disinterested hum in reply. "I'm serious, brat. I didn't wait months for you to wake up only for you to kill yourself."
But I'm tired, she thought, closing her bloodshot eyes. Rest seemed like a wishful idea to her now, instead of something real. I'm broken. What good am I for? Reaching up, one hand cradled the hourglass resting on her chest, and Katana felt it pulsing, the sand particles brushing against the glass as if trying to comfort her.
"It's late."
Katana barely fought off the urge to flinch at the deep, familiar voice, her hand squeezing reflexively around the necklace. As soon as the shock was out of her system, she forced herself to let go of the hourglass, afraid of the possibility of breaking it on accident. Her twin's voice sunk back into the depths of her mind, its presence fading into the background. Katana cleared her throat, refusing to look at the newcomer as he took a seat next to her. "How'd you find me?"
"The same way I always find you." Kakashi sighed, pulling down his mask and looking relieved as cool air met his newly bared face. "Instinct." Leaning back with his palms against the ground, the jounin looked up at the night sky and hummed appreciatively but said nothing. Silence stretched on between them, uncertain and tense, and Katana fidgeted in her seat, conflicted.
"How are you feeling?"
The question broke the silence that was lingering a little too long for comfort already. Katana looked up slowly from where she was staring down the sea and met her adoptive father's gaze. There was worry in his eyes and kind sympathy, as well as a deep sadness that she could never begin to understand.
"I'm fine." She answered, forcing her mouth to twitch into a brief smile. There was no need for her to make a big deal out of nothing. "You?"
"I'm worried."
Kakashi's painfully honest answer made her stop moving completely and she stared at him, breath shallow. "I—" He knows, Katana realized with a start, her stomach churning in humiliation. Of course he knows. He always does. Averting her eyes from him in shame, she cleared her throat and cast her gaze faraway into the horizon, unable to even spare him a glance. "What are you worried about?"
"Many things." Kakashi admitted, looking at Katana with a knowing gaze. "The remnants of war, what's left of our soldiers, what's left of the enemies, the shinobi alliance…" the jounin trailed off, offering Katana a sad lopsided smile, "you."
'See? No one believes in you anymore!' Madara snarled in her mind.
Katana grimaced. "You don't have to worry about me."
"Kind of have to, kiddo." Kakashi pointed out with a soft sigh. "Comes with the job description of being a father." Taking in a deep breath and pressing his mouth into a grim line, the man sat up from where he was supported by his arms and leaned onto his knees instead. "Katana", he began, speaking so carefully that Katana unconsciously braced herself for whatever he had to say, "about your evaluation—"
"I know." The air inside Katana's lungs rushed out in one long breath and the tense silence was back again. She was the Raikage's daughter, the fiancée of the Fifth Kazekage, the adopted daughter of Hatake Kakashi, and yet here she was, still so utterly feeble and useless, unable to defeat a fucking genjutsu—
"I…I made another mistake." The words had tasted like poison in her mouth when she recited them the first time around—it tasted even worse now, like something was rotting on her tongue, and she spat them out with effort. In the back of her mind, a chant of 'broken, pathetic, useless' echoed like a record on repeat—Katana wanted it to stop."It won't happen again, I swear. This is the last time. I'll retake the evaluation next month and I'll pass it."
"That's good to hear, Kat-chan." Kakashi said but his tone of voice was more than enough to tell Katana that he was the farthest thing from happy with what she said. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Katana clenched her jaw and finally turned to face her adoptive father. With his dark mask bunched up around his neck, exposing his face, it was suddenly much easier to see the pained grimace he wore, the dark circles under his eyes making him look his age for once. His mismatched eyes, one dark and one bright red, fixed themselves on Katana's as he added, "But that's not what I was about to say."
"There's nothing else to say." Katana insisted, taking fistfuls of the fabric of her pants. "I already know you're disappointed—"
"I'm not—"
"You are." Like Tsunade-sama. Like Sasuke. Like everyone else.
"Katana." As a gloved hand gently dropped on top of her head, Katana sucked in a breath and bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, desperate to cut off the flow of words. Kakashi's hand was warm and solid, comforting, but Kakashi shouldn't touch her because Katana was broken, she was broken, broken, broken— "Katana, look at me."
You don't need another burden to carry on your shoulders, Tou-san. Katana wanted to say but didn't have the guts to. Bracing herself for yet another painful discussion, Katana's defiant gaze turned into one of confusion as it met Kakashi's soft look. "I can never be disappointed in you, Katana." Kakashi said, and the ball of frustration and anger that had solidified inside her chest during her conversation with Sasuke seemed to crumble apart, until all that was left was a deep weariness at the turn of events. When Kakashi's hand dropped to her arm, she allowed herself to be pulled closer. "Besides, you've never given me a reason to."
"Isn't failing the evaluation twice enough reason?"
"No." Kakashi answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "There was a time when I had to take that very same evaluation in order to be put back up in the roster." He said, voice taking on a somber note. Katana glanced up at him in question. "It was just after Rin's death. I failed the evaluation six times and it took me a whole year before I got back on the active list." Peering down on her, Kakashi smiled just barely, looking melancholic.
"What I meant to say was, failing the evaluation isn't the end of the world, Kat-chan. I'm not going to push you into doing something I know you can't, at least not yet. You take all the time you need. I'm here if you need me." The jounin said and just like that, relief bloomed inside her chest, overwhelming her. "You go first before anything else."
"We're shinobi." Katana insisted weakly, blinking to fight back the prickling sensation of tears as she recited what A had ingrained in her when she was younger. "Duty is our first priority."
"Are you seriously quoting the Shinobi Handbook at me? I'm a father." Kakashi said, pulling back to give her an incredulous look. "I'm your father. You're always going to be my first priority."
He hugged her close once more and the sudden presence of warmth all around her made her stop talking and she sucked in a breath, the cool air a relief to feel inside her lungs once again. "I know you'll get better." Kakashi's voice echoed in her ear, deep and familiar. "I don't know when." Kakashi murmured apologetically, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her arm. "But I know you will. You know what I think?"
"What?" Katana mumbled weakly from inside his hold, all the fight drained out of her.
"I think you should stop pretending to be okay." At his words, her eyes stung without her permission, and she thinned her mouth into a quivering line when Kakashi continued. "You're not okay, Katana. And that's a perfectly fine thing to be."
"I know." She whispered, shutting her eyes just as tears escaped them, and said nothing more.
The tent was empty when she returned, despite the lamp that burned bright on the table, next to the new set of folders stacked on top of one another. Gaara must have had dropped by at some point but Katana was too drained to even think of why the redhead had gone out again. Taking off her uniform to get rid of the suffocating way the thick fabric clung to her skin, Katana made the mistake of glancing at the mirror once again, like a bad déjà vu. Blinking slowly, she stared at the cracks and watched as several of herself stared back, all of them tired, all of them looking so much like the lost little girl she felt she was.
Slowly, like earlier this morning, Katana ran a hand down her arms, down her torso, tracing each scar and wondering why she ever tried to hide the fact that she was anything but broken, much like how throwing her shirt over the cracked mirror was nothing more than a flimsy attempt to hide the mess.
"Katana?"
The brunette started badly, jerking her hand away from her limbs. She looked back at the broken mirror through a blurred gaze and found her face tear-stained, jaw tight with tension. Behind her, half-hidden by the tent flaps, Gaara was staring right back at her through the mirror, his eyes a confusing combination of deep worry and immense relief. Katana cleared her throat, trembling hands coming up to wipe away the tears like they were nothing. "Gaara, there you are." She barely resisted the urge to wince at her rough voice, knowing deep down that she didn't fool him but doing it for the sake of putting up a façade. "I didn't get to see you this morning, I was starting to worry."
"Katana—"
"Right, just let me get dressed." Hastily, Katana strode towards her bags, shoulders tense as her hands fumbled to grab a fresh shirt. He shouldn't see her like this; he shouldn't ever have to see what she was reduced to. "This is embarrassing. I knew I should've zipped the tent—" She glanced up at the sudden movement at the corner of her eyes and stopped, her mask of calm breaking as she stared at him. "What are you doing?" In the span of seconds that had taken her to get her shirt, Gaara had crossed the room and stopped a foot away from her. The sudden contact of his hand against her back made her drop the clothing she held and in response, Gaara recoiled quickly.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine." Katana swallowed heavily, heart racing. "What were you doing?"
"I was—" The redhead cut himself off, his jaw flexing in determination. Instead of answering, he raised a hand and slowly reached for her back again, this time glancing at her for permission before touching her. When she gave no protest, Gaara swept a gentle hand across her upper back, fingers tracing something on her skin that she couldn't see. After a minute of silence, Gaara spoke, voice heavy despite its softness, "Chakra exhaustion."
Katana frowned. "What?"
"Torn muscles", Gaara soldiered on without explanation, "several lacerations and severe blood loss, from the two deep wounds—one on the side, the other on the back, short of—"
"—puncturing a lung." Katana continued for him, confused as to why Gaara was suddenly reciting what Tsunade had listed off as every one of her injuries, with the exception of the broken bones. In the first place, how did he even know what they were? He wasn't there when Tsunade and Shizune performed the checkup. "Gaara?"
"Those were all my injuries, according to the medics." Gaara whispered, his touch careful as he brushed a particular spot near Katana's shoulder blade. "This scar right here…" He stroked the scar once again and Katana's breath hitched as she remembered Madara stabbing her with her own sword before he left, "I have the same one on my back, from when he stabbed me with Susanoo's blade."
Katana's throat closed up as what he said sank into her and she turned around sharply, facing him with a near desperate look. "I want to see." She said. When he didn't immediately react, doubt began to creep into her system, thinking she'd crossed a line. However, it went away just as easily when the redhead went to unbutton his Kage robes, the black mesh shirt underneath following suit, and left Gaara in the same half-naked state Katana was in. Despite the stubborn clench of her jaw, Katana couldn't help but rake her eyes down the length of his pale torso, throat growing tight and her heart breaking for the nth time as she saw the jagged, red scar carved on his side, the very same wound he clutched when she found him fighting Madara all by himself.
"Turn around."
Gaara complied easily at her whispered command and she found herself staring at his broad back, grey eyes falling to stare at the long scar Susanoo's sword left behind. Gingerly, she raised a hand to trace the healed wound. The skin was smooth there, despite the discoloration, and warm. The pained protest she was expecting to hear from Gaara didn't come. Katana heaved a ragged sigh, letting her forehead fall gently on his back.
"The sick bastard gave us matching scars." She croaked out in a mixture of disbelief and bitter amusement, a sharp smile twitching at the side of her lips. For a moment, her scars didn't seem as revolting as they were before. "He actually gave us matching scars."
"Well, he did one thing right."
The tension in the air lifted all too quickly at his dry statement and Katana huffed out a bitten back laugh, shaking her head as she stepped back and allowed him to face her properly again. Gaara turned to her with soft eyes and unable to stand it further, Katana averted her gaze to the ground, a nagging thought echoing insistently at the back of her mind.
Tell him. Tell him the truth.
She didn't want to. Even with closed eyes, Katana could clearly see the ugly lines etched into her skin, the disgusting sight of scars carved into her broken excuse of a body. Gaara didn't deserve to deal with her mess.
'You're not okay.' Tsunade's voice rang in her head, followed by Sasuke's, and then finally, her father's, "You're not okay, Katana, and that's a perfectly fine thing to be."
"Gaara", She stammered out, halting to a stop when Gaara pulled back to look at her and she lost her temporary courage, "I—There's something…" Breaking off, she shut her eyes again and grimaced, frustration simmering in her veins. "There's something I need to tell you."
Gaara gave a gentle nod. "I'm listening."
"I—"
Go on. Tell him.
Katana remembered the sleepless nights. She remembered cold nights spent huddled together for warmth, remembered quiet voices and soft touches trying not to disturb the fragile peace. She remembered waking up with screams ringing in their ears and sometimes, with screams ripping out of their throats, she remembered tears and the invisible scent of blood and fear, she remembered all those times they held one another as one broke down and the other caught all their pieces.
Katana remembered the sincerity of their 'I love you's before it was tainted with weariness and fear.
Katana remembered struggling, fighting, suffering—but always, always with the two of them together. Right now, it felt like the moment everything had been leading up to, and Katana wanted him to know.
"Gaara, I'm", she took in his aquamarine eyes, always so, so tired these days but always so tender when looking at her, and the words managed to leave her mouth with her eyes on his. "I'm not okay."
No sooner than when she said them, it was as if a dam had been broken.
One minute she was staring at him, stammering out the words she dreaded to admit, and on the next, hoarse laughter was bubbling up her throat, her lips spreading into the widest grin she'd ever smiled since waking up from her coma. "I'm not okay." She repeated, and gave a shaky chuckle, relief so tangible inside her chest, she almost worried it would burst open. "I'm not okay." Katana choked out, laughing one second and then swallowing back down building sobs on the next, because she wasn't okay and hadn't been for a while.
She was so exhausted, and everything around her was falling apart once again.
"I-I'm not okay." Katana stuttered out, chest squeezing around her heart and everything was so painful, like the first time she'd woken up since being unconscious for months and her lungs had been on fire, her heart trying to re-learn how to beat. "I kept pretending I was—I thought I'd be, for a while back—but I'm not, I'm not okay, I can't sleep and I can't focus, I can't do anything to stop breaking down when it starts and no matter how hard I try, I can't break the genjutsu because I'm not strong enough."
She choked down a sob, swiping furiously at the tears that kept running down her face. "I'm exhausted." Katana rasped in defeat, and tried to hide her face behind shaky hands. "I just want everything to stop. I think I might be broken."
In front of her, Gaara had been watching her come apart with tormented agony until he could take no more. His hands twitched by his sides, hesitating for a split second before they came up, reaching for Katana. "I'm not okay." Katana hiccupped as Gaara enveloped her inside his arms, holding her as if trying to catch all her broken parts. They dropped to the floor, Katana's knees giving in, and Gaara had no protest following her down. "I'm sorry I'm not okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"I love you." Gaara interrupted, voice rough and full of grief. From where he had buried his face in her hair, Gaara pressed a kiss on top of her head, breath trembling as it escaped him. "Broken or not, I love you, Katana. You have to know that." Gaara said, and Katana pressed her shut eyes even tighter, burrowing further into the redhead's warmth.
"I'm sorry." She said again.
"It's alright. I'm sorry as well." The redhead said, voice cracking with emotion. "To tell you the truth, I think I might be a little broken, too." He gave a low laugh, soft and sad, and inside his hold, Katana felt the same ache in her heart. "I'm not okay, Katana. I'm sorry."
"I love you." Katana whispered, speaking as clearly as she can in between her tears, and reveled in the sigh Gaara gave her. "Broken or not, I love you, Gaara." She repeated back to him, and if nothing else, those words felt incredibly right. Releasing a quivering breath, Katana pulled away enough to meet red-rimmed aquamarine eyes, looking as broken as she did, the both of them past the point of tired. "I guess it was time for both of us to stop pretending." Katana admitted in a hushed voice, defeated.
Silence settled inside the tent as the two of them took a moment for everything to sink in, exchanging slow breaths and tired blinks. Wordlessly, the redhead reached around her, fingers finding her scar again. Gaara didn't have to wait long for Katana to do the same, warm fingers tracing the healed wound on his back. "So we stop pretending." He murmured, breaking the quiet, and kissed her. "If you're broken, then I'll be here to help you put yourself back together." He pressed another kiss against her mouth, just as tender as the one before. "If you don't feel strong enough, then I'll be strong for you. You don't have to force yourself."
He kissed her again, and again, and again, until her mouth was soft and pliant and he could taste the tears on her lips. "If you don't believe that you are beautiful, then I will prove it to you, time and time again, until you finally believe me. I'll stay by your side", he breathed out, heart squeezing painfully when she kissed back with vigor, trying to hide the quiver of her lips, "and I'll help you every step of the way until you're strong enough again." He kissed her once more, until she was chuckling against his mouth, sighing ruefully, both their faces wet with her tears, and her sad smile was finally one of relief.
"If you're broken", Katana trailed off, her calloused fingers brushing away the drying tear tracks on the redhead's face, "I'll collect all your pieces. If you're not strong enough, then I will be, for both of us." She closed her eyes, knocking her forehead against his, and took a deep breath. "You are beautiful, Gaara, and I will spend my days proving it to you until you believe me. I'll stay by your side, until we can be strong again."
"So we'll fix each other." Gaara whispered. "Together."
"Together." Katana breathed out in agreement, the dark whispers in her head nowhere to be found.
Finally, finally, there was blessed silence.
"Sasuke." A determined call.
Footsteps coming to a stop. A hesitant breath, and then, "Katana."
"I can't go to training." A deep sigh, a resigned smile. "I'm not okay."
"Hn." Relief. A heavy swallow, an encouraging nod. "Alright."
"I'll see you around, Sasuke." Thank you.
"Yeah. See you." Get well soon, Katana.
They learned to cope, eventually. The wounds, both the physical ones and the psychological, faded over time but the progress was slow and the setbacks were frustrating.
Sometimes Katana dreamt of dying by the hands of Uchiha Madara and would wake up screaming herself hoarse, ripping out shout after agonized shout as she experienced flashbacks of what it was like to be slammed down against the ground time and time again with her bones breaking, her shuddering body trapped against Gaara's sturdy one as he hastily murmured words of reassurance—"You're okay, you're safe, he's not here, he can't get you, you're alive, Katana, you're alive"—never stopping until her tears would dry out.
Sometimes Gaara shook her awake in the darkest hours of the night, his aquamarine eyes wide and panicked as he kept trying to bring her back to consciousness. The tremble of his hands wouldn't fade until grey eyes would blink blearily up at him and his first word would always be her name in the form of breathless relief, and he would spend the rest of the night sleeping with his mouth against her pulse and his hand over her beating heart.
Sometimes Katana had nightmares of how it would be if she hadn't been able to save Gaara and those nights were always long and torturous, her head filled with 'what if's and 'don't think about it'. She would spend the night plastered right up against Gaara's back, making sure to keep quiet even while crying as to not disturb him, and would drown herself in the warmth of his skin, listening to the steady rise and fall of his breath. The redhead would be none the wiser if not for the wet sensation of tears on his back but he'd keep on pretending to be asleep for her sake, letting her keep what was left of her pride.
Sometimes Gaara's desperate pleas echoed in the dead silence of the tent without warning, startling Katana into waking. Her heart always broke at the sight of him crying with his eyes shut, the redhead trapped inside his rebellious consciousness unbeknownst to him. Every cry of 'please wake up' caused her chest to constrict, every sob of 'don't leave me' tore at her composure, and every desolate whisper of 'I need you' made her eyes sting with unshed tears, and her movements would become just as desperate as she struggled to wake him up. "I'm sorry", Gaara always gasped out as soon as he blinked back the tears caused by his nightmare and reached for her. "I'm sorry", he'd say as he buried his face into the juncture of her neck, closing his eyes at the feel of her strong pulse against his cheek. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry", Gaara would breathe into her skin, kissing every one of her scars within his reach as an apology for the crimes he didn't commit. Through it all, Katana would remain unmoving in his hold, closing her eyes and letting tears slip by, wishing their situation wasn't as it was, mangled by endless guilt and trodden upon by the rotting agony in their hearts.
Sometimes, their nightmares got so terrible that they would inevitably fight the next morning, arguing about nonsensical things and sniping at each other for every little misstep, unable to do so much as look at each other in the eye for fear of remembering the latter's bloody death. Their fights were a step backwards into progress but it was something they'd both had to learn to grudgingly accept and soon found a way to go around it, exchanging unspoken apologies in the late of night, touches firm and grounding, kisses soft and comforting.
Sometimes, on rare, miraculous nights, neither of them would experience sleep terrors. Those by themselves were a symbol of hope.
Sometimes there were nights when both of them could see blood and death whenever they did so much as blink and neither wanted to risk suffering another bout of nightmare, they would huddle up under the covers and against each other, legs tangled and warm skin pressed flat together until there was no space left between them. They would talk in hushed whispers and soft murmurs, unwilling to disrupt the peace and quiet that was hard to come by these days.
The nightmares were unforgiving tonight, the flashes of memory particularly cruel, and neither of them wanted to risk sleeping.
Katana laid beside the redhead, her head pillowed on his chest and her nose pushed against the collar of his shirt. The inside of their tent was dark but outside, the shine of the full moon was blinding, peeking even through the tent fabric and casting a dim lighting inside that was enough to have them make out each other's silhouettes.
Katana pushed her nose further into Gaara's shirt, rubbing her cheek indulgently against the soft cotton, trying to rid the insistent scent of blood she kept on catching despite its absence. "Why do you smell like cinnamon?" The question pushed itself out of her mouth so suddenly that it surprised even the brunette. Hesitantly, she glanced up at the redhead, taken aback when she noticed the embarrassed flush taking over Gaara's pale face. Much too quickly for the boy's liking, Katana's surprise vanished and a wide grin took over. "What? What is it?"
"It's really nothing." Gaara sighed, ducking his head in embarrassment. "Temari's in charge of our monthly groceries and she thought it would be amusing to purchase soap with scents of food flavorings. Hers is vanilla. Mine is cinnamon. Kankuro's is…"
Biting her lip to reign in the building laughter, Katana nudged him gently. "Go on."
"Kankuro's is caramel."
At that, a snort escaped Katana, laughter building inside her until she was muffling snickers into her hand, face pressed against Gaara and feeling the redhead's soft huffs of laughter against her hair. "But—", she wheezed in between laughs, "—he hates caramel."
"That's Temari and Kankuro for you." Gaara sighed once more, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "They like to drive each other insane, for some unknown reason." Turning on his side to face her fully, the amusement on his face was replaced by softness. "I didn't think you'd notice that."
"Notice what?" Katana asked, a little breathless from laughter. "That Kankuro hates caramel? Well, he hasn't exactly been subtle about it—"
"No. I meant the fact that I smell like cinnamon." This time, his smile was on full bloom, the hard lines on his face disappearing in the process. "No one's noticed before. Only my siblings know." He said, knocking his forehead against hers.
"No one else has been this close to you."
"Hn." The redhead acknowledged, closing his eyes contentedly. "You smell like laundry detergent."
"That's new." Katana chuckled under her breath. "Should I take that as a compliment?"
"I like it." Gaara offered quietly. He brushed his lips against her cheek, pressing closer even when there was barely any space left between them. "You smell like home."
Inhaling sharply, Katana reveled in the warmth spreading throughout her chest. It was something she hadn't felt in what seemed like years and feeling it now, without any warning, was vaguely overwhelming. "You smell like pastry." She teased, attempting to evade the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, but Gaara simply snorted and shook his head, pressing another kiss on the side of her mouth.
"Do you remember our first kiss?" Gaara asked so suddenly that Katana had to pause and comprehend what he said.
"Yeah." Katana said. Smiling lopsidedly, she closed her eyes and the scene played out into her mind. "It was after we had that sparring session and I was patching you up."
"Incorrect."
Katana's smile was replaced by a frown and she furrowed her eyebrows at him. "What do you mean 'incorrect'? That was our first kiss."
"It's not." Gaara said again, mouth curling into an amused smile as Katana scowled. "Our first kiss was when Naruto shoved you while you were saying goodbye and we fell down together."
"That was an accident! It doesn't count." Katana protested despite the grin tugging on her lips. She rolled her eyes. "What, are you going to say next that our first date was when I toured you around Konoha when we were twelve?" When the redhead didn't answer, Katana's teasing note fell short and she raised her head to look at him incredulously. Gaara blinked back, aquamarine eyes too wide and too innocent. "Are you serious?"
"You can't tell me that wasn't a date."
"It wasn't." Katana argued, trying to tamp down the smile tugging at her lips at the glint of amusement in Gaara's eyes. "We were twelve, for god's sakes."
"It was, though."
"It wasn't."
"It was."
"It wasn't—"
"Then when was our first date?"
"The official one or the unofficial first date?" Katana asked, just for the sake of being confusing, and bit back a grin when Gaara frowned at her.
"There was an unofficial date?" The look of utter perplexity on the redhead's face was enough to make her crack and Katana broke into laughter, only laughing even harder when Gaara scowled down at her.
"You're laughing now." The redhead deadpanned, unimpressed. "Wait until the others actually ask about those details. Our answers wouldn't match up, and they would think we're seeing different people."
"Aw." Katana teased, chuckling. "Wait until I tell them that between the two of us, you're actually the one concerned about these details."
Gaara paused, cautious. "You wouldn't."
"I might."
"You wouldn't."
"I might."
Aquamarine eyes narrowed in mock accusation, and Gaara jostled the two of them as he pushed himself up to hover over Katana, shaking his head down at her. "I knew it." He whispered, teasingly, his warm breath fanning her cheeks. "You were out to ruin my reputation, after all."
Katana grinned, their faces so close that their lips brushed against each other when she did, and just like that, the scent of blood was gone, the nightmares forgotten, and everything was okay. "You caught me, Kazekage-sama."
The next time it rained, it was midnight and both of them were painfully awake.
They stood underneath the downpour, letting the heavens weep over them, catching raindrops on their tongues.
"Katana." He murmured her name against her skin, kissing raindrops from her lips, and remembered the last time they were caught under the rain. It all seemed so far away in the past now. "Marry me."
"We're engaged, you dork." She laughed in between their kisses, relishing the taste of his smiles.
"Marry me, anyway." He said, and she smiled against his lips, watching raindrops fall from the tips of his drenched crimson locks, and recalled the last time they were caught under the rain as if it happened yesterday.
"Okay."
They slept with damp hair and cold skin, pressed up against one another for warmth.
They were back at the same grassy clearing, the same people surrounding her, and she was back to staring down dead Rinnegan eyes that attempted to burn holes through her head. "We meet again, little girl." Madara Uchiha rumbled out a hollow laugh from across her but Katana's breathing was even and calm, face of determination unwavering. The animated corpse scoffed. "You never learn your lesson do you? How pathetic."
There was a thump just above her breastbone, something warm and heavy with chakra colliding against her skin. Even when in her predicament, the movement made Katana's mouth twitch into a grin and she ignored the dead arrogant asshole in front of her to meet the aquamarine eyes that stared at her with slight concern.
Next to Naruto and within their crowd of friends cheering her on, Gaara stood his ground solidly, his crossed arms the only thing betraying his mask of calmness. Katana winked at him and his lips faltered into a relieved smile.
"Enough of this nonsense." Madara snarled in front of her, his patience finally running out. "You're going to die with your blood in my hands, kunoichi."
"I'm not afraid of you." Katana said, and watched him take a step forward, and then another, and another, and then he was running, charging towards her with his crimson-stained teeth bared in an ugly sneer and his weapon pulled back, ready to behead her, and he leapt—
And Katana closed her eyes with a grin, and laughed.
"Kai."
Something shattered and when grey eyes fluttered open, Uchiha Madara was nowhere to be found, and the sight of a wildly cheering group welcomed her.
Sometimes they still suffered.
But most days they healed, and the scars stopped bleeding, fading into physical reminders of when they almost gave up but chose not to.
The progress had been slow and excruciating, the roads bumpy and rough, but with every moment of weakness, both of them endured, and with every emotional storm, both of them withstood.
Both of them survived and both of them healed.
Together.
And in the end, that was all that mattered.
End Chapter
Extra Notes: I've realized this just now, but my gosh, I've turned Gaara into a sass-monster. The boy's sarcasm is lethal, I swear. (Also, hurray for Good-Guy Sasuke!)
Sorry for going on and on about their struggles. I wanted to depict a realistic scenario and I wanted them-Gaara and Katana-to be human, to have relatable human responses concerning problems, especially after going through such emotionally traumatizing events. I wanted to show that being strong didn't mean being strong all the time, and that being not okay is absolutely fine. I could only hope that I delivered it well enough.