A Pretty Poison
Kankuro hadn't heard her enter the room, absorbed in his thoughts. Sitting in the chair, his notebook rested on his thighs, open. Unconsciously, he was twirling his pencil between his fingers. On the windowsill, he had abandoned a pot of purple paint and a brush, as if he had completely given up on the idea of redoing his markings. He looked... defeated. When he finally noticed her, Kankuro quickly closed the notebook. He forced a smirk to his lips, but his gaze didn't light up with any amusement, seeming off.
"You're late, pixie. I thought you wouldn't show up."
It actually had been a hell of a morning. At first, the moment she'd stepped foot in the hospital, her time had been occupied with one of her patients – a sick kid suffering from a rare condition, that had started to throw up without a warning, reacting badly to his new medication. After that, a doctor had not so accidentally spilled his coffee all over her. By the look he'd given her, he wasn't sorry about almost burning her to the second degree. She recognized him as a friend of Tanaka Wataru, the doctor she'd slapped for inappropriate groping. A lot of his doctor friends hadn't liked him being suspended for two weeks, thinking she'd gotten some favors for being a friend of the Kazekage's wife when in fact, it was simply the hospital's disciplinary policy for misplaced demeanor at work. Asshole.
"I had a small incident." She grabbed Kankuro's chart and started to go over today's treatment plan. She'd actually lost valuable time rummaging through lost items in search of a spare sweater before Stacy, a nurse from the pediatrics wing who regularly offered homemade pastries to her colleagues, lent her a spare shirt. Her pink sweater was still soaking in soapy water into the sink of the employee's room at the present time. "I'm sorry if I got your hopes up."
"Yeah."
His voice sounded flat. It had been only five days, and Aiya had quickly realized that Kankuro really wasn't feeling at ease in hospitals. He looked like he'd barely slept during the last days, his eyes rimmed with fatigue.
"Let's go for a stroll under the sun," she proposed. "You're paler than a corpse."
He glared at her. "I can't walk for long distances. You said so yourself… yesterday."
She whined internally. Putting her animosity aside, Aiya gave him a thin smile. "I'm glad to know you're listening to my medical advice, but I'll inform you that the hospital's actually offering a vast selection of wheelchairs." She could afford to be nice to him for an afternoon. Moreover, fatigue and gloom wouldn't help his recovery.
"That won't happen."
He didn't even offer her a glimpse of a smile. Or even a smirk. Or a sarcastic retort. She'd have to find another strategy. He wasn't making this easy for her.
"What's with the notebook?" she asked, trying to take his mind off whatever what was making him so out of character and at the same time, giving in to her curiosity.
He slightly tensed in his seat. "Nothing."
"If it's nothing, why are you hiding it?"
"I'm not hiding it," he replied defensively. "It's just some sketches."
She stepped further into the room. "Oh, can I see?"
"Curious creature aren't you?" he rapidly switched to teasing her, a pale smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not going to show you, pixie."
She put a hand on her hip, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Why? Is it filled with lustful sketches of naked girls?"
And then the most inconceivable thing happened; Kankuro blushed. Aiya's eyes widened. She'd made him blush. A malicious smirk stretched her lips. She rushed to his bed, putting a hand on his second notebook, a smaller one he kept hidden behind his pillow, a black one, thinking she wouldn't notice it. Triumphant, she held it in her hand. Panic filled his eyes, and he jumped out of the chair at a speed she hadn't expected him to have in his condition. Sometimes, she forgot he was a nin. A skilled one.
"Give it back," he said, a slight panic tainting his voice.
She'd been so right about her naked girls' theory. Grinning, she took advantage of the location of the room's ridiculously large bed – one of the perks of being the Kazekage's brother, to create a physical barrier between them. Aiya doubted he had the physical strength to simply jump over it.
"So I was right. There are some naked girls involved."
He wasn't amused by their new game. "Pixie, it's not funny. Give it back. Now."
She wasn't the type to stuff her nose into other people's private business. She'd never dare to invade his privacy in such a way. But he didn't know that. For once, she was the one with the upper hand.
"Alright, I'll give it back under one condition."
"Stop messing around with-"
Faking a candid expression, she pretended to open the book's hard cover. "I feel really curious, all of a sudden. I wonder what's your type of-"
"Alright, alright," he stopped her. "You win. What's your condition?"
"Let's go outside."
He didn't think twice. "Fine, I'll go. Now, just give it back."
His eyes were glued to the book in her hand. Smiling, she dropped it on the mattress. A piece of paper accidentally fell out of it, and her curious gaze locked onto the delicate pencil strokes that shaped a feminine face. The woman's kind smile tugged something at her heart, strangely full of warmth for a simple drawing. Kankuro's eyes hardened. He swiftly hid the drawing from her, putting it back between the book's pages with utmost care. Aiya felt like she'd just seen something that didn't concern her. Something personal. A strange tension had tightened the room's atmosphere. The blond used the need to find a wheelchair as an excuse to exit the room.
Moments later, Kankuro reluctantly sat in the hospital's wheelchair. He wasn't speaking. And for once, Aiya wanted him to. Her shoes squeaking against the hospital's tiles were the only sound distracting her from her own thoughts. Unable to bear the silence any longer, the blond cleared her throat.
"She's really pretty."
He tensed at her words, and Aiya knew she shouldn't have brought the drawing up. Bad choice of subject. She mentally kicked herself for her mistake. When she'd eventually given up about the idea of him answering back, Kankuro sighed.
"It's my mother."
"Oh."
She didn't know what else to say. Everyone knew the sand siblings' mother had died at a tragically young age, after giving birth to Gaara. One of the corridor's mirrors shared a glimpse of Kankuro's expression at the mention of his mother, his eyes filled with a child's sorrow that never completely healed. Painful. Raw. She looked away.
"What was her name?" she asked.
"Karura."
They'd reached the floor's elevator without any more word exchanged. Aiya didn't mind the silence. Letting go of the wheelchair's handles, she pushed the elevator's button.
"That's why I don't like them," he admitted.
She turned her head to look at him, even if he wasn't looking back at her. His eyes were fixated on the elevator's buttons. She slightly tilted her head, intrigued.
"Don't like what?"
"Hospitals," he mumbled. "She's always there. Every time a nurse brings in a new set of sick-colored sheets or a tray of food. Every time I hear a monitor's beeping, I see her. Lifeless. Cold. And it sucks."
The elevator's bell rang softly before its door opened. With a push of the wheels, Kankuro rolled inside of it and Aiya organically followed. Without a word, she pressed the main floor's button. The elevator's soft music filled the silence while Aiya had only one thing on her mind.
I can't help but sometimes see mine too.
…
Even after almost three years, she still hadn't grown accustomed to the village's impressive heat. The sun wasn't in the mood to forgive any reckless soul taking a stroll outside at this time of the day, right in the middle of the afternoon.
"We can still turn back if you want to, pixie. Wouldn't want you to burn your pretty wings."
She realized that she had been standing still for too long, and with a deep breath, she pushed the wheelchair forward once again. Feeling like a piece of bacon in an oiled pan, only her stubbornness prevented her from turning around to take refuge into the hospital's cool air conditioning. She glared at him. As if the sun didn't dare to touch him, not as much as a drop of sweat was glistening on his fair skin. She couldn't stop herself from groaning in a very unladylike fashion, pissed off.
"I don't get how you're not melting under the sun with those black clothes."
"It's my most guarded secret," he smirked. "Maybe I'll tell you, one day."
She felt beads of sweat running down her spine. She frowned, regretting her idea. "It's just my body's inability at getting used to the desert's warmth. Where I'm from, there's rain almost all year round and-"
Her voice died. Like every time she mentioned her home, an invisible hand would slide around her throat, crushing it in a tight grip. Sometimes, she'd still feel her homeland's cool humidity fill up her lungs, whenever she'd briefly close her eyes. She'd still hear the soothing sound of the rain against the rooftop, the smell of wet leaves, the gravelly songs of the toads swimming in the little pound near the house, filled to the brim with pink waterlilies. Her mother's voice singing meekly to the silent trees. Her nails dug into her palms. Anger shooed away every bit of nostalgia left. It wasn't home anymore. Just… painful memories.
"Suna isn't the rainiest of places," said Kankuro.
"It's… not bad."
Pushing against the armrest, without as much as a groan, Kankuro lifted himself up from the wheelchair. Then, he turned around to face her. Aiya tensed. She could never tell what was going on in his head, or what kind of stupidity he'd do – or say.
"Be careful," she warned him. "Your leg is still healing."
"I'm about to die out of boredom, pixie," he pleaded. "Since we're out, let's go somewhere else."
He didn't wait for her, and simply started to walk straight to the village's main market. Aiya internally screamed at him for carelessly straining his injured leg. She should have gone for the deck of card instead of a stroll under the harsh sun. With an annoyed huff, she followed him, but not before discarding the wheelchair – the hospital's property, beside a bench.
Once they'd recognize the Kazekage's brother without his characteristic markings, the merchants would respectfully bow to the man at her side. They'd slipped into a comfortable pace, walking side by side, but Kankuro's stiffened stance worried her. She wasn't fooled by his smirk as he casually commented about some of Suna's oldest shops, or the best places to eat. His jaw tightened whenever he'd step aside to avoid a rampant kid or a distracted shopper, but his pride wouldn't allow him to take a break. Aiya rolled her eyes. Males.
Suddenly, he stopped in front of a humble shop. Her eyes ran over the letters printed on the window, and her curiosity grew. Suna's Art Crafts and Supplies stood on a street's corner. Even though she'd walked this street numerous times, she'd never noticed the humble shop with the green wooden shutters, its paint chipped by time and faded by the sun.
"I'm out of varnish," Kankuro said. "Do you mind if we stop by?"
His hand already had a hold on the door's handle. Aiya could almost feel his contained excitement brushing against her skin. Still, she hesitated. A lump in her throat, her feet wouldn't move.
"I don't mind, but if there's any dolls in there I swear I'm out."
Dolls crept her out. She'd never been really fond of them. Lifeless. Laying there, and watching your every single move with their empty, glossy gaze. Devoid of any soul. When they'd been barely ten years old, Daisuke had thought it funny to apply a puppetry technique he'd learned from a school textbook on her favorite doll, Cherry, in the middle of the night to scare the shit out of her.
Kankuro frowned at her, slightly offended. "First of all, they aren't dolls," he replied. "They're puppets. And secondly, there isn't any. Isuma-sama only sell parts."
"Because that's so much better."
There'd be hands. Fingers. And little toes-
"I didn't know you were so easily scared," he mocked her. Aiya scoffed. She wasn't easily scared. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I won't force you to come inside, pixie. I won't be long."
On those words, he disappeared inside of the shop. After a minute, Aiya realized she'd might die of dehydration under the ruthless sunrays. Groaning, she shoved down her fear of dolls into the pit of her stomach, and she grabbed the door's handle.
A jar of eyeballs greeted her. Quite realistic, Aiya almost yelped at the sight of them. Along the wall, bins of puppets parts were lined up. Hands sprouted out of them as if they were waving at the shop's customers. Fingernails, sharp teeth and ears were displayed above the bins. Feeling uneasy, the blond avoided to dwell on that part of the shop for too long.
Resisting the urge to turn on her heels, Aiya explored the shop's narrow alleys. Paints of every shade, varnish, blank canvas, a wide variety of brushes and pencil attracted the eye. Deep into a conversation, Kankuro's passionate voice echoed through the store. For a moment, Aiya easily pictured the puppeteer spending his afternoon looking passionately at some supplies. Kankuro wasn't playing around whenever his puppets were involved.
"Looking for anything in particular, miss?"
The elderly man's thin lips were stretched into a polite smile. His face wore the effects of time, soft and wrinkled, but Aiya wasn't fooled by it. There wasn't anything sweet about the man. His eyes were sharper than a knife's blade, hard and cold. The blond copied the man's smile, respectful. She'd been looking at one of the fabrics used to create the puppet's garments, charmed by its pretty pink hue and its delicate flowers woven into the fabric.
"I'm here with someone, actually."
He nodded stiffly. "It's a fine piece you're looking at."
"It's lovely, indeed." She dropped the gorgeous fabrics, gently letting go of the sleeve's hem. "But it's not really practical, is it?"
She couldn't figure out the logic behind dressing up a puppet with such a gorgeous piece of clothing if it meant to be ripped apart in battle. Plus, something so colorful wouldn't be practical since it'd be easily spotted for miles around. It didn't look threatening, more like a doll's play up dress.
The man snorted. "If I've learned anything from life, it's that the pretty things are sometimes the deadliest." He pointed at the embroidered flower buds, slightly bulging. "They're hiding small capsules filled with chemical compounds. Once a capsule's shell is broken, the released gases have the power to asphyxiate the opponent in minutes."
"A pretty poison," she whispered, understanding the purpose of the gorgeous piece of clothes. It wasn't meant to look threatening.
"A pretty one, indeed."
The old man's gaze trailed down on her. Suna's inhabitants weren't really warm to newcomers in their village. Even after years of living there, she'd still get lingering stares. Unless she married to someone from Suna, like Himari did, she'd forever be seen as a stranger. Her smile dried, twisting into a scoff. The blond tried to cheer herself up. It still was better than being treated as a madwoman. A witch's daughter. Her mood darkened. She didn't feel at ease anymore. She wanted to go.
As if he'd felt her uneasiness, the man's expression softened slightly. "Follow me, Miss Sakido." He said, turning around. "The boy's at the back. He's looking at some of the shop's novelties."
With a last glance for the dress, Aiya followed him. His frail stature went down the narrow alley at a slow pace, letting her the time to admire the shop's displayed items. A strange thing occurred to her, and she frowned.
"I haven't told you my name."
He chuckled. "You didn't need to. The boy already did."
Aiya wondered what else he'd mentioned about her.
…
By the time they left Isuma's shop, the sun had already settled down. Kankuro had talked animatedly with the old man for a while, refusing to give a bit of rest to his leg by sitting on the stool she'd been glaring at intently. Stubborn idiot.
Outside, a cool breeze gently brushed against her skin. Children's laughter got carried by the wind. As they explored the village's less frequented streets, Kankuro's breathing started to shorten, heavy with tiredness. They'd better walk back to the hospital now, or she'd eventually have to carry him back on her shoulders. They'd been out for long enough. Aiya gathered her best diplomatic skills, trying to find the right words for him to follow her without any complaints.
"I'm hungry," she declared. "Let's go back."
"How about eating out?" He was already eyeing down the restaurant's options down the lively street. He didn't miss her uneager pout and raised a taunting eyebrow at her. "Come on. That way, I'll show you why my village isn't just not bad."
Biting her lip, she huffed. "I didn't mean it as a personal insult, you know? And you're still recovering, so maybe we should-"
In a matter of seconds, he'd straightened his back, squared his shoulders and quickened his strides. Aiya cursed under her breath – a couple of insults about his inability to simply listen to her, and followed after him. She didn't understand why'd stupidly insist to stay when he obviously was in pain. He'd end up hurting himself to a point she couldn't possibly heal in two measly weeks.
She groaned. "Let's just eat something at the hospital's cafeteria."
"You're really craving the hospital's food? Plus, it's soggy-pasta-Tuesday."
She rolled her eyes. The pasta weren't that soggy. She'd just admit that the cafeteria's cooks were going a little bit heavy on the sauce.
"I don't mind."
He threw his characteristic smirk at her, the one she wanted to smack off his face every time. "There's zucchinis in it," he added. "And you hate zucchinis."
Her mouth closed. She threw a poised look at him, but he wasn't staring back at her. How could he possibly know that? Maybe he was more observant than she gave him credit for. A dangerous thing. He was a nin, after all. It was part of the job's description. Aiya sighed. Cooked zucchinis – all mushy and squishy, were the worst. And she wasn't in the mood for a pitiful salad or a tasteless egg sandwich.
"Fine. You win." She stepped closer to him. His manly scent reached her nose. An eerie mix of wood, lavender and warm sand. "But you'll lean on me."
He tensed. "What? I'm not going to-"
She didn't wait for his answer, and she slid her arms around his. The protest died in his throat. She tensed. It felt weird. They weren't used to be this close if it weren't for throwing insults at each other. His puzzled glare wouldn't leave her face. He'd make her blush if he didn't stop. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
"Don't make it weird," she groaned.
"I'm not the one acting weird, pixie." His posture relaxed, and he allowed himself to lean slightly against her. "Alright, let's go. I'm actually starting to feel hungry too."
For a moment, Aiya thought they looked like every couple going out to eat at this hour of the day, and the resemblance almost made her blush. Almost.
