(2023/03/12) Author's Note: Hey there!
I was hoping to get this chapter out sooner, but I had a bad case of writer's block which ended up delaying this. My goal for this chapter was to only be 5-6k words, but it ended up being 12k words by the time I was finished drafting, so the proofreading took longer than I would have liked. That said, I hope you enjoy this new chapter! We're almost at the halfway point, and the next chapter might be posted in a few weeks.
As always, thank you for reading xx
Content advisory: sexual harassment
Chapter 24
Cistern
The mission would take a few mere hours to complete.
The morning was spent in Gaara's office running over the preparations with representatives from the Puppet Corps and Sealing Corps. A high-ranking jonin puppeteer who lost an eye from the great war, Kankuro's superior in rank, and Maki, the seal-master of Suna. Gaara intently listened as the shinobi discussed the plan for infiltration, emphasizing the need for covert puppets implanted at the rendezvous point and for barrier seals protecting the deployment headquarters and key village landmarks – should Tenbu catch wind and start attacking. Villagers in the district and surrounding areas were to stay indoors for the remainder of the day.
No risk was to be gambled.
Gaara's narrowed glance eased as it looked to Nomasaki, who sat on the lime green couch in stiffened silence as she watched the one-eyed puppeteer make his suggestions for the plan. She scarcely spoke, only if asked a question directly. She answered with brisk words, her face slate-like and cold. As if ice itself. But Gaara could tell that she was masking her emotions through a façade. She was terrified. He should be the one to go underground into the jaws of the enemy – not her. He offered himself at first, but Nomasaki insisted she be the one to play espionage.
All he could do was have faith in her.
Kankurō asked more questions about shutting down the village and how to best hide the mission from any concerned villagers or shinobi. Gaara tuned out, distracted by the angry scrolls sprawled on his desk. They were sent to Suna by the traders affected by the recent fault in diplomacy, mainly from the Land of Wind. There had to be at least forty from just this morning. To make matters worse, he received two letters today. One from the Land of Earth and one from the Land of Mountains. Earth and its daimyo demanded the Land of Mountains to rescind their ancestral border, asking Suna to honour forgotten treaties and allow the annexation. The letter from the Land of Mountains came from Kyō himself. Kyō did not mention the accusations and charges against his daughter but urged the Kazekage to see reason, honour their alliance, and forbid Earth from taking Mountain territory.
He sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair as the shinobi in the room continued their discussion. If the shinobi world doesn't plunge into war, Earth and Mountain will still find a way.
Gaara remembered there were two alliances between Yama and Mountain Suna had made. The first was after the war when the villages agreed to be allies in trade and arms, establishing a joint training program. The second was Gaara's marriage to Nomasaki, the daughter of Yama's chieftain and heiress to the powerful Yamamori clan, cementing Suna's alliance for their earthly lives. It may have been a fool's decision to marry an outsider and one with status to rival his own, but he would be a fool a thousand times over if it meant they could be together.
His frustration dissipated momentarily.
"Hey, Gaara, you listening?" Kankuro raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. "You haven't answered the question."
Gaara blinked at him. "What question?"
"How many ANBU must we deploy to our village perimeters?"
And so, he was thrust back into the planning.
He swore he thought he saw Nomasaki smile shyly while she looked away behind her tea.
In a sense, he was relieved.
Gaara came home in the dark hours of the night.
He did not sleep the previous night, but it was not without trying. The couch, although comfortable to sit on, was not the ideal place to sleep. His feet dangled off the armrest, and his neck grew sore from the awkward position, and no matter how many times he changed positions, he was unable to find solace. He gave up and let his insomnia run its course. Nomasaki locked herself in the bedroom after their argument. As soon as Kankuro left the kitchen, she turned and stomped her way to the bedroom and closed the door at her back. The key clicked, and then she sighed the rest of her anger. She wanted to see her son, but not like this. She did not want him to see her angry. Sleeping off her residual rage was the only way, so she prepared herself for bed. Despite his qualms against it, Gaara respected her boundaries and stayed in the living room. He wanted to talk it out further, even if it meant arguing throughout the night, but he wanted to resolve the rift between them. Alas, tonight was not the night. He thought he heard her crying on the other side of the door before he descended the corridor away from their shared bed.
His heart ached.
Tonight, Gaara disgruntled himself as he fluffed out his pillow on the couch armrest. He needed sleep, whether he wanted to or not. Tomorrow was the day of the mission, and he had to be at his peak focus. Espionage was a risky business, and his Third Eye needed to see everything. He had to be Nomasaki's eyes. She may have the blood of a beast and can sense all chakra, but he had the gift of foresight with his sand. And his jutsu would allow him fast transport if Tenbu decided to strike Nomasaki directly. He needed all the sleep he could get if he was going to protect his wife from what lurked within the village's sinister underbelly.
A twinge gnawed at him, taking his attention away from the makeshift bed.
The corridor was dark, even with the sconce lights guiding his way. Their home was hundreds of years old, having been lived in by the rulers predating the line of Kazekage of the last century. Ancient desert lords, pharaohs, as some have called them, and kings. The ruins of their city and palace were the bones of what is now Sunagakure. Gaara wondered if any ghosts lurked in his halls and who were the ones to build the cistern beneath the village. The place where Tenbu may be hiding.
He pushed his thoughts aside and paused at the closed bedroom door. His grainy palm grasped the doorknob, but he did not turn it. He knew it was locked, but a small part wished it was not. Instead, he heard two voices, Nomasaki and Meiyumi.
Staying as silent as the dark, he became his sand and listened.
"You didn't talk?" Meiyumi gasped, sitting on the bed beside Nomasaki.
Nomasaki huffed, keeping her hands on her lap. "How can we if he thinks I'm in the wrong?" She eyed her friend, hurt. "Just because he's the Kazekage, he thinks he can decide what is just and what is not. It's so infuriating…"
Meiyumi sighed. "I'm sure he sees it the other way… he might be acting like this to save face with the council."
"He could, but…-," Nomasaki gnashed her fanged teeth, tears swelling into her eyes. "What he said when we argued… I hate that he said that! I made him say that… I pushed him."
"You should let him in, at least, so maybe he can apologize."
Nomasaki shook her head, adamant. "I don't want to see him until this mission is done! I can't appear weak or submissive… He must understand I'm serious about this and what involves Yamagakure and my clan. They're my people, Meiyumi. Am I supposed to turn my back on them?"
Meiyumi turned, furrowing her brow. "Maybe he can convince the Tsuchikage to back off?"
That made Nomasaki scoff. "I doubt it." Sobs quickly rose to her throat, but she snorted to snuff out her heartache. Anger, sorrow, humiliation. Emotions swirled behind her violet eyes, provoking her blood to simmer under her skin. She clenched her hands upon her lap, suppressing the beast that roared inside her. "I can't believe he thinks I'm a criminal! He didn't even care that I almost died from the poison by that Tenbu assassin in the forest. Not that I had a chance to even tell him… Why should I think he cares about my clan being targeted by Iwa?"
Meiyumi placed a hand on her back as Nomasaki soon quivered, sobbing into her hands.
Gaara decided he had heard enough, and his sand took him back to the couch.
The Sealing Corps headquarters was the safest place in Suna for the mission.
Barriers were already activated shortly after Nomasaki arrived, followed by Kankuro and the Puppet Corps shinobi, who were also tasked with infiltration. Maki led them into the main chambers. Old markings scarred the sandstone floor from when Nomasaki first learned to harness the blood-sealing only months ago, with some of the stone fractured and veined like a sprawling stream. On the far table, fresh clothes were laid out. Maki gestured to them, and Nomasaki nodded in thanks. She disappeared into the bathrooms but emerged after a few minutes wearing the ill-fated garbs of a Suna-nin. Black long-sleeved shirt, pants, and a beige flak jacket with shoulder padding. The flak jacket was the last thing she put on, and it was two sizes too large. It was strange enough for her to wear the Suna emblem on her headband again but to wear the flak jacket… she eyed herself in the mirror in disbelief.
A lump settled in her throat, reminding her of the last time she wore one.
It was raining heavily, and she lost a lot of blood. Sōhei was dead, Moro was dead, and her death was approaching in the form of a vicious pack of wolves that followed her crimson trail from her injured leg. The patriarch sniffed her pitiful hand and left her alone, but she remembered her back hitting the wet forest floor, the rain pelting her eyes, and the darkness that swallowed her. Awakening, she was in her prison. A jade prison. Her chakra burned and roared beneath her skin in agony, and her torn and dishevelled flak jacket was nowhere to be found.
She sensed Kankuro step behind her. His glance was narrowed at her back, empathetic. Before he could say anything, she turned to him. "It's been a while since I wore a flak jacket…" Not since I was taken to that cave… - she stopped herself from the intrusive memories that flashed before her eyes. She blinked them away as she adjusted the loose shoulder padding. "It's… an adjustment."
Kankuro hid his concern behind a smirk. "You're lucky there were still some lying around. The village went through nearly all of them with the recent genin and chunin promotions." He found the size of the jacket amusing. It made her look as if she were a child. "It's the smallest we could find, sorry about that."
A smile found its way on her lips.
She fiddled with the zipper some more. "It's… alright. I'd just have to get used to it, that's all."
And just like that, she sensed his chakra enter the room.
Gaara.
A swift movement of sand bypassed the barrier on command, and Gaara emerged on the other side. He walked to meet them, his face stoic and presence still as stone. Kankuro put his hands at his hips, a grin stretching on his painted lips, while Nomasaki stood with eyes wide and cautious. They saw the dark circles that lined his teal eyes. Insomnia ate away at his sleep, but stress likely did, too.
Gaara spoke first. "You're preparing for the infiltration?"
"I was wondering when you'd get here, Gaara." Kankuro jested. "Still sleeping on the couch?"
"Get bent."
Kankuro chuckled, crossing his arms. "I take that as a yes… or not sleeping at all." Then, sensing the unaddressed tension between the husband and wife, he stepped back. He waved them off. "I need to go check on some things. I'll leave you two alone."
Awkward.
Some wingman… Gaara thought, annoyed.
Gaara watched his older brother leave with narrowed eyes, but once they were alone, his glance eased, and he saw Nomasaki looking back at him. It was the first time they shared eye contact since their fight. Her eyes were doe-like. Cautious yet drawn, he saw the fear that trembled behind their purple hue. They did not speak for the first bit, waiting for the other to start.
Even marriage was no exception to awkward moments.
Hesitating at first, a stream of sand swept the rook into her hand. She clasped it, grains and all, and put it in the front pocket of her oversized flak jacket. Right, I need this for passage, she thought, Hopefully all goes well, and I can even get in this place… wherever it is. She eyed the Kazekage with her tongue-tied and heart unsure, searching for the right words before they would part ways.
Gaara spoke first, breaking the silence.
"Please be careful. Watch yourself." Gaara said, eyeing her with deeply-held concern. "Tenbu are cunning bastards. They've played this game longer than either of us. Stay quiet and stay hidden. You're only collecting intel. The less attention you bring to yourself, the better."
Nomasaki blinked, nodding her head. "As you say, Kazekage-sama."
He approached with a swift wind of sands, and softly planted a kiss on her forehead. She flinched under him, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest. Soon enough, her cheeks turned a flushed red. Gaara looked down at her, smiling lightly at her fluster. "I love you…"
Wide-eyed, she could not mask the blush that spread across her face. She wanted to stay mad, to hold firm to the walls she built, but just from the touch of him, she melted. And then she accepted her fate but accepted it with open arms. She met his mysterious ringed-eyes that gazed down at her in utmost devotion.
She timidly smiled. "I love you, too." Thinking over her words, she averted her glance and clasped her arm. Mulling over her words, she looked back to him. "…We should talk when I get back. Would that be okay?"
Gaara nodded, his lips curved in relief. "I'd want nothing more."
Nomasaki could not help but smile back.
Her heart eased, assured that their bed might not be as cold as how they had left it.
But their moment was interrupted by Maki, who directed them to the other side of the room.
"Sealing Corps is ready!" She called, leading them. "The barrier will be deployed as soon as you enter. The Puppet Corps is on stand-by with two puppets already inside. Should you need a quick escape, find one of them, and we'll get you out of there before things get ugly."
Maki led Nomasaki towards the back door of the Sealing Corps, the secret entrance and exit for seal masters and their pupils. She passed her a poncho and turban to conceal herself further, and Nomasaki hesitantly took the clothing and donned it over her shinobi outfit. The turban left only her eyes visible, and the poncho was even bigger than the flak jacket. She might as well have worn a blanket. Nomasaki took one look at the door and felt her chest cave.
Her throat tightened. "Right."
Maki turned towards the puppeteers. "Kankuro-sama! Infiltration is in our midst!"
Kankuro gestured back, smirking cockily. "Thanks, Maki. Remind me to owe you one later."
"Best of luck, Nomasaki-sama." Maki bowed, meeting her violet eyes with firmness. "I will be here to hold the barrier for you."
Nomasaki stepped forward, pausing at the foot of the door. She turned back and nodded, her expression stern. A mountain, she had to be a mountain. "Thank you, Maki. After this, let's get some sake and resume our fūinjutsu training."
Maki nodded back. "My lady, of course."
"Nomasaki," Kankuro called, drawing her attention. "It's all up to you now."
Feeling the sets of eyes on her, Nomasaki took a breath and readied herself. She calmed, tracing her fingertips over her pockets. She studied the hand-signs long ago, but only now would she form the signs herself. Her chakra pulsed, her blood boiling as she summoned her chakra to her hands.
Inu. I. Hitsuji.
"Transformation Jutsu!"
As the cloud cleared around her, Nomasaki became taller. Her muscles filled out, her shoulders broadened, and her eyes naturally narrowed. Even her jaw sharpened, and the soft button curve of her nose became pointed like an arrowhead. The flak jacket and poncho soon fit her as they would a man, as a man was the form she chose to wear as her façade for the day.
"It's about time I try using this jutsu…" She said, feeling their stunned glances upon her. "If I have to mask myself, I should put on a face that will fool the enemy. Isn't that right?"
Gaara was not sure what to make of her disguise.
She stood even taller than him, and stray strands of gold concealed one of her narrowed eyes. Power radiated from her glance, and the poncho and turban masked nearly all, leaving her as a stranger of the desert. Her new form was mysterious, and he would be in denial if he did not consider her male form to be handsome. It irked him how flustered it made him feel. Even his chest seized with each breath as he reminded himself it was just his wife.
"That's just the transformation jutsu, isn't it?" Kankuro entered, appalled. "You mean you've never used it before?"
Nomasaki turned and nodded at her answer. "Because of my Kekkei Genkai, it was almost impossible to use. Ōkamitoko uses nature energy, and the wolf's blood would overtake me anytime I tried to attempt this jutsu. Hijacks it, in a way." She adjusted the poncho on her shoulders. "It took me nearly my entire shinobi life to perfect it. Even if just a genin-entry technique, to be able to use it this way is what this mission requires." She eyed Kankuro and Gaara with caution, pleading. "It probably won't hold for long… so if I'm not back to the surface by the end of the hour, I may need some help."
Gaara gave a slight smile. "We got your back."
Assured, Nomasaki breathed easy.
Kankuro waved a hand as he strode over to his men. "I'll see you on the other side."
"Good luck!" Maki nodded, readying her position with the sealers.
Nomasaki nodded one final time at the Suna-nin and turned back towards the doorway. Once out in the open, the hot winds of the desert swam against her new form. She had to hold it for at least an hour to fool the enemy long enough. Staying calm and focused was her best bet. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the sunlight, and the heavy door closed behind her with a rumble.
Gaara placed the first two fingers of his right hand over his closed eye, focusing his chakra amongst the commands that were being given behind him to the puppeteers and sealers. Sand swirled in his open palm, grazing his skin and beginning to take shape. Summoning my sand… making my chakra near undetectable, He concentrated, and the jutsu formed. He crushed the tiny ball of sand in his fingers, watching as the grains dissipated through the air. The grains danced and hovered towards the doorway, finding their way through the cracks and crevices. Once outside, the sand reformed into its previous shape – an all-seeing eye. It spotted Nomasaki within the unaware crowd and then followed her from above. He opened his left eye, keeping his fingers pressed over his closed right. Third Eye Jutsu… complete. Nomasaki, be careful.
And then the barriers were set.
It was now up to her.
The lower district reminded Nomasaki of her old home.
Her apartment was not too far from where she was, just beyond a few streets and down the abandoned alleyway. She wondered who lived there now, if it was someone as lost as she was back then. Perhaps it was a family, or an elder who wanted to live somewhere away from the hustle and bustle of the plaza. She would never know. The few scattered people who wandered the streets paid no attention to her disguise. The most she noticed was the odd stare and sudden fright from the other riffraff and vagabond men. Her jutsu felt stable, and her blood calm. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be a man, to not be judged or ogled by the prying eyes of deceitful dogs.
Even in the later midday hours, the streets remained empty.
When Nomasaki entered the brothel in the red-light district, she was surprised to see she was not the only customer. A few odd old men lurked about the bar, and she could hear one man in particular tease one of the serving girls on one of the yellow couches. The place was in an old clay building decaying with age, but the neon signage outside and red and gold tapestries made it seem somewhat alive. Tacky, but alive.
Nomasaki had never visited a brothel before, and neither had her husband – to her knowledge. Nevertheless, she viewed them as places for degenerate men who saw women as mere objects for their pleasure, which disgusted her deeply. And the poor girls who worked in these brothels were likely runaways, orphans, or unwed mothers who came for the lure of coin and a better life only to find themselves trapped. If any dared to leave, cutthroats and assassins would follow – especially if the runaway escorts owed coin to the headmistress. It was a dangerous path of life, perhaps as dangerous as it was to be a shinobi.
She saw many brothels on her travels during her brief tenure as a diplomat of Yamagakure after the village's restoration. She warned her fellow kunoichi of such places, and lectured the men on what the establishments were under all the silk and sake. One mistress tried to lure her and her female comrades into signing over their bodies one time in the Land of Wind's capital – the closest she was to Suna before she reunited with Gaara some two years ago. The brothel was hidden amongst a restaurant outside the main core of the city, disguised as a barbeque shop and sake bar. However, the disguise clearly worked as the fur-cloaked Yama-nin were unaware until their food was brought to the table. Then, catching a glimpse of the visiting two men and three women, the headmistress scurried to their table and interrupted their conversation. Nomasaki thought she reeked of rose perfume. She hated the scent of roses, and it was especially pungent.
"You would be rich if you sold yourselves to the highest bidders," the headmistress crooned to the kunoichi, "A man of wealth and status would be awestruck to be around such young and fragile beauty", and Nomasaki replied for them all, "Kunoichi are not fragile. And being kunoichi makes us wearier of the dangers of these men, so please leave us be. We're almost done our meals, then we'll be on our way". The mistress was having none of it, "Child, your eyes – you're of that clan of beasts, aren't you? And hair as gold as the sun, too. You'll be foolish to not accept my offer. The men will be brawling in the streets for a chance to lay with you". Nomasaki was a virgin at the time, but she did not let on to the leering old woman. "Then I will remain a fool and fight any man who dares to lay a hand on me or my comrades unprovoked… or rather, I will slice off his manhood."
Her male comrades nervously snickered, watching her stare the mistress down.
And soon, the Yama-nin tossed the ryō on the table and promptly left the shabby establishment.
The memory left a remnant of disgust in her mind, and the scent of rose perfume entered and near made her gag from the mere thought. She was aware Kankuro came to this brothel in particular, but she never had the chance to tell him how disappointed she was to know about his secret visits. At least, it was before he and Meiyumi became serious. If he dared come to this brothel now, Meiyumi would never let him hear the end of it. She hoped he changed his ways – for his sake, as Meiyumi would be out for blood.
The door clicked shut as she slid it closed, and every eye in the establishment locked onto her as she stepped past the dated porch. An older woman smoked from her pipe at the bar, observing with intrigue and boredom on her pudgy face. The headmistress. She appeared near sixty, wearing a brown kimono, and a scowl marked her wrinkled face as if a crack upon a stone. She looked the part of a brothel owner who dabbled in contraband and illegal activities.
Nomasaki reminded herself that her turban and poncho covered all save for her eyes. So all she had to do was relax, and the mission will take of itself. And then she could find the rats who dwelled in the village's underbelly.
Play the part and do it well, she breathed.
A serving girl walked past wearing escort clothes. She had to be no older than eighteen. A beautiful silken red kimono clung to her thin exposed shoulders. Her face was done up like a doll, with a pale face, rosy cheeks, and deep red lips. Her eyebrows rose as she took in the arrival of the tall shinobi, Nomasaki's disguise.
"Oh, here comes a handsome man!" She sputtered, awestruck. The girl peered into the man's eyes, gasping at the violet hue she saw. Never had she seen anything like it. "My, what beautiful eyes you have! A drink?"
Nomasaki felt her throat lurch.
She swallowed, allowing her vocal cords to rest deeper. She imagined her beast form, her snarls, and tried for a voice that resembled a human. A man. She spoke, her tone even and smooth as water. "…I would like a drink in the oasis room."
"Eh?"
The headmistress grumbled, putting out her pipe. "Kokoro, don't be rude to our guests! It appears you still have much to learn. Feh… don't sputter at the men! It's bad for business."
Hopping out of the bar, the short and stout woman patted down her kimono's lap and scurried to the stranger's presence. With a snap of her fingers, she directed the escort named Kokoro to another customer, and the serving girl retreated to another customer as she was commanded. Before the stranger, the old lady peered up at him in suspicion. Her eyes were hidden behind thick half-mooned glasses, but they, too, could see the essence behind the stranger's eyes. Her serving girl was not wrong – the stranger was indeed handsome, fine even. And the man stood over the old woman as if a giant.
"The oasis room, you said?" The mistress sneered, putting on her best face. "Follow me, if you would be so kind…"
Nomasaki did as she was bid and allowed the old lady to her the way.
Patrons of the brothel were too occupied to notice the stranger navigate down the thin hallway flanked by tatami walls. Yet, even at such an hour that afternoon, Nomasaki could hear the boisterous howling of patrons who rented the rooms they passed. Sake and incense clung to the air, as well as the hazy scent of opium. Her heightened hearing caught the winded moans and grunts of a patron and escort having rough sex behind one of the doors they passed. She could even hear the wood of the headboard thunder against the wall. Nomasaki tried to pay no mind, but it was enough to nearly distract her from the calm façade she dressed in. She hoped it was not Kankuro – or one of his puppeteers under his command.
The further she followed the mistress down the hall, the darker it became.
Fumbling through her pockets, the old lady produced a rusty key and opened the door. Nomasaki entered the darkness first, only to find a sandstone staircase descending along torchlight. Then, puffing out the smoke from her smouldering pipe, the old woman locked the door behind them and led the way.
"Watch your step,"
It was dark as pitch, but Nomasaki could sense a large congregation of chakra in the distance. Was it merely the village above? No – it had to be ahead. Before she descended the stairs, she had already familiarized herself with the chakra on the surface. Nevertheless, she was unsure what to make of whatever lay beyond the darkness. Could Tenbu have an entire army beneath Sunagakure? Her blood simmered, threatening to break her transformation. Nomasaki clenched her fist at her side, forcing her blood to quiet.
And before she knew it, they reached even ground.
Darkness swallowed all around them, save for the candle the mistress held in her wrinkled hand. The chakra grew louder in Nomasaki's thoughts, propelling her in her steps. A door appeared against the wall in their periphery. Wooden, aged, and the scars of kunai on its carving. Nomasaki thought she could smell old blood on it. No doubt someone met their end in this exact spot. Her chest tightened, her guard rising in case the old woman revealed a blade to slit the stranger's throat. But instead, the old lady came to a stop and glanced up at her client.
She sneered. "I take it you have the ryō? The ones with dealings such as yours could honestly spare a few coins on our girls." When Nomasaki gave her what was asked, the old lady's wrinkled hands hastily took the money and put it in her worn pocket. She grumbled, smoking from her pipe as it gleamed in the torchlight. "Tsk. We've been losing business since that lord set up in the cistern. Should you need to warm your bed tonight, come back and see me and I'll send over whichever girl of ours you'd like. You're a pretty man, so you might as well take your pick."
That lord, Nomasaki thought, So Tenbu must definitely be here, then.
Nomasaki did not say anything as the old lady returned to the darkness.
Facing the bloody door, she opened it with a creak and entered its gaping maw. Another stairwell greeted her, only this one was older and more treacherous. Steps were missing, either eroded away from time or neglect. The anxiety grew stronger, reminding her what had happened the last time she was so deep underground. Jade ore, warm blood, and her screams that echoed off the oily black stone.
Bile swam in her throat, but she swallowed it down.
Be brave… Do your mission. You've been underground before… breathe.
She took the first step into the dark and forced her thoughts away.
Focusing her chakra carefully, the darkness around her became clearer. Her blood simmered slightly as her violet eyes turned beast-like. She could see better in the dark as a wolf, but her human eyes were weak to its power alone. Breathing strained and calm breaths, Nomasaki focused on her eyes and maintaining her masculine appearance. The further down she walked, the easier her breathing became. Only once she reached the bottom of the stairs did she feel her chest ease from the anxiety.
A steel door greeted her.
It had a tiny window that slid open, revealing a pair of mismatched eyes. One large and black, the other green and small. Burn scars sweltered the skin surrounding their brow, making her realize it was the tollkeeper. They spoke gruffly, "Brother, we've been expecting your arrival. Token of passage, if you would be so kind."
Nomasaki relaxed her breathing, reminding her vocal cords to play the part. She reached her worn, bandaged hands into her pockets, and produced the carved chess piece. The rook gleamed under the scarce torchlight that flickered behind the guard's horrid face. She kept her breathing silent, speaking as smoothly and as low as her body allowed.
"This… I believe, should be enough."
The guard gave a vile smirk.
As quick as she revealed the rook, the metal slit shut closed. A myriad of clanging and screeching moving parts echoed faintly behind the doorway, her heightened hearing sensing it all. It was as if the doors to a great safe were being opened. It took minutes for the door to finally crack open, with only darkness shown beyond.
A grim sneer came from the dark. "…You may enter, brother."
And so, the desert stranger entered.
She did not nod or bow her head, for she worried it might appear as weakness or signal she was not one of 'them'. Instead, she kept her senses focused on his chakra as she plunged herself into the dark. If he drew a blade upon her, she would be able to sense and have the time to turn it on himself. Luckily, the guard seemingly did not suspect. She let out a breath, taking in all the chakra that drew her deeper into the darkened pit.
When light graced her eyes, she was shocked to behold the makings of a small city.
Under the bowels of Sunagakure lay a gigantic, cavernous cistern, flanked and born by the ancient sandstone structures adorned in faded golds and reds. It reminded her of the ruins she found in the desert years ago, when she and the Kazekage took refuge from a sandstorm in an abandoned cave. The city was surrounded by water flowing down from the distant clay ceiling and out of the four giant sewer passageways. Shops of contraband and stolen items flanked the main street, smells of roasted fish, skewered beef, and sake floated above the heads of the passing mercenaries and missing-nin, and loud, rowdy laughter echoed from every bar the city held. Brothels also littered the streets, hidden behind the sake bars, not as discretely as above the surface.
It appeared as an oasis for thieves.
Her transformation was a brilliant one, and Nomasaki, fortunately, blended in with the crowd. Gaara's Third Eye reformed above her, still undetected by the wolf in sheep's clothing. She had to pick her spot and fast. She had an hour left of her transformation, and she should not squander the chance if the mission was to succeed. Weaving through the stalls selling stolen blades and substances to poison foes or to elevate one's state of being, she saw a sake stall up ahead near the city's centre. A perfect place, sheltered enough to avoid the prying ear or eye – and only one patron sat at the stall.
Here was her chance.
The stranger in the worn shinobi garbs and poncho sat on the stool on the opposite end. She made no eye contact with the other guest but glanced her narrowed violet eyes to the bartender. He was of middle age and was missing an eye, a large scar carved itself over the crown of his bald head to his jaw. A katana or a war-axe was the weapon, she realized. No bile dared to swim in her throat, her body growing used to the grisly realities of war again.
The stout bartender turned around to see his next guest, eyeing them with grisly contempt. It's him, he spat in his thought, I was hoping I was seeing things… Damned lord can't keep his tools to himself. A scowl formed on his scared face, his voice near growling the question. "Drinks?"
Nomasaki assumed her role, snarling out the words. "Sake… the whole bottle, and not the cheap kind."
And now the bartender's goal was to ignore the urge to poison it.
But a beast's nose could smell all, he knew that.
As her drink was slammed on the bar before her, the other patron suddenly drew their attention toward the mysterious stranger. The patron was an older man who appeared in his late forties. Fair-haired and clean-shaven, and a woven cloth covered much of his head. His physique was reminiscent of a retired shinobi, with scars and burns marked onto his forearms visible from his tunic's sleeves. His clothes were fine enough – not eloquent enough to evoke wealth, but the material was immaculate, implying he was no stranger to acquiring ryō and lots of it. Perhaps a lesser lord, or a mob leader.
Nomasaki pretended to ignore him and drank her sake straight.
The patron was intrigued.
"Fancy sake, eh? You should taste the wine I sell!" The patron slid to her side, taking the empty stool next to her. "The name's Kuromaru! Never thought I'd see you here,"
Nomasaki slammed the bottle on the counter, glaring at the smirking man immediately. Her heart jumped in her chest, ready to draw her hidden blade that lay beckoning on her waist. Her fingers were close to reaching the hilt, twitching in hastiness. Have I been found out already?
The man named Kuromaru let out a low chuckle, taking a drink of theirs. "I've heard of you and your… abilities. You're a man to be feared down here, even if unknown to those desert rats above the surface. But, of course, if you're finally deciding to leave your master and join the brigands, I never would think I'd catch you here, Temujin. But you're certainly clear in your motivations, even for someone so… discrete."
Her fingers flinched away from the blade, only slightly eased.
Temujin? She was confused. Do they think I'm someone else? Do they know this 'Temujin'? She scoffed, taking a swig from the bottle. "I was feeling ambitious… and a bit bored." The bottle clanged onto the table.
Kuromaru held out his hand, sneering like a fox. The memory of Tojiru haunted her momentarily, but she shook off the uncanny resemblance. "Well, it's an honour to meet you! I've only heard tales of you from our… mutual associates, but they weren't lying when they said you've got a nasty chakra."
Nomasaki shrugged and continued to drink nonchalantly.
"Say, how about we drink our sorrows away? Man to man!"
The Third Eye saw all, lingering behind a ruined pillar.
Gaara grimaced.
The worst thing to happen has happened, he thought as he witnessed Nomasaki drink with his Third Eye, The sake could undo her jutsu… I hope she knows what she's doing. He kept his fingers against his closed eye, watching every movement and every breath of his wife in the lair of the enemy.
"Kankuro," He called, drawing his brother's attention. "Where are your positions?"
Kankuro smirked, readying the last of his scrolls onto his back. "They've flanked them from the outside. Should be ready to deploy at any command. I'll be headed to the cistern's outflow through the sewer you found with that eye."
Gaara swallowed. "That's outside the village, near the ruins…"
"Nomasaki will be fine! Stop worrying!" Kankuro hastily tightened the scrolls where they were slung over his shoulders. "It's not like she can commit war crimes down there."
Gaara did not find the jest amusing in the least.
Kankuro scoffed. "Don't look at me like that. Anyways, I have my men ready to act when you deem it necessary – or when Nomasaki gives you the signal. I'll be waiting for her to meet me on the outside."
"That's the plan," Gaara narrowed his glance, troubled. Still, something seems off.
"Kazekage-sama!" Maki shouted. "The barrier has been breached!"
The Kazekage and his brother turned in alarm. "Where?"
A bright light followed by a thunderous rumble quaked the headquarters.
A fierce wind burst forth, pushing them back and making Gaara's sand come alive to shield them. A dark and vile chakra swam in the air, alarming the two Suna-nin. Before they could blink, the Uchiha appeared with his Rinnegan and Sharingan gleaming. Urgency marked his pale features, and his eyes shone with spite.
"You fools!" He spat. "You allowed her to go down there into their nest?!"
His arrival is nothing short of fitting. Gaara glared back, crossing his arms. "It was her choice."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Kankuro barked. "We're in the middle of an S-rank mission, in case you give a damn!"
Sasuke glanced at him, annoyed. "I don't." He looked back to Gaara, anger swimming in his eyes. "Get her out of there, right now."
"Why do you care?" Gaara snapped back. "I agree, but Nomasaki sought to do this mission herself. If I were to go and bring her back, she'll not only be angry with me, but I risk ruining the entire operation we have planned."
"Tenbu see it another way,"
Damn him. Gaara sharpened his glare. "Speak, Uchiha."
Sasuke wasted no time. "…The one called Genji wants her, and she's walked right into his trap."
Gaara raised a brow, choosing to listen as Kankuro tensed beside him in preparation to attack. He held up his hand to tell him to lower his guard. "As we've suspected, yes. Your point?"
Kankuro huffed. "Tell something we don't know!"
"I have suspected she may have been cloned."
"What?" To Gaara, it sounded ridiculous.
"There's another who possesses the exact chakra as her – right down to the very fibre," Sasuke explained. "I met them at the Land of Wind's capital when I went to the daimyo's palace to clear her name and tell that bastard lord it's Tenbu he wants… not the wife of the Kazekage. A young man, maybe not even twenty. Golden-haired, violet-eyed – as if a natural twin."
"Gaara, you don't seriously believe this." Kankuro mocked the Uchiha, but glanced at his younger brother. "Do you?"
Gaara said nothing, allowing Sasuke to continue.
"He went by the name Temujin, and was with a man named Genji of the Kurogane, the same man you spoke of after the attack. So naturally, I suspected Orochimaru was behind this… believing he may have collected a sample from her when she was a child in those mountains – after her mother's death. I collected a DNA sample myself from this person… a hair of their cloak while we passed. Next, I went to Yamagakure and collected a sample…-,"
Gaara flared in hot anger, his sand rising. "How dare you! You're foul Uchiha, but to desecrate her mother's grave is uncalled for!"
"Save your insults." Sasuke glared back, rage gleaming behind his mismatched eyes. "I didn't come close, not that I even had to in the first place." Gaara calmed, but his fury swam behind his ringed glare. The Uchiha went on, "She was in the Yamamori Forest when I arrived, but I was able to get her DNA from her room. A hair from her pillow… as her handmaiden had promised."
"And?" Kankuro scoffed. "What of these samples? Did the snake do it or not?"
Sasuke closed his eyes, taking a breath. "At first, I thought so… but,"
He opened his Sharingan eye, flaring at the brothers.
And they entered his Tsukuyomi.
The scene was set inside Orochimaru's hideout…
Suigetsu ran the code on the heavily wired computer, tsking and groaning as sounds of the overworked fan powered on as he typed. "Damn him," He laughed. "That snake and his hardware… This computer is ready to blow at any time. I don't think it can handle the stress of running these sorts of things… even if it is just to check on something."
"Then make it handle it," Sasuke snapped back. "We don't have time."
The Hozuki glared back, sighing as he returned to writing the last few lines of code. After hitting the final key, the screen went black. Blinking rapidly, a dialogue box appeared and prompted for the samples. "I need those hair samples now, Sasuke. Bring 'em here,"
And so he did.
Carefully, Suigetsu placed the hairs individually on their own sample plates atop sensors wired into the numerous tentacles that fed into the old device. Sasuke watched in the darkened room while his comrade went to work. Karin was busy writing lab reports, and Jugo lay asleep on the couch in the small corner of the room, giving them the much-needed privacy such a task required.
The computer screen lit up, beeping.
"Gods," Suigetsu cursed, grinning. "Goddamnit… Look at this,"
And that was when Sasuke saw it.
"MATCH – FULL SIBLING, 50% DNA SHARED"
Son of a bitch, Sasuke thought, What does this mean? "Not a clone… damn it all."
"You think Orochimaru knew about this?" Suigetsu turned, but Sasuke was already gone.
The door nearly shattered when Sasuke entered the snake's lair.
"Fufu…" Orochimaru stirred, impressed he had come so far. "I wish I could have taken credit, but alas, I couldn't reach the girl with that gigantic beast lumbering about. I had far more… pressing matters than pursuing an orphaned girl a world away. I had Otogakure, the pursuit of knowledge, and the Sharingan experiments… But, nevertheless, I must give credit to whoever stole away a mourning woman's infant babe."
The snake's laugh echoed in the dark.
The fluorescent light was blinded when the brothers returned to reality.
Gaara was shocked at the revelation, and Kankuro was near agape. Sasuke stood stoic with his glare unmoving and hardened like stone. "And now you know."
"Who could've done it?" Kankuro turned, his eyes gone wide. "Are we certain it's Genji?"
It had to be him.
Twenty years ago, Nomasaki's mother watched helplessly as her father left the homestead on the snowy mountaintop to fulfill his sentence for his crimes in Sunagakure. And not even a year later, a stranger came in his place only to steal away her newborn child. Gaara's heart twisted in sorrowful anger. To take a child away from its mother… only a monster would do such a thing. Gaara knew the feeling. His father took his mother away from him, and it was a pain he wished he never knew.
But that pain was also inflicted within Nomasaki's family – their family.
That wretched bastard.
Gaara met Sasuke's glare with equal might. "If this is true, Nomasaki has every right to exact her anger."
"But the Kurogane -,"
Gaara met his glance firmly. "I'd do the same if it was my own brother." Kankuro drew to a quiet, but Gaara knew he was right. "I'll reaffirm to Nomasaki not to blow our cover and to get out of there as soon as she can. We need to discuss this matter carefully."
"Especially if this Temujin is the one causing havoc in her stead. He could be the one destroying those outposts in the Land of Earth and helping to stoke the flames of another pointless war." Sasuke reminded. "But there may be more who know the blood-sealing, at least one other we confirmed. A woman, too. There's likely more that have escaped detection."
"Damn it," Kankuro scoffed. "So there's two of them… Tenbu has woven quite the messy web."
"Kazekage-sama!" Maki ran to them, her face white with shock. "The sensors are detecting a great disturbance in chakra below!"
Gaara's body tensed.
Hastily, he put his fingers back to his closed eye. What he saw struck him, and rage and urgency propelled him to act. He saw blood, fire, and heard screams.
And in that instant, the Uchiha was gone.
Nomasaki emptied the bottle easily and clanged the empty glass on the bar.
Kuromaru was impressed. "Damn, Temujin… You really know how to handle your liquor."
"Practice, friend." Nomasaki wiped her lips, pricking them with her fingernails. She still had sensation, so luckily was not too buzzed yet. Her jutsu felt strong, too. The mission would end without risk if she could keep up the charade. So she took the plunge. "Tell me, Kuromaru… If I needed to see the one in charge of things here, who do I have to brawl?"
"Ha, ha!" Kuromaru cackled, his drink near spilling as he heaved in his seat. "A person like you doesn't need to prove themselves worthy. You just need to make yourself clear, is all." He leaned in, grinning and showing his partially rotten teeth. "…You don't need to brawl me. I'm the one in charge. Let's go to my place. I have the finest sake in Suna and some pretty girls waiting for us as we speak."
Disgusted, Nomasaki kept her reaction internal and only nodded in agreement.
After tipping the bartender, the two strode into the packed streets of cloaked and armed shinobi. The crowd thinned as they approached, seemingly making way for the short scruff of a man and the tall, mysterious stranger who followed behind him. These people bow to him, Nomasaki realized, and before she knew it, her body tensed. She followed him to the centre ruins and the large penthouse they surrounded.
The penthouse seemed as if on an island, with the pillars of red and gold faded from the thousands of years of shadow. When they reached it, she realized it was not a penthouse but an ancient palace. A small one, more of a temple, if she had to guess. She scarcely knew the history of Suna and the Land of Wind, but she understood that thousands of years ago, Pharaohs once ruled the cradle of stone where Suna was later built. They said a great calamity occurred, plunging the once great civilization into a period of darkness while their cities and palaces were swallowed by the desert. It reminded her of the stories her mother would tell her of the purple-eyed people and their mountain gods. Perhaps the desert gods wanted to spite what they had created.
Guards flanked the entry doors but moved aside as their leader passed.
The place was adorned with exquisite cushions and lush plants and painted in the colours that must have once graced its finely carved walls. Hues of pink, red, and gold coated the sandstone walls. Barrels filled the room's corners, seemingly empty. Strange. A young girl in a silk kimono led them to the main room, a space filled with couches, chairs, and feathered cushions fit for a king. Kuromaru might even be a king of the cistern if judged by his lodgings. The young girl brought forth a tray of sake and freshly cut melons for the two men and set it on the low table at the foot of the couch.
Once she stepped away, Kuromaru fell into the couch and propped his feet up. "Take a seat, any seat."
He gestured to the many places to sit, and Nomasaki vaguely scanned for a seat across from her suspect. Finally, she settled for a cushioned armchair at the other side of the table, directly facing him as she desired. She attempted to appear relaxed, but her chakra bubbled under her hot palms as they clasped the armrests. Kuromaru did not seem to notice – or care, for that matter. He was busy lounging, resting his head back while he drank.
"Surprised? I know…" Kuromaru boasted, his face flushing from the alcohol. "I appear as if from the streets, but it's an old habit of mine. I got started in a group of bandits after defecting from Suna many years ago – before the Third War, actually. Then your master, or father… Er, forgive me. I forget… he found my services to be invaluable. I had a talent for acquiring contraband, you see. Jewelry, diamonds, gold, carpets, even spices… -,"
The spice-traders.
Nomasaki remembered their flayed, bloodied bodies on the desert sands. The only survivor, an older man with a mortal wound, cried as he begged for death. Gaara heeded his wish and allowed him to sink into the sands at his back. It was a year after they returned from their honeymoon at their seaside cottage. Tenbu were the culprits, and it seemed that Kuromaru was no stranger to them.
Her blood boiled.
Kuromaru went on, stuffing food in his face and washing it down with more sake. "Blood gets on my hands, you see, but I always find a way to wipe 'em clean."
A serving girl in a ragged kimono came to take the empty tray. She was only sixteen, her hands worn from cleaning and her face dirty and unwashed. Her dark hair was tied into a bun and concealed by a white bandana. She was too young to be in such a place and to be forced into such a role. Her eyes were grey and devoid of emotion, devoid of hope. It reminded her of her own eyes once before and Sana's eyes when they first met.
The sight of her made Nomasaki's stomach turn.
Kuromaru eyed the girl lustfully. "Come here, girl! Let me take a look at you…"
He grasped the girl's shoulders, running his grubby hands down her arms to her hips. The girl recoiled in his touch, her glance averted as if to keep tears at bay. Nomasaki's hands grew clawed, puncturing the wood of the armrests as she sat in silence, watching the fiend 'inspect' the serving girl.
"Timid things…" He smirked, slowly releasing the girl from his grasp so she could continue cleaning. "The brothel owner is desperate for business. Of course, that old mistress is foolish not sending enough girls down here to compete with the others, but I must admit… they still got curves in all the right places."
He had to gall to slap the girl's ass, provoking a wince of pain.
Nomasaki snapped.
The stranger stood, their feet quaking the very floor. Chakra coursed through the room, evoking a beastly rage and power no longer kept under wraps. It took all her focus to not lash out and kill the man right where he sat sprawled on his exquisite couch. The girl must have sensed the chakra settling heavily in the air, as she fled into the other room without a single peep.
"Whoa, what's wrong, Temujin?" Kuromaru was unfazed, confused, yet humoured by the stranger. "Are you not interested in women? Should I send for a strapping young lad instead?" Then, seeing the nightshade glare through the stranger's turban, he gave an amused smirk and poured himself another drink. Reluctantly, Nomasaki sat once again but kept her glare locked onto the wretched man. "Anyways…" Kuromaru continued. "I've been selling the wine as your master intends. It drives a heavy price, but the profits are astounding! I may just become a wine seller and leave my thieving ways behind. Well… some of them."
"So you intend on leaving?"
Kuromaru nodded, sipping his sake with a cringe-inducing slurp. "That's the plan anyways, to sell all the wine I can… but working with those Tenbu shinobi…" He picked at something in his teeth, pondering his options. "Tenbu are really terrible business partners… they go on and kill whoever dares to cross 'em! Can't have them killing my clients. Your master says to just 'get along', but that's becoming difficult. Those shinobi are unlike the other men… their demons, flesh and all. They lack human weakness and worship some strange god I've never heard of." He sipped at his sake, shrugging. "Still, your master wants the Kazekage and his bitch of a wife dead. The little welp, too. Bashed against a wall for all I care! Tenbu will do the deed, as negotiated… the fewer half-breeds running about, the better."
And Nomasaki broke.
The wolf lunged out for blood.
Rage sweltered, taking over her focus and sending her all its unbridled strength. Chakra burst forth, the wolf in her awakening. In seconds, her arm grew beastly and clawed and lashed toward Kuromaru. Red sprayed from his severed ear, and the pathetic ringleader was sent flying across the room into the sandstone wall at his back. He fell into a table adorned with vases and plants, sending a hail of broken glass and petals to the soaked floor. The serving girls who saw ran out screaming, believing a monster was in their midst. No doubt Nomasaki's cover was blown. She did not care at this point.
This man – this monster, had to pay.
She figured an ear was good for now.
Slowly, Nomasaki's transformation wore off. As her white-furred arm returned to its normal human state, she felt her clothes loosen around her shoulders and waist. Soon enough, the turban unravelled from her head, and she tossed the flak jacket and poncho aside for comfort. Her cover was blown, so there was no use pretending. Standing straight, she coldly walked towards the vile man as she sensed chakra mobilizing outside.
She had only minutes to get what she came for.
Kuromaru clasped the bleeding hole where his ear once was. Fear was in his eyes, frantically meeting the vicious glare of the woman who now stood over him. His drunken stupor wore off from the blood that oozed from his gaping wound.
"What the -?! You're not Temujin! Y-You're the she-wolf!"
"That I am." Nomasaki glared down. "I know nothing of this 'Temujin', but you apparently do. So tell me, Kuromaru… who is he?" She narrowed her glare in icy fury as he hesitated. "I'll slice off your other ear if you need a reminder…"
And before long, Kuromaru was on his knees, begging for his life. "N-No, I-I remember! P-Please, don't kill me! I'll cooperate!" He bowed, trembling like a leaf in the winds. "Temijun is the adopted son of his master – my business partner… Genji-sama of the Kurogane. His family supplies my wine stocks. The young man is a fierce shinobi who was hidden away until recently. His skills are… monstrous. Like yours, my lady. Genji-sama must be preparing him to take over the leadership and his… dealings." He shivered, pleading for his life. "I had no part in this! I was tasked only with selling the wine!"
"Do you know his plan?" Nomasaki barked, gesturing to the barrels. "Judging by the look of the room, your barrels are empty. Should they be full?"
"Well, um, yes." Kuromaru hesitated, sweat beading his pathetic forehead. "Tenbu – they have been entering the village by these barrels the odd time. They come to the cistern first, then slither to the surface whenever they have a need to." He forced himself to meet her violet eyes as if trying to come to terms with his own death. "I heard Genji-sama speak of his plan. He wants you and your jinchuriki-husband wiped from the desert, and the Kazekage dynasty ousted… with him installed as leader."
Just as they suspected. And he's training this Temujin to take his seat so Genji can take Gaara's… the bastards never give up. And he's using Tenbu as his mercenaries… "Anything else?" She questioned further. "Do you know when this master plan will come to fruition?"
He shook his head frantically. "N-No, I do not… just spare me, please! Take me in chains! Imprison me for life, I don't care! Just don't -,"
A blade sliced his throat, gurgling his last words in a drown of blood.
Nomasaki immediately readied herself as she saw and sensed the Tenbu agent standing behind Kuromaru's fallen body. Her fingers grazed the hilt before she sensed the Uchiha appear with his back blocking her view. She barely had enough time to react as a blast destroyed half the palace. When she blinked, Sasuke's Susano'o was protecting them, encasing them in its vile purple chakra.
"Uchiha?!"
"Stay down!" Sasuke cut her off. "You blew your cover!"
"I'm aware of that!" She yelled back. "I don't need your help!"
He scoffed, forming a hand-sign with his single hand. "Clearly, you do." He glanced his Sharingan eye back to her, seeing the contempt and anger her violet eyes held. "Get out of here! The Puppet Corps is on their way. You need to escape with the information, so get moving!"
Nomasaki wanted to argue, to yell at the intruder, but he was right.
She had her mission to complete.
Biting her tongue with all the curses she wanted to give, she listened. Then, turning on her heel, she ran out the doors into the cistern's open cavernous world. There was no time to find the puppets Kankuro planted amongst the riffraff, so she had to bet on herself to be the escape artist.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Chakra surrounded her, chasing her, pursuing her in all their haste and hunger. Keeping her instincts in the forefront of her mind, Nomasaki followed them to the sewer west of where she ran. She dashed past the onlookers and crowded stalls as a sea of black garbs and drawn blades followed hot on her heels.
A wall of fire struck her path, deterring her escape.
Her heart froze upon its sight, but she swallowed her recoil and turned her body – only to find herself surrounded. Tenbu was all around her. They closed in, their blades gleaming in the lantern light. She had one way to go, and she glanced back to the fire with a heavy heart. Then, as she slowly turned her heel, the men lunged for the kill.
Sand swam to her aid, forming a massive shield that pushed the assailants back.
This was her chance.
Biting her tongue and taking a deep breath, she plunged into the fire. Flames kissed her cheeks, her hair, and her clothes. Her sleeves were aflame when she burst through, but she ignored the burn and kept running. The sewer was close, she could hear the water flowing and beckoning. Flames rested on her elbows and gnawed at her long hair, but she ignored the heat and zoned in on the approaching water. Another fire jutsu struck the ground at her back, narrowly missing the sprinting she-wolf. Arrows and kunai pelted the sandstone path behind, all missing their target.
And she ran into the water.
It was deeper than she thought, and she seldom had time to focus her chakra on walking on water. Swimming had to do for now. She was lucky it was only water, not the sewage she feared. The only trouble was reminding herself how to swim. Moving her arms in equal motions and kicking her feet, she propelled herself to the surface. Cool air entered her lungs through a gasping breath, and she kept on, paddling through the cold water toward her escape. The current swept her up faster than anticipated.
Trusting her judgement, she let it take her into its darkened abyss.
Violently, Nomasaki was pulled down the watercourse. The descent was terrifying enough for her to near yell, but the water forced her head down and up so many times she feared she would sooner drown. The fire extinguished, she could smell ash on herself as the tunnel grew narrow and cramped. Her speed increased, and she sensed two chakras waiting for her on the other side. And sure enough, she soon saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
She slammed into the oasis pond so fast her body made a smack upon impact.
Her head went down, pushed by the pouring stream at her back. She swam a little further and surprisingly made it to land. Under a palm tree, she coughed up the remaining water in her lungs and then her last meal. Retching was the last of her problems, it seemed. It was nighttime outside, causing her to wonder if she had been in the cistern longer than an hour. The moon illuminated the sands into a cool blue, confusing her greatly.
"My lady," Shijima knelt, meeting her height. "I trust you are uninjured?"
Nomasaki could not bring herself to look her in the eyes.
It was the second time her bodyguard witnessed her puke, and she thought it was utterly humiliating. She pushed herself to nod, but the searing burns only temporarily soothed by the waters started to singe on her exposed sleeves. They were burned and torn at the elbows, and her scarred back was visible through the burnt holes that exposed her reddened skin. The edges of her long golden hair were burnt black, and fire could still be scented from her.
Shijima saw. "You're burned,"
"It's just a flesh wound," She winced, pulling herself to her feet. "I'll be fine. Get me home, please."
Kankuro smirked at her, relieved. "As you say, 'sis."
Nomasaki almost laughed. "You bastard… Thank you… let's go."
Shijima did as she was bid.
In only seconds, Shijima teleported the Kazekage's wife to the estate. The porch was a familiar and calming place, far away from the awful smells and chakra of the cistern below. Right about now, Kankuro's men and the ANBU were storming the black market and taking any and all cooperative prisoners. Any who were not so were of no loss to the village – or wherever they hailed. Kankuro guarded his 'sister' in the house. As his messengers relayed the news, he spent his evening relaxing in the living room with a drink. The work was done, thankfully. Meanwhile, Shijima stood by within the shadows of the outside corridor, fulfilling her duties as bodyguard.
No sign of the Kazekage yet.
The steaming bath was heaven on earth for Nomasaki, and she allowed her fresh wounds to soak for so long that she nearly pruned. Her hair, however, was in a sorry state. Meiyumi offered to trim her hair after healing what she could of her burns. So the two kunoichi sat at the kitchen table as the work was done. Blackened gold fell to the floor in heaps, leaving her once waist-length hair just past shoulder length. It was not too short, but not as long as she liked it. She had not had hair this short since she was a child, but she accepted it for what it was.
"It's shorter than I'm used to…"
Meiyumi smiled to cheer her up. "It'll grow back! I think it's nice. It really shows off your cheekbones."
Nomasaki examined herself in the mirror, not recognizing herself at first. "I suppose so. It's just a matter of getting used to it," She smiled back at her friend. "Thanks, Meiyumi."
Meiyumi brought in Kyokuro, who marvelled at his mother's gold hair whenever it was near. He touched it with his tiny fingers as he was held in Nomasaki's caring arms. She was relieved he liked it, for who knew how his reaction might have been if it were shorter. Kankuro, on the other hand, near choked on his coffee when he saw. He remarked that it reminded him of his mother's hair, and Nomasaki instantly recoiled. The last thing a woman wants to hear is that she resembles her mother-in-law. When Gaara returned home that night, Kankuro said the same thing only by teasing. Gaara told him to shut up, and that was the last time Kankuro brought it to his attention.
When Gaara walked down the hall, he saw the open bedroom door.
He hesitated at first, but upon seeing Nomasaki's face brighten when he walked past, he decided it was time to talk. His sand closed the door as he entered, leaving the husband and wife alone in their bedroom for the first time in what seemed months.
"You're back,"
Gaara said nothing and sat on the bed.
She joined him on the mattress, and he immediately touched the sleeves of her silken nightgown. Slowly, he pushed away the blue fabric and beheld the swollen, red skin that sweltered from the kiss of fire. He grazed the burnt skin delicately as he held her arms, and before words could find him, he buried his face into her lap. He did not weep, but he felt as if he could have. She was injured because of him, because of his pride. If he had not argued with her when she returned, she might not have been so adamant about proving a point. If he had only listened to her, she wouldn't have been hurt.
He promised to always protect her, and he failed.
He failed.
"Gaara,"
"I'm a poor husband…" He spoke, his voice low and gruff. "I let this happen."
She shook her head. "They're just scars. They don't hurt anymore, I'm alright."
"No," He raised his glance to hers, revealing guilty, glossy seafoam eyes. "You were hurt because of me."
"I was hurt because of the fire ninjutsu, not from you. You had nothing to do with it." She sighed, her glance travelling to the far wall. "I chose to do this mission, so I bear the consequences. But, if anything, I'm glad I've done it because I protected my family and the village and conquered a wall of flames to complete it. I feel… a little stronger than I once was, even stronger when I came down from the mountain."
Gaara took her hands and cupped them in his. "You are strong. I know it… I always knew it." He met her eyes again, sorrowful. "I'm sorry I ever questioned it. You're a capable shinobi, amongst the strongest in the village. I've been taking things out on you and treating you like you're made of glass… that was a mistake I'll never make again."
"More like made of ice," Nomasaki smiled, touching his cheek. The smile died from her lips, guilt swimming up her throat. "I've been impulsive as of late… too impulsive. I shouldn't have put you through that mess. I should have left my father alone to -,"
"It's alright, I understand now." Gaara sighed, taking her hand gently in his and guiding it to her lap. "…Love is a powerful thing. When the ones we love are hurt, we would do anything in our power to hurt the ones who hurt them… It can be a double-edged sword."
"Revenge,"
He nodded. "…In the heat of the moment, we act. Our judgment disappears… because we only want vengeance against those who caused our loved one's pain."
"And that's what happened with the Uchiha clan, the 'curse of hatred'."
"You once told me you wanted revenge on the man who abandoned you and your mother, but when you met him, you decided to spare his life. You let him live… and you learned the truth." Gaara said, remembering. "What made you revisit your resolve on that mountain?"
Nomasaki drew her hands in, guarding herself. She lowered her head, panic rising in her chest. "Iwagakure was taunting us… My clan had only been restored two years ago, and already they started their hunts." Tears swelled into her eyes, but she swallowed them down. "It was Ekashiba's son they killed… but they wanted me. I felt guilty. If they had found me first, Satoshi wouldn't have had to die."
"What would you have done if they found you first?"
"I would tell them the truth! I would tell them how I've done nothing wrong, and haven't left Suna except my two trips north." Guilt panged her. "If they found me first, I could have set things straight, but instead… -,"
Gaara sighed, understanding. "I know…"
"I'm sorry," Nomasaki pleaded tearfully. "I'm sorry I made this mess. Suna doesn't deserve to be dragged into this… It's my fault."
Gingerly, Gaara leaned in and held her close in his arms. Resting her head against his chest, she sobbed silently but allowed herself to be vulnerable. It was their first tender moment in weeks. He placed a hand on her back, rubbing smoothly.
"Love is also powerful for another reason," He spoke. "When the ones we love are in danger, love propels us to save them… to protect them." He held her closer, pressing his head against hers. "That's why I always go to protect you, even though you don't need protection. I can't help it because my body moves on its own."
"Like that first time near the Land of Claws?"
Gaara remembered it well.
It was the first mission he and Nomasaki had alone and the first time he realized he was falling in love with her. They were only seventeen then, and it was a lifetime ago. Tenbu sent Kogen, Kenzō and Koga's half-brother, to bring Nomasaki to their lair and kill the Kazekage. But their plan fell apart when they met the two Suna-nin on the snowy battlefield. Exhausted from chakra loss, Nomasaki was near dealt a fatal blow from Kogen's lightning-release jutsu. Still, Gaara stepped in to protect her – even if his sand was sluggish from his recovery and the snow surrounding them. He took that attack to protect her. When she was dressing his wound, he could not explain why he did it, but soon after, he realized it was because he loved her.
"Exactly that."
Nomasaki smiled shyly, glancing at her lap.
Her words hesitated at first, but she gathered up the courage. "You don't have to sleep on the couch tonight. You can sleep in here with me. We can go to sleep, or we can talk all night. I don't care because… I want you back."
Gaara was flattered. "Let's go to bed. We can discuss things in the morning."
Nomasaki nodded, her violet eyes glistening with tears.
"…Thank you…"
And they soon went to bed, their bodies cuddled against one another in the darkness.