Happy Valentine's Day!
It goes without saying that I love each and every one of my followers, my commenters, my subscribers, and my lurkers. I apologize for the delays in finishing this installment, but the weather here in Wisconsin has been rearing its ugly head and my days have been filled with shoveling, digging out cars, and going hard at work to survive the winter storms. To anyone surviving the winter wasteland with me, drive safely, be warm, and keep spare essentials in your cars.
On a separate note, I've been busy trying to make headway with the book I have written and have an exciting day waiting for me in early March. I will be attending a writers workshop and have slotted times to meet with agents about my selling points, as well as a critique of 10 pages of my book. It will be an adventure for sure, and though I am extremely nervous, I am also very, very excited to start my dream career. If anyone is interested in becoming a published author, I highly suggest going to a workshop, they can cost some pretty pennies, but your future, your DREAM is worth every cent. I will let you all know how it goes as I update my chapters to this fanfic, and as always - Enjoy!
Follow the Sun, Excerpts of Time
Installment 3; Part 3:
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×
Seimei hadn't expected the blast that came from within the dome, the surge of power that overthrew the strength of the metal had him shielding his eyes from the billowing cloud of sand and dust. It spewed into the air, shrouding the battlefield from his sight, and he cursed.
No, this wasn't how it was meant to go. Retaliation was unacceptable. How long had he waited for this moment? For the breath of fresh air in his lungs, the course of his blood through his veins? For the downfall of all who had doubted him, stolen from him, and mangled his people's art form? Too long, too many years spent entombed within the rocks for it to be over so soon. With eyes blind to what was below him, he sprung forth his swords, flexible and deadly in their intent, and attempted to slice through whatever lay in wait below the dust.
His blade made hard contact with something beneath him, something that stopped his attack dead in its tracks and refused to give back his weapon. For a moment, though only just, the dust had thinned and through it, he spied his prey.
Gaara stood free of his cage, appearing much stronger than Seimei would have preferred, and his sand gripped the blade of his sword. Beside Gaara, tucked under the safety of his sand, was the girl he had paid no mind. It had been years since Seimei had felt his blood boil, but boil it did.
She was just a little thing, young and unassuming, he hadn't expected such strength from her and knew now that he should have been more diligent in taking her out. His eyes narrowed as she slipped from Gaara's side, her frame silhouetted against the cover of falling dust, and within moments she was gone. It was clear soon after that she had joined the others, they too falling back in response to the dangerously low visibility. She'd call for their retreat, but Seimei knew the tides were not in his favor.
"Get back!" Sakura called out to the team. "Clear the gorge!"
"Where is he?" Temari called back, meeting her within moments of her voice cutting through the dust. "What happened?"
Seimei knew what happened, he could feel it; the way that the power he'd stolen had been stopped, how the strength had returned to Gaara's features, though only just. What had she done? How had she thwarted his efforts so suddenly on her own? He demanded answers but resided to acquire them after he dealt with the matter at hand.
Gaara stared him down, his eyes were hard and cold, focusing on him with a deadly kind of intent.
"So you're still standing, I see," he spoke down to his opponent, a scowl forming on his lips as he and Gaara locked eyes. This man, this mere boy, was not afraid of him.
"Of course," Gaara answered. "Victory over myself takes more than that."
"Oh?" Seimei taunted. "And what about your victory? You've no sand left to use, and you alone are no match for me."
True, Gaara thought to himself. On his own he hadn't the skill to defeat this man and, though he was trained in hand to hand combat, his expertise lied in the manipulation of his sand.
"I am Gaara of the Desert, in case you've forgotten," he replied in kind, his voice just as mocking and taunting. "Wherever there is rock, wherever there is earth, I can make more."
There was still power left in him, still energy to spare, and he wasted no time in sending his will through the sand beneath his feet, commanding the erosion of the canyon walls that surrounded them. For a moment, one of great tension for the group gathered at a relatively safe distance from the epicenter of the battle, all was silent in the canyon.
Seimei smirked, feeling confident that he had drained all that he needed of the Shukaku's energy to win this fight, and opened his mouth to speak. A loud crack filled the air before his own voice could and Seimei looked beyond Gaara to see the walls of the canyon had splintered. Jagged fragments fell from the cliff face, plunging into the sandy valley below and disintegrating into the ground. He cursed, seeing now that all around them the stone was succumbing to the fissures created by Gaara's will.
As rocks and boulders rained from the canyon, the floor began to rise, filling with sand and overflowing the boundaries of canyon walls. Seimei attempted to keep his distance, but the overwhelming volume of sand had swarmed him. It enclosed him, suffocating in its strength, and pulled him down to the floor of the gorge, drowning him in the sea of writhing grains. Try as he might, physical strength was unable to fight against it, and before he could be crushed by the sheer weight of the sand pilling on top of him, he summoned his strength for an escape.
Above ground, a vortex of wind surged from the sand, thrusting it up and out as Seimei rose from its depths. His face was hard set and determined, his eyes keenly fixed on Gaara, and his intent clearly deadly.
"So," he seared, his voice low with malice. "You've still got chakra to spare. No matter, simply more for me to take." Indeed, his chest plate sprang to life, sucking up the energy that rolled from Gaara's shoulders once again.
Gaara appeared unfazed as if he had expected this from him, and his lack of response only angered Seimei more.
It was a common rule among shinobi, to never let your enemy see your weaknesses, and though Gaara was exhausted, hardly able to stand, and quickly approaching his limit, he wasn't about to show it. He raised a hand to the air, summoning the sand around him to gather in his hands and, within moments, he'd comprised a weapon worthy of his enemy.
The Shukaku Spear; an impressive weapon of hardened sand and packed chakra, second only to the Shukaku Shield. It wasn't often that Gaara had to resort to this attack, as it drained him of more energy than his usual methods, but he couldn't allow this man to live.
Before Seimei could deflect his attack, Gaara threw the spear toward him; a testament to the physical strength he did indeed possess. The spear flew diligently toward its mark, the force of the chest plate drawing in his chakra only honed its path to a deadly accuracy.
It seemed to Gaara that Seimei had truly expected little from him, it was the Shukaku he had targeted after all, not his vessel, but this lack of caution would be the beginning of his downfall. The spear made swift contact with the chest plate as it hovered protectively over Seimei's gut, and the impressive strength of the spear's tip made quick work of piercing through the protective metal, slicing into the tender flesh that hid beneath.
Seimei looked down to where the sand spear had punctured his body. Already the spear began to dissolve, the prongs of it receding from him and allowing his blood to flow forth from his wounds. It soaked down his torso, warm and wet against his robes, and as the sand let go of its form; falling back to the canyon floor below, Seimei followed.
He slumped on the canyon floor, shocked and in disbelief. "No," he muttered, eyes still locked on the blood soaking his legs. "It can't be…it wasn't meant-"
"They should have left you dead," Gaara spoke, kneeling down as his hands slipped into the sand beneath him. "It would have been easier for you."
Seimei looked up to him, the sand on which he knelt began to churn and spin; slowly swallowing him in a vortex he was sure he wouldn't escape.
No…he thought desperately, it couldn't be over, not now, not so soon. There was work yet to be done, there was-
He tried to stand but found himself immobile, the sand had gripped his arms, dragging him down, and before he finally slipped beneath the surface he glanced over to the party waiting hesitantly in the distance. There he saw her, standing in the safety of the group, her pastel hair that had once been an immediate dismissal was now a mockery of how wrong he had been. She should have been the target, she should have been the first to fall. He would have tasted his victory then, would have reveled in the feel of her blood on his hands.
The sand swallowed him and, as the darkness took hold of him, the pressure bared down on him from all around, he cursed that girl. She had been Gaara's strength when he should have had none, she had fixed all that his followers had worked to destroy, and next time he would not make that mistake again.
Next time, she would be the first to die.
Gaara sent wave after wave of his chakra into the sand, willing it to crush Seimei as he had attempted before. He was weak enough now, losing blood at an alarming rate, and his injury would soon send him back his grave on its own. Still, Gaara sought to be sure.
The ground rumbled all around, the extent of his will might have seemed excessive, but Gaara was out for blood this time, and he would have it. He continued the barrage of twisting and pulverizing his opponent, feeling every break and every snap, every tear and every struggle through the sand until finally, all life had settled back into the sweet stillness of death.
It was done.
Seimei was dead.
Satisfied, Gaara tried to stand, tried to support himself, but even his own weight was too much for him now. His knees buckled beneath him, his body shaking from exhaustion, from fighting his demon, from draining all that he could to see this battle through to the end. He slumped to the ground, the voice of his sister crying out in the distance just barely reached his ears as his vision blurred. Within a moment all was silent, a lulling sort of darkness enveloped him, and his body simply gave out.
…
"You'll get back okay?" Shikamaru asked, eyeing the way that Temari stood, the weight of her fan a clear burden to her now.
Nevertheless, she nodded with certainty. "Of course," she answered, doing what she could to hide the fatigue not only from Shikamaru but from the rest of the group as well. She didn't care for the concerned looks her brothers would send her way, especially the ones from Matsuri. She was a strong one, she could handle herself better than most in the present party would assume, and wasn't about to take the pity of anyone. She was the oldest one, the elder of her family, and had sworn to hold herself as such. "Not a problem, you?" she asked back, folding her arms and throwing Shikamaru that same skeptical look he'd given her.
He shrugged, knowing well that her abilities far surpassed anything he'd yet seen, and being a little winded wouldn't bother her any. But still, his mind never stopped with the what-if's and the speculation, making him inclined to worry. "Shouldn't be a problem, we've got a shorter journey as it stands."
Shikamaru stuffed his hands in his pockets and was clearly trying to ignore the way that Kankuro patiently observed their exchange, Temari was attempting to do the same.
"Thank you," she spoke after a moment, her voice quieter and softer than before. Shikamaru looked up to her, his brow pulled together. "For today, it would have gone much differently without the help of the Leaf." Her eyes dropped to the ground, her lips thinned.
"Don't worry about it, we were happy to help in the success." She nodded but her eyes didn't meet his own, and he could see clouded thought within those blue depths of hers. "So," he began, shifting his weight and attempting to adopt a more casual tone with her. "Training, huh?"
She looked up to him then, a little confused at his choice of words. "Training," she repeated. "Yes."
Shikamaru shrugged, kicking some dirt with his foot. "I didn't think you'd leave the scouts…what with having your own team and all…"
"Leave?" she gawked. "No, I didn't leave. I can do more than one thing, you know?"
"Well," he spoke in response to the sudden edge to her voice. "I never said you couldn't, I just-"
"Don't go thinking I'm not capable of handling students and a team!"
"Wha- I know you can! I just didn't know-"
"Oh that's clear!" she snapped back, the crinkle in her nose and the pinch between her brows did little to stifle the heat spreading across her cheeks. "Are you so dismissive to all the women back home?" she demanded.
"Temari, please, I'm not-"
Kankuro sighed, looking away from them as Shikamaru tried to salvage what he could from Temari's flustered string of demands. She was easy to rile when her abilities and competence was put into question, and if he'd only known he would have warned the poor man otherwise. She thought she hid it so well, and maybe with Shikamaru she did, but as her brother, Kankuro simply knew better. Yet, as her brother, this was a matter he was keen not to get involved in. He turned his attention to Sakura then, though her situation fared just as well as Shikamaru's, it seemed.
"What were you thinking?" Gaara demanded, his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest and his eyes cemented on her face.
Sakura paused a moment, she'd been giving Matsuri a proper look over after her abduction, and looked up at him as if his tone of voice confused her. "What?"
Gaara rolled his eyes, clearly oblivious as Kankuro suggested to Naruto that they let them work it out themselves. "Do you have a death wish?" he asked.
Sakura turned from Matsuri to face him fully. "Why would you think I have a death wish?"
"Well, it sure as hell seems like it to me. Did no one tell you how dangerous your actions were? Need I reiterate that a few moments later and –"
"Oh that's what you're on about?" she interrupted, the sudden tone to her voice surprising Matsuri who soon moved to stand beside Kankuro as they looked on to the little quarrel. "I was thinking that you needed help."
Gaara wasn't at all settled by her answer. "So that was your solution?" he demanded, making a gesture to the canyon, to where she'd so blindly rushed in after him.
"What other one was there?" she challenged him, squaring up to face him as he stared her down. "Wait for everyone else to agree on a decision? You were running out of time. Just let you manage on your own? It appeared very clear that you couldn't. What's the problem?"
"What's the problem?" he repeated in disbelief. The problem was that she could have been killed, she had felt how his armor had begun twisting and shifting against his will, how the sand had begun bunching unnaturally around his shoulder, up his neck and to the side of his face. But she hadn't seen the claw it had made of his arm, hadn't seen the beast within him begin to take physical form. "Everything, Sakura."
"I'm fine," she pressed, her lips thinning as she glared up at him. What was this sudden lack of confidence in her, this doubt that he seemed determined not to shake?
"That wasn't a guarantee," Gaara countered back, knowing better than anyone how close she came to painting the walls of that damned cage red with her own blood.
"So? Neither is anything in our line of work." Her rebuttal came without a moment's hesitation and it only seemed to rile Gaara more.
He scowled at her, a look that – only just months ago – would have had many shying back in fear, but Sakura stood her ground. He stepped closer, intent on telling her how foolish it had been, how she could have just a easily been killed, or used against him, or taken just as Matsuri had been, but his words only died on his tongue. How could he tell her? She didn't know…she wouldn't have come if she knew, he was sure of it, so how could he tell her more clearly than his own actions could have?
"Nothing to say to that, huh?" she huffed, folding her arms together under her chest, that beautiful fire lighting up her eyes.
No, there was so much to say to it, but…could he find the words? Where there any?
"Remember what I said, Gaara," she pressed, the edge to her gaze had gone but her eyes remained hardened by worry. "You're not indestructible, no one is."
He paused, his eyes studying the tenacity of her features, the rawness to her eyes that consistently clouded his thoughts, the sound of her voice that always seemed to echo in him. Of course, he'd remembered, he'd tried to remember everything she'd said. "I know," he answered after a moment, unable to look at that worry on her face any longer. Frustration bubbled up in his gut, a realization of his own weakness that shamed him to admit. He had to become stronger, he needed to be more vigilant, more capable, for himself and for his people. Maybe then she wouldn't worry so much.
Sakura sighed, looking to the ground as well, and then eventually back to Shikamaru. He made a small gesture, just a tilt of the head toward their group, and she knew that her time here was up. "We should go," she said after a moment, her voice was quiet now, the embers of her own frustration cooling into a stagnant sense of wanting. Wanting to stay here, with Gaara, with Temari, with the people she missed so much. Wanting to go back with them, to feel the warmth of the desert sun and the hot sand between her toes. Wanting this moment – however frustrating – to last just a little longer.
"So should we," Gaara agreed. He turned from her and joined his siblings and his student, a feeling of emptiness at his side, a longing in his nerves.
Sakura felt her heart sink, an unexpected feeling that had her desperate to reach out for something, anything, and her feet moved in response. She walked up to Temari, throwing her arms around her in a tight and much needed hug. Temari returned her embrace, pulling her friend tightly against her in a rare moment of affection.
"Get home safe," Temari said as they parted. "Don't forget to write."
"I won't," Sakura assured. "Promise." She turned her eyes to Matsuri then, to the funny look that she wore across her face. Though only a few years younger than herself, she seemed so much younger, so nervous and uncertain of her place in this gathered group. She had so much potential, so much determination. If she could survive this, definitely a first day for the books if Sakura had ever seen one, then she would be a fine soldier for her people. "Be safe, Matsuri, and be diligent."
She nodded in response, her voice caught in her throat, her mind reeling. Just who was this woman? She had gone after Gaara without hesitation, produces a strength that had her nearly doubling back in awe, and stood toe to toe with one of the most feared men of her country. She didn't fear him, not his glares, not the rising tone in his voice, not his anger, nothing. It was as if, at least to Matsuri, she had no reason to.
Sakura turned from her and walked back towards her team, waving a friendly goodbye to Kankuro, and they began their way back to their forested home. Gaara stalked off back into the trees, his siblings followed suit at a rather manageable pace in their fatigue, and Matsuri tried her best not to steal too many glances of her new teacher.
She was curious, incredibly so, and also certain that – even though it hadn't been plainly stated – there just had to be more to him, more to them, than anyone had thought before.
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×
Gaara sighed to himself, for the umpteenth time that afternoon, and settled himself in for a long day of training with Matsuri. It was a hot afternoon and he had slid into the shade of the buildings to observe her. Albeit very slow, she was indeed improving. It seemed to take her a few days to get over him hovering and throwing advice and suggestions her way, but she appeared to be more comfortable with him now.
She yelped a little when her javelin swung around the target pole and back her way, something she clearly hadn't expected and she looked shyly back at him after nearly stumbling over her own feet. Obviously, her training would take a while longer than he would have hoped, but at least now he was confident that she wouldn't hurt herself with her own weapon. He pushed himself from the wall, moving to show her a better form, perhaps one that hadn't worked for him when he'd been trained, but might very well work for her.
"Gaara," called a voice to his side.
He looked over to see a man coming down the street towards them, a hand raised in greeting. In that hand was a folded envelope, the white paper brightly reflecting the light of the sun. "Hold on, Matsuri," he called to his student. She paused and watched as the man approached him.
"Some messages arrived at the tower not long ago, from the Leaf." The man handed him the envelope and Gaara took it, looking quickly over his name written on the paper. "Personally addressed to you and Temari, any idea where she is?"
Gaara shook his head. "She's left for patrol with her squad, her students are done for the day. I'll give it to her." The man nodded, digging out Temari's note from his pack, and handed it to Gaara. Nodding to him, he turned to leave them to their training.
Looking back at the note addressed to him, Gaara opened it, the script on the envelope so very familiar, and unfolded the paper within. It was a short note and wasn't at all signed, but he didn't need a signature to know who had sent it. In the middle of the page, in modest writing with such neat script, only three words were written there. A curious choice for a letter that journeyed so far to reach him.
Though Matsuri was sure he thought she wouldn't notice, as it happened so quickly before the letter was folded again and stuffed into his pocket, there had been a grin that pulled at his lips, a small but undeniable smile that she had never seen from him before.
Gaara looked back her way and she quickly averted her gaze, trying her best to listen closely as he explained a different way of attack for her, but after seeing what she had, she was endlessly curious. Who had written him so personally? Her kidnapping incident, not even two weeks prior, had given her a clue as to who the sender was…but what had it said? To make the vessel of the sand demon smile so softly…she was desperately intrigued but resigned to the fact that she'd never ask and therefore never know. But still…
Soon, it had said. I promise.
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×