Welcome back to the Follow the Sun; Excerpts of Time!
It has been quite a while since I was feeling inspired to write the continuation of the inn fire, but the urge to write has struck again! How I have missed this story; the characters, the dialog, the blossoming romance, the lovely flavor of a slow burn. Recently, what with living life, getting engaged, moving to a new state, and starting a new job, the energy for creative writing was syphoned away by the necessities of life. But now, I am grateful to be back, to be passionate about this story I'm trying to tell, and to feel back to my old self again by doing what I love. I still find myself thinking of this fanfiction very often, it has always been close to my heart and I still have every intention of finishing the series with an ending that I'm sure everyone to come across this work will look forward to. So, rest assured that, no matter the time between, I will always return with another chapter.
But, before we can get even close to that, Sakura is still only on her first day of the three that she is scheduled to spend with Temari and the guys in Suna, and their troubles are only just beginning…
And to my followers on FF.n I do sincerely apologize for the lengthy hiatus. I've also been struggling to log in to this account and only recently remembered the correct recovery emails and passwords after years of dormancy to access this account again. I have been posting again on Ao3 for a few months, so I guess those that have been waiting patiently here are in for quite the content dump…
Follow the Sun: Excerpts of Time
Installment 4 (5)
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"Take careful heed, Temari; one more misstep and she could cost you your title."
Temari's brow pinched over her eyes, the expression on her face one of clear scrutiny and doubt. "My title?" she repeated. Keeping her hands clasped behind her back at attention, she stood tall and square shouldered before the tempered warning. "What about everyone that nearly cost that child his life? What of their titles?"
She was met with silence, but after a moment the man sighed, and leaned back in his chair behind the desk that divided them. He was her superior, a man that – given how high up the ladder he sat – had only met with her one on one during her inauguration as an official captain. General Basco; an experienced soldier and decorated in honors, it had been over a year since he'd addressed her in person like this. After the excitement of the fire, it had taken only a few hours to be called to his personal office. This was something that sent most men shaking in their boots, but Temari had dealt with a difficult younger brother for long enough to not be scared by a general that was no longer fit for the field. Though it was not the ideal start to her first afternoon relaxing with her guest, she had steadfast faith in the actions they'd taken, and she had faith in her friend as well.
"You are not privy to that knowledge." Basco spoke bluntly. Temari didn't acknowledge this, she didn't take well to threats, and she took even worse to threats toward her position. "But rest assured, it's being investigated."
Holding back a scoff, she nodded. "Good, I'd hate for their mistake to cost us our reputation with the public."
The general looked up at her, his face was thin and gaunt with decades of toils behind his eyes, and he studied her for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, suggestive, but not in the least bit pleading. "Is there no one here that can be your friend?"
Temari bit the inside of her lip. "No," she stated, her voice smooth and controlled.
He was tempted to ask again, the question in reference to her youngest brother this time, but he decided against inquiring his sister for such answers. He sighed, the bags under his eyes pulled tight as he rubbed his face. He was getting too old for the boisterous youths they kept sending his way. "With the number of women in the forces nowadays you should have no problem –"
"With all due respect, General Basco," Temari stated firmly, earning a disgruntled look from the seasoned man behind the desk. "I have no need for the friends awaiting me in Sunagakure's ranks. Not while they continue to liken my little brother to a wild beast."
Basco thinned his lips, suppressing the desire to scowl at her interruption.
Temari knew that her superiors generally tiptoed around rebuking her due to the nature of who she kept at her beck and call, but she was not immune to the fatherly reprimand of higher-ranking men in her division.
"You wish for him to be accepted," he said slowly, locking eyes with her across the desk. "Yet you exile the very ones you should want to show him loyalty." The accusatory tone of his words grinded against Temari's ears like he was scolding a child.
Temari breathed out slowly, displeased with ring of truth behind those words. She did push people away, indeed, but how could she trust them to show them true respect when she'd seen firsthand the mud they'd sling if given half the chance? It didn't matter that she wasn't the target, her family was, and that family was all she had left. With their mother gone and their father murdered, she sat at the head of the Sabaku house, she defended her family and their name, and she would welcome no potential traitors into their midst.
No. Every one of them had chosen their sides, made their beds, and she intended to let them lie there. "I have no intention of paying for their devotion with neither my accomplishments nor my pride."
"To consider loyalty is to consider business, Temari," Basco stated. "Most sworn swords are bought rather than won. Honor and grandeur do not feed the hungry or house the destitute, but the right price will do just that and more. Do you think the vast majority of our military would be in service if they weren't paid well and given benefits to do so? You don't sign their paychecks, but your name and titles hold weight in their ability to climb ranks and succeed…so long as you can keep it."
Temari suppressed a groan at his attempt to recite proverbs and spoke evenly in reply. "Sound advice, General Basco," she said with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Allow to me contribute my own." Basco hid his frown behind his clasped hands, altogether disturbed by the conviction she carried across her shoulders and the way her eyes had knowingly flickered to the western wall of his office. "When considering Sabaku loyalty," she began, her words carefully chosen. "Those that are worthy of it, have it. Those that have it, cannot be bought."
Basco sat there a moment, studying the way her eyes glinted differently than they had when she'd first approached him as a new captain. He'd thought her too impulsive, too wet behind the ears to handle a rambunctious group of all-too eager chunin, but she had stood her ground and left no question in how she would run her team. Some of them had requested transfers when her brothers were announced on the squad, some had turned against her commands when Miss Haruno unexpectedly fell from the desert skies, and others had made it plenty clear where they stood in terms of loyalty to the Sabakus. The remaining members of the team, though a little light on the head count these days, had quickly climbed the ranks and earned the respect and reputation they now boasted.
This reputation was beginning to precede them, and it was clear to those around them that, somewhere along the way, loyalty had jumped from their country to their captain. "Your threats are as thinly veiled as ever, Captain Temari," Basco declared.
"Sir," she said curtly in response, giving no excuses, no rebuttals.
In that moment, Basco thought of having a word with their old teacher, Baki. He recalled the seasoned jonin being tasked with making the young siblings into the best team of contract killers the country had ever seen, and here stood the fruits of his labor; tenacious, bullheaded, independent, and quickly growing too powerful to control. This was not the outcome they had anticipated, and the more time that passed, the less people they had to stand against them.
"Sir, will that be all?" she asked, her voice growing smoother and more melodic every time her confidence went unchallenged, and her strength uncontested.
A chuckle shook itself loose from his throat. "Big plans for your days off?" he asked sarcastically, taking a document from the top of a neglected pile of papers on his desk.
Temari nodded once. "Sakura and I are getting Naja's for everyone. The market will be quite busy as soon as the vendors open, so I'm in a hurry."
Basco waved a hand to Temari. "Dismissed," he muttered under his breath, his attention falling on the document at hand. "Just," he began, looking back up at her for a moment, his gaze was hard and unrelenting. "Keep yourselves out of trouble this weekend."
Temari bowed respectfully. "General," she said, excusing herself from the office and shutting the door behind her. She stood there a moment, flexing the stiff tendons in her hands and taking a calming breath straightening herself, always poised and professional while still in the headquarters, and set off towards the elevator.
General Basco leaned back in his chair, the document he'd picked up crinkling in his hands. "I told you," He sighed aloud. "They're just friends, plain and simple."
From the wall to his left, a shuffling could be heard as a large piece of molded paneling smoothly slid out from its place flush against the wall. A tall man, slender in his build and donning a mask of the ANBU, stepped out from the compartment. It was a small space, room enough to crouch comfortably. These hidden spaces were standard practice in the military and government offices; they led to escape tunnels, secret bunkers, weapons storage, and more. Eavesdropping on private conversations was typical and considered the most harmless use of the passageways.
The man moved over to the window across the office, looking down to the street below where Temari had just exited the building. One of her squad members had intercepted her and they could be seen conversing shortly before heading off in separate ways. "She chooses a girl with such close ties to the Hokage, though" the ANBU stated. "She would be foolish to only want friendship from her."
"Then she is a fool."
The ANBU looked over to Basco, the dark hollows of the mask staring blankly in his direction. "What of Haruno? Is she a fool as well?"
General Basco shook his head. "No, though she is likely unaware." The ANBU chose not to speak and only waited for elaboration. "The more I hear, the clearer it becomes that the Sabakus are getting comfortable wrapped around her finger, yet she does nothing about sitting on a powder keg of that magnitude. It's incredible, isn't it?" he mused, looking up to the quiet fan that spun slowly on the ceiling in thought.
"What is?" the ANBU asked.
Basco shook his head. "This was before your time, but Miss Haruno achieved in mere days what we had spent a decade trying to do. If I hadn't seen them in the market myself, I would've dismissed it all as mindless street gossip just as I did back then."
The ANBU paused, perhaps a little embarrassed that his age was showing as a lack of knowledge on the subject. "Sir?"
Reminiscing on the day prior, Basco played through seeing Sakura and Gaara walk the market together. He'd been on a lunch break, craving the street food that the market specialized in as a treat for a long week of desk work, and he had nearly dropped his lunch on his feet. A swath of pink pastel had crossed his path followed dutifully by none other than the sand demon himself; innocent excitement pursued by hungry enthrallment.
"If she had been one of ours," Basco spoke quietly, thoughtfully. "I would have recruited her right then and there. Maybe then we could have finally muzzled him."
The ANBU spoke in objection to this. "You can't put a collar on Gaara," he stated plainly, no argument needed for such simple fact. "Only his brother or sister have ever reined him in."
"We can't. But from my perspective," Basco explained. "He put one on himself and handed her the leash."
Hidden behind the mask, the ANBU rolled his eyes and grumbled. So, a pretty face was all it took, huh? "Demon or not…I suppose he's still a man."
Basco raised his eyebrows and looked to the side. Far from a novel idea, in the more shadowed past of high-profile operations it wasn't entirely discouraged to employ women of certain skillsets to…well, satiate valuable military assets that proved difficult to otherwise control. Gaara was precisely that, and it seemed that no persuasion would have been necessary for him to indulge in any offerings she might have given him. A pointless conception, as it was more so frowned upon these days due to the growing numbers of women holding military ranks and political offices, and hadn't been officially assigned in over two decades. But one could never know for sure.
The ANBU pondered this for a moment. He, too, had heard of the unbelievable sights Gaara and Sakura had graced the city with the previous time she was here, one might have even mistaken them for secret lovers in a thinly veiled affair given how their presence rocked the talk of the streets. He hadn't given it much thought at the time, how true could it be when the masses were wont to exaggerate and embellish for their own entertainment? But, if General Basco swore by it, then there could be some truth to the rumors yet.
Perhaps, he thought, the previous weeks of planning and preparation running through his head, it is finally time.
Glancing over to the clock on the wall, the ANBU then bowed to General Basco. "Thank you, General," he said, his voice growing rigid. "I appreciate your time. If you'll excuse me," he said, rising from his respectful bow and dismissing himself from the office.
Basco stared at the door as it swung shut and sighed, turning over to the piles of documents and reports still cluttering his desk, the only thing standing between him and a weekend well deserved.
Once in the hallway, the ANBU headed down the hall and into an enclosed stairwell. He clicked on the receiver to his walkie and spoke low into the mic. "Schiff, do you copy?" The receiver clicked in response, and he continued. "Meet me at Russetts west of the market in fifteen minutes, bring Shia and grab Turk on your way. Be casual."
"Affirmative," the voice in his ear said before the line cut out again.
Descending through the stairwell and exiting the building through a discreet side door, he stripped himself of his utility vest and removed the mask from his face. He rolled the mask within his vest and tucked it at his hip, to anyone else he may have looked to have simply shed a layer from the brisk morning into the sweltering afternoon. He emerged from beside the building, walking out in pace with a passing group of city patrol leaving work for the week. A block later, he cut off from the group as silently as he'd come and headed toward the market.
Temari was right, the lunch crowd would be out en masse very soon, and he knew just the person to send by the curry stand for an extra helping hand with their lunch.
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"You don't have to be out here," Gaara said as he and his brother walked along the northeastern trail route. It had been roughly an hour after Gaara had started his outer patrols; free from the weight of his squad mates but crushed under the weight of his thoughts, when Kankuro radioed him and wanted to know where to meet up. They'd rendezvoused a while later and Kankuro had simply began following Gaara down the route. "Did you forget you took the day off?"
Kankuro shrugged. "It's weird not being out here for at least a little bit. Feels like I'm forgetting something," he said casually. He hadn't brought all his gear, just enough to protect his eyes and keep him hydrated, so Gaara knew he hadn't planned on accompanying him for the full round.
"I could be done quicker without you tagging along," he stated as he wiped the sweat from his face, his testimony was truthful but always a blow to his older brother's pride.
Kankuro nodded, taking it in stride this time, and agreed. "Yeah, but then you wouldn't have the joy of my company." Gaara rolled his eyes; such joyous company it was. "But actually, you'll need this for later," he said, fishing out a folded note from his pocket.
"What's this?" Gaara asked. Unfolding the paper and reading over the list of names, he grimaced.
Grinning at the sudden souring of his features, Kankuro inspected the list with him. "All of Temari's students and what they need to work on," he explained. "Mine are at the bottom, but you can tell them to do whatever."
"I don't remember agreeing to this," Gaara protested, trying to give the note back.
Kankuro held up his hands in refusal. "No, no, no. Captain's orders," he jeered. Gaara sighed heavily, his shoulders visibly slumped, and he stuffed the paper in his utility belt. Kankuro couldn't help but grin, it was still such a novelty sight to see him bend to their sister's whims with such reluctance. "Training starts at 3:30, don't be late," he advised with a lighthearted tone.
"Great," Gaara groaned. "Then if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get my rounds done." With no suggestive movements, the sand began to swirl at his feet, the silence of it always a bit eerie in the stillness of the air.
"Hold up," Kankuro said quickly, stalling him with an outstretched hand. "How was Sakura when you took her back to the house?"
Gaara paused, troubled by how, rather than her tears staining his collar, it was the feeling of her breath across his neck that first crossed his mind, the sound of her crying had been second only the sound of his name on her lips. Shame began to seep in from the corners of his mind, knowing that his priorities were wrongly skewed. "She's fine," he said shortly.
Kankuro let a moment pass to see if Gaara would elaborate. He did not. "She looked pretty upset, almost like she was going to start crying."
Gaara shrugged.
Anticipating that he wouldn't take the bait, Kankuro pressed even further. Student training notes be damned, he came out here to get details. "It was really nice of you to take her home, offer her some comfort…"
Gaara's feet were moving again, traveling across the sand without offering a response.
It was uncanny, Kankuro thought, how quickly he could revert to his old ways of shutting up tight like a clam, never giving anything away. This, however, was not something he could so easily hide. Kankuro had already walked this road as a young man, and he had the humiliating honor of having no one to talk to about it but their older sister. She was no less than thrilled to have a new arsenal of blackmail as well as a genuine chance to advise her little brother in woes of the heart. At least Gaara would be spared that suffering, but for some reason he seemed hell bent on not taking any advice whatsoever.
"So, are you ever going to make a move?"
Gaara froze, his eyes locked on the horizon ahead of him, feeling as his brother's gaze bore holes in the back of his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked after a moment's pause, his jaw locking up at the sudden question.
Kankuro rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly before answering. "You're too smart to keep playing dumb, dude."
True. This line of questioning was becoming so commonplace that Gaara had picked up on the tone his brother used to broach the subject. Even before Sakura's visit, Kankuro had pestered Gaara about his plans to get the time off, demanded to know why when he refused, and even dared to threaten him with a petition to their captain for a mandatory leave from work. He knew better to push too hard though, Gaara still had his stubborn habit of digging in his heals that he hadn't even remotely shaken.
"I can feel my IQ dropping whenever you open your mouth, you'll have to forgive me," he grumbled, wishing that the temper to his voice still held the same sway over his brother as it once did in the past.
Kankuro laughed, there was some brotherly satisfaction that came with being allowed to get under his skin and be absolved of true consequence. "Forgiven," he complied, the grin on his face echoing in his voice. "Let me spell it out for you, then; Ask. Her. Out."
"What is your end goal here?!" Gaara snapped in demand, a noticeable bite behind his words this time. He turned to face his brother, the midday sun glaring down on them. "I have grown tired of these interrogations!"
"Then do something about it," Kankuro provoked.
Gaara stalked up to him, the few steps he took hit hard on the packed sand of the path. "I'm about to," he said in warning.
Kankuro rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You won't do shit; you're gonna sit on your hands until she's out of reach."
"Reach of what?" Gaara shouted, the volume of his voice clearly indicating his frustration.
"You!" Kankuro countered, his voice raising alongside Gaara's. He squared his shoulders and looked his brother in the eyes. "Don't you want her?"
Gaara broke his gaze and looked to the side, his scowl deepening and seemed about to speak.
Kankuro cut him off. "Don't even," he scoffed, already able to hear Gaara's refusal ringing in his ears. "I can see right through you, Gaara, you can't hide this."
His brow pinched and his nose twitched, he felt a heat growing in his chest and it frustrated him to no end. He wanted to refute this, to boast that he had no tells and he always kept his cards hidden, but his jaw was clenched too tight, and his lips were now sewn shut. Did he want her? The question made him anxious, made his tongue feel awkward and heavy.
He'd wanted her forgiveness, and it was given to him freely. He'd wanted her as a friend, and she had become that without apprehension. He'd wanted someone who would be precious to him, and Sakura undoubtedly was. But he wasn't satisfied anymore. Recently, Gaara had thought himself a madman, uncontrollable; he'd become greedy in his thoughts of her, jealous over her prospects with others, and her visage in his mind's eye conjured an unfamiliar desire within him. To want more wasn't the challenge; it was becoming easier by the passing day, but to ask her for more seemed an impossible feat. With the weight he carried and the blood he waded through, how could he ask that she stain herself with his clumsy attempts at affection?
So desperate…
Gaara, while pulling up his hood against the unforgiving glare of the sun, took a swig of warm water from his canteen. "I can't," he said in admission, his voice now a quiet murmur amidst the slow desert breeze.
Kankuro's shoulders dropped in mild defeat, Gaara's thoughtful pause had him hopeful for a more agreeable answer, though he was grateful that he didn't outright deny it. "Is it because she's Temari's friend? I'd be hesitant to date one of her friends, too, but don't –"
Gaara pushed the canteen into his brother's chest, effectively silencing him as Kankuro jumbled it in his hands. "Take a drink, you sound dehydrated."
He took a drink to humor him and handed it back without putting on the lid. "Don't let that scare you, she'll get over it." Gaara said nothing and continued in his usual gait down the path. "Look, I get that it's a tricky situation." Kankuro tried a more sympathetic tone and offered, "Do you want me to talk to her? I can do that."
Gaara shook his head and looked out to the horizon, to the mirage of dunes dancing in the faraway sunlight. His jaw tightened; his heartbeat resonated deeply in his chest, and he could feel his pulse in his throat. "That's not the problem," he said in lieu of an explanation. Finding the words was difficult, it wasn't often that he humored his brother in this regard, and sorting through the perplexing and ever-changing state of his emotions was no easy task.
Kankuro couldn't see the issue, there was nothing Gaara couldn't do when he put his mind to it, but in front of Sakura he'd been frozen in place for months with no end in sight. "What are you letting stop you?"
"There's nothing to let stop me," he said, his voice tightening in his throat as he spoke. "There's just nothing to ask for."
"Gaara, come on. I know that you –"
"You know nothing!" he snapped back, his eyes turning to glare at his brother, his building turmoil venting itself through a spiteful gaze. Kankuro didn't flinch at the venom behind the words, but his retort died in his throat. "It hasn't been that long, Kankuro, have you forgotten what I am?" he demanded; his teeth clenched, and his expression snarled. "What I've done?"
Kankuro's expression fell, it had been a while since Gaara had dredged up the less than savory aspects of his past so forwardly. "We've talked about this," he began saying only for Gaara to cut him off again.
"And what did that change?" he demanded, the virulent sound of his words cutting through the air between them. "Nothing! My regret will not undo the past, my repentance will not raise the dead!" Kankuro looked to be about to speak but Gaara offered him no opening. "Every time I look in the mirror, I see myself drenched in their blood, I am never rid of it."
Kankuro raised his voice to allow himself to be heard. "She doesn't blame you for that, none of us do! We know it wasn't you!"
Gaara's eyes became gaunt in an instant, his expression flattened as his gaze turned hollow. It sent a chill up Kankuro's spine, even in the suffocating heat of the afternoon, and he swallowed a nervous breath. "Yes, it was," Gaara said plainly. "I know it isn't comfortable for you or Temari, but I did that."
"You'd been influenced," Kankuro suggested, again trying to instill the belief that it wasn't entirely his fault, that it hadn't always been his choice and he had stood helpless in the face of that demonic power. Why was he too stubborn to accept this?
"Influenced, manipulated, coerced…" Gaara listed with a tone of contempt. "What difference does it make? Every time I close my eyes, I see the faces of the people I've killed. At night, when everyone else sleeps their worries away, I am kept awake by their screams in my head. With every step I take," he said, unbuckling his chest strap and letting his gourd fall quietly against the hard desert floor. He smacked his hand atop the gourd in a hollow thud without breaking his brother's gaze. "They walk with me."
Kankuro went somber in the face, knowing that every word he spoke rang true, yet he refused to let him think he was on his own. "None of us walk alone, Gaara."
The scowl still sewn onto his features didn't lift, Gaara only rolled his eyes. A moment of silence fell over the two of them; the only sounds heard were the sands shuffling along the ground and the dull flapping of their cloaks in the breeze.
Kankuro shrugged, looking off into the dunes as his own uncomfortable memories bubbled up from their place neatly packed away in the depths of his mind. "I broke seventy last month," he said, the casual tone he carried all too out of place. "Temari's gotta be up to eighty-five…ninety at this point?"
Hundreds…
"Do not challenge me, Kankuro," Gaara warned, the cackling of the beast echoing in the depths of his mind. He squeezed his thumb and popped a knuckle.
Shaking his head, Kankuro met his younger brother's guarded gaze. "It's not a competition, it's the truth. We all have skeletons in our closets, we all have faces that stare back at us from the grave, even Sakura is no exception from that."
Gaara refused, unable to picture Sakura drowning her foes in the earth as he had done, or spearing them to death in a wooden casket like his brother, or sending them soaring through the air only to crumple when slammed into the ground by his sister. He couldn't help but think that death didn't look as good on her as life did.
"But what are we to do?" Kankuro asked. "Should none of us be allowed happiness? Were the countless shinobi to come before us wrong to take wives and have children? How can you let them take everything from you? Your childhood, our family, and now this?"
This was not the first time that Kankuro had tried to shed light on his past victimhood, to get him to see that he had been abused and neglected, but his guilt stood steadfast in the way of his acceptance of this. To be forgiven, to be loved; it was a future he'd desperately fumbled towards his whole life but, with his mind clear to his crimes and wrongdoings, it was a future he knew he couldn't be worthy of.
"Just stop, Kankuro," Gaara said. He brought his hands up to rub his face, pressing circles into his temples with his fingers.
He was sick of remembering the things he'd done, tired of trying to find salvation in any part of his past, and the repeated realization that he had dug down far too deep to crawl back out again wasn't something he could continue to manage through. If it hadn't been for the sand's instinctive need to protect its vessel, he would have succeeded in quieting all this turmoil long ago.
"No," his brother said, his voice caught a moment in his throat. He took a shaken breath, and it drew Gaara's attention. "After we fought Konoha you said you wanted to change, that you wanted the three of us to be different. Well, I heard you loud and clear."
Gaara grit his molars together and sucked his teeth without having the words to respond. It was difficult to listen to his brother like this, and it was even more so knowing that it was for him that this hardship rested on his shoulders.
The Shukaku cackled. To Gaara, the laughter resonated in the air that surrounded them, encompassing them in its malicious delight. When blood and bone were not on the menu, it always enjoyed the flavor of watching Kankuro try and save the poor soul it had been feasting from since their birth into one flesh.
Feeling his face flush with emotion, Kankuro scrunched his nose and scowled his lips to keep his composure from breaking. "Think I have no room to talk all you want; but you can't let the first sixteen years of your life dictate the rest of it. I know you want to make things right, but you can't just remain where you are until you think your past is absolved."
Gaara shook his head, unable to break away from the mental rut that his thoughts circled in. "I have not redeemed myself for that yet," he said quietly; to himself, to his brother.
Kankuro let out a quivered sigh, his fists clenched shut at his sides, refusing to allow Gaara to see him break; he needed to be strong for him this time. He'd watched from the vantage point of a helpless child during Gaara's early years of torment, unable to do anything impactful and frightened of what he did not understand, but now they had so little family left that he wasn't going to risk losing him again.
"All the people you've affected, everyone that you've hurt," he began, Gaara's gaze only flickering to him for a moment, "if they don't want to forgive you; that's on them. But you, you need to forgive yourself. That was always the first step, and you stepped right fucking over it. I've told you that you owe it to yourself; some grace, some empathy, something!"
Gaara stood there, his eyes locked on the ground at his feet, his chest feeling ripped in two.
Kankuro had a way of breaking down the once ironclad defense of his ego, leaving nothing left to stand in protest before his blinding observations. He wanted so badly to plunged headfirst into Kankuro's reasonings, but this emergence of his conscious dragged him back down. He didn't have the right to erase the consequences of his transgressions, it wasn't his place to lay the dead to rest when their families would never get their loved ones back.
But to live like this for the decades to come? To be buried under his guilt and suffocated by his remorse? Cowardice or not; he'd rather die than face even one more year disillusioned and passive to the schemes of his countrymen and the parts he had willingly played in them.
"Do you," Gaara began, the words finding themselves before his thought had fully formed. He paused, Kankuro staring wide eyed in anticipation, a breath held in his throat. From what he could see, the thought manifested a very physical reaction; it brought confusion to Gaara's eyes, it made his face twitch, and he looked to be desperately searching for something in his mind. "Do you think…it is possible?"
No…
"Yes," he said, the word flying from his lips within a moment. "I do. Not all at once," Kankuro clarified, not wanting to overwhelm him with urgency. "But eventually, after some time, yes."
Bringing up his hands, Gaara fumbled with his fingers, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles. The voice in his head resisted, but it eventually died away and his mind quieted once again. He thought of all that it might take, the work he would have to do just to feel a sense of neutrality; no longer sorrowful and alone, no longer vengeful and enraged. Trying to picture this unfamiliar version of himself, he imagined how it would look with Sakura stood proudly at his side.
She'd grown so lovely; her face was more beautiful each time he saw her, he felt whenever he touched her that she fit more perfectly into his hands, and even her voice seemed womanlier than he remembered. There was no green like the depths of her emerald eyes, no music like the sound of his name on her voice, and no comfort like the knowledge that she had accepted a wayward vagabond like himself. To him, she had become perfection in living flesh, a triumph fit only for the best among them, and even in her follies she could do no wrong.
But Gaara could not do what was asked of him, not yet at least. He had too many obstacles to overcome before he could stand at her level, too many victories to win before he felt worthy of that opportunity.
"I…" he began, the words failing to form as the years of his spiraling thoughts fought against him. He pushed on. "I will try," It was the most he could offer at this moment, unable to promise anything more.
Kankuro swallowed the lump, cleared his throat, and nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice was stiff. Finally, he was getting somewhere. Gaara had managed an incredible amount of progress on his own, but there were certain steps that he wasn't willing to let himself take, so he needed to be given the right nudge. "Cool."
Gaara took his canteen and soothed his dry throat, squinting his eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun. The trail route they walked stretched out before them, cutting between the valleys of the towering dunes, and he knew that he still had a wide expanse to cover before his day was done. "I should get going."
Kankuro nodded, wiping the sweat of his palms onto his pants and grabbing his cloth scarf to wipe his face. "Right. Be sure to stop by the headquarters before heading to training," he said. "The girls are picking up lunch today."
Gaara was already hungry, he had been since before the fire that morning, but he'd neglected breakfast in his haste to begin his rounds and there wasn't much time left before their genin training. It was their last session for the week, they typically kept them short, but he had to run drills with all twenty of their students. It was going to be a tiring day for him, though he was sure his lone student Matsuri would be glad to practice with her peers again, she wasn't often able to given her instructor's unusual schedules.
"I'll try to make it over there," he replied, setting off down the trail. He pulled his goggles from his utilities and slipped them over his head.
"Want your usual?"
Shaking his head, Gaara replied, "I had that yesterday, I'll try what you've been getting."
"Excellent choice," he commended. "I've been getting a side of chili oil with it, you want some?" he suggested, finding the extra flavorful kick a perfect addition to his favorite dish, though his sister kept forgetting it when she would pick up their lunch.
"I'll try without."
Nodding, Kankuro looked back toward the direction of the city. "I'll take the last section of your run on my way back; you can skip it and save time."
"Thanks," he called back, the sand at his feet lifting and swirling around him. "I'll see you later."
Within an instant, he was gone, and Kankuro only saw the vortex of sand settling to the ground as a ghostly breeze whistled its way between the dunes ahead of him.
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, it was quickly becoming damp with sweat, and he turned on a heel to walk a shortcut to the trail covering the last section of their run. With his radio clicked on, he dialed in for his sister and relayed their order, making sure she would not forget his addition this time. She complied and, though very faintly and broken in the background, he could here Sakura say that she wouldn't let her miss it.
He had better faith in that and planned to meet up with them later since the portion of the trail he'd agreed to take was a sizable amount that could take him well over an hour to travers on his way back. He'd be lucky if his food was still warm when he finally got to it.
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×
"You got me the weekend off?" Turk asked, a slight tinge of confusion in his voice.
Yuli nodded. He had removed his mask before speaking with Turk, they had known each other since long before his promotion into the ANBU so this casual meeting didn't warrant the protection of his identity. At times like this, hiding in plain sight was the best course. "No need to thank me," he said, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back in his seat. They sat at Russetts, an outdoor café on the outskirts of the markets, enjoying a cold drink under a shaded awning and a chat as old friends. "Just a few calls was all it took."
Turk glanced over at a table to their left, to where Shia was sitting alone and appearing to be glancing over a magazine. She was listening though, and watching everyone else too. To his right sat Schiff, another acquaintance from their old academy that had skyrocketed through the ranks. The three of them had surpassed him the previous year when they had been promoted into the ANBU corps while he had failed the physical qualifiers.
It had been months since he'd heard from any of them. "But…why?"
Schiff leaned forward and slid an envelope across the table. It was stamped, had his name and apartment number on it, and even a return address to the corps office near his home. It looked very ordinary, but there was something inside that caused the envelope to bulge in the middle.
"I need a favor," Yuli began. "If you can do this for me, you'll be relieved of duties for the weekend."
Turk slipped the envelope into his vest pocket casually, none of the other patrons of the café bothering themselves with their hushed conversation. It also helped that Shia was quite beautiful and her sat alone and looking aloof as ever had a very distracting effect on those around them.
"What favor?" he asked, a wise caution settling over his face.
"I bet Naja is going to be plenty busy today," Yuli said in an easy tone; this earned him Turk's undivided attention as a tightness set about his jawline. Yuli smiled. "Why don't you swing by the stand and help her out for the lunch rush?"
Turk eyed him suspiciously, a sudden heaviness overtaking their conversation. "I…haven't worked at my mom's curry stand in years." The enveloped in his pocket felt heavy. "Why would you want me to go?" There wasn't much that was off limits for an ANBU on assignment, no doubt the reason for this favor that Yuli asked, and off the record requests like these were far from a rarity. But he was instantly on guard at the mention of his mother.
Schiff took over their chat. "Your mom's favorite customers are heading there for lunch. We would like for you to see to their meals."
"To what end?" he asked immediately following, keeping his voice low so the bustle of the café would drown out their words. A bead of sweat dripped down his neck and it wasn't from the stagnant afternoon heat. He knew very well who they spoke of, his mother prided herself in her acquaintanceship with them, what could they possibly be asking him to –
"What you've been given is to be put in the jinchuriki's food. All of it."
Turk stared at the men that shared his table, anxious and dumbfounded, a cold chill settling in his gut as he spoke with astonishment, "You want me to do this for two days off?"
Yuli shook his head. "No, we want you to take two days off so you can lie low. You'll be doing this for the good word we'll put in with the recruitment judges for you."
Turk paused, double taking to look at Yuli as if he hadn't heard him initially. The next round of recruitment exams for entry level ANBU were only five weeks away. He had been beating himself to the bone and training endlessly to overcome the setbacks of last year's evaluation; could this time be different? The envelope was so small, the task seemed so minimal, would it only take a few minutes to really change his future? If he could get to the fulfillment table and pack up all the orders, he would be able to slip it in right in front of everyone with none the wiser.
His hands clasped around the cold glass in front of him, the wet condensation a cool relief from the hot sun. He squeezed it a bit tightly as he brought it up for a drink, his knuckles turning white. "He isn't…he isn't going there himself, is he?"
Shaking his head, Schiff downed the remainder of his beverage and Yuli spoke with that same casual tone. "I heard Captain Temari say she would be picking up the food herself," he assured him, the tone of his voice taking a turn to the sarcastic as he spoke the woman's title. Schiff snickered.
"What's the intel, why so sudden?" he asked, his jaw stiff and his throat going dry. He took another drink, trying not to tremble.
"We have reason to believe that the conditions are right for this move. They will be there as soon as they can so you must hurry, you'll find the intel in your letter."
Turk didn't move or respond, he just stared forward, going a bit pale in the face. His eyes, though, they were hard and he was clearly contemplating the pros and cons, and there were plenty of cons. However, he wanted the ANBU more than anything, and Yuli knew this. He'd wanted the promotion to help his mother of all things, and Yuli was able to use this to his advantage.
"Do we have a deal, Turk?" Yuli asked, his voice low as he hunched forward over the table, his tone leading his old friend to agree.
Turk paused, looking at the ice that shifted and bobbed in his dwindling glass. "You'll put a good word in for me?" he mumbled.
Schiff and Yuli shared a glance that Turk didn't see, he couldn't lift his eyes to watch them. "On my honor, I swear it," Yuli said, a shallow conviction to his voice.
"All right," Turk said, something solidifying in his resolve as he stood from the table and finished off his glass. "Thanks for the drink, I should be going." He nodded in farewell and hurried out of the café, turning at the door and heading down the street to the welcoming smell of the afternoon vendors firing up their grills, woks, and fryers.
The streets would be swarmed with hungry people any minute, his mother's stand always packed a long line during this time of the day, and he knew that no matter how unannounced and out of character his visit, his mother would welcome his presence all the same. He'd help out for part of the afternoon, call himself away on some matter of business, and get himself a hotel to lay low in. He could do this, he was put up to it for a reason, right? This could prove his capabilities, this could make a name for himself, it could open up a door that had been shut on him.
Yes, there would be no mistakes.
Schiff sighed heavily and the chair on which he sat groaned as he stretched out his back. "Some things never change," he commented. "He'll still do just about anything for you."
Yuli slouched in his seat and spun the coaster his drink sat atop. "I figured he'd come in handy one day; everyone needs a yes man." He finished his drink and looked over to Shia, there was a table of men across the café that had been ogling her since their arrival. As with everything else, she remained unbothered and uninterested, stuck up and sensual in a perfect harmony.
Staying any hint of anxiety before it could show, he remained cool and collected.
This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, an assignment unlike any other given by one of the highest commands in absolute secret, and he had been given free reign. If he could succeed, he would achieve not only a much higher rank, but also infamy within the corps, and perhaps even the coveted attention a certain lovely and indifferent woman who was beyond approach. He knew a direct attack like all of the operatives to come before him was a fools' errand, he needed something quieter, something that targeted the inside. He'd settled on this method weeks ago, but had no conduit with which to execute his attack.
But General Basco had given him just the idea; the Basin girl. If Gaara truly was champing at the bit like any other young man completely smitten, he'd accept anything she gave him with no suspicion or hesitation, especially in the trusted company of his sister. He ensured the toxin was slow to take effect but potent once within the blood stream, giving him time to consume the entirety of it before exhibiting symptoms. It was tasteless, odorless, soluble in water, and it was practically untraceable after death. His guy at the research lab had said they codenamed it "White Reaper" decades ago and it hadn't been in use since the last active combat to be fought within the desert against enemy troops.
No one could predict what would happen once he ingested the toxin, though; he might go mad from the pain and slaughter anyone near him, he may dismiss himself to his usual seclusion before showing symptoms and die alone with no one around, but it didn't really matter. Yuli was certain that, even if his sister or their foreign friend tried to help him, he would need a dedicated hospital bed for IV drips, blood samples for testing, defibrillation for possible arrythmia, and eventually injections of the antidote; things that the protective nature of his sand shield simply would not permit him.
With any luck, the sun would rise tomorrow on a city free from the fear of the demon, and he would be the first of the hundreds before him that had tried, failed, and even perished, to stand victorious in this endeavor.
They would wait a few more minutes and then disperse; first Shia, then he and Schiff shortly after. They'd take up post at different locations in the market nearby Naja's curry stand, keeping an eye on things and ensuring it all goes according to plan. Turk may have failed the ANBU recruitment by a mile, but even he couldn't mess this up.
All that was left for them to do was wait.
…
"Shit," Temari cursed under her breath. She had Sakura's arm in her hand she was guiding her through the crowded streets. "I hate Fridays."
Someone caught Sakura's shoulder as Temari pulled her along and she made a hasty apology before disappearing into the masses. "It wasn't this busy yesterday," Sakura noted, hardly able to see any of the vendor displays or even the menus with how many people were gathered in front of the stands. "I thought you said the market just opened."
"It did. Everyone is getting off work early for the weekend," she called back, weaving through any gap of bodies she could find.
Temari had intercepted a request for lunch by her squad, they called it payment for having to put up with another captain in her absence and, seeing as the curry stand was already in her plans for the day, she complied. They would have to meet her at the headquarters for the drop off though, there was no way in hell she was hauling eight takeaway containers up the city walls to their basecamp. They'd agreed and then added drinks to their orders as well.
It was an unusually lengthy trip back home from General Basco's office and she arrived home to see that Sakura had taken the opportunity to rinse off the soot from the fire and change out of her clothes that held a lingering smell of smoke. They'd readied for a long walk to the market quickly enough, but the afternoon had indeed gotten away from them unexpectedly.
They exited a narrow street and came out the other side in the open central market. The curry stand was across the square since they didn't usually come through on this side, having always come from the basecamp on the walls instead of the direction of Temari's home. Sakura looked around her to the buildings facing the center of the square, towering and made of sandstone, beautifully sculpted and glowing in the afternoon sun. She'd caught glimpses of the area over here, but it was always bustling with mingling crowds and seemed like just an open leisure space from afar.
"This is part of old town," Temari explained.
The intricate engravings of the buildings' facades, the impressive arched domes used in the old architecture, the statues lining the square; they always drew the eyes of both foreign and local tourists alike. The historical structures used to be old government buildings and town halls; grand and opulent in their display of the wealth they previously boasted, traditional public bath houses and smoker pits for their celebrational feasts for the masses, and a beautifully sculpted fountain that ran all day during the height of tourism in the wet season. They now played the parts of traveling art galleries, high end restaurant spaces; some several hundred years old, public theaters, and even an amphitheater that still drew talents from all around the surrounding lands to perform a variety of musical and theatrical pieces.
Temari never really had the opportunity or the reason to go partake in the cultural attractions of her city, but with a foreign guest to entertain, she thought it the perfect excuse for a leisurely stroll to admire the buildings and treasure-troves of art and artifact.
"It's beautiful," Sakura said in amazement, holding a hand to her face to block the glare of the sun.
"We can come back later after the crowds die down, we'll check it out then," she offered, Sakura nodding in agreement. "I'm going to grab everyone's drinks, I'll be over there," she said pointing off to where a green awning flapped in the breeze above the heads of the undulating crowd. "Can you head to the curry stand and get in line? It's that way, you'll see it once you get close."
Sakura looked off in the distance and recognized the surrounding stands on the way well enough. She nodded, sure that she could find her way.
"Here's the list for everyone, and…" Temari trailed off, digging into the belt pocket for some cash. "This should be enough for everything. If I don't meet you there, wait for me at the fountain."
"Thanks!" Sakura said as she turned headed off toward the food stall. The smoky aroma hovering in the afternoon air smelled rich and heavy with spices and flavor. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled, and she closed the distance to the shop quickly.
The line was long, it stretched out from the counter and bent to grow into the street. People were crowded together, not really an order to who was together and who wasn't, and she pulled a hair tie from her pocket to get some air across her sweaty neck. There wasn't much of a breeze to speak of in the middle of the city, and the cloudless sky displayed the sun high overhead. With the daytime heat baring down on her in unrelenting waves, she had a hard time thanking Temari for the lightweight long sleeve she'd insisted she wear. She was sure she would have been cooler without it, but her friend had been adamant that she tried to avoid direct sun in the afternoon.
Slowly, the line shuffled ahead, the sounds of sizzling, clanking, shouting, and indistinguishable conversation floated about in the stagnant air between the bodies in the street. At times, she would have small talk with whoever ended up nearest her, she had noticed when a group of passing girls slowed and pointed in her direction as they whispered amongst themselves, and there was a young man who had called out her endearing local nickname, jeering at her as he passed by, goaded on by his small group of friends. This had earned her the quiet stares of those next to her and she did her best to not draw any more attention.
People had been noticeably quieter to her yesterday when she was with Gaara.
It was one slow minute after another, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she crossed the threshold of the awning and entered the shade. It was still hot, even hotter now that the heat of the kitchens had become trapped, but the reprieve from the sun was a blessing nonetheless. At the counter, there was a small table fan that had been strapped down and set to ocellate back and forth. Every now and again, the line would open up in front of her just enough to offer a breeze to the sweat across her face, cooling her a little.
Eventually, she was able to reach the front of the line and was elated to see that the five gentlemen standing in front of her were all together and only ordering two meals, she was at the counter and basking in the fan within an unexpected moment.
"Do you need anything to drink?" Naja asked, a hand on her hip as her she inspected the puddle of a person that had spread across her countertop. Sakura, going a little red in the face, sweaty, and visibly breathing heavier than usual, was back at her stall again and monopolizing her small fan. "You look like a fish out of water."
"I'm a fish in the desert," Sakura muttered as she used her sleeve to wipe her face.
Naja shook her head and pulled a half-sized water bottle from beneath the counter and cracked it for her. "Clearly." Sakura took a drink and savored the way the water spread a refreshing chill through her stomach. "Now, what can I get you?"
She handed over the slip of paper that had the name for the order, all the orders on it, including the last second addition of chili oil that she had insisted on for Kankuro's sake, and offered an apology in advance. "We're picking up for the team," she said. "Sorry."
Naja whistled, brows arched as she counted up the dishes, and entered the ticket into her pocket calculator; the prices, substitutions, additions, and specials were all second nature to her and when she had their total, she put their order list up as it was written for their ticket. Sakura paid for their food and moved to the side, rolling the cool condensation of the water bottle across her neck, and making way for the line behind her.
She stood off in the shade, out of the way and watching through the side of the stand into the kitchen. Two young men, lean and tanned from working the afternoons in the market, wore bands of cloth around their heads and worked tirelessly above the sweltering heat of the cooktops. Sizzling steam billowed from the pans up into their faces, at times fire would be used in a theatrical display of quick searing, the both of them only pausing to take long gulps from the jugs of water at their sides. The incredible efficiency in which these two moved through orders demonstrated their years of working in tandem, and the line kept moving.
Soon, she saw her ticket get pulled from the line, the two looked it over and shared an exasperated breath as they glanced her way.
"Konoha girls got quite the appetites, I see?" the taller of the two asked, his voice hoarse from the long week of hollering over the sounds of the market, a grin pulling at his dirty face.
Sakura quickly shook her head. "No, no," she replied in haste. "It's not all for me." Though she was getting hungry enough to eat a fare portion of the order at this point.
"Nah!" the other one exclaimed, elbowing the other and causing him to laugh. "You gotta get some meat on your bones, eh?"
The two laughed at her, obviously used to sharing jokes about their customers to pass the time, and shared a look with the fellow standing at the station next to them. The steam often clouded his face, but he'd been receiving all the cooked orders and packaging up takeaway, sending people off as swiftly as the orders got to him. The two of them continued their friendly banter as they prepared her food. This third man cussed at them from out of Sakura's line of sight, scolding them for bothering her and, even though she didn't think she warranted the attention, Sakura was happy to feel included in the liveliness of the market.
It would be a few minutes before their food was done and Sakura peeked out of the shade and looked into the square. She couldn't yet see Temari and settled for managing the bags of takeaway by herself until she made it to the fountain, wondering how Temari had planned for them to carry both the food and the drinks all the way back to the headquarters on their own.
She stood there for a while, watching the people pass by and listening to the bits of conversation that she could make out, taking slow drinks from her little bottle of water as she waited.
…
"Hey!" Turk barked at his youngest brother for jeering at their foreign guest. "Knock it off and focus on your food!"
His brothers threw an antagonizing look his way but he ignored them and kept packaging up the orders, preparing for the awaited moment of his afternoon roasting in his mother's kitchen.
They had been just as surprised as Naja to see him approach their family food stall, and she had rushed around the counter and threw a sweaty hug around his neck, not able to see him nearly enough since he'd enrolled in the forces. He'd offered a hand, boasting a reward of paid time off work after an outstanding performance on a recent mission.
She'd been so proud of him, grabbing him an apron and ushering him inside for the details as they finished their prep work for lunch. His brothers always loved hearing of his stories and it had been a while since he'd seen them so he had plenty of truthful tales to pick from for this particular work of fiction. He'd offered to take the fulfillment station from his youngest brother, stating he wanted to see how he handled the pressure of midday rush now that he'd grown some.
He'd jumped on the opportunity, usually stuck packaging orders and dishing out sides rather than the eye-catching job of working the cook tops.
"I was actually hoping you could help Tomo at the grills," Naja had said, an apologetic look given to her youngest son. "Friday afternoons are getting tough..."
"It's okay, Mom," Turk had assured her, offering to step in should they get too overwhelmed.
It was a good thing he had gotten there when he did; the lunch rush hit like a stampede and they'd been smacked with one large order after another. Thankful for the heat of the kitchen, his nervous sweat and clammy palms going unnoticed as he'd prepared the powdered toxin given by Yuli. He'd set it aside to blend in with the array of sauces and spices that crowded his prep station.
Every feminine voice to place an order since they'd opened had him looking up in anticipation and, after only an hour of being back in the swing of the kitchen, he felt he'd been here all afternoon. He hadn't seen a single sign of Temari and he was pretty sure he remembered what she looked like well enough to pick her out of a crowd, and he'd never seen Sakura before, but he'd been told that her naturally floral tinted hair was impossible to miss. No one of their descriptions had crossed his view from within the stand, but he had seen a couple other familiar faces in his time spent waiting.
Yuli had strolled up to the stand before the rush fully hit, he'd taken a glance over the menu on display and craned his neck as if to try and see the sizzling food his brothers cooked before making a face and moving on. He'd never made any eye contact with him let alone even look in his direction, but it was enough to tell Turk that he was being watched and his progress would be monitored.
He didn't see Yuli after that but, across the way, leaning against a tabloid kiosk with a sheer scarf over her head to block the sun, he spotted Shia thumbing through a magazine again.
Turk let out a controlled breath, the reality of his task setting in more and more with the growing number of orders to fulfill. He had dreaded seeing the girls' approach but just wanted this to be over with. It felt like forever and he'd been getting progressively more anxious, but now that the final order before theirs was packaged and sent away, the climax was upon him and he wished he could stave off the inevitable just a little longer.
His brothers continued to joke with each other and upon finishing the preparations for all the orders, they sent the ticket down to him as they began cooking. Turk took the paper and clipped it on the rack in front of him. He scanned over the orders, his hands grabbing the necessary sauce cups and seasoning packets for each dish as he moved down the list. He'd portioned out eight piles to correspond with the order and, finding something missing, he looked over the ticket again and counted over his piles.
This was wrong.
Yanking it from the clip, he brought it to his brothers.
"Where's the gizzard?" he asked, his voice flat and his eyes hard. He did his best to cover it up, but his mind was reeling; there had to be a mistake with the order. His intel had said that Gaara always got gizzard curry, spicy as well, always.
The older of the two grabbed it and looked it over, shrugging as he glanced over to where Sakura had been standing. She'd moved to the street and could be seen looking through the crowd. "This is what she gave Mom, it's what she ordered."
Taking back the slip as his brother returned to cooking, Turk stood back at the prep station, looking over the note.
K / G
Black pepper curry, goat medium x2
+ 1 chili oil
He glanced over to the small shaker he'd put the toxin in, looking like just another nearly used up spice on his rack, and back to the piles of condiments.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a rag.
He didn't dare pull out the note to overlook the intel again, but he was positive that K and G stood for Kankuro and Gaara, and he was sure that Gaara always preferred the spicy food, the note had specified just that; his usual was the gizzard curry, and he always took the spiciest curry sauce. Any other order he made was not known to be intended for him, at least not in the time that Yuli had organized gathering their latest round of intel. They needed to update themselves on his habits every few months to keep on top of things, but apparently, they hadn't been exhaustive enough in their efforts.
Turk glanced up to the front of the shop, the first thing he noticed was Shia looking his way. She'd seen Sakura arrive and he knew that Yuli and Schiff must be somewhere close, watching her every move, watching him all the same. Swiveling his eyes over to the customers awaiting pick up, he could see that Sakura was still looking down the street and appeared to be distracted.
Now was his time, there would be no other opportunity.
"Two veggie curry, medium!" shouted his youngest brother.
"Two pepper goats, medium!" their other brother called out soon after and they both emptied their pans into the open clamshells, shut the steaming food inside, and slid them over to him.
Here it was; his moment to act.
He couldn't sprinkle the powder on top of the food, he'd be risking it not fully dissolving and being too noticeable. He couldn't mix it in, it would be too obvious and his brother, ever proud of his finished product, might ask what he was doing and draw unnecessary attention his way. Instead, he turned his attention to the condiments he'd prepared.
Turk opened a side cup of chili oil and, while his brothers began work on the remaining dishes, while his mother was busy managing the line, and while Sakura still had her back turned, presumably looking for Temari; he dumped the entirety of the dusty white powder into the cup and quickly replaced the lid, shaking the contents together and setting it aside.
He grabbed a small brown bag and gathered the rest of the condiments for the finished dishes, tossing them all in together as per their usual policy, all except that single container of oil. Other orders had called for their own and there could be no chance for mix up between recipients, he had to ensure that only the intended opened this cup. He glanced at it sitting on the table, after the chili seeds had stopped swirling around, he could see that the powder had dissolved and the red-orange oil had retained its original color and clarity.
He resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.
Grabbing one of the pepper goats he slid the chili oil inside, tucking it beside the bed of steaming rice in the corner, and closed the clamshell. He began packing the food in bags and paused for a brief moment, not fully satisfied with his level of precaution.
He grabbed a marker from the table and initialed the lids, K and G correspondingly, ensuring that not only was the toxin already with the correct meal, but now the box itself was labeled for him and wouldn't dare draw the attention of anyone else.
With the prepped meals packed away in a bag and waiting on rest from his brothers, Turk tried to calm his breathing and slow his racing heart. He'd been trying to keep his hands from shaking, doing his best to keep his cool while managing the commotion of market and all those eyes shifting over him while executing this task. He took a much-needed few gulps from the gallon jug at his side. He was sweating buckets and he couldn't attribute the most prominent cause of it to the heat of kitchen.
Thank God he wasn't here, he thought in relief, unable to think of how he would have managed had the beast himself been here in the flesh, staring them down as they dared to try and feed him. It was likely that he'd have been a dead man if that were the case, perhaps even gutted in front of his own mother if he was to believe the stories his seniors spoke of in hushed, often intoxicated private conversations. He turned his back to the front of the shop and leaned against his table, taking a breath and pouring some water into his hand. He splashed his face and attempted to gather himself.
There, he thought, trying to quiet the roaring of the thoughts in his mind. It's done, it's over…
"Look alive, T!" shouted his brother, causing Turk to snap out of his thoughts and turn around again.
They'd slid the remaining meals his way, their speed second only to his when he used to man the grills as a young man helping out his mom, and he quickly packaged, bagged, and tied off the remaining takeaway containers. He grabbed them, the weight of his thumping heart resonated through his limbs as the strode over to the pick-up window.
He just needed to get rid of the bags and he would be free of this, then he could leave the market, get himself a safe room somewhere, and lay low until they knew if it was a success or not. Sakura still wasn't back at the pickup window yet. Perfect. He dropped the bags, turned his back to the counter, and barked -
…
"Order up! Haruno!"
Sakura looked behind her to the pickup counter where three bags had just been placed down. They were double bagged and stuffed to the brim with clamshells and cups, tied tightly at the top and stapled shut for extra measure. She picked them up, thanking the hardworking cooks for their meals, and walked back into streets doing her best to keep her bags from getting knocked about in the crowd.
The scent of the flavorful curry and freshly cooked rice wafted up to her nose as she walked. She grinned eagerly as the fountain drew near, sure that everyone else was just as starved as she was, and she couldn't wait to finally eat.
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛x