He so mad. Our boi is gonna be heckin busy this chapter, my guys, pray for him.
Follow the Sun
Excerpts of Time: 4 (8)
The Longest Day
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×
"Lady Chiyo," the nurse pleaded. "We cannot work like this, please, request that the hallway be cleared."
Chiyo nodded. "Leave it to me."
The halls had indeed been a battle zone ever since she had arrived and the ANBU had been the tipping point for the worried scouts to turn hostile, and they clearly hadn't followed any of their de-escalation training during their questioning, especially with how she'd heard them speak to Sakura. It was like they were trying to rile them all into a tussle and Chiyo had stepped between what had felt like a bar fight about to pop off. Approaching Miller, she knew him to be Temari's second in command, she requested that he organize his group to clear out.
Miller straightened immediately upon her approach and bowed as he responded. "With all due respect, Lady Chiyo, it goes against the code of our squad to leave one of our own in distress."
Chiyo nodded, figuring as must given how quickly they'd all arrived and looked ready to fight if need be. "I'm not saying you have to leave, but the halls must remain clear for medical staff. I can't have dozens of you wondering about and getting in the way," she spoke sternly before offering, "We provide plenty of waiting rooms. All over the hospital, mind you."
Miller seemed to contemplate this, but his eyes shifted to the ANBU leaned against the wall across from the sand clone and the girls. "What about them?" he tentatively asked.
Chiyo shook her head. "You've all got to go, I assure you."
It took a second, but he nodded in agreement and returned to his men to start giving orders.
She approached the ANBU then and though she wasn't at the head of their program and held no sway over their units, this was still her hospital, and she would not tolerate interference with their work of any kind. "That means you, too," she said without greeting them.
The man seemed reluctant to answer at first, but eventually he did. "I have my orders to look into this," he countered.
Chiyo huffed. "Then I'll tell you the same thing I told them; you don't have to go, but you can't stay here. Only family of the patient will be allowed."
"She's not family," he observed, earning a scowl from the woman. "Shall I escort her out of here for you?" he offered in an all too sarcastic tone given the rank of to whom he spoke.
Chiyo couldn't help but scoff and gesture a hand to the sand clone across the hall. "Be my guest," she said, clearly a challenge. "But you won't be starting any ruckus in my halls." She seemed about to be done with him as she began to turn but faced him again for a final warning. "And you'd be wise not to forgo your protocol for interrogations, you'd have been on your own if anyone decided respond to you in kind."
After a moment's pause the ANBU pushed off from the wall and excused his partner and himself to the lobbies.
They'd taken note of how the scouts hadn't all cleared out together. In fact, Miller had specifically split them up between groupings of students, every few genin getting an experienced scout that led them off in different directions around the hospital. Some had gone to the front lobby, others had gone down the patient halls to the other wings, and another group had gone outside toward what they could only assume was the rear entrance of the building. The ANBU sent his partner around back while he stationed himself at the front lobby. He'd lost count of them, but he was sure they were outnumbered at least ten to one, and he called for another ANBU as backup just in case.
He had his duties to respect the wishes of the elders, especially inside the hospitals as Lady Chiyo's domain, but he simply couldn't see why they all so blindly trusted the girl from the Leaf. Couldn't they see she was the perfect candidate for a plant? The ANBU sat in a padded waiting room chair, snatched a magazine from the table at his side to busy his hands with, and thought back to what Chiyo had said. He could have laughed. No clearance? As the student of the Hokage? It was a joke, she could get her hands on anything she wanted if she only knew how to deceive the right people and given the truth he knew to be behind his accusations, he believed she was at the very least a viable suspect in the incident concerning Kankuro.
Suppressing a chill, he frowned behind his mask, wondering how those eyes – if one could truly call them that – could still watch him so hauntingly. That damned clone didn't need to be in sight for him to know that it still watched the corner of the hall he'd turned down, waiting for him to get close. He'd never let it show, but any man would be lying if they claimed in didn't unnerve them to be stared at by those flat, expressionless orbs, knowing that at any moment that thing could strike. He allowed this hypocrisy and chose not to dispute the distraction the sand clone posed for the medical staff and patients, he figured he was no better given how many had switched seats away from him in the waiting room. Such was the typical response for an ANBU in uniform, a devotee to the cause of national security, both foreign and domestic; a fearful and timid respect.
Begrudgingly, the ANBU supposed that he and the demon, at the very least, had that in common.
…
Gaara had rarely been the to market when it was so lively.
The lights and the sounds, the dancing and music, the whole atmosphere was like an alien landscape that he felt unfit for. It was curious, he had thought, how the events of the evening could distract those around him from his presence. Without his gourd on his back or his eye-catching guest at his side, it seemed that hardly anyone noticed his arrival as just another face in the crowd. He could have slipped through unnoticed and unbothered by the glares and gawks that the market usually held for him, but this was no time for musings.
He'd materialized a few stands down from Naja's and, with his field cloak still draped over his person, he drew his hood and stepped into the busy streets.
He took inventory of his surroundings as he approached the stand, his third eye hovering a few yards above everyone's heads was too small to notice, and he didn't see anyone looking as outright suspicious as him. Reaching the stand, he stood before the front counter and watched a moment as the two young men within the dim space busied themselves with a long day's clean up.
Naja's two boys, Tomo and Lukio; no violent record, both had worked in the shop their whole lives, and – from what Gaara had observed – they were good natured and non-threatening. Just how, exactly, had these unremarkable young men gotten their hands on a poison once employed by the military?
Something didn't smell right.
Lukio, the younger of the two, had been the one to glance up and see him at the counter. He quickly avoided any eye contact, as vendors often did after closing time, and huffed at him. "Closed," he said gruffly. "Try again tomorrow."
Tomo made an acknowledgement but didn't stop his work. Tabletops needed cleaning, ingredients needed refilling, woks and grills needed scrubbing, and he couldn't be bothered to stop for a customer late to the line. But Tomo was a bit more attentive than his younger brother and, as his mind caught up with him after the long afternoon, his eyes quickly found their guest once again. He stopped scrubbing.
"Sabaku?" he muttered before he could think better of it.
Lukio froze upon hearing his brother's voice, he didn't look up.
Gaara didn't respond, he simply removed his hood and stood under the shadow of the awning.
Tomo stood taller, wiped his hands and rounded the grills to come to the front, pausing only to tell his brother to get on with the cleaning. He looked left, then right, not sure of what exactly he was looking for, but figured he must not have found it. "What can I do for you?" he asked mildly.
Gaara looked him up and down, studying him, and it gave Tomo a chill. He'd never had to speak to Gaara before, and he'd never been so scrutinized by him either. Only their mother had stood before him and chatted like old friends, she was too versed in stubborn young men to switch up her act just for him, and she had never seemed afraid before. Why was he here? Tomo felt a bead of sweat gather at his temple. What could he want?
Finished with his study of Tomo and his brother, Gaara put forth the only question he wanted an answer to. "Who else was inside this stand today?"
Lukio slowed his scrubbing of the grill top, wanting to better hear the quiet words exchanged with his brother, and listened.
Tomo paused, doing his best to stay the expression of suspicion from crossing his face, but he hadn't the years of experience in deception that Gaara had. "As you know we're quite popular," he said with a wary smirk, doing his best to seem casual. "Lots of people have been by tod–"
"No." Gaara cut him off with an abrupt refusal. He leaned forward a little, his eyes locked with Tomo as the man swallowed and that bead of sweat finally fell down his cheek. Gaara tapped his finger on the counter. "I want to know who was inside this stand. I could care less about everyone else," he said, the last bit of it a growl that had him grimacing on the inside. That hadn't been the right thing to say.
Tomo hesitated, his hand on the counter unable to grip anything but tensing anyway, and just as he was about to speak Lukio finally found his voice from within the kitchen.
"No one else was here!" he said, his voice coming out higher pitched and a little shriller than he would have hoped, but he remained steadfast in his conviction. That was, however, until Gaara shifted his gaze over to him.
Tomo spun and glared at his brother.
Amusing, Gaara thought to himself as he felt his brow twitch. He clenched his fist and popped a thumb, it cracked along with another one of his knuckles. The beast hadn't been talking to him, but he could hear the echoes of its quiet laughter now, though on this occasion he hadn't needed its provoking. "So, you're the one with answers," Gaara spoke thoughtfully.
Holding Lukio's gaze, Tomo replied sharply, "He doesn't know shit." Lukio looked down, his hands clenched around his wire bristle brush. Returning his attention to Gaara, Tomo dropped the illusion of pleasantries. "What's this about?"
Gaara smiled, though his urgency mixing with suspicion made for an unsettling expression. That's better. "My family purchased food from this stand this afternoon," he began. "It was tampered with."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Tomo was visibly skeptical. "The order was wrong?" he questioned, his very tone putting his disbelief on display.
"Never," Gaara clarified. This earned him a curious look from the two men. "As I said, it was tampered with. So, who else was here?" he repeated, asking slowly and keeping his voice as even as he could.
"You and your siblings are here all the time," Tomo observed with more assertion behind his voice though it shook coming out his throat "You should know everyone that works here by now."
Gaara scowled and closed his eyes a moment, trying to calm the reflex to force his way. It was just another one of those parts of him that he'd been all too willing to let everyone attribute to the demon. He'd been so young when he discovered the ease of compliance by force and, as it had been such a tempting alternative to negotiation of any means, he was yet again contemplating its employment. He still couldn't get it out of his head; his house, the vomit, the way his sister had thrown herself to him, Sakura's anguish at the mention of Kankuro's injuries, the ANBU…
His blood boiled. More so than not giving into the demon, it was not giving into himself that had been the true battle.
Why shouldn't you?
When his eyes snapped open, he found himself staring at the counter, his heart pounding in his chest. Shit, he'd let his guard down, he was losing his grip and the demon was thriving off it.
Gaara looked up to catch the younger one in his sights, he visibly flinched. "You," he addressed with a bark. "Lukio."
Tomo had looked back to his brother, about to advise he keep his mouth shut, but the sound of his name had him double taking back at Gaara, surprised that he knew.
He continued. "Who was it?"
With his heart racing in his chest and a cold sweat precipitating across his back, Tomo stepped between Gaara and Lukio, his expression hard, his eyes frightened. "I don't know what the issue is, but you won't be involving my brothers in it," he said, conviction breaking through his voice. "You gotta go."
Gaara advanced a step, he could feel it on his face how wild his expression must have been, but he paused a moment. These moments allowed him to think better, to second guess, and he chose to retract his step. The two behind the counter released a breath he hadn't notice them take, but Tomo remained in front of his brother. Truthfully, Gaara could do nothing to them. He was looking straight into a mirror, staring down someone else's brother who'd been frightened into the unquestioning defense of one of his own, just as he had been. He couldn't do this to them, he didn't want to, but Kankuro was – wait.
Brothers.
Scanning them over once again, he appeared to decide upon something before nodding to them and pulling his hood back up over his wind-blown hair. This was a lost cause, he knew it, if they were anything like him; they'd sooner bleed than think of giving up on their family. No matter, really; because Gaara knew of just the person to ask.
…
The neighborhood that Gaara had materialized in was quiet compared the bustle of the nighttime market. The streets were darker here and though plenty of curtains rode on the breeze through open windows, there were less people enjoying the fading light outside. He crossed the empty street quietly and approached a door.
His palms felt sweaty, his stomach churned nervously. He had thought he was just being paranoid all that time ago; it was just supposed to be a precaution, how could he have possibly imagined that it would come to this?
It was two years ago when Temari had started bringing take-out home. Just after their father had died, they'd been on their own and none of them had really learned how to manage a house, it was a mess for a long time, still could be at the drop of a hat, too. Temari never wanted them hungry, though, and the market was closer than most well stocked grocery stores, so it quickly became a habit to bring Naja's home given how easily he and Kankuro had taken to it. Gaara though, was still plagued with his old doubts and suspicions, and habit told him not to trust easily.
He'd followed Temari there one day, found the stand, and listened in on the conversation she'd had with Naja. She seemed harmless enough and it wasn't until Naja had mailed Temari the seasoning recipe for one of her curries that Gaara investigated the stand again, he wasn't convinced she had nothing but good will since everyone to approach them in past had always wanted – or been up to – something. The two men that had worked there from the start had been her boys, he'd soon discovered after a lazy afternoon of watching her holler at them, and he'd looked up their names to satiate this suspicious curiosity so he could finally put the matter to rest.
He hadn't been looking for their address, but nevertheless he'd found it with their records – or rather lack thereof.
Now here he stood on the stoop of someone he had deemed worthy of their trust, about to demand answers for his brother. He took a breath; his hand had already reached for the doorknob, and he could've to smack himself; he was getting too impulsive.
He tapped his knuckles on the door instead, a much more favored approach. While waiting, he shook his arms out, his adrenaline had nowhere to go, he could feel his muscles itching for release and he cracked whatever knuckles he still could. The sound of the deadbolt clicking drew his attention and a chain jingled before the door opened. From the warm glow of the house, a familiar face peeked out, curious about her guest, but she quickly recognized who it was that had stood at her steps.
Naja slid herself around the door and stood in the archway, never fully closing it behind her. She had a shawl draped over her shoulders and she pulled it closer, crossing her arms. "Gaara," she greeted casually, that same voice she used for all her customers. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Gaara swallowed, scanning her face for something, anything. Her brow pinched together and her eyes became guarded, she knew something was wrong. "I'll get right to the point," he blurted out. Naja straightened, her gaze moving to the empty street behind him for a moment. "Sakura bought lunch from your stand this afternoon, right?" he questioned sharply.
Naja tilted her head in question. "Sakura…your friend?" He nodded. "Yes, she came by about...oh, an hour after open?"
"Naja," he began. Only a mother would have seen the pleading behind those fierce eyes. "Someone gave her poisoned food."
She flinched but quickly boasted the same skeptical look as her son. "We don't sell bad food."
"Not bad," Gaara clarified, wondering just how deep their faith in the family business ran. "Poisoned."
Her eyes grew wide in the dim light, now turning pale with the rising moon. With her lips pursed in a disgusted scowl she stepped back, her hand finding the doorframe as if retreating from the statement. She shook her head. "No."
"Yes, I swear to you–"
"Not in my kitchen," she asserted, suppressing a glare. There was clear thought behind her eyes, Gaara could see it; she knew something. "You must be mistaken."
Gaara's temper flared. "Mistake–my brother lay dying from your food, and you accuse me of oversight!?"
Naja looked back to him then, a different sort of expression vying for control; she was a kaleidoscope of confusion, worry, and hesitation.
"I would not come to you unannounced and deceive you, Naja," he insisted. "A crime has been committed and my brother deserves justice. Who did you let in there?" She gave no answer, clamming up just as her sons had, and he supposed this is where their backbone came from. He grew impatient and he made the choice to confront this stubbornness with a thinly veiled yet hollow threat, not knowing how much longer he could stand not having something tangible in his hands. "Maybe Tomo can tell me," he mused thoughtfully. "Or Lukio might know, too."
She did glare at him then, in a manner that her sons hadn't dared to, and she squared up. "My boys don't have anything to do with whatever it is that happened to your brother, though he has my sincerest well wishes for his health. I'd like to leave this at that." Her tone of voice would have left no room for argument, but Gaara had never known the scolding of a mother.
"You'd only let someone you trust cook in your kitchen," he stated plainly, his words irrefutable. "Your family doesn't cater to a line of military men, so whoever this was mustn't be very high up in the ranks. You have three sons, don't you?" he questioned, Naja's hand clenched at her arm. "He's dust off the payload, I have a bigger score to settle."
She was clearly getting nervous, her eyes still scanned the street for passersby, but their conversation had remained hushed so that no one had became curious enough to check.
Gaara drew her attention back to him. "I can always find out on my own," he said, not intending it as a threat but he wouldn't blame her for taking it that way. "But I'll save time and patience if you can simply help me here and now."
Naja couldn't look him in the eyes anymore and, perhaps, this one small acceptance he had found with a stranger had now been irrevocably sullied. She frowned at the ground, her eyes swiveling back and forth as if examining her own thoughts.
"Someone must have forced his hand," Gaara offered.
"He's a good boy," Naja said quickly thereafter.
Gaara nodded, encouraging her onward. "He wouldn't want to hurt anyone," he suggested again. Naja nodded, still looking at the ground. "But he needs to tell me who gave the order, and who got the poison."
After a moment she said, "This isn't his fault."
Gaara held back a grimace, he'd let her think that all she wanted. "I promise you, I'm not going to hurt him, Naja."
Another pause, and then her voice was so quiet between them it was like a whispering of the wind. "Turk left the stand around three today," she muttered. "Got called away, didn't say where he was going."
Letting out a sigh of relief, he pressed further. "Has he ever mentioned a safe house? Or somewhere he goes to lie low?"
Naja stepped back inside her home and began to close the door. Before shutting it, she answered, her voice low. "South side."
The door shut, the wind swept Gaara away with hardly a sound, and the dimly lit street was empty once again.
…
The sun had set on south side long ago.
Truly it was more so the west side of the city, but the floor of the desert sloped downward here, and the elevation dropped nearly six hundred feet and encouraged the local term. Shadows and a subtle ambient moonlight dominated the quiet streets, but they were far from empty. There were always people milling about in this part of town, drifters, vagabonds, roving groups of young bachelors, all with too much time on their hands or no productive outlet for their energy. It was a slow and gradual decent that encouraged all manner of individuals to gather here, and he knew one of them very well.
Stepping through the street, Gaara kept his hood up, his scarf wrapped over his face, and his cloak pulled closed around his clothing; he still wore his field gear, and it would give him away as a dog of the state to anyone looking on. And look on they did. Every other branching alleyway was home to cigarette embers waving in the dark, the sounds of bottles clinking and feet shuffling, hushed whispers that stopped only as he walked by. He'd been here plenty so the potential for danger didn't shake him, not anymore. Most often the commotion to go down in south side was interpersonal disputes that tended to turn violent with no serious outcome, or the occasional violent crime done by the desperate. But sometimes other industries moved through these streets, and Gaara was called in to clean them up.
Hence his desire for anonymity.
With the semblance of any other man walking these streets, Gaara kept his usual helping of sand at pace under his feet, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. It seemed like a quiet night so he didn't expect it, but one could never be too careful.
Approaching a door he knew well, he wrapped the metal knocker three times and upon hearing a shuffling from behind a muffled voice questioned, "How does the sand lark fly?"
"On the wings of the western wind."
The sound of a lock sliding out of place punctuated his words, followed by another, and another, and finally a chain. The door quietly swung open, the woman on the other side remained behind it as if to use it to separate them, and she allowed him in.
He didn't spare her another glance and made his way to the room at the back, where an open door led to a man sitting at a table overlooking a mismatched pile of weapons. Across the table, Gaara stood quietly as the man looked up, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and without even tilting his head he glanced at the woman who had followed Gaara through the apartment a few paces behind. Something unspoken passed between them and her small footsteps could be heard fading back toward the front.
The door shut behind her.
"It's been a while," the man noted once they were alone, the ember of his cigarette waving in the lamplight as he spoke. The room was filled with a fragrant smoky haze, a hookah sat used up and forgotten on the table, several hoses were still connected to the base, and it was clear that he'd just finished entertaining some guests. "I don't recall sending for you."
Gaara loosened his scarf and let it hang down around his neck. "I'm coming to you this time."
Pausing, the man dropped the weapon he'd been tending and gave Gaara his full focus.
Raiko was a man of thirty-seven years, give or take, and had the haggard face and sunken eyes of a man who'd served much longer. He didn't bother with his scruff and always wore a shadow across his face, he had a head of choppy sun-bleached hair that had gone weeks without a cut and had a cunning ability to slip into whatever persona necessary to fit his needs. Nothing on his person would have given away his rank, though; not insignia or symbol, he wore no badges or medals, took no honors or recognitions, and had devoted the last fifteen years of his life to his post here in south side.
He was one of the best double agents they had.
Gaara had lost count of how many times he'd stood in this room, receiving hushed intel of nefarious movements through the area, only to quietly remove whatever disturbance had been deemed unfit for civilian involvement. Smuggling, trafficking, robberies, gang violence; he'd taken care of it all for Raiko so that he could still play the role of just another degenerate looking to abuse the blind spots of the city guard. After all that Gaara had done for him here, a favor should be the very least he could ask for.
Raiko leaned back in his chair, unbothered by Gaara's sudden and unplanned arrival, and observed him. He'd been using his skillset for years and, even with noting the tension he carried clearly across his shoulders now, he could see that he hadn't put that expression of utter contempt for the world back on his face just yet.
"This must be important," he concluded, sliding a small sake glass in front on him and pouring himself a drink. He tilted the bottle to Gaara knowing he wouldn't take it but feeling like he should offer anyway; he never knew when the day would come that he'd have company for a drink. "Tell me," Raiko sighed. "What's happened?"
"I suspect the council of attempting my assassination again," Gaara began, earning him an exaggerated eye roll from Raiko. He shook his head and took the full glass in one swig, about to ask who let the cat out of the bag this time, but Gaara's next words had him thinking twice. "They were messy with this one; my brother's been involved."
Raiko poured another glass, brought it up to his lips, but paused to ask, "How is he?"
"Last I saw, fighting for his life."
Swallowing the sake, Raiko set the cup down with a loud clank on the table. He looked down, shook his head with a light chuckle, and sighed. "What do you need?" he asked, raising his eyes to meet Gaara's once again.
Gaara felt his hand clench at his side. "Turk Osori," he stated, the edge coming through in his voice again. "He was tasked with the job, and I suspect he's fled to his safe house here. I need to find him."
Raiko leaned back in thought for a moment, his chair teetering on the back legs. The name sounded familiar; it was certainly scratching an itch on is brain, but where had he heard Osori before? A thought struck him then and his chair's feet found the floor with a loud thump. "The curry boy?" he asked.
Gaara nodded.
"Damn," he muttered, finally moving from his seat to grab an old book from the bookcase against the wall. He flipped through it; the spine was broken, the covers were floppy, and the pages had been worn thin, but near the back of the book he found what he was looking for. "I haven't seen him come through today," Raiko admitted apologetically, not usually one to miss the comings and goings of those under his watch; military, civilian, or otherwise given the eyes that reported to him, and there were a certain few that he preferred to keep tabs on. Placing the book down on the table, Gaara could see that the pages were covered in all sorts of information on all kinds of individuals, he was likely somewhere in there himself, and Raiko copied something on a note pad before ripping off the paper and giving it to Gaara. "Last I knew, this is where he had a habit of lying low. Seems to me that he's been in hot water before."
Gaara thinned his lips and tried to suppress his scowl. "This is all I needed," he said, folding the paper once and slipping it into a pocket. "Apologies for dropping in like this," he offered as he fixed his scarf around his face again.
Raiko shook his head. "I owe you plenty by now anyway, so don't bother." His uninvited guest nodded to him and turned toward the door but, before he opened it and they resumed these roles they played; Raiko stayed the moment a little longer. "Wait a sec," he called out suddenly, his voice still hushed so that no one else in the apartment would hear them.
Pausing, Gaara could likely guess what he was about to say. Be careful? Try not to go crazy? Be sure to think first–
"I hope your brother's gonna be okay."
He didn't respond at first, he only let the words settle into his mind before reaching for the door again. "Me, too." With that, he was gone. The young woman had watched him from afar as he left before returning to Raiko with curiosity and intrigue, only to be met with a barked order to mind her own business.
x愛x-x愛x-x愛x
"Excuse me."
Temari blinked, her eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion, and she lifted her head from Sakura's shoulder to look up at the nurse that had come to address them. She straightened as Sakura sat attentively at her side, her presence had been the only thing to allow her to relax, and she cleared her throat. "Yes?"
"I have an update for you." But before she began, she handed a bag over to the girls. "Some water and a few meal tickets for the cafeteria. I imagine you're going to be famished later." Temari nodded, taking out two waters and handing one over to Sakura. They cracked them open and took a much-needed drink. "You've got some slippers in there, too, they're cheap but they'll hold up well enough for the night."
"Thank you," Sakura said, a light sigh to her voice with a freshly quenched throat. "This is plenty."
She nodded, pulling up her clipboard again though she didn't need to look at it. "Kankuro's condition due to the Digitoxin is stabilizing, but he's still suffering from some of the other chemicals found in the tox test. The poison you mentioned before," she said looking to Sakura. "As I said, it's been a military poison in the past, so with Lady Chiyo's guidance our team was able to synthesize the antidote on-site."
The two of them visibly breathed a sigh of relief. "That's great," Temari said, her voice breathless.
"His doctor has already begun administering it and we'll transfer him somewhere more comfortable when he's ready. He'll need to stay here overnight for monitoring."
Sakura nodded. "We understand, we'll be waiting."
The nurse glanced over to the clone still standing in front of the girls; an uncanny humanoid mass of undulating sand, hunched over and locked on the far end of the hall, unblinking, unmoving, as if nothing else going on around it existed. Some of the other nurses had asked Lady Chiyo to do something about it, it was frightening them to have to walk in front of it to go down the hall, but she insisted that it was harmless.
Yeah, right…
"How long do you think this will be?" the nurse asked, tipping her head in the direction of the clone.
Temari thinned her lips and eyed the sand skeptically. "I'm sure he won't be gone much longer," she said in leu of an answer. "He won't bother anyone."
The nurse seemed a bit perplexed by the use of pronoun for something that barely looked human at all, but she didn't contest the point and just nodded before excusing herself. At least she'd asked about it, far more than those other nurses had done, and she could manage an evening shift through any festival, full moon, or catastrophe. She was just glad the halls were finally clear; calling the military police on the military wasn't the way she wanted the night to go.
"I'll come get you when he's ready to be moved," she said as she dismissed herself, giving the swirling piles of sand spilling on the floor a wide berth as she did.
Temari sighed, her relief amplifying her exhaustion, she just wanted this day to be done with, and she resumed using Sakura's shoulder as a comforting head rest. She was glad that her scouts had gone now, she was nearly spent and had been fighting back tears, she didn't want to be seen like this. She squeezed Sakura's hand and looked down when her friend squeezed back.
Sakura had given Temari her left hand and, while holding hers in support, she absentmindedly fiddled with the bangle on that wrist. She'd mentioned nothing about what the ANBU had said but, when they sat undisturbed, her eyes had hardly shifted from the sand clone and Temari could only guess as to what she was thinking.
Temari bit the inside of her lip, suppressing a scowl.
This was a mess.
x愛x-x愛x-x愛x
"Please!" Turk gasped as he stumbled back and into the bedside table, knocking the back of his knees against it and collapsing to the floor. His hands were held in front of him, shaking with fright. "Please, I–"
"We have no time for your pleas," Gaara said as he advanced forward, his expression cold and unsympathetic. "Get up, we're going."
It had all happened so fast; Turk didn't even have time to react as the door to his second-floor room above the bar swung open and slammed against the wall. He'd been huddled up in here for hours, the suspense of the unknown feeding the fire of his anxiety, bathed in a cold sweat, and flinching at every footstep and every muffled voice that came from the other side of that door. He hadn't heard anything from Yuli, Schiff, or Shia since being called away from the stand earlier that afternoon, and he'd been desperate for confirmation of some kind. When the report finally came through not even a half hour ago, however, the few words given to him before the signal went dead had his blood turning to ice within his veins.
"Operation failure, go to ground."
He'd thought of fleeing, of trying his luck at just abandoning the city until the heat died down, but his pursuer would have been the one person who could track him down no matter which corner of the desert he crawled to. Trying a desperate dash through the streets to find an even lower hole to hide in would only risk drawing attention to his movements. So, he was frozen in place, unable to make a choice. When the door had swung open, he hadn't heard any footsteps approach, nor stairs creak, he hadn't even heard the door for the bar open for a newcomer; he'd appeared like a ghost from thin air.
Turk's eyes widened at Gaara's approach and he ducked his head, hands coming up in front of him; weaponless, he didn't dare attack. "I'm sorry!" he cried out, his voice nearly shrieking. "Please don't–"
"I'm not going to hurt you, Turk," Gaara said sharply. Turk took a shaken breath, clearly doubtful, and Gaara frowned with a look of disappointment. "Get ahold of yourself," he ordered. "Both your brothers and your mother have more courage than you, do not dishonor them like this."
Turk glanced up at him then, a cloaked figure silhouetted by the light of the hall and, even though he was still just a boy – no older than Lukio he guessed, he looked formidable and terrifying. He swallowed hard, a lump caught in his throat, he wanted to stand but he wasn't sure his legs would hold him.
Gaara took in his image, he was scowling and his eyes were burning as they looked him over.
Turk suppressed a shiver, tempted to resign himself to fate, and asked, "Have you done something to them?"
Shaking his head, Gaara responded with a bite to his words, though sincerity rang through. "I've not done anything to your family, though I can't say you've done the same for mine."
Turk's face twitched, confused, his mind moving too fast to dwell on what he said for long.
"My brother ingested your poison," Gaara said plainly. Turk's mouth opened in surprise but he couldn't find the words. "Without your testimony, the attempt will be made to shift the blame elsewhere. I cannot allow that."
With his stomach knotting up on itself and his pulse thumping through his veins, Turk clenched his fists, suppressing his urge to flee. "I'll admit what I've done," he said, his voice shaking. "But I had to follow command." It was true after all; yes, they'd made a deal at Russett's, but he didn't have a choice, not really. When an ANBU on assignment told a man of his rank to jump, there was only acceptable answer; how high and when should their feet touch the ground? So, he played along, only able to hope that Yuli would make good on his promise so that he could find his way into the ANBU. It would be his only opportunity to get out from under their thumb.
Gaara nodded. "And you will speak on who exactly gave you that command." He stepped across the room, stopping before the man trembling on the floor and kneeling to look him square in the eyes. "So, who was it?"
Turk clammed up, retreating into himself with nowhere else to go. "That's secured information," he said, his voice suggestive as not to assert his outright refusal.
"Only until you start talking, and I suggest that you do."
There was a long silence that passed between them, the only sound was coming from the music and shouts from the bar down below. Finally, after thinking of his family and the mess he'd stumbled them all into, Turk spoke, his voice quiet and resigned. "Yuli…Yuli Kotora."
Gaara smiled, the shadows obscuring his face as his expression twisted into a wildly satisfied grin, eyes illuminated by the spark of one small victory after another, and this would not be his last on this day. He slapped a hand against Turk's shoulder, the poor man jumped and gasped. "Perfect, let's get going."
…
When the twister of sand began swirling around the clone standing in the hall, Sakura and Temari had stood from their seats and ushered themselves out of the way. As eyes gathered on them, some in curiosity, others in frustration, the clone shed its layering of sand to reveal the flesh and blood man that had come to take its place. It was as if he'd been there the entire time, slumbering within the core of this façade before shedding the grainy husk and emerging anew. Only a select few would have felt the thrumming of that enigmatic energy as the true weight of his presence returned to the air.
Cascading off him, the sand pooled at the floor before shuffling over like a crawling mass that lumped up on itself and writhed before a pair of arms desperately batted it away, revealing a man underneath.
Sakura's heart flared into a rapid pulse and she felt the cold rush of adrenaline as Gaara appeared, her eyes scanning over his form and following the sand to the newcomer at his side.
Strange, she thought to herself. Had she ever seen him do this with someone else?
No, she had not. In all the times that Gaara had teleported them both, he'd always made sure she was close, quite close, and at least they had always been touching. From the very first instance of her being disheveled and beyond collapse in the desert, to the very last not even an hour prior; there had never been a time where she had gone apart from him.
Well, that wasn't true.
There had been one time, she remembered, that Gaara had devised to send her off on her own into the flurry of sand, and she'd asked him not too, she hadn't wanted to go alone. So, in a fashion rather typical of him, he'd complied and swept her off without any grievance; an arm around her waist, a hand resting on her hip, and this little dance of theirs had become anticipated, almost habitual. It was like he no longer entertained the thought of being separate from her, leaving her to disregard this memory and assume that she had always needed to be right up next to him as to not be left behind.
But this man sat on the ground a few feet from where Gaara stood, and he'd been a few moments behind Gaara in materializing from the sand as well. He sucked in a breath and stifled a shout of surprise, trying to back out of the writhing pile that had swallowed him only to bump into the chairs that Sakura and Temari had just been sitting in. He looked around, the bright lights of the hospital causing him to wince and squint his eyes.
Her eyes found Gaara again, and he looked…different.
Turning back, he glanced at Temari and herself, and Sakura felt her body freeze.
Did he know? Had he heard what the ANBU had said about her? About him?
"How is he?" he asked Temari, not wasting another moment, he needed to know.
"Stabilizing," she assured him. "They've administered the antidote as well." His shoulders had been tensed, but they visibly dropped with some relief upon hearing her words. Temari looked over to the man on the ground, the sand that swirled around the floor near him kept him corralled as he tried his best to avoid its touch. "Who's this?"
The man flinched, eyes flickering up to her at her mention, but he didn't keep her gaze.
Gaara glanced down to him, a frown pulling at his lips, and answered, "One of Naja's boys. Sakura," he said addressing her. She felt her chest seize up when he looked her way, and already her face felt hotter. "Did you see this man at Naja's today? At the curry stand?"
She swallowed, her throat felt weak, and she hesitantly looked over the man's face. She hadn't paid much attention to the faces at the stand, and she certainly hadn't thought to commit them to memory, but she couldn't deny the familiarity of a face from earlier in the same day. He looked so frightened and unsure now, his face clearly boasted his regret, and he was dismayed at how his situation had played out. In a way, Sakura felt for him; he'd made a mistake, a truly awful mistake.
Nodding, she answered in breathy whisper, unsure if her voice could remain even. "Yeah, that's him."
Turk glanced at the end of the hall, eyes roaming, only to double take. He stiffened and Gaara had noticed that, at the end of the hall, the ANBU had returned upon hearing their arrival and was coming over to them with a leisurely pace.
Turk swallowed nervously, Gaara tried not to smirk. Perfect.
The ANBU stopped a few paces back, a healthy distance, and studied Turk. He hadn't known him personally, but he'd seen him around and heard mention of him before. Word around the department was that he'd lacked a true spine since the academy, he'd been a late admission and all his younger peers were better skilled, so he became an easy scape goat for ANBU that had the authority to delegate to him but didn't want to get their own hands dirty.
Given his precarious position at the feet of the jinchuriki, it seemed the unfortunate habits of his colleagues had finally caught up to him.
Either way, better to save face. "Introduce me to your friend?" he asked mildly.
Gaara stood just where his clone had been, separating the ANBU from the girls, protective and threatening all wrapped up in one. He gestured a hand to Turk, never taking his eyes off the man in front of him. "Your answers," he stated in leu of introduction. "I trust I didn't take too long?" he responded to the man's mockingly mild tone in kind.
Remaining skeptical, he contested. "Looks like you picked a guard off the nearest street corner."
The sand around Turk slid under him and suddenly pushed him forward to be in line with Gaara. "Stand up, Turk," he ordered. Reluctantly, Turk obeyed and stood with Gaara before the ANBU. He was taller but, standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder, he simply couldn't meet the same presence that Gaara so effortlessly carried. "Tell him what you told me."
Turk swallowed, cleared his throat, and stood at attention in front of this man of superior standing. "Turk Osori, sir. This afternoon, I received the order to infiltrate my mother's eatery with the purpose of slipping a substance unknown to me into the food intended for Gaara Sabaku." He finished speaking, took a slow breath and his lips sewed shut.
The ANBU pondered this for a moment. "And if I request the records of your attendance for duties today? Will it reflect that you were absent in order to carry out this task?"
Sakura gripped Temari's arm. She was sure she wouldn't do anything impulsive, but she didn't want to risk this conversation flaring her temper once again; best to keep a steady hand on her.
Turk shook his head. "No, sir, I was excused from duties."
"Who was it that excused you?" he demanded without hesitation.
Turk side-eyed the end of the hall, clearly reluctant to talk given how many people could be stretching an ear to listen, but was unable raise his voice in protest. When he finally answered, his voice was low and quiet, barely an utterance between them. "The order was given by ANBU Yuli Kotora, sir."
The man clearly bristled at the word, nearly recoiling at the mention of his own ranks. His first instinct was to be doubtful, to think that Turk must have been forced to turn the blame back on them. It was known that Gaara held a strong grudge against the ANBU, preferring them at a healthy distance, and given the slip up he'd had spatting with the Leaf girl, he figured this was precisely the outcome he should have expected in retaliation. But, after a second to think, he recalled that they had new members in their ranks, and this would fit the timeframe for one of them to make their first major mistake.
The ANBU sucked his teeth, saving such thoughts for a time when evidence could be gathered, and thought through how to handle this unravelling mess from here.
The door to Kankuro's emergency room clicked open and Chiyo stepped out, several nurses had come to her with news of Gaara's arrival and that the ANBU had confronted him again. "Has everyone been amicable this time?"
The ANBU turned to face her approach and the other men did the same. "Of course," he agreed smoothly. He took a breath to speak again but Gaara had cut him off.
"Lady Chiyo," he greeted. "I cannot thank you enough for overseeing my brother's treatment, and I am sorry to have to ask for one more favor." She blinked, curious, and nodded her head to allow him to speak. "Please, declare an emergency assemblage."
Temari and the ANBU both balked at Gaara, shifting disbelief onto him while Chiyo merely raised her eyebrows in surprise. Temari attempted to find the words to ask what he could be thinking, the ANBU had already begun his admonishing of Gaara for stepping outside of his rank, and Chiyo raised her hand to silence them both.
"Gaara," she said with an uplift to her voice, as if she were amused. "You don't have the authority to request such things."
He nodded but did not give in. "But you do," he insisted. "Call a meeting on my behalf, I must speak with the council, this situation must come to light and be addressed."
"My investigation and the subsequent report will do just that," the ANBU countered, clearly agitated.
Gaara glanced to him. "Don't worry, I'll need something from you too," he promised before turning his attention back to his elder. "This is madness, Lady Chiyo, my family has been involved and I will not allow this tirade to continue."
She crossed her arms and appeared standoffish to the idea, and her eyes told him just the same. "It was a high honor to be appointed as an elder of Sunagakure, what kind of elder would I be to use my status so frivolously?" Gaara seemed about to retort but she cut him off. "It is a Friday evening, Gaara, the council and elders have returned home, and besides," she said, her voice still carrying that edge of amusement. "Don't you think you're too riled up to be addressing the council in any sort of manner?"
Thinning his lips with a frown, Gaara couldn't refute the truth to her words. He wasn't just angry, he had been livid, and it had been more than once that his old ways had tempted him. Even as he'd overtaken Turk with his sand to teleport them to the hospital – he'd been shocked and horrified to be enveloped in that darkness, sure his end was about to come – the demon had once again persuaded him squeeze just a little harder and hold just a little longer.
He hurt your family…killed your brother…
If he had been just a few years younger he'd have listened to that voice, though he held better judgement now.
"I won't dismiss your concern," Gaara spoke to Chiyo, agreeing but not submitting, and he remained steadfast. "I understand that it's valid."
Temari had fallen silent to listen to her brother. She hadn't heard him talk like this before; there was acceptance and persistence in his words, an acknowledgment of his past with a conviction for the future.
Gaara continued. "But if you allow me this, I promise not to betray your trust."
In the moment when Chiyo seemed to genuinely contemplate his words, the ANBU made his opinion known. "Regardless, she is right. You haven't the authority to call on them. You'll get your chance to speak your mind in due time."
"No," Gaara refuted immediately. "This will be handled tonight."
"I will do this for you," Chiyo interjected, her mind made up. "But you must uphold your promise, no matter the outcome."
Gaara nodded. "You have my word."
"I'll remember that," she said, her gaze turning cautionary as she spoke. "You will have one hour to prepare yourself for the session, I will send an aide to brief the council before your arrival. Now," she said turning her attention to the ANBU. "It seems that your initial suspicions might be wrong after all." The ANBU said nothing but Gaara and the seasoned elder could feel the anger roll off him, frustrated over his lack of control and authority. "Gaara, didn't you have a request for him?"
"Yes," Gaara said with a grin. "You and I will ensure that Yuli himself stands before the council."
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×
"How could this have happened?"
"I don't recall putting anything up for a vote!"
"Would everyone, please–!"
"You heard what Lady Chiyo's aide said, Kankuro's been-"
"All right, that's enough!" a loud voice boomed over the chorus of chattering council members.
The final word echoed around the room as those present quieted and looked in the direction of the order. Baki stood in front of his seat at the round council table and glowered across it. A typical expression for the seasoned Jonin don, but this time he had ample reason for it.
Forty-five minutes prior, a call had gone out to the pagers of all council members and Suna elders, the code displaying the need for an emergency gathering of the greatest minds and highest seats that the city held. With the exception of Lady Chiyo, they had all gathered as quickly as they could, not knowing the reason for the call until a messenger had been sent to them just a few minutes ago. They'd been brought up to speed regarding Kankuro's incident and discord had immediately ensued between them.
"This infighting will not continue," he asserted. "We must maintain the dignity of our station."
A man from across the table nodded in agreement. Gazo; he was a wise and seasoned veteran that, even in his earlier years of holding his seat, had always had the best interest of the village and their international affairs at heart. "Lady Chiyo herself recognized the substance as the White Reaper. How could such an exposure have happened without the explicit consent from this council?"
Sajo sucked his teeth and shook his head. "This can't be a rogue case," he said, suspicious eyes scanning the breadth of the table. "The order must have come from a high authority."
A man across the table from him, Yura, shifted his eyes to the aide stood at attention behind the head of their council, Ebizo. The elder had been rather quiet since the assemblage had begun, his glossy eyes pointed down at the table in thought. "Lady Chiyo's aide himself said that we would get our answers; Gaara and the ANBU sent to investigate the incident will be here shortly," he said, peering over to the man sat to his left. "We will have witnesses brought before us."
The man sat next to him, Tojuro, stiffened in his seat. The ANBU were within his division, so it was understandable to assume that he was impatient and wanted answers as much as everyone else, but Yura suspected otherwise. He'd seen the man maintain his composure in all manner of tense situations, but this time he could sense that he felt nervous.
Baki was about to address the room again when a familiar weight overtook the atmosphere of the council hall. He tensed, his eyes resting on some unknown point in the distance and spoke, "He's coming."
Surely, within just another moment, a howling of the wind could be heard slamming against the stone walls of the central tower, the windows rattled and the pens across the tables shook. From the corners, sand appeared to seep through and spill out from tiny cracks in the walls, gathering and slithering along the ground before amassing in front of the council table. Rising from the ground, several figures took shape within the dim lighting of the hall. They were featureless at first, but soon their stature could be plainly seen and the sand dispersed to present Gaara and the ANBU standing at attention, with two other men were visibly recessed into the floor behind them.
"Esteemed members of the high council," Gaara said, stepping forward. "I thank you for your time this evening, I will attempt to keep this brief."
From where he stood, Baki's hands met the table as he leaned forward, his expression turning hard and his eyes desperate. "Gaara," he blurted out. "Is Kankuro-"
"He will recover," Gaara stated, much to the relief of their former sensei who soon sunk back into his seat. "That said, I would like to discuss the events that brought us here. As you've been made aware," he continued, gesturing to the aide standing behind Ebizo. "My brother was poisoned with a toxin of our own design, one that could only be procured through the proper channels of authority. There is no room for doubt when saying that Kankuro was not the intended target, but rather, it was myself."
The table murmured to themselves, Sajo yet again exclaiming that such an order would have to be put up for a vote. Gazo agreed with him, their eyes turning to suspiciously rest on a select few of their peers. Sajo spoke up then. "Where do you suppose the command came from?" he asked, openly studying his fellow council members and their reactions.
Gaara stepped to the side, making a show of the other two men he had toted along.
They were kneeled on the ground, but their knees and hands hand been sunk into the sandstone floor, the stone hardening around them, making them unable to run or channel chakra through hand signs. Releasing the two men from their bondage, Gaara allowed them to stand, but they quickly noticed that the sand stuck to their clothing like a static lint, a clear indicator that they weren't at all free from its grasp.
The two men stood silently in place, shoulders slumped, eyes pointed down. The second man that Gaara and the ANBU had brought in was indeed Yuli Kotora, though as he was, he had been stripped of his mask and was presented plainly for all to see. Turk was sullen in the face, his eyes looked distant and tired.
With a nod from Gaara, Turk once again recounted his involvement in the events. He mentioned being called away right before the start of duties, meeting up with Yuli and two others at Russett's, and he walked them through what had taken place within his mother's curry stand. He'd been called away again shortly after, had taken refuge within the south side neighborhoods, only to discover that the mission was botched and be brought in by Gaara.
When he finished, Gaara motioned for Yuli to step forward.
The man had been sweating bullets ever since he'd been called into headquarters only to see a masked superior of his standing with Gaara Sabaku; looking fit and fine as could be, and very displeased to see him. He'd only just noticed Turk in their custody when they'd confiscated his mask and whisked him away to the council hall. It had been such a blur, he hadn't even the time to think about what he might say in his defense, but now here he was just moments later; thrown into the lion's den with the man responsible for it all sat at this very table, avoiding Yuli's face as if he didn't even know him.
No matter, if he wanted to live beyond this night he had to play along. "Yuli Kotora," he stated as he began, his voice shook a moment before he managed some control over it. "Shortly following my promotion into the ANBU, it was ordered of me to gather updated intel on Gaara Sabaku and report back my findings. It was after my third report that I was tasked with devising a way to assassinate my intended target."
"Who was that intended target?" Gaara interjected, his arms crossed sternly over his chest.
Yuli swallowed and stared straight ahead, unable to bring himself to confront the look on Gaara's face. "You, sir," he spoke after a moment. From across the table, he could tell that Tojuro had grimaced at the title of respect he'd given Gaara with his answer, but between this rock and that hard place, Yuli simply could not win.
"And who gave you the order?" he pressed further, staring him down. The masked ANBU seemed about to speak up, to demand some order to these proceedings, but Gaara raised a hand to silence him. Hesitant to do so with the head of their division sitting in on this conversation, he finally relented when he realized that those in favor of the power wielded by the Sabaku's outnumbered the current company of those who did not.
But Yuli couldn't speak, his throat had closed and his chest had seized, refusing to take another breath. He'd rather die by Gaara's hands than betray the oaths of his station; that would be the true death sentence.
Gaara leaned in, his expression one of complete and utter contempt, and his voice echoed every loathsome temptation he'd been staving off thus far. "Who was it, Yuli?"
Ebizo spoke up for the first time. "There is no need to invoke such conflict, young Sabaku," he muttered, the voices around the room silencing upon hearing him speak. "Please, continue."
Gaara nodded to the elder, his face still twisted into a deep scowl, and he addressed the table. "In the past I have defended myself, I have fought back against those sent to kill me, and I have even found it in me to be merciful. When my own life was desired, I let the events play out as they were intended. But now," he said, turning to glare at the men stood behind them, watching as they shrunk back from his gaze. "You have gravely impacted my family."
Yuli broke his silence with a sharp whisper spoken to Turk, an elbow jabbing his side. "Idiot! If it wasn't the right food, you should've aborted the mission!" he seethed between clenched teeth.
Turk balked and frantically looked around the faces of the room before turning back to defend himself. "What? You know why we can't do that!"
"Quiet," Gaara ordered, earning obedience from the two men as he turned his attention to Tojuro. He'd been rather quiet this whole time, and Gaara figured that he was unhappy with the catastrophic failure of his lackies. "It seems your men are running amuck," he commented, a slight upturn to his voice as if he were trying to jest. "Or is this the conduct you encourage within your ranks?"
Tojuro swallowed and his gaze hardened dangerously on the men stood behind Gaara, a peculiar vision where they may have actually been safer there behind the sand demon. "This matter will not be taken lightly," he assured, Yura nodded in agreement. "The ANBU division will partner with the proper channels to investigate the source of these commands and execute the proper response."
"Good," Gaara agreed, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, finding the man's blatant lie about as entertaining as it was infuriating. "I will be awaiting your findings, I'm so curious to see what you'll uncover."
Finally, Joseki had witnessed enough of this berating of the council, and he made his opinions known. "Now see here, Gaara," he addressed, Gaara was all too eager to give him the attention that was requested of him. "We will not allow you a platform to speak if you abuse the privilege. You had no right to call for an assembly on Chiyo's name, and certainly not the standing to speak to your council in such a way." For a man who had always been at odds with Gaara and his siblings, he had been one of the few that could manage to stand toe to toe against him, even in his more demonic years. "It will not be tolerated."
Unable to contain it, Gaara felt his expression break into that twisted and wild grin; it was an invitation to push just a little more, to overstep just one more time. "Not the right?" he challenged. Baki raised a hand as if to calm him but he ever got the opening. "On the contrary; I have every right to call upon those responsible for my existence when they continuously seek to extinguish it, especially in the event of such a monumental failure!"
"You know nothing of what you speak!" he yelled back without hesitation.
Gaara scoffed, a roll of his eyes before his anger seethed once again. "Six times I have let these attacks slide, six times I have been forced to wipe the blood of my own people from my hands because of this council's doing!" The faces around the room turned from his gaze then, a knowing look of guilt crept over some of them, while a few only held a look of contempt. "When will this tiresome campaign against me finally end!?"
Gazo spoke up then. "It has!" he insisted. "I beseech you, please listen. The matter was never brought to a vote, this council never spoke on the decision to employ the White Reaper against you."
Gaara turned back to Tojuro then, the eyes of Gazo and Sajo doing the same. "Are you really going to sit there and pretend as if your men acted outside your instruction?" he questioned, his voice low and his implication heavy. Tojuro scowled but said nothing, clearly thinking such an accusation deserved no manner of response. "Fine," Gaara sneered after a moment. "I don't need to hear you say it, and no one else does either."
The ANBU with Gaara spoke up from his side. "You won't be speaking to him in that way," he said sternly. "And you won't be making blind accusations either."
"That's rich coming from you," Gaara jested with a scoff.
"Remember your vow to Lady Chiyo," the ANBU warned.
Had he been in better spirits, Gaara could have laughed. Unfortunately, he was still quite furious. "And you'd do well to remember that the only blood spilt this day is that of my brother's. But if the council so wishes it…call your men," he demanded, his eyes now locked with Tojuro. "Shoot your shot, here and now." The council members gathered at the table gasped and began to raise their voices. "Give me whatever odds you think favor you best, and we'll see what happens."
Baki shouted for Gaara to calm down, to excuse himself and allow the council to handle this further. He could see that Gaara held no bluff in his challenge; he'd been exhausted, running around all day, the teleporting alone could drain him quickly with multiple people in tow, and he still believed that no man could best him.
Tojuro scoffed and stood to his feet. "Another comment like that in this hall and we will have you demoted in station!" he threatened.
This only fueled him more. "Station or no station; I need no title to wield the power of my birthright. As a peasant in the streets, you would fear me all the same." He was about to continue with all the spite and venom he'd kept bottled up for far too long, but he paused then, a thought striking him suddenly. So brief it had been as it flashed through his mind, but it had silenced the shouting of the room, muffled the men arguing back and forth, and his eyes stared ahead, locking on the empty seat sat across the table from him.
The seat that used to be his father's.
Baki had stopped his persistent plea for order when he noticed where Gaara's eyes had landed. He knew that look, and he called out to him. "Gaara?"
Gaara answered to Tojuro in response, his tone still tempered but carrying a genuine curiosity as he asked, "Are you afraid that no one will contest me?"
"What are you talking about?" he snapped. His face had gone red with anger, his brow had begun to sweat, other council members were staring at him now.
Gaara pressed further, certainty now clear through his words. "You don't think anyone can stop me from taking the title of Kazekage," he declared, his expression lifting as he smirked.
Tojuro balked. "Take? It is an elected position, Gaara!"
Undeterred, he continued. "Then you will be left with no other electable choice! Mark my words." Gaara looked around the room, what he said next meant for all ears present to heed wisely. "The next time that I call for an assemblage of this council," he said before pointing to his father's old seat at the head of the council table. "It will be from that chair."
Tojuro and Joseki both began to shout their rebuttals for such a claim to the highest seat of their city, and Sajo and Gazo were actually quick to speak in defense of the idea. The men began to argue back and forth, Baki and Yura trying to regain control over the council, and as usual; Ebizo sat quietly in his seat, allowing those present to show their colors and voice their opinions. He preferred to study them in the heat of these moments, and if they chose inner conflict and espionage then it was all the better to know. After all, it wasn't Gaara's claims that had surprised him, most of them had quietly assumed that the next Kage to proceed Rasa would be one of his children, and being the successful jinchuriki; Gaara was the most likely candidate.
He was still young though, and the many blemishes of his past were not as far behind him as those close to him would want to believe. But, as the council room echoed with shouts, it was becoming clearer that the longer the Kage's seat remained empty, the greater the opportunity for infighting and power struggles. It was already starting, that was what had surprised him, and it concerned him as well. If it had only taken two years for such blatant moves to be made at this high of a level, perhaps there were other hands puppeteering from shadows and instigating this accusation of treason. He had already decided before Gaara had even arrived that a thorough investigation from a neutral third party needed to be done of the ANBU, their books clearly needing airing out, but he wasn't confident they'd find a clear trail of evidence back to Tojuro.
One thing was clear, however; they would need to proceed with caution.
Gaara once again addressed the room with a strength to his voice that sent those around the table quieting to listen. "I will say this but one time, so make no mistake," he warned, his eyes slowly moving from person to person in a smooth sweep. "The next person ordered to act against, or in any way involve, my brother, my sister, or even Sakura of the Leaf, will be returned dead to sender." The two men behind Gaara visibly flinched as Gaara continued with his grim declaration. "This ends today." He looked over to Baki then, and practically barked, "Find someone else to take my runs for the weekend, I'm not leaving the city."
Baki nodded, he'd likely be sticking close to the Sabaku home for a few days as well, he knew they could look after themselves but he still worried about them.
"Best of luck with the results of your investigation," Gaara said to Tojuro, a thick helping of sarcasm overlaying his words. The sand around his feet began to swirl, Yuli and Turk scampered back to avoid any further contact with it, and the room collectively welcomed his hasty departure. But before he dissolved himself one last time and returned to the hospital to – at long last – rest and be with his family, he offered the leader of the ANBU one final reminder, a promise that he would be wise to remember. "I'll be waiting."
×愛×▬▬▬×愛×▬▬▬×愛×
After six chapters and nearly four years, we have finally concluded what may very well go down in Follow the Sun history as The Longest Day.
So much has happened in these last 24 hours. Between the stress of Sakura's schooling – which feels so far away now, the inn fire that kicked off their morning of misadventure, the emotional back forth between brothers in the open desert, and all that ensued once Kankuro ingested a deadly poison meant to kill his younger brother, the four of them have been faced with one heart stopping challenge after another.
Both Sakura and Gaara now have more to ponder about themselves and each other than they ever anticipated, meaning that from this night onward the dynamic between them will never be the same. Introducing key players in the political scape of Suna, both those in support of the Sabaku family and those opposed, the stage is being set for the events that will eventually see Gaara inaugurated as the Fifth Kazekage of Sunakagure. As they all gain power and standing, support and influence, they will be given the opportunity to instigate great changes, both in their lives and in the lives of other's.
It will be a rocky and uphill battle from here, as Gaara's newfound goals will only bring to the surface those that have been wishing for his defeat, and the more enemies he gains the more opportunities there are for harm to come to those he loves.
I cannot wait to explore these excited developments with you all as we continue Follow the Sun; Excerpts of Time.