- Ch. 13 -
When they arrived at the Kazekage's compound for dinner, Sakura did her best to blend in with the other dignitaries. Despite her ensemble of formal robes, her manners felt forced and unusually stiff. She was paralyzed by the fear she would embarrass herself at any moment. Even Hitoshi's presence at her side was only so reassuring. She might be a Kunoichi of Konoha, but these were politicians. This was not her world.
The evening ticked on at a snails pace, and it seemed like the time for dinner would never come.
Being the hosting dignitary, the Wind Daimyo was already present, standing at the head of their long dining table in the position of honor. Following Hitoshi's lead, they bowed to him in formal greeting, and then again to the Kazekage stationed at his side. Besides herself, Gaara seemed to be the only other ninja in the room, but even he didn't look as out of place as she did. She was an imposter in a room full of important people. Any moment now, she was sure her reputation would be tarnished before she could even speak at the summit tomorrow. If only the other Daimyo would hurry up an arrive…
Hitoshi had warned her not to sit until everyone was present. Aside from Fire and Wind, only the Rain Daimyo had arrived on time. The man was quiet and aloof. He and Wind were making polite small talk when a herald finally announced the arrival of Grass. Though, the proclamation was somewhat unnecessary. They could hear the Grass Daimyo coming from a mile away…
A large man with an even larger voice sauntered into the dining room, strutting like he owned the place. Beside him, two equally rowdy companions laughed at something the Daimyo said, oblivious to the other people in the room. Their trio continued on in jovial conversation, unaware of their surroundings.
Gaara cleared his voice with the quietest of coughs, and just like that, the companions fell silent. The Grass Daimyo looked up, startled by this sudden reversal in energy. His eyes had the glassy sheen of someone deep in his cups, and he looked around as if only just realizing they'd finally arrived.
Sakura marvels, not for the first time, at how Gaara can intimidate a man of rank with nothing more than a look. She wonders if his glare can be taught, and how she might persuade him to teach it to her.
"My apologies, Wind." Grass says somewhat sheepishly. Together, their trio bows in respect, but their movements seem even clumsier than Sakura's own. It appears none of them have bothered to arrive sober.
"Grass Country's major export is grain alcohol." Hitoshi informs her when she gives him a questioning look. "But don't let his drunk appearance fool you. When I was a lawyer, I once helped mediate a tax rate dispute between Fire and Grass. Everything he does is for show, but he is as sharp as anyone in this room."
Sakura nods to him imperceptibly.
Four out of the five Daimyo are now present: Wind, Fire, Rain, Grass. "All that leaves now is-"
"Presenting the representative from River Country." The herald called out, his announcement cutting off the rest of Hitoshi's words.
Hitoshi turns to her conspiratorially. "I know you are a fearsome Kunoichi, but are you ready to meet your opponent for the evening?"
Sakura gulps, wanting to shrink into her robes. The only thing she's ready to do is go back to her hotel room and sleep. Hitoshi places his hand on her low back like he's expecting her to run.
"I still wish Shikamaru were here." She says, mostly to herself.
"Ahh, but then you would miss out on your next diplomatic lesson." Hitoshi smiles, and she can't help but be curious at his tone. "How to unpick a political knot, one thread at a time."
Sakura leans her head around her Daimyo, looking for the General who has been such a thorn in her side today. A pair of servants peel back the curtains meant to shade their outdoor pavilion. Through the gap, light spills in from the copper sunset beyond, momentarily blinding her. A lone figure enters through the curtains, their slender form backlit by the low hanging sun.
"I thought the River Daimyo was sending his General?" Sakura asked Hitoshi in a whisper.
The girl who arrives is no taller than Sakura herself, and barely into her mid twenties. Her skin is a warm, satin nutmeg and her long dark hair has been carefully piled into an intricate structure atop her head. Her robes are cream with the faintest hint of gold, but her Obi is the vibrant copper rust of her nations magnificent soil.
"Sakura, I'm surprised at you." Hitoshi says, looking at her slyly. "That is his General."
Everything in Sakura's world tilted sideways. She was a fucking idiot.
It wasn't uncommon for women to become powerful, respected ninja. But seeing a woman succeed in the civilian sphere was much more rare, even these days. Traditional gender roles still dictated much of how the Daimyo handled successions. There had never been a female Daimyo as far as Sakura knew, so the fact that this young woman was here to act on River's behalf was… well, it was unprecedented. The whole room seemed to stand up a bit straiter in River's presence.
Gaara caught her eye from across the room, and they exchanged curious glances. It seems she wasn't the only one caught off guard by River's appearance, at least. Grass and Rain greeted River in their own unique way: One with exuberance, the other with quiet introversion. They appeared familiar with her already. It probably had something to do with River handling the majority of their international exports.
"Apologies for my tardiness." River said to the room, taking her position behind the last open chair. With her here their party was now complete, and the real political maneuverings could now begin.
At Gaara's prompting, they all turned to raise a toast to the Wind Daimyo's health. Wind gave a small speech to welcome his guests, acknowledging each Daimyo and their entourage in turn. At the end, everyone drank from their cups in unison.
Sakura almost spit the drink out across the table. What she'd mistaken as a clear wine was actually Shochu, the same drink she's bemoaned at Ino's birthday party. The taste seared strait up through her sinuses, and it was all she could do to not throw up on the spot. It burned the lining of her esophagus all the way down, and she realized in horror that this was what they would be drinking all night.
Shochu. Why did it have to be Shochu?
Hitoshi gives her a knowing look when she drains her water glass in a single go.
"Some previous warning might have been nice." She whispered to him, eyes burning.
"You've officially been warned." He said, and they all sat down to eat.
From there, the five Daimyo begin a series of seemingly rehearsed conversations- a stagnant exchange of niceties and inquiries. None of it means anything as far as Sakura can tell, but Hitoshi seems singularly engrossed in watching River's every move. As they eat, Sakura attempts to match his form, examining everyone carefully for the smallest detail, but she's not sure exactly what she's watching for. By the time they are brought the second course, the polite masks begin to fall away, and everyone's true nature begins to emerge.
The Grass trio carries most of the conversation, conversing jovially with Wind and occasionally Hitoshi. Rain spends most of the time whispering quietly with River, which was to be expected. Their countries were so financially reliant on each other, they were practically in each others pockets. They even share matching, stoic dispositions. Sakura considers it a blessing when no one speaks directly to her.
Instead, she wonders what Shikamaru would see if he were here watching this dinner play out. Her friend could probably pick apart each Daimyo, down to the symbolic meaning behind the stitching on their sandals. By the third course, she's become overwhelmed by the formality of it all and instead chooses to focus on the succession of dishes. She eats her food agonizingly slow, trying not to spill a drop on her priceless, borrowed robes.
It's only when she stops trying to look that she notices River regarding her food with concealed disgust. She hardly touches anything except her rice, merely pushing her food around in the pretense of eating. Everything about her is cold and distant, and when Grass asks the General about the whereabouts of the River Daimyo, her answers are short and vague.
In contrast, The Grass Daimyo does everything in excess. She wonders if he runs his country with the same indulgent tendencies he displays here, watching as he orders second helpings of almost everything. The whole evening he seems content to dodge serious conversation and drink on the Kazekage's dime.
But nothing throws her for a loop quite like Gaara singling her out for a private conversation. They are seated close enough that they can speak openly, but his piercing attention alone is enough to make her feel shy. It doesn't matter that she's saved his life, that he supposedly 'owes her.' She'd thought herself insignificant in his eyes. At least, until this trip…
The questions he asks her seem to lean in a specific direction: How is her work, how is Konoha? But it's as if he feels too vulnerable to ask what he truly wishes to. He looks down at his right hand, as if in memory, but at once it's like she can read his mind.
'Naruto.' He's trying to ask her about Naruto.
She begins talking about her blonde teammate openly, sparing Gaara the need to ask about him directly. It's as if the sun has risen again, just for Gaara. Not that his face gave anything away, of course. But she could see it in the sudden relaxing of his shoulders, the softening of his gaze. They speak in code about their mutual friend: Where he has been, who he has been training with, and when he might be returning to Konoha. The last question she doesn't have an answer for.
Her heart blooms in gentle pride for these two friends, and how together they have overcome so much hatred to become men of respect. The Gaara before her is not the beast she'd once thought him to be in the wake of his attack on Konoha. No, this person is someone else all together. He is the Kazekage, and like Naruto, he is greater than the sum of his parts.
A dark figure shifts behind Gaara, and it's only then that she recognizes his brother Kankuro hiding in the shadows of the pavilion. Kankuro gives her a small wave when no one is looking, and she nods her head to him in greeting. She wonders absent-mindely where Temari is, whether she too is also about…
And then reality hits her like a wrecking ball. It's like that time she fell from a tree branch as a child, realization knocking the wind out of her.
Temari. Temari.
Gaara and Shikamaru's conversation replays in her mind. Their cryptic exchange transforms with new clarity, and she wonders at how she could be so smart yet so stupid.
'I'm surprised you're here.' Gaara had said.
'I'm just here to serve a worthy cause.' Shikamaru replied.
The Grass Daimyo says something to the broader table, but Sakura is too preoccupied to hear it. She's jostled from her mental spiral when everyone around her raises their cups for another group toast. Hitoshi refills her cup from his personal carafe, and it's all she can do not to drop the damn thing, her hands are trembling so.
How could she have been so insensitive? So oblivious?
The drink goes down wrong, and she swallows it with a cough.
She had asked Shikamaru to come to Suna, to his ex girlfriends home village, just months after breaking up because the distance was too difficult. She had been so wrapped up in her own concerns, she hadn't even considered what uncomfortable feeling that might bring up for her friend. She was…
"Sakura," Hitoshi whispers beside her.
Her head shoots up, dizzy from Shochu and her emotional spiral. A shiver runs down her back, and this time it's not from the heat. Ever pair of eyes is looking at her, and the whole table has gone silent. Fuck. She's been so busy admonishing herself that she's clearly missed something vital.
"Come again?" She asks to the room, unsure who has singled her out.
"I was asking your opinion about my country." River says. Her chilled voice is a needle stitching terror up Sakura's spine. "You would have passed through our lands on your way here, correct? I was asking what impressions River made on you."
Shit. Shit. Sakura is on the back foot, trying her best to salvage the situation. "I…don't think I'm qualified to comment on such a thing." She babbles, trying to buy herself some time. She looks to Hitoshi for guidance here, but River presses her cunning attack.
"I would think one wouldn't have to be qualified to know their own mind, Miss…?" Her voice plays at asking who Sakura is, but River gives her a look that is clear. She knows exactly who she's talking to.
"Haruno Sakura, ma'am." She answers through the rock in her throat. The Shochu has left her mouth dry as a bone, her tongue practically sticking to itself.
"Haruno…Interesting. You're the doctor who is presenting on the satellite clinic proposal tomorrow, correct?"
Instantly, Sakura knows she has fallen into some kind of trap. The rest of the Daimyo give the appearance of disinterest, but Grass is staring at her in horrified fascination. She feels like a corpse on an examiners table, and this is her public autopsy.
What would Shikamaru say?
"Which version of me are you asking?" she says, the question appearing to her out of nowhere. It's a weak question, meant to flip focus back onto the River General. But it will buy her time.
The reversal catches the River General by surprise. "I'm afraid I don't understand you meaning, child."
It's the child that finally does it. The single word that brings Sakura back to herself. Chakra tingles at her fingertips, and Gaara looks at her in masked horror that only she would see.
This whole evening, she has felt like an imposter. Like a child playing at an adults game in robes that don't belong to her. But she is not a child, and General or not, this woman will not make her feel like one.
"My opinion on your country." Sakura says, keeping her voice neutral. "Are you asking Sakura the Doctor, or Sakura the Kunoichi."
"Elaborate, if you will?" River smiles at her- a small, predatory show of amusement. She is only humoring her. It's a tiny chink in her emotionless facade, a superficial victory only.
At her side, Hitoshi touches the far rim of his Shochu cup with his fingertips. Visually, it's a thoughtless gesture, but his hand now covers the mouth of the cup as if to protect it from poison. 'Be on your guard.' The gesture says.
But Sakura refuses to be cowed. "Well, as a doctor, we say that the most obvious solution when making a diagnosis is usually the correct one. But as ninja, we are taught to look underneath the underneath. More often than not, first impressions are deceiving. So my answer to your question is reliant on which version of me you are asking.
Hitoshi is stiff at her side… but Gaara's shoulders relax when she pushes back. She takes these as equally good and bad signs.
"Very well." River says, deciding to play along. "What does Doctor Haruno think of River's countryside?"
"The parts I got to see were uncommonly vivid and beautiful. But it was immediately apparent that River suffers from a large mosquito problem. It makes me curious what River is doing to address bug-born illnesses like Malaria and Numachi Fever. It must put a substantial strain on your healthcare system."
River is studying Sakura carefully now, her patronizing smile gone. "An apt observation, Doctor Haruno. We suffer more of those illnesses per capita than our surrounding nations. We are currently working on possible water treatments to address the mosquito population, but we worry about affecting the surrounding ecology."
Gaara gives her a small look of pride. She is high on adrenaline and his approval.
"And what of Sakura the Kunoichi. What does she make of our river network."
Sakura pauses before answering this time. Hitoshi's body has grown stiff at her side. His hand makes another thoughtless gesture, one he's prepped her with before arriving at dinner. He takes his cup and, with out taking a sip, rotates it counter-clockwise by 45 degrees.
'Lie.'
But something in Sakura's gut tells her River isn't interested in being placated with false words. She can feel the Generals eyes piercing her through. The woman may be young, but she is shrewd and won't be tricked. Somehow, Sakura knows that if she lies here, it won't matter what she says tomorrow. In River's eyes, anything she says at the summit will also be a lie, and everything will be lost.
She risks losing the battle to save the war.
"In Fire, we don't have many rivers…but we do have the great lakes. While I haven't studied your river networks in depth, understanding the nature of one thing can teach you about the nature of others. For instance," She continues, sounding more confident, "our Lakes are often admired for their crystal waters. Our careful cultivation of the surrounding landscapes keep our lakes clear and easy to see through."
River's face is neutral. Unreadable. Sakura is either going to drown or survive…
"But with Rivers, it's another matter. What makes them beautiful also makes them dangerous. The whitewash on the surface obscures the jagged rocks below. Despite this, you have managed to harness your rivers for the transportation of international goods. Grass and Rain wouldn't be able to prosper as they have without your networks. I guess, in conclusion…where Lakes inspire admiration, Rivers demand respect. Either way, I've been walking on water since I was a child. I do not fear either."
Sakura heart pounds in her chest. She has said her piece, her underlying message to River made clear. 'I see that you are dangerous. I recognize your power. But I won't allow you to underestimate mine.'
"Lay off her already, River." The Grass Daimyo says. His voice shatters the tension in the room, and everyone around them moves to take a sip of drink or eat their food. "You love to sour a good mood, don't you. I propose another toast, lord knows the girl probably needs it. To a night of strong spirits, and even stronger drinks." He says. Everyone follows along politely, pouring the clear Shochu from their respective bottles and knocking back the toast in unison.
Gaara is now watching her intently. She can't tell if she's just made everything bad or really bad. The urge to turn from his stare is overpowering. But then, he surprises her. When they raise their cups to toast, he lifts his drink to her alone.
It's too hot in the pavilion and the Shochu is too much for her stomach. Sakura knocks the cup back anyway, bristling all over in her Kimono. River doesn't even flinch when she takes her drink. She knocks the thing back like it's glacial water, her face as stoic and cold as Gaara's ever was.
The night wears on, but thankfully no one asks her anymore questions after that. Sakura tucks into her food in earnest now, trying to offset the effects of the Shochu. Borrowed robes be damned.
She watches River out of the corner of her eyes. Something about their interaction bothers her. The truth is like Shikamaru's hand in the dark last night, after he carried her to her bedroll: Within sight but just out of reach. Her brain a jumble of incongruent thoughts: Shikamaru, River, Temari, Summit.
Finally, the night is over.
They stand as one at the end of the meal. The Daimyo are invited to a back room for further drinks and secret agendas. The night is young, and there are still alliances to be made. Sakura knows the dinner has all been warm-up. The real meeting begins now.
Any present entourage and Kage are dismissed while the Daimyo move on to the rest of their business. Hitoshi bids her a quiet parting before leaving her with Gaara. "You did well." He says, but his smile seems forced. "Now go back and rest. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
She second guesses her answer to River, wondering again if she should have lied like he'd instructed. His praise could be sincere, but she can't help feeling like he's disappointed in her. Wondering if he's bet on the wrong horse.
Around them, servants carry away the dozens of dishes that made up their meal. Sakura doesn't remember a single thing she ate, only the horrible taste of Shochu. Every bowl from the Grass trio is empty, and she can't help the thought that, had it not been a formal dinner, the Grass Daimyo would have licked the bowls clean.
By contrast, River's food has been left untouched.
Sakura freezes in sudden realization, nearly bumping into Gaara's side. Shikamarus voice rings in her head, a memory from one of their first chess games together.
'It's called a Reveal Check. When you manœuvre your pieces into a position of threat, you give away your strategy. Instead, this play removes an obstacle on the board to reveal your attack that has been lying in wait all along.'
Just like that, the truth reveals itself to her, and with it a strategy comes to her mind. She could be wrong… She's been wrong about so much lately.
"What's wrong?" Gaara asks, eyes scanning the room for an unseen enemy. Inside he gourd, Sakura can hear his sand shifting hungrily.
"Us." She says, voice torn between energy and exhaustion. "We were wrong from the very beginning. But I think I know how to flip the River General to our cause."
Gaara examines her face in detail. She's sure she looks disheveled, smelling of stress and liquor and sweat. She expects him to dismiss her, or to question her confidence. But he does neither, instead signaling to Kankuro who joins them in an instant. If he wasn't so terrifying, she could kiss him.
"What do you need?" Kankuro asks. Now that they are close, she can see how he's grown up, even through the dark face paint.
"The transcripts from the last Daimyo summit. Every page you can get. And after that, I need to get a message to Hitoshi, no matter how late it is."
- Authors Note -
You guys IM SO SICK OF THIS CHAPTER, I rewrote this thing from scratch like FIVE TIMES. I'm ready to move on and get back to our boys. The summit is important, but we all know what we're really here for LOL, so take this chapter for what it is.
XOXO - VB