Chapter 9
Katiya (the next day, approximate time: 3:00 PM)
Katiya made columns of water to use as stilts, on which she was balanced on her hands. Slowly and sweatily, she took slowly quickening steps using those stilts. Her legs were at a ninety-degree angle to her body, and she was moving in a motion similar to that of a civilian gymnast on the double-bars.
Her shadow clone dispelled amid a Gaara-made sandstorm, an image Katiya didn't want to think about at the moment after her clone returned to her. She had to move on—had to move on to get back to Gaara—had to keep moving until she reached her destination.
If Gaara still… If there's still a place for me with him...
She was using the time and privacy of the desert expanse to train while steadily heading away from Suna. Because a blunt blade helps no one. She still hadn't used a single fireball, but the amount of pressure she could push into her chakra-imbued water was growing stronger, along with her muscles.
Ninjutsu and taijutsu—my physical chakra manipulation and hand-to-hand combat used to be the best. I'm a bit rusty, but like hell am I going to let it stay that way.
Her determination and drive kept her going, long past the amount of time she used to do manipulating water in Takigakure or with Gaara. Soon, after she began to notice the draining effects of chakra exhaustion for holding such high, constant, pressure for so long, she noticed a war hawk circling up above her.
The Kazekage's, she realized. He must know about Yashamaru's message. How nice of him to check on me, she thought sarcastically.
Katiya did a back-flip over her stilts, allowing the water to fall into the sand as a puddle where it began to steam in the heat.
Would be a nice chance to test out those fireballs, a part of her smiled humorlessly.
She looked up at the bird, quite a bit far away. She watched its path, loose constant circles.
Screw the Kazekage. What can he do to me all the way out here? Even if the hawk wasn't here for me, as far as he's concerned, the bird got eaten by civilian hunters.
Katiya watched a bit longer before making a decision. She quickly made the hand signs for a fireball. Uma, tora, hebi, hitsuji, saru, inoshi, uma, tora, she mentally chanted, matching the hand signs she made. She sucked in a breath and then sharply exhaled. Fire style: Great Fireball Jutsu! she mentally shouted, the chakra converting to fire as it left her lips.
A giant, no, a great fireball sprung from her mouth. The heat radiating out onto the desert. It chakra heated her lips, a sensation that she hadn't felt for a long time. It felt good. With satisfaction, the fireball barreled to her target, an extra sun in the desert. The war hawk turned to ash upon impact, letting out one final screech.
To hell with the Kazekage, she thought. To hell with people that might've seen that.
Gaara (approximate time: 7:00 PM)
Gaara walked into the street leading to his swing. Before, the villagers would avert their eyes whenever he passed. Now, the streets were cleared when he walked down them. All of it was destroyed, rubble strewn everywhere—the aftermath of Shukaku's—their—rampage. The stench of blood and ash still clung to the air.
He looked up at the playground. One of the few buildings still standing. Gaara didn't know what to expect, but… it was deserted. The shadow clone of Katiya had already dispelled.
ShE nEvER CaREd FoR YoU either… aLL juST a LiE.
He walked on, his eyes blank and strangely empty of emotion.
He stood before Uncle Yashamaru's abode—what was left of it.
"Hhhfffttt," Gaara wheezed, sucking in a constricted breath, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. The pain in his chest. Emotions churned in his gut. He shuffled up the steps, and entered, breathing rather raggedly. The main room was dark, and stood a few degrees colder than the desert behind him. The roof was caved in, and glass and broken furniture littered the floor. Once in, he stopped before the picture of his mother, cracked, but laying atop its table, sleeping.
"Hhhfffttt," he breathed. He picked it up with shaking hands.
His eyes took in the image of a woman with chestnut brown-blonde hair like Yashamaru's. She was besides the Kazekage, smiling. His headache grew worse. LooK At ThaT WomAn, Hmmm? MuMmY don'T LoVe heR liTtLe DEMON. YoU'Re BoRN OuT oF HaTREd. LiEs—LiEs—aLL LiES. ShOW ThEM—ShOW ThEM ALL—YoU DoN'T NeeD TheM!
You don't need their love.
"GRRAHHH!" he yelled, staggering back. The-thump. The-thum. The-thum. The-thum. His heart—his head—pounded.
Crack.
He dropped the photo. And it fell to the floor, the glass from the already cracked frame prickling his fingertips as it passed through them.
No one cares. No OnE CaREs ABoUt YoU. No one will ever love you, a demon—a Jinchuriki. No OnE LovEs YoU. YoU MusT LoVe YouRSeLF, GaaRA, LoVE OnLy YoUrSeLF.
He grabbed his head. It pounded and pounded. He had the urge to wreck the place, he had the urge to cover himself in his sand—but there was none except that which was packed into the walls, that which made up the walls. Gaara desperately looked around. Shukaku was pushing him into a wild, feverish stupor.
Sand—I—We need SaND.
He reached out with a clawed hand, and large, huge chunks of wall began to tear off. The room was spinning, dizzyingly.
"Hhhfffftttt… Huuuuhhhhh… Hhhhhhfffft… Hhhuuuhhhh," he breathed.
Sand whipped around, thickening into his own sandstorm. Gaara's eyes wide open, he cracked a grin at the damage it was creating—at the feeling of it—this wholeness with the demon inside of him. They understood each other—humanity's cold hatred. Their desires to be free of it. To be free of all of it—prove themselves better than them—than all of them, coddled and "loved"—adored.
Those eyes. Those cold eyes.
The sand pulled closer to him, and then almost as if an explosion, it was thrown outwards, breaking all of the furniture inside. The building began to shake, but the Kazekage wasn't there to stop him this time, nor was Yashamaru, nor Katiya. No one was there to stop him, and he—they—craved damage. Smoke and dust was wafting out of the broken windows. The building began to crumble.
The demon inside laughed. He laughed. He and the demon were one.
Temari (approximate time: 7:00 PM)
Temari was in the Kazekage's council room, by the door with her brother Kankuro. The only reason she and her brother were in the room was because of their father, the Kazekage. But as genin to chunin-level shinobi, they felt as if they were intruders into matters that were not their own.
They watched their father throw orders with a mix of fear.
"WHERE IS SHE? Where is that girl?" the Kazekage barked.
"That girl" in question, unknown to the Kazekage, had already left the village. One of the ANBU guards informed him of that fact; that Katiya had disappeared sometime during Gaara's transformation. And that there was no body that matched her description found among the casualties. And that Yashamaru was now dead. The Kazekage cursed in response. No one else could help him stop the rampage.
Yet another one of Suna's issues, Temari noted. Father's going to be a wreck for a while.
After subduing Gaara, they had dragged him back to one of the lower level dungeons of the Kazekage's compound, but none of the ANBU wanted to guard the… child. Not even a legion of ANBU agents would have been enough to stop one of his rampages.
The only thing stopping Gaara from rampaging was the Kazekage himself, and he was busy managing the recovery effort. Leaving Gaara in the dungeon risked him destroying the Kazekage's office and the safe house adjacent. So they released Gaara into an area already evacuated, with three teams of ANBU watching him—so Gaara couldn't use his sand to damage anything further. Saving both more lives and minimizing damage.
Temari leaned onto her giant metal fan. Evacuation duty, despite being a so-called "easy genin job" was exhausting. Both she and her brother were covered in multiple, if miniscule lacerations from flying sand and bruises from rush to get everyone to cover. Neither of them had any rest but had to make an appearance in the council room as a "show of unity" for Suna's councilors—who Temari quite honestly didn't care about.
But, appearances matter more than our sanity to Father, Temari thought darkly.
Standing there with her brother, Temari tuned out the details she knew she didn't need from her own experience in the battlefield until she picked up actually useful information, relative to her.
At last, when the conversation was turning to their efforts and the evacuation, the Kazekage fixed his steely gaze onto his children.
"Well?" the Kazekage questioned.
Temari straightened to attention. She opened her mouth to respond, "Th—"
CRASH.
Oh no. What is it this time?
Everyone rushed to the window—and an ANBU agent wrapped in a head scarf slammed the door open.
BANG.
"Lord Kazekage—your son," he gasped, out of breath.
So much for "minimizing damage."
…
Everyone vacated the room in a rush. The ANBU agent clarified that no one was injured since the area had previously been vacated—all of them gone in fear of what would happen should Gaara visit his old haunts. Temari's blood was rushing to her ears at the sight of the smoke and dust wafting from what was her uncle's home. The damage appeared worse than that of a chain reaction of paper bombs, if concentrated in a singular area. The building was demolished—even farther than how Gaara left it during his rampage as Shukaku, and all that remained were wooden frames and the remnants of furniture.
In the middle of it all stood none other than him. Gaara. Deadpan emotionless despite his eyes being red and puffy as if crying without the tears.
A shiver ran down her back, at the still stickiness of the air around her—and the gaze Gaara leveled herself and the people around her with.
Out of caution, she stopped on the rooftop opposite Yashamaru's former home, holding Kankuro back as well while her father and the other ANBU agents that weren't already on site move into defensive positions should Gaara become violent.
Gaara held his right hand up, palm facing the Kazekage, perpendicular to the ground. Temari stiffened, a hand on her metal fan—her most powerful weapon. Temari counted the seconds in her mind, feeling the sweat form on her forehead.
One… Two… Three… Four…
Gaara clenched his fist. Temari prepared to jump, but no swaths of sand came flying to her or the ANBU below. Instead, they gathered and climbed around Gaara's outstretched arm, slowly forming what appeared to be a giant gourd on his back. Everyone watched quietly. Silence, except for the sound of sand hissing.
Gaara's emotionally blank stare continued to meet his father's. No one moved.
After the gourd was finished forming, Gaara simply walked out of the rubble and past the Kazekage as if he weren't there. Apathetic the entire way.
Katiya (approximate time: 10:00 PM)
Katiya ran full tilt to the next village on her journey southward. She had entered the Land of Wind via the long, indirect route that cut through the Land of Grass and then the Land of Rain, and then a long trek through the desert in a journey that took a little over two years (as she was in no rush and stayed more than a month in every in-between village.) But this time, she didn't have that luxury. She simply needed out—as fast and soon as possible—which meant going south until she reached the ocean, and then taking a boat to the Land of Rivers, and from there, wherever she could find enough training to protect herself.
Slowly, she became aware of a tail—a squad of tails, that was. She glanced behind her. None of them were attempting to hide their footfalls against the sand. One of them readied their kunai. She halted suddenly and made a sharp turn to reversed course, intending to meet them head on.
"Wait!" one of them cried, attempting to stop the other from launching his kunai.
Strange, she thought.
The cry was ignored. Another one of them launched a series of kunai, all of them with paper tags dangling from their hilts so Katiya utilized the Body Flicker Jutsu and jumped forwards. She used the distraction of paper bombs going off to pivot and engage her attackers head on, as she intended. Taking a chakra-amplified jump forwards, she gave herself a temporary advantage using an aerial attack. She launched eight kunai—only two of which managed to hit anything—both only grazing them.
Even if one of the shinobi going after her was a pacifist, she still had to ensure her own safety—and deal with the others attacking her.
Katiya landed, pulling a short staff out of its position sandwiched between her bag and her back. She held it before her, in one hand as if it were a sword, shifting her position to be at an angle to the three enemy shinobi. It was not a position to use her staff, really, it was a position to use a wind-style jutsu. The enemy shinobi hung back, recognizing the stance.
The one who cried out earlier repeated his cry, "Wait!"
But Katiya had already begun her swing. Wind Scythe Jutsu! Katiya mentally called.
Two of them jumped to avoid the blast—the one in the middle, however, made a series of hand signs too fast for Katiya to follow without her Sharingan and blew out his own wind blast. The destructive interference cancelled out both of their wind-style jutsus.
Katiya mentally cursed. These guys were powerful—Katiya had not let learned how to produce her own wind—transform her chakra directly into wind without a fan or staff as a conduit and amplifier. Apprehension and perspiration hung on her brow. She back flipped, avoiding enemy shuriken—throwing stars. She hated to nurse the thought, but there was a high chance she'd have to kill them or die herself.
She jumped forwards, kicking out the legs of one of the shinobi—sending her staff into his sternum as he fell—shattering the bone, only to find he had used the Substitution Jutsu to get away. These people—as far as Katiya knew, could have families back at home—could be a shinobi only as a last resort—doing it only to care for the precious people close to their hearts—as she was attempting to do. But she couldn't think about that right now—couldn't think about the ramifications of her actions—couldn't think about Gaara, the mess of insanity he was when her shadow clone left, and how he'd think of her—she just had to survive and see what happened next.
Suddenly, all of the enemy shinobi stopped their attack, the pacifist one blocking the battlefield. Katiya halted as well, placing her staff on the ground in front of her—ready to move if necessary, but not in an attack position. She'd listen to whatever the man had to say—it was to her advantage to save energy.
The shinobi spoke, "Katiya Shiratori, you're being summoned back to Suna by request of the Kazekage."
Katiya's grip on her staff tightened. "By 'request' or 'order'? Because I didn't think the Kazekage makes 'requests' with trigger-happy ANBU."
Another one—the one who launched the initial kunai tightened his grip on his weapons. "If you resist, we are to take you by force!"
Katiya flipped her staff into a backward hold, placing it behind her, ready to swing. Order, then. She wasn't going to go willingly. She couldn't, couldn't be used to turn Gaara into a weapon, at the cost of both her own life and his.
Though, it seems Gaara is fated to become a weapon regardless, Katiya thought sadly.
Katiya took a step back—this could be her last chance to go back to Gaara quietly and on her own accord. If she were to go back, Gaara would never accept her though, having abandoned him when he was weakest and most vulnerable. If she were to go back, she'd be at the mercy of a Kazekage powerful enough to kill her at any time, much stronger than the three shinobi in front of her. Not to mention, be monitored like Gaara was.
If she were to run, she could gather up the strength to kill the Kazekage, and give Gaara her truth—and let him make his own decision, independent of Kazekage. She'd still risk not being accepted by him, but at least she could say she tried.
"Is that a 'no' then?" the last shinobi asked.
Katiya swung her staff in response. Wind Scythe Jutsu!
The dust kicked up, blinding her pursuers. Katiya ran.