Chapter 12
Katiya (the next day, approximate time: 10:00 AM)
As expected, the repairman for the generator came. Katiya simply stayed in her room, the matter not really concerning her. She had eaten out—real food, not the food pills and field rations that had been constituting her diet on the run—the night previously and was simply listening to the muffled sounds of Haruo and the repair crew knackering out the details of the cost.
Haruo exchanged some indignant words with his rather lazy sounding cook, who had apparently tripped over the generator cord gathering sake from the cellar. Followed by some more indignant words, this time directed to the repairman upon hearing he was still charging his usual rate.
After a moment of laying on the futon with her hands interlaced behind her head and listening to muffled speech, she fished out Yashamaru's letter. Tuning out the details of their exchange, Katiya went back to internally lamenting the unfairness of her situation, twirling the slim scroll in her hand.
She was still mad at him. "Mad" being an understatement.
He didn't have to die. Gaara didn't have to suffer. And I didn't have to move again, another land condemning me to a life as a wanderer.
Katiya rotated the scroll about in her palm before crushing it with her hand.
"It's the Kazekage's fault"—, Katiya mentally mocked Yashamaru, —Yeah right. You just didn't want to bother—in the end, you cared just as little as Gaara's father. You didn't FIGHT it—fight FOR him—not enough to truly save him. "Saving me"—Sure.
Katiya sent a wave of chakra into her palm—transforming it into fire while doing so. Adrenaline fuelled the fire she made—making it stronger than her usual chakra-raised hell. The paper was gone in a flash.
Or worse, you wanted to use Gaara as your own weapon—send him down a path that will truly destroy Suna—and my disappearance from Gaara's side is to the benefit of your agenda rather than the impediment of the Kazekage's, Katiya continued in a colder tone of her mental rage.
Katiya waved the ashes away. The room now smelt of burnt paper. With a flick of her hand, water from a cup on her nightstand jerked up to slide open the window.
Katiya covered her eyes with her arm, a chill taking her.
You just can't trust anyone except yourself now, can you.
Katiya stood from the bed, not answering herself.
…
Looks like I'll have to drag Gaara back to sanity myself, Katiya internally sighed, her anger spent and weary from life's toils. If that's the path I intend to take.
Gaara (approximate time: 11:45 PM)
A nighttime sand storm was taking Suna. Ordinary civilians and most shinobi would be in their homes, swaddled by their loved ones and layers of household. Gaara, on the other hand, liked the feeling of watching the chaos. He was on the rooftop balcony of the Kazekage's compound.
None of the houses or even office buildings in Suna used rooftop shingles, there being an obvious risk of them tearing off during the storm, allowing the sand to whip and curl in flourishes around the contours of said buildings. Gaara had his arms outstretched, enjoying every moment of it. The sand, rather than peltering him, danced like floating snow around him. Gaara remembered Yashamaru—his siblings—Katiya—and how his control would be best when they were around. How back then he'd use a happiness and love he never actually had to control his sand. His sand was then erratic—once they were gone, he'd never be able to use his sand.
The truth of it—his purpose as a weapon explained why—why he felt so much more in control over his sand now.
Shukaku laughed inside of him as well, enjoying the sandstorm.
YeS—YES—KiLL ThEM ALL. WrETcHED HuMaNiTY.
Gaara grinned manically, the sand dancing on his fingertips.
Only the knowledge that the Kazekage, his Father, was watching him from the inside of the Kazekage's building kept him from merging completely with Shukaku and tearing the village to the ground.
Katiya (approximate time: 5:00 AM)
With a wave to Haruo, she checked out of the motel and diner. She felt bad for the elderly man, running a place like that with a depressing cleaning crew and an eccentric cook. But on the other hand, it was a simple life she could almost wish she had. Almost.
She exited the village outpost, the sun not yet risen.
Temari* (a week later, approximate time: 8:30 AM)
Temari stepped onto the Academy campus. It was refreshing to say the least, to see people back at a building that was like a ghost town simply a week previously. And refreshing to be out of a shared compound with him. He had stopped going to dinner after that one time a week ago, Father making the arrangements for servants to send food to him while he was on the roof (and therefore more-or-less out of attack range, but nothing beat being kilometers away from the monster.
…
Temari sauntered into her classroom. Her classroom. Her territory, not Gaara's. She was assigned a room of students to tutor, being a ten-year-old chunin in every way except on paper, and enjoyed the privilege it gave her. She stopped in front of the classroom, next to the teacher's podium. Her class were primarily old classmates. She smirked at Sen and Yome in the back of the room, who smiled in return.
Sunagakure was brutal to its genin. At age twelve, the standard genin would have to face a Suna-nin proctored chunin exam, which more than eighty percent of the class would fail. Temari was one of the only exceptions (counting Kankuro), only because of the additional tutoring provided by Baki-sensei, as was ordered by her loving money-loving father. Teaching the skills of tessenjutsu—which required a fan and a fair understanding of wind-style jutsu—as a tutor was then a privilege she in turn shared with only those she found worthy. Sen (Temari wouldn't mind teaching Yome, but she was a rare water-style user in Suna) was one of the few people to receive that privilege.
But when the true teacher of the class walked in, the class officially began and the niceties between her and her friends had to take a pause.
… (approximate time: 2:00 PM)
"Hey Temari!" Sen yelled.
Temari whipped around to the source of the noise. Sen, with her earthy blonde hair tied in a single braid that went down to her upper back and red cropped cardigan was instantly recognizable. Temari quickly noted Yome's wide orange eyes and tanned overalls coming into view as well. They walked across the Academy courtyard to the shaded roost under the patio.
"Hey! What's up?" Temari asked.
Sen and Yome plomped down beside her. "I don't suppose I can get some training with you after school today, now can I?"
Yome laid back onto the wooden patio deck, splaying her arms and legs to enjoy the cold(er) floor. "Oh, come on, Sen—it's windy this time of the year—let's just take it easy! I bet Shira's out doing practice today too!"
Shira was a young boy from the area, who practiced taijutsu outside school since taijutsu-only users were forbidden from enrolling in the Academy. He was a young boy Yome clearly fancied. Temari gave her friend a look. Even if Yome and Sen passed the Academy exam, they'd still have a high chance of failing the village chunin exams. (Since the Kazekage wasn't keen on spending money to send shinobi to Konohagakure or elsewhere for the official ones.) "Taking it easy" would have decreased their chance of passing both the chunin exam and graduation exam.
Temari, instead of saying so, smirked. "Come on, Yome, you should know windy conditions make it easiest to learn wind-style jutsu."
Yome pouted. With Yome's stocky and petite frame, she was a perfect epitome of cute. Those wide orange eyes and perpetual blush of hers further enhanced the effect. But that cuteness belied the speed advantage Yome had over Sen, who was lean and wiry, because of her unique ocular dojutsu.
It was the quick widening of her eyes that made Temari realize that someone was attempting to sneak up on her. Temari quickly spun around, only to be doused by water.
FLOOSH.
A vein in Temari's head bulged in irritation.
Someone had the brilliant idea of dumping a tub of water—precious water on her head. That someone—Daimaru—a former classmate of hers stood behind her, attempting to muffle a snicker.
"HA HA HA HA! Some chunin you are! You couldn't even tell I was behind you!"
Temari placed a hand on her giant metal fan. With a sharp side-eye, she pulled the fan to one-third its full capacity—exposing just the first purple circle, the first hoshi or star—and took a swing. With a sharpened burst of air akin to that of a weakened Wind Scythe Jutsu, Daimaru was thrown back. Although young, Temari was the product of grueling training and a Kazekage that went unchallenged in Suna. Her unparalleled strength and growth in wind-style jutsu at her age made her praised by shinobi infantry and iron-handed to her age-peers. That was, unless you were a friend… or Daimaru.
With an extra overhand swing for love, Daimaru was left dazed on the patio deck, his bottom end to the ceiling and his face to the floor. Temari snapped her fan shut. It was taller than she was, but with a hand on the upper end, and the other on her hip, her body language clearly read "sass". Sen and Yome simply watched Temari, open mouthed and awed.
Daimaru shook his head, coming out of his daze from being hit on the head.
"When are you going to learn, Daimaru?" Temari asked, rolling her eyes, trying to appear as dignified as possible while soaking wet.
Daimaru jumped up, an unflappable grin on his face. "Hey! I gotcha, didn't I? Just teaches you to watch your back, huh! And you call yourself a chunin!" he mocked.
A vein in Temari's forehead bulged again. Taking a breath, she gave him a deceptively calm smile. "Hey Sen, remember that training you wanted?"
Daimaru's smile dropped. Behind Temari, Sen pulled out one of her own fans—a feathery white one meant for picking up and storing the pollen of cacti—perfect for the purpose she had in mind. Sen swung her fan, pollen scattering over Daimaru.
Daimaru gasped and then swooned… Then he ran to the nearest pillar and then began to competitively kiss it.
Temari blinked, stunned before lifting a brow. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind for him…"
Sen smiled, "I think I like this genjutsu more than whatever you had in mind."
Sen grabbed her arms, pulling her out of the Academy courtyard. Yome bounded behind, lightly skipping to catch up to them.
"What'd you make him see?" Yome asked once they were out of earshot.
With a glance back at the drooling Daimaru, Temari's expression was a mirror of Yome's. "What did you make him see?"
"Never mind that, let's just get in that training I wanted," Sen laughed, dragging Temari out.
Author's Note
Sen, Yome, and Daimaru are all real Naruto anime characters. However, being only on season three of Naruto Shippuden and the fact that they are anime-only characters with minuscule Narutopedia pages, I have not been able to gather much about their personalities and must make up details in order to flesh them out.
They aren't going to be very major characters in this fanfiction, but since they did interact with Temari and were among the few who weren't "intimidated" by her, I felt them necessary to show some progression later in the story on Temari's part.
… Another note about Temari since I'm here: Neither in the Narutopedia page I have nor the anime have her presented as an unofficial chunin, nor did they show any tutoring for the Sand Siblings. However, since she is rather powerful for her age (being able to defeat Tayuya of the Sound Four, who I assume is on par with jonin-level shinobi with her curse mark), I think it's an assumption/theory/idea that makes sense.
And… I changed her (and every other character's) ACADEMY graduation age to 10-11, with ONE YEAR of mandatory instruction under a jonin. Meaning the Rookie 9 are all 11-12 at the time of Konohagakure Chunin Exams. (You know, to make my little timeline fit better…)
One other other (stupider) note: Yes, Haruo and his dog are OCs.
…
Anyways. Onwards with the story.