The fire danced merrily in its hearth, sending a flickering glow of orange through the room. One would think the desert would be a strange place for a fireplace. But they had some, or at least their own variants to keep out the cold of the night that could easily descend to freezing, dangerous temperatures in the winter.
He sat at a chair, leather and plush, probably more expensive than all the furniture in an apartment along some of the poorer sections of the village. Perks that came with the job, he supposed. It'd made him feel guilty once, that he would lavish in luxury while there were other people who could scarcely afford their daily meals elsewhere. Only the knowledge that other villages needed to see that their village was wealthy whenever an ambassador was a guest in his home kept him from selling any of it. Seeing a village leader in a common, apartment would be like an open door for rumors and whispers of invasion to be born.
Such concerns seem so distant things now don't they?
He held in his hands, the scroll, wide open now, the complex seals that had glowed a faint blue while activated were now lifeless. Dark ink scrawled over white paper, nothing more.
He stared into the fire, and so much of him wanted to throw this thing in there. Toss it, and hope that if anything was left of the man who'd made it within, it would finally be gone from the world.
It was a revolting idea. Disgusting, and no matter what way shape or form he looked at it, the thing did not loose its ugly face.
He knew what he really should do. Give it to Yue Ying. Let her choose what to do with what was in essence, her husband's remains.
Zhuge Liang had wronged him, betrayed him, and his people. But that did not mean he had to delve down to that level; That he had to be so petty as to seek out revenge in a way that would do little more than practically slap a grieving widow in the face, regardless of what she may or may not have known throughout this.
He was better than that.
Or at least...he should have been better. No matter how much he willed his body to move it would make no simple choice. It would not make him stand and walk to one of the nearest guards so that he could ask the man to deliver it, and neither would his arm move to throw it into the tongues of flame so it may be consumed.
"Sitting in the dark is a sign of mental instability you know."
He heard the wheel before the voice. The small little chirps of squeaking metal as his brother's arms pushed the chair along the spaces through the rooms the servants had made when he'd first arrived, shifting furniture and tables, to accommodate his condition.
He would have tried to crack a smile. Really. These days though...maybe he actually was going a little crazy.
Kankuro wheeled up in front of him, the little quirk of his lips not quite reaching his eyes as Gaara kept staring into the fire, the blood red hair crowning his head standing out like a sore thumb amidst the black backdrop of the dark room, the flickering fires only darkening the shadows along his face.
"What's wrong little Bro?" He asked, hands now resting on knees that no longer worked.
Gaara didn't answer, and so Kankuro pressed a bit. "What's with the scroll?"
The Kazekage shifted the item in question within his grip, staring at it now as his jaw clenched and unclenched. "This is Zhuge Liang...his last message."
"A construct?" The pupeteer asked, seeing runes, not kanji on the paper's surface. He'd heard of such things but besides the already dead Chiyo, Suna had no seal masters skilled enough to make one.
Gaara nodded. "Yea. His last message. I already activated it...now...I'm wondering weather I should throw it in.
Kankuro looked to Gaara, to the scroll, then the fire before returning his eyes to his brother. The puppeteer ninja released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Bro..." He said before shaking his head and wheeling himself forward just a little bit more. "Bro that ain't you. You don't do revenge. You do justice, fairness. This ain't that."
"Because of him, your legs are gone." The Kazekage said simply. "And Temari is a prisoner."
"My legs are right here." Kankuro answered slapping his knees for emphasis. "And now I get an excuse to fight in a cool ass suit of armor." The joke brought a little levity, for which, they were both grateful. "What other ninja do you know has a cool ass power suit of armor? And Temari might be a prisoner now but that just means we'll kick some ass to get her free, then get even more girls liking us because of the stories they'll tell about how much ass we actually kicked!"
This time, Gaara cracked a smile. "Last I checked, they still liked me. You're just the bodyguard with the makeup."
"Hey now, don't diss the warpaint. Its psychological ya know. Mind fuck your enemies just by looking at them." Now they were both smiling, and a few chuckles even escaped them. Kankuro felt immense relief for that alone. It'd been a while since they both laughed. A long while.
He placed his hand on Gaara's shoulder, the other extending towards the scroll. "Come on now Bro give it here. This ain't you."
He nodded, slowly, looking down to the open scroll before rolling it up and placing it in Kankuro's larger hand.
The puppeteer looked down at the scroll for barely a second. Then, without a moment of hesitation, tossed it into the flames.
Gaara gasped, moving to stand before Kankuro's, strong hands held him down by his shoulders.
"You don't change!" The ferocity of the shout made Gaara still for a moment, and that moment was all his brother needed to continue. "You hear me? You don't change Gaara!"
"What are you-"
"You don't change." Kankuro repeated, his voice cracking for just a moment before it regained its previous strength. "You don't need to be like them Gaara. Zhuge Liang, that Yoshihiro, that...that goddamn demon of Konoha. You don't need to be like any of them. Let those miserable fucks rot by themselves. You let me, or Temari, or anybody else be the bad guy Gaara."
The red head stared at his older brother, green eyes meeting dark brown as he listened to the older ninja's words.
"They can take revenge." Kankuro continued. "They can be the bad-guys. But not you! I'll do it. I don't care. I'll be the most cruel, cut throat bastard that you need me to be! But you don't change Gaara!"
Gaara swallowed, breaking eye contact from his brother as he lowered his head. "I have to Kankuro."
"No you don't."
"I'm not strong enough like this...He can beat me. A thousand times he can beat me and I can't rely on you or anyone to save or protect me then. I need to be strong enough."
"You don't need to be like him." The elder answered simply. "Look at him. Look at where he's at. Two people from his village came to rescue him. Two!" He decided to ignore Akina and...Temari's presence there for the moment. And he hoped Gaara did too, the last thing either of them needed was that reminder right now. "If we hadn't shown up there to save you they'd be dead. And his village would probably jump for freakin' joy." He squeezed the read head's shoulder a little tighter. "There are people here willing to help you Gaara. I, and everyone in this village will all stand with you. You can let him stand alone."
"If I don't change...if I don't become stronger...we might all die Kankuro."
"I'd rather die at my brother's side than at a stranger's." Wheeling a bit closer he looked at Gaara, and, feeling his elder brother's gaze over his head, the Kazekage raised his eyes to meet his.
"You don't need to change." He repeated before leaning forward as best he could, and offering his brother a hug. And after a moment, the young Jinchuuriki returned it.
…
…
"You tell anyone I broke the no hug rule and I'll fuckin' kill you Bro, sand armor be damned."
Gaara laughed.
The songs were being sung now. Mournful and voiced by the entire clan.
They were not raising their voices...in truth, they didn't have to. So many were present, and so many were singing he could hear it from his home. And indeed, he did not doubt that each one was singing. Despite whatever proximity she may have had with him, despite whatever taint he may have passed onto her image...she was still the one who'd freed them. The one who'd finally torn down the long standing division of Main and Branch house.
And they'd loved her for it.
'Let her be loved then.' he would think. And each time he did, the hymns would echo through his home, faint, like the touch of a weak breeze. Reminding him of both his promise...
And his failure...
And as he sat there...listening to the song carried to his ears by a hundred voices on the wind as he sat in his study, he would feel himself drawing every breath a little more harshly, finding the need to fill his lungs a little more every time, as his ribs tightened around his chest in a suffocating embrace, as his fingers grew tighter and tighter against his desk, until the wood groaned beneath his touch and the muscles and tendons along his wrist ached from the strain.
He held that promise close to the withered, harsh, cold ice that he willed his heart to be.
It was the only comfort he would allow himself...for emotions born of an attachment he should never had permitted to grow as they had.
And it was of no help.
The liquid splattered against the soft, grass, drenching the earth beneath it to a muddy brown as grit was mixed with the clear drink that had been spilled in front of the memorial stone.
He raised the saucer in a salute before bringing it to his lips, tilting his head back as he felt the slow burn of the alcohol trail down his throat and settle in his stomach.
"I thought I would find you here."
He turned his head, one half lidded eye settling on the unique beauty of Kurenai Yuuhi marching up the hillside, a thick coat over her shoulders to block out the chill of encroaching winter. "Haven't seen you in a while." He said, tone light, and smiling a bit, and she could see the expression as his eye crinkled at the edges.
"We've all been busy." She answered the obvious. "Still, I was worried about you."
"I was never very close to her." He said, trying to deflect her worry though the regret in his voice made his attempt, rather ineffective.
"She was still your student." The Genjutsu mistress shot back. "And you were close enough that you're sitting here, with the intent of drinking a whole bottle of Sake in nothing but funeral garb while it looks like it might start to rain soon."
Kakashi looked up to the sky, feeling the wind at his back, swaying the leaves in that signature way it always did before it started to rain. "Huh...so it does."
Kurenai settled herself down, resting so her back was leaning against one side of the memorial stone. "Have you spoken to Naruto-sama yet?"
"No." He answered truthfully. "I don't think it would matter even if I did."
"He was your student as well once. And I did not see him at the procession. Maybe you should go see him." She said, empathy extending to both Kakashi, and Naruto.
"Either he did not go because he truly does not care, or he did not go because he is grieving and wishes to be left alone. Either way..." He paused, filling himself another drink. "He doesn't need me...I don't think he really needs anyone."
"Everyone needs someone to lean on Kakashi."
He shrugged. "That may be true..." he drank again. "But even if he does need someone...Its not me. I don't think it'd even be Jiraiya really...hell." He chuckled, though it was a very bitter, withered thing that made Kurenai shiver in the cold wind. "If he'd have died instead...then maybe I would say Hinata could have helped him...that's life for you isn't it?"
"Don't you think you should at least try."
He stood up, shaking his head as another bitter chuckle left his lips, still staring at the plaque with the newly carved name on it. "Why don't you?" He laughed a little more before refilling his saucer and drinking, and she wondered just how long he would keep up the pretense before he simply decided to drink straight out of the bottle.
"I was never very close to them." He admitted to her again. "Not nearly as close as I should have been. Always busy, always with a new mission. Whenever I thought of dropping by just for the hell of it I'd tell myself, 'Some other time.' or give myself some excuse. I never took an interest, never really...cared...enough to take an interest."
"Kakashi-"
"I should have though." He interrupted harshly, his anger directed entirely within. "She watched her cousin die for her, watched her clan torn to pieces, watched friends flee from their home in fear. All the while knowing that she'd been the catalyst for it all. That she'd been the last piece Naruto needed to conduct a successful coup." When he looked at her, Kurenai felt her heart clench with sympathy at the disgust she could feel coming from the man. "And she had to shoulder all that by herself because I just couldn't be bothered at the time. She had no one. And I. Wasn't. There."
She remained quiet, knowing the man needed a moment to collect himself before she could say anything.
"I didn't do right by her Kurenai. And now she's dead. So much damn time wasted."
"You still haven't failed Naruto yet Kakashi." She said.
This time, he did bring the bottle to his lips. "Yes I did...we all did. Twenty two years ago."
It didn't take her more than half a second to realize what he meant.
They'd all failed Naruto the moment he'd been brought into this world.
"It's hard to reach out to the dead Kurenai...especially those that don't want to be reached."
"Isn't that an excuse as well?" She argued, though her voice, and the confidence behind it, were weak.
"I wish it was...more than anything I wish it was." He took another drink.
It was night, when he found himself disturbed by the creaking hinges of his door opening. Light spilling through from the hallway, ripping through the darkness.
He raised his head, blue eyes meeting smoky gray silver. She stood there at the doorway, the light behind her shadowing her face before she reached over to the side of the door, flicking on the light-switch.
The harsh luminance, stung his eyes harshly, and he had to blink several times before the irritation settled.
"What do you want Sabaku?" He asked, tone as indifferent as she'd ever heard it.
She hesitated, and from his place behind his desk he saw her stiffen for a moment before she squared her shoulders and marched in.
"I just heard." She said simply. "About Hinata-san."
"And how is that?" He questioned. More curious than irritated. To be honest he didn't feel as though he had the energy to be irritated right now, the controlled pit of simmering fury that he'd been trained to always hold just beneath the surface, was silent, as though smothered by some great, heavy cloth.
"Your guards talk." She answered simply, shrugging her shoulders. "And I'm just as good as they are in stealth."
Naruto rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Incompetence."And what have you come here for then?" He asked simply. "You should be rejoicing." He continued, voice as flat as ever. "The possibility of your ever managing to escape from this place is just that much greater.
Temari's nose crinkled in distaste. "She may not have been my friend. But Hinata was a good person, as far as I could tell. I just came to offer my condolences.
"There is no need." He answered, eyes returning back down to his desk, becoming distant, though she could not see the change from her place near the other side of the room. "She was an able soldier and a commander...but she is..." He paused, the word leaving a bad taste in his mouth before he even uttered it. "-replaceable"
Temari felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach at those words, narrowing her eyes as a fury gripped her chest, sudden and violent, the words were spilling past her lips before she even knew she was saying them.
"What the hell is wrong with you!"
Naruto took a breath, almost a sigh really, before bringing his gaze up to face her, watching as the muscles beneath her skin tightened her face, as her teeth bared and her fists shook at her sides.
"Replaceable!" She screamed at him, taking a step forward that almost seemed threatening. "She fought for you, you miserable bastard! If you want to save face out there be my guest. But goddammit, don't demean what she was as simply replaceable here in your own home with someone who knows better!"
"Knows better?" He questioned, and whether it was the feeble hold of his emotions, or his state of weariness the blond found himself chuckling as he stood, the soft, chilling laughter snaking cold up from the Suna Kunoichi's feet to her heart. "And what precisely do you think you know of me Suna ninja!"
Perhaps, if there'd been more of a challenge to his voice, more confidence, more anger, simply something more than the mocking tone of indulgence she could hear in it she'd have backed down: as it was, she did not, and the irrational anger that had taken hold did not let up as she glared up at him.
"I know that a replaceable commander wouldn't have gotten treatment from you on that island. I know that a replaceable commander wouldn't have made you so angry when she'd been harmed either." She paused, pointing at the desk and chair just a few feet away. "And I know no 'replaceable' commander would have you sitting here in the dark, for hours on end in grief."
"Hn." He grunted. "Grief you say." And before Temari realized what he was doing he'd grabbed one of her wrists in a firm hold, and though she tried to pull away her arm did not budge. He may be weakened in some ways right now, but the strength of his body was not included in that list.
Curling her fingers with his own he pressed her index and middle finger to the pulse-point of his neck, staring into her eyes as he held the digits there for a moment.
"I have no heart woman." He said before tossing her hand away and turning around. "And if you or Hinata thought otherwise then you are deluding yourself."
"I suppose that list includes Yoshino!" She shouted.
He stopped and when he turned to face her that fire was kindling again, smoldering slowly back to life behind his eyes.
"I have warned you before never to speak of her again." Now his voice carried that inflection, that danger.
But now that didn't matter.
In truth, she wasn't sure why she was so angry. She should have shrugged and walked away, let him drown in the lies he told himself and repress whatever the hell he was feeling until it all came crashing down around him in what was sure to be a magnificent display of self-destruction.
But there was something about that thought; something about him burying himself so deep and encasing himself in an armor so cold and thick that no one again would ever touch him the way Hinata and that Yoshino woman had that it made her sick to her stomach.
It wasn't right, and the more she thought about it the more sick she became at the thought that anyone could do this to another human being, condition them and brainwash them to the point that they themselves willingly perpetuated their own misery that drove her on.
As powerful as he was, he was still held by the master's leash.
And that is what infuriated her so much.
And though she was aware, somewhere near the back of her mind that she was venturing into dangerous territory, it didn't matter. Because now with Hinata dead there was no one else. No one that had the damn balls to approach him. No one that cared enough to even try.
If she died then to hell with it! She was a ninja, and if you feared death this should not be your goddamn profession.
"Or what?" She hissed. "You'll kill me with whatever torturous method you can think up in the next five minutes? Well guess what Demon King' The title was given with more venom than he'd ever heard before and that was quite a feat. "If you cant deal with me saying what I need to say, that's gonna be the only way to stop me because the threats just aren't enough at this point."
He advanced on her, and her muscles tensed as she braced herself for what she knew was coming.
Grabbing her by the collar of her top, until the fabric was chafing uncomfortably around the skin of her neck Naruto pulled her close, lifting her feet off the ground as he brought her directly to eye level.
"You are nowhere near as vital as you once were." The growl came from deep within his chest, an utterly inhuman sound that shook her body as his upper lip curled back and his blue eyes narrowed as they stared into hers. "Do not try my patience."
"For someone without a heart-" She said, recalling their conversation on that island not so very long ago with a sense of Deja'vu. "You really do get some emotional reactions when she's mentioned. Why's that huh?" She laughed, and though choked, the sound emerged as a cruel wheeze through her lips. "What's got you so scared of this? Is it that maybe facing the fact that for all your bullshit you're just a helpless, weak little man who can only kill rather than save people? Huh?"
She wasn't sure just where her mind went off to, but she knew it was gone because she was positive it wasn't anywhere near its proper place inside her skull as her mouth worked of its own accord, her own emotions and vindictive desires to see this man suffer, to see him hurt through something, anything kept the words flowing through her voice-box easily; as though this were a comfortable conversation.
"Was it worth it then huh?" She asked, her upper lip curling back in a sneer. Letting them die so that you didn't have to give a damn anymore!"
For a moment, she thought she had pushed too far, dug her fingers into the wound a little too harshly the lines of his face were hard and unflinching, and his blue eyes nearly sang with fury.
But she held his gaze, refusing to back down, refusing to give into the fear that had kept herself and others cowering beneath it.
He held her for a second longer before he suddenly tossed her to the side with a snarl that she couldn't quite determine whether it was fueled by anger or disgust.
Her feet tripped over themselves to catch her, barely managing before one hand shot out, to grasp the bookshelves that were now within arms reach to steady herself before she fell as she rubbed her throat, still staring at the man cautiously.
"And what is it you would like to see, then?" He asked, eyes rising towards the ceiling as he turned his body to face her. "Should I weep?" He asked, acid creeping into his venomous voice, "Fall onto my hands and knees cursing whatever abstract deity you may believe in for taking her from this world as I claw at my hair in despair?"
With a twitch of his head that brought his eyes towards his desk, Temari saw the thing explode into a thousand splinters of wood. Paper and ink scattering everywhere as she covered her eyes, jumping from the shock.
"Or perhaps I should rage!" His voice was just a bit louder now, and the Suna princess felt that familiar charge, like the rough wind of a sandstorm sliding across her skin as his chakra began to rise. "A display of anger to show my fury at her being taken? Would that do for you?"
The book cases along the side of the room began to meet similar fates to the desk's, hundreds of papers exploding through the room in violent bursts of motion.
Temari's heart began to race, each explosion was like a spike of chakra that slammed into her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.
"Does this make a, difference? Do they walk and breathe again?" He snarled, and Temari could see the once normal fangs growing longer, and the edges of his eyes beginning to change into that familiar bloody red. "No?"
Her heart stopped, a split second of time stretching on for an eternity as he vanished from her sight, only to appear again a moment later directly in front of her. She pressed her back to the wall as she stared up, meeting his hateful gaze again.
He grabbed her again by the scruff of her collar, using both hands this time, tightening his fingers into a grip that could crush the bones in a man's arm before he picked her up, and slammed her into the book case hard enough to topple some of the tomes in its shelves; sending the weighty hardcovers to fall to the floor around them. "Then what the hell does it matter!"
She hissed in pain, clenching her eyes shut as she grabbed tightly onto his wrists, making an effort, though she knew it was utterly wasted, on getting him to pull away, acutely feeling the knuckles of his bare hands digging into her shoulders.
"What does it matter then? If the end result is that they are still dead and I continue in this existence!"
He was angry, a lot angrier than she'd seen him in a long time. But there was something else there she thought she could see. Something there in his voice that she recognized.
And with a start, that almost sent the back of her head colliding solidly with another shelf as she jerked in his grasp she realized what that thing was.
He sneered, the expression twisting his face into a nasty veneer before he let her go again, punching the book case that had been behind her a second later, sending it's ruined remains almost through the wall it had been resting against, spiderweb cracks rippling through the surface on the other side.
He looked down at her for a moment, the rage in his eyes still there but under tighter control now. The walls were back up, the raw wound still bleeding but guarded now. And with an about face he turned and began to march towards the exit.
"It matters..." She coughed out, finding both her voice, and the courage to speak though not enough to raise her sight from the ground again. "-because if you don't care...then they died for nothing."
He paused offering little more than a contemptuous glare over his shoulder before marching through the door.
She stood in the ruined study for several moments, swallowing thickly as she calmed her racing heartbeat. Glancing around the ruined area where the last of the papers were just now beginning to settle on the floor, the princess of Suna pushed herself off her perch, straightening as she walked towards the ruined desk, the white parchments crinkling beneath her feet.
She scanned over the wreckage, more for the simple desire to stall her exit for as long as possible rather than any real curiosity, but something caught her eye there, amidst the splinters and half torn papers.
She reached down, delicate fingers gripping thick prayer beads that she carefully pulled out, each of them woefully intact from the blast. As she finished pulling it out, the upturned papers revealed two other little things. Reaching down again the Sabaku found herself gripping a beautiful necklace. Its chain was of fine silver, with a pendant of sapphires held together in the shape of a butterfly.
And lastly, a picture, one where she easily found both Hinata and Naruto himself in it though, indeed, they were much younger in this thing than as she knew them. Their faces were serious, it looked more like the induction of some ceremony than anything else.
'What is this?' She asked herself as she stood, items in hand. 'What are these things? Why would he have them?