Crossed Paths

“You don’t even know him,” Temari said coldly. She fish-eyed the council members currently sitting at the table. “Maybe if you gave him a chance, you would see who he really was.”

“I’m sorry, Temari-sama, it would be an unnecessary waste of time. You are a perfect candidate for the position, and we would have it that you become our next leader.” The cold words dripped of finality.

Temari had requested this meeting three days before her final answer was due, and because of her current status as prospective Kazekage, the council was forced to give her their audience. She had spent the last two hours fruitlessly trying to convince the council that Gaara would be a better choice for Kazekage. He was stronger, he had more experience, his dream was to protect the people of his country…nothing seemed to deter them. They steadfastly refused to listen and told her over and over again that she was their choice; they would accept no one else.

Temari rubbed her temples in frustration.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was sunny.

Unfortunately, due to the rain the night before, everything and everywhere was absolutely soaked. The tent itself had been washed out, forcing Sakura to get up in the middle of the night and join Gaara and Shikamaru under the cover of Gaara’s sand. They had waited out the storm, Shikamaru and Sakura sleeping back to back so neither would sleep in the mud. Gaara, of course, was his usual stoic self. Right now, Shikamaru was off trying to find dry wood he could use to start a fire (though obviously there was none) and Sakura was trying to salvage their belongings.

“Oh man I can’t believe this. What the hell happened to my skirt? Rain is just water, dammit, so how come it’s all fucking stained?!” Sakura glared at the white skirt, although currently it was blotched pink. Apparently the water had soaked through her backpack, reaching her cosmetics bag, and effectively dyeing everything in her backpack pink. The furious kunoichi glared at the skirt some more, as if the stare will burn the colour off, and switched her gaze to Gaara, who was sitting on his Sand floating several centimetres above ground three meters away.

Gaara stared back at Sakura. “It’s not m fault, you know. So you can stop looking at me like that.”

Defeated, Sakura sagged visibly. “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just…..argh! Why does everything I do get fucked up? Hell, I couldn’t even please Sasuk…” she trailed off, face reddening in embarrassment as she realized who she was talking to.

Gaara’s expression didn’t change, although his curiosity was piqued. “Sasuk-“ would probably be Uchiha Sasuke, her love back when he saw her last. It was her expression of defiance while defending him that made a deep impression in his mind. Her expression then had reminded her of Yashamaru back then, and her expression now reminded him of himself, when he was friendless and lonely. Of course, she was hardly friendless, but her expression clearly told him she was feeling betrayed and she was hurting. Who would hurt you? Gaara mused.

Sakura, noticing his stare, walked over and sat down on the ground next to Gaara. Surprisingly, her butt touched something soft and dry instead of the wet forest ground. She looked down. Gaara had extended his cloud-like sand so she was sitting on it as well. “Thanks,” she muttered, falling back and expecting the sand to catch her. She wasn’t disappointed.

“…”

Sakura sat back up, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair to get the sand out of it. “So tell me.”

“Tell you? Tell you what?”

“Oh, you know, family, friends, what you like, stuff like that,” Sakura waved her hand around airily. “I’m bored.”

Gaara’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. She was interested? “Well, my siblings are Temari and Kankurou, both of whom I believe you are acquainted with.”

Sakura nodded.

“My father…was Kazekage. My mother died at childbirth. I have no friends. I don’t particularly like anything.”

“…” Sakura listened to his cut-and-dry speech, rolling her eyes when he stopped speaking. “Well what happened to them?”

“My father was killed by Orochimaru. Temari and Kankurou are currently at their home village.”

She frowned, noting the way he said ‘their’ and not ‘our’. “It’s your village too, isn’t it?”

Gaara looked at her with unreadable eyes. “If you say so,” was his monotonous reply.

@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*

The day passed peacefully, with the exceptions of Sakura whacking Shikamaru over the head when he failed to return with firewood and again when he fell asleep on a tree while he was supposed to be hanging their belongings out to dry.

They are…interesting. Gaara watched amusedly while Sakura chase Shikamaru around camp, hitting every part of him she could reach with the metal bar that used to be the tent’s support frame. However, since the storm had soaked the tent straight through, there was no point in sleeping in it tonight. Just as well, since it was a clear night.

Sakura tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, which was still a little damp, but bearable. It was the first night after Sasuke had rejected her that she wasn’t out cold or too tired to think. Flashes of that day kept running through her mind.

“My final duty as an Uchiha is to resurrect the clan…”
“Hinata is pregnant with my child…”

Frustrated beyond words, Sakura got up and decided to take a walk by herself. It wasn’t a full moon tonight, but it was close, so she could see where she was going. When she got up, she didn’t see any signs of Gaara, which was good. She shivered – it was chilly – but refused to pull on wet pants over her shorts. She looked around, looking for a place to brood. There was a dead tree, a little ways from the clearing, that would provide a good view of the moon and let her keep an eye on camp at the same time. Decision made, Sakura made her way barefoot to the base of the tree.

Using her precise chakra control and calling on training from when she was a genin, she walked up the tree like she did when she was still part of Team 7. Reaching a comfortable tree branch, she settled in, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning back against the trunk. It really was perfect up here. The bare branches gave her a clear view of the moon; if she turned her head a little she could see Shikamaru snoring away in his own sleeping bag.

She sighed, closing her eyes and turning to face the moon. Tonight’s a good night for brooding…I have to do this more often. This is a great place too…maybe I’ll move in permanently… She opened her eyes to the swooshing sound behind her and furrowed her brows. Gaara stood before her, arms crossed, casting his shadow over Sakura’s face.

“What are you doing here?”

Sakura closed her eyes again. “Brooding. If you want to join me, go ahead. If not, go away. You’re blocking the moonlight.” She tilted her head back, a little surprised when she felt his shadow recede and the bright moonlight filtered through her eyelids again. Wow, he listened.

A quiet voice beside her made her jerk in surprise and as a result, almost tumble to the ground. “It is a quiet night.”

Guess he didn’t go away, after all. She raised an eyebrow at the boy sitting next to her, floating in midair, sitting on, it seemed, a cloud. “Doesn’t the amount of chakra you’re using to keep that up tire you?” Being a medic-nin, Sakura knew how chakra-overuse would affect the user. Gaara simply shrugged.

Sakura rolled her eyes, and sighed. “Here, sit behind me,” she looked into Gaara’s eyes briefly, before looking away and scooting out on the branch to create a space behind her. “You’re taller than me anyways, so you can see the moon over my head.”

Gaara was surprised, but was careful not to show. He had tried to kill her years before; and now, the first time they’ve met up since that encounter, she’s trusting him completely? He set the matter aside, deciding to think about it later. He gently eased himself on the branch behind Sakura, his knees gently hugging her ribcage. He was at loss as to what to do with his hands, however.

Sakura hid a look of exasperation and took his hands, placing them on her waist. “Keep them there, I don’t want to topple off.”

“I would catch you with my sand if you ever did,” Gaara said softly.

Sakura settled back, leaning her head back on Gaara’s shoulder. “Yeah, whatever.”

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, before Sakura felt it was too silent. “So…what about your childhood?” she asked tentatively. She couldn’t help it, she was curious. What kind of childhood did he have in order to become the monster he was a few years ago? Instantly, she felt Gaara stiffen.

Gaara did a swift intake of breath. He had never told his past to anyone…ever. Those who knew him knew about him. Those who didn’t were too afraid to. Yet, here she was, a kunoichi he had ried to kill a mere few years ago, asking him about his past, as though she really cared.

“I’m not really sure you want to know,” he whispered softly, looking up into the night sky.

“I do. Tell me,” Sakura sensed Gaara was being much more pensive than he usually was. Although she didn’t realize it at the time, she instinctively wanted to break down the barrier Gaara had so effectively erected around himself. The defence of sand, the sand armour…and the sand encasing his heart. She wanted to gradually chip at it, piece by piece, until he would finally show her who he really was. She had no real reason to do this; she supposed it was her medical training as an instinct to want to take away and soothe pain and wounds. But they both knew it was deeper than that. And now, the first step he could take was to show her the world he once lived in.

He leaned back, took a deep breath, and began talking.

“I grew up in the village of Sand, as you know. I lived alone, because my father was Kazekage and therefore his nights were spent where he worked. Everyday Yashamaru would visit me, talk to me. He was my mother’s brother, or uncle, as you would say. He was the only person I liked, I felt I could trust. At that time, I also went to school. The teacher always made me sit in the back of the classroom. During recesses, I would sit, alone, on the swings, watching the other children play soccer.

“There was one day when Mizuka accidentally kicked the ball too high, and it landed on a ledge where they couldn’t reach it. Using my sand, I was able to retrieve it for them. However, when they saw me holding the ball, they ran. All of them. They were…scared.”

Sakura could sense his hesitation, feel his deep breath after the word ‘scared’.

“I tried to stop them from leaving, I really did. I didn’t…want them to go. I was lonely. I accidentally hurt Mizuka with my sand because I had intended to keep her from leaving. Then, Yashamaru stepped in the path of my sand. It must have hurt. His hands and forearms were all abraded; there was a gash on his forehead.

“Afterwards, I went home. I couldn’t stand the idea of them fearing me. Home was my sanctuary; I could wander in my house without anyone running away in fear. That particular time, I was looking at a picture of me and mother. I held a knife in my hand…I wanted to feel pain. To know what pain was. To feel hurt. That was the first time. The blade moved over my wrist, but before it would slice the skin, the sand was there. Right then, I hated my mother. For giving me the defence of sand. Why could I be like normal people? They all felt pain, whether they wanted to or not. At that moment, I truly wanted to suicide.

“Yashamaru appeared; I don’t know when he entered my house. But he told me, my mother loved me, and that’s why she gave me the ultimate defence that no one else had. It was her way of protecting me, even after her death. Yashamaru was the only person I felt I could truly love, right then. He told me what pain was, and I put my hand over my heart. ‘Then it hurts,’ I said. ‘It hurts right here.’ ‘The only thing for curing heartache,’ he said, ‘is love.’

“I asked Yashamaru for some medicine, and carried it over to Mizuka’s house. I knocked on her door, and when she answered, I offered her the medicine. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you this afternoon,’ I said. I wanted to be friends, I really did. She slammed the door in my face and told me to go away. ‘Monster,’ was what she called me.

“So I left. I sat on the rooftop, looking at the moon, just like right now. ‘Why does everyone hate me?’ I couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t bear the fact that there were lots of people who were luckier than I, other people who have had people love them for who they are. Yashamaru loved me because I was his sister’s son. He didn’t love me for who I am. I realized that. Yet, I couldn’t help but think, even if he loved me as his nephew and not as myself, I was content. Because as long as someone loved me, I had love. And I could pain in my heart.

“A kunai flew past me just then, followed by several more. All of them were blocked by my sand, and for a second I couldn’t think why. Then I realized. Someone was attacking me. ‘Why me?’ I kept on thinking. ‘Why is it always me?’ Before I knew it, I had captured the man who was attacking me. I squeezed my fist, the sand surrounding him performing the same action. The injury was fatal. Even at that young age, I had the power to take life away that easily. The man lay on the floor, his head resting against the wall. His face was covered, but suddenly, I had this bad feeling. I just…knew. I reached down to pull the mask off. My fingers were trembling, I remember that much,” he allowed himself a rare, bittersweet smile.

“It was Yashamaru. His face, bruised and bloody, looked out at me from under his forehead protector which he so proudly wore. I asked him why. He said it was the Kazekage’s order. ‘Father,’ I thought. Why would my father send someone to kill me, Yashamaru no less? ‘So, it’s orders. You had to. It was a mission,’ I desperately wanted to believe that. To have some illusion of hope, of love. Yashamaru’s next words dispelled my hope. ‘No, you’re mistaken,’ he said. ‘Kazekage-sama did ask me, but I could have refused, have I wanted to. This mission is one I knew I had to take. As much as I tried too, I couldn’t love you for who you are, or as my nephew.’ He made this speech before he died; the gist of it being how if I was to have the sand as my own, then I would need to control it. Because I’m the Kazekage’s son. I don’t really want to go into all that right now.”

Gaara took a deep breath, pulling himself back into the present. He had been lost in the barrage of memories, the dark night so many years ago, yet still so fresh in his mind. The dark thrill of killing, the horror and shock as he discovered Yashamaru’s face under the mask, the heartbreaking sadness when he found out Yashamaru never loved him; these emotions were always kept close to his heart, and he intends to keep it that way. True, he had never told anyone of the night he became a monster, but now was simply too soon to bare his heart to the pink-haired girl currently sitting in his arms.

“Before he died, he unzipped his vest, revealing explosive tags attached to his body. His last wish was that I would die along with him, but I didn’t. With his blood staining my sand, I gave myself this tattoo.” He took her hand and traced her fingers lightly over the kanji scar on his temple.

Love.



~ Sorry that took so long to get up, but I just couldn’t get the mood right….kept on deleting and rewriting soo many times and it pissed me off…I might rewrite this chapter later on, if I find the time to. Meanwhile, thanks for reading, and please review!

~ dark_Angel ~