I Shall Not Want

A/N: While this is not a crossover, I have brought some characters in from another anime. Those of you familiar with the anime will spot them easily; those of you who aren't, it shouldn't matter. You should be able to meet them easily without having any background on them at all. They're Narutoverse-integrated. Yes, I am a cheater who borrows other characters rather than writing OCs—actually I would have written originals, I just missed writing these guys, and saw a chance to use them. I used to write exclusively in the Weiss Kreuz universe, back in the day. A preposterous show with very interesting characters that made for some incredible fanfiction. But I digress.

You might find Gaara a bit OOC in this chapter; I do have my reasons for it, which may or may not be explained to your satisfaction. I'm not just making him do things for my own twisted enjoyment, I promise.

...Maybe a little.

Ice cream trucks and candied ginger for the betas, bronze_tigress, chibi-zoe and skatervalentine.


Part 7: Dissociation is a Virtue

After a bath and a light meal of papadum, pita and baba ghanouj, Iruka and Kakashi join Sai and allow their attendants to lead them to their briefing. Kakashi has slowly become Jackal over the course of the last couple of hours, losing all playfulness and uncertainty. In fact, his partner has cordoned off as much of his personality as he can. Kakashi calls it becoming tabula rasa for the mission. The ex-members of Root are perhaps best at it, Iruka muses, his eyes lingering on Hydra's vacant, doll-like expression. But Jackal has had years to perfect the technique. Even with all of his idiosyncrasies and instabilities, he can become a blank enough slate that Danzou wouldn't have been able to find fault with him.

Iruka can school his face perfectly, but he can't quite achieve as much distance as he would like. He still feels too much, his life experience less a garden to harvest from than a field of grasping hands, trying to pull him into the emotions that surround it. How he can cut himself off from that and yet remain a high-functioning shinobi is a puzzle that he hasn't been able to work out yet. It is something all ANBU must deal with on their own. It hasn't always been so—there was reprogramming, of course, and various other extreme techniques were implemented over the years—but since the Sandaime decided that the risks of such experiments outweighed the benefits to the operatives, the conditioning the ANBU undergo now is minimal. Iruka doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

“Naruto is occupied?” Jackal asks, pulling Iruka from his thoughts.

“He is touring Suna's defenses with his guards, Captain,” Hydra responds.

Jackal grunts in acknowledgement as their attendants come to a halt in front of a pair of ornate double doors, ushering them inside.

The room is high-ceilinged and oblong, much plainer and more functional than Iruka would have guessed from the entranceway. There are several file cabinets against the walls and a small kitchenette in one corner, but the main feature of the room is a rectangular conference table. It could easily seat twenty people, but there are only six sitting at the end—the Kazekage, his advisor Baki on his right, his brother Kankurou on his left, and three people Iruka hasn't seen before next to Kankurou. Baki has half of his face shielded as usual, and Iruka is glad to see that—though he's resplendent in his purple and white Kabuki make-up—Kankurou has refrained from wearing his cat suit to the meeting.

Gaara half-rises and gestures to the three seats opposite the unknowns. “Please sit.”

They do, and Iruka takes a moment to glance at the men across from them. They are each quite striking. Across from Hydra is a boy with midnight blue eyes and dark brown hair, high cheekbones and a cold, austere expression. He looks younger than Naruto. Across from himself is a tall man with brassy orange hair, cut severely short except for long bangs that hang down to his chin. His eyes are startlingly blue, his features are sharp and pixie-like, and he seems to have a smirk permanently etched across his face. Across from Kakashi sits a man who gives Iruka a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The man has pure white hair, chopped short and uneven, most likely with a knife. His skin is almost as white as his hair. His face is beautiful, almost angelic—or at least it would be, if it wasn't so heavily scarred. His arms are bare but his biceps and wrists are bandaged. Iruka can see scars peeking from underneath the wraps, and after studying the patterns on the pale skin for a while he realizes that many of the wounds on the man's face and body are most likely self-inflicted. There is a patch over the man's left eye, and the remaining eye is bright yellow, penetrating and intelligent. There is madness in it, but Iruka can't tell how much or what kind. Madness can be advantageous to a shinobi, if it is the right kind, and under the right kind of control.

“I believe you know Baki and Kankurou,” Gaara begins. “The three sitting across from you are the ANBU who will be accompanying you to Kurocha.”

Jackal's eye narrows, but he says nothing.

“First is Prodigy,” continues the Kazekage, and the young brunet nods curtly. “You will call him Nagi. He has a bloodline limit of telekinesis.”

“Handy,” Hydra comments.

“Next is Guilty. You will call him Schuldig.”

“Schuldig?” Jackal says skeptically. “That name is really going to stand out. If we're going to be undercover--”

“There's nothing wrong with Masaharu,” the redhead says. His voice is nasal and brash, but not grating.

Jackal looks at him. “Masaharu's fine,” he says slowly.

“Who's Masaharu?” Schuldig asks.

“Schuldig,” Gaara snaps.

Schuldig sighs. “Fine, fine. It was just a demonstration, yeah? The Captain here is supposed to be brilliant; he can figure it out.” The redhead has an accent Iruka's never heard before. He wonders where Schuldig is from; he's obviously not from Suna, and probably not from anywhere in Wind Country. Even more, Iruka wonders how Schuldig became ANBU. It's exceedingly rare for a foreign shinobi to be accepted into special ops, no matter which country.

Gaara's fathomless eyes narrow. “Explain it clearly. Now.”

Schuldig is unfazed by the warning in the Kazekage's tone. He shrugs. “I say Schuldig, but I make you hear something else. Masaharu, for instance. It also works this way,” he continues, and suddenly Iruka is looking at three men with the dark cinnamon skin and lustrous black eyes of the people of Kurocha. “I can make you see what I want you to see, hear what I want you to hear, smell what I want you to smell—you get the idea. Better than genjutsu; it takes no seals or incantations, and you can't dispel it or avoid it.” Iruka blinks, and they are back to normal. “Not hard to understand, yes?”

Jackal has raised his hitai-ate, and is looking hard at the Kazekage, who gazes back evenly. “I know what you are thinking,” Gaara says, “but his jutsu don't work on me. I can guess what he is doing, but I can't see or hear it. He cannot manipulate me because of the way Shukaku altered my brain chemistry. You will not be able to trust your Sharingan to see through the illusions because they affect the brain, not the eye. Captain, please put your trust in me, if not in him. I would not send you off with someone who would deceive you unnecessarily.”

“I'll happily deceive you necessarily,” Schuldig chirps. “I'm too useful for you to leave behind, anyway.”

“I don't see how,” Jackal says coldly. Iruka can imagine how displeased he must be, having to trust someone who can fool his Sharingan.

“Schuldig can establish a link between your minds, so that you can all contact each other telepathically,” Gaara explains. “As long as you stay within about twenty-five miles of him, that is. That's the edge of his range.”

“'Telepathically'. You can read minds?” Jackal asks.

Iruka's stomach jolts. He doesn't want to be anywhere near a true telepath; he even gets slightly nervous around the Yamanaka clan. His mind has been screwed with more than enough for one lifetime.

“In my youth, yes,” Schuldig says wistfully. “I used to be able to swim through minds like a little fish, darting here and there--”

“Like a shark,” says the yellow-eyed man. His voice is soft and gravelly, quite pleasant.

“Ja, okay, like a shark. I could rip you apart and put you back together however I wanted. But that part of my brain got overloaded and shorted out years ago. Now I can hear you if you send your thoughts to me, and I can send to you, but I can't read anything you don't send me. I also can't alter your memories or thoughts, except externally, as I demonstrated before.” The redhead pauses for a minute and then laughs. “Yes, I heard you, Captain Jackal. No need to be so catty.” Schuldig laughs again, looking at Iruka. “He must be a handful, yes, Dagon?”

Iruka's not sure what he should say to that, so he just raises a brow.

::How does it work, that your captain is your lover?:: Iruka hears. It is very startling, hearing someone else's voice in his mind, but he manages not to jump. ::Isn't that terribly complicated?::

For a moment, Iruka thinks Schuldig must really be able to read minds. But he and Kakashi have never hid their relationship—not even to deter enemies—and Suna's intel is good. There's no reason these ANBU wouldn't know. Iruka doesn't answer the redhead, just crosses his arms and stares blankly.

“We are supposed to be going deep undercover,” Jackal is saying. “We can't risk using chakra like that, Kazekage-sama.”

“Can you sense me using any chakra, Captain?” Schuldig says.

“I can't,” Jackal admits. “But the risk of--”

“Please,” Gaara says, holding up a hand. “Let me introduce you to Berserker.” He indicates the pale, scarred man, who grins ferally. “You will call him Jei. He acts as a chakra mask; anyone using chakra within twenty yards of him is completely undetectable. As long as Schuldig is with him, you can stay in contact indefinitely.”

“If we all have to stay within twenty yards of Jei, that will severely limit our investigation,” Hydra says.

“No, just Schuldig,” Gaara corrects. “It doesn't cost you any chakra to send thoughts to him, or to each other once he's established the team link. You do have to stay within his twenty-five mile range, but Kurocha, for all its inhabitants, is actually a very compact city, slums notwithstanding. Starting in the downtown area and branching out as necessary should give you all the coverage you need.”

“I advise that you divide into three teams of two, and infiltrate different organizations,” Baki adds. “Schuldig and Jei will have to be one team, but they work very well together.”

“Like tuna and peanut butter,” mutters Jei.

“Quit calling me tuna,” Schuldig says.

Jackal is looking more and more displeased. “They are very unprofessional for ANBU.”

“Don't let them fool you, Captain,” Kankurou warns. “They can afford to act like that because of Schuldig's jutsu. But they can be counted on, and trusted—at least, as far as the mission goes.”

“You have my word on that,” adds Gaara.

“Then I'm satisfied,” says Jackal.

Schuldig grins. “Now that we're all in love, let's talk about how we're going to work this operation, yeah?”

“Dagon and I are going to infiltrate the police,” Jackal informs him. “Hydra, you've researched a different area, haven't you?”

Hydra's face is completely neutral, but Iruka imagines his eyes twinkle just a little. “Yes, Captain. After researching the area of Kurocha where I calculate it is most likely that our target resides, I have decided that the most strategic position for me would be in exotic dancing.”

Iruka feels like slapping his forehead. “Stripping? Is that really necessary, Hydra?”

“It is not stripping, Dagon. In Kurocha, exotic dancing is just that. The dancers' skins are painted, they are dressed elaborately, and they perform fully clothed, mostly for private functions. The higher class of dancers, which I will be joining, is also forbidden from engaging in sexual relations with clients, except in very specific circumstances. I shall endeavor to protect my virtue.”

“I don't see how being thus employed would put you in a situation advantageous to our mission,” Iruka argues.

“Well, the majority of clients for both male and female dancers are wealthy middle-aged men. The profile we have come up with for our target indicates it is extremely likely that he frequents the sort of establishments that would employ me.”

“It's good that Nagi will be your partner, then,” Schuldig says, leaning back in his chair. “Fat old men love you, don't they, Prodigy?”

Without looking over, Nagi flicks two of his fingers, and Schuldig's head jerks hard to the side, like he's been kicked.

“Ow. You're such a little bitch,” Schuldig gripes.

“Pot, kettle,” Jei says.

“Any further objections?” Hydra asks, and mouths 'Father Dagon' at Iruka.

Scowling internally, Iruka answers, “No.”

“Shall I assign an organization for the two of you?” Jackal asks Schuldig and Jei.

“We don't need an assignment,” Jei says, proving he can speak in complete sentences. He also has an accent Iruka can't place, different from Schuldig's. “We can move around easy, and we don't have to build up trust or confidence to get information. It would be better if we aren't fettered to one area. That way, if we get new intel that sends us in a different direction, we don't have to extricate ourselves.”

Jackal considers this, and nods. “Very well.”

“Oh, good,” Schuldig says. “You know how I hate fetters. Outside of bed, anyway.” He grunts as Jei elbows him in the side. “What was that for?!”

Jei shrugs. “It was time.”

A vein is beginning to stand out on Baki's forehead. Iruka thinks he, Schuldig, and perhaps Jei must butt heads a lot; from what he knows of Baki, the man is very disciplined and military-minded.

“You two are reflecting poorly on our Kazekage,” Nagi murmurs. His voice is as deep and frosty as his eyes.

Schuldig rises up and bows to Gaara instantly, but something in the sudden way he stands and the slight flourish in his bow makes Iruka think he's being sarcastic. Iruka thinks the sarcasm is directed at Nagi, but he can't be sure.

“Forgive us, Kazekage-sama,” Schuldig says, and Jei nods deferentially at Gaara.

Gaara just sighs and motions Schuldig to take his seat. “Hopefully you will not have occasion to become as used to them as I have, Captain,” he says.

Jackal seems to have written the Suna ANBU off for the moment. “Gaara-sama, might I be given clearance to read the latest reports of your ANBU, the ones who went on missions to Akatsuchi City and Kurocha?”

“Of course,” Gaara says, eyes flicking to Baki, who nods curtly. “You may also interview Dusted, if you like. She is the ANBU who survived the last mission. I am afraid she does not have much helpful information, but perhaps you may glean something that we have missed.” His tone is matter-of-fact; he doesn't sound like he thinks there's no way he or any of his men could have missed something. Iruka supposes that it could be inferred that the Kazekage lacks confidence in himself or his shinobi, but thinks that it's rather an indicator of the measure of respect Gaara has for Jackal's analytical skills. He feels a small flare of pride swell in his chest that he quickly stifles.

“Have you been in touch with the Tsuchikage since the Iwa invasion?” Jackal asks.

Kankurou answers him, a frown curving the lines painted on his face. “We haven't been able to get a message anywhere near him. I was supposed to be the ambassador to Earth Country in the beginning, before the invasion reached the borders of Wind, but his Generals forced us to retreat before we got through Bird Country. He hasn't made any demands or overtures; he just seems to want to crush Suna without even a single discussion. Which is fine by me; he can bring it on, the bastard. I'll--”

“Kankurou,” Gaara warns. “Enough.”

Kankurou sighs, then smiles sweetly at his little brother. “My bad.”

The puppet master seems an odd choice for a diplomat, but Iruka has known odder ones.

“What about the Earth daimyo?” Jackal continues. “Does the Tsuchikage have his support?”

“We don't know,” growls Baki. “He's sent no word—not that we've been able to receive, anyway. For all we know, the daimyo is hostage to the Tsuchikage. But until we can get some better intelligence, we are assuming that the Tsuchikage is backed by his daimyo.”

“Safer that way,” Schuldig pipes in.

Jackal nods, looking pensive. “And you still have no indication that the Iwa army and the insurrectionists are working together.”

“We have not been able to link them through anything other than the coincidence of the time frame in which their assaults began,” Gaara affirms.

Jackal shakes his head. “That's not telling. It could be an unrelated group who's been waiting for your defenses to be compromised, and struck when the opportunity arose.”

“We also surmised that,” says Baki. “But we have nothing else. It would be folly to assume that they are unrelated--”

“--just as it would be folly to assume the daimyo does not support the Tsuchikage,” Jackal finishes. “Better to assume conspiracy and be prepared for it.”

Baki gives a satisfied nod, as if Jackal has passed some sort of a test. Iruka is not sure what that means, since he knows Jackal and Baki have worked together in the past. Perhaps it means nothing, but Iruka also doesn't like to be unprepared.

“If you have no more to offer on the insurrectionists and Kurocha at this time,” Jackal says, “I would like to get started reading the files now. We should leave Suna as soon as possible; tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Of course,” says Gaara, “if there is nothing further.” After a second or two of silence, he stands up, indicating to everyone that they are dismissed.

Nagi walks smartly out of the room, as if he is being graded on his stride. Schuldig winks at Hydra and smiles at Iruka; they both stare flatly back. The redhead snickers and whispers something to Jei, who walks past him, impassive except for a tiny flick of his hand, reaching up to tug Schuldig's bangs, that Iruka almost misses. Kankurou and Baki exit the room while speaking in low, urgent voices, and it occurs to Iruka that he doesn't know their ANBU names. He doesn't even know if they have ANBU names. Jackal and Hydra follow them, presumably for access to the files, and Iruka feels a flash of anxiety. He's not sure what he's supposed to do right now.

Deciding that he should take Hydra's lead and follow Jackal, he turns to the door, but Gaara rests a light hand on his arm. “Dagon.”

“Yes, Kazekage-sama?”

“I should like to speak with you later--”

“Of course, Kazekage-sama,” Iruka says quickly.

“--not in an official capacity,” Gaara finishes. “I will be bathing in my private chambers after dinner, and I would be pleased if you would join me.”

For a moment, Iruka thinks Gaara is coming on to him. The next moment that thought is so absurd that he can hardly keep in a snort of laughter. “I would be happy to wait until after you have refreshed yourself.”

Gaara raises his eyes to a distant point over Iruka's shoulder. “A Konoha ANBU once said to me that the best way for men to bond was to be naked in a bath,” he says, shifting his eyes back to Iruka's. “I have found that to be true. We have not worked together before, Dagon; we have no bond except through our association with others. I wish for that to change, but you will not be here very long.”

Iruka can't suppress a smile; he knows which Konoha ANBU it was that told Gaara that. Naruto has remarked on Lynx's naked-men-edict often enough. “Then I'll be very pleased to join you, Kazekage-sama.”

Gaara doesn't return the smile, just nods and sits again. After waiting a second to make sure that's all Gaara wants, Iruka bows and leaves.

To his surprise, Schuldig is waiting for him when he emerges into the hallway.

::May I give you some advice, Delphin?:: Schuldig's voice sprouts in his mind like a brain-louse; Iruka wants to scratch him out.

Staring at him, Iruka says, “Delphin? What advice? Don't do that.” He realizes he sounds flustered and successfully fights a blush.

“Ch',” Schuldig says, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. ::First of all,:: the redhead sends, ::when I talk to you like this, answer me the same way, yeah? You'll have to get used to it. Unless it's part of your cover that you talk to the voices in your head. From what I know of the Kurocha police, you won't be able to keep your head above water with that, Delphin.::

Absently curling a hand into a loose fist, Iruka concentrates. ::Stop calling me that,:: he thinks at Schuldig. He doesn't know if he's thinking hard enough, or...pushing his thoughts in the right direction. He wonders how all this works.

::Now you're thinking more at me than you mean to,:: Schuldig replies. Iruka wonders how he's managing to convey all the nuances that would be in his voice. ::You don't need to know how it works, just how to communicate. And that part's easy. Too easy for you, really. I tend to pick up things that are put out there for anyone, not just me, only I'm generally the only telepath around, thank the gods. You won't even realize you're doing it, and I probably won't tell you unless it amuses me, Delphin. Just remember that I can't go into your head, and try not to send me too much that you don't want me to know, and you might not humiliate yourself, okay?::

Iruka leans stiffly against the wall next to Schuldig. It must look odd, two men standing close enough for intimate conversation, but just staring at each other or staring into space. ::I said, don't call me that,:: he reiterates.

::You don't even know what it means,:: Schuldig protests.

::No nicknames. I've known you for ten minutes.::

Schuldig's eyes roll again. Iruka gets the feeling those blue eyes get quite a workout, with all the morons like Iruka that Schuldig must seem to encounter at every turn. ::It's not a nickname, but whatever. It's better than 'Dagon'.::

::A matter of opinion.:: Iruka feels like he's starting to get the hang of this. He's a little worried now, though, about thinking too 'loudly' around the redhead. He decides he doesn't like telepathy at all. ::You had unsolicited advice?::

::You are obviously new to ANBU. You come across as new.::

Iruka sighs internally. He'd sort of expected something like this. ::I am new. I probably won't figure out how to come across as a seasoned ANBU until I am one. So--::

::Thus the advice I wanted to give you, to help you become a seasoned ANBU. I'm not used to working with a greenhorn, yeah? So whatever I can do to knock that green off you, I'll do it.::

Iruka's brow rises. ::What's your advice, then?::

::Quit thinking of yourself as Iruka when you're supposed to be Dagon.::

Turning sharply towards Schuldig, Iruka glares. ::You said you didn't know what I was thinking, how could you--::

Schuldig spreads his hands. ::Hey, hey, settle down. I know I mentioned before that I used to be able to go inside people's heads. For years, I could do that, and I did it at almost every opportunity. When you get to see that much of people's minds, you learn to know shit about them even without reading them. I can tell that you think of Kakashi as Jackal and Sai as Hydra when you're playing ANBU, but you still think of yourself as Iruka. It'll hold you back.::

“You're one to talk,” Iruka says aloud, a little jarred by the analysis.

“You don't know who I am to begin with,” Schuldig says, shrugging. “This could be my ANBU mask, for all you know. Your partners, they wear their masks without having to put them on, yeah? You should learn to do that.”

Iruka can't deny the merit of that suggestion. “I know,” he murmurs. “You're right.”

“Of course I am,” Schuldig says cheerfully. ::Jackal will make sure you get it right,:: he continues silently. ::He's a perfectionist, and I'm sure that extends to you, Delph—Dagon.::

Iruka's sure that slip is intentional, but he ignores it. ::You've worked with him before?::

::No, but I can read him. The way you would read someone, I mean. He's worlds harder to read than you, though.::

Iruka tries to refrain from sighing. ::Well, thanks for the advice, Schuldig.::

Schuldig grins. ::Call me Schu. Tell me, what is Vogelscheuche like in bed? Do you ever have threesomes?::

::Vog...what? What are these words you keep coming up with? Are they from your native language?::

::You've got it. I just call you what your names are in my language. Not nicknames.::

Iruka cocks his head. “Where are you from?” he asks aloud.

“Nowhere important,” Schuldig answers blithely. Then, quieter, “Nowhere that still exists.”

Iruka nods. He can accept that as an explanation. “I'm going to find Captain Jackal. I'll see you later; thanks again.” He begins walking away, but then pauses. ::You can call me Delphin if you want,:: he sends, ::just not out loud.::

::What a privilege, Delphin-sama!::

Iruka smirks, shakes his head, and walks purposefully down the hall toward the sound of Jackal's voice.

The attendant smiles vacantly as she leaves Iruka at the door to the Kazekage's private changing room. Iruka enters a little nervously. He knows he shouldn't be; this is just a bath, after all. He's been in a mixed bath with the Hokage before, which should have been intimidating enough to make this seem like a piece of cake. The memory of trying to have a conversation with Tsunade while not staring at her giant breasts, which she purposely kept above the waterline at all times, is one that still makes him squirm.

He strips off and showers quickly, going over in his head the things he's hoping to talk with Gaara about. The state of Kurocha is first on his list, but he doesn't know if the Kazekage will be receptive to conversing about something related to the mission. This is not an official meeting, after all.

Iruka hesitates as he approaches the door to the bath, wondering if he should put on a towel. Propriety, in that respect at least, seems to be less important here in Suna, and he doubts that Gaara would be embarrassed or feel shown up by anything Iruka has to show him. He decides he's being overly cautious, and knocks softly before entering the bath.

The bath looks more like an outdoor onsen than a simple bathing chamber. The walls and ceiling are brass-gilded glass, and the bath itself is shaped irregularly, lined with smooth, natural rock and surrounded by lush hothouse foliage. It looks like it could fit twenty people with room to spare. The water is slightly cloudy, smells of minerals, and moves in a way that simulates a spring. The entire room is lit softly but thoroughly, in a way that still allows the sky to be clearly visible, with fixtures that are hidden in the plants. Being Kazekage obviously has its privileges.

Gaara is reclining on the far side of the bath, a cloth over his face. He doesn't appear to be aware of Iruka's entrance, but Iruka knows better.

“Good evening, Gaara-sama,” Iruka says softly as he approaches, sitting down near the redhead with a pleased sigh.

Gaara lifts his hands and scrubs the cloth across his face, discarding it on the rock behind him. “I'm glad you could join me, Iruka-san.”

“Of course. This is a very beautiful bath.”

Gaara looks up at the ceiling, where the stars can be seen twinkling crisply in the clear desert sky. “It's more luxury than I need.”

Iruka raises a brow. “No one needs luxury, Gaara-sama. That's why it's called luxury.”

He's startled by Gaara's soft laughter. “I agree with you, but there are those who believe luxury is a necessity of the powerful. The Wind daimyo, for example, who commissioned this bath when the Sandaime led Suna. My people also seem to be of the opinion that the Kazekage should be afforded privileges that common shinobi do not enjoy. I do not see the reason for that, but it is very difficult to argue with them.” He shrugs. “Temari and Kankurou often relax here, and have implored me not to alter the room, so that is enough reason for me to keep it around.”

It impresses Iruka how much Gaara cares about his siblings. “I have heard, Gaara-sama,” Iruka ventures slowly, “it used to be that you didn't even consider Temari and Kankurou to be your siblings, or have any familial feeling for them at all.” He feels odd opening the door to discuss Gaara's past, but the Kazekage did want to bond with him, after all.

If Gaara feels Iruka is pushing into unwelcome territory, it doesn't show. “That is true. I made certain that they knew exactly where they stood with me, which was just about where everybody in the world stood with me: lives to be extinguished at my whim. Now I see the world differently, and my siblings as well.”

Iruka feels awed. “And Naruto was responsible for this change?”

“Naruto was the turning point, yes. Rock Lee and his teacher Guy, also. Many have influenced me since that chuunin exam, but I will always think of Naruto and Lee as the pivotal characters in the story of my life.” Gaara runs his fingers through his wet hair, sticking it up in spikes. “Naruto and Chiyo raising me from the dead after I lost Shukaku almost pales in comparison. I often wonder what I would have been like if I had never met Naruto, after having Shukaku taken from me. Still having been raised from the dead, of course.”

Iruka sweeps his arms in the swirling water. “What do you surmise?”

Gaara's eyes drift heavenward again. “I think I would have been lost,” he says simply. “I might have ended up taking my own life. The demon defined who I was; without that, I would have felt I had no place. The best thing Naruto gave me was my own identity, I think. My own thoughts.”

Iruka nods, his eyes roaming over Gaara's thoughtful visage.

“Naruto is very important to you as well,” Gaara says after a moment.

It's not really a question, but Iruka gets the sense that he's supposed to answer. “I have always admired him. Even when he was little, and didn't understand why every adult in the village seemed to hate him, he was spirited to the point of blindness and sheer stupidity. He was always going to prove himself no matter what, even if his own abilities were abysmal, and it seemed to him that everyone was against him, including me. Then I took a giant shuriken in the back for him, and we've looked out for each other ever since.”

“He considers you his family.”

Iruka nods. “He's my misfit little brother.”

Gaara's laughter is barely audible over the soft rushing of the water. “Kankurou has described me in just those words.”

“It is good how you have forged relationships with your siblings, since you see them as people now,” Iruka offers, smiling.

“I love them,” Gaara says, a finger trailing absently over the tattoo on his forehead.

Iruka sees that statement as a segue into something else he isn't sure he should bring up, but it seems too important not to. “You love Naruto as well.”

Gaara freezes for the slightest instant, like a hitch in time. “I am less discreet than I ought to be.”

That doesn't sit well with Iruka. “I don't think you have been indiscreet, Gaara-sama. It's just that you seem to...to glow, when he is near. It makes you happy to be around him.”

The Kazekage frowns darkly. “If I am that transparent, then I have not acted as I should. It would not do for Naruto to know my feelings.”

“It would not affect his friendship with you--”

“Of course it would,” Gaara snaps, more emotional than Iruka has yet seen him. “I am not as oblivious as I used to be. I know my feelings will never be returned, and I have heard Naruto's reactions when Kakashi, Sai or other men make suggestive remarks to him. He is tolerant enough, but the idea of homosexuality fundamentally disturbs him. It is foolish to think that he would not view me differently if he knew. Perhaps that would be true if I loved someone else and he knew, but in this case...no. He cannot know.”

Iruka thinks Gaara is really underestimating Naruto's resilience, but he can't argue against Gaara's position with any degree of certainty. “I am sorry, Gaara-sama,” he says quietly.

Gaara cocks his head. “Wanting...it is a strange and complex feeling, Iruka-san.” He sighs, adjusting his position in the water. “My advisors, before the war, were encouraging me to employ a harem, as my father did. Many citizens have expressed interest in becoming my consorts. I do not think a single brow would have been raised if my only consorts were men.” He smiles. “Actually, if I asked for a harem of goats and horses, the only questions it would raise would be how many and what kind of lubricant should be stocked in the stables.”

Iruka's brows creep up. “That would definitely not go over well in Konoha.”

“My people have been determined to secure me whatever I want, even if it is outrageous. They are more loyal than I would have ever suspected. I have often wondered what measures they would take, if I ever let it be generally known that I...want Naruto. I would be almost afraid for him.”

Iruka remembers the measures Kakashi took when he wanted Iruka and couldn't have him. He suppresses a shudder; he tries never to think about that. “Your people's devotion to you is very impressive. It reminds me of the love the people had for the Yondaime Hokage. Not that we are not loyal to the Godaime, but...it's different,” Iruka admits. “I know the people of Suna did not have the regard for your father that they have for you. From being viewed as both Suna's secret weapon and potential destruction, you have really come far.”

Gaara nods, and after they sit in companionable silence for a few moments, the Kazekage changes the subject. “Have you thought of anything you'd like to ask about the mission?”

“Actually, yes,” Iruka says, glad for the opportunity to get his concerns about Kurocha off his chest. “From the pictures we were sent, it seems that living conditions in Kurocha are...well, pretty repulsive.”

Gaara's eyes lower. “The standard of living there is the lowest of anywhere in Wind Country.”

“How did it get so bad?”

The Kazekage shakes his head. “Overpopulation, mostly. Politics as well—that whole region operates almost like a separate country, headed by the Director-General of Security. The past several daimyo have set a precedent of leaving Kurocha to its own devices, usually because of bribes or intimidation. The wealthy of Kurocha don't concern themselves with the hygiene of the city or the welfare of the poor. The caste system is quite entrenched.”

“Have you ever thought about trying to change that?” Iruka asks hesitantly. He doesn't want to offend the Kazekage.

“No,” Gaara says flatly. “It is not worth the energy. I am aware that Fire Country has a history of the Hokage taking on problems outside of Konoha without a mission directive, but in Wind Country my jurisdiction is very clearly defined. Were I to take action outside of it, the daimyo would immediately press for my removal. Besides, I have enough to deal with as it is, I think.”

“Of course, Gaara-sama,” Iruka agrees. The answer disappoints him a little, but he knows it would be unrealistic—and unfair—to expect more.

“Which is not to say,” Gaara continues, “that I would not seize the opportunity to improve the situation in Kurocha, should one arise. But I see little hope of that.” The redhead eyes him intently. “Are you aware of the increasing violence there between the two major religious factions?”

Iruka goes over what he remembers from his mission dossier. “The...Bandu and the Zorossi, right?”

Gaara nods. “Going undercover with the police, you're bound to find out all about it very quickly. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up right in the middle of it. So far, the violent incidents have been isolated, but tensions are increasing. Be extremely cautious,” the Kazekage warns. “It is likely that the situation will interfere with your mission. Do not get too caught up in it. I wouldn't normally say that to an ANBU, but I know this is your first ANBU mission. If anything tests your ability to stay on-task, it will be this, I'd wager.”

Iruka smiles wryly as he echoes what he said to Schuldig earlier. “Thank you for the advice, Gaara-sama.”

Gaara catches his tone. “I hope I haven't offended you. ANBU is a very big adjustment; I do not mean to imply that I doubt your ability.”

“It's alright if you do doubt my ability,” Iruka says, shrugging. “I haven't proven myself yet.”

“I have no doubt at all that you will comport yourself as you should, and do your best to carry out your mission. You have never failed a mission, if I recall correctly, Iruka-san.”

Iruka scratches the back of his neck. “Well, there were missions I would have called failures, Gaara-sama. But officially, no, I haven't.”

“Well, if you 'officially' complete this mission, I will be well satisfied.”

Iruka almost gasps as the Kazekage suddenly stands up, stretching. Up until now he has admirably ignored the lingering awareness of being wet and naked with such a gorgeous creature, but the sudden full frontal view thrills across his nerves. That red hair framing Gaara's face and cock is terribly alluring.

“I think we have been in here long enough,” Gaara is saying. “Temari is likely to come bursting in any moment. She gets nervous when I am in the bath, since I almost drowned recently.”

“Understandable,” Iruka manages, using all his willpower to prevent an erection. He doesn't think Gaara would care, but it would really embarrass him. He's sure that if this had happened a couple of years ago, he'd already be a brilliant shade of pomegranate.

He feels like he has himself well under control until he looks up to find Gaara standing over him, hand held out to help him up. With his exotically ringed eyes, the gentle lighting on his creamy skin and the moon behind him, Gaara looks like he just stepped out of a divine pantheon. It used to be that Iruka could only get aroused by Kakashi because of the soul bond, but judging from his reaction to Gaara's beauty, his spectrum of attraction has broadened over time.

“Naruto's insane,” he hears himself whisper vehemently.

Gaara's eyes widen and he drops his hand. He tilts his head, considering Iruka for a moment. For his part, Iruka considers sinking below the water and not coming up for air again, ever.

A slow smile spreads across Gaara's features. He steps forward until he is directly in front of Iruka, his feet on either side of Iruka's hips. He's close enough that if Iruka were to stick his tongue out, it would touch Gaara's cock. He clenches his jaw, hard, and forces his eyes to remain on the Kazekage's.

Gaara puts gentle hands on either side of Iruka's upturned face. “You are a remarkable person, Iruka,” he says. “Kakashi is very lucky.”

Iruka inhales and smells the slightly perfumed musk of Gaara's groin, and his heart pounds so hard it blurs his vision. He's sure it's visible in his chest. He feels lightheaded. “Thank you,” he croaks, his voice almost cracking.

Gaara leans down so his mouth is near Iruka's ear, hands still caressing Iruka's face and neck. As he speaks, his breath puffs against Iruka's skin, making all the hair on his body prickle and shivers run down his spine. “If the two of you ever wish to leave the life of shinobi and become consorts to the Kazekage, I would welcome you.” He pulls back just enough that Iruka can see his eyes, which are practically glowing with mischief.

It takes a couple of tries before Iruka can speak. “You are dangerous, Gaara-sama,” he says shakily. “And you don't play fair.”

“It's not fun otherwise,” Gaara rejoins, and then backs off after running his fingers once through Iruka's loose hair.

“I must admit...I did not expect you to...behave in such a manner,” Iruka ventures cautiously, trying to rein in his hormones.

Gaara smiles. It is a nice smile that lightens his face. “I have been schooled in many things since I was appointed to Kazekage. Seduction is an aspect of my education that I find very amusing.”

“Some might take that kind of playing seriously,” Iruka muses, thinking of the feel of Gaara's hands and his scent.

“Do you?”

“Coming from you, Gaara-sama, I would be unwise to assume either gravity or levity.”

Gaara cocks his head, thinking. “Understood. It was half-serious, then, Iruka. Assume both.”

Iruka smiles back at the Kazekage, though he doesn't think that really clears anything up. “Alright.”

“Temari is on her way here,” Gaara calls over his shoulder as he walks across the bath. “I'm going to head her off. Please feel free to stay here as long as you like.”

Iruka breathes deeply, calming his excited body down. “Thank you for allowing me to join you,” he says politely, pleased that he sounds normal.

“I enjoyed speaking with you. I hope we have occasion to talk more in the future, Iruka,” Gaara says, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing another to scrub at his hair with.

Now that Gaara is somewhat covered and reasonably far away, Iruka feels confident enough in his control to stand and give a low bow. “It was my pleasure, Gaara-sama.”

The Kazekage nods and silently slips from the room. Iruka sinks back down into the water, fully submerging. He groans deeply underwater, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He really hopes he can hide the end of this interview from Kakashi. If his partner finds out how Gaara teased him, he'll never let Iruka live it down.

He doesn't know who he thinks he's kidding. Even at his level best, he can't hide anything from Kakashi.

Iruka suddenly remembers that Kakashi is actually not around right now, only Jackal. Captain Jackal will have no interest in any of this. He didn't even look up from the files he was studying when Iruka said he was going to go bathe with Gaara.

He rises slowly until his head and shoulders are above water, pensive. Iruka might be bad at hiding things from Kakashi, but Dagon might not be. Schuldig was right; Iruka needs to learn how to think of himself as someone else. Someone completely divorced from himself. The success of their mission could depend on it.

It will definitely be difficult. He should start now.

Iruka stands and emerges from the bath, but Dagon leaves the room.