Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto

Scorched Ire

5.

Tag was a terrible idea. Gaara didn't understand what it means to run and tap someone. He used his sand to do all the work and after losing consecutively, no one else found it appealing to play anymore. Gaara wondered if our dear older siblings wanted to train with him. They ran for their lives: hell no, slapped in Gaara's face without a single word.

I patted his shoulder comfortingly even though I wanted to laugh. Kankuro's face was priceless. "Tee-hee ... don't worry. They'll warm up to you soon enough."

"I don't need them to," Gaara told me archly, hurt but not willing to show it, "I have you."

"I can't possibly be the only one," I muttered, thinking of Naruto's influence in his life. Gaara opened his mouth to protest that statement but then, a loud banging reached our ears. Gaara tensed, I did, too. The sound was repetitive and someone's voice permeated through the chaotic sound, repeating a name.

"Temari-nee!" I shouted at the stairs. "Someone's looking for you!"

Temari was scowling fiercely as she ran down the stairs. "I saw from the window," she told me sourly, face twisted into a frown of concern and annoyance. She shot Gaara a wary look. "Natsuo, come here for a sec." Gaara made to follow but Temari shook her head. "Alone."

"Why?"

"I'm not about to kill my own brother!" she spat at him and recoiled quickly when Gaara's expression changed swiftly.

"Whoa, calm down!" My mother would've been proud, man. Usually, she was the one who had to step into the middle to stop a fight between me and my sister. I turned to Temari. "Is it that much of a top secret?"

"The boy outside is Daimaru." She received a blank stare from me for all her efforts. "The guy who keeps pranking me!"

"Because he loves you," I chirped, recalling the wide-eyed, buzz-cut hairstyle boy. I loved teasing her about it though he could be super-annoying, such as when he tossed a scorpion into Temari's shirt. "C'mon, let him in."

"But Gaara ..."

Ah. I see her problem. So that was why she was so hesitant: he may be a bully but she didn't hate him enough to sic Gaara on him. Daimaru kept knocking, drumming on the door to a certain, rhythmic beat now. "He's annoying," Gaara stated flatly, not noticing the look of panic flashing through his sister's face.

"Want Gaara to scare him off?" I asked excitedly. I grabbed my twin's arm and started dragging him downstairs to the foyer. The door flew open as Gaara used his sand to turn the doorknob.

"Hey, Tema—" Daimaru started but didn't finish. I yelped as a lizard was tossed into my face, blinding me, as he mistook me for my sister. I shrieked and ripped it away as sand rushed in, filling the doorway and the screaming from up and down filled my eyes as sand effectively buried me. This was Gaara panicking.

Sand snuck beneath my eyelids, filled my nostrils and mouth and— Arms grappled and pulled me up. My head broke surface and I wasted no time gagging out all the sand. This was why I hated the desert so much: sand everywhere. I had to bathe for an hour everytime I left home.

"Natsuo?" came Gaara's tentative call. I rubbed my eye and checked my surroundings. The foyer had disappeared beneath six feet of sand and it probably extended to the dining room, kitchen and servants' quarters—all of which were on the first floor. I heard Temari yelping at the stairs and she stumbled on unsteady surface to reach us. I guess she hadn't mastered walking on sand with chakra yet. "Are you alright?" he asked again.

I nodded but I was quite unhappy about having to take another hour's long bath to get rid of all the sand in places that I didn't even know existed. "Up," I said simply and a hand of sand formed, dragging me out of the rough and scratchy substance. "Where's Daimaru?"

"Down there."

I gagged. "What? Pull him up! He's Temari's boyfriend, our future brother-in-law! You can't kill him!"

"What?!" Temari shrieked from the stairway, having retreated when she saw Gaara. "What're you talking about?! Don't give Gaara the wrong idea! Throw Daimaru out of the house—now!"

"He'll suffocate!" was Kankuro's helpful input. "By the way, I never liked him. Can we pretend he's something Gaara accidentally rolled in?"

Gaara looked confused; he had never had so many people suggesting to him what to do, But he prioritized my opinion before all others so he started digging Daimaru out for me. Daimaru's throat bobbed painfully then he added another inch to the sand by vomiting everything he had.

Daimaru's visage was filled with terror. He didn't need our urging to take off running and never look back.

A minute of staring later, I told Gaara to roll the sand out before our servants died of asphyxiation or something then we will starve to death.

-:-

It came as no surprise to me that many of the servants resigned. Only Aiko-obaa-san was willing to remain but even she was getting older. Her eyes started failing and she could no longer stand for such long hours in the kitchen to cook a meal for four children with amazing metabolism (because Gaara had decided to make his stay permanent).

Shinobi generally needed to consume food of higher calories than civilians did. I did my best to help her because, so far, she was the only one I liked in this household who didn't share my DNA. I went with her to the market in the village and helped out.

I had been of the popular opinion that Suna was smaller than Konoha and I still believed that but Suna was pretty damn big. The sight wasn't much, since every building was covered in sand, splashed in perpetual sunset color, and the streets were sand. We didn't have decors because if a sandstorm hit, everything would just be blown away.

The walk from home to the market was nearly forty-five minutes. That was no journey an old woman should bear. Aiko seemed to have some budding fondness for Gaara, claiming that he reminded her of a panda that the zoo enclosure in Konoha had.

Due to the bad experience with Yashamaru, Gaara ignored her and treated her with the same disdain one would have for a fly. Mean, right? But I didn't want to force him to play nice with people, especially when it would mostly be fake necessities and it would only be done on my behalf.

Personally, I didn't see the point of cleaning the house when an open window would just blow away our hard work.

Oyaji hired a few maids to replace Aiko but they didn't last long and he had to keep a permanent advertisement in his office and around the village.

I know that I could be too harsh on my father sometimes but I didn't know how to close the gap. I felt very, very awkward whenever we were in the same room. In fact, I would feel the instinctive need to poke fun at him. Particularly the ridiculous Kage robes every Kage had to wear.

I had to wonder who had designed it. I suspected Senju Hashirama since he was the first Kage and all, so he should be able to set the trend.

Oyaji seemed to be somewhat of a mind reader. He kicked me out of his office when I started giggling hysterically to myself. This sort of attitude combined with my likeness to Gaara—right down to the character 'love' Gaara had carved onto my forehead in the same spot after getting my agreement—made it doubly hard to tell who was the Jinchuriki so I was pretty much given the cold shoulder as well.

I started the Academy when I eight. As far as I knew, this was two years later than the children in Konoha did. I wasn't complaining though. Since I was the Kazekage's son, I should be able to skip grades if I showed potential.

Temari and Kankuro were a few years ahead of us.

Us — yeah, Gaara was with me. A couple of kids withdrew to try again next year when they found out. I didn't blame them, Gaara didn't wore a nice expression and he rarely smiled anymore. I loved him, seriously, but sometimes ... I found it hard to contend with. He didn't smile and he was such a killjoy. I tried not to be resentful nor did I showed him this sort of attitude though.

Truthfully, we were all the other had. Lonely as it sounds. Temari and Kankuro kept more to themselves and looked too relieved to be away from us.

The Academy taught the usual stuff: maths, geography, physics, kanji, katanaka and the history of Suna and shinobi. Gaara was pretty smart: he grasped concepts easily and always passed up his homework. I was more careless so I made more mistakes than he did in maths.

I was so ashamed an eight-year-old could beat me, a twenty-something in mentality, in maths that I should've mastered years ago. Sadly, maths was not my strong suit so I shouldn't be too surprised that he was scoring better than me in school. Intelligence hardly mattered anyway, if you weren't a Nara who could keep ten paces in front of your enemies.

I just had to be an opportunist; snatching advantages from catastrophes.

Besides, I had Gaara with me. And he was safety.

-:-

The years passed quickly.

Oyaji dropped by only special occasions such as our birthdays, specific festivals celebrated in Suna or when he wanted to check up on our progress. Temari and Kankuro were in the same Genin team, having graduated when I was only ten. Their third teammate was Daimaru—can you believe it? Even after the scare Gaara had given him, he wasn't relenting in pursuing Temari's affections.

(Temari was older than me by three years, Kankuro by two and Gaara, eh, he's the youngest.)

It was without a question that Gaara and I would be on the same team. I just pitied the poor girl—Akiyama Matsuri—who had to complete our three-men cell. Baki-sensei introduced us and pleaded us to play nice.

Matsuri was trembling as she looked at Gaara. It would've been funny if it didn't utterly ruin our teamwork and give Gaara a worse impression of himself.

"He's actually good-looking—like me—but he just glares too much and it's Shukaku's reputation ruining his first crushes," I had explained to Temari before.

"Um, yeah right. I can't associate you with good-looking."

"Fuck you."

"And that mouth. Just, ugh."

Despite my dysfunctional family, I was pretty ... happy. Content with my life. Sure, sometimes I showed the restraint of a PMSing woman but I was coping with the loss of my right eye and that I would, it seemed, always be weaker than Gaara. Medicine wasn't that advanced yet but there was talk about eye-surgery. Here was to hoping Senju Tsunade could do something about it.

I'd mastered the Shakuton pretty well. Far better than I was doing in Jiton anyway.

It frustrated Oyaji. Just recently, the Wind Daimyo had further cut our budget. The stress of our depleting resources was getting to Oyaji. I could see where I'd gotten my temper, if I hadn't been reborn with this picture perfect personality already. You'd think my father was on his monthly period with his attitude.

He snapped at me when I was a fraction too slow or when my control was weak. His words stung, scorched worse than my Shakuton jutsu.

Of all times that Gaara could've defended me, he didn't. Oyaji had a pretty big say in our lives and if Gaara put one toe out of line, it was damnation—in other words, separation for eternity. I would probably be exiled to underground at the mounting rate of our argument and my growing disrespect.

I, however, was an extremely considerate person. I refrained from picking fights in public areas or when there were witnesses other than our immediate family because I would be undermining my father's authority in this village. What was a Kage if he couldn't even keep his son in line?

You get it, right?

Eventually, our relationship degraded to something like "you scratch my back, I scratch yours" and if we had no business with one another, we generally pretended we lived in two different worlds.

It sorta did. It was like how Konoha was to me. I knew the Chunin Exams were looming but instead of being scared shitless ... well, I must say, it would be fun. Gaara was, after all, the most dangerous of opponents and he was on my side. I was safe.

Gaara was seen as a monster by everyone else, even our siblings. And Oyaji viewed him as the sharpest kunai in the tool shed (now I'm not saying Gaara's the smartest but you know what I mean). But to me, Gaara was safe: he'd protected me on every mission and with him by my side, I didn't feel like anything could touch me.

Yeah, maybe he was coddling me. I was aware that my abilities, in comparison to other shinobi I could name out there, was just a fluke.

But I wasn't even in the middle of the storyline.

I should be safe, right?

Wrong answer.

-:-

Q: Three guesses as to what happen, guys. :P

R&R