Hello. From here on out, all the fics I publish having to do with characters from Sunagakure will not be considered part of the same canon as the works I've done with those characters in the past. This is partly because of the new information the manga's given us since I posted most of those fics, and in an attempt to stay closer to the canon characterizations. There will be a label ('SUNA') on the summary part of the fics, to differentiate them from the new ones from the old ones.

And I find that my first fic (first multi-chapter fic, as it happens; aha) is written from the point of view of a guy whose perspective I have a really hard time writing from (or even understanding) sometimes. I will try my best, though.

Spoilers up to chapter 548.

I own nothing.

At All Costs

An old Kaze no Kuni superstition asserts that the father is not to be present during the birth of his child. It's bad luck, the old men and women say, nodding sagely and exchanging knowing glances. It would bring ill fortune on both the mother and her child, possibly bring death. Personally, the Kazekage doesn't hold with superstition, doesn't believe that a belief held without proof can have any basis in fact, but it's better to appear to respect old customs, however unreasonable they might be. He wasn't present at the births of his two elder children.

However, for the birth of his youngest, he needs to be there. After all, this is no ordinary birth, and if things don't go well, he might be needed to avert disaster.

The Kazekage's youngest child is not just a child. He is the vessel for the bijuu Shukaku, the Ichibi's host, and tonight is the moment of truth, to see if the sealing was a success. If not, then God help Suna.

But the feared disaster never comes.

A much smaller one happens instead.

The first thing that crossed his mind when he learned that Karura had gone into labor was: Too soon. Her due date wasn't until May; she couldn't possibly be giving birth now. She had been sick and growing sicker ever since the sealing of the Shukaku, but surely not enough to trigger such a premature birth. Surely not enough to kill her.

Perhaps he had been overconfident.

The birthing chamber is too hot for the season; its air is choked with the stench of blood and amniotic fluid, and above all of that, clinging like fresh mold to the walls, there is the telltale odor of death. After Karura drew in one last, gasping breath, a strange silence descended over the room. The movements of the medics become less urgent and hurried; now, they're starting to put their things away, wordless and pale, going out of their way to avoid approaching where the child lies.

She had named the child, an odd name, as with Temari and Kankuro. She had murmured a promise to protect, though he doesn't see how she'll ever be able to do that now, now that she's dead. And…

"What a waste," he mutters, staring down at the newborn cupped in his mother's hands, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. Karura's dying, and they'll be lucky if the child survives the night, let alone long enough to grow into the weapon he was meant to be. Wonder why he ever though he could cheat death, wondering why he didn't make his peace with this before now, what the Kazekage wonders is if there will be one death tonight or two, and which would be worse.

For one moment, a spark ignites in Karura's dulling eyes, what might be indignation curling in her faint voice. "A waste?" She tries to lift her head off of the table, but can't find the strength. Her sweat-soaked blonde hair clings to her cheeks. "A waste? You have no eye for value, if you think that."

It doesn't seem real. Is she dead? Is she really dead? The Kazekage reaches over and presses his fingers against the side of Karura's neck, trying to find any hint of a pulse. For a moment, he thinks there might be some hint of life, but realizes that it's only his own heartbeat he's feeling, not hers. The spark of life has absconded from this body.

Why didn't I expect this? The sealing has always required a blood sacrifice. The demon demands a life in exchange for being sealed away; I knew that. So why didn't I expect her to die? Why couldn't I see this coming?

Maybe it's simply because he didn't want her to die.

Her eyes are still open. He'd already seen that, watched her die with her eyes still open, but he only really notices it now, when he realizes that she's still looking at him. Her green eyes are still half-open, dead and dull as marbles, and he feels as though she's taking the opportunity to rebuke him even after death. The Kazekage reaches over and shuts them, thankful to no longer feel his wife's eyes on him.

I wonder what the superstitious say about people dying with their eyes open.

…It doesn't matter. Superstition isn't going to save this village.

His attention drawn by the infant's small movements, the Kazekage looks down at the child Karura had died holding. Gaara, he tells himself. That was what she named him. An incredibly odd name, as usual, but that was what she named him. That's what he's called. Gaara wriggles a bit in his mother's hands, his tiny mouth opening and closing as though he's trying to find the breath with which to cry. Trying to call out for the care of a mother who can no longer hear him. He doesn't realize that his little gasping breaths fall on deaf ears, and that he's never going to be the sort of child who can enjoy the comfort of his mother's arms.

It occurs to the Kazekage that Gaara really doesn't need to be lying there, in the hands of a dead woman. Gingerly, wondering if maybe even the smallest slip will crush a bone or even kill him, he gathers the child, still sticky with a film of amniotic fluid and his mother's blood, into his hands.

He's so small. No matter how many times he thinks that, it still seems new. Temari and Kankuro were both born full-term, and were big, even heavy, when they were born. And neither one of them were this quiet. They had come into the world howling, determined to make their voices heard. But Gaara hasn't made a sound. Not a single sound. He hasn't cried, cooed, or even taken loud breaths. Despite having come out into the world small enough to fit in the palms of his father's hands, he still lives, but he hasn't made a sound. The Kazekage stares down at him, brow furrowed, and swallows. Can something so monstrous as the Shukaku really be encased in such a small, frail child?

Gaara squirms more fiercely now, still making those silent mouthing motions. And, as though a veil has been lifted, sound returns to the room. A fierce wind batters on the windows and fine grains of sand swirl at his feet. With the return of sound comes the return of reality.

The Kazekage knows that he needs to stop looking at Gaara as any normal child. He needs to stop looking at him as his son (Though as he'll discover later: easier said than done). Just as he has obligations that make him both more and less than a person, so does this child. He doesn't know it yet, can't know it yet, but Gaara is not just a child. He will keep Sunagakure safe from invasion. He will be the force that makes Sunagakure great again. His face hardens. Gaara can not simply be a child. He has to be more than that.

"Kazekage-sama." One of the medics, the only one there who wasn't afraid to touch Gaara earlier, white-clad and veiled, approaches. "We have the incubator ready." The Kazekage nods and hands Gaara over to him. Somehow, he suspects that Gaara, imbued with the spirit of the sand, perfectly formed and living when he should have been born dead, won't need it. However, it won't hurt to let the medics perform their tests and make sure that there really isn't anything wrong with him.

There are other arrangements that need to be made, many things that still need to be done. The Kazekage casts one more glance at Karura lying dead on the table, and almost immediately has to look away again—that body barely even looks like her with the life gone from it, small and pale and lifeless. He can't afford to waste any more time here.

"I hope you're prepared to deal with the consequences if this experiment fails." Just as he's at the doorway, Chiyo calls out these last words to him. The old woman's standing around the incubator with the medic, peering down at Gaara with an unreadable expression on her face. But the tone in her voice is clear.

Chiyo had not approved of this measure, offering her services to the sealing only because she wished it to be done correctly—she knew as well as the Kazekage that there were other, less skilled sealing masters who would jump at the chance to curry favor but would probably botch the seal in the process. The Kazekage isn't sure why she chose now to suddenly disapprove of the idea of Suna once again having a jinchuuriki host, since she had quite willingly performed the sealing of the last host and has made it clear all her life that Sunagakure should augment its strength from within, at all costs.

"I'll do what needs to be done," he replies shortly.

The experiment won't fail. Gaara won't fail.

He's made a huge gamble tonight, and given what it's already cost him, the Kazekage will do whatever he has to, in order to make sure it pays off.

And as he leaves, the child finally begins to cry.