The Girl and The Bar

"Crap," I breathed, shoving my hands deeper into the sand, fingers digging frantically. "The book said it would be just below the surface…"

The midday sun was beating down on my back from the open skylight and sweat beaded my brow. Blood dripped onto the thirsty earth, my knees skidded and chaffing from the gritty sand beneath.

When my fingers finally glanced over something prickly, I sighed in relief. "Found it!"

"Why would someone break into the herb canyon?" Temari asked, annoyed. Somehow, she had acquired an elusive grain of sand in her sandal and it was stabbing her foot with a vengeance—but even that wasn't worse than this stupid mission.

"The real question is: how are they stupid enough to trip the chakra wires? Nobody ever comes out here," Kankurou responded, not caring in the least.

Gaara didn't say anything...per the usual.

Since his birth, Gaara didn't do much of anything...except kill and breathe. His existence was so singular that when Temari was bold, she considered him retarded for how simple-minded he was. Kill. Breathe. Kill. Breathe. Staaaaaaaaare.

She glanced back at him for a moment as they trudged through the desert and shuddered.

Up ahead was the Herb Canyon, used for growing healing herbs for medicinal purposes. The few medic-nin Suna had hailed it as their sanctuary. Temari vaguely recalled Baki telling them why the herbs were grown in this specific canyon, but she hadn't really been paying attention.

None of that idle stuff mattered to her. She was trained to have all the pertinent facts and see all the moves, but that didn't involve storing useless information such as which herbs made your boo boos feel better. Her brain space was better spent mastering her new summon.

"Isn't it supposed to be guarded?" Kankurou pointed out as they got closer.

Temari nodded, eyes scanning the area for any signs of enemies.

As a hailed sanctuary, the medic-nin required someone to stand watch day and night, although it seemed pretty pointless to her.

Who was going to raid the herb canyon anyway? What nation would brave her desert for some cactus blossoms?

It was just another useless thing she had deleted from her memory.

But the lack of guard did pose a problem. Were they walking into some kind of hostile situation, or had he just gone off on his own to sleep away the noon heat?

I impatiently pulled up the spiny root, cutting my palms in the process, though I barely noticed the pain. It wasn't the worst I'd had.

I glanced back at the scroll with the instructions, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything. My stomach churned at the sight of bloody fingerprints marring some of the words of the text, when my ears picked up voices from the entrance.

"Oh no!" I scrambled to my feet.

It wasn't like there was anywhere for me to hide in here. The canyon was just a round outcropping in a large sandstone hill. The walls were all smooth and round, with one way in...and one way out.

Only one option then, I thought grimly. I have to make a run for the entrance.

I jumped to my feet, scooping up the scroll and roots, but before I could even try to move, a yell stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey!" Temari yelled as she and her brothers shadowed the entrance.

She saw the intruder hovering along the back row of crops and spun wildly, looking for an escape. She couldn't have been any older than Temari, and the look on her face was complete terror. Brown hair, tan skin, old clothes, shinobi sandals, scarred left arm…Expertly, Temari took in the details, making her evaluation.

No threat.

"What are you—" Kankurou started to shout, only to be cut off by Temari.

"Shut up," she snapped, grinding her teeth in displeasure. She was team captain on this assignment, and he was to follow her lead.

The final thing Temari noticed as she made her assessment was the girl's arm. It hung limply at her side once she'd frozen in place, and it was covered...literally coated in blood. The red liquid dripped into a small puddle by her feet, and swung this way and that like a streamer attached to a stick.

Blood and sand, thought Temari, shuddering inwardly. Gaara…

"Who are you?" Kankurou yelled, despite Temari's direct growl.

"Kankurou, I told you to shut up," she snapped. He immediately shot her an annoyed look but acquiesced.

"Stay here," she ordered, and started towards the girl.

The only thing worse than getting caught, was getting caught by shinobi.

I could clearly see the giant fan on her back, and the Suna headband around her neck.

This was not just any Suna-nin either. I knew exactly who she was once I got a good look at her—Temari.

She was famous for her ability to use her Kyodai Sensu, her giant fan, and for being the only sister of Gaara—the sand demon.

Everyone knew of him, of course. Rumor had it that he'd killed hundreds of people over nothing.

I always doubted he could be any worse than Giia, but as I stood in the middle of a restricted area and saw his silhouette in the entrance, I wasn't so sure.

Temari stopped a few feet away from me and squinted, like she was sizing me up. Surely, there was no mistaking the fear in my eyes, or the lack of hatred and malice.

I wasn't going to strike first—surely, she saw that.

"What's your name?" The kunoichi asked.

My eyes trailed downwards, and I saw that she was standing in the Pleurisy root like she had no idea how rare they were.

Was she going to kill me?

I was stealing from the village, but that wasn't punishable by death, was it? Accidentally, I glanced over her shoulder to the mouth of the canyon and caught a glimpse of her brothers.

He killed over nothing...

When I didn't answer, she barked, "Answer me. Name?"

"Daagana," I said thoughtlessly.

I should have given her a different name. Maybe the name of one of those girls who worked at the perfume shop by the ramen bar. Maybe the blonde one that snickered at Giia whenever she floated by.

"And why are you here, Daagana?" Temari went on, not in the least bit phased. My name sounded dull on her lips, like she was just listing off another noun on a long list of unimpressive nouns.

"...My arm…" I glanced down at the bloody mess that was still leaking from a wound on my shoulder.

In theory, it shouldn't have been bleeding this badly, unless something more precious had been nicked, such as an artery.

Temari took in my wound with a long calculating stare. It made me antsy, and a wave of dizziness gave me the vague reminder that if I didn't do something soon, Hiniku was going to be performing her first amputation before she even graduated from the academy.

"Give me the herbs," Temari ordered.

It was my turn to study her skeptically.

Was she just going to take them and banish me from the canyon, knowing I would probably die on the walk back to the village? Or would she snatch my arm when I gave her the herbs and chop it off herself? Was there even a scenario where I got to keep them?

I didn't have any other options at this point, so I reluctantly held them out to her, quickly pulling my arm back before she could draw her knife.

With a melodramatic sigh, Temari pulled on the sash that was tied around her waist, folded it up neatly and stepped forward. I stumbled backwards, hardly believing she was going to try and strangle me! There were plenty of other ways I could die that wouldn't take that long! But she was quicker than I was and firmly pressed the sash on my wound.

"Apply pressure or the bleeding won't stop," she said, and then looked down at the herbs in her hand.

I stared at the crown of her head in shock, but obeyed her command reflexively, holding the sash where she had instructed me to.

I suppose it was just in my nature to obey.

I had no spark, no spunk or, as Giia would say, no spine. If I followed directions and didn't cause a fuss, everything should work out fine...

An insidious voice, one I usually ignored, whispered in my ear, that philosophy never rang true at home, so why should it now? It always pipped up when I didn't want it to, making my hands sweat and my tongue go numb. I couldn't let it get the best of me here, though. If I gave even an inch, Temari would see, and she would not be so understanding then.

Temari bent down and placed the herbs on the ground to begin sorting through them. She seemed to know a little first aid and applied it as she pulled the leaves off all the stems and discarded them.

I whimpered a little at the discarded greens like I was watching someone stomp on silk. They could still be used to make tea, she didn't need to-

"Sit down," she ordered, and I flopped to the ground with a thud, all floral comradery forgotten.

Temari made a face, but didn't comment. She spun all the stems together, and made a simple hand seal over them, then pulled back the sash from my arm and placed the twined stems right in the gash.

I winced and looked away quickly when she made the other hand seal and the stems started to glow green. They activated, leaking out a dull white foam that stretched over the wound, and pulled the two sides together again, then hardened. What was left was an organic plaster scab.

Once the procedure was done, Temari took her bloodied sash and tied it securely around the new scab.

"In case it falls off or reopens," she said under her breath.

I couldn't believe it.

Temari...the strongest kunoichi in the village was helping me! Me, of all people!

She'd applied the stems just like the diagrams in Hiniku's book, and the reaction was exactly right.

If I'd read it correctly, the scab would rejuvenate the connective tissue between my muscles and fall off after a few hours.

And on top of it all...she'd given me her sash!

I guess I couldn't help myself. I flew forward and tried to throw my arms around her, but her hand instinctively flew up and I slammed my face into it.

There was an awkward moment of realization before I pulled back and sunk into a bow, used to my affection being rejected.

"I'm so sorry! Thank you! Thank you! I'm sorry! Thank you!" I squeezed my eyes tight, hoping she wouldn't pull out a kunai and gut me right there. It wouldn't be good for the herbs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she coughed awkwardly, nonchalantly glancing over her shoulder to see if her brothers had noticed. "Now get out of here, and don't come back!"

I jumped up and ran for the entrance, blowing past her siblings. My heart skipped a beat as I ran past Gaara, hoping he wouldn't kill me for being in his general vicinity.

Giia usually didn't need more of an excuse than that, after all.

Days Later

"Temari, I'm starving! I need food!" Kankurou whined as the two elder Sand Siblings made their way through the streets of the village.

Baki hadn't given them anything challenging to do during training, so they had the rest of the day to work as they wanted, but Temari was tired of babysitting her whiny brother, so she agreed.

Gaara never trained with them, and she was thankful for that, but it also meant he never ate with them, and for that, somewhere deep down, she felt a little guilty.

"I wish you weren't so damn annoying," she grumbled, but Kankurou was already sitting down at the closest ramen bar.

This wasn't a street they usually traveled, but it was a nice enough part of town. The building was old but well-kept and sported bright lanterns to chase away the coming evening drowse.

"How many?" the old man behind the counter asked as Temari bent past the noren and sat down beside her brother, leaning her fan against the bar.

"Three," Kankurou said immediately, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together like he was about to receive a blessing from the almighty god of food.

"Three?" Temari sneered. "Why? You think Gaara's going to magically appear and you'll be able to sate him with ramen?"

"No, I'm eating two," Kankurou said happily, ignoring her quip at him.

The old man was cleaning bowls on the other side of the counter and, although he had acknowledged them, he didn't make a move to prepare their meal.

"Heeey, start on our food, old man!" Kankurou whined.

"Soon as my hired help gets here. She's late again." He shrugged at Kankurou's ire.

"So fire her," Temari said, leaning her head on her hand, bored.

"Wouldn't be right. She ain't got a good home life," the old man said with an angry sigh. "New cuts and bruises every day." He picked up another bowl and began to dry it. "That hag comes in and takes all her money too. It's a sad sight."

"But I'm hungry…" Kankurou whispered to Temari but she shoved his face away.

"I tried to stop 'er once..." The old man continued, before catching himself.

"What happened?" Temari asked, just to keep anyone but Kankurou talking.

"That darned woman hollers for everyone to hear that she can raise her daughter however she well pleases, and it ain't my place to go against the woman, especially if the daughter don't complain."

Temari cocked an eyebrow.

"You're telling me she doesn't complain?" Temari asked incredulously. "Even though her mom abuses her?"

"I told ya' it's a sad sight. The girl ain't strong enough to hate the woman. I tell 'er every day, she ain't a mother anyone should have," the old man said, the frustration in his heart prompting him to offload somewhere. "But she's stubborn, and won't let anyone help 'er."

The thought occurred to Temari that this wasn't exactly table talk. It couldn't be good for business to discuss child abuse with your patrons.

"Why are you saying all this, old man?" Temari asked, feeling edgy from his overshare.

"Jus' between you and me, I thought maybe ya could—"

But before he could finish, a girl came rushing out of the back room, apron flying.

"I'm sorry Ojiisan! I...tripped and...had to clean a wound," said a familiar girl with a nervous smile.

Temari's eye twitched slightly.

Daagana.

I hated lying to Ojiisan, but he always took things too far.

Sure, Giia had pushed me into a pile of her shoes and one of her stilettos dug into my leg in a bad way, and cleaning it up made me late, but that was because I had rolled my eyes at her when she was picking her outfit for the day.

After I pulled the shoe from my thigh and rinsed it for her, I made a mental note to keep all eye movements in check. It was ridiculously cheeky, I don't know what had gotten into me lately…

But one glance at Ojiisan told me that he didn't believe me.

It was a good thing he never asked questions anymore. The last time he had, I didn't come to work for four entire days because of Giia's punishment.

I glanced over the bar, and saw the wonderful faces of Temari and Kankurou. Gaara was nowhere to be found, although I wasn't sure if Ojiisan would have served him if he had shown up. Sabaku no Gaara wasn't welcome at any Suna establishment, even all-accepting Ojiisan's. 'Oh great.' I thought to myself.

"Serve 'em three," Ojiisan said, and went back to drying bowls.

I nodded my head and quickly began to fill three bowls of ramen as ordered. It didn't take long. After two years, it was more muscle memory than cooking. I worked in this shop every day, and it was more a home than my house was.

That's pathetic, the insidious voice whispered, and I firmly suppressed it. It would not get the better of me here, either. With practiced ease, I bumped my hip into the searing stove, feeling the singe on my side. I held my breath, knowing that no one had seen, but feeling relief when the shadow in my mind simmered back to where it came from.

Without missing a beat, I placed a bowl of ramen in front of each of them, but paused with the third bowl…maybe Gaara was coming, and I was suddenly self-conscious of my ramen.

I didn't want to die because my broth was too salty.

But Kankurou motioned for me to put it in front of him as he slurped up his first bowl of noodles.

When they were content, I turned my back and began to beat udon dough into noodles.

"Where's Hiniku?" I asked Ojiisan, with my back still turned.

I heard him chuckle, and quickly spun around, only to have a bottle of water dumped on my head.

My first thought was of the noodles that were now ruined, and my second thought was to take her down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Temari looked confused, but Kankurou burst out laughing, noodles wiggling from his mouth. I quickly recovered and grabbed a loose bottle from the counter, throwing it in her face. Temari couldn't help but smirk.

"Dinner and a show," she hummed as I play-fought with my friend.

Hiniku's curly blond hair was sticking to her face, my face, and everywhere as we giggled and ran circles around Ojiisan, splashing water at each other. He sputtered and waved his spatula around in the air like we were little mice scampering around his kitchen.

Just when I was winning and Hiniku's waitress uniform was more sodden than mine was, the worst person had to walk in.

Giia came waltzing up to the bar and leaned over so far that her breasts rested on the menus. I only caught the flash of her golden hair before I nearly threw Hiniku to the ground to make myself presentable, knowing it was in vain.

Giia was beautiful and terrifying, and I was plain and spineless. Next to her, I was nothing.

She leaned back rigidly while I jumped to my feet, smoothing down my damp hair and straightening my rumpled skirt and apron. She looked like smoke was about to come out of her ears, she was so mad.

Hiniku jumped up in front of me protectively.

"So, is this what you do here? Make fools of yourselves in front of respectable customers?" Giia gritted through her teeth. Her eyes slid over Temari and her brother and I saw her debate her next move, realizing who they were.

My head hung in shame.

I shouldn't have let Hiniku distract me from my duties, especially not in front of customers. Especially not in front of Temari and Kankurou.

Ojiisan was going to be put out because I would have to remake that batch of noodles, which I should have started on immediately. This was my fault.

"Outside," she hissed at me, gliding out of the ramen bar with a snap.

"Gana..." Hiniku murmured quietly, but I shook my head and slowly walked around the bar to follow my mother.

She spun around to face me after leading me to the back alley, and before I could even say anything, she slapped me across the face.

It wouldn't have hurt so much, but she wore a ring on her right hand, and had a habit of turning it around her finger. It was a huge, fake thing, but sharp. She'd stolen it from the night market, hidden it in her purse, and showed it off to me later, while I scrubbed the floors at home. It just so happened to be the thing that came in contact with my face.

"You're due," she hissed, palm outstretched.

My face stayed to the side, just so I could hide the tears that were building up.

"Now," she demanded.

Slowly, I pulled out my old wallet, but she was impatient. She snatched it from my hand, tore it open and took all the money, then dropped it on the ground and stepped on it with the heel that had been in my leg that morning.

She wore them out of spite, I was sure, but there was still no mistaking how good she looked in them.

"Remember Daagana, you make a fool of yourself, you make a fool of me. And you don't want your mother to look foolish, now do you?" she asked, and I quickly shook my head.

"No, mother."

"That's a good girl," she cooed, patting my bleeding cheek.

I didn't fail to notice her perfectly manicured nails, or her new purse. She wafted the smell of cheap perfume around her like a cloud as she turned on her pretty heels and sashayed down the street. I watched her enter a bar further down the road and I knew she would not come home alone tonight...and that I should not go home at all.

Temari, without even really registering it, was anxious to know what was happening out there.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, but that in itself unnerved her. From what the old man had said, Daagana's mother was not the kind to let her give an excuse.

Power was one thing. Power was respected and feared.

Cruelty was an entirely different thing.

Cruelty was her father.

Cruelty was Gaara.

And apparently, cruelty was this woman.

Temari didn't know why she cared. Maybe it was the helplessness of the girl, something innate that made Temari want to protect her. Maybe it was simply because she already knew the girl, however tenuously.

Maybe it was because something of this girl's situation echoed her own.

Maybe…

After a few minutes, I re-entered the bar bleeding, and Temari stood from her stool abruptly. There would be no hiding the shallow gash across my face, but I still averted my face from her angry eyes just the same.

"I'm gonna kill her!" Hiniku roared and charged towards the entrance, but I caught her at the end of the bar.

Her anger was expected, and wholly unnecessary. This situation played out all the time. What reason was there to get upset about this one little thing? Giia had just had a bad morning that was all.

Yeah, just like every morning. Admit it—you'll never be good enough to help her.

"Will you help me?" I asked disarmingly, ignoring the whispers. It was unfair of me to manipulate Hiniku like this, but I couldn't have her go after my mother.

It was a misunderstanding, end of story.

Hiniku immediately dropped her rage and threw an arm around me protectively. "Let's get you cleaned up, Gana," she said, and led me to the back where we kept the first aid kit.

I didn't deserve someone like Hiniku, but that was alright. In a few months, when she's graduated, she'd forget all about me, just like Giia always said. I wouldn't hold her back anymore.

"I hate 'dat woman," the old man said disgustedly, shaking his spatula in the air. "One of 'dees days, I'm gonna let Hiniku at 'er. That'll show 'er."

Temari glanced at her brother, who wasn't paying much attention to anything but his second bowl of ramen.

She felt foolish for reacting to the evidence of abuse on Daagana's face. It was nothing compared to what she got during simple sparring matches with her friends. Cuts, bruises, and even the occasional broken bone were all very normal.

She was a shinobi. Pain was a weapon and an occupational hazard.

But this girl…was not like them. She didn't know to use her circumstances to her advantage. Before Daagana had come in, the old man was going to ask her to do something about it, Temari was sure.

But what was there for her to do?

Quietly, Temari walked out and glanced down the road.

She couldn't see Daagana's mother, but when she looked down, she saw a ruined wallet and a few small drops of blood.

She picked the torn piece of leather up and brushed it off.

It was a cheap thing with the Suna symbol on the front. It piqued her interest as she pulled out her own wallet and saw that she had the same one. She had gotten it in the academy when she was younger, before her Genin exam.

Perhaps this girl understood her own circumstances more than Temari gave her credit for.