Mizuko's response

The youngest of the sand three felt a subtle warmth blanket softly against the flesh of his scalp, dry heat soaking deeply into his dark and spiky crimson locks as a comforting calidity seeped from the sun that hung at noon directly above him, which subsequently caused the maroon fabric upon his shoulders to feel slightly hot to the touch. Light radiated down upon the barren earth below in an ever growing incalescence as another long day dragged on; leaving little shade for any inhabitants outside Sunagakure's towering walls that sought a moments relief from the uncomfortable and oppressive heat.

The spacious flats that the village currently occupied was desolate outside the protection of the large sand enclosure that kept civilians safe and secluded from invaders. Despite her unforgiving nature, if you were open-minded enough the desert could also be elegant, especially so during the cool mornings when the gold and amber sunrise climbed into the sky in the far off horizon just before her heat conquered the landscape; vultures taunting as they glided against hot currents high overhead, silently surveying as they scavenged the area for any signs of death in search of a meaty carcass to pick at throughout the afternoon, —and they would.

She certainly upheld her reputation to be quite the graveyard, indiscriminate in the selection of her victims. To any outsider unfamiliar to aforesaid temperatures the journey often proved dangerous at times for those willing to gamble with life; without assistance of an educated guide to lead them through the safest route, many young unfortunates left loved ones behind in failed attempts at crossing the stretch. Gaara himself was rather acclimate to such conditions however, —as this was his place of birth, hidden deep within a sultry desert in the Land of Wind.

They were arrogant and foolish; risking their lives to spare themselves the coin while dismissing the notion that money won’t leave with you. They’d easily become disorientated and confuse their sense of direction during the frequent fluctuations of sand storms that were caused by hot convection currents; ever predictable. The deaths were unpleasant to say the least, those of such insolence would inevitably become stranded, left alone without a chance in the unforgiving wasteland.

After prolonged exposure they’d experience severe sunburns, dehydration and eventually delirium before falling prey to the merciless star as it baked every last drop of moisture from their bodies. In the final moments the punishment would set forth into a battle of endurance as whatever flicker that remained of their consciousness struggled for one more breath before the burden of their suffering was at last lifted from them with the spirit that left the vessel behind. The empty shells quickly became consumed piece by piece as the skin and muscle was torn from the corpses by flesh-eating beasts—never to be seen or heard from again.

Victims would meet their end in a little over a week if they were lucky. Although in parallel, the likelihood of a successful search and rescue was grim, and so a mere week in good comforts feels like a life time in slow-motion when in misery. So, some could instead argue it inauspicious.

The Hidden Sand wasn’t exactly a place most visited without good reason, those that did had been sent out on missions to gather resources, intel or something the like; another small fraction were people of other countries visiting family, usually in-laws. Not as though this was anything to complain about by any means; while it was a great nuisance for travelers, the lack of foreigners flooding the streets was favourable,— at least in his case, he couldn’t speak for others.

Today was important, very much so and Sunagakure’s soon-to-be Kage (or so he anxiously anticipated) felt a bit of piquancy nestled in the pit of his stomach as he sauntered with haste along side the other two; mighty and formidable in their own particular ways. Clicking by the heels of his feet, black sandals parted between the toes stepped with haste against the firm earth beneath his weight, “chk chk” mixed with the steps of his older brother and sister before their swift movements finally came to an abrupt halt and he lifted his arms to neatly fold them across his chest in the position that was most natural to him.

The jinchuuriki lingered there briefly, noticing the weight of his gourd strapped against his back a bit more once he’d finally stopped moving. People can easily underestimate just how heavy and dense sand can truly be. Nevertheless, it wasn't as if it was inexpedient. Despite the inconvenience the young shinobi had overtime grew accustomed to the labor that came with lugging it around everywhere he went and, it certainly proved to be worth the trouble in most cases.

Sleepless lids ringed with onyx softened and narrowed in thought as he waited; ( Could this possibly be about my consideration of the title?.. )

Here, at long last.. the agreed location he was summoned to for reasons he had yet to hear, standing idly behind the double doors of the meeting room in which the council discussed any matters of importance. A small bead of sweat gradually trickled down the short length of his fair-skinned forehead, passing gently along the red, tattooed scar that read “love” as it silently fell.

Pale, icy hues of blue glanced around in all directions around him without much movement of his head, and for the moment.. it seemed as though nobody was ready for him quite yet. Despite arriving quicker than he anticipated, Gaara knew that it wouldn’t be long before they were called forth and so the Sand’s incarnation remained attentive, eager.

Quiet moments passed between the three as Temari and Kankuro exchanged impatient and uncertain glances amongst themselves. Piercing orbs of a pastel cyan flickered downwards as his arms relaxed from their folded position, draping loosely at his sides and Gaara briefly pondered about what life used to be like only a few short years prior; he was not seen as an individual to be respected as the Sand’s next Kazekage, but.. an ugly weapon of terror that everyone despised and feared.

Unnecessary.

He bitterly regret his past relations with others as they had only beget pain and sorrow, but he worked tirelessly to connect to his people and it was beginning to bring forth fruit, he himself now a composer of outstanding merit; his peaceful state inspiring purity. Despite some still needing a bit more convincing regarding the reliability of his alter in persona, he still felt much lighter now that he was no longer suffocated by that dense and insalubrious darkness; consumed by such overwhelming hatred for the world and those around him, his essence strictly controlled by a ravenous and insatiable hunger for blood as he faced everyone around him with murder in his eyes.

Relief.. freedom.

He had Naruto Uzumaki to thank for his deliverance to clarity. Without reckless abandon, uncertainty has the potential to save someone from madness; sometimes it’s the only way. Uzumaki gave him that uncertainty when he caused him question the way he was living his life, what defined genuine strength. Gaara felt as though no words of gratitude could ever begin to suffice. When they fought their souls connected, he who shared that same childhood despair; suffering silently in isolation at the same time he was.

Back then, he never would have thought someone else could have been going through the same thing.. someone who was only a three-day travel distance away, no less. He would forever be in debt to his fellow Jinchuuriki. Suddenly his thoughts were abruptly interrupted, leaving his mind as quickly as they invaded as he heard the faint squeak of a metal handle rotating directly in front of him, his head suddenly lifting as indifferent pupil-less optics shifted towards the direction of the noise and the door suddenly swung open.

He said nothing, cold eyes falling upon the masked Anbu official as he peeked through and motioned to the trio that they were now free to enter. He quietly nodded to him, deciding against asking questions to the "small head" of the many-headed hydra, his emotionless gaze following the black-ops member as he turned heel and disappeared inside under the correct assumption that they would soon follow after.

Without another moments hesitation one foot quickly shifted in front of the other and he parted pale lips to speak, “let’s go,” he softly breathed as he moved, the long white cloth that he wore wrapped around his full mahogany body suit flowing backwards between his legs as he took the necessary steps to close the distance between himself and the other room.

Pejorative pairs of eyes by the dozen fell upon the redhead once he came into view with the older two beside him and there was a tense pause before they at last made intentions clear. The head who sat directly in front of Gaara lifted his arms to rest them upon the round table, relaxing both elbows onto the hard marble surface as he entwined his fingers together and held them just below the spotted chin of his aged face.

Sunken, sable eyes locked gazes with his own, lingering there in thought before moving onto the faces of the others as a shaken elderly voice creaked between cracked, sagging lips half-way hidden behind a white unkempt mustache. “Temari, Kankuro.. you are dismissed.” Their eyes immediately widened, both quietly exhaling shocked gasps in unison as confusion briefly flashed in their expressions through uncertain side glances. It was true, they hadn’t needed to tag along as it was only their younger brother who was called forth before the assembly, they’d just hoped they could tag along in support of him.

“You two are not needed here, this conference is not for you.. and I believe that much was obvious to you.” The subtle jab in his words stung, but that was because he spoke the truth. It burned only because they knew better. Even still, he was grateful of his siblings for their deep sense of loyalty to him. Gaara turned his head to each side, giving them both a small nod to assure them that he would be alright; and of course they knew he would be. Not as though they had any choice in the matter, but the gesture at least abetted the lightening of a tense atmosphere.

	Jun 17th 2018 17:55

The youngest of the sand three felt a subtle warmth blanket softly against the flesh of his scalp, dry heat soaking deeply into his dark and spiky crimson locks as a comforting calidity seeped from the sun that hung at noon directly above him, which subsequently caused the maroon fabric upon his shoulders to feel slightly hot to the touch. Light radiated down upon the barren earth below in an ever growing incalescence as another long day dragged on; leaving little shade for any inhabitants outside Sunagakure's towering walls that sought a moments relief from the uncomfortable and oppressive heat.

The spacious flats that the village currently occupied was desolate outside the protection of the large sand enclosure that kept civilians safe and secluded from invaders. Despite her unforgiving nature, if you were open-minded enough the desert could also be elegant, especially so during the cool mornings when the gold and amber sunrise climbed into the sky in the far off horizon just before her heat conquered the landscape; vultures taunting as they glided against hot currents high overhead, silently surveying as they scavenged the area for any signs of death in search of a meaty carcass to pick at throughout the afternoon, —and they would.

She certainly upheld her reputation to be quite the graveyard, indiscriminate in the selection of her victims. To any outsider unfamiliar to aforesaid temperatures the journey often proved dangerous at times for those willing to gamble with life; without assistance of an educated guide to lead them through the safest route, many young unfortunates left loved ones behind in failed attempts at crossing the stretch. Gaara himself was rather acclimate to such conditions however, —as this was his place of birth, hidden deep within a sultry desert in the Land of Wind.

They were arrogant and foolish; risking their lives to spare themselves the coin while dismissing the notion that money won’t leave with you. They’d easily become disorientated and confuse their sense of direction during the frequent fluctuations of sand storms that were caused by hot convection currents; ever predictable. The deaths were unpleasant to say the least, those of such insolence would inevitably become stranded, left alone without a chance in the unforgiving wasteland.

After prolonged exposure they’d experience severe sunburns, dehydration and eventually delirium before falling prey to the merciless star as it baked every last drop of moisture from their bodies. In the final moments the punishment would set forth into a battle of endurance as whatever flicker that remained of their consciousness struggled for one more breath before the burden of their suffering was at last lifted from them with the spirit that left the vessel behind. The empty shells quickly became consumed piece by piece as the skin and muscle was torn from the corpses by flesh-eating beasts—never to be seen or heard from again.

Victims would meet their end in a little over a week if they were lucky. Although in parallel, the likelihood of a successful search and rescue was grim, and so a mere week in good comforts feels like a life time in slow-motion when in misery. So, some could instead argue it inauspicious.

The Hidden Sand wasn’t exactly a place most visited without good reason, those that did had been sent out on missions to gather resources, intel or something the like; another small fraction were people of other countries visiting family, usually in-laws. Not as though this was anything to complain about by any means; while it was a great nuisance for travelers, the lack of foreigners flooding the streets was favorable,— at least in his case, he couldn’t speak for others.

Today was important, very much so and Sunagakure’s soon-to-be Kage (or so he anxiously anticipated) felt a bit of piquancy nestled in the pit of his stomach as he sauntered with haste along side the other two; mighty and formidable in their own particular ways. Clicking by the heels of his feet, black sandals parted between the toes stepped with haste against the firm earth beneath his feet, “chk chk” mixed with the steps of his older brother and sister before their swift movements finally came to an abrupt halt and he lifted his arms to neatly fold them across his chest in the position that was most natural to him.

The jinchuuriki lingered there briefly, noticing the weight of his gourd strapped against his back a bit more once he’d finally stopped moving. People can easily underestimate just how heavy and dense sand can truly be. Nevertheless, it wasn't as if it was inexpedient. Despite the inconvenience the young shinobi had overtime grew accustomed to the labor that came with lugging it around everywhere he went and, it certainly proved to be worth the trouble in most cases.

Sleepless lids ringed with onyx softened and narrowed in thought as he waited; ( Could this possibly be about my consideration of the title?.. )

Here, at long last.. the agreed location he was summoned to for reasons he had yet to hear, standing idly behind the double doors of the meeting room in which the council discussed any matters of importance. A small bead of sweat gradually trickled down the short length of his fair-skinned forehead, passing gently along the red, tattooed scar that read “love” as it silently fell.

Pale, icy hues of blue glanced around in all directions around him without much movement of his head, and for the moment.. it seemed as though nobody was ready for him quite yet. Despite arriving quicker than he anticipated, Gaara knew that it wouldn’t be long before they were called forth and so the Sand’s incarnation remained attentive, eager.

Quiet moments passed between the three as Temari and Kankuro exchanged impatient and uncertain glances amongst themselves. Piercing orbs of a pastel cyan flickered downwards as his arms relaxed from their folded position, draping loosely at his sides and Gaara briefly pondered about what life used to be like only a few short years prior; he was not seen as an individual to be respected as the Sand’s next Kazekage, but.. an ugly weapon of terror that everyone despised and feared.

Unnecessary.

He bitterly regret his past relations with others as they had only beget pain and sorrow, but he worked tirelessly to connect to his people and it was beginning to bring forth fruit, he himself now a composer of outstanding merit; his peaceful state inspiring purity. Despite some still needing a bit more convincing regarding the reliability of his alter in persona, he still felt much lighter now that he was no longer suffocated by that dense and insalubrious darkness; consumed by such overwhelming hatred for the world and those around him, his essence strictly controlled by a ravenous and insatiable hunger for blood as he faced everyone around him with murder in his eyes.

Relief.. freedom.

He had Naruto Uzumaki to thank for his deliverance to clarity. Without reckless abandon, uncertainty has the potential to save someone from madness; sometimes it’s the only way. Uzumaki gave him that uncertainty when he caused him question the way he was living his life, what defined genuine strength. Gaara felt as though no words of gratitude could ever begin to suffice. When they fought their souls connected, he who shared that same childhood despair; suffering silently in isolation at the same time he was.

Back then, he never would have thought someone else could have been going through the same thing.. someone who was only a three-day travel distance away, no less. He would forever be in debt to his fellow Jinchuuriki. Suddenly his thoughts were abruptly interrupted, leaving his mind as quickly as they invaded as he heard the faint squeak of a metal handle rotating directly in front of him, his head suddenly lifting as indifferent pupil-less optics shifted towards the direction of the noise and the door suddenly swung open.

He said nothing, cold eyes falling upon the masked Anbu official as he peeked through and motioned to the trio that they were now free to enter. He quietly nodded to him, deciding against asking questions to the "small head" of the many-headed hydra, his emotionless gaze following the black-ops member as he turned heel and disappeared inside under the correct assumption that they would soon follow after.

Without another moments hesitation one foot quickly shifted in front of the other and he parted pale lips to speak, “let’s go,” he softly breathed as he moved, the long white cloth that he wore wrapped around his full mahogany body suit flowing backwards between his legs as he took the necessary steps to close the distance between himself and the other room.

Pejorative pairs of eyes by the dozen fell upon the redhead once he came into view with the older two beside him and there was a tense pause before they at last made intentions clear. The head who sat directly in front of Gaara lifted his arms to rest them upon the round table, relaxing both elbows onto the hard marble surface as he entwined his fingers together and held them just below the spotted chin of his aged face.

Sunken, sable eyes locked gazes with his own, lingering there in thought before moving onto the faces of the others as a shaken elderly voice creaked between cracked, sagging lips half-way hidden behind a white unkempt mustache. “Temari, Kankuro.. you are dismissed.” Their eyes immediately widened, both quietly exhaling shocked gasps in unison as confusion briefly flashed in their expressions through uncertain side glances. It was true, they hadn’t needed to tag along as it was only their younger brother who was called forth before the assembly, they’d just hoped they could tag along in support of him.

“You two are not needed here, this conference is not for you.. and I believe that much was obvious to you.” The subtle jab in his words stung, but that was because he spoke the truth. It burned only because they knew better. Even still, he was grateful of his siblings for their deep sense of loyalty to him. Gaara turned his head to each side, giving them both a small nod to assure them that he would be alright; and of course they knew he would be. Not as though they had any choice in the matter, but the gesture at least abetted the lightening of a tense atmosphere.

Displeasure noticeably displayed upon their features as they reluctantly returned the nod and left him to deal with it alone as so rightfully intended. Pastel eyes immediately darted ahead once he heard the click of the door closing behind him, quietly falling upon those of the council as their own piercing pairs studied him in return before he suddenly took motion to display a bow of respect. “We have an assignment for you, Gaara.” Ringed lids widened and pupil-less optics slightly trembled in place as he lifted his gaze in surprise and his naturally emotionless expression briefly faltered.

( An assignment?.. )

The young shinobi chose to remain quiet as he wasn’t much for words and he also figured it would be explained to him. Asking questions could also potentially mean speaking out of turn, insubordination; especially so in his case, he wasn’t exactly a favourite of theirs. Although, he was at peace with it. Customs would soon change when he earned the title of Kazekage, of that he was certain. His reason to live now served in the purpose of helping others and creating bonds through those experiences. “Mizuko Senju of the Hidden Leaf Village is on her way here as we speak.”

( … ! )

“She was assigned by the Hokage to accompany you through a joint mission in a notion to strengthen ties between countries. You will be her escort until her duties are completed, which is traveling to the Land of Stone and trade knowledge.”

( ..The Leaf.. )

Upon hearing this news Gaara was admittedly a bit nervous as he wasn’t completely sure if she would find this appropriate, or if his presence would even be welcomed by the young leaf kunoichi, given his past relations with Konoha. Vivid recollections suddenly flickered throughout his mind as he quickly relived those violent memories; back when he’d nearly crushed Sakura to death as she slowly suffocated beneath the weight of his massive arm, smothered between the unforgiving embrace of his mutation and a tree during his highly agitated state in his battle with Naruto. Humans had always been better at killing than any other living thing. These haunting flashbacks started to flood his consciousness and for the moment had cracked his naturally calm and imperturbable demeanor.

Anxiety began to creep within his being and this sudden instability nearly showed upon the surface through his features but suddenly retreated into the background as the elder spoke to him again. “As for how long this will take, we are unable to give you an estimate. It will depend on your performance and the length of time it takes to execute it well enough to our approval.” All at once the overwhelming negativity and insecurity that had clouded his focus and pulled him from the moment in front of him faded to the background, seemingly quicker than when it had first appeared as if it had never even arisen to begin with.

“I will handle it,” he quietly replied in the uniquely deep and husky tone that was natural to him. Before he was dismissed, another council member felt it necessary to throw his word in, “keep in mind, Gaara— you are representing all of us,” he sneered bitterly before turning his head away with a snort.

Immediately after the head councilman finally concluded his directions as the closest body to him slid a scroll across the table simultaneously, “She will likely arrive by this evening, make sure that she is comfortable and looked after. You have no room for mistakes, young man. Do as she asks so long as it falls within reason. You are free to leave.” Gaara nodded, paying his respects through another bow before taking the scroll into his palm and then left them to discuss their concerns amongst themselves.

| | |

The large cork set within the top of his gourd twisted and protruded slightly in place and with a small squeak of the buoyant material, the obstruction that kept his sand held within was forced out of its secure position with a small “pop” sound as it entered the air. In one fluid motion the sand that he was infamous for escaped at a remarkable speed as a faint “shhhh” could be heard from the minerals grinding against one another, twisting in place as it mingled mid-air and shifted around his being like small clouds.


In response to his will it quickly rushed to lift in front of his being and compacted together as it took shape into a large mound. The practically living entity that was his ultimate defense flattened as it formed into a thick disk that Gaara held the intent to ride upon toward the entrance to the village. From there he’d wait for her arrival so that he could formally greet her and welcome her to his home. Gaara took into the air by a small leap and landed onto the surface of his creation, wind moving smoothly against and beneath it like water flowing around a rock on the surface of a river as it began to soar through the air between the structures.

The bone of his brows furrowed as he pondered in thought, warm desert wind brushing softly against his face as his dark wine locks gently whipped back and forth along the currents that carried them. Considering what it could do; what it had done.. his sand was more than part of him, but an extension of his body. It even proved to be quite displeasing for those with a heightened sense of smell, easily picking up the unpleasant odor that emitted from between the grains, —a blood sodden scent of decay.

A small half-smile slowly began to curl upwards at the corners of his lips but, as steadily as the rarity had formed, Gaara’s leer vanished, abruptly feeling a bitterness sink and hit into the pit of his stomach like an anchor as he again recalled not-so-fond remembrances. The way he used to be, how lost he had become.. consumed by an unmeasurable loathing for others.. the thirst for bloodshed. It was hard not to think about constantly when it was his way of life up until recently.

With a small shake of his head, the screams of previous victims that had flushed unforgivingly into his mind and made his heart race within his chest faded away into a calm silence. He could not think in such a way, not after how far he had come; how hard he had worked to earn the respect of his people, win their trust and faith in his integrity. Most of the people in the village no longer perceived him in such an awful, harsh way.. so why should he continue to? He could only look into the future now, but, even still.. Gaara was at war with his mind and was struggling to forgive himself for past endeavors.

( ..Perhaps.. one day. )

This sudden resolution pulled his aching thoughts from the shadows of guilt that loomed over his consciousness as he quietly continued forward before the small creation at last transported him near the ground just a few feet away from the split in their fortification. Warm, lambent rays dimly beamed down from the lamps set at each side, bringing light and better visibility to the small area in front of the entrance that was gradually beginning to darken as evening slowly crept in the place of daylight.

Alleyways and roads around him were quiet in the ever growing obscurity and in one fluid motion Gaara jumped down from the disk of sand that carried him, took a few steps forward and folded his arms across his chest as the mound collapsed and began to flow back into the pear shaped container on his back. Cold eyes peered ahead with darkened lids set low in a narrowed squint as he waited patiently for his guest to emerge from the darkness.

( … )

Guard approaches
Explains where partner is
Takes him to room
Meets Mizuko