"Gaara, it's better if you don't wander around these days. "Granny Chiyo came by last night," Temari whispered to her younger brother. "It's true; it could be dangerous."
Gaara only lifted his spoon and drank his soup, his movements stiff and mechanical.
Kankuro clicked his tongue. "Hey, at least say something, Gaara."
Gaara slowly raised his head. The moment Kankuro met those green eyes, that grotesque half-human, half-Shukaku face flashed through his mind. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he instinctively averted his gaze.
Temari's tone softened, almost pleading. "Just do it for your sister, okay, Gaara?"
Gaara's eyes dropped back to his bowl. He remained silent.
Kankuro shot to his feet, chair legs screeching across the floor. "Anyway, this guy—"
"Kankuro!" Temari cut him off sharply. She grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back into his seat. Her stare carried all the weight of the eldest sibling. "Finish your meal."
"Tch, I know."
The older brother still sulked, and the younger brother gave no sign he'd heard Temari at all. Pressing her lips together, Temari fought to hold the fragile peace at the table in place.
'Over the past year, Gaara's temper had improved a lot—though still not like when Yashamaru was here... I'm the eldest. I have to take good care of my little brothers.'
She forced a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, and started talking about that day's Ninjutsu classes.
Breakfast ended, and it was time to study. As the children of the former Kazekage, Temari and Kankuro's education hadn't been cut off by Rasa's death. After Chiyo took the position of Kazekage, she accepted that they would not betray this investment and kept things as they were.
"Gaara, if there's anything you don't understand, your sister can—"
"No."
Temari's heart dipped, bracing for him to stand and walk out like always.
But he didn't. Gaara merely stood up, walked to the corner of the room, sat down with his back to her, and quietly stared out the window.
—
"Since you proposed this land transformation plan to Sunagakure, Konoha must already have a feasible solution, right?" Chiyo's expression was not as rigid as during their last meeting.
"Half a year has passed. Has Sunagakure not worked out its own preliminary strategy based on its situation?" Roshi shot back.
It wasn't that he enjoyed being difficult. But when dealing with a battle-hardened veteran, being too accommodating would only weigh him down.
Ebizo slid a scroll across the table.
"This is what Konoha wants as well. No need to be so harsh, kid."
"As long as Sunagakure doesn't mistake this for Konoha's one-sided wishful thinking and doesn't try to dump all the later pressure and costs on the proposer," Roshi said, lightly tapping the scroll with his fingertip, "then a friendly atmosphere comes naturally."
He unrolled the scroll. His eyes swept over the simple diagrams and annotations, and then he promptly closed it and rose to his feet.
Chiyo's face darkened. "What do you mean, Roshi?"
"Building a massive oasis right next to Sunagakure itself… it's a very grand ambition. That's all."
Ebizo's smile faded. "Is Konoha's support only going to be lip service?"
"It's unrealistic, too wasteful," Roshi replied, still standing. "What does this oasis actually mean for the Land of Wind?"
"Is it just to make it easier for Sunagakure to host a bunch of profitable events?"
Without waiting for them to respond, Roshi continued, "The Land of Wind's problem isn't the lack of a spectacular venue for events. It's that the sand is constantly devouring what little habitable land you have, that your existing oases are shrinking, and that your basic water sources and vegetation can't be sustained."
He walked to the window and pointed at the endless yellow outside. "The goal should be to reinforce everything you already have, to halt the desert's advance. Not to aim too high and chase a miracle that can't be achieved in the short term—and even if built, might crumble quickly because the foundation isn't stable."
Ebizō fell silent for a moment, then asked, "What is your suggestion?"
"Start by maintaining and expanding the existing small oases," Roshi replied, turning around to face him. "Establish sand-fixing belts around each one. Move outward step by step—secure the area, improve the local environment, and build up experience as we go."
"As for creating new oases …"
"That needs rigorous hydrological surveys and long-term planning. That comes next, or even after that."
"At the very least, let the people of the Land of Wind benefit first. Help them protect the homes they already have, right?"
The room went quiet.
After a few seconds, Ebizō rolled up the scroll on the table and set it aside, then pulled out another proposal.
"In that case, let's look at this one."
Roshi didn't look surprised. He simply pulled his chair back out and sat down again.
Forcing the first plan through wasn't impossible, and Sunagakure would still be the direct beneficiary.
But that was all. It wasn't Konoha's first choice, and probably not even the Land of Wind Daimyō's.
If the budget came up short, either Sunagakure would have to abandon it, or Konoha would be dragged in to help. Long-term maintenance would only become a bigger headache.
There was no point arguing about it.
Roshi carefully went through Sunagakure's second proposal, line by line, along with the attached list of sand-fixing plants.
Night passed quietly to the soft rasp of pen on scroll.
When his eyes finally began to ache, Roshi put down his brush, extinguished the light, and lay down on the bed. He was staying in the same house as the Rasa's children due to Suna's manpower shortage and they could not afford to monitor four high value people separately.
In the corner of the room, fine sand silently crawled up the wall.
"Normally, people need to sleep after working," Roshi said, not bothering to open his eyes.
The sand solidified, and a red-haired child stepped out of it.
He stood there for a long while, just staring.
"Are you also someone who hates me and wants to kill me?"
The last person to approach him on his own had been his uncle, Yashamaru.
Whenever Temari and Kankurō drew near, their father would pull them away. Only Yashamaru stayed by his side.
Gaara had once believed it would always be that way, even if there was only that one person.
Until Yashamaru came to assassinate him under his father's orders, confessing his hatred and passing on his mother's "wish": that he love only himself and become a ninja who fights solely for his own sake.
"For me, wanting to kill you isn't something complicated."
"If you're asking whether I have any ulterior motives, then yes, I do."
As he spoke, Roshi raised a finger.
In the next instant, a branch shot out from his fingertip, lancing straight toward Gaara.
Gaara's eyes went wide.
As expected, his sand rose up on its own to defend him. But the branch suddenly burst apart in midair, splitting into countless thin twigs that pierced through the limits of the sand's defense and wrapped around his entire body in an instant.
He felt a faint drain on his chakra and dropped to one knee.
The branches holding him relaxed a moment later, their restraint loosening.
"Go back and get some proper sleep."
"At least for tonight, you should be able to rest peacefully."
"Right… Shukaku."
Moonlight was the only thing left in the room, shining on the withered twigs scattered across the floor. Gaara remained kneeling there, green eyes clouded with even deeper confusion.
Temari woke before dawn, as she always did. Gaara was a light sleeper, rarely getting more than a few hours of rest, so he was almost always up before anyone needed to call him. That meant the only one she usually had to drag out of bed was Kankuro.
But today, even after Kankuro had already shuffled out for breakfast, Gaara still hadn't appeared.
"That Gaara, is he not even eating now?" Kankuro muttered, staring at the empty chair across from him.
"I'll go check," Temari said, pushing her chair back.
"Hey, Temari…" Kankuro started, reaching out on instinct to stop her—only to freeze under his sister's sharp glare.
Temari left the table and walked down the hall to Gaara's room. She paused at the door, drew in a slow breath, then eased it open.
The room was dim, the curtains pulled tightly shut. In the half-light, she saw her brother slumped against the wall, head tilted to one side, soft red hair falling over part of his face, eyes shut tight.
"Gaara, it's morning," Temari called to him gently, assuming he'd simply lost track of time.
He didn't move.
Her footsteps grew almost soundless as she crept closer, careful not to startle him.
"Gaara, at least eat first…" she tried again, even softer this time, her tone coaxing.
That was when she heard it.
A faint, steady breathing.
"…He's… asleep?"
Temari lowered herself into a half-squat, inching closer to be sure.
Gaara stayed completely still, not reacting to her presence at all. In the thin strip of light slipping through the doorway, she could see the slight rise and fall of his chest.
He really was asleep.
Moving as if any sudden motion might shatter the moment, Temari slowly reached out her hand.
The sand that always hovered around Gaara in an invisible guard did not stir. For once, it allowed her to lay her hand gently on her sleeping brother.
Temari's courage grew a little. She carefully shifted her stance, sliding one arm under his armpits and the other behind his knees, trying to lift him.
He was lighter than she'd expected.
His weight pulled her off balance for an instant, and her body swayed. In her arms, Gaara seemed to sense the motion; his fingers twitched, and a low, muffled sound slipped from his throat.
Temari went rigid, her heart nearly stopping.
But the moment passed. Gaara's head nuzzled unconsciously against the curve of her neck, and his breathing quickly settled back into that calm, even rhythm.
Temari's lips trembled. Warmth stung at the corners of her eyes and made her vision quiver, but she forced the tears back. She only tightened her hold, cradling him more securely as she took careful, measured steps toward the bed.
She laid Gaara down as gently as she could, then drew the blanket over him, pulling it up to his chest and tucking in the edges with slow, precise movements.
When she finished, Temari just stood there at his bedside, quietly watching. In sleep, the coldness and hostility that usually hardened his features were gone, leaving behind a rare, peaceful expression that finally matched his age.
"Rest well, Gaara," she whispered, her voice barely audible, and then she slipped out of the room, closing the door softly—sealing that fleeting moment of peace inside.
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