Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ The Way We Were ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and honestly I would probably never have the creative capacity to think of something even close. Kudos to Masashi Kishimoto!

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A/N

Spoilers: Yes! (at least Manga Ch 280-something and TV)

 

Possible out-of-character situations…that's why it's fan fiction….

 

“Dialogue” in quotes

Thoughts/Extreme emphasis in italics

 

Pairing: Gaara x Temari

 

Enjoy!

 

(To my already existing readers: sorry, this chapter is out of order in respects to what has been published to date)

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The Way We Were

Prologue: Brother and Sister

<Edited & Revised: 11-20-05>

 

By: Forgetmenow

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They had taken him a second time.

 

To harness the chakra of the many Biju…

 

Their first attempt to control the Ichibi failed.

 

Now they scheme another plot.

 

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“So…you've betrayed your people and sided with Leaf,” Gaara said levelly. However, Temari could detect traces of bitterness and resentment in his voice. How could he have the audacity of calling her a traitor?!

 

She gritted her teeth. She knew what he had really meant.

 

You've betrayed me.

 

“It's not me who has betrayed Sunagakure, Kazekage.”

 

He just stared back at her, not a flicker of emotion at her accusation. Had he not learn anything? Didn't he know her better than that?

 

“What you're going to do is wrong.”

 

“Has that Shikamaru been keeping you company,” changing the focus to her. “Does he keep you up for hours at night,” his eyes narrowed, striking in their intensity and ferocity, a slight frown on his lips. Whether he was implying if she and Shikamaru were a couple or whether they were friends and conversed the night away, she wasn't quite sure. The statement left too much to be concluded with its vagueness.

 

That's none of his damn business! Was he jealous? She shrugged off the idea.

 

Her relationship with Gaara could not be compared so simply. She recalled the many moonlit nights when they spent alone, sometimes knelted on the floor of her room, sitting atop a Suna rooftop, or just in some secluded spot. Sometimes her arms would be cradling him close to her heart, her body gently swaying as she rocked back and forth, a soft humming from her lips calming the restless spirit within. Sometimes they would lay there, perpendicular; her head on his chest, just the steady rhythm of his heart in her ears was all she heard. Other times, his head would be resting on her lap while they both gazed out the window from her darkened room. Sometimes she would hold him in complete silence. Those are the times she cherished most--When they were in their own private world. No words. No sound. When only feelings existed between them. Some nights she would doze off and the next morning find herself under her warm covers, next to her…the comforter slightly sunken in.

 

She could see his pale green eyes intently following her, watching her reaction, seeing her memories pass over her eyes like wispy shadows. The color was so faint that when certain hidden emotions passed over his eyes, they seemed a faint, icy blue. His gaze followed the stretch of her neck where her pulse beat in quickened cadences, a subtle sign that vibrant life flowed through her veins.

 

She had not responded to his question.

 

She hesitated.

 

His frown deepened.

 

In a blink of an eye, he was standing before her, the great chasm no longer distancing them. No teleportation of sand, just a quick blur of color and there he was. His movements were alarming and unnerving in their speed and proximity.

 

His voice was low. “Does his presence confirm your existence, your life?”

 

He stepped in close and she took a cautionary step back, but he followed and quickly closed the gap between them. Her cheeks began to pinken. Her heart skipped a beat and then pounded in a quickened rhythm.

 

“Is the warmth in your body so eager to paint your creamy skin,” referring her slight blush.

He leaned in close to her ear, his voice dark and intimate. “Do your cheeks flush so readily at his nearness?”

 

Temari merely stood there, shock apparent in her expression.

 

She couldn't move. She didn't dare move.

 

She was speechless. She didn't dare speak.

 

Her breath stuck in her lungs before she managed to exhale, her chest rose and fell in a slightly more rapid pace due to the brief oxygen deprivation. Yet, still, she couldn't manage a simple response through her dry throat. His fingertips held her chin. His touch was cool compared to her heated flesh. He was gentle yet forceful as he turned her face up to his a minute fraction.

 

Temari had to concentrate to make sure she was listening correctly. His breath warm against her skin. His voice was like a caress, “have you let him sample the softness of your lips, yet?” She trembled.

 

“Does only the feel of my skin affect you so? Do you feel your heart racing?” His eyes locked with hers. His pale blue-green depths called out to her juniper gaze. “I can feel it beneath your skin.”

 

Her lips were parted, tempting him in luscious invitation. She licked her lips which suddenly felt unbearably parched. He watched her pink tongue slip out and run moistly from one end to the other.

 

“Do you feel alive when my lips brush yours?”

 

Removing his fingers from her soft skin, he leaned in and kissed her, stealing her breath away. His mouth staking claim and plundering the sweetness that Temari had never offered to any other man. Gaara's lips pressed roughly against hers, trying to communicate all the loneliness and desire and hunger for physical contact in that one mating of lips. Years of depravation and lack of human contact came rushing out in an onslaught. And now here she was offering her lips, her body, and her heart to Gaara. Of all people, Gaara would've been the last person she would hope to find intimacy with.

 

When Temari was younger Gaara was always aloof and stood away from other children. Unapproachable. He had told her that he never thought of her as a sibling. Whether or not he wanted to acknowledge their roles, it was history between them. It was the foundation of their interaction, the basis of their familiarity, the thread that wove their lives together. She couldn't have a relationship with him…could she? He was forbidden fruit. Then why did this kiss affect her so?

 

Her heart hammered in her chest, yet that was the only sound she heard in her head. Her insides became like jelly. Her knees felt weak. The kiss would not end. She would crumble at his feet if this continued. A part inside of her didn't want it to. The pressure of his lips was exquisite and indescribable. The rush of blood exhilarating yet soothing. It was so simple, yet complex on many layers. He could sense her weakening state and placed a hand on the small of her back. Her body was pressed against his, the support of his hand was steadying to her.

 

When the kiss broke, Gaara took a step back, his eyes smoldering with heat, like bright blue flames.

 

What just happened? Hey girl, I'm talking to you! Temari's inner self was screaming. She was dazed and disoriented.

 

Her feelings for Gaara compounded tenfold and she began to doubt her purpose. She wanted to be merciful and compassionate, to let him pass without a scratch, but too many lives depended on hers---even Gaara's, though he didn't realize it.

 

A lot of people are going to die again. Ninjas are tools for war. That was their purpose. But the goal of fighting a war is to eventually achieve a state of peace, a cease-fire.

 

To stop him now, to defeat him, meant to save his soul, she would worry about his body later. She would not let his soul be devoured by the Biju.

 

She would not yield. She would not bend. She would not give up. So resolute was her resolve.

 

She knew how hard it was for him to express emotion and feelings. She wanted to cherish that sweet poignant kiss---But, as much as she hated to, she did it. She spit. She shoved his emotional admission back at him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

“Shikamaru is a better kisser,” she lied. No relationship even close to that level of intimate contact existed between them.

 

All the heat and underlying emotion in his passionate eyes disappeared. His lips pursed into a frown.

 

“I cannot let you pass. As much as I would love to, I can't.” She continued to speak.

 

His resolved had returned too as well.

 

“Step aside…”

 

She knew the threat he was invoking despite not saying it. Step aside. If you get in my way, I will kill you.

 

But she had to know.

 

“…And if I don't?”

 

“I will kill you,” his voice icy and impassive. It was as simple as night and day, black and white, up and down. No room for dusk, grey, or middle. He would kill her. There was little room in his tone for mercy. He was still as cold as ever.

 

Her mouth quirked up, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “I'd like to see you try little brother.”

 

It was ironic, where they now found themselves confronting each other. With the jagged cliffs and crashing waterfalls, Sasuke and Naruto had battled here. They were as close as brothers. In the end they became like Cain and Abel, a sibling with enough motivation to kill the other. What would be the result here? How would the outcome turn out with brother and sister?

 

The sand began to disperse from the gourd, like a gritty cloud, scattering in the open range

 

He had only ever struck her once. It happened during the invasion of Leaf. Even then, it was in warning her to get away. She had wanted to get him to safety and attend his wound. But, Shukaku beckoned for the blood of the Uchiha. She had developed two major bruises after that incident: one on her abdomen when he had backhanded her and a second when her back smashed into a tree. That was one of the reasons she now wore protective armor.

 

Temari with her gentle touch and soft smile was one of the only beings who could pacify Gaara: calm him from his fits of rage, soothe the writhing beast within, and sway him from his course. But now, things were different. He could no longer protect her in this situation and she could no longer protect him.

 

“So be it.”

 

He extended his open palm, and the sand took a more collective shape and burst forward. Temari jumped backwards. Just as it seemed the sand would strike her as it shape-shifted into prickly spikes, she would do a back somersault, making the sand drive into the ground of where she had just been milliseconds before.

 

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

 

She dodged the spears of hardened sand.

 

With a wave of her arm, she quickly pulled out her fan and sent a gust of razor sharp wind. The wind became faceted into smaller blasts of air that ricochet among themselves like blades. It sliced through the sand breaking it up into chunks which eventually separated from the influence of the collective entity of chakra-infused sand and fell to the ground

 

He was a machine that killed with out hesitation.

 

That is how their battle continued. It didn't matter who was offensive or who was defensive, the roles changed between them repeatedly.

 

He would create sand and she would manage to break it apart with their wind attacks.

 

Both their strategies were for distance fighting. Close range was not their specialty, but it certainly wasn't something they couldn't do. Gaara wanted to take advantage of that. He tried a replication of sand. A near perfect copy of Gaara began to take form behind her. It sprung from sand that Gaara created from the ground beneath where they stood. His own sand tunneled beneath the earth to compressed minerals into additional sand. It rose from a hole in the ground.

 

She whipped around. With the force and momentum of her closed fan, she was able to sever the replication, slicing it till it became just a pile at her feet. It began to reform. The replication oozed sand as it charged her. With a two handed swing, her whirlwind technique created enough gust to divide and scatter each grain of sand from the clone.

 

She knew all his moves. He knew all hers. They were at a stalemate. The rough wind blew around them.

 

She threw a kunai at his feet. It became half embedded into the soft dirt, the handle jutted crookedly from the ground.

 

“No techniques. No sand. No fan.” She laid the fan on the earth before her.

 

He laughed, his voice deep and dark in its taunting. It was an unusual sound. It gave her butterflies. From fear, and something else deep in her stomach she couldn't quite place. “Aww, where's the fun then?”

 

“The fun comes when I knock some sense back into that brainwashed head of yours.”

 

“I don't need my sand to beat you.” He gave a slight upward nod of his head. The action was filled with arrogance and pride. His skills had improved. He could defend himself without the sand. The automatic protection of the sand shield, the will of their mother, it wasn't quite the same since his first encounter with Akatsuki. Did he still wear armor of sand? Well, she'd find out sooner or later.

 

“Prove it.”

 

He slipped the gourd off his back. He let it fall over with and audibly thud.

 

“Are you still afraid of your own blood?” Temari added.

 

With one lightning fast slash, her blade grazed his cheek, slicing the flesh. Her speed in that strike rivaled Rock Lee. Her precision and accuracy at par with Tenten's. The wound was shallow, for she only wanted to test his defenses. A thin line of blood slowly welled from the slit, culminating into one ruby tear at the base. Though it was a miniscule amount, its color was a deep scarlet, darker than the tattoo above his eye.

 

“Good, you're not cheating.” She gave a leering smile.

 

“What do you take me for?” His eyes narrowed.

 

He rubbed the cut with the back of his hand. When he dropped his hand, the wound had disappeared. Her eyes widened. It instantly healed when the pressure of his hand had pushed both sides of the slit flesh together. They fused. He was as good as new. She took an apprehensive step back. He noticed.

 

She did not fear him. She feared what she had to do against him. He took a slow step forward. Like a predator stalking its prey despite knowing it was already paralyzed with fear.

 

Even without his sand techniques or armor, any injury she may deliver will be instantly healed. How is she going to stop him? If anything, she may be able to slow him down. Give the others more time.

 

“Well, you have sided with Akatsuki. I don't know what to think anymore.”

 

“…”

“I thought I knew you but you proved me wrong. Congratulations.”

 

“We don't have to continue this, Temari.” His voice was soft.

 

Was he finally thinking rationally? Hope flickered inside her.

 

“You can join us.” And just as easily, it was extinguished. He extended an open hand.

 

“Just like before: you, me, Kankurou--a family again.” It was so tempting. Like a moth to a lit candle, the bright flame of possibility was so alluring. However, it would eventually lead to a path of self-destruction. For a moth, the enticement was a mere decoy to lead to a fiery death. It was suicide.

 

As much as she wanted what he offered, she would not let fire consume her.

 

“And what role does Akatsuki play in this family? Parental units? Hah. Get real. Have you forgotten, father and mother already? I would have thought their images were seared into your memories. Father was a bastard—I'm not defending him-- but I'd take him over Akatsuki. Mother loved you, so did father is his twisted way, even uncle Yashamaru y'know…”

 

That name, that face flashed before his eyes. Bright eyes with a laughing smiling one moment, then dull, weak, and bloodied the next. Gaara gripped his head and yelled. It was almost like a strangled groan. The repressed memories caused unbearable torment in his skull. He had wanted to keep those images as buried as possible. The only method he knew to alleviate the pain in his brain was the infliction of pain on others. Anything. Anyone. He continued his assault with an even greater fever.

 

Yet, for every gash, every score, every contusion he bestowed on Temari, inside he felt as if it were his pain. Temari was in worst condition. This battle was beginning to take its toll on her. Compounded with the physical damage she already sustained, the mental torment of dueling with her brother left her nearly exhausted. Sweat dripped into her eyes making them sting with the effort to keep them open. Her body heaved with gasps as she knelted on her knees.

 

The abrasive wind and sand swirled around them, just the elements free from the influence of chakra. He turned around to retrieve the gourd.

 

She was running out of options. Soon, he would be gone. He whipped around just as Temari leaped on him. Maybe she could pin him down somehow. He fell on his back with an “Umph.”

 

She looked down at him. He wasn't alarmed that she had him pinned. He just stared up at her with his emotionless eyes.

 

“Please Gaara, just come back home with me. Forget Akatsuki…forget Konoha…” Her heart pleaded as her eyes flooded with tears.

 

He gave her a long look and turned his gaze away from her.

 

“I cannot...” He turned his head to the side, not wanting to look at the expression in her face.

 

She gave a sob. Two tears dripped onto Gaara's turned cheek. He turned his face back and saw she was distracted allowing him escape. Seizing his chance, he kicked her off and away.

 

The minerals he had taken from the ground to make sand had left the cliff hollow. In addition, the moisture from the rain, days before, left the ground moist and saturated. Just as she landed on her back at the edge of the precipice, momentarily stunned and dazed, the weakened earth gave way. The cliff collapsed. The chunk of earth took Temari with it. Time passed millisecond by millisecond. As his eyes widened, the sand from the gourd shot out like a snake to grab her. For each inch she drifted farther away, the sand moved two. It was still too slow.

 

“Temariiii!...”

 

Her body plummeted, down to the crags and boulders below.

 

The battle was over.

 

In the end, he did not deliver the fatal blow. It was gravity.

 

No Desert Coffin.

 

No Desert Graveyard.

 

He forgot what his purpose was. Why were they even fighting? Why did he hurt her? Was it worth this price?

 

He made his way down to the rocks below.

 

It was impossible but she still had some spirit left in her. Her breathing was so faint and shallow. He knew she was a fighter. Her eyes were vacant unable to focus on his face. Her eyelids felt so heavy she wanted to close them.

 

“Gaar...” She trembled in his arms, too weak to keep her head up, to keep her eyes open.

 

“Shh…I know you're tired…hurt, don't close your eyes! Don't fall asleep!”

 

She weakly coughed, blood in her throat blocking the passage of air. A trickle of crimson adorned the side of her mouth.

 

“Do not….” He said in a tight voice, barely audible.

 

What was so important to him? What is it he cannot say? What is it he has never been able to admit to her? What reason does she have to endure the pain?

 

“Tell me… please…” In short gasps, the crystal tears falling from the side of her eyes.

 

“Don't leave me alone.” His voice was low and quiet. I want to be with you. Her head hung limp against the crook of his arm. “Temari...Temari?... Temari?!” His eyes were wide and frantic as he shook her.

 

He gently shook her head back and forth. She was teasing him like she did when they were younger. She must be! But she didn't wink up at him, or stick her tongue out, or pull her eyelid down. Her lifeless body just lay limp in his arms. Like a dreaming angel, she was still so beautiful. The bruises and telltale signs of internal bleeding from impact wouldn't show for hours.

 

Her body was broken. Her heart was silent while internally his wailed. He gave one heart wrenching cry, refusing to bottle up the emotion. He gripped his chest against the pain that had no blood. Wrong, his heart was bleeding. It was broken. His body shook as he held the inert form in his arms. Her body was still so perfect, yet he knew the bones inside were smashed, busted against the rocks with the force of the crash.

 

He couldn't let it end like this. They used to be together. Everyday. Together. They were going to be like the way they were. He had to try. He had already used up most of his chakra during their battle…

In the distance, within the denser brush of the forest, hidden by the shadows of nightfall, three cloaked figures stood.

 

The first figure, “he couldn't kill the girl. He used that jutsu.”

 

The second said, “Them and that tensei (revival)…”

 

The third muttered something, too low for the others to hear.

 

The first figure said with some anxiety, “he seems to have a soft spot for her.”

 

The third companion, “Yeah…I imagine the one-tail needs a lesson on what a suicide mission is…yeah…”

 

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Temari squeezed her eyes tight before she wearily opened one cautious eye, then the other.  She blinked and used a hand to shield her vision from the flood of sunshine that entered the room, awakening her in all its blinding glory. The bed sheet was all askew, mostly tangling around her legs. The fluffy comforter lay discarded, tossed to the ground during the night due to the many rolling and turnings of her body. She sat up; her sleep tousled hair fell over her face. The dream was so vivid…yet, she couldn't remember quite what it was about. She rubbed her eyes; the residuals of dried tears had made the skin around her eyes dry and crusty.

 

She cried in her sleep.

 

Had it been a nightmare, or premonition, or flashback, or just a concoction invented by her imagination? The details had faded back into her subconscious. They were like wispy fragments that were incoherent to her conscious mind. Undecipherable. Uninterpretable. All that was left were feelings. The emotions resided in her core, her very being; the very essence of who she was. Within herself, she felt a sense of urgency she couldn't describe. She needed something. She wanted something. She wanted someone. It left her with a sense of heart ache and longing. Her chest felt tight.

 

Looking out the window, she could see the town already in its morning bustle. The people went about their daily lives. No matter how long she spent here, this wasn't her town. It was just some inn in a foreign village. She didn't belong here. She didn't need to be here. This wasn't her home.

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A/N

See? New chapter; not too long. ;-) though I know all of you were expecting ch3, I'm working on it :-) Writer's block can be a stressful pain in the ass.

 

Sorry for the out of place chapter, it's a work-in-progress after all. Hopefully chapter 3 will be up soon.

 

I'm a constant editor; I'm always finding little ways to spruce up my writing or fix mistakes.

That's why it pops up new every now and then, yet nothing's really “new.”