Of the Desert
by Aoi Kami Sarah
Chapter Three
A
large campfire crackled and hissed under the din of hushed voices. A dozen or
more swarthy men sat around the fire and ate couscous and mutton with their
bare right hands. A pot of strong, aromatic coffee boiled in a tin pot hanging
over the blaze. Their gaze darted from their meals to the black haired boy
sitting at the edge of the campsite. His back to the fire, the boy could not
see the hateful looks on the men’s faces.
“Oi,
this kid gives me the creeps.”
“Keep
your voice down.”
“Whenever
he’s around I feel like he wants to kill me.”
“It
is the same with me. I feel dread, My Friend. Pure dread.”
“’S’fuggin
creepy, man.”
“If
that’s what a genius ninja’s like, then I’m glad I suck.”
“You
sure do, Pal.”
“Hey,
fuck you.”
The
boy stood and all conversation stopped.
“Panpora-sama!”
One bandit shouted and stood with shaking knees.
“I’m
going for a walk, you coward. Sit back down.”
“Of
course!” the man laughed nervously.
The
boy called Panpora folded his arms and walked a short distance from the
campsite. He knew his men were untrustworthy so he stayed in sight of them. It
was common for the more cowardly of his underlings to take an opportunity like
this to flee. But such men always followed him, greedy for a ravaged caravan’s
bounty and willing to witness the horror of his jutsu. With fire at his back
his shadow was cast long and knife-like across the dunes.
“I
can smell it,” he hissed, taking in a breath. His lips parted, revealing
pointed, bright white teeth which stood out in sharp contrast to his dark skin.
“Something exciting is close by.”
*
As
morning broke over the desert, Kankuro and Temari’s team assembled outside a
small tavern. The Chuunin ninja were more at ease with their teenaged leaders
after being pampered by an overnight stay indoors.
“Don’t
get used to it,” Kankuro laughed at the men’s comments. “That tavern owner owed
us. It’s the wilds of the desert here on out.”
As
they groused and put their packs on, Temari went to the bar to fill up her
canteen. “You,” she barked at the barkeep. “You seen a kid with the word ‘love’
on his forehead recently?”
The
three barflies to her left and the bartender stopped what they were doing and
stared at her. “What if we did?” one of the more sodden of the flies asked,
leaning in and squinting at her face.
Temari
grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked so that she could look down on him.
“That is my business. Have you seen him?”
“Sabakuno
Gaara…? Sure,” he stuttered. “He was here just bout a week ago. Less than that,
maybe.”
Temari
released him and returned to her group.
“Let’s
head out.”
*
The
sky was shockingly blue and the sand seemed to glare white under the sun as
Gaara and Rouzu followed the trade route south.
“We
should be heading more westerly,” Rouzu stated.
“Eh?”
She
pointed to a distant oasis. “That’s only a few hours away.” She didn’t shield
her eyes as she looked out at the brightness. Gaara squinted from between his
ghutra head dress and protective scarf. “They’re probably there already since
they’ve only got a half a day on us. If we come up around from the western side
we’ve got a better chance of taking them by surprise.”
“….”
Gaara looked up at her as if she was the stupidest woman on Earth.
“Ok,
ok. So a white-ass red-head and a pregnant woman sort of stick out…”
“Sort
of…?” he grumbled. “Look, it doesn’t matter where we come up on the oasis. If
we go west it’ll just take longer to get there. If the enemy is already there,
they’ve seen us approaching all morning.”
“Whatever,”
Rouzu sighed and put her hands behind her head. “As long as your not worried,
Chibi. Then I trust you.”
“….”
Gaara pouted. ‘Trust… me…?’ he thought and squinted at the distant oasis. He
wondered if leaving his gourd of blood-infused sand behind would be a problem
should the situation get sticky. Gourd or no gourd, he could still use his
power to manipulate the sand, and there was plenty of that in the vast desert.
*
Kankuro
turned his head to avoid the stench. He swallowed hard. There were children and
women among the dead. “Senseless…” he muttered. His sister nodded.
“Temari-sama.”
One of the shinobi in their party jogged over to them. “It appears as if these
people…” He pulled his face mask further up as he too got a good whiff. “These
people all killed themselves.”
“Chikushou…
This is horrible,” she hissed and walked around the caravan’s perimeter.
Kankuro
jogged after her, thankful to get upwind. “Nee-chan,” he got her attention and
pointed south. The sand showed a faint trail. “Looks like they went this way.”
Temari nodded and they set out across the dunes.
*
The
sun bathed the oasis in orange as it sank. As Gaara paused to listen for
anything out of the ordinary, Rouzu stepped in front of him. “They’re just
ahead. There’s a spring on the other side of that hill that they’re gathered
around.”
He
blinked a few times as he stared up at her. “Really?” he asked, sarcasm lacing
his voice.
She
sniffed the air. “No camels. No more than a half dozen horses. They’ve only
just started supper.”
Gaara
shook his head, but knew that she was right. Rouzu was a Bedouin. Her senses
were keen when it came to the desert. It was part of her survival mechanism. He
walked towards the hill and turned to her. Before he could open his mouth, she
was shimmying up a date palm. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked in
wonder.
She
grinned from the top of the palm baring white teeth, which seemed to glow in
the fading light. “Copping a squat. Go on Raaga, clean house. I’ll be here when
you get back.”
Gaara
rolled his eyes and left her there. “Baka onna,” he muttered and approached the
hill.
Men’s
voices echoed off the spring pool and around the hill. Gaara estimated there
were perhaps a little less than a dozen of them, but wanted to be sure. He made
a seal with one hand and closed his eyes. When the jutsu was complete, he
opened his left eye and let his right see what the Third Eye saw.
Around
the hill, eight men sat around a campfire. Their glances shifted from the fire to
something just to the north of the camp. Gaara turned the sand-eye around and
gasped as the black haired boy stared back at him. His lips moved. The words
were slow and obvious for camera’s benefit. “Yo Ro Shi Ku. Nice To Meet You.”
The
eye scattered as Gaara broke the jutsu and walked around the hill. He pulled
his ghutra further down so that it covered the
scar on his forehead before coming into view. The men were startled to see
another boy in the middle of the desert and quickly got to their feet, brandishing
edged weapons. They waited for their leader. Panpora gave a slight nod and they
rushed the boy.
As
the three fastest of them reached Gaara, the sand below them liquefied, sucking
them under. The others practically fell on each other as they halted their
advance. Gaara smirked. “Not so anxious anymore, are you?” Some turned and ran.
“Oh no, the fun has just begun,” he said casually and raised his hand. The sand
from the desert itself molded to his will and caught four of the men up.
“Sabaku Sousou,” Gaara hissed and lifted them off the ground. Rather than waste
more energy, he simply dropped them into the quicksand. When they were no
longer visible, the last man standing came at Gaara with a scimitar. The sword
struck his shoulder and sent reverberations up the man’s arm as it hit the
armor of sand.
“What…
what are you!?” he screeched.
“Sabakuno
desu… I am of the desert.”
Anyone
on the ground would have looked up into the palm trees and seen nothing out of
the ordinary. Rouzu peered through the fronds at the scene below in wonder.
“This chibi is something else…!” she whispered. “Could he be…?”
Her
mind raced back to ten years ago when Rouzu was still traveling with her
family. They had stopped in the Hidden Sand Village. While they were filling
their goatskins full of water at a public water fountain, she was minding her
younger brothers as they chased each other around the square. They were excited
to be in a city and weren’t paying attention to anyone around them. One of her
many little brothers ran into someone, knocking both of them to the ground.
“Sorry
bout that kid,” her brother muttered. People all around stopped everything they
were doing and stared. Rouzu had the sense to see that something was wrong. The
people were anxious, as if waiting for something bad to happen. She stared at
the kid as he got to his feet. He in turn stared incredulously at her brother.
His eyes were sunken and rimmed in black and the kanji for ‘love’ was etched
into the pale, white skin of his forehead. She shuddered at the strange vibes
coming off of the boy.
“Come
along, Chora,” she ushered her brother and the others back to the caravan. “Alahn, please excuse him, Mu’allim. He is overjoyed to be in your
wonderful city!” Rouzu played the ‘ignorant Bedouin’ card and hoped he would
let them go without crying for his father. To her surprise and further
astonishment, the boy shrugged and walked away. People backed away to let him
pass. “Ma'assalama, go in peace!” she called after him and waved
cheerily. When he was out of sight she frowned and slapped her brother upside
the head.
“Moron!”
another older brother scolded the boy called Chora. “You’re going to get us
thrown out of here!”
“Come
on,” Rouzu herded her siblings back to the caravan. “You’ve caused enough
trouble for one day.”
“I
didn’t do anything!” Chora protested, but the elder dragged him off.
Rouzu
followed and in a few days they were back on the trade routes of the Seven
Deserts and she forgot about the little boy entirely.
A
shadow darting across the hill caught Rouzu’s eye and roused her from her
memories. Soon several more followed. A small group of shinobi entrenched
themselves in the shrubbery and waited for their leaders’ signal. Rouzu raised
a brow and watched them like hawk. ‘And who do we have here?’ she thought. Her
baby kicked. ‘I know, don’t worry. We’re safe where we are. That chibi will
take care of that murdering kid, just you wait.’
The
scimitar thudded to the ground as its owner choked on three pounds of sand that
filled his throat, nose and ears. Before he fell, Gaara turned, satisfied and
narrowed his eyes at the remaining child.
“You’re
the one they were following?” he asked coolly.
“I
am Atemi Panpora: Scorpion of the Seven Deserts.”
Gaara
grinned. “I’ve never heard of you.”
The
boy laughed, exposing his small, sharp teeth. “Not many have. I don’t leave
witnesses.”
Gaara
scoffed. “You’ll leave your name here. No one will ever hear of you again.”
Temari
gritted her teeth as she heard her brother’s words. “We’ve got to do something,
Kankuro.”
“Why?
Gaara’s perfectly capable of taking this pipsqueak out.”
She
shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that caravan and the stories. What
skill is it that could make one’s enemy’s take their own lives?” Kankuro
puzzled over this, but she answered her own question. “Genjutsu.”
“Mind
tricks?” he repeated.
“What
do you think will happen if he tries to mess with Gaara’s mind?”
“I
think you’re going to tell me…” he moaned.
“It
will come.”
Kankuro
swallowed deep. “Right. We should probably either break this up or get the hell
out of here.”
She nodded, recalling the last time she was witness to the transformation. Gaara had gone all out against that Naruto kid. He was forced that day to resort to using the Tanuki Neri. Temari had never been so afraid in her life. She wouldn’t let that happen to her little brother again.