Somewhere among the shifting dunes and windswept landscape of Wind Country, a loud, wet pop bursts into life, followed by the sound of a disgruntled 'tch.'
Ryuishi leaps again, flitting across the sandy terrain at high speeds only possible due to a lifetime of training and chakra-enhanced limbs. Around her, beige, tan, and orange tones blur together creating a runny, weird sort of aesthetic that reminds her of a bland and muddy painting.
Irritably, she blows another bubble with her gum, letting the mint flavored candy grow into something almost ridiculous in size before popping it. No matter how refreshing and soothing the flavor, the arid climate still dries out the back of her throat like no ones buisness. It feels achy and gritty back there, and she has to stick to the rationed amounts of water she doles out. This means she has to suck it up and deal with her dry ass mouth. It wouldn't be so bad if she hadn't got caught in a surprise sandstorm on the way to Suna, she thinks, that sucker emerged from absolutely nowhere. The wall had just snuck up on her, a towering barrier of grit and wind that touched both earth and sky, full of debris and raw power.
She couldn't outrun it, and there was no high point to find so quickly. Instead she had ended up wetting a bandanna and tying it around her face like a mask and hiding out on the leeward side of a small outcropping, hunched between stones as the world became clouded and visibility cut down to a few feet. She even found out that she had shared that hidey hole with a viper and some errant scorpions, when they peeked out from cracks as particles scraped across her skin and caught in her eyelashes. It had been a mexican standoff between the three forces until the storm died out hours later, and she defeated them both by flooding the area with an energy consuming Suiton technique.
So, low on supplies, she had to make some decisions. Like traveling at night to avoid the most heat intensive hours and losing hydration. Rationing water until the safety of Suna, even though her throat is scratchy as hell. Besides, it's better than literally dying from exposure and poor planning. Plus, she's only a few hours out any way, at some point she'll have to slow down to civilian speeds to keep up her act, but not quite yet.
The dark sky above is sorta eerie, and she represses a shiver. It's cold as hell out here at night, and the distant light of the stars somehow seems more like ice shards than anything else. A thin sliver of moon shines just bright enough to cast the landscape in silvery hues. Ryuishi tries not to think about how the moon in this reality is actually the corpse of a giant monster and really hot babe mixed together, because she always used to like the nocturnal light. Now it just seems to be a constant reminder that shit isn't the same anymore, and it bums her out.
She eventually spots the main road and slows her speed down, easily letting weariness consume her limbs to appear as a tired merchant who was brought low by a natural disaster. She lets down some of her hair around her bun and holds her arms across her chest, trying for the 'upbeat but exhausted look' that she has seen some women pull off. The one where people want to naturally help because they wielder of said look just appears so haggard, but refuses to give in with their happy, shoujo can-do attitude. It would probably be better if she was more femininely dressed, but her long hair softens her features enough to pull it off.
If she has the schedule right—and she does, she knows all the schedule of the Hidden Villages, she worked her fuckin' ass off to get them—then a patrol should be coming around this area fairly soon. She looks just non-suspicious enough to get by, and hopefully cute enough to get a guard. Wouldn't that be nice, a strong and capable piece of eye candy for the remainder of the trip. Maybe it will be a sultry brunette with soft skin and a voice to kill for and legs like woah. Then the two of them can talk about girl stuff… haha… yeah, girl stuff. Or maybe a lithe and muscular man who will offer to take her bag, and they can—
She bites the inside of her lip, shaking her head. Get it together, self! she thinks, We are a mature adult for Buddha's sake!
All her pondering turns out to be a moot point anyways, as no one attempts to stop her or help her out. Distantly she can detect a squadron observing her from afar, taking note of the candy merchant while hidden in the sand and stone. Ultimately though, and she has no idea why, they leave her alone and she has to walk at a normal rate right up to the Suna merchant gates like some sort of untrained peasant. So when she is forced to go through security, she is ill tempered and less than happy. The only upside is that the on-duty guard takes one look at her furiously chewing jaw and cracked lips and hands over a bottle full of water.
Ryuishi sighs as the liquid glides down her throat and memorizes his face, because that man is a godsend and he will be receiving a surprise fruits basket, or candy box, or something like that. Courtesy of a grateful and adorable merchant who just so happens to be a missing nin at times. Or is it a missing nin who is a candy merchant at times? Ah, who cares.
Due to the late hour and her disgruntled appearance, the check takes less time than usual and the waiting period is cut down by at least half due to the lack of people waiting, so she gets through the security in record time. Immediately she heads to a hotel, not too big and not too small, and checks in. It's different from her last one, and the room is a bit small, but after she checks to make sure bed bugs aren't an issue, she collapses full out on the crappy bed.
The next morning, after her hygiene routine, she heads out to peddle candy for a while. Surprisingly, it seems that more than a few brats remember her and drag their parents over to purchase sweets. As predicted, lemon flavored gummies and suckers are still at the height of popularity, but the new pomegranate ones she has are a close second.
The parents are even beginning to take note of her now, and tons (okay, so maybe like, eight, at most) even make purchases themselves. The stoic faced, emotionless-looking older crowd seems to have a leaning towards her more bitter selection, buying coffee flavored suckers and darker chocolates to sate their cravings. At the prices she offers, it's sort of a steal, and most the money earned here she puts right back into the local economy through hotel visits, restaurant meals, and gratuitous knick-knack shopping.
She has no clue what she is every going to use that fancy ass set of robes for, but hey, she owns them now. The maroon goes with her complexion, even if she is probably never going to wear it.
Ryuishi is so caught up in her thoughts that she never notices a small blur racing towards her from the direction of the Kazekage's tower, eating up ground like no one's business. It's only when her battle instinct takes over and she reflexively outstretches her arms to prevent damage that she comes to her senses.
The people around her suddenly lose interest in her wares and move away like petals on a breeze, leaving the already scarcely populated street near empty. Ryuishi finds that she has an overwhelmingly adorable and emotional child in her hands, staring at her like she hung the damn sun. Again the boy is leaking from his face, big seafoam green eyes scrunched up and what she assumes to be a smile stretched across his cheeks. It's mildly disturbing, because it looks like more of a grimace of pain or a baring of teeth.
"Aneue," Gaara babbles wetly, "Aneue came back. I saw her from the—"
She can't help but chuckle, because good lord is this kid overly invested in her, and he is usually so quiet and collected. She has to remind herself that he is, in fact, a four year old to really believe it.
"Hey, I promised, didn't I?" she coos, allowing him to grasp at her shirt, rubbing soothing circles on his back, "I said I'd come back."
He inhales deeply through his nose, and it sounds utterly disgusting. She has disemboweled people and had it sound less gross. Watching him try to put himself together is mildly amusing as well, because the timid boy looks like he is utterly ashamed with himself for losing composure like this, but also like he can't believe she really came back. She feels a pang in her chest because he looks so cute, and she is so very weak in the face of such moe.
"See? It's okay," she singsongs, rearranging her arms to let him rest on her hip. "It's all gonna be good. I even brought something for you," she murmurs, squeezing him in a side hug. His windswept crimson hair tickles her nose, and she resists the urge to sneeze on him.
Suddenly his attitude switches, and the tears begin to stop. He is utterly focused on what she just said, and it brings back memories of nieces and nephews fidgeting in place at family gatherings, waiting impatiently for presents. Those damn animal children would never settle down.
"For me?" he whispers, awestruck.
"That is what I said, isn't it?"
He doesn't answer this time, quietly looking up at her, fists full of fabric and face full of 'gimme'. She is well versed in this game, she thinks, but never has she played it with such a polite kid. She forces herself to remember that Gaara is the son of the Kazekage himself, something akin to a young duke or prince. He must have been well taught in ways of etiquette and manners, which is probably why he is always nagging her about her poor behavior. It must go against everything he has ever learned to cuss and spit and stomp.
Ryuishi briefly wonders what life would have been like for her if she had kept those manners taught to her in the Okiya. How weird would it have been to be a proper lady? Her thoughts entertain images of some demure version of her trailing two steps behind her boys, offering them subservience and docile characteristics. Probably blushing at the mere thought of sleeping in their rolls with them. Femininity isn't a weakness, she thinks, but for shinobi manners might be.
She snorts. The two of them would have taken her for everything they could.
She can feel the force of Gaara's demanding gaze on the side of her head, attempting to will her into handing over whatever it is through the power of thoughts alone. She smiles and turns to look forward, beginning to head to in a random direction and drawing it out.
"Did you know," she begins, her husky voice lilting into lecture mode, "That sand can be used for many things?"
He doesn't say a word, eyes begging even as he listens to her her nonsense.
"Usually, sand is bad for growing things because it drains so easy, and it isn't great for building on. That doesn't mean it's bad, though. Crafters use sand as an abrasive polish. Bags of it can be used to prevent flooding. Your sand, obviously, can do a lot of things," she tells him. "But the coolest thing sand is used for, in my opinion, is making glass."
At this he blinks, and she interprets it as surprise.
"Now again, glass is used for a lot of things. In my humble opinion though, there is one type that is the most beautiful in the world. It's made from the broken pieces of litter and shipwrecks. The ocean polishes it, wearing down the cutting edges and bringing out hundreds of colors. After some time in the sea, the trash becomes like gems, multifaceted and beautiful," she states, reaching around for the side pocket of her bag.
"It just so happens that one of those sea glass shades almost perfectly matches the color of your eyes," she finishes, fishing out a thick, corded necklace with a dangling piece of frosted glass at the end. A hand immediately releases her shirt and opens up below the piece of jewelry, a silent demand to hand it over.
When she does he snatches it up, peering at the stone-like piece, feeling the coolness of it through his defense. Its edges are softened and the light slides around its surface like it is made of solidified ocean. He has never been to the sea before, but he thinks that it must look a lot like this. He feels a hand under his chin, tilting his head up to look her in the eyes. They are dark and forever, but it seems like there is a little bit of light in them too. Gently, she takes the necklace from him and slips it over his head, letting the glass rest against his collar.
"The lesson is that sand can create as well as destroy, and with a little help from the sea, it can make something beautiful."
His face lights up with understanding and he looks down at the pendant, letting his hands fill themselves with it, feeling the smooth edges. Nimble little fingers run over its surface again and again before he reaches out, wrapping his arms around her neck.
"Thank you, Aneue," he whispers and she laughs, planting a kiss on his forehead.
"No problem, Gaara-kun. Now, how about lunch? What weird food will you have me try this time?"
"Lizard tongue."
She sighs. Like every child, it seems he insists on fixating on his favorite food for every meal.
"How about you try again."
"Goat and cactus."
"Alright, I have never eaten that second one, so let's give it a go."
Gaara leads the way. Well, more like he silently points the way. One hand is constantly fidgeting with his new necklace, while the other one gestures directions wordlessly. They find themselves at the entrance of a smaller establishment with sun-bleached clay walls and a small awning made of brick. It's still in the rounded mound shape that all Suna buildings seem to have, and the air around it is brimming with a spicy, savory scent. When she walks in, smile on her face, the waiter's face turns a pasty white at the sight of the child on her hip, his eyes nervously dancing about, as if not seeing the child will make it not exist. She makes sure to coat on an truly sickening amount of charm.
"T-Table or booth?" he chokes out.
She lets her lips upturn and looks up at him through her lashes, letting her voice soften. "Booth, please."
He bobs his head like an erratic rooster and she can see the exact moment his eyes glance toward her bared midriff. Externally, she continues the act. Internally, she cackles because the boy can't choose whether to be terrified of Gaara or entranced by a little exposed skin.
"Right this way," he says, his voice rising a few octaves. Adorable, she thinks. She would eat him alive.
When they are seated, she makes sure to brush her hand against his shoulder and smile. When she goes for her seat she thanks him, and his tanned cheeks turn just the lightest bit of pink.
Good, she thinks again, if he's focused on me then he'll lay off of the kid.
The kid who, as it turns out, refuses to leave her side, settling by her like there isn't another side to the table. If it wasn't bad manners, she is almost certain he would have sat directly in her lap, the twerp. The clingy, cute, precious little twerp.
Gaara orders for them both, using his most stoic and demanding voice. She bets that he learned it from some tightass authoritarian figure with a tiny dick and compensation issues. It seems like the type of person the Kazekage is, anyways. She can only guess, and until she sees him without pants, she can only confirm two of those accusations.
The goat is delicious, a savory, gamey piece of meat that is accented by bright bursts of heat. Chiles open up her pores, and peppery spices numb her tongue. The meat is tender and probably stewed, or pressure cooked, she doesn't know. All she is sure of is that it falls apart with the gentle pressure of her tongue against the bites. She can't get enough of it, and practically inhales it all.
The cactus, on the other hand, is shit.
Ryuishi takes one bite and tries to power through. Usually texture doesn't bother her, but this… this is a serving of crap. Well, it tastes like bile, all bitter and sour at the same time and the feel of it her mouth is like hot slippery snot. Just to be sure, she tries another bite in case the first was just a bad mixture of flavor, but it remains just as horrid and awful.
"Urgh," she says, gathering up her napkin and spitting out the green abortion in her mouth onto the fabric. Strings of viscous saliva trail down from her lips, and she suddenly hates the world. What kind of god allowed this dish to be made into food?
Gaara looks up at her, chipmunk cheeks full of his own lunch, thin lips down turned into a scowl. He chews faster, like he is about to lecture her on how rude she is.
"Gaara, that was literally the worst fucking thing I have ever put in my mouth," she tells him, preemptively defending herself.
He lectures her anyway.
On the third day of her week-long venture back into Suna, Gaara approaches her with a more serious question than the ones that have occasionally cropped up. He is at that age where sometimes the most simple things seem profound, and where those large, esoteric concepts can be explained simply.
So when she mentions toads and salamanders in some strange conversation, the young noble is baffled and silently awed that a creature can live both on land and in water. He tells her that he will ask his uncle just to be sure as if she is lying about amphibians, because the concept is so outlandish to him.
In a memorable conversation about why people smile where she had to explain the instinctive and strange method of baring teeth to show joy, he had asked what happiness was in the most physical terms. She floundered for a bit, before slowly cataloging things like briefly tensed muscles before relaxation, ease of breathing, sensations of stretched cheeks and tranquility of mind. After this, he had just looked blankly at her and said, Oh, like when you push me on the swings. The answer was so simple, and she melted like a piece of ice in the sun and hugged him tight for a whole five minutes straight. He had said nothing the whole time, clearly enjoying the contact.
With this history though, most questions are still somewhat unexpected.
A frustrated Gaara attempts to tie the slipknot another time, but his pudgy hands are not yet nimble enough to work with the slender twine. Ryuishi laughs softly under her breath as he glares at it, his sand rustling softly around them in agitation.
"How about you just use mine?" she asks, withholding her genuine mirth for the sake of his incredible pride. For a four year old it is fairly large, and she doesn't want to be the kind of person that would take potshots at it, if only because so many others are already going to.
"Again," he demands for the third time.
She sighs and undoes the twine at the end of her stick, slowly showing him how to loop and twist the string to make the noose. It takes her doing this twice more before she deems his acceptable, and they begin to scope the stones within the city walls, poking around for their prey.
The silence they share is a companionable one, and for a long while the only sounds are the ever present wind and sand scraping against the bluffs and cliff outcroppings of the desert city. The redheaded child doesn't cover his steps like she does, and the soft crunch of his feet is just loud enough to be heard. His bright eyes scan the area, and she relies on his sight to find the chosen targets as she silently sweeps through the sun-baked world. She is the guardian, softly smiling as she trails beside the porcelain prince.
A jerky hand stops her as a single finger points to a creature sunning itself lethargically on stone, basking in warmth. She nods and nudges him, motioning for him to watch her as she moves.
Like a creeping predator she stalks forward, going in from the side so her shadow will not alert it to her presence. Funnily enough, she has killed people like this. But ah, it's whatever. Her stick edges above the target, the long string hovering millimeters above the rocky surface. In one swift motion she slips the noose over its head and pulls up, entangling the thrashing creature so it cannot escape.
Ryuishi lets out a crow of delight as she goes to pick up the chubby lizard, it's thick scales sliding roughly in her hand. It's excess skin makes it a struggle, not to mention the surprising amount of muscle it has, but Ryuishi has a past life filled with experience and she wrestles it into submission like a pro. She ends up with the thing held in both hands, twine broken and stick on the ground. She can't identify what species it is, as it looks like some sort of monitor lizard mixed with a gecko. Likely, it isn't anything that existed in her world.
Gaara is approaching with wary interest, and she can feel the fat tub of dry skin wriggle against her, long nails scraping her hand. The angle if off enough that it doesn't do anything, but she reminds herself to be careful.
"That, my little friend," she tells the be-robed child, "Is how you fish for lizards."
He nods in acceptance of the lesson, and she smiles and gently thrusts it out for him to hold, reading the curiosity in his eyes. He awkwardly accepts the beast, pinning it's arms to its sides and peering closely at bead-like scales.
"Why does it have those?" he asks.
"Lots of things have scales, but this guy has them mostly for protection. Like armor. They also help keep water in," she answers, curiously registering the blue forked tongue tasting the air.
He shuffles it around and she can see his sand rise up to cradle it so they can both observe. It envelops its limbs and stomach and the creature settles, probably attempting to blend in with the sand.
She peeks into it's muddy brown eyes, observing the small flecks of gold in them.
Suddenly it opens it's mouth to hiss at her: she backs off, hoping that it doesn't have a spitting reflex. Only, when she does, she finds Gaara picking at the creatures scales with his fingernails, attempting to pry one lose. On reflex alone she acts, grabbing his hand. It says volumes that the only wound she receives is a light scrape as his defense rises to protect him.
The boy looks bewildered by her stern countenance, wide eyed and open mouthed. She might have been a little too fast to disguise as a regular civilian, but she writes it off because she has known mothers who react to misbehaving children with such swiftness that a chunnin would be awed.
"Don't do that," she scolds lightly, "Scales are connected to the skin and it hurts the lizard."
Gaara looks regretful for a moment, and does not go to repeat the action. They spend a little while more playing with their find before letting him scuttle off into the cracks and holes in the stone before he turns back to her, curiosity bright on his face.
"Aneue, what is hurt?" he asks.
"What, you've never felt pain?" she asks, briefly thrown before she remembers, oh, yes. Ultimate defense, sand armor, blah blah blah. That's probably why he was so interested in the scales in the first place.
He shakes his head no, and she thinks about it for a bit before eyeballing him. "Alright, I can show you but you have to promise not to blast me with sand. Or crush me. You have to keep in control, got that? No going crazy."
Gaara nods again, relieved to finally be indoctrinated into this mystery. He probably should have asked Aneue sooner, because she answers almost every one of the questions he asks, unlike Uncle or Father, who tell him he will learn in time.
"Stick out your tongue."
He does, mildly confused for a moment. This seems strange.
"Put your teeth around it."
Again, he follows her orders. She cradles his jaw in her hand, feeling around the smooth shell of sand with agile fingers.
"In advance I apologize, but this is an important lesson."
Then her hand slaps against the shell around his chin and forces his jaw up. His teeth sink slightly into the slimy muscle in his mouth and he tastes blood. A shock goes through him and that thing inside his stomach protests, bubbling up with anger. He spits out red tinted saliva, growling and whimpering because oh, oh, this is what it is. This is what hurting is like, and he doesn't like it at all. It feels like his body is rebelling against him, and his tongue, it… it aches.
Teary, angry eyes latch onto her because she knew, she knew that it was bad and she did it anyways! She hurt him!
But the look he sees in Aneue's eyes squashes any ideas of retaliation flat. The sun shines behind her, illuminating her body with a golden glow, and the bangs around her faces stirs in the sand-filled wind. He notices that Aneue is tall, so very tall, and her eyes are empty like the dark between stars at night. She is watching him, measuring something there, and the thing inside his belly hatehatehates the void inside the gaze, but does not move against it. He is frozen by intimidation, waiting for the bigger thing to move first.
"It's sucks, I know sweetie," she says, and then she is kneeling and the look is almost gone. Instead she is there again, comforting and sweet as his eyes water and he sniffles. "But that's what happens when somebody gets injured, and what you felt is very, very small compared to what it can be. That's why you don't pick the scales off a lizard, and why you have to be careful with your sand. It can hurt people."
Gaara throws his arms around her and sniffles some more, blinking away the water in his eyes. She was scary and then not, and then she is here and he gets it because pain… pain sucks.
"Yet, hurt teaches us also. It warns us from pushing past to the point of breaking, and sometimes it can motivate us to try harder. Pain is like your sand, Gaara. It can build and destroy. It's all about what we choose to do with it."
He doesn't understand what she is saying, because he is too busy trying to lose himself in the feel of her arms around his back and the smell of flowers, water, and candy that hangs around her like a comforting blanket. He won't understand it for a few years yet, but he does learn to be a little more careful with his sand that day.
His hand clutches around the sea glass hanging from his neck and she holds him tight, soothing her hands through his hair and rubbing his back.
"Build or destroy, it is all about choice."
She spends the rest of the week with him and this time, when she says she has to leave, he merely sniffles and tell her to hurry, because he knows she will come back.