He never knew a simple door could be imposing. He felt as though he were staring into the great maw of some impossibly large beast, and the fear that gripped his chest was so unexpected and powerful it nearly stole his breath.
Contrary to popular belief, he was no stranger to fear. Every warrior knew fear, they had to know it, breathe it, gain knowledge from it, in order to learn how to face and defeat it.
But this was different, this was not the fear that was a prelude to the sharp sting of adrenaline that drove its way through one's stomach like a spike of jagged, rust crusted metal.
This sensation was a hundred times worse. The other was fast, it came and went like a blow to the head, leaving only physical discomfort as the aftermath of its arrival.
This was sensation that made his gut churn with nausea, dried his throat until he had to swallow to ease the feeling and all he could do was clench his fist as it hovered over the handle as his mind turned his fear of what lay beyond this doorway over and over around his skull.
What would he see there? Just how far had her body been withered by the sickness?
His heart palpitated in his chest with surprising force, making him stand within the hallway for a moment longer as he willed his body's reactions into submission. With a deep breath, he finally opened the door.
The room's scent stung his nostrils, filling his senses with the acrid stench of antiseptics and chemicals. His gaze swept over the room; only two Hyuuga's occupied it, one sat on a chair. The other in the bed next to it.
Hanabi was the first to look up from where she'd been hunched over, puffed eyes staring listlessly at him for a moment, barely recognizing him out of his robes or armor. Water glistened the surface of those silver orbs, barely held in check.
Finally he saw her suck in a breath, spine straightening in her seat, bringing Hinata's closed eyes to open with the disturbance, scanning the room with a slow lethargy of sickness before her sight finally met his own.
And then she did something that drew his surprise.
She smiled.
Too sick to move, with skin far too pale, body far too thin, shivering with cold...and she was smiling at him.
Slowly, he broke his gaze away from her own, turning his eyes to the, it would seem...imminent future Hyuuga matriarch and spoke, his voice as even and toneless as it had always been, belying nothing of what he felt beneath the surface of his flesh.
"Leave."
The young Hanabi looked as though he had smacked her for a moment, before outrage quickly overtook her initial surprise. On the cusp of protesting, he saw her mouth snap shut, no doubt due to the fact that her mind had just caught up with her voice before she could give it voice, remembering who she was about to talk to.
But for his own part, Naruto held no patience for her reluctance as she looked from Hinata to the door, torn between her affections for her sister and her fear of him.
"Now." He growled, emphasizing the word as he stepped further into the room, watching as she, finally, tore herself away from Hinata's bedside. Marching across the room and exiting through the door behind him. Naruto barely spared her a glance as she left, hearing the door click shut, before he finished closing the distance between himself and his once upon a time teammate.
Standing at her bedside he watched the young woman's eyes swivel up to him, blinking slowly with lines of exhaustion drawing creases and wrinkles that were not there the last time he'd seen her.
Her wan skin seemed to be hanging off her bones, her face was pale, sweat mattered her previously full and well kept tresses into a haphazard tangle that spread over her forehead and the sheets of the bed like trails of dark ink.
He struggled to find something to say, anything. He, for once in his life, was actively seeking words of comfort.
Something he could give to her, say to her in this, when she needed it of him.
But his voice was empty and his mind hollow.
She had to be the one to speak.
"I'm glad you're alright." She breathed, voice raspy with lack of use and debilitating sickness.
His mouth was a grim line on his face as he stared at her, the small, contented little smile he could see on her face, as perplexing to him as the fear he'd felt when he'd been standing outside the doorway.
There was a rustle over the sheet, and his blue eyes were drawn to it, finding her too thin hand weakly reaching for his own. Grasping it with fingers that were too cold, holding on with a grip that was straining to keep itself there.
This was not right.
Before he'd realized it, he found himself shaking his head, and the words leaving his mouth before he knew he'd said anything. "You cannot die here Hinata. We are too close now. The new world is almost within our grasp"
"It doesn't matter." She answered almost struggling to put out the words. Though the smile never left her lips. "I...doesn't look like... I'll get to see it Naruto."
It was one of the few times he'd ever felt powerless in his entire life.
This was not right.
"You cannot...die." He found himself repeating, as though it would change anything.
That little smile just got a bit wider. "You can't control everything Naruto."
Couldn't control everything...
He controlled more than half a continent, he could marshal legions of troops, raze entire states, bankrupt cities on a mere whim if he so chose. And here he was unable to stop...a simple disease.
She should not die here; like this. If she should die it should be in a battlefield, meeting an opponent blade on blade, skill vs skill until one proved the better, or as an old woman at peace in her home. Not by...by poison!
"Naruto." Her weak voice forced him to focus, brought him back from thoughts that were quickly reigniting the flame of an anger that had no target. "I need you to do something for me."
He stayed quiet, but she knew he was listening, he always did.
"Take care...take care of Hanabi for me."
"You'll be able to do it yourself." He was lying, he knew he was lying.
"Naruto please." She gasped, the look in her eyes imploring him to understand.
And he knew that he needed to force himself to accept what his mind already knew was truth.
She was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"She's young" he heard her speak. "She'll need help...She'll need your help."
The tenuous grip on his hand got just a little tighter, squeezing as much as she could. "Please."
Her voice was so weak, her grip so fragile.
"If you're willing to entrust her to me-" He finally answered at length. "-then I am willing to accept the responsibility."
He saw her shoulders sag with relief and that smile became just a bit more peaceful.
This time, it was he that tightened his grip over her hand. "It was not supposed to be like this." He said, and the logical side of his mind knew that this was mere sentiment speaking, foolish feelings that should have never been allowed purchase over his mind. They all died one day, and most were not glorious, or peaceful, they were cold, alone, away from home in fear and in pain. What did it matter that she should die today, or tomorrow, or even a hundred years from now?
The world would keep spinning.
He would still be here.
And his mission was not finished.
It meant nothing.
It was supposed to mean nothing.
Standing there at her side, forcing himself to keep her fingers in his own, as though it would make her stay here. As though it would stay her spirit from leaving this body for just a few more moments.
It was with a startled jerk that Hinata realized she was being lifted off the bed, and with more reflex than any real strength she wrapped her arms around his neck, her head falling against his shoulder as she was raised.
Unlike most people, Shikamaru could tolerate administrative duty, he enjoyed it infact, hours of doing little more than reading a line or two, finding where the designated paperwork was supposed to go, and then having a clone put it there.
It was a quick, simple and easy task that really didn't require much effort physically or mentally so he frequently swapped with other ninjas for their hours. Since Suna had such few ninja in comparison to most villages, every one of those needed to train themselves up regularly, so administrative tasks were swapped in shifts of weeks instead of having a permanent administrative branch, a permanent medical branch and so on and so forth. Everyone needed to be ready to help in any task the village might need of them at any given time.
Quality over quantity one would say.
It was something that worked out for the best for everyone really. He was as strong as he needed to be, probably as strong as he was going to get, this let others work on their skills, their area of expertise, while he had hours of free time to work on his area of expertise:
His brain.
Every day he spent in here he was marking down battle plans, tactics, strategies, running the numbers. How many supplies they had, how long they would last, how many could Konoha throw against them given estimated losses they'd suffered, where could they hit from, what could be their possible supply routes, How many people Suna had at its immediate disposal as combat ready, how many were injured, how long their supplies would last how many more supplies could they gather and from where, what were the best places for them to effectively defend the city and outlying deserts from; and about a hundred other factors commanders needed to know.
Thousands of numbers, hundreds of calculations.
Because Konoha would come here swinging hard and he would make sure that he'd covered every angle, everything the militant bastards would throw at them.
Suna may be destroyed but before they went down they would bleed the demon king's empire white.
He would do his best to make damn sure of that.
And because he would do his best, it was why he found himself climbing the stairs to the Kazekage's office a little after midnight, reports and results in hand, ready to leave them on the desk to make sure Gaara or whoever the hell, read them first thing when they arrived tomorrow morning. After that he could head back down, throw on his coat, brave the near freezing temperature of what was left of the night, get home and get some bloody sleep.
Reaching the door, he opened it, not even bothering to knock.
It was pitch black inside, much like he expected, with only the hint of light sneaking in from the cracks of the balcony door offering only the vaguest outline of the desk for him to put with his memory.
He stepped forward into the dark room, too lazy to fumble around for the light switch, he stepped carefully around the chairs that were resting infront of the desk placing the papers in the center of it and placed the paperweight over them before he moved to turn back around towards the exit.
And so, it was with complete surprise that the shadow user felt his foot snag on something as he turned, too soft to be a leg of the chair and too large to be some uneven floorboard, sending him nearly stumbling headfirst into the still open door.
"What the hell!" He yelled, grabbing onto the knob before tossing the doorway open even wider, letting a bit more light into the pitch black room allowing his eyes the sight of someone sitting on the long chair, one leg held out, the one he'd tripped over.
The person was hunched, a bottle of what Shikamaru didn't even need to deduce was sake in one hand. He would have asked what the hell he or she was doing in the Kazekage's office of all places to get drunk but discovering that the mop of hair on the intruder's head was a bright, bloody red he checked off the question.
And just like that last one, about a dozen other stupid questions were categorically stricken from the line up as he prioritized what he should ask first.
He observed that Gaara's clothes were damaged, very damaged as if he'd been in a fight recently, knowing that nothing of the sort had happened since his return to Suna six or seven hours ago, Shikamaru could safely deduce that he'd not cleaned himself up yet. Something that he'd never allow unless the situation called for it. Gaara was, in no small part due to Temari's influence, very clean.
He also never, ever drank. In the ten-some-odd years that he'd known Gaara, Shikamaru had never once seen him with a bottle in his hands.
He could understand really, harboring a demon powerful enough to sink the entire village beneath the sands under their feet did not really give one much prerogative to risk loosing the reign of self control.
The last thing one would want would be to wake up with a hangover only to realize half the village was gone in a drunken rage.
And lastly he realized as he switched on the light, Gaara was clutching a scroll very tightly in his free hand, so tight Shikamaru was sure his fingers would be aching in a few more minutes if they weren't already.
Looking at it a bit closer, given the fact that it was woven together with wood that was not native to Suna he would take a leap here and say it was from Kumo, and only two people had access to information that could get Gaara to react like this from Kumo that he knew of so it was either from Zhuge Liang, or from Yue Ying. And if it was from Ying it was most likely pertaining to or from Zhuge Liang anyway.
He opened his mouth, ready to speak when-
"I cant get drunk."
His mouth snapped shut, a confused look crossing his thin features before he eloquently responded with a "What?"
The liquid in the bottle churned and sloshed as Gaara lifted it to enphasize, one lip curling back in a mixture of disgust and anger. "I drank three of these." He clarified. "I don't feel a damn thing."
It was quiet only for half a second before the Kazekage stood, exploding into sudden motion that surprised Shikamaru before he saw the man send the sake bottle hurdling through the air, smashing against the opposite wall with a magnificent crash, shards of glass with droplets of sticky, clear alcohol flying everywhere.
Without pausing Gaara turned picked up one of the chairs Shikamaru had been careful to avoid, and launched it out the balcony, splinters of wood and glass following after it as it smashed through, leaving a gaping hole where the freezing Suna night air entered through with gusto.
Though surprised Shikamaru was able to easily keep his calm, eyes following Gaara's movements and the path of destruction more thrown objects were causing. So far the Kazekage hadn't picked up his desk or the papers he'd left there so Shikamaru didn't yet deign it necessary to use his Kagemane.
Instead he decided to speak, raising his voice to carry over the commotion. "Mind explaining what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." Gaara nearly hissed, not even turning to look at him. "I'm just busting up my office" With a flick of his wrist, a column of sand lifted the long chair he'd been sitting in throwing it through the wall and the one time Konoha nin could physically notice the room getting much colder now.
"I can see that." Shikamaru commented more than happy to be close to the door.
"We seem to be doing a good enough job of thoroughly screwing each other over on our own, maybe if we finish the job we'll be left in peace!"
And now it was time to intervene, he was getting too close to that desk for comfort.
The abrupt stiffness in all his limbs was easy for him to place, and made his racing heart and harsh breathing more than apparent to him.
Shikamaru was more than a little intrigued by what that last statement implied but now was not the right time to address it. He'd find out later, if not from Gaara, then possibly from Kankuro.
"Feel better now?" He asked; then quickly continued not waiting for an answer. "Forget that, because it doesn't matter what you answer because you've got option A or option B, either you feel better and you decide to stop thrashing your office or you don't feel better in which case I point out that thrashing your office isn't helping."
"Now, I'd ask you what exactly happened to get you like this but again, there's option A or option B, option A is that I do not have the clearance to know or option B I do have the clearance to know in which case I'll find out when you give the debrief to the rest of the Jounin's. So it's completely irrelevant to ask." The shadow user cleared his throat.
"Now to get right down to it, people get drunk for one of two reasons either A they're at a party or B they want to escape something. You're definitely not at a party which leaves just option B. And knowing you, you've faced...conflict you've faced loss, you've faced hardships and everything the world has thrown at you so far without picking up the drink so that leads me to believe none of these could have pushed you to it so that leaves, only two things I can think of in the span of five minutes. And those two things are fear and truth. So what I am going to ask you Gaara is: Which one are you trying to escape?"
Still held in the Shadow users Kagemane the Kazekage stayed very quiet.
For a brief window of eternity the two stood there, with Shikamaru waiting patiently until Gaara finally decided to answer. "Would you be surprised if I said both?"
Shikamaru shrugged. "Not really. We havent exactly had the best of luck recently. If you want to know the truth the only thing that surprises me is that you think you need alcohol."
"You wouldnt understand."
"Maybe not." The Nara admitted. "God knows I probably couldnt have handled half the crap you've had to deal with nearly as well as you. But so far Gaara, what I do know is that you're one of the only thing's that's keeping this village, Kumo's refugees included, standing. And as much pressure as that must put on you; that-" He gestured towards the wall where he'd thrown his bottle not ten seconds earlier. "is not something you need to bear it."
His piece said, the Nara retracted his shadow, turning and walking down the hallway leaving Gaara alone now in his half destroyed office.
Gaara pulled the scroll up towards his face, his thumb passing over the seal of the Raikage once before setting it on his desk.
He would read it, he told himself, tomorrow.
Tommorow, he would read it, he would shoulder the burden of responsibility again, take it up with as much dignity and perseverance as he had left.
For what was left of the night though, he would take for himself. For what was left of the night he would be the coward, he would go to his home and try to hide from the world and all of its messed up problems he would seek to ignore everything as much as he could. He would allow himself to be selfish, allow himself to buckle under the weight.
Only one night because he knew the world would give him nothing else. And he would let himself take nothing more.
The fire snapped and cracked in the air between them. Over their heads, a shelter, bound together with branches, twigs and leaves, far sturdier than anything she could have put together with the limited supplies she had, shielded them from the worst of the wind and rain.
She found that the warmth of the flames was like a soothing balm over her cold skin, and it was only the wish to keep a comfortable level of distance from her current host's infamous blade that she didn't scoot closer to the welcome source of heat.
"Exile huh?" She was surprised to hear him speak, it had been at least an hour since he'd cornered her in the forest, and she'd told him just why she held half of a demon in her. He'd brought her here at the point of his sword and hadnt said a word since. As she looked at him now, that little smile was on his face again. He pulled the spit from the ground to turn the meat before stabbing it back into its slanted position. "Playing ninja." She heard him comment, more to himself than to her. "You're lucky, I know a lot of Kage's that would have just killed you outright. I would have."
She pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her forehead where her knees met her thighs. "What does it matter?" she asked. "Unless you're going to tell me what exactly you plan on doing to me I'm not interested in what you have to say or your opinion on what happened.
"Do?" He smiled some more, scoffing. "I ain't gonna do a damn thing with ya." He made a vague gesture outside. "In case you didn't notice, Akatsuki is finished, girl. I ain't got no beef with you so I don't need to do anything with you. Tomorrow morning we'll both go our separate ways." He smiled a little bit wider, a twinkle in his beady eyes giving her the feeling as though he knew something she didn't. "I'm sure we'll meet again somewhere down the line."
"That's it?" She asked. "You're not angry? You don't want revenge?"
"Revenge?" He almost looked as though he was struggling not to laugh. "For what? Those guys I worked with? It's just business girl, I had no love gained or lost by you killing them. They were the means for me to achieve an end, and little more."
"What end was that?"
"Live long enough and I might tell you one day." Again, she caught that twinkle in his eye, that little expression that was half smug, half mocking.
Turning the meat around again, the Kiri nin allowed the silence to stretch on for a moment before he broke it again.
"You thought of what you're gonna do?"
She didn't answer.
Reaching over, he yanked out a half cooked chunk of meat from the spit, popping it in his mouth, rows of razor sharp teeth tearing away at it as he spoke. "Do you even have an idea?"
"No." She answered, almost, but not quite a snap. "No, I don't. I have no idea what I'm going to do, I have no idea! For this whole country there are only two governments and in one, the angel of Suna has a bounty in the bingo book high enough to get every missing nin, Anbu and hunter on my trail the moment anyone gets a confirmed sighting of me, and in the other, virtually the entire Anbu corps will now have orders to kill me on sight. I have nowhere to go and I have nothing left to turn to. So forgive me if I seem to be thinking too slow for your tastes."
Kisame shrugged nonplussed towards her biting tone. "If it's just having a place, you're worried about, go to your brother." She moved to speak, her expression a prelude to just what she thought of his suggestion when he continued stopping her. "Think about it." He clarified. "You saved him back there, so he knows its unlikely you'll try to assassinate him. And reporting that you, 'The Angel of Suna' has defected will..." He paused, looking for a word that could fit for his description. "It wont destroy Suna's morale it'll freakin rape it. He'll knock the sand village over like a strong wind to a house of cards."
"No."She answered simply, her tone of voice alone making it clear to the former Kiri nin that she would not be moved in this. "I can't do that?"
He shrugged his shoulders pulling his cloak off himself before reaching forward for the meat. Tearing off another large chunk from the spit he tossed it towards the exiled Jinchuuriki, who caught it with a hiss as the hot meat burned her hands before she set it down on her knee for lack of a better place, looking around frantically for something else she could use before eventually settling along the lower edges of her travelers cloak.
"Alright so let me ask you this then. What do you want to do?"
"Why are you even interested in this?"
"Do you see any other way to kill time around here?" He asked taking a huge bite of meat she now knew was far too salty for her tastes, but was the only thing edible for miles.
The fish man laid down on his back, one hand holding the meat above his face where he lowered it to take periodic bites as he waited for her answer.
And it was with a creeping realization that Akina found herself unable to answer. What did she want to do? She didn't know She didn't know anymore. Stop Konoha, protect Suna, help Naruto? Which was more important. Which was still possible? Had any of them ever been possible?
Kisame smiled again. "I'd think on that one girl." He said, taking the last mouthful of his meal before rolling over, his back facing her, though she doubted it would make much of a difference. "I'll want that answer in the morning."
And with that, the Kiri nin left her alone with her own thoughts in the tiny hovel that was their shelter, with the rain beating harshly against the leaves and twigs, the wind, howling around them.
It would be hours before she would drift into a fitful, restless sleep
The wind is cold against them, he feels her shiver in his arms, and he shrugs his shoulders to move the cloak over her a little bit more.
He continues up the winding path, rocks and dirt crunching beneath his boots as he crouches and weaves himself through the spindly branches and gnarled roots.
"Where are you taking me?" She asks, there's no fear in her voice, only curiosity.
"To a place where you can see."
"See what?" Her voice is breathy this time, as though she's about to fall asleep. He looks down to her, a pang of worry creasing his brow, her eyes are at half mast, not really looking at him anymore.
His pace quickens.
Finally, he sees the end of the path as the vaguest hint of the rising sun casts light across the night sky.
He steps through the treeline, and stops there. "Open your eyes, Hinata."
She does so, lids fluttering with the effort before she manages to obey.
When her eyes take in the sight before her, she feels her breath taken from her lungs.
It was Konoha, cast in the inky shadow of the night, with lights glimmering like a thousand jewels from their distance. The sky,thrown into a soft shade of lavender by the approach of the sun served as a backdrop to the scene, as the morning dew wrapped over the city like a veil of silver.
"You should see what you've been fighting for." He said softly, not looking down at her.
"How did you find this place?" She was so cold, so very cold
"The Sandaime. He brought me here once." He answered. "He told me that one should never loose sight of what they fight for." He paused adding after a brief moment.
He stood there, with the Hyuuga matriarch in his arms, listening carefully to the sound of her slow heart.
"Naruto." She said, struggling to find the strength to speak. "Promise me something."
He didn't answer, but he was listening, she knew he was listening.
"Promise me...that you'll finish it." She said. "Promise me that it'll mean something. That you'll achieve-"
"I understand" He said softly, cradling her just a little tighter than before. "I will succeed Hinata."
She smiled, a small, peaceful upturn of her lips as her body sagged against him. "Your new world...is one...I would have liked to have seen."
He took a breath, but did not answer as the new sun peeked its way over the horizon, an orange glow burning its way across the morning sky as he held the dying woman cradled against his chest.
'You should have Hinata...out of everyone...you of all people...should have seen it.'