Chapter Text
Temari, Kankuro... I'm so sorry...
Uh, well – it's okay, I guess.
'Do you think we should stop for the night?'
'Do you think we're being followed?'
It was a fair question. Kankuro glanced at the clearing that had caught his attention. The trees of the endless forest were now few and far between, the small crop they stood amongst lending leafy coverage over the cool grass. Although the moon was full, there was little light to see by. Their ragged breathing disturbed the silence of the night. He didn't look it, but with the sand gourd on his back, Gaara was heavy. They'd managed to retrieve it during their escape, and even though the extra weight was unwelcome, Kankuro didn't dare think of leaving it behind.
'Maybe not this far out,' he offered, shifting to see Temari through the darkness.
She gave a swift nod, taking her hand away from the tree trunk that had been her support. Her posture was stiff, her body still gripped tense with unforgotten fear. In the next second she was on the ground, conducting a brief examination of the area. Even this close to the edge of Konoha's territory, there was the possibility of their shinobi patrolling the forest. And who could blame them after the attack earlier in the day? Kankuro shifted his weight, supporting his younger brother's unconscious body as he prepared to make the descent. He appreciated his older sister's strength, relied on her as the main support in their group. Despite being afraid, she was holding herself together well. He hoped the same could be said for him.
Although he hadn't been around to see the full possession, he had more than enough memories to fill in the gaps. His belief that the sheltered Genin of Konoha were yet to know true terror was one he still held strong. Perhaps the earlier ambush had given them a small taste of what it was like to have your home torn apart from the inside. The villagers of Konoha would wake up to leftover debris in the streets, the emerging deaths of innocents. Suna had seen that many times more. Really, there was no comparison. Konoha could meet any threat with solidarity; they were all on the same team. Kankuro often had to pick sides between his home village and his own brother. It was easy to choose who to direct his sympathies towards. But that didn't ease his confliction.
Hearing his apology only made it worse. Gaara had fallen unconscious some time ago. It was hard to know exactly when – the main focus was putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the village of Konoha. Kankuro could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen his younger brother asleep. It never seemed to happen of his own will. So why did nobody take advantage when it happened? Why, instead of putting a permanent end to everything that tormented Suna, did they wait for him to wake up? Not that he could criticise.
Lowering Gaara to the floor with care, Kankuro was mimicking those to have had this opportunity before him. The sand would probably still protect him anyway. An age-old excuse. Maybe once, an age-old regret.
Temari had disarmed herself, her weapons lying on the ground at her feet as she enjoyed the absence of their weight with a big stretch. She helped to remove the gourd from Gaara's back, rolling it a little way across the damp grass whilst Kankuro worked on easing the semi-permanent ache that had taken residence in his shoulders. The night was pleasant, nothing compared to the brumal temperatures left after sundown in Suna. It was much-needed after the day's exertions. His chakra had been severely depleted, his whole body now set with the muscle-stiffening tension of being overworked. Sleep would be well-deserved, but they couldn't get complacent. Without Baki around to take the position of watch, he thought they would have to rely on their usual night-owl.
He tilted his head to the side in contemplation, debating the pros and cons of disturbing his brother's sleep. For the most part, Kankuro preferred him that way. At least he was quiet and stuck in one place. Hands on hips, he decided to ask his sister first. She was already looking at him; even in the dark, he could tell she was concerned.
'I was thinking we could wake h—'
'No.'
The word left in an abrupt whisper, her eyes widening with alarm. She straightened, forcing herself to appear more casual.
'If he's out of it we should leave him.'
'But if would probably be better if –'
'I'll keep watch,' she said.
Kankuro hesitated. 'You sure?'
'Positive.'
She gave a wan smile, closing the conversation by turning her back on him to arrange her possessions. Kankuro pulled his hat off his head. He knew better than to argue with her. Right now, he didn't even have the energy. There were so many worries in his mind that he could barely keep track of them all. The last thing they needed was another reason for group disharmony. The time for arguing, for any discussion, would be after they'd touched down in Suna.