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Her green eyes dart toward Temari, then away, jittery and shaky. She’s planning something, Temari notes. Like an open book.
Konoha ninja are always so easy to read.
Temari sighs deeply, and flips her fan across her shoulders. No point in moving. Any trap Sakura might lay is leagues away from her.
“We are fighting, aren’t we?” she calls, watching Sakura through the trees.
Sakura keeps quiet. Good. Stealth is her advantage here, for the time being, even if Temari had her clocked five minutes earlier.
Temari sighs again. So much for ‘international team-building exercises’— whatever that meant.
It was just an excuse for Gaara to visit Konoha and bother Sakura for any news of Naruto. Then, when she informed him that the orange brat was throwing rocks around the Land of Earth, he of course saddled Temari with her while he went to argue with Tsunade. Diplomacy, he called it. At least it was a challenge.
“Disappointing,” mutters Temari. She raises her voice again. “I have better things to do than watch trees. Come out, or get sliced to ribbons.” Then she pauses for effect, smiling coldly. “Up to you.”
The leaves rustle behind her— to the left, 2000 hours. Temari lazily cocks her head to follow the sound, but otherwise holds her ground, tapping a nail against her fan. Again, and again.
At 1800 hours— a bird chirps angrily. At 1600— a twig snaps. Something bigger. A possible diversion. Or maybe a clumsy attempt at closing the distance to attack from behind.
Either way, Temari scoffs, releasing her fan. It snaps open a sliver, showing the curve of a purple circle. One star is all she’ll get.
“Be honored that I bother,” she announces, before swinging her fan into Sakura’s gut.
To her credit, she dodges—flipping midair to kick off the fan, and using the momentum to launch herself back into the woods. A lone chakra string glints on the fan.
"Take this!" shouts Sakura.
The string goes taut.
The next second, Temari tightens her grip on her fan—before she’s jerked into the foliage, crashing through branches and into thorns, before growling and twisting the air around her, catching herself on a giant tree and skidding around the trunk.
Sticking chakra to her feet, Temari plants herself firmly— stance wide, holding her fan delicately. Across the way, Sakura crouches on the underside of a branch, nose scrunched in frustration. Her hair flutters upside-down, caught by the wildness of Temari's wind.
It looks soft, Temari observes. And impractical. Typical Konoha shinobi.
When she wins— and she will win—
Perhaps she'll take that hair as a trophy.
“Nice try.” Temari starts. "Though, it'd be easier to cut off my arm than disarm me. Let's try that next."
"Try— cutting off your arm?" sputters Sakura. "What? No! Absolutely not!"
Temari looks unimpressed.
"I won't repeat myself again." She points her fan at Sakura. "We're fighting. Take it seriously, or die."
"Training," corrects Sakura. Her voice is strained. "We are— training. This is a team-building exercise," she repeats, sounding less and less sure as she goes. "Between Konoha and Suna. To strengthen the trust between our militaries—" Temari snorts. Sakura clears her throat. "And, ahem... build bonds of friendship! Right? Between our villages. And, um— "
Temari tunes her out.
In the desert, survival was a waiting game. Conserving energy, limiting movement, staying out of the sun-- biding time for the moment your opponent dropped their guard, and killing them in one fell swoop. On more than one mission, Temari took to the skies, tracking her target from the cool upper altitudes. From below, she looked like a vulture, circling the soon-to-be dead; she waited until the afternoon sun was at its hottest, and her target stopped to rest in the shade. Then she dove.
It was simple. Elegant.
This... not so much.
Her papa, at least, had the good sense to bring her on trips to foreign lands, for the experience if nothing else. The sea of forests had unnerved her— still, unnerved her— for how tall it was, how huge it was, and how it always seemed to watch her.
“We won't always be scavengers,” Papa— Rasa— had told her, while wrestling her hair into tiny tufts. “This— is temporary.”
Little Temari stared straight ahead as he worked. “Tem-po-rar-y.”
It was a big word, but she was good with big words, especially the ones that papa liked most.
Temporary. Emergency. Starvation. Drought.
“Just for a little bit,” explained Rasa.
She frowned. “I know!”
Rasa was resigned. “Ah, of course you do. Regardless…” He tugged her ear.
“Ow!”
“The rain will return. If we work hard. If we’re patient. If we wait.”
And that was that.
Years later, and they were still scavengers, eating whatever scraps Konoha tossed their way. Papa was right, even when he was wrong.
Survival was a waiting game. And this...
This was nothing more than that.
There, on the tips of Sakura's fingers, to the end of her fan, the chakra string glimmers— completely intact. It was, of course, a puppeteer specialty— something Temari was more than familiar with.
"Rookie mistake," she whispers. Sakura pauses mid-rant.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm through waiting," Temari announces, swinging her fan in a circle, before stabbing it into the tree. She grabs the chakra string and yanks, ripping Sakura from her perch, and into the air.
"H-hey!" she yelps, as Temari smirks.
"There we go."
Again, Temari yanks, launching Sakura towards her.
"Wait," Sakura protests, as Temari shifts her stance, taking her fan up once more. "Wait, Temari—”
At the last second, Sakura regains her bearings, dismissing the chakra string with a snap. "I said—" she reels back, curling her hand in a fist, "—WAIT!"
The wind shifts, and Temari moves with it, smoothly sidestepping the attack.
"Is that all?" she laughs again. "Silly girl."
BOOM!
Sakura's punch lands on the tree— the giant tree— smashing it through the middle. Splinters go flying— slicing through the woods, Temari's fan, Sakura's arm. The bang of the explosion pierces through her skull— ringing, ringing, ringing. Temari resists the urge to cover her ears.
What the hell?
"Ah..." Sakura sways, cupping her arm. Blood bubbles over her hand, spilling down her fingers, and into the forest below. "Crap. I mean... crap ." She mutters something inaudible, before turning to address Temari. "Sorry about that. I'm done. Can I yield?"
"Why?" Temari asks. "We've barely started."
Sakura gives her a strained smile. "Because... you're injured."
A thin line of blood drips over Temari's face. She wipes it away quickly.
"I've had paper cuts worse than this.” Her fan had taken most of the damage, and would need to be repaired before she fought again. "Very well. Since you're worse off, I'll accept your surrender."
Sakura's eyebrow twitches. "Do you have to be so stubborn?"
"Do you have to be so annoying?" she shoots back.
Sakura's over-polite smile vanishes. "Whatever," she mumbles, shoulders slumping in defeat.
When Sakura lifts her hand, the wound is gone. She flicks away the shrapnel, letting it fall to the forest floor.
"I can heal you, too," offers Sakura.
Temari silently refuses.
Sakura purses her lips. "If I don't heal you, I'll get in trouble with Lady Tsunade. So..."
Survival is a waiting game. Temari grits her teeth, and relents, snapping her fan onto her back.
"Go on. I’ll allow it.”
Temari crosses her arms as Sakura hops over, flitting over to Temari's side. There she stops short, straining to look up at Temari.
"You're taller than me," Sakura points out.
"That I am."
Sakura's eye twitches. After a minute of Temari not taking the hint, she gives into exasperation.
"So... can you bend down?"
"I will not." Even scavengers have some pride.
" Right ." Sakura nearly screams. "Okay. You win. I'll do it."
"Then do it."
"I am!"
Huffing, Sakura lifts herself on the tips of her toes, before taking Temari’s face in both hands, smearing blood along her jawline. The leather of her gloves tickles pleasantly. Not too rough. Not too soft.
“Not too deep,” observes Sakura. Temari watches her shoulders slump in relief. “Thank goodness.”
She again inches closer— way too close— brushing her thumb alongside the cut. It tingles where she touches, ozone crackling between them, warm— hot— scalding— pooling in Temari’s stomach like lightning.
For the first time since the fight began, sweat trickles down her neck. Sakura leans in. Temari swallows.
As chakra flows in the palm of her hand, shimmering a soft green, Temari suddenly turns the other cheek.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“What? But—”
“I said, I changed my mind.” Temari says slowly. Her face burns dark pink. “So, stop.”
“It’s only a scratch!” snaps Sakura. “It’ll barely take a second— if that! So suck it up, and let me help you!”
“I don’t need help, especially from you!”
“You—!” Sakura flushes with embarrassment. “You’re such a child ,” she seethes, grabbing Temari by her shirt. “Fine! We’ll do it your way! I’ll even kiss it first. Whatever you want!”
It?
Kiss— it?
What did she mean by that?
Heart sinking like quicksand, Temari snatches Sakura’s wrist and tries to pry her away. Sakura doesn’t budge.
“I’m not a child,” hisses Temari. “Get off.”
Sakura looks her dead in the eye. “No.”
With that, she drags Temari down, ignoring her protests. Again, her hand glows green; again, she tries to touch Temari.
Temari slaps her.
“Annoying girl!”
While Sakura reels from the blow, Temari spins away, shirt ripping as she escapes, leaping from tree to tree. Her pulse thunders in her ears as she whips around, fan in hand.
Sakura is standing there, arm still outstretched. Temari’s shirt dangles lifelessly between her knuckles. She sniffs. The right side of her face is a satisfying red—on the way to an ugly bruise. Good.
“There.” Temari taps her cheek. “Now we’re even.”
“But…” Sakura’s lip wobbles, and her voice breaks. “I only… wanted to help,” she whispers. “I… just wanted…”
Temari snorts. Right. She’d forgotten. Konoha shinobi were— mushy.
“Not everyone can be saved,” she informs her. The cut on her cheek stings bitterly. “It doesn’t matter what you want. One day, you’ll learn that.”
Sakura’s eyes flash. “That won’t stop me from trying.”
Spoiled brat. Temari clicks her tongue. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” She kicks open her fan and steps on it, before giving Sakura one last hard look. Then she winks.
“Until next time, girlie.”
When Temari disappears, Sakura screams in frustration, and punches another tree.