Chapter Text
Something was… off about today, foreigner ninjas notwithstanding, and that specific, intestine-curling feeling which has been accompanying Naruto as of late had yet to go away; he couldn't decide if it was dread or some kind of pure anticipation, but he had a very clear idea of what had started it:
“For the last time, Naruto, you’re not-’’
The absolute distrust his team has been giving him ever since he proposed the idea of-
“Befriending a maniacal-looking-’’
Befriending the teenager with mega dark circles around his eyes.
Which, yes, not fair. Just because he had befriended Haku and Zabuza once, it’s not like he couldn’t judge someone’s character so badly as Sakura has been stating. Besides, the guy hadn't even given off any dreadful aura, as she had informed Kakashi sensei.
“Ma ma, Sakura-chan, maybe you’re overthinking it, I’m sure Naruto can judge other people’s charac-’’
‘’Zabuza.’’
‘’-his urges just fine. He has his motives, whatever they may be. Eagerness to meet foreigners, maybe?’’
You see, Naruto was used to how fast his brain did the chemical thing when he met people, how he was able to either like (The weird man with a orange mask) or eternally despise (the weird old man with bandages around one eye) random people who he'd only shared a few words with, how sometimes he could even feel if they would get along or not; it's just something you end up learning when most people hate your very name.
He was used to it, yeah, so it was a strange surprise when the not scary red-haired weirdo they stumbled into this morning made something sparkle in his brain (and in the bottom of his stomach, near his seal, how strange) and, really, if his brain said so, who was Naruto to go against it?
“- or maybe it's fear?” Sakura was saying, worrying one lip with her teeth as she pinched another pork from her bowl, used to answer Naruto’s stravagant way of attachment with continuous denial.
“Sakura-chan! I'm not afraid of some random desert weirdo!” Naruto yelled, mouth full of noodles, which rewarded him a seething glare from Kakashi-sensei from his place beside Sakura and a sudden appreciation of politely finishing his own bowl of ramen “And he was funny-looking… what do you think he keeps in that pot?”
“Gourd, Dobe” Sasuke sighed, staring at the menu on the wall with all the excitement of a worm in the sun, fed up of hearing Kakashi repeat the reminder for the last half hour.
“It's a gourd, Naruto.” Kakashi mumbled, knowing all too well about Sasuke's opinions on his attempts at correction. Truth be told, Kakashi himself was rather close to giving up after repeating it for the last thirty minutes... But the urge to annoy his little cute genins to the point where they're just about ready to murder him in his sleep was too good a chance to pass.
“Gourd, pourt, same thing.” Naruto shrugged off, diving into his ramen with the eagerness of a starving man, sure on his spot as Kakashi’s glorified wallet parasite.
Maybe Kakashi should get Naruto a therapy session. For birthday. All this fixation with ramen can't be good for him. Neither for their economy.
And a nutritionist, while he was at it.
Sakura, who had resolutely given up on correcting Naruto and developed selective hearing on the matter after the first two minutes, took her time to answer, chewing on a bamboo sprout in thoughtful silence, “Maybe… water?”
“Only Gai would carry 50 liters of water around like that on a daily basis.” Kakashi shot the idea down, shivering at the thought of others like Gai existing even outside of Konoha.
One was more than enough, what with the junior still in training beside him, the world couldn’t bear more than these two.
“Who's Gai?” Sasuke asked, sounding displeased at the prospect of stretching this conversation even more. His broodiness couldn't deceive Kakashi though, who knows the dark secret hidden by the Uchiha: his affection towards these random, pointless arguments the two hotheads in their team had and the gossipmonger heritage present in all Uchihas.
If Sasuke had had access to an professional therapist better than the mirror he uses to talk to himself sometimes - something even Kakashi, who gleefully picked on his genins's every single embarrassing moment, had the decency of not mentioning -, he'd know that affection is in fact something normal among friends and not a dark secret to keep from the world.
Kakashi had no idea about the cost of a therapy session (even the Hokage's mysterious budget wasn't enough to put the two orphans in one, after all), neither if they were at all available for ninjas, but he would have to consider putting his revenge-addicted brat in one before he hits that pesky little phase where adolescents started looking for blood. Sages know Itachi hit that phase quite quickly.
Just to be sure.
Who knows, maybe therapy can prevent a future where the kid decides to do something reckless, like abandoning the village and trying to kill beloved ones, or something similarly farfetched.
"Kakashi?" His missing nin- oops, his student questioned, pulling him out of his mind and away from his very real worries. Oh, right, the green problem.
Dread travels all the way down his spine, watching from behind his eyes the disaster it would be to let Lee and Naruto in the same room for longer than five minutes.
“You don't wanna know”
It's a cataclysm bound to happen, sooner or later; Gai would rather combust into ashes before giving up on trying to get his team's training plans mixed with Kakashi's very own brats, but that was a bridge he would only cross when he gets to it.
Sakura, blessed sweet Sakura, saves Kakashi from having to extend the matter, ignoring the change of subject with stunning perfection, “Still, water is the only element you can keep in a gourd.” Sakura continued
“Doesn't he live in a desert?” Sasuke added his two cents, scrunched face trying to understand why Naruto wanted to befriend someone who, based on Sakura's description, seemed such an ass.
But again, that dumbass could befriend a fox if he wanted to.
“And thus it would make even more sense to carry water around.” Sakura grinned, empty bowl of ramen between her hands. Kakashi could smell her turmoil between asking for another and thus swallowing her own words about Naruto’s childish taste or accepting disgrace with intact pride.
He orders another.
His pride wasn’t at stake anyway.
“Dunno, Sakura-chan, he’s a sand nin…” Naruto started, but Kakashi promptly stopped his reasoning with a slap to the nape.
“For the last time, Naruto, shinobi don't need to follow their village’s element."
“But they do!” Naruto argued, rubbing the sore spot and scowling to their sensei.
“No they don't” Sasuke murmured from his spot, not wanting to attract the blond’s endless rant about that specific subject… even if the Uchiha saw reason in those theories. Why even have an elemental nature in the name anyway?
“Zabuz-”
“Zabuza barely used jutsus, Naruto. You're just generalizing.” Kakashi interrupted in a reproving tone, as if saying ‘I trained you better than this’, which would be a lie since Kakashi favored Sasuke over them and so had long since lost the permission to say that kind of phrase.
“But the ones he did were just water jutsus!” Naruto pointed a finger to his sensei, politeness at the table forgotten for all of three seconds before the man aimed another bristling glare at him.
“Naruto-” Breathe in, breathe out, don't hit the student, don't kill the manners, “Look, it would be a very bad strategy. Imagine how many wars Konoha would lose if our only element was fire? Some water buckets and we would be gone.”
“That's bullshit, from all the people I know only Sasuke uses fire-” Naruto cut himself midspeak, scrunched nose at being played before going back to his ramen with a self righteous 'Hmph!', not bothering to acknowledge the blunder.
“Real mature, Dobe.” Sasuke smirked at the obvious lack of arguments in the petty blond, finally tearing his eyes from the wall menu. Kakashi has an inkling that should there be a test on the matter, he’d not know a single answer.
“What you said, Teme?!” Naruto growled, getting over his upset-ness real quick, in Kakashi's opinion, in favour of looking about ready to jump from his chair and fight the Uchiha.
Ma ma, what did I do to deserve such a violent team? When did my cute little genins become so vicious?
“I know you agree with me, you bastard!”
“No, I don't!”
“Do too!
“Do not!”
“You do!”
“Boys, boys, boys, let's cool down, why don't we?” Kakashi intervenes, easily getting the attention of his three students with the false, murderously cheerful smile on his face.
They shut it quite fast. Even poor Sakura, who was gearing to ask for another bowl while the blond’s attention was elsewhere.
“But still,” Naruto murmured something under his breath, far too low for anyone to hear.
Kakashi took a deep breath, asking the gods for patience. There's plenty of other things that, technically speaking, he'd better wish for like his team, his father, his sensei cheaper therapy, but at that moment that's the only thing in his mind.
Maybe they would grant his humble request, if anything.
“What was that?”
Naruto crossed his arms, turning his head away like a petulant kid holding on to their secret desire after being denied, "Nothing.”
The gods won’t accept his request. Who would have guessed?
“Share with the class, Naruto.”
"No."
"I will buy you another bowl of ram-"
“I said I was going to talk with the pot weirdo tomorrow.” Naruto blurted out, empty bowl high in the air as he asked for another. Sasuke, on Sakura’s other side, petulantly parroted for both hers and his.
Well. With this team Kakashi has to farm teamwork from the unlikeliest places. On most days he’s just glad all three brats are still breathing.
Sakura directed heart-hearty eyes at Sasuke for all but a second before starting yet another rant about how that isn't a good idea, and how said ‘pot weirdo’ had something definitely off about him and how he probably is problem, and Naruto started arguing again with little to no arguments other than ‘a good feeling’, and ‘’off is your distrust’’ and Sasuke started not-reading the menu again.
Kakashi took another long, deep breath, still hoping to be given his wished patience. The gods have been toying with his life for so long; at least that they should do, right?
Wrong, obviously.
Konoha is different from Sunagakure.
Obviously, it had many more trees. Unfairly more trees (and poisonous plants. And poisonous insects. And poisonous reptiles. And poisons in general. No, he is not jealous it’s just unfair) than Suna will ever be able to have… so many trees in fact that the only requirement to find a tree is simply opening your eyes and being able to see five palms ahead...but so far, that was to be expected. Suna was built in a desert, after all; and yes, Konoha also had rivers at every corner, Kankuro had already fallen into at least five of them during his journey here (not that he was counting or anything, he had Temari for that) and at last the general weather was visible milder and much more humid, than Suna’s.
But again.
Desert.
So no, physical and geographical elements of the Fire Country were not the main matter of his thesis, despite having their merit.
And also no, his conclusion did not involve Konoha’s dick-measuring contest for who got to be the Hokage, the political representative of the village that, realistically speaking, should have political education since young, economic teachers and knowledge of previous alliances and clans feuds and historical debts and all those things people need in the daily basis of, you know, ruling an entire village.
Far from Kankuro to judge foreign policy, he had his education on the topic different from Konoha, but letting a random citizen control their village just because they can kick the hardest was... a historical plot-hole, at best, a national security breach which could leave psychopaths and alcoholic gamblers sitting on the chair at the end of the day at worst.
So, no.
All those reasons still bore no major importance in Kankuro’s conclusion.
The reason Konoha was not only different, but weird as well, was in fact much more visible and did not need much brain power to understand... As in, for non-konohans to understand, seeing as these people were bonkers and thus viewed such things as normal.
Kankuro had a list once. It was a long list. An absurdly long list he had Crown writing for him which was lost once he fell into yet another river in the middle of the city, which had things like:
‘’Why are these people wearing green jumpsuits, why are they getting closer, why are thEY RUNNING ON THEIR HANDS… (SCRACTH THIS) Temari since when humans can do that? No Crow this doesn’t go in the list put scratch this here and don’t use uppercase unless I tell you so.
Why are you explaining things to him? I hope for my own sake you’re not going mad. One brother is enough.
You’re hurting his feelings, Tema."
‘’They criminalize the killing of insects.
You kidding.
No, it’s right here on the terms and conditions of stay. Crow, write these parts:
Konoha absolves itself from blame in case of any orange paint or whatsoever is these buckets these days hit, stain, maim or poison any foreigners inside the village.
Konoha absolves itself from blame in case of abduction, torture, experimenting or any similar laboratory matters should the foreigner encounter any snake-related nin.
Murdering the Aburame's insects off-battle is considered a crime and will be treated as such.
Gennins who seek to participate in the exam chunnin shall sign at the door the waivers accepting the possibility of life-threatening encounters in or out of said exam while next or inside the village.’’
And so on; it’s a shame that the list was lost to them, seeing as Crow had done such dedicated work on its contents.
And, as Kankuro and his siblings searched for the apartment given to them, screams and murder threats were heard before yet another native slammed into him.
The bastard didn't even have the decency of staying still one minute to apologize, seeing as two dogs - or better, goddamn wolves and a maniac woman - were also chasing him.
Konoha's nature eating off its own people, no wonder there was so much running around here. Shame on them for living inside a literal forest.
And that was just the first half an hour here, so considering his bruising, run-over body, Kankuro deems fair of him to mark this place as strange, at least.
Really, what's wrong with these people? Kankuro can almost hear his long deceased uncle chiding him for judging too early, but who can maintain acceptance around so much weirdness?
They apply punishment for insect killing, for goodness's sake
At least Gaara is in a calm mood this time, he muses, flinching with the memory of the last, less than pleasant, time Gaara had been to a strange village.
Granted, it was a mission anyway, and the small village, Golden Sand (a boastful, idiotic self-given name, for a cocky handful of villagers who sought to tower over Sunna and take its place as one of the five elemental villages) deserved it after pillaging and terrifying all the small communities under the Kazekage’s protection, but a carnage was a carnage still…The gruesome parts tended to stick in the memory.
The blood and the human parts too, but that was washable. That and the very real possibility of being the next; the satisfaction in Gaara’s frenzied eyes as flesh came apart below his sand, blood seeping in as the rest fell to earth… The sheer weight of his bloodlust as he spun around a second later, all sharp, inhuman teeth and wide eyes and attention directed at him as sand gushed closer…
Kankuro had not slept that night. And the next ones.
Father's promise of letting Gaara loose during the invasion day is probably helping his control.
Kankuro had truly worried that Gaara would lose it and butch their plan over that loud kid and the even louder blond (a tinge of dread travelled down his spine; something about that blond brat was off, teeth a bit too sharp, eyes too keen, chakra too wild… but living with Gaara was enough for Kankuro to disregard it. Whatever feral attributes these konohan clans had, he had seen worse) the day before, but thankfully his young brother remained as expressive as the desert, dealing well with the situation...better than Kankuro himself.
Going by their usual routine, though, that encounter meant he and Temari would need to try to keep Gaara inside, or at least around, to prevent any Konoha genin from disappearing before the time. If Gaara desired blood, he would find it regardless of them, but they had to at least try to make him wait-
“Kankuro! You died there or what?!” Temari shouted, slamming the bathroom’s door with all the rage she could muster during the morning.
It was a lot.
“I’m leaving, I'm leaving!” Kankuro yelled back back, breaking eye contact with himself in the mirror as he finished his makeup, a vial of purple-colored substance in hand as the doorknob whirled around. The welcoming view of his murderous sister greeted him the moment his wall barricade was wide enough for him to spy through, one eye in the crack of the door, ‘’you’re not about to murder me if I open this, right?”
“I WILL if you don’t move right now!”
A death wish started to build in his throat as he threw Temari’s earlier words back at her: “Good, because one mad sibling is eno-’’
Kankuro twisted around his pouncing sister, zapping behind and pushing her into the bathroom, the door closing in a resounding crash as he held on the doorknob for dear life until she stopped trying to open it. Then, “Good morning to you too”.
“One hour!” Temari hollered from the other side, but the distinct sound of her eyeliner’s lid opening reassuref Kankuro she wouldn't hunt him for now “ If you want privacy doing those poisons of yours, go to the roof, you idiot!”
Privacy? On the roof? In a Shinobi village? Kankuro thought, but wisely decided to keep it for himself. He didn't need another sibling ready and willing to commit fratricide, if there’s one thing they both agreed on is that one of those is more than enough.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry” Kankuro waved his hands around, faucet-apologetical tone, as his eyes automatically surveyed the room in search of their resident lunatic.
His loving sister snarled something under her breath, punching the bathroom's door one more time and leaving him alone with an unlocated, self-declared psycho young brother.
Kankuro groaned, looking at the roof. It was hard to be the only calm soul in the family (no, Temari's opinion on the matter doesn't count).
A quick pass through the living room revealed a worrying lack of unstable brothers, so Kankuro continued to pass through the corridor, not bothering with the closed rooms.
Unsupervised Gaaras are normally followed by bad news, after all.
Fucking where is that possessed gremlin? Oh, there he is.
It's been a while since he saw Gaara eating anything (the only reason Kankuro hadn't assumed yet that his brother was able to photosynthesize was the occasional disappearance of food in the freezer. That, and the much more disturbing possibility that his younger brother could truly feed on the blood his sand spilled, as he himself once theatrically declared), so it's a surprise to see the Jinchuuriki in the kitchen.
Kankuro closes the cabinet door he was about to open in his frenzy to find Gaara, because everyone knows once you lost something (even if said something equals to people you’re blood related to with the morals of a killing-machines), everyplace is free to search, suddenly thankful that Temari is marinating her anger on the bathroom; she'd never let him live this down.
“Good morning.” He says, by pure habit since Gaara couldn't care less if he tried, trying to weigh the pros and cons of entering Gaara's space (the entire kitchen) to eat something. Most days Gaara won’t truly mind him snooping around, if only because after living together for years it would be too much trouble repeating the threats every time they shared the same space, but the change of scenery might have affected his and Temary’s hard-won rules of survival around their shortest member, and none of them are aware of whatever change Gaara had decided on yet.
In the end it’s his stomach that decides it for him, growling at the smell of whatever food Gaara had been eating.
He looks calm enough, I guess.
Kankuro made his way to the freezer in careful steps, ready to bolt out of the room at the first signal of threat, but Gaara doesn't as much as twitch, still busy with, probably, deciding whatever moral compass he will be following for the day.
It tends to change every time Kankuro blinks his eyes.
Not long after he reached the freezer, sticking his face inside and enjoying the cool breeze against his face as he searched for what his heart desired: food.
Baki had gone away to do whatever it is jounins to during the exam chunnin’s arrangements, with the promise of bringing back better sustenance than what was left from their journey’s rations, but fortunately Temari had had the idea of bringing something of hers to eat away from home, raw tamiya dough (which are much better when fried, as one is supposed to do, but not too bad if eaten raw), to which Kankuro promptly parroted, hoarding as many red bean cake as Baki had allowed into an extra bag; thus, it was unlikely that they’d die of starvation before their sensei returned.
As he tugged on the knot keeping him from stealing Temari’s chosen food, another item catches his attention: It was a surprise to see another bag inside, neatly folded paper visible through the transparent bag with the name of his youngest nightmare neatly embroidered in red.
Kankuro has half a thought of stealing a quick peek at the mysterious content of what Gaara would have chosen to eat something (sweet? Meat? Dried blood?) before his mind remembers the root of his curiosity right behind him and he sets to continue messing with the knot of his not-so-down-for-murder sibling.
Not like she’d notice one or two of these missing… and the only witness here was Gaara, anyway.
It’s an eternity later when he finally opened the knot (when had Temari learned how to tie such knots?), stealing two of the slimy pre-made goods and reattaching the bag. Baki had yet to get back, which meant he’d have to eat the thing raw as it was, seeing as there was no oil to fry. Or maybe just heat it in a pan, Kankuro mused, chewing the slimy thing and letting his eyes wander around the kitchen-
And almost dies, choking on the raw dough down his throat as his eyes locked into Gaara's hands and for a moment his mind cared enough to fix his earlier error: when had Gaara learned how to knot?
Fortunely, the youngest Sabaku was busy watching the sky through the closed windows, and thus hasn't noticed yet the blatant stare Kankuro is sending his way.
What’s the chance of Temari believing Gaara stole the other two missing dough balls as well?
Something uncomfortable squirmed in his chest- it’s a far too humane, far too intimate gesture, far too brotherly, the act of stealing each other’s food just for the hell of it, and Kankuro hadn’t prepared to deal with the turmoil of Gaara partaking in it.
It feels wrong, one part of his mind, the one always on right alert, the one who saw Gaara smiling at him after the Golden Sand massacre and thought: That’s how I’ll die, once he decides I’ve borrowed enough time. It felt wrong, to see the demonic being doing what he had no right to do (no right to be, no right to appear as neither act as a brother), even if Gaara himself had no idea of the intimate importance between his older siblings.
The other part, the one who wanted to keep breathing, said nothing, and smothered the curling lips at such a domestic moment (the complicated knot to conceal the theft, the gelatinous amalgamation of herb and fava sticking in his cheeks, the… yeah no, that’s all.). It's an instinct, these days, to avoid Gaara, but sometimes it was easy to see the little kid Kankuro used to know when they were younger. The memory hurts, if only a bit, because it’s an instinct to ignore whatever humane thing his brother may do as well, if only to kill the fragile hope for better days.
A thump! echoes around the room, so sudden Kankuro barely caught his soul before it could leave his body, his lizard brain screaming danger and to run, eyes stuck to Gaara’s back a moment too long before reasoning to himself he wasn’t the source of it. Frowning, he turns around, looking for the origins. Maybe Baki-Sensei? No, he wouldn’t come back so earl-
His mental struggle only continued once he had fully turned, brain struggling to comprehend what a puff of spiked yellow hair was doing at their window.
Wait.
Yellow hair. Tattooed whiskers. Weird (familiar) wild chakra.
He knew that figure. It’s the Idiot, his brain supplies, neurons going bonkers as Kankuro fought to react to the moment, because there was an idiot in the window. There was a familiar blond idiot smiling, knocking on the glass as if it was a door and blocking the vision of the morning sky.
For a moment, all he thinks is, well, another topic to the list. Then the rustle of sand pulls his brain back to working capacity, eyes going wide as the microscopic twist in Gaara’s lips makes his blood turn cold.
Oooh, that's bad.
A small frown dawned into Gaara's face, nose scrunching up as asymmetrical eyes narrowed at the blond, who had been waving and eagerly pointing at the window lock as if death itself wasn't literally glaring at him.
Kankuro did not want to unlock the window, he wanted to ignore the leaf Shinobi and go back to his projects and his puppets - at least they wouldn’t be rude enough to give him headaches - but Gaara was annoyed; probably because the idiot interrupted both his peace (a fair enough reason for a death-threat, as far as the sand villagers were concerned when around the jinchuuriki) and his view of the sky.
And there goes a perfect morning.
Kankuro tiptoed closer to the window, torn between watching Gaara and telegraphing death-threaths himself at Blond Idiot without being seen by the actual killer in the room (sages only know Gaara does not need any more influence on the matter).
What are the perfect words to traumatize an Happy-Happy Idiot enough for him to never approach them - and principally Gaara - ever again?
"Get lost-"
Blond Idiot was faster, grinning even wider (off, wrong, inhumane, his brain screamed) once the window was unlocked and worming inside, right beside Kankuro, not unlike a madman who had used energetic to pour coffee, "Good morning! I was passing by and then I saw you through the window,”
Blond Idiot points at Gaara, who had developed a worrying tick in his eyes at the high pitched voice of the boy in the short time Kankuro had looked away. For once Kankuro couldn't even blame Gaara's less than agreeable patience; his ears were ringing already.
Their unspoken agreement about patience didn’t stop Kankuro's heart from going to his mouth, head whirling back to the konohan and fingers doing the universal signal of silence.
"Lower you fuc-"
"And it's such a bright day that I thought ‘why don't I go there to say hello?" Blond idiot continued, straight up ignoring Kankuro. His voice boomed on the kitchen, the hall and probably the bedrooms as well; he is loud.
He continued to speak, the sharp, white tip of his canines poking out even when his mouth was closed; he is loud, but barely open his mouth, Kankuro realized, offhandedly, but the hiss of sand in his back gets him back on track. "-voice and get out of-"
"-nd maybe, maybe a tour through the village!” Blond Idiot finished, heaving a bit as he finally remembered his mortal need to breathe.
And then he grinned, all teeth, at Kankuro.
Gaara was looking more and more annoyed with each second, and Kankuro was probably paler than paper right now (and the room is dense, denser than when Gaara got angry, denser than what a human should bear, making his animal brain want to bolt like prey from two predators-)
His lungs worked overtime to get oxygen to his brain; in front of him, Blond Idiot sniffed the air, confused, and in his peripheral vision Gaara’s nostrils flared, hunger and challenge in his eyes before they found Kankuro’s.
In a way, between the familiar dread and the foreign terror from the konohan's smile, the wilderness in the turquoise eyes were reassurance enough for his body to get back in control and, for one comical moment, Kankuro saw Gaara analyzing him, one brow high and scrunching his tattoo as he waited for a reaction, as if puzzled
Kankuro saw the small blessing offered to him: Gaara was giving him the chance to deal with it before worse comes to worst.
“Outta here,” Schooling the weird panic in his body, Kankuro got back to his full height (and when had he started slumping? What weird feeling was that, which his body automatically tried fake harmless?), one hand closing in on the boy's shoulders as he pushed the midget closer to the door, “we're not interested”
Blond Idiot stared at Kankuro for exactly five seconds before zapping away from him, wiggling from his hold like a slimy worm-
(Kankuro would say 'like a slippery fox', but it sounded too much of a nice insult for such a loud brat, so worm it was.)
-and coming closer to Gaara.
Right next to him, to be exact, because of course he would, a peaceful morning is a nice thing and Kankuro isn't allowed to have nice things.
The gourd, which had been leaning against one side of the wall, started rattling, the dense air giving way for an even fouler malicious intent.
Kankuro, his heart beating in his throat, much stronger and almost choking him on thin air, felt the ghost memory of iron in his tongue, so he closed his mouth, knowing how much blood splashed around when Gaara did things his way.
He tried, Gaara gave him a chance and he screwed up; gotta be practical in his failures, at least.
“Your teammate is bo-ring. I'm sorry for you.”
That wasn't what Kankuro was expecting, and with how thick the killing intent has gotten, he was surprised Blond Idiot was even able to move. His own members had already turned to stone, well trained in their freeze response. Running from Gaara was fruitless, and the act might trigger the hunting beast inside even more.
Gaara was caught off guard as well, clearly having expected the boy to crumble under the pressure; his eyes were slightly wider than before. There was no doubt that sheer surprise was the only reason for the lack of blood in the kitchen.
The jinchuuriki opened his mouth, pointed teeth shining inside briefly before he flared his nostrils again, and Kankuro instinctively knew he was sniffing for any fear that wasn't Kankuro's own.
Blond Idiot, obviously, mistook the gesture, “Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot,” the boy pinched his bandana, giving the psycho in the room a smile.
Oh, why had Temari decided to lock herself in the bathroom now? Kankuro couldn’t deal with these things alone.
“I'm Naruto, but you can also call me future Hokage!”.
Gaara glanced at the shrinking figure that was Kankuro, as if confirming that yes, his menacing aura was working, before going back to Naruto, eyes tightening into slits when he tilted his head.
Then, with a bit too many teeth, he said “I'm… Gaara”
It came like a fact, blissfully ridden of emotion, which, in Gaara's language, means it's almost a question. It would have been a bit comical, if Kankuro didn't get the inkling that his brother was taking the lack of fear as a challenge to his authority.
And oh if wasn't that when things truly became messy; seeing humans as prey at least meant Gaara would make their death quick, but an invasion to his territory was only relatively safe when the person was either Temari or himself, who never challenged it, or Father, whom Gaara was forced to bow under… to do that with the additional lack of fear… Kankuro took a step back, but the gourd caught his eyes.
The lack of lid in it caught his heart as well.
We have a mission, Kankuro chanted in his mind, clacking his tongue to get Gaara's attention. Gone was the annoyed eyes, blood veins bulging near the lids to signal the beginnings of a frenzy; his heart came to a sudden stop at being the sole receptor of such attention-
The gold sand nins were now fewer and fewer with each second, but despite being in the middle of the battle, Kankuro wasn't looking at them.
No, he was paralyzed by the maniacal eyes the red haired boy, just a few feet away, was aiming at him, sharp, sharp teeth and droll drizzling from his chin as sand whirled his way-
A sharp pressure at his feet pulled Kankuro from his mind, shaking his head away from the memory as tendrils of sand circled his ankles and pulled, lazy like a cat playing with a mouse.
Mission. Kankuro signed behind the konohan’s back, efficiently fast despite his terror. Kill later. More. More death.
Then, with an slow hesitation: please.
Gaara scowled, the sand around his ankles almost crossing the line between threat and pain, but schooled his face back into a blank mask, eyes going from him to Naruto once, twice, before finally closing, stopping whatever stare contest him and the konohan were having.
Kankuro sent a quick thanks to whatever entity had decided to keep his heart beating, and strode closer to Naruto, a decisive hand gripping one pointy shoulder "Now that we all introduced ourselves, it's beyond time for you to screw away, don't you think?"
"You didn't introduce yourself." Naruto stated.
Maybe Gaara should have a quick breakfast, actually.
Now it was Kankuro's turn to stare; the boy soon withered with the lack of positive response from both residents, (he should be beyond happy that his bones are still in one place), scratching his neck with obvious awkwardness, “Well, I guess I shoulda get going, y'know."
Naruto attempted one last glance at Gaara, but the red haired boy had yet to open his eyes. Kankuro noticed, with fragile relief, the sand snaking back into the gourd; somehow, Naruto didn't seem to have realized the sand around both of them, but again, neither had he realized how close to a brutal end he had been.
"Ehm...I'll be around if you… change your mind. About the tour. Y'know."
Kankuro almost pitied the blond as he jumped through the window with one last goodbye. Almost crashed with relief as half of that dense, wild presence disappeared as well.
Almost.
He turned away from the window, rabid heart just now starting to slow down as hesitant eyes moved back to the unmovable Gaara, who kept his eyes closed and his arms crossed. Kankuro saw, with a small amount of fun, the last bite of raw tamiya still clutched in one hand
A tense moment of silence carried between them, before Kankuro resolved to break it, maybe because of how Gaara had allowed Kankuro a second chance, maybe because his cheeks were still dirty with stolen dough and round with young fat, maybe because during the epitome of his panic the terrific presence of him was familiar in comparison to whatever had happened when the blond had smiled his way.
"Gaara?"
He waited until the boy turned to his direction, eyes now open and narrowed at Kankuro for attempting to follow Naruto's lead and disturbing him even further.
Kankuro swiftly deposited one of his two tamiya (much more slimy now from being clutched for ten whole minutes) in front of Gaara and slipped away without another word.
Temari wouldn't notice three balls missing.
Hopefully.
Staring at the window from afar, trying to calm his racing, frightened thoughts and fears, Kankuro decides, promptly ignoring whatever off feeling Naruto had oozed before (because it's easier to forget, to ignore and credit Gaara instead) that these people weren't strange.
No, they were insane.