Oh fuckk information
"We leave today," Gaara said.
Naruto groaned and rolled over in his bed.
"It's three in the morning," he complained. "It's too early to remind me of that."
Gaara shakes his head.
"I disagree. I'm bored. And I think you're scared."
Naruto wondered why before he remembered, oh yeah, Gaara can smell fear. Or something like that.
But he didn't want to let Gaara know he was right. He frowned into his pillow.
"No, I'm not. Also, you suck."
"I don't believe you."
Gaara was right, Naruto was freaked the hell out. And he knew why, too.
He'd figured out after weeks of self-analysis that he was simply terrified of the Konoha citizens' reactions to him. When he got there, would he make friends, reunite with his old teachers? Or would he get his ass kicked? Even though he was strong enough to defeat any enemy with ease. All he could think of was pain, and the fear of it.
"...Maybe I'm scared," he admitted with a scowl. "But maybe it's too damn early to be thinking about that."
"Maybe you're a coward."
"Maybe fuck you."
Gaara sat down on the edge of Naruto's bed, almost soundlessly.
"So, you're saying you aren't scared?"
Naruto groaned.
"I'm saying I want to be asleep right now, and we can talk about my feelings later."
"No, we can't."
"The hell you mean we can't?"
Gaara paused. The silence was judgemental.
"We're not going to be alone for days," he said. "We eat breakfast, grab our stuff, and we walk. All of those things involve Kankuro or Baki. And they're judgemental bastards."
"You're a judgemental bastard," Naruto muttered. "But…" he sighed. "A correct one. Goddamn it."
Gaara waited for a different response.
Naruto rolled over and faced him. The only light was the moon's, streaming through the window. Their faces were blurry and dim.
"...I guess I'm scared cause I don't wanna get hurt. But I can't remember why I feel that way."
Gaara grunted.
"Maybe you're just a wuss," he told him. Naruto made a face.
"You suck."
A pause.
"But maybe I'm also scared because I don't wanna leave Suna?" He frowned. "I mean, it's basically my home now. And I know if I leave it won't be forever. We've been on missions outside the land of wind, so it's not that. Maybe it's Konoha specifically? Or the fact we might really die, and I'll never see this place again?"
Naruto dragged his hand down his face, groaning exaggeratedly.
Gaara looked away, then back at Naruto.
"Maybe it's because the point of this mission is for me to kill the people you used to love," Gaara said simply, "and if I die, it means you'll be completely alone. You betrayed Konoha and they'll hate you for it. Nobody in Suna really likes either of us. I'll be dead, obviously. And we lost Baki months ago."
The words struck Naruto deeply. He frowned and studied his friend's face, shifting uncomfortably.
"You'll be entirely alone," Gaara continued, "and that's what you're afraid of."
They stared at each other. Naruto broke away first, instead staring at the bright moon outside.
"...Yeah, hit the mark on that one. Shit." He grit his teeth. "Shit."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, silent as ever, Gaara laid down stiffly beside Naruto. His head hit the pillow hard.
"If I die," he said, "you're gonna not break your seal and kill everyone. Okay?"
Naruto frowned.
"The whole point of having both of us there is so if you fail, I can–"
"I know." His voice was firm. He stared determinedly at the ceiling. "I'm telling you to not let that happen. Don't lose control. Do you understand?"
Naruto blinked.
"Not in the slightest," he responded.
"Idiot." Gaara swallowed. He turned to face his friend, and their eyes locked. Given Gaara's usual aversion to eye contact and proximity, Naruto understood the gravity of his words… even if he didn't understand the words themselves.
"If I die because of this mission, I want you to live in spite of it. I want you to be useless to Rasa and Baki and this god-forsaken village, and I want you to fucking… be okay. Okay?"
Gaara's voice was raw.
They stared at each other.
It took Naruto a moment, but he finally understood what Gaara was asking of him.
"...You want me to be happy, right? That's… that's what you mean?"
Gaara nodded.
"Yes. I think I'm okay with dying if I know you'll be fine without me."
Naruto sighed and glanced at his friend.
"Gaara, man? I don't really think I'm gonna be able to do that. I think if you died I'd be too fucked up to think."
Gaara was silent for a moment.
"...Huh," he said finally. "I guess I feel the same way." A pause. "But you're not allowed to be that dependent on me. We can't both do it. That's why they invented hypocrisy. Now say you get it."
Naruto chuckled.
"...I understand." He didn't understand, actually. And he didn't think the request was fulfillable. But if it was for his friend's peace of mind, why not? "But… only if you promise me something, too, yeah?"
Gaara cracked a slight smile.
"Only if you never say something as cliche as that ever again."
"...Fair enough." He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. "Gaara. If I die…"
He paused, lost.
"Same thing, right?" Gaara guessed. "Fuck Sunagakure, be happy, whatever?"
Naruto shook his head.
"No. I guess I just…" he swallowed.
"...If I die, I want you to run."
Gaara blinked, frowning and confused.
"What does that mean?" He asked flatly.
Naruto had no idea.
"...I mean… I guess, abandon the mission. Abandon me. And run away. For once, don't get revenge, or finish the job. Don't lose yourself along with me. Run away."
Gaara frowned.
"That's basically what I said."
"Well, I said it better."
Gaara clicked his tongue but didn't respond for a solid minute.
The pair of them stared at the ceiling silently.
"...The point of your thing was to make sure I keep my own identity and values, even if you're gone?"
Naruto figured that was probably accurate, so he nodded.
"Yeah, sure," he said. "Whatever."
Gaara faltered.
"...What if those things are tied directly to you?" he asked suddenly. "What if everything I am is only applicable with you as context?"
And Naruto didn't know what that meant. Too many big words and concepts and metaphors, or something. So he shrugged and smiled crookedly, and he met his friend's eyes and he stayed there.
"Guess you'd better make sure I don't die, then," he said.
And that was that.
Kankuro, Gaara, and Naruto stood before the sandstone gates of Sunagakure, looking out into the vast desert beyond. The horizon blurred into a blue sky.
"I hate this," Kankuro muttered into the quiet. His voice was gruff, and his face paint emphasized his grumpy expression. Sand circled around them. Whether it was the wind's doing or Gaara's, Naruto couldn't tell.
"You hate a lot of things," Gaara told him.
"Well, I hate this right now. So fuck you." Kankuro sighed sharply. "Baki's late. He was up our goddamn ass to be early, and he can't even bother to show up on time. Fucking prick."
Naruto didn't have anything to say. Normally, he'd lecture Kankuro about empathy, or how busy their mentor was. But this was different. Kankuro wouldn't listen, and lately, Baki hadn't seemed much worth defending.
Naruto and Gaara glanced at each other.
Maybe Kankuro noticed it, too, Naruto wondered. How different Baki's been… Even if they don't interact much.
Gaara clenched his jaw and looked away.
Naruto sighed.
Kankuro continued his rant, growing gradually more passionate.
"...and don't get me started on the bastard's attitude. The man's hard-boiled, but acts pretentious as shit! It's like he thinks he's better than us. Who gives a damn that he's big and old, doesn't matter if your students hate you. Gods, was he always like that?"
Naruto didn't respond. Gaara didn't either.
Kankuro grunted.
"C'mon, a year ago you were kissing his fucking boots. Now it's like you couldn't give less of a fuck. You're saying nothing's up?"
Naruto sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
Gaara looked around, making sure nobody was in earshot.
A nod. All clear.
Naruto looked up, meeting Kankuro's eyes.
"He, um… he went on a mission for a few months. You know that. I guess he just… came back different. Meaner."
"We don't ask about it," Gaara told Kankuro. Naruto nodded.
"Why the hell not?" Kankuro asked. "If he's so different, maybe something's wrong. What if he's hurt? Or being manipulated? Oh, what if he's dead and his corpse is being used as a puppet by–"
"You look way too excited about that," Gaara said dryly.
Kankuro's face flushed.
"I mean, it's an interesting prospect! Using a corpse as a puppet, I don't mean reanimation, I mean a puppet, that'd be hard as fuck, but so worth it. I mean, if you can link your own chakra into the person's chakra network… I wonder if you could utilize the body's chakra storage–"
"No." Gaara sighed. "Stop."
"But it'd be fucking awesome."
"Nobody except for you gives a damn. And I thought desecrating corpses was against your moral code."
Kankuro groaned.
"It's all theoretical," he said, "Totally possible, now that I think about it, and totally awesome. But it's not like I condone it. Corpses are, y'know. Sacred."
"Didn't know you were spiritual," Naruto said, choosing to ignore most of that conversation.
"What, did you think I used face paint for kicks? It's annoying as hell to apply."
"...I mean, yeah," Naruto said blankly. "Is that not why?"
"No, idiot! The whole thing has a lot to do with, like, gods and monsters and souls and chakra and stuff, are you stupid? How did you not—"
"Talk about this later, please," a voice said. "We have places to go."
Baki.
Fucking finally.
The three boys looked back to see Baki walking towards them. Same as he's always been… if "always" meant "the past few months."
And late. Prick.
"Not our fucking fault you were late," Kankuro muttered, looking away and shoving his hands in his pockets.
Naruto and Gaara shared a look.
"Swear at me again," Baki only said, walking towards the opened gates.
Kankuro grit his teeth and didn't speak. His shoulders were tense.
Naruto looked at him curiously, but it went either unnoticed or ignored.
He seemed wary. And, in Naruto's opinion, Kankuro was far too brash to be wary of anything.
Maybe he noticed, too. How wrong things were.
The days move slowly, when you're walking. Whether it's in the desert or the grasslands or the forest, whether you're counting footsteps or looking for birds or listening to yet another rant about puppets, it goes slower and slower. Until you're content with your thoughts and feelings. Until the panic fades into acceptance.
Until vague doubt turns into a clean loss of faith.
You will walk.
And so Naruto walked.
He couldn't say for sure whether Gaara and Kankuro experienced the same thing, but in the prolonged not-quite solitude, their wariness turned into a strong, subtle distrust.
Nobody said a word, though Naruto wished they would. He wished they could talk about how scared they all were.
It was too dangerous. Gaara knew that, Naruto knew that. Kankuro probably knew that. He wasn't that oblivious. Hopefully.
In a field, Naruto saw it.
A line of trees, marking the final biome between Naruto and his return to Konohagakure.
He wasn't scared. Not of that, not anymore.
But his heart still raced, and his hands still shook, and Gaara still noticed.
He cast a concerned look at Naruto, who moved closer to him.
He chose his words carefully. He had to act like himself, to imply enough for Gaara and only Gaara to understand.
"...I'm not completely afraid to return to Konoha anymore," Naruto told him casually. He did his best to sound cheerful and he failed, instead sounding rather grim.
So maybe he wanted his mentor back. Was that so much to ask? He wanted Baki the way he used to be, calm and kind and caring. He wanted his father back.
And he knew Gaara did, too.
But now, the man was scary. His eyes were cold and his voice was harsh and he treated the boys like tools, not people. It was as though he could kill them without batting an eye.
And maybe he could.
Gaara could smell fear, hear heartbeat, detect blood pressure. He had to know Naruto was afraid.
And he did. A faint look of recognition appeared on his face.
"...I'm glad your feelings have changed," he only said. His voice was mild. "Maybe you'll feel differently upon entering the village."
"Maybe."
Maybe things will change. Maybe he'll care about us again.
And the fourth of them walked towards the treeline.
His eyes were useless.
Maybe the room was dark. Maybe they were gone altogether.
At a certain point, he decided it didn't matter.
He hadn't moved in gods know how long. His muscles atrophied and his skin rotted and decayed and his bones splintered and cracked. He could feel it all and goddamn it, it hurt.
He was skinny and dehydrated and starving. His thoughts floated from one topic to the next, and his emotions became subdued.
It had only been months. He tried to remind himself, it had only been months.
He couldn't know just what had happened. He tried to think of the worst realistic scenario.
He didn't know anymore what was realistic and what was a figment of his tortured and fading imagination.
He knew he had no face, and he knew he should not be alive.
He knew his lies, his acquired neutrality, made the odds so much better.
He knew without a doubt he would live in sheer pain, far past his body's and mind's expiration, and he'd become something grotesque and hateful.
And through all this certainty and all this pain, a final pinprick of hope existed. Faint and pink and musical in the blackened silence.
At first he'd thought, maybe somebody would find him. And that faded more every day.
Maybe he would die. And despite his pleas, that faded, too.
The only one he clung onto through everything was the thought, the prayer, that they'd notice what was out of place, and they'd run or they'd fight, and they'd survive, they'd win, and they'd be okay without him.
His students.
His boys.