Chapter 14
“Gaara, Gaara, you idiot, wake up. If you die I’ll kill you, got it? Open your eyes. Gaara.” Words wash over him without revealing any meaning. “You should be fine. Wake up.”
He tries to open his eyes, but he can’t get any part of his body to move. He drifts deeper into darkness.
Hey, wake the fuck up. I think your friend is fucking crying. It’s embarrassing and your passed-out ass is even more embarrassing, so get up. I know you’re not dead, asshole.
Shukaku?
Who the fuck else. Are you gonna get up or not?
I’m trying…
Try harder. Wait, I know, I’ll just give you a bunch of my chakra. You’ll be up and about in no time and I won’t have to sit on my tail bitching at you.
A wave of force washes through Gaara’s body, and he convulses. It feels like his bones are being pulled apart, resonating against his flesh against his skin. He thinks he might be screaming but he can’t separate his throat from everything else that’s ringing.
“Gaara? Gaara, what’s wrong?” Hands push down on his shoulders, two points where pressure stabilizes him instead of compressing him into the ground. He uses them as anchors, draining Shukaku’s chakra into them. There’s a hiss from above him, but the oppressive feeling of Shukaku’s chakra fades as he dilutes and mixes it into his own.
Finally he opens his eyes. Utakata is bent over him, frowning slightly, and he lets out a shaky breath when he sees Gaara awake. “How do you feel?”
“I wish I didn’t,” murmurs Gaara.
Utakata lays a hand on his forehead. It’s burning hot. “I suppose you don’t have a fever, then,” Utakata says.
When Gaara focuses his eyes, he realizes that both of Utakata’s hands are red and raw, covered in fluid-filled blisters. “What happened to your hands?”
“Shukaku.”
Gaara’s eyes widen when he realizes what that means. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I was draining his chakra into you!”
“It’s all right. I’ll heal.” Utakata tucks his hands into his sleeves and sits back. “Can you move?”
Gaara pushes himself slowly into a sitting position, only now realizing that his head was pillowed on Utakata’s lap. His skin feels raw and tender, like he just regrew it from scratch, and the light seems to be coming from the mouth of the cave they’re in. “What happened?”
“When you killed Sakuretsu his bird exploded. You and Shisui were caught in the blast, but you took the worst of it. I wasn’t able to track Biwa because I had to make sure you two didn’t die, so he got away. Not that he’ll be much use to Akatsuki in his current state. Shisui should be fine, with some scarring.” Gaara glances over to where Shisui lies on a bedroll a meter or so away. His face and left arm are wrapped in bandages, and his right ankle is splinted. “I want to take him back to Taki so a real healer can look at him.”
“Shibuki won’t be pleased if we cause his best ninja permanent injury,” murmurs Gaara. A thought strikes him. “And we effectively secured one bounty out of the four we went after.”
“If you really think it’s worth it,” says Utakata tiredly, “I can find out where Biwa went. I can kill him with very little trouble as long as he hasn’t met up with anyone. It has been half a day.”
“Can you sense him nearby?”
Utakata stands abruptly. “Wait here. I’ll get him.”
“Utakata-san, it’s a bad idea to—”
“Wait here. You need to rest.” Utakata’s stare has enough weight of its own that it pushes Gaara to the floor. He closes his eyes, wishing he had the strength to argue.
“Please stay safe. I’m counting on you.”
“Yeah.”
While Utakata is gone, Shisui doesn’t stir, and Gaara hopes that Utakata somehow put him to sleep, because otherwise he’s been unconscious for too long to ever wake up. Gaara tries to meditate, but can’t clear his mind, and nobody is in the shared mindspace. He’d thought at least Choumei would be, had hoped for Saiken, but the fire is dark when he gets there, illuminated only by hundreds of paper lanterns and the dim red light of Akatsuki’s clouds in the sky.
He leaves, and waits silently in the cave, listening to the wind outside.
It’s a couple more hours before Utakata returns, long enough that Gaara feels the moon rising behind his head. He hears a bubble popping, and the sound of half a corpse dropping to the ground. “I’m back,” says Utakata. He slumps against the wall next to Gaara.
“How long has it been since you ate?” Gaara asks him.
Utakata grunts in reply, but after a moment he gets up and retrieves a package of dried meat from one of the scrolls. He chews laboriously for a minute and then says, “Thanks for reminding me. You hungry?”
“If we have anything soft, maybe.”
“Feel free to check for any scrolls full of udon that we missed.” Utakata closes his eyes and tilts his head back, still chewing slowly. Gaara doesn’t have the energy to get up, so he closes his eyes too and listens. Utakata has always made much less sound than other people; even his chewing is politely quiet, and his breathing is as calm as it always is. What’s new is that he’s sitting close enough for Gaara to feel the small amount of heat he radiates. Maybe Saiken’s idea worked after all.
“Thank you,” Gaara says after a while.
“Don’t mention it,” says Utakata flatly, as if it’s a command rather than an idiom.
“You’ve done so much for me,” Gaara insists. “More than saving my life. I’m glad I was able to meet you.”
“You’re such a kid,” mutters Utakata. “This kind of thing doesn’t matter. What matters is surviving. You can talk about the power of friendship until you pass out, but having someone smile at you doesn’t keep the hunter-nin off your back. Having someone to protect doesn’t get you anything but injured.” He sighs. “I don’t want you to have to learn that the hard way, though.”
“Perhaps it truly doesn’t make you stronger. But what keeps me sane is knowing there’s someone who will be happy to see me. Knowing that there is a place where I can rest. You haven’t gotten to rest for years, have you, Utakata-san?”
Utakata’s face goes hard and cold. “Don’t tell me to ever expect to be safe anywhere. You’ve been running for what, three years? My village betrayed me when I was just a bit older than you and I’ve been hunted for three times that.”
“Then I suppose I have you beat,” says Gaara, unsure whether to let his amusement or his sorrow show in his voice. “My village betrayed me when I was born, and my father started hunting me when I was four. Not that it’s a competition.”
“Then how do you think there’s anywhere in this world for you?” Utakata’s voice is still soft, but he’s upset.
“There isn’t,” says Gaara. “Yet. Just because no-one else made a place for me doesn’t mean I can’t make one. It’s a bit of an investment but I think it will pay off in the long run.” The phrasing makes him smile, thinking of Itachi telling her disinterested siblings about the work she does for Shibuki, managing Taki’s money. “I’d like you to be there, but if you would rather be on the run from hunter-nin I won’t force you. Not that I could.”
Utakata sighs tiredly. “After knowing you as long as I have, it would be foolish not to put my faith in you. But I don’t understand why you would put faith in me. You know I’m a coward. You know I don’t like people. I’m a cynical bastard and I’m always trying to get out of doing anything. Why me? Just because I’m a jinchuuriki?”
“When I was afraid I was a monster that slaughtered hundreds of innocent people,” says Gaara. “Now I’m better. I want to see who you are when you’re not afraid.”
“I don’t think I’ll live up to your standards,” mutters Utakata. “Still, thanks, I guess.”