Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Dark Soul	By : Shi_koi Category: Naruto Crossovers > General Views: 995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Stargate, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
::insertpagebreakhere::

Gaara stood before the
Hokage. The deceptively young-looking blonde woman scanned him with
sharp amber eyes before motioning for him to sit down opposite her
desk. The Hokage, Tsunade was over fifty years old and one of the
Legendary Three Sannin of Konoha, yet she didn't look a day over
twenty. It was said she could heal any wound with her medical skills
and her strength was so monstrous she could split a mountain in half
with a single punch.

Whether the rumors were
true or not remained to be seen, and Gaara wasn't dumb enough to pit
himself against her.

Tsunade sat back in her
chair and leveled a cautiously blank stare towards the redheaded boy
opposite her. Gaara just stared at her with his cool aqua eyes, his
face a blank mask. He'd been called in to see the Hokage after a team
of ANBU had been dispatched to find out who or what was behind the
frighteningly large chakra felt in the center of Konoha.

Gaara had gone
peacefully, partially glad to get away from the broken look in
Naruto's blue eyes. He couldn't understand what it was about the
blonde that made him so emotional, that made him so quick to snap and
lose his temper. Whatever it was, Gaara didn't want to face finding
out just yet.

“Do you know why
you were summoned here?”

Gaara stared, before
shrugging his shoulders and looking away.

“Is there any
particular reason for the presence of a Sand shinobi here in Konoha?”
Tsunade asked eventually, steepling her hands on the desk before her,
the tips of her fingers just brushing her chin. “Are you here
to deliver a message? Maybe trade? Or are you trying to...scout?”

Gaara didn't answer.

“Look, Gaara, I
don't have a problem with you being here...but I do have a
responsibility to this village. I need to know why you're here. Why
there was a sudden and very large amount of chakra suddenly released
in the middle of the town.” Tsunade sighed.

“Why is Naruto
being confined?”

Tsunade eyes widened just
enough for Gaara to catch. “What? Naruto? Naruto isn't being
confined. Not that it's any of your business.”

Gaara's eyes were dark
when he stared at her. “I know.”

“No. You don't.”
Tsunade stated succinctly.

“Do you care about
him? Do you worry about him?” Gaara asked, his voice
emotionless, which for some reason sent a shiver down her spine. “Is
he just another piece on your board?”

“You're stepping
into dangerous territory, Sabaku no Gaara.” Tsunade warned, her
eyes flashing amber for an instant. “It wouldn't take much to
revoke your pass.”

“You would have to
explain the reasons to the Kagekage.” Gaara pointed out. “You
would place strain on the relations between the Sand and the Leaf
simply for a few...questions?”

“I don't need to
justify myself to you.” There was anger simmering in
Tsunade's voice.

“What are you
trying to hide? Or do you truly not know...?” Gaara found
himself taking pleasure in the fact that he could hear the
Hokage grind her teeth.

Tsunade stood and leant
over her desk, her fists firmly planted on the thick wooden surface.
“I don't know what your game is, nor do I truly care –
but Naruto is none of your concern. Your questions are
an insult. You are implying things which have no place here.”

“If you are
innocent of any misdeeds, and you honestly don't know why...
then I have to wonder, Hokage-sama; just how much are
you aware of?” Gaara said blandly. “Of which implications
do you speak? Are you...concerned, because I ask about Uzumaki
Naruto...or it it truly the questions themselves which offend you?”

Gaara stood, and walked
to the door. “I would suggest you find out about that which is
important to you. You are on the brink of losing a treasure,
Hokage-sama, a treasure which Konoha would suffer dearly without. We
both know that the Chakra display was centered in the
apartment of Uzumaki Naruto, and that it wasn't all his.”

Gaara turned slightly,
just enough for Tsunade to glimpse the utter severity of his
expression. “I came, because I was drawn to Konoha. I did not
know why until I came across Naruto, and I don't honestly know why I
wanted to stay, or why I will be leaving soon. I am willing to find
out why. Are you so willing when it comes to your own?”

“Get out.”
Tsunade hissed darkly.

Gaara left.

It was only after the
redhead left that Tsunade wondered about the gourd that was missing
from the teen's back.

::insertpagebreakhere::

Naruto was waiting
outside when Gaara left the building. They walked in silence, the
blonde shadowing Gaara's steps. They passed through the streets,
filled with shoppers and vendors and people out taking advantage of
the warm evening air. Gaara ignored them, taking pains to ensure no
emotions showed on his face, even when bitter tongues lashed the
youth beside him. He ignored the glares directed at Naruto, and the
few centered on himself for daring to walk beside the outcast of the
village.

No-one dared get to
close, or to throw anything at Naruto, for which Gaara was grateful –
he didn't really want to get blood on his hands in a village not of
his own. For the most part, Naruto ignored them as well, hiding the
flinches beneath wide vacuous smiles and dully open plastic blue
eyes.

Gaara was suddenly
reminded of Kankurou's painted dolls. Naruto looked like a doll.
Lifeless but mimicking those around him. Invisible chakra strings
controlling his movement and his expressions, painted on with the
brush stroke of a master actor and artist.

Gaara wondered what what
would happen if someone cut the strings. Or if they frayed beyond
repair.

They didn't stop walking
until they reached the meadow they'd fought in, a handful of hours
earlier. The glass sphere was still intact, surrounded by a ring of
blackened grass. Naruto looked vaguely apologetic when he saw the
remains of Gaara's gourd. He alone knew how personal the sand it
contained and was created from was.

Gaara placed a hand on
the shimmering sphere. Even solid, as it was now, Gaara could still
feel the essence of life contained within it, pulsing lightly for
those sensitive enough to be able to see or feel it.

“Sorry.”
Naruto said, breaking the silence.

Gaara glanced at him
sideways, one hand still gently stroking the smooth domed side of the
glass. “Why?”

Naruto shrugged. “I
really wanted to try out that new jutsu, but I didn't think about
what it would do to your sand.”

Gaara snorted, turning
back to the sphere. “I like it.” And that was a surprise,
because when he said it Gaara realised that he did like it. It
was something he could place in his special treasure room,
something unique and his. Gaara knew he wasn't going to tell Naruto
that though...that was just...too much information. Personal
information. What would he say anyway? 'Thank you for partially
creating a gift for me?', no. That would mean revealing too much
about himself underneath his carefully created outer persona.

Naruto's eyes were
slightly more open than before, the dullness a bit less than earlier.
“Really?” he asked, doubt lacing his voice.

“I can make more
sand.” Gaara said then, wondering why he was bothering to
explain.

“Oh.” Naruto
scrunched his face up. “But it's not the same, is it? I
mean...well...you know, you've been feeding that sand and taking care
of it and it's kind of – alive.”

Naruto paused. “I'm
making it sound like a pet, aren't I?”

Gaara felt amused. “Just
a little bit.”

Naruto looked
uncomfortable. “This new sand you can get...make...whatever,
it's not going to be quite the same, it it?”

Gaara thought about it
for a while, Naruto looking a little bit more uncomfortable and a
smidgeon...forlorn? With each passing moment. “It won't be as
powerful.” Gaara stated eventually. “Maybe not as fast.
But I can get it back to full strength after a few missions.”

Naruto's face contorted
into a weird expression, even for him. “But you could get hurt,
right? Because that other sand of yours, you've been feeding it all
your life.”

“I guess I should
have been quicker on my feet then.” Gaara said, allowing a
thread of amusement colour his tone. “I tend to rely on one
defense a lot when I'm fighting. If anything, your display showed me
I really need to start practicing some other moves.”

Gaara patted the glass
before walking away, stopping when he was in the center of the
ravaged meadow. He could feel Naruto's eyes on him as he concentrated
on pooling his chakra underneath the surface of the soil, a good
depth down, searching for the necessary minerals needed to create his
own sand. The Fire Country was especially good for this sort of
thing. Stone Country came close, but they mined a lot and too many
mineral-rich veins were destroyed regularly. When Gaara delved into
the earth he could feel the missing pieces. No, Fire Country
was definitely the best for recovering and creating sand. It was
always best when dried out in his own Wind Country, but the first
process was the most vital.

It took effort, and
chakra, a helluva damn ton of chakra to filter through the
soil, much less compress and sear it into something approaching pure
sand. Then it had to be cleaned – an odd concept considering
how he usually tended to it – and refined. That was only the
beginning. The entire process would only take around two to three
minutes for crude sand, but for the kind Gaara was after, the process
could take anywhere up to three or four hours.

Sweat beaded and ran down
Gaara's skin, across tensed and straining muscles and shivering
limbs.

Naruto had no idea how
much Gaara trusted him to watch his back. He was completely
defenseless like this, at the mercy of any aspiring enemy shinobi and
in an outside village to boot.

Maybe Naruto would never
know. But to Gaara, this was a way of saying he was a friend.

You don't kill friends.

The stars were out,
twinkling in the clear night sky by the time Gaara finished and had
his gourd reformed on his back. It was a pale gold, quite different
from the rich bronzed red-gold it had been before.

Gaara felt relieved at
the burden on his back. It was a familiar and welcome feeling, if
different from before.

“Is that...It?
The gourd?” Naruto asked.

“Yes.”

Naruto frowned at him –
no, at the gourd. “It doesn't look right, or feel right. It
seems...lighter. Not as menacing.”

Gaara stared at him.
“It's weak. There's no presence in it yet. Once mother feeds
for a while her strength will fill it.”

Naruto shuddered. “That's
just creepy. Calling Shukaku 'Mother'.”

Gaara blinked, although
that seemed to happen in slow motion he was so tired. “I do not
call Shukaku 'Mother'. My mother is in both of us. She was the first
offering of blood.” Gaara clenched his fists and looked away,
and Naruto could see he hadn't meant to tell even that much.

“Sorry. I didn't
know.”

“I shouldn't have
said anything.”

Naruto stepped forwards,
his hand hovering, but not quite daring to touch the sand gourd.
“It's hungry, isn't it?”

Gaara shrugged. “A
bit. I'll find a few animals on the way back to Sunagakure that'll
keep it satisfied.”

Naruto nodded absently,
still staring fixedly at the pale sand. He seemed to come to some
sort of conclusion and then smiled at Gaara, pulling out a kunai and
slicing open his palm with one deft stroke until the bone showed.
Before Gaara could react Naruto pressed his hand against the sand,
hissing when he felt the sand pull at the skin, absorbing the
blood as fast as it poured out.

Gaara froze, a look of
confusion and...pleasure...encompassing his usually stoic face.
Naruto was a creature of power, of pure energy, and the sheer amount
of that energy, of that massive power flooding into his sand, and
him, was unbelievable.

The intense potency of
that charge of chakra that Naruto fed to him, and to his sand and
ultimately Shukaku defied comprehension. For a few minutes Gaara was
unable to think, to speak, to do anything other than ride the heady
waves of power that Naruto gave through his shed blood.

There was a soft cry of
pain, but Gaara couldn't move. Eventually coherency returned, along
with his wits and thought processes. But the rush stayed with him.
Everything felt lighter, and Gaara felt that he was connected not
only to the earth beneath him, which was usual for him, but to the
very air itself, to every blade of grass, to every tree, every flower
and each and every living particle in a sixty mile radius. A small
part of his brain that wasn't fried wondered if this was how Naruto
felt all the time. If it was, there was no wonder he hated hurting
people.

The implications of that
thought faded under the onslaught and aftermath of the rush of
Naruto's gift.

The feeling slowly faded,
leaving him in his own skin with his usual level of perception,
including the many miles of dirt beneath his sandaled feet.

Naruto was on his knees
beside him, his forehead pressed against the soil. He was cradling
his arm, so white it seemed like bleached bone. There was a terrible
wound spitting open his palm, but no blood came out. His muscles were
exposed, bones and tendons gleaming horribly in the clear moonlight.

“Naruto...”
Gaara whispered softly, falling to his knees beside Naruto. “What
did you do, Naruto?”

Naruto gave a shaky
laugh, his body trembling with the force of it. “S-sorry. Just,
j-just wan-wanted to help.”

Gaara had to strain to
hear Naruto's faint voice. He scrubbed at his forehead. “Shouldn't
that have healed by now?” he asked.

Naruto didn't answer him,
but Gaara knew he was right. “Shit.” He tugged at the
excess fabric he had wound around his waist as a decorative belt,
wrapping the red-brown fabric gently around Naruto's hand, pressing
the edges of the wound closed as he bound it up.

“Do you need to go
to the hospital?” Gaara asked, frowning when he realised he
still couldn't see any colour returning to Naruto's exposed white
arm.

Naruto raised his head
just enough to shake it in the negative, before accepting Gaara's
assistance to stand. He swayed on his feet and looked as terrible as
Gaara knew he must feel. His skin was pale, too pale beneath his tan,
his eyes looked pained and he held himself like a wounded animal.

“Just...get me
h-home, Gaara. Please.”

Gaara nodded, and without
having to even think about it, the sand stirred, fairly vibrating
with the force of it's own energy, excitement seeping through into
Gaara's blood as it rose and encompassed both Gaara and Naruto,
turning in on itself as Gaara commanded it to transport them both
safely to Naruto's apartment.

The sand held Naruto
upright while Gaara moved him to the bed. Naruto was unconscious, and
Gaara stared at him, wondering about what he'd said earlier. Naruto
was really acting as though he held no worth beyond that which he
could give to others. Naruto had always held a self-sacrificing
streak when it came to his friends, and an extremely strong innate
sense of self-preservation and survival when it came to his own
well-being.

At least, he had three
years ago.

Gaara was nothing if not
thorough, and his investigation into Naruto's life was no exception.
He knew everything about him from just after birth until recently.
Not so much with his personal relations, but the actual cold hard
facts of his life. Gaara couldn't say who his friends were, but he
could speculate...unlike his statistics.

So Gaara knew about
Naruto's placement in an orphanage when he was a baby, with no
parents to speak of. People had wondered if Naruto even had
parents, and some still believed that Naruto was the fox demon
itself in human form.

Gaara had at least been
cared for by his uncle Yashamaru. Never mind the fact that his uncle
was the first person to try and kill him when he was six.

When Naruto was six he'd
already been thrown out of the orphanage in secret, no-one wanting
the then Hokage, the Sandaime, Sarutobi to know that they had removed
the Kyuubi brat from their care. At six, Naruto had been living on
the streets for nearly two years, the false reports on his care
remaining a well kept secret at the orphanage.

It would have stayed a
secret if Naruto hadn't almost starved and died, the beating he'd
received for stealing some food from a stall was what brought him and
his distinct lack of care to the Sandaime's attention.

The Hokage had gifted the
six year old Naruto with his own small apartment, basically fitted,
the same one Naruto lived in now. It was deeded in Naruto's name, and
until his death three years earlier the Sandaime had also paid for
Naruto's other basic bills, water, electric and general maintenance,
no-one in the village being willing to hire Naruto because of his
burden.

Was it any wonder Naruto
spent his entire life surviving on ramen? It was cheap, filling and
hot, and he could use his small allowance to keep himself fed.

Gaara just took what he
wanted. As the son of the Kazekage he was Suna royalty, and he'd
learnt early on how to care for himself. His uncle at least had been
good for something.

Gaara had his own
suspicions about Naruto's origins. He knew it was very likely that he
would become the next Kazekage, and he'd been groomed for that
position from birth to the age of six, his shinobi training
facilitating the rest. He'd seen pictures of the Yondaime and he
looked exactly like Naruto, older definitely, and without the
distinctive whisker scars, but otherwise he looked just like
Naruto.

The same Yondaime which
sealed the fox demon inside Naruto.

The same Yondaime who was
known as Konoha's Yellow Flash.

The same Yondaime which
created the powerful Rasengan technique which is so impossibly hard
to learn that only the Yondaime's mentor had ever managed to learn it
off his own pupil.

Until Naruto came along
and learned it, mastering the technique which took the Yondaime three
years to master in under a week.

There were more
coincidences, like the Yondaime's mentor, the great Toad Sannin of
Konoha, teaching and training Naruto because of rumors that Jiraiya
saw his now dead apprentice in Naruto.

Gaara wondered how Konoha
would react if they knew they were treating their own royal sacrifice
like a diseased cur.

He didn't find the
thought funny.

Gaara knew about the
secret training Naruto put himself through, but not about the
scrolls. Finding out about Naruto's basic past had raised demons –
figuratively speaking – from his own. Gaara found himself
remembering the many sleepless nights, terrified out of his mind that
he was going to fall asleep and get eaten by the demon within him.
The demon he'd called mother.

Gaara understood Naruto's
need to train in secret, the need to preserve his own sanity by
wearing a mask over his own personality. The need was rooted in a
desperate bid for safety, the overwhelming urge to protect oneself in
order to live.

Gaara knew about the
beatings that Naruto went through before becoming a shinobi. He'd had
no control over his chakra, had no idea of how to call it out. The
Kyuubi seal was too new, too strong for Naruto to access.

Naruto had been helpless.
He hadn't had Gaara's sand defense. Hadn't had anyone to protect him,
to look after his health. From the ages of six through ten Naruto had
been in hospital two hundred and seven times. Each time he'd been
discharged within two hours. Yet the hospital kept no medical records
for him.

Gaara's informant had
been extremely thorough and the only proof of Naruto's mistreatment
had been in the sealed files in the Hokage's office.

No matter the severity of
Naruto's injuries, the Hospital had found some way of removing Naruto
from their premises. Gaara wondered how many times Naruto gained
injuries for going to the Hospital.

Reading the files had
made Gaara sick.

He'd thought his father
was bad.

Gaara had never been
wounded, had never unwillingly shed any blood until he was twelve
years old, until the Chuunin examination held in Konohagakure. He'd
wondered if he was real so many times. Unable to feel physical pain,
he hadn't known how much it could hurt, how much it could tear you up
inside.

Even the night he and the
sand had tattooed the kanji for 'Love' into his forehead he'd been in
so much pain from Yashamaru's betrayal that he hadn't felt a thing.

Sometimes he thought
Naruto had been lucky to know he was alive. To know he was real. To
know he was flesh and blood and still human on the outside. At other
times he was glad he had been protected by his sand.

When he'd read Naruto's
files he'd felt an overwhelming kinship with him, both of them had
been misused, one being battered and beaten on the outside, one being
tortured and hurt on the inside.

Both of them had had
years to mold a working mask over themselves. Naruto's mask though,
his mask was breaking.

Gaara never thought he'd
feel so protective of him. In a way, he supposed it was much like the
way he felt towards his siblings, although the care he felt for them
was shadowed with guilt over the way he'd treated them before Naruto
had literally beaten sense into him.

Maybe it was time to
return the favour.

Gaara stared down at
Naruto's sleeping form. He knew that Naruto was slightly older than
him by maybe a month or two, but he honestly felt like he was
the elder one and Naruto was the younger brother he'd never had.

Looking at Naruto's
crumpled body on the small bed, it was easy to understand why. Naruto
seemed so...breakable...frail, completely at odds with his usual
guise.

Gaara frowned. Feeling
like these were too new, too uncomfortable to think about. They were
confusing.

Gaara pulled off Naruto's
sandals and tugged the duvet up from under his feet, covering him up
to his neck. He untied the hitae-ate and placed it gently on the
bedside table, in front of the pictures. He checked the wound, and
Naruto's arm, glad when he saw that his skin was approaching
something approximating normal colour and the gentle crimson glow
seeping out through the fabric signified that the wound was healing.

Calling the sand back to
him, Gaara left.

::insertpagebreakhere::

The warm bath and the
food he'd ordered at the small bar-cum-restaurant made Gaara feel
slightly better. He spent the what was left of the night resting and
meditating on the recent events. There was some part of him telling
him that he was getting too attached and that he needed to leave
before something happened, something irreversible. Another part, the
part he buried deep inside argued that what was happening was good,
was something he would be grateful for.

Gaara's first instinct
was to kill. Not appropriate.

The second was to run.
Hide. Be anywhere but here.

Maybe he needed to do
something fun to distract himself.

The first early rays of
dawn's light found Gaara heading back to Naruto's apartment. He
walked slowly, unsure of whether or not he wanted to be there just
yet. No-one answered when he knocked, and he was about to leave when
a cheerful voice greeted him. There was an underlying wariness in his
tone of voice, but more prevalent was the unmistakable friendliness
inherent in it.

The man walking down the
hallway wore a Chuunin vest and was at least five to ten years his
senior. There was a very low amount of power to him, but he radiated
a sort of homely comfort, much like Gaara's ideal of a parent. He had
a large scar over the bridge of his nose and and warm dark eyes, his
dark brown hair was pulled up high in a short, stiff ponytail. He was
the man in another one of Naruto's pictures. Naruto had a few of them
lying around with him in them, usually in ninja garb, but a few with
them both lounging casually.

“Gaara, right?”
The man asked.

Gaara stared at him. The
man looked uncomfortable for a moment before smiling widely –Naruto's
smile-- and rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. His
other hand held a few plastic bags.

“Ah, I'm Iruka,
Umino Iruka. I didn't know you were a friend of Naruto's.” The
man, Iruka, said lightly, taking out a key and unlocking the door.

Gaara frowned. “What
are you doing?”

“Eh?” Iruka
blinked. “I come around every week to check on Naruto. Why?”

“You just walked
in.” Gaara stated. It wasn't quite a question.

Iruka shrugged. “Naruto's
usually asleep. If I come around this early he won't hear me knock.
Hence the keys,” he jingled them for effect. “Are you
coming in?”

Gaara watched as the
chuunin pushed the door open and held it for Gaara. It only took a
moment, before Gaara decided, and he walked inside, staring at the
older man until he turned looked uncomfortable and left for the
kitchenette area, leaving Gaara to shut and lock the door behind him.

It was a petty move, but
Gaara still felt better.

Gaara watched as Iruka
cleaned up around Naruto's apartment, unfolding a bag and picking up
various dirty clothes. The bag was placed by the door, too bright
with it's many multiple colours to be missed. The counters were wiped
and the bags he'd brought with him emptied out on them.

Most of the goods were
cup ramen, but there was also a few cartons of milk, some chocolate,
a small bag of fruit and berries which were emptied into a bowl on
Naruto's table. There was a clear plastic box with onigiri, another
with cookies and a small dark bento box which was placed in the small
fridge beside the milk. There were a few boxes of juice placed in the
cupboard and the last few items, which turned out to be needles and
thread were placed in one of the drawers.

Iruka folded the bags
themselves up and tucked them in his pocket before making sure
everything else was put away, then he turned to Gaara. “Do you
want some tea? Naruto should be awake in a bit.”

“You didn't check
him.” Gaara didn't realise his voice would come out quite
so...disapproving.

Iruka chuckled. “No
matter what happens to Naruto, he's always up and fine after a night
of sleep.” He looked slightly wistful at this, and Gaara
suddenly remembered where he'd seen this man's name before. He was
the one who'd passed Naruto. Rumor had it that Naruto's hitae-ate
wasn't the usual graduate one, but that it had been Iruka's forehead
protector, an item precious to Iruka, but which he'd given Naruto.

Gaara knew from the
report that some of the older shinobi had given him a hard time about
it. Unimo Iruka, Chuunin Instructor at the Ninja Academy.

That explained why he was
still interested in Naruto. It didn't explain why Gaara saw shades of
Naruto in this man...or was it vice versa? Was this man the one who'd
influenced Naruto's mask, his personality? Gaara's eyes narrowed. If
that was true, then there was much more to this man beneath the
surface. Still waters ran deep, but sometimes the most obvious were
still the most deadly.

Gaara wasn't going to
make that mistake again.

“So, uh, what
brings you here?” Iruka asked curiously as he made the tea. His
movements were fluid and he seemed to know his way perfectly around
the kitchenette. Unlike with Naruto, there were no incidents with hot
water, or spilled tea powder and when Iruka carried the tea tray to
the table and sat down it was done with an economy of movement which
surprised Gaara.

He found himself
preferring Naruto's tea-making.

“I was...in the
area.” Gaara said, accepting the tea Iruka poured, but staying
on his feet.

Iruka smiled, his eyes
closing. “Aa. Sunagakure is quite a distance away and I haven't
heard of any missions nearby which required Sand assistance or
presence.”

Gaara could hear the
unspoken warning, and for a moment unquenchable anger surged through
him. How dare this man insinuate Gaara was lying!

“But...I'm just a
simple teacher. So I guess I could be wrong.” Iruka continued,
leaving Gaara wary rather than mad.

There was something
familiar about this man, and Gaara didn't like it one bit. He was
protecting, or at least thinking he was protecting Naruto from Gaara,
and for that Gaara was...grateful? Maybe. But for some reason he felt
like his territory was being trespassed upon.

Gaara scowled.

“Have you two been
friends long?” Iruka continued to smile, but there was still
the feeling of Gaara being gently interrogated.

“Wouldn't you
know?” Gaara shot back. “You are obviously a big part of
his life, you even have a key to his home. Why don't you tell me?”

Iruka nodded, drinking
his tea before answering. “True. But I've learnt the hard way
that Naruto is his own person, and besides,” the smile widened
then, “Naruto makes so many friends it's hard to keep up with
them all; and he's usually so busy I don't get the time to talk to
him for long.”

Gaara snorted, and
something dangerous entered Iruka's smile. His eyes flashed for an
instant, and Gaara was reminded of an injured bird protecting it's
nest, luring the predator in by pretending to have an injured wing,
by pretending to be harmless.

Iruka placed his cup down
in front of him and stared neutrally at Gaara, giving no outward sign
of menace.

“Naruto makes
friends easily,” Iruka said then, “but he hasn't yet
learned to guard his heart properly against betrayal.” He
tilted his head to one side, studying Gaara, who felt
uncharacteristically uneasy. “I really wouldn't want that to
happen to him again, Gaara of the Desert.”

Gaara forced down the
urge to snarl...or at least rip the chuunin's throat out. “I'm
not the Uchiha.”

Iruka sighed, then smiled
wryly. “No. You're not.”

Gaara decided he was
confused by this man. He couldn't figure out if that was an insult or
an acknowledgment.

When the dark-haired
chuunin showed no signs of leaving, Gaara finished his tea and left
the cup on the nearest counter-top. He detoured to Naruto's bed,
hiding his relief when he saw that Naruto's colour had returned and
that he was sprawled comfortably across the length and width of his
bed, his breathing even and steady.

One hand reached out
before Gaara realised what he was doing, gently stroking the soft
blonde spikes, which felt closer to fur than human hair. Gaara could
remember Yashamaru doing the same thing for him when he was four and
had had a particularly bad day, although he had no idea why he was
remembering that particular memory now.

Almost defiantly, Gaara
turned back to the table, digging deeply into his bag and retrieving
the toad statue he'd brought with him from his treasure room. He'd
already taken the scroll out and he replaced it with another one of
an old jutsu he would never use which he'd intended to trade for
while in Konoha.

The original scroll had
been ornate and held many pretty pictures as well as writings he'd
never seen before which promised many hours of deciphering. Useless,
certainly, except as a way to stave off boredom.

“Tell Naruto,”
Gaara began, “that I will visit him soon. And tell him...”

Iruka cocked his head to
one side enquiringly when Gaara trailed off. “Tell him?”

“Keep the statue,
and the scroll. Tell him...” Gaara looked away, “...that
I'm – grateful, for what he did.”

Gaara walked to the door,
but paused when he reached it, his hand still on the handle. He took
a good long look at Iruka before coming to a decision. “It's
good that he has you.” Gaara said quietly. When he left, he
shut the door quietly, hiding a smirk at the stunned expression on
the chuunin's face.

This time, when he left
Konoha, it was with an inexplicable feeling of freedom.

::insertpagebreakhere::
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Dark Soul