Killing Me Softly

IV

Kankurou wearily trudged up the stairs to his apartment, silently cursing out the elevator. After working nearly a thirteen-hour shift, walking up four flights of stairs wasn’t something he wanted to be doing.

It probably saved his life.

Kankurou smelled blood the moment he got to his floor, a strong scent, and familiar too. The puppet master paled the moment he recognized the scent, and bolted for his apartment. The door was closed, hiding the grim scene behind it. Without thinking, Kankurou bust through the door and froze.

The apartment was in a state of utter chaos, broken glass and torn pillows strewn all over. Tables were overturned, chairs were broken and blood was smeared, spattered, and spurted all over the walls. In the center of it wall was Gaara, eyes blank and far away, holding onto Temari. For a moment, Kankurou would have sword that Temari was only sleeping. That was until his gaze traveled down to his sister’s neck the expanse shredded and keeping the head attaché to the body by one very fragile sinew.

The brunette swallowed the bile threatening to come up. He’d seen worse, done worse. But, for fuck’s sake, that was his sister.

“Gaara?”

Kankurou approached slowly, hearing tendrils of sand skittering under the floorboards like a herd of mice. He was very aware that Gaara could and would kill him if the thought Kankurou was any danger. Kankurou was within arm’s reach of his siblings when the first sob escaped Gaara’s throat. The elder Sabaku sibling was on his knees in an instant, wrapping his arms around his little brother, shocked beyond words. He hadn’t seen Gaara cry once since, well, since forever. Gaara hadn’t even cried the day Neji chose to die. He’d hidden all his motion, buried it.

Why did it take Temari’s death to bring it all out?

“Gaara,” Kankurou whispered. “Gaara, you have to let her go.”

Gaara shook his head and clung tighter to Temari’s body. Kankurou winced as e heard a think and couldn’t keep his stomach from rebelling this time. He turned away as fast as he could, fighting not to look at the grisly scene of Gaara holding Temari’s decapitated body.

“Gaara, we have to get out of here.” Kankurou tried again.

“Not without Temari.”

Shit. “Temari can’t come with us.”

Gaara looked at Kankurou as if he didn’t quite understand. The brunette fought down his curses. He knew that look in Gaara’s eyes. He’d seen it in his own eyes, in the eyes of the addicts he worked with. The look was of hopelessness, hopelessness mixed with apathy ad insanity. It was a look of one who’d given up on even living.

Dammit.

“Gaara, Gaara, listen to me.” Kankurou waited until his brother’s attention was focused on him. “Tell me what happened.”

Gaara swallowed. “We were watching television and the doorbell went off. So Temari went to answer. They talked, sounded like Temari knew the person, and then Temari was making me hide. I could have protected her, Kankurou, I could have saved her!”

Kankurou shook his head and reached for his sister’s corpse, knowing Gaara was far too upset to use his hand. He took Temari from Gaara, grabbed up her head, and went into the bathroom. He locked the corpse in there and went to pack a bag for himself and his brother. Gaara still knelt where he’d been left and it took everything Kankurou had to get him to his feet.
Sand quickly formed the precious Hyoutan and Gaara mechanically pulled the gourd on his back and let Kankurou take his hand. They ran, fleeing, moving in the forgotten art of the shinobi, hurrying for a train or some other underground transportation. The sun was rising.

Kankurou brought Gaara down into the subway tunnels, finding a hidden niche big enough for the two of them. Gaara settled down, using the Hyoutan as a pillow, but Kankurou wouldn’t let him sleep. He washed Gaara’s face and hands, forced him to undress and put on fresh clothes. The bloodied once Kankurou used for a fire, fighting not to gag at the acrid scent of burning blood.

Kankurou pulled his little brother into his arms then, and held him tight, close, burying his face in the younger man’s soft red hair. Gaara shuddered only once before he began to cry. Kankurou didn’t really know what to do. When Shikamaru cried, Kankurou would be there and ready to fuck him, dive all those tears away. Gaara was his brother – we couldn’t treat him as he treated Shikamaru.

Could he?

No.

Kankurou simply held Gaara tighter until his brother had fallen asleep, carefully closing his own eyes. The brunette kept a tight hold on Gaara throughout the day, waking every once in a while to make sure someone didn’t come by and decapitate Gaara while he was unconscious. They’d find a new place to hole up come nightfall and then they’d ship out to Naruto’s. There was always better defense in numbers after all.


Eyes swept the destroyed apartment, scouring every corner for what the master wanted. The body wasn’t where it should be, and though every inch of the apartment was searched there was no body to be found. She couldn’t have survived the attack. Could she? Maybe the redheaded brat had done something with the body. That was entirely plausible. But then the goal wouldn’t have been achieved.

The Kazekage – the former Kazekage because those didn’t exist anymore – was supposed to have been psychologically damaged by seeing his sibling die. Maybe the wrong sibling had been chosen? Maybe it should have been the brother that died, not the sister. Too late now.

Look for the sister’s body. It was needed for the second stage. Where could it be?

Bathroom. It was the only place left unchecked because, really, going into someone else’s bathroom was gross. There she lay in bloody glory, only her arm burned off from the sunlight slowly creeping up her body. A blanket was thrown over the corpse to keep the sun away and with that blanket, the body was hauled out of the apartment. Just a quick call now and the sirens would be screaming on the way here. Now all that was left was a delivery and the rest of the day was free.

Mihara Shunsuke grinned as he bundled up the body into the back of his van. He liked free days.