Temari could be a bitch sometimes. Maybe not even just sometimes; she could be a bitch straight-up. He loved his sister in that twisted, almost pack-like way of the former Kazekage's bastards, so he would grudgingly let her have her way once in a while. Maybe it was because of their desperate blood-bond, maybe it was because of the fact that she could still kick his ass despite the fact that he had her by at least eight inches and eighty pounds. Kankurou would always be her little brother, so he had to listen when she told him he WOULD be going to the festival in Konoha if he knew what was good for him.
So Kankurou was standing next to the gate, looking sketchy and shifty and generally bitterly unpleasant. Hoping not to be recognized/noticed, he'd forgone his facepaint and figured out how those yukata things worked; keeping to the shadows, he was there as per Temari's demand, but he wasn't prettied up or playing nice for the Suna council. Anyone who got in his way was steamrolled and snarled at---though the crowd of small children
( ... )
"I think I'm actually shocked that you look almost normal without the paint, Kankurou. If not slightly ill. Was it something you ate, or rather the politics?" Sai didn't move from where he stood, he didn't have to. He watched Kankurou long enough for their gazes to meet, then he was scanning the crowds again with a hooded stare, his arms still crossed.
It actually took him a moment to realize their poses were almost identical, then his hands dropped to his sides. "So who arm-twisted you into coming this time?"
Kankurou's frown deepened, furrowing into his clean face as if chiseled into tanned and stubbly rock.
"Sister," he muttered flatly, still half-consciously scanning for that ponytail. She had to be there somewhere, right? It wasn't like he wanted to talk to her. He didn't. He didn't want to see her or talk to her or---or anything. She was basically dead to him. "I might as well buy a fuckin' summer cottage'r somethin' here, s'much as I come anymore. Shit, man."
He glared over at Sai, but he was weirdly relieved to see him. He didn't love the foul cock-lover much, but he at least knew him. It was better than not knowing anyone and being stuck drinking alone.
...drinking. That had promise. "Oi. Gigglefuck. Where could I get a drink 'round here?"
"Practically everywhere at the moment. Apparently whoever's running the local bars is making a small fortune with all the foreigners and the Daimyo's entourage." He flagged down one of the kunoichi attendants, and with a small gesture towards Kankurou and a hushed inquiry, she nodded and disappeared.
When she returned, she bowed and offered him a earthernware jug before disappearing again. Sai held it out to Kankurou, an eyebrow raised. "Kinoko says this is one of the better local brands."
This time Sai did manage to catch Gaara off guard. He swallowed in surprise and had to cough. The sake was pleasant and by the looks of the jug, there was plenty to left to drink, so Gaara continued to sip and set down his dish before answering. "Oh?" he asked curiously. "Why is that?"
"I'm not sure. But from what I have seen, she becomes rather flustered at the mention of your name ever since her return from Suna." Sai drank quietly, looking up at Gaara when he'd set his dish down.
"I am not the greatest judge of emotions, but I am well versed enough in the emotional range of my teammates to know she's quite taken with you."
Gaara picked up the sake bottle and offered to refill Sai's dish before filling his own. It was funny how this type of thing seemed to happen with the presence of alcohol. He was in tricky territory here. He was completely unsure of what Sai knew, what Sakura wanted everyone else to know, and how he felt about the whole thing. He wasn't even sure how close Sai was to Sakura. Well, they were somewhat close. They had been on the same team once. He wondered what Sai thought of the rumors. Taken with him? An interesting way to put it.
"Ahh," began Gaara rather ineloquently. But he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Do you really think so?"
Sai shrugged and nursed his cup. "It isn't often she falls over herself in both speech and actions. She picks up a heavy stutter and either trips or almost drops what she's holding. She gets very flustered and refuses to make eye-contact. I've seen her with this behaviour pattern twice before."
He set down his cup, his brow furrowed. "The unfortunate thing is that neither sources of her feelings were very apt to return them. Kazekage-sama, for Sakura's sake I hope you will be the exception. She has a very bad habit of finding interest in the wrong people. But you currently are more favored by her friends than either of her previous interests, which says more in your favor. I am not one to listen to rumors, I merely ask for your honesty in regards to Sakura. Like you say, she is very important, and I nor any one else here wish to see her upset again like she was over the loss of the Uchiha traitor. I fear she has yet to recover from that blow, even now."
The one person that Suna had sent to the festival officially was late. Rather, Temari just didn't want to be seen with a full-on kimono, looking like some geisha from the whorehouses in Waterfall. The pattern on the silk embroidery was of sakura blossoms and phoenixes, which to Temari's opinion had no symbolism at all. The only comfort she had was that the kimono had nothing to do with pink, instead matching her own uniform of black and red, with some gold thread lining here and there. But the forced up-do with the hair and the make-up was horrible. The ones who were sent by Suna to make sure that Temari had presented herself in the best way possible had insisted on it, releasing her hair from her normal four ponytails, and instead, bundled it up into a loose bun, with hair trailing every which way
( ... )
Chouji was sort of wandering through the festival, having finished helping with booth setup and cooking with his clansmen an hour or so before. The evening was crisp and cool, a welcome relief from laughing and laboring a hot grill for hours, and he paused by a takoyaki stall in order to catch his breath and cool down a little. His younger cousins had rushed him around the festival to show him everything and share treats, so he was feeling a little tired and worn around the edges already, despite the evening still being young. He'd found that his body, though recovering and putting on weight again like a real champ, got tired more easily than it should have. A few weeks with only light missions with his genin was doing him wonders, though
( ... )
Green eyes looked longly at the red curtains covering the entrance to a bar that was only a couple of feet from her, the sight of sake bottles littering the tables were apparent and the sickly sweet smell of alcohol drifted towards her, beckoning her closer. All was halted when she heard her name boomed over the din of the crowd, the owner of it, unknown. But out of curiosity at who might have the guts to distract her from her distination, Temari swerved around, head cocking to the side to look at the person, a scowl etched deep into her face.
Surprise flashed across her face as she realized who the owner was, the Akimichi man that always hung out with Ino and Shikamaru. His appearance did not seem to have changed, his large frame still prominant against the others in the crowd. But even if he was very kind and thoughtful from what Ino and Shikamaru had told her, there was no one that would come between her and her one way ticket out of this mental and physical torture.
Chouji swallowed again, only just managing not to be one of the aforementioned men scampering away. It was sort of difficult for a man his size to scamper, anyway, he decided as he bit the edge of the metaphorical blade and kept on a cheerful face. Temari had been a jounin for years---and not a 'specialized' jounin like him; a true-blue beat-the-teeth-out of you jounin---and it would probably take a strength like his to pull her out of a fight if she were to start mauling someone (pretty kimono or no
( ... )
Comments 67
So Kankurou was standing next to the gate, looking sketchy and shifty and generally bitterly unpleasant. Hoping not to be recognized/noticed, he'd forgone his facepaint and figured out how those yukata things worked; keeping to the shadows, he was there as per Temari's demand, but he wasn't prettied up or playing nice for the Suna council. Anyone who got in his way was steamrolled and snarled at---though the crowd of small children ( ... )
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It actually took him a moment to realize their poses were almost identical, then his hands dropped to his sides. "So who arm-twisted you into coming this time?"
Reply
"Sister," he muttered flatly, still half-consciously scanning for that ponytail. She had to be there somewhere, right? It wasn't like he wanted to talk to her. He didn't. He didn't want to see her or talk to her or---or anything. She was basically dead to him. "I might as well buy a fuckin' summer cottage'r somethin' here, s'much as I come anymore. Shit, man."
He glared over at Sai, but he was weirdly relieved to see him. He didn't love the foul cock-lover much, but he at least knew him. It was better than not knowing anyone and being stuck drinking alone.
...drinking. That had promise. "Oi. Gigglefuck. Where could I get a drink 'round here?"
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When she returned, she bowed and offered him a earthernware jug before disappearing again. Sai held it out to Kankurou, an eyebrow raised. "Kinoko says this is one of the better local brands."
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"I am not the greatest judge of emotions, but I am well versed enough in the emotional range of my teammates to know she's quite taken with you."
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"Ahh," began Gaara rather ineloquently. But he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Do you really think so?"
Reply
He set down his cup, his brow furrowed. "The unfortunate thing is that neither sources of her feelings were very apt to return them. Kazekage-sama, for Sakura's sake I hope you will be the exception. She has a very bad habit of finding interest in the wrong people. But you currently are more favored by her friends than either of her previous interests, which says more in your favor. I am not one to listen to rumors, I merely ask for your honesty in regards to Sakura. Like you say, she is very important, and I nor any one else here wish to see her upset again like she was over the loss of the Uchiha traitor. I fear she has yet to recover from that blow, even now."
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Green eyes looked longly at the red curtains covering the entrance to a bar that was only a couple of feet from her, the sight of sake bottles littering the tables were apparent and the sickly sweet smell of alcohol drifted towards her, beckoning her closer. All was halted when she heard her name boomed over the din of the crowd, the owner of it, unknown. But out of curiosity at who might have the guts to distract her from her distination, Temari swerved around, head cocking to the side to look at the person, a scowl etched deep into her face.
Surprise flashed across her face as she realized who the owner was, the Akimichi man that always hung out with Ino and Shikamaru. His appearance did not seem to have changed, his large frame still prominant against the others in the crowd. But even if he was very kind and thoughtful from what Ino and Shikamaru had told her, there was no one that would come between her and her one way ticket out of this mental and physical torture.
"I'm having loads of fun, can't you ( ... )
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