[Life in a world after war doesn't feel any different than before, and she wonders what's wrong about that. There's got to be something. It's almost a mimicry, like shadow puppets โ the games of shadowplay Kankuro used to entertain her on those most difficult nights of childhood, the two of them huddled together in a shared bedroom separate from their youngest sibling, making shapes on the wall in the stark light of a bulb. The sensation is identical, as though the whole of Sunagakure is continuing on with a performance in the dark, ignorant and unseeing of the secrets in the next room. The tens of thousands dead, the ripples through political and economic systems alike, tremors felt in every shade of daily life. And here is she, one among them.
The purpose of the entourage from Konoha speaks sense and reason. Temari understands this, and she brooks no argument when told of the plans from her brother, the Kazekage, himself. She's shepherded efforts between the two villages, Leaf and Sand, enough times to be familiar with the unique workings of Konohagkure. As a close ally and friend, this is a kindness. It is a recognition of loss. Were Konoha in the same position, it is understood that Suna would make the same sacrifice, and indeed they've offered an equitable trade of information to merit the exchange.
More surprising to Temari is that they've parted with one of their most powerful and valuable medic nin, Haruno Sakura herself. A young woman who looks little different than the last time they saw each other on the unified battlefield โ a focused, mature, confident version of the little girl at those first chลซnin exams โ even as something pulls Temari's eyes longer than she can name. Conversation is idle, easier than she expects over the days of their village's arrangements. Temari will be the first to admit that she doesn't have great practice in social interaction with other women. She has been raised surrounded by men; it is her career, and she has never felt a natural part of her own delegated gender group, insofar as their focuses circle the drain of crushes, clothes, and soft, delicate things.
Through the days, she begins to pursue their interactions more purposefully. She knows where Sakura is meant to be working, and she never tries to interfere in duty, especially given the need of her own village. But there are mild visits. Talk, in between tasks or errands. A gift of strawberries, one hot afternoon, when a vendor from Konoha is ushering them to the Kazekage's office as a formal donation โ and she intercedes with diplomatic power and only a little bullying. It's worth it to see the smile bloom on Sakura's face.
(And if she notices anything when Nara's name arises in conversation, it's without perception โ the assumption that Shikamaru and Sakura are friends is the one she's under. Surely, by now, Sakura is homesick. She must miss her home, and her comrades.)
So the other woman is a fascination. From their nitpicking of poetry, to the sharp blade of Sakura's medical mind, to the subtler changes of expression on her fair face. Temari can't help but feel drawn to it. Only the looming date of Sakura's eventual return keeps her modest and conscious of statecraft.
Yet is becoming friends not what the alliance of their nations is meant to encourage?
(Friends. Even her mind keeps hanging on it.)
Temari startles at the sound of the door where she's seated at the foot of her bed, a low sandstone frame draped in sheer white, undecorated curtains. She has disrobed, left only in a black binding around her chest, a pair of shorts, and mesh underfitting โ and she is starkly aware of this near nudity upon Sakura's entry as she has never noticed around the men in her life.]
... Ugh, that moron. [It's a grumble.] I told him it wasn't serious, but he wanted to get you anyway. You have more important things to be doing.
[The injury is easy to spot โ a gash across the upper bicep, and another skirting just beneath her collarbones, both vivid red. Temari has gauze pressed to the one on her arm; the other is leaking a steady trickle of blood into her bra.]
The wounds are probably poisoned. I think that's the reason he freaked out, as if I've never handled getting poisoned before. [They're both Suna shinobi, aren't they?] I guess I can't blame him. Without anyone else trained up on antidotes properly yet... [She bites her lip. She can still remember looking down at her younger brother, close to his death, locked into a prison of paralysis by that Akatsuki missing-nin. She'll never forget the terror. And that Sakura was the one who saved him.]
... Sorry to bother you. [Her eyelashes flicker, vision blurred.] It's mild. It won't kill me. Probably.
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Date: 2022-06-06 02:14 am (UTC)The purpose of the entourage from Konoha speaks sense and reason. Temari understands this, and she brooks no argument when told of the plans from her brother, the Kazekage, himself. She's shepherded efforts between the two villages, Leaf and Sand, enough times to be familiar with the unique workings of Konohagkure. As a close ally and friend, this is a kindness. It is a recognition of loss. Were Konoha in the same position, it is understood that Suna would make the same sacrifice, and indeed they've offered an equitable trade of information to merit the exchange.
More surprising to Temari is that they've parted with one of their most powerful and valuable medic nin, Haruno Sakura herself. A young woman who looks little different than the last time they saw each other on the unified battlefield โ a focused, mature, confident version of the little girl at those first chลซnin exams โ even as something pulls Temari's eyes longer than she can name. Conversation is idle, easier than she expects over the days of their village's arrangements. Temari will be the first to admit that she doesn't have great practice in social interaction with other women. She has been raised surrounded by men; it is her career, and she has never felt a natural part of her own delegated gender group, insofar as their focuses circle the drain of crushes, clothes, and soft, delicate things.
Through the days, she begins to pursue their interactions more purposefully. She knows where Sakura is meant to be working, and she never tries to interfere in duty, especially given the need of her own village. But there are mild visits. Talk, in between tasks or errands. A gift of strawberries, one hot afternoon, when a vendor from Konoha is ushering them to the Kazekage's office as a formal donation โ and she intercedes with diplomatic power and only a little bullying. It's worth it to see the smile bloom on Sakura's face.
(And if she notices anything when Nara's name arises in conversation, it's without perception โ the assumption that Shikamaru and Sakura are friends is the one she's under. Surely, by now, Sakura is homesick. She must miss her home, and her comrades.)
So the other woman is a fascination. From their nitpicking of poetry, to the sharp blade of Sakura's medical mind, to the subtler changes of expression on her fair face. Temari can't help but feel drawn to it. Only the looming date of Sakura's eventual return keeps her modest and conscious of statecraft.
Yet is becoming friends not what the alliance of their nations is meant to encourage?
(Friends. Even her mind keeps hanging on it.)
Temari startles at the sound of the door where she's seated at the foot of her bed, a low sandstone frame draped in sheer white, undecorated curtains. She has disrobed, left only in a black binding around her chest, a pair of shorts, and mesh underfitting โ and she is starkly aware of this near nudity upon Sakura's entry as she has never noticed around the men in her life.]
... Ugh, that moron. [It's a grumble.] I told him it wasn't serious, but he wanted to get you anyway. You have more important things to be doing.
[The injury is easy to spot โ a gash across the upper bicep, and another skirting just beneath her collarbones, both vivid red. Temari has gauze pressed to the one on her arm; the other is leaking a steady trickle of blood into her bra.]
The wounds are probably poisoned. I think that's the reason he freaked out, as if I've never handled getting poisoned before. [They're both Suna shinobi, aren't they?] I guess I can't blame him. Without anyone else trained up on antidotes properly yet... [She bites her lip. She can still remember looking down at her younger brother, close to his death, locked into a prison of paralysis by that Akatsuki missing-nin. She'll never forget the terror. And that Sakura was the one who saved him.]
... Sorry to bother you. [Her eyelashes flicker, vision blurred.] It's mild. It won't kill me. Probably.