@allgather
he wonders if tenten has ever seen him without facepaint. it’s irrelevant, so very insignificant in the face of what he’s just survived, but the thought does pass through kankuro’s mind. everything is so hazy, a likely side-effect to sakura’s antidote still working it’s way through his system, and for that reason, his sister is hesitant to let anyone in to see him. but tenten, he insists on seeing, he insists she in’t just anyone, and temari has to relent ( it’s easier to convince her now that they have gaara back. the sheer relief of saving both your little brothers from the brink is one hell of a drug ). she sits with him now, and he tries to stay conscious, but kankuro comes and goes. her words from one of those times he’d held on long enough to have a conversation echo in his head each time he slips under. i’m here if you need anything, okay? and it seems she wasn’t over-exaggerating; tenten is always there when eyes flicker awake again. like she hasn’t moved an inch from beside him. he’s exposed. his face, his chest; he’s completely vulnerable before her, slipping in and out of wakefulness in front of her eyes. more than that, she’d found him after master sasori had left him to die - she’d seen him, smudged facepaint, ripped robes, paled skin, half dead. it should all make him nervous ( when has he ever let a shinobi from another nation see him like this? ) but tenten can be trusted, this he knows deep inside. not only an ally, not only the saviour of the kazekage, she’s dear to him. those letters and kisses exchanged over the past few years carry weight in kankuro’s heart and, if he’s reading tenten’s expression correctly ( worry, care, love? ), in hers as well. this time when he comes around, kankuro feels well enough to speak. it hurts to move too much, but he’ll squeeze tenten’s hand in his to get her attention. “you saved me. temari told me it was your team who found me.” what do you think of me now? now that you know i can be so weak? now that you’ve watched me fight the poison from my veins and almost lose? now that you can see me whole and naked and unpainted? he doesn’t ask. how could he. instead, knakuro strains to kiss tenten’s hand. “thank you.”
before this mission, she can only remember two other times that the sight of an injury had rendered her unable to act and neither had happened in the field where inaction meant death. it was a point of pride, truthfully - the levelheadedness that came so naturally to her was a skill that many young shinobi had to learn through time and repeated exposure. how many times had she boasted of her ability to stay calm in the face of injuries that brought other kunoichi to their knees? and how many times had she chided her hormone-stricken peers for their overblown reactions when the injured party was some cute but reckless boy?
this is different, isn't it? because the way she feels about him is different and kankuro is DIFFERENT and the weight that brings her to her knees isn't some superficial panic, it's the realization that he could die and she wouldn't know. at any point he could die and she would be the LAST to know. every kiss and every letter and all the moments of laughter in between - in the grand scheme of things it didn't mean anything. to sunagakure, it doesn't mean anything. because he's the kazekage's brother and she's just--
distantly, she hears lee say her name. through blurred vision she watches gai turn kankuro over and her breath catches in her throat. there's hardly any blood. the other two times there had been so much blood. her hands move on their own, like someone else is controlling them, reaching out to push back his hood. his robes are torn and his hair is soaked in sweat. his face paint is nothing more than a couple purple smears across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks, but he's breathing. he's breathing.
this is different, isn't it? or maybe the feeling of hopelessness - of uselessness - isn't so different at all. but the poison is unlike anything anyone has every seen and maybe if she had just been GOOD ENOUGH to train under lady tsunade as sakura had she would have been able to spare him hours of agony and pain. instead, all she can do is sit and wait and exchange terse, nervous glances with temari and try to piece together the broken parts of the puppets he loves so much.
what is she good for if she can't be around to watch his back and she isn't able to do anything more than stitch up superficial wounds? what is she good for if she can't even put crow back together after he's shown her a dozen times? what is she good for if all she can do in the face of earth shattering loss is cry like some pathetic little girl? what is she good for? what is the point of her? what is--
neji tells her it's time to go. to help naruto, sakura, and kakashi find gaara. to find him and bring him back, because that is her duty as an ally the the land of wind and a ninja of the hidden leaf village and there is no one else in the word who matters more to kankuro than his brother. she can bring gaara back - that what she is good for.
this is different, isn't it? because other girls don't have to put up the fight that she did just to be allowed in the hospital room. they don't have to wait for their loved one to wake up and request their presence for the notion of their presence to even be entertained. she can hear them speaking through the door. his voice is hoarse and temari sounds so tired. when the door is opened tenten is on her feet in seconds, brown eyes falling expectantly upon the oldest sand sibling's face. a half-hearted wave is all the approval she needs to run in. the door hasn't even closed by the time she reaches his bedside, hands cradling his face as her forehead rests again his and every fearful thought falls from her lips.
i'm so sorry i wasn't here sooner. i'm so sorry i didn't find you sooner. i'm so happy you're okay. i'm so glad you're okay. i'm here if you need anything, okay? i love you so much--
she loves him so much.
even like this, stripped of all the paint and eyeliner and heavy robes that he hides behind. he told her once it's because he hates how he looks, but looking at him now she can't understand why. the feeling she understands, but to her he's so inexplicably perfect and this time she'll make sure he knows. this time, she'll make sure there's no doubt in his mind regarding how she feels. she won't leave until she can do so knowing that, if he ever does die, it's knowing that he means the world to her.
when he wakes, her fingers stretch so he can more easily press his lips against them. she laughs, even as tears well up in her eyes, so caught of guard by the notion of thanks that for a moment she is once again rendered unable to act. but this time it's shorter. this time she regains herself in seconds. this time, her fingertips dance over the rise of his cheekbone, chasing the path that his face paint would have taken across his skin. "of course i found you. i'll always find you. wanna know why?"
because they're different.
"because i love you, kankuro."