Lady Chiyo had come to her conclusion: she would stay out of the situation. Despite her internal conflict, she didn't know how to break it to the expectant individuals around her. Instead, she turned to the shopkeeper and, in a tone that felt foreign to her, said, "You are the one who called our attention, and this seems out of our boundaries, but we promise to at least get your shop back or send someone who can."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew how ridiculous they sounded. Who was she to make such a promise? A simple old woman in a foreign land, with no power or standing to make such assurances. It was irresponsible, even foolish. Yet, she had said it—offering a glimmer of hope, even though she had no intention of truly solving the problem.
The response from the others was immediate. The look in their eyes—disgust, irritation—was unmistakable. How could she be so shameless, they wondered. Temari and Kankuro lowered their heads in silence, unable to comprehend why Lady Chiyo would say something she couldn't possibly fulfill.
Gaara, however, was unfazed. He didn't care about her empty promise, nor did he give it much thought. He simply turned and walked out of the store, Temari and Kankuro trailing behind him.
The group walked in silence, and before long, they reached their resting place for the night. Once inside, the tension finally broke.
"Are we doing anything about it?" Temari asked, looking between the others.
Gaara's response was flat. "No. Go to sleep. We have a long journey tomorrow."
Without another word, they all retired to their respective rooms, trying to settle into the stillness of the night.
But in the dead of night, Gaara stirred. He hadn't been awake for long when he took action. With a swift motion, he shrank his sand artifact down to the size of his palm, tucking it into his waist. He then began constructing a sand replica of himself, carefully shaping the figure to look exactly like his sleeping form, down to the density of his body. He had the skill to make it look lifelike—so real, in fact, that anyone would think it was him, as long as he kept supplying chakra to it. But once he stopped, it would be nothing more than a sculpture.
When he was done, Lady Chiyo's voice interrupted the stillness. "You could have done a shadow clone, or in your case, a sand clone."
Gaara didn't look back. "I can't afford to cut my chakra in half for a clone that would only be here to sleep. If they can't take care of themselves, then so be it."
Lady Chiyo approached, her footsteps soft on the floor. "I still feel apprehensive about you following me on this mission. There's a good chance you'll experience... things you may not be prepared for."
Gaara's voice was calm, but firm. "Their expertise isn't suited for this. I have to talk to you."
Lady Chiyo sighed but didn't argue. "Let's get going then."
Gaara nodded but paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "One more thing..."
He proceeded to make adjustments to his appearance. He donned a dark cloak, similar to the one Lady Chiyo wore, and with the same technique, he covered himself with a thin layer of solid but lightweight sand, shifting his appearance slightly. His face, usually marked by his signature red hair and black eyes, was now altered to appear like a normal child—no longer the recognizable Gaara of the Sand, but an unassuming figure.
He also wore a simple mask, obscuring his features, which made him look older and more mature. Lady Chiyo had taught him this trick, though he wasn't sure how she managed it. But it didn't matter now.
With his adjustments complete, Gaara looked like a completely different person—just another child blending in with the crowd, ready for an undercover mission.
"Let's go," he said, and they left through the window, heading south toward the directions the shopkeeper had given them, away from the village and into the unknown.