The sun shone brightly in the sky, the morning of the Kazekage's engagement party. Birds chirped as though to cheer on the decorators that hoisted banners high into the air; the symbol of Suna and colours of the princess' kingdom lined the streets proudly. The smell of milk sweetened with rose ad honey, drifted out of the palace kitchens and made the children of the village grin with greedy delight. Musicians were tuning their instruments; the sharp twang of the strings resounding in the village square. There was a bustle, a busy-ness in Suna that the inhabitants had not seen in months! A festive feeling was filling the sand with glitter and gold. Indeed, it was the perfect day for a royal party.
At least, the untrained eye, focussing on the lavish and the superficial, would think so. If you looked a little closer, you could feel the vibrations in the earth; the deep rumble of something disturbed and untoward was festering in the hearts of Suna's people. There was a chatter that fled from doorway to doorway, a whisper that vanished when in earshot of palace officials, a sigh of grief that echoed in the desert plains as the inhabitants of Suna all wondered the same, unified thought; where had Love gone? That mischievous sparkle that had once made a home in all their hearts…where had she wondered to? Was she really what the palace said she was? Why was she lost? Who could guide her home? And what was in the Kazekage's head or heart or soul to make him take to a princess so suddenly, so fearlessly? Something, the villagers suspected, was swirling uneasily in the young Kazekage's mind.
Deep in the maze of the palace's winding corridors, that very man was avoiding all questions as he walked in line with his siblings. The stone floors of the palace of Sunagakure were swept clean until they shone with the same brilliance they had when the palace was first built. As a result, gold, dusty air that looked like glittering sunshine, was sitting inside the palace, swaying with the same gentle rhythm of a stream. It was so beautiful, in fact, that the Kazekage seemed distracted by it. As he walked through the halls of the palace, with his siblings either side of him, he watched as the particles of dust glittered and danced in golden light. His mind was empty, the tips of his fingers numb, his heart felt like a weight clinging onto his chest, threatening to fall into his stomach.
His outfit for the special occasion was that same deep red as his usual cloak, almost floor length with a high collar. It was heavier than his usual attire; made of a thick velvet, with gold buttons and a hideous, in his opinion, emerald brooch. Temari wore a blush pink kimono and Kankuro a smart black jacket with a high collar in a similar style to Gaara's. When they had been getting ready, Temari had come into Gaara's room and fussed and grew impatient with his unruly hair before her eyes softened and she spoke kind, soothing words to her younger brother. Kankuro had entered the room with cheer in abundance; teary eyed with pride, teary eyes for a girl they once knew, he had embraced his little brother and whispered to him words of great affection.
Gaara wished that he had listened to them in those moments, wished that his mind had not been elsewhere so perhaps he could have taken some comfort in their words but his thoughts kept running away from him. He was easily distracted by the colours and light all around him, by the jubilant hubbub the rest of the palace seemed to feel. But he could not feel it, he could not hear them. He was shut up within himself, trying, so desperately, not to think about-
"Gaara?" The Kazekage stopped as his elder brother called his name uncertainly from behind him. He turned slowly as though in a confused daze to find that Temari, Kankuro and the entirety of his council, village elders and teachers stood as an equally confused mass of people behind him. The Kazekage tried to smile at them all, realising he had completely ignored and walked past them when they were waiting for him to enter the room and greet Taki's family.
Temari's face fell, her teal coloured eyes lost their sparkle and became matte as she looked to the floor in sadness; Gaara was not himself today. They had all moved on from the curse of the blood-love that had gifted their brother this fate…but painful reminders of his first love still lingered in these hallways, still clutched onto the fragrance of the garden flowers. She was here, in this hall; Ai had spoken with almost everyone gathered here, at some point, as they wondered down this corridor and she delighted them with her whimsical and magical talent for conversation. In the same manner in which the sand sibling's mother and father still had a presence in their home, so did Ai. And today, it seemed they were bumping in to the ghost of her everywhere. Even in Gaara's Ai's she existed as that soft and delicate glow he had only acquired in his gaze in the last year or so.
"Taki's family waits in here, Gaara-kun," Hana-sama spoke kindly to the man who blushed at her motherly affection. Taking a few embarrassed steps forward, Gaara eventually joined ranks with his siblings once more. His face blank, his heart heavy, Gaara entered the room with his family, friends and advisors behind him.
***
Seven black figures stood in the rain that thundered down around the Marble Palace. On her balcony, Love stood wrapped up in the colour of death, feeling the warm, tropical rain beating down on her skin as her heart fluttered in anxiety, like a baby bird unable to fly, flapping its wings uncertainly against the wires of its cage. Her companions in the Palace stood behind her in their usual positions as ladies-in-waiting. Only Lena stood close to her, unsure of whether or not she should put her hand on Ai's shoulder and draw her into embrace. She could see the girl's shoulders shaking, the tremble in her veil as her head shook slightly in disbelief. What could Lena possibly say to Ai? Courtesans only know an imitation of love, they never know the real thing. What did it mean to lose the man you love to another?
The girl who was now empress at the Marble Palace looked up into the dark grey clouds, letting the raindrops mingle with tears on her face, letting her veil fall from her head and onto the floor. Her hair was in a long plait behind her, clinging to her blouse as it became wet, turning the black colour a dark, inky blue. The rain was heavy and warm, giant droplets splashed on the marble at her feet. Bringing her head back to look out beyond the palace gardens, Ai looked on in the direction of her homeland. She could almost hear the bells of the temple ringing, the shouts of excitement from the villagers. She turned away from her balcony to find the girls all stood behind her as though in mourning; their heads bowed, all stood in shades of grey, black and dark blue.
But they were surprised as Ai rung out her veil to rid the cloth of rainwater, before walking past them all with a smile. For only she could see, as she had been stood out farthest on the balcony, that there was a storm moving swiftly towards them from the horizon. A storm that would rain down upon the world, cleanse the soil, make it fertile, ready to give birth to a new age. And, in the end, sunshine would break through a bleak sky.
Ai knew her place in the world now; she was the storm, the sunshine and all things on the Earth. She was a goddess, the reason for love, the will through which all destruction is allowed and the miracle through which all is created.
"Renai?" The girl had entered the room where Madara stayed in the palace; a dark place filled only with candlelight. He sat upon a throne-like chair with his dark Akatsuki cloak licking the marble floor. His face, as always, was covered, giving nothing away. He took in the sight of the young girl, but it was not her wet clothes or cold, fair skin that caught his attention. It was the look of determination, a look of pure ambition; her eyes narrowed on him, her fists clenched as her beautiful face glowed in the candlelight.
"What work is left in preparation for the Kage summit?," the girl asked, her crystal clear voice filling the room. Madara sat a little straighter, watching the girl's confident gait barely flinch as his eye focussed on her. The sharingan was an unnerving and eerie weapon to her; the user could see more of you than you could of them. And in the case of Madara, with his masked face and long cloak, the feeling of being assessed and unable to read him, was felt ten-fold by Ai. But not today it seemed, Madara mused as he watched her intently.
"You will help our cause?" He asked her.
"Yes." Another moment passed of the two locking vision, sharing the same desires.
"Very well," the man announced to the room, calling Taka to slink out of the darkness and stand in line with Ai. Sasuke watched her with great intent as he came to stand beside her; the girl he once assumed was different to him suddenly looked recognisable. She too, was hurt by a loved one, forced to take on the role of the wicked by those in control of her destiny. "Lena is our native speaker (A/N: in chapter 29 Lena tells Ai that her mother-tongue is from the land of the samurai. I'm just reminding y'all because that was ages ago and I don't want it to seem like I'm just dropping this in now. This is a well thought-out story, I promise!), she will act as translator and ensure Ai's entry into the Tetsunokinko (Iron Vault)." Madara looked around slowly at the group of gathered shinobi before his eyes lingered on the courtesan. What a strange girl; a year ago she had never laid eyes on Sabaku no Gaara, now, she was going to war with him. The blue eyed beauty was once just a village girl, barely knew anything outside of her books or poetry or performance. And now, she was part-goddess, ready to change the fate of the world. "Ai will then ensure our entry into the heart of the summit. All are clear on our entry route?"
"Yes," the gathered group said in unison.
"Ai?" He asked her and her alone. The girl's electric blue eyes flicked up to him confidently.
"All is ready. We leave at dawn."
***
"I was once made of sunlight until I flittered into your room.
At your touch, I turned to smoke.
My heart, now a biwa (Japanese lute), waits for the moments you strike at its cords
but you refuse to play a melody.
I can no longer taste the sweet of honey, nor the salt of rice wine
Without wincing at the taste of your cruelty.
How is it you are in my veins, vain one?
How is it you are dancing in my dreams-?" Princess Taki's recitation was interrupted as the door to the Kazekage's bedroom opened. She was sat in a yellow dress of more Western tradition; a long-sleeved white shirt under a yellow pinafore-like dress. She did not meet the gaze of the person who entered the room.
"That is a little more colourful than the work you usually recite, princess." The Kazekage said, forcing a smile; usually the girl read about the Spring, blossoming flowers, works the depicted beautiful landscapes and the changing of the seasons. The poem she had just read was much more sensual than anything Gaara thought he would hear from her. He began to walk towards his desk where the princess was sat.
"Ai wrote it." Gaara stopped in surprise and had no idea where to look. Colour was rising to his cheeks with no regard to his consent; Ai had written that about him. About their love. It was, quite unashamedly, about their sex. He suddenly remembered a sheet of paper she had left teasingly on his bed one day for him to find, to keep her in his mind all day. He had hidden it, hadn't he? In his desk drawer?
"Oh," Gaara began once he realised he had been silent for too long. He spied the princess looking down at the paper, her left hand outstretched, holding onto a corner of the paper. A diamond ring on her finger glittered in the sunlight. "She often left her work lying around," Gaara said cooly, desperately thinking of some way to stop the blood from forcing its way to his cheeks. "I never had much of a head for poetry." The princess slowly let her gaze travel along the desk and up tot eh Kazekage's face. He stood, serene, barely flinching under her gaze. Eventually, she smiled.
"Me either," they both let out anxious, relieved laughs. "When do you leave?"
"In a few hours." As Gaara spoke, Taki stood and walked around his desk. She had picked up the paper with Ai's writing and Gaara could swear, as the paper swayed in her grip, that he could hear the tinkling of anklets, the beat of the song that had first seduced him. He tried not to let any trace of emotion pass on his face as Taki let the paper fall into the bin by his desk.
She approached him with a sweet, loving smile. One which made a little of Gaara's ache fade away. Like Ai, Taki soothed him, took him away from work with her child-like love of nature, introduced him to the world outdoors and made him grin whenever she challenged his sand to see if her arrows were faster. She had a similar but innocent mischief to her; the way she threw stones at his window or would jump off the balcony so his sand could catch her. The girl's laughter was infectious, her love of the world admirable and her dedication to the Kazekage…something he had not been able to offer in return.
There was one way in which she was different to Ai. It was a way that Gaara missed terribly. The seduction, the game, the chase, the flirtation! How is it Ai made him feel like it was the first time, every time? The courtesan was skilled, trained, she became his teacher in love. And he taught her to take a little pain, to smile at a little torture.
Gaara doubted Taki could be taught such a thing. She was too mild-mannered, too high-spirited, too gentle of a person. But that is exactly what he needed; someone who could cool the blood-lust, not excite it. The princess was innocent. And that, in a sense, was alluring but the Kazekage could never be sure without asking first and asking itself may frighten that deer-like girl. Doe-eyed, enchanted with nature, a spirit born out of the woodland; the princess was charming in her own way and Gaara knew he had grown fond of her.
"Were you looking for something, Gaara?" The princess asked kindly.
"Yes," he said with a small smile, "you."
"Oh?" She giggled.
"I wanted to walk through the gardens with you one last time before I leave," he explained and took the smile on the princess' face to be one of agreement. "Go down to the gardens," he instructed her and gestured towards the door. Going up onto her tiptoes, the princess planted a soft kiss on the corner of Gaara's mouth.
"See you down there," she said as they exchanged smiles.
Once the door shut behind the princess, Gaara walked over to his desk and looked into his bin which was empty bar one item; the parchment on which Ai had written was creamy and soft, it curved to match the shape of the bin, the ink was so black it was clearly visibly on both sides of the parchment.
He stared at it a little while. What good would it do to put it back in his desk drawer? Would he ever read it again? Should he ever read it again? Taki was the key to letting go of Ai but the Kazekage insisted on keeping these reminders of his first love around. Even the lantern Ai had lit remained next to the statue of Renai in the palace temple.
Deep down, he knew it was time to move on. The last time he had spoken to Ai she had stormed out of his bedroom, cursing him all the while. What was he doing holding on to these small items of nostalgia? He was a Kage- he should be focussing on anything and everything outside of his relationships with women.
The Kazekage left his bedroom, the parchment of poetry left, abandoned in the bin by his desk. What use was it to wonder about a girl he would never see again?
***
Little did the Kazekage know that that very girl was on her way to see him at that very moment. In a caravan consisting of her own horse-drawn carriage, carts of luggage, others with seats for dancers and musicians, Ai sat in a procession that was headed to the Land of Iron. Musicians played music, dancers swirled in their open-top carriages, singers sung words to songs Ai had written. Lights on the carriages were still lit at dawn so the procession looked like a train of stars on the horizon with the moon stat, hidden amongst them.
But the girl called Love was oblivious to it all. Her head bowed, contemplating the future, Love was on a journey that would define the story of the blood-love on Earth.
The Kazekage set foot into the unknown mere hours after the sun rose, mere hours after Ai left the Marble Palace. His siblings at his side, both apprehensive, protective and proud, Temari and Kankuro guided their little brother through the wilderness that led them to the Kage summit. The three talked of the future, of their hopes and dreams for the village, of their students and advisors. They laughed as the weather became colder with temperatures dropping to figures the siblings had never felt. The two elder children offered their brother council for they were worried the other Kage would take advantage of his inexperience. But the two were pleased to find that Gaara was unfazed by such worries.
All the while both Ai and Gaara were unaware and unaffected by the fact that in centuries to come, scholars, poets, dreamers would recognise this day as one of the most important in the tale of Gaara and his first love.
This was the day the destiny of the blood-love was spun into motion and resonated throughout the universe. For it was the day that Gaara and Ai would finally see each other as enemies.