AUTHOR'S POV.
The heavy doors of the Kazekage's office slammed shut behind Gaara. The sound echoed through the corridor, sharp and final, silencing everything around.
Temari let out a deep breath and turned her eyes toward Ishani.
"Come."
Startled, Ishani nodded quickly. Without thinking, she followed Temari and Kankuro out into the glaring desert sunlight.
Inside the office, silence lingered. Anger burned on the elders' faces, but none dared to openly confront Gaara.
---
Outside, the hot desert wind swept through the streets. The four of them walked slowly down the dusty path. Ishani kept her head bowed, her steps just behind Gaara's. From every corner, villagers watched—whispering, wary, pulling their children closer. But no one dared to come near.
Temari suddenly stopped.
"Gaara… you shouldn't have spoken to the Elders like that. They're the ones leading this village. If you react this way, they'll only grow more suspicious." Her voice was low, but edged with restrained anger.
Gaara didn't stop walking. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead.
"Let them think what they want. Ishani is my responsibility." His voice was cold, steady.
"Gaara, Temari isn't wrong," Kankuro added, his tone quieter, heavy. "Everyone already fears you because of Shukaku. If you keep clashing with the Elders, the whole village could turn against you."
At that, Gaara halted. The desert sun caught his crimson hair, his eyes burning red against the light.
"I know," he said slowly. "But I also know what it means to be left alone… to be feared. I won't do that to her."
The air grew heavy in the silence that followed. Only the sound of the dry wind sweeping sand across the road filled the gap. Ishani stood frozen, her chest tight, her breath uneven. Yet in Gaara's voice, she had heard not just iron resolve… but a strange gentleness, too.
"Maybe so," Temari finally spoke, exhaling sharply. "But if you truly take responsibility for her, then it means more than keeping her safe. You'll have to face the village's suspicion, their fear. That won't be easy, Gaara."
Gaara turned, just slightly, and his gaze met Ishani's. In her wide eyes he saw fear… but also gratitude.
"I know," Gaara said quietly. "But I won't be doing it alone. The sand has already chosen her."
And with that, the four of them began walking again—leaving behind the scorching wind, and the countless eyes of a village watching with mistrust.
---
For several days, Ishani stayed inside her room with the door closed. She felt no need to step outside, and no one felt the need to call for her either.
Sometimes she went to eat only after everyone else was done, and other times she passed the day without eating at all. Occasionally, food was quietly left outside her door.
Then came the morning when Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro prepared for a mission.
"Ishani, we have to leave. As soon as the mission is over, we'll return," Temari said, hurriedly packing her gear. "You must not step outside this house until we come back. I've arranged for someone to bring food if your supplies run out."
"Alright…" Ishani answered softly, standing in the corner of the room.
"Give me your hand first," Gaara's deep voice cut through, steady and commanding.
Hesitantly, Ishani lifted her right hand. Gaara raised his own and touched his index finger to hers. In an instant, a wave of sand swept across her skin, coating her entire body in a thin, shimmering layer—like a second skin, fragile yet unyielding.
Just like Gaara's own sand armor.
"What is this for?" Ishani asked, staring at her hands in excited.
"For your protection," Gaara replied firmly, his gaze locked on hers. "We won't be here. You might be attacked. This will shield you."
"Oh…" Ishani's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Why are you smiling?" Temari asked, frowning at her.
"Who would attack me? No one here even knows who I am," Ishani replied quietly, still studying the sand covering her hands.
"You think you don't have enemies here?" Temari's tone hardened. "You've barely stepped outside this house. The moment you do, you'll understand. People will whisper. Some might act. When we return, we may just find you bleeding, locked in the village's prison."
Ishani's eyes widened at her words, her chest tightening.
"You don't know any jutsu, do you? So tell me—who will protect you then?" Kankuro pressed on.
Ishani's voice trembled. "So… I need your protection just to survive here?"
"Of course," Temari said without hesitation.
"I'm a burden to you then?" Ishani asked, her voice small, breaking.
"Who told you that nonsense?" Gaara's voice cut through sharply. His eyes burned with quiet intensity. "You are not a burden."
"I'll try my best," Ishani whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'll find a way back to my world… as soon as I can."
Gaara looked at her for a long moment, then turned his gaze to his siblings. Without another word, Temari and Kankuro picked up their packs and stepped out, leaving the two behind.
"You are not a burden. If you were, why would Temari arrange your food? Why would Kankuro leave his puppets around the house to guard you? No one will harm you. Just… don't step outside." Gaara's voice softened just slightly as he turned back to Ishani.
With that, he walked toward the gate.
Ishani followed him to the doorway. At the threshold, she stopped, watching the three of them begin their long walk out of the village. Temari glanced back once and gave a small wave.
"Take care of yourself, cutie pie!" Kankuro shouted, waving with his usual mocking grin.
"You all too!" Ishani called back, raising her voice so it would carry.
And then… they were gone.
The silence in the house deepened. Ishani lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, one hand draped over her forehead.
But her stillness broke when she heard it—footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. Boots scraping against the floor.
Her heart lurched.
Before she could move, her door slammed open. Four shinobi stormed inside, their faces hard and unfamiliar. Ishani's eyes widened in terror as smoke filled the room. She coughed once, and then her body crumpled, consciousness slipping away.
---
When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer home.
The Kazekage's secret prison. A place whispered about but rarely seen. Darkness pressed in from every corner. The stench of blood and damp heat choked the air. Insects scurried along the cracked stone floor.
They dragged her inside and threw her to the ground like discarded cloth. Her arms were yanked upward and chained to the wall, her knees forced into the dirt, her head slumped forward, eyes shut.
A sudden splash.
Cold water drenched her face, her hair falling in wet strands across her eyes. Ishani gasped, blinking against the sting.
But before she could focus, a shinobi stepped forward, crouching low. His hand gripped her soaked hair, jerking her head back with brutal force. Ishani winced, biting down a cry of pain.
"You think being close to that fool Gaara will keep you alive?" His teeth ground together as he hissed the words. "Tell us who sent you here. Speak the truth now, or what you suffer next… will be something you can't even imagine."
He laughed, cruel and sharp, and the others laughed with him. Their voices echoed in the chamber, filling the dark with mockery.
"No one sent me here!" Ishani screamed, her voice raw.
"Liar," he spat. "The guilty don't get to shout." His hand released her hair only to clamp tightly around her throat.
"Let… go…" Ishani's words broke into gasps. Her legs kicked weakly against the ground, her wrists strained against the chains, the skin raw and red. Her chest heaved, searching for air that wouldn't come.
Her eyes watered, her body trembling—until at last, her strength gave way. Her head dropped, her body sagging against the chains.
Another shinobi cursed under his breath and pulled the man away from her, muttering about patience. Reluctantly, they all withdrew, leaving Ishani alone.
Alone, chained, her breath shallow, her spirit trembling.
And not a single one of them bothered to look back—to see if she was even alive.
---
"What's wrong, Gaara?" Temari asked, her breaths sharp as she ran alongside him.
"I don't know… ever since we left the Sand Village, I've felt restless. Like something is wrong," Gaara replied, his husky voice carrying a weight that didn't match the steady rhythm of his stride.
"Don't overthink it. At this speed, we'll finish the mission quickly—and return home before long," Temari reassured, though her own tone carried more hope than certainty.
"Still… relying too much on the villagers isn't wise. I keep thinking—we should've given her more protection before we left." Kankuro muttered, careless but not without reason.
"Kankuro, if you can't say something useful, then keep your mouth shut," Temari snapped, her glare sharp enough to cut through the air.
"He's not entirely wrong," Gaara said, his voice softening, almost reluctant. "In just these few days, so much could have happened behind her back. If she knew… she'd probably be too afraid to even step out of her room to eat." His last words caught in his throat, quiet and chuckle.
"Gaara…"
"Gaara."
Temari and Kankuro stopped for a moment, surprised, his name slipping from both their lips in unison. They stared at him, shocked at the rare crack in his armor.
"What are you waiting for back there? Keep moving!" Gaara barked without slowing down, forcing the wall back into his voice.
"She's really a thief," Temari murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"A thief of the heart," Kankuro added with a low chuckle.
"Poor little brother of mine," Temari sighed in mock-dramatic fashion, exchanging a knowing laugh with Kankuro.
Then, with lighter steps, they picked up their pace again, chasing after Gaara.
The forest around them had begun to change with the sinking sun. Shafts of amber light pierced through the canopy, painting the dirt path in streaks of gold and crimson. The cicadas hummed their restless song, while the wind carried the earthy scent of moss and fallen leaves. Long shadows stretched and swayed across the ground as the sun dipped lower, setting the world in hues of fire and fading warmth.
Their silhouettes moved swiftly against the glowing horizon—three siblings bound by blood, duty, and unspoken truths, racing through the twilight of a forest that seemed to whisper of both promise and foreboding.
---