Sakura got to the dusty ravine to lead to Suna just before dawn on the fourth day of her run. There was no one waiting for her at the checkpoint; she couldn’t sense any sand nin lurking along the wind-scoured caves and crags along the sides of the canyon. But she felt the ground vibrate beneath her and she understood; Gaara, untrusting and sleepless, was guarding the city through the sand at her feet

She wandered down the winding road through clusters of beehive houses that glowed faintly in the fading starlight, struck by the shuttered windows and the all-encompassing silence of the village. Curfew, she thought, peering down a darkened alleyway as the wind whistled and sent eddies of sand brushing past her legs. Every few minutes, she felt the faint whisper of solitary nin whisking over the rooftops on private errands. None of them paused to check the foreign chakra signature on the streets below, trusting the sand defense that pulsed beneath the village like a strange heartbeat.

The sentry at the entrance of the Kazekage’s tower warned her against disturbing Gaara’s vigil before sunrise and directed her to a small meeting room on the third floor. Once the daytime guard was dispatched, the Kazekage would be free to receive his honored guest, but until then, could diplomat-san please remain here? Sakura agreed good-naturedly, and the man went back to his post, leaving her alone with a long table and a dozen stacked chairs.

She sighed and leaned against the table, tucking a bit of pink hair behind her ear. She was starting to remember how much of diplomatic dealing was made up of strategic waiting, punctuated by flurries of dinners and treaties and fist-pounding shouting matches. Sakura hoped that this trip would have more treaties than shouting matches, because ass-kickings usually didn’t lead to peaceful international relations. Unfortunately.

Minutes went by.

Sakura pulled the shuriken pouch off her leg and flicked it open, pulling out one of the throwing stars and testing the edge. She tossed it above her head, lodging it in the ceiling tiles with a dull thump. Another shuriken followed, followed by another, followed by a kunai, until a large part of her weapons arsenal was stuck to the ceiling.

She sat there for a quarter of an hour, watching gravity slowly work the points lose, before she stood on the table and reached up to tug the weapons free.

And then the Kazekage’s brother walked in.