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manikas-whims · 6 years

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A Chance at Redemption [4]

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Chapter 4: Becoming the Centrepiece

"Smile out of mannerisms, it will be fake... Smile for someone else's sake, it will be genuine..." -Sai

The sound of water dripping from a crack in the ceiling of the underground room penetrated the dead-silence of the place. Everything inside the room was eerily quiet. Even the people sitting on the wooden stools chose meaningful stares over the use of verbal communication. A sharp crack was heard and all the eyes turned to see the latest member enter through the only door to the room. His dark form was thoroughly soaked and he was heaving. When he passed a hand through his wet, off-white locks and pulled-out a red lollipop from his pocket, everyone recognised him as the leader of their small rebel group. He waved his hand at them and took a seat next to the only other person from his village; the first being himself. He felt the busty girl take a long breath of irritation and ignored her.

"Should I begin?" A deep, lazy voice asked him.

Darui was slightly, only slightly, taken aback by the question. Everyone was looking at him with a strange sort of seriousness radiating from their persona. No greetings? Okay...He sighed, pulling the lollipop to the left side of his mouth using his tongue and then spoke, "Alright, you can begin with it Shikamaru."

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and began, "I take it that most of us already know why we are here?"

Some nodded an affirmative at him while the others shrugged unknowingly.

"Today, at around seven past twenty in the evening, two strange looking guys came at my house, one of whom was carrying a huge sword behind his back. The guy with the sword was very lean and had white hair that contrasted well with his violet irises. He also had very sharp, shark-like teeth. His partner on the other hand was tall and had scarlet-red irises and an unusual sort of fiery-orange hair.." Shikamaru explained.

Everyone nodded their agreement for him to continue so he went on, "...No doubt they work for the Uchihas but..what intrigued me the most was their interest in the search of a certain kunoichi. And the girl they were looking for is.."

"Is?" Kiba pressed immediately, unable to contain his curiosity. Everyone awaited his response while Chouji started stuffing more and more chips into his mouth.

"The girl they are searching for is..", he paused for effect then finished, "Sakura Haruno."

A number of gasps and statements conveying shock, followed right after his words. It took them about two minutes to calm down from the revelation he had just made.

When the quiet of the room was restored, Ino was the first one who spoke. "I see. So this is the reason why Sakura has not been invited to this urgent meeting?" She asked.

"Yes" Temari was the one who answered.

As soon as those two weird men said their goodbyes and left the Nara Clan's Compound, an air of anxiety surrounded Temari. She wondered, if they have been questioned about their pink-haired friend then isn't it obvious that the others might've been too. When she told about this to Shikamaru, he said that he was thinking the same. Immediately after that, they ate the dinner with Shikamaru's parents and then secretly, Temari summoned her trusted weasel, Kamatari and send him with a message requesting an urgent meeting of the FoK. The minute the message reached Darui, he forwarded the message to all the other members keeping in mind the short request made by Temari at the end of the message. 'Do not call Sakura.' It read and so he complied.

Everyone was asked to report at the HQ at 2:30 sharp after midnight, without being noticed by their family members. So here they are, discussing about this latest concern. Temari insisted that Sakura must not get involved in this case and should also not know anything about this. It can be very dangerous for her already broken mental stature. Thus, Temari deemed this as the best for her.

"They appeared at the Hyuga Compounds too. And they really did ask about Sakura." Neji admitted.

Darui took a lick of his lollipop and asked, "Anyone else got to meet them? Or at least saw them?"

Shino was the only one who raised his hand in a yes. "They came and asked if I have seen any pink-haired girl around. I gave a negative response and they left. And yes, they looked just like Shikamaru has described them." Shino told Darui and the others in his solemn tone.

"I have never heard about anyone like that before. Did they participate in the war?" Samui asked, her irritation replaced by interest.

Before anymore confusion could occur, Sai intervened, "Suigetsu and Juugo."

"What?" The pale-blonde girl asked.

Sai turned to face Samui and answered, "The men Shikamaru, Neji and Shino are talking about, are Suigetsu and Juugo. They were once a part of Sasuke's Team Taka."

"And you know about them because?" Kiba asked.

"Because I used to work for the Root Division. There, I was supposed to stay up-to-date about the three former members of Team 7. And for that, I was given all the details about Sasuke's life as a Rogue Shinobi." He explained, flashing them his signature fake smile.

Nobody really liked the fake smile that Sai gave them. It was a usual thing for them but still very creepy. The boy was taken up into the Root at a very tender age and no one knows what Danzo did to turn the boy the way he is. It is hard to imagine that people can be restricted from their very own emotions just for the sake of keeping up with the standards of a shinobi. The only people who have been able to bring out any sort of change in his emotionless personality are Sakura and Naruto. Sai accepted the help of his teammates because unlike others who only saw him as a replacement for their previous teammate, both Sakura and Naruto treated him like a different individual. Like he was not any substitute for the team but a completely new member. Yes, it took them some time but they were the first ones who offered him a hand in friendship. No one else has treated him like they did. But ofcourse, new additions keep coming and in his case, this new person came in the form of a blonde, extremely enthusiastic female.

Ino is the only person who actually accepted his out of the usual behaviour and tried to help him out when Sakura and Naruto weren't around. It is hard to believe that a girl as emotional as her became really close to an emotionless guy like him. And for some odd reason, he enjoys her cheerful presence. Personally speaking, he enjoys her company the most. It will be the worst nightmare for him to lose the bond that he shares with her...

Instinctively, he whipped his head only to find her smiling softly at him. She appreciates him the way he is...

"But why are Sasuke's ex-teammates looking for my beautiful Sakura-chan?!" Lee interrupted Sai's thoughts and ask-yelled.

"That's exactly what we are here for." Temari answered, "We need to find out why these guys are after Sakura."

"Before joining Sasuke's side, those two guys were used in a regular basis as Orochimaru's test subjects." Sai stated.

"Which means that maybe they are only looking for her to cure them of any side-effects that they are suffering from because of Orochimaru's experimentation on their body." Shino suggested.

Shikamaru who had been silently listening to the whole conversation, stood up from his perch on the stool. His getting up indicated that he has properly deduced all the ideas, suggestions and conversations.

"No that cannot be the case since the one with the sword..I mean Suigetsu," Shikamaru spoke, nodding at Sai for informing them about their names and then continued, "Suigetsu himself told me that its an order given to him by his higher ups."

"Heh!" Kiba scoffed, "For what purpose would Madara want Sakura?"

"No" Shikamaru shook his head.

Everyone looked at the Nara-genius and awaited his completely figured-out response.

"Its just as Sai told us. These guys were a part of Sasuke's team." He stated matter-of-factedly.

"I have an inkling that the younger Uchiha is the one involved here." Shikamaru explained.

The moment he uttered those words, a string of 'Whats' and 'Whys' were flung at him. Everyone was confused about the involvement of the youngest Uchiha in this whole mess.

A blonde haired kunoichi was the most befuddled by hearing this. Her light blue irises looked around with anxiety. Her mind wandered around the thoughts of her best friend since childhood and then towards the aloof Uchiha Survivor, who now doesn't happen to be the only survivor. She pondered, if the boy kept away from her pink-haired friend for so long then why would he suddenly want her to come back to him? No one can really say what's going on in his head. He is just like the Kyuubi-boy used to be- unpredictable.

"But why does Sasuke want to see Sakura now? Now, after leaving her on a bench during a cold night and after already trying to kill her twice?! Wasn't that enough for him?!" Ino asked, mustering all her feelings for her friend in her words.

Apparently, her words actually struck a lot of them. Kiba, Lee and Sai's expressions saddened as if they recalled a very bad, long-forgotten memory from the recesses of their brain. Tenten shifted awkwardly in her stool and to everyone's immense surprise, Chouji's munching on the potato chips came to a halt. Even Neji and Shino looked more distant all of a sudden while Temari gave a reassuring squeeze to Shikamaru's sulking shoulder. The leader of their group and his assistant Samui were the only ones without any painful expressions on their faces. They were completely clueless about what caused such a disturbing silence amongst the members. It must've been something excruciatingly agonizing.

"I don't really know what happened between Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno in the past..." Darui began.

When everyone looked at him with their solemn expressions, he continued, "...but I suppose it would be the best if Sakura doesn't find out about this. It will only add to her tension even more. Therefore, I suggest that until we are able to desist the actions taken by Sasuke and his sidekicks, one of us must stay with Sakura at all times."

Shikamaru sighed, "Not a bad idea, Ino can stay with her after her working hours at the hospital."

"And one of us can secretly watch-over her during her time spent at the hospital." Temari added.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"I can do that." Samui spoke all of a sudden.

All the heads whipped in her direction and stared at her incredulously. After her angry chiding at Sakura during their previous meeting, no one had expected her to say something like this. Something so supportive for the pinkette.

"I said I will watch over her during her working hours at the hospital." She spoke again, this time more authoritatively so as to make everyone get her point.

"Okay then, her protection has been settled." Darui spoke, "Now, there is also this problem that most of you have still not been questioned by those two guys. So whenever you see them, try diverting their minds away from their mission and make them loose interest in the case. If this doesn't work then a silent kill will be the second option. Are we clear?" He asked.

"Yes!" Everyone shouted in unison.

"Alright then, we have another meeting tomorrow afternoon about the discussion of stopping the Hyuga Clan Extermination." Darui reminded.

Everyone nodded and then Samui announced, "Dismiss!"

All the members of the FoK exited the HQ after hearing her command and dispersed into different directions to head towards their respective homes.

Sakura woke-up by the first rays of the sun peeking at her face through the open-window in the bedroom of her small apartment. She took a long yawn before getting out of the duvet and stretching her limbs to prepare her frail body for the day. With dark-circles covering her eyes, she walked towards her bathroom. Not only has she been sleep-deprived for four months but also experiencing loss of appetite. If her body is still doing proper functioning then its all thanks to the corn-soup that she takes every morning as her daily meal. She wants to keep her body nourished but whenever she tries, she is unable to swallow even a single bite of the solid foods available at her home. The outcome of the war has effected every individual in some form. And in her case, it's the loss of sleep and appetite, which have made her already thin, athletic-built even thinner.

She stared at the sluggish-looking girl in the mirror and spoke, "I will talk to her today."

The memories of her previous day's activities flooded her brain. She recalled how determined she had been when she exited her office at the hospital. Her squared-shoulders and confident stride towards the Hyuga Compound were still fresh in her mind's eye. She had gone to talk to Hinata about the whole clan elimination thing but as soon as she reached the main doors of the pale-eyed girl's house, the images of the young heiress's weeping face returned into her thoughts. She lifted her hand but found herself unable to knock so she did the best she could- she left the Hyuga Compounds without having any kind of conversation with Hinata Hyuga over the pressing matter of her clan.

Sakura punched the mirror with all her might, frustrated at the reflection of her own form, looking sadly at her. No more casualties can be afforded. She decided that even if the fate tries obstructing her goals, she will leap over and talk Hinata out of her sorrowful state for the sake of her vulnerable clan. Etching that agenda in her mind as the main goal of the day, she picked-up her tooth brush from the sideboard.

Sakura exited her hospital's office like every other day, locking the door behind her. She recalled her aim for the day- a convincing talk with Hinata. Today, she is not going to cower-away by the mere thought of the weeping face of the Hyuga Princess. Today she will woman-up and do what she must for the good of an entire clan.

She walked out of the hospital greeting every nurse and fellow doctors on her way.

As soon as she stepped down onto the stone pavement, she was pulled into a strangling embrace. When she was released from the tight hug, her gaze fell upon her childhood best friend's form. The blue-eyed beauty dragged the pinkette along with her on the sidewalk, in the direction of the Yamanaka Flower Shop. Sakura tried questioning her actions but the blonde didnot answer. With an eerie smile plastered on her face, Ino turned her head back at the huge building of the Konoha Medical Hospital and winked at a silhouetted figure on the rooftop of the building. A heavily-busted girl emerged from the shadows and winked back at the long, ponytailed girl. When the young Yamanaka Heiress turned back to face her bestie, the girl on the rooftop top vanished in a poof of smoke. Their plan is working pretty well. Now that Samui has done her part in guarding Sakura, its Ino's turn.

It was three in the afternoon and the sun was at its peak, shining fiercely in the sky. A tall, raven-haired man passed a hand through his dark locks and looked-up at the high building before him- The Hokage Tower. The man was summoned by his great grandfather to meet him for an important discussion at the said place. He sighed, wiping the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead because of the heat radiations from the sun. As if the hot temperature wasn't enough, his black sweatpants and equally matching T-shirt increased the heat even more. But still, this is the colour that suits his aloof persona, so it is best to wear these. Breathing out another sigh of irritation, he entered the Tower.

On reaching the top floor, he slammed-open the door that led to the office of the head of this village without even considering a polite knock. The man sitting on the chair before the desk only smirked at his behaviour and stood-up.

"Sasuke, I have been waiting for you." He spoke.

The young man scoffed, "What do you want, Madara?"

Another man present in the room, who had been completely ignored by Sasuke up until now walked over to him and spoke up, "Is this how you treat your elders?!"

The eldest amongst the three smirked even more. Both his grandsons are completely poles apart. They are nothing like each-other. One is a conceited, aloof, self-righteous youngster while the other is a middle-aged obedient sycophant. Both are strong enough to win against all odds yet when it comes to choosing one, Madara will nominate the younger one because even though he is a hot-headed man, Sasuke owns a perfect pair of Sharingan. Plus, he is well-acquainted with the hatred that comes with these eyes. Sasuke will be Madara's choice as a successor any day without any doubts.

"Did you find her, Sasuke?" Madara asked.

"Find who?" The younger one asked his own question.

Madara immediately understood that Sasuke is only playing with him. He knows what the whole deal is about but still wants to hear it from his great grandfather. Some guts he has.

"The girl that you've been looking for. Have you found her?" Madara asked the complete question this time.

"Not yet." came the curt response.

"Why you?! Behave yourselves infront of Madara-sama!" The other grandson scolded Sasuke again.

"I'm trying." Sasuke teased.

Although it may look like a normal banter between two blood-relatives but in case of the Uchihas, one must be very careful. Madara noticed the hostility in Sasuke's eyes and the glare of the other one. So, before their anger could escalate any further, he diffused the scene.

"Good Sasuke, for answering truthfully. You must find her by the end of this week. However I shall remind you that you only have two days and today before this week comes to an end. Hope this much time will be more than enough for you?" Madara asked in a firm voice.

"I will find her by tonight." Sasuke stated with an air of ego about his words and left the tower. If this is what he had been called here for, then it was a complete waste of his precious time.

The other man kept glaring at the youngest member of their prestigious clan leave without any sense of respect for their leader. No wonder Orochimaru took him in to join his lair of misfits.

"Obito" Madara called out and the man turned his gaze away from the door to face his great grandfather.

"Yes, Madara-sama?" He bowed.

"Don't worry too much about Sasuke's behaviour. He is exactly how I used to be." Madara said.

"I see. If this what you want from me then I will stop interfering in his matters." Obito bowed again.

"Hmm..." Madara nodded, "You may take your leave."

With that said Obito bowed once more to their clan's leader and left the Hokage's office.

"Man..we're getting nowhere with this." muttered an utterly bored Suigetsu.

His tall accompanist looked down at him with no hints of sympathy. He was not at all worried about the water-loving boy's boredom, he was more concerned about his master's constantly growing anger because of their failure in finding the woman he so desperately wants to see. If they don't find her by the end of this week then only fate knows what Sasuke has in store for them. It is important for them to do this to quell Sasuke's furious stature of mind.

"We need to find her." Juugo mumbled determinedly.

"But-"

Before Suigetsu could argue, Juugo stopped him and glanced at a building towards his left. Confused by his actions, Suigetsu also peeked out to assess the cause of Juugo's interest. It was an ordinary flower shop, one of those where you can search through or request for the bunch of your choice. What was so special about it, Suigetsu could not see.

He simply asked his tall partner, "What?"

Juugo's eyes squinted as he continued staring at the store, "Look at the Banner."

Suigetsu quirked his brows but then did as he was asked to and indeed, he too was just as dumbfounded as his fiery-haired comrade. There in pure Kanji, on the centre of the banner was the name of the shop, etched in big and concise letters: Yamanaka's Flower Shop. For a duration of full three and a half minutes their eyes remained glued to the banner. It felt like one of those experiences wherein you keep talking nonsense about something and suddenly that thing appears out of nowhere. Suigetsu took a huge gulp, not of the water stored in his small pack but of the anxiety and excitement building up in the pit of his belly.

"But I thought this civilian gossip was a...plain rumour." Suigetsu mutter confusedly.

"But seems like...it is true afterall." Juugo muttered back.

Unconsciously, their legs initiated the short jog towards the shop, halting only when they reached right at its door. If the civilians were sure about sighting a pink-haired female at the Yamanaka's Flower Shop, then maybe this is the evidence that they had been waiting for. Both of them exchanged a glance and nodded their heads before pushing-open the door to the shop.

Sakura sighed for the umpteenth time as she stared at the customers searching through the different assortments of flowers to find the perfect ones for their loved ones. She wanted to lash-out at her best friend for dragging her unwillingly to the Flower Shop owned by her parents. She was so determined to talk Hinata into helping them out for the Mission of the FoK but Ino kept ignoring her. So now here she is, helping her friend with handling the shop.

To calm her worried soul, Ino also informed her that the meeting of the FoK has been shifted to 12 o' clock midnight for some unknown reason. This provided Sakura a breath of relief and she rejoiced at the thought that still has a lot of time to convince Hinata and then bring her along to join the meeting held tonight. But then, her goal will only turn into a reality if she ever manages to sneak out of this shop without being noticed by her chirpy best friend.

"Excuse me, can you help me find the Lilacs?" A man asked her.

She walked around the counter and guided the man towards the flowers he had asked for. Ino was busy in the backyard, helping out some customers with a few exotic varieties of shrubs. Sakura's intuition told her to use this moment to her advantage and attempt her escapade.

She recalled the way Samui had called her a 'bitch' and how Tenten was angry at her for failing in being able to bring Hinata to their previous meeting. Not only that, everyone else present there was also slightly disappointed by her. She needs to get over the label of being 'weak'. And for this sole purpose, she is going to milk Hinata into joining the FoK. She took a long breath to calm her quivering heart and decided to leave the shop.

As she lifted her legs to make a dash out of the shop, she heard the door to the shop being pushed open. For some reason, she felt her intuition poking her to have a peak at the incoming customers. She excused herself from the man examining the lilacs and walked to the door, making sure there were no flaws in her henge that could lead her into trouble. In a flash, she found herself hurled onto the cold, wooden floor and gasped.

A/N: So this is it for the fourth chapter of A Chance at Redemption. I know it ended kind of like a cliff-hanger but I'll update soon.

This time the Opening Quote is given to Sai. I don't really know if anyone's even reading them but anyways XD

So what do you think of all these events revolving directly or indirectly around Sakura?

Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.

Like/Reblog/Share

*NEXT CHAPTER WILL POSTED WHEN THIS ONE REACHES 20 NOTES.

Much Love

~Manika

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#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #angst #hate #post war #hardships #love #redemption

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hoe-imaginess · 7 years

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Hi this is a tricky request but I wanted to send it in anyway because I love love love what you write, and I’m sure you would make it so good. Do you think you can write a scenario for Gaara confessing to a girl that has known him since childhood and was nice to him. She’s seen him grow from a child to Kazekage and she’s always supported him and loved him, but she thought he never felt anything for her? Thanks, love you lots!

I’m sorry I feel like I didn’t write this very well... but love you too

word count: 5.5k

Gaara

⤰⤰⤰

She takes tentative steps toward the Kazekage’s office.

Her hesitation might have dissuaded her from this all together, but that hesitation is overpowered by a sense of determination—determination stemming from years of itching aspirations that have agonized her as of late.

When talk of war spread throughout the Suna, her first and only concern was the Kazekage. She should have been ashamed for letting her concentration drift to such trivial matters when the shinobi world was in danger; where were her priorities? What kind of kunoichi was she, impulsively putting heart over mind?

But it was no use denying her feelings.

Anguish had come tumbling down into despair. Merciless reality dawned on her; there was every chance that she may not come back from this war. So many shinobi wouldn’t. If she was to be one of them, well… what was holding her back from doing this? What kept her from disposing of the weight that had so grievously ached in her heart for so long? She had to tell him. She had to tell Gaara.

The determination vanishes and her ambition seems a foolish one only when she comes to stand outside his office door.

She hears voices inside. Gaara’s: tentative and soft as he discusses diplomacy. It must be an important meeting.

Her mind races for a reason to leave and abandon this futile endeavor. Not disturbing the Kazekage while he tended to his duties seemed good enough.

But just as she turns on her heel to make haste, the door opens.

“I’ll have Temari-san send you the report, Kazekage-sama,” the man who appears on the other side says. He stands with his foot halfway out the door, turned away from her. She freezes, unable to move.

“Thank you,” she hears his tender voice from inside the room. It has her heart skipping a beat; a blush heating her cheeks.

The unfamiliar man turns and pauses when he notices her, but only regards her a moment longer before moving past and departing.

He did, however, neglect to close the door.

Gaara sees her just as she thinks better of her ambitions, and makes to leave.

“______,” he calls her name.

His tone is curious, but firm, persuading her attention and miraculously quelling any thoughts she has of shying away. At least, for the moment.

“Kazekage-sama.” She gives him a faint smile, aware by the nervous twitches in her face that it’s a smile impaired by simmering anxieties.

“Is there something you need?” he asks.

Unconsciously, she steps into the office, glancing around the place as if some piece of furniture in the room will give her the courage to speak.

“I just… came to see how you were doing.”

His brow raises, curious; his hands cross on his desk. This is interesting. Unexpected, and probably very ill-timed given the state of current, burgeoning affairs, but... interesting, nonetheless. And admittedly, appreciated.

“I’m well,” he answers. “And you?”

“I’m fine, I just…” She wonders if he can see through the lie by the tap of her foot and the nervous flicker of her eyes. Finally, she chuckles, softly and weakly: an attempt to soothe her own nerves. “This talk of war has just been... unsettling. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you.”

Difficult indeed, he thinks to himself woefully. War would be the only way to end the shinobi world’s dispute, he knows, yet the volatility of his past calls out to him and tells him of promised chaos. He hates to think about it, despite it being his job to do so.

Now, however, the apprehension is calmed by a sense of comfort. That she would take the time out of her day and inquire on his well-being… Well, it’s typical of her. She always seemed to favor altruism, even at the expense of her own welfare.

Despite how fondly he ponders on her kindness, there’s something in her tone, something in her very frame, that speaks volumes of dormant troubles.

“Well,” he begins, “the shinobi world hasn’t been this active in a long time. Certainly not since I took on the Kazekage mantle. But I have faith in our armies, and our alliances. There’s no need to worry.” He puts on a frown, despite his practiced composure. “More importantly, are you sure that you’re alright?”

His persistence, though by no means assertive, is what gets her heart flaring again. She knows that this is a sensible opportunity to speak to him. Knows that if the words she so desperately wants—needs—to speak aren’t spoken now, that they may never be spoken at all if she were to be killed in the imminent war.

Then again, she has to wonder: will burdening him with a confession be an irrevocably selfish act? Will she only be meddling with his concentration when the very fate of the world is in the balance?

All she had ever wanted to do was support him. To comfort him. To let him know that she never once feared him or hated him. The complete opposite, actually. She knew she loved him. She had known for a long time now.

“I know this is inappropriate,” she begins cautiously, pulse quickening, “but…”

But what? What can she say?

Her plans had seemed so solid before: she would confess, bow, leave, and hope that he could forget it ever happened, maybe find it in him not to shame her with the courtesy of pity.

But now she’s uncertain. This has to be a mistake, she convinces herself. This is silly. This is stupid.

This is something you need, her subconscious reminds her.

The earlier confidence returns in gradual waves. The pressures of hard-suppressed emotion can only be tamed for so long, she knows. If she’s going to do this, let it be now, by her own volition.

She straightens, looks him right in the eye, and sucks in a calming breath.

“I know this is sudden, but I—”

“Kazekage-sama,” the gruff voice comes from behind her.

When she quickly shuts her mouth and colors with distress, her first thought is in hindsight.

Of course now wasn’t the right time. Of course she was foolish to do this. They were about to declare war. Gaara is busy. He doesn’t have time for her. She was but an infinitesimal distraction in the monumental responsibility resting in his hands.

Her cheeks burn with the realization of what she was about to say. A confusing mixture of disappointment and relief floods through her as she watches Gaara’s attention shift to the envoy that steps into his office.

The Kazekage has the distinct urge to tell the man to give him a moment. He needs to hear what she has to say.

She looks morbidly nervous. What could have possibly flustered her so? What was inappropriate? What was sudden? What did she need to say?

But then he remembers who he is. The Kazekage of the Sand. And he remembers the dilemma staring them down: the eve of war.

He can’t let emotion get in the way now, whatever emotion it is that he was currently feeling. He doesn’t know. He can’t name it. All he knows is that looking at her stand there in her disquieted state, shrinking into herself, hurts him.

“Forgive me, _____,” he says to her, shaking away his confusions, completely ignorant to the tangle of grief in her heart. “This is an inopportune time. But I would like to hear what you have to say. Another time, perhaps.”

It pains her to hear him say it; as if she were a mere nuisance in the bulk of his life. Yet, she knows that’s simply her desperation fighting rationality: she is a nuisance.

This had been a folly aspiration from the start, she decides. Her thoughts will be better left unsaid.

She bows. “Yes, Kazekage-sama.”

As she leaves, the weight of despair quickly returns like a second skin.

⤰

A few short days into the regime, Gaara calls for the Fourth Division to base.

Injuries are regrettably profuse, and Gaara doesn’t want to force his company to persevere any longer than what their afflictions can handle. It would be foolish to run into battle with so many incapacitated. He won’t risk that. Yet, he can’t help but worry over how long they can afford to idle. The margin for reprieve is thin; but the casualties and wounded: abundant.

A quick visit into the medical tent tells him as much. To greet him are gentle expressions of pain, miserable moans of agony, and even bones cracking as they’re ruggedly popped back into place. The suffering fills his ears; despondent thoughts fill his mind. He had expected nothing less from a war, but it’s harrowing, nevertheless.

At the back of the tent, he sees her.

She sits on an empty cot, cleaning dirty medical utensils. A solemn gloom curtains her features. Something is exhausting her normally cordial aura. For some reason, it unsettles him as strongly as any of the other injurious sights in the vicinity.

Not sensing his approach, she’s startled when he says her name.

She glances up at him slowly, too drained to let the surprise register. Her eyes are heavy and red, the skin beneath them dry and chafed. She’s been drying tears away, he realizes.

“Kazekage-sama, I…” Her gaze moves to her lap, unable to maintain eye contact.

She hopes he doesn’t inquire about their last encounter. She can only assume it’s the reason he’s here; why else would he seek her out? A random, irrelevant medic in the midst of war?

“Are you alright, ____?” he asks.

She offers no answer. Not at first. The sullen constriction in her throat denies words, words that are better left unspoken. She knows it would only welcome another flood of misery.

“I’m fine.” It’s meager, and choked out. Then he sees the bloodied bandage wrapped around her leg. A fresh wound, he deduces. Either it’s untreated, or too deep to wholly heal with jutsu alone.

“Your leg,” he mutters.

She follows his eyes, and folds her skirts over the bandage to hide it, as if embarrassed. A stab to her gut had been narrowly avoided only by a quick-footed reaction, but the blade sliced a good portion of her thigh. It still stings, as if the steel was sinking into her flesh even now.

But she can’t focus on her own wounds. Not if she wants to substantiate her role as a medic. Not when lives have been lost.

“Why haven’t you healed your wound?” he asks, softly, in respect for the painfully obvious anguish that encumbers her.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she promises: a blatant lie he sees straight through. “I just…”

Then he sees her eyes glued to the bed behind him. He follows her gaze, and laments at the fresh corpse being wrapped up in a sheet by two medics.

He doesn’t see the deceased kunoichi’s face, only the deep gash down her torso and the rags which had been used to soak the wound, now dried with blood.

“I’ve just been…” Her voice is lost. It’s as they carry the kunoichi’s body away that the first tear spills down her cheek.

Her childhood friend. They had attended the academy together. Ate lunch together every day. Played out in the cool summer nights when the hot sun wasn’t so burdensome. Learned and trained together.

They had grown up together.

And she had to watch her die.

Had to watch the life leave her eyes as she failed to save her. Her hands were still stained with her blood; the utensils she currently set about cleaning: still stained with her blood.

Gaara can only watch as her face slowly molds with pain. The fleeting attempt to keep her composure is in vain and before he knows it, she’s trembling and sniffling, wiping the tears she can catch with her sleeve.

In truth, he had come to her in order to satisfy his curiosity. The words she had left unspoken in his office that day badgered him with their mystery ever since. Why, he didn’t know. Dozens of people flooded into his office every hour with their questions, concerns, and reports. Even kindly, innocuous visits, as hers had seemingly been, came on occasion. But he can’t shake it from his mind. He can’t shake her from his mind.

But he knows he can’t ask her to speak her truths now, not when she’s hurting.

The same odd, foreign feelings of warmth and need come to him. He won’t bother interpreting them; he never can. All he knows is that he wants to make the tears stop. Seeing her cry brings back painful memories for him. He can never stand watching someone cry without their tears dampening his own soul. And seeing tears on her face makes it all the worse.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” she sniffles out. “I just…”

Gaara is disheartened by the frailty of her voice. He’s never seen her like this before: so dejected and unsure of herself. She was always so strong and optimistic.

When he sits down next to her, her first impulse is to move away. Nevertheless, it’s impossible not to relax when a gentle arm wraps around her, clutches her opposite shoulder in a firm, but comforting grip.

He doesn’t say anything, not at first. He lets her cry. For however long, he doesn’t remember; until the tears dissipate and she’s no longer trembling with deep anguish. It’s only then that she finds her voice. And quietly, he hears it:

“I’m sorry… that I’m so weak.”

He wants to tell her that she’s not weak. Of course she’s not. Losing a comrade isn’t easy. A friend, even less so. The grief is solicited. No one would question it. And were she to tell him of the shame in her own misgivings, that she felt she could have done more, that it was her fault that her friend was now a corpse, he would have chastised her—gently, albeit—for thinking such a thing.

It isn’t her fault. War is war. Devastating. Somber. Unforgiving. She doesn’t need to apologize. She isn’t weak. He doesn’t want her to think that.

He has the impulse to move hair out of her face; rub her back, maybe even lift her head to coax her to look him in the eyes—

“Kazekage-sama.” A hefty voice demands his attention.

Of course a moment like this could not be afforded in war.

A shinobi approaches hurriedly, diverting Gaara’s attention, yet he doesn’t remove his arm. It makes her heart beat fast in her chest.

“There’s been a report from the Intel Unit,” the shinobi announces. “Temari-san would like to speak with you.”

It’s almost regretful that he has to let her go, but he does, regardless. Even more upsetting, is that she’s already shifted away from him and returned her focus to the utensils in her lap, dirtied with the blood of her childhood friend. It’s a commendable, but saddening diligence with which she goes back to cleaning the things.

Nevertheless, Gaara sees it unreasonable to protest against her task, and stands to his feet.

“Heal your wound, _____. That’s more important right now.”

She glances up, confused and unsuspecting of what sounded like... an order. His voice does register much firmer than he intends, but his eyes are soft and pleading.

Perhaps it’s the guilt from having drawn Gaara’s attention from important affairs in the first place that fuels her, but she knows she must obey, and nods. This is war. She keeps reminding herself of that. Gaara shouldn’t have been in here, comforting her: a meager kunoichi; one in thousands who didn’t solicit his attention. Yet here he had been anyway, the Kazekage, with the means to console her.

Why did it pain her more than it soothed her?

Gaara watches her only a moment longer, conflict rising in him as he juggles duty and sentiment.

As he walks away in pursuit of the shinobi, he can’t shake invading thoughts of sadness.

⤰

Post-war peace isn’t the salvation she thought it would be.

The world has changed, undoubtedly; she welcomes the equilibrium with open arms. Still, the battle has left its mark.

The Tsukuyomi engraved in her a life she could have never imagined. The happiness she could never reach.

For that, she hated it. Hated what was supposed to be a newfound peace, hated the life she would be forced to live: hopeless and full of longing. She couldn’t settle with that.

During the war, there were so many moments which she was certain would be her last. As a kunoichi, it’s only expected that one be prepared for death at any moment—but she wasn’t ready. Her heart was too heavy and her conscience too opaque.

Her dream in the Tsukuyomi only furthered this sense of impervious closure. She needed to relieve this heartache. Even if it meant severing her calm forever.

She enters the Kazekage’s office once he permits her, heart clenching at the mere sight of him.

Gaara’s expression is bleak; not as though to offend her, and not in confusion. Rather, he’s patiently expectant. She looks nervous, as she does so often these days.

Everyone seemed to be in good spirits since the war was over. He certainly was. To see the world coming together in harmony and brushing aside the contention of the past was a relief.

Yet, watching her expression harden in reluctant concentration now, makes that optimism dwindle.

When she doesn’t speak, he clears his throat. “How are you?”

His voice is gentle and careful. It relaxes her, but just as quickly despairs her when the deceitfully promising memories of her dream return.

She remembers the way he spoke to her in the dream: soft and intimate; the way he held her hands in his; the smile on his face before he leaned in close to kiss her lips.

A happy life. An unattainable life.

It left her desperately aware of how much she cared for him, and how thin the chances were that she would ever see the euphoria made into a reality. It wasn’t fair. Not at all.

“I’m doing well, Kazekage-sama,” she finally answers. She wonders if the optimism in her tone is believable, or painfully transparent. “How are you?”

It bothers him: the evident strain in their conversation. “I’m well.”

After that, there’s nothing. Every second that passes in pause makes her heart heavier.

Again, he clears his throat, tension putting him on edge. “I hear the medical unit is scrambling to consolidate what little supplies are left after the war…” Scarcity. So heavy now. Almost as dangerous as the battle itself. “I know that must be frustrating. Especially when so many medical-nin are being deployed across the land in an effort to reconstruct—”

“I’m leaving.”

That shuts him up fast.

He blinks.

“You’re… leaving?”

She takes a deep breath, unable to relax the knot in her stomach, long tethered by conflicting emotions. So many years. So many years of confusion and longing and heartache– she can’t bite her tongue now. What needs to be said, must be said. This is no time for regretful equivocation.

She nods, but can’t look at him. “I’m going with one of the medical teams. To the Iwa. They’re in need of medics. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but…”

“Well, I…” What can he say? Why is he suddenly so roused with dread and confusion? “I wasn’t aware…”

“I think it’s just best I get away from the village for a while.”

Forever, she almost says.

The thought saddens him. His heart is heavier than he remembers. His hands grab the fabric covering his legs. He’s antsy.

“____,” he speaks her name softly. ”...Why do you say that?”

“Well…”

She can’t keep the feelings inside forever. Ever since the war had ended, a hankering desire for reprieve was her only accomplice.

She thought of nothing else; woke in the mornings with nothing else on her mind except the desire to have this weight off of her shoulders.

“The Suna has… many able medics,” she begins. “Medics that willdo good here. But me, I… don’t want to be a nuisance. I know I will be—”

“That’s not true.”

She looks at him. His expression is almostunreadable.

Pity. That must be it: the only reason he’s trying to reassure her. There’s no other reason that he would be tolerating her right now.

But if she looked deeper into his vibrant eyes, if only she could see the sincerity there, then she would know…

“Is there something bothering you?” he asks, hating the silence.

Conflicting thoughts consume her. What should she do? He furnishes the opportunity for her, so why won’t she take it?

He persists, “...Does this have anything to do with what you meant to tell me that day, ____?”

Her heart beats fast in her chest. Her body is near trembling with anticipation, with long-repressed frustration and pain and doubt.

She can only nod.

He studies her closely, watches the trepidation take hold of her. As if it’s infectious, he finds his own heart is beating rapidly, and he can’t sit still in his chair. Why is he so anxious?

“I see… Well then, what’s on your mind? What is it you needed to tell me?”

“I—” She stops as quickly as she begins, confidence suddenly a difficult thing to muster. Why did the encouraging clarity come and go in frustrating waves?

Her heart plunges at the idea of flustering him. Of annoying him. Of upsetting him. No one wants to hear such a deplorable clamor. She had no business troubling the Kazekage with her pitiful sorrows.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I…”

When she braves the task of finally looking at him, her heart flutters and her body goes rigid at the sight of his soft eyes, gazing into her intently, with a latent purpose and design she can’t decipher.

But he speaks no words. His expression falters, as if he wants to say something. But nothing comes.

She sucks in a shaky breath.

“I love–”

She stops.

His eyes go wide. He doesn’t breathe. He waits for her to continue.

She doesn’t.

She wants the ground to open and swallow her. She wants to go back in time, to never walk into this office, to never put herself, or him, in this position.

This is a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I—” She shakes her head, rattled by the intensity of it all. “I have to go. Goodbye.”

Tears sting her eyes as she bows clumsily. The,n she leaves before he can say a word.

Gaara can’t move.

He wants to. He wants to call to her, to go after her.

But he can’t. He’s confused and shocked and can’t harness his racing thoughts.

⤰

When he walks into the medical center the next day, Gaara’s heart clenches for some reason he can’t explain.

He had certainly thought about her for the better half of the night. It was impossible to focus on anything else but her fragile voice and anxious eyes.

She… loved him? Is that what she was going to say? He wasn’t so naïve or dense to assume otherwise. It would be foolish to rule out that possibility.

But no. It couldn’t be.

He knew better than to think such a silly thing. Why would she love him?

Ever since they were children, she was always there. Always in the background. In his peripheral. At the back of crowds. Always looking at him. Always looking for him.

Even in the days when no one dared look him in the eye for fear of their demise, she defied the fear and watched him. Not as if he were a monster: not like the way everyone else watched him.

No. She had always been gentle. Curious, perhaps, in her ogling. But gentle.

Always there, and always gentle.

She had been there at his Kazekage ceremony, smiling up at him proudly. He remembers watching her face in the crowd.

She had even the first to congratulate him, in fact, when news of his anointment first spread.

Always there. Always smiling at him. That lovely, kind smile.

Always there.

But now, she was going to leave.

Why does it devastate him? Why does it feel like a piece of him is being ripped away?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the alarming dismay that runs through him.

All he knows is that it hurts. Somehow, he can’t imagine life in the Suna without her; home won’t feel like home. He doesn’t know what he would do with her gone.

And he certainly doesn’t know what he’s doing by walking into the medical encampment to find her, yet there he is.

She’s packing supplies when he finds her.

Hushed whispers from the other medics draw her attention toward the door, and she flushes when she sees him.

The Kazekage, staring right at her and at nothing else. Like she’s the only thing in the room.

“May I have a word with you, _____?” He wastes no time on formalities. They were a triviality in the wind in the wake of his worries.

The other medics stare blankly; some whispers persist.

Finally, Gaara addresses the others in the room with a look. His expression is calm, in no way sharpened with impatience, yet they understand: this is a conversation to be had in private.

They file out quickly, bowing to Gaara as they depart. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“So you really are leaving,” he says when the room is clear and the silence eats at them.

Saying it out loud makes the reality of it sting even more. And the fact she won’t even look at him does nothing for the throbbing tightness in his chest.

She nods. The mere idea of it is accompanied by remarkable pain: pain she’s come to accept. It’s the only way she can see to end her heartache.

“Yes.”

She’ll see him again, one day. Hopefully. When the idea of him and the unreachable dream of them being together no longer keeps her up at night. When she can think about him and not feel the twisting heat in her chest.

Looking at her now, Gaara knows there’s something wrong. Apprehension creeps into him; a sense of urgency fills his pulse. There’s a sense of confusion muddying his thoughts. A sense of yearning.

But what does he yearn for? Her? Does he yearn for her? Is that what he’s felt all this time?

“If I had known before that you planned to leave…” He stops, not knowing what he means to say. The promise of sentiment in his words is enough to have her eyes tailor with hope, then they lose their glow just as fast.

She’s played this cyclical game of agony before. She shouldn’t expect anything out of it. She can’t.

Yet she has to know.

“What is it, Kazekage-sama?” The tight desperation is crystal in her voice.

There’s no reply he can offer her that will suffice. His own thoughts are a chaotic horde. There’s no way to meld them into words. All he can do is stare at her: a doting gaze that would normally blossom warmth within her—but now there’s dread and anguish to accompany it.

When the silence is close to killing her, she turns away from him, back to her bag to resume packing.

“The medical unit will be departing soon.” Her voice is soft and gentle, almost strained as she fights back tears. But she promised herself no more. The tears shed for him the day before and all through the night would be her last. No more.

He doesn’t speak, only watches her haste with a heavy heart.

She’s really going to do it. She’s really going to leave. She’s going to leave the Suna. And then…

Then what?

Why is the void already opening? Is it really so difficult for him to imagine his life without her? The smiles, the gentle voice, the calming but intriguing conversations—they’ll all disappear with her.

She’s packed now. She’s bowing, speaking tentative words he can’t decipher under her breath. It’s when she passes him and makes for the door that the mess of his thoughts pushes him into action.

“You don’t have to go.”

She stops. Garbled thoughts flutter through her head. Then there’s nothing. No anticipation. No sense of trying to figure out what he means. It makes her heart soar, nonetheless.

When she turns to look at him, his expression hasn’t changed, but his eyes are pinned on her, tinted with a sense of disarray, revealing of the words that he struggles to speak. Words that can’t find his tongue.

“You… don’t have to go,” he repeats again, methodical, as if articulation is a feeble, far cry.

She swallows thickly, forcing her gaze not to stray from his face.

“You mean… to the Iwa?”

He nods slowly, numbed by the sudden onset of emotions in him. “Yes.”

Why the floodgates choose to break now, she won’t bother guessing, but when she looks away from him, confused and flustered, her eyes gloss over and a tear slips down her cheek. The threads of her conviction come undone so easily in his presence. It’s frustrating.

She wipes the tear away quickly, unable to regain composure. Her thoughts are too riddled and her heart too heavy.

“But… why?” is all she can manage.

“Yesterday,” he begins quietly, “you said that you—”

“No, I didn’t.”

The vehemence behind the denial visibly disconcerts him. In regret, she lowers her tone, but the pain is evident. “I didn’t mean to be so emotional—I just… I didn’t know what I was doing. I just…”

He allows her a moment to collect her thoughts, though he doubts that the task is completely attainable at this point.

Then, a question he speaks with tentative hope: “What you said—almost said… did you mean it?”

She sniffles; the tears fall harder. Of course she meant it. Is he playing with her? Antagonizing her? Manipulating her already so mangled heart?

No. Gaara wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

But why should he ask for the truth? Why does he care? Why does he care about how she feels?

“If you did…” Determination is difficult to grasp, he’s finding. “If you did, then don’t go.”

She’s confused, and lacking the sense to understand what it means right now. Deep down, however, she knows; the tears come a little harder.

“I already decided,” she insists, voice broken behind the beginnings of an easy sob. “I have to go.”

“I…” He shuts his eyes, as if it will help him seize the words he so desperately seeks. The words that will convince her. The words that will keep her with him.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Apparently, his creativity is lacking in the face of desperation.

“But why?” The intensity returns to her voice, making worse the sound of her composure under the tears.

He wishes he could say something to appease her, to make those tears stop. He hates seeing her like this, knowing he’s the source of her pain.

He repeats her question in his mind over and over; it befuddles and daunts him at the same time: Why?

He can’t say it. Not now. What can he say? Can he tell her about the recent nights when his feelings had been so quarrelsome that he lost sleep? That he spent hours in his office wondering why his heart was so heavy after he saw her, at the thought of losing her? How cumbersome of a task it was to focus on his work ever since she hinted at this confession before the war?

He still doesn’t know what it means to him. Not completely. Intimacy and affection have been strangers to him most of his life. He needs time.

All he knows is that if she leaves now, now that his head is cleared most ardently for the first time in years, maybe all of his life…

No. He can’t lose her.

“I just don’t want you to go. After what you said yesterday… You can’t.” She doesn’t deny it this time. It’s futile. At this point, he sounds like he’s pleading. “Now that the war is over, I hope we find more time to see each other. It would be a shame for you to leave and…” Suddenly, at the thought of forcing her into this, he shakes his head, feeling guilty. “If you want to stay, then you should.”

Her expression changes.

He can’t tell if that’s a good thing. He wonders if he was too vague, or maybe even too forward.

For a moment, it appears as though the tears have stopped. But when she looks at him, they come again, fresh and hot and spilling down her cheeks.

His stomach ties into knots. Panic grips him. Is this too much pressure on her? Did he… do something wrong?

In vain, she attempts to wipe the tears away. Filled to the brim with emotion, she’s unable to stop now.

“I’m just… I don’t know.” She wonders if he can even understand her through the teary-eyed slur of her words. “I feel so… stupid. I’m sorry.”

He takes a step toward her, takes the hand not wiping away tears into his own, and squeezes gently.

He hopes she stops crying. If not, then he at least feels better touching her… for whatever reason.

“______…” Her name always sounds so tender coming off his lips. So tender and genuine. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

She sniffles, then remarkably, she laughs.

“You haven’t. You just…” She looks at him finally, eyes glossed with tears. “I thought that you wouldn’t care.”

It saddens him. To think she misinterpreted his feelings, or rather, didn’t notice them at all… well, it isn’t completely unfathomable. He hadn’t even understood them, until now.

Never had the idea of her not being here been a possibility. And he certainly never would have imagined it to be such a haunting one. Only recently had his chest began to swirl in an odd unease when he was around her. His emotions had never been this strong.

She sniffles, timidity begging her eyes to stray from his—but she refuses to shy away anymore. Not when he’s being so inviting, and so warm. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

She shakes her head in vain. It’s the only thing she knows how to do. It’s then that she looks away from him again. “I’m sorry, just—”

“No.” This time he squeezes her hand a little harder. “Don’t say it. Don’t apologize. Really. For anything.”

The authority in his tone isn’t assertive. It’s pleading, if anything: an attempt to comfort her in the storm of her turmoil.

She dries her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling and allowing the tension in her face to leave before she gathers the courage to look at him once again.

Her lip trembles. She can hear her own heart beating in her ears. But those comforting eyes of his never cease to do their work.

The silence this time ushers in no anxiety or discomfort—only ease.

He wonders if she’s even changed her mind. Distress grips him at the notion.

“So… Will you stay?”

A smile breaks the lingering strain of uncertainty in her features. She looks confident, and at ease.

Gently, she says, “If my Kazekage orders me to.”

His face softens. He nods. Relief floods him. He holds her hand a little tighter.

Why it took him so long to figure it out, he doesn’t know. Happiness wasn’t always an easy thing to find. But maybe, it had been right in front of him all along.

⤰ ⤰ ⤰ ⤰

I know he he didn’t actually confess SORRY I just couldn’t see him saying it that fast. It takes a while for Gaara to say it. Hopefully this suffices though

#gaara #scenario #naruto imagines #gaara x reader

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