AN: Hey look, I wrote something that isn't KibaHina! Lol. Well, if anyone's wondering where I've been, and I say the same thing every time, life is just busy and inspiration has been lacking for the better part of the last few years. I'm still here, guys. Every favorite, every review, everything goes straight to my inbox. I see it all and it means a lot to me that I still have you guys. Thank you. As for my KibaHina fics, I'll probably continue one day, but not now. I'm trying something new and sometimes I honestly want to cringe or slam my face into my desk when I read some of my old fanfics and think, "oh God, no, gross, that's so dirty, omfg, why, why, why, ew, *blushes*, holy shit I really used to be a perverted high school weeb virgin." XD

Anywho, about this fic. Most of you are probably wondering "Who the fuck is Shijima Houki? Is she an OC?" No. She's a character in the written novel of the Naruto post-chapter 699 series of novels, a main character in Gaara Hiden. If you'd like to read up on her, just google "Gaara Hiden English translation" for the person who translated the whole thing on Tumblr. It's a good read, but I won't spoil it, lol. I'll just say that Shijima becoming Gaara's right-hand guard is canonical to the novel, and that's all I'm going to say. I just wanted to write about him in a pairing with someone who isn't a Konoha nin.

Flower: A Gaara Oneshot

It had been a couple weeks of his foreign thoughts and emotions haunting him, and Gaara still couldn't get quite past any of it; let alone understand where any of this inner turmoil was coming from and why it troubled him so. Why, it was something so small and insignificant, he thought; a complete accident, a seed of unintentional affection planted on his lips that night by his drunken guard while she was off duty. He never thought that it would, let alone could flower into such a bewildering sentiment inside of him. It wasn't on purpose. No. Shijima wasn't like the other young subordinates in Sunagakure who gushed over the Kazekage; she wasn't one of the giggling, unwanted admirers his sister Temari would always be more than happy to shoo away. The raven was his right-hand woman, now that his big sister was off and married in the leaf. She was his guard; an advisor, and a trusted friend when he needed an ear to listen to his deepest thoughts. Shijima was a rather stern individual a couple years older than him who took her job seriously, and thus not exactly the kind of person Gaara imagined would let this sort of thing go easily; especially when it was something she'd never remember doing while under the influence. He couldn't fathom a real way of approaching her about it. The excessively pensive man had been trying to come up with different ways to discuss the incident with her, all to no avail.

Just how was he supposed to tell her, anyway? She'd been embarrassed enough the next morning when she had woken up with a massive headache, realizing she had overestimated her alcohol tolerance and gotten drunk at Kankuro's twenty-fourth. Gaara remembered her profusely apologizing in the privacy of his office when she came to stand guard for him, despite that he held no ill feelings for her accidentally drinking too much and had expressed to her many times that she should forgive herself, as he had already forgiven her.

This was going to be an arduous subject to discuss for Gaara. Despite being a twenty-two year-old man, the Kazekage was still completely oblivious to the ways of the world; even more clueless than his closest friend had grown up being for most of his life, the blond Hokage.

Gaara sighed to himself as he ran a fingertip over the fresh bloom of a cactus plant growing in his rooftop greenhouse, petting the velvety petal as he succumbed to the very memory the smallest of things seemed to trigger. The fragile blossom felt like silk; akin to something he recalled precisely enough to compare the texture to. It reminded him of the way Shijima's face felt pressed against his own for what felt like the longest two seconds of his life; soft like the peel of a ripe peach, a fruit not found in Sunagakure. It was unfamiliarly pleasant; unimaginable and indescribable, something Gaara had never in his life known the taste of, until he had it pressed up to his mouth. Just like-

"Shijima."

The name hadn't come as a longing sigh of wistful musings. It was an acknowledgement that Gaara was too trained of a shinobi to say with any sort of weakness or emotion, belying his private thoughts just moments ago.

"Gaara-Sama." He was acknowledged back, through the familiar sound of smiling lips. Her voice was always poised and calm, matching her lord's outward demeanor.

Gaara had to remind himself to continue breathing evenly once he turned to greet her. Her beauty was nothing out of the ordinary to him by now after spending nearly every day of the past two years with her by his side. It was something anyone with eyes could see, even someone as clueless about the ways of the world as Gaara, though he never particularly developed any affection for anything external about a person.

The moonlight cast a glow over Shijima's pale face as she straightened herself from a bow, her inky black hair neatly edging just past her shoulders. Behind the narrow rims of her glasses were her synthetic Sharingan, which she had learned to control over time spent with Gaara, yet still used an ocular sealing jutsu for as an extra safety measure. Her lips were blood-red like her eyes, painted as a tradition of the Houki tribe's women. Shijima was a smallish, slender woman not much shorter than Gaara himself. Her body reminded him of a sharp, crescent moon; pallid luminance enveloped by dark skies.

For the first time, the Kazekage forgot to exhale. For only a moment, his mind became overwhelmingly flooded by the emotional and physical recollection of being kissed by Shijima. It was so, so very brief, over by the time he could blink.

"You're up late," he commented, reaching for the canister of water for his cacti collection, "have you come to see the stars, or gather supplies for medicine?"

"Ahh," Shijima smilingly walked to the row of plants behind the Kazekage, "a bit of both, I suppose. I found news of there being a comet tonight and was intrigued. I also need to gather a few cactus pads for medicine. The usual."

Gaara continued to carefully water each cactus plant, specifically knowing how much each individual one needed to thrive on. He soon came to a stop at a larger pot of growing cacti. It was a big, hilly mass of long, white thorns adorned by crimson flowers. A cactus family that once long ago reminded Gaara of blood drops on fresh snow now reminded him of spring blooming over the end of winter in Konohagakure. Funny, he thought, how people's perspectives over the simplest thing could somehow change as they too changed over time. His heart swelled at the pretty red color of the cacti he had proudly raised himself, but before his chest would tighten at the sudden intrusive thought which barged in unwelcomed to his mind. That bloody crimson was the make-up Shijima always wore on her lips, as the tradition that a man may never see a Houki woman bare-faced before they are wed.

Gaara had always been fond of the color. Was he even fonder of it, now?

He remembered how Shijima looked that night, in a navy dress and strappy high heels, her hair in an updo. Her crimson lips were slightly smeared at the edges, her cup of alcohol stained around the brink with crescent-shaped marks. He remembered how she drank too much too quickly and how he couldn't blame her for not knowing that she had an extremely low tolerance for drinks, much like he had, and for the very reason Gaara never drank more than a sip. It was a tiny mishap, and she had been drinking at his brother Kankuro's twenty-fourth birthday party at the Kazekage mansion. A simple mistake of getting too comfortable around friends and family was made, and Gaara had escorted her upstairs to her own living sector when she started feeling ill.

He remembered how light she felt in his arms; as light as a feather, the dainty beads decorating her navy blue dress gently clinging onto his silk suit as he held her close.

"I…I didn't think those drinks were too strong…" She groaned warmly into Gaara's neck, "I guess I drank too much too fast …Heh…"

"Common mistake," was all Gaara said, careful to watch his step over the narrow stairway up to a main elevator.

"Shit, my head is pounding!"

He paid no mind to her cursing.

"The effects of alcohol; also one of the many reasons I don't like to drink."

"Mm…Bad idea, huh?"

"Very. But I suppose it's alright just this one time, for this occasion. Shijima, where would you like me to place you?"

"Anywhere is fine…Ahh…Thank you, Gaara…"

At that, the Kazekage realized just how drunk she had gotten. Shijima had forgotten to use the honorific after his name. Not that Gaara minded, however; but he knew she must have been heavily intoxicated to not act like her usual, highly formal self. It was something the sober Shijima would never even dream of doing.

Gaara opened the door to her sector of the mansion, where he found her living room couch and propped her to lay against the arm rest in an upright position. He wasted no time in finding a pillow and blanket from her bedroom and came back to cover her from the cold. In a short moment he had provided her with a glass of water, a small trash from her kitchen, and paper towels and placed them neatly on the floor for her in case she'd need to throw up later. It took Gaara a moment to figure out how to unstrap her high heels and get them off of her tired feet. He found out she was ticklish by accident; a quirk he didn't know of before despite how much else he knew about the woman.

"Don't try to leave on your own," He sounded out firmly, his green eyes a bit wide as he came close to her, "do you understand, Shijima?"

Shijima blinked a few times as she stared at the red-haired man blankly. It took her a moment to nod a few times as she seemed to wander off and stare at different parts of his face.

Gaara gave a deep sigh, knowing damn well she didn't understand shit.

"I'm just going to call an attendant to watch over you. You seem to have no idea what's going on…" He laid his palm over her forehead, checking for a rise in temperature.

"I-I'm okay…" She slurred a little, gently taking his hand in both of hers as she yawned, "I can take care of myself, Gaara."

"Forgive me, but I don't believe you. Anyway, I'm going to make that call and have someone be here shortly." Gaara tried to stand and withdraw his hand, only to be stopped.

"Wait."

He wanted to question her, but not before Shijima pulled him close, coming to whisper something into his ear. That sort of closeness was something Gaara had grown used to from having her as his trusted guard; it was only the fact that she was drunk while doing so that made him a want to be cautious with her.

"You're a very kind man. Thank you."

Gaara felt at ease, then; a bit surprised that Shijima saw a gesture like that as something uncommon enough in the shinobi world to call him kind. He'd never been used to the word until she'd come along and always used it to describe him. Was that all she wanted to tell him? Gaara had no real need to hesitate, he thought. She was indeed drunk, but not flirtatious or obnoxious like most other people, and the most inappropriate things she had done so far in front of him were address him informally and curse once before. Gaara didn't need to worry.

…Or did he?

When Shijima finished thanking him and drew away from him, she came to face him directly, cupping the side of his neck in her affectionate hand.

It all happened so very fast. Gaara remembered how his heart leapt into his throat the moment his eyes laid on hers; how the little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his pores tightened at the way Shijima held him, at the way her touch felt. Her slender fingers lay soft and warm over his cold, goosebumps-ridden skin. Her Sharingan were glazed over, partially hooded by her lids as she pierced right into his very being with nothing but a lazy stare from above the relaxed frame of her glasses. Gaara knew very well that despite the dojutsu her synthetic eyes were imbued with, she had learned to curb the failed experiment Orochimaru had left her eyes with long ago. They were under the control of her chakra, even now, as a result of her body's strict training. The Kazekage wasn't caught in any sort of genjutsu right then and there. No. He was free to move. Free to push her away. Free to move or even use sand. Free to stop what he could see coming a mere moment before it did, much like an assault in the battlefield he would be trained to detect. But, Gaara froze. As a kage, he was the most powerful, most trained shinobi in all of the wind country. There was no reason for him to be paralyzed here…Not like this. Not by something as simple as a familiar woman being mere inches from his face.

However…Gaara was a man. He was a human being with feelings and emotions. Beneath all of that training, he still had a heart, and a very soft one. Shijima had somehow managed to reach it and struck a chord. Something awakened inside of him that night when for the very first time, he felt a completely foreign sentiment he'd never knew existed before. The mere look from Shijima's eyes commanded his permission, and he allowed himself to welcome an unspoken wish, succumbing to a very human, mutual desire that only for that moment alone felt justifiable.

"Gaara-Sama? Are you alright?"

The sudden voice by Gaara's side caused him to snap out of his thoughts, though he remained perfectly still, resisting a flinch.

"Yes, just thinking to myself." He looked to Shijima, his once-alarmed eyes softening when they met with her smiling face. He allowed himself to steal a glance at her perfectly painted lips as she spoke.

"Ahh." The raven was serious again, "you've been more quiet than usual lately, my lord…You haven't quite been the same."

She was well-trained indeed. Even with someone as unreadable as Gaara, Shijima knew something was off with him. She spent the better part of the past two years by his side after having sworn her loyalty to him as his right-hand woman after he had spared not only her life, but her younger sister's and her sister's now-husband when the trio had once attempted to defy the village. Shijima had gotten very close to Gaara over time. She had learned how to read the things about him that were invisible to anyone but his family and close circle.

"No, I haven't." Gaara agreed, setting the watering tin down by his shelf of cacti. It took him a moment to bring his gaze to meet Shijima's again, but his voice was steady and strong, as always, "Shijima, there's something I've been needing to discuss with you."

Shijima's eyes widened with curiosity behind her glasses as she peered up to meet his. Was is another high-ranked mission? No, no…There was something, then. She worried upon the realization that his stoic green orbs had become completely unreadable. She knew then that he was making a conscious effort to conceal whatever he was feeling inside of him. Unreadable, but she knew her Kazekage so well. He could hide his emotions from her, but she knew when he did.

Her heart sunk ever so slightly. This was a personal matter, she understood.

"Yes? Did something happen?"

"Yes…I think it's time that I tell you."

AN: MWAHAHAHAHAHA I'm fucking cruel. But just because I'm still nice deep down, there will be a sequel and conclusion...eventually. I'll write it up soon. I hope you guys enjoyed. Reviews appreciated. Sorry ahead of time if my writing style sucks, I've been out of the fanfiction groove for the better part of a few years.