Summary: "Be proud of who you are, Gaara." Sakura murmured, pushing the strands of his long, dark red hair to the side, "Be proud of where you've come from, and where you are now." K, One-Shot, GaaSaku
Proud
By: Socially Suicidal
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Sakura gave her customary three respectful knocks to the large heavy door before entering the Kazekage's office. This had been her daily routine for the past few months of her stay in Suna – get up, visit Gaara's office for her daily orders, report to the hospital for her day shift, return to the Kazekage building for lunch with whatever member of the Sand Siblings was free, train, and then finally return back to her temporary home. She sometimes found herself sighing wistfully, homesickness creeping up on her, but always promptly delved herself into work or sought out one of the sand shinobi that had become her close friends over the course of her stay to distract her.
The redheaded Kage sat stoically behind his desk reading over papers, the picture of an ideal leader, as he did almost every single day.
His eyes rose from the papers he had been reading to meet her gaze. She bowed respectfully, as she did every morning, and stepped into the room to stand before his desk. "Good morning, Lord Kazekage," Sakura chirped, the respectful greeting laced with teasing.
Gaara set the paper in his hand down onto his desk, resting his chin on his palm. Some of his unruly rusty hair shifted, the long strands falling across his forehead and nearly into his eyes. Sakura thought how he needed a haircut, noting how the back and sides of his red mane reached the collar of his maroon vest. "Good morning, Haruno," he grunted in reply, sea foam eyes enlightened with dry amusement as she scowled.
"I have a first name!" She cried indignantly, her playfulness still displayed with the jut of her lip.
"As do I, I have told you countless times to use it," the Kazekage replied smoothly, removing his chin from his hand as he began ruffling through some of the papers stacked on his desk, "I assume you're waiting for your orders."
Sakura rolled her light emerald eyes dramatically, choosing not to deign his comment with a reply. He noticed, but said nothing.
"You are to stay at the hospital until lunch break, when you are expected to meet my siblings and me for lunch at the restaurant across from the hospital," the redhead ordered, although it seemed his attention was entirely focused on the paper he was currently scanning.
The kunoichi nodded her understanding, fully aware that he could see her despite his captivated attention. Turning on her heel, Sakura looked over her shoulder from the doorway, "See you later, Gaara."
Sea foam eyes met hers as he looked up and nodded, more of his red bangs falling across his smooth forehead.
Kankuro chuckled, poking Sakura in the arm teasingly with his chopstick, "I never took you for the sensitive type, Sakura!"
The medic nin could hardly keep the grin from tugging at the side of her lip as she swatted the puppet master away, trying to appear indignant, "I can't help how mean your teasing is, Kitty Ears!"
This time, Temari laughed, quickly covering her mouth to make up for her outburst, "Kitty ears!" She cried, wiping her eyes with her napkin demurely. Kankuro scowled, not enjoying being the brunt of the joke, as he pointedly ignored the cackling kunoichi and continued his meal. Gaara resisted the urge to shake his head at their childish ways, eating his meal in silence as he sat at the table with his siblings and Sakura.
"Seriously," a sobered Sakura began, before taking a short sip of her drink, "Why do you still wear the hood and face paint? Don't you ever want for a change?"
The jounin seemed to consider her comment before he replied thoughtfully, "Sometimes, yeah, I wonder if nixing the entire look would help me out with the opposite species," he waggled his chopstick at her arm suggestively, and she laughed before swatting it away again, "But then I realize that this is who I am. If they can't accept it then, too bad." He shrugged indifferently, pushing his now empty plate away as he stretched.
Sakura seemed to accept this answer, nodding as she too finished the remainders of her meal.
"Oh please," Temari scoffed at her brother haughtily, "If you take that attitude, you'll never find a steady girlfriend!"
Kankuro frowned, but was interrupted by their youngest brother before he could retort, "Please, Temari, you are going to give him a complex. Leave Kankuro alone," Gaara ordered quietly, setting his chopsticks down beside his plate and folding his napkin next to it properly.
The dirty blonde merely snorted while the hood-clad shinobi stuck his tongue at her, inciting another fit of giggles from the present pinkette.
"By the way," the redhead addressed Sakura before he stood from the table, "I'll be clearing one of your mornings this week, if you don't mind."
Blinking, the medic looked puzzled, "Of course not. For what?"
Gaara seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat, for him, at least, that meant avoiding eye contact for a moment, "I have some questions about sleeping," the redhead murmured, his eyes focused on some random spot on the table as his hair flopped unceremoniously across his brow.
Emerald eyes widened with realization, "Oh! Of course, Gaara. Come down to the hospital whenever you're ready and I'll be happy to help in whatever way I can!"
The Kazekage finally let the sigh that had been coiling inside of his chest for the past two hours escape from his pale lips as he quickly exited the room and began briskly making his way back to his personal office. Meetings of the Village Council proved almost always to be incredibly taxing on his energy – and patience.
Being the young leader he was, Gaara found himself facing several old fashioned councilmen who insisted, despite his proving otherwise, that their way was the best and only way to go about running his village. The rational man he was, Gaara simply did not accept that just because something was traditional, it was the best course of action. There were countless things to consider about any given decision made by the Kazekage and the Council, a concept that caused – more often than not – discrepancies between the former jinchuuriki and the bunch of old timers.
As he pushed open the door to his office and stepped into the haven of seclusion, Gaara recalled a particular instance during the meeting that had reminded him of his younger days – and of the precarious hold he still maintained on himself sometimes. He had risen his voice just a fraction above his normal - albeit exceptionally quiet - level and, accompanied by a visible twitch of his hand that lay idle on the table before him, the redhead had witnessed a few of the councilmen seated before him flinch. It was a regression back to much older, better forgotten times, when a simple movement of his limbs could cause even the most seasoned shinobi to quake in terror.
He ran a callused hand through his red mane and frowned.
The following morning, when Sakura had come in for her daily orders, she noticed immediately that the Kazekage looked more worn and tired than usual. She immediately questioned him about the cause of this, but he shrugged her inquiry off.
It was a well-known fact in the Kazekage household that the sleep Gaara got was slim or sometimes none. No one really questioned if they came into his office one morning and he looked like he had been hit by a carriage or was a bit snappier with his tone than usual.
However, rumors of the meeting yesterday had circulated among the nurses in the hospital, and it was not long after lunch time that Sakura heard of the slight break in the redhead's patience. Some of the more scandalized nurses commented that he had "lost control," an accusation that sent the pinkette on a tirade as she scolded the women for speaking in such a disrespectful manner about the young man who had literally laid down his life to protect theirs and how could they even imagine to know enough about him to make such an ignorant comment?
The gossiping females had quickly lowered their gazes and scurried off to escape the wrath of the irate kunoichi.
Her irritation returned with a vengeance as she stared across the room at the young shinobi, whose head hung with a little too much stress and eyes looked a bit too heavy for a young man of his age. How could those women possibly speak about him like that? Look at him, for Kami's sake! Exhausted and still working diligently for his village. Sakura made a mental note to promptly squash any and all bad blood circulating around the hospital about the redhead.
"How about you clear your schedule and come down to the hospital tomorrow morning so I can examine you?" The medic suggested, marching up to his desk and thumping her palms against the wood in front of him as she leaned forward, leaving no room for argument.
Gaara's brow wrinkled incredulously as he stared up at the determined face of the kunoichi. He surmised that "no" was not an acceptable option. The Kazekage nodded in acceptance, the ends of his dusty red strands tickling his eyes as they had fallen across his forehead some time ago. He was, however, not sure how he felt about being bossed around by the tiny pink woman, but rationalized that he had been planning to do so for quite some time anyway.
"Good," huffed the kunoichi as she removed herself from his desk and turned to walk out of the room.
"Oh," Sakura glanced over her shoulder, "and you could really use a haircut."
Her offhanded comment went ignored as the heavy door shut behind her by a tendril of sand and a barely audible sigh.
Gaara nodded in assent that he understood the pink-haired medic's instructions, rising from where he had been sitting on the metal tray in the examination room. He had come in to visit her today, prodding her knowledgeable mind and inquiring if she had any medical advice of how he could more successfully delve into the – relatively – newly acquired bliss that was sleep. It had only been a year since the Ichibi had been extracted from him, and he was slowly becoming more adept at falling and staying asleep for short periods of time.
Blinking, the redhead stared down at the crown of her pink head, waiting silently for her to move from where she stood directly in his way. Suddenly, Sakura sighed, lifting her eyes from where they were level with his chest and staring up at him with a light emerald, calculating gaze.
"Gaara," she began reluctantly, her voice barely audible as her eyes roamed over his face to where his scar was hidden under long red tresses.
The Kazekage looked incredulous, unused to this uncertain side of the usually brash kunoichi he had come to know. He shifted his weight, arms crossing over his chest and brushing against her in the process as a small nod of his chin prompted her to continue.
"I just…" she sighed, uneasy about broaching the topic with the usually distant sand-wielder. Was it really her place, a jounin from Konoha, to discuss such a private matter with the former jinchuuriki? Regardless, over the past few weeks, Sakura had noticed the slow progression of a change in Gaara - even before that stupid meeting with the Council. It wasn't major, not even substantial enough for his siblings to notice much less address, but it was hard not to notice the subtle changes in a person you saw twice – sometimes three or four times, actually – a day.
"Why are you covering it up?" She asked vaguely, her gaze twitching from his own jade orbs to where his tattoo lay veiled by a mop of his hair.
Charcoal rimmed eyes widened, just a fraction, as the young Kage considered to what the kunoichi could possibly be referring.
"Be proud of who you are, Gaara." Sakura murmured, her hand slowly lifting in front of his face as she pushed the strands of his long, dark red hair to the side, "Be proud of where you've come from, and where you are now."
The soft pad of her fingertip ghosted across the red, thick lines of his scar.
Swallowing past the lump that had taken residence in his suddenly parched throat, Gaara gently grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand down to his chest.
Not trusting his voice, the redhead nodded, and was rewarded with one of the brightest smiles the medic-nin had ever graced him with.
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