ONE

Four walls are not your home. Allow me to explain. Four walls and a roof over your head is just a shelter from mother nature and society. That's not a home—a home is the people you are with. You know, those people who judge you and think you are insane, but still love you anyways. That's home, and sometimes it can be a little hard to find.

When I was thirteen years old, that horrible age where puberty strikes and you're staring at yourself in the mirror saying, "alright, jokes over, make me sexy." Unfortunately, the joke never seems to end. You get the braces and head gear and bushy eyebrows, and a mustache—that's not a good look for a girl—then you get acne and your period likes to show up out of nowhere and leaves a stain on your favorite skirt. It's disgusting and horrid and you just want to crawl under a rock and die. Okay, I'm getting off topic here. Back to what I was trying to say.

Thirteen-year-old Ino Yamanaka—yours truly—seemed to have it all together, but honestly I didn't. There was a boy named Sasuke Uchiha in my seventh grade class and let me tell you that boy was fine. Sure, he was a little cold and distant and rough around the edges, but it just made him more swoon-worthy. Listen, I was young, I didn't know any better. As far as I was concerned he was smart, rich, and handsome. I was under the ridiculous impression that I'd marry for money and looks. The value of a person's attitude and personality didn't cross my mind even for a second and if it did, I just waved at it as it flew by.

Anyways, when I was thirteen, my parents decided they didn't like Japan anymore. Well, you can imagine I was upset, threw a temper tantrum, cried my eyes out, and stormed up to my room all the while screaming, "you're ruining my life! I hate you!" Bless my parents for dealing with me. Sufficed to say, we did leave Japan and went to live in England. But even that didn't last very long, this was about the time I learned about a home and a house. Now, you can make any house a home, so long as you fill it with the right people.

About a year of living in England, my parents relationship started to fall apart. It was ugly, nasty, horrible, bitter, and heartbreaking. Fourteen-year-old me watched my mother get in the taxi and drive away. She didn't take me with her, she just packed her bags and left. There were no goodbyes, no I'm sorry, no nothing. I didn't hear from her either, for several years. My father and I had remained in England and we did the best we could. He was sad though, I could see it on his face everyday I got home from school. Dad missed her, but he never said it out loud. Not that he needed to, of course.

A week after my twenty-fourth birthday, my father passed away. It was a stroke. There was nothing they could do, he was just gone. It broke my heart. I could have returned to Japan, moved closer to my estranged mother. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed in England, continuing to go to school and working. I was nearly done with graduate school anyways. I was getting a masters in Business. For years I'd always dreamed of opening my own hotel, that was my dream.

I still remember the phone call the night before New Years Eve two years after my father's untimely death.

"Hi, is this Ino Yamanaka?" a woman asked over the phone.

"Yes, who is this?" I asked tiredly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"My name is Sayuri Hiwatari," she explained softly. "I'm calling from Konoha Metropolitan Hospital."

My heart sunk into my gut. "Is it my mother? Is she alright?"

"There was an incident," Sayuri said gravely, which made me grip my phone even tighter. My mother and I may not have been close, but that didn't mean I wanted bad things to happen to her. She left me, but I couldn't hate her for it. "She's in surgery right now, she was in critical condition. They'll do everything they can to save her, how soon can you get here?"

I was on the next flight to Japan.

When I arrived at the hospital, a blond woman with big hooters came over to me. She was in her early forties I assumed, her hazel eyes were filled with sadness as she approached. That's when I knew that my mother didn't survive her surgery. My eyes started to tear up, but I don't understand why. For nearly twelve years my mother hadn't been apart of my life. Any tears that I had for her should have been long since cried.

"I'm Dr. Tsunade Senju," she introduced herself with a small bow. "We did everything we could, but unfortunately despite our best efforts to save your mother she did not survive. Her injuries were far too great. I'm so sorry for your loss." She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a firm, but gentle squeeze. A comfort technique they used in order to not make themselves seem cold.

"How did…uh, what happened?" I managed to ask.

"She was in a car accident," Tsunade explained.

I nodded stiffly. "Thanks, I uh…I have to…" I trailed off and slumped down into the uncomfortable blue chair in the waiting room. Tsunade gave me a sympathetic look and sat down beside me. "Is there paperwork?"

"You don't need—"

"This isn't the first time I've had to do this, just bring the paperwork." I was harsh, but I didn't really care. Tsunade seemed to understand as she stood and walked away, leaving me to my peace. No apologies or sympathetic looks were going to make me feel better. My father had died two years ago and now my mother was gone. That was life, the people you care about just leave and it sucks.

I felt like I was on autopilot when I filled out the paperwork. Actually, I was on autopilot for the next week. Somehow I'd managed to find my mother's house. It was a nice house, two story four bedroom, two bathroom, with a large living area, a home office, dining room, and the perfect sized kitchen for parties. My mother apparently had done real well for herself after she left us. This might sound terrible, but I didn't even bother going to her funeral. Bad daughter award. Honestly, she was dead to me a long time ago. Again, harsh and terrible, but she wasn't there for my high school graduation or my college graduation, she didn't send a card for any birthday or holiday, not even a phone call once in twelve years. Why should I have gone? Yet, I was still very sad.

Now I was in Japan, in her home, half her belongings shoved into boxes. I'd stopped though, and decided I needed a drink. Hard liquor. That was the best remedy. Needless to say, I had found a bar, it was crowded with lots of people looking for a good drink and possible a good bang. Of course, I got so wasted I don't recall anything.

The sun was beaming in through the front window though, blinding me. My head was pounding, and truthfully I felt like absolute shit. Probably deserved it since I didn't go to my mother's funeral and I was pretty much stuck in limbo. The house was an atrocious mess and as I lifted my head, I noticed my clothes were strewn all over the place. My panties were dangling from the lamp across the way and my bra was on the floor along with my skirt, boots, and blouse. I felt my body, sure enough I was naked.

"Fuck," I grumbled, putting a hand to my head. When I sat up, I glanced to my left and cursed again. "So that's what happened," I muttered bitterly as I stared at the sleeping man beside me. I didn't recall his name, nor could I tell if he was cute. His hair was brown and wild, his skin nicely tanned, and his muscles were lean and well defined. Obviously my drunk self has some sort of taste. Rugged sexy bedhead was always a good thing to wake up too. I wonder if we had good sex? He looks like the type that would be a fireball in bed, not to toot my own horn, but I happen to be a sexual dynamo.

RING! RING! RING! RING!

That was the most heinous sound ever!

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

For the love of all that's good make it stop!

"Fucking hell!" the man groaned beside me. His hand flopped around on the floor like a dying fish. "It's Sunday! Don't fucking call me until after noon!"

"Kiba! It's Saturday and it's already 12:30! Where are you?" He had it on speaker, which made it even more awkward because the person speaking was a woman. All I could think was 'I'm a home wrecking slut!' "The clinic is overrun! Get your ass in here!"

"Alright! Chill! I'll be there in half an hour." His voice was rough and raspy.

"I wanted you in here two hours ago!" the woman raged. She wasn't helping my headache and obviously he must have felt the same for he hung up on her and tossed his phone aside. It clattered to the floor and I stared at him as he rolled over onto his back. He froze the moment he met my blue eyes. I cleared my throat and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling my blanket tighter around my figure. Not that it mattered, he'd already seen me naked if we had sex, but he probably didn't remember either.

"Sorry about that," the guy said with a faint blush on his cheeks.

He was cute, in a rugged kind of way. "No, it's fine," I replied in a soft voice. "You can go." I waved toward the door. Apparently we thought it'd be a good idea to have sex on the pull out bed of the couch.

"That doesn't seem right," Kiba—that was his name right?—said with a smirk. He rubbed his face with his hands and then combed them through his hair. The wild bedhead look surprisingly suited him quite well.

"You have to go, and so do I," I explained to him as I got up from the bed. The springs squeaked under my weight as I pushed off and pulled the blanket tight around me. When I turned around, I gasped as Kiba quickly reached for a pillow to cover his junk. "Sorry, I uh…yeah, you have to go and so do I." I tiptoed over to my panties on the lampshade.

"Right." Kiba nodded as I found a shirt strewn on some of the boxes I had packed my mother's stuff into. Tossing it over to him, I smiled weakly and stared at him as he slipped it on. He reached over to the floor, pulling up his boxers and jeans. "So did you just move in?" he asked, gesturing over to the boxes.

"What? Oh," I glanced at the boxes and shook my head, "I don't actually live here, it's just…temporary, this is…or was my mother's house."

"I'm sorry," Kiba said as he got off the bed and pulled on his jeans, buckling his belt.

"Sorry? For what?"

"You said 'was'," Kiba replied. He smiled weakly and cleared his throat. "It's a nice place."

I nodded slowly. "It is, but really you don't have to—"

"Just making observations." He shrugged his shoulders and started looking for his socks and shoes.

"Right, well I'm late and so are you. Nice to meet you and uh…" I pressed my lips together and laughed lightly. "I'm just going to go take a shower and when I come back down, you'll be gone."

"You honestly don't remember me do you?" Kiba asked with a smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Should I?" He looked a little insulted by my question, but I didn't recall knowing this guy. Then again, I hadn't been in Japan for thirteen years. Who would I possibly remember from way back then?

"Never mind," he said with a shake of his head, unfurling his arms. "Good sex, Ino." He winked at me and gathered up his shoes before darting out the door. My mouth was open, but no words came out. At least he knew who I was, but that was a little unsettling. He knew me, we had sex, and now he was gone. It didn't matter though, in a another couple of weeks after my mother's house would be sold, her business would be handled, and all that other stuff would be taken care of I'd be out of here. My life was in England now.

"Crap!" I hissed. Rushing up the stairs, I darted into the shower. I was supposed to meet with the employees of my mother's store today at 1:00. That gave me twenty-five minutes to shower, put my face on, dress, and rush across Konoha. I was going to be late, no doubt about it.

-###-

1:22. That was pretty good timing all things considered. I climbed out of my mother's red car and stared at her storefront. She was a woman with impeccable taste. I'll be honest, I have no idea what kind of establishment she runs, but based on the flowers, bright colors, I'd assume a flower shop. My mother always loved flowers.

"Here goes nothing," I said to myself as I pulled the glass door open. The sweet smell of roses hit my nose followed by the faint scent of fertilizer and freshly cut grass. An entire section was filled with knick-knacks and cards and trinkets. It was also a little gift shop.

"Nope, she was there last night," someone said.

I walked down the aisle to the back of the shop. It was a jungle with all the leaves and flowers reaching out. They literally made a tunnel. When I came out the other end, I stopped as two young men were standing at the checkout counter. They both looked at me, and I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head.

"Speak of the devil," the one on the customer side of the counter said.

I tilted my head. Ponytail like a pineapple. "Shikamaru?"

"Ah, so now you remember me," he smirked, leaning back against the counter. I wasn't sure what he was getting at. "Just as well, you had like five beers by the time I got to you at my bar."

The light bulb went off, not my memory of seeing him last night, but I remembered going to the bar. "Your bar? You own that place?"

"Yeah," Shikamaru replied with a terse nod. "Anyways, I got to get going." He pushed off of the counter and grabbed a box of daisies stuffed in square glass jars. When he walked past me, I smiled weakly and watched him go before clearing my throat.

"You weren't at the funeral," the remaining man said in a deep voice. It sent shivers down my spine, the good kind mind you. However, when I looked at him, those good shivers turned into bad ones. Dark red, short hair, sea glass colored eyes, fair skin, lean-muscled, and an all black attire didn't exactly scream I work in a flower shop. I wasn't even sure what would have possessed my mother to hire someone like him. There was a tattoo on his forehead too, the kanji 'Love' scrawled on in red. His eyes were rimmed with black and he had bags under his eyes. Honestly, it was like he hadn't slept in days…he looked like a freaking vampire!

"I'm…uh…sorry?" I tried, which caused him to raise a brow at me, not that he had any, which made him even scarier.

"I'm Gaara Sabaku." He crossed his arms. His muscle bulged from the sleeves of his black t-shirt. He caught me ogling. "Take a picture it'll last longer." His arms unfurled and my cheeks burned. I've made better first impressions, but can you blame me, I'm twenty-six and single. Double standards, I swear!

"No, I'm—"

"Sorry?" he assumed, which made me grit my teeth. This young man wasn't pleasant at all, how the hell could he possibly work here?

"You just don't look like the type to work in a flower shop," I explained with a half hearted shrug, brushing my blond locks over my shoulder. I looked nothing like my mother, I was more like my father, the only thing I had that was my mother's was her nose. Everything else about me was my father from my hair to my lips and eyes and ears…all of it.

"Looks can be deceiving," he shrugged. "I mean, you look like a nice girl."

I glared. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"What's it sound like?" Gaara asked, walking away from the counter. He went to the back room, most likely the office, so I followed him.

"You don't even know me," I shot back.

He glanced over his shoulder and snickered. "I know your type."

The room was an office, a sizable one at that. There was a corner desk with a computer and a shabby looking printer. The rolling chair looked old and wore, which went with the beaten down carpet it was placed on. The waste basket was overflowing with paper and their was a shelf of binders that looked like it was about to collapse at any moment. On the bulletin board by the door, various flyers and pictures and calling cards hung with slight fades to the color. There was a window across from me, which viewed a nice little green house and garden. My mother had a nice establishment, and it seemed well taken care of. I looked back at Gaara as he dug around in a drawer beneath the desk. Could he have been the only employee? Certainly her mother had at least one or two more people on staff.

"Are you the only one who works here?" I inquired, leaning against the doorjamb. "I was under the impression there were like at least three employees."

"Well, two now," Gaara said. "Your mother died, in case you forgot seeing as you missed her funeral and all."

He was strangely bitter about that. And I understand that it was an awful thing to do, but really twelve years and not even a single hello? She wasn't my mother, she was just a stranger who had birthed me and left me.

I sighed. "I hadn't heard from her in twelves years, as far as I'm concerned she wasn't my mother. My mother died when she left me and my father." Gaara held out a simple white envelope with my name written on it. "What's that?"

"It's for you," Gaara said. "From your mother."

I stiffened as I stared at the envelope. My mother had written me something. That was like a message from the beyond. Just as I went to grab it, Gaara pulled it out of my reach. My brows knitted together and I gave him a cold stare.

"We don't know one another, but your mother...she was a wonderful woman," Gaara said to me in a calm voice. "If it weren't for her, well I'd be in much worse shape. Whatever you think you know about her. You're wrong." He stood from the worn rolling chair and handed the envelope to me. When I took hold of it, he slipped past me just as some customers walked in.

Swallowing hard, I looked down at the envelope and traced the letters of my name with my finger. My eyes drifted up to the door where I saw Gaara talking with two elderly women. I looked back down at the envelope and took in a deep breath as I flipped it over and tore it open. Carefully, I pulled out the fold paper and saw my mother's writing etched across the white page. My lips pressed into a firm line, and I read my mother's handwritten words to me.

My dear Ino,

There are not enough words in any language to encompass my regret for hurting and leaving you. I know it may seem like I'm just saying these things, but I am so sorry and I love you, so very much. Of course, I should have told that to you many times before now. If you're reading this now, it's because I have left this world without telling you before I left.

I won't drag out all the sentiments and try to explain why I left and never spoke to you. The truth is, there is no excuse. Your father and I, it was the only option there was. Please understand that, but I can understand if you don't. You were my pride and joy, Ino. I loved you so much and when I had to leave I never knew pain like that. Unfortunately, my alcoholism became a danger to you and your father, so I left and worked for several years to clean myself up.

And I did it. I have a beautiful home, an amazing business, and an adorable cat to keep me company. The only thing that was missing was you, but you have grown up. You're so smart and gorgeous, my darling, and I couldn't have been more proud to call you my daughter. Perhaps I don't get to call you that though. I wish I could have been apart of your life again, Ino.

I have no right to ask you for anything, but I do have one request. Stay in Konoha. Live in my house, fill it with love and memories and make it a true home. Not just a house. Stay and run my business, maybe we can be together in that sense. Feed and water Michi, and he'll be the best lap cat ever. I want you to stay, Ino. Please consider staying.

All my love, Mom

A few tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't brush them away. My eyes couldn't leave the letter, but I wanted to crumple it up and throw it away. I wanted to run and never look back. She was right, she had no right to ask anything of me, but for some reason seeing her business and after christening the house with a complete stranger…staying might have been a fair choice. And it wasn't like I had to stay forever, maybe I could just see how things turned out. Maybe I would like it here.

"Here," Gaara's raspy voice interrupted my thoughts, startling me. When I jumped, he stifled a laugh and shook a tissue box at me.

I took a couple. "Thanks." As I dabbed away my tears, I let out a steady breath. "So uh, how long did you know my mother?"

"Four years," Gaara answered.

My eyes widened as I stared at him. That was a long time, and while it was probably a ludicrous idea I said, "Were you and her like—"

"What? No! Of course not," Gaara seethed, narrowing his eyes at me. "Geez, what a disgusting thing to even assume. I'm twenty-six and she was fifty."

"That's a thing," I muttered, feeling a bit guilty. Gaara rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and muscles firm. "I'm sorry."

"So what are you going to do now?" he asked me.

That was a good question. Maybe I'd go pick some petals off of flowers or something. I could either go with my original plan of getting everything settled or I could stay and try and tackle the life my mother left behind. Either way it didn't seem like they would be easy choices. At the current moment, I wasn't even sure which one was more appealing to me.

"I don't know." I shrugged my shoulders. "My head is spinning."

He nodded, seeming to understand.

"Where's Michi?" I asked.

"Vet's office," Gaara replied. My heart sunk, what had happened to the cat? "Don't worry, he's fine. He got a little depressed when your mom passed away, wouldn't eat or drink. I took him in a couple of days ago. I'm picking him up this evening, if you'd like to come."

I felt relief that the cat was okay. I always had a soft spot for animals. "You wouldn't mind?"

Gaara shrugged. "Might as well be friends."

"Friends?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that way you leave me your mother's business," he explained as he moved away from the wall and walked out of the office. My mouth fell open and I got up from the chair, following him over to one of the displays.

"Is that what you're after?" I growled at him, placing my hands on my hips. "My mom's business?"

"This place has been my home for the past four years" Gaara retorted, meeting my gaze. When he said the word home, my heart skipped a beat. "I won't let you just sell it to some coporation."

"Who said I would?" I snapped.

"Do you plan on running it yourself or giving it to me?" He stared at me for a few moment before finishing with, "Your mother left you everything, I know that for a fact. She told me she would, because she hoped you would stay and run it. Of course, you didn't even go to her funeral so why would you stay and run what was hers?"

Those words stung worse than they should have. "I'm staying."

Gaara blinked in surprise.

"Which makes me your boss," I commented.

"Then you best get to work, Miss Boss Lady," he smirked.