Disclaimer: The writer does not own Naruto or any characters from the series. Kishimoto-dono has property rights over that. She- the writer- however, takes ownership of the of the story plot and any original character in this Fanfiction article.

Enjoy! (C:)

Pale Moonlight
by: Bakunawa

It was almost midnight.

The air was ice cold yet very thick—a sign of the oncoming rain. It was a very rare occasion in a land covered entirely with sand.

The moon was full tonight; shining overhead like a dim sun on the star-laden sky. At one time this would have brought a ripple of fear throughout Sunagakure; sending all citizens to cower within the shelters of their dune-houses. A full moon would awake the bloody demon within, but that was a very long time ago.

At the present, that very monster watches over the village that once shunned and feared him. He is their guardian, protector and leader of the Village Hidden in Sand—the Kazekage.

But tonight he watches over only one person, as she laid recovering in her bed.

Her room was almost pitch dark albeit the moon beamed through her open window, sparing some light. She never bothered with lighting even when she was awake. She never needed to anyway.

The thin curtain of her window was limp and still. Still the chill seeped through. He watched her shift slowly to her side; her back toward him. Her outline was defined within the shadows from the moonlight. Her long hair, darker than the night sky, her smooth bare shoulders, the downward slope of her waist and the upturn of her hips…

She stirred once again. Did she sense his presence? He had often praised her keen sensitivity to sound and motion. Nothing escapes her even when you hide in an invisibility jutsu.

The woman slowly rose, holding her side and wincing in pain as she walked limping towards the desk on the other side of the room. He watched her carefully, as quiet as the night itself.

Long fingers patted the wooden table, in search of the water pitcher. Nimbly she found it and poured herself a drink. She drank heartily as if the liquid could not only quench her thirst but her pains as well. She poured for another but before she could bring the glass to her lips she spoke. "I know you're there…" she uttered softly, only audible to him, "Gaara-sama."

Of course she knew! On any given day, she would have hurled a dozen kunai at an intruder. Any ninja would. But this time, the kunoichi was at ease. She knew this man.

When he did not reply, she brought the glass down onto the table and took small limping steps toward him.

Still he did not move.

She stepped into the small amount of light. The curtains hindered the full shine of the moon but it was enough for him to see her face completely. She had a rounded face. Her cheekbones were high but not too plump. Her nose was pert and her lips were like rosebuds, small yet full. And her eyes… they remained shut.

Her eyes were always closed.

The woman brought her arm up only to meet a slight breeze from the window, the curtain swept her creamy skin. She brushed it aside, holding it to the windowsill.

"It's really rude—if not immoral—to enter a lady's quarters in the dead of the night." she teased. "Breaking and entering is also a crime. I should have you arrested Kazekage-sama." She chuckled lightly.

"I've done worse…" finally he spoke.

"Oh?" she laughed to herself, contemplating what he had done more worse of the latter; or the former.

She spoke so casually. How long have they been with each other's company for this woman to act so nonchalantly around the most powerful shinobi of the village? Gaara never thought to keep count after so long.

He had never counted on anything about her. Even if he tried to understand her way of thinking, her actions, her spirit— she would always prove him otherwise, surprising him all the more.

This lady was always an enigma to him.

"What brought you here, Gaara-sama?" she asked him.

He shifted yet remained on his spot within the shadows. "A friendly visit," was his only reply.

"Then it is an honor," she bowed slightly, "but you shouldn't have. It's a bit late and—'

"I have nothing else to do at the moment, but if you'd prefer I leave—"

He moved for the only window of the room to exit the way he came in, but her left hand shot forth and took his.

"Wait," she was flustered, "I didn't mean that. I was—well, uhm... thank you… for coming. I forgot about your nocturnal habits and… if you want to stay, you may."

There was a long, comfortable pause.

Gaara had not notice her smaller hand still encasing his until then. He did not motion to remove it, but he did stare awkwardly at her thin fingers—not that she could see this reaction. He watched his protective sand swirl around her hand as a natural defense to her contact. It was already like his second skin and without it, he felt naked.

The woman felt the sand as well. She began rubbing her thumb on the coarse texture of his hand. Nobody has ever touched him like the way she was doing at the moment. There was always this awkward feeling whenever someone—anyone, even Naruto—would lay a hand on his person… but he was determined to allow them, nonetheless.

"You know…" she said softly, "I've never really seen your face."

Gaara was a bit taken aback by that. She felt him shift a little and she chuckled.

"You may be wondering how a blind person like me could see?"

He shrugged slightly, knowing that she could feel his motions.

"I have my ways."

She lifted her free hand to cup his face but it landed on his neck instead.

"Hm, you're taller than I expected."

No, she was just petite.

Her fingers came up to brush the side of his jaw. It was rough but not because of unshaven stubble.

"Uhm… could you..." she was asking him let his defense down. "… please… I want to see you underneath this."

He paused for a moment, assessing his situation in front of this woman. He knew it would be uncomfortable and strange for him to shred that thin protective sand, even if it's just around his face. It was like asking him to strip off his very clothes and stand in all his glory. He could just say no, refuse her request, but then she was a friend.

In the end, he complied simply because he could trust her. Slowly, he let his armor ebb away. She could feel the grains swirling and slipping under her fingers. It left her to feel warm smooth skin. "Thank you…"

Her fingers began to roam. It came to brush thick wiry hair. He never did bother to combing it. She patted it then moved to cup his left ear. He gasped at the contact.

Ticklish there, eh?

Her hand came down to trace his jaw again. She twisted her wrist to use the back of her hand to brush under his chin, feeling only a thin day-old stubble. She also felt his pulse quickening. She ignored it; more concerned with drawing his face using her mind's eyes. It's her way of remembering a person in place of her lost eyesight.

The woman's long fingers came to the other side of his face, stroking his cheek then pushed back to his ear. Gaara jerked again. He never thought he could be so sensitive on that area. Then again, nobody bothered to touch him there anyway.

The kunoichi was fiddling with his hair again, patting the top of his head like he was some kind of lovely puppy and pulling strands down to determine their length. A grin was gracing her fine lips as she traced his hairline. She was truly enjoying herself.

If the Kazekage knew he could blush, he was sorely sure he was now. The feeling of her skin against his own bare one was new to him. Her hands were strong and calloused because of years of handling weapons but they touched lightly and… so soothingly.

Her fingers abandoned his hair and made its way to the left side of his temple, where she felt a patch of sand remained. It was set in groves, she discovered.

"What is it?" she asked, outlining the groves. Unconsciously, she took a step closer.

"Ai," he answered.

"A character." … of love?

He nodded. She cringed to that. What did she know about it? Only a handful knew about how this particular mark came to be but it's possible that she had heard something of it… about how a demon could only love himself and no one else.

She left the kanji character and continued her ministration. Gaara closed his left eye as the woman's fingers traced his eyelid. His other eye saw her eyes slightly cracked open before it too was covered by her other hand.

Did she wish she wasn't blind?

Did she envy his eyes enough for her own to react like it did?

He had just come to realize that they were perhaps more alike. Both of them covered in their own darkness. He had been fighting the evil inside him for the better part of his life and atoning for what he had done and she had her own handicap—a weakness in the face of others. But unlike him, she was trapped. Forever in darkness.

He was beginning to understand why she wanted to touch so much. It was her own device of communication, aside from a normal conversation. Touching was her way of telling that things around her were real—that the people she knew were real.

The woman removed her fingers from his eyelids. Gaara blinked a few times before staring at his companion's half-opened eyes. Even with the dim lighting, he could discern their dull yellow hue—hazy and unseeing.

The man had just realized how close she was to his person. He could practically hear her deep unsteady breathing. Was she as uneasy as he was right now? No, the small smile she wore was anything but uncomfortable.

Her left hand cupped his cheek while her right found a straight nose. She stroked it gently and then pinched it for effect. She giggled when he jerked back, surprised by her sudden playful action. Her face then became solemn as she began outlining his lips. It was thin, a bit choppy, with a slight downward curve. Gaara did not dare to move his mouth.

"You should smile more…" she whispered slowly.

Her proximity was unnerving…

Or was it nerve-wracking?

She took another step and she was nearly pressed against his chest.

"Smile for me…"

Her index finger was still on the side of his lips, tapping it encouragingly.

When he didn't comply, she tilted her head to the side. Her eyes, still not looking at him.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and then slowly tugged upward into a small yet awkward impression of a smile. She smiled as well.

"… now I see you."

She pulled him down for a chaste kiss but the sudden contact of her lips to his own activated his defenses up. The sand had once again covered his face and, without consciously trying to, some of it enveloped hers. He was taken by surprise and it was instinct to protect himself.

She staggered backwards; shocked by the sudden appearance of coarse grains caking her face. She grabbed the windowsill to prevent her self from falling over. Her current injuries weren't helping her balance and she had been standing for quite a while.

Then it dawned on her. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I-I shouldn't have done that. It was impulsive and-and… I shouldn't have done it. I'm really sorry." He was standing very still but her sensitive hearing told her he was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding. The sand slowly swirled away from her skin, returning to its wielder.

Was he mad? Was he angry for her sudden intrusion of personal space? Actually, she went beyond intruding. She kissed him for heaven's sake! It was already wrong to ask him let down a bit of his guard and even more to touch his face. He's the Kazekage after all. He is her superior and way beyond her reach, even if he regards her as a friend. And now it seemed that she went too far out of line.

"Gaara… sama…" voice never sounded so meek, head bowed in submission.

When he did not reply, her trepidations increased. He must be enraged with her. She could hear the sand shifting about.

He motioned slowly towards her; steps were hushed but to her it was like thunder. She sidestepped, thinking he would either do something to her or leave through the window. She was both wrong when he held her arm gently, then pulled her slowly towards him.

This time he could see her eyes were closed shut again. He brought his hand to her cheek, lifting her face to meet his. Mimicking what she had done to him earlier, he brushed off the excess dirt that was left. She stiffened under his touch.

"Gaara-sam—"

"Did I…" he cut her off, "hurt you?" His surprisingly smooth hands were caressing her cheek. He was just concerned or even afraid that he had harmed her. He wasn't angry at her and he was freely touching her too. Wait. Gaara was touching her…

The woman unconsciously licked her lips—a habit whenever she was nervous—before correcting herself of that action with a shake of her head. She had just kissed a man and licking your lips afterwards would mean another thing. "N-no," she assured softly, hoping that he did not notice her blunder—though it's really impossible since he was practically breathing down on her. "I'm fine," she added sheepishly, "don't worry."

There was another pause. They had been doing that a lot tonight. He was standing very close with his hand still on her cheek and the other holding her arm. She did not move, well aware of every bit of motion and hearing every sound—the wind breezing through the window behind her, a flutter of wings somewhere down the streets and the beating of his heart and her own raging one. Slowly, the other hand on her arm rose, brushing her smooth shoulders, to cup her other cheek.

She could have asked what he was doing, but her voice was caught in her throat. In the back of her mind, she already knew what he was about to do… and she was anticipating it.

Slowly he bent his face over her and then hovered over her for a moment, unsure if he was doing it right. Still the lady did not move. Was she allowing him to finish what she had initiated?

Clearing his face of his protective sand once again, he brushed his exposed lips over to her very lightly—another innocent kiss… well, what could have been an quick innocent kiss anyway. For when their lips broke apart ever so slightly that their faces were merely centimeters away from each other, he looked at the woman he held. Her yellow orbs were fully opened and upon him. He never thought pale gold could be so beautiful, like pearly sunshine in the night. And if they conveyed anything at all, it was stupefaction. Then Gaara's head dove in for another much longer kiss.

He was new at this, she could tell. She was the one to start things in motion between their joined lips. It was almost cute and clumsy, if you ever dare depict a once-blood-thirsty-turned-kage-jinchuuriki in such a way. His lips were not possessing nor were they reclusive. He was both intimidated by this new sensation yet wanting, even needing it all the same.

She knew that he had never touched anyone so intimately. He had never let his defenses down even when he should have. She understood why he felt that way. He was once hurt by people he thought he could trust. Those past scars still lingered and never forgotten, even if he tried to. So he subconsciously isolated himself, never wanting to experience being hurt again. The only people he had ever allowed to be so close to him—or weren't afraid of him enough to be close—were his siblings and that noisy ramen-lover from Leaf.

And now her.

And maybe she could be even more than them.

Acknowledgement:

Special thanks to Porkchop's Little Ditty for her superb beta-reading service. The writer could not have done this article if not for her help and advices.

Until next time! Ja ne!

Truly,

Bakunawa