Full Summary: Since the war has ended, things have been exceptionally peaceful. This has, unfortunately, brought the people's attention to matters closer to home; in this case, the Kazekage's marital status. With his older sister's plans of relocating to Konoha, there has been doubt the village's needs will be sustained in her absence. It's all about politics in the long run, but Gaara is doubtful he will find anyone suitable enough; his happiness is a factor, too, after all. Meanwhile, there have been rumors that a strange phenomenon has occurred in the Land of Earth; someone is claiming to have been reincarnated, and that they remember their past lives. While not believing it himself, Gaara decides this is a perfect distraction and that it is time he take a much needed vacation. An eccentric old man can probably take his mind off of things.
But what happens when this "old man" turns out instead to be a young woman?
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
"There's been talk," his sister began, flattening a sheet of paper across the desk. She lifted her eyes to his meaningfully. "Regarding your marital status."
"Hardly surprising," he replied, resuming his task in filling out his paperwork. "Certainly not a new topic of discussion."
She waved her hand near his face to bring his attention back to her. "You're nearing twenty. Now, I don't agree with them, but even I have to admit there are benefits to a marriage." She straightened and folded her arms. "This is all purely political, and you know that. And if I do say so myself, we don't have enough women in politics as we are."
He set down his pencil and leaned back in his seat. "A woman in politics is a formidable thing. You've proven that more than once alone. I don't believe there will be anyone who can rise above your shadow."
She smiled, pleased. "You'll never know unless you try." More somberly, she added, "I might not be around much longer, you know."
"And you will be sorely missed," he reassured, reaching out a hand for her to take. He placed his other hand atop hers and held her gaze; he could catch the faintest trace of moisture in her lashes. "Not a person in the world can take your place. But I promise you I will try."
She nodded, once, and smiled again. "What this family needs," she said, "is a fresh start. Maybe it will do you best to find a clean slate, and begin anew from there."
"There's a myth," Kankuro brought up during dinner, "about an ancient soul wandering the earth."
"A myth," Temari reiterated, holding out the plate of steaming veggies for him to pick from. "Been reading books?"
He filled his bowl and waved the plate away, pausing to drink from his cup. "More like, I've been hearing rumors." He nodded in some general direction. "They're saying there's this person—a nomad, I think—that claims they've been reborn a dozen times."
"Just people talking, then," she dismissed, turning over a bit of meat before bringing it to her mouth.
"I think it's worth looking into," he said, glancing at their younger brother. "Been saying things they couldn't possibly know, recognizing people they shouldn't. Sounds interesting to me."
"You're saying this like we don't have anything else to do," Temari sighed, stabbing the air with her chopsticks. "We still have to finish reconstruction, Kankuro. There are treaties that still need signing, deals to be made, and this drought is expected to last another few years, and that needs solving, too."
"I'm not telling you to drop everything and go look," he snapped, putting down his bowl a little more loudly than necessary. "War's over and everyone's all good and friendly. I think it's about time our little brother took a vacation. Why not something worth looking at?"
"A myth?" Temari asked, elbow on the table.
"In the Land of Earth, up in the mountains. We can stop by and visit the old man if we don't find anything." He finally turned back to Gaara and smiled. "He took a liking to you during the war anyway. Would do good to see him every now and then."
"It would do him good," Gaara replied. "I do think it would be interesting. I hear the mountains are particularly beautiful this time of year."
Temari gave him a look. "Are you sure? What about the village?"
"Kankuro is right," Gaara said, setting down his chopsticks. "Since the war has been over, things have been incredibly peaceful, and I don't see it ending anytime soon."
"And most would consider him overworked," Kankuro added, an excitement taking him when he realized whose side Gaara was taking. "He deserves a break, Temari."
A figure was stooped just off a dirt trail, inspecting a cluster of mint sprouting from between some weeds. They reached their hand out to touch the leaves, their wrinkled fingers tugging very gently. After a moment, they released the mint to stroke their own beard thoughtfully.
"Curious," a voice spoke up from behind the old man, but he did not turn around to regard them. "Mint hasn't grown out here in many years."
The old man tugged a wide brim hat from his back up over his head and, with a weary grunt, rose to his feet. He shifted the sack upon his shoulder and turned, continuing up the path. "It's not yet ready to be picked," he said. "Come back in a few days, it will be perfect then."
"I'm in no hurry," they said, trailing along behind him.
"Why, no," the old man agreed. "You are quite young."
Nearing the top of the mountain, a little house was settled quaintly upon more even ground. Wayward boulders were scattered behind it, and around the side a vegetable garden lied just beside a small pool of fresh water.
The old man walked ahead to heave the sack atop a pile near the garden. He stretched, popped his spine, and sighed. "You have been more help than I can possibly make up for," he said as his companion came forward to set down two pails full of seeds down beside the pile.
A pair of eyes bluer than the sky itself regarded the old man for a second. "You have given me a bed to sleep in and have put food in my stomach. It is the very least I can do."
The old man smiled, and it crinkled his eyes at the ends. "Have you decided to settle now? The life of a farmer is not an easy one, little lady."
The girl returned the smile and shook her head. "I am merely passing through. Once we finish planting the rest of those seeds, I will take my leave."
"I am sorry to hear that. My wife has grown quite warm toward you."
"This parting will indeed be a regrettable one," she said, squatting to pull a pail toward her. "Let us hope we meet again one day."
The old man chuckled. "Providing I live to see that day. Every morning, I find another white hair." He tipped off his hat and scratched his head of graying curls. At one time, they had been full of thick black coils.
"Oh, I have no doubt you will be," she replied, "being as hardy as you are. But if you don't, let me say a proper farewell to you, my friend."
He knelt down beside her with some effort, joining her in picking through the seeds. "How about a simple until next time?" he suggested. "No matter what, we all do end up in the same place."
"Your belief is an ideal one," she allowed with a nod. "When the time comes for me to take me leave, let us wish each other a fulfilling life, regardless of length. When we meet again, let us both be in a good place."
"This speak is depressing," he laughed, clapping his hand upon her shoulder. "My wife would hit us both on the rump if she heard us."
She took up the shovel and offered it to him. "Then let's busy ourselves another way. If I heard right earlier, she mentioned baking a pie for tonight."
A.N.: I'll update soon.