AN: Conclusion to the one shot. I'll probably make this a series of little one shots. Or a fic. I dunno. I'm enjoying it so far. PS life is busy, sorry if I go long periods of time with no updates.
Chapter two: Rose Petals
The night air of Sunagakure was deathly quiet and painfully frigid, much like the silence Gaara shared with Shijima as they both sat outside against the glass of his rooftop greenhouse, watching the stars. They'd been sitting there for a short while as the Kazekage tried to find the right words to say, but it felt like an eternity to both of them. Shijima wasn't as patient as the man. She'd kept herself busy by watching the brief fog her breath would make every time she released a slow, steady exhale. It would have been rude if she were to stare at Gaara, as if waiting for him to begin elaborating on what he had meant to discuss with her. She knew better than to rush him, already used to the fact that he'd carefully think over everything that would come out of his mouth, being that he had always been a man of few words. Although, she'd side-eye him frequently, waiting for some sort of indication that he'd speak up.
Then, it came. Gaara sighed and his eyes softened, though they didn't leave the sky before them.
"Firstly," he began, "I want you to know that you are not in any sort of trouble."
Shijima's artificial Sharingan went wide with shock behind her thinly-framed glasses as she stared at the kazekage's face. His skin was eerily pale in the moonlight, more so than usual. She could see the faint reflection of the stars flickering in the steely gaze of his pastel green eyes.
Gaara was terrifyingly beautiful, and this certainly wasn't the first time she'd thought so; even in a moment like this, it proved to be a momentarily distracting thought.
"I'm only bringing this up because it wouldn't be right to hide it. I would if I could, to spare you the embarrassment," he finally turned to peer at her, poker-faced as always, "Shijima…Do you remember anything at all from my brother's birthday celebration? Anything at all after you'd become drunk?"
Oh, but the embarrassment already began to kick in at those words. Shijima bit her crimson-painted lip at the thought of there being anything worse than her Kazekage seeing her intoxicated. But there was more to it than just that, and she knew it, by the way this conversation was headed.
"No," she looked off, away from Gaara. Her milky face became a soft pink beneath the frames of her glasses as she adjusted them up the narrow bridge of her nose. "I woke up on my couch, tucked in. You told me that you were the one who escorted me to my sector, Gaara-Sama, but-…I don't remember a thing between toasting a drink with everyone and waking up the next morning with a massive head ache. Forgive me."
"Hn." He nodded, satisfied, "people do things they wouldn't normally do when they become drunk; often times never being able to recall. That's part of the reason why I'm not upset with you…but, also, I can't be upset because you taught me something I never would have known existed in this world, otherwise."
Shijima still had no clue what on earth Gaara was talking about, but judging by his cautiousness, she could tell he was slowly approaching the subject, and as gently as possible. Whatever it was, she knew it must have been deeply sensitive information that no one else could know about. The raven turned her back from the glass of the green house to directly face the man beside her. She was eagerly curious, her impatience and fear slowly increasing.
Gaara mimicked her motion, then, "tell me about when you first knew you wanted to become an assassin for Sunagakure."
"Uh-..h?" Shijima blurted out, subconsciously reached a loose fist to her mouth before she caught herself and cleared her throat, straightening her posture.
"I sound so stupid…" She inwardly mused, thrown completely off-guard by Gaara's seemingly random question.
"Ahh, yes," She eyed briefly frowned, as if wondering if he was truly alright. After all, Gaara knew her background deeply. It puzzled her as to why he asked her to tell him this story again; one of the many he knew of her life, "I grew up wanting to be a medic like most of the women of my clan, having lost my mother at a young age when she was murdered on a failed mission. She was an assassin. I could never relate; never understand why anyone would want to kill in the name of the law and fight for that sort of justice. It was something I had tried for so long to grasp the concept of, but the more I tried, the more confused I became. I didn't understand why the people of this world loved that part of life so much. Then, one day, there was an invasion in my village and I was forced to fight to protect my younger sister. That's when I understood. It was an adrenaline. I could have ran, but I didn't. I faced what came head on and found that I actually reveled every second. The thrill. The adrenaline. I found happiness in it. It was a sort of happiness…"
"…Like no other?"
"Yes. It was a feeling I never thought existed until I felt it myself. No matter how much I'd hear people talk of how fulfilling it was to fight as a ninja for the ones we love and protect, I didn't understand until I had to myself…Until a challenge came and I made the choice to face the unknown, and I ended up liking it…But-…Gaara-Sama," Shijima returned her gaze to the Kazekage's, "what does any of that have to do with whatever I did under the influence? Had I killed someone?"
Gaara's smile became a bit more noticeable at that last part. He found it somewhat ironic that Shijima's mind jumped to something so horrible and wrong rather than assume that she had committed an innocent misconduct, such as kissing the Kazekage himself.
"No, you didn't lay hands on anyone but me."
Shijima concealed a gasp that threatened to leave her mouth. Had she attempted to hurt her lord? Before she could beg for forgiveness, let alone utter a single word, Gaara looked for her hand and lifted it off her dark kimono, cupping it over the side of his own neck. Her skin was cold this time, while his was warm; opposite of their first intimate contact. He remembered how her touch was a gentle one, as affectionate as the last, however this time frozen with fear. He made her fingers relax when he stretched his own to cover them.
"Touch has a memory," he came a bit closer, forcing her eyes wide at the gesure, "does this remind you of anything?"
Shijima sat like rock, her guard in complete shambles by something as simple as holding a man affectionately. As a stone-cold, ruthless assassin that swore her life under the loyalty of her country and most importantly, the Kazekage, she felt absolutely pathetic. How could something this seemingly insignificant melt her heart and crumble all of her defenses? Was this really the person Gaara hired to be his right-hand guard? Not that he even needed one, anyway. That became more apparent to Shijima, now. He never truly needed a guard, and that she always knew of. He just enjoyed her company more than being alone; as much as he enjoyed his siblings before Temari had moved to Konoha to marry and Kankuro had become the leader of Suna's counter-terrorism divison.
As perplexing as it was to Shijima for Gaara to allow her to touch him in such an intimate manner, there was something even more peculiar than that itself. Her hand recognized the way his skin felt when it shouldn't have, and the woman hadn't known how this was possible when the only times she had ever touched him before were in combat or a brush of the knuckles while passing official papers.
"I-…I don't know, I-…" Shijima fished for words, as if they refused to come to her. She had succumb to speechlessness; weakened and rendered into a sort of vulnerability she hadn't known she possessed deep down. No matter how soft Gaara's pearly green eyes were now, fixed on her own above the frame of her glasses, they struck her silent with shock at how close they were, now. The Kazekage was less than a foot from her face. It was like some sort of dream; the world around them erasing from the existence of her mind entirely.
Was this even real? Had this been anyone other than Sabaku No Gaara daring to be this intimate with her, Shijima would have killed them in cold blood before they'd be able to flinch towards her. Yet, this man was the only exception. She didn't know why, at first. It wasn't because he was the Kazekage. It wasn't because he was the strongest shinobi in all of the Wind and she'd never have a chance against his power. No. It was because Shijima had genuinely adored Gaara from the bottom of her heart. He was always so kind to her. He respected her. He cared for her.
"It reminds me of something," she whispered, afraid to even breathe this close to the Kazekage's face. It was like chiseled marble under the pale moonlight. I don't know what, exactly. Gaara-Sama, what happened that night, at Kankuro-Sama's birthday celebration? Why does this all seem so familiar? Please, I need to know, now."
"Would you rather I tell you or remind you myself?"
It was a simple question, nothing affectionate nor playful, but something in Gaara's eyes changed, then. For the briefest of moments, Shijima could have sworn she saw his gaze flicker to her lips before she finished blinking. That's when it all fell into place; why he had been quieter than usual for the past two weeks; why he had seemingly for no reason at all asked her to tell him a story of her childhood. It was all connected, leading up to this moment. Her subconscious racked her conscious mind with a sudden flush of inhibited memories. It happened in a flash, but Shijima recalled every second. She remembered how this red-haired man's lips were soft and his skin was smooth. She remembered what kissing him felt like and that those couple seconds of bliss were ones she'd never forget again.
Shijima's hand gained confidence, then. She traced her fingertips into Gaara's hairline and held him on her own, allowing him to mirror her gesture and gently cup her face.
Her eyes softened as she let out the slightest of chuckles, gaining back an equally faint smile from her auburn-haired Kazekage. She understood now what she had taught him that night; she realized that her innocent kiss was what it took for him to finally grasp the concept of the ways of the world, for himself; not just from books, not just from curious inquiries and confusing answers, but from finally getting a real taste of it all his own. Gaara never knew how this stuff worked until he had experienced it himself, thanks to Shijima. He found a completely new and foreign source of happiness there, within her. It was different from every other sense of fulfillment in his life.
"I remember, now. Your lips felt like rose petals." She quietly confessed, closing the gap between them.
AN: Okay well that concludes the first one shot chapter thing, whatever you will. Reviews appreciated!
