Author/Artist: Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.
Pairing: Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.
Community/Fandom: 30_kisses/Naruto.
Theme: #4 — our distance and that person.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Disclaimer: Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course.

Author Notes: Just saying, but if you leave a review with a question, how about leaving me some way of answering it other than taking up space by putting it in my AN and hoping you continue to read. I had a question from an unregistered reviewer ("good writer") who asked about the 30kisses prompts and weren't they supposed to have a kiss of some form physical/metaphorical within the fic; obviously they could not find it. Yes, the prompts must include some kind of kiss. If there isn't an actual physical kiss, you can bet it'll be said in either some form or a metaphorical kiss—but that doesn't mean I have to say "kiss" in every one, as long as it happens. Saying "kiss" over and over in 30 fics is just going to get repetitive, at least for me. Sometimes, I'm gonna make you search. For those playing the home game, I'll give a short recap:

Chapter 1—Sakura put her hand on Gaara's cheek, "Her fingers stretched upward, palm kissing his cheek."
Chapter 2—Temari said she'd hit the men if they ogling her, "they're going to get a kiss from my fan."
Chapter 3—Karin kissed Sakura's cheek, "Lips fluttered against her cheek, soft as smoke, and she turned, swinging."


Something was smothering her.

It felt as though a pillow was shoved over her nose and mouth, pressing down on her. The pressure wasn't strong, merely persistent. As much as she thrashed, it would not dislodge. No matter what way she turned, it would not move.

She could not see.

She could not breathe.

She was suffocating and in blind panic, clawed at her face, feeling no pain though her nails scratched at her skin and tore away flesh.

There was nothing there, she found, but still she could not breathe.

She tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Turning her head from side to side, it slipped away light water and light flooded her vision.


Sakura blinked at the bright light as she woke up, breathing heavily and her chest heaving in the after effects of the dream. Something had been over her face, a fabric—it rubbed smoothly against her neck. She glanced down at it and rubbed the edge between her fingers. Someone had draped a red jacket over her, in lieu of a proper blanket. It was a man's, she could tell, by scent alone—she brought it to her mouth and inhaled men's cologne deeply, practically kissing the fabric. It was hot enough to have her sweating, so most likely she was covered in an attempt to keep the sun off her. She'd been on a night watch when they had been attacked, and her current clothes were not exactly proper in avoiding sunburn.

Trying to sit up, however, something constricted painfully in her chest and made it hard to draw breath. Sakura clutched her ribcage unconsciously, but when she tried to pull together some strength, the green light that usually engulfed her hand was only a faint glimmer that sputtered before fading. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Temari was perched on a small boulder a few feet away. She looked awake; seemingly completely unfazed by the excitement of the previous night except for gingerly way she held her arms.

Sakura blinked at her. "Good morning," she replied drowsily, as though they hadn't almost been killed; her voice was raspy from both sleep and overexertion. Behind her, something growled low and she felt it vibrate against her back. The woman turned and found she'd been curled into the curve of Temari's ferret-summons, Kamatari, who blinked lazily at her with its one good eye in the desert's dry heat. "Oh, good morning to you too." Sakura coughed to clear her throat. "Karin?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

Temari made a face. "Gaara."

"So he got here in time after all," said Sakura after a pause, finding the best of the situation and focusing on it. She tried to remember the previous evening—if it even still was the previous evening—but found that she couldn't recall anything past the start of healing Temari. She didn't even remember completely fixing Temari's arms. Picking at a fraying edge of the jacket, she sighed and coughed again. "What happened to me? After I slapped Karin, I don't remember anything," she admitted between coughs.

"Drink first," Temari implored boredly, tossing Sakura her canteen, "you're probably dehydrated." Sakura caught it on the fall and leaned back against Kamatari to sip the water slowly. It tasted wonderful, if a bit warm.

"I don't even know exactly what happened," Temari explained. "I was just as unconscious as you. But this is what I got from the men. Gaara got here after you passed out from chakra exhaustion, and Juugo bolted when he saw the rest of the squad coming. Karin was shaking something awful after your attack—pretty pathetic, I'd say. You only slapped her. But he completely bailed. The guys were able to contain her until Gaara got here. They assured me it was clean, at least." The woman's expression turned peculiar, but Sakura was unable to full place the emotion. "It wasn't Shiro, either, like we thought, it was Yemon. They found his body last night. There wasn't much damage done, but Eiji and Kenji are dead—same way as Yemon. Nobody else was badly hurt."

Against her will, tears clouded Sakura's vision and she blinked them away. "They were on watch on the other side of camp," murmured Sakura softly. She stroked absentmindedly at Kamatarai's neck, and the ferret made a pleased growling noise not much different from a purr. Temari's lips were drawn down in a frown, but her face gave nothing away. Both Yemon and Eiji were Suna ninja, and they probably had never spoken to the fan master before the assignment.

Before, Sakura would have called her callous, but now, she wished for the other women's emotional strength—it was a weak spot she'd tried to remove to no avail. "How long was I out?"

"A full day since I've been awake." The Suna kunoichi laced her fingers, reversed her hands and stretched them out before her. "My arms don't hurt, but they feel weird."

Sakura nodded. "It'll be that way for a while," she clarified, rubbing her hands along her ribs. The muscle there was sore, and when she lifted her shirt, the skin was a bluish-purple. "We can put the bone back into the socket, but it's common for it to feel like it doesn't set right in the beginning." She grimaced as she pressed too hard. "I think she broke two of my ribs."

"The bitch." Temari snorted and shook her head. "Naruto's squad is in Suna already, it's where we're heading too. They buried the bodies, picked us up and left. We've been on break for a while. We should be heading out again soon."

Sakura frowned. "My stuff?"

Temari shrugged apologetically. "They grabbed what couldn't be left, but everything not top-priority was left. We'll send out a recovery team for the rest when we get to Suna."

The pink-haired woman grimaced, but there was nothing she could do now. By then, looters would have their pick over the place. Nobody would bother stealing her medical books—they could be bought second-hand at any bookstore with a medical section. But the medical supplies were pricy. They'd fetch enough to keep a body fed for a month, and they'd surely already been sold on some underground trade market. "This sucks," she grunted, shifting awkwardly on the ground. She braced her hands on the ground to push herself to her feet, but her side ached so much it stole her breath away. At least two ribs, she corrected guess.

"Once again, we find ourselves in your debt."

Arms crossed, he blocked the glare from the sun, sending her into shadow and silhouetting himself. The gourd threw off his body proportion, causing him to appear larger than he was.

Sakura blinked and shifted in pain. "'Scuse me?"

Gaara wasn't looking at her but off into the distance. "You saved Kankurou's life, helped Chiyo-sama defeat Sasori to bring me back. Now you've healed Temari." Sakura's cheeks flushed with pride and embarrassment. She glanced down and fiddled with her shin-guards as a distraction. "Our family has indebted itself to you."

"It's nothing," she managed to stutter. She couldn't see where he was looking now, but something told her it was at her, and she inwardly flinched at the thought of his hard, intense gaze. "It's simply my duty as a medic."

Temari laughed, and Sakura remembered why she liked the woman so much. Something about her just made situations seem lighter. "Don't be so modest, Sakura-chan," she teased. "Not every medic can boast of saving the lives of three very important ninja from another village, especially a Kage. Give yourself some credit."

"But, I—"

"We'll be leaving shortly," interrupted Gaara, cutting her mumblings short as he glanced at Temari. "A storm is coming. Tomorrow, around mid-afternoon. It would be a waste of energy to linger when we can beat it." He sniffed the air before unfolding his arms. He began to walk away, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Keep my jacket for now. Your attire isn't suitable for the desert afternoon."

He continued away, leaving a stunned Leaf-nin and a sighing Sand-nin. Sakura glanced down at the jacket she clutched between her fists and realized with slight horror that it was Gaara's. She couldn't believe she hadn't recognized it.

"You heard the Kazekage, up you go." Her voice sounded almost slightly sarcastic, and Temari got to her with a grunt, stretching her back with a series of muted cracks. She turned a grin to Sakura. "We should reach Suna in a few hours, sunset at latest. And you should probably put on Gaara's jacket. They didn't think to grab your cloak. You'll sunburn without covering."

With some difficultly, the two women managed to get Sakura on her feet. Standing taxed her. Her chest heaved laboriously, barely able to catch her breath. Her eyes watered furiously in the sunlight. The breathing problems made her dizzy, and she leaned heavily against Kamatari's side. The ferret-summon watched silently, accepting the extra weight without protest and never even growled when Sakura seized a fist-full of white fur to keep herself balanced. She got the jacket on by herself, but Temari had to help her with the front's multiple fastening—she'd obviously had practice.

Now that she'd taken time to pay attention, besides his scythe, Kamatari carried what few belongings of hers the men had grabbed: her weapons pack, her backpack and her flak jacket. While preparing to leave, some of the men gathered around them to inform Sakura how glad they were that she was all right. Tenzou seemed especially worried. She wondered if it was because he knew Kakashi would never forgive him should she be fatally injured under his watch. The entire time, Temari marched at her side protectively, as if she expected Sakura to collapse or seize suddenly. With her inability to properly breathe, even Sakura wasn't so sure she'd manage to finish the rest of the trip on her own two feet.

"Can't you heal yourself?" Jurou, one of the younger Sand shinobi asked when she pressed her fingers to her side.

Sakura smiled. "I drained myself dry on Temari. It'll be at least another day or two before I regain use of my chakra."

When Gaara rejoined them and instructed them to move out, Sakura straightened her back and pushed enough away from Kamatari that she stood without leaning, but the summons was within reach if she should stumble. Many of the men frowned openly at her obstinacy, but knew better than to say anything. Even Temari pursed her lips as she took in Sakura's limped gait. Tenzou hovered like a vulture, and when his presence became irksome, Sakura regained enough of her fiery temper to manage a glower.

"Enough already, I'm not a porcelain doll," she snapped, face flushing with more than just the heat. "Stop acting like I'm gonna bre—!" She tore off, screeching as her feet were swept out from underneath her. She closed her eyes and waited for the jarring impact that never came.

"Stop that."

His voice was far too close. She glanced up at him, opening one eye. "Put me down," she whispered meekly, ignoring the grin Temari had thrown her way.

He'd hooked her knees with the crook of an elbow, the other arm looped around her back. Gaara barely spared her a glance as he shifted her slightly, tightening his grip around her back, but still remaining loose enough to be proper. "We're on a schedule," he deigned to explain with a short sigh, meeting her shocked gaze. "Being stubborn to overcompensate for your injury will only worsen your condition and slow us down. We'll reach Suna much faster without condescending to your speed."

Sakura ignored the fact that she'd just been insulted and folded her arms gingerly across her chest, careful of her ribs. She hid her grimace behind the high collar of his jacket and closed her eyes, attempting to block out the sun's incessant heat. She felt pathetic and weak. And if Temari didn't wipe the shit-eating grin from her face, Sakura was going to dislocate her arms again for her.


to be continued...