Previously...

With a flourish, she burst in, startling the patient inside.

A boy in his late teens, dressed in a hospital gown with his inky black hair messy as usual, was sitting upright in bed, hands folded serenely in his lap as he watched the breeze carry grains of sand past his window. When the door burst open noisily, he'd jumped, head whirling around in surprise.

"What the—" he helped, silver-blue eyes wide.

Kyoko cut him off with a flying tackle. "Nii-san!"

It was only thanks to his jonin reflexes that allowed the surprised boy to catch her before she body-slammed him out of the bed.

"Whoa, Kyoko," Kazuo reprimanded, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "You trying to make my stay here longer?"

"Well, I know how much you love hospitals," Kyoko replied with a grin. She brought the bouquet up. The flowers were rather shaken up from the flying tackle; several white petals drifted down onto the bedcovers. "I got you irises to brighten you up. Sachiko-baa-chan says it's on the house as long as you drop by sometime."

Kazuo playfully wrinkled his nose at the flowers. "You know I hate flowers and—"

"The color white," Kyoko finished cheerfully. "Why else would I get you them?"

Rolling his eyes, Kazuo ruffled his little sister's hair.

Her wide grin softened into something warmer. "Welcome home, nii-san."

He pulled her into another hug. "I'm home, sis."

Chapter 5

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." — Anonymous

"About time you got here! Hurry up; my stuff is already on the table. I'll go get us some drinks."

With that, Kyoko dashed away, bare feet pattering lightly against the uncarpeted floor as she disappeared into the kitchen. Sighing, Kankuro kicked off his shoes, nudged the front door shut with his elbow, and padded over to the coffee table. Stepping carefully around the variously colored dagger-like weapons—four light silver and two dark gunmetal grey—laid out on the floor, he set down the large canvas bag cradled in his arms and took a seat on the floor.

"You know," he said loudly, starting to unpack. With soft clinks and dull thuds, he pulled out various unlabeled glass jars and rags and brushes of all different sizes. "This would be so much easier if you'd just come over to my workshop instead of making me carry all my stuff here."

"You're kidding, right?" Kyoko called back. Seconds later, she appeared at the doorway, a bottled soft drink in each hand. "I don't know how you can breathe in there. There's more sawdust than air in there." It was an exaggeration, but Kankuro knew that the true reason was because of the redhead he lived with.

She approached the table, setting one of the drinks down in front of Kankuro before taking a seat on the floor across the table from him. "Now, let's get on with business, shall we?"

Rolling his eyes, Kankuro nudged a bottle with a thin lilac liquid forward. "Here. It's an updated version of the usual. It looks purple now, but it'll come out clear when you paint it over metal."

"Nice," Kyoko nodded appreciatively, uncorking the bottle. She picked up one of the silver dagger-like weapons and flicked it open with her thumb. Smoothly, it swung open, revealing a fan composed of thin silver blades. When closed, the fan was still slim enough to be used as a dagger. "I'll take these two, you do those two. The dark ones stay unpoisoned."

"I know the routine by now," Kankuro replied, rolling his eyes as he picked up a brush and dipped it into the bottle of poison.

Despite their usual arguments and fights and claims of hating each other, there were few people in Suna who Kyoko trusted more than Kankuro and vice versa. Ever since Kyoko became chunin, Kankuro had been brewing the specially-made poison that coated Kyoko's weapons. Whenever he whipped up an updated version, he always made the regular trek to her apartment, loaded down with supplies from his workshop to help her set it up.

The two worked in silence, taking turns dipping their brushes in the poison.

"Where are the twins?"

"At the hospital. Now that all the jonin are back, there's tons of work to do. Did you see the guy who came back with his arm hanging by a measly flap of skin?"

"Atsushi, right? I hear he got cornered by a group of Inuzuka ninjas before he was rescued."

"Yeah, him. The twins are on the medic team trying to reattach his arm."

"Really? How's that going?"

"Don't know. It's a little foggy right now whether or not the operation is going to work since it's been so long since the injury happened."

"Poor Atsushi… Well, in the worst case scenario, he could always become a pre-genin tutor. We're always in need of more teachers."

"True."

"What about Kazuo? How's he been lately?"

"As much of a workaholic as ever," Kyoko snorted. "He was released yesterday."

"So where is he now?" Kankuro asked, frowning when a drop of poison slipped off his brush and landed on the inside of his wrist. It was a good thing he'd brought enough antidote for him and Kyoko to sanitize any affected areas after they were done.

"At the Administration Office. There's still a ton of stuff to do that shinobi at his rank can do, and he's trying to take all of it on at once."

"Sounds like Kazuo."

"Yup."

After she'd coated a complete side of her fan, Kyoko carefully flipped it over, briefly catching an unclear, vague reflection of herself in the metal before she brushed a clear coat of the venomous liquid over the first blade. "So how's Gaara?"

"He was released from the hospital yesterday," Kankuro replied without missing a beat. "Temari managed to hunt down those three nurses."

"Oh? What'd she do? Please tell me she broke something. Their fingers at least."

"Sadly, no. But she did get one of them to burst into tears. It was hilarious."

"If it was the small one, I'm not impressed. She looked ready to wet herself that day when I talked to her."

"Alright, if that doesn't impress you, how about this: Temari made them all apologize to Gaara."

Kyoko's head came up, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're kidding."

Kankuro's smile was smug. "Nope. She marched them in, lined them up in front of Gaara's bed, and made them all apologize as if they were little primary school kids. Then she made them change his bandages."

Kyoko looked down again, a grin on her face. "That's our Temari."

Kankuro bit his lip as a comfortable silence fell over him and his long-time friend. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Actually, speaking of Gaara...he said something...interesting the night of his release."

"I'm telling you, Tem," Kankuro said through a mouthful of ramen. Though they had been safely home in Suna for several days, they hadn't been able to go shopping and had been eating ramen for every meal. "He's going crazy. That bump on his head must have knocked his brain loose or something."

"Don't say that, Kankuro," Temari hissed, eyes darting around for Gaara habitually. She caught herself, tried to cover it up by pretending she had been glancing at the clock. "I...I really think he's trying to change."

Kankuro snorted, a bitter look in his eyes. "Like Kyoko said, it's just a little too good to be true, don't you think, Temari?"

"How else can you explain his behavior lately?" Temari demanded. "Think about it. These past few days, he's been calm, level-headed, reasonable even. He hasn't been giving the doctors any problems, he hasn't glared at anyone—not even those idiot nurses. It's getting harder for me to watch my words around him; half the time I end up talking the same way I talk to you. When I finally catch myself, I'm halfway through my sentence and Gaara's just watching me patiently, looking like he's actually listening to me. And," she stressed, leaning forward as she revealed her most important point, "I haven't heard a single death threat in days!"

Kankuro, who had been chewing on his chopsticks as he listened to Temari, frowned. "Okay, you've got some good points, but—" he suddenly cut himself off when he heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs, purposefully loud enough for the two to hear. Immediately, Kankuro and Temari exchanged surprised and worried looks because neither knew just how to deal with this new, unpredictable Gaara.

When the redhead, the center of their discussion, stepped into the kitchen, Temari and Kankuro had both already abandoned their ramen, their full attention on Gaara instead.

Gaara trudged slowly, as if oblivious to their stares, to the table and took a seat across from his siblings, averting his eyes to the imported wood of the table.

Temari glanced at Kankuro, narrowing her eyes as if this aversion of the eyes proved her point. The Gaara they were familiar with never had such qualms with meeting people's eyes; generally, it was the other way around with people usually too anxious and scared to meet the cold eyes of Sabaku no Gaara.

Now, the pale blue-green orbs—what they could see of them at least—were downcast and clouded with such a myriad of emotions that not one was nameable.

"Temari, Kankuro," he said slowly, almost mechanically in that raspy whisper of his. "I'm sorry."

Temari kicked Kankuro under the table, but the puppetmaster didn't quite feel it. His body had gone rigid yet numb at the same time.

"You don't need to apologize," Temari said softly. Gaara's eyes remained firmly on the table. Fiddling with her chopsticks, Temari continued, "We're the ones who owe you an apology. If even family doesn't trust family," she cracked a bitter smile, "how can strangers, right?"

She said it so smoothly, so unhesitatingly, that Kankuro suspected that she'd rehearsed her words before.

Gaara made no movement to acknowledge that he heard, but his two siblings knew he did. The redhead seemed to be struggling internally with something, and it was all Temari and Kankuro could do to hope that he was struggling with himself and not Shukaku.

Finally, Gaara said in almost a whisper, "I want to change...I won't kill anymore, not when I'm not on missions. I'll stop threatening people." He paused and swallowed, looking almost confused. "I'll...need help…"

Kankuro reached up and pinched the skin on his neck, just to ensure that he wasn't dreaming. That this was really, truly happening. Emotions he would never admit to feeling were swelling up inside of him, and he fought back the urge to leap up with a loud resounding cry of pride and joy.

His mouth was dry, but he forced out a few words nonetheless.

"Uh, no problem, Gaara," he said at the same time that Temari proudly stated, "You can count on us to support you."

There was little doubt in Kankuro's mind now that Temari had rehearsed her lines.

The ghost of a smile passed over Gaara's lips as his shoulders, previously rigid, relaxed. He started to get up from his chair—presumably to go back upstairs to the seclusion of his room—when he suddenly paused half-way up. Hesitating just enough for his discomfort to be visible, he awkwardly added, "Thank you."

Kyoko stared, mouth agape. "You're joking."

"Nope," Kankuro said again. Reaching across the table, he tapped Kyoko's slacked jaw shut with the wooden end of his brush. "Close your mouth before you attract flies."

Stunned, Kyoko shook her head vigorously as if to shake off any distracting thoughts. "Wait, this is...I can't…He's...Wha—" she stopped, taking several calming breaths as Kankuro rolled his eyes and resumed painting. Finally, Kyoko squeaked, "He even said 'thank you'?"

Kankuro's brush nearly fell from his hand in surprise. He shot his old friend an incredulous look. "That's what you got out of my flashback?"

Kyoko scowled indignantly. "Well, no, but I think it's still an important piece of information."

"How so?" Kankuro asked, setting the bladed fan—fully coated with poison now—onto a tattered rag that he was going to throw out later anyways. "It's just a measly 'thanks'."

"Uh, not in Gaara's case," Kyoko argued, her fan and brush forgotten in her hands as Kankuro continued his work on another fan. "This is Gaara we're talking about, you idiot! 'Please' and 'thank you' aren't words you'd normally hear from him. It's usually more like 'Do this for me or I'll kill you'. He's not just committing to change—he's already making great improvement!"

At that, Kankuro—ever the realistic one—looked up at the grin threatening to split Kyoko's face in half. He frowned. "Don't get too excited, Kyoko. You and I both know how hard it is to change a reputation. Even if Gaara wants to change, who's to say he can? The village has hated him his entire life now."

Kyoko shook her head, clicking her tongue chastisingly. "What kind of attitude is that? Aren't you and Temari the no-nonsense, tough-as-steel, sharp-as-knives—well, not you maybe, but Temari—brother-and-sister duo? Son and daughter of the Fourth Kazekage, teammates to the infamous Sabaku no Gaara."

"You're really annoying," Kankuro growled, stinging from the insult she'd slipped into her pep talk.

Kyoko smiled in return. "If anyone can set Gaara straight, I'd bet my Suna hitai-ate on you guys."

Kankuro stole a glance upwards and smirked. "Don't try putting on a brave face, Kyoko. You're upset that he didn't ask you too, aren't you?"

As if that observation was Kankuro's okay-signal for Kyoko to start complaining, her grin suddenly dropped and she wailed, "Yes! That's not fair; I want to help too!" Pouting, she gave a loud suffering sigh. "Even though he's pretty justified in not wanting my help, it still stings a little."

"Quit the dramatics," Kankuro drawled, rolling his eyes. "You don't even know if he's going to ask you later or something."

Kyoko narrowed her eyes at him. "Even I wouldn't want my help." She sighed. "But either way, I'll do what I can to help. I owe him that much at least. You better work hard too, Kankuro. Gambatte!"

"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and paint the rest of your fans. I'm already done."

"Oh, crap! Why didn't you keep me on track?"

"How in the name of Suna did you ever pass the Chunin Exams?"

"Temari," Kankuro whined, stirring the noodle-less soup of his ramen cup. "Can we go shopping tomorrow or something? I'm sick of eating ramen everyday."

All three siblings were seated at the dinner table again, ramen cups before Temari and Kankuro; Gaara had holed himself up in his room all day. Absentmindedly, both siblings hoped he had eaten the ramen Temari had brought up for him.

Looking up briefly from the notepad, of which she had just opened to a fresh page, Temari rolled her eyes. "You're not the only one sick of noodles, Kankuro, but we've got bigger things to deal with now with dad missing, the village recomposing itself, and—" she paused again, eyes flickering subtly in the silent Gaara's direction. She cleared her throat. "Maybe at the end of the week."

Kankuro scowled. "Fine."

"Anyways," Temari continued, ignoring Kankuro's sulky expression. "About the topic of tonight's impromptu brainstorming session, I was thinking the first step should be to redress broken relationships. We're going to need all the allies we can get if we're going to pull this off."

Even Gaara with his limited experience in recognizing expressions could tell by the look on Kankuro's face that they were thinking the same thought: What relationships, broken or not?

When Temari looked up after jotting down her idea in small, neat characters to see her brothers' blank expressions, she sighed. She pressed her pencil to the notepad again and scrawled something else down.

"Like this," she said, turning the notepad upside down and pushing it to the center of the table for the boys to see. Immediately, the brothers leaned forward, curious at what relationships Gaara allegedly had. Only two names were on the page.

Temari.

Kankuro.

Before Gaara's eyes, Temari scrawled a quick check mark beside both names.

Kankuro rolled his eyes immediately at Temari's overly dramatic hidden message, but it took a moment for Gaara to realize her implication. After a long moment, his eyes widened slightly and he glanced up at his sister.

She smiled in return, nodding her head ever so slightly.

Gaara's chest ached, almost like the way it always did when he was younger, but much lighter—like a bubble of air filling his chest cavity—decidedly much more comfortable than the sharp pains he was used to. It was one thing for his siblings to agree to help him change, which, after all, benefitted all of the Sand Village; but it was another thing entirely to say that his relationship with them was fixed.

He was getting what he truly wanted: a fresh start, a clean slate, a second chance.

Temari had already started talking again before Gaara even thought of a response that properly conveyed his gratitude. "There's got to be more people. Let's see...Baki?"

"I guess you could say that," Kankuro said, shrugging. He tapped his fingers unconsciously on the table as Temari scribbled down Baki's name. "But he's easy. He's our sensei; Gaara changing will make his life a whole lot easier."

Temari frowned at the impeccably short list. "This can't be all."

Kankuro stared at her incredulously. "Well, it is Sabaku no Gaara we're talking about." He held up his hand. "I'm pretty sure we can actually count all the people's he's interacted with in the past on my hand." He closed his fist and stretched out a finger as he ticked off names. "You, fixed. Me, fixed. Baki, easy. Yashamaru—" he suddenly broke off, remembering that he was talking about Sabaku no Gaara and that he'd just uttered one of the unspeakable words in the presence of said redhead.

Now he understood what Temari had meant about not being able to keep her cautiousness up in Gaara's presence anymore.

Nervously, he chanced a glance at Gaara, knowing Temari was doing the same.

The redhead was frowning slightly, his eyes slightly darkened as he glared at the table, but when he noticed his siblings eyeing him warily, he quickly smoothed out his expression as if nothing had happened.

A thick silence permeated the room before Temari cleared her throat.

"Actually," she said slowly. "There's always the Kazeko clan too, right?"

Having been trying to think of a way to subtly suggest to Gaara to let Kyoko help, Kankuro quickly jumped to respond. "Yeah, I even talked to her earlier. She really wants to help."

"And the more help we get, the better," Temari added. The two turned to Gaara.

The redhead made no response and merely stared back emotionlessly. Suddenly, he got up.

"This meeting's over," he said quietly with his usual tone of authority. Without another word, he turned and began trudging up the stairs with silent steps.

The two older siblings exchanged a glance and sighed.

"It was worth a try," Temari said.

Kankuro sighed. "You're not the one who has to deal with her. She's going to be making me work twice as hard now." Another sigh. "Why couldn't she have been born a year earlier? At least then she'd be your friend instead of mine."

Temari chuckled. "Suck it up and deal with it."

As the two siblings cleaned up the table and split off to their respective nightly haunts—Temari to her bedroom and Kankuro to his workshop—Gaara leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed against his chest, he glared at the wall opposite him with narrowed eyes. Stray grains of sand tracked in everyday shifted restlessly at his feet.

Kyoko had been the one to sever their friendship, toeing the ground nervously as she stuttered out that she no longer wanted to be friends. Why, after nearly seven years, would she want to help him regain what little opportunities were left for him?

Are we talking about that loud-mouthed, attention-greedy brat you used to play with? With the unbearable ego and ridiculously competitive streak? Shukaku questioned, trying to follow Gaara's train of thought. Receiving a mental nod, the tanuki demon figuratively spat in disgust. Why didn't we kill her back then? Ah, it doesn't matter; we should just go and kill her now. Come on, don't you want to feel alive again? Her blood will do the trick; I guarantee.

With a laborious sigh, Gaara pushed back the oncoming surge of bloodlust coaxed by Shukaku's persuasive words. 'We'll go see her, but there will be no bloodshed tonight.'

Aw, you're no fun anymore, the tanuki grumbled in reply. He didn't, however, seem that bothered by Gaara's decision to remain stainless. Whatever; at least we're going. Once we're there and can hear her blood rushing through her veins, I'm sure I can get you to change your mind.

'I'd prefer if you didn't try,' Gaara replied, making his way back down the stairs and towards the front door. 'It'll be a futile effort for you because I'm not killing anyone tonight.'

As he approached the front door, a yellow slip of paper plastered onto the wood caught Gaara's attention. Curiously, he plucked it off. On it was an address with a little note scribbled in Kankuro's handwriting.

- The Kazeko's moved out of the Kazeko complex a few years ago after they were forced to sell it to be demolished into training grounds for the public. This is their new address.

Gaara's eyes flickered back up to the address, easily recognizing the street and district. After years of nightly strolls all throughout Suna, he knew the massive village like the back of his hand. The Kazeko's, it seemed, had moved to an apartment complex but a few minutes away from their old home.

Slipping the little square of paper into his pocket, Gaara pulled the door open and stepped out into the night. A cool breeze brushed by, carrying several grains of sand in its wake as it tousled Gaara's burgundy locks.

Perfect night for some killing, Shukaku casually remarked as his host began making his way down the street.

'No,' Gaara replied curtly, turning a corner.

Why can't you forget about the Kyuubi brat? Shukaku snapped irately. He was a loser anyway. Who the hell needs friends? They just drag you down.

'Which explains why you lost,' Gaara retorted.

There was a pregnant pause full of dark mutters from the tanuki demon as he was reminded of his defeat. It wasn't until several minutes later, when Gaara stood looking up at a building, when the demon decided to speak to his host again.

It's a clear sky tonight, he observed with a scarily innocent tone as Gaara pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket. Why don't we make it rain? Droplets of blood to wash the sand of our village, paint everything crimson? The moon is only partially full, but it should still make all that blood shine and glisten! Doesn't that sound nice?

'It never did,' Gaara replied, eyes darkening at the thought of his past deeds. 'I just taught myself not to cringe anymore.'

Before the demon could snap a reply, Gaara quickly shoved the tanuki into the back of his mind, trapping it there with steel pillars of pure will. With his mind much quieter, only filled with soft grumblings of a peeved demon, Gaara let out a soft sigh of relief. Slowly, he unclenched the fists he hadn't realized he'd clenched. At the sound of crinkling paper, he brought one of his hands up and opened his fist fully, revealing the paper half-crumpled up.

Smoothing it out, he read the address again despite knowing that he was at the right place.

The apartment complex looked fairly average and similar to all the other buildings of Suna: short and stout, though larger than the average Suna home. But while the average Suna home housed a single family, this building and its fellow apartment complexes could house up to four families. Many shinobi who lived alone or in pairs, who would therefore not require much living space, occupied them.

Crumpling the paper in his fist again, Gaara let his hands fall to his sides.

What now? Should he go and knock on her door? Was there another protocol he was supposed to follow when visiting someone?

Luckily for him, he didn't have to make the decision.

At that moment, the main door swung open and out came a black-haired boy slightly taller than Gaara. He was dressed in basic Suna shinobi garb—various shades of greyish beige—and had a Suna hitai-ate over his forehead. In one hand was a small dingo pup, squirming to be set down. The boy, however, had frozen at the sight of Gaara standing before the door.

"Gaara?" the boy uttered after he'd regained his voice. To Gaara's surprise, there was hardly any fear in the boy's tone at all, just surprise and extreme caution.

"Taizo?" Gaara guessed after a moment.

The boy's lips twitched, as if he was unsure whether he should be amused that even the infamous Sabaku no Gaara confused him with his twin or nervous that Suna's Demon was standing before his home. He settled for something in between, lips pressed together tightly while he carefully schooled his expression. "Close. I'm Saburo. Taizo's inside with Kyoko."

Absently, Gaara marveled at how the young boy was able to keep his cool so well, but he reasoned that it perhaps wasn't that unusual. After all, he had heard his father all throughout his childhood call the Kazeko clan a "band of lunatics led by the biggest idiot in the village." Of course, a chuckle always followed, but one couldn't say something like that without being serious, right?"

"I need to speak with Kyoko," Gaara said, demeanor not changing in the slightest.

Saburo nodded, as if he'd expected as much.

"Uh, follow me then," he said, turning. Just then, the dingo pup in his arms started yapping up a storm, even biting down on one of the boy's fingers. With a yelp, Saburo dropped the pup, scowling as it dashed around, clearly relishing in its freedom. "Saryu, you little punk."

The dingo pup grinned back toothily, tail waving madly.

Saburo sighed, starting to turn away. "You can explore Suna all you want, but either return to the Spirit World or get back here in an hour, got it? I'll be having Areno check."

The dingo pup took off without so much as a nod of confirmation.

With a sigh, Saburo looked back at Gaara with a mixture of sheepishness and caution before leading the way into the building. They turned through the hallway and up a flight of stairs to the door on the left of the landing.

Before they even opened the door, Gaara could hear an argument inside.

"Come on, brat, I worked hard to make this!"

"Kyoko, I swear, I saw that thing move, and I'm pretty sure food is not supposed to move."

"Don't be silly, Taizo, it's just dango. Eat it!"

"Make Saburo eat it when he gets back!"

At that, Saburo shuddered as he pulled the door open and stepped inside. "Uh, no thanks, nii-san. I'm not hungry." Ignoring the scowl his twin sent him, Saburo kicked off his shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe rack.

"Saburo-kun," Kyoko immediately chirped, jumping up with a ball of green sticky dough smothered in a questionable sauce impaled on a toothpick. "My dango's done! Try one!"

She froze mid-step when Gaara took that moment to walk through the doorway as well. Usually Gaara wouldn't have cared for traditional customs like removing one's shoes before entering a house, but in light of his recent decision to change, he slowly took off his sandals, setting them on the rack like he'd seen Saburo do. Straightening up, he turned to see the twins and Kyoko watching him.

A sudden wet splat drew everyone's attention to the green dango now sitting cozily on the floor, having slipped off the toothpick in Kyoko's hand.

"Shit," she hissed, quickly bending down and picking it up. Holding it in one flour-covered hand, she tried to mop up the sauce residue with her flour-covered apron.

The twins chose that moment to escape.

"Well, we'll be studying advanced shuriken technique in our room," Taizo said, walking briskly out of the room with his twin scampering after him. Gaara watched them dash away until they disappeared from view and a door slammed shut; unmoved, he glanced back at Kyoko, who had stood up and was walking to the little kitchenette.

Dumping the dango into the trash, she quickly wiped her hands on her apron and turned back to face Gaara. Her eyes met his briefly before she flinched at his cold gaze and settled her eyes on the kanji branded on his forehead instead. It didn't matter if she still stood several inches taller; beneath his hard stare, she cringed like a child awaiting punishment. Subconsciously, she shifted her weight into an ambiguous stance that could easily turn offensive or defensive at any moment. "So...you wanted to talk to me?"

Gaara crossed his arms over his chest. "Kankuro says you wanted to help me."

The tension never left Kyoko's shoulders. "Well, yeah."

"Why?" Gaara all but demanded.

At that, the kunoichi froze and her eyes slowly fell to the floor. "Uh...why?"

"Hn."

Several seconds of silence passed before a grim chuckle escaped her lips. She dropped into a chair at the dinner table, fixing her eyes on a spot on the table surface. "Why? Why not? I mean, after everything that happened in the past, the least I can do is help, right? If I just sat here, knowing what I did to you in the past, and just watched you struggle through this by yourself...well, I'd be losing what little sleep I'm managing to get." It was the closest thing to an apology she'd even gotten to, and they both knew it. As if realizing how dangerously close she was to crossing that line and steering the conversation into an undesired direction, she quickly changed her tone, lifting her head with a small smile. "Besides, if you're serious, if you can actually manage to pull through somehow, it'd be a miracle."

Gaara's expression remained unfazed, but the glare had disappeared. After a moment, he nodded, which Kyoko could only assume meant that he approved of her help.

"Wait," she said when he turned to leave. When he turned back impassively, she hesitated before gesturing to the seat across the table from her. "Sit down for a minute."

He hesitated slightly before shuffling into the seat silently.

With a grin, Kyoko slid a plate of green dango across the table at him. "I made these today. Try some."

Gaara stared at the dango. There was a large handful of the Japanese dumplings clustered together on the plate, all of which were rather misshapen; some were visibly undercooked, looking overly chunky and hard, while others sagged with softness. A questionable syrupy sauce was sprinkled over them.

Kyoko seemed oblivious to his obvious reluctance to put such suspicious-looking food into his mouth. She leaned forward, eying him intensely.

"So," she murmured. "Are you really prepared to do this? You know how hard it's going to be, right? People are stubborn especially when it comes to admitting that they were wrong."

Gaara nodded, eyes narrowing. He could've sworn he saw one of the dango move.

Kyoko sighed wistfully, shaking her head. "I need to meet this Naruto kid someday. He's officially changed my view of Leaf ninja." She leaned forward a little more. "So you're letting me help, right? I'm not going to have to work behind the scenes?"

"Hn."

With a grin, Kyoko stuck out a hand. "Promise?"

Finally, Gaara looked up from the plate of dango, an irritated look on his face. "Yes."

"You're supposed to shake on it," Kyoko stage-whispered, wiggling her fingers.

Feeling a slight sense of deja vu, Gaara sighed inaudibly, gripped her hand, and shook it. Instead of letting go, however, Kyoko continued pumping their hands up and down as she said, "Hi, I'm Kyoko."

Gaara frowned. Was she messing with him? "I already know who you are."

She shook her head. "I know who you were, and you knew who I was. But times change, and I'd like to think I matured—" even Gaara couldn't hold back a skeptical scoff. Kyoko pretended not to hear it. "—and the Gaara I knew isn't the one before me now. And he'll never be back. But we can make this one better. Come on, you remember how to introduce yourself, right?"

"Hi, Kyoko," Gaara deadpanned. "I'm Sabaku no Gaara."

Satisfied, Kyoko released the redhead's hand, swiped up a toothpick lying on the plate, and jabbed the mini wooden senbon into a dango. Picking the soft ball of rice flour up, she held it out to Gaara. "I'll help you as long as you try my dango. Go on; I promise it'll taste better than it looks."

Gaara contemplated murdering her. Finally, he sighed and plucked the toothpick out of Kyoko's hand. Tentatively, he placed it in his mouth, chewing cautiously. It was a little crunchy, but not—to Gaara's surprise, considering the dango's appearance and the fact that he disliked sweet things—as bad as he'd expected.

"It's sweet."

MHJ: Only 1 week this time! :) Okay guys, this is seriously important! Please look and answer the two polls. One asks about what age everyone should be and can be found on my profile page. The other is back on Chapter 4 and is REALLY IMPORTANT because it decides what I should write next. Please look at them and either leave a response as a review or just PM me. Thanks!

Edit: 12/1/13: Hey, so I've tallied up the votes on Gaara's age. The majority seems to want me to stick to canon so I guess he'll stay 12. I've put the plot poll on my profile page now, but I'm also keeping it in chapter 4. Please take the time to answer it whether by the poll or by PMing/reviewing. Thanks~