...
"What do you think it's like out there, Gaara?" Fumiko asked. "Outside the walls, I mean?" ~
...
Gaara was a very light sleeper.
He didn't sleep often, either. He liked to stay awake, because he could, not because he had to. Gaara preferred to be awake, mostly because bad things had always happened whenever he fell asleep, but also because he liked to think, and he liked to be aware of his surroundings; he liked to trace the stars out the windows with his eyes and study the paintings and pictures on the walls and he liked to watch Fumiko sleep.
But of course he fell asleep sometimes. It was nice, being able to sleep when he needed to sleep, but being able to stay awake if he wanted to stay awake. The markings on his eyelids and around his eyes hadn't faded in the slightest, which gave him the sneaky suspicion that it was a discoloration from hosting Shukaku at birth.
He'd always sort of known. Fumiko's looked different than his, baggier, less complete, sometimes a more washed out black than his' starkness. Everyone else's insomniac eyes looked different.
Not that Fumiko's had really faded... despite her new sleeping patterns, she still didn't sleep as much as the average person, and although the baggy-ness was fading away, the coloring wasn't. Gaara wondered if that was permanent. After all, the underneath of her eyes had been about that color for the last seven, almost eight years.
Surprisingly, aside from the first three or four nights after he could sleep, his body didn't stay in shutdown mode, like Fumiko's sleep. It regulated. Although it was irritating to get tired without being awake for three weeks straight, instead, every week or so, Gaara did like being able to easily wake from sleep.
A sound at his window? Awake. A servant's shuffling outside his door? Awake. The creak and shifting of the various things in his room? Awake. Even Fumiko's constant shifting- every time she moved across the sheets, be it closer or farther from him- awake... countless times he had saved her falling off the bed.
Random screams in the middle of the night?
Awake. Definitely awake.
"Fumiko, shh, easy," he murmured, petting her hair just like he did every other night or two. "Easy, Fumiko, shh."
Fumiko didn't shh. She just continued to panic with her face inside the fabric of his sleep shirt. He knew already that she knew her surroundings and that she'd just had yet another nightmare, but she was simply allowing herself to panic. Gaara didn't judge. He'd done the same thing.
He had thought they were in the clear a week or so after her first nightmare, but then suddenly and for no reason, the dreams kicked in. Once or twice a week she woke up scared, and sometimes she could remember, sometimes she couldn't. The ones she could recall were often extremely random, patients dying, paintings coming to life, once or twice being eaten by bats, body parts coming off, death of loved ones. Things that had already happened.
There was a lot of stupid blond Akatsuki. Gaara wanted to kill Deidara simply for this.
"Shh, Fumiko, shh." Gaara held her gently, not rocking like she had done for him mainly because she didn't need it to calm down, both of them on their knees, blue blankets helplessly tangled around their legs. His heart still raced.
Gaara figured he would never get used to that, her screaming in the middle of the night. He always woke, mind and body screaming danger! Ready to kill someone, ready to fight, lithe, ready to jump out of bed and defend, and there was always a few seconds of adjustment in the dark before he realized there was no threat, and usually by then Fumiko was awake and launched herself at him.
Eventually she calmed down.
"Don't remember," she muffled into his shirt at his unspoken question. "Sorry."
"It's alright," Gaara said. "Sleep?"
He could feel her face moving against his chest. "No."
Gaara kept petting her hair and glanced up at the windows. Moonlight. Stars. Still dark. Too early to make breakfast if she wanted to share it with anyone, it would be hours before first light. "Play?" he suggested instead.
Fumiko pulled away, face watery, and smiled. "Play what?"
Gaara shrugged. "Constellations?" She liked making new, unorthodox shapes out of stars. It was almost like cloud-watching, only colder. "Board games? Sand-drawing? Forts?"
They had many games for waking-up-too-early-from-nightmares. Who knew they would come in handy after Shukaku was gone?
...
~ Gaara glanced at the towering sandstone. He had already been out there a few times for the Academy training regime, and it wasn't that interesting... just a lot of sand and cactai and the occasional animal. "Why?" ~
...
Mai was bored.
Bored, bored, bored.
Her mom had decided today would be a girls day out. Mai had violently disagreed. She had better things to do anyway, like train, or bug Kankuro into letting her use his blade wheel, or tag after Fumiko and Gaara and be an awkward third wheel. Eh, not really. They were annoyingly different from most couples, it felt more like a threesome whenever she busted in on something.
Ew.
Ewwww. No.
Mai needed brain-bleach.
Anyway, in retaliation her mom had made grapefruit sorbet and bribed her into sitting down at the kitchen table while she tried to braid her now shoulder-length black hair from hell. It really wasn't fair; her father's hair was black and stuck up in the back like bed-head. Girls weren't supposed to have hair like that!
She didn't need to specify that it turned out more than a little crazy, with curling locks poking out of the tight tail at various intervals, and her bangs just sprang back in front of her eyes. Kind of like a ponytail but more under control.
"We should do makeup, too," her mother gushed, obviously over-confident over her blackmailing skills. "It would be fun! Just you and me. Your father won't be back until-"
"No," Mai said flatly.
"But-"
"I said hell no. I'm not wearing makeup, Kankuro and Shorty-sama would never let me live it down."
Her mother pouted, tugged on her braid, then sat in the chair next to her. Mai glanced her way suspiciously, pulling her bowl closer. She was pretty sure her mom didn't like grapefruit...
The older woman sighed. She really did look a lot like Fumiko... more filled out, and with blue eyes instead of brown eyes, and her smile was always softer (and sometimes weirdly sneaky) but still, they shared the same surprisingly hard to tan, barely-darkened skin, the same flat, straight brown hair and bangs, the thin face, nose, everything.
They weren't alike personality wise. With kindness, maybe, but her mother's kind of kindness was fairly universal. Where Fumiko got the hyper-crazy-everyone-shall-be-my-friend personality from, Mai had absolutely no clue. Fumiko looked a little like their father, too, with the brown eyes. Mai knew from pictures that her sister also had their father's smile.
Mai, of course, was stuck looking just like her father, with crazy-ass black hair and tanned skin so she looked like light coffee, and brown eyes with the same damn flecks, and the same square round-ish jawline. Closer and closer to the same irritable personality, although her reasons for being pissy were way more justifiable than his. She had her mother's nose, at least.
Aside from their noses and their eyes, Mai and Fumiko didn't look a whole lot like sisters. Mai wasn't twiggy like her sister. She was filled out average, growing steadily, noticeable tight kunoichi-muscles that Fumiko hadn't quite developed yet. Their demeanors and airs and body language were totally different.
The people who knew knew, obviously. But strangers never figured it out on their own.
"How's Gaara doing?"
"What?"
"I asked how Gaara's doing," her mother said with another small, soft smile that neither of her children had adopted. Well, Fumiko smiled like that, sometimes, when she was sad, but that was it. "I... haven't really gotten the chance to visit him. Every time I try it seems like a bad time."
"Oh, yeah?" Mai took a bite of sorbet. "'Ow long ago was'at?"
"Oh, I don't know," her mother said, and her smile turned a little wry. "Sometime after his return. He seemed awfully distracted."
Mai swallowed, then shrugged. "In his defense, Fumiko was avoiding him. I'da been confused too if I were him. Also he'd just come back to life, so, yeah, there's that. What about Fumiko?"
"The last time I tried that she practically threw me out the door."
"Yeah, well, again, Gaara was gone, sooo..."
"I know you've seen them, Mai. How are they? Talking to each other now? I heard they made up."
Oh, mother, the things I could tell you.
"They're good. Just like always I guess." Mai shrugged again, dipping her spoon into the ice cream soup. The house was hot as hell, and it wasn't even midday yet. It was morning still- what, eight, nine? Maybe. "Fumiko still force feeds him, he still overreacts to everything, and they both hang out in his office and work."
"I miss when they were little things," her mother said wistfully, resting her chin on her palm. "They were so cute."
"Before or after Gaara hit his psycho-killer face?"
Her mother scrunched her nose but didn't scold her. It wasn't like it wasn't true; sometime after like ten he started looking like a badass that wanted to kill you and yours even when he was trying to make small talk. He still looked like a badass, but that was more in a stony cold way that could soften, not like 'Run for the hills! He's smiling!' "Before," she said.
"Oh, so you mean when Gaara used to let you mother-hen him."
"I don't mother-hen!" her mother protested. Then she smiled again. "But he still lets me do it."
"No, affection just scares him so he does what you say."
The older woman barked out a quick laugh. "I suppose so."
"Oh, it's gone," Mai said, slightly disappointed, glancing down at the empty bowl. She pushed her chair back and stood, bringing her plate over to the sink and dropping it in the basin. Subconsciously her hand flickered to her side, checking for the familiar hilt. "I gotta go, the Sibs are probably wondering why I didn't show for breakfast."
Her mother just stared at her with almost sad eyes until Mai got uncomfortable.
"Oookay, well, I'm gonna go train, or something..."
"You're so independent," she sighed, eyes closing in mild anguish. "I never see you anymore, always sneaking off before the sun even rises! It's not fair. You act like you're already grown and can't be bothered with your poor mother."
Mai snorted. "Go mother-hen Gaara."
"And you're so mean!" she said, but it was over-dramatical and teasing. "Oh, fine. Go do your ninja thing."
"Thanks," Mai said dryly, saluting as she walked backward out of the kitchen before turning and making her way down the hall.
Kankuro had eventually gotten someone to fix the wall. Ha, now her father hated every Fuma, not just Gaara, but it was hate in a cowardly way, like, 'I'm mad, but you'll kick my ass if I fight you, so I'm just going to glare and whine whenever you come over'. Mai would call him petty, but had a feeling that if Gaara were any less fear-worthy, it would blow up in a much different way.
Mai reached the door. Turned the knob. Opened the door.
Then stopped.
In her lifetime, she'd had enough people try to trip her that she was now permanently paranoid about what was around her feet. She didn't look at the ground constantly like Fumiko did, but made damn sure to be aware of the sand dunes and whatever happened to be on them. So when she stepped out the door, she paused, toes not two inches from- something.
She glanced down, scowling impatiently.
Then her eyebrows shot up in shock. "Eh?"
Sitting on the step, there was a pot- not a bouquet, an actual freaking pot- of flowers. Mainly red and orange with some yellow here and there, the pot was the big windowsill-kind, flowers side by side and squished together almost like an arrangement. They were cool flowers, too, spotted and mixed-up with two different colors.
"The hell?" Mai put her foot down and glanced around before crouching to stare at them quizzically. No chakra... so... not a trap... Mai narrowed her eyes, then spotted something white and parchment-y sticking between two bushy sets of leaves. Still suspicious but now curious as hell, she tugged it out.
Mitsuwa Mai was printed on the back, in big blocky permanent marker handwriting she didn't recognize. She tore it open from the side with her teeth without bothering to go inside for the letter-opener, then pulled a sheet of paper out. It was nice paper, tinged blue at the edges, like some kinda...
... oh shit.
The Florist said these would fit your 'eclectic personality' the best.
Love,
And that was it. Where 'love,' was the paper was covered in pencil-marks, like whoever had written it had put a million things there and then erased them. There were also teeny rips and graphite in the message itself, places where the eraser had gone through paper.
No 'Dear'. No name.
What the hell did 'eclectic' even mean?!
She forgot about training, she forgot about walking, she forgot about the stupid braid she hadn't taken her hair out of yet. Mai turned right back around.
"MOM!"
...
"Dunno," Fumiko said thoughtfully, eyes wide as she stared at the wall. "My mom says I can't go out there 'till I'm older." ~
...
As it turned out, nobody was planning her birthday party, so Fumiko was doing it herself. A small thing, no big deal, although she was thinking of doing it somewhere other than her old home for once, because she had this little feeling that there were going to be a lot more people in attendance than she invited.
She tapped the pencil against her chin, biting her lip in thought, then wrote more down.
They were in Gaara's office. 'They' being herself, Gaara, and the one or two ANBU she still couldn't sense that were probably in the room as well. Gaara was working diligently and hadn't yet mussed up her nice organization, so Fumiko had decided instead to start putting together ideas. Times, cute invitations, themes, games, foodstuffs...
If she made the party a week from now, she could even invite Lee and the others... hmm...
Ooh, idea! It could be ninja-themed! She could draw little shurikens and kunai on the invitations! And the words could look like... razor wire, or something!
Fumiko flipped the page with brainstorm plan ideas to a blank one and started making invitations, with white blank spots next to things like 'time' and 'place'. She doodled furiously, outlining the card in shuriken, kunai, swords and the stuff, with both Sunagakure and Konohagakure's symbol in it. She found their leaf very fun to draw.
She made the wording very scripty-looking and line-like, edging every word with careful little dot-spikes for the razor part, and put a little tiny ninja at one end to hold the end of the phrase 'Birthday Party! Sweet Sixteen! You're invited!' The words were kinda small because of, well, everything else, but it looked cool.
She liked the first draft so much that she immediately got started on another. Five or ten minutes later when she finished the second one, she paused, then realized it was probably a good idea to make an invite list to see how many she needed. Fumiko flipped to another blank page.
Gaara
Mai
Kankuro
Temari
Lee
Neji
Shikam
She stopped, glancing up at the side of Gaara's face. He didn't seem to notice.
"Are you free next Saturday, too?"
"Perhaps." Gaara muttered. "Why?"
"'Cause I'm planning my birthday party and I wanna invite our friends from Konoha, too."
"Oh." He paused. "Then yes, I'm free."
"Yaay!" Fumiko spaz-hugged him, almost dropping her notebook in the process. "Thankyooou, Gaara! It's gonna be so much fun!"
He smiled slightly without looking up from his work. "I'm sure."
She filled in date with Saturday February 20th.
"Where?" she wondered out loud, chewing on her eraser.
"Huh?"
"Where should I do it?"
"Why don't you do it at home, like you always do?"
"'Cause... because how many reporters do you think'll be there? And random people?"
Gaara grimaced slightly. "True."
"How about that big place you do yours at? They'll probably let me do that."
"I'm the Kazekage. You can have your birthday party wherever you want," he said. "Don't worry about 'they'."
"Oh!" Fumiko blinked, then grinned. "Thanks!"
Gaara didn't say anything else, absorbed in some probably not very interesting paperwork. Tomorrow was Saturday, Gaara's day off... Well, she had a physical that morning, but then they were off. Mai had convinced her to get her, well, everything looked at.
Fumiko made sixteen more invitations and more than tripled her invite list before she started to feel hungry again. Automatically she stuck her pencil behind her ear and reached for her pouch, grasping at nothing.
"I'm gonna go get more dates."
At this Gaara gave her a quizzical half-glance. "All you've been eating lately are dates and peaches. I didn't even know you liked dates."
"Dates are delicious," Fumiko singsonged. "And local!"
Before she left she paused, then leaned sideways and whispered in his ear. He gave her another odd look before muttering back two. Fumiko smiled again and ripped two notebook page invites from her sketchbook and scribbled ANBU #1 and ANBU #2 on the to spaces.
She wondered which was one and which was two...
She whispered again.
He said, "Ceiling."
"These are for you," she announced loudly to the ceiling.
Now Gaara looked at her even stranger and Fumiko almost burst out laughing at the mental message he was sending her, like, oh my Kami you're such an idiot.
"For the ANBU," she explained.
Gaara's eyes said, I know, and that's what scares me.
Gaara had many looks. Very specific, detailed looks, for when they were in public and he didn't want to speak. Unfortunately, she'd gotten those two particular looks often enough to know them by heart.
Ha ha.
She didn't hear anything from the ceiling, but figured they had probably heard her and they were its being ANBU. Fumiko knew of course that they weren't going to show up at her party in uniform... Maybe just in their ninja-casual?
Oh well. She got up, leaving the papers in the corner of Gaara's desk where they wouldn't disturb either his work or her piles, then left for the kitchen to hunt for dates.
...
"It's not that exciting," Gaara reassured her. "It looks just like inside, except... except with less buildings... and more cactai." ~
...
Fumiko was right in the middle of a big complicated canvas with two Sakura trees semi-completed in thin oil paint. The Sakura blossoms were blurred slightly at the edges to make them softer and more dreamlike, actually, everything was blurred to make it softer and more dreamlike...
She was planning on adding three people sitting between them, and grass, and maybe a baby deer and mother next to one of the trunks on the other side of the people, even though she'd never personally actually seen a deer near a Sakura tree.
It would be called Best Friends.
Anyway, she was right in the middle of painting it, with pink and brown-white on her hands and arms, when she remembered that she was about five hundred years behind on her commissions at the Gallery.
Oops.
How long had it been since she'd worked on them last? ... A month and a half? More? Oops. She had completely forgotten. Fumiko remembered seeing them amongst all of the dream-canvases and nightmare-canvases while she had painted death and destruction and fear.
Whoops.
Fumiko hadn't even thought about opening the studio back up... What had happened to all her lunchtime regulars? Her shop-wandering regulars? She didn't really have any buyer-regulars, because paintings were expensive sometimes and awkward to buy in bulk, but she had plenty of miscellaneous-regulars that were probably wondering what had happened to Sunagakure Studio.
What about all the stuff she'd painted? Could she put those on the walls; would they sell, or just creep people out? Definitely not the ones of Gaara's death, those were his just as much as they were hers, but the explosions and everything else, what about those?
Some of her sky pictures would sell, definitely. Just because she couldn't look at clouds anymore didn't mean that others hadn't liked her skylines before. They probably wouldn't all sell, because most of them were sketches anyway, or painted on copy-paper, but she had a lot of them, so she could possibly get rid of a few.
Maybe Satomi's would sell, she wasn't recognizable...
... Satomi.
Fumiko had forgotten all about Satomi.
As she remembered she felt a flush of anger stain her cheeks red. That's right, she had been betrayed by the red-haired girl with the awesome sword that had turned up later to help the Akatsuki. Satomi had been her friend, or at least, Fumiko had thought she was, being so nice and polite and eating her cookies and liking her art...
And then she'd turned around and killed Gaara. Or at least, helped killed Gaara. No- or at least didn't help Gaara, knowing what she knew. That alone was enough to be condemned with, but then what about everyone else who had suffered and died because of it, Chiyo-baa-sama and the missing unit and all those sleeper spies and the ANBU guard unit and the man on her studio roof?
And a little bit of Fumiko, too.
Where was she now? Did she know Gaara was alive? That guilty set look on her face right before she'd left meant she obviously had expected him to die. If she did, would she come back?
That was one apology Fumiko knew she would never accept. That, and maybe if Deidara tried to apologize, or any of the Akatsuki, but that was really super-unlikely... But Satomi's, no.
Never in a million years.
Fumiko took a deep breath and calmed herself down, bit into a date from the bowl on her bed without caring that she was getting pink all over it, then went back to work on Best Friends.
...
Fumiko's eyes widened even more and she grabbed his shoulders suddenly. "You've been?!" she exclaimed. "No fair! I wanna see it too!" ~
...
With her mother's help, Mai had dragged the big planter- seriously, it was probably three or four feet long and a foot wide- into her room. Not her training room with the punching bags and the weapons and stuff, but her room, the room that had always been hers, with another bed and casual clothes, etc. Just because she usually stayed in her training room with an extra bed didn't mean she didn't use this one.
Mai was pretty sure nobody in Suna had a windowsill that big or flat. The stupid thing ended up situated a little to the right of the center of the floor so it caught the sunlight drafting in through her biggest window. It was already watered, the soil dark and damp.
Mai still had no idea what 'eclectic' meant, and Flower Arrangement had been one kunoichi elective she'd completely refused to take. It was Suna, dammit. She wasn't a spy anyway, or not an infiltration-spy at least.
So she'd asked her mother.
"Sorry, Mai," her mother had apologized. "... I didn't really pay attention in Flower Arrangement."
Now she was walking up the sandy, crowded streets, avoiding people and ignoring the street vendors who called after her like she was some kind of tourist, mostly about food, but also some trinkets here and there.
At this point it was like nine thirty, give or take the sun's blinding rays, so she figured she could head up to the Tower and ask to borrow Fumiko's camera and take it to a florist. Uhh... greenhouse-keeper. Where the hell had that guy found a florist in Suna? Maybe she should just go find Shiragiku. Nine thirty on a Friday morning, he was probably working the family greenhouses.
Unsure what else to do with it, she brought the note with her, if only to convince people that that someone had actually given her flowers. Not exactly a love letter, but close enough to be confusing. Fumiko had gotten random flower bouquets before, as had Gaara, as well as various foodstuffs (one or two of them poisoned) and letters of both admiration and hate, but her?
Nah. She must've seemed more like the 'she'll burn them' type to others. Although, given the chance, she'd like to burn the guy's face. It was only brave when you bucked up and stood there when she opened the door. Probably she would have rejected them but... respect. Come on.
This was all speculation. For all she knew, eclectic could mean psycho or stupid. It could be an insult designed specifically so she wouldn't get it, like telling a stupid kid he was too smart for his own good. If it was an insult, though, it was a very elaborately made one, one that she would have to admit was pretty good.
Give the girl flowers that never got flowers on pretty paper so it would seem like an anonymous love letter.
Wait until she goes to the nearest flower shop with her hopes up to ask what the heck the flowers meant.
Bam. Self-esteem blow.
Mai stopped at the big Tower doors. People were always flowing in and out of them, to put in complaints or to get mission scrolls or to send out mail or get mail or request a mission or ask for permission or something or to check in as foreigners or to stay and do politic-y stuff, so they were usually open. Mai slipped inside between two official-looking official people who shot her dirty looks for wrinkling their silk shit that they obviously didn't realize were already full of sand.
She hiked the stairs at a normal pace. She didn't have to do anything today- no missions, no ANBU-missions, no missions to get ready for. She could train later. Thinking back on it, she hadn't sparred with Kankuro for a while. That would be fun. Supposedly he'd upgraded his puppets, so maybe it was about time she try to break them.
The Sibs' living quarters and Kazekage's suites and kitchen were on the fifth floor, so she trekked on up, cursing out random strangers that shoved past her. The only politician she'd ever met that she actually liked was Gaara. Technically Fumiko too, Mai mused, since she was Second on paper, but if Fumiko was a politician Mai would swallow her swords.
Kami, there were too many stairs. Or maybe not enough stairs. They needed more than one set of stairs, for crying out loud, either that or get bigger windows so shinobi didn't have to deal with rude civilians and haughty genin who happened to be high up in other countries. Grr.
Eventually she made her way to the right floor. She personally thought it was strange that the Kazekage family floor was right in the middle. It should have been on the top, y'know, most easily defended, and also because people had to go through the end of the hallway to get to the next stairwell. Though, granted, not many people got past the first floor... it usually thinned out after the guest quarters floor, the one below her.
One, two, three rooms all empty, then the kitchen, then Gaara and Fumiko's Kazekage suite room, keep going down and there was one, two rooms that belonged to Temari and Kankuro, and one more spare. Mai personally didn't know why they needed this many bedrooms... The Kazekage, the Kazekage's wife/girlfriend/fiancee thing, any kids they have.
Temari at least made sense. She was practically Suna and the Leaf's ambassador, she should live here. But as far as Mai knew, Kankuro just ran normal Jonin missions, not anything necessarily relating to the Tower. Gaara was too nice.
At nine forty six- there was a clock on the wall, she didn't get that from the sun, duh- Gaara was working and breakfast was probably over, so Fumiko was probably either in the bedroom or the office. Mai didn't really feel like going up to the office, so she checked the bedroom first.
Fumiko was in there, painting away on a canvas, propped up on an easel surrounded by tarp so she wouldn't get anything on the floor. Mai didn't know why she didn't just set up shop back at her studio, figured it was personal, and so had never really asked. It was weird enough that her sister didn't look at the clouds anymore.
"Hey, Mai," Fumiko said absently. Her elder sister had probably sensed her before she passed Kankuro's room. The streak of green on her cheek danced.
"Hey, sis. Oi, where's your camera?"
"Nightstand."
"Which one?"
"Farthest from the window."
She loped to the other side of the bed, pulled open the drawer, and yep, there was Fumiko's latest disposable camera. "Hey, do you ever print pictures from these things?"
Distracted half smile. The green stretched. "Yeah, I'm working on an album."
"Uh-huh." Mai paused, eyeing the newest painting. Beautiful, something that if it sold could pay for an A-rank or even S-rank. "Why's there deer in that? Miss Konoha?"
"A little. I was thinking of mailing invitations today."
"Invitations for what?" Mai stopped her mouth to let her brain click. "Ohh, right. B-day and all. Do you know when you're doing it? If you're inviting Shikamaru and the rest they'll need at least three or four days to-"
"Saturday."
"Wha? Tomorrow?"
"Nooo," Fumiko murmured. "Next Saturday."
"Ah. Okay then." Fumiko was in artist mode now. Another hour or so and she wouldn't even understand what people were saying to her. Mai sighed. If ever her sister got assassinated, it would be because she was either sleeping, or in stupid artist-mode. "I'll just... go, then."
"Bye, Mai."
"Going to your physical tomorrow, right? Those bruises are still there."
"Yep, Mai."
Mai snorted. "Okay, see you."
"..."
Next she made a detour to the kitchen for a snack, where- shocker- she found Kankuro eating hamburger steak, which really was actually a little surprising... Fumiko must have made it for dinner the previous night. She was pretty sure neither of the Fuma boys knew how to cook instant ramen, let alone hamburger steak.
"Any jerky?" Mai called from the pantry.
"Think so." Kankuro paused with his fork partway to his mouth. "Where were you this morning, anyway?"
"Jeez, I come to breakfast for two weeks and suddenly everyone expects it."
"... Well, yeah. That's kind of a rout-"
"Admit it," Mai huffed, crawling up the wall to reach the top shelf of the pantry. Whoever had put it there sucked, but she wasn't about to ask for help. "You just missed me, Baka-Kankuro."
"Uh-huh," he said dryly. "Don't know what I'd do without you, brat."
"Five year difference," Mai snapped, looking back at him over her shoulder and flicking her finger between them. "Freaking five year difference!"
He laughed and she spat at him before turning to reach for the jerky box. Was anyone here even that tall? Maybe Kankuro, but seriously, come on. She knocked over two boxes and a small bag of rice before she managed to close her fingers around three sticks.
"Need some help over-"
"Shut up! I can get it myself!" she muttered angrily.
"Ooh, touchy." Kankuro laughed. Mai dropped down to the floor. "So, just out of curiosity, why weren't you here?"
Mai sighed, taking a step closer to the table and stretching her arms over her head to crack her spine. "My mom wanted a girl's day."
"Huh," he said. "That explains a lot. I was almost afraid to ask about the braid."
"Gahh! Stupid braid!" Mai growled, reaching for the tail end with her free hand and yanking out the ponytail holder. She shook out the braid until it mostly freed itself, then slid the band over her wrist. "Kept forgetting about that. Anyway, when I went to get away-"
"What, no makeup? Didn't paint your nails?"
Mai ignored him and plowed on. "-When I stepped out of the house there was this big ass planter-"
"Planter?"
"Yeah, like a big pot for a windowsill."
"A pot?" Kankuro frowned. "Wait a second, what?"
"A flower pot," Mai said irritably. "Anyway it was full of these really cool puffy flowers with a bunch of fire colors in the petals and a note. I asked my mom, but she didn't know if they meant anything."
"... Flowers."
"Yeah."
"For you...?"
"Yeah, it had my name on the envelope."
"Lemme see."
"No!" Mai scowled. "I'm gonna take pictures for Shiragiku to see-"
"No, no, lemme see the note!"
"I said no!"
"Can I see the flowers then?" Kankuro pushed his plate away and stretched out on the table to rest his head on his arms. He looked like a big smug puppy with face makeup. "Do you know who sent them?"
"No. Didn't say."
"No I can't come or no you don't know?"
"Both!" Mai tore open a packet of jerky and ripped at it with her teeth. "Not gonna let you follow me around everywhere, creep!"
Kankuro arched an eyebrow. "You used to follow me around."
Mai bristled. "Because..! That was because I was bored as hell and didn't have anyone better to train with!"
"Ditto," he said. "I'm bored as hell and don't have anyone to train with. Temari's off on some mission and Gaara's working." He sighed, a big heave of his shoulders that looked overdramatic lying against the table. "Gaara's always either working or with Fumiko. We never go on missions together anymore."
"Boo-hoo. He's the Kazekage," she pointed out. "Even if Fumiko wasn't here, Gaara wouldn't be able to go on missions with you."
"Ahh, the good old days..."
Mai groaned. "The hell is up with everyone, going on about the good old days!"
"... What?"
"Doesn't matter." Mai shook her head and flicked the empty jerky wrapper at his nose. It missed but landed on his arm, so either way he glared at her. She glanced at the clock, then realized she'd been in the Tower for almost half an hour. It was a little past ten in the morning. "Gotta go, people to see, things to do-"
Kankuro raised his head a little. "Is your dad home?"
"Why?"
"'Cause I'm bored, and that's the only person I won't get arrested for punching for no reason."
Mai snorted, hefting the little green bag on her shoulder and tearing open another packet. "No, he's not. I don't think so, anyway."
"What's he do?"
"Not really sure." Mai shrugged. "Don't care, really."
"What are you gonna do if the flower guy shows up?"
"Probably punch him for being stupid." Mai grinned. "Why?"
"Just curious." Kankuro lifted his head slightly. "I'm serious, though, I have nothing to do. My puppets are all perfect. No missions. Bleh."
"Eat?" she suggested.
He glared and she barked a laugh.
"Oh, fine! I'll be bored later anyway. But you can't ditch me when Shiragiku starts to talk about plants. And you have to spar with me. Have you fireproofed your puppets yet?"
"Trying to, although I'm sure you've learned something new."
"I always do." Mai kicked his thigh none too gently. "Now come on. Get up."
"Oww."
...
"Then, let's go." ~
...
"Dahlias?" Shiragiku said, peering at the camera's image. "Interesting choice."
"What's a dahlia?"
"A flower, stupid."
"Shut up, Baka-Kankuro, I know that!"
Shiragiku shook his head a little. "Dahlias can represent many things," he said softly. "The message can range from a sign of warning, to change, to travel, to even a portent of betrayal. Usually, given as a gift, they compliment a person's wild personality."
"Huh," Mai muttered. Kankuro said nothing. "So it's not a death threat? A warning and betrayal and all that jazz."
"I don't think so," Shiragiku disagreed. "The red suggests a passionate love born of beauty, fire, and courage. Red flowers show no restraint, symbolizing desire and devotion."
"Oookay," Mai said, making a face. "What about the other stuff?"
"There's mostly red," Shiragiku said, "But almost half of it is orange. Orange is both red and yellow, passion and happiness. An orange dahlia might represent pride, energy, and confidence. Most likely, this is the compliment of the arrangement. Orange is not bashful, Mai-chan. It shows passion for life. There is also yellow, which suggests happiness."
"So, what? No flower is one color, what's that mean?"
Shiragiku allowed a small smile. "In essence, whoever gave this to you is saying that they love and adore your confidence, pride, energy, youth, and wildness. You make them happy and passionate."
"Happy and passionate, huh?" Mai wrinkled her nose. "That sounds really gross and dirty."
"Whatever the case, Mai-chan," Shiragiku said as he handed her back the camera. "Whoever sent you these appears to know you well and appreciates your personality."
"Knows me well?" Mai scoffed. "I dunno about that. Must be a stalker or something. I don't recognize the handwriting."
"Forgery?" Kankuro suggested, then grinned. "I suggest you find this guy. You'll never find anyone else so stupid."
"Quiet. At least I have a secret admirer." That sounded weird even in her own mouth. She had a secret admirer? That was so bizarre. Who was it? One of those weirdos in her genin class that had suddenly taken an interest? Someone she'd never met? Someone she had met? The only guys she really knew were Shiragiku, Eishi, Kankuro and Gaara. A few fully grown jonin and older Chuunin. Some ANBU.
She didn't exactly have a huge friend group.
Shiragiku tucked a bit of white-blond hair behind his ear. They stood inside one of Sunagakure's very few greenhouses, and all around people who looked like Shiragiku with pale skin and pale hair and green diamonds on their foreheads bustled about, tending to various plants. They all had freckles instead of tans. They looked like they belonged in Land-of-Snow, not Suna.
"I have to get back to work, but, Mai-chan, one more thing." he said quietly.
"What?"
"Those flowers were planted and there were quite a few of them."
"Yeah, so?"
"That means they wish to have a long and lasting relationship with you," he explained. "Rooted rather than cut. This was very thought out. We don't grow dahlias here, so these had to be imported. Whoever sent you these is quite taken with you, Mai-chan."
"Quite taken," Kankuro teased. Mai punched his shoulder and he yelped. "Ow!"
"Urggh," she whined. "This is so weird."
Without another word to either Shiragiku or Kankuro, Mai spun on her heel to escape the stuffy, humid greenhouse and go first to the Tower to return the camera and then to the training grounds to break things.
When all else failed, breaking things was always a great way to clear your head.
...
"But... but I'm not allowed!" ~
...
Ahh, this was familiar.
She'd been painting.
And now she was in bed waking up.
Fumiko yawned and turned, nudging the arm slung over her body. She only had half a second to register Gaara's sleeping face before his eyes blinked open, and then they were staring at each other. Fumiko smiled. Gaara yawned, which was so incredibly adorable and cute that Fumiko smiled even more.
"Good morning," she said cheerily, voice foggy from disuse.
"Good morning," he rumbled back.
"What time is it?" she said and tried to roll over, but Gaara's arm tightened on her shoulders. His eyes flicked over her head to the clock.
"Mmm. Seven fifteen."
"My appointment's at eight," she reminded him happily, not really particularly worried about getting up. "Did I fall asleep painting, again?"
"Yes," he said. "I came in at two or three in the morning and you were on the floor with a paintbrush in your hand. You fell off your chair. Which is why you're still wearing your day clothes." His voice changed to a mutter as his face heated slightly. Gaara was still easily embarrassed by anything other than normal contact. Like this. Though, he was also tired...
"Means I need to shower," she murmured, still smiling. She hadn't thrown the blanket off them in sleep, so it was still comfily warm. That mixed in with Gaara's desert scent and coolness made her want to go back to sleep or maybe just lie here for another hour or three... but then she would miss her physical and Mai would get upset.
But Gaara saved her from making the decision and rolled onto his back, untangling his arms from both her and the blankets to wipe his face. "Eh..."
Fumiko rolled out of bed, sliding out of the blankets and sheets onto her hands and knees. She shuffled about in the dark for her prosthetic, which Gaara had probably put by the side of the bed. Light streamed in from the windows on the other side of the bed but didn't quite reach the spot she eventually found it and her sock in.
She fell back on her butt and shuffled on the material before sliding on the prosthetic. She would just have to take it off again in a few seconds when she got in the shower, but Fumiko didn't really feel like hopping all the way to the bathroom. Her body was still warm with sleep.
As she hobbled to the bath, Fumiko could hear the rustled, semi-disgruntled sounds as Gaara got up himself, kicking off the covers and yanking off his long-sleeved sleep shirt as he padded to the nearby closet. He would probably take a shower later.
Fumiko sang Cha-tsumi as she washed her hair and scrubbed at her skin with the loofah. She still had to be gentle with it, as the still fading bruises still hurt. She didn't really need to go to a physical; she was a doctor herself and knew that while pressure-bruises were worse than normal-bruises, she had no more internal bleeding and that they would fade entirely in another week or two, but figured she might as well.
When she finished, Fumiko flipped off the water and levered herself out onto the toilet where she could dry off her leg with a nearby white towel and stick her prosthetic back on. The bathroom was full of steam as she wrapped the towel around herself and eased to a stand. When she opened the door, it rushed out into the bedroom.
Gaara was just finishing the ties on his vest. He hadn't yet tied on his gourd, nor had he brushed his messy bed-head hair. They traded places, Fumiko stepping into the closet and Gaara heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair.
Fumiko dressed quickly in her white shirt and black shorts. She struck off back into the bathroom, toweling her hair, and found Gaara washing his face. He glanced her way with drippy eyes and handed her her toothbrush. Fumiko squirted on toothpaste and stuck it in her mouth.
Mm. Strawberry.
"Fanks," she slurred. Gaara smiled slightly and nodded.
Fumiko spat, rinsed off her toothbrush, and then brushed again with plain water to get the rest of the foam off her teeth, Gaara reached past her for the handtowel to dry his face, then picked up the comb to sort of straighten out his hair enough to be acceptable. Fumiko spat again, rinsed off her toothbrush and leaned back over the sink to put it back in the cup before grabbing her hairbrush and skipping out to fix her hair on the bed so she didn't have to stand.
Eventually another weight settled behind her and stole the hairbrush from her fingers. Gaara seemed to have found an interest in her hair, and had taken to brushing and/or touching it whenever she tried to fix it on her own. Which Fumiko didn't really mind, as it felt good and was easier than brushing it herself.
"So what do you want to do today?" she asked, tapping her fingers against the wood of her prosthetic. "After my physical."
"I'm not sure," he replied.
"Hmm," she hummed. "What aboouuut... uh... swings?"
"Swings?" Gaara sounded surprised. "It's... been a while since you last suggested that."
"Yeah, I know." she said thoughtfully. "It kinda sucks that we're getting too big for it. Or at least, you are... I wonder if anyone else uses them now..."
"I doubt it," he said, fingers picking gently through a knot. "That place isn't very well known."
"Maybe. It'd be kinda funny, though. Think they'd be outcasts?"
"There's only two, they'd have to be outcasts," Gaara said with a smile in his voice. Fumiko laughed. "What else do you want to do?"
"Ice cream!"
"Walk outside the wall..." Gaara mused, and from the way the brush paused Fumiko assumed he was looking out the window. "The weather is nice today. Not as hot as usual."
"Ohh, and I need to send invitations today. Wanna help?"
Gaara didn't say anything, so she guessed that he had nodded and forgotten hat she couldn't see it. She giggled.
"What?" He sounded puzzled.
"Did you nod?"
"Yes... oh."
Fumiko laughed so hard she snorted, then laughed harder. Eventually she was shaking so badly Gaara abandoned her hair and laughed as well, a deep rumbly noise in his chest that was more like a chuckle. She liked it when he laughed.
She fell back on his legs, not really caring about her still-wet hair, still laughing. He smiled down at her, a tiny not-quite-grin one-sided smirk on his lips. Bitsy compared to her face-consuming grins, but for Gaara it was like a meltdown. When she finally calmed down, she sighed. "Gotta get up."
Gaara looked over at the clock. "We have six minutes to get to the hospital."
"Sugar. Carry me?" she said hopefully, staring up at him. He leaned down a little bit and smiled again, less smirk-y.
"Fine, now get up."
"Yes!" Fumiko exclaimed, shooting up and swinging her legs off the side of the bed before standing. She grabbed Gaara's hand and tugged at it until he stood. "Come on, come on come on! I'm gonna be late for my physical!"
...
"Well... usually I wouldn't let you either, but it's not that dangerous." Gaara frowned. "I think she just doesn't want you to get lost..." ~
...
Ohh, she had missed getting carried by his sand. It was great.
At the physical, there was a lot of basic stuff: blood pressure, height, weight, etc. To Fumiko's delight, she'd gained another five pounds. Unfortunately, she hadn't really grown at all. She was still too short to reach the cereal. After all that, the doctor had started feeling about at her bruises, examining and reexamining her neck and arms.
Now Gaara was waiting for her out in the lobby, probably trying not to get pulled into a conversation by the friendly receptionist, because Fumiko had to take her shirt off so the female doctor could look at her ribs.
"Hmm," she said. "Well, I don't think you should worry too much, Lady Fumiko."
"Fumiko."
Sachi nodded absently. "Everything seems fine. These should be gone in another two or three weeks, although there might still be discomfort over the next month or so, give or take a few days. Although, I'm glad you decided to come in."
"That's what I figured. My sister wanted me to get it double-checked."
"That's a very good idea," she advised. "Especially in your case... any additional discomfort in your ribs or ankle?"
"Not really, but I've been getting sick."
"Sick?"
"Yeah. I think I caught the flu last week."
"Well, it is going around. Make sure to wash your hands more often and keep some aspirin on hand in case you catch it again." The doctor pushed against her shoulder lightly. "Now, please lie back down, Fumiko-sama. I want to check your ribs really quickly to make sure they've healed properly."
"Oh, sure."
Fumiko lied down on her back. Her torso grew warm with the doctor's chakra, starting at her chest and then slowly travelling down until it hit her navel.
There was a sudden, sharp gasp.
"What? What is it?" Fumiko glanced at Sachi's now white face. "What's wrong?"
The doctor seemed to have lost her words.
"What?" Now Fumiko was mildly worried. Was there still something wrong with her insides, something that maybe she'd missed in her first diagnostic a month or so ago? Was it bad? Nothing felt broken, but maybe she'd damaged a nerve in her fight with Sasori and-
"F-fumiko-sama..." the doctor muttered weakly. "When... when was your last menstrual cycle?"
...
"Okay, let's go look then!" ~
...
"Gaara Gaara Gaara Gaara Gaaraaa!"
Gaara jumped, head whipping in the direction of Fumiko's voice as she tore out of the hall into the lobby. The receptionist paused, forgetting her paperwork for a moment. Every head in the waiting area turned to see what was going on.
"Wha-"
Fumiko hit him hard, skidded slightly on the slick tile, and as soon as she steadied herself grabbed his wrist. "Oh my sugar Gaara we need to go find mom and Mai right now it's super important come on come on come-"
"Wait a second, let me pay for-"
"Nooo! Right now, we gotta go right now-!"
"What's wrong?" Gaara was getting worried. Fumiko just continued to tug at his arm as hard as she could, but he wasn't moving. The receptionist looked startled, along with everyone else in the vicinity. "What-"
"Now!"
"But-" Gaara was starting to move, stumbling along as she pulled them out of the building, face inscrutable, mostly exerted and red from dragging him. "Why-"
They cleared the wood doors falling out into the sandy desert city. There weren't that many people around this particular area, as there weren't any vendors or shops near the hospital. It generally wasn't appreciated. Gaara's eyes were wide, saying things that Fumiko didn't really seem to be hearing as her prosthetic slipped through the sand.
And then suddenly she stopped and turned and smiled so brilliantly, tears forming in her eyes, that his brain went stupid. His mouth went desert-dry or no reason whatsoever.
"... What..." he murmured.
"Gaara," she said, voice high and strained with excitement, like she could barely say the words. "Gaara, we, I... I'm pregnant!"
...
Gaara found himself dragged to the stairwell on the walls, but then he had to help her climb without falling. She still wasn't quite used to the new prosthetic and stumbled often. When they reached the top, the sun was already setting. Fumiko grinned. "Wow," she said. ~
...
Gaara's brain was still spinning when Mai tried to punch him.
"Mai!" Mrs. Mitsuwa shrieked, even though the sand blocked it easily.
"Sorry, sorry, had to," Mai said, and she was grinning so widely she looked insane. "Kami, I, Kanmi, Fumiko, I can't believe it!"
Fumiko was crying, now, and Gaara hadn't said anything since he heard it aside from one roaring "What?!" that he was pretty sure they heard in the Land of Iron. The other Mitsuwa girls were squealing and screaming and jumping around.
Gaara, initially, as his brain had tried to process, had fired with some kind of strange abnormal pride, and this unbelievable oh my Kami kind of happiness that made his cheeks burn with excitement.
And then everything had shut down with fear. Now he was trapped between the two.
Gaara personally knew all the things that could go wrong, the worst being that he ended up like his father Rasa, bitter and alone with a child he barely knew... But at the same time, he was going to be a dad holy hell.
"I'm going to be a mother!" Fumiko wailed happily, an echo of his thoughts. She was dissolved in a spastic kind of excitement, limbs like vibrating jelly. If you touched her anywhere you could feel her thrumming heartbeat. Gaara in comparison knew he looked stupid with disbelief but he couldn't help it.
They were inside the Mitsuwa household, where thank Kami Mai and her mother both were without her father, and there was Kankuro for some reason, standing awkwardly off to one corner, face as white as school glue, which contrasted nicely with the worn purple face paint.
A small part of his brain reminded him that the press in Suna and the Council was going to take this whole hing very, very badly, but the rest of his body drowned the thought and thought a million other things instead.
"How far are you?!"
"Almost two months!"
"OhmyKami, honey!"
"Boy or girl?!"
"They're not sure yet, but two, Mai! Twins!"
"Congratulations, sis!"
"Thank you! Sugar, sugar, I can't, I can't even- Gaara!"
She leaped on him again, as she had done at least five or six times since realizing, and he lost all his air again, but touching her spurred his arms to hug her, and he did. All their free day plans had scattered out the window.
"Names!" her mother shrieked. "You need to come up with baby names!"
"Forget names, she needs a baby shower!"
"I'm going to be a grandmother!"
"Oh, right! I'm gonna be an aunt, I totally forgot!"
"Gaaaraaa, we're gonna be parents!" Fumiko cried. "Parents!"
...
~ And Gaara had to agree. ~
...
OOOHHHHMYGOOODDDDDDDD AHHHHHHH
I'M SO EXCITED I'M ALMOST IN TEARS MY HEART IS BEATING SO BAD I'M SUCH A LOSERRRRR
... Eh...!
Anyway, my heart started going jackrabbit during the second wake-up scene, because my brain was going errrrmiiigerrrd, next scene next scene next sceeeennneee...
I've actually had this little piece of plan for most of this story's life. SHOCK! Sorry for not replying to you guysssss, if I had it would have been SPOILT! :D :D :D But, most of you guessed! (Btw they are not making love every night... just that one time... ehh, awkward sentence...) I'M SO EXCITED! ARE YOU EXCITED?! I AM!
In reference to those reviews... YES! And it's pronounced My. In most cases, it IS pronounced Mey, but in this case it is not. ^.^ And SUPER ULTRA MEGA THANKS TO BookBug1357, for my ONE HUNDREDTH review on SoT!
Something totally unrelated... playing around on Custom Ink, I'm thinking of making ToF tshirts! Weelll... actually I just wanted to make one for me.. but Custom Ink requires to buy at least six shirts, and I was like, no way am I paying a hundred plus for six shirts when I only want one! So I was like, ey, I could see if anyone on FF wants one... If I get only six, they would be like forty dollars each. If I got, say, twenty, they'd be about twenty dollars. Basically, the more I order, the less each one costs. Slim chance, I know, but if any of you wanted to buy one, I would want to hit at least ten people to reduce the price for everyone!
... And I would need someone who can help me draw a chibi... I have it drawn but it needs to be digitized and improved because my art succkksss... but anyway, if you would, let me know! Fyi, if I hit ten, it will be about 28 per shirt plus shipping. If at all interested, PM me and let me know!
But aside from all that, EXCITEMENT!
REVIEW!