A companion piece for both MCS: Everlasting and Aeon, featuring the teenaged Sabaku no Yashamaru (Gaara's uncle)!

Disclaimer: I suppose since these are required, I must say, "I do not own anything of this fic but the idea!"

xxix — devious

"Yashamaru-kun… you need to be more careful from now on," chided Kagome as she finished wrapping the boy's finger in a strip of gauze.

"Ah!" The fifteen-year-old chuunin rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, wearing an abashed expression. "Gomen, Kagome-chan; my hands have a tendency to slip every now and then."

Kagome sighed as she gave him a once-over, and then smiled. "Hope-less," she teased good-naturedly.

The shinobi pouted, the endearing albeit childish act bringing out his more effeminate characteristics.

"Well, since you've been taken care of I'll be going now," chirped Kagome as she rose up from the bench they had been seated on. "I still have to stop by the bazaar for Chiyo obaa-sama."

"W-wait, Kagome-chan!" exclaimed Yashamaru as his uninjured hand shot forward to grab her wrist.

"Yashamaru-kun…" Kagome uttered, gazing down quizzically at the appendage. "Something more you need?"

The boy gulped, a single drop of perspiration trickling down his temple.

—of course, Kagome only noticed his grip on her getting tighter.

"Hai… there is something," he whispered, his eyes earnest as they locked with hers.

"What is it?" Kagome queried with palpable interest, wondering what had brought about the sudden change in her friend's demeanor.

Yashamaru raised a trembling index finger, the one she had tended to minutes before.

"Karura-nee, she… whenever I get hurt…"

"Out with it," prompted Kagome, shaking the wrist he was holding onto for emphasis.

"She'll kiss my injury!"

Kagome shot the boy an incredulous look. "Yashamaru-kun—"

"Even just once—a slight peck!—would be fine, Kagome-chan, if you could," Yashamaru affirmed, a grand blush suffusing his cheeks.

His childhood friend arched a brow as she surveyed the far-off view comprised of sand, sand—and more sand.

Her final verdict—

"Okay, I suppose… It's not like it'll hurt anybody," the girl acquiesced, tapping her chin with a finger. She then directed the boy a threatening glare. "But no funny business."

.

.

.

Sasori spectated the pair with shrewd eyes from the distance, his youthful face twisting into a scowl.

He saw Kagome tuck her hair back behind her ear and lean in to place her lips on Yashamaru's despicable finger.

He saw the foolish, lovestruck grin playing at the latter's mouth as she did so.

He saw Kagome wave goodbye to his teammate and amble off towards the direction of the market (presumably running errands for Chiyo obaa-sama).

He saw Yashamaru's figure writhe with giddiness and gaiety once her back was to him.

Now, as for Akasuna no Sasori's ultimate deduction:

a commendable artifice on your behalf, Yashamaru.


Clever men are good, but they are not the best.

—Thomas Carlyle


Author's Note: Yay, Yashamaru/Kagome/Sasori, haha! There is a second part to this.