The Kazekage sat at the head table. His suit was black and looked to be more expensive than Sakura's entire house. He looked down at them both, his hands in a thoughtful steeple, his face utterly expressionless.
There was a girl sitting next to him, who had short brown hair and tanned skin. She sat as though uncomfortable in her own skin, her dress loose and baggy, her face plain and without makeup. Despite this, Sakura could see her good upbringing in the neat way her ankles crossed, her straight back and raised chin. She stared down at Gaara and Sakura, her face confused and slightly hurt.
"My son," The Kazekage said loudly, spreading his hands across in a sweeping, grand gesture. His tone wasn't mocking, yet the people surrounding them laughed, "How good of you to grace us with your presence."
"It was no difficulty, Father," Gaara said, unaffected by the laughter all around him. Sakura held his hand in hers, and looked around. The people standing near them looked amused or hostile, "I had nothing planned for this evening."
"What a lovely companion you have brought with you." The Kazekage said, with a cold, tight smile. His eyes landed on Sakura, who flinched at the hard glare, "Though I do not recall granting you permission to bring someone with you."
"I saw the guest list, Father, and believed it was sorely lacking." Gaara shrugged. There was muttering from that, the guests finding themselves on the other end of mockery and not liking it one bit.
To Sakura's surprise, the Kazekage merely laughed, "Well, it is not my guest list. But still, Toru, I wonder if my son has offended you?"
The man sitting next to the Kazekage raised his eyebrows and waved a hand drunkenly, "It is more Matsuri's party than my own."
Matsuri? Sakura frowned. Where had she heard that name before?
"I am not offended." The girl next to the Kazekage said quietly.
The Kazekage sipped his wine, eyes on Gaara, "Good," He said after draining the whole glass, "I am sure the last thing my son wants is to offend you, my dear. Isn't that right, son?"
He and Gaara stared at each other, some power struggle clearly taking place.
Gaara eventually snorted and jerked his head upwards in an affirmative gesture.
"Gaara, what's going on?" Sakura muttered, squeezing his hand.
Matsuri bit her lip, fiddling with a napkin. Gaara's eyes tracked the movements. He pulled his hand out of Sakura's and smoothed his hair back.
"I won't be a minute," He murmured, "Just going to talk with my father."
Sakura's hand was left empty and slightly outstretched. She placed it at her side, feeling foolish and hurt.
Gaara put his hands in his pockets and strode off into the crowd, but not before glancing at his father meaningfully. The Kazekage smirked and excused himself, getting up to follow his son.
Sakura was left alone in a crowd of smartly dressed strangers, each one of them examining her with undisguised curiosity or disdain. A waiter stopped at her side and offered her a plate of something slimy and black. Her stomach churning, she declined politely.
How could Gaara just leave her alone with these people?
Noticing a fair few people watching her still, she huffed and smoothed down her dress. Morons. Her hair was frizzing up, to her annoyance, so she checked in her bag. Yep, the smoothing hair spray was packed, along with quite a few items she most certainly would not need, no thank you Temari.
She pursed her lips and scanned the room. There. A bathroom, thank God.
Pushing her way through the crowd of faceless morons, she was glad to see there was no queue to the bathroom, so she slipped in gratefully, ignoring the expensive wallpaper and super-soft carpeting. After walking through Daddy-Gaara's tower of terror, no amount of luxurious bathrooms could impress her.
She set her bag down on the sink and peered in the mirror. Oh dear. She was a bit wild-eyed, probably due to the intense weirdness that was this evening, and two spots of colour had risen in her cheeks. Joy. She looked drunk.
She fished in her bag for the hairspray, when a gentle hand caught her elbow to get her attention.
She started, looking up into the mirror.
"Hello," Matsuri said, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. She went a bit red as Sakura stared at her, releasing her light grip on the other girl's arm instantly, "I am Sakamoto Matsuri. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Um, likewise," Sakura said, wincing at her rusty manners. She really ought to polish them up sometime.
"I understand that you and G-Gaara-san are attending together?" Matsuri said, obviously fishing for information. Ooh, and the stutter on Gaara's name. That was interesting.
"Yeah, er, I mean yes, we're going out. Seeing each other. Courting?" Sakura tried out as Matsuri's face grew increasingly confused.
"You are his girlfriend?" She breathed out, forehead twisted in a frown.
"Yes." Sakura said, suddenly suspicious, looking the girl up and down. What was her interest in Gaara's personal relationships?
"But you can't be!" Matsuri blurted out, looking horrified.
Sakura did a mock double-take, "Wait a minute, I can't? Damn, I had no idea."
Her mocking words were clearly the last straw. Matsuri struggled to contain herself, her eyes growing bright with tears.
"You can't be," She said in a low voice, sniffing, "Because he's my fiancé!"
The can of hairspray tipped from her nerveless fingers, rolling off the sink and hitting the floor with a dull thunk. Sakura shook her head automatically.
"B-but, he's –" Sakura started to protest, cut off by Matsuri's hand being shoved in her face. A glittering engagement ring sat smugly on her polished finger.
"This is our engagement party, and he has the nerve to bring a date!" Matsuri spat, waving her ringed finger about to punctuate her remark.
"What." Sakura couldn't think. For the first time in so long, her mind had ground to a halt. Matsuri. She had heard that name before. The only sentence, the only tiny semblance of intelligent thought in her shell-shocked mind, was: Matsuri's family owns a weapons company.
Gaara's father had told her recently that his son would marry an upper-class girl, hopefully a wealthy heiress, hopefully someone named Matsuri.
It was like a knife digging slowly into her chest, the pained realisation, the complete horror, shock and ache of it.
Unbelievably, Gaara had been using her. She could see it now. It made sense. Why had he been so reluctant to commit to a relationship? Because he was already in one.
But there was a snag to the latest conspiracy theory.
She glared at Matsuri, who looked taken aback at the violent, angry stare.
"Do Temari and Kankuro know about this?" Sakura demanded. If it was true, if they had even the slightest suspicion of it, they would have told her. They just would have.
"I am not sure," Matsuri said carefully, "I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting them."
"How could they not know their little brother was getting married?" Sakura said disbelievingly.
Matsuri shifted, pulling awkwardly at her sleeve, "Their father is a very clever man." She said simply.
"Then perhaps I should be talking to him instead of you," Sakura said acidly. She regretted the harsh tone she had used as Matsuri's face crumpled. This was a girl who was used to being trodden on and used.
"I'm sorry, I just – I just don't understand what's going on." Sakura admitted.
"Isn't it obvious?" Matsuri said bitterly, "He's cheating on both of us. He's made fools of us both."
"I think I'm going to have a little chat with him." Sakura said, with a vicious twist to her smirk. She still didn't believe this. She couldn't believe it. Matsuri was mad, drunk or simply making it up. Gaara, who had been so very angry when Sasuke had stomped on her heart, would never, ever betray her like this.
"Oh, no, don't do that –" Matsuri began, her eyes wide with alarm. Sakura ignored her and walked out of the bathroom, not caring that her hairspray was still on the floor and consequently her hair looked like a pile of shite.
She was going to find Gaara, question him thoroughly (potentially beating him within an inch of his life, should it prove necessary), find out his reasons and then the matter would be settled. And Matsuri and Gaara's father could slither off to whatever dark corner they had crawled from to plot in peace.
There he was. Gaara sat at a table with a few strangers sitting all around him, looking about the room impatiently. The sight of him still took her breath away. The cheekbones, the pale skin, even the rebellious eyeliner he'd refused to part with despite the extravagant occasion, the shock of red hair, the curling tattoo; they were all the things she loved about him.
He spotted her and made an impatient gesture, waving a hand over.
She sat down next to him. He immediately clutched her hand, pulling it into his lap, stroking her palm with his thumb. Anyone watching would assume he was trying to comfort her, but she could tell from the wired movements of his hands and the nervous tension bunched up in his muscles that he was attempting to derive comfort from her instead. Whatever his father had said, it had freaked him out.
"Gaara," She said softly, as though speaking to a spooked wild animal, "I've just been talking to –"
"We are here," Gaara's father interrupted her, speaking into a microphone, addressing the whole party. They turned to watch, most of them looking curious. Gaara stiffened, shooting her an agonised glance, "To celebrate a very special occasion."
"Sakura, come on, let's go," Gaara said hastily, getting to his feet and trying to pull her up with him.
"My good friend Matsumoto Toru has graciously just acquiesced to the engagement of my son and his daughter, Matsuri." The Kazekage said, gesturing to the man at his right, who offered a mock-bow in response. Matsuri stood near the head table, eyes on Sakura, white as a sheet.
The party guest clapped and cheered at the news, a few approaching to pat Gaara on the back, but he only had eyes for her.
"Sakura," Gaara said, horrified, "I'm so sorry –"
"That's fine." Sakura said sweetly, "You should have let me know sooner! I would have bought you an engagement present! Now look at me," She laughed, the guest milling around her, the room still filled with the sound of raucous clapping, "Look at how stupid I look!"
And then, ever her mother's daughter, she turned on her heel and casually walked away. Her mother had always been able to bounce back from the blows life dealt her, always able to appear cheerful and just fine, even when everything around her was not fine at all.
Sakura's shoes were hurting. Temari's feet must be tiny, she thought dimly, pushing past a large woman, struggling to get through the crowd.
It occurred to her that she should be upset, but the only thing that seemed important in that one moment was maintaining that painful, fixed smile as she pushed her way through drunken men, streamers and balloons floating eerily around her, the room descending into silence. She could hear nothing but the roaring in her ears and her heart stamping out a beat in her chest.
A middle-aged man with a pale pink smear of lipstick on his cheek winked at her. He was dancing with a woman who was obviously his wife, dowdy and older than him by at least a decade. Her lipstick was dark red. She smelt of spice, he smelt, rather alarmingly, of lilies.
The knife had gone in neatly. Gaara's aim was true. He could not have broken her any more thoroughly or publicly.
She turned around just as the first tear slid down her cheek, and saw Gaara through the crowds of people, through the endless streamers and balloons, through the cruel smirk on the Kazekage's face and the horror on Matsuri's. She saw him clearly, frozen; staring at her, obviously wanting nothing more than to go to her side, but his father had his shoulder in a steely grip.
And that was it, Sakura thought numbly, that was the end of the Student Body President and the delinquent. What a short-lived mistake that had been.
She broke through the noise of the party, reaching the hall. A man in a white suit with tails was instantly at her side.
"Madam, if you would just wait here a moment, Kazekage-san wishes to speak with you." The man said earnestly, presenting her with a tissue so subtly and quickly she was almost certain she had merely conjured the tissue up herself.
"Thank you for the tissue," Sakura said politely, inwardly impressed at her ability to retain basic manners despite her inner turmoil, "But can you tell him to fuck off, please?"
There was a low chuckle at her shoulder, and the noise of the party disappeared as quickly as it had appeared as the door opened and closed.
"No need," The Kazekage said, clearly amused, "I'm here now."
xxxxxxxx
He had been good enough to allow her to wash off the smeared mascara, so she came out of the bathroom in his office newly fresh-faced yet still irritable.
"So," Sakura spat, crossing her arms, "What do you want?"
The Kazekage was sitting at his desk once more, frowning over some papers. He was obviously a workaholic, he hadn't even loosened his tie or unbuttoned his collar, despite the stifling heat of the room.
"Miss Haruno," He said, smiling, "I am aware that, as a sixteen year old girl, you have been living with a very black and white set of morals, as children so often do. You believe that everything should be obtained by good deeds, moralistic behaviour, and so forth. I do not believe that. You seem to believe that my son and I have a poor relationship. This is not so. I only want what is best for him. I have already judged you and found you unworthy of him. Matsuri, however, is perfectly suita –"
"Money," Sakura interrupted him, walking over to his desk and glaring right into his stupid, smug face, "Matsuri has money. She is a rich little heiress. She is also, conveniently enough, a frightened little mouse of a girl, someone who can be moulded into something you deem," She sneered, "Worthy. I am not rich. I am not someone who can be changed or manipulated. I am not stupid, or childish. I operate on a strict set of morals that set me apart from you, not because of their childish nature, but because doing good deeds for the sake of doing them makes you good. It is that simple, Kazekage-san. And please, in the future, if you ever want to speak with me again, can you try to use a less patronising tone and at least attempt to remove the stick buried a foot deep in your arse?"
"I was not finished, Miss Haruno," He said, baring his teeth in a parody of a smile, "Before you ask, yes, my son is indeed betrothed to Matsuri. But consider this. Kankuro has been going to many meetings lately, has he not? This is because I have named him my heir. Don't look so surprised. I never once considered my youngest child capable of running my company, and Temari has no interest in it. But I knew my youngest son could still provide a service to his family's company. My friend Toru's daughter was interested in my son. I knew the marriage would prove useful in the future, so I set about convincing my son to cooperate. But by this point, you had entered the picture."
Sakura didn't see where this was going, she was currently nursing a headache and an expertly shattered heart, and wanted nothing more than to go home and cry in her mother's arms.
"I asked my son to do me a favour. Toru promised me a great deal of money if Matsuri would confirm the marriage would take place. Matsuri agreed to do this on the day of her engagement party. My son had been buttering her up; convincing her he would marry her. But then, he showed up with you on his arm. Though I don't understand her motives, Matsuri still agreed to the marriage even after you stumbled in here in your borrowed dress and two-sizes too small shoes. I took my son aside and told him to dump you publicly in the middle of the party, thereby effectively removing you and assuring Matsuri of my son's fidelity. He attempted to refuse. I reminded him that Kankuro was so looking forward to taking over my company, but I could just as easily leave him a pencil sharpener and an office desk. I intended to destroy my company, unless my son would go through with it. If he did not, Kankuro would be left with nothing."
Sakura's jaw tightened with rage, "You twisted…" She breathed, furious, "You blackmailed one of your sons into marrying a girl by threatening to destroy the future of your other son?"
"No," The Kazekage smiled, "That's the beauty of it. My son will not marry Matsuri. Toru kindly enough transferred the marriage funds into my account personally today the moment Matsuri confirmed the engagement. He was, thankfully, incredibly drunk at the time, so he was quite open to suggestions that I should receive money there and then for my efforts. Just before you made your dramatic exeunt, I informed Toru that I was afraid my son was in love with someone else and therefore could not possibly go through with the engagement. He was, oddly enough, rather upset, and demanded the money back. When I refused, he told me the police would consider this a rather interesting case. I replied that yes, I believed they would too, given that he had attempted to sell his daughter to myson. I do not believe he was aware that that is considered slavery and is thus very illegal. Do you now see the beauty of it? Should the plan have succeeded, I would have gained quite a bit of money, and an obedient, wealthy daughter-in-law. The only drawback to this plan would have been earning my son's hatred. However, I am quite willing to bear the burden of his enmity, so long as he is happy."
"Do you really expect me to believe that you did all of this for Gaara's happiness?" Sakura said disbelievingly, "Do you think me a fool?"
"No," He said musingly, "You are not a fool. Disappointingly enough, I had your family tree checked out and there is no trace of aristocracy or influential ancestors amongst the drooping branches of your family members. The softness of your facial features and the height problem makes it evident that you do not come from noble stock. However, when looking into possible future family members, I do not simply browse by ancestry. I am also interested in intelligence. Though I am told you often let your heart rule your head, there can be no questioning that you are an incredibly intelligent young woman. Intelligence is something our family prides itself on, Sakura-san, may I call you Sakura-san? No? Miss Haruno. Did you really think that, given the choice between having you or Matsuri as a daughter-in-law, I would choose the shrill, needy harpy, who has the equivalent intelligence of a slug?"
"I don't think," Sakura said carefully, because if she didn't rein her anger in then Daddy-Gaara was going to be a bloody smear on the ground, "you have any right to choose the spouses of your children."
He looked almost startled for a second, before smirking once more, "Who do you think steered Temari towards that delightfully intelligent Shikamaru? Who enrolled her in that fighting tournament? Who fixed it so she would be fighting the most intelligent contestant? I did. Admittedly Kankuro has proved difficult, but I am confident I will –"
"You horrible, manipulative little man." Sakura said suddenly, cutting into his smug speech, "How dare you? How dare you interfere with their lives like this? With mine? Whether or not you intended to help Gaara out by giving him a good wife, money still changed hands. You cannot sit there in your five thousand pound upholstered chair, and tell me you didn't do it for the money."
He laughed again, "Oh dear, Miss Haruno. How you have misjudged me. I spoke before, of the moral dilemmas adults face. Of course the money factored into it, but it was merely a perk. I have only ever been concerned with my children's happiness. Unlike you, I do not still believe that you can only do good deed through moralistic means. I manipulated, blackmailed and cheated, but the end result is the same, Kankuro is still the heir to a financially successful company, my son does not have to marry Matsuri, and you are now certain that your boyfriend is completely loyal to you."
"And you got a big fat payment for your troubles," Sakura said cuttingly, "And by the way? Your youngest son's name is Gaara. You have not once said his name in front of me, though you appear to not suffer the same problem when it comes to Temari and Kankuro. You have pictures of Kankuro and Temari, and a woman I assume is their mother, but the pictures of them all together end, I'd say roughly, about the year Gaara was born. You have statues of their mother in your lobby, meaning you still harbour feelings of sentiment and affection for her. You found Temari a suitable boyfriend without causing her emotional pain. You gifted Kankuro with your company. You have no pictures of Gaara," Sakura waved a hand at the walls of his office. He was beginning to look angry, "And you have caused him suffering for no apparent reason, save for the monetary gain, of course. Seeing as the pictures end at around about the time Gaara was born, though you have up-to-date pictures of your other children, I would say that the event of Gaara's birth caused you great pain, or at least, more probably, resentment. Gaara has already informed me his mother is dead. I can only assume, Kazekage-sama, that your wife died giving birth to Gaara, and that you have been punishing him for it since the day he was born. Well, here's what I have to say to that. No more. He does not deserve the punishment you have been giving him and I will not allow it to continue."
"Let's say I agree with you, and that I do resent my son for being the reason my wife is no longer with us, how on earth would you prevent me from punishing him?" The Kazekage asked, though he no longer looked angry now. He looked weary.
"With great ease." Sakura raised an eyebrow, "I might be from a common background," She emphasised the words with a scoff, "But I know a thing or two about causing another pain. For instance, I can inform you that your mistress is indeed cheating on you. The lipstick on your shirt collar matches that of a similar stain on one of your party guest's cheek. Not only that, but the present you gave her," She pointed at the empty perfume box half-hidden in the bin, "Is not simply covering her, it is also covering him. I recognise the scent, of course, a rather heady scent of lilies, an unfortunate choice given their association with death, but I'm sure you were simply mocking your mistress more subtly than most. I could tell you whom she is sleeping with, but that would only benefit you now, wouldn't it?"
Unbelievably, he was smiling now, genuinely amused. Oh, how annoying.
"Fair enough." He held his hands up, grinning, "You have proved that you can obtain information on me from the contents of my bin, and that you could use it against me. Most interesting. But you got one thing wrong, Miss Haruno. I cannot say my youngest son's name; because it is a hateful name his dying mother cursed him with. Ever since her death I have been distanced from my children, because I knew I could never be a good father. You have reacted unexpectedly, Miss Haruno. I assumed you would be pleased to find out that Gaara never wanted to marry Matsuri, but instead you grew angry at me. Please understand," He said, his tone suddenly beseeching, his face looking disconcertingly like his youngest son's, "I truly did what I thought was best tonight."
"Yes, well," Sakura paused, baffled by the Kazekage's sudden change in demeanour, "I won't stand for being manipulated again."
"Miss Haruno?" He called as she went to leave, "I meant what I said earlier. I believe you will make a tremendous daughter-in-law."
Sakura coughed, embarrassed. She finally replied, "You can call me Sakura-san, if you like."
"Excellent." He said sincerely. After a brief pause he looked up again and stressed, "You will still have to call me Kazekage-sama."
"Right, thanks Daddy-Gaara." She said loudly, leaving his office with a dramatic door slam just for him.
The Kazekage smiled and examined his papers.
Haruno Sakura, sixteen years old, no health issues, average weight, slightly below average height, above average intelligence, excellent letters of recommendation, including an interesting report that detailed that Sakura despised Uchiha Sasuke, the son of the Kazekage's own hated rival. So she was highly intelligent, courageous to boot and to top it all off, she hated the Uchihas. All in all, the perfect choice for his son's – Gaara's – wife.
Oh boy, this was tricky to write! Do tell me if there are any issues, I wrote this all in one go whilst visibly drooping with tiredness, honestly. Playing wild dance games and staying up all night do not make for a very happy (or accurate) fanfiction writer!
Here we go, some insight on Daddy-Gaara. He's open to interpretation, so do feel free to interpret!
I can honestly say that I truly believe now that the story is nearing the end. God, I hope it is :)
Matsuri was an irritating character in the manga/anime, so I didn't bother giving her any redeeming features. More on her to come, I believe.
But you all finally have the answer to why Gaara called Matsuri 'dear' a while back! It was at that point that he was being blackmailed into treating her nicely, so she'd think he wanted to marry her. I couldn't believe so many of you thought he was in love with her and was only leading Sakura on!
And now, I bid ye goodnight!
Exeunt!
Quick poll take for fun: Who is the most irritating fictional character you have ever had the misfortune to come across and why do they irritate you so?
No suggestions here, obviously.