A/N: Sorry for the delayed update! There's still a lot going on for me. All I can say is that I hate moving, ugh.

Apologies in advance for the babbling author's note. I need to add some clarifications before proceeding.

Anyhow... In case you haven't been clued in already from the prologue, yes, this story will involve controversial and disagreeable actions from the main characters. I understand that the topic will be an objectionable one. For a while, this idea stayed in my head until I was finally bold enough to write it. One, because I have reasonable expectation to complete it given the length I planned for it. I didn't want to demotivate myself or disappoint any readers by ambitiously starting something and never finishing, as I've done before. Two, I wanted to address how the Naruto series ended, as well as the problematic/unrealistic relationship of SasuSaku. I want to highlight that actions have consequences—such is the reality of life, and this will be true for the characters in this story. But, let's not forget that this is fanFICTION, so I hope you don't take this stuff too seriously. An open mind is always appreciated. ^^''

Also, having revisited the FF ratings guidelines, I will be officially upgrading the rating of this story to M (cough) in anticipation of future content. There will not be any full-blown lemons, but enough something for your imaginations to take a field trip-so there will be definitely some scenes/language that are not suitable for the kiddies. If anything, I believe the theme itself warrants the rating change. You've been warned. Heh.

Chapter 6

In time he became more or less a regular at the Uchiha household, as much as opportunities allowed. It wasn't really the food offerings that kept him returning to that familiar table side, where the warm company of the mother and daughter pair replaced his nights of solitude. He'd decided to be open to some variety in his increasingly routinized life. Though he hadn't thought by doing that, he'd discover a sense of normalcy along the way.

This evening after another customary training session and meal, Gaara again found himself an occupant of his habitual spot on the beige couch in the living room of Sakura's residence. Atop the coffee table before him, a cup of sencha that he'd grown to favor and a plate of savory treats awaited his enjoyment. To his side, Sarada chattered on about Boruto's silly antics during her team's recent assignment. In the kitchen, Sakura busied herself with stacking away cleaned dishes. To Gaara, it had become a strange yet pleasant setup, somewhat akin to his visits to his sister's house. The difference here, though, was that he was no longer an onlooker to the familial scene; he was made a participant.

Was this what it would be like to have a family? His thoughts went adrift.

The painful experiences in his youth years had warped his notion of a family. His mother died an untimely death at his birth, his father forsook him, and his siblings feared him. Gradually, the void in him wherein love could fill he brimmed with hatred and contempt. On those nights when the loneliness became too much to bear, he could only find companionship in the insane screams of the tailed beast within him.

Gaara slammed his eyes shut. But he'd been saved from that dark abyss, and he'd never look back. The soft feminine humming brought his concentration from those dismal memories to the slim figure that paced to and fro in the kitchen. He absently stared at the pink-haired woman, as he continued to ponder.

Now in his adult life, he'd redeemed all that was woefully lacking before—the bonds with his brother and sister, with the individuals he befriended, and with the people he's been entrusted to protect. Yet, despite the relationships that he'd established or re-earned, he often spent his nights in his bland office or perched high over the roofs of buildings back in his hometown in an eerily comparable manner as he did in his youth: Alone, and still very much insomniac. Except, he now had his sense of duty—generally in the form of heaps of paperwork—to keep him company.

As the years went by, everyone around him had settled and formed families of their own. It seemed that only he had fallen behind the times. He never minded such fact, nor did he feel any haste to actively pursue a similar engagement. At some point, his unconcern toward such matter had caused his council to intervene by pressuring him into a marital union through political means. Needless to say, things ended disastrously when it was exposed that the whole arrangement helped to serve as a guise for a coup by a conniving advisor. And to add salt to injury, his potential partner had eloped with another man. In the aftermath, not only was Gaara short on one council member; but he was also left in a position where he questioned if he was ever capable of being romantically involved with anyone, much less taking on the role of a husband and father.

But now, he felt a slight change of mind, for the view before him gave him peace; and the experiences he came to share with the residents of this household, although ordinary in one's eyes, gave a degree of satisfaction that he never received from his work. Little by little, he became drawn to the novelty of it all. He felt normal, like he belonged somewhere where there was warmth and comfort, the very things he'd longed for since he was just a child…

Gaara relaxed into his seat. If this were any indication of how he'd feel with a family of his own… perhaps, and just perhaps at some future date he'd entertain this whole idea of "settling down."

"Kazekage-sama?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Gaara shifted his eyes toward to the young girl beside him. Sarada tilted her head at him quizzically, as though wondering if she still had his audience.

"Sarada, you needn't to continue to address me by my formal title." He had finally decided that the form of address was entirely too impersonal in this situation.

The girl furrowed her brows in confusion. Tentatively, she suggested, "Gaara-ojisan then?"

"That works."

Gaara couldn't help but smile when Sarada's whole face lit up.

She didn't know what had led him to accept her meager offer. Nonetheless, she was grateful that he had willingly answered her implicit call for companionship. Although his visits to Konoha were infrequent and limited to his work requirements, but he would make an effort to stop by more often than not. In the few months that followed, she would find his company at the dinner table comforting. Sometimes, it was only the two of them, their dialogues all encompassing—whether it was sharing memories of the distant past or discussing about village affairs; other times, they were joined by another young member, filling them in with stories of her latest missions or training sessions.

Another day, another meal, another conversation… Sakura was becoming accustomed to their newfound routine and friendship. Tonight, she was again in her favorite spot in the kitchen, engaged in her usual task of drying and sorting the dishes after dinner. Interestingly, she no longer found the chores a bore as she typically did, especially when she had gotten herself an occasional helper—who, in all honesty, was overqualified for the job. She smiled minutely, as she handed a set of clean plates to the red-haired man next to her. Gaara stowed them in their proper place in the cabinet according to her instructions.

Sakura watched his humbling act with guilt. The task was really too beneath the leader of a prominent village. But he had volunteered as a friend, not as the Kazekage, so he said. Apparently, he thought it unfitting to lounge around while she labored the evening away in addition to providing him supper unconditionally. After some polite verbal tug-o-war between both parties, Sakura had settled on a compromise in which she'd give the least tedious thing for Gaara to do.

At some point, Sakura had likened Gaara to Sasuke in his reticence and aloofness, but he'd proven her wrong with his unconventional charisma. He was sophisticated, poised, and candid. He oftentimes articulated little, but his words rang true to the phrase "less is more"; they were always full of substance, especially when the subject matter pertained to politics. Still, there were moments when Sakura realized that there was more to Gaara than what met the eye—when he commented on her mediocre cooking skills with playful jest, when he praised her capabilities as a medic-nin, when he extended his help to her on several occasions such as now… and when he noticed her emotional drought when no one else did.

Above all, she was thankful for the way he mentored and interacted with her daughter. It seemed that Sarada likewise enjoyed his teachings and his visits, though due to another mission she was not currently present to partake in their little routine today.

Sometimes, Sakura wondered if Gaara was even self-aware that he indeed had an empathetic side to him underneath all that apathetic exterior.

"Thank you for dinner."

The rich timbre of her male companion's voice reached Sakura's ears. Thus came the usual cue to Gaara's departure. When he locked his lucid turquoise eyes with hers, she fought hard to suppress the inexplicable rising heat in her cheeks—a weird habit she'd developed lately.

Nonetheless, her smile slipped. Lips set in a hard line, Sakura knew all too well what followed: He'd bid her good night; she'd respond in kind, while managing efforts not to give away any traces of her disappointment. Then she'd be left alone in the entryway, wondering when she'd have his company again, wondering how else she could keep the deafening silence at bay on her own.

Somehow, this was the part of the routine that she came to dread more and more over time. Had she really become so dependent on his presence? She questioned.

Sakura lagged with leaden steps behind Gaara toward the front door to see him out. The back of his tall form filled her vision. That familiar shade of red and maroon began drifting further and further, taken with it the warmth that she'd gotten used to. She faltered.

"This is not the life you want."

Gaara's statement from many evenings ago haunted her still; it was what infested her thoughts when the lonely nights prevented her from a restful slumber.

Sakura glanced over her shoulders. Behind her, the cold and empty apartment tauntingly beckoned for her to join the isolation. The bright lights in the living room could not extinguish the chilling darkness that continued to creep toward her, ready to consume her the split second that front door shuts. All of a sudden, she felt so small and powerless against the dominating loneliness that threatened to latch onto her once again.

Afraid, she whipped her head back to face the front again.

Stay.

Her mind pleaded, painfully aware of the long black sleepless hours that awaited her, as well as the restless tossing and turning in the bed that was utterly too big for one person. Desperate, Sakura reached out for the fading figure before her.

She was successful in taking a hold of the corner of Gaara's sleeve, which effectively caused him to stop in his tracks. She didn't afford him enough time to register her actions before she slid her hand up his arm to clutch him by the elbow. Her grip tightening a tad, she swallowed. And ever so gently, she pressed her forehead into his back, between his shoulder blades. It was as she expected, the warmth of his body seeped through the soft fabric of his shirt and concentrated where her skin made contact, invigorating her with a renewed sense of safety and security.

All of Gaara's movements had abruptly ceased. They now stood fixed in the middle of the genkan, quietness surrounding them. Without exchanging any words, Sakura could only imagine what kind of expression he wore then and there—surprise, confusion, annoyance… disgust?

"Is this… okay?" Shamefaced, she thought she'd gamble her chance.

Whatever this is. Sakura nervously drew her lower lip between her teeth, silently praying that her impulsive intrusion into his personal space hadn't upset him. Mentally, she readied herself for his rebuke, just in case; she did fear the worst, that he'd simply walk out of her grasp into the night and never come back. But Gaara remained immobile. At least he hadn't turned around and flailed her away, she thought. So that was a good sign, right?

To Sakura, Gaara's answer took agonizingly long to come. But it was fine, because ultimately it was what she wanted to hear:

"It is."

She felt the slightest nod that accompanied the ghost of a whisper. Relief flooded her, as she released the breath she'd been holding. Sakura closed her eyes in contentment, relishing the regained comfort from Gaara's calming presence. His being there was an effective medication for her, she found… more so than her one-time trial with alcohol or her useless self-encouragements.

As Sakura inhaled, taking in his unique scent in the process, a part of her was wary that maybe she'd overdose on the kindness he'd shown her; and that maybe she was becoming greedy over what he could provide her… as a friend…

Yet, undeterred by that thought, she held on all the same.