This chapter is long. I dare you to make it all the way through. For manga readers, I wrote this after chapters 250 came out. Anything that changes in the manga that I don't acknowledge in here….ah, well.

Words to live by:

"I will not allow you to eat the last potato chip!"

Chapter 5

A Friend

People define time by the rate at which the world changes around them. Years, seasons, days, hours – everything depends on how cold it is, how bright, how colorful, how strong. In the hole there was nothing, and so Sakura found herself in the strange position of being caught out of time, hanging in unchanging darkness. She sat still, and listened to the occasional frightened whispers of people she could not see. She wondered if they were really there at all, or if the darkness had somehow swallowed them and all that remained were the voices. Once or twice she feared that her own body had been swallowed, too, and she tapped at her arms and legs and chest with her fingertips to reassure herself that it was still solid, still there. Once, she might have even slept, but if she did she dreamed of darkness and nothingness, and so it may not have been a dream at all.

It wasn't until the steel door above her groaned open and the dim light of a dying sunset and the heat of the desert came pouring down on her head that she began to wonder how long it had been. A handful of Sand shinobi helped the village people climb out, pulling them up the creaky little staircase. Sakura was one of the last few out, grabbing the offered hands and letting them heave her bodily back into the world of light and air and time.

She moved away from the crowd as they began to disperse into the damaged city, heading for homes and shops and wailing at damage or wondering aloud if any of it had been left standing. She stood silently with her back to the village, staring up past the towering mountains at the last rays of the yellow desert sun, at the red-tinted sky that was slowly being swallowed by the incoming night.

"Are you alright?"

Sakura snapped her head around, hand hovering automatically at her pouch.

"Oh, sorry," the voice answered apologetically. A second later the air to her left wavered, like heat waves rising from the sand, and when it cleared again a man was standing a foot away from her, smiling remorsefully. "Forgot I was still invisible."

The Leaf ninja regarded him carefully. He was a relatively small man, only an inch or two taller than she. His features were plain, his hair and eyes were sandy brown. He was wholly unremarkable, easily forgettable. In a crowd it was unlikely she would ever notice him, and even if he had simply walked up to her she might not have immediately spotted the intruder. But he hadn't just walked up… "That's a good genjutsu," she said at length.

"Thanks," he grinned at her. "I've spent a lot of time perfecting it. You won't believe how handy it can be. Especially when my relatives come to visit." He winked brashly. His pale brown hair was neatly combed, and his clothes were dull brown, nothing garish or bright about them. Nonetheless, she was reminded very strongly of Naruto. He stuck out a hand, interrupting her scrutiny. "I'm Kenji," he said genially. "Chunin of the Hidden Sand Village. You must be the Leaf ambassador."

Sakura shook his hand briefly. "Sakura," she replied, and allowed herself to return the smile.

"It suits you," he grinned again, and dropped her hand. "I saw you at the ceremony, but I was too far off to notice how pretty you really were." Concern replaced flirtation in his brown eyes before she could summon up the energy to blush. "You looked pretty peaked a moment ago, though. We've got some good medical-nins here, if you want."

Sakura shook her head. "I'm fine," she reassured him. "Just a bit disoriented."

"That's to be expected," a new voice answered her. "Considering your recent experience."

Sakura turned away from Kenji to greet Temari as the Sand jounin walked briskly up. "How many days was I down there?" Sakura asked mildly.

"Two," the blonde woman rested a hand on the handle of her fan. "We killed most of the first wave that night, but reinforcements arrived at dawn. It was a bloody one."

"How many waves?"

"Three. The first was the worst though. Gaara killed the traitor governor, but he wasn't even a ninja." Temari looked pointedly at the Sand chunin. Taking the hint, Kenji bowed to her and then to Sakura.

"May we meet again under better circumstances," he murmured to her, giving her another brief smile before turning sharply and striding off towards the milling civilians.

Temari gestured for Sakura to follow as she moved off down the battered streets. "From what we've discovered so far, the governor was the youngest child of a relatively wealthy family. His father left most of the inheritance to his older brothers. Apparently he decided to enter politics after that. He must have found he couldn't get any higher than province governor legally, so he started an insurgent group." She shook her head. "Or he was working directly for someone who did."

"What happened to the feudal lord?"

"Made it out. We had a team of jounin take him directly back to the capital."

Sakura rubbed a hand across her nose distractedly. "It's over then?"

A long silence. "No."

Somehow, she hadn't thought so. It was never that easy. "I'm sorry," she murmured, and meant it. Even so, there was some part of her that felt relieved, calm. It wasn't her war, this time. In fact, it was the perfect excuse. "I'll need to report this to the Fifth," she told the Sand nin. "Should I inform the Kazekage of my departure, or is he too busy right now?"

Temari looked at her for another long moment, and then slowly shook her head. "I'm afraid that isn't possible right now."

"Then I'll have to ask you to tell him for me, at his convenience." Sakura stretched her shoulders. "And I apologize for the rude departure." Actually, it might not be so bad to miss that little ceremony. She hadn't spoken to the Kazekage since her first run-in with the man, and look how well that had worked out. (Yep,) Inner Sakura all but bounced on her heels gleefully. (That's enough sand demon for this little pink kuniochi.) Of course, there was the matter of Tsudane's request, but, well, her sensei would understand.

"Sakura," Temari butted in, pulling Sakura's attention away from drawing a mental map of the route she would take home. "I don't think you quite understand the situation. Wind Country is in complete upheaval – it's not just here. They sent the most ninja here, but aside from the fact that somehow large quantities of foreign shinobi got into the country without being noticed, several key areas have been attacked. Trade routes, armories, political meeting places – it's a mess."

"How big a mess?" Sakura asked quietly, a pit of dread opening in her guts as the implications of that sunk in.

"The insurgents who lived through the first two nights all killed themselves on the third night when it became obvious that we were winning and they were out of reinforcements. We took no prisoners, so we don't know exactly how big their organization is."

"Why are you bothering to explain this to me?"

"I just thought it fair to let you know why you'll be staying as our guest a little longer than you might like."

It was dangerous to push, and not particularly bright. She pushed anyway. "And if I refuse the hospitality…?"

"The borders are closed," Temari folded her arms. "I wouldn't try."

Sakura hesitated, but in the end common sense won out, and she gave in. "Very well. I understand."

She slept the rest of the day, and woke up an hour or so before sunset. She lay in her bed for a long time, watching the little bit of light that still stubbornly crept under the thick portal covering that provided her enough darkness to sleep when the sun was out. When it had faded, and the faux-darkness had been replaced by the deeper shadows of incoming night, she forced herself to get up. Hiding in her room was not going to help the situation.

I wish I could request to write home, she thought dully as she brushed her teeth and hair. Just a note to tell them I'm ok. Doubtless they'd heard of the problems here. Just as doubtless, her friends were probably already nagging at the Hokage to allow a rescue mission. Naruto and Lee would be, at least. Maybe Ino, possibly Kiba. It was not a particularly good thing, to think of her friends worried or upset, but on some selfish level it did make her feel a little better. She may be isolated here, but somewhere out there people loved her, cared for her. That helped.

(Damnit, I will not be homesick,) Inner Sakura ranted forcefully. I will employ myself in a productive and meaningful manner, Sakura agreed. I will practice my medical training. I will…"I will not back down," she said aloud, confirming it with herself in the mirror.

Sakura tied her forehead protector firmly around her head. Right. Tonight she would seek out Gaara of the Desert.

The problem with setting a goal, Sakura reflected as she sat on the rooftop of the Kazekage's office and dangled her feet thoughtfully off the edge, was that it was usually easier said than done. She went to his office, but no one was there. She went through the whole damn building, actually, but all she found were a few shinobi who had been wounded too badly in the recent fight to carry on regular duty but didn't need to be in the hospital. None of them had seen their Kazekage all day.

She wandered the streets, too, not oblivious to the distrustful glances and the occasional hush that fell when she passed a group of people who had been chattering animatedly a few seconds before. The rational Sakura knew that the animosity was not so much directed at her because she was a Leaf shinobi, but merely because she was unfamiliar, and there was too much in these people's world right now that was unfamiliar and unexplained. No one knew where the enemy had really come from, or why, or how. Possibly Sound ninja, Temari had said. Did that mean…Sasuke? She brushed the thought away.

A couple of hours later, Kenji found her again. She was perched on a few upturned boulders near the cliff walls on the outer edge of town, watching the crowds half heartedly. "Sakura-san," he greeted her, hoping up to stand beside her. "I hope you haven't forgotten me."

She smiled. "No, I didn't. I'm still trying to puzzle out how you got so close to me without my noticing your chakra aura or anything."

Kenji settled himself down, reaching up a hand to brush a strand of hair carefully back in place. Everyone's got their vanity points, Sakura thought with a touch of humor. "Well, I guess you could say subterfuge is really the only thing I'm good at. I was never much of one for direct combat."

"A shinobi needs cunning as the lungs need air," she quoted the old maxim at him mock-sternly.

"Yes, sensei," he chimed back like an obedient child. They both laughed. "I'm trying to get stronger, though. I've been working on this powerful new jutsu. Maybe I'll show it to you someday. In the meantime, may I buy you dinner?" The words rushed nervously out of his mouth, like a teenager asking someone on his first date. Then again, Sakura considered, maybe he was.

"Is there even any restaurants open right now?"

"Oh, there are always restaurants open. The world could be plunged into the bitter depths of hell's darkness and still there'd be some noodle shop offering discount coupons to the damned."

Sakura laughed again, enjoying the sensation of comfort, of easy companionship. It was nice to talk to someone like this again. Granted he wasn't quite as outrageously bright and bouncy and loud as Naruto or Lee, but he was genial enough. The pink kuniochi shrugged mentally. Who said she couldn't at least try to enjoy her forced time here? "Alright."

It was nice, eating noodles and laughing with a friend, even if she didn't know him that well. They didn't talk about anything really all that special, mostly the weather (hot, even now in the evening) and their first chunin exams (there was plenty that she omitted from that tale, but he didn't seem to notice the gaps). "I was hopeless," he told her with a self deprecating laugh, waving his chopsticks. "I tried to take on a Hidden Mist ninja, and all he did was drench me in a wave of really cold water. I was so shocked that I just stood there for a few seconds before he smashed my nose in. It was pretty embarrassing." The Sand nin shrugged. "But then, I was twelve, and I'd never seen that much water in my life, and I'd never been that cold."

"I can see how that would startle you," she nodded, picking at her half empty bowl.

"Look at that outsider shinobi," a voice whispered loudly behind her, cutting into her thoughts and interrupting her next words. She paused, chopsticks halfway to her mouth, listening. "Prancing around like nothing's happened. You'd think she'd have had sense enough to leave."

"Probably gloating over our misfortune," another voice muttered back. Sakura felt her back muscles tighten. "Damn foreigners," the gruff voice added.

Kenji was frowning. "That's not - " he blurted out, but Sakura raised a hand sharply to stop him.

"Thank you for the meal, Kenji-san," she said quietly, smiling her thanks. But she dropped the smile immediately and stood up. He half-rose to follow her, but she put a hand on his arm. "I'm a little tired. I think I'll go get some sleep." He hesitated, and then nodded understandingly.

"Sakura-san, I have a request, before you go." Kenji's voice was suddenly very formal, as if he were addressing a superior.

"Yes?"

Kenji scratched his head, dropping the formality in favor of abashed nervousness that was definitely Naruto-like. Sakura mentally frowned at the vague homesickness that thought conjured up, and focused her attention on her new friend. "Er…well…I just wondered…see, I know you can't leave right now because of all this," he gestured at the torn up street, "so I thought since I'm not particularly busy tomorrow, you might want to have someone to talk to…" He trailed off, obviously not certain how to phrase it. "I can show you around a bit, anyway. Maybe you can help us clean things up – you know, it would make people see that you're on our side."

"That sounds lovely," Sakura put the poor boy out of his misery. He flushed a little, but grinned good naturedly.

"That's great! I'll come find you tomorrow around mid-afternoon when things start to cool down." He bowed to her again, and then took off down the street. "Good night, Sakura-san!"

"Good night."

She walked through the streets calmly, but the citizens of the village were beginning to peter out of their damaged houses in the cool of the evening, and the hastily averted eyes and quiet murmurs that followed her passing did not escape her. At least Kenji didn't seem wary of her. He was a sweet man – and the fact that he reminded her strongly of her two best male friends in Konoha was a point in his favor, too. Nonetheless, he was the one sociable person in a crowd of people determined to fear or at least avoid her. It was a lonely feeling. No wonder Naruto had always been so determined to make people recognize him, or Gaara had been so hateful. If she'd been treated like this all her life, she might just be crazy too.

So now here she was, sitting on the still-warm stone of the Kazekage's office, watching the stars come out and wondering vaguely why they seemed so much brighter here than at home.

Something moved in the dark behind her, and Sakura felt her heart plunge straight down into her guts.

He'd probably been standing there for several seconds before the skin on the back of her neck prickled in warning. Stupid fool, to let her attention wander. "Kazekage-sama," she said aloud, turning her face towards him. Gaara met her eyes, but made no other response. He just stood there, arms crossed, face expressionless. It was a far cry from the wild monster who had smeared blood across his cheek and laughed at her in the dark. "This your spot?" she gestured to the roof top.

"You were looking for me."

Right to the point, this man. "You don't miss much, do you?" And though she said it lightly, she knew instinctively that he was indeed watching every move, every twitch, every detail of her face and body language. He was watching for something. It took her a moment to realize what.

Watching for her to flinch.

"What did you want?"

Sakura shrugged, as if his proximity didn't bother her in the least. "I thought I might as well make a few unreasonable demands, seeing as I'm an unwilling prisoner here now and no longer a guest." She grinned.

"If I wish it, you will have no opportunity to bother me." Well, that was certainly true. She hadn't even been able to find him today, when he presumably wasn't actively evading her. But he had come seeking her out, now. At his convenience, of course, but she could forgive him that this time. He was Kazekage. But why bother to look for her? Curiosity?

Whatever his reason for being there, he wasn't about to tell her. She was going to have to initiate things if she wanted to get her own job done. "I was just noticing," she began gamely, "how quiet this place is, considering the size of the settlement. Half the buildings seem to be empty." She considered for a moment. "I guess everyone is out hunting down all the information on the uprisings they can. Still, it must be hard on the villagers."

He took the bait. "Why?"

"Because they're left to rebuild everything." Sakura waved a hand at the sprawling village below, encompassing the smashed walls, the torn streets, the collapsed buildings in one sweep of her arm. "A battle they can't really comprehend rips through their homes for reasons they aren't told, and then all the fighters up and vanish, and leave them to put it all back together again. But then," she went on, more to herself than him. "I guess they knew this was a shinobi village when they came here."

He moved to stand next to her, a few feet away and yet somehow a little too close for comfort. Anywhere within a few blocks might be too close for comfort, she thought wryly, but it was stupid to dwell on that. "Knowing what something is and being forced to stare it in the face are two very different things." His face was lowered slightly, making his eyes narrower than they might actually have been.

She glanced at him, but he was still glowering out at the night, arms crossed. "Yes," she murmured. Then, more confidently, "But they knew what a shinobi's life is about, and on some level, they had to expect something like this to happen sooner or later."

"Hearing about something and being confronted with it are different," he insisted flatly. "You can think you know what you're dealing with, but when it's finally in front of you, you find it's completely different from what you thought it would be. But by then," he shrugged. "You're trapped."

That's an odd way to put it, she noted. "I guess that's where nostalgia comes from," she mused aloud. "People who experience something that changes the way they look at the world, and they wish that they could go back to seeing it the way they did before, when they didn't really understand it."

"Do you wish that often?"

She frowned a bit. The question was unexpected, and it jolted her train of thought in a new direction. "No, not really. Nostalgia implies regret, and I like to make it a point not to regret things." Sasuke. Her early treatment of Naruto and Lee. The lost years of Ino's friendship. No. It was better to accept the hard learned lessons of the past, and then put them firmly behind her. "It tends to be easier said than done, though."

"People dislike complications," he noted. There was something vaguely bitter in his voice, something that made her study him from the corners of her eyes warily. "They want things to be easy, simple, like when they were children." He put a slight emphasis on the word "they" which took her a moment to understand. But then, she reasoned, Naruto said he'd been isolated his whole life. Never really a child like the others. Not like them.

She yawned suddenly, startling herself before she remembered to stifle it. "You should sleep." He said quietly, impassively, and with a jolt she remembered what else Naruto had told her about him. He couldn't sleep, or the demon would escape, eating at his soul as it destroyed everything around him. (Well of course, you idiot,) Inner Sakura poked her. (Those dark marks around his eyes aren't there to be decorative, you know.)

"I probably should," she settled on agreeing with him at last. And then, because somehow she couldn't just end it like that, she asked. "How do you do it?" She didn't elaborate, but the way his eyes flickered scornfully to her face and then away again told her that he knew what she meant anyway. She suddenly felt like an inquisitive little child pestering an adult. 'You', Sasuke said, turning to glare at her over his shoulder, 'are really annoying.' Gaara turned away so she couldn't see his face anymore. "Good night," she murmured, and headed for the door.

"Are you running away?" He grated. Her hand paused on the door latch, and she looked back over her shoulder at him. Something in his tone told her that it was dangerous to admit that yes, she had indeed been beating a hasty retreat. But what could she say that didn't sound like an excuse?

"That's putting it a bit harsh." She tried for light bravado, praying it didn't ring too false. "Although I do grant your demeanor is a bit obnoxious." She rubbed her nose and gave his back a self-deprecating smile. "But it's more an attempt to leave before I really stick my foot in my mouth. I seem to have the bad habit of talking too much around you."

He shrugged, and some of the tension in the air seemed to diffuse. Had his chakra been building up around them? Was his aura just that powerful? Or was she simply hyper-aware of him? Hah. That was a thought she cut off as quickly as she left the rooftop. Down that path lay dragons, and she was in enough of a mess as it stood.

The servant knows better than to look at her master's face. Instead, she keeps her eyes on the sand just before his feet, waiting obediently for him to speak to her.

"Have they been contacted?"

There is only one "they" that he would bother to ask about. Her voice as she answers is as steady as it is meek. "Yes, master. They are interested in your offer. They say they will come to you, but they wish to know if you will let them have the Kazekage too or if you plan to keep that kill to yourself."

He does not answer. Perhaps he is thinking the question over. Perhaps he has already forgotten she is there – although that is not likely. He never forgets anything. "Spread the word to our insurgents," he says eventually. "Tell them to keep up the terrorist acts. Anything that keeps him off-balance, and his subordinates scattered across the country."

"Yes, master."

"There is a new piece on the playing board," her master muses aloud. "I will have to watch her, for awhile. When I know what part she will play, I will make my move." He taps his temple thoughtfully. "What is she to him?" he murmurs.

Neither his servant nor the desert replies.