She became a medic-nin; he became Kazekage. She wasn't the tallest one anymore.


Chapter 4 - Flowers Can't Fall in Love with the Moon

Panting, Himari swiped the bangs out of her face, making a mental note to take care of their catastrophic length somewhere between two shifts at the hospital. Her gaze stared expectantly at the electrocardiogram and when the electric signal resumed with its regular beeping, she raised a triumphant fist in the air.

"Yes!" she cheered. "She's back with us."

"She's too stubborn to die so easily," commented Aiya as she stretched her sore muscles after giving the reanimation technique. "Wouldn't kick the bucket without finishing to knit that eyesore of an apron."

The petite nurse gave a pointed look at the colorful apron that laid on the room's chair, beside a basket filled with yarn balls of every kind.

"And since I'm not dead yet, I can still hear your annoying voice, blondie," grumbled their patient, one of the sassiest ladies on earth. "I swear, younger generations don't hold any respect for the elderly."

Aiya scoffed as she opened the room's curtains to get some of the daylight in. "While Himari's gone, I'll be the only friendly face you'll see for a whole month," the blond replied while she untangled her long hair with her acrylic nails. "Better get used to it, granny."

Over the years, she'd insulted a handful of patients with her unfiltered comments to the point where some threatened to sue the hospital. As her nurse, Aiya wasn't allowed to talk back that way to their patient, but the elderly woman found her to be a great distraction from the hospital's boring bed.

"Be of some use and fetch me a glass of water, blondie," the old lady groaned. "After all this near-death experience, I'm parched."

Aiya batted her set of fake eyelashes at the woman, overly sweet. "It will be my greatest pleasure, Kiyo-sama."

As the petite nurse exited the room, Himari couldn't hold back a small chuckle. She grabbed the patient's pad and started to scribble some notes in the margins. The experimental treatment wasn't working. She had to think outside of the box as none of the last treatments seemed to work or at least alleviate her symptoms.

"Don't think too hard, darling, or you'll get wrinkles," sighed Kiyo. "I'm old. That's it. There's no miracle remedy for that."

The old woman wasn't wearing her usual smirk on her thin lips. Dark circles under her eyes accentuated her tiredness. The large hospital's bed seemed to engulf her small figure in its blue sheets.

"You're barely in your eighties," Himari replied. "You've still got some good years ahead of you."

"Well, tell that to my lungs." With that remark, the old woman coughed dryly a few times until her lungs tired from the effort. "See? I'll tell you a secret. Cancer's a bitch."

Himari couldn't agree more. "I'm sorry, Kiyo-sama."

"Don't be, darling. I've lived a great life," she rasped, still panting a bit. "But enough about me. Are you all packed for your trip?"

"All packed." Near her appartement door, filled to the point where the zippers couldn't close completely, her travelling bag waited for her. "I'm excited."

"Just be careful."

"I'll be," she promised.

On her last mission, she'd been teaching medical jutsus to undertrained medics outside of the Country of the Wind. Unfortunately, their small medical team been ambushed on their way back to Suna. This type of things just happened. Exhausted, she'd failed to dodge one of her opponent's attacks. Himari didn't look at her reflection in the mirror for a while after that incident. She'd lost that fight quite badly. But despite it all, she had still anticipated her next mission during all her convalescence.

"You'll certainly be missed during your absence. Those other doctors don't have a smile as sweet as yours, darling. A shame, really."

"And I bet they don't let you eat a second serving of dessert, too."

"Alright, I plead guilty," Kiyo smiled.

Himari followed the old lady's gaze, understanding her silent request. Over time, they'd adopted their own little routine. In a succession of familiar movements, the young woman moved the basket of yarns near the bed, dropped the apron on the lady's lap and finally, she gave her the pair of knitting needles.

"Blondie's right," declared Kiyo. "I can't meet my expiration date before I've finished this."

At the mention of her, Aiya stormed into the room with a plastic cup overflowing with water, today's newsletter under her arm and a deck of cards. Their arguing started to fill the room. With an amused smile tugging at her lips, Himari slipped her patient's pad back in its pocket and without a word, she darted out of the room to see her next consults.

...

"I don't understand."

"It's reported."

They'd had this conversation already twice, as her brain couldn't seem to register the information coming out of the man's mouth. It couldn't be. She had waited four long months for this mission.

Himari sighed loudly. "When will it be, then?"

"Next year," the messenger replied.

"You're kidding, right?"

Even if she squinted, the man's face didn't budge. He wasn't joking. Since pouting would be an inappropriate reaction for someone her age, Himari crossed her arms over her chest while she mentally recited a list of curse words.

"Alright, I'll look for another mission," she groaned. "Thank you, sir."

Except, her second request for a mission got declined for an obscure reason. She brushed it off, not giving it a second thought until her other requests all got denied too, one by one. Annoyed, Himari slammed her hand against the kitchen's countertop with enough strength to shake her apartment's thin walls. Damn it.

...

In the middle of the afternoon, Himari barged into the mission's delivering office. A tight smile on her lips, she spotted a familiar face. Barely containing her irritation, she dropped in the chair in front of the employee's small desk.

As if to play with her nerves, Daisuke ate the rest of his chicken nuggets at a painfully slow pace, dipping them in a ridiculous amount of mustard before throwing them in his mouth. Aiya's brother didn't share his sister's particular tastes for colorful things and sequins, all about sober clothes and practicality. They'd dated for six months until they realized that sex wasn't enough to hold a relationship together.

Himari scrunched up her nose at him.

"That's disgusting."

"Mustard is life," he replied. With a bored expression, he laid back in his chair. "Shouldn't you be on a mission, or something?"

"It's reported."

"Really?"

Her patience running on thin ice, Himari grabbed the pile of rejected requests out of her bag, and before the man could talk, she slammed it against the counter.

"Don't play dumb with me, Daisuke," she hissed. "Why are all my requests denied?"

"I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's weird, though. I ran across some of yours, and I didn't deny them. But once it gets out of here, it's out of my hands."

"And in whose hands my requests end up?"

"Well, it's part of the Kazekage's job to approbate mission's requests. So, if there is a problem, it most probably comes from his side. Not mine."

She frowned. She wasn't aware of that.

"Thank you, Daisuke."

Taking her documents back, Himari stormed out of the office.

...

Gaara was like a princess trapped in the Kazekage's tower, except it wasn't a dragon guarding him but a bunch of old councilmen hovering him for signatures, reunions, treaties and other political matters. In fact, she hadn't spoken many words to him since she'd wake up in her own bedroom after that fateful day in Konoha with her parent squeezing the life out of her. Sometimes, it felt like their friendship days never existed. Since that day, Himari felt as if she had lost him. And in a sense, she had.

Once their father's death and Orochimaru's conspiracy were revealed, the two other sand siblings took on important positions on the council and with time, Himari also lost touch with them. Because… responsibilities.

Since she blew the nineteen candles on her birthday cake, Himari learned to hate that word. The councilmen loved to throw it at her as a pathetic excuse to send her back every time she'd tried to see Gaara. If she'd been able to train occasionally with Kankuro on his free time and to meet Temari for a cup of tea between her meetings, the redhead had stayed out of her reach. Months turned to years, and she'd gave up, accepting the fact that their friendship days were now reduced to polite bows and a cordial salutation whenever they briefly crossed each other's path. Things wouldn't return to how they were. Everything was fine, now.

Or everything was fine, until Gaara decided to deny all her mission's requests without a single explanation. She was about to make the reasonable decision by going to whine about it to Aiya over a cup of tea – or a chug of alcohol, but her path crossed the Kazekage's tower, and her feet stopped dead in their tracks at its entrance. When she pushed the door, it was too late to turn back.

...

There shouldn't be that many stairs in a building.

A woman's voice warned her as she started to climb the stairs of death. "Miss, you're not allowed to-"

"Do not get in my way," she panted.

She hadn't made it three steps into the corridor leading to the Kazekage's office that a handful of shinobis were blocking her. Seconds later, before she could utter a single word, they had restrained her against the wall, her hands tightly tied behind her back, so tight she feared her shoulders might dislocate. Obviously, they weren't joking with the Kazekage's security, and she hadn't thought that plan of hers thoroughly. But she wasn't giving up.

She struggled against the shinobi's grip until his fingers slipped a bit around her arms. With a swift movement, Himari freed herself from his grasp, but instead of cooperating with her, her feet tangled together and with the grace of a whale, she face planted on the floor. The fall knocked the air out of her lungs.

"Alright, I gave up," she grunted.

Panting, Himari tried to lift her body from the floor with what was left of her dignity, but the task found itself to be rather difficult with a knee pressed against her lower back. A door opened.

"What's with the commotion?" asked a man's voice.

Himari couldn't see him, but her breath caught in her throat as she heard his raspy voice, and by the sound of it, he seemed rather annoyed by the interruption of his work. The man over her cleared his throat as his knee dug deeper into her spine.

"Sorry, sir. There has been an intrusion," he answered. "But there's nothing to worry, the threat has been neutralized."

"Release her." His voice cut in the air, sharp as razors.

"Kazekage-sama?"

The atmosphere shifted. The corridor's temperature dropped a few degrees, and chills crawled on her skin at the sudden change. Face against the floor, Himari heard the subtle sound of sand rattling against the ground. Before her eyes, small grains started to flutter.

"Untie her immediately. She's my guest."

Pressure got lifted off her back.

"M-my apologies, sir."

And that's how she ended up in the Kazekage's office.

...

A series of round windows allowed the sunrays to lighten up the room and to offer some ultraviolets to the agonizing and sole plant perched precariously on the top of an unstable pile of heavy books. Apart from the half-dead plant adding a little touch of green to the room, there wasn't any personal item to brighten the drab office.

Since she'd stepped into the room, Gaara hadn't threw a single glance at her, his head buried deep into the paperwork scattered all over his desk. His disheveled hair hided his eyes partially. It seemed like she wasn't the only one in need of a haircut.

Getting her bangs out of her eyelashes, Himari cleared her throat to chase off the uneasiness growing into her. "You've been denying my mission's requests."

It was better if she went straight to the point. He didn't care to raise his head at her accusation, or even to acknowledge her. Still scribbling on parchments, his hand only stopped its writing motion to dip the tip of his feather in the pot of ink. His slender fingers grasped her attention, of a shade paler than the moon itself. It was as if he didn't get out of his office for a stroll under the sun that often.

"Your last mission has been a failure," he replied.

Her mouth slightly opened as her pride as a shinobi took the hit. Lips tight, she glared at him. Unfazed by her offense, he dipped his feather in the ink for a second time. She frowned. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

"It wasn't a failure," she rectified. "Our team successfully fulfilled the mission's objectives. Technically, the ambush happened after the mission. And it was unpredictable."

A barely audible sigh escaped his lips, as if she was the most annoying thing in his life at the moment. Something panged at her heart. Memories erupted at the surface of her mind. Ice cones, star-gazing and silly stories. From time to time, Kaoru still asked her if she'll bring Gaara with her at the flower shop one day, since the old lady missed the boy.

Her scowl deepened. "My missions' record is pristine," she insisted.

Her mother asked her all the time for news about him she didn't have. Invite him for dinner, sweetheart, her mother often said. That boy can't resist my braised pork belly. He knows it. Each time, Himari would guiltily throw at her mom the 'responsibilities excuse'. Even the sand siblings weren't really talkative about their brother's whereabouts, avoiding fiercely the subject every time she brought it up.

"You're needed at Suna's hospital."

She scoffed, irked by his lack of eye contact with her. "As you're aware, I'm not the only medic at the hospital. I've got my shifts covered."

"I don't need to justify myself to you," he answered flatly. "Please, don't forget to close the door as you leave."

Her eyes widened. Had he just… dismissed her?

"That's all?" she cracked. On the verge of throwing the pot of ink at his face, she sighed angrily. "Gaara, please. It's been two years. Can't we talk? And not one of those half-baked conversation. I mean a real conversation."

"That's all."

With a sharp breath, she turned on her heels. As she exited the room, with a bit of pettiness in her gesture, she left the door hanging wide open.

She wasn't done with him.

...

A little up north, near the village's borders, thrived a night bar often brimmed with eligible bachelors, travelers and off-duty shinobis. Every Friday, Aiya dragged her at the place for drinks, gossip and bad karaoke. Waitresses danced between the tables with their trays jam-packed with drinks. The sound of clattering glasses accompanied the loud conversations.

Lost in her thoughts, Himari was playing with the paper umbrella floating in her fluorescent drink, sweet enough to hide the alcohol's taste.

"He's a dick," proclaimed Aiya, yelling over the speaker's loud music. Her nose scrunched up as a fierce protectiveness lighted up in her hazel eyes. "What's his problem with you, anyway?"

The petite blond didn't care if she insulted the hospital's director, a councilman or their nation's leader, if it meant defending her friends. As her brain registered the blunt insult directed straight at their Kazekage, Himari's eyes widened at her friend. Aiya's pink lips pouted as she threw back at her a pair of puppy eyes.

"Come on, Hima. You're no fun," she whined. "It's Girls Night. We're supposed to drink too much, embarrass ourselves on the dancefloor and bewitch a few hearts."

After she said so, her friend mouthed at their waitress to serve them another round of shots, raising four digits in the air even though they were only two at their table. Himari dropped her nose in her glass, defeatist.

"I'll never go on a mission again," she whined.

After a long sip of her drink, Aiya slammed a hand against the table. A few customers jumped out of their seat, startled. Alcohol flowing in her veins, her friend shook a finger under her nose, deadly serious.

"I'll pay the Kazekage a little visit myself, if he doesn't accept your next request," Aiya threatened, almost shouting it to the whole bar. "He doesn't get to mess with my friend's happiness."

While Himari was laughing at the thought of Aiya's five feet tall figure barging angrily in the Kazekage's office, the blond threw at her one of her devilish smiles.

"You're crazy," Himari said.

"Cheers to that," her friend replied as she raised her glass.

Three shots later, Himari's mood had brightened up.

...

As her body crashed on the mattress, Himari foretold that a terrible headache would be waiting for her in the morning. Sitting on the floor by her bed, Aiya munched like a starving squirrel. The blond had combined cereals, pretzels, nuts and cheese crisps in a bowl, and since midnight, she'd swallowed handfuls of it.

"I couldn't keep all these plants alive," Aiya said, gesturing to her room with a pretzel in her hand. "It's like a jungle here."

Himari yawned. "It's easier to keep alive than a dog. Or a cat."

"My cactus disagrees with you," the blond snorted. "It's been dying since it entered my apartment."

A smile stretched her lips. She'd probably forgot to water it for months, or she'd drown it the first week. Aiya's appartement exploded with vivid colors, weird posters on the walls, an industrial amount of clothes and beauty products everywhere. Basically a culture shock for a cactus, and also an endless source of complaints from her brother – and unfortunate roommate, as he lamented about the blinding colors. Not a conversation between the siblings went down without bringing up Daisuke's gory drawings on the fridge or Aiya's collection of scented candles displayed across the living room.

Himari rolled off the bed, joining her friend on the floor. She sorted out the bowl's mix until she'd separated the cheese crisps from the rest. Gaara didn't like cheese crisps, or anything cheese related. At the thought, a hollow pain tugged at her heart, as if something was broken.

"You know," said Aiya, while she played the game of shooting a nut in the air and trying to catch it with her mouth, "Itsuki has been asking me about your dating status."

Her eyes widened. "Please, Aiya. No more dating plan."

Aiya had a lot of enviable qualities but as a wingman, she really sucked. Her dating plans always turned out to be more of a military operation than a casual date over a drink. Between the information gathering, the compatibility analysis and the date simulations, Aiya didn't settle for minimalistic measures when it came to finding a love match.

Himari hadn't understood her friend's crazed behavior until she learned about her ex-boyfriend, an absolute jerk. On one of their Girls Night, the blond had let a few words slip about the guy's manipulative personality, and the way he'd sullied her reputation with his lies, which had forced the blond to leave her native village.

"I'm not looking for a boyfriend," Himari sighed. "Please, tell me you said to Itsuki that I wasn't on the dating market."

"Well, he's hot," Aiya protested. "And I'm not a crappy friend. So, I couldn't just say to him that your only romantic interest resided in your plants."

Itsuki's tall figure wasn't easy to miss as he walked the hospital's halls. Adorable dimples appeared whenever he smiled, and his contagious laugh swooned over the hospital's grumpiest patients. As a pediatric surgeon, kids loved him, and she'd often overheard the nurses gossiping about his marital status over their lunch break.

She sighed. "I'm not interested in a boyfriend right now."

Aiya shrugged her shoulders in a detached way that reminded Himari of her brother's. "Just a friend, then."

"I don't need a new friend. I already have friends. You are my friend."

Aiya threw her a glance. "Yeah, but we're not sleeping together," she pointed out. She looked at the chipped on her index's neon-pink acrylic nail. "By the way, is it really over with my brother or are you two still shagging each other?"

At the comment, Himari almost choked on her own saliva. Mortified, her cheeks burned a bright shade of red as her eyes widened out of embarrassment. "Aiya!" she sputtered.

"What?" her friend replied, dead serious. "Can't I know about my big brother's sex life?"

"Please, stop it."

Dating Daisuke had been one of the easiest things she'd done. They'd spent nights at each other's apartment, she'd laughed at Daisuke's disastrous cooking skills, and he'd draw her as they laid in the bed, naked. But they wouldn't talk about their feelings, or their past. They had worked, until they hadn't anymore. Daisuke never asked about her friendship with the Kazekage's siblings or her childhood. In return, she didn't ask him about the meaning behind his colorless drawings, or his native village. Then, one day, they just let each other go.

"I'm kidding, Hima," said Aiya. The blond laid her head on her shoulder. "It's just that I'm still bitter over the fact that you won't be my sister-in-law one day."

"If I marry one day, you can be my bridesmaid," Himari offered.

"A small price of consolation, but I'll accept it."

That night, they slept on the floor.

...

Himari didn't know how she ended up at the training ground, getting her ass kicked by one of Kankuro's puppets. Her hangover decisions making process wasn't terrific. She hadn't trained seriously for what felt like ages, and her sore muscles complained about her morning's choice of activity as if they were a hundred years old. The moment her back landed harshly on the ground, all the air left her lungs in a huff. She agitated an imaginary white flag of peace in the air, coughing.

"I surrender," she grunted.

Skipping breakfast turned out to be another hangover decision she wasn't proud of. Something shifted in her stomach, and she didn't feel good. Her eyes widened, and she quickly rolled over to puke an unappetizing mix of alcohol, cheese crisps and bile.

"Are you alright, Himari?" shouted Kankuro from across the training ground. She heard his footsteps approach her emplacement. "Here, some water."

Without a word, Himari grabbed the water bottle. She gulped it down to rinse the awful taste off her tongue.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" he joked.

She threw him an unamused glare as she pushed on her weak arms to lift herself back up on her feet. "Can't be pregnant without a boyfriend, can we?" she growled.

A flash of surprise ran across his features. "Oh, you're not with Daiju anymore?"

"It's Daisuke," she corrected him, feeling still a bit nauseous. She took a deep breath to clear her mind. "And no, we broke up about three months ago."

When he offered to escort her back to her appartement, Himari gracefully accepted his kind offer. He slid an arm around her waist to support her. Her protests died in her throat when their eyes met. The corner of his lips lifted up slightly as if he wanted to pass a snarky comment, but he didn't say anything. Like Gaara, the puppeteer had outgrown her. Now, her head barely reached his broad shoulder. A comforting warmth rose to her cheeks, stretching her lips into a genuine smile.

"Your face paint looks good," she complimented him. He'd changed the patterns and it suited him well. "How is your project going?"

Last time they'd talked, the sand sibling had started to work on a new puppet. Nothing would lighten up more the flame of passion in his eyes than his wooden creations. A pure smile blossomed on his purple lips at her mention of it.

"I'm still deciding of the general design," he explained. His eyes contemplated an invisible point in front of him, as if he was reviewing his plans in his mind, back at his workshop. "And I can't choose a poison for one of the offensive mechanisms."

"I've recently read about Rosary peas," she said. "Small doses, very deadly."

His eyes brighten up. "You should come at the workshop, sometimes. I could use your knowledge about plants," he proposed. "But what about you? How's your work? Busy?"

Her smile faltered as she remembered her current situation.

"Your brother has been denying all my mission's requests recently. So, it sucks," she sighed. "If you could speak to him, it would actually be nice."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

His words took a moment to register in her brain. Once it did, she stepped away from him, shocked. Kankuro's face changed as he realized he had just made a dumb mistake.

"Wait, you knew?" she gasped. Shaking with anger, she pushed the puppeteer on the shoulder. "What the hell, Kankuro? If you knew, why didn't you try to put some sense into him? I can't believe it."

He raised his hands in front of him in a peaceful motion.

"Look, Gaara has his reasons-"

"And I don't care! It's my life."

Their arguing in the middle of the street had started to attract a smile crowd. Suna's wind carried the curious whispers of the inhabitants.

Kankuro grabbed her by the arm. "Let's talk at a quieter place."

...

A scent of wood, leather and fabrics engulfed her. If it weren't for the creepy puppets with missing body parts, Himari wouldn't mind hanging around the workshop. Covering the walls, there were plans about puppet anatomy, weaponry and poisons, all with scribbled notes on them.

"I have a proposition," Kankuro said.

As she stepped further into the room, her feet caught a wooden crate overflowing with puppet hands with missing fingers. She shuddered. Still angry at him, Himari crossed her arms on her chest. "I'm listening. Be quick."

The puppeteer fidgeted under her stare, and his nose scrunched up. A sigh escaped his lips as he scratched the back of his head out of nervosity.

"Actually, I have a problem," he haltingly admitted. "My brother needs an escort for a diplomatic event in the Land of Earth."

Himari tilted her head slightly, far from being impressed by his first pitch. "I'm sure the Council will be eager to remedy to that unfortunate situation."

"That's the problem," he grumbled. "Gaara has rejected every candidate presented to him, but it's important as a mark of rank that he's accompanied by someone. The Council is on the verge of losing its mind."

At that moment, Himari sympathized with the old councilmen. She knew how Gaara could be as stubborn as a mule, sometimes. He wouldn't give in if he didn't want to.

"And you want me to accompany him?" she elaborated, not really fond of his 'proposition'. Himari rolled her eyes at the puppeteer. This conversation wasn't anything except a waste of her time. "He'll just reject me like all the others."

And it would hurt.

"He won't," he assured her. "Gaara didn't entertain the idea of being accompanied by a stranger and well, you're not a stranger to him."

"I've certainly felt like one for the last two years," she replied back, bitter.

"Please, Himari. This is really important." he pleaded. "In exchange, I'll make sure your requests are accepted."

She squinted at him, doubtful. "You promise?"

"Yes, I promise," he nodded. "You have my word."

Himari didn't know if she would come to regret her decision later.