AN: Can you believe I'm updating without 12 years passing in between? :D lol. Hope everyone's doing well these days, and here's hoping you like this chapter!
Chapter 12: Umeshu
Karura was a plant person. It was one of the few things Gaara knew about his mother that wasn't completely depressing. Sunflowers were her favorite, apparently. Monstera adansonii a close second. Yashamaru used to tell him all about it when he was little. Most summers in Okayama were spent barefoot in the garden picking peaches and listening to stories about the woman who gave birth to him.
Gaara liked succulents best. Cacti, specifically. They didn't take much and could deal with clumsy touches and lazy watering schedules. He never needed to give much. After all, plants didn't talk, they didn't yell, they weren't overly complicated. Not at all like people.
Things weren't the same after the night of the dance.
Sakura didn't come by the apartment anymore, and Gaara went on a repotting kick, neurotically pruning and digging at every plant in his room. Naruto was usually the house slob, but for weeks almost every spare inch of floor was littered with cigarette packs, perlite, and coco coir.
He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Felt her. Smelled her. Sakura was frustrating and distracting and full of chaotic energy drove him up the wall, but somewhere down the line he'd grown to love it. If he were a more mature man, he might even say he loved her, but the thought of that was borderline insane. What did he know about love, really?
When Gaara skulked out of his room for the first time that day, he was surprised to see Naruto at the kitchen table.
Things weren't right between them either.
Ever since Sakura stopped coming by the apartment, Naruto was a completely different person. The once happy-go-lucky and overly chatty blonde turned terse and seemed to do anything he could to stay out of the house.
Gaara took a slow step forward. "Hey."
"Hey." Naruto mumbled through a bite of Lucky Charms. Neither one of them were ever particularly good in the morning, but this was different. There was a heavy tension in the room that made it hard to breathe.
"Haven't seen you around much."
Naruto shrugged. "Been staying at Hinata's." He swallowed and gave him a onceover. "Why do you look like a gopher?"
Gaara looked down at his soil-streaked hands and feet. The grains of sand and dirt between his toes suddenly itched.
"Plant…stuff," he muttered.
"Hm." Naruto dropped his gaze back to the bowl. He was clearly doing everything he could to keep the conversation as short as possible, but Gaara wasn't prepared to back down. They were supposed to be friends – whatever that meant – he should have been able to say what was on his mind.
"I've been thinking about plans. Post-graduation," he said.
"Yeah?"
"A lot of people seem to be staying around Tokyo…" Gaara tried his best to sound casual. "You and Hinata and Kiba and…I think Sakura mentioned moving in with Uchiha."
Naruto scratched at a spot behind his ear. "Oh yeah. Azabu, I think," he said. "Bet it'll be crazy fancy."
Fancy? Gaara had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes. How wonderful to know Sasuke would be beating her in style.
"So, you really think it's safe?"
"What do you mean, safe?" Naruto asked, mid-chew.
There were lots of things they didn't talk about – his family, Naruto's painfully long showers, their terrible first-year grades – but this was the big one. Gaara picked up a half-crushed pack of cigarettes from the table and shook out the last one.
He wandered around the kitchen looking for his lighter before finding it in his shirt pocket, then took his sweet time lighting up.
"I just mean, the two of them alone in some big house together. Don't you worry about it at all?" Gaara exhaled over his shoulder.
He really hated being so vague. Mincing words had never been his style, but the situation with Sakura was touchy. Any hint of sour conversation about Sasuke around her friends and they all clammed up.
"Why would I worry? Sakura and Sasuke have been together since high school. This isn't anything new."
"Oh. So he's never learned to keep his hands to himself?"
Naruto dropped his spoon in the bowl. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I mean."
They stared each other down until Naruto finally had enough. He stood and poured the soggy remains of his breakfast down the drain.
"You have to stop this obsession with making him out to be some kind of a monster," he snapped.
"It's not my fault he's a piece of shit." Gaara said. "What are you going to do if he seriously hurts her?"
"You can't go around saying things like that. It's serious."
"I know it's serious! You don't have to tell me it's serious. She was camping out here all the time because she's terrified of him. And you'd know that if you weren't always fucking off at Hinata's—
"Shut up!" Naruto grabbed his spoon and hurled it across the kitchen. It hit the wall beside Gaara's head and clattered to the floor.
"Don't act like such a saint," he snapped. "You think because you let her flirt and fuss over you that you're some kind of a hero? Did you think Sasuke wouldn't tell me what you tried to do to her that night after the dance?"
Gaara's whole body tensed. He'd never seen Naruto so angry. Didn't even know he was capable of it. All the smiling and happy-go-lucky shit was bad enough most days, but somehow this was even worse. It was wrong for someone so naturally cheery to look so hurt.
In the four years they'd spent sharing the small, smoky apartment together, Naruto had never called him out on anything to do with Sakura. He didn't know how he felt about the two of them hanging out at all and was grateful for it.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "She was drunk and so I just…"
Just what? Gaara took a few nervous drags on his cigarette. He hadn't stopped thinking about that night since it happened. The way she tasted and smelled so strongly of alcohol. The way he'd been so eager to indulge, anyway.
"People take advantage of her all the time because she's nice." Naruto shook his head. "I know you think you're the only one in the world with problems, but Sakura has her own stuff too. And you can't just…"
Gaara waited for Naruto to finish, but he just turned to rinse his bowl in the sink. It was so strange to hear him taking up for her. If anything, he'd been convinced that none of her friends gave a shit. Every time she came around with some new bruise or sheepishly asking for a place to stay, they acted like it was nothing.
"You don't know her." Naruto turned back around and wiped his wet hands into his shirt. "She just needs someone to take care of her. Sasuke has always taken care of her."
"You can't seriously believe that."
"She wouldn't even be here without him," he said. "She'd never have any of the stuff she deserves."
Everything she deserves…
Gaara wasn't stupid. He knew girls wanted someone who could treat them to nice things. On paper, Sasuke was just that guy. He, on the other hand, barely had any money and hadn't put any serious thought into the future. Things like that didn't used to bother him; he did whatever he wanted and always landed on his feet. But life was different when someone depended on you.
Sakura was smart. She had plans. She'd graduate and move away and be some important surgeon or medical scientist, and where the hell would that leave him? What would she even look like, hanging around some loser who couldn't even introduce her to his family?
"Sasuke isn't evil. He's not perfect, but he has his stuff too." Naruto softened his tone. "And if you tried to get to know him instead of just going behind his back—
"I'm not interested in his sob story," Gaara snapped. He might have been self-pitying, but he'd be damned if he gave that bastard even an ounce of sympathy.
"And I didn't do…what he's telling you I did," he added, softer. "I would never. Sakura is… the way I feel about her is…"
Gaara could feel his face heating up as he tried to find the right words. It was annoying how weak and transparent he'd become since Sakura barreled her way into his life. It felt like regressing to childhood.
"She was upset," he said, finally. "She's always upset, and I just wanted to…"
He stopped himself. Wanted to what? "I just wanted to help her," was what came to mind, but was that really it?
Naruto's gaze softened.
"She's just lonely," he said. "It's not her fault, but the things she does sometimes…it's just for attention – she's said it herself. You can't take it seriously, Gaara."
"I know that." He lied. "I didn't. I don't care."
"She loves Sasuke, and they always work it out. Always."
Gaara fixated on those words. It was true, wasn't it? No matter what, she would always go back. He could still remember how easily Sakura folded into Sasuke's arms in the hallway. The way he held her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, taunting him.
"I said I don't care, didn't I? You know, I actually hope they have a great life together." He tapped ash onto the kitchen floor. "I also hope she takes up boxing."
"Gaara, come on—
Naruto was on the verge of trying again when the front doorbell rang. When Gaara didn't make a move, he headed for the entryway. There were a few moments of low mumbling, and then silence.
"Gaara it's…" Naruto stopped, sounding strained. "It's your…it's for you!" he called out.
"What? Who?" Gaara rubbed a hand down the side of his pants and then through his hair. His heart raced a little, hoping it might finally be Sakura, but there was something about Naruto's tone that hinted otherwise.
"Gaara it's your… dad."
He nearly laughed. He didn't have a dad. No way. And yet, when Naruto shifted back from the door, there was no mistaking the man who took his place.
"You."
"Interesting home you have here," Rasa said, appraising the apartment. He stepped into the threshold uninvited, to meet Gaara in the kitchen. As he approached, he could practically see his father taking a mental inventory of all the empty beer bottles and greasy takeout boxes.
He had imagined – no, hoped – their final reunion would involve him spitting on his grave, but now that Rasa stood in front of him, all Gaara could think about was how utterly small he felt. The face so painfully similar to his own was older, more tired, but no less terrifying.
Cigarette ash dropped onto his toe, but he barely felt the sting. In his periphery, Naruto slipped into his bedroom and locked himself out of sight.
"Why are you here? How did you find me?"
"A little money goes a long way." Rasa slid both hands into his pockets and took a step closer. Gaara mirrored it with another one back.
"Look, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can't be here."
"I think I can be anywhere I want to be." Rasa did another slow survey of the room. He looked so out of place in a crisp suit and dress shoes, rust red hair parted neatly to the side. A ruthless bit of structure in all the chaos.
"I have to say, I expected you to run off back to the country, not get a degree." He traced his fingertips along the spine of an economics book on the table and then slid them into the pocket of his slacks. Gaara was cautious to watch his every move. He knew very well what those hands were capable of.
He glanced over to Naruto's closed bedroom door. Come back, he wanted to say. Don't leave me with him.
When he looked to Rasa again, he was holding a lighter up to a cigarette in his mouth. The smoke curled between them and with it came the sour scent of his childhood. Mild Sevens.
"There's nothing there for me," Gaara said, and put out his own cigarette against the wall.
Rasa shrugged. "I would have thought after Yashamaru—
"Stop it." Gaara tried to keep the tremble out of his voice, but with every passing moment felt his body inching closer and closer to 'flight' mode. "Don't act like you give a shit about that."
"You're right." Rasa pulled an empty coffee mug across the table and tapped in a bit of ash. "I didn't come here to take a trip down memory lane. I spoke with the dean and looked into your work. Slow start, but you've done well here."
Gaara's hands shook, and he crossed his arms against his chest to hide it. He hadn't craved his father's approval since he was a kid, but there was something strangely pleasant about hearing him admit he was good at something.
"What do you want?"
"Once you get your degree, I'd like you to come and work for me as a consultant. Full time, full salary." Rasa paused to smirk. "Call it a grand graduation present."
Gaara scoffed. "Oh yeah, right. What a gift. What happened your golden children? Temari and Kankuro fucking die or something?"
Rasa coughed into his hand, and Gaara took pleasure at the subtle loss of composure. It felt good, but not nearly enough.
"Your sister and brother have decided to take other paths in life," Rasa said. "I'd like to make sure the business is kept in the family."
Gaara could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke. Well, well, he thought. The little prince and princess going through a rebellious streak?
"So, I'm your last resort." He smirked.
Rasa rolled his eyes. "What are your plans after graduation?"
Gaara looked down at his feet and studied the soft peat caked underneath his toenails. What were his plans? The situation with Sakura had forced him to confront a lack of ambition head on. He'd entertained stupid ideas from time to time – going back to Okayama, somehow convincing her to join. Things were cheaper there – they could rent somewhere small and fill the whole place with sunflowers. Maybe even get a cat or dog or something dumb like that. She liked animals and Sasuke didn't look like the kind of man who would be caught dead in the country.
But now…
'She loves Sasuke, and they always work it out. Always."
"Despite what you may think of me, I've only ever wanted you to succeed," Rasa said.
Succeed? He squeezed his eyes shut to stop from welling up. Gaara hadn't truly cried in ages, and he'd be damned if the first time was in front of the man who had made his life a misery since birth.
"You don't get to just show up and do this," he snapped. "You treat me like shit for years and you expect me to just—
"Listen to me." Rasa cut him short. "You're not a child anymore. I'm giving you the chance to be a respectable man."
Smoke curled from the end of Rasa's cigarette into the space between them. Moment by moment the smell built, growing in intensity until Gaara's skin felt like it was on fire.
"I understand that things must have been difficult for you, but I worked to build this business from the ground up. It's important to me that it stays with family."
"Oh, so now I'm family?" he muttered.
Rasa sighed out a thick cloud of smoke. "You're my son."
Gaara looked at the floor. He'd heard Rasa call him a lot of things in his life, but never that. Never "son."
"I'd like to be proud of you," Rasa continued. "Karura, too. She would have wanted-"
"Oh fuck off - don't just bring her up!" Gaara's heart pounded hard as he shouted. "I don't owe you anything!"
"Don't you?" Rasa lifted the cigarette from his lips and stepped forward until Gaara was backed up against the cabinets. "Don't you think it's about time you take responsibility for everything you stole?"
There was the slightest waver in his tone, but Gaara didn't dare look up. He was too fixated on the cigarette, glowing angry red near his chest as the distance between them closed. The smell, the heat, the fear…it was all too familiar.
"I'm…" he started, but nothing would come.
He hated himself like this, but the moment Rasa extinguished the cigarette and put a gentle hand on top of his head, something in him broke.
"Dad…"
"You're my son, Gaara," he repeated. "My legacy. And I need this from you now."
"Dad…" Gaara choked out. He couldn't hold it back anymore – all the anger and desperation and pain of rejection came out in tears. His hands trembled as he grabbed at his father's suit jacket, balling the fabric in his fists. "Dad, I'm s…"
What did he want to say?
Why the fuck couldn't he ever figure out what he wanted to say?
"Always the crybaby, weren't you?" Rasa said. He hesitated a moment, as if unsure what to do with his free hand, but then sighed. "You haven't grown up at all."
Gaara cradled his phone between his neck and chest as he dug his fingers into a cactus pot. He was on his fourth voicemail to Sakura, and each one was making less sense than the last.
"I imagine something must have happened, or you had second thoughts. I don't mind at all. It would just be great to hear your voice – I mean, hear from you."
He turned the pot out onto a pile of newspapers spread over his desk. Clumps of soggy soil went rolling.
"It's not like you to just dissa... well…. I'm concerned. A little. Give me a call when you can. When you want. If you want."
Gaara checked the roots. Mush. Someone had been overwatering it. Him? Yukata? No, him. Probably.
Not a single call or message had been answered. Meanwhile, on his work phone, Sasuke had followed up with a sickly-sweet morning text to let him know much he was looking forward to reconnecting over dinner.
He wanted to be sick. And the more time passed, the more guilt ate him alive. What was he thinking, keeping Sasuke's arrival from her? Once his father told him about the business, he should have been honest. He should have helped her work out some sort of plan. But having her in his apartment and touching her at the bar, kissing her under the glow of fireworks…it was wonderful to have her all to himself for once. That was all he ever wanted, wasn't it? He deserved that, didn't he?
Selfish ass.
The door to his office clicked open and then shut.
"What the hell are you doing?" Shijima's voice brought him back to reality.
"What?" Gaara pushed the phone away and resisted the urge to wipe his hands against his pants.
"Don't 'what' me. What is all this mess?" She gestured to the soil on his desk and then wrinkled her nose. "Have you been smoking in here?"
Shijima didn't wait for a response before stalking over the window behind his desk. He listened to it click open, and seconds later he felt her fingers smoothing the part in his hair.
It was a gentle but corrective touch, and another reminder of her incredible patience. She was the kind of woman he never saw flustered. Always put together and dependable. She didn't need anything from him. No deep conversations or big romantic gestures or anything else he struggled to give. She made all the decisions and all he had to do was say yes. Rasa was right – she was the perfect kind of woman to settle down with.
Shijima cleared a spot on the edge of his desk and sat.
"We have dinner with Sasuke Uchiha in less than 30 minutes and you're playing in dirt." She touched the back of her palm to his forehead and took a hard look at the soil and roots strewn over the desk. "Are you sick? Regressing back to childhood? What?"
Gaara glanced at his phone again. Still nothing. "I'm fine."
"You know, I'm happy to take the dinner by myself if you want to head home early. It's just schmoozing."
Gaara scoffed. "Head home early? Rasa would have me off payroll by day's end."
"I'm kidding," he added quickly, deadpan. But Shijima didn't smile. She was nothing if not perceptive, and he'd always been careful not to let too much slip about his opinion about any of his family with her.
"You really do seem odd. Ever since you came back from your trip. Did something happen?" she pressed.
Sakura happened, he thought, but just shook his head. "I'm fine. Honestly."
"Right." She seemed skeptical, but pressed on. "Speaking of odd, your father spoke to me last week. He seemed to be under the impression we're still together. He was asking me about our plans for Deidara's showing."
Gaara sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know if it's old age, but he's been very into meddling recently."
"He's your father. It's only natural he'd be concerned about his little boy's future." Shijima gave his cheek a little pinch. "Maybe he wants more grandkids."
He snorted so loudly she broke into a grin.
"Oh come on, you know as much as I do that marriage and children means something in business. It tells partners that you're committed and dependable. It's—"
"Archaic." He frowned. "And it certainly isn't for everyone."
"That's easy to say as a man, isn't it?" Shijima stood up suddenly, and though she smirked, there was something different in it.
"You're so capable in your work, Shijima. You should be admired for that, not who you're married to or how many children you have."
"Work isn't everything either," she countered. "Did it ever occur to you that something so 'archaic' might actually be important to me?"
When Gaara looked up, Shijima was staring out the window. She didn't sound angry— she never really did— but it didn't matter. He'd been unfair to her. Ending things right before going on a trip for six months, sleeping with her out of frustration... Who was he these days?
"I owe you an apology."
"Maybe," she said, but then sighed, swatting at the plastic pull for the window blinds. "Maybe not. It did always feel like I was pulling you along. But I was under the impression we got along well together."
"We did. We do," Gaara insisted. "But is it really enough to just get along with someone? Shouldn't there be some sort of liveliness in a relationship? Passion?"
"Passion?" Shijima echoed. She turned from the window with her mouth wide in exaggerated shock. "Well, well. I've never heard you say something like that before."
Gaara flushed hot at the sight of her grin. "What I meant was that I only assumed…"
"Have you met someone, then?" she teased. Before he could shoo her away, Shijima picked a pen up from his desk pot and dragged the tip through the mess of soil until the trail formed a comically large heart.
"A young, passionate plaything, perhaps?"
When she looped her arms around his neck, Gaara quickly turned his phone face down on the desk. Sakura had all but dropped off the face of the earth, it seemed, but he still couldn't risk it.
"Remember you're talking to me here, not my brother," he frowned as she went in for his cheeks again.
"No, that's not you, is it? There's something else going on." Shijima spun his chair to face her and then paused to scrutinize his face.
Gaara couldn't deny she was incredibly intimidating when she wanted to be, and it took everything in him not to shift his usual bored expression.
"I'm of the opinion that not everyone is meant to have everything," he said, and swung his chair back around.
He used the edge of a file folder to disrupt the heart and shift soil back into the plant pot. "Marriage, children, it's not important to me anymore. A quiet and easy life alone is nothing to scoff at."
He expected her to back down at that, but Shijima was nothing if not persistent.
"You're nothing like your father, you know. If that's what you're afraid of."
"I'm not afraid of my father."
Shijima furrowed her brow. "That's not what I said."
Oh.
"Right." Gaara turned the pot in his hands again. Limp, yellowed leaves stuck to its sides and silently begged him for mercy. Root rot. He probably wouldn't be able to save it. "You don't really want to go to that party, do you? It's Deidara."
Shijima let his words hang between them for a moment, but if she was bothered by the change in subject, Gaara couldn't read it. She shrugged her shoulders.
"It's lazy networking," she said. "Besides, it's Deidara. Guaranteed open bar. And your father won't be there. We can relax."
"You don't drink."
"I don't drink with you, lightweight." Shijima patted Gaara's cheek and then took hold of his tie with both hands. Carefully, she loosened the ends and then retied it neatly. "Take a night off, won't you? You look so miserable these days and trust me - people notice."
"Who's people?"
"God knows Yukata's scared to go anywhere near you these past few days."
Gaara recalled the incident with his father and the snacks cart in his office only a few days prior. He'd been so short with her; it was no wonder the girl was walking on eggshells.
"Think about it," Shijima said, still holding on to the end of his tie. "But we have to get out of here now if we want to be on time."
"I'll just have a cigarette and we'll go."
"Don't even think about it." Shijima knocked the packet off the desk and into the trash, scraping in a bit more wet soil for good measure. "We have zero time, and you'll reek even more than you do now."
Gaara checked his watch. "It's only ten minutes away."
"Up!" She jostled his chair. "Wash those hands and let's go. I've already called a car around."
The sudden change in her behavior took him by surprise. Shijima was hardly ever so playful. He had to hand it to her - for a moment, he almost forgot he was set to spend at least an hour with a piece of absolute trash.
Just as they made their way for the door, it swung open. Gaara hid his hands behind his back at the sight of his father.
"Heading out for the dinner?" Rasa eyed them curiously.
"Yes sir. Kappou Ukai." Shijima stood Infront of the desk to hide the mess of plant debris from Rasa's line of sight. "They have a lovely seasonal menu that I'm sure Mr. Uchiha will love."
He nodded. "Make him feel welcome. He flew in last night and hasn't had much rest since seeing his wife."
Gaara jerked around so suddenly he nearly knocked over a plant stand.
"He's married?" Shijima raised her brows. "I didn't see anything in the dossier about it. Is he very private?"
"Apparently she's been ill." Rasa said. "Staying with her mother in Tokyo while she recovers."
"Oh, poor thing."
"Did he… say anything else about her?" Gaara finally cut in. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest and it was hard to breathe.
"No. But I'd hazard a guess that a husband wouldn't want to spend time dwelling on his wife's illness."
There was a distinct edge in Rasa's tone that told Gaara he might not just be talking about Sasuke, but he couldn't waste valuable brain space thinking about it. As soon as his father left, Shijima breathed a sigh of relief.
"Are you alright?" She asked. "You look…"
"No, yeah, I'm…" Gaara trailed off, drawing a blank.
Fucked. He was absolutely fucked.
What had he been thinking, keeping it a secret from her? Of course, she wasn't responding to him now that Sasuke had his hands on her again. For all he knew, he'd beaten her up or worse.
"Your father mentioned you don't have much love for Uchiha, but is that why you're like this? Is he really all that bad?"
Gaara thought back to the first time he'd seen Sakura in distress. The night in university that had haunted him for ten years. That stupid oversized sweatshirt, the raw bruising around her throat and up and down her thighs. The way she cried like a wounded animal when he confronted her.
He was so naïve back then. He never thought a man could hurt a woman like that.
Shijima stared expectantly, but Gaara moved past her.
"Let's just get this done."
Ukai was a usual for them. Expensive, reliable kaiseki that worked as a dining spot for both local and foreign business. Clients were always impressed by the lavish menu, and after a few courses of delicate fish and soup, formal chatter quickly softened.
The restaurant wasn't anywhere Gaara would elect to spend an evening normally – formal dinners made him itch. It wasn't as though he didn't enjoy the odd bit of pampering or attention that money afforded but compared to Temari and Kankuro who had at least been through the rituals of rich kid training, he was a definite embarrassment. He couldn't make great conversation like Shijima or command the same sort of attention as his father. Nearly everything Gaara learned about good manners and business hospitality was from mimicking others.
"Shit." Shijima caught the edge of his jacket in her hand. "He's here early."
Gaara looked over towards their private booth to see that indeed, Sasuke was already seated comfortably. His face was down a bit, obscured slightly by his phone, but Gaara could tell not much had changed. 100 years could go by, but he'd be the same cold, smug-looking bastard.
"Mr. Uchiha. We're so sorry for the delay." Shijima bowed demurely, and though it pained him, Gaara also angled slightly at the waist.
Sasuke put his phone down and gave them the smallest of smiles. "Don't worry." He waved them to sit. "I'm early."
Gaara tried to look anywhere but his face, but it was painfully hard to be both polite and livid at the same time.
"So nice to see you again, Gaara."
A million violent responses threatened to roll off his tongue, but instead, he managed a quick, "likewise," and pulled out Shijima's chair for her.
"Perhaps we should get a bottle of wine," Gaara suggested the moment he took his seat. Shijima gave him a sidelong glance. Normally alcohol during business meals was the last thing on his mind, but he needed something to ease the disgust blooming in his chest.
"Of course. But we should wait a moment until my—ah, there she is." Sasuke lifted his gaze and at that moment, Gaara caught a blur of pink in his periphery.
Pink?
He did a doubletake and turned back to the table just in time to watch Sakura sink into the chair across from him.
Sasuke stretched an arm around the back of her chair and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Shijima, this is my wife, Sakura. Sakura, Shijima Hoki. Gaara, you know Sakura."
She locked her eyes on him, and he was stuck. Though he tried hard not to gawk, the longer they sat, the more heat bloomed in his chest. It was one thing for Sakura to show up at all, and another to do it while looking so…stunning.
Gaara was of the opinion that most women looked good in just about anything. Dresses, sweatpants, jeans, it didn't matter and it certainly wasn't something worth working at. He could find something charming in just about every woman he met, but Sakura was the only one who pushed beauty to its limits. Whenever she entered a room, it was as if the brightness had been turned up to 11.
More than anything it was the feeling of being near her. Beyond soft eyes and clear, bright skin there was a sincere energy that constantly threatened to smother him.
Shijima kicked Gaara sharply under the table. When he met her gaze, it was pure steel. There was no way she didn't remember.
"So nice to meet you, Mrs. Uchiha." Shijima rose slightly to bow again and pulled Gaara subtly by his sleeve. He forced himself to give a feeble nod.
"Yes it's…"
As he searched for words, Sasuke reached over and adjusted the thin strap of her dress. He lingered as he untwisted it, rubbing his thumb lightly against her collarbone.
Less than 24 hours ago Gaara could have touched that spot himself. He could have owned it. Now, he was nothing but a pathetic spectator.
"Gaara." Shijima nudged his shoulder.
He blinked back to reality just in time to catch Sakura smiling his way.
"No need to force it," she said. "Gaara's always been a man of few words. A talent at keeping all the best things to himself."
Her voice was a low, sultry hum that somehow managed to be terrifying and arousing at the same time. He looked away to face a smirking Sasuke.
"Yes, classic Gaara," he said and again made a show of massaging her bare shoulder. "I can't tell you how exciting it is to have you managing our business . It means a lot to be in the hands of someone we know and trust."
"It's our pleasure, Mr. Uchiha," Shijima said. "If you don't mind, I'll tell you about our…"
Gaara zoned out again as she and Sasuke engaged in polite business chatter. For the most part, Sakura did her best not to look at him, but every now again their eyes would meet, and her shoulders visibly tensed. He couldn't quite work it out – was she angry? Embarrassed? Being held hostage?
Blink twice if you want freedom, he thought, but Sakura was fixated on her glass. As the night went on, playfulness from the beginning of the dinner faded completely. Instead of making conversation she drank steadily, picking and pushing at each one of their courses. There was a sake-based cocktail with their starter, three glasses of white with the eel, and Sasuke topped her up every now and then with plum wine for dessert.
Gaara did his best to pay attention to the business chatter with Sasuke, but any response, no matter how light, was followed by a full and steady pour.
"Oh no, we're only partners." Shijima said. The sudden sound of her laugh snapped Gaara out of his daze and told him the conversation had taken a strange turn.
"You seem quite intimate together, is all." Sasuke sipped at a glass of whisky. Beside him, Sakura's cheeks were flushed pink, and she nursed what was left of her own drink.
"Just partners," Gaara emphasized, but when Sakura looked at him head on, the darkness of her aura choked him.
"It's just the way you two were chatting when you first came in – I know romance when I see it."
"Do you?" Gaara said, snidely.
Shijima delivered another stiff kick that set his shin on fire.
She strained a smile. "I'm sure either one of us would be happy to have a love like yours."
"That's so kind of you," Sakura murmured.
"Oh, she speaks," Sasuke said with a smile. "Wine must be done," he added, and the table felt silent as he chuckled. When Gaara looked to Sakura, she was pushing around the remains of her brown sugar sorbet with the back of her spoon.
"It was quite nice, isn't it? I love umeshu." Shijima tried gently to diffuse the tension, but Gaara knew better. "The red, too. It was—
Sakura stood abruptly.
"Excuse me." She swayed and tried to mask it with a hand on the back of Sasuke's chair. "Just have to freshen up a bit."
This is it, he thought. I'll go and talk to her.
"I'll take-" Gaara started to stand, but Shijima stopped him with a firm hand on his forearm.
"I should powder my nose as well. Let's go together, Sakura-chan." Shijima joined her in standing. Gaara could see the hesitation in Sakura's body, Shijima didn't give her too long to overthink it. They walked off together in lock step towards the restrooms, Shijima guiding her gently by the elbow.
Once they were alone, Sasuke sighed and tossed his napkin on the table. "Like mother like daughter, right?"
Gaara tracked his gaze over the empty glasses near her place setting, and the food she'd mashed around on plates to make it look like she'd eaten any more than a few bites.
"Why do you do that to her?"
"Here we go again," Sasuke combed his fingers through dark, shaggy locks. "And here I thought you got my note about the cherries."
"You should have told me you were going to bring her."
"Why? So you'd have time to cover your tracks?" He chuckled. "Yeah right. This is much more interesting. Though I have to admit, I really thought she'd have tried strangling you by now."
Gaara did a quick survey of the tables around them. No one was remotely paying attention, but the shame was palpable.
"What did you tell her?" he asked, voice low.
"A lot more than you did, looks like." Sasuke poured himself a bit of the remaining red wine and took a sip. "You know, she was right. This really is nice. Good body."
Gaara wanted nothing more than to smash the glass into his snotty smirking face, but instead clenched his fists beneath the table. If nothing else, the dinner was a massive exercise in personal restraint.
"Speaking of body…" Sasuke said. "That partner of yours… used to be Miss Hokkaido, right? I'd seen her in magazines, but wow... Even better up close."
"Shijima is highly skilled."
"Oh, I'm sure. She seems very intimate with you," he prattled on. "I'm surprised you're still sniffing around my wife. Trust me when I say things are truly second rate after motherhood."
"Can't you go a second without belittling her?" Gaara glared. "Ten years and you're still exactly the same."
At that, something in Sasuke seemed to snap.
"Why don't you cut the nice act already? You piece of shit," he snapped. "You might be able to fool her, but you can't fool me. We both know you've done nothing but take advantage of her."
If Gaara wasn't so disgusted, he would have laughed. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"Do you? Don't you think she told me all about you? Sakura and I don't have any secrets."
Gaara's heart dropped into his stomach. What? What was that supposed to mean? What had she said about him?
"One of the most beautiful things about Sakura is her sensitivity," he said. Gaara was immediately suspicious of the compliment. It was rare that he ever heard Sasuke say a kind word about her.
Sasuke picked up an empty glass from Sakura's side of the table and studied the bright red lip print on the rim.
"She wants to heal everything." He smudged the mark with his thumb until it resembled something like a bloody smear. "But all that desperation… she just doesn't get that's like candy for men like us."
"I'm not anything like you."
"Yeah, you're right. Not nearly as rich or good looking."
Gaara white-knuckled the edge of the table with both hands. He wondered if it was possible to hate someone so much you wanted them to kill you. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm doing well for myself these days."
"Please. I'm never one to say money isn't everything, but I know a confident man when I see one. That's not you."
"You don't know anything about me." Gaara was just about boiling now. How could he sit there and compare the two of them? They weren't anything alike. He cared about Sakura. He protected her – he tried to protect her. He definitely did his best to…
"I know you can't help using her as your ego boost." Sasuke pulled forward one of Sakura's uneaten dessert plates and cut into a square of red bean jelly. He popped it into his mouth with casual ease. "This is nice too. She really missed out."
Just as he reached for another bite, Gaara tipped the last sips of wine and sediment in his glass over the desert.
"And you could never keep from using her as a punching bag," he fired back. "Right? Why don't you admit that, you complete—
"Careful now…" Sasuke leaned back in his chair and pushed the ruined plate away. "I just might take my business elsewhere."
"Be my guest."
"Oh really? I wonder what daddy would think about that?"
Rasa.
Gaara seethed. It wasn't perfect between them, but for the first time in years his father was proud of him. There was a time when he truly didn't care, but he was past that. He owed him. He owed him everything and he couldn't fuck it up.
"The lies we tell ourselves, eh?" Sasuke leaned forward to let his chin rest against his palm. "All those years… If you thought I was such a monster, why didn't you save your little princess? If I was so horrible and violent, why didn't you do anything at all?"
Gaara couldn't hold his head up high anymore.
"Well, I mean except try to fuck her."
"I never—"
"Admit it, you coward." Sasuke chuckled. "She plays the damsel in distress routine and you just eat it up."
Gaara studied the empty glasses again. Suddenly he could see Sakura surrounded by friends in his apartment a full champagne flute in her hand and several empties by her feet. Again, at Suri-ya, sucking down vodka cranberries with her body pressed close to his. At the Korean BBQ for lunch, downing shots with a glass of beer.
How did he not see it?
"You'll throw her away when you get tired of the bullshit. Just like last time. And guess who'll be there for her?"
"Having a good time catching up?" Shijima's voice floated in between them.
Gaara was relieved to see Sakura's stance more steadied, and her cheeks with more colour. But when their eyes met, this time he was the one to look away. Shame was truly a crushing thing.
Sasuke stood and fastened the button on his suit jacket. "We had a great little chat, but I think it's about time we head home." He gave the smallest of smiles to them both. "It was a wonderful meal. I'm so looking forward to the rest of our partnership."
"Well, he's certainly a piece of work." Shijima sighed once they made their way outside. The night air was thick with humidity, and lightning flashed somewhere out in the distance, illuminating the sky. Summer rain loomed, menacing and claustrophobic.
"I told you," Gaara said, but took no pleasure in proving her wrong. As always, Sasuke still had the upper hand.
'You'll throw her away when you get tired of the bullshit. Just like last time.'
"We didn't get along in university." Gaara loosened his tie with one hand and dug in his pocket for a cigarette with the other. "He hasn't changed."
"Well, I'm sure your massive crush on his wife doesn't help," Shijima said, straight-faced.
There was a crack of thunder, and the sky burst open, sending rain down in sheets. As the warm shower soaked the pavement, an earthy smell flooded his nostrils. Part of him wanted to dive in and let it soak him through, but the childish notion faded fast.
He stepped back under the cover of the awning.
"She's just a friend."
"Is that so?" Shijima craned her neck to get a better look at his face. "You looked very cozy with her at Suri-ya a while back. Passionate, dare I say. And tonight, every time she so much as breathed you were staring at her."
"Shijima." He tried a warning glare, but something about her smirk dared him to object.
"She kept asking me about you when we were in the bathroom. About how long we've known each other. Why do you think she even cares?"
Gaara knew baiting when he heard it, and tried his damndest to seem uninterested.
"Don't pout." She sighed. "I'm just being curious."
"No, what you're being is excessive," he snapped. "Sakura is a friend I care about. Sasuke is—her husband is…it's none of my business, but I'd just really rather not pretend to like the man."
"Well, no, you shouldn't." Shijima touched her finger to chin with a frown. Gaara watched her think. Her sense of deduction and cool nature were what made her so good at her job. It was undeniably unnerving, however, to see it applied to his personal life.
"But we have a job to do, don't we?" she looked at him, expectantly. "Despite how you feel about him. Or her."
The last of her sentence weighed heavily on his shoulders. "When have you known me to let anything compromise my work?"
"Oh, never." Shijima pulled out her phone. "You're very loyal to your father and his company."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means exactly what I said." Instead of looking him in the eye, she scrolled through the rows of apps on her phone.
It didn't dawn on him until she opened Uber that for the first time in a long while, they'd be going home separately. Like most things in their relationship, client dinners were part of a larger ritual. Uber to her place, a quick debrief while sipping vodka sodas in the kitchen, then falling asleep going over paperwork in bed. They were both creatures of habit, and as boring as it was, a routine soothed restless thoughts. What would he do now, but go home to dwell on Sasuke's words?
"Oh." Shijima looked over his shoulder and gestured with her chin. "Speak of the devil."
Gaara turned and followed her gaze across valet area. Sasuke and Sakura stood close, gesticulating wildly. They were too far away to hear, but all the signs of tension were there. He pulled her arm, she snatched it back. She backed away, he leaned in close.
After what felt like ages of choice finger pointing, Sasuke turned and got into the back of a black Mercedes. Sakura retreated under the awning, hugging herself as she watched it speed off.
Before Gaara could even breathe in her direction, Shijima's hand was on his wrist like a vice.
"Don't get into it."
He snapped back to reality, face hot. "I'm going home."
"Gaara." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Seriously. He's a client. And she's…"
"You have the wrong idea," he tried again, but everything about Shijima's face told him she wasn't buying it.
"Do I?" She let go of his wrist and glanced over her shoulder as a white BMW rolled up in front of them. "That's me."
Gaara took off his jacket and draped it over her head as he walked her to the car door. "Get home safely."
"And you." Shijima closed the door behind her, but then rolled down the window. Out of his periphery he could see Sakura shifting from foot in the background, and there was likely no secret as to what was on his mind.
"Look." She caught the end of his tie in her hand and held it firm. "I know what it's like to want someone…dangerous."
"Do you?" Gaara raised a brow. He couldn't see prim and proper Shijima chasing after anyone, let alone a so-called "bad influence."
"Yes." She pulled him close, and he could see something oddly solemn in her gaze. "But Gaara, trust me when I say that sometimes the best thing you can do for someone you love is just leave them alone."
AN: I feel like I've become the queen of writing long chapters where everything moves at a snail's pace. Haha, but please bear with me! Thank you to everyone taking the time to read, kudo, and leave a comment. I know AUs ca be an acquired taste, particularly with all the sadness and misery I put these two through, so it means a lot. :-)
