(2022/03/04): Hey everyone!

I've been quite busy with school and work amongst other life things (anxiety is a big problem) so I've taken my time trying to ease myself into things again. This chapter might be the most fluffy piece I've written so far (lots of cute parenting moments ahead!) so I hope you all enjoy reading this week's update! That being said, I hit a metaphorical brick wall with my writing on the incoming chapters, so I will try to update this fic at least once a month. I have this story planned out up to the conclusion of the third fic that takes place during the Boruto timeline, but the annoying thing with fanfiction is that it won't write itself no matter how detailed your outline is! Despite the fandom (and this particular pairing) being relatively quiet, I still enjoy writing and sharing these chapters with you all. I feel like my writing sucks sometimes and I often get down on myself, but those of you reading this make it all worthwhile in my eyes. The word count for this series is absolutely bonkers (whoopsie) so I just wanted to thank you all for sticking with this series for so long and seeing my fic grow and evolve over the last few years!

As always, thank you for reading xx

(And for those reading in AO3 and Wattpad, an easter egg from my fic's first incarnation is included at the beginning of the chapter. I don't know the original artist - but in the final chapter of my original fic on Quizilla I had this image before "The End". I always thought it was super sweet and wanted to include it again, but despite finding the image, I couldn't find the artist. If anyone knows who the original artist is, please let me know!)

More Notes:

I also just wanted to put it out there that my heart goes out to those in Ukraine and eastern Europe right now during these tense times. As someone partially descended from immigrants of Poland, Ukraine, and Yugoslavia during the early 20th century to flee imperialism, I'm heartbroken and angry by what's unfolding. Please be safe and watch out for each other during these times. Tell your family and friends you love them.

Slava Ukraini!

Content advisory: mentions of dysmorphia, postpartum

Chapter 14
Gaara IV

For the first time since the war, the Kazekage's office sat empty.

The council, now relieved there was an heir to the bloodline, dared not to object to Gaara's temporary leave-of-absence. Given the circumstances of the situation, it would have appeared to be a lapse in judgement. An unknown assailant infiltrated the village, destroyed a portion of the hospital, and attempted to murder the pregnant wife of the Kazekage while he was away at a Five Kage Summit. Luckily, only minor injuries of civilians were reported and Nomasaki survived the ordeal – however, their person of interest managed to escape with the Puppet Substitution Jutsu. And as an unexpected arrival, their son was born almost a month early. The least the council could do was allow Gaara to spend four weeks of paternity leave.

The laptop on the kitchen table had the other four Kage in view on the screen.

Gaara apologized for the delay. His greetings were met with pleasant nods from the Mizukage and the Hokage – but disconcerted looks from the Raikage and elderly Tsuchikage. He did leave the summit abruptly, but he would have been damned either way. If two of five Kage were quipped by his absence, so be it.

"Congratulations, Kazekage-sama!"

Mei nodded, following Kakashi's lead. "Yes, congrats!"

"How many pups did she have, eh…?" The Tsuchikage sneered, a hint of pride in his aged glance. "Congratulations, Kazekage-sama. Before you know it, you'll be the old one teaching the young ones new tricks."

Gaara smiled, warmed. "Thank you all. We appreciate your kind words."

"And Nomasaki-sama?" Kakashi asked. "Sasuke sent over a hawk about the situation in Sunagakure."

"She's recovering. She's on bedrest for now." Gaara replied, as calm and clear as could be. Using the laptop for video calls was something he was barely getting used to, and sometimes the microphone would drop his voice if he spoke too low. "She lifted the blood-seal by the time we arrived in Suna, so Tenbu's assassination plot fell through… but the perpetrator got away."

"She broke the seal?" The Raikage entered. "How is that even possible?"

Ōnoki scoffed. "The Yamamori are an old clan, being the beasts that they are. No doubt the she-wolf figured it out from the clan elders – if any survived the fever that hit years ago, that is."

She figured it out herself – by herself, Gaara thought while staying quiet, The elders didn't even know the clan used fūinjutsu in ancient times. That was something Nomasaki studied from that scroll Ekashiba recovered from the shrine… and from her own knowledge as a shinobi.

Kakashi pondered. "Hmm… That's a shame about the assassin, but a relief in the same respect." Even through the laptop screen, Gaara could make out the faint line of a smile underneath his mask. "I'm glad to hear everything is otherwise alright. And congratulations on entering fatherhood, Gaara-sama."

"Fellow Kage," Mei spoke. "Should we continue this meeting with Kazekage-sama's absence?"

"I'll decide that!" A fumed. "In case you forgot, I'm still the Regimental Commander of the Alliance!"

Kakashi sighed. "No need to yell, Raikage-sama. You're on speaker…"

"We'll send a hawk your way," Ōnoki said. "Enjoy your vacation – while you can, anyways."

And when the laptop closed, his duties were officially paused.

Since Nomasaki's discharge from the hospital after near a week of bedrest, their home was subject to surprise visitors who wanted to see the newborn baby. Kyō arrived first with his entourage of beast-people clad in their fur-lined cloaks, meeting them at their doorstep not even a full day after the hawk was sent north. When Nomasaki let her father hold Kyōkurō for the first time, the man burst into tears immediately upon seeing his grandson's face. "I can't believe I'm a grandfather!" he wept, while Sana gushed over how rosy the baby's cheeks were. Ekashiba stood as unmoving as stone and congratulated the Kazekage and his wolfish wife. The man always had a stern look to his eyes, even in the happiest of occasions, but in that respect, him and Gaara were the same. Gaara took his quiet nod as approval.

The visitors from the northern lands stayed until the advent of Nomasaki's birthday.

About two weeks after birth, Nomasaki managed to carefully seat herself down as their new family celebrated with a freshly baked apple cake. Meiyumi was kind enough to make it, as Gaara was not sure of the old Yamagakure recipe, and he did not want his recovering wife to make her own cake on her birthday. She defied death to see another year – and that was enough. With the visiting Yama-nin and Kankurō in attendance, Nomasaki blew out the candles as best as she could until her fresh stitches provoked a cough – but she laughed off the wince and thanked everyone for coming. Kyōkurō was fast asleep in his woven crib, even sleeping through the loud banter from his grandfather and uncle as the sake started making its rounds. Although his namesake was an act of love, a thought lingered in Gaara that made him wonder if his son would like sake as much as them someday – or worse – as much as his son's mother. But when the sake came out, Nomasaki was sleeping on the couch beside the crib with a plate of half-eaten cake set on the table. She was mumbling something, but Gaara could scarcely make out the words.

"Cake… the apples… and peaches…"

With a warmed sigh, Gaara lay the blanket of furs over her as she slept.

The next to visit were Temari and Shikamaru.

Travelling from Konoha as the cold grasp of winter soon waned into spring made for a softer journey, and they miraculously avoided the sandstorms that slowly moved over the northern reaches of the country. With wide purple eyes, Kyōkurō watched his aunt and uncle greet him in awe. Temari held him for the first time, and the infant did not make a single peep. Instead, he stayed still and silent, watching her face blankly. He was an observant child, it seemed. Shikamaru, on the other hand, was still hesitant when it came to children. As Temari bounced Kyōkurō on her lap, he grasped Shikamaru's shirt in his little hands and caused the Nara to jolt. Temari laughed and teased him about it, then passed him their nephew. Shikamaru froze – but soon, he eased as the infant began to coo and give a sort of 'happy-look'.

Once their son was put to bed and tea was made, Gaara overheard Temari asking Nomasaki of the childbirth – to which Temari said, "I hope it doesn't hurt for me too much… We want to start a family, but the aspect of childbirth seems bothersome". Nomasaki gasped, excitedly "Are you saying that you want to…?" – and Temari said nothing but nodded as she drank her hot tea.

The thought of Kyōkurō having a cousin to play with was comforting.

Gaara had his siblings – although not until their fractured family unit slowly began to repair its shattered pieces from the damage their late father caused. And Nomasaki had no one – born an only child with no surviving relatives her own age. But in Temari and Shikamaru having a child of their own, Kyōkurō would have someone around his age to play with. If what Sakura said were true, it may prove difficult for them to conceive a second child if they decided to have another – but Gaara thought of his wife's safety and well-being first. A cousin would suffice – that would be more than they could ask for. As he wiped down the counter in the dimly lit kitchen, he surprised himself from the mere thought of having another child.

Perhaps parenthood had gotten to him, after all.

The next day, Temari took photos of Kyōkurō for their new frame – the one gifted from Naruto.

The first month…

As the visitors stopped pouring in, the new parents were finally able to enjoy time alone.

Meiyumi was kind enough to make check-up visits at the home every few hours to help Nomasaki adjust to being a mother. For someone who was unsure if she had a motherly instinct, she adapted as if a natural. Gaara thought it must have been some sort of wolfish instinct, rather than human – but he kept his curious thoughts to himself. It took their baby no time to latch, and Kyōkurō was seemingly always hungry. Nomasaki nursed him nearly every four hours, and when she was not nursing him, she was sleeping. But sometimes, she was awoken by the slightest noise or movement – and she changed from a heavy-sleeper to the lightest sleeper imaginable as if overnight. Gaara reminded himself that her bloodline gave her heightened senses, so it was to be expected that they would be especially effective when nurturing and protecting a growing baby.

For Gaara's role as a father, there was some difficulty at first.

When Nomasaki was finished nursing on their first day, she passed him their son. Upon seeing Gaara's face, Kyōkurō burst into tears and wailed uncontrollably. At this point in his life, Gaara was no stranger to those fearing him, but seeing his son's reaction made him desperately want to change that. Then again, if he were face-to-face with a man who had a face of stone and darkened, ringed-eyes when he was a small child, he might have had the same reaction. Amidst their child's distress, Nomasaki took him back in her arms and soothingly rocked him back and forth. Soon enough, Kyōkurō quieted and grew content in his mother's comfort. With a grasping tiny hand, he grazed her long golden hair with his little fingers. When he twirled her hair in his fascination with his violet eyes wide and wonderous, Nomasaki smiled and gave a soft laugh.

"I think he likes my hair," She said, turning to him. "He gets it from you."

Gaara could not help but warmly smile back, his heart full.

"He's a timid child…" He replied. "Reminds me of someone I know."

She laughed, while their son twirled her golden strands.

As they slowly eased into the new realm of parenthood, Gaara kept at his attempts cautiously. When Kyōkurō was ready for sleep, Gaara took the initiative to put him to bed so that his wife could bathe and rest after a long day of nursing and soothing. At first, their baby stirred once he realized Gaara was holding him – but eventually, by the fourth day, he stayed sleepy and silent. Sometimes, he would meet Gaara's ringed-eyes and just stare at them. And before Gaara knew it, Kyōkurō recognized him as his father. His content glance up at him proved it – and Gaara began to feel confident that he would be a good father to his child.

Doting on their son, they stood over the woven crib and watched their son peacefully sleep that one night. Under the hanging mobile of stuffed stars and bears, Kyōkurō slept. He was dressed in the yellow jumper Nomasaki sewn only days before entering labour, with his arms above his head and legs stretched out. His breathing was soft and gentle – tranquil.

Gaara held Nomasaki close by the waist, being careful to not touch where the bandages lay underneath her blue silken nightrobe. She leaned herself against him, her head resting on his shoulder and a hand lovingly placed over his where it grazed her hip. She sighed, her breath silently whispering of the long day of parenting as a new young mother. The tiredness was evident in her eyes as well. Even from the night, Gaara could see the faint lines under her loving glance to their son.

The first month was wearing on her.

"He's so peaceful when he sleeps," Gaara sighed.

"Let's be careful not to wake him," Nomasaki whispered. "Already not even a month old, and he's been through so much…"

"We have nothing to worry about." He assured. "He's strong and healthy."

Nomasaki said nothing, but her smile he saw from the corner of his eye was enough.

Then his emotions rose into his throat.

With his arm holding her close, he felt the warmth of her body, the hum of her breath, and the gentle touch of her hand over his. The sweet smell of her hair filled his senses, and the soft sound of her voice lingered in his thoughts from when she spoke only a moment ago. To think all of her was nearly ripped away from him would have destroyed him – ravaged him. He left the darkness behind those long years ago, but if Tenbu were successful in her assassination, he did not trust himself to not stray back into the shadows of his past. Her love to him was something he did not expect or believe he deserved at first, but from the moment he realized he was in love with her on that snowy mountain, he knew he could again never live without her presence in his mortal life.

But she was strong – in body and spirit – and she survived, against all odds.

Nomasaki must have sensed his rising emotions, as he felt the silk under his palm move slightly. When he turned to her to meet her face under the moonlight that entered through the blinds of their bedroom, he buried his face into her gold hair and held her closely with gentle and loving hands before any sobs that dared to escape him could come out. She flinched at first, but soon enough, she wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him in return.

"And you're alive…" He spoke, his voice low and near choked under his breath. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to have you here with me…"

"I told you I could do it…" She looked up to meet his teary eyes, smiling gently as she touched his face. "I will never leave you. I promise you that." She glanced to their baby, her violet eyes glistening in the moonlight. "We are a family now. Things are going to be different from here on out, but everything will be alright. We may be shinobi, but our child will not live the same lives as his parents. He will have a peaceful life – a normal life, free of the suffering we both endured as jinchuriki and orphans. He is a child born during the peace of this world – with a mom and dad who love him unconditionally."

Gaara agreed. "You're right."

"I wonder what he'll be when he grows up," Nomasaki sighed, marveling in awe at their son.

"He can be a shinobi, or a botanist," Gaara went on, his hand placed on her shoulder. "A painter, writer – it doesn't matter, as long as he's happy."

She glanced up at him. "Would the geezers in the council allow it?"

"They must." He smiled. "I'm the Kazekage and my rule is absolute."

Kyōkurō stirred, his little arms twitching.

"We should let him sleep,"

"You need sleep, Nomasaki." Gaara spoke, eyeing her with concern as he saw her step towards the bed in the room's centre. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than most days, it's been easier to walk and bend down." She sighed tiredly. "I'm getting my stiches removed soon. It's been over four weeks, so I'm almost recovered."

As she walked past the long wall mirror near the armoire, she suddenly stopped once she saw herself. Gaara noticed her staring back at her reflection, facing her mirrored self directly as if frozen. He saw her trace her fingers over the silk that covered her hips and thighs, her glance growing saddened as she glanced back between her widened hips and reflection. It had been months since Gaara knew her body pre-pregnancy, but her body post-partum was something different. He read books that described what happened to a woman's body after giving birth, and with Nomasaki he witnessed it first-hand. Her breasts were tender and sore, her hips had become wide after birth, her lower abdomen was slightly swollen, and her lower belly had stretch marks – all from carrying their child.

To Gaara, it made no difference.

He always thought of her as a beautiful woman no matter if she were clothed, covered in blood and dirt, or changed her appearance in any way. It was her kindness that made her a treasure, but her natural looks and charm were a treasure in their own right. She had a soft face with her father's strong jaw, a sharp button nose, thin bowed lips, and her mother's golden hair that put the desert sun to shame. But most of all, she had her eyes – the eyes of her clan, the Yamamori. It was often said amongst the desert-folk that the eyes were the pathway to the soul, and Nomasaki's eyes spoke of her character for as long as he knew her in his life. Loyal, fierce, kind – and strong at heart. They were a wolf's eyes, he knew. Her purple eyes were as vibrant as the lilacs as spring and deep as the lavender of fall – and in the dark, as luminous and tempting as nightshade. For all intents and purposes, his wife was a beauty to behold in body and soul.

Sensing her somber stare in the mirror struck him, saddening him to see her upset.

Her fingers delicately and somberly grazed the shape of her hips, as if imagining her hands would pass right through like an apparition. "I feel like my body has changed… None of my old clothes fit me anymore since the birth… I'll have to make new ones…"

Gaara approached from behind.

Seeing himself in the reflection, he rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms gingerly around her waist. He gave a light smile in best efforts to cheer her up, and it seemed to have worked as she soon smiled back in shyness. He kissed her cheek softly, looking back in the mirror with a confident smile on his lips.

"You're perfect."

Bashful, she looked down as an evident blush spread across her face. Gaara wondered if she thought she could hide it, but it was clearly seen even from the mirror as she tucked back the stray strands of hair behind her ears. She did not say anything back to him, but he took her silence and reddened cheeks as comfort. He kissed her cheek again, smoothly making his way down to her neck as she giggled and welcomed his affections.

Gently, he pushed away the silk that covered her shoulder.

Before he could put his lips to her skin, he noticed an odd shape carved into the exposed porcelain. The scar was wide and near translucent on her fair skin, striking him as strange that he never noticed it before in all the times he saw her naked. It was not a new scar – that much he could tell. It was old, the marking faded and near grey. As he examined it, he swore he saw the faint marks of a claw.

His heart sank in his chest.

"What's this scar from?"

"Oh," She noticed him looking, glancing to her exposed shoulder. "That… well…-,"

Her voice hesitated.

"It was me, wasn't it?" The words stung as they left his tongue. "When Shukaku emerged that day."

It was near eight years ago when the incident happened.

By chance, the newly graduated foreigner genin was assigned border guard duty the same night as the jinchuriki. When a lone shinobi of Ishigakure broke through their defenses, Nomasaki was at the mercy of Shukaku's strength and bloodlust as Gaara tried to control his murderous urges. Their foe was killed, but the young wolf-girl was struck in the shoulder by Shukaku's clawed arm that covered its jinchuriki in its sand of vile intent. The red that painted her white tunic haunted Gaara since that day – and he would see it every time they crossed paths as shinobi, even after she forgave him. It was only until when Nomasaki became his assistant that the memory faded into the back of his mind, only to be reawakened years later. To know that he caused her harm killed him inside.

Nomasaki flinched in his arms, but lowered her head in surrender. "Yes… It wasn't your fault. It was a full moon that night, and your seal wasn't strong back then. I was in the way… -,"

"No. You were never in the way… I lost control then, and you paid the price." Before she could say any more, Gaara lifted her chin so he could meet her vibrant purple eyes. "It's been years since, but the guilt never left me." Hurt swirled behind his ringed-eyes, but his stoic calm of promise remained firm. "I'll protect you, Nomasaki – always."

"I know," She said, taking his hand in hers. She gazed deep into his eyes, believing in him fully. "I trust in you – and I forgave you for this long ago, Gaara. It's alright, it's just a scar." After giving a light smile of assurance, she stepped out of his arms and headed towards the bed. "We should get to sleep, we've had a long day…"

Putting aside his guilt, Gaara soon joined her.

Undressing himself, he crawled into the blankets and pushed himself close to Nomasaki while she adjusted her pillow and tried to position herself on her side. She would be woken up by their son in four hours, so she had to make the most of her sleep while she could. Laying down at last, Gaara edged closer and held her against his warmth. After a quick and yawning goodnight, he shut off the light and they went to bed.

And their family life was peaceful.

But it was not without the meddling of the council.

Once Kyōkurō was one month old, handmaidens sent from the council elders came and took him from Nomasaki's arms as she was asleep on the armchair. As was tradition with the Kazekage Family and the nobles of Sunagakure and Land of Wind, infants were breastfed from wet nurses – never their own mothers. It was to ensure the reproduction of more heirs – in the elder's eyes, more future shinobi. Archaic and cruel. Nomasaki was never told of this during her pregnancy, and Gaara was unaware of it himself until he came home from work to find his wife distraught and in tears. Meiyumi consoled her, and informed him what happened. But before she could finish explaining the situation, the Kazekage stormed down the hall to the meeting chambers and demanded an answer. The elders were flabbergasted at his rage over the matter, and in a matter of minutes, they agreed to rescind on the tradition immediately.

Once back at home that evening, he saw Nomasaki sitting on the couch with Kyōkurō in her arms as one of the handmaidens repeatedly bowed in forgiveness. A smug smile was drawn upon her lips, as if she was relishing in their mistake. Gaara was alarmed slightly by what the handmaiden said to Nomasaki, hearing the woman frantically mention that their son was a biter – saying that the child already had teeth, and fangs at that. After all, Gaara should not be surprised – their son was partially wolf like his mother.

"He looks like you but he takes after me," Nomasaki giggled, rocking their son back and forth as she soothed him to sleep.

And Gaara had to agree – she was right.

Three months later…

It was astounding how fast the child grew. By three months, their son had grown from a tiny premature newborn to a plump little boy that near doubled his birth weight. Meiyumi was relieved at the progress, and his first check-up went smoothly – that was, until one of the nurses got their finger bit by the curious infant. Kyōkurō's red hair began to spread evenly across his head, but was still feathery and had a peach-tinted tone when graced by the sun. Kankurō made the unwise remark to Gaara that the child had eyebrows despite being his son. And for that his sand pinched his gut.

"Ow! I didn't mean it like that, jeez… Grow a sense of humour!"

Gaara did not flinch, averting his glance. "Get bent."

But as Kyōkurō grew, the time seemed to pass by almost too fast.

Their child had begun to smile, cooing and giggling whenever Nomasaki would hug him or play with him in the centre of the carpeted living room. He seemed to like his mother's voice, smiling widely and making tiny noises of joy whenever she spoke or was near. And to Gaara's surprise, Kyōkurō enjoyed his voice, too. For the child who once sobbed upon seeing his face to beam upon sight of him, the feeling was incredible. Still hesitant to interact at times, Gaara took his best step forward and sat in front of where he lay on the blanket of desert furs. Carefully, he made a small ball of sands from his gourd that swirled lightly above Kyōkurō's tiny grasping hands. His wide purple eyes blinked and followed the sand – growing wider when he saw the sand disappear then reappear from behind his father. When the sand ball hovered above him again, he gave a hearty open-mouthed smile.

And for the first time, Gaara heard his son laugh.

Still too young to talk, their son managed a few audible sounds. "A-goo" was by far Kyōkurō's favourite. Nomasaki thought he meant "Again", as he would most often say it after being hugged or bounced. Gaara was not sure if it meant anything, but he let Nomasaki have her moment. The handmaidens were more cautious when they entered their home this time around. They helped clean the residence as Nomasaki napped scattered throughout the day, but dared not to touch their son unless he was fed. They learned their mistake last time, and the Kazekage's wrath was enough to convince them to stay away. When he was awake, however, they changed him and brought out fresh clothes for after his bath.

After work one day, Nomasaki decided it was time to teach Gaara how to change a diaper. Gaara did a few times already, but the handmaidens mostly took care of that aspect of parenting a newborn for them. Kankurō overheard their discussion and snickered about watching, so he was thrust into attempting it as well. If he was going to make fun, make him work. The moment Kankurō saw the dirty diaper he began gagging and soon ran out to the bathroom cupping his mouth. His retching near made Nomasaki gag, but she swallowed it down with a cough. When he came back, Meiyumi chastised him, finger-pointing and all.

"You're his uncle – his godfather, for crying out loud!" She groaned. "It's just a diaper!"

Kankurō grimaced. "That's well beyond my credentials…"

On a quiet spring day, a package arrived from the shinobi courier to their doorstep.

When Gaara asked where it was from, the courier shook his head and said, "I've got important deliveries to make! No time for chatting," and hurried on his way from the estate. Kyōkurō was put down for his nap with the handmaidens watching over him, leaving Gaara and Nomasaki to open the package in curious silence. His wife untied the string that bound the paper covering together, allowing the gift to fall open. Gaara could not see what it was at first, only seeing the bewildered look in Nomasaki's eyes and her expression near frowning.

He rose a nonexistent brow. "What is it?"

"Hakuto-sama's gift arrived…" Her voice did not convince him of her gratitude. "It's a… blanket."

"You don't seem too excited."

She shook her head. "It's not that. It's just…-," Taking the blanket out from the packaging, she held it up for him to see. The blanket was woven from rich, thick furs of some beast. Grey, brown, and gold swirled throughout its patterns, making it clear whoever made it took their time to ensure its perfection. Nomasaki's frown was not that of ungratefulness, but one of modesty and a humble nature. She near appeared sad. "It's a pelt made from sabrecat furs. They're usually a gift to noble-births, like to those born to daimyo…" She glanced to him, placing the pelt on her lap. "Don't you think it's a bit much?"

Gaara sighed. He gave a light smile, placing a hand over hers. "Kyōkurō is son to the heiress of the Yamamori clan and the Kazekage of Sunagakure. I think the gift suits him fine."

"Some of the handmaidens call him 'little prince'," She giggled, smiling gently at the pelt. "Perhaps I'm being too humble… I'll send a thank-you letter to her. It's a generous gift."

Gaara could sense someone standing behind them.

Turning to the porch, he saw Shijima. Still and silent as a statue, she stood with her dark eyes locked towards them. Nomasaki picked up on her presence, breaking her focus from the gift. Gaara felt her hand flinch under his, making him wonder if she even noticed Shijima or not at first.

"Shijima?"

"My lady," The Hoki stepped forward. "Can we have a moment?"

Putting their comfort aside, the married couple took the bodyguard into their home that evening. Shijima sat before them and started by speaking about the incident with the assassin, about how their foe felt in combat and how something seemed off about their movements and motives. Little was discovered by the Intel Division, however – and the leads from Sasuke were the only ones they currently had. Gaara and Nomasaki kept calm, stoic expressions while they took in the news.

"I see…" Gaara sighed. "So there's no further leads on the assassin?"

"None." Shijima shook her head. "The ANBU are currently still sleuthing for clues to the black market that may hold more information. There are fifty storefronts being covertly investigated as entry points."

"Fifty?"

Shijima nodded. "I'm aware. But this may lead to something, it will just take time."

"Did they search the wine-sellers?" Nomasaki entered, her voice clear and even.

Shijima turned to her, as if surprised to hear her speak. "Yes, my lady. But none carried spiced wine."

When Shijima answered, Nomasaki's head lowered slightly. A cascade of gold shielded her expression, perhaps to hide her hopelessness or disappointment. It hurt him to see her that way. After a moment of silence, Nomasaki rose her glance to her bodyguard and nodded firmly. Her purple eyes were as subtle as nightshade – unmoving and dead-set in her intentions.

"Continue to search… I know they're out there."

Shijima flinched, surprised. "My lady?"

"Tell the border guards to investigate any cargo arriving from these merchants. Just a precaution. I could be mad, but… I don't want to take any chances, should they come back." Nomasaki commanded, her voice calm. "If anyone is selling spiced wine, reprimand them. I know their scent so I can snuff them out once they're brought to seek justice."

Comfortingly, Gaara placed a hand on her shoulder.

When she turned, she met his gaze and it was enough to bring her to smile. She grasped his hand lightly. "We have a family now, and I want to protect my family."

Shijima nodded, bowing her head. "I will do as you ask, Nomasaki-sama. And I have asked my honourable sister Hakuto-sama to allow me to stay your bodyguard for a time… she gave her consent."

Her words surprised Gaara at first, reminding him that Hakuto's promise of protection was long since expired since the birth of their son a few short months ago. To hear Shijima wanted to stay under their service was a welcome relief, as he noticed a budding friendship was forming between her and his wife. And there was no telling when they would need Shijima's protection again – if the assassins dared to show up the moment Gaara stepped foot out of Sunagakure.

If that were the case, he would certainly be damned to unfortunate luck.

Nomasaki bowed her head in respect. "Thank you, Shijima."

Summer was on the desert winds.

The cacti in the greenhouse were adorned in tiny blossoms of pink, yellow, and white and the flowers had bloomed into wondrous shades of colour. Even the courtyard was vibrant, despite the desert that encroached it all. On some early mornings before work, Gaara would go to the greenhouse and leave behind a fresh vase of flowers for Nomasaki on the kitchen table for when she woke up. It was the least he could do, and she always loved the colourful blooms.

And soon, there were days where they took Kyōkurō outside to see the flowers of the greenhouse for himself.

His tiny grasping hands tried to touch the large petals of the sunflowers as Nomasaki brought him closer to see it, but as soon as he saw the cacti that sat nearby, his attention was diverted elsewhere. Thankfully, Gaara noticed before it was too late and moved the spiky plant somewhere an infant's hands could not find it. Gaara wondered if his son would take up gardening as a hobby someday – or if he could want to become a botanist like he did. If his wide-eyed fascination with the sunflower was anything to go by, there was at least a fair chance.

Taking Kyōkurō anywhere was an ordeal.

Firstly, there was a fear that assassins lingered about outside the estate walls. Secondly, the moment they left their residence, the elders and councillors alike would bother them for what seemed to be hours just to pinch their baby's cheeks until he whimpered and pouted, and they rambled on about how 'delighted' they were that the village's future was secure with the birth of the heir. Nomasaki had mentioned in her hospital bed that the elders would be pleased with his red hair, but Gaara soon realized that it was not only the strong resemblance to him they were impressed – but the potential for his strength as a shinobi of Suna in the future. Kyōkurō had the blood of both the Kazekage and Yamamori clans, of sand and snow, and it would still be years before he would show any talent or exhibit signs of Kekkei Genkai. He wondered if he would awaken the Ōkamitoko like his mother, or if he would inherit Gaara's Magnet Release.

Only time would tell.

At their home, they felt the most content.

When Gaara would be off from work, the first thing he would do after greeting his wife was to pick up his son in his arms and hold him. He never thought of himself as ever being a 'family-man' as Kankurō put it once, but it all changed the moment he set eyes on his newborn son. Meiyumi was over visiting, helping Nomasaki with managing the home while Kankurō took it upon himself to make himself comfortable. Having just returned from a mission, Gaara did not protest his seat on the couch – or the shoes he had on the table. After putting his son back down on the pelts in the living room's centre, he asked Kankurō to watch him while he went to the kitchen.

He could hear Kyōkurō laughing and giggling vibrantly from across the room as his uncle approached closer.

Maybe he's laughing from his uncle's goofy face…

"Oi!" Kankurō hushed, sitting on the floor. "What are you laughing at?"

When Gaara came back into the room, he heard a sniffle then a wail. Kyōkurō was in tears, crying loudly as Kankurō began to panic.

I spoke too soon…

"Oh, shit…!" Kankurō gasped. "Kyōkurō, I was only making funny faces! Don't cry!" Flinching, he turned back to see his younger brother standing behind him with his arms crossed against his chest. Kankurō gulped, embarrassed. "G-Gaara, I didn't mean -,"

Gaara glared, annoyed. "What did you do to my son?"

Walking past them both, Nomasaki entered the room and carefully took Kyōkurō in her arms. Soothingly, she rocked him back and forth to calm him down. "It's alright, Kyōkurō. There, there… Shh," She cooed, in a gentle voice. "You're okay, they were just funny faces…"

And in a matter of moments, their son was all smiles again.

Kankurō cursed under his breath as the sand struck him from behind.

Gaara pretended he did not notice.

It was near evening when Gaara returned home from the office that day.

For once, their home was serenely quiet. No Kankurō, no handmaidens, and no surprise visitors. After he took off his shoes in the porch, he ventured to the kitchen to see Nomasaki at the table with her sewing kit. She appeared to be hard at work, her energy seemingly returning after all the tireless nights she endured. As much as a headache the handmaidens were, they have been an enormous help for her while he was away at the office – although that was also largely in debt to Meiyumi, who had not left his wife's side since the birth. She had been a good and loyal friend to her over the years, and if Kankurō kept away from the brothels, Meiyumi might as well be considered family.

If Kankurō was smart, he'd behave himself, Gaara thought, But I wouldn't put it past him.

He wondered what help Shinto would provide, if he lived – but Gaara stopped himself from thinking of the dead, for the dead no longer existed.

When Nomasaki saw him enter the room, she beamed with her pleasant smile and vibrant violet eyes as she always did. "How was work?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," He sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. "What are you sewing?"

"Oh," She turned as he entered the kitchen that afternoon. "I wanted to try my hand at making stuffed dolls."

Gaara took the seat beside her, the wooden chair making a slight creak as it moved against the floor. Watching her careful and deft fingers loop the string through the fabric, he soon began to notice what it was. It was a tiny stuffed wolf, made from white and pink plush and had bright purple buttons for eyes. He could not help but smile at the love and care she put in to her handywork.

"I'm going to try to make a tanuki next," She said, pulling the string tight as she finished her sewing. With a fanged bite, she snapped the thread from the doll and put away her supplies into the basket. Holding the tiny wolf in her hand, she smiled fondly at her work of art. "I wanted Kyōkurō to have a doll like this, so he knows where he came from. My mother made one for me when I was young."

He placed a tender hand on her lap. "A wolf-child, huh?"

"With a tanuki for a father," She giggled. "It's just as the Uchiha said – we've inadvertently started a new bloodline."

"Perhaps."

His gaze drifted down to where his hand lay on the blue lap of her dress. Tiredness got to him, making his ringed eyes heavy with lingering insomnia. He thought of the Uchiha's words from that rainy day where he took the risk to speak with the snake.

"You're the Kazekage. You should know better," the Uchiha's bitter tone rose in his memory.

You know nothing, Uchiha, Gaara firmed in his thoughts, We in Suna don't live in fear anymore of those with bloodlines. The era of my ancestors is long dead… and the future is no place for such old-fashioned doctrines over blood quotas.

As he looked up and met the gently smiling face of Nomasaki, his chest lightened.

"Did you want me to start supper?" He asked, his lips smiling lightly as if by second nature.

She nodded. "If you're willing. I'll help, as I always do."

"Curry and rice?"

"Sure!"

After he stood from the table, he started for the sink to wash his hands.

"Actually," Nomasaki pondered, glancing with a grin. "We can just order something, how about take-out? You've been working hard lately, and it's late."

A wave of relief came over him. As tired as he was, he did not want to admit how badly he wanted to leave the kitchen for bed, but Nomasaki's idea was a welcome intrusion to routine. Gaara sighed a smile at her.

"Sounds like a plan."

And they continued into their peaceful married life.

Notes: The line the courier says, "I've got important deliveries to make! No time for chatting," is actually a line of dialogue the courier speaks in Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. I thought it would be a funny easter egg to add.

This is probably the closest to fluff I've written so far. During the drafting of this chapter, I've also realized that writing babies/children is actually quite hard. And now I understand why babies are saved for the epilogue in most cases... and time-skips!

I'm going to try to have the next chapter posted in about a month's time, so I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

Thank you for reading xx