Harbinger

by tigerowl

Naruto's friendship with his teammates Gaara and Haku is put to the test as they prepare to deal with the threat of the Akatsuki. The secrets Jiraiya has kept come to a head, and Naruto must shoulder the responsibility of protecting much more than the Leaf Village. Continuation of Forlorn. AU NaruHina, GaaSaku, NejiTen, ObiRin, OCs *Taoism, Self-Indulgent World Building, longfic

34. Errare humanum est

Note: Reach the zenith, then the downward spiral…

Use caution ahead: There is an explicit sex scene in the first half of this chapter; skip if you so choose, or feast your eyes for some avant-garde character development.

Chapter Soundtrack:

"Thru" by Vallis Alps

"Shoulda" by Jamie Woon

Chapter 34- Errare humanum est

On the evening of the celebratory festival for Chunin Exam finalists, Sakura may have said she was a bit disappointed to leave. Disappointed that she had missed the chance to play silly games, to dance to pounding music, to drink and laugh with friends, to poke fun and eat desserts.

But now she could not. She could not claim to be close to disappointed about Gaara taking her hand, leading her beneath a starry sky through the park. There was no better way to spend the night, she was sure.

"This road lets out near the Hot Springs?" Gaara confirmed, trying to remember his way around.

"It does." She smiled impishly, "Did you want to go for a soak?"

"No, but it will be quiet there." He presumed, "And the view isn't bad."

"It isn't."

"I'm sorry to take you away from the festival…"

"We won't miss much." Sakura waved off his concern, "I prefer spending time with you, honestly. It just would have stayed loud and crazy back there."

"Did you have anything to eat?"

"Not since this afternoon."

He frowned, "You should eat."

"Well, if we must, we can go somewhere after you tell me…" She skipped in front of him, smiling, "Whatever it is you wanted to tell me!" Her heeled sandals clacked over the wooden boards of a bridge, and they came to a stop over the stream that fed the onsen ryokan.

The lampposts outside of the inn and along the stone-cobbled walkways stretched long shadows over garden boxes and deserted paths. Gaara settled at the edge of the bridge and Sakura leaned against the railing beside him, smiling and expectant.

"It was good to meet your parents today." Gaara told her.

"I am so relieved it went well."

"You are a part of them. Sakura, I have no idea why you thought I could have possibly disliked your parents." He went on, "And they were completely fair to me, and were gracious enough to hear me out…in spite of the fact that I am a rare beast in their eyes."

"They weren't sure what to expect. I think maybe they thought you'd be this prodigious dignitary, when they tried to imagine what the Kazekage was like." Sakura explained, "But I just kept trying to get it into their heads that…" She tilted her face to look at him, "He's just…he's my best friend."

Gaara stared at her and then broke the eye contact, trailing his gaze down to the spring water bubbling along beneath the bridge. His reflection looked positively terrified.

There was a small, nearly unnoticeable tremor in his voice, "Thank you for saying that."

"You feel that way about me too." She stated it as a fact, her eyes bright and happy.

"I certainly do." Gaara took a breath through his nostrils, composing himself, "But I am more than just your best friend or the Kazekage…there's something else about me…" A twinge of puzzlement crossed her face as he struggled, "Something about me…that you don't know yet."

"Oh." She clasped her hands and leaned on the railing, preserving her amenable exterior. 'Not time to panic yet.' She thought, but Sakura was dearly hoping not to go home in tears tonight.

She witnessed Gaara plant a firm, somewhat crazed look on the water below, scowl at his reflection when he saw it again, then tilt his head up to look at the sky; sounds dying in his throat before he could make them. Whatever Gaara wanted to get across, she could tell, he was faltering in his resolve. He was actually scared.

"You know it's just me, right?" Sakura reminded him casually, "I'll always listen."

He nodded, attempting to get a grip, and then turned around to keep his back at the rail. Gaara gazed out at the trees on their right, the illumination of the festival seeping through the park even at a distance.

"Sakura…" He tried again, "Do you know how I came to be in the Hidden Leaf Village?"

"Yes. Gama-sennin brought you here when you were small. That was when I first met you." She replied confidently.

"And where did he find me?" Gaara ventured.

Sakura frowned thoughtfully, "I…never got that detail."

"I should explain." His voice was a touch quieter, "I had arrived in a tourist hub called Kuro on the edge of the Fire Country…because I ran away from Suna. I was unwanted by my own father, and he considered me dangerous."

"At that age? You couldn't…" She trailed off and restarted, "Well, you couldn't have been more than the Fourth Kazekage could handle."

"I was. Even Temari and Kankuro were frightened of me, back then." He confessed, "I could barely control my powers. I was in crisis and no one in my village could help me. No one wanted to help me."

"You told me once that your mother died when you were born." Sakura brought up a delicate subject, "If she had been around, I'm sure—"

"I don't care to speculate about that. I don't know what life would have been like if she had been around to look after me." Gaara roughly shook his head, "But when I landed in Kuro…unfed, sick, and a full-blown insomniac…" A growling sigh, "I was hardly the kind of child anyone would want to approach or assist. But Naruto and Haku didn't seem to understand that they should have been afraid of me…afraid of what I could do…"

Sakura leaned her head on his shoulder and continued to listen as they faced opposite directions.

"They vowed to stay with me, after they found me. The man who had been caring for Haku looked after us for a short time…until, in passing, Jiraiya considered us a very suspicious group of children." Gaara elaborated, "He recognized our shinobi lineage and potential, and he felt obligated to bring us to safety."

"That's when he brought you here." She noted.

"That is how and why it happened. And…the Hokage was not very inclined at all to accept me at first. I was a liability and a potential catalyst for conflict with Sunagakure…but he and Jiraiya-sensei made a great effort to help me with my…problems…"

"Well of course they did! The Sandaime and Gama-sennin were never heartless." She shifted beside him, facing him fully to get a good look, "But Gaara, what does all of this have to-?"

"You told me after your mission to the Hidden Star Village that you had learned of the ancestry of shinobi, and the origin of modern chakra…and while you may find it all compelling and factual, with nothing at all to fear," He seemed sharper, more defensive, "Do you really believe any of it?"

"I believe what I read— what I learned, completely." She felt slightly provoked and balled her hands into fists, "I wasn't spinning stories, Gaara!"

"I know you weren't." He assured her, "All of it is true. As Kazekage, I can confirm that what you learned about chakra and Tailed Beasts is as real as the bridge we stand on and the air we breathe. None of it was fantasy, and it surprised me…that so much was accurately recorded in text."

"I guess someone…wanted to keep the record straight?" She frowned again, "But what is it that's making you…so anxious?"

"Think back to the previous Chunin Exam, Sakura. Remember my participation in the Final Round against Sato." It was a visual he could provide her without being too heavy-handed, "I was out of control that day, not unlike how I had been as a child. And my reaction to that losing battle was not simply my power over sand or me feeling upset. It was more than that."

Gaara pushed away from the rail, only a step away from her, and leveled his eyes with hers, "I am something that a village can use as a weapon, if authorities see fit."

Sakura's understanding of his tale was tumultuous, then, her thoughts wild and keeping pace with the hints. She stared back at him breathlessly, forgetting to press her mouth shut when it hung open. She understood, or at least, believed she understood as much as she could without absolute confirmation from Gaara.

She certainly did remember the strange transformation with sand he had undergone, although she had never tried to hazard a guess as to what the cause was. All she had cared about then was that the fight was over, the invasion was over, and everyone had been safe.

"I am something that can be used for defense, if the lives of villagers are in peril." He illustrated further, "By design, I am a shinobi who must sacrifice so that the age-old traditions and inherited power of the Sand Village are preserved. Because of ancient agreements between the first Kages…my life and freedoms are at the discretion of councils and elders."

"Gaara, you don't have to exp-!" She reached for his arm, but he plodded away over the boards, upset and keeping his head tucked, arms straight, and hands grasping.

Visibly ashamed but unable to retract what had been said, Gaara paced over the bridge, too cowed to look her in the face as he spoke, "Because of decisions I had no part in, I was made into something that other children taunted and called a monster. My connections with others and even the people I loved were strained, and my family became compelled to whisper behind my back, my uncle to resent me, my brother and sister to fear me—"

"Gaara!" When she stepped toward him he evaded, harried.

"My father was determined to kill me when I could not control my actions, and when that endeavor was botched…when negotiation or advocacy on my part seemed pointless to my father…" His voice fluttered in anguish, "I was to be thrown away. What difference would it make…if a failure was buried…or if it disappeared and was never seen again? It made no difference to him that I could only find compassion here, only receive a competent seal here, only have a chance to prosper here, when to him I did not exist anymore. He never knew any of that. I was only a figment of his imagination, then."

She caught his wrist and held, "Gaara." Sakura had strength enough to pull him back towards the rail and keep him still, "You exist. You matter."

His eyes winced open a fraction to glimpse her, "Not everyone would agree."

"Ah, well…whoever they are: screw 'em." Sakura announced.

"You shouldn't love someone without knowing the full truth about who they are. It was unfair of me to only shed light on the parts of myself I thought were worthy." Gaara took a few quaking breaths, "I am not always kind. I was violent, and in some ways I still am. I was callous and antisocial…and now I am lenient and desperate to please. I am short-sighted and cowardly. I am nothing without two people to stand on both sides of me…Kankuro and Temari…or Naruto and Haku…"

Though it felt impossible to achieve, Gaara slid his gaze up again to meet hers, "To stand in front of you and only you…all by myself…is so hard."

"Because you don't think I want to stay with you." She surmised coolly.

"I am the jinchuriki of the One-Tail." Gaara stated, "The people who are content to stay with me…are usually crazy."

Sakura went quiet again, rubbing at her nose as she considered what she had been told. After a moment she frowned at him, aggravated, "Do you know how rude it is to call me crazy indirectly?"

"I'm sorry—"

"Nuh-uh! Sh-sh-shh!" She waggled a finger in his face, "You sure do throw an emotional tantrum when you worry. I thought this was going to be…I don't know…like you were marrying Shishou for political reasons, or something!"

Gaara blanched, "Never."

"Phew!" She relaxed, "So…the One-Tail?"

"Yes."

"Now it's making sense." Sakura nodded and held her chin like a scholar, "There were plenty of things I still wasn't sure of, but! Let's see…Ichibi…is Shukaku…"

"…yes." He swallowed an insanely, sublimely happy laugh, his eyes glassy.

"Shukaku's form is a tanuki…and of sand, as is fitting," She recalled, going back into the catalogs of her brain and the libraries-worth of information there, "He is the firstborn, attuned to Wind and Earth, and— oh! Oh!" Excitedly, Sakura took Gaara's face into her hands, "The markings on your eyes!"

"That too—"

"It makes sense." She crowed, almost triumphant in her knowledge, "Gaara! You're a bit like a raccoon dog." She squished his cheeks once before releasing him.

"He isn't the spitting image of a tanuki, just so you know."

"Well it's got to be close enough, right? Someone wrote that down."

"Creative license."

"Yeah, I guess."

This was going better than expected.

Her nostrils flared again in annoyance as a thought occurred to her, "Gaara…to think you were worried about how I would feel about this…it's almost an insult compared to you meeting my wacky parents! That was much scarier."

"You're entitled to your opinion."

"Really! I mean, come on, what is there to be afraid of— especially at this point in time?" Sakura griped, getting a hold of him again, "I hear old stories and some people claim you're dangerous, and ooh! I'm scared! What are you going to do to me?" She squealed sarcastically, "Take me to lunch?" She pecked his nose, "Hold my hand?" She kissed his cheek, "Do my dishes?" She kissed his mouth and lingered there, feeling tension leave him.

"You." Sakura said as she flattened out after standing on her toes, "Are completely in control…and very domestic, might I add."

A sigh rolled out of him that could have started an avalanche. Gaara folded his arms tightly around her and pressed, not too hard, but made it evident that he was still a tad unnerved. Sakura could feel his breathing gradually even out beneath her palms, humming happily as he squeezed her. 'CHA! I did good! Re-eaal good!' Her inner specter was applauding the achievement, 'Doesn't this floof of mine know I care about him more than I could possibly fear anything on this planet? What a worrywart…'

The night was punctuated with cricket song and the occasional warmp of a toad. Sakura was not sure for how long they stood without breaking the embrace, feeling Gaara's cheek pressed against the top of her head as he digested what had happened.

She asked curiously, "What does it feel like?"

He angled his face incredulously at her, "What does what feel like?"

"Well…you have a living being bound to you. Shukaku is real, as in, would have his own body if he wasn't stuck inside of a seal." She explained, "The mechanics of that really are amazing!"

"It's…" Gaara trailed off.

"Sorry. Maybe not so amazing since you had no choice in the matter, but…you are a living, tangible example of something I only considered myth for so long. Just try to see this from my point of view."

"I do understand." Gaara stroked his hand up her neck and then cradled her chin in his hand, "I will only describe how it feels nowadays…as it was not so pleasant when I was younger." His mouth pooched for a moment as he considered it, "When the day is calm…and I want to sleep…he is there. As plain as you are standing with me, I feel Shukaku. He is huge, grounded, and steady, but he is also energetic and mischievous. We can also speak to each other with our minds."

"Wow. That doesn't freak you out?"

"Not anymore. It's good to have someone to talk to, when no one else is around." Gaara noted, "His input can be very helpful. Or morally backwards by today's laws and standards."

"That can happen when you're hundreds of years old."

"He's gotten better."

"So what is Shukaku like? Not resentful that he's sealed inside of you, is he?"

"He was, once." Gaara confirmed, "But we have since come to an understanding. I vowed that when I pass on and the seal restraining him fails, Shukaku may be free of shinobi squabbles and return to the home he knew during the time of the Sage of the Six Paths."

Sakura braced her hands on Gaara's shoulders, nerding out, "That's all he wants?"

"No one ever asked him what he wanted. He was never to be set free. And if Hidden Sand's bureaucrats combat me on this decision, he may be sealed again after my death, regardless of what we agreed upon." Gaara fiddled with a strand of her hair, deliberating, "I should establish a failsafe for such an outcome…perhaps notify the Hokage…"

"I'm sure your village will respect your wishes."

"Unlikely. Suna clings to assets and military strength. It has little else to call its own."

"Then maybe you should have them make a pact? Could they conscript Shukaku as a paid military force? Then there'd be no need for a jinchuriki in Suna. He'd just be like a giant, local police chief."

Gaara's face flat-lined at the suggestion.

That is fucking brilliant. Shukaku echoed somewhere in his head, Shit, I'd work for those fools if they paid and fed me!

'There's no point to an agreement like that if the Akatsuki are still around.' Gaara squashed the idea with the sobering truth, 'Until they are eliminated, your personal freedom will always be jeopardized.'

I don't think I have ever actually been paid before, though. I've been like an unpaid intern forever.

'Quiet.'

"You alright, Gaara?"

"I'm fine. I was getting feedback."

"Oh!" Sakura brightened, "Did he like the idea?"

"He did. Though there are intricacies that would potentially thwart that elegant solution, the proposal is fundamentally sound."

"Glad you think so." Her smile faltered when her stomach gurgled with hunger.

"We should eat." Gaara remembered.

"Why? We were having such a nice heart-to-heart."

"We can still talk." He assured her, "Let's go to my apartment. I can make something."

Sakura nodded, feigning composure, and relished the whirling, red alarm blinking and blaring 'round her insides. It felt as though her stomach would drop out, leaving her lighter than air so that she might float away. 'Now we're…going to his place. And he's happy…and I'm happy.' Since their fingers had threaded Sakura perceived how her awareness of Gaara was expanding, the touch of his skin now tickling her when she was certain it hadn't before. He walked along with an expression that was placidly happy and kinetic at the same time.

While following a northwesterly route through town, where the streets were empty at that hour and the neon of bar signs were the last lights buzzing, Sakura allowed herself to accept the overwhelming fact. 'Things will change now.' She was sure. Gaara was not a trusting person, and she perfectly understood why that was. Even Naruto and Haku, who she imagined would know his secret, probably did not know the small, excruciating details Gaara had shared with her that night. His identity and personal struggles were to be kept in confidence, and Sakura was awed that she very well could be the only person to know such privileged information…until they were both dead and buried.

'Okay. Maybe his secret IS a bigger deal than meeting Mom and Dad. And whoa, I still can't believe we tackled all of this in a day.' Then again, it was debatable when they would next have the chance to be in the same place for an extended period of time. 'We've got to capitalize on a day…and night…like this.' She gulped, 'He made things so serious…I wonder if I should still try to make a move? I don't know if he is emotionally equipped for something like that right now…'

Sakura rapped her nails along her lips, wondering, 'Or if I did…how he or the Ichibi might react? He mentioned that stress made him lose control in the past. If Gaara has boundaries like that I want to respect them.' She snuck a corner-eye glance at him and then pouted, 'Erg…but then he's got some nerve looking that hot and angular in summer clothes! What am I supposed to do?'

Gaara stopped suddenly. Sakura stutter-stepped to a halt while lost in thought, and then wisely followed his line of sight far down the road. She saw Huo's back and queue of hair as he retreated into his guest habitation for the night.

"Huo wasn't at the festival." Gaara noted keenly, "Though that comes as no surprise. He has only contempt for his fellow Finalists."

"He gives me the creeps." Sakura linked her arm with her boyfriend's, "Lee told us that he said…he wants to kill us all."

Unruffled by the statement, Gaara continued walking, "He must mean it."

"Won't he get disqualified for something like that?"

"Idle threats are one thing. But if he acts on the threat—"

"Gaara, the boy he fought died shortly after their match. Huo may not be breaking the Exam's rules, but he still knows how to inflict delayed fatalities." She was agitated, "I don't want someone like that being Tama's first ever Exam opponent!"

"Your sensei would not allow her to enter her match unprepared. Kakashi knows what kind of foe that Rock ninja is. And if things take a bad turn, he and the other Jounin are more than ready now to intervene during a match. Faster than even the proctor, I'd wager."

"Well, yeah…I know they're ready for something like that."

"Put it out of your mind, for now." Gaara suggested, and began to climb the outdoor stairwell of the building. Doors of homes they passed on the way were darkened and quiet.

Sakura asked if Matsuri would be asleep in a spare bedroom, but Gaara shook his head, "She has a guest habitation at the Magnolia Hotel that Tsunade advertised. I invited her to stay here…but Matsuri is enjoying her time without me and making friends."

"Ah." Sakura could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

Maybe she should not have been surprised that Gaara had a spare key besides the original he had gifted to her. Sakura tried not to make stupid faces of excitement as Gaara unlocked the door and let her step inside first. She slipped off her sandals in the genkan, considering unfamiliar shapes in the dark, and blinked rapidly when he snapped the lights on.

"Are…a-are we in the right place?" She exclaimed, her green eyes wide as saucers.

The chipped, cracked walls…the worn furniture…the cluttered, outdated arrangements that Sakura remembered from her last visit…gone. Even a wall or two she recalled that had once sectioned off the living area, 'They were knocked down! It's all open. Holy shit, someone painted in here…' A stately, muted shade of blue-grey, the molding contrasted in white, 'And hardwood floors…' As she stepped with bare feet it was warm to the touch, 'Oh! Radiant heat. How much did this cost? Yeesh! When did he get all of this done?'

Gaara dropped the key ring on a hook after taking his shoes off, following her into the living space, "I had it remodeled a few months ago."

"I can see that."

"I was saving. I paid for it myself." His eyes swept around as if he were not impressed with it, "Naruto and Haku will adjust."

"You didn't consult with them?" She was aghast and also running her hand over the top of a sofa sectional that still had showroom smell. Sakura watched him untie the hyper-condensed sand gourd from his hip and gently set it down near a display of pottery.

"That would have complicated it." Gaara crossed toward the kitchen, "Haku is too fond of breakable antiques and Naruto is too fond of orange."

Sakura launched herself face-first onto the sofa, beyond his line of sight as she laid belly-down, "Ah! You're right."

"Of course I am. What do you want to eat?"

Her head poked up, "Anything my mom did not cook for us today."

He took it as a valid answer and began rummaging around the fridge and cupboards. Sakura lowered herself down onto cushions again, refusing to squeal aloud in astonishment, 'I keep forgetting that he cooks. And since when does Gaara have an eye for design? This place looks like a model home!'

Gaara asked her if she would like water or tea, and when she declined a drink he advised her to stay comfortable. Sakura remained on the sofa, her arms folded on the headrest, balancing her chin to stare at him from across the room. He seemed calm. It was an electric sort of calm; she felt his feelings prickling at her strongly as if they carried through airwaves. Her lips curled up, watching him in silence, 'I feel lucky…' She exhaled dreamily, 'He's been through so much, but Gaara trusts me. This has to be reciprocal. I feel like I can tell him anything I need to…' Though nothing immediately came to mind.

Her eyes scanned across items around the apartment that were familiar. The old and reliable rice cooker that the three boys had owned since childhood (its steam vent gently puffing,) bowls and glasswork that belonged to Haku, framed photos and artwork, Naruto's potted plants flourishing on shelves above the sink…

'The interior may have changed, but their belongings are still here.' She wondered if the bedrooms had also changed, not that she had ever seen those rooms before.

"Gaara-kun, do you still keep a lot of your things here?"

He looked over his shoulder at her, "Some things. I've outgrown old clothes and I did not keep those."

"Don't get rid of the sentimental items, though." Sakura recommended, "That's the…proof of your life here in Konoha." Proof of his time with them, with his team, and with her.

Gaara turned back to the pan popping with heated oil, replying, "I will always keep those things."

She inquired as an afterthought, "Should I…bring your Leaf headband here?"

Gaara said nothing for quite a while. Sakura observed him frying battered eggplant, tumbling in his thoughts. He would never be a Leaf ninja again, not without instigating an insane, unprecedented resignation and defection from the village he was now sworn to protect.

"I would prefer if you kept it, Sakura." He said in a small voice. He wanted that memento to be hers; wanted it to be dedicated to her.

"Okay." She was smiling and rocking her chin side to side on her folded arms.

Sakura took a guess that the silver-fleshed fillet he had placed in the fish oven was scabbard fish, but she wasn't exactly sure. 'I haven't had it in a while! It's so popular this time of year it's always sold out before Mom and I can pick it up at the market…'

He drifted between kitchen tasks and setting the low, traditional table in the dining area. Gaara's eyes flicked over to her a few times, ice-green and lit with levity.

When he tended to the last of the eggplant, Sakura frowned to herself, giving the young man the up-and-down, 'I wonder…' She pressed her lips to the back of her hands, spying, 'If he has other features…from the Ichibi…?' Aside from his dark-rimmed eyes, which Sakura found a most subtle feature, 'I didn't see any claws or ears or fur…'

Her eyes trolled down to his lower back, 'He probably…doesn't have anything else.'

But, as she recalled carefully turning the pages of an old, oversized tome in Hoshigakure, Sakura acknowledged real descriptions of those with horns, sharp teeth, and flowing manes. She slipped up from the sectional and took conspicuous, lilting steps towards Gaara, 'I just keep getting more curious…and I don't want to make it weird by out-right asking him! Sure, like I could say— hey Gaara! Are you hiding a tail somewhere? Just a thought…pff…'

"Nearly done." Gaara informed her, making a pleased sound as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder blade and hugged him from behind. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I've just been thinking a lot…" She traced her fingertips over the shell of his ear, which checked out completely normal.

"I don't blame you. What I told you is not something easily accepted and dismissed."

Sakura felt around his nail beds and found no claws, trying to play it off as a girlish touch, "I'm glad you told me, Gaara. I consider it an honor."

He plucked the finished vegetables from the oil with chopsticks, and then turned the gas off. She heard him make another soft, happy sound.

Then, before Gaara could find something else to do and walk away, Sakura did it briskly: hooking a finger into the waistband of his pants and undershorts, tugging them free an inch to glimpse down the plane of his back…finding no tail at all. Her eyes did linger as there were two perfect lower back dimples above his ass, which was distinctly paler than the exposed skin of his face, neck, and arms. She had never known such a charming feature could exist on a man. Gaara froze at this odd, uncalled for contact and she patted his clothing back into place, laughing apologetically.

"What are you doing?"

"You don't want to know." She took a serving bowl from his hand, "U-Uh, let me help! Sorry about that. Just an exam I had in mind—"

"Sakura…"

"Pretend it didn't happen." She insisted sunnily. Sakura was already at the table organizing food and tableware.

Gaara left the pan's cooking oil to cool on the stove and fetched the fish from the oven, pressing his mouth into a thin line. Sakura was not at all reacting to him with uncertainty or trepidation, as he might have expected. Instead, she had become handsy and somewhat invasive of his personal space…not that he could complain about it. 'But why did she-?' She had blatantly stole a peek at his bottom and he did not know how to feel about it. How was this any way to react to the things he had told her?

He set a plate of scabbard fish on the table, giving her a narrow-eyed look. Sakura, he ought not to forget, could be rather sly and impetuous when the mood came over her. Oh, he knew that well.

Beyond that, Gaara considered himself plain-looking with little talent for attraction, but he was slowly starting to suspect that Sakura had latched onto something, whether it was his admission, some kind of mystique she thought he had, or even the understated way he had dressed— she was ogling him shamelessly, almost grinning.

He might have felt uncomfortable about it if it wasn't so fucking wonderful. The night could have gone in the complete opposite direction.

Gaara distantly heard her excited "Itadakimasu!" from across the table before the clattering of dishes started. Sakura hurriedly plopped still-hot foods onto his plate first before helping herself. He frowned at her again.

"Habit." She defended, "Mom makes me serve everyone else first at home. She's strict."

"How traditional. I don't care much for that custom." He replied and poured her tea before she could touch the pot.

"Thank you." Sakura sat back and smiled appreciatively, "So how did you get the tachiuo? Every time Mom and I attempted to buy it these past few weeks it was all gone. Crazy women in town form a mob in front of the store…and we don't want to stoop as low as them."

"When the Kazekage requests scabbard fish, he is given scabbard fish."

"If I didn't know you so well, Gaara, you'd sound grossly entitled right now."

"Sometimes it is worth taking advantage of your station…for I have seen that mob you spoke of." Gaara acknowledged, a small tremble passing through him, "We do not have shoppers like that in Suna."

"I guess people in Suna are used to not being able to find the things they want at the market."

"Exactly."

"Do you have summer-time fish like these to eat out there?"

"Very rarely, and at great expense. It's getting easier to find as trade improves. The Tide Village has been complementary to our commerce."

"I bet!" Sakura took a bite of the fish with rice and slowly shut her eyes to savor it, "This is wonderful."

"I should hope so. Or that it's at least as good as festival food."

"Honestly, festival food gets old after the first hundred times you eat the same damn thing."

Gaara nodded and his facial features were lightening in amusement.

"I think Ino was a little drunk by the time I left…" Sakura recalled while nibbling eggplant, "Actually…everyone seemed a bit tipsy. Except for Hinata, of course, her father would give her a diatribe at home if she did something like that."

"Then why would the Head of the Hyuga clan not scold Neji for a night of drinking?"

"Hyuga-sama would scold him." Sakura wagered, "But I think Neji was prepared for the consequence…especially since he had his beautiful girlfriend saucing up with him. It was probably worth it for them. Heh!"

"I am still surprised." Gaara said, somewhat out of context.

Sakura quirked an eyebrow at him, "About what?"

They chewed for a few beats before Gaara elaborated.

"Surprised that his teammate, Tenten, got through to him. I still remember Neji as a closed off person."

"He isn't really like that anymore. He's just bossy and brotherly. Much easier to talk to now, the girls and I agree."

"How did someone like him come to acknowledge a friend and teammate he formerly took for granted?" Gaara was surprisingly abreast on the turn of events. He rounded off the thought with a swig of tea.

Sakura smiled cleverly, as she had a first-hand account of the catalyst, "Well, Neji had to lose her first! I forgot you missed all of that."

"Lose her?"

"Yeah. Shishou was compelled to rearrange their team after a rogue nin tried to target them, although she didn't give me the full story. She did say that Neji got into an insubordinate argument with her when she removed Tenten from Team Gai." Sakura was chuckling, "She was SO mad. But she also really understood how upset he was. Lee was also in shambles. I remember watching the two of them mope around like the world was ending."

"Interesting." Gaara was sincerely intrigued, eating dinner as if it were cinema popcorn.

"Also, they weren't permitted to communicate with each other. Tenten was the saddest I had ever seen her. We girls tried to hang out with her and cheer her up. Their team was apart for a while and Neji and Lee grew closer." She explained happily, "But I think when they reunited, Neji had been shaken up enough to admit that he had it bad for her. They started dating!"

"How unusually mature of him. He didn't throw a tantrum to win her affection?"

"I don't know about that…He's still, you know, Neji. Tenten keeps him in check."

"Lee is a good friend to them." Gaara recognized.

"Yes. He really is the best. Chouji too. He looks out for Ino and Shika."

Gaara leaned his head back in thought.

"Much like them…Naruto always wanted me to confess to you." He disclosed.

Eggplant slipped from her chopsticks. Gaara continued eating, unabashed.

"I'm sorry— what?" Sakura sat up straighter, more attentive.

"Naruto and Haku knew." He said simply, "How I felt about you. While Haku was encouraging and championed discretion, Naruto thought I had nothing to lose, and that I should have told you." Gaara added before a final bite of fish, "For someone so utterly blind to his own admirer, previously…Naruto was sure that I was meant for…"

He trailed off and regarded Sakura's rosy cheeks, and how she began to smile toothily, "…Naruto, huh?"

"In his infinite wisdom."

"Man is he nosy!" She was thrilled, "But he was right! He was right about you being my match." Sakura reached her hand out and settled it over his, "Naruto actually has some very good insight, when it comes to those sorts of things. I should thank him."

"He does." Gaara agreed, relaxing again, "And while he may have been correct with his hunch, it did not change the fact that I wasn't ready. I never had any expectation or delusion that you would feel the same— that you'd feel just as much as I did, in spite of how close we were. I did not value myself at all, and that constantly hindered my ability to connect with others. Shunning the possibility of rejection meant that I wouldn't have to relive Suna all over again."

Sakura gazed at him and said nothing, introspective, and then drew her hand back to begin tidying empty dishes. In those slow seconds that passed, Gaara also rose to help clean up. He wracked his brain, concerned that he had said something stupid or too revealing. 'What is she thinking about?'

At the sink, Sakura spoke, "You're still like that, you know."

Gaara wore an owl-eyed look, confused.

"You've grown. You've matured and opened up, no doubt about it…but that one weakness of yours did not change." Sakura shook her head, gently chiding, "You still hesitate to value yourself, Gaara. If you had felt surer of your worth: your accomplishments and your flaws alike…would it have taken you as long to tell me about Shukaku?" She wondered, "Or for that matter, would have it hurt you so much to finally talk about it?"

"It would have hurt no matter what."

She let him take over the dish washing as she poured the cooled oil into an old tin can for disposal. Sakura was still gnawing at her lips with more to say.

"I want you to..." Her voice rose in frustration, "I want you to see yourself the way all of us see you, and not cleave to that image in your head of when you were a kid that no one wanted." With a bump of her hip she guided him to step aside, taking over the other half of the sink to scrub the pan in her hands, "Gaara, put all of that behind you now. You're the Kazekage, and you can be damn sure everyone in Suna knows who and what you are. If people here learn that you're a jinchuriki over time, your actions will speak louder than their prejudice." She added, "Haters notwithstanding, as there will always be an unjust critic or two…"

Gaara craned his neck to give her another astounded look, laying clean bowls on the drying rack.

"What?" She was annoyed further, scrubbing.

"To tell the truth…I care less about public opinion than I do about your opinion."

"Then you should be all set now." She motioned for the dish soap and he passed it to her. Sakura began to simmer down again, "Sorry. I just hate how you vilify yourself. There are leaders and shinobi in this world who are real monsters…and your only crime was being subject to a decision you had no part in."

"I am by no means guiltless." He reminded her.

"Who isn't-?"

"I have killed people in the past that likely did not deserve to be killed. I've been callous to those I've called my friends and pushed them away. I've even said cruel things to you, all in defense of my ego." Gaara dried her clean pan with a dishtowel, "Every day that I live I try to make up for those things."

"Well I did do stupid shit like gossip to Sasuke about every little thing I knew." Her anger rebounded as if to varnish herself with harsh words, "I wanted to help him. I really did. When we spent time…" Sakura grunted furiously, "He…he knew what to say to make me believe I was important, and everything he did proved the opposite. Genius that I was, I played into that. Every time I slighted you was an offense worth the hurtful things you told me. Your feelings mattered, and I just wasn't getting that. Not then."

Regardless, he vowed, "I will never speak to you like that again."

"I acted like a dumb bitch and I don't disagree with anything you said."

"Sakura—"

"No." She stopped him, tipping the last few drops in the teapot down the drain, "We will fight. Even if we stay together forever, maybe up until our last breaths, you have to know that we're going to fight. That's just what we're like. We think too much, berate ourselves, criticize others, try to do better, and then end up arguing until things smooth over." Sakura grinned at him, "It's like a dream come true."

"A dream, you say? You've dreamt of someone you could argue with?"

"Yeah, especially if he's a handsome redhead."

The look on his face fluttered with several conflicting emotions, and Sakura set the teapot aside to settle both of her hands behind his head and kiss him— really kiss him, as ravenous for him as she would have been whether or not he had admitted to being a jinchuriki. His hands scrambled for her face and waist, eyes blithely closing. Gaara tasted rich and aromatic on her tongue, tilting his head down to deepen the kiss as her nails traced a racetrack through his hair and down his neck.

She was murmuring as she drew back to peck the corners of his mouth, toying with his bottom lip, glimpsing between her slitted eyes as the sensation of it had him rioting, quickly shedding timidity, holding her tightly…

Sakura withdrew and a soft puff of air escaped her, "Puh." Gaara eyeballed her puckish, satisfied face with wonder, starting to imagine that she had designs for him beyond just accepting his jinchuriki identity. She was silken, smelled sweeter than the blossoms of a fruit grove, and oh…what was he worried about again? He had forgotten.

"I always aspired to have a man who I could fight or argue with— constructively…and even if we sting each other with hard truths and criticism…I would never doubt you still loved me." She slid her fingertips over the line of his shoulder and under the fabric of the desert-style sash there. He was acutely aware of the touch, "So yes, fighting was part of my check list. If I can't be imperfect and scream at you, then maybe we aren't for each other."

"Do your worst." He taunted.

"That's what I thought."

When a deep, pleased rumble came out of him Sakura gave him a well-informed, entertained look. They stood there for nearly a minute without asking about or trying to explain the growl.

She finally questioned its source, "Um…I'm not so sure if those sounds are purely you anymore…"

A sigh dropped out of him and he had to admit, "No."

"I believe I have heard you do it before."

"When I…am riled up…there is some overlap between us." Gaara clarified haltingly, "Shukaku…and I." He tried not to remember the Tailed-Beast's participation in a previous, back-alley make out session from weeks before. That was not something he really wanted to fess up to.

"Hm." Sakura noted it. She took a tour around the kitchen's new appliances, skirting the quartz-topped island counter, and the gorgeously furnished living space, tugging Gaara along by a few fingers as if he were a locomotive car.

In front of framed photos on the wall near the hallway she asked, "Is it just…noises? From the Ichibi?"

"Mostly."

"This will sound stupid, but…is there a tail?"

Mortified, but stone-faced he said, "Yes. When I let Shukaku express it." And Sakura tapped her fist in the palm of her hand victoriously, as if she were a detective on the trail, "Don't tell me you were checking for it?"

"I can't help but be curious about these things! The name suggests that Biju really do have chakra tails, so I wondered if you'd have a feature resembling one. It's reasonable."

He shook his head weakly but could not debate it with her.

"Does anything else happen? Anything that you can show me?" She wondered, "You won't let me talk to-?"

"Not tonight…give that some time." Gaara deflected the request, "Shukaku does not have a way with words. You may talk in other circumstances, some other time."

She nodded.

Again, he sighed heavily, wondering if it was worth revealing a glimpse of Shukaku's features to her. She clearly wasn't scared and had asked him directly. On a personal level, Gaara had about enough of the discussion centered on his jinchuriki identity, 'But I can't simply brush it under the rug when I don't want to talk about it. Sakura will ask questions. That's in her nature.' Would it do any good to could compromise on the matter? 'If I humor one request, then maybe I can ask her to leave it at that.'

Gaara resolved out loud, "I will show you something, but then no more. If you wish to see other features, I ask that you let me demonstrate on a later date."

"Sure!" Elated, Sakura took his hands in her own again, wearing an expectant look.

His shoulders dropped a bit as he exhaled, shutting his eyes.

"Is this okay?" She wondered, gesturing with his captive hands.

Barely moving, he replied, "It's fine."

Gaara was statue-still and Sakura darted her green gaze up and down, seeing no changes whatsoever. 'Seems like he's about to fall asleep…maybe I should just leave it alone? I don't need proof from him, anyway. I completely believe him after what he told me. Gaara's probably feeling exhausted.' She pouted, regretting her nosiness, 'How much can I put him through? I'll just tell him—'

He opened eyes that were not his own.

Her hand instantly travelled up to his cheek and Sakura moved in close, thrilled to inspect the phenomenon. Where once his irises had been glacial celadon, they were molten gold; the pupil tilted and squared— the sclera consumed in black. She patted her thumb beneath his eye, intrigued, "May I ask…how's your vision? Better, worse…?"

"About the same." Gaara guessed, "Things seem a bit magnified…and wider-looking."

"The pupil tilt could give you a more panoramic view. Like a creature that needs to look out over long stretches of desert and horizon." She guessed, "Please tell Shukaku his eyes are very unique!"

"He heard you."

"Oh." She dropped her hand and was smiling timidly.

Gaara blinked his eyes and they were his own shade again.

"Very interesting." Sakura cupped her chin and began to pace the hallway, "Every trait has a purpose, at least I want to think so. Every beast's features are to its advantage…and I read that some of the Biju are very unusual in appearance."

"That is absolutely true." Gaara agreed, thinking of how Shukaku was roughly the shape of a cauldron, with about the same level of agility to boot.

She nosed around the doorway of the darkened bathroom and paused in her investigative monologue, "…oh…" She skittered into it and from the corridor Gaara saw the lights flick on as she prospected.

"Am I echoing?" She called out to him, "It's very spacious in here."

He folded his arms and stood nearby, listening to her bumble around; the click of cabinets opening and closing, faucets being tested, pushing buttons for temperature control. Gaara heard her muttering about something smelling good— perhaps soap, he guessed. He let her fiddle around until her inquisitiveness ebbed.

Sakura switched the lights off as she exited, "The tile in there is very nice." Her eyebrows were aloft from her wide smile, "Have you actually bathed in there yet?"

"Yes."

She turned her face away from him as she bit her knuckle. At that point, Gaara was almost positive he knew what she was thinking about. Sakura surveyed down the hall to its end where Haku's room was, and she nudged inside to look around. There was no need to tell her who it belonged to— she would be able to tell by the calligraphy scrolls adorning the walls. Lights flicked on and off, and it did not sound like she opened anything to snoop around personal belongings. Gaara returned to the living area while she explored. Sakura had always been equipped to take in massive amounts of information. He was in favor of letting her roam and commit the modernized rooms to memory.

And also he felt just a touch nervous; a Lilliputian tingle in his stomach. Gaara busied himself by washing out the teapot that had been left on the counter.

There were some considerations to be made on his part, chiefest among them was what was going to constitute 'Good-night.' The options seemed to indicate they would either: say such a thing as he walked her home and bid her farewell at her doorstep…or that he would mutter it (or maybe even forget to mutter it) as Sakura stayed in his home and fell asleep. With him.

Gaara set the teapot aside to dry. Swallowing felt more difficult. He genuinely felt he was splat in the middle of a maelstrom of decency, expectation, and desire; peppered with a dash of surrealism. Sakura had taken everything in stride and definitely did not seem inclined to leave. Her ease with the whole situation was overwhelming him.

Gaara crossed over to an adjacent wall panel's light switches, twiddling around with them. More or less light? Total darkness? No, that was just downright suggestive. He became frustrated with his dawdling and grunted, dimming the recess lighting to leave it somewhere in-between the two extremes.

Then again, such mood lighting still seemed evocative, but to hell with it, he thought. Gaara crossed the room, determined not to agonize over it.

You're thinking way too much. Shukaku drawled lazily.

'Withhold your input for now. You'll just make me think more.'

You let her see my peepers and she said they were unique. She is clearly not worried about anything. You fascinate her.

'That's what worries me.'

Gaara, there is nothing to worry about. You were treated with more dignity and kindness in one night than I've seen in three separate lifetimes. My other sacrifices have had shit compared to you, ya whiner…

From the corner of his eye Gaara could see Sakura had migrated to Naruto's room and was snorting in laughter at a collage of photos. He entered his bedroom, its lights off, and stood beside the window to stare at the roofs and skyline of the village he had once called home.

'Sakura will want to—'

Fool. Do exactly as she wants. Did she not do everything that you wished for earlier and then surpass your expectations? You'll use every bitch excuse you've used before. Shukaku rumbled as they both peered out at buildings speckled with glowing windows. Lame excuses: that you'll distract her from the Exam, that you mustn't dishonor her maiden body, that you'll be in pain to be apart from each other, once this time has passed. When you must return to your respective duties, your hearts will ache! Fuh.

'You should not make light of-!'

I don't. I told you that I've seen men go through worse. Lose everything. Never have anything to start with, and then die with nothing. When you worry about such petty things it makes me sick. You heave and haw at your good fortune.

Gaara was surprised that he felt rather humbled by the notion.

If you want to keep someone, simply do it. Father always said that even time and space can be subject to our will. They are not obstructions. Your will is strong. When you were a weeping child you resisted me every night. Grown ninja have folded to me sooner, before you.

'Your encouragement is almost uncalled for.' He admitted, sheepish.

So is your hesitation.

A relenting sigh sounded that Shukaku took as Gaara's yielding to the point.

You won't hurt her. You no longer have the capacity to do harm to someone you worship. Seems like you only know how to hurt yourself, Gaara. You still try to find reasons to hate yourself, like she said. A yawn, Anyhow, I will not be involved in whatever you try to do now. I'd like a nap. Enjoy some privacy and don't be so loud that you wake me up.

"Hush." Gaara said out loud, piqued and abashed.

Shukaku had retreated, good as his word.

A hint of the waxing moon was visible above a patchwork office building across the residential avenue. He tried to focus on it; tried to be as calm and still as that celestial sliver.

"Gaara?" Sakura lingered near the door, illuminated by the hall's light behind her.

He startled, but Gaara turned on a bedside lamp to dispel the darkness and his brooding. He gave her a boggled look. It made her want to laugh again.

"Naruto has some hilarious photos." She proclaimed, half-envious, "Sato probably took most of them. I should ask him if he has any spare copies…"

As she had with other spaces, Sakura prowled around his bedroom, ghosting her fingertips over a dresser, desk, bookcase, bins, and keepsakes of his youth. Her eyes had snuck almost a full appraisal of the bed behind her. She stopped to regard the correspondence on the desk, which looked official, "What's this here?"

"An invitation to village leaders." He explained, standing ramrod straight, bordering on awkward. He realized it. Gaara remembered to exhale-inhale-exhale and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing at his forehead as if it would erase the anxious, on-the-precipice feeling he was fighting.

"Who sent it?" Sakura wondered.

"The Hokage. She sent several invitations to village leaders that she wanted to attend and spectate the Tournament."

"Ah!" Sakura was pleased, "Who's invited?"

"You'll have to wait and see for yourself."

She puffed her cheeks at the response but accepted. Maybe it would be a delightful surprise to see which other leaders she could impress on the day of her match. It was reward enough that Tsunade and Gaara would be there.

Continuing her inspection near the desk, Sakura picked up and turned opalescent sea shells over in her hands. There were also sunglasses, a tiny ship in a bottle, and a figurine of a seagull in shinobi attire. She hazarded a guess that it was all memorabilia from the Tide Village.

Sakura scanned a few other odds and ends from the Sand Village and then the closet before crossing to the bed. She pursed her mouth as she beheld Gaara, as he had all but crumpled into a ball on top of a luxurious white comforter. She climbed up and kneeled beside him, having an inkling that maybe he wasn't feeling entirely right about something…or maybe everything.

Without a word she commenced rubbing his head, starting at the crown, 'This might calm him down a little. Why does he get so rattled?'

He croaked softly and melted into her touch.

'That's better.' Sakura looked around the half-lit room, finally spying an incriminating detail she had overlooked.

"Gaara."

"Hm…?"

"Nice painting." Her smile was audible.

Hung on the wall space above the bed was an enormous canvas, its composition of a cherry blossom tree and its extending branch brightly in bloom. Oil-based paints cheerfully lopped into petals of blush, rouge, and fuchsia. She simply thought, 'It's me.'

She bent down to kiss him, positively flattered, but Gaara caught her shoulder in his palm, stopping her before she could reach him.

"I need you to tell me what your intentions are." He flat-out hurled the query at her, "…for this evening. Understand that in my position, I can make no demands of you. Whatever you want to do I need you to be explicitly clear about it."

Her heart was harnessed securely to a bungee cord, bounding up and down her insides. Gaara handed her all the power. Sakura suspected that he was still feeling vulnerable, and he probably did not want to be the one to make a serious, progressive move, 'Even if he is the Kazekage…' Sure, he had confessed about his identity, taken her to his home, had dinner for two, and let her roam around like she owned the place…Gentleman that he was, Gaara was not one to assume that meant he would be taking any liberties with his girlfriend.

She, on the other hand, initially had only one goal in mind after she had walked away from the festival that night. 'I can't tell what he wants. He really seems on the fence about doing anything with me. Maybe I should hold off and…just go home?'

Sakura glanced down at the auburn locks in her hands, watching him breathe as calmly as possible with his eyes closed.

'No. No sulking home!' Her resolve strengthened. Maybe it was because Ino was a bad influence, and maybe because she had waited for about as long as she could stand.'Gaara is shy. I won't assume anything without asking him first.' Her gut instinct suggested he wasn't opposed to doing anything, rather that he was unsure of how to go about it.

"Is it alright if I stay here with you?" She kept her voice even, glass-smooth.

Gaara cracked an eye open at her, "You may."

"I didn't really want to go home tonight. We have one last day off tomorrow."

"Your parents will wonder where you are."

A slight shake of her head, "They won't. Ino had my excuse planned."

Both of his eyes opened, "Did she?"

"She's an incredible advocate for most of my causes."

He agreed with a noncommittal grunt. The Yamanaka deserved thanks. Maybe. If this went well.

Sakura stretched out beside him, her hands slowing in their work against his scalp. She was not precisely aware of when tension began to gradually, painstakingly eep out of Gaara. He emerged from his scrunched position, straightening, and reclined into her embrace. But after that Gaara did not move a muscle, tranquil enough to fall asleep, and that was not what she was going for.

'Please, sir, please pay attention to what I'm doing…' Her nails grazed down the back of his head and neck, roving to his shoulder. As ordinarily as she could, Sakura slid the sash down past his collar bone, where it gathered in a bunch at his chest. Gaara reacted under her hand and rotated to be on his back, a lured expression on his face. Unrepentant, Sakura smirked at him, 'What? You don't need it on anyway…' She was gratified when he slipped the unnecessary fabric tie free of his arm and laid there. Her hand meandered from his wrist and up, up, up until she cupped the side of his face. She pressed her lips to the skin of his shoulder and grinned.

"Sakura."

She batted her eyes defensively at him. 'Don't warn me to stop. Don't send me home. I just want to peel clothing off of you, is that really so bad?'

His head was angled toward her, mollified, "Do what you want."

"You said I had to be explicitly clear about what I wanted." Sakura reminded him warily.

"Then tell me."

She bit her lip. Her hands stilled on his soft crimson shirt, and it was so, so warm. 'Hm. Maybe he can handle this after all?' The rise and fall of his chest was incrementally calming.

Sakura worked up the nerve to answer him, and slipped closer to nuzzle his neck, "I want to…" She exhaled bashfully and lowered her voice, "I'd like to take your shirt off."

"Ah." He said with enthusiasm, for it was as he suspected.

Then she draped her leg over and past his, pivoting above him until he was pinned, and Sakura let her smile curl more nefariously, "Actually, I'd like to tell you what I was thinking about most of this afternoon."

Gaara was cognizant of that last fleeting moment he was allowed to be hesitant, worried, or unsure. It drifted off into nothingness, a pointless mental block he had formerly believed to be essential. The feeling of Sakura hovering there, bracketing him with her arms and legs, felt a million times better than staring out of a window, resolving not to touch her. And because Gaara felt comfortable enough by that point, and he did not truly want to resist the slippery slope, he prompted her, "Do tell."

"I wanted to get you here, like this, alone."

"I think I knew you wanted that."

Her lips migrated beyond his neck, pressing against his temple, and then ghosted over his mouth, "I wanted to take your clothes off."

In total agreement, Gaara arched to assist with the near ripping removal of his top, and Sakura flung it and the helpless eggshell sash across the room. Her hands slid, cruelly slow, down from either side of his neck down newly nude flesh, finally letting him reach for a kiss. He was frantic about it. The sounds she made were by far more pleased than earlier, and Sakura's trailing touches halted on his abdomen. She sat back for a moment to appreciate him. Her gaze soaked in the handsome attributes she had only been able to imagine for so long; a chest paler than she would have guessed, unmarked and flawless, the arrangement of muscles that were slight in appearance, arrowing down above his tense stomach.

Upon looking back up, she realized he was staring at her, stumped on what he should do. Gaara's face was starstruck and sincere.

Sakura added as if to explain, "I wanted to look at you."

He swallowed and managed to speak, "If that's all—" Gaara cradled her face in his palms, drawing her near again to be kissed.

Her nails nipped at the flesh of his ribcage, making him shiver. Sakura interrupted, "Hey, no, that is not all—" She broke away from a tantalizing, syrupy sweet kiss, "There's more on you, isn't there? If you're feeling shy tell me, but otherwise…" She hitched at the waistband of his pants and was worryingly proficient at pulling them down.

His shorts remained intact, but poise was failing him, and Gaara rose to a sitting position to topple her over. He forgot that wrestling with Sakura was a waste of effort, rolling and crinkling above a fluffed comforter, and his pants were lost shortly after she pinned him with one powerful arm, flattening him onto his back again. She was thrilled, positively smug, "You can say something, Gaara, if I'm too fast."

A bit tired, Gaara huffed, "That startled me more than it should have."

"Sorry! I may be overenthusiastic."

"Perhaps a bit."

"I don't know how often you hear this, but…you are stunning." She offered in consolation, leering, "Really. Can I please have a portrait of you to hide under my pillow?"

What flattery.

Gaara decided he liked it. He managed to get his pinned wrist free, fitting his hands to her waist, and up along her exposed back. Gaara pawed curiously at the collar-like fastener of her mint halter top. He was now favoring her potential disrobing to match his own, but admittedly had no idea how her shirt worked.

Sakura pressed down to be flush against his front, giggling uncontrollably, kissing the cove of his jaw and ear. "Keep trying."

"You're better at this."

"I know. Men's clothes are easy." Her calf drifted along one of his legs, assessing how it felt, "There's not much hair down here. Huh…" Her fingers were skimming and exploring his chest and arms, "And not much of it up here either."

"Hardly any." He acknowledged, "I never decided if I cared or was disappointed about it."

"It's just the way you're made. I like that you're smooth."

Gaara's hands gave up on the blasted, solitary collar around her neck. Shirt or no, he felt the valley of her chest pushed into him, soft motions and wriggling, her breathing driving him wild.

Her fingers kept busy along his stomach, inching up along an invisible ladder, examining the tiny dell between pectorals. It registered to him that it tickled, but brain functionality stopped him from reacting to the feathery touch. A boiling chemical reaction sibilated in his veins, heating every inch of skin, and by way of accidental fiddling Gaara eventually pulled open the two buttons of Sakura's collar. The halter slid away from her neck, fabric creasing in a heap at her clavicle as Gaara could think of nothing but to fasten his mouth to the pulse point of her throat, to that ceramic-blush skin so perfect that only he would know.

She made breathless, muttering sounds of approval. With nary a moment's notice, Sakura abruptly peeled back to pull her shirt off, where it disappeared with a toss into the dim room. She dipped back to him, resuming with cautious kisses on his lips, studying them. Gaara's hands stopped on the back pockets of her shorts as a new detail strayed across his senses. Such a detail pressed flat and warm to his chest.

Gaara did not mistake the lack of undergarment beneath Sakura's skimpy, summer shirt. Her breasts were a delicate size, from what he could assess as they brushed his skin. He felt her smile, felt her lips draw away from his as she sat upright, straddling him; conjuring, for the first time in her life, some true pride in her slim, petite form. Sakura was nine-tenths certain that he would appreciate seeing her bare-chested, and judging by his stare, yes, yes he was.

In fact, she could not divide her attention from Gaara's singular, bordering-on-enlightenment gaze at her, and Sakura took some time to muse while atop the lord of the Sand Village, 'I looked at him. Now he can look at me. Gaara may very well try look for forever, but I think I'll have to live with that.' She noticed his hands slipping from her backside 'round to her navel, his eyes blown wide, shiny and glacier-hued.

She was compelled to answer his silence, "I don't…have to wear much during the summer. Small-chested people can get away with quite a lot."

"What an incredibly underrated gift that is." His fingers circled her bellybutton.

"Thank you, it took some time for my friends to convince me, but I'm finally starting to believe it…I've got a good thing going on here." Sakura's grin was fiery.

Gaara nodded and let his hands roam as far as her ribcage before he stopped himself. She signaled with her face and eyebrows, indicating that he was south of the mark.

He could afford some coherent thought before diving completely overboard, "This is more than you suggested earlier, Sakura."

"I know."

"Is this also what you want?"

"It is…and…I know it's not exactly what you had in mind for tonight." Sakura rubbed her thumbs along the backs of his hands, "It's a lot to put on you after what you told me…and honestly…this was all that I could think about since the afternoon. I never expected you to…it's just-! You and I hardly ever get the chance to…" She gruffed, rucking over and plopped face-first into cushiony blanket beside him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Gaara…you've been through so much. How empathetic am I to hear you out without a single concern, understand your pain and worry— and then not alter my plan at all just so I can sleep with—?"

Gaara had turned toward her, his arms strong and bare and pulling at her; and Sakura's regrets died on her tongue. Her livewire nerve endings zinged at the temperature of his hand sliding past her face, carding through pink strands as he kissed her, and his other hand was busy introducing itself to her chest. Her attempts at speech garbled into encouraging noises, and Sakura sidelined her dominance so that she might learn what this intriguing, formerly-shy man could do to her.

Eyes narrowed, breaths deep and rumbling, he exalted the petal-soft curves of her and tasted his way down her lips and neck, latching onto the juncture of her shoulder with his mouth. Licentious sounds escaped her while Gaara kneaded one breast, teasing the nipple of the other, dusky rose and pert.

She was electrified by the ministrations, and Sakura could do little else than curl her toes, rake her nails down any free space that she could reach— feel Gaara writhe at her clawing. He was only emboldened. He kissed downward, mouth lingering near the underside-arc of a breast. Testing his lips there, Gaara set his eyes on her face to watch Sakura's reaction, and found her expression did not give away nearly as much as her grip did.

She had gotten a handle on his head, hands fisting in his hair, on the precipice of accidentally crushing him with legendary strength. Gingerly, Gaara reached up to guide her by the wrists, settling her hands elsewhere for his own safety.

Her apology was a breathy mutter, "Sorry…do you still have…all your brain matter?"

"For now." He resumed exploring the moon-pale curve beneath his mouth.

"That feels…good." She was gulping air and shuddering.

He moved lower, "And here?" His mouth traced down her stomach, lovely and ticklish. Not so gently, Sakura pulled him back up by his chin and replaced him at her chest. Gaara kissed and licked and prodded as his curiosity warranted, and also however Sakura guided him, as a few times she forgot her own strength when she squeezed his hands, shoulders, or back. He deliberately made sounds of pain to remind her that yes, she could break a bone and then some.

While her fingertips torched the skin of his flanks, the sensation so good that it couldn't be real, Gaara slid his hands under her back and requested, "Arch for a moment."

She bent and provided space enough for him to deftly remove her white shorts, noting not an ounce of reticence from Sakura. Perhaps it made more sense that she was wearing underwear, plain beige and unadorned. She was humming and growling when he shimmied back to kiss newly exposed thighs. Happily, Sakura allowed the distance and traced patterns in his hair until a lucid thought hit her.

She raised her head up, "Ah, uh…just confirming that we…" She recalled the need to oxygenate and inhaled, "Whew. We're doing this right? You won't be coy about sex?"

He blinked up at her. At some point her panties had been slipped down and free of her ankles, bunched in the man's hand as if he had been reveling in the accomplishment. She flushed with mild embarrassment when Gaara stated, "There is no stopping unless you say so."

"What about you? What if you say-?"

"I won't." Gaara assured her simply, inspecting a small triangle of pink hair between her legs. He touched with enticed curiosity, descending, his ears perking up at her mewl when he met wet flesh. There was nothing about this that could even remotely convince him to stop, Gaara determined. She was a divine creature and she wanted him and all that he was…

Sakura flailed her arm out as if she expected something to be within reach. With a confused mumble, she patted around her discarded clothing at the edge of the bed. Then she stilled. Out of respect for the whirling-in-thought woman Gaara did not proceed, and watched as she worked out a potential problem.

"Did you…" Her voice had to pass through frowning lips, almost in a hiss, "Did you see my purse? Maybe in the living area?"

"I don't think I did." Gaara admitted. He pressed a helpful kiss to her inner thigh, holding her legs dutifully.

"What about near the Hot Springs…? I must have brought—" She gritted her teeth in realization, "The festival."

"The one we left." He agreed unhelpfully.

"I think I left my bag there."

"In all likelihood that is the case."

Her palm slapped against her forehead, perturbed, "As I was saying before, I had all of this planned..."

In the midst of glaring at the ceiling Sakura missed the pleased look on Gaara's face.

"I had condoms. That's a responsible precaution, right? Up until I, you know…don't bring them along for this."

"I can send a Shadow Cl—"

"Don't." Sakura replaced her hands in his hair, where his head rested on her stomach, "No one would question it if they saw you…but it's late…and I guarantee that Ino picked up my bag for safe keeping."

"Are you sure she did?"

"Yup. I am. Even drunk, I'm confident that girl would never neglect an accessory. Also, she knows."

"Ah."

"They'll be home by now. Shikamaru isn't the out-all-night type and neither is Chouji."

"Unfortunate." Gaara echoed her sentiment. There was always the option of a late-night convenience store run, but the two seemed to wordlessly agree that their collective ego would not withstand such an ordeal, let alone be up for intercourse after scrambling uptown for contraception.

'And this was all on me. I shouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave…and then all of this, and Gaara was willing and ready!' She wanted to scream. Sakura took a moment to plug her mouth with a fist to muffle all expletives.

Her error felt like a modern proverb. An eternally bright kunoichi who would capsize her ship of wisdom on a night so pivotal…

Sakura snuck a look down at Gaara, his arms lassoed around her midsection, using her stomach as a pillow. 'Maybe we could still…erg…jeez. I can't keep pushing everything tonight!

She felt his stray, consoling touches breezing down her back, 'For him I would push it, though. I must be nuts. It's just…I am one of a generation who's been indoctrinated with caution…and right here, right now, consequence doesn't mean diddly-shit to me.'

She glimpsed down again. 'Hm…but give it nine months and consequence might be born with red hair, Stupid.' Sakura thought to herself, 'That's how all of this works. If I could afford being an idiot, then Shishou never would have given me the time of day…'

Responsibility is a nag. It is the thunder crash warning of their youth, the inconvenient distance between their doorsteps, it is her will as a kunoichi: in the rosy dawn of her career that she would sooner do battle, innovate healing, and gain rank than spoil her efforts and training with an impromptu family; and the Kazekage: an avatar of the interests of Suna, expected to be unattached and conscientious, certainly not the type to ever risk parenthood while he must manage— while he must devotedly juggle interests, alliances, hazards, and the judgement that elders and officials pass on him daily…to not let these balls drop if his life were to take a reckless turn.

Sakura resolved quite simply, "We won't…be doing that."

Swiveling his head, Gaara looked up at her, "This is precisely why you say stop."

"It is?"

"I wasn't even thinking of being cautious."

"It's easy not to think about it. I find that scary."

Gaara freed his arms and climbed over her, their faces level again, and then he dropped beside Sakura. "I am not disappointed." Gaara announced before pulling her close, "I have too much to be grateful for."

"I know, but the cherry on top wouldn't have hurt."

He gave a slight shrug, kissing up her nose and over her eyelids. Their hands slowly, tortuously resumed explorations of each other. In little time at all, Sakura was a coiled spring again, quivering, twisting at voracious touches; breasts well-studied and admired, nipples raised into peaks. His canny hand was on a downhill coast, and the muscles in her belly rolled inward in anticipation of the feeling, baited breath hitching as his fingers teased between her legs. It elicited sounds from her that would absolutely bother neighbors in the building. She pressed her forehead to Gaara's, her eye contact shameless, her mouth gasping, conveying the sensation however feebly she could.

Her reactions were forceful and Gaara held onto her with a free arm before she could thrash her way up the wall. Instead she wound against him, vine-like; stirring intense, lightning-rod pleasure in him when she pressed her stomach to the erection straining in his boxers.

Even in daydreams he had not gone so far; never envisioned Sakura so bold and vulnerable, pale and pink, never imagined her lips so close to his ear, making the sounds that she was. No, not even in the farthest-flung fantasy he'd had behind closed eyes at his desk in post-work hours…his thoughts had never come close to what Sakura was doing now. What she had asked him to do…

What a strange new reality this was, Gaara thought. He held a long kiss that muffled a whine she made, grinding into his front, her hand a powerful, inescapable cuff around his wrist that held his hand just where she needed it. Though not very learned in such things, Gaara estimated that her arousal was about as urgent as it could get. Where their bodies pressed together a slick spot was left on his upper thigh, his hand damp as she shuddered and twitched around his fingers. If it weren't out of the question, there was no doubt in his mind that he could slide into her with no resistance. The thought alone nearly undid him.

His breath came in a rasp, lightheaded from the friction of her stomach against his length, both desperate for any means to relieve the pressure, the mounting sensitivity— "Gaara." It was nearly impossible to resist, not while hearing his name softly groaned, aware that his limit was burning a short-fuse to begin with. Desire dripped with each of her words, "There, like that." Sakura arranged his hand, reacting with a toss of her head, her hips weakly bucking at his touches.

Within a short passing of time, several things happened. Her back bowed, eyes fluttering shut with a low cry, scraping painted nails up his arm in an attempt to hold onto something. The hot, damp walls around his fingertips contracted, Sakura writhing, fixing her mouth to any bit of his skin she could reach— chest, neck, jaw. The feeling he had restrained mounted absurd new heights at the sight of Sakura cresting the peak, flushed from her cheeks to her chest. He was caught up in the craze, the sounds of her, the scent of her pleasure, the red scratches she etched into him, the friction of her stomach sliding against the most brutal erection of his young life.

Gaara held a thought for a millisecond: to perhaps apologize for how roughly he had clutched at her bottom. It felt like maybe he had sprouted claws from his fingertips; a narrow, subconscious prickling from Shukaku, but he couldn't tell. Maybe he had hurt her. Maybe not. It likely didn't register; she was winding down and sleek with sweat, nuzzling him. Sakura smiled against his lips before she planted a loitering, sinister kiss, barely tracing him with a feather-light touch at the 'v' of his stomach; Gaara came fast and hard, head tipped back and mouth parted, definitely eliciting a yelp of pain when he clawed her ass.

He relaxed, boneless, and slurred an apology as he pried his nails out of her skin. Sakura sniffed at him, unamused, "That's going to leave a mark."

Gaara rolled flat on his back and noticed, with what little brain power he could muster, the mess he had made of his undershorts. Well. It was mostly her doing. He had some strength left to pull his clothing off, very casual before Sakura's wide eyes as he wiped his stomach, and tossed it, missing the hamper on the other side of the room. Nope. No hand-eye coordination to speak of.

Unashamed, he laid there as his eyes struggled to remain open, feeling the last of Sakura's moisture drying from his hand and legs. He turned his head toward her, realizing that she was ogling his fully naked form. Gaara watched her unflinchingly, quite satisfied with the new plateau of intimacy.

"I wasn't sure before, with you being so smooth all over…" She noted, reaching to stroke dark oxblood hair that stretched down below his navel, "I see you have a treasure trail."

"That's about all I have."

"You're a natural red."

"And you: pink."

"Just as I suspected." Sakura nodded, tired but victorious.

"Was it good?" He brushed a knuckle gently along her cheek, "Was it enough?"

"It was. I'm sorry it couldn't have been more. We probably would have liked it."

Gaara shook his head, "At the very least you're prepared for the next encounter."

Sakura smiled and then bit the corner of her pillow, thrilled that he had been fully converted to her miscreant ways. Nonchalantly, she went about a superficial healing of her bottom and he apologized again.

"In case you haven't noticed I got you pretty good too." As she concluded a hasty repair of her now-porcelain-again ass, Sakura brushed a healing palm up his arm, "Sorry! I couldn't think straight. Thought I was going to fly off and crash into the ceiling…"

"Entirely possible."

"So…was that…?" She frowned curiously and pointed out, "Those weren't your normal nails."

"Sakura, I didn't mean for that to happen. Shukaku meant to leave me alone, but some things might slip through."

"It seemed pretty minor." She shrugged, "I would have even forgiven a tail."

"No." He deadpanned.

"Relax, I'm kidding." Sakura burrowed beneath the ransacked comforter and assisted Gaara in the pilgrimage as well, "Well, I don't care what happens. You won't hurt me, Gaara. And you can't make it awkward since I am now fully informed." She reached to snap the bedside lamp off.

Sakura did not resist when he greedily pulled her into his arms, wrapping her securely. Gaara felt her tiredly drape a leg over his, settling her head on his shoulder. Her right hand drew the symbol of the Leaf Village over his bare stomach. On a sympathetic reflex, he yawned just after Sakura did.

"Your tummy is sticky." She stated out loud as she realized it. When she reflected on her words Sakura sucked her lips shut in embarrassment.

"So are my hands and legs." He was totally unruffled.

"Oh. You know, when I imagined this, I pictured it to be less messy."

"When I imagined it, nothing I thought of was nearly as good as this was. Sakura, you are…" Gaara sighed and caressed up her sides, elevating up to her arms and down again, "I never intended to pressure you into anything while I stay in Leaf."

"There is no you pressuring me. I would have liked it if you suggested it, though. You know, dropped some hints for me…"

"I was afraid to."

"Well you shouldn't be now, Gaara." Her cloud-nine smile pressed to his chest, "I'm always going to love you. No matter what you tell me, or what you do, I want to love you."

His hand drifted up to the side of her face to cup her cheek, and Gaara let the words hang in the air while he shut his eyes and replayed them in his head for a long while. Sakura just kept drawing shapes on him, utterly content.

It was a simple fact to him now. She couldn't be afraid of him. A basic premise of fear was that humans were prone to fearing and fleeing the things they did not understand,'And Sakura…understands so much.' Someone so highly educated, who so enthusiastically embraced the origins of chakra, ninja, and other tales, and who never personally witnessed destruction that Biju or Jinchuriki could unleash, 'She was never predisposed to be afraid of me. Not even when I first met her, she never reacted with fear.'

The miracle walloped him over the head. He felt dizzy and weightless. It was a rare thing that the girl he had been curious about since arriving in Konoha, later being frustratedly attracted to as a friend, thereafter loving her and all her imperfections and mistakes, then lusting for her while hundreds of miles divided them…she loved him back and he knew she meant it. But it felt so feeble to reply in kind, to try to articulate the insane, intangible gravity that pulled him to her, that feeling that made him wise and stupid all at once, the single great, positive motivation that whispered to him even from his darkest corners.

As she began to doze off he roused her with soft touches along her face, watching her brow crinkle in response. Sakura batted her lips and rolled her eyes up towards him, giving him her attention.

"Why did you notice someone like me?" He wondered, "When I was a stranger and homeless, running with a pack of orphans?"

"What kind of question is that?" She poked his stomach in annoyance, "You…noticed me first, I guess. You were always staring, but you never taunted me or rejected me. That was my routine, back then: get publicly humiliated at the Academy every day. You broke the routine."

"I didn't stare."

"You're a stare-er. From way back."

"I loved you before I even understood it." Gaara's hold grew a touch tighter around her, "I was helpless to express it. I had no means. No one had taught me anything beyond violence and suspicion."

"Naruto and Haku definitely helped with that." She hummed.

"They at least molded me into an acceptable person, but only by my own effort could I become worthy. In retrospect…it was a very poor showing and I condescended far too much to just about everyone."

She gave a small shrug, "It's what you do. Being in charge of a village has helped you grow into it. Besides, I looked up to you a lot, growing up."

"I was thick-headed."

Sakura raised her hand above him, motioning for a handshake, which he fuddedly obliged. "Hi pot, I'm kettle. Childhood was a scream, wasn't it?" She shook with him and then pealed with teary-eyed laughter while she regarded his face. No one was perfect, least of all them. 'Ugh…and…I'm exhausted.' She thought in surprise, yawning again, 'I know it wasn't too much, but I really want to sleep…' Sakura moved to nestle in closer to the junction of his neck and shoulder, but Gaara used two hands to reposition her and kissed her slow and deep.

"I love you." He said softly against her mouth, "Are we going to do this again?"

Her sleepy eyes widened a fraction, "Oh, uh, you mean like right now?"

By the sound of it that wasn't what he'd meant, "If you want to."

"I honestly do not have the energy at the moment." Sakura raised her eyebrows suggestively, "But tomorrow morning you're free, right?"

"I am."

"I have a team fashion meeting tomorrow at one, but that's about it."

Gaara accepted the answer and then drew her close, felt Sakura wriggle and adjust until she was comfortable, and after their nerves and excitement trickled into steady, drumming heartbeats they found sleep.

---

Morning came and poured a pitcher of liquid sunlight down through every window in Konoha. The rays squeaked through a crack between the drawn black-out drapes in Hatake Sato's apartment, shining a diagonal line over his bare chest, over his heart.

He jerked from sleep when he was smacked on the shoulder.

A nasal voice complained, "I'm gonna be late!"

The drapes were pulled back with a clatter, spilling morning light into the room, and it jarred him into an awakened state. Sato rubbed at his eyes with the back of his arm, muttering swears, and heaved himself into a sitting position.

His waking mind registered, bit-by-bit, as the blanket rolled back how it was the only modesty covering his (equally) naked bottom, prompting him to ponder, 'When did I…get undressed?' Sato braced his hand at the back of his head; it throbbed from a woozy hurricane of a hangover. The bed was in disarray, and at the foot of it was a grimacing, impatient stranger tucking a blouse into a too-short skirt.

"Hell-ooo, earth to Silver Cat, I guess that was a tough night for you. Answer my question already!" The girl snipped, "How do I get to the Memorial Fountain from here? Isn't it like four blocks east and a—"

Sato held his hands up defensively, wincing when his head rang like a church bell, "Who're you? Do I-?"

"I'm your date from last night, dunce."

"I don't date." His voice rose in pitch, incredulous.

"No? Well fuck, then this makes you my souvenir from Hidden Leaf." She rolled her eyes, snapping a hair clip into thick, ginger hair, "If you don't remember my name then you don't deserve to be told it." The girl had a Grass Village headband tied around her waist. She bent to pull sandals on that had been strewn near the bedroom door.

Swallowing the uneasy feeling that rattled in his throat, Sato kept one guarded eye on the stranger while he reached for discarded shorts on the floor. He was coming up with shockingly few details of what had occurred shortly before midnight and thereafter; he knew he'd been drinking too much, talking too much, and overdoing damn near everything else after his friends had gone home. Sato was certain he did not recognize the Grass kunoichi, yet he undoubtedly felt her on his skin, which had the sudden urge to crawl off of him.

He pulled on pants before she returned her agitated attention to him, "The Memorial Fountain. Should I say it slower? How…do…I…get…there?"

Sato stood near the window, skittish, confused, "Did we-?"

"Yeah, stupid. I'm not getting any younger here; I have a ticket scalper to meet at the Fountain in twenty minutes." She hissed, "Directions please? Also…how'd your chest get so fucked up? I didn't notice it last night, but when it ain't dark it's…pretty nasty."

Anger bubbled up from beneath his bemusement, "I'm sorry— I don't think I signed up for an evaluation from some drop-out groupie." He rounded the corner of the bed to stand face-to-face with the scowling girl, "My scars are from fighting against the Akatsuki. How about you? Got any battle wounds from whining?"

"You're a goddamn peach." She growled, taking a seat to buckle sandal straps, "Much nicer when you're drunk. Just tell me where the fuck I'm going."

"I don't want to help you. Get out of my flat."

"Hmf." The kunoichi puffed a strand of hair from her face, standing, looking rather disheveled. The clack of her shoes hurt his ears as she crossed the wood floors of the home, down the hall and out into the living area. Sato followed her to ensure no funny business or violence was in store, but the girl stopped at the genkan as she wrenched open the door.

"Know what, Silver Cat?" She smirked over her shoulder at him, "Next time, stick to your caliber of loser. You are the worst lay I have ever had." She clip-clopped her way out and the door slammed behind her.

He stood for a whole minute in silence, the volume of air throughout the home weighing down on him with peculiar force. Sato crossed to the kitchen and quickly filled a glass with water at the tap. He downed all of it before filling a tea kettle and setting it on the stove. 'Hydrate. No coffee today. Makes headaches worse sometimes.' He'd have tea. He never had tea. 'It'll help me think.' When he caught sight of his convex reflection in the kettle he flinched, 'No. Don't think. Don't think.'

He returned to his room and discerned which belongings were out of sorts. The girl had left a small, woven basket with festival trinkets in it. It sat on the desk near the door, likely where they cast things aside before messing around. Sato acted with animal detachment; eyes unseeing as he stripped the bedding to be washed, tossed all items the girl had brought into the garbage. She was never there. He never wanted her to be there and he could make it that way.

But the act was still clinging to his skin. In the shower room he scrubbed himself raw and pink, all of his body from top to bottom. Sato lathered his hair and rinsed several times; worked soap under his nails to be sure nothing was left. He shed the touches and smells. He brushed his teeth twice before looking in the mirror, wondering what the actual fuck he was doing.

Like some prey animal trying to evade a predator, he was trying to disguise it, as if he were rolling in the mud of the wilds to hide himself— hide something.

Sato dried and dressed in shorts again, anticipating a change into the clothing he and his team agreed would get attention at the Exam. The attire that was passed down in his family, the white-and-red mon of the Hatake clan.

Seated in the kitchen again, he steeped chamomile in a mug and held his head, bracing his elbows on the table. The tea came from a canister that Tama had left in the upper-right cabinet, for whenever she felt like having it.

Tama.

He didn't want to think about it, but whenever his stream of consciousness tried to skirt the apparent problem, something in his home, or any lone thought that crossed him was free-associated back to her. Someone so instrumental in his life was bound to stay on his mind.

And it was not sitting well with him that he had been unfaithful to the woman he promised to marry.

He thought it and then he could not unthink it. He could not avoid it. After Sato had doggedly pursued Tama's attention and consent for weeks, playing with her, craving her, seducing her at every opportunity, it had been an easy trade to find a willing floozy after midnight in the park. No, he found, it had not taken the edge off. No, he admitted, it had not been worth the regret and shame. No: it couldn't have happened, he wanted to scream, but he did remember it a little.

It had felt rash, it lit him up, it had been completely satisfying for all of fifty seconds, even if he didn't know the person— actually quite disliked the person by morning. No, it wasn't what he thought it'd be. And yes, if he'd known all of this newly-initiated information several hours ago, he would have held out and begged the person he really loved to consider him or at least dump a bucket of ice water over him. That would have made sense, Sato believed it down to his bones, but he couldn't take back what he'd done.

He sipped the tea anxiously.

There was a chamber in the dim dungeon of his brain within which he resented Tama. It was amazing how she had found so many ways to avoid sex with him. Always a good excuse, well-thought out, and earnest…but she'd tempted him and touched him and had gone with him to the edge of intimacy. There was no question that she wanted it. But Sato could not reconcile her demands of waiting when it was she who had pressed him to be serious about their relationship, back when he'd been ambivalent. It had been her, training him with the demanding, impure kisses of an adult; her friendship and laughter that made him confident, she who knew him better than anyone…that he'd realized it would be a joy to be married to her now that he could see it for the privilege it was and not the burden.

Their two esteemed families wished to unite. It was something both of their uncles were proud of, and a testament to their indomitable friendship.

As honor was an especially precious thing to her kindred, there was no doubt that any knowledge of this transgression would permanently damage both his and Kakashi's relationship with the Maito family. Sato took a gulp of tea and set the mug down, 'I fucked up. I…I don't know if anyone witnessed me…well. Sai was around, I think. I can ask him what he remembers, but he probably wouldn't talk about it even if he had a clue…' No one could know, 'Everyone else hardly knew me or noticed me…at least I think so. It seems safe to say this won't get out…'

It had to go beyond denial. He had to live and think and breathe as though it had never occurred. Destroy evidence, confirm the lack of witnesses, and then move on. No dishonor. No discord. Stick to the plan their uncles had set forth: as he now realized it was a very, very good plan.

Sato sipped the tea, gradually acknowledging that while he intended to save face, he wanted to consider Tama's feelings above all else.

He could not beg for forgiveness in a fit of guilt, desperate to clear his conscience— could not ask her to absolve him of the misdeed. This was the person who had stood by him all of his life, and had vowed to stay by his side until her death. There was no space for penance or her acknowledgment. Tama had been raised by Maito Ken and looked up to Maito Gai, neither of whom accepted betrayal lightly. Sato didn't have to ruminate on it long to know that Tama would not forgive him; that she had not the means to forgive him after caring for him and supporting him in the wake of his mother's death. None of the adults had looked out for him in those years: it had been her putting food in his mouth, clothes on his back, contributing money to heat and light his home: from eleven years old and onward.

This was not how he repaid her.

'I will live with the guilt. I'll hold my tongue.' He decided, sliding his chair back, 'I don't want to hurt her that way. I love Tama and she deserves someone better than a screw-up like me, so might as well BE that guy. Be the better guy. I could never do something like this again, and if I put it behind me…if she doesn't know…I won't make her unhappy. I know I can make her happy.'

He set an empty tea cup in the sink, inhaling deeply through his nose.

It was an odd exercise trying to commence the day as he would have normally. He'd been too nervous to eat. He stuffed the linens, sheets, and blanket roughly into the washing machine, the setting cranked to hot water. He cracked the living room window to wait for Aree and Aroo to report the whereabouts of his friends to him. He mussed his silver hair into place in the bathroom mirror. Sato mused at his reflection again, making a concerted effort not to hate it— not the dark blue eyes his father had given him, or the delicate silver coloring his mother had passed down. The shape of his face was like those of the men before him, 'Like my uncle and grandpa.' Sato jerked back from the sink, startled by the resemblance. The two famous screw-ups before him, and he was starting to resemble them in more ways than one.

He padded down the hallway; shoulders slumped, and then pulled the vintage clothing from hangers in the closet. Maybe the new attire would separate him from the person he'd been last night. Maybe he could be new.

'If I can look it…maybe I can act it.' Sato hoped, slipping on a black shrug of full-length sleeves, the hybrid cuffs looped around the middle finger of each hand, and then knotted the shrug tight across his chest. 'Gee. It's old school. Not actually new…but from Grandpa's days…' He tugged on a white and red gi-tunic and fastened it closed, 'I never got to know Grandpa. Kakashi has a hard time talking about him…but Mom used to say he was super polite and really nice.' The black pants were slim and tucked snugly into knee-boots. Supply and tool pouches hooked to the belt at his lower back, and he clipped his short swords at his sides, starting to frown with worry.

'I'm not a new person because of what I'm wearing. It's because of what I did. I feel…' Sato shut his eyes and could see flashes his actions. They choked him with disgust, sorrow, and loneliness. He was adrift, completely alone with the knowledge and guilt, and if no one else ever knew about it, it really was going to be an indefinite tango with self-reproach that he danced until his last breath.

His eyes scanned over the shoulder seams of the tunic where Hinata had taken in the fabric, remembering it had once belonged to a broader, older man. Sato worked up the courage to examine himself in the full-length mirror of the room one last time. Grandpa Sakumo blinked back at him for a moment, glinting in the sunlight, and it felt good. It felt like home. It felt familiar. Then the cloying, warm emotion flushed away and something else replaced it.

Abject humiliation coursed through him. 'That's not you. That's a fake. A pretender! You always want to point out and make fun of the flaws of others, and now you're cowering in the corner! Hatake Sato: lighthearted fun and jokes, easy to talk to, great dancer, amateur photographer, aspiring Jounin, and a true friend: when you overlook what a filthy fucking cheater he is!'

He blinked a tear from his eye and glowered at himself. 'You don't deserve to feel sad or scared. You have to own your mistakes. You have to hoard them like an ogre and conceal them from those they can hurt. Maybe that's what your 'Ninja Way' is. Coward.'

Aree had soared into the room from the hallway and perched on his shoulder. Sato cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes, asking, "Where's…eh-hem…your brother?"

The screech owl tooted and he walked with her aboard towards the living area.

"Ah. A squirrel outside? I hope you had breakfast too." He sniffled, trying to dry himself up, "Hm? Nothing's the matter, girl. Did my team gather at our field yet?"

A soft brrrummtooo.

"Right. I'm off to meet them." Sato motioned the small bird off of his arm and out the window, "Go eat. The both of you meet me later."

She flew off. He shut and latched the window, exited the home, and locked the door behind him, hoping no one else unexpected would ever set foot there again.

---

Hinata clapped excitedly when she saw him.

She exchanged a wide grin with their Sensei, Kurenai resting her hands on her hips, and then tittered as Sato came to a stop beside Shino in their huddle. The cacophony of birdsong was almost distracting, blaring from the massive flock flitting around the maples of their training area. Shino kept his insects safely tucked away.

"How perfectly it suits you." Kurenai smiled at him, "I'm feeling a little nostalgic, Sato. I remember being a little girl and listening to stories about Konoha's White Fang."

"Yeah?" His reply was weak, not genuinely enthusiastic, "Thanks, Sensei. Those shoes are too big for me to fill."

"Ah, but the clothes are not."

"Guess not…"

Shino had turned his head and was considering him, pinning him with a hard, wondering look. Sato swallowed, took a breath, and began somewhat believable conversation with Hinata, complimenting her updated attire.

"Father wanted our clan's mon all over it…" She sighed with mild embarrassment, spinning around. The Hyuga clan's crest was embroidered on the breast of the short yukata, on both sleeves at the shoulder, and sewn in a huge insignia on the back above her obi. The garment was functional but opulent, white blending into lavender, thistle, and amethyst; her long shorts were tight and dyed a deep violet. She had kept her standard black sandals, her supply pouches and weapon holsters in their usual stations.

"Absolutely rad." Sato assured her, "Does he want you to tie your hair up? Just in case someone misses an emblem?"

"I think Father mentioned that. He's really looking forward to Neji-niisan and I competing in the Tournament." She pressed her fingers over her mouth to stop herself, as if her cousin were a taboo subject.

"It's alright, Sunshine. You can talk about Neji." Sato shrunk a bit as he spoke, "He'll probably whoop me 'good."

"That's not what you were saying yesterday." Shino pointed out.

"I was hyped yesterday. Now I'm…" Sato looked between his Sensei and teammates, grasping for the word, "I'm tuckered out."

"Did you enjoy yourself at the Festival last night?" Kurenai smiled knowingly, "The Hokage was telling me about it this morning. She spoke of its highlights and low points."

Hinata stayed quiet but recalled Neji looking haggard when he returned home the night previous, sopping wet and bedraggled. 'I know that he brought Tenten-oneesan and Lee-kun home…but what happened to him?' She had not seen him at breakfast a few hours ago, and inferred that he was still scrunched in a ball in bed, recovering.

"Yeah, it was a nice way to unwind from training. Tama and I danced pretty much the whole time." His tongue burned when he spoke her name.

Kurenai was pleased, "I heard. Tsunade-sama adored the performance."

Shino was still looking at him.

"I hope Lee-kun is alright…" Hinata fidgeted with her sleeves, "He seemed so sick and confused."

Kurenai asked to be filled in and got a laugh out of it. She assured the girl that no lasting damage could befall Lee. Sato had turned his attention to his best friend, doing a double-take as he examined Shino's transformative change.

Overcoats and bulky clothing were preferred by members of the Aburame clan, this Sato knew. But his friend had been shucked out of his typical coat, and Sato observed him for the first time: dressed in a form-fitting jumpsuit of heavy combat material. He too had put on knee-high boots.

"Oh. Oh. Hold on." Sato prodded at the material along Shino's arms, reasserting a bit of his usual temperament, "I think Hinata put more work into your fitting, man, wow."

Shino said nothing as Sato fiddled with the hood attached to the suit, pulling it up and down, ruffling Shino's hair. "Sturdy." Sato noted. It came as no surprise to him that Shino would feel more comfortable with something covering his head, like usual. The ensemble made him look taller and formidable; outlined in black from shoulder to ankle, deep hunter green contrasting in hexagon patterns at the torso and hips. His updated sunglasses were modern, visor-like, gleaming and just purchased. Sato unclasped them at the back and pulled the glasses from his friend's head to try them on.

"Damn, Shino! What're these?" He gasped, "Dude, are these polarized?" His head swung around to stare at the horizon as the sun crept up above the trees. Zero glare.

"They are." Shino said flatly.

Kurenai and Hinata were staring at his face while Sato (off to the side) gawked at surroundings in his distinctive Sato-way, and Shino looked back at them questioningly.

"My, my…you have grown up." Kurenai chuckled and cupped her chin, "Shino. You may benefit from not concealing your face in the Final Rounds."

"Would you consider it?" Hinata squeaked, "Your eyes are beautiful."

His cheeks pinkened.

Sato removed the sunglasses and weighed in on the matter, "You really are a stud, Shino. I say you wear these on your way into the stadium and then take 'em off…slay some ladies in the audience when they least expect it." He grinned, Kurenai and Hinata chirping in agreement. "We could get double the points from just you doing that!"

"I doubt the compensation would be so steep."

"No. For real." Sato insisted, "Just try it."

Shino took a steadying breath and replaced his glasses when Sato handed them back. To be fair, Kurenai assured her students that they were all highly attractive and sure to instigate competitive betting. She'd expected no less of them, puffing her chest proudly as she tried to digest how grown-up they looked.

Kurenai took up most of the morning going over theoretical outcomes with them. The "if/then" scenarios of how duels could play out determined the possibilities of who they would face later as opponents. There was a concerning likelihood that, if Hinata proceeded to the second round, that she could potentially face Sato, Neji, or Lee as potential opponents. She whimpered at the idea. Kurenai added that Shino could advance to the second round to face Tama or Huo, and beyond that point, any of the victorious Leaf kunoichi or perhaps the Grass ninja, Aota.

"Don't sweat it, Sunshine. I'll do my damnedest to make sure you don't have a grudge match against your cousin." Sato patted her shoulder.

"I know you will, Sato-kun. But no matter what these matches will be very challenging."

"I am confident my team will go far. I am also confident I will see one of you as the Champion." Kurenai boasted, "I will be putting money on all of you."

Shino gently reminded her that the odds of winning were irrespective of favoritism, but Kurenai tsk, tsk'd him. She had a shrewd gambling instinct and an itching left palm.

After some lengthy discussion and minor strategizing, Kurenai asked to see demonstrations of jutsu she had been monitoring and critiquing for the last few weeks. They took turns displaying Ninjutsu and the like, and by noon she had invited her students to join her for lunch at her favorite izakaya.

While walking through town, Sato and Shino followed a few paces behind Kurenai and Hinata, who was soliciting a fervent pep-talk from her Sensei as nerves started to get to her. Sato was listening in until he felt Shino poke his side with an elbow.

His tone was soft and attentive, "What happened?"

"Huh?"

"What happened to you?" Shino clarified.

"Er…nothing…?" Sato was smack-dab between unsure and evasive.

"I thought it would have been in your best interest if I escorted you home last night. You were…highly intoxicated." A disapproving sniff, "But Sai-san was with you. My father was expecting me home and I returned…but I know I shouldn't have."

"What are you talking-?"

"You needed help. You were among strangers." Shino said simply, "And I left you when I shouldn't have."

"N-No, it's not like that! I'm fine, Shino, really." He tapped his chest with both hands, "See? All in one piece."

After a beat, a wise retort, "Not on the inside."

Sato settled a distressed, side-eye glance on his friend but admitted to nothing.

"What happened to you?" Shino asked again.

They traveled a block in silence, lagging behind the other half of the team.

"It's stupid." Sato dropped his voice, "I'll get over it."

"Your demeanor suggests exactly the opposite."

"Yeah, well, I can't be happy all the time—"

"That's who you are. You are carefree. In the Academy, I watched you. I saw you on the day your mother died, and you returned to class the same afternoon with a counselor. You were different. This is like then."

"No…it's n-not—" His voice faltered into a warble.

"I take responsibility for your pain." Shino spoke with surety.

"Don't." Abruptly, Sato latched onto the arm of Shino's uniform, holding tight, "Only I can do that. I fucked up. You can't be blamed for going home, Shino. That's what smart people do."

Shino regarded him with a head-tilt, pausing to think, and then said, "Tell me what happened."

"N-Not here."

"Not here. The conservatory will not be busy in the afternoon. We'll go there."

"I don't…really want you to know." Sato coughed softly, trying to clear a thickening throat, "I don't think I can handle…anyone's judgement. Least of all yours…"

"If I had wanted to condemn you for acting foolishly, I would have done that long ago." Shino assured him.

"It's bad." Sato insisted.

They stopped outside of the entryway of the pub, hearing Kurenai's call for them to hurry and be seated so they could order.

Shino peered at him over his glasses, "There is nothing my friend can do…that would inspire me to forsake him." He pushed aside the door's noren, "You are far too precious."

---

An hour later, a few miles northwest of Kurenai's favorite pub, Lee arrived at the Hyuga compound.

He had spent most of the walk recalling, in surprising detail, what bizarre feelings had overcome him before the end of the festival. It was a bit blurry when Lee tried to remember how Neji and Tenten had gotten him home, but he did remember his grandfather caring for him and sending him to bed.

Lee rubbed his chin, "Hm. I remember…screeching. As if Tenten and Neji…had been shouting in my house…" That did not make much sense to him. Surely he had dreamed it.

At the corner veranda of the Main House, Lee spotted Fujita sipping tea and eating cherries from a breakfast tray. He greeted his young friend and Fujita waved to him with a mouthful of fruit.

"Fujita-kun! Are you feeling better?"

"Good morning, Lee-kun! Almost completely better." He smiled childishly, "It helped a lot that Mother allowed me to eat my favorite things for four weeks."

He gestured for Lee to help himself to a cherry. They munched and spat seeds into a refuse bowl.

"Ah. Thank you…do you know if Neji is here? I know we had one last appointment with Kayato-sama."

Fujita inclined his head, glancing back at the house, "You know…he wasn't up at the normal time today. Hinata-sama was long gone before I saw Neji-sama appear." With a quick scan of his Byakugan, Fujita reported, "Ah. He is washing his face. He seems…lethargic today."

At Fujita's suggestion Lee walked 'round the house to the correct side and took a seat on the engawa to wait outside of Neji's room. In the same second Lee thought of Tenten arriving on time, she trudged around the bend.

"Good morning Tenten-!"

"Shhh." She held up her hands and squinted, "Go easy on me, Lee. Try to speak softly."

In a whisper, "Whatever is the matter?"

She plopped down beside him on the porch.

"You don't remember? Neji and I…well…we were drinking last night. I can't believe we got you home safely."

Lee half-bowed to her, "Thank you so much for looking after me."

"Please don't thank us. We're part of the reason you suffered." Tenten mumbled and then smiled, "We'll do better next time, Lee. We have your back."

"You already do."

"Well yes, but next time we won't be drunk." She resolved, rubbing her temples. Drowsily, Tenten keened over and rested her head on her friend's shoulder, "Ugh…what were we thinking?"

Lee was smiling, "You were both having fun."

"It was fun. I even liked some of those silly dances. Maybe next time I'll get Neji to join in."

"It will take coaxing."

"That's what I do. I coax him."

Lee made a sound of utter skepticism. He could hardly imagine his committed, square-of-a-friend participating in a dance.

"Oh god, just look at my face!" Tenten rumbled, lifting her head up and gesturing to the bags under her eyes, "See these dark circles? I've never had 'em before. I don't know how to get rid of them."

"Sleep!"

"I did that."

"Water?"

"I don't know! I have no practical experience with vanity and women's tricks to preserve it."

"Then perhaps you should ask Yugao-san? You mentioned that she was going to assist with grooming our team, no?"

"Uh." Tenten sat upright again, "You're right. She can probably fix this."

"By tomorrow you'll be—" Lee trailed off as they watched Neji shuffle out of a porch door and slide it quietly shut behind him. He stood before them in his sleep clothes.

They stared until Tenten chose to greet her boyfriend, "You look swollen."

"I fell down a fire escape." He defended.

Lee gasped.

"Relax. It was just one ladder." Tenten filled Lee in, "Neji, you look to be badly in need of some hangover remedies."

"My uncle said that as well."

Tenten and Lee inhaled sharply in fright.

"It was a mild scolding." Neji assured them.

"Good morning, by the way." Tenten remembered her manners.

"And to you, good morning, I suppose." He groggily cupped his face and tried to massage the pain away.

"As soon as we complete the fittings we should return to my house. Grandpa already has meals prepared for you both." Lee smiled slightly, "He wanted to thank you for your help last night."

Tenten was aghast, "Really? What did he make?"

"Pu'er tea, ginger pancakes, and more congee. How curious that he made so much! It is as if Grandpa expected this would happen."

"It wasn't really a wild guess." Tenten figured.

They followed Neji (still in his pajamas) through his bedroom to traverse the hallways of the house. Tenten had let her eyes linger on her boyfriend's tousled bed, picturing herself there reclining like a queen, and then treaded after her teammates in silence, a tad hot and bothered. 'No. Stick to the task at hand! Don't start imagining that stuff!' Her eyebrows knitted in a frown, 'It's bad enough I wasted an hour masturbating last night when I should have been sleeping. I need to cool off.'

At the end of the central corridor, Kayato had prepared two rooms to allow the teens to try on their outfits. She stayed with Tenten to assist with shrugging and tying the young woman into her clothing, and the boys changed in the adjacent room.

"How are the sleeves? Better, I hope! I know they nearly cut off your circulation last time." The woman was chuckling, "You put on some muscle, dear. It threw off my measurements!"

"Perfectly comfortable, now. The wrists were a bit long and constricting, and I need space to wear my spinners." Tenten explained.

"Yes, Neji-sama told me." Kayato heaved and squeezed the half-rigid obi into place.

It was a Hanfu dress of candy red with form-fitting sleeves, the collar was relaxed like a fighting gi, and the garment was held closed by a flexible, tight obi of bright white and gold. The belt was adorned with a crimson obijime, knotted in a bow at the front, long tassels loose and free. At her back, the obi had been crafted with space for tool scrolls and holsters which Tenten was eager to fill. She pulled on slim, white capri pants beneath the dress, for some modesty where the dress ended mid-thigh. Embroidered in threads of gold, sandstone, ivory, and indigo, a dragon wound up the hip of her dress, across her chest, coiled above her heart.

"This could be…my proudest work for a kunoichi." Kayato sighed, patting Tenten around the belt's edges, relaxing the fabric where it bunched. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is! My mother never had anything like this…and she wore some glitzy stuff on missions." Tenten was grinning uncontrollably even before she stepped in front of the wall mirror, "Kayato-san, will you forgive me if I stick to reasonable footwear?"

"I ordered the red sandals special in your size." The woman's face dropped.

"They pinched." Tenten pursed her lips, apologetic.

"That's because they're new! Wear them around today and break them in." The woman patted Tenten on her shoulders, "It'd be a shame to ruin this ensemble!"

"Okay. I just thought I'd ask."

"I heard you'll have your hair done in the morning?"

"Everyone is getting their hair done in the morning. And Yugao may need to apply makeup too…" Tenten supposed, gesturing to her face, "Um…can you tell me how to get rid of dark under-eye circles?"

"Oh darling, I'll write you a list of my remedies. Raw potato, cucumber, almond oil…"

"I don't think I own any of that."

"Then it's time to buy some."

The adjoining door slid aside and Neji stuck his less-puffy face through. Kayato turned and bit her tongue gleefully as the heir of the Hyuga clan blinked in astonishment at the beautiful girl she had dressed.

Tenten grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him mischievously, "I'm a dragon."

He took a moment to regain speech, "I see. That."

"Are you two all set?" Tenten asked.

Neji opened the door fully so that Tenten and his esteemed aunt could see for themselves.

Hanfu had also inspired his attire in a design similar to Tenten's, the top stark white with black trimming and clasps, loose sleeves, and belted by sashes in three vivid shades of blue. A red-crowned crane was depicted in a silhouette on the right shoulder. His pants were black, tied and tucked into fleet-footed Han boots. Tenten made several faces at him, ranging from aesthetic approval to untamed attraction.

"Just as I envisioned." Kayato nodded and motioned for Neji to step in, "Let me see how the back fits, Neji-sama. I wasn't pleased with it last week." She prodded around obliviously while Neji and Tenten had a few discreet seconds of eye intercourse.

"You both look amazing!" Lee declared as he rushed in to join them, drawing his friends' gazes immediately.

Lee was a movie star.

He was precisely fit in a canary-hued jumpsuit a la 'Game of Death,' as Kayato had made good on her wild claim of designing for film actors. Black bars dripped down the flanks and arms of the jumpsuit; bold contrast that drew attention to Lee's height and lean figure. A dark belt was secured around his hips, saddled with weapon holsters, and there had been no need for him to change his footwear. Lee looked positively modern beside Neji and Tenten's ancient martial arts costumes. The friends gawked at each other.

"This assures me that I have done my job well." Kayato beamed and tittered with laughter behind her hand, proud and ladylike, "I quite enjoyed this! You're all fitted now. Please remember that I'm sending my photographer to find you three in the morning. This work is going in my portfolio."

They agreed stupidly and profusely before Kayato ushered them along: she was expecting a string of appointments.

Across town, a short time later, Wong Leung nearly went into cardiac arrest at the sight of them.

Remarkable. He muttered to Lee, fussing at Neji and Tenten as they entered the house, I have never seen clothing here in the Fire Country that looked so much like the styles of my homeland! Although, Lee…I am unsure what you are wearing.

Lee explained, Miss Kayato said she designed this costume for a movie star.

Is that so? Such work was not done cheaply. Wong motioned for the youngsters to take seats at the table and help themselves to a spread of food.

Neji was kind enough to pay for us. We thanked him for his generosity. As Lee explained, he smiled unthinkingly at his friend, and Neji could only scrunch his face in the usual I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about expression he used for most Hanwen conversations.

Tenten smiled and chuckled to herself knowingly.

Good. He's obviously rich. Wong Leung snorted, He should be taking care of you and Tian-Tian.

Neji's ears perked up. Tenten's name in a foreign tongue was still recognizable.

Wong Leung's rude remark was met with admonishing expressions from both Lee and Tenten, but the grandfather frowned back at them as he stood by his opinion. They tucked into their food and tea while the old man stood by with his arms folded behind his back.

He asked curiously, None of you are competing against one another in the Tournament?

Not in the first round. Tenten assured him, But maybe we will in subsequent duels.

Hmm. Wong Leung puttered around the kitchen as he considered it.

Grandpa, would you be interested in spectating the conclusion of the Chunin Exam tomorrow? Lee wondered, growing excited, You could see the fruits of our hard work!

Normally, the quibbles of ninja do not interest me…and they fight like barbarians…The old man gruffed, But I do want to see how much you've all grown.

We have a spare ticket for you. Tenten added cheerily.

Thoughtful girl! Thank you.

Neji could only pick out the words 'tomorrow,' 'you,' 'we,' and 'thank you.' It did not reveal much.

Lee translated for him, "Grandpa told us that he would like to watch our matches tomorrow, Neji. He also wanted to thank you for generously compensating Kayato-san for our outfits."

"Think nothing of it." Neji replied, eyeing Wong Leung, suspecting that was not exactly what the old man had said.

"Actually," Tenten amended with amusement, "Wong Leung said he's happy you're rich."

"Ah." That cleared up Neji's suspicion.

The hangover-cure foods indeed did help. Wong Leung seemed to have completely forgiven Neji and Tenten's drunken delivery of his stoned grandson the night before, and after the meal he exited the home with them and accompanied them as far as the Han Ethnic Quarter's market where he set out to shop.

The team continued uptown to the ticket office near the stadium. Gai had said three tickets were on reserve for guests, but it outnumbered the potential spectators they would be able to invite…or so they'd thought. Lee queued up in a somewhat short line to secure his grandfather's complementary ticket. Tenten and Neji watched interestedly as some of their friends and fellow finalists circled near the box office as well.

Gaara was handing over what could have been pocket money to his excited, chattering student, Matsuri. Sakura was a few steps away, giving recommendations to the girl on places to see before the day was out. Other youngsters were nearby waiting for Matsuri to join them.

Tenten tapped her lips in thought, 'Where did Sakura and Gaara go last night? They didn't stay very long at the festival…'

She turned to Neji, "Do you think-?"

"They did."

"How can you tell?" Tenten muttered, "Maybe they're just…well rested?"

"I can see…" Neji trailed off and decided he didn't want to explain.

"What? What?" Tenten was instantly nosy and curious, "Neji. You can't leave me hanging. Spill."

"There are incriminating marks and scratches on them." He assessed with a flash of his eyes.

She sighed wistfully, thinking, 'That could've been me and Neji…'

"They had the right idea to leave early." Neji considered.

Tenten nodded in agreement, certain that they could've gotten someone to babysit Lee and avert disaster. Alas, the opportunity had passed, and now they had to fight for glory and Chunin promotions, possibly against each other.

Ino appeared in a full-pelt run, bounding at least two blocks ahead of Shikamaru and Chouji behind her (who definitely had no idea what the rush was.) When she entered the plaza, chest heaving, her new, flashy outfit in place, Sakura complimented her blonde friend while Ino caught her breath.

Shaking her head apologetically, Ino handed a purse to Sakura, "I am…so sorry. I wasn't thinking! I should've brought this to you-!"

"It's fine." Sakura smiled meekly, "We're fine. It wasn't your responsibility Ino, and I'm too forgetful for my own good."

"Not my responsibility?" Ino grumbled, looking between Sakura and Gaara, the latter looking more human than ever beneath her discerning stare. Ino dropped her voice as Shikamaru and Chouji trudged into the plaza behind her, "I've spent months trying to get you laid. It's been, like, the most personal, impossible mission I've ever undertaken."

"Thank you." Gaara said sincerely.

Sakura hung her head in embarrassment and tugged her boyfriend along, muttering gratitude to Ino as well. As Sakura slinked away, in possession of her purse and its crucial contents, Shikamaru scratched his cheek and gave Ino a blank look.

"That's it? You had to return Sakura's bag?"

"Don't make me explain." Ino warned, watching her pink haired (and likely) newly-laid friend trod off into the bowels of Konoha with the Kazekage.

"I think I get it." Chouji said innocuously.

"I don't think I want to get it." Shikamaru supposed.

"Yup, because it's really none of our business." Ino determined, marching towards the growing line, "We're going to need extra tickets for our parents, right? You both had better wait in line with me, or at least get me a smoothie or something."

Whipped, the teammates acquiesced to Ino's demands. They queued up behind Kiba and Tama, who were making small talk with Hinata ahead of them.

"Where's Stupid and Shino?" Kiba wondered.

"Don't call him that, Kiba-kun!" Tama sniffed in aggravation and her teammate wilted in apology.

"I think they said they were going to spend some time in the nature conservatory. They've been talking a lot today." Hinata noted, "They went there right after we ate lunch."

"Huh. I really thought Sato-kun would find me first thing this morning…" Tama was perplexed.

"He will find you as soon as he is able." Hinata soothed her friend.

"You're right. I did promise Kakashi-sensei one last strategy-talk after we drop off his ticket." Tama recalled, "I'll see Sato later, for sure."

"Speaking of our team, where'd Sakura go?" Kiba noted.

"She went somewhere with Gaara-kun. I know her parents asked them to stop by." Tama giggled at the thought, "She keeps blushing and looking so embarrassed! I wonder if Gaara asked her dad something important?"

Kiba and Hinata chorused in astounded gasps.

"Maybe!" Tama laughed.

The Finalists in line continued to chat and compliment each other on some very snazzy outfits while they waited.

---

And though Sakura and Gaara did spend most of that day shooting the breeze with the eternally pleasant Haruno Kizashi, no: Gaara did not ask any important questions. And no, the condoms in Sakura's purse were not used, nor was there an occasion for her to use them whilst occupied so. Gaara was coerced to stay for dinner, dessert, and wine before he went home alone and fell asleep. Sakura had also retired early on account of her parent's offering of sake. It seemed strategic.

No, Tama did not see hide nor hair of Sato, not even after she and Kakashi had gone looking for him. Little did they know that Sato was laying low at, of all places, Shino's bedroom after he had broken down into a sobbing, shameful mess. Shino had been very understanding, as he'd vowed, and did not parse the recollected events that Sato had confided. He listened. He brought coffee. He summoned some butterflies into his room and listened more to his friend.

Tama spent the evening with her parents, battling the acute ache in her chest as she missed her beloved, and allowed her mother to complete an alteration to her mysterious and so far unseen Exam outfit.

Kiba visited his father in his post-trial-conviction jail cell and happily informed him of his plans for the Chunin Exam Tournament. Nichiyo conversed with him civilly, still apologizing for his crimes, and the two got on surprisingly well considering the circumstances.

Hinata and Neji were subjected to the hubbub of Main and Branch attendees at a celebratory clan dinner. Nearly all of their extended family wished them the best of luck at the Tournament. Elder Haburo was distinctly absent from the festivities.

Tenten dropped off braised chicken feet and dumplings for Lee and his grandfather to enjoy for dinner, and then stopped by the Memorial Stone to ask for her parents' guidance in her matches the next day. She returned home that night and polished her jian, Hok, as she played old recordings of her mother's bar crooning as well as magnificent, soprano performances for the daimyo of the Land of Fire.

Kakashi and Asuma kibitzed at their favorite bar until it closed at an ungodly hour.

Kurenai slept soundly until Asuma returned to her and curled up on his side of the bed, muttering sweet nothings, futilely proposing marriage for the twenty-third time.

In the wee, dark hours of morning, in ANBU uniforms at the pre-security checks of the stadium, Tenzo gave a variety of examples to Sai about how to treat others with kindness.

Huo did not sleep. His Sensei slept trembling in fear of him.

Tsunade dreamed and snored with a smile on her face, as if Dan were still there.

In Nanakusa, Haku rose before dawn to assist Hiroshi with preparing and opening his tea shop. Pua returned to her master with a much friendlier message from Temari, and his heart leaped.

In Sunagakure, Kankuro woke up late while Temari was on-time, organizing Gaara's desk; wondering why she'd sent such a weak, sappy bit of correspondence to her once-not-exactly sweetheart.

In Shincha, as the sun rose, Obito awoke to the sounds of Rin and Yuma arguing about what was for breakfast.

Kakashi woke in the morning and cornered his nephew, wondering what was wrong, "Won't you tell me what's bothering you?" And the boy denied that anything had unsettled him.

Naruto learned from Fukasaku that the great Toad Sage was named Gamamaru, and that Gamamaru was older than dirt and knew billions of tidbits for trivia games. No, it wasn't time to meet him yet. They returned to the Toad Oil pool for another day of training, and Naruto tried not to think about how that day, his good friends were going to clash for the title of Chunin without him.

He smiled with homesickness, muttering as he climbed the stone steps, "I'll be right behind you guys."

---

26th of June, 8:49AM— Konoha Sports Stadium

With the Tournament set to commence at 9:00AM, most all of the finalists were completely dressed, powdered, and preened; gathered in a designated participants-only lounge on the ground floor of the stadium.

Those assembled counted it a blessing that Huo had not appeared. Even the Grass ninja, Aota, said that he was relieved the Rock genin was avoiding public spaces.

Shizune occasionally paused in her pacing to reply to transmissions on her two-way radio, Ton-Ton skittering behind her near the entrance of the roped-off concourse.

"Right…" The woman took a breath to settle her nerves and then addressed the Genin, "Please listen, everyone. Tsunade-sama notified me that her high-profile guests are now seated in the VIP booth with her. I'll be given a signal in a few minutes to send you out for the grand entrance, just like we discussed."

Sakura added to the thought, "And we can enter solo or with our teams, right?"

"You can. I'll radio ahead to the announcer a few seconds before he welcomes you to the arena." Shizune nodded, "It's a lot of fanfare, isn't it? But the stadium is packed to capacity. This event drew even more fans than the previous Exam…and I certainly do I hope things go smoothly this year." She'd heard the tales of the Konoha Crush Invasion.

Soon after that they were shepherded into a discreet passageway that would allow them into the arena, its dirt floor dusty from recent leveling, cracked and dry in the morning sun.

Perhaps because he was in the minority by being on his own, the good-looking brunette, Yanagisawa Aota, waved obligingly to his peers before setting out first. A distant voice sounded over surround speakers, reverberating through the narrow hallway, and the announcement was drowned in the excited roar of the opening ceremony.

And Sakura indicated with mouthing and finger pointing (at herself) that her team would enter next. Shizune nodded and signaled when they could proceed.

The sounds of the revved up audience were disorienting, as it was nothing Sakura or Kiba had experienced before. Tama was waving and laughing nervously as she looked around. Akamaru trotted handsomely ahead of Kiba, tail wagging, head low. They walked to a spot on the ground marked with spray paint, where they stood as brief biographical information was shared about each participant.

"Does anyone see my parents?" Sakura asked from the corner of her mouth, head turning in all directions as they waved.

"Nope. See mine?" Tama wondered.

"Nope."

"I think that's my mom." Kiba corrected himself, "Nah. That's a guy. Maybe we should have checked a stadium map to see which levels our families had tickets for? We might've been able to pinpoint 'em."

"Why would we do something intelligent like that?" Sakura griped.

They walked off to allow Ino and Chouji to soak up the limelight after them.

While climbing a stairwell to the second floor viewing alcove, Tama picked a few white dog hairs off the back of Kiba's crop top.

"Thanks, Tama. Someone rolled over my clothes this morning." His toothy smile was dashing.

"My pleasure." She and Sakura had already commented on their teammate's ripped stomach about a dozen times, and were by then pointedly trying not to look at Kiba's exposed midriff. He was certainly very appealing in form-fitting black that faded into silver ombré at the cut-off sleeves and hips.

Sakura was carefully trying to snip away a loose thread from the hem of her red qipao with a kunai. Tama was aware that her friend had undershorts beneath the daring floral dress, but she figured most eyes would be on her friend's legs; tall, thigh-boots of black were sure to grab attention. Sakura removed the thread as they arrived at the top of the stairwell, and tucked the kunai away into the utility pouch secured to the belt 'round her midsection. She fussed at the fingerless gloves on her hands, "I don't suppose…we'll be able to spot anyone from here?"

Her team stopped beside an open-air handrail to look upon the crowds in the stands. Curious, Akamaru reared up on his hind legs to gaze out from the balcony as well. Sakura could hear Chouji and Ino's voices echoing from the stairway just as Hinata's team ventured into the arena.

Her team looked radiant and a fair share more attractive than their predecessors, Sakura opined. Hinata was a vision in lavender and violet. 'Wow! Sato is a quintessential Hatake down there, and Shino…' Her thoughts veered off course when Shino flicked his glasses off, and screams of delight nearly inflicted permanent hearing damage on Sakura and her peers. Kiba and Akamaru tried to seal their ears in response. 'O-kay! So Shino was concealing a very handsome face for this day. That card was well-played…' He did put his glasses back on, but the point had been made.

Kurenai's students continued to the stairs after their introductions. A moment later, Sakura peered down to the passageway, spying Shizune looking around frantically as if she had lost track of a group. 'Is everything alright down there?' Sakura folded her arms as she watched, 'No one got cold feet, did they?'

Resounding cries of confusion rose from spectators as two utility scrolls fell from great height, mysteriously tumbling, opening in a whirl towards the center of the arena…and Sakura reached over to hold onto Tama as she watched a billowing flash of smoke dissipate, allowing Team Gai to make a very memorable appearance. At the VIP booth, Tsunade had raised a fist and was shouting as if they had gotten it right. Sakura exchanged glances with her friends, snickering yet impressed with Lee vibrantly framed in unforgettable yellow between Neji and Tenten, bookends of antiquated fashion beside him.

"There's Gai-sensei." Kiba pointed out a figure in green hollering his head off in the distance.

"Oh! And I see Kakashi-sensei there too." Tama squinted her eyes. They could safely assume all Jounin Sensei would be gathered within the same vicinity.

Following Neji's team, Matsuri made her debut, staunch and solitary. She locked her eyes on the Kazekage in his seat beside Tsunade, determined to make her teacher proud.

Tama was touched by the obvious gesture of faith between master and pupil, but she whipped around as soon as she remembered that Sato would be up the steps any second. In a timely manner, Hinata bounded up the stairs excitedly with Shino in tow, raving to her friends about how Neji-niisan's team had looked and she'd been watching with her Byakugan.

Sato lingered near the room's corner after making it to the top, and nearly flinched when Tama embraced him. Her smile was a mixture of worry and animation, "Sato, I didn't see you all day yesterday! Are you alright?"

He nodded woodenly, chancing eye contact with her, "I am. Sorry that I flaked out on you, Tama. I know you wanted to see me." Sato added, "And sorry about the festival…towards the end, I…"

"Why are you apologizing so much?" Her voice was light and easy, "Relax a little. I really am happy." Tama touched her forehead to his, "You've made me so happy. We can do more after the Exam. Just like I promised, right?"

"Er…" He feared he would swallow his tongue.

"Get over here! Don't miss the view!" Tama steered him to a space between Shino and Sakura, where she also filed in, "It's a shame you didn't get to see Neji's team appear. That was a crowd pleaser!"

"I bet."

Shino gave his best friend a half-concerned, I-am-right-here-please-breathe sideways glance. Sato inhaled. Nothing need be said. Definitely not here and now…not ever.

On the opposite side of the arena's circumference, another mezzanine housed Aota and Matsuri. Everyone seemed to simultaneously deflate when Huo calmly stepped into the pit for an introduction.

Judging by how his friends had fallen silent, Neji took a guess as he arrived in the viewing area, "Huo is here, then?" Lee and Tenten followed shortly after.

Kiba nodded, "Yeah. Can't say I would've been disappointed if that guy never showed up…"

The Leaf compatriots watched in prickling silence as their common adversary stalked to the opposite stairwell to join other non-Leaf combatants on a balcony.

Ino's sigh broke the lull, "It can't be helped! Tama-chan is just going to have to mop the field with him. I am looking forward to that."

The eldest kunoichi nodded with total composure and beside her, Sato had stiffened in terror. All of the things he was trying not to think about were slapping him in the face.

As the gathered female ninja crowded in to lend Tama words of fortitude and confidence, Chouji curiously batted the turquoise tassel of the jian slung on Neji's back, "Pardon me, but I do not recall you depending on swords much, Neji."

"It's a new skill." His smugness was almost imperceptible, but Chouji, Kiba, and Shino still detected it. Sato was not looking at Neji and not saying anything, trying to make one less painful acknowledgment.

"…slay him." Kiba muttered, hopeful. Down with Sato; up with Neji, Kiba decided then and there.

"Within reason and good taste, I will attempt to." Neji concurred.

Lee chimed in, "I have not yet witnessed Neji's swordsmanship, but if he adheres to Tenten's capable instruction I am sure he will be most adept."

"If adept is here," Tenten measured with her hands about 20 centimeters apart, "And I am here…then Neji is kind of in the middle, closer to adept." She described it with her hand scissoring the imaginary line.

"So he doesn't suck." Kiba said gratefully.

"No, Neji doesn't suck. He's just not on my level." Tenten smiled sublimely as her boyfriend pouted in annoyance, "His sword is named Mo-Ye. It's the female of the pair my parents used. I think my dad would have liked for him to have had it."

The conversation was derailed when a storm of cheering kicked up again, and Shikamaru had descended to announce rules and welcoming remarks.

Ino pledged to tell her boyfriend later that he had an unusually suave and composed voice over the microphone. His disclosures eased her nerves, his voice rolled over her in warm waves.

Likewise, Sakura had calmed significantly. 'Ino and I are up first. I'm kind of glad I can jump right into this!' While examining the lofty luxury box from afar, she noticed the person seated on Tsunade's left was Natsuhi, the lovely Hoshikage, and to Tsunade's right was Gaara, and on his right— Tazuna the bridge builder, 'I wonder why the old man got a VIP invite?'

Shikamaru's announcement wrapped, "The first match will be between Yamanaka Ino and Haruno Sakura. Opponents, please report to the arena in five."

Amicably, Ino took her friend by the hand, "Let's do this, bitch! I have been waiting my whole life for an official piece of you!"

Laughing, Sakura reveled in the sound of her friends' clamors of support and excitement, and hurried down the stairs with her rival— the truest advocate for her causes and dreams.

---

Note: It's your party now and you can cry if you want to. The ass-kickings shall now commence. Another rare chapter title in Latin, for it has long been said: to err is human. Please lay that review on me, good soul!

Chapter 35: Clash at the Tournament!

The song below will seriously get you in the mood for this shiz.

Bonus Soundtrack: "One Day They'll Know" (ODESZA REMIX) by Pretty Lights