Hiya.

19-06-2020 edit: This is not canon. The events that led to this fic were substantially different—that includes the fact that Gaara and Sakura only met ONCE, and fleetingly.

Enjoy. ^_^

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Chapter Two: Welcome to Suna.
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The sun was setting, a tiny spark still visible as the last of the visitors ambled up to the main entrance into Sunagakure. They arrived in a cavalcade from the land of iron for the Shinobi on guard duty to inspect. A group of civilians being escorted by samurai in a heat they weren't used to was nothing to get excited about, as it was hot enough already, but occasionally, Kami decided to send them something delectable with the newest arrivals.

"Can I carry your bags miss?"

The sound of the ANBU's voice startled the semi-petite civilian near the head of the cavalcade. She had short, straight black hair (it brushed the back of her neck), very dark blue eyes—almost black—and wore the traditional courtier outfit of the land of iron. He could see clearly that was where she was from, but as his hidden eyes took in her slight (albeit nicely shaped) form, she shivered involuntarily. If she could see his eyes, she imagined they would be heavily lidded. Wasn't that incredibly unprofessional? The girl shook her head quickly at his question, reflexively gripping the strap of her bag tighter than necessary.

"What's your name?" He asked gently.

"Sayuri," She said softly, and squeaked when the Shinobi prodded her.

It wasn't all show—she was restraining from pummelling him and that sort of self-control came with a fair amount of involuntary sounds. Her instinct was to throttle, threaten, and enjoy it; she couldn't do that here. The last time someone had touched her without permission, they'd ended up just missing the hospital and landing a good half a mile away once she was done with them.

"Sayuri?" The man drawled, indicating she should elaborate.

"Sayuri Nakayama," she replied quickly.

"Where are you from?" He asked.

It was a stupid question really, considering her entourage.

"Iron," she mumbled, lowering her eyes to stare at the kunai in the man's hand. He was spinning it around in his hand almost languidly, just poking and prodding her for information, like it was the most common thing for a complete stranger to do. Her eyes moved up his arm, resting on his face and she realised he must be watching her closely under that dog mask.

Now, Sakura Haruno considered herself a good liar—she'd had her fair share of missions where it was necessary—but the way he was standing, almost like a predator (and less like an uptight or even aloof ANBU), one would think she was dangerous. It made her worry that he was seeing straight through her lies.

"Sayuri Nakayama," he repeated. "I'll remember that."

Oh Kami.

He was checking her out, not evaluating her cover story. She really had no idea whether or not ANBU were supposed to hit on civilians.

"I'll be off-duty tonight," he continued. "There's this great club off the civilian district called The Zephyr: I'll see you there?"

She wasn't here for him, not even remotely, but she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to gather information from a very eager sand Shinobi. She smiled at him, taking in the delicate features of his porcelain mask. "And how will I know it's you?"

"I'll call you… my petal."

"She's unavailable," came a slightly gruff reply from behind the girl. The man was tall, sporting a nodachi on his belt and narrowing his dark eyes at the ANBU.

"Oh," Sakura said, giggling in a nervous tone. "This is my brother, Hayato Nakayama."

"A samurai?" The guard asked, appraising the man; he was indeed wearing an insignia that marked him as a samurai, but he wore civilian clothes.

"Retired," Hayato said dismissively. "Caught Sayuri here in bed with a noble and I hacked the man's balls off for touching her, so they gave me a dishonourable discharge."

The unnamed ANBU guard baulked, now gripping his kunai tighter as though afraid this Hayato might suddenly decide to attack him. He swallowed heavily and squeaked out a hurried "welcome to Suna" before waving them through the checkpoint.

...

Sakura wasn't sure what to feel about that display, but she kept quiet as Tenzou broke them away from the caravan and without so much as a word, headed straight for the nearest apartment block to the Kazekage's administration building. The civilians travelling with them were just passing through and had agreed to let them tag along as far as Suna—they said their goodbyes. And if she didn't know that Tenzou had arranged for an apartment, she'd be worried about finding somewhere to live, let alone at such short notice—she hated hotels. In her mission briefing with Shikamaru, the lazy Jounin had informed her of the length girls, women, and men alike went to in order to get close to Gaara Sabaku.

Tears, tantrums, bribery, blackmail, stalking… it was actually quite terrifying.

Sensing an argument coming the moment the door to their room closed behind them, Tenzou covered Sakura's mouth with his hand and shook his head; he waited for her to give a reluctant nod before tentatively letting go of her. What was he up to now?

She stole the larger bedroom as Tenzou prowled his way through the apartment, doing Kami knew what.

There was no deadline on this mission, but Naruto had stressed the need to Sakura not to take her time. They needed to know if Gaara would turn on them if Sasuke, or any of their many and sundry enemies were to attack them, and any and all possible paths to that destination had to be taken into consideration.

She sighed, exiting her bedroom in time to see Tenzou fluffing out a couch cushion unnecessarily and moving to the coffee table to methodically rearrange the magazines provided there. Great, she was now living with a neat freak. She had never known that the captain was this meticulous. Just like with civilians, ninja were not neat or messy by job description alone. Naruto was naturally messy, and Kakashi was tidy and organised (the only messes made by his clothes and other linen), while Sai was a mixture of both. Sakura had spent a few nights at the ex-Root's place before (he'd roped her into sitting still long enough to be sketched, when she didn't have the patience to remain for him to paint her), and while most rooms were practically immaculate, his studio was far from it. He was a messy artist, at least when at home.

Tenzou was in a league of his own.

Sakura watched him comb the small apartment, arranging, rearranging, and checking for dust mites… he didn't even look up at her when she scoffed at him. He opened, closed, paused and then opened cupboards again, only to shut them and move onto the fridge—she was suspicious enough, but even more so when he didn't pick out anything to eat.

"What are you doing?" She asked, when he finally exited a door down the hallway away from the bedrooms, clearly more satisfied than one should be when leaving a bathroom.

"I was making sure there were no bugs," he said simply. "Keeping up appearances of being a neat freak is a cover I use often—it's habit now too."

Sakura felt so stupid. "Oh… right."

This whole undercover business was not alien to her, since she'd done this enough times. But she suddenly felt like a rookie with less than a handful under her belt. And it grated on her that she'd forgotten such a basic rule of covert missions: never assume no-one's watching. Or listening in, really. She throttled an image of Naruto in her head for creating this mission, as well as one of herself for accepting it. But there was no going back now.

"What the hell was that with the ANBU outside Suna's main entrance all that about?" She asked, her voice slightly higher as she tried to regain some of her dignity. "Since when does your cover include threatening Suna guards with bodily harm if they come anywhere near me?"

Tenzou just shrugged. "The overprotective big brother thing is natural for me, and in case you've forgotten, I've used the persona of Hayato Nakayama before; he doesn't mess about thank you very much." He gave what she considered an uncharacteristic grunt to prove his point and returned to his bedroom, closing the door behind him like he really was her big brother.

Sakura couldn't help the smile on her face as she made her way back to her own. It shouldn't surprise her that Tenzou had thought this through—from his suggestion that they pretend to have grown up in the land of iron, to him retaking an old cover of a retired samurai. Supposedly, when Samurai were dishonourably discharged, their names were struck off of official records—this made it easier for someone like Tenzou to impersonate one. The downside was that he'd had to become an expert in samurai culture, traditions, fighting style… the list went on. But it was worth it to have a stable cover identification that he could fall back on during these types of missions.

Sakura, for her part, had decided to take a civilian cover; it was the easier persona for her to settle into at such short notice.

Their intelligence placed the Kazekage's mansion as a thoroughfare for office assistants and having "assisted" Tsunade more times than she could count, Sakura was sure she'd be perfect for the recent job opening. But there was nagging doubt in her head: even though she wasn't depicted as a ninja, and the Shinobi in this village believed she came from the Land of Iron, there was no way she'd be chosen as the Kazekage's personal assistant—the risk she was some foreign spy would prevent that. But Shikamaru had said they were getting desperate—apparently, Temari kept firing the new recruits for paying too much attention to her brother's lips, hair, eyes… body. They weren't doing their jobs properly, if at all.

Sakura supposed she didn't need to convince them to hire her to get into the building, but she'd brought a fake résumé with her, nonetheless. It had taken her forever to fix it up, considering she couldn't put any real referees on it, but twelve hours and ten pots of coffee later, she finally finished her masterpiece. Naruto hadn't been exaggerating about her proficiency when it came to paperwork.

Naruto.

She still didn't know what that baka had been hiding from her. Sakura sighed, grabbed her toiletries and decided on a shower; she'd heard the plumbing here was pitiful compared to Konoha, and wasn't disappointed. After screaming obscenities for almost ten minutes, she finally emerged and ignored the chuckles from her companion who had exited his room and plopped himself on the couch lazily. Sometimes he reminded her of Kakashi—despite their differences of opinions on how to run a successful mission. They'd apparently been on missions together years ago and despite the distance between them since Kakashi left ANBU (though Tenzou was out of there now anyhow), had always held a high respect for each other.

Making a mental note to query her "brother" about that later, Sakura closed her door before realising she'd just walked past Tenzou clad in only her towel. No wonder he'd looked at her like she'd grown an extra head.

Sakura slid the towel off of her body and stared at herself in the full-length mirror. Her body was toned, but she wasn't some muscled Kunoichi—she trained sure, but had never gained much muscle, not really. The thought of being a bulked-up ninja (an image Ino had plastered all over her mind when they were both ten years old) had kept her conscientious about it anyway.

She peered closer, looking into the reflection of her eyes; pools of dark blue (almost black) stared back at her. She knew she was wearing contacts, but they glinted up close, hinting at the jade orbs hidden within. Somehow, they still looked like her eyes.

She avoided anything chakra based on setting up her appearance, keeping it as natural as possible. She used herbs to shift her scent; a smell that her original scent could merge with. It seemed to come off as natural enough (courtesy of Kakashi, but her idea). Her hair was coloured with a mordant dye (a type of self-indulgence that was a well-known, though slightly out-dated in other lands, fad in the land of iron for young woman), her fingernails were slightly longer than what was practical for a Kunoichi, and she had put up with Ino's fussing until she perfected a new "walk". The side effect of her elite, Jounin status was that she naturally walked lighter and with a slightly predatory move that hinted to her training: she had civilian friends and used them as inspiration to circumvent the more obvious traits.

She was confident it had worked.

She shook herself, reaching for a simple, dark red slink of a dress she'd bought especially for this occasion, and she was just slipping into it when her brother's voice carried down the hall and into her room.

"Sayuri?" Tenzou called out, and Sakura realised she had indeed been quiet long enough for him to be concerned. Even in their apartment, they had to keep up appearances; she wasn't Sakura anymore after all.

"Hayato," she answered, grabbing her purse, slipping on some shoes and walking out of her bedroom.

"I thought you were going to sulk all night," Tenzou said, smirking.

"I'm heading out," she said.

"Are you going out alone?"

Sakura waited for him to offer to come with her. But he just smiled at her.

"Obviously," she snapped, and without waiting for a response, strode out of the apartment.

Seriously, what was Tenzou's part in this mission? She had two objectives to begin with. One: head over to that night club—The Zephyr, or whatever it was called—and squeeze out whatever information she could. And two: get some sort of job that would put her in spitting distance of the Kazekage (or the council, either one). But tonight, was all about the former. That ANBU might have been scared off by Tenzou's typically domineering personality, but there were more where he came from.

...

After a few days of wading through the Shinobi in The Zephyr, Sakura came up empty. None of them were the one who'd greeted her at the gates, and none of the ones left seemed willing to do anything except dance and drink with her before casually suggesting she go back to their place.

Idiots; like she would ever.

However, they were very forthcoming when it came to job opportunities. That was how she was finally permitted a job interview with the Kazekage one week on from arriving in Suna. Finally, she was allowed to go near him, and her real mission could begin. As Tenzou scouted out the dojos, making friends in the way only a gruff, ex-Samurai could, Sakura nervously made her way to the Kazekage's administration building. There were so many ways all her planning could come crashing down around her. She did of course, the only thing she could do; she held her head high and knocked on the door, only to have to wait a full ten minutes, in the heat of the unforgiving sun before being allowed inside. The man who let her in was ANBU and escorted her to the top level outside Gaara's office saying "wait out here and don't make a sound until you're called for" before using Shunshin to leave her standing there alone.

Fortunately, Sakura didn't have to wait much longer before the door to Gaara's office slammed open, almost coming off its hinges.

"Get off my brother you lecherous whore!"

The scream startled Sakura out of her reverie and she clutched her folder tighter, hugging it to her chest. What the hell was going on in here?

A red headed girl came tumbling out of the room before Sakura could step in front of it. Her hair was a mess, her clothes askew and the girl was so startled that she didn't notice she had an audience; she was flustered, a little annoyed and yet trembling like she'd just been accosted by a hoard of naked old perverts. Almost immediately, a buxom blonde with four pigtails and brandishing an iron fan, stormed into the hallway and Sakura flushed slightly, flashing back to that mission briefing with Shikamaru.

"Watch out for Temari," he'd warned her. "She's protective of Gaara, and if anyone's going to question who you really are, it's her. That woman is so troublesome."

Sakura wasn't scared of the older sister of the Kazekage; she could hold her own. But she wasn't sure how to pull off that "you can't touch this" vibe as a civilian. It suddenly occurred to her that she was far out of her league—she had quite a number of covert missions under her belt, but none dealing with people she'd already met. The last one had almost killed her because she didn't know enough about them, thanks to some bad intelligence from the land of rivers.

I'm not a victim, she thought, repeating the mantra a few times as Temari moved threateningly toward the trembling girl she'd just chased out of the Kazekage's office—the young civilian looked all of fifteen years old, and terrified as she gave a squeak of fear. Sakura barely had time to sidestep out of the way as the petite red head barrelled down the hallway, toward the exit and freedom.

"And don't come back!" The blonde Kunoichi screamed.

Sakura held her breath, trying to disappear into the wallpaper. Seriously, this woman held no sway over her hammering heart... She remembered the last time she'd seen her, Temari had been all smiles and warmth. But right now, she looked like one glare from her could make a hoard of rhino stampede… in the opposite direction.

Get a grip Sakura; you're a Kunoichi, so start acting like one.

Except she wasn't one right now, and this terrifying side of Temari apparently scared any and all civilians, not to mention Shinobi who wanted to be able to actually pleasure a woman. Sakura inhaled deeply, calming herself. This was what Shikamaru had warned her about, and she needed to get her head back on the mission.

"Fucking slut," Temari mumbled. "That'll teach you not to grope the Kazekage."

The blonde, who Sakura had recognised immediately as Temari, Gaara's older sister, turned to look at her. For a moment, her dark eyes narrowed, like she recognised her; she looked startled, and it took a full ten seconds for her to fully grasp the concept that this was a complete stranger and she lost the startled expression. Temari's eyes flickered over the folder in Sakura's hands, back up to her face and then it dawned on her. Her lips twisted into an evil grin.

"Next victim."

…

XXX

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Sorry, no Gaara yet, but he's in the next chapter anyway. Can't have a GaaSaku without him, ne? ;)

R&R.

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