Ino watched from up above, smirking. Her blond hair was blowing irritably in the wind and she briefly considered cutting it off, but decided that beauty's price had to be paid. On anyone else, the smile she was wearing would have been labeled a smirk but Yamanaka Ino was too beautiful to smirk. Instead she smiled radiantly and triumphantly, a smile of unconcious seduction. She cackled--laughed delicately as she watched one of her friends fall into another one of her masterly planned match-making plots (ignoring the fact she had never actually considered Hinata ever dating the Kazekage). She flipped her hair dramatically out of her way as she stared at the horizon, striking a pose just in case a prince disguised as a traveler happened to look up and see her dazling radiance. Then, with another glance back at the swiftly disappearing couple, she bounded away to make their prescence known in the Sand Village. Her smile grew wider as she remembered the pictures of Shikamaru she had stashed away in a scroll for a certain blond woman eagerly awaiting her arrival.

Hours later, Hinata stood on shaking legs panting from exertion. Sweat had dampened her hair and accumulated on her forehead. Sometime in the middle of the fight she had discarded her weighted jacket and tied back her long hair. Even so, it had not done much good. Even as she had improved, so had Gaara. He was her equal at the moment and he was out of practice. The exhilaration from the fight was still coursing through her as sharp as the cold air was whistling through her lungs. She signaled a stop. The sun was setting and she was exhausted. She collapsed under the shade of a sand dune and watched as Gaara hesitantly approached. He leaned against the sand but did not sit down. His arms were crossed against his chest and his piercing light eyes were fixed in an indeterminable spot in the distance. She had to crane her neck up to look at him.

There was no obvious evidence that he was aware of her gaze, but she did not doubt it. He refused to look at her, a sure sign that he knew that she was staring. She savored the view for the good part of fifteen minutes before she got uncomfortable. Hinata could tell he was almost as tired as she was. "I would really appreciate it if you sat down." He ignored her. She pouted and tried again. "There is no one here, but me and I know how long you have been training. I think you should rest." Still no answer. Hinata's eyes narrowed slightly. She thought for a minute before she tried again. "If you're just going to stand there, I might as well leave." Finally he responded. His hot, compelling eyes focused on her, burning with intensity. He glared at her before he returned to glaring at the distance.

Hinata made a move to stand. Before she could do more than that, she noticed that his arms were no longer crossed against his chest but resting at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. "Why?" His voice was gruff and unapologetic.

"Why what?" Hinata asked settling back down. She didn't like this new voice. She wanted to do what she could to make it go away.

"Why does it matter whether I sit or stand?"

Hinata was about to retort about his willingness to start a fight when she registered his tone of voice. It hadn't been angry in the least. It had been voiced in what appeared to be genuine puzzlement. Hinata knew what he used to be. She knew how it must have been like to be a jinchuuriki even if she could never imagine living such a life. This powerful man still doubted, still felt the effects of his childhood or lack thereof. Choosing an indirect route she said, "It makes me feel weak and stupid staring at you standing there while I'm down here panting. The least you could do is pretend to be winded."

Gaara was not fooled, but he felt a budding appreciation for the Hyuuga. She had somehow made it so that him resting would not be a weakness but chivalrous act. Gaara thought about it, turning it over and over his head until he decided it was not worth that type of effort to come up with an answer. He was intrigued by the woman and she could tell him about how Naruto was doing. He sat down, keeping his emotions from showing on his face, not a hard thing to do considering the amount of years he had spent practicing the act. She smelled like lilacs. She smelled nice.

The silence stretched almost to the point that Hinata thought she was going to go deaf. Then that heavenly, or devilish, voice washed over her again. It took her a minute for her to realize he was asking after Naruto. Hinata loved Naruto as a brother. Once her romantics feelings concerning him dispersed, she had not given up stalking him. She had started stalking him a long time ago out of an attempt to gather enough courage to talk to him. After that first time, she had done it out of a sense of protectiveness, even if she had never been able to protect him. To this day she did not understand why he was so mistreated, but she continued to trail him. She no longer had any doubt that Naruto knew, especially since every now and then one of his abusers would mysteriously appear in the hospital from mysterious wounds on their chakra systems. He had never said anything. She had followed his lead. This being the case, she also knew many interesting stories about him, including the most recent pranks. Finding common ground, the stories burst forth as if they had just been waiting to be told. She skirted over the bad ones, avoiding them as well as she could.

Finally, long after the sun had set, she ran out of happy stories to tell. She lied down on the sand, after having shrugged her coat back on and stared at the stars. "Do you think we should head back?" she asked, into the sudden silence. She looked back at him. "Aren't you tired?"

"I do not sleep," came the dreadful answer.

AN: Review!