The soft plink of droplets falling into the water, crashing down quietly and then rippling through the murky depths of the bath slowly, were the only things which broke the deafening silence of the private bath chamber. Gaara stared down and watched as small waves splintered and spread through the surface of the tainted reddish-brown liquid beneath him, mesmerized by how easily his sins were literally washed away.
The last battle he had participated in had been less than six hours ago. Six hours. Six lives. An hour to mourn each life he'd taken, and for the most of that time he'd sat in the tub staring at the blood of the people he'd been covered in—people to be mourned and then soon forgotten.
He hated the fact that after everything he'd gone through, despite all the changes he'd made, death was still something required of him. Gaara was good at killing. However, he was not adept at dealing with the toll it took on him, a reformed psychopath who wished only to protect his village and those he cared about. These shinobi he had fought were doing the same, protecting the ones they loved, working as hired mercenaries to provide food, shelter, things for their children, their wives and husbands, to bring honor to their families. Gaara could tell by the way they fought. These were decent enough people, just on the opposing side of a war which they knew little about, hired to assassinate a ruler of a foreign ninja nation. Gaara, the Kazekage, was probably demonized unfairly by the faction who had employed them, so they believed they were attacking a monster, fighting the unjust, so they fought hard. That is why Gaara mourned the blood on his hands tonight.
Every so often the door to the bathroom would open and he would stand in the entryway, watching carefully for a few minutes, a look of sadness splayed across the normally boisterously happy face. ANBU black ops like Naruto knew exactly what death was like, and Naruto more than most knew how difficult taking life was, so after a few minutes of reassuring himself that Gaara was still okay, the blond man would nod, and quietly walk out again, closing the door silently behind him and leaving the Kazekage with his thoughts.
It had been about thirty minutes since the last time Naruto had performed this little concerned ritual. Gaara heard footsteps outside the door, and just like the four times prior, the door slowly creaked open and Naruto stood there watching him worriedly. This time, not only the faucet dripped into the red, murky waters below, but Gaara's tears also joined them. The crossing ripples from opposite sides of the tub collided with one another, violently crashing together as the perfect synchrony of the tiny waves broke and dissipated in the bloody bathwater.
Gaara sobbed silently, until rough hands were wiping the tears away, the pads of Naruto's thumbs brushing away every drop which fell from Gaara's eyes before it could hit the water. "Just because you're the Kazekage doesn't mean you aren't human," Gaara's lover said firmly. "This water is cold and you are clean. Out. Now."
Before Gaara could object, strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him out of the tub. A towel was thrown hastily around Gaara as he started shivering and quaking. Naruto wasn't sure if it was from the cold, desert night air hitting Gaara's dripping, wet body or if the man in his arms was still emotionally wrecked from the six kills he'd made. At this point it didn't matter.
When the leaf shinobi was satisfied Gaara was decent enough to be carried to his room, Naruto shuffled out of the bathroom, bumping into a pair of concerned siblings who were waiting impatiently in the hallway. Naruto grumbled as his shoulder smacked painfully into Kankurou's, and he verbalized for the puppet-nin to move. Naruto wasn't in the mood to deal with them, even if they only wanted the best for their younger brother. Naruto knew instinctually that Gaara didn't wish to face anyone now, especially not the two people who were proudest of the changes he'd made in the past few years.
Temari's voice, cracking and hushed, asked in a mere whisper, "Naruto, is he alright?"
Naruto didn't answer because he didn't know, and left her question unanswered as the Kazekage suite door clicked closed, Temari and Kankurou giving each other nervous glances and then going about their daily business, there was nothing more they could do for their brother.
Once inside, once alone, Gaara clung needily to the clothed ninja who still held him, his fingers digging into the skin at the base of Naruto's neck as he sobbed for the first time in years, the first time Naruto ever saw Gaara do so. Naruto didn't stop Gaara, despite how painful it was to watch, he didn't try to give the other shinobi soothing words or things which seemed cliché and rather unhelpful to a person who was responsible for so much death by his hands alone. All Naruto did was sit on the bed and hold the person he loved. It was all he could do, all he could give at this point, and for tonight it was enough.