Quotes:

Anger - If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging. – Will Rogers.

Anxiety - Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday. Author Unknown

"Hello, Sakura-san." Tezuka smiled faintly at her, sitting on the same sofa – no, as it was Tezuka's it was a settee, an expensive, fragile piece of furniture that made Sakura want to burn cigarettes into its fabric just to be contrary.

"Tezuka." Sakura nodded, crossing one leg over the other and shifting away so that Tezuka was no longer uncomfortably close.

"Have you had a good month so far?" The woman asked politely, blinking rapidly as was her wont.

Sakura bared her teeth in a quick grin, "Oh yes, super." She lied cheerfully. To be fair, the month had perked up considerably after her chance meeting with Kabuto. Sure, the dude was creepy as hell and she very much wanted to break his glasses in two, but she was now working for Orochimaru! It was beyond unreal.

"You know, no one can force you to see a psychiatrist." Tezuka said suddenly, her perceptive blue eyes fixed on Sakura's face.

"What?" Sakura was startled.

"Hm, no sarcastic remark or barbed comment." Tezuka noted with a wry grin, "I see you don't always use humour as a defence mechanism. At least not when faced with the truth."

And there it was. Sakura finally figured out why she disliked Tezuka so much. It was because she always got the feeling the woman was much smarter than Sakura was and knew so much more than she let on. Sakura had been acting superior this whole time, feeling like she didn't belong in the little room with the stupid posters and the smiling woman, but it seemed like Tezuka was fully aware of Sakura's reluctance to be there.

"Well, no, I have to come…" Sakura trailed off, incapable of thinking of a witty put-down in time, having to make do with nonsense.

No, she didn't want to be there, but she had to attend these idiotic little meetings, once every two weeks, had to endure the politely probing questions, the interested glances and the way Tezuka never stopped scribbling on her clipboard.

"Do you want to get better?" Tezuka asked softly.

Get better? She was hardly insane – they'd established that little fact early on to reassure her mother, who had insisted on joining Sakura for the first meeting and had spent the whole time interrupting Tezuka mid-flow and correcting Sakura's answers.

"Get better at what?"

"You have some serious anger issues. Going by the few details I have been provided with, and the behaviour you have displayed in this room over the past couple of months, I also feel you may be depressed."

Oh please. Do not even go there. Depressed with a capital 'D,' that's the word her parents had flung around awkwardly for a while, it had lurked within the first, wary conversations post-shit-hitting-the-fan and it had starred as the main topic of every tear-filled dinnertime interrogation – her parents' tears, not hers.

"I'm not depressed; I'm a sunny, happy person." Sakura informed her, deadpan, "I'm honestly fine."

"The questionnaires you have filled out, your own background and your parents' reports would indicate otherwise."

"Look, Tezuka, I swear to you – I am totally fine. Maybe I've got a short temper, but there is really nothing seriously wrong with me."

"How would you know?"

"What?"

"How would you know if something was wrong? You have many symptoms of depression. For example, have you made any plans for the future?"

"…Not yet."

"Where do you see yourself in five years' time?"

"Here, probably, still having this stupid conversation."

"Sarcasm once again, hm? Listen, Sakura-san, after the year you've had, I can understand why you might feel –"

"Feel?" Sakura stared at her, affronted, her tone frosty, "You don't know how I feel. You don't understand me. And no, before you roll your oh-so-adult eyes at the stupid teenager throwing a tantrum because no one understands them, I actually mean, you don't have a clue. I've told you nothing. I've not said a word of the truth. So how would you know? Sure, you have your fancy files and the notes you've been taking without fail… You may even have a tearstained report from my parents about what a good girl I used to be and how they can't understand why I've morphed into this devil child, but all that stuff is good for is learning other people's opinions on me. The only way you would know how I felt was if you were actually inside my head. So, would you like a dose of the truth?"

Tezuka nodded, frowning.

"Cool. OK, here we go. I'm a selfish brat. I couldn't care less if my parents are hurt or upset by my behaviour. I don't plan for the future. I don't give a fuck about my grades. In general, I just don't care. As for the year I've just had, I'm totally fine. I don't have any problems that you can geek out over. I'm literally only here because my parents guilt-tripped me into coming because they are mistakenly under the belief that I have issues and require help of the mental variety. But there is nothing for you to learn from me. Nothing to scribble down. I'm a normal sixteen year old girl – hormones, tantrums and all."

"I think," Tezuka rubbed at her mouth with her pale, ringed fingers, "You are lying on all accounts. I think you are deeply depressed. I think you need counselling. But I know that I cannot help someone who doesn't want to be helped. I'm sorry you feel you have been pushed to attend these sessions. You know where the door is."

Sakura glanced at the door in question incredulously as Tezuka pointed at the exit, the psychologist's expression calmly resigned. As if she'd known this would happen. Hang on, known what would happen? Was she really being kicked out?

She stood up, looking at Tezuka with a quizzical grin. The grin slipped when it became apparent the woman was not joking.

"Tezuka, what's up?" She asked, forcing her tone into condescending coolness, not the childish whine of confusion that wanted to come out. It would do no good to lend Tezuka the power of being the adult in the room.

But there was no getting away from the fact that Tezuka was the real adult here. The woman sighed, placing her hands in her lap, "Do you feel big when you make others feel small?" She asked, eyes penetrating.

Sakura wondered if she was sweating. She felt like she might be, since she had just gone hot and cold in a matter of seconds. Her mouth was as dry as old parchment. She longed, briefly, for the sweet tang of her favourite alcoholic beverage.

"People assume bullies are born, not made. When you were younger, you were the smart child in class, weren't you? The good one. Your record shows you never put a foot wrong. You were thirteen when you started acting up. Your parents put it down to the beginning of teenage angst. I don't believe that. I think something happened when you were thirteen, something changed that made you, the smart, good little girl, emerge as the worst breed of bully – the intellectually superior bully, who believes themselves to be doing the world a favour by highlighting the weaknesses and flaws of others." Tezuka took a pen from her shirt pocket and paused in her speech to note down something, presumably detailing the stunned look on Sakura's face, "I know that deep down, buried beneath the layers of pretension, that smart, good little girl is still there. It's up to you if you want to talk to me, and see if we can get her out."

Sakura felt her hands ball into fists automatically. She bit her lip, hard, and turned around to cut off the infuriating view of Tezuka's calm face.

"I don't have to talk to you." She spat, feeling her anger seething inside her and not wanting to blow up – how much trouble do you get in for punching a psychologist?

"True," Tezuka said serenely, "You have a choice here. I do genuinely want to help you, Sakura. All you have to do is talk to me. Tell me the truth."

For the slightest moment, Sakura was tempted. The memory of that bed floated into her mind unbidden, and her defences dropped. But she forced the memory away and tugged the door open.

"I'm past helping." She said quietly.

"I thought you said you were fine?" Tezuka pressed her, sounding concerned.

"Maybe I'm a compulsive liar as well as depressed." Sakura said flatly. She tugged the door open and slammed it behind her.

xxxxxxxx

Her headphones were the big, chunky kind, shaped like ears. She pushed them up slightly as they slipped down, closing her eyes as Moonlight Sonata gently floated through her mind.

She walked down the hall, hands in pockets, breathing quietly and feeling at peace as the piano played its soft melody.

Nothing like a bit of Beethoven to take the edge off the rage.

She'd phoned Gaara and told him she could make a session after all, and had arranged to meet him in the local library. She didn't inform him where she had gotten his number from. She felt it was more mysterious than saying, "Oh, I asked the school's secretary and she was stupid enough to tell me."

She was still furious Tezuka had kicked her out. Had they been dating, Sakura would have classed that as a fairly cold and impersonal break up.

Before she'd put the music on she'd been thinking bitch with every step. She wasn't sure who she was directing this particular flow of profanity to, Tezuka or herself, but it had been highly satisfying and she'd stomped bitchall the way to the library. She'd realised quickly that she didn't exactly want to be angry for her meeting with Gaara, and had thus turned to the immortal genius that was Beethoven to soothe her anger.

Now, she pushed the library door open and kicked it shut behind her, pulling her headphones down to hang around her neck, piano music still tinkling quietly.

The library had a fairly old-fashioned exterior, at least 70s by Sakura's reckoning, but the interior had clearly been refurbished recently, so it was endless rows of computers, metal surfaces and the few bookshelves they had were tucked almost out of view.

She got stuck trying to walk through the tangle of wires peeking out from behind the computer desks, tripping slightly when her cane got caught. Finally, she wrenched it free and, red-faced, hobbled over to the large wooden desk at the back of the room.

She sat down with a sigh of relief, the ache in her legs dying down. She reached into her pocket and took out the medicine Kabuto had given her. She placed it upon the desk in front of her and crossed her arms, staring at it contemplatively. If Orochimaru himself had designed it, it must be pretty damn good, she thought, but what if it had side effects like projectile vomiting? Or death. Death would be bad.

She flicked the medicine bottle over, expressionless, and looked up as someone moved in her peripheral vision.

Gaara ambled over, hands in pockets, his expression thoughtful. He had his sleeves rolled up halfway, revealing the dark tattoos that decorated his pale arms. Sakura smoothly tucked the bottle away as he approached her table.

"How good are you at English?" He asked abruptly, completely omitting the usual greeting part of a conversation. Sakura, mouth already open to say 'hi,' found herself suddenly at a loss, something that rarely happened to her.

"Er, exceptionally so?" She raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly disconcerted. Tezuka's rant had put her out somewhat. She disliked people acting differently from how she had categorised them. For example, her mother was a Reasonable Nurse Mother, meaning she was logical, useful in a crisis, and suffered from undeniable maternal instincts, something that had plagued them both over the years. Her father was a Busy Kind Father, meaning he was never around, but when he was, he was always willing to talk. Although he had not been there for every scraped knee, he had winced and made sympathetic noises whenever he came home from a hard day at work and she had another gaping wound to thrust in his face, demanding sympathy. Tezuka was supposed to be a Flustered Posh Psychologist, not Snarky Insightful Guilt-tripper.

Gaara was simply a question mark.

He slid into the seat next to her, pulling some textbooks out of his bag. Sakura gave them a cursory glance and was a tad offended – they were below her level.

"Maths?" Gaara tapped a red textbook with numbers on the cover, looking at her inquisitively.

Sakura gave a modest shrug, "I'm fairly good, I suppose."

She thought of the certificates the school had grudgingly awarded her last year – one of which had been for outstanding work in numeracy…

Why am I bothering with this tutoring nonsense anyway? She wondered, amused at her own capriciousness. Perhaps it was simply something to stave off the monotony of everyday life. Oh yeah, because listening to some unemotional stranger waffle about stuff I knew years ago will really brighten my days!

"Science?" Gaara looked a little resigned, as though he knew what was coming.

There was no point being humble here.

"Outstanding," She smiled wryly, "It's my best subject."

Gaara paused, a science textbook in his hand. He swallowed, "Why do you need a tutor again?"

She shrugged, "Ask Iruka. His idea. I've always been of the opinion that schoolwork is for the weak-minded, but then again, I've never had to work at school."

"How dull that must be," Gaara observed practically, "To never have to work at anything takes the fun away from playing."

"You don't look like the kind of guy who 'plays.'" Sakura countered, her tone sour.

Gaara's eyebrows, or at least the flesh where eyebrows would normally reside, lifted a fraction in surprise.

"I do not look…" He paused, choosing his words carefully, "playful to you?"

"Well, you're kinda… er… serious-looking?"

She was half-joking, but Gaara appeared to be taking this very seriously indeed.

"I see," He said, visibly digesting what she had said, "I didn't know that."

"It's not a bad thing." Sakura hastily added, feeling a little bad for some reason, "Being serious is good sometimes, right?"

"But not all the time," Gaara said slowly, in a calm sort of way. Sakura realised he wasn't offended in the slightest. "I suppose I've never thought of myself as particularly serious. I see. What about your other subjects?"

"Uh, I guess I'm pretty bad at P.E." Sakura admitted, "Physical stuff just doesn't work for me."

Gaara examined his own, thin arm with a frown, "I don't believe I can help you in that area."

Sakura stifled a laugh.

She realised she was leaning towards him unconsciously, resting her elbow on the desk and smiling faintly. She moved back and wiped her face clean of the smile automatically.

"How about music?" Gaara suggested wearily, as though assuming it was pointless even to ask.

Honestly. It wasn't as if she was some kind of super-genius. She did suck at some things. Mostly at being a good daughter.

"No good." She sighed. Music was just one written exam at the end of the year after countless meaningless classes that she didn't care about.

To her surprise, he perked up. Well, he perked up as much as a gloomy-looking guy like he could, meaning his eyes brightened and he sat up in his chair.

"I can help you there." He said confidently.

"Oh?"

"Music is an important part of my life," He said casually, "It helped me through some tough times."

Huh. Well, Sakura liked all types of music, but she couldn't really think of anything that had gotten her through the dark days... Certain songs made her fly into a rage, others calmed her down, a select few made her cry – but on the whole, she had never really gotten the concept of music changing you as a person. To her, it was all consumer-driven crap sang by identical drones.

"Basics first," He said quietly, tapping his pen on the desk in a regular rhythm.

He pulled his chair closer to hers, opened up the music textbook in front of them and pointed to the page, his arm brushing against her shoulder. She shivered slightly at the sensation of the fabric touching her skin.

They were very close now. Sakura gave him a cautious glance. His attention was on the book in front of them. His eyes were half-closed, two black circles set in a pale face. The tattoo on his forehead looked like someone had dipped their finger in blood and traced the kanji for love onto his skin. It was strangely disturbing to look at. Gaara leant forward in his chair, turning a page, and his knee brushed against Sakura's. She bit her lip and fixed her gaze on the page before her.

Gaara proved to be a soft-spoken, gentle instructor, whose teaching methods simply focused on pointing out facts and he clearly did not expect her to understand anything yet. To Sakura, this kind of gentle, academic handholding annoyed more than anything. She loved just grabbing a book and memorising its contents, she had a thirst for learning that could not be quenched with his quiet, emotionless lecturing.

"So, why haven't I seen you at school before?" Sakura asked abruptly, already tiring of learning phrases.

His eyes narrowed at the interruption, his soft voice cutting off mid-flow. He straightened up in his chair, "You obviously weren't looking hard enough."

"You are a new student, your birthday is January 19th and your blood type is AB," Sakura said lazily, enjoying the look of consternation on his face, "I think I looked hard enough."

"How do you know my personal information?" He asked, looking decidedly less concerned than he ought to be. He looked as though she had just given him a gentle poke, not revealed private facts about him that she shouldn't know.

Sakura sighed. What a waste of time, she should never have bothered to trick the secretary into letting her look in the school files (with the lame excuse of needing to check if her phone number had been changed, which the silly woman ate up with a smile). She'd looked through other files as well, of course, but the strange red-haired boy who could catch a cane one-handed and drummed his fingers with nervous energy had caught her attention more than anyone else.

"The school secretary has been neglecting her brain pills lately," Sakura said carelessly, "Wasn't hard to get a look at your file."

"Why would you want to do that?" Gaara frowned, his fingers tapping against the desk irregularly.

"Maybe I find you interesting." Sakura flicked a glance at his face to gauge his reaction. His piercing eyes locked hers the moment she looked into them and for one breathless moment, they just stared at each other.

"I'm here to tutor you." Gaara said gruffly, breaking their gaze by turning his head sharply, "Nothing else."

"Do you hear that? That's the sound of my heart breaking." Sakura said, deadpan, her sarcasm covering how stung she felt. Rejection before she had even attempted anything. Not that she would have done anyway. Though Gaara, like Neji, had very pretty eyes. She was a sucker for pretty eyes.

"Why don't you tell me something about you so I know more about my unattainable tutor?" She suggested, one corner of her mouth lifting.

His fingers skipped a beat and he ceased his endless drumming to gaze at her, head tilted.

"Tell me what Largo means in musical terms, and I will tell you something in turn."

"Slowly and broadly." Sakura shut the textbook without glancing at the pages, her smirk widening at the easy question.

Gaara's lips twitched. "I have a brother named Kankuro and a sister named Temari. Rubato."

"What kind of fact is that? That's boring! Tell me something juicy next time."

"If you cannot answer –"

"Literally 'robbed time', where rhythms are played freely for expressive effect." She let her fingers dance their own rhythm in a triumphant solo on the desk next to Gaara's motionless hand.

He watched her fingers dance and shook his head, "Juicy? My mother died giving birth to me, and my father was murdered recently."

Sakura's fingers halted.

"Allargando." Gaara added as an afterthought.

"Getting slower and broadening." Sakura said absently, still gazing at Gaara in a horrified kind of fascination, thinking here is an orphan who can admit his misfortune without a flinch or flicker of emotion, "That really sucks, Gaara… I'm sorry about your parents."

"It does not matter," He said inattentively, "My mother despised me and cursed me with her dying breath. I don't blame her. I too would curse my murderer. My father was distant, a stranger."

"You shouldn't –" She began to say before he snapped his fingers to cut her off.

"No. Rallentando"

"Gradually slowing down," Sakura answered impatiently, "You shouldn't call yourself a murderer. You didn't kill her."

"If I did not exist, she would not be dead. It is very simple." Gaara said candidly, "What is a foetus anyway? It is a parasite. It feeds off its host, the mother, and gives her nothing in return. I have never thought much of the sentimental idea of mothers. Perhaps this is simply self-preservation on my part. Ritenuto"

Sakura's eyebrows knitted together in an unsettled frown, "Immediately slower." She said, biting her lip, "That… that is a very sad, cynical idea of familial love. Or lack thereof, I guess."

"You are smart," Gaara said, "too smart to need a tutor. You memorised those musical terms within minutes. Perhaps a smart girl such as yourself can understand that humans are, at base level, simply animals, and it is just human nature to behave as such. Sentimental fools layer society with syrupy ideas and notions – that a mother is obligated to love her child purely because it is hers. I choose to believe she had the right to hate what was ending her life."

"Don't bullshit me with the smart card. You know how many idiots think I should believe what they say because I'm smart? Humans are social creatures by instinct, and there are plenty of mothers in the animal kingdom who love their children and would do anything to protect them."

"Well, how odd," He said softly, fingers picking out a gentle rhythm once more, "the cynical, angry Haruno Sakura defending the saccharine notions of an idealistic world. Can this really be the same girl who told Inuzuka Kiba to die in a hole?"

Sakura stared at him, face hot with some unpleasant emotion, feeling oddly tricked for some reason. As though she'd spent time building her walls carefully, only to notice Gaara had slipped in through a gap. It bothered her to think there may be a hole in her defences.

"I was angry." Sakura muttered.

"You often are, aren't you?" Gaara said sagely, "Did you ever consider getting some assistance in that area?"

Tezuka's calm face swam in her mind.

"No." Sakura said resolutely, "I don't need help."

"Really." He said, clearly not convinced, "Discord."

"A chord where some notes seem to 'disagree' or clash giving an unsettled feel." Sakura replied uneasily, feeling as though those two pale eyes were seeing right through her.

Gaara drummed his fingers into a harsher rhythm, his face expressionless.

I got all of the musical terms from Bitesize. So I'm probably wrong XD

This is the highly anticipated first tutoring session between Gaara and Sakura. I'm sorry if it wasn't what you wanted, but I certainly enjoyed writing it :)

The first full Sakura chapter. Hinata's first full chapter is next!

Gaara's got some demons of his own to deal with.

I'm really sorry about the long delay between chapters, I've been struggling to write lately, not sure why :S

Quick poll for fun: Which Disney character do you relate to the most?

For example, I relate most to Belle because we are both eccentric bookworms :)

I'm on a huge Disney kick at the moment, currently obsessing over Cinderella – my God that ballgown is AMAZING! ~~