The Life and Times of the Kazekage's Assistant

Disclaimer:I don't own Naruto. This story is inspired by a novel by Lauren Weisberger. I do own Tsubasa Imamura, any other OCs in the story, the designer labels and names of the magazines/newspapers, and the plot.

Author's Note: This chapter can be considered as my early Christmas present to you. ;)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Begin Again

Long ago, when I was just a few years younger, I lost the most important people in my life and it changed me forever.

It broke my heart, and that kind of heart break is the kind that never heals.

Sometimes, I think I can feel them. I think I can hear my father's laughter. He was always so joyful, so happy and encouraging. I can hear my mother's soothing voice, comforting me every time before I go out on a mission.

Often, she tells me not to be afraid because I have a long life to live.

And unfortunately, I believe her even though I want it to end as soon as possible. I want to be with them again. If they can't be here with me, I want to be with them.

What I accomplish in this life matters less knowing that my parents won't be there to see it all unfold. They won't see me grow, change, blossom, fulfill my dreams, get married, have children and anything else that's considered a milestone in my life.

And that sucks. It all just sucks, but I cannot change it. It's out of my control.

It's better if I stay alive and keep living. I don't want to when I think about how I can be somewhere else with them, happy with them in the afterlife, but I have to move forward.

"Is that the worse thing I can say to you both? That I think it's better for me to carry on? That it's better if I stay?" I asked aloud.

I finally drifted down from the group of expansive trees I had been hiding in all morning. I'd seen many visit the graves of my parents, but I was silent in my concealment, just thinking and remembering them. I wasn't in the mood for discussing it with others or to have anyone attempt to console me. This was one of those moments that I needed my privacy for. I wanted to be with my parents alone.

Sorachi, Hoshiro and Sanosuke-Sensei had shown up early in the morning, but not as early as me. I could tell they lingered longer than usual, perhaps expecting me to show up at some point. Perhaps they'd been aware of my presence and had hoped I'd materialize or maybe they had never detected me at all. If I had appeared, they would have wrapped their arms around me, held me tightly and promised me that my parents were watching me from heaven. When they saw no signs of me doing that they left the flowers they brought for my parents at the foot of their graves.

Sanosuke-Sensei left honeysuckles. For a tough guy, he sure knew about flowers and their meanings. Honeysuckles represent generosity. He often said that it wasn't for the generosity of my parents he may have strayed from his path and become a rogue ninja. My Sensei had always been a rebel in his youth, but my father was his Sensei. He and my mother showed Sanosuke-Sensei kindness he had never been showed before as an orphan. He told me once that he felt indebted and that he requested me as his subordinate during the team selection process.

Hoshiro and Sorachi left a bouquet of poppies and rosemary. Those were the traditional flowers of death and remembrance, a bittersweet combination. Hoshiro was always a traditional kind of guy. I did, however, notice that Sorachi snuck in a small pink daisy. I wondered if she meant for it to symbolize me.

I knew my team was looking for me, hoping to see me, but I didn't reveal myself. Today was a day I'd spend in solitude, wrapped up in my own memories of my parents. I had made sure no one could reach me to disturb me. All of my phones, walkie-talkies and other communicative devices were turned off and left back in my room at Sand Castle.

Who knows what they thought at the office either. I hadn't even bothered to call in or to leave word with anyone. I doubted they were too worried or concerned over my well-being. I suppose I thought that they assumed that I had given myself a vacation. I'd deal with the repercussions later. I highly doubted they'd even know where to find me or if they truly cared to.

My parents' Sensei came by as well. He had left chrysanthemums, the flowers of long life. I never understood why he would leave those. My parents didn't live a long life, not by any means, and I felt like I didn't deserve to. I'd have preferred to have been buried next to them.

Perhaps their Sensei was trying to be positive about their death, to think of it as life for me. He had often said that shinobi give their lives for the good of their villages.

I guess the death of my parents was the same. I should have been more grateful and strong, but for some reason, unlike the other children, I just couldn't be.

I did feel sorry for Sensei Sato though. I could only imagine the grieving pain he must have felt to have lost his entire team on a mission and been the sole survivor. I knew he spent most of his time in Suna's bar, drinking himself into a stupor. The man was depressed, and constantly asked himself the aching question of why he was the only one to live. I know he would have gladly traded his life for his subordinates if given the option. He had always been a selfless man so it was dramatically ironic that he'd survive the members of his three-man squad.

Other ninja and villagers alike visited the gravesite as well. While I was hidden in the trees, I enjoyed listening to the conversations they had with my parents or to the reflections they had with the other shinobi they attended with. It was fascinating to hear stories of my parents' bravery on missions or kindness to others. They were such good people.

As the number of visitors had dwindled to nothing, I decided it was time I pay my respects at last.

Gazing down to the tombstones before me, I don't even know if they could hear me. Slowly, it began to rain. First it was small sprinkles, little droplets bitterly kissing me underneath the darkened sky. Then it began to pour so much that my hair was soaked instantly. My limbs were aching in the coldness, but I didn't move.

I didn't move for hours. Nightfall had set, and I still couldn't tear myself away. I'd been holding on to them all night.

I felt my body wrack with uncontrollable shivering, but I still ignored its warnings to me. I was aware I'd catch a cold if I hadn't already. A cold would be relatively easy to get over. I wasn't afraid of one. Hypothermia, a more likely result of by stubbornness, was not so easy to get over.

I just wanted to stay with them and remember their lives for just a few more moments.

I recalled the time when my father was studying for an important mission. He was requested to protect a feudal lord and his family. It was imperative he and his operatives take them safely across the country. If any of them had been assassinated, a war would have broken out.

Before the mission he had to become well-versed with a map of the land, the several outlaws that would be pursuing them, and also several jutsus necessary to know in order to stop their pursuers. If he made a mistake in his studies and it caused him error in the mission, the failure would come at a great cost. He had been so very stressed that one morning he barged through all the rooms of the house shouting, "Where's my scroll?"

My mother was outside with me, preparing to walk me to Suna's Ninja Academy. I was just in preschool then. My father wouldn't let us leave until his scroll was found because he had gotten it in his head that somehow if we left, the scroll would vanish for good.

It was then that I pointed to the object he held in his hand and said, "What's that scroll in your hand, daddy?"

He took a moment to pause and see where I had pointed. A big smile formed upon his face. My mom smiled too and we all laughed. It was then that he suggested he take a break from his studies and should make his family some breakfast.

I got to play hooky from school that day. My father made a delicious breakfast, with mine and all my mother's favorite things to eat. That had been my first lesson in cooking. He had stood me on top of the counter, giving instructions for me to follow when I was old enough to reach the stove, and taught me how to make pancakes.

After breakfast, mother mentioned that her favorite actor was starring in a new movie that was out. It was an action film about a spy named Bonzu Jun. I remember it well still, could even quote my favorite lines from the movie although I had been so very young when I saw it. Then we went to dinner that evening too. It was one of the best memories I had of my parents. My father gave me piggy-back rides that whole day while my mother fondly kissed my cheeks.

I choked out a weird noise stuck between a sob and laughter as hot tears collected at my eyes. It was easy to distinguish the tears from the rain because of their difference in temperature. Rain was cold, but tears were always hot.

I could feel how damp and how cold I was, but still wouldn't budge. I wanted to keep remembering my parents.

I thought of the day they left for their last mission and knew when they told me they were leaving, that something was very severely wrong. Later that evening, a social worker and a ninja from a different squadron came to pay me a visit.

Something terrible has happened. Your parents didn't survive the mission. Only Sensei Sato has survived, but he's in dire condition. We're unsure if he will live. We know how grief stricken you must be, but…

I blacked out for much of the conversation. When I snapped out of it, they were still talking.

They were very admirable shinobi. You might be too young to understand this now, but you should be proud of them. You're almost graduated from the academy. You'll be going out on missions of your own soon. Keep your parents' legacy alive.

They told me I should be strong enough to live on my own. I was old enough to take care of myself and with no other relatives to house me, I was an orphan. I'd get a small allowance which permitted me to live on my own, but it was encouraged that after graduation I accept many missions and earn my own money.

That's what they had told me.

Although Sorachi didn't have parents either and it would have appeared a good idea to live together to keep from being lonely, neither of us spoke of it. We both understood each other's right to privacy and that while we were there for one another at any time, it would be best to live separately. It was an unspoken decision we made.

If it hadn't been for Hoshiro's parents going out of their way to ensure I stayed in the Ninja Academy, I know I would have dropped out even though I was a few months from completing my time there. I would have never graduated. I had no family to take custody of me, and I also hadn't wanted to burden my teammates' family.

I pretended I was fine, and that I could live alone. No one knows that for a year, I spent every evening alone in tears. Sometimes it was more like a tantrum. I'd throw things and scream, breaking whatever I could get my hands on. It was violent and mindless, but I couldn't help it. Other times, I'd quietly sob in the corner of my room, clutching the photo album I had of my parents until my fingers were sore from grasping it.

On the outside, I was calm and collected as always. Perhaps more reserved when it came to interacting with others, but I hid beneath a façade. My shy and anti-social personality was deep beneath a counterfeit surface of genial smiles and public speaking. I hid behind my good grades and my dreams of becoming a councilmember.

It did help—sometimes.

I think that it wasn't until I met Kiba, that the pain subsided relatively. Of course, he didn't know that. I never told him or went into detail about the agony I'd spent over the loss of my parents. No one knew except maybe Sorachi because she went through it as well. We never spoke of it though. It was too much.

I think that's why when Kiba and I broke up, I took it so hard. I grieved the break-up like a death. Sorachi and Hoshiro were patient with me, but I knew they were losing their patience when I could hardly peel myself out of my bed.

I'll never understand why it was me that lost both of my parents. I know it happens. I understand that, but what I couldn't grasp was why it had to happen to me. Not that I'd wish it upon someone else instead. That was wrong too.

I just wished… Well, I wished they were still alive.

But so what if I never got the make-up lessons from my mother that I was supposed to? She taught me more important things like being kind and compassionate towards others. How you should always do the right thing no matter what, and that you shouldn't let anyone push you around (although I can't say that one has worked for me).

My father taught me how to cook and provide for myself. That lesson had really come in handy for me. He taught me how to set traps and be a better shinobi. He also taught me humility and honor.

Those were invaluable lessons I learned. I valued the time I had spent with them while they were alive so I never had to feel the regret of taking them for granted.

I suppose it could all be looked at in somewhat of a positive light. I just wondered so many things all the time.

What would mom have said about Kiba? About Kenshin? About Gaara? About this whole situation I was in with those three?

She might have told me Kiba was no good, or that Kenshin was someone to watch out for because looks could be deceiving. That Gaara was perfect but not to invest all my hopes in him because guys were trouble no matter what. That he may never feel the same way. Or she may have told me to be brave and try hard for him.

I'll never really know what she thought.

What would father have advised me to do when Temari began making my life hell? Would he have told me to be the bigger person and ignore how mean she was or would he have told me that I should be tough and suck it up because one day I'd be a councilwoman? Would he have told me to stand up for myself?

Was it a lesson in humility and endurance or a time for me to stand up for myself?

I'll never know that either.

I looked up at their graves suddenly, almost startled. I hadn't noticed myself crouching low into a fetal position. I hadn't noticed I'd begun rocking and that I was more than soaked. I felt like a drenched mermaid with pink hair clinging in unruly strands to my face.

Then I felt an umbrella shield me from anymore falling rain. White lilies were placed at the foot of the graves, delicate and beautiful. They seemed to weep with me from underneath the umbrella's expansive black canopy.

I looked to the stranger to be greeted by a shock of red hair. How had he found me? How did he know?

I knew that answer that made sense. When I didn't show up at the office or in my room and couldn't be called or messaged, questions on my whereabouts were asked. Sorachi and Hoshiro were contacted. So was my Sensei. They all said that today was the day of my parents' death and were able to let Gaara know which cemetery they were buried in. He came looking for me.

"We should get you inside," he told me as he bent low to offer me his hand.

Beneath the hot tears, I nodded and accepted it. He helped me to a standing position and held the umbrella over our heads. I felt an arm extend around my shoulders to secure me because I was trembling horribly, incapable of walking without the support of another.

"You'll get wet," I warned him. I could already feel the water from my body seeping into the cloth of his coat's sleeve.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Let's go."

Sand Castle was too far a walk when my teeth wouldn't stop chattering so Gaara led me into a small inn at the outskirts of Suna. We had been treading through three feet of water to get to the quaint building, but made it in about twenty minutes of trudging.

This was record rainfall for Suna. We hadn't seen rain like this since five years ago. Missions, if not of dire necessity, were put on hold until the weather calmed. The streets were blocked off and everyone was requested to stay indoors until it passed. It was safer for citizens that way.

Gaara booked a room and told me to change into something dry when we arrived at the small space. I took a hot shower and obliged by changing into a long white robe he had laid out for me. When I was finished, I joined him at the table where he had hot tea already prepared for me.

He poured me a cup and gazed intently at me, waiting for me to speak as if cautious not to startle me.

After many quiet moments and even more sips of tea, I broke the silence between us. "Thank you," I said, "for finding me and for getting me someplace safe and warm."

He nodded. "I couldn't leave you like that. Although today you may have desperately wanted to be alone, I think even more desperately you needed someone to be there for you."

To this, I said nothing. I was too in shock of how well he seemed to know the situation, to know me. I hadn't anticipated it, hadn't seen it coming that he would be the one to pull me from the blackness that had consumed me today.

I would have never expected someone to make my armor fall so effortlessly and unknowingly, making it clink to the floor in chunks of useless scrap metal when the pieces had once so proudly and strongly protected me—to pierce through the fortified walls I'd put up like a cannonball.

My life hadn't been nearly as tainted and misery-ridden as his. He had overcome the shades of the darkest blue. He was never a saint, but he had repented and changed his hue from the darkest blue to a vibrant burning red like a flaming beacon. There were still the walls he put up though, the ones he painted blue, but it felt as if he had taken them down and was opening the door for me. And beyond the door, there were even still the occasional shades of wrong, but I loved them without hesitation.

I felt like despite all that, in that moment we remained alone together in the room, we had clean slates. Destinies intertwined, just four blue eyes.

"I have something for you," he told me suddenly. Before I could ask what it was, he reached into the inside of his coat and removed a lovely pink flower with pointed petals that seemed to reach skyward. In its center was a miniature field of yellow.

I had seen flowers of that kind before, usually in ponds or waterbeds. Although, I never really knew the meaning behind them. I definitely had seen them in Konoha, but they weren't too common in Suna. I believe Sand Castle's courtyard pond had some.

"It's a lotus flower," he explained once he saw my slight confusion. "It's a symbol of purity and rebirth. It reminds me of you."

Gently, he smiled a little as his hands extended toward mine, reaching out in the softest of touches. He turned them palm side up and tenderly placed the lotus within them. He cupped his hands around mine in a hold of warmth and care. Our eyes met and my heart melted.

"The death of your parents was a great loss. One you will always hurt from and ache with sadness because of. You will withdraw from everyone during the darkness. However, like the lotus, you will be exalted and emerge with the sun, becoming the most beautiful and pure of the flowers around you."

I was without words and even without breath. That was perhaps the most magical and meaningful thing anyone had ever said to me. Sabaku no Gaara, though reserved, was one of empowering words. And I realized that I no longer needed to write his speeches for him. He didn't need me to for he had surpassed me with his sincerity and majestic manner.

I gasped when I felt warm tears slip away from my eyes, like dewdrops escaping their petals.

"I didn't mean to make you upset," Gaara said, pulling his hands away.

I placed the lotus on the tabletop and rose from my chair. "No," I told him, "you didn't make me upset."

He seemed genuinely lost, and I laughed at his innocence through the heavy breaths as I dabbed the tears from my eyes with the back of my wrists. I wasn't paying attention when I took a few steps forward and bumped my hip into the table. Immediately, he rose from his seat to catch me and secure me.

I captured him in my embrace instead. "Excuse me if this is inappropriate, Kazekage-sama," I murmured into his shoulder as I shook with my crying, "but thank you. Thank you so much."

He was awkward at first, very stiff. I could tell how startled he had been from my actions. He was unsure how to receive them, didn't know what he should do next. I remembered how he had held me once, but he initiated that contact and so it had been more natural for him. I doubted he had ever had someone hold him the way I was now.

When I gave no hints of rearranging myself elsewhere, he relaxed at last. I felt his arms enclose around me. In them, I felt safe and peaceful.

All I knew was that I didn't want to let go.

"You won't be sad forever, Tsubasa-san," he promised. It was genuine and real and sincere. He had no idea how nice that was, but I did.

"Thank you," I said again. Finally and reluctantly, I released him. He almost seemed as equally regretful to release me. "You have no idea how much you have helped me. I feel indebted."

I'd spent the past long months thinking life was a hectic hell and that I no longer even wanted to continue mine. I'd spent the past few years thinking that all love ever did was break and burn and end.

Right now was like a state of grace, a realization that life is a worthwhile fight. It could be mercilessly ruthless, but it could also be randomly beautiful. This was the latter. It was something good and it was something real and right.

It was a moment which would render me as a different person. I'd never be the same. I knew something that I didn't know before, understood what had once perplexed me.

Everything had changed.

On the anniversary of the hardest day of my life, in Gaara's arms and in view of the pink lotus—so full of vitality and strength—I watched as my life was about to begin again.

Author's Note: Tsubasa had a hard time coping with the anniversary of her parents' death, but fortunately Gaara was able to help remedy the pain.

Why do you think Gaara went out of his way to find her?

What do you think of him gifting her the lotus flower and what it could possibly mean between them other than a small act of kindness?

Do you feel that this could be the turning point of their relationship together?

Until next time, my readers! Have an early Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!