As Gaara ran through the forest, his Third Eye searching for somewhere to wash her, he pondered about his discoveries.

An Uchiha.

Surely, hell would break loose. As Kazekage, he was obligated to inform the Hokage of this event. As Hokage, Tsunadae would have to tell Team 7, a.k.a. the Sasuke Retrieval Team. Gaara had no doubt that they would use Sora as means to lure Sasuke Uchiha back to Konoha.

Jade eyes hadn't left the face of the sleeping girl in his arms. The kunoichi would be used as a tool and as Kazekage, he would have to surrender her over to Konoha, should the Hokage ask for her. The Uchiha clan belonged to the Hidden Leaf and if he refused to give the girl, Naruto would be angered. His hands were tied.

As if he wasn't already livid enough. Not only had the Fates thrown him in this situation, but the girl had also deceived him. There had been an Uchiha under his nose. She had come into his office, went on missions with his shinobi and tried to be recruited to his ANBU. There had been bountiful opportunities for disaster to strike. Which led to his next thought.

What was her aim? She could be associated with the other Uchiha's and the Five Nations knew what wonderful people the brothers were. Still, there was something off.

Why hadn't there been an attack? The Julius family was loyal and wouldn't endanger Suna. The girl could have been a proficient actress, but from such a young age? There were too many holes. They'd have to be filled with an interrogation.

The pair arrived at a river and the Kazekage paused for a moment. He frowned. Should he wake her while she still soaked blood or rinse her himself? The answer was obvious. He'd throw her in.

Gaara frowned at himself for such a childish thought. Frivolous emotions such as anger had to be controlled. The Kazekage definitely had control.

He began to undress the girl, peeling off the blood soaked clothing that clung to her frame. Thank gods the liquid hadn't seeped through enough to reach her undergarments. That would've been torturous.

Gaara took off his coat and black shirt underneath to avoid the clothing getting wet. He sat down and laid Sora across his lap, her head dipping low enough that only her hair was underwater. Gaara leaned over to run his fingers through the inky tresses. Her faint breaths swept over his bare chest.

The Kazekage didn't feel it; his attention was elsewhere, like the clear, colorless water turning darker.

For a moment, the redhead forgot his rage, replaced with a new emotion. Two in one day- this was an all-time record.

It had been a very long time since he last felt this much guilt. The girl had a phobia of blood and he had exploded a body mere inches from her face. She hadn't even screamed or cried. Instead, she suffered her full-scale panic attack in silence against a tree. That, he knew, wasn't fake.

It was no wonder she persistently refused ANBU. He was astonished Sora even made it through being jonin.

He supposed it wasn't the first time he'd met a peculiar nin like her. There was Matsuri, who was afraid of weapons. He'd taught her to use the johyo and she eventually overcame the phobia.

Sora had made it all the way to her prestige rank with the fear. The Kazekage had respect for her courage and ambition to be a shinobi.

The water from her hair cleansed away all the blood and so he started working on her skin. Wet thumbs rubbed at the dried blood on her face, uncovering the creamy skin underneath.

This was the first time he had ever touched her. She was soft.

It was also the first time Gaara had fully seen her. Her black hair was slicked back with water to reveal the angelic face for all to see; there was nothing to hide her body but the scanty underwear.

It was mortifying.

What was worse was that his eyes couldn't be stopped from wandering.

Since their first meeting, the Kazekage thought she needed a haircut; the black tresses hindered her vision and as a shinobi, that was lethal. However, it didn't seem to deter her performance so he never ordered it. Whenever she came into his office, she never changed the style and he couldn't help but wonder why. Passing it off as some hairstyle preference, he never bothered with it again. Now he knew.

Sora was sinfully beautiful. Her complexion was flawless and oval face symmetrical. Her slender nose curved adorably and her lips were a light shade of berry that was full, feminine and alluring. She had high and prominent cheekbones, perfectly elegant eyebrows and her eyes were framed with long eyelashes that curved towards the sky. Though her eyes were closed, he could remember the deep blue hidden underneath the lids. They had a certain, indefinable spark to them and it was captivating. They were hypnotizing and sensual, with a touch of mischief.

What else did he fail to notice?

Everything, it seemed. Such as her smooth, column neck or the way her shoulders dipped so elegantly and her just as graceful fingers that were slightly calloused from handling weapons regularly. Sora wasn't bountiful in the chest but Gaara imagined they'd fit perfectly in his hands.

His left eye twitched, quickly diverting further down. She had a tiny waist that flared to hips. Her long, creamy legs exposed lean muscles and quickness. Once they reached her tiny feet, his eyes strayed upwards again, looking for anything else he could've missed. Gaara was indulging in the sight of her and always appreciated beautiful things. Jade eyes stopped at her bellybutton, and for some reason, found the innie quite cute. There was a small freckle beside it, which was equally adorable. However, it lead to him straying to the two lines that led downwards…

And Gaara stopped himself before he saw something he would never be unable to forget.

With new concentration, he washed the rest of the blood off, leaving only a gleaming ivory. Pleased with his work, the redhead reached his fingers into the water to rinse them. All of a sudden, he was attacked.

If Sora thought this morning was a good way to wake up, this was great.

At first, it wasn't so well because she was cold. It felt like her entire body was dumped in a river (which wasn't too far from the truth) but in some areas, she was warm. There was also that alluring scent she had smelled earlier this morning of coffee, ink and desert. Her eyes fluttered open, and in front of her was skin.

The skin of a sculpted, bare chest.

And she had a good idea as to whose it was.

At first, she was stunned frozen. Sora was fully conscious and alert of the way her body was touching Gaara's and of his touching hers. They were subtle, fluttering touches but it was skin on skin. She felt hot. Way too hot.

Like she needed to shed some clothes but it seemed someone had done that for her already. Dear gods, she was in her underwear.

Immediately, her hands pushed on Gaara's chest with such force that he was knocked flat unto his back. Instinctively, he had his sand poised to attack and was about to give the signal to Sand Coffin-

"Perv! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Gaara blinked wide eyes.

Sora was standing, one hand clenched at her side and another pointing an accusatory finger at the boy whose hair was the same color as her face.

All previous thought of threat ceased. The Kazekage had never been called a pervert before and, opposed the notion. He sat up on his elbows, frowning. "I was cleaning the blood off." Underlying his words was a sarcastic 'You're welcome'.

Sora was taken aback. Her hand gradually lowered. She relayed her memories and in no time at all, remembered the incident.

Ah.

For one second she was fuming and in the next, shame crushed her.

Not only had she insulted the person who had been helping her, but the Kazekage had also seen her in…that state; her weakest state.

Sora waved goodbye to her dignity.

Sheepishly, midnight eyes peeked through to regard the irritated jade. This…was extremely uncomfortable. She'd rather be lying on a bed of nails than this.

A hand rubbed the upper arm of the other for self-encouragement and her chin was tilted downwards, not at Gaara. It was the generic vision of shy uneasiness. Telling herself to get it over with, Sora looked Gaara in the eye and tersely said, "I'm sorry. Thanks for…helping."

Her out of character coyness had the redhead suspicious. Then he remembered something about falseness and that led to him recalling his previous objective.

On command, sand wrapped around Sora's wrists and ankles, binding her to the ground like chains.

"What the-"

Sand covered her mouth as well. Gaara didn't want her talking; he wanted her suffering.

The sand tightened enough to bruise.

He stood from the ground, taking several strides towards the girl until he was but a foot away. He was rather surprised; Sora was scowling. She didn't seem to be suffering any symptoms of fear…physically.

If there were one thing Gaara was best at besides being Kazekage, it would be intimidation. A good portion of his life consisted of him satiating Shukaku's sadistic crazes, and along the way, Gaara made grown, shinobi men cry. They cried a lot. Interrogating a girl who had just recovered from a traumatizing experience was virtually a joke.

Gaara set his eyes into the infamous look that made blood freeze. He crossed his bare arms, and steel ran in his voice. "You best have a valid explanation, Uchiha."

He watched as her glare deadpanned, and her head tried to tilt but his sand prevented the action.

The grains dripped from her mouth and unto the ground. He was allowing her to speak but it took minutes before Sora said anything. What she said was not what he had expected.

"Are you fucking crazy?"

His arms tightened.

The encasing sand constricted enough that the slightest pressure would break her arms and legs. Sora gritted her teeth, fighting back her cry of pain.

"No," Gaara said, the foreboding calm in his appearance cracking, "I am not. You, who has been operating incognito and currently attempting treason against I, could be."

Sora knew better than to struggle against the sand. Her voice was as strained as her appearance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

It was the typical answer. This was the second time she refused to give him information and the Kazekage was not a patient person.

Sora saw the aggravated gleam in his eyes and before he could act on it, said, "I am not lying. I want an explanation as to what the fuck is happening."

Jade eyes narrowed and she could feel the pressure squeezing her insides. However, Sora's expression didn't show any fault.

"Earlier," he stated, "You possessed the Sharingan."

Sora's cut off body circulation was turning parts of her blue, she was being examined with the menacing, calculative eyes of Gaara no Sabaku that was used explicitly for enemies and was being interrogated by him for god knows what reason. She still managed to look at him like he'd grown a second head.

"The…Sharingan," she echoed.

Gaara didn't bother to answer.

The kunoichi let that sink in for a bit. She knew what it was: the lethal doujutsu, blood limit to the Uchiha clan. A clan Gaara thought she was associated with for unknown reasons. She sincerely worried that he'd finally lost it.

Great. She was alone in the woods with an angry mad man. Hm. It wasn't the worst circumstances she'd been under. But then again, this was a Kage.

For a moment, Sora considered the insane idea of her having the Sharingan. If she was going to die, she might as well try to find out why she was being killed by the hands of the Fifth. The redhead was intelligent and practical; his accusation had to have some merit.

The Sharingan.

A.K.A. The Copy Wheel Eyes.

Gives the user exceptional perception and clarity, allowing them to detect even the minutest of details.

Her stomach dropped. Wasn't that what she experienced? Seeing every vein of every leaf, seeing the world anew. It had to be a mistake.

"It's a mistake."

There was a pause filled with dread and Sora already knew what he would say. "No." The terrible word still had her flinch. "It certainly is not."

But then that would mean…

"You're wrong." He had to be. I can't be- it couldn't have been- it had to be-

"I know what I saw, Uchiha."

She couldn't look at him anymore, preferring anywhere else. The earth ground darkened with falling tears. They fell like the puzzle pieces in her head, all coming into place.

Somehow, she knew he was right. The clarity of the Sharingan, her katon jutsus, and distinguishable physical features associated with the clan, the massacre and her unknown family…

"But," she whimpered, believing the plea would make it impossible. "They're dead."

Gaara didn't respond because she was talking to herself. His sand loosened, and Sora made no attempt to regain balance. The entire world was off, and she was on her knees with an air of defeat.

Sora had hoped. As a child, she always believed that her family would find her somehow. She held family in high regards; it was always something she thought was very important. Even if they weren't with her right now, they were somewhere. Until they returned, the Julius was her family and she would patiently wait.

They never came and they never would.

"This is so fucked," she said between sob hitches. Sora was curled into a ball, knees to her chest, head down and arms wrapped around her crumbling form.

Sora could count the times she cried on one hand, on one finger. The incident when Katou's blood was on her was the first and last time the emotional stress was too much for her to handle. She had seen how it disheartened Katou the next few days. Blaming herself, Sora swore that never again would she cry in front of someone.

She had held strong until this moment.

"How did you not know?"

She'd forgotten Gaara was here. Couldn't he just leave her be? All she wanted to do was suffer alone. Answering would be the quickest way to it. "I don't remember anything before I was 8," she mumbled. "The Julius family found me on the streets."

There was a tense silence and Sora ignored everything that existed but then pain inside.

If Gaara thought he felt guilty before, this was equivalent to kicking puppies all day.

Dear god, she hadn't even known.

The Sharingan was mature, signified by the three tomoes. The likelihood that she would have such an advanced doujutsu by the age of 8 was near miraculous. He hadn't taken into consideration her knowledge from his haze of fury; the chances she didn't were impossible. Today made him rethink what could be possible.

Gaara no Sabaku prided himself on his superior intelligence. If he wanted something, he could think of a way to get it and eventually, would achieve this goal. He had a vast amount of knowledge from having read volumes upon volumes of scrolls from the Kazekage library and from the mountain of assignments laid on his desk everyday. Not a single word from any of this gathered information could help him in this situation and his genius was nonplussed. He felt like the biggest idiot in all the Five Nations.

The next action towards what he should do or say to the Uchiha crying in a ball in front of him could not be deliberated. It was a most awkward situation.

As ridiculous as it was, all he could derive from this predicament was that he had made the girl cry. It was such a meager thought among all this mess of tragedy but one that troubled him most, nonetheless.

It was a strange enough idea that an Uchiha would be crying, but it was because Sora was crying that made him even more mortified. He had to do something.

Gaara, in lack of anything better to say, said, "Don't cry."

Bad idea.

"Don't cry."

Sora tensed. She then shot up from her ball state, her right fist directed at the Kage. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do since he suspected her of treason but it was the rage. She needed an outlet. She needed release.

The Uchiha barely remarked that his sand hadn't shot up in defense; Gaara had caught her fist. Damn bastard probably thought she wasn't of any danger. She was weak. She was pathetic. She was furious at him.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Kazekage," she shouted, brimming on a scream. "My fucking family was massacred and the one survivor is a rouge nin! I have no memories to remember them by and you just tried to kill me for treason. If I'm not supposed to cry, what do I do? Tell me," and her voice fell to a whimper, a plea. "Tell me, what am I supposed to do?"

The arm of her attack slacked, and Gaara clenched his hand around hers to keep it from falling away. Tears rushed down her face once more, the adrenaline of rage dissipating. The misery was too great to be ignored for long.

Sora felt empty and needed something warm. If only Katou were here. The boy was practically the Sun and if he knew she was crying, he'd come running. But he wasn't here and all she had was the cold iceberg named Gaara no Sabaku.

Then, he wasn't as cold as she'd thought because just then, he made her heart melt the slightest.

At first, Sora flinched as the hand that caught her right fist moved. Would he hurt her? At this point, she didn't care. Thus, she allowed it.

Then the feeling of his fingers moving between hers did a strange thing to her body and it managed to distract her from the grief. Watered midnight eyes looked to him curiously. Despite the gesture meant for comfort, his expression was blank as usual and he didn't say anything.

Thinking she imagined it, Sora glanced down to the entwined hands between them. No, he really was holding her hand.

Why?

It was unlike him to initiate anything of this sort, especially after what just happened. He had threatened her, practically crushed her and – her eyes widened. It dawned on Sora that this was his form of an apology.

And it was…nice.

Some of the burden in her heart was lifted, replaced by the warmth she'd been longing. Tentatively, Sora settled her fingers to reciprocate the gesture and found that her muscles relaxed as she did.

Gaara let Sora regain her composure, watching as the tears stopped, her breathing converted back to normal and the rest of her eased.

He didn't know how long they'd stood there. It could've been minutes, could've been hours. No matter how much time was spent, it wasn't enough. Sora's right hand eventually slipped from his left and Gaara made a conscious effort not to stop her.

"We should get going," she said in a small voice.

The moment was over and Gaara nodded.