Truth: She had never been happier.

"You were supposed to clean the kiln this morning!" her father raged as she entered the Arita household. "You have responsibilities, Kiyomi!"

"Not to you," Kiyomi snapped, pushing past him as her mother stood in the background, as always. Outside, thunder rumbled in warning, echoing her mood. The promised rain was close.

She stalked down the hall and had intended to rush past the room they all avoided like the plague, but something stopped her.

She turned and looked at Aika's door, hesitant for a moment.

"I'm not going to be afraid of ghosts," Kiyomi snapped at herself, and jerked the door open, taking a large step inside. She let out a deep breath of air.

Nothing had changed since Aika left. There was her bed, pushed into the left corner, a desk along the same wall at the foot. Her wardrobe was on the opposite wall. The right corner nearest the door was a section for pottery, something Aika had enjoyed far more than Kiyomi ever had. Opposite the door into the room was another door leading out onto the porch. It looked over the garden that was the center of the small Arita compound. Aika never shut the door unless the weather made it a necessity, but now the doors were tightly closed.

Kiyomi hadn't been in here since the morning when she heard her father shout. She'd rushed out of her room and scrambled down the hall only to find her father on his knees in the middle of Aika's room and her mother leaning weakly against the wall, no sign of her sister in sight. The wardrobe doors stood open and empty and the desk was cleared, just as it was now.

Kiyomi shut the door behind her and stepped inside, looking around. She remembered Aika telling her stories while they sat on her bed, Aika guiding her hands over the pottery wheel, sitting down with her at the desk and showing her how to draw… Aika was always the artistic one. Drawing, singing, dancing, poetry… she could do it all. Their mother always called her an old soul, thanks to her lady-like talents and demure manner.

Kiyomi crossed the room and shoved open the door to the porch viciously when it tried to stick. She stepped out and sat on the edge, looking at the cherry tree that dominated the center of the large garden. The Aritas weren't a large family, but they once had been, and their house reflected it. A bit run-down, a bit empty, but still a lot nicer than some other houses.

Kiyomi remembered when she and Aika would play in the garden as children. Her eyes were just beginning to well with tears of remembrance when she schooled herself, letting the familiar anger flood her instead.

Aika had abandoned her. As children Aika was always there for her. Aika did her chores for her when she was sick and ran interference on Kiyomi's fights with her father, which weren't infrequent even back then. Aika taught her to sing, tried to teach her to draw, though she'd never had an aptitude for that. She had loved her older sister more than anything.

Kiyomi's hands tightened into fists and the rage began to spin out of hand and become all-consuming.

It seems like that was how Sayuri felt about Kimimaro, that she loved him more than anything. But did she have to deal with him leaving? No, she didn't. Kiyomi didn't even know if her sister was alive or dead, if she was happy, if she missed her family… People came back from the dead for Sayuri's sake, but she didn't even know what country her sister was in.

She was Sayuri's teammate. Everyone had been at the hospital, had met this Kimimaro guy except her. She hadn't even known he was around until hours later! No one had though to tell her, despite the fact that she was on the same team. Miyako, Ayano, Sayuri… none of them were interested in having her there.

But of course, Ayano and Miyako had all run to Sayuri's aid when Kimimaro appeared. She wondered if they would do the same for her if Aika ever turned up and decided that no, they would not. She'd never been as well-liked as Sayuri was on their team. No one would have dropped everything and sprinted to the hospital to sit with her.

Sayuri… It all came back to her somehow, her and Aika. The sister who abandoned her, the girl who surpassed her. Somehow she always felt that if she could be better than Sayuri at something, just one thing, then everything would be okay. If just once she could be the best, her life would be okay. Maybe her father would see this was what she was meant for. Maybe her sister would hear about her and come back. Maybe her mother would stop drifting through the house like a ghost like she had since Aika left and realize she had another daughter.

Kiyomi had tried not to, she'd tried to be a good teammate, tried not to be repulsed by the Shikotsumyaku, tried not to be petty, but it hadn't worked. She hated Sayuri sometimes. Kiyomi had always been proud that she'd never really hated anyone, but she did Sayuri. There were days when everything about her annoyed her, from the way she spoke, always sure of what she was saying, to the way she walked, deliberately and with purpose, to the way she looked, the hitai-ate hiding her eyes and making her face inscrutable.

Kiyomi didn't realize how vicious the glare on her face was, eyes boring holes into the swaying pink blossoms of the cherry tree. She opened her mouth, recalling a song she'd heard once, and starting singing, hearing her sister's voice sing along with her.

"Do you ever feel like breaking down? Do you ever feel out of place, like somehow you just don't belong and no one understands you? Do you ever wanna run away? Do you lock yourself in your room with the radio on turned up so loud that no one hears you're screaming?"

This was her. Clearly she wasn't that important to her team, or they would have thought to fetch her last night. And wasn't she breaking down right now? Sitting out on the porch and singing furiously at a tree probably wasn't the healthiest of pass times, but she didn't particularly care at the moment.

"No one ever lied straight to your face and no one ever stabbed you in the back. You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be okay. Everybody always gave you what you wanted. You never had to work it was always there."

That was Sayuri, who'd had everything handed to her on a silver platter. The talent, the friends, the mentor, the doting guardian. People waved to her on the street and she waved back. She stopped and talked to people she knew while no one ever chatted with Kiyomi in the grocery store. And no, despite what everyone seemed to think after the incident that ended with them tied up to poles in the middle of a training field, she still wasn't okay with it.

"You don't know what it's like, what it's like to be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark, to be kicked when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around, to be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you. No, you don't know what it's like to be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark, to be kicked when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around, to be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you. No, you don't know what it's like. Welcome to my life. Welcome to my life. Welcome to my life."

Kiyomi turned away from the tree furiously.

"I'm acting like some melodramatic character in a book," she sneered at herself. She stood up and headed back into Aika's room, shutting the door behind her. She was just passing the desk when she paused, glancing to the side. A flash of white… There it was. Her eyes landed on the corner of a piece of paper sticking from behind the desk.

It wasn't too surprising. Aika's desk used to be overflowing with paper. Some held doodles and random strings of words. Others were full-fledged pieces of art or neatly-written poems trailing across the paper. It wasn't uncommon for them to spill out of drawers or onto the floor. Aika was usually very clean and neat, but her art tended to get away from her. That's why it was so startling to come in that fateful morning and see the desk clear.

Curiosity got the better of her and Kiyomi walked over, nudging the paper out from the thin gap between the desk and the wall. She knocked some dust on it and examined it, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Three pairs of eyes lined the middle of the page from top to bottom. One was a deep black, the other the blazing red of the Uchiha, three tomoe circling. The third was also red, with a black shape reminding her of a three-pointed shuriken. To the right of the eyes was a mask that looked like it belonged to an ANBU member in the shape of a ferret or something similar. To the right was the leaf of Konoha with a thick, straight line bisecting it.

Sharingan, an ANBU mask, and the Konoha symbol with a line through it? Not exactly Aika's usual artwork. Where had she even seen a sharingan? Granted, she had left a month or two before the massacre, but still. When would she have seen a sharingan, or an ANBU mask for that matter? Aika was a civilian, although she'd known a bit of taijutsu somehow.

Kiyomi shook her head. She was not going to get sucked into Aika's memory. She was sick of the intense emotions it brought up every time she did this to herself. Whatever her sister got involved in during the months leading up to her absence, it wasn't Kiyomi's business. Kiyomi opened a random drawer and shoved the drawing inside, slamming it shut before leaving the room.

Outside, the grey sky opened up and the rain began to pour. Lightning cracked across the sky.

Sayuri knocked cautiously on the door to Kimimaro's room.

"Enter," called the familiar voice and Sayuri pushed the door open with a foot, stepping inside. Kimimaro's eyes locked on her hands, where she held two cones of some sort, something creamy on top.

"What is that?" he demanded. Sayuri smiled slightly. Her eyes were exposed again today, so the expression covered all of her face.

"One of my favorite foods," Sayuri explained, kicking the door shut behind her. She offered one cone to him. "I'd never had it when I came here, and I didn't know if you had, but… well, I stopped for some ad thought you might want some as well."

Kimimaro raised a hand off the sheets of his bed and took the cone from her, looking at the cool white food. He turned it this way and that, examining it.

"It won't hurt you," Sayuri said, taking a lick of her own ice cream. She sat down in a chair by the edge of his bed. Cautiously, Kimimaro mirrored her, eyes widening slightly at the taste.

"It's… good. What is it?" he asked, taking a small bite this time.

"Ice cream," Sayuri said happily. "Ayano bought me some when I first got here. She was absolutely horrified to find out I'd never tried it before."

They sat quietly for a moment, enjoying their treats, the silence only broken by the crunch of cones every now and then. Finally, when Kimimaro was finished, he spoke again.

"You enjoy it here, don't you?" he asked softly. "With your friends, your teacher, your guardian."

"I do," Sayuri nodded. "It's more than I ever dreamed of having when I left the Kaguya camp. I thought I'd get to a village, do a few odd jobs, make enough money to survive as a vagrant. Maybe if I was lucky I'd get adopted by a nice enough family, or when I was older maybe I'd get a job as a maid or a cook. I never in my wildest dreams thought something like this was possible. They always told me that I couldn't fight because I was a girl."

"I suspect you took great joy in fully and completely proving them wrong," Kimimaro guessed.

Sayuri smiled, baring her teeth in a slightly ominous way. "Oh yes I did. And I proved to everyone here who thought I couldn't amount to anything because I was blind that they were wrong as well."

"Why?"

Sayuri hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"Why bother?" he clarified. "Why come here at all? Why fight? Why become a kunoichi? Why not simply do what you had always done and serve others?"

Sayuri frowned slightly. "I'm still serving people Kimimaro. I've sworn to keep everyone in the village safe. 'To protect and to aid.' Some of my missions may not be glamorous, like catching missing pets and weeding gardens, but they still help my home."

"So this is your home now?"

"Yes," Sayuri nodded resolutely.

"And yet you promised to leave it for me?"

"I would go anywhere with you," Sayuri swore. "If you leave Konoha, you just have to say the word and I'll go with you." She bit her lip. "That said, I would rather you stayed here. Miyako and Kiyomi, Ayano, Satoru. They could be your friends, your teacher, your guardian. I wish more than anything that you'll let me share my life with you. I want you to see that there are people who don't just want to use you for your abilities, who won't keep you locked up until it suits them." She bit her bottom lip hesitantly. "As for why I fight… I fight because of you."

Kimimaro blinked at that. "What?"

Sayuri flushed slightly. "I remember every time I made a decision, from leaving the Kaguya camp to accepting Satoru's offer to come here, I did it all for you. When I left, I wished you were there with me, that we could have left together. When I decided to become a shinobi of Konoha, I did it because I wanted to make Mist pay for what they did to you – what I thought they did to you," she corrected herself. "I swore I would experience all the things I thought you'd never get to. I took the name Sayuri because lilies are your favorite flowers."

Kimimaro stared at the girl in front of him. She was so changed from the little girl who'd stumbled into his dark cave in too-large clothes, shoulders hunched, cowed. She was older, more confident. She carried herself with dignity and sat with her back straight. Her body was all lithe muscle and she was sure of who she was. She stared at him without shame as she essentially told him that she'd lived her life for him all these years.

"You really aren't Nigate anymore," he mused.

"The last person who called me Nigate I put in the hospital," Sayuri said, and this time her smile was smug. "He was a Hyuga, who said I would never triumph over my disability."

"And I suppose he regretted insulting you," Kimimaro said, almost finding it in himself to chuckle slightly at the pride on her face.

"I'm a Kaguya, after all."

"As am I. The last of our clan."

"And the most powerful," she added. "Maybe if you decide to stay, you can teach me. I don't doubt you're much stronger than me."

"Perhaps," he allowed. "But I have much recovery to do. My illness…" He paused and placed a hand to his chest. "It's strange to be able to breathe easily. Orochimaru was furious when he discovered my disease. I was no longer of any use to him," he recalled mournfully.

"He didn't deserve you," Sayuri said matter-of-factly. Kimimaro shook his head.

"It was I who did not deserve him," he disagreed. "I followed the orders of those who had wronged me. I didn't understand the world around me until he explained it to me. I am a weapon, but a weapon is no good without someone to wield it."

"Do not ever say that!" Sayuri said sharply, grasping his hand in her own and pulling it to her chest earnestly. "You are much more than a weapon! Weapons have no feelings, no likes and dislikes. You like flowers and the smell of wood smoke and you hate plain rice and darkness. You like listening to the sound of rain and you don't like when its humid, because you could barely breathe in the cave the air was so thick. You're loyal and you can be kind. You have an old soul, the kind that likes simple things like being around others. You like to be touched because for so many years no one ever came close to you and… and I hope you like me," she finished weakly.

He looked at her, startled by her insistence as she'd ranted about his likes and dislikes, honestly surprised that she knew so much about him that he'd never even considered. He was even more surprised that she knew why he liked or disliked some things. He supposed over the years he'd forgotten some of how close they used to be.

As he thought he recalled more about her as well. Her favorite color was the green of his eyes, she'd once said, because they were the thing she most wished she could see. She loved the feeling of warmth you got when you stepped out of the shade and into the sun. She also hated plain rice because they had eaten it day in and day out for years. What she loved best was when she was able to sneak some of the smoked meat away from the dinners of the Kaguya men and she would creep into the cave and share it with him, the two starving children whimpering in delight at the taste. She had made up story after story, desperate to keep him entertained.

It actually surprised him to think back and remember how close they used to be. He longed for that again, more than he'd like to admit. It was weak to rely on someone like that but he couldn't deny that he loved the idea of being loved, the one thing he'd been denied the entirety of his life, no matter how hard he tried to please first the Kaguya and then Orochimaru with his abilities. And there was Sayuri, offering it to him simply for existing.

Sayuri dropped his hand. "One of the worst things I could think of," she began, "would be to have you think you were worthless when you're worth everything to me."

Kimimaro cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn't one for emotional conversations, but she deserved to know… "You mean… a lot to me Ni- Sayuri. You… always have."

Sayuri beamed at him. He'd never seen her smile quite so brightly. She shifted off the chair and sat on the side of his bed, cautiously wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to her, resting her chin on his shoulder. When he didn't pull away, her muscles loosened.

"You have no idea how much it means to me to hear that," she whispered. Kimimaro wrapped his arms around her as well, delighting in the contact.

"I think I do."

For a while they stayed that way, wrapped up in the presence of an old friend and each delighting in the idea that they meant so much to someone when they had grown up meaning nothing to anyone. Finally they released each other and Sayuri moved back to her chair. She began to tell him everything about her life, her times with Satoru, in the Academy, about Miyako and Kiyomi, Ayano's antics, their first mission, the incident with Yasushi's village, the chunin exams… She had been surprised to learn how close he had been then, but she hadn't sensed him.

He expressed an interest in the scar gained while fighting the raiders and she shucked her shirt to show him, shivering slightly when he touched it. The deadened nerve endings made for an interesting sensation whenever it was touched. They exchanged small touches, holding hands and stroking arms or legs as they spoke. It wasn't sexual, merely a craving for the contact they had been denied by cell bars all those years ago.

Finally conversation waned into companionable silence as they listened to the soothing sound of the rain falling outside. Kimimaro leaned back, resting, and Sayuri stood and moved to the window. She stared sightlessly out into the pouring rain. Something about it made her shudder. The rain felt… angry, sad. It made her feel tiny and hated. She crossed her arms over her chest resolutely and squared her shoulders against it, but still her spine shivered.

"Something wrong?" Kimimaro asked wearily, noticing the tremble.

"Just a bit cold. The rain's chilly."

Sayuri turned back to him and smiled slightly. Instantly she felt warmer as he held out a hand, inviting her back towards his hospital bed. To her surprise, he lifted his sheets and beckoned her to join him. Sayuri slid under the sheets and curled against his side, sighing in delight as he threw an arm around her shoulder and pressed her closer. She'd dreamed of being able to simply be with him for so long…

Together, they fell asleep to the sound of the storm.

Gaara wasn't quite sure why he wanted to speak to Kimimaro. Perhaps it was because a man like him, who'd loyally served Orochimaru and likely done some unspeakable things, could inspire such loyalty from someone like Sayuri. She was civil and nice to everyone, of course, but he wouldn't really consider anyone her friend except Miyako and Kiyomi. Frankly, Gaara was curious as to how he managed.

Gaara himself still struggled at times. The beast in his mind occasionally screamed for blood and he found himself wondering if it would be easier to simply kill anyone annoying him rather than dealing with them politely, how easy it would be to crush them in his sand, bathe the grains in blood…

Gaara shook his head free of such thoughts. He only had a few minutes before he was supposed to meet Kankuro and Temari at the gates of Konoha to head back towards Suna, and the promised rain was falling in torrents. He wasn't looking forwards to the trip back whatsoever.

He paused by the nurse's station and cleared his throat awkwardly. A redhead looked up at him and smiled.

"Hey, I know you! You were that Sand guy at the Hokage's Festival!"

Thinking back, Gaara recalled her face. She was Miyako's relative, the one who was kissing some guy a few blankets away from them to enact some sort of revenge that to this day he didn't fully understand.

"I'm looking for Kimimaro," Gaara requested.

"Down the hall, third door on the left," she said, pointing. Gaara nodded his thanks and started off down the hall. He paused outside the door, hand lingering over the doorknob. Did he really want to do this?

"Come in."

It seemed Kimimaro had sensed him. Gaara pushed the door open and stepped inside. He looked to the hospital bed and his eyes widened slightly at what he found there. Kimimaro was sitting up, head tilted back against the pillows with his eyes closed. Sayuri was curled against his side, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other one tucked under her chin. One of Kimimaro's arms was wrapped around her back, holding her to him.

"You were the one that brought me here," he said, opening his eyes and looking Gaara in the eye fearlessly, something a lot of people in Suna still couldn't do. "Sabaku no Gaara. You are a friend of Sayuri."

"I am," Gaara nodded after a moment of thought on whether that was technically true.

"I will wake her." Kimimaro reached towards her with his free hand, only to be stopped by the handcuffs on his wrist. His lips thinned, but he gave no other outwards signs of annoyance.

"It's necessary," Gaara said in response to his expression.

"Is it?" Kimimaro challenged. "If I wanted to leave, I'd need only to ask Sayuri to free me. She would do anything I ask."

"But you won't do that, will you?" Gaara said, confident in his assessment. No matter what this man had done, he had a soft spot for Sayuri. He would never force her to make that kind of choice, willing as she herself was, even knowing that he would be what she chose.

Kimimaro tilted his head, examining her. "No, I don't suppose I would," he agreed, sounding as if he was just now working it out. "It's strange… When we were children, she wasn't like this."

"In what way?"

"She wasn't this… happy. I had never seen her truly happy until she came in with the rest of you."

Sayuri shifted and let out a small sound. She yawned and tightened her grip around Kimimaro's waist, blinking her eyes open. "Mm, that may be the first time I've ever taken a nap," she said groggily.

Her hair was frizzy and stuck out slightly away from her head on the side she was laying. Her clothes were wrinkled and twisted around her abdomen and her lids hung at half-mast. She gave another little yawn, one hand coming up and covering her mouth, eyes squeezing shut.

Something about the gesture struck Gaara as painfully innocent, almost… adorable.

Sayuri twitched suddenly and turned her face towards Gaara, eyes locking on him unerringly. It was odd to see her sightless jade eyes staring at him, the red markings exposed for once. With the two so close together, the resemblance between them was undeniable. They looked almost uncannily alike. Their coloring, their features, everything.

"Gaara," Sayuri greeted, mildly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

There was no way he was telling her the truth. "I wished to pay my respects before we left. I assumed you would be here."

"Oh, you're leaving?" Sayuri asked, sounding vaguely surprised. "That's a shame; I'd hoped to invite you all for dinner sometime."

"Plain rice?" Kimimaro asked softly. Sayuri shot him an amused expression and trailed her fingers over his shoulder and upper arm in a kind of nonverbal acknowledgement.

"No, of course not," she chuckled, and Gaara got the feeling he was missing a private joke. "Perhaps next time?"

"I don't know when we'll be back," Gaara hedged.

"A standing date," Sayuri insisted. "Next time you're in town, come find me. I like to cook for people, it's no trouble."

"I… Alright," Gaara agreed, nodding. "Goodbye…"

"Goodbye Gaara," she said, favoring him with a polite but genuine smile. "Thank you again for what you did. I meant it when I said I owed you. Anything I can ever help you with, let me know."

Gaara blinked. He'd thought it was just something she said in the heat of the moment. He hadn't realized she was serious. Of course, that also brought up the memory of her kissing his cheek, the feeling of soft, warm lips on his skin. Definitely a first for him. "Ah… Of course." He turned to leave.

She nodded and smiled once more before relaxing against Kimimaro, completely at ease around him despite the fact that he was a criminal. Gaara wondered if he'd ever be that close to someone or if the Shukaku would always keep him separated.

Sayuri stared at the door after he left, eyebrows raised slightly.

"I didn't expect him to say goodbye to me. The only one in Konoha he's really close to is Naruto. Something that happened at the chunin exams," she mused under her breath, and shook her head. "Strange." She leaned on the bed next to Kimimaro, reaching up and grabbing the red tie holding one chunk of his hair. "You wear it traditionally," she accused.

"You don't."

"I'm a Kaguya, but I'm not like those barbarians," Sayuri said, but she sighed. "Perhaps I should though. We are part of a notorious clan, and I should be proud of that, even if the rest of them were frothing maniacs."

Kimimaro's chest shook gently, and she felt more than heard his laugh at that.

"How did they all die?" Sayuri asked curiously. "I never knew. All at once, or did it take a while for them all to die?"

He remained silent for a moment. Usually when Kimimaro thought of his past he went back no further than meeting Orochimaru. Now he cast him mind farther back to the dim memories. "They died as they lived," Kimimaro replied. "Fighting tooth and nail for no other purpose than to fight."

"The deaths they would have wanted, then," Sayuri nodded. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I am so glad you survived," she whispered.

Miyako, Kiyomi, Satoru, Ayano, and now, Kimimaro. The truth was, she had never been happier.