I don't think I can revive my clan.
The words continue to echo through her mind—like a mantra—repeat themselves yet reveal none of their mysteries. What had Sasuke meant? Had he come to believe such things due to her rejection? Was she meant to feel responsible? She has yet to move from her chair, frozen in place. She watches her front door as if he might reappear any moment, time punctuated only by the ticking of her clock, the beat of her heart. Her mind, however, remains unmoved, stuck on words and reasons. Why had he come here? She closes her eyes, slumps in her seat, and at last takes a deep breath. Decides, if she's to get through the day, his secrets are for him to keep—if he's truly in need of a friend, she doesn't doubt Naruto's willingness to step up. Like always, those two should be perfectly capable of figuring things out without her.
But, as the day progresses, she's forced to accept his secrets are hard to ignore, plaguing her mind every chance they get. She's distracted at work, decides after several hours of idle thoughts and quick apologies it's probably best if she takes the day off. She doesn't yet know what to do, aware half her friends are at work, and the other half she doesn't want to see—namely Naruto and Hinata. It's for this reason she ends up back at the training grounds, the wreckage she'd left almost a week prior already undone. She mindlessly strolls the area, finds herself stopping at the familiar logs, remembers their first test from Kakashi—those days seem impossibly long ago, as if from another lifetime. She feels she no longer knows the long-haired girl, offering Naruto her lunch only to please Sasuke.
She allows herself to drop down against one of them, closes her eyes to the sun, its heat kissing her skin, a soft breeze trailing her hair. It smells of summer, like it did back then—like it did once Sasuke left. And now? Is she next to go? Leave behind these childhood memories stored in scenery; in the colour of grass and rushing of water. In a way, none of this feels hers to begin with, instead belongs to a younger self who had yet to experience life. Like shed skin, she doesn't mind moving on, anew. She's a child still in more ways than one, has yet so much to learn, feel, finally become the woman hiding between thoughts and words. It's she who forces her to stay put once she senses him, convinces her of the inevitability of their reunion—she might as well get it over with.
Opening her eyes, she watches as Naruto halts before her, tall form draping her in shadows. He doesn't meet her gaze right away, first looks at the poles behind her, expression thoughtful. "Truce?" he offers then, shifting his weight, hands behind his back.
She releases a sigh, allows her head to fall back against the wood, closes her eyes. They would have to talk sooner or later, she tells herself again, regardless of how much she dreads it. "Fine." The word passes her lips like air, holds within it her many doubts, insecurities; all for him to scrutinise.
He sits down next to her, mindful of the space between them, long legs aligned with hers. The sun hits her again, warms her from the inside out. "I figured I'd find you here. A nurse said you'd left early," he starts, explaining his sudden appearance, proving her belief of inevitability. She doesn't reply, notices the way he fumbles with his sleeves, then continues, obviously eager to break their silence: "Sasuke stopped by my office."
"Let's not talk about him." She clenches her jaw, hands in her lap tightening their grip on each other.
"Sakura..." Naruto tries before falling silent again, and she assumes he doesn't even know where to begin—she wouldn't either. After a while he sighs, slumps against his pole. "I'm sorry." His tone is much softer, hitting her harder than his previous nonchalance. "I guess I had this picture in my head of how things were supposed to work out—for all of us." She bites her tongue, hands balled to fists where they rest, an uncomfortable tightness spreading through her. "I just want everyone to be happy, and..." he pauses, takes a moment, and she can feel he's turned his head to look at her, "I'll really, really miss you." The tightness intensifies, wraps around her throat, chest, stomach, chokes her out and leaves her sick. "You're my best friend. You know that—I'll always love you."
She blinks her eyes open, swallows words of protest, instead trails a finger through the dirt, watches it shift beneath her touch. If only things didn't have to be so complicated, if only they could have remained, just as they were back then. He's like family to her; a brother she's never had. "I love you too," she finally admits, means the words with all her heart, "and of course I'll also miss you, I-" She feels her voice crack, the hurt of it all exhumed by his confessions—she never wanted to be a disappointment to anyone.
Softly, he takes her hand, gently intertwines their fingers. "It's okay," he smiles reassuringly, "I know." She nods, stares at their joined limbs, can't believe how much they've both changed. "I'm just a little thick-headed, I'm told," he chuckles, and she can't help but join in, feels the laughter bubble in her chest.
"You are a knucklehead, true," she smiles, meeting his gaze.
He returns the expression, watches her for a beat, eyes roaming her features, then says: "Gaara's a lucky man." She feels her cheeks warm, averts her eyes and directs them at her lap. "I'm happy for the both of you."
"Thank you." She's glad, more even than she'd expected, Naruto's approval an instant relief.
He turns his gaze to the training grounds ahead, sounds amused when he says: "I'll admit the both of you took me by surprise, unlike Hinata. She always knows everything, it's crazy." It surprises her, despite always having known the shy girl to be especially perceptive. "I guess I didn't want to believe it..."
She bites the inside of her cheek, thinks back on that evening.
"You know what Gaara told her? He's admired you since the Chuunin exams."
She smiles to herself, thinks it typical of him to easily admit such things. "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you guys," she says, her mind still processing all he's just told her. "I've been a horrible friend." Gaara had admired her, yet—somehow—she had never stopped to notice him in return. There'd been several times they'd interacted, once when she'd healed him during battle. She hadn't paid too much attention, mind caught up on the mission at hand, too focused on the potential dangers to wonder about the observant eyes she'd felt upon her.
"Don't worry about it."
She bites her lip, nods, enjoys the brief silence that follows. The wind rustles their hair, creates a surrounding susurrus, leaves and branches dancing. She had met Gaara's eye at some point, if briefly, yet has no idea what she'd thought all those years ago. Did he think her pretty then, too?
"I guess you must be particularly excited for the Chuunin exams this year."
She stores her thoughts away for later, turns to her friend instead. "Hush, you," she chides, awarding him a playful shove, met with amused laughter—it's like old times, a natural habit for them to settle into. Moments later, she rests her head against his shoulder, cherishes their familiarity, and sits with him until sunset calls each of them home.
He'd admired her. And she? She hadn't spared him a second glance, not even when his life had been on the line. She'd been so involved with Chiyo, she hadn't even stopped to consider... Gaara would have been gone without her sacrifice. He would have been gone. Gaara had died. And she hadn't even fully realised it. There would have been no wedding dance, no small gifts or a room filled with plants. Had Chiyo not been there, Sakura would have never gotten the chance to fall in love with him. She doesn't know why none of it occurred to her before, and her feelings of gratitude towards the elder only increase with the realisation.
She's aware it's a silly thing to feel guilty about—it's not as if there's anything to be done about the past—yet, once home, she still finds herself dialling the numbers she now knows by heart.
"Hello?"
"I'm so glad you're alive."
He remains silent for a beat, then, with a hint of confusion, says: "I'm glad you're alive too," pauses, and she hears him shift in his chair, "are you okay?"
"Yes! Absolutely. I just thought you should know." She bites her lip, twists the cord around her finger. "I had a talk with Naruto today. He apologised for some things he said."
"He upset you?"
"Yes, but we managed to sort it out." She pauses, hesitates to share what else has been bothering her—she doesn't want to worry him—but decides she best be upfront. "Sasuke also stopped by... Did he seem odd when he left?"
Gaara remains silent for a beat, and she holds her breath as she waits. "I don't know him too well to be honest, it'd be hard for me to judge. He did appear stressed, but that could have been related to his mission too. There were some casualties that day—you actually met them."
It's not the kind of news she'd expected, her relief at his calm answer short-lived. Met them? She tries her best to remember, recalls when she'd bumped into him with Sasuke. "That's awful! What happened?"
"It's the rebels."
She hasn't forgotten all Sasuke's told her, the ruthlessness he ascribed them. They'd obviously failed to capture them, even with his help, and now he'd returned home; leaving the rebels spared. "Do you have any idea what they want?"
She can hear him sigh, notes how tired he sounds. "It's a group of people against the Kazekage clan, wanting to change the hereditary nature of the role."
"So... they want get rid of you?"
"That would be one way to accomplish their goal, though they'd have to take out my siblings as well."
"That's terrifying." He wouldn't die, right? It'd already happened once, she thinks to herself, who's to say it wouldn't again?
"Don't worry about it. They're a small group and their numbers have been dwindling."
"Just promise me you'll be careful."
"Of course," she can hear him smile. "I plan to stay alive for a while."
"Good," she nods to herself, sends a stern scowl into the air, "because I'd refuse to come to your funeral." She couldn't lose him, not now. She still has so much she wishes to tell him, questions she wants answered, experiences she wants lived.
"Is that so?"
"I'd be too busy tracking down your ghost for a good reproval." In fact, it's as if they've only just gotten to know each other, and there's still too much to be shared.
He stays silent for a beat. "If I were a ghost I'd follow you around, no need to track me."
She bites the inside of her cheek, feels a smirk curl her lips. "Are you saying you'd spy on me?"
"Just observing."
She hums, corrects: "Peeping?"
"Semantics."
She laughs, rolls her eyes. "Alright, Lord Kazekage. We'll have to settle this matter in three weeks, agree on a haunting schedule since I can't have you following me all day."
"I prefer night anyway," he admits, "you're pretty when you sleep."
"Is it because I'm silent then?"
He laughs, the sound uniquely harmonious. "Hardly."
She feels her cheeks burn, wonders at the accuracy of such a statement, then quickly changes the subject. "I should go, actually, I'm supposed to meet Ino later." She fumbles with her necklace, stares down at the small pendant. "I'll call again tomorrow, okay?"
"Alright," he concedes, "have fun."
She grins, offers him a final: "Hardly."
Summer's coming to an end, the first chill of autumn brushing her skin, raising goosebumps. In many places she can already see the leaves changing, dots of orange and yellow reminding her of her former teammate, and though pleasant, neither of them as exciting as the occasional red. It's the one thing she'll truly miss about Konoha; the changing of the seasons, the gentle shift of time recorded in nature. Weeks pass smoothly, uninterrupted by worries or disorder. Though Sasuke stays, he doesn't make another effort with her—she's almost capable of forgetting him, were it not for the occasional glance or mention. During the final week, Ino helps her set up her surprise, transforming her apartment into a different place entirely. They spend that night at the blonde's house, Sakura keeping her company while Sai's on a mission. On a whim, they've agreed to invite Hinata as well; Sakura still feels bad for avoiding the Hyuuga.
It's a bit stilted at first, the shy girl needing some time to feel at ease, not having been around the two for a while. She arrives a little after Sakura, smiles sweetly as they invite her in. They fuss over her right away, relieving her of her bag and offering something to drink. Though she isn't too far along her pregnancy, the other girls still feel the need to coddle her—which she assures them isn't necessary at all.
"Nonsense!" Ino objects, offering her a seat at the table. "You're to be a mother, you'll need all the pampering you can get."
"Ino's right," Sakura adds, "you'll be plenty exhausted soon enough, for now the least we can do is spoil you a bit."
"Yeah, especially considering Naruto's genes are in the mix!" Ino grins while winking.
The girl splutters, blushes, folds her hands in her lap, thumbs twirling distractedly.
Sakura chuckles. "Don't mind her," she says, taking the seat next to Hinata, sticks out her tongue at the blonde, "Ino-pig tends to forget she's equally obnoxious."
"Watch it, forehead," Ino threatens, swinging a ladle in her direction, "don't think we're letting you off easy."
She glares, slaps the utensil aside. "I wasn't aware this was to be another interrogation."
"You know it always is with me," the blonde smirks, sitting down opposite of her, already lifting the lids off the meals between them, revealing several fancy dishes.
"Oh, Ino," Hinata gasps, taking in the variety of food, "you really shouldn't have-"
"Now, now, what did we tell you? Enjoy yourself! We have plenty to celebrate," she says, already starting on filling plates.
"How have you been?" Sakura asks as Ino busies herself. "Are you enjoying pregnancy?"
Hinata smiles, accepts the food she's handed. "It's been fine so far, I haven't reached the difficult stages yet, and I haven't suffered any morning sickness either."
"Ugh," Ino groans, offering Sakura a plate as well, "apparently I made my mom sick for 9 months straight. Literally couldn't stomach anything besides rice and chicken skewers."
Sakura suppresses a snort. "Already giving your mom a hard time before being born, huh?"
Ino chuckles, an amused smirk lingering. "I had to prepare her for what was to come."
"You're not that bad, Ino," Hinata quickly attests, obviously well-intentioned.
"Please," the blonde snorts, "teenage me was something else."
Sakura frowns, thinks of her own childhood as she takes a bite, then muses: "I'm not sure I'd ever be able to deal with a teenager."
"You'll be ready when the time comes," Hinata offers, sending her a reassuring look. "I'm sure you'd be an excellent mother."
Sakura smiles warmly, feels the words' effect on her confidence. "You really are too kind," she says, pausing as she chews her lip, eyes darting to her hands as they fumble with her chopsticks. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for avoiding you," she meets Hinata's pale gaze, "I know I've been terribly distant."
She smiles, lays a hand on Sakura's arm. "Don't be," she tilts her head, sincerity colouring her expression, "I'm very happy for you. Gaara respects you a great deal."
"It'd be hard not to with a fine ass like hers."
"Ino!" Sakura chides, to which the blonde snickers. She crosses her arms, glowers at her friend for the interruption.
"Will you be moving to Suna then?" Hinata asks, and though she does so without a hint of judgment, Sakura still hesitates.
"I- well, it depends, you know, if we're actually serious- it's all still very early."
Ino 'tsks' her, shaking her head. "When he sees your apartment he'll marry you on the spot—mark my words."
Hinata sends a curious glance between them, then continues: "I'm glad the both of you found each other—being Kazekage must be draining, especially by yourself. Watching Naruto, I know how much it takes."
Sakura feels another smile curve her lips. "You're right; he does work very hard."
"As do you," Hinata adds.
She falters, shrugs. "I suppose."
"Sakura please," Ino groans through a mouthful of food, "you're the biggest workaholic at this table."
She recoils at the accusation, a guilty frown marring her brow. "I've been slacking off as of recent."
"As you damn well should, you deserve a break."
She rubs her temple, releases a sigh, knows Ino is absolutely right despite her protests—still, it's not easy to cut herself some slack, no matter how well deserved. In her mind, she'll always have to work twice as hard as anyone else, just to keep up.
"I am glad you and Naruto were able to talk things through," Hinata says. "I'm sure it must have weighed on you."
"Yes," she smiles, "it's been a great relief."
Ino glances between the two. "What'd he do?"
Sakura hesitates, lowers her gaze to her plate as she prods her food. "He wasn't too happy about me leaving..." she pauses, swallows nervously, meets Ino's gaze, "and he also thought I was leading Gaara on—that I still liked Sasuke."
"Ridiculous!"
"It's my own fault. I did falsely confess to love him, once, hoping he'd stop chasing after Sasuke."
The blonde's frown deepens, turns incredulous as she listens on. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"
"I took advantage of his feelings," Sakura argues in his defence.
"That doesn't mean you'd do the same to Gaara."
"It's not that far a stretch—and I've always said I wanted Sasuke."
Ino releases a groan, levels her with a serious look. "Sakura, please, stop making excuses.
"Ino's right. Naruto shouldn't have questioned your sincerity," Hinata adds, "it's a bad habit of his to speak before he thinks."
"It's none of his business anyway."
Sakura straightens her back, searches for something else to say. "He just wanted to protect his friends," she finally tries.
Ino shakes her head. "There are better ways—and you're entirely justified to tell him."
She deflates, wearily lowers her gaze. "I feel like I've been telling so much to so many people. I'm a little spent, especially after Sasuke."
It's then Ino narrows her eyes. "He hasn't been bothering you, has he?"
Sakura falters, chews her lip, returns her gaze to her chopsticks. "He came by my apartment a few weeks ago…" she starts, frowns as she watches the utensils push her food around. "He said there was something he wanted to tell me, but he never did. He just went and left." She looks up, eyes darting between her friends, sees Hinata's frown, and for the briefest second notices something flash across her features, barely noticeable. It has her wondering wether she might know more, and she can't resist asking. "Hinata... did he tell you?"
She recoils, guiltily averts her eyes. "No- no, it's..." she hesitates, shifts in her seat, "it's complicated."
Sakura leans closer, tips her head curiously. "How so?"
Hinata swallows, meets her eye then. "I figured it out myself, but it's not my place to tell. It'll be obvious—once you understand, I mean."
It's Sakura's turn to frown, and she wonders if she should have been able to tell, too—she's the one who's chased after him, thought she loved him, yet she doesn't know.
"Whatever's bothering him, he'll have to find someone else to string along and be his baby builder."
"Ino!" Sakura grimaces.
The blonde clicks her tongue, raises a berating finger. "Don't act coy. Besides, tomorrow is your chance to seal the deal Forehead." She winks, makes an obscene gesture which has Sakura pale.
"I told you, I-"
"Hinata, you'll have to tell me everything, report back every detail. I want to know this man's first reaction, the look in his eyes, his greeting words!"
"There are limits," Sakura grumbles, crossing her arms.
"Of course not, I'm a part of your relationship now and you best enjoy it."
"I'm thrilled," she deadpans, sends the blonde a pointed glare, finds it eagerly returned, followed by a shared burst of laughter.
It's a chilly day, and Sakura wonders how well Gaara does in the cold; is he even accustomed to a cooler climate? What if he runs sick? Should she make sure to heat her apartment? Add blankets? She finds herself going back and forth, worrying wether everything's taken care of; wether he'll be fine staying with her. Her apartment isn't as large as his own home, and she hopes he doesn't mind the change in luxury—he's never said anything of it in the past, but that could have been politeness. She earns several reprimands from Ino, who repeatedly tells her to stop frowning as she helps with her make-up. Sakura sighs, allows her fingers to fumble with the hem of her dress; a green one this time, and she hopes he likes it.
"There, all done," Ino says, leaning back to admire her handiwork.
Sakura opens her eyes, studies herself in the mirror. The make-up's subtle, yet she feels it makes all the difference—as she would expect from Ino. "Thank you," she smiles, "I love it."
"Anything for you," the blonde says, flashing her a grin. "Now go, before you guys are late."
Sakura nods, squeezes the blonde's hand a final time, then follows Hinata to the door. They say their goodbyes, hug each other, offer their thanks, and then they're out. They head for Sakura's apartment first, quickly drop off her things. Hinata gets a glimpse of what's inside, and finally understands Ino's remarks the night before. She shares her amazement with Sakura, compliments her for her efforts, assures they'll be well worth it. It's the kind of boost Sakura needs, and she happily receives the Hyuuga's enthusiasm; though she doesn't show it, she's nervous just thinking of seeing Gaara again. It's been a month, and—despite their frequent phone calls—she still finds doubt creeping into her mind, digging its roots wherever it senses hesitation.
Their next stop is Naruto's office, where they're to meet the others. Shikamaru's already there when they arrive, standing in front of Naruto's desk, the two of them caught in conversation. They turn at the sound of Hinata's gentle knocks, announcing their presence. The blond beams at the sight of them, rises from his seat to embrace his wife, then greets Sakura. Shikamaru, on the other hand, is as reserved as ever, awards them a nod of his head and a smile. They spend some time catching up, making small-talk. It's all pleasant enough, almost helps Sakura forget her nerves. She fumbles with the long sleeves of her dress, pulls them across her knuckles and back again—all to help take her mind off her imminent reunion.
It's Shikamaru who makes an effort to soothe her, tells her all he's heard from Temari; mostly how much the blonde enjoyed Sakura's company, and she feels her appreciation for the eldest sibling renewed. It takes her mind off her worries, all the way to the village gates. They have to wait there for a while, and she's unable to keep her eyes off the horizon, tries her best to spot the unmistakable red she's grown so fond of. Minutes feel endless, creep by agonisingly slow. She shifts her weight every few seconds, rubs her arms, repeatedly fusses over her hair. It's almost unreal when she senses it; a familiar chakra signature drawing closer. She squints her eyes, tries to peer beyond the first line of trees. Finally they emerge, their familiar figures unmistakable. She feels her throat run dry, pulse quickening, breath caught in her chest—he's here.
She can't help herself, unable to keep still as she watches him approach. At the sight of him, she realises just how badly he's been missed by her, how welcome his presence proves. She's closed the distance and pressed against him in the blink of an eye, feels him stiffen in surprise, her arms wrapped around his neck as she buries her face into his scarf, relieved to see he's come prepared. Reluctantly, he relaxes, gently returns her hold, arms snaking across her back. It's warm, soft, and most importantly; familiar. She breathes a deep sigh, feels a relieved frown twist her brow, notes the subtle brush of his thumb on her shoulder, and welcomes the delighted shiver running down her back.
She doesn't know what to say, has no idea how she's supposed to convey how happy she is to see him again. Her mind's a jumbled mess, unable to conjure appropriate words or phrases. He too appears uncertain, doesn't speak as he holds her, the beat of his heart perceptible between their bodies. They remain like that for a moment, until finally—once her initial anxiety has worn off—she moves to break the silence.
"As much as I enjoy listening to your voice, this is much better," she says, tightening her grip for good measure, finding she likes the way his body fits against her own.
"Yes," he agrees, the sound of it caressing peculiar places.
She swallows, already gathers the courage to step back, practices her smile in the safety of his scarf—her heart thunders on, spreads excitement through her veins, fills her up on nerves only he arouses. Though she's stopped to look at their picture a thousand times, she's long known it's only a poor imitation—a flattened afterthought of reality—and once she's brave enough to loosen her hold, she's reminded of that very fact. Her breath doesn't leave his shoulder, hangs caught in the air there, hands not quite able to break contact either once her feet start to move. A bashful colour dusts his cheeks, assures her he's equally affected, eyes lowered after briefly meeting hers. For a moment, she wonders if she's offended him with her brazen actions, but the fear is quickly vanquished, soon realising it's something else entirely.
"Thank you for meeting us here," he says, clearing his throat, gaze slowly rising to meet hers, its warmth enough to forget about the autumn chill.
Like her, he's unsure, dare she say even shy, and it's an unexpected comfort. "Of course!" She offers a grin, feels her reservations melt away, hand dropping down his arm to hold his. "I wanted to see you as soon as possible."
He blinks, smiles as the tension dissipates from his form, and intertwines their fingers. "And I you." The sincerity of it nearly overwhelms her, seizes her breath as well as her voice—what is she even to say in the face of such unveiled affection? He somehow saves her, starts towards the others, leads her along with an unwavering smile. "My siblings, too, couldn't wait," he continues, a shine of amusement in his gaze, "of which I've been reminded liberally."
She spots them from the corner of her eye, but can't bring herself to turn from him, much too caught up in thinking how well he looks. She's relieved to find no trace of his previous gauntness, the hollows of his cheeks no longer displaying the tell-tale shadows of famine. There's a healthy colour decorating his skin, unrelated to the lingering flush caused by her lack of restraint. She bites her lip, feels a grin spread across them. "I'm flattered I've been so dearly missed."
His smile widens, and he's about to speak again when Kankuro interrupts. "Oy, slowpokes! I'm starving."
Temari slaps his arm, sends him a berating scowl. "Don't be rude, we just got here."
"I know, which is exactly my point."
Gaara ignores his brother, turns to Naruto and Hinata instead, offering them a proper greeting. They shake hands, and Sakura happily watches, still holding on to him.
"Let's have dinner together," Naruto suggests, glancing to his wife, "regain some energy after such a long journey."
They all agree, though Sakura thinks she should have known, should have at least said something sooner. It's once they arrive at Ichiraku's when she realises her mistake, because where else would Naruto take them? Not in the mood to make a fuss, she grumpily complies, picking a stool for herself. Another stool is added to fit their large group, and once everyone's seated it becomes apparent how narrowly they fit. She's packed between Naruto and Gaara, awkwardly tries to scoot closer to the latter in an attempt to avoid the first's animated arms.
"I'm actually so excited for these exams," he exclaims, elbow bumping into her again. "There's so much we can do to help these kids, set the right examples for the generations to come." He glances to Hinata when he says this, a warm smile alighting her features. "I mean, I can hardly believe how young we were back then!"
"You were brats," Kankuro calls from Gaara's other side, eliciting an amused chuckle from his sister.
"I felt so mature back then," Sakura grimaces, "as if I were all grown up." She's not too proud of the girl she used to be, even though she knows she shouldn't be too critical; it's hard not to regret her short-sightedness.
"Most twelve year olds do," Temari assures her.
"I didn't," Shikamaru adds in a deadpan, earning a knowing look from his fiancée.
"I don't know, I was pretty mature for my age!" Naruto grins, oblivious to the disagreeing frowns surrounding him.
Sakura snorts in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
He hesitates, visibly searches for words, then turns to the redhead at her side. "I did manage to get through to Gaara."
"He's right." Gaara nods, sounds much too sincere in his agreement.
Sakura looks between them, frowns. "You're giving him way too much credit for simply beating you up."
Kankuro snickers at the words, bends forward to look Naruto in the eye. "Yeah, didn't you win a match by farting?"
"Keyword: win," the blond enunciates, pointing his chopsticks in Kankuro's direction. "Either way, I'm glad we're all friends now—you know, instead of trying to kill each other."
"Speak for yourself, there's still plenty attempts made against me," Shikamaru sighs, the hint of a smile on his lips.
"You're just a crybaby," Temari berates, flashing him a smirk.
Sakura watches the interaction with a smile of her own, the heat of her ramen warming her face, bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks. Before she knows it, her eyes find Gaara again, curiously travel his profile. He appears to sense her studying him, gaze shooting up to meet hers. The light of Ichiraku's draws a sharp silhouette, illuminaties each unruly strand of red, catches on dark lashes. She chews her lip, uses her hand to support her chin, elbow propped on the bar.
"You must have thought me quite the nuisance, way back then," she says without thinking, instantly regretting the words.
He watches her a moment, appears thoughtful, when a sudden flicker of amusement alights his eyes. "You're asking the guy who tried to kill nearly everyone at this bar. I could only wish to be considered a mere nuisance."
Laughter escapes her, leaves a grin to linger on her lips. "Alright, no need to brag."
He shakes his head, the first hints of a smile dawning. "Nothing to brag, I clearly failed."
She raises a brow, bumps his shoulder. "And aren't you glad you did?"
"I'm happy," he corrects. "Otherwise I would have been quite lonely, sitting here."
She chuckles, surveys him with scepticism. "Assuming you'd go here of your own free will."
"Of course!" Naruto bursts suddenly, joining the exchange. "Gaara knows how to appreciate good ramen."
Sakura is about to protest the claim when Gaara speaks: "I do like it." She's taken by surprise, feels a newfound appreciation for the dish.
"See, he's a man of fine tastes."
She narrows her eyes, prods further to ensure his sincerity. "You're not saying that to please Naruto, are you?"
He grins now, exposing white teeth she marvels at, surprised to find herself affected by such ordinary things. "If I wanted to please him I wouldn't have pursued you."
She's able to compose herself enough to snort, sporting a grin of her own. "I'm fairly certain I'm the one who did the pursuing."
Naruto leans forward, sends a pout in Gaara's direction. "Don't think I'm thrilled about you taking Sakura-chan away—happy as I may be for the both of you."
The redhead looks to Sakura, who feels herself enliven under his attention. "It's impossible to take someone who freely chooses to go."
"Yeah, yeah." Naruto waves off the words, stubbornly crosses his arms, half-jokingly says: "Friends or not, I won't hesitate to beat some more sense into you if you ever hurt her."
"Naruto," Hinata reprimands, and Sakura is about to echo her when Gaara speaks again, pointedly meeting her gaze.
"I might deserve it." He raises a brow, as if to challenge her, and she gladly bites.
"Please," Sakura narrows her eyes at him, "even though you most certainly wouldn't deserve it, I'm still perfectly capable of beating sense into you myself—no need to outsource a taken position." She then turns to Naruto. "And I definitely don't need anyone protecting my feelings." It's much too late for that, she reckons, and she's at least able to appreciate the irony. He reddens, ducks his head at her reprimands, grumbles into his bowl of ramen. A pleased smirk works itself onto her lips, her heart a little lighter. Returning her gaze to Gaara, she's surprised to find him smiling, eyes crinkling with mirth—would he mind if she kissed him right then and there?
"It's settled then," he says, "we're all responsible adults who can handle their own troubles."
"Speak for yourself," grumbles Kankuro, earning several laughs.
Sakura, however, pays him little mind, instead keeps her gaze focused on the redhead at her side—understands perfectly why, digests his words in the safety of her person, and can't stop herself pecking his cheek, the warmth of his skin, however briefly, a delicious flavour on her lips. It takes him by obvious surprise, but despite that keeps his composure, his smile widening in response.
She mouths a quick 'thank you', allows herself to lean into him, resting her head against his cheek. The conversation continues in the background, the distinct smell of sunset mingling with the varied aromas of their meals. The day is slowly coming to a close, twilight drawing near without delay—she wishes, in her own secret thoughts, for the sun to dip quicker; mark their departure and lead her back into his arms.