Chapter 2

Paperwork. Such was the life of a Kage. Endless paperwork.

Gaara had just finished his morning tea and was reading through a dreadfully boring report about some questionable bandits who had been handled in the Land of Oil. One would think such a topic would be interesting to read, but Gaara had long learned most ninja couldn't write a report in any way that made it interesting. This mission had been one of Kura's, who he'd gone on several missions with before. Most notably, he was one of the three chunin who had helped Gaara and his siblings during his Final Trial. Kura had been a classmate of Kankuro's, and an old friend and drinking buddy. He'd since made jonin and had his own genin team, who didn't do so well in last year's chunin exam. He was a good ninja, which is what mattered most to Gaara.

He was just piss poor at writing reports.

He'd forget details while writing, making notes in the margins that were difficult to read. He'd note people who assisted them, meaning they'd have to pay reimbursement, but forget the amount or to attach receipts. His timetables were frequently out of sync. Gaara firmly believed Kura had a habit of writing only one draft of the report last minute, and turning it in completely unpolished. Gaara had half a mind to hand it back to him and tell him to rewrite it, but it was already three days late as is, and this was to be noted in Gaara's Council meeting later.

Again, he liked Kura as a ninja, and when it came to missions. He wasn't that bad of a fuck-up, usually failing upwards, if that was the phrase. Gaara knew this before he became Kazekage, which is why he'd picked him for support in his Final Trial. But as a Kazekage, his poor writing skills made Gaara loathe sending him out on missions, even though he was perfect for the job.

Gaara finished making his notes of the report, setting them aside in his Council meeting folder. Then he signed off the report, putting it in his outbox for accounting to handle. There was a knock on the door, and Gaara called out, "Come in," as he reached for the next report.

The door opened, revealing one of the lobby attendants, Tsuno. She was a pretty woman with light blond hair and a bland expression. "These came in for you," she stated, handing him two envelopes. The first was from the Daimyo's office, and was doubly sealed as per usual.

"Thank you," he said as he took them. She bowed and left as he placed them on his desk, starting to open the Daimyo's package first. He performed a hand sign, unsealing the first seal, pulling the second envelope out. Then bit his finger wiping his blood on the second seal, performing another hand sign. Then pulled out the two envelopes sealed within, each with a royal crested wax seal. He broke the first and slid out the papers.

He set his jaw as he saw it was his proposal for increasing the budget to build a new hospital wing, a psychiatric ward specializing in mental trauma caused by the war. In big red ink stamped on top was the word, "DENIED." He rolled his eyes, because of course Ginmaru had denied the funding. He opened the second one, and saw it was his foster care proposal, and again in big red letters was stamped, "DENIED."

"Dammit," he growled, slamming the proposals on his desk, and dropping his head in his hands as he leaned back in his chair and looked up to the sky. He shook his head, muttering, "This is impossible." He didn't want to admit defeat, but it was looking increasingly like that was what was going to happen. That he'd have to give into Ginmaru's horrible demands to make sure Suna didn't die.

Momentarily, he wondered if his father was ever put in such a position, and did he give in for funding? He shook his head, remembering his father's Daimyo was Lord Hiroto, who was a lot more noble and less conniving.

He sighed, shaking his head. He'd call the Daimyo later about this. Something had to give.

He turned his attentions to the other envelope, praying for good news. It was stamped with the insignia of the Land of Flowers. He opened it and let out another long exhale. The shipment of fertile soil to help with Suna's farming and the greenhouse was delayed due to chunin level bandits, with a request to send aid. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why couldn't there be good news?

He let out another sigh, making a note for his Council meeting about issuing a C rank to the Land of Flowers. They needed the soil. More desperately than most other countries.

He reached for his tea, and saw it was empty. He got up, grumbling as he walked his mug over to his tea pot in the corner and fixed himself another mug. He needed more caffeine to deal with this paperwork, finish his notes for the meeting, and video call the Daimyo. All before his meeting at 12.

Gaara stood in the Kazekage Video Conference room looking at a large screen where Ginmaru's head secretary stood. Gaara scowled up at him tiredly as the secretary said, "I'm sorry Lord Kazekage, but the Daimyo is indisposed and can't come to the phone right now."

Gaara inhaled deeply, his arms crossed as he glowered at the sniveling secretary. "The Regent Daimyo," he corrected stiffly. "And why is he indisposed now? He's been dodging my calls for the past month. How am I supposed to run my post if the Regent Daimyo is ignoring my calls?"

"Lord Ginmaru is with his masseuse," the secretary stated.

Gaara pressed his lips into a tight line, then inhaled deeply. Lord Ginmaru's masseuse was one of the regent's current favorite concubines. Gaara had met him at the annual Daimyo party when he'd arrived on Ginmaru's arm dressed in fine silks. Ginmaru liked them young. He was 19 at the last party. A skinny young man who admitted he preferred women, but the pay was good, so he didn't mind. Gaara had wanted to gag.

He sucked on his teeth, shuffling his stance, then said, "I'll wait, then."

The secretary frowned awkwardly, then mumbled, "Hold on, sir."

He left the screen, and Gaara looked down at the two denied proposals he'd sent to the Daimyo's offices two weeks ago. So many denied proposals. He had to change Ginmaru's mind. His people were struggling, and it wouldn't be long before children started dying.

There was a rustling on the Daimyo end of the call, and then Gaara finally saw Ginmaru's pudgy face, wearing a silk robe that was opened to his belly button. His dark eyes narrowed on Gaara as he exhaled. "What is it now, Lord Kazekage?" Ginmaru huffed annoyedly.

"You denied my proposals," Gaara stated, equally annoyed. "Again."

Ginmaru leaned his head lazily on his fist as he said, "And?"

"And?" Gaara scoffed. "And you still haven't paid the final sum for the war. Not to mention the bunkers built when the moon was falling. Most of it has come out of Suna's pockets, to the point we almost bankrupt and can't take care of ourselves." He clenched his fist as he growled, "So are you going to pay us or not?"

"Well, you look healthy," Ginmaru stated with a pout. "So I'd hardly say you can't take care of yourself."

"My people," Gaara corrected. "We lost 7,800 men in the war."

Ginmaru rolled his eyes, grumbling, "Here we go."

"Most of which had families who now can't make ends meet," Gaara continued frustratedly. "I have hundreds of orphans who will starve, directly because I can't get you to pay your bill, and I've had to cut funding for things that would help them."

"Feed them," Ginmaru scoffed. "I'm not telling you not to feed your people." He chuckled to himself as he added, "Give them cake. Everyone loves cake."

Gaara was sure he felt his eye twitch in frustration. He was sure if he hadn't taken an oath to protect the Daimyo and royal house, he'd willingly go behead him. If this wasn't a classified call, and the public knew Ginmaru had said such an insensitive thing about his own people starving, children, there would be riots in the streets calling for his head.

"Cake?" Gaara scoffed, angrily. Really?

"Yes. Cake,"Ginmaru said evenly, as if the solution were so simple.

Gaara set his jaw, his mind drawing a blank at how to deal with this man. How could he reason with a man who thought crisis could be solved with a pastry?

Then Ginmaru sighed. "I'm bored, Gaara. Aren't you bored?"

Gaara set his jaw. "I can't afford to be bored," he declared. "You won't pay me."

Ginmaru smirked as he chuckled darkly, "Oh, we both know that's not true." Gaara's neck stiffened at the reminder as he looked out the window. "I gave you my terms a while ago. So, let's remember who denied whom."

The memory stuck in Gaara's mind like a particularly nasty thorn.

Ginmaru's wicked smile at the Annual Daimyo's ball in Futen held a couple weeks before Rinne. "You're 18 now, right?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. 19 in a month," Gaara answered innocuously.

Ginmaru looked him over, tonguing the corner of his mouth in thought, then said to himself, "I've always been curious. And you are cute." The added comment made Gaara uncomfortable. He'd said it several times over the years, and the vibe Gaara got wasn't reassuring. Then Ginmaru smiled eerily wicked again, and said, "You swore obedience to the Daimyo, correct."

"Yes?" Gaara more asked than answered, unsure where the regent was going with this.

Ginmaru nodded, tonguing his cheek then asked, "Even in the bedroom?"

Gaara blinked at him, then tried to walk away. Ginmaru grabbed his shoulder to stop him. Gaara glared at him, moving away from his touch, unable to contain the internal shudder at the suggestion. "Come on, Gaara. I'll make it worth your while."

"You are drunk, sir," Gaara said, walking away again.

"I don't think you're understanding me, Lord Kazekage," Ginmaru chuckled threateningly. Gaara turned to him silently as Ginmaru added, "I signed you into power. I invested time and money into you. I made your people love you. I control your funds. I can make things very easy, or very difficult." Gaara was stiff as a board as Ginmaru walked around him, looking him over appraisingly. He shrugged as he added, "You don't even have to participate all that much. Just don't struggle."

Gaara blinked, gulping back bile at the reminder. He'd never told anyone about that awkward moment. It was embarrassing enough that Ginmaru thought Gaara would just bend over and take it. He'd walked away, utterly disgusted at the proposition. He leveled a glare on the Regent. "I'd rather die," Gaara spat.

Ginmaru frowned pityingly. "Well, to me, Gaara, that says you value your pride over your people."

"And you value yourself over the Wind," Gaara declared with a sneer.

Ginmaru shrugged, unaffected by the comment. "It's my money. My prerogative. I can always get a new Kazekage when your people are done with your inaction." Gaara seethed inwardly as Ginmaru smiled. "I am a patient man. So, until you change your mind."

Then the call cut off.

Gaara wanted to vomit. It was hard to think of a worse man to run a country, and yet people seemed to love him as he tanked the country to ruin, all the while blaming Gaara and calling him a politician. The parents at the Academy weren't saying Lord Ginmaru was being unreasonable, but that Gaara wasn't putting in the effort. And if he told them rapport had fallen because he didn't want to be Ginmaru's twink, then again it was his fault for even offering, when he didn't. There was no winning in this scenario. Either he gave in and became Ginmaru's bottom whore, or his village starved.

No one had warned him this was part of Daimyo negotiations as the Kage of a major village. He was fairly certain that was because it wasn't normal. He had a hard time seeing A of Kumo talking with his Daimyo about how he should take it up the ass. Or Onoki in Iwa. Or Kakashi in Konoha. Maybe Mei or Tsunade, being women, who fended off unwanted advances all the time. Hell, Tsunade was the subject of a book series of unwanted advances. But it wasn't the same for men. So it shouldn't be like this for him, right?

"Just don't struggle," Ginmaru's voice rang in his head, causing another wave of nausea.

It was utterly degrading. And to think it was happening to him of all people: Sabaku no Gaara, the Demon of the Sand Waterfall, killer of hundreds of assassins, Commander of the Five Great Nation Army, and Fifth Kazekage. It was utterly, flabbergastingly mind-boggling.

Again, he wondered if his father fended off such advances, but then the sharp reminder that his father had worked with Lord Hiroto, a respectable religious man if frugal to the point of strangling Suna of money. Very much unlike his bastard brother.

Gaara snatched up his denied proposals and stormed out of the conference room, finding solace in his office again. He grabbed a glass of water to calm his nerves as he dropped the proposal unceremoniously on his desk. As he gulped back the last of his water, he sat down, opening the drawer of his desk, where he'd hidden a magazine he bought last week, but hadn't been able to sneak it up to his study yet.

Emika was on the cover with Ryuki in their ski clothes. Emika wearing a pale blue coat and a white hat with a pompom on top. Her left hand clutched to Ryuki's arm, showing off the engagement ring, which wasn't as big or ornate as the first engagement ring she wore, but it was still rather ostentatious. The title read under them, "Third Times a Charm: Princess Emika Engaged Again After Heartbreak."

It was conversations like the one he had with Ginmaru just now that he wished Emika would get married to a reasonable man already, just so he could do business normally. As much as he only wanted her to be happy with him, which was off limits with his title, he needed someone better than Ginmaru running the country with him.

A knock sounded on the door, and Gaara quickly dropped the magazine back in the drawer. "Yes?" Gaara called.

Kankuro opened the door, leaning on the frame as he said, "Council Meeting. You ready?"

Gaara gathered his papers and notes, and stood, licking his lips. "Yeah. I'm ready."

He walked in step with his brother all the way to Council Room two floors down. Before reaching the doors, he took a bracing breath, knowing the majority of what he had to talk about was bad news.

Kankuro and Gaara made their way slowly back to his office. Gaara still had several reports to get through before he could sign off for the day. The Council meeting, as predicted, had been a bust. The Council urged Gaara to build back rapport with Ginmaru, so they could get funding back. They knew not what they asked.

As they got back to the main hallway where Gaara's office sat, Gaara was surprised to see Chie leaning against the wall next to his office door. Gaara frowned, looking to Kankuro curiously. He saw his brother was just as intrigued as him, neither expecting the ex-bodyguard, now basic policeman to stop by.

"Chie," Gaara greeted. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I have a special request for you," Chie answered quietly. "Off the books."

Gaara offered his door, and Chie walked through, with Kankuro and Gaara following behind him closely. As they got in the room, Gaara saw a hooded figure in the corner, and reached for his robes to get into his battle gear, when Chie held up his hands, saying, "She's with me." That earned confused frowns from the brothers, and Chie gestured to Kankuro behind Gaara. "Kankuro, the door."

Kankuro quietly shut it, standing by it and not taking his eyes off the hooded figure.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the figure reached up and removed her hood and face covering, revealing Princess Emika. Her oasis sand hair hung around her face wildly. It still shone healthily, but it was clear she hadn't worried about styling it beyond brushing, much like when they both ran across the wind all those years ago. Her peachy skin glowed in the late afternoon sun. She looked as beautiful as the day he'd last seen her in the election room.

Behind him, he heard Kankuro breathe, "Oh shit."

Gaara's heartbeat tripled as he took her in. Her face wasn't the bright, happy face he remembered who found everything "amazing." This Emika was hard and purpose-driven. When he found his voice, he finally said, "Emika." He sounded very surprised. His voice even broke a little, which he tried to cover with a cough. His mind whirled too fast for him to find the questions he wanted to ask.

"Happy birthday, Gaara," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "If a bit belated."

He blinked, unable to process that she even knew his birthday. He didn't remember discussing it with her. He pressed his lips together, then laughed, "Three days. So, not so belated … Given six years." He cleared his throat, making his way over to his desk, feeling as if sitting behind his desk gave him some authority here, bringing their reunion firmly in reality. "Wh-what can I do for you?" he asked.

It didn't take much deduction to realize Chie didn't actually have the favor. It was Emika. Why else would she be here?

She stepped around to the other side of the desk, pulling up a stool to sit on. The gesture seemed to even the playing field oddly. His office, but she still held the power. Held the floor. It was her request he needed to hear.

She licked her lips, looking Gaara over. Not with love, but with tired, appraising wisdom and slight nerves. He could only tell by the way she set her jaw, and took several breaths to start to say something, only to look away as she set her jaw. His brow furrowed. Surely, after six years, she knew what she wanted to tell him. He had thought of it every day, even though he knew what he wanted to say wouldn't fly over well.

Finally, she straightened, crossing her arms spoke, clearing her throat then looking at him resolutely. "Six years ago, you offered to marry me." She moved her jaw awkwardly, then said, "I've come to make good on that promise."

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