Sometimes, You Can't Have Both

Himari was humming softly under her breath while she decorated the stand with banderoles of solid colors. The preparations for the upcoming Sand Festival were going swiftly. Colorful lanterns were hanging over their head across the streets, swinging along the hot breeze. Gaara had been adamant about his wife having someone to help her decorating the stand, and Aiya had actually been eager to spend some time with her friend. So here she was, on her free morning, trying to untangle garlands shaped into a variety of plant's leaves with pointy nails that weren't meant for that delicate purpose.

"How's Kankuro doing?"

At the mention of his name, the banderole slipped off her fingers. Groaning, Aiya snatched one of the other decorations from the box – a little cactus made of paper, and stiffly pinned it to the stand.

She shrugged. "Well, he's still alive."

"I went to visit him the other day, but the nurse said you'd gone out."

"A bit of fresh air is good for the mind's health," Aiya replied distantly, putting her hair into a high ponytail. "He's healing fast. He'll be out of the hospital within a week."

Himari raised a single eyebrow, suspicious. Aiya defensively crossed her arms on her chest in response to her friend's stare.

"What's with the strange look, Hima?"

"Nothing." Himari shrugged her shoulders. "It's just that you're normally complaining about him and well, you haven't proclaimed a single complain yet. I'm simply glad you're finally getting along."

"We're not." Feeling the need to deflect from the subject, Aiya turned around to grab another decoration from the box. She gestured towards her friend's belly. "Do you have a name for the little pea yet?"

Smiling softly, Himari's hand rested on her belly. "Gaara's letting me choose. I'm thinking of Karura."

The decoration almost slipped from her fingers, but the blond recomposed herself. Kankuro's expression flashed into her mind, full of melancholy at the mention of his mother.

"His mother's name," she stated.

Himari nodded. "Yes, but I'm not sure if Gaara's going to like the idea."

Aiya wasn't thinking about the reaction of her friend's husband at the moment. She couldn't stop her twisted mind from imagining Kankuro's reaction to his niece's name. Would it make him happy? She chased the mental picture away, stretching a friendly smile on her lips.

"It's a lovely name, Hima. I'm sure he'll love it."

A gleam of joy lit up the eyes of the future mother. "Are you planning to come to the festival?" she asked.

Aiya scrunched up her nose. She'd never bothered to come the previous years. The Sand Festival honored the village's rich culture and history. She had never felt interested in attending the event and typically, she would be working at the hospital on that date. It was an event for hand-holding couples, over-excited children, and a few tourists bustling about. But since Himari was holding a stand this year, Aiya couldn't simply enjoy the free evening getting a pedicure on the couch and eating a bunch of junk food.

Her gaze briefly fell upon her friend's rounded belly. Smiling, Aiya shook her head. "I'll swing by. I can help you with the stand if you ever need to take a break," she offered.

Himari's lips stretched into a wide smile, and she excitedly clapped her hands together. "Perfect."

Aiya couldn't stop herself from smiling at the sight of her friend's happiness. "Alright, I'll see you later, Hima. My shift is starting soon."

On those words, she started to head towards the hospital.

…

Barely giving the time to the room's occupant to answer her knocks on the door, Aiya hurriedly barged into the room. Today's newspaper under the arm, the petite nurse went straight to the room's large windows to open the curtains. The sun's light poured into the room, bright and warm.

"What about a little heads up next time, blondie?" Lady Kiyo groaned, rising up slowly in a sitting position in the bed. "The sun is burning my retinas."

"You can't always be in the dark," the blond replied. One of her first patients, she'd grown to appreciate the old lady's scathing remarks. Something the illness had left intact. "It's bad for your health."

She dropped the newspaper on the nightstand, next to the woman's reading glasses. Following their daily routine, the old lady grabbed the newspaper while Aiya measured her blood pressure. With a lump in her throat, she tried to ignore the thinness of the woman's arms or the paleness of her skin, whiter than the room's walls.

"There's an article about the Kazekage's brother," Lady Kiyo declared. With a trembling hand, she adjusted her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. "He is the last of the sand siblings to still be single, you know? It says that he's been secretly dating Lady Tsunade's apprentice for over six months, now."

Aiya stiffened. For a moment, she forgot the numbers she had to write down on the patient's chart, troubled. She'd seen Kankuro dancing with that pink-haired girl at Himari's wedding, last year. But he hadn't seemed romantically interested. Or maybe she'd misread the situation. Her lips twitched. She didn't actually care about the puppeteer's love life.

"Those articles are filled with a bunch of idiocies. You shouldn't waste your time reading them."

The lady glanced at her over her glasses, and her lips twisted into the shadow of a smile. "If you say so, blondie."

Aiya focused on the patient's chart, putting the numbers down. Lady Kiyo put down the newspaper on the nightstand, briefly closing her eyes. The blond's eyes trailed over the ball of yarns in the basket, left untouched. Even the new yarn she'd bought last month was still in its packaging. It'd been a while since she'd seen the woman picking up her knitting needles. She internally sighed.

Over time, none of the healing techniques they'd tried had worked. Even Himari hadn't been able to pinpoint the origin of the illness. To find a way to stop it from deteriorating the lungs. Aiya put away the chart. Maybe if she'd listened more to her mother's teachings, she'd have been able to cure her. Or at least, to alleviate the pain. But at the time, she'd preferred to chase around a boy's rotten love. Silly girl.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Aiya roughly replaced the chair's cushion.

"What's on your mind?" rasped Lady Kiyo's somnolent voice. "You've been distracted these last few days."

Aiya sat for a moment in the chair by the window. "Nothing's on my mind."

"There's a limit to what your makeup can hide. Tell me."

"I'm simply a bit tired, that's all."

Drenched in sweat, she'd woken up in the middle of the night only to wait for the sunrise. Regrets and culpability formed the best nightmares. Over the years, the guiltiness had poked a bunch of holes into her chest and now, it'd become a difficult thing to simply breathe. But she didn't have much of a choice. She couldn't give up now. Not when they were so close to their goal.

Lady Kiyo raised a single brow. "That's all?"

There wasn't any birds soaring over the village. She'd never seen any. They'd probably cook up there, anyways. She deeply wished to tell someone about her dilemma, but it felt wrong to complain to a bedridden woman. Instead, she came up with a vague question. "Have you ever taken a decision knowing it'd hurt someone that you care about?"

The old lady grabbed the small frame on the bedside table. Her thumb caressed the wooden frame. Aiya knew it held her deceased husband's picture.

"I did," she admitted. Her eyes were clouded with sadness. "Even today, I don't know if it was the right decision to make. But I know that if I hadn't left my betrothed that night, I wouldn't have met my husband. My father kicked me out of the house for the disrespect I'd brought upon our family. That day, I lost my family's affection, but I gained a lot of other things."

"Do you regret it?"

The old lady lips twisted into a smile. "Sometimes, you simply can't have both."

The woman's words were full of sense, wise. The blond's mind was in turmoil, her thoughts racing as she weighed her options. On one hand, she absolutely needed to retrieve her mother's scrolls. They'd been unfairly taken from her, and she wouldn't stop to be tormented until she'll have retrieved them. She owed her mother that much. But on the other hand, she'd end up hurting the people she'd grown to care about deeply. The nurse's mind raced as she considered the consequences of each choice. If she chose to pursue her mission in order to retrieve the scrolls, she risked hurting the people she cared for. But if she gave up the scrolls, her clan's heritage, she would be left with a sense of guilt and shame that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Whatever choice she made would come with a heavy cost. As if she'd been slapped, her gaze flickered. Then, the nurse slowly nodded.

"I'll let you rest."

As she was about to take her leave, the old woman's voice stopped her. "Look in the nightstand's drawer, blondie. I've got something for you."

Intrigued, Aiya walked to the woman's bedside, and opened the drawer to reveal a pair of striped socks of the loveliest colors. Yellow, pink and blue. It reminded her of the colors of spring when the flowers were blooming at the back of their childhood house. Sitting back down in the chair, her fingers ran over the soft fabric.

"You used to complain about Suna's cold nights when you first arrived," Lady Kiyo rasped.

Aiya couldn't find the words to express her gratitude. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if she might cry. A fit of dry coughs suddenly shook the woman's entire body. The nurse immediately jumped on her feet, but the old lady's stern glare ordered her to go. She obediently obliged.

As she was about to exit the room, the old lady's voice grabbed her attention. "I hope you'll find someone like my Hiro, one day. If I'm not afraid of death, it's because I know he's waiting for me on the other side," she rasped. "So I don't want you to be sad when I'm gone, blondie."

She didn't reply. She silently went on her way to treat her other patients. But still, she couldn't shake off the heaviness on her chest. She didn't even know if she'd still be there to assist the woman's funeral.

When she got home at the end of her day, the heavy feeling hadn't disappeared. At least, she wasn't conflicted as much about her decision. She'd found a certain sort of peace with the woman's answer. You can't have both. Lady Kiyo was right. She couldn't have both.

…

Aiya scribbled a couple of notes into the sheet's margins while Kankuro unconsciously played with a pencil between his fingers, his sketchbook resting on his lap. The blond couldn't stop herself from throwing quick glances at his side profile getting hit by the warm sunrays. As he sat on the room's single chair, Aiya secretly enjoyed the way inspiration would strike his face's expression. It was as if the world stopped around him, and his art became his sole interest. Memories of waltzing lanterns, shiny stars and sandy feet at the back of her mind, she mixed up some letters for the third time. Temari's wedding. The first time she'd been so close to the puppeteer, when he'd boldly asked her to dance. It wasn't just annoyance or frustration that she associated with the memory, but also another, warmer feeling. A sense of peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. As if nothing could go wrong, in that moment, as long as he held her in his arms.

"You're smiling, pixie. Does it mean you don't dislike me anymore?"

She froze. Aiya realized the slight stretching of her own lips into the tiniest of smiles. When she raised her head to encounter his gaze, she was faced with his smug, crooked grin. Her lips twisted into a scowl, and she scoffed haughtily.

"I'm not smiling, clown face." She rolled her eyes in a display of annoyance. She'd grown to me more carefree around him. "It's the light's reflection. You're imagining things."

"I'm relieved," he smirked. "For a moment, I feared you might enjoy my company."

"As if that'd ever happen." She put down the chart, and walked up to his spot near the window. "Take off your shirt. I need to take a look at your bandages."

"You always have a good excuse to see me half naked." He took off his shirt, exposing the clean bandages strategically wrapped around his torso and abdomen. She proceeded to carefully remove them. "I presume you won't be attending the Sand Festival again this year."

Her hands briefly stilled on his left side, surprised that he'd noticed she didn't attend such events unless Himari forced her to. She happily contradicted him. "I am, actually."

She felt his muscles tense under the tip of her fingers. His grin vanished as a glint of confusion lighted up his gaze. "You don't usually enjoy this kind of event," he frowned.

Her body tensed slightly as she realized one thing: she hadn't been cautious enough of Kankuro's observational skills. He was more aware than she gave him credit for. He was right about this one thing. She didn't enjoy festivals. The sight of couples holding hands, happy families, and excited children roaming through the streets only brought up bitter memories of the past. Each year, she'd hear Temari complain about the dull girls that'd cling to her brother's arm during the Sand Festival. Desperate women trying to win the heart of the last sand siblings still available. She almost rolled her eyes.

Satisfied with the appearance of his wounds, which showed no signs of infection, she repositioned the bandages back in place. It'd already been over a week, and he was healing faster than she had anticipated. Maybe she wouldn't have to keep him in the hospital for three whole weeks, after all.

"Your wounds are healing well," she informed him. She put down a few more notes on his chart. "It's my day off tomorrow, so Akemi's going to be the one to check your bandages in the afternoon."

"Akemi, uh?" he smiled devilishly. "Isn't she the cutie with the glasses?"

"That's Akari," she replied in an overly sweet voice. She stretched her lips into an innocent smile. "I'm talking about Akemi, the fifty years old man with bulging biceps that'll crush you to death if you don't behave."

He pouted. "You're going a little hard on me, pixie."

She was done with him for the day. She had only two patients left to see, one of them being a little boy whom all nurse adored boundlessly. Riku was a little ball of energy, with eyes as blue as the summer sky, and a heart filled with a passion for animals that knew no limits. She'd always wear one of her animal-patterned scrubs when she'd have to pay him a visit. She walked up to the door, taking a mental note to grab a grape juice from the hospital vending machine for the little boy. For some strange reason, he absolutely loved the artificial taste of it.

"Don't bother the nurses," she warned the puppeteer as she reached the door. When he was bored, Kankuro had the bad habit of disturbing the nurses for the slightest little thing. There wasn't an hour that'd pass without him making a futile request such as filling his glass with room temperature water, readjusting his pillow behind his back, or opening the door to a precise angle. As if he couldn't stand to be alone for too long. She locked eyes with him, making sure she was conveying her message clearly. "This isn't a five-star hotel, clown face."

He responded with an insolent smile. "Got it, pixie. If I'm bored to death, I'll simply count the clouds. Maybe I'll even start learning the noble art of knitting."

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. She stilled, trying to look at the hospital's room through his eyes. Those white walls. The strong odor of antiseptic only partly suppressed by the perfume of the flowers that Himari had brought him yesterday, sitting in a transparent vase on the windowsill. The dreadful memories of his mother that he must associate with the place. And as a shinobi, he wasn't the type to tolerate being locked up, doing nothing. Her expression softened a bit.

"Just don't cause any trouble, alright?"

As she turned around to leave, his voice stopped her. "Are you going with someone?"

She stood in the doorframe for a moment, frozen. "To the Sand Festival?" she frowned. One of the nurses with whom she shared many day shifts had asked her to accompany him when they'd briefly crossed paths in the staff room, and she'd kindly turned down his offer. He had the energy of a puppy, and he was too nice for her taste. Always polite. Clearly from a good family. He wouldn't have been the right profile for a one-night stand, no strings attached. She didn't have time to waste on a work romance. "I'm not going with anyone."

For a moment, he seemed surprised. And Aiya didn't know whether to be offended by it. An odd emotion passed through his gaze, and his shoulders suddenly relaxed. Silence hung between them, and for a split second, as he hesitated to part his lips and say something, Aiya thought he was actually going to ask her to accompany him. The thought conveyed an unsettling feeling and she suddenly found herself sputtering a bunch of words.

"I'm actually going to support Himari. She'll probably need to take some breaks since she's pregnant, and everything." It was as if a door had opened and closed within her, leaving her wondering what might have been if things had gone differently. But she knew that the moment had passed, and she would never know the answer to the question that had been silently hanging between them. "Are you going?" she inquired, intimately curious about his answer.

He gestured towards his injured leg. "I think I'll take it easy this year."

"Yeah, right. It would be better if you don't exhaust yourself too much. Especially if you're aiming for a fast recovery."

"It makes sense."

She awkwardly slipped out of the room. The blond ignored the erratic beating of her heart as she made her way to the vending machine. She pushed away the chaotic thoughts from her mind, regaining her composure. Putting coins into the machine, she sighed.

That afternoon, Aiya deftly changed the subject when the little boy inquired about the reason for her flushed cheeks. She showed him the grape juice, and he quickly forgot about his initial question. As Ruki happily babbled about the new toy his mother had brought him this morning, Aiya glanced at the cloudless sky outside. Her heart tightened in her chest, and she bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to look away.

She really needed a day off.