The Sour Taste of Caramel-Dipped Apples

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat and sweet treats, while the vibrant hues of paper lanterns casted a warm glow over the lively crowds. The rhythm of traditional drums and flutes mingled with the excited chatter of festivalgoers, creating a lively symphony that filled the air. Aiya had almost backed out at the last minute, but she hadn't wanted to disappoint her friend.

The blond gently smoothed the fabric of the spring-colored kimono with delicate fingers. It had once belonged to her mother, one of the few pieces of clothing she couldn't bear to part with after her passing. Though a bit long, as her mother had been a few inches taller, the garment fit her well. Minutes ago, Himari had urged her to explore the other stalls of the festival, assuring her that she wouldn't have to empty her bladder for at least another hour. Although hesitant at first, she now meandered among the crowd. Sometimes, the crystalline sound of her mother's laughter echoed in her ears, and she let herself be carried away by the sound, which evoked a painful melancholy. Lost in the swirling crowd, she suddenly collided with a stranger, her body jolting as she bumped into his chest.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking," she quickly apologized.

"I should be the one to apologize," a gravelly voice replied. The man had a charming smile and a pleasant face, but a hint of arrogance surrounded him. "And honestly, I don't mind a pretty girl like you bumping into me. Are you alone, darling?"

"My friends are actually waiting for me," she lied, trying to politely dismiss him.

But he didn't seem to take the hint, suddenly grabbing her by the wrist. Taking a deep breath, she tried to think about a way out of this annoying situation. A solution that didn't involve throwing his body into one of the stands, and thus causing an unnecessarily ruckus.

"Let go of me, sir," she smiled tightly, trying to slip out of his iron grip. With his face closer to her, she could smell the faint scent of alcohol lingering on his breath. She clenched her jaw, and hardened her tone a bit. "I'm not interested. I have a boyfriend."

Maybe the lie would make him reconsider his next move. The man seemed taken aback by her sudden change in tone, but he didn't back off. "I don't see your boyfriend right now, uh? He shouldn't have left you alone."

His grip on her wrist tightened. Aiya gritted her teeth. If he damaged the fabric of her kimono, she wouldn't hesitate to break every bone in his body as retribution. Aiya internally sighed. She didn't want to play the damsel in distress, but it was her next option to get out of this situation. If Daisuke had been here to witness the scene, he'd have taunted her for weeks about the embarrassing display.

"I won't repeat myself a third time. Let go of-"

Suddenly, the man's elbow bolted strangely, and his fingers tightened before abruptly releasing her arm. She was propelled slightly backwards. Her back landed against a hard surface as an arm wrapped itself around her shoulders to keep her still. While her first reflex was to panic, her muscles relaxed upon hearing the familiar voice.

"Get lost," Kankuro growled. The rumble of his voice reverberated against her back. "She's not interested in you."

The man didn't seem to have any instinct of preservation as he shrugged off the sensation of Kankuro's strings against his hand. He leaned closer, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't think she asked for your opinion."

"I said, get lost."

Aiya tensed. She'd never heard him so serious. He'd always been nonchalant, never taking anything too seriously. She could feel his anger simmering just below the surface. Something flickered in the man's gaze, as he seemed to sense the danger in Kankuro's words. His survival instinct finally kicking in, and the man promptly retreated into the crowd.

"Are you alright?" Kankuro's tone had softened.

She suddenly couldn't move. For a second, she let herself absorb the reassuring warmth of his body. She tilted her head back to take a better look at his face. The dense crowd ceased to exist around them, and the noise dwindled down to silence. His breath gently brushed against her face. She'd long ago realized that Kankuro's physical allure was hard to be easily ignored. If she had to be honest, his dark brown hair, brooding eyes, and devil-may-care grin created an overall attractive portrayal. A sudden anger disrupted her thoughts as her mind slowly processed the scene that had just unfolded before her. What is he doing here? She turned around sharply, tearing herself away from the warmth of his body. She punched him on the shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed. "You're supposed to be resting. You'll unnecessarily strain your leg."

He scoffed. "I think the words you're looking for are thank you."

She rolled her eyes. "I was handling the situation just fine."

"You obviously weren't."

She refrain the urge to let out a snarl. Or to angrily bare her teeth at him like a crazy animal. Idiot. Trying to gain a few extra inches from her shoes, Aiya scanned the festival grounds above the crowd to locate Himari's stall in the distance. She didn't know how much time had passed, and she didn't like the idea of leaving her friend alone for too long, especially knowing that her pregnancy easily wore her out.

"Gaara managed to get out of his meeting earlier," Kankuro explained, following her gaze. "I saw him with Himari around ten minutes ago."

Aiya's body relaxed. Perfect. It meant that she could go home now, no longer needed. She batted her lashes almost as long as a butterfly's wings at the puppeteer, putting on a fake smile on her lips. "I'll take my leave, now. Goodbye, clown face."

She walked away into the crowd, and he didn't waste a second to follow her. Rows of stalls line the streets, each one offering a unique culinary experience. Skewers of yakitori sizzle over open flames, while vendors hawk steaming bowls of ramen and fragrant curry. Delicate mochi and brightly colored cotton candy would catch the eyes of children, who tug at their parents' sleeves with pleas for a taste.

"You aren't staying?" he inquired.

"Don't act all surprised. You know I don't paticularly enjoy these types of events."

She darted toward a familiar street, knowing it'd lead her to the silent comfort of her apartment's couch. Without a warning, Kankuro grabbed her by the wrist. She stopped dead in her tracks. Turning around, the blond glared a bunch of sharp daggers at him.

"Let. Go. Of. Me. Now."

He grunted. "I'm tired of running after you."

The words slipped out of his mouth like a confession as he earnestly looked into her eyes. Aiya blinked slowly, pushing away a strand of golden hair from her face. Something wavered into her chest. She suddenly noticed him favoring his left leg, avoiding putting weight on his injured one.

"Does your leg hurt?" she frowned. As he was about to open his mouth to tell an obvious lie, she rolled her eyes. "And don't lie to me."

"A bit," he admitted reluctantly.

She was struggling with an internal conflict. She wasn't working. He wasn't her problem, right now. She could simply leave. But a part of her felt drawn to him, unable to simply turn around and leave him. Aiya let out a sigh. He still hadn't let go of her wrist, but his grip had loosened. She didn't find the strength to simply shake him off.

"You should go back to the hospital," she advised. "I thought you said that you wouldn't come this year."

"Actually, I said that I'd take it easy." His gaze wandered on the festival's decorations for a moment. As the sun settled down, the lanterns took on a new life. The intricate designs, each one carefully crafted by skilled artisans, casted intricate patterns of light and shadow on the ground below their feet. He smiled sadly. "Each year, our mother used to bring Temari and I to the Sand Festival. I've never missed a single one since."

Aiya found herself getting lost in the vibrant colors of the festival, the swirling patterns of a dancer's costume, and the sweet scent of the food stalls. She relaxed. "My mother used to bring us to the Equinox Festival every year. We loved it."

"The one in the Land of Grass?" he smiled. "They're renowned for their impressive fireworks."

She almost managed to forget about the memory of it, until now. In the darkness of the night, the fireworks erupted like colorful stars bursting into existence. As a child, she'd always be impressed by them. Her brother would often complain to be unable of capturing in his art the sensation that overwhelmed him with every explosion of color.

"I'm hungry," she declared. She grabbed the puppeteer by the arm, forcing him to lean against her. The gesture earned her a brief look of surprise. "Which stand do you recommend?"

Trying to suppress a pleased smile, he didn't comment about her sudden change of mood, and simply pointed his chin towards a stand a few feet away from them. "That one. You'll like it."

The whispers of the passersby rose like mists of words around them as they slowly walked, immersed in a strange bubble of intimacy. The food stand where the old lady offered them caramel-dipped apples stood on the right side of the street, exhaling a sweet and spicy scent that tickled her nose. The dimmed lights of the garlands illuminating the night gave the place an almost dreamlike atmosphere. The old lady herself behind the stand's counter was an intriguing figure – a small woman with hair as white as snow, dressed in a long purple silk kimono, and her eyes sparkling with kindness.

"It's nice to see you again this year, Kankuro," the old woman greeted him. "How are you doing?"

Kankuro's expression softened under the lady's gaze. "I have to thank you for my fast recovery, Satsuki-san. The caramels you sent me were a taste of heaven."

She offered them the apples with a radiant smile. "Your words touch me deeply, dear boy. I'm glad you're doing okay. Now," she went on, "who's this lovely girl by your side?"

"This is Sakido Aiya. She's a dear friend of my brother's wife," he replied. His eyes shone with a teasing glint, perhaps betraying a funny thought that he kept to himself. "And she's also the one making sure I don't do any stupid things while I'm recovering."

"It's nice to meet you," Aiya politely said to the old woman. "Caramel-dipped apples are my festival's favorites. How much do I owe you?"

The woman laughed. "Nonsense, girl. They're free for the two of you. Especially if you're a fan."

"Thank you, Satsuki-san." Aiya felt her lips stretching into an honest smile. She could feel the woman's sincerity by the way she looked at Kankuro, almost as if he was one of her own children. Her soft wrinkles seemed to tell ancient stories, and her knotty hands gestured with vitality as she spoke to them.

As they left the stand, Aiya took a huge bit of the apple and almost moaned as the sweet taste of caramel infiltrated her mouth. It was a pure delice.

"She liked you."

His gaze lingered on her with an intensity that seemed to betray his own disbelief in what he was saying. Slightly annoyed, she pouted. "I can be a lovely person, you know? Don't sound so surprised."

"She doesn't particularly like anyone."

"You're kidding, right?" she chuckled. "She's one of the sweetest ladies I've ever met."

"She used to be one of the ruthless shinobis that I know. She trained my sensei."

Her eyes widened, and she stopped taking a bite of her apple. "You're messing with me."

"Looks can be awfully deceiving, uh?"

Her amusement died down as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on her head. She forced herself to maintain a relaxed posture to not alarm him. "Yeah, they can be," she agreed.

As they walked side by side among the crowd, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The weight of the mask of lies had become a burden, suffocating her every breath. But she had worn it for so long that she had forgotten how to live without it. She feared that one day, without warning, it'd slip from her face. The emotions she'd hidden for years would finally be free to surface. Fear gripped her heart. Sometimes, by the way he'd look so intently at her, she'd wonder if he'd discovered that she was nothing but a collection of lies and half-truths. Maybe the mask had actually started to break, leaving a bunch of tiny cracks to glimpse into. And she wouldn't know until it was too late. But his comment about deceiving looks seemed to have been said without any ulterior motive, just empty words thrown in the air.

She couldn't help stealing glances at him, watching the interesting display of emotions on his face as he'd ramble about a time when'd hidden Temari's fan by burying it into the training grounds, or explained some of Suna's old traditions. For a moment, she forgot about her fears and worries, lost in the magic of the festival and the easiness of being with him.

"You don't believe in marriage?" he almost choked out.

She'd let a snarky comment slip out of her mouth about the statistics regarding the divorce rate, and it'd almost made him drop his apple. He was gazing at her, his eyes fixed on her face, as if searching for something within her. As if trying to understand something.

"Love is… overrated," she offered as an explanation. She wasn't able to meet his gaze, and she feared he'd catch a glimpse of her hatred for the overrated term into her downward smile. "It's a game with no winners, only losers. That's why marriages are born to fail."

A mere illusion that people clung to in order to escape the harsh realities of life. She once thought that she'd found true love, but all she'd really found was pain, and disappointment. The kind that leaves you with a bitter taste on your tongue, and a gaping hole in your chest. It was nothing more than a cruel illusion, a mirage in the desert.

"You can't really think that."

She could feel his scrutiny, intense and unwavering, and it made her feel exposed, vulnerable. But at the same time, there was something captivating about the way he looked at her, something that stirred a deep longing within her. She threw the heart of her apple into a nearby thrash can, shrugging her shoulder at his question. Her own mother hadn't believed in love either. You'll only end up getting hurt, my little bird. Love isn't a fair game. And she'd been right. Like her mother before, she'd also been betrayed by the person she used to blindly love.

"It's not for everyone. That's all I'm saying," she scoffed defensively. She threw him a pointed look. "Don't tell me that you of all people believe in marriage, love and fairy tales?"

"I do, actually," he replied, deadly serious. "Maybe not the part about the fairy tales, but love's a powerful thing. It changes people. In a good way. I've seen it."

"Love is selfish," she disagreed.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, locked in a silent battle of wills. Have you ever been in love? she died of asking him. Do you know how much it hurts? But the words never left her lips. She didn't dare ask, didn't want to risk shattering the illusion of this pleasant evening. And then, with a small smile, he looked away, breaking the spell that had held them both captive. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief.

…

Two days later, she stepped into the puppeteer's hospital room, and headed directly to the left side of his bed to grab his patient's chart. Taking a sharp breath, she quickly wrote her last indications.

"You're not going to change my bandages today?" her patient inquired.

She shook her head. "There's no need. The wounds are mostly closed. It's going to heal by itself from now on."

Kankuro froze, surprised. "But it's only been two weeks."

His gaze was scanning her from head to toe, searching for something. She couldn't look at him. Focused on his chart, Aiya uselessly flipped through the five pages of her patient's profile.

"Seventeen days, actually," she clarified. "You've healed faster than I anticipated. You'll still need to come back for a check-up in a week. Until then, take it easy. If there's any sudden change, just stop by the clinic."

"Fine. So I'll simply have to ask for you?"

"There's no need. I'll be leaving your chart to my colleagues. They'll take great care of you."

He dropped his notebook on the windowsill. Frowning, he swiftly extracted himself from the upholstered chair's cushion.

"I don't understand. I thought-"

"Enjoy the rest of your day," she interrupted him. "Congratulation, you're officially being discharged. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

He didn't reply. His gaze wasn't leaving her face, searching for something she wouldn't allow him to find into her eyes. Avoiding his gaze, she put back the chart, bowed stiffly to him, and then exited the room without a word. She'd done her job. Nothing had changed. Nothing.