Day 22

- Talking Through Problems -

Konoha is crumbling.

The stench of blood and soot and sulfur cakes the air, traveling through the winds, the gray clouds, the foggy stretch of the horizon. There is a village, and then there isn't. It's flattened and ruined, and somewhere in the ruin is Hanabi, petrified, all of her ninja training drained from her body. Her cousin is long dead. Her father has disappeared; and her sister has left for another village, and she is not here to save her, to pick her up and carry her to safety.

There is an enemy, and when they attack, Hanabi screams. Like blood and sulfur, it's carried, and it pierces Hinata's ears, and she jolts from sleep, gasping.

"Hanabi!" she groans, lifting. "Hanabi — oh Ka — I need —"

Shaking, adrenaline making her senses wild and jumbled, Hinata tears through her bag, grabs her pouch of weapons and a spare set of clothes, and then flees from the tower. The desert attacks her in a rush of freezing wind. It sinks ice into her ankles, dragging her away from the gate, trying to keep her, to trap her. Her breath is a rapid, scared fog waving past her eyes as she sprints on. Soon, the gate is towering over her, and the guards knock each other out of their tired dazes when they see her — then her state — then the shine of a kunai mismatching the white skirt of her sleeping gown.

Hinata stares out at the vast desert beyond those gates. Out there, far away, her sister is screaming for her.

A guard approaches her like she's a mad tiger.

"Hinata?" he calls. He's young, maybe a year or two younger than her. He's got eyes like Hanabi — not that Hyuuga white, but wide, and striking; something worth protecting. "It's late. You — what are you doing —"

"I need to leave," she tells him. Her heels are sinking into the sand. She forgot to grab shoes. "Can you tell them — I have to go to Konoha."

"Did Lord Gaara give you permission —"

"No, of course he —" Unconsciously, her byakugan flares open, and the guard takes a cautious step back as the others stir, alert. "My sister's in danger! Please, you have to —"

"Get the Kazekage," one guard murmurs to another. Then, slowly, he approaches her. "Hinata, we can't let you go. It's our orders."

She'd very much like to tell them to stick their orders up their fucking asses, but she is so tongue-tied and flustered and scared out of her wits — because she's hit again and again with the thought of Hanabi bleeding out, alone, without anyone there for her. Who will bury her? Who will look over her passing spirit, comforting her, telling to move on, that it's okay, that she can go?

"I need to —" She sobs, "get to Hanabi."

"You can't," a guard says.

"She's in danger!" Hinata steps towards the gate. A few of the men huddle in front of her, a shield that keeps her away from her only chance of reaching her sister. A spike of chakra drills into her eyes. "Get out of my way."

They do not. She slips into her stance, ignoring the strangeness of sand against naked soles. She sees every beat of life in them. She sees their chakra, their flow, and she sees how she will cut through them with ease. They do not have a chance. She will —

Sand lifts up her leg in a spiral. It keeps her put, but it does not staple her to the ground. She looks at the bits of sand infused with chakra, and then she finds the steady pull of warmth and familiarity approaching her. It's Gaara. He looks worn and on edge, a slight redness to his eyes. His face is nothing but grim, but there is an effort to make it soften and melt when he stops at her side, looking down at her attire, at the bareness of her feet, then at her streaming face.

"Hinata," he whispers.

The cold finds that sensitive spot deep in her bones, and she cracks, and she breaks, unable to hold the giant force that is a brave sister off to save her family.

"I need to go," she cries, wobbling. "Konoha is being attacked."

He holds his hand out. He will not touch her, but he invites her, and she eventually takes it and stables herself on the uneven ground. "How do you know?"

"I heard Hanabi yelling for me." It's still in the air, loud like thunder. How can no one else hear it?

"A nightmare," Gaara says. "Hanabi isn't here."

"No — she's in — but . . . ."

He squeezes her fingers as reality slips into her tired mind. Her body is sore from the strain she put on it, pushing through exhaustion and cold. Her feet hurt. Her ears are numb. Chakra ebbs away from her eyes, slinking back like nervous children. The burn of angry, terrified tears still nips at her senses, and she comes to terms with her dream and how it is only that — not reality. Hanabi is safe and alive, probably asleep, probably dreaming of boys and playing in the bamboo forest with Neji.

She fades for a while. Then, she's back in the tower. Gaara wraps her hands around a warm cup of milk, and she looks at the white, and she tries to calm down.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"You are worried about Konoha," he says. Gaara, Leader of the sands, knows of dreams. She knows this, and everyone knows this. So when he speaks of dreams, she listens. "You do not like being away from it."

It was like that in the beginning, when she first came here. Those nightmares that Kankuro pulled her away from were anxious, eating away at her, until she became used to Suna. Gaara makes it easy to look at beige sands and cliff sides and see home in it all. But now the nightmares are back — or — or maybe they aren't. Maybe it's just this one. One bad dream in a batch of dozens of good ones.

"I miss my village," she says, "but I want to stay here."

She looks into his eyes, making sure he understands. Hinata wants to be in Suna. She wants to be with him. And when Ambassador Ki is better and he takes his rightful place again, she will still stay here, and she will be with him as his village continues to build and grow and flourish.

Gaara holds a quiet understanding in his eyes.

She drinks her milk and lets her muscles relax. He walks her to her bedroom, lingers, and tells her with certainty that he will wake if she needs him. The square of his shoulders is as strained and stiff as her stomach, so she smoothes them with her palms, then wipes his face like he'd been the one mourning the dead sister in his dreams. They stay like this for a while until exhaustion catches up to her, and he drifts away to let her sleep. She tries, and she does, but part of her curls up, preparing in case another nightmare comes from the clutches and takes over her subconscious.

...

It is not just the one like she had hoped.

The night after that and after that and after that are more nightmares. Hanabi being taken away. Memories of Neji's last minutes alive. A destroyed Konoha. Naruto — dead. Her nights are painted in red and terror, and she wakes up — sometimes aware they are dreams, sometimes not. They suck life out of her, and eventually, she ends up at Gaara's side, and they calm together, both tired, both worried with every passing night left disturbed by horrific nightmares that shake her to her core.

On bad nights, he wakes Chilla. She plays something slow and gentle; a lullaby in piano form. If Hinata weren't so fidgety, she'd ask what the song was about, if it was another phoenix-related piece about patience and peace and beauty. But her mouth is cold, empty, and she curls up next to Gaara and listens until the sun comes up and they crawl through another long, tiresome day.

Gaara's worry is as apparent as the bags under their eyes. When they are up late to Chilla's piano, when he finds her wondering the dead streets of Suna, when her scream is loud enough to send him sprinting through the tower — once scared of an attack, now scared of another nightmare — there is a heavy shadow to his face that only guilt can create. He thinks he's keeping her here, making her suffer. He hates himself for it, and there are nightmares in the corners of his own eyes that ravage his sleep and keep him up, shivering.

It's hard to see.

She doesn't like that he thinks this way, but she's not sure how to stop it.

"Can you write a letter to Konoha?" she asks on their sixth night of consecutive nightmares. Chilla is not awake and playing, but they still sit in the piano room, pretending. "If I hear back from the Hokage himself that everything is alright, maybe I will be able to relax."

She doesn't even suggest going to Konoha. She wants that to be the furthest thing from Gaara's mind.

He agrees with a nod, and they drift into that half-asleep state, her hands tucked in his.

...

One afternoon, she finds his office empty. Her byakugan shows her he's nowhere in the tower, and when she asks Temari, she tells her he went out to visit the children.

It's not a blistering hot day, so Hinata wraps herself in a scarf to protect her skin from the sun and ventures off into Suna. People recognize her and greet her. If they notice how utterly tired she looks, they say nothing about it. She follows the streets to the orphanage, and from the distance, she can see a group of children in the yard — and in the middle is Gaara in his robes, like a snow-peaked mountain amongst trees. He is the giant that brings them fruit. He's the god that blesses them joy and luck.

He walks, and they walk with him. He sits, and they sit around him, taking turns to be the one closest to him, asking him questions that only a Kazekage can answer — important things only children can think of. And when lunch is called, their supervisors wave them in, promising the Kazekage will wait until they are finished eating. The crowd ebbs away, but one boy stays, curled behind Gaara's back, hidden.

That is Hoshikawa, Hinata knows. A sweet, shy boy. He gives his food away until he has none, and sometimes he goes a day without eating. Hinata has come by a few times to teach the children to mind their manners, and while the older ones remember well, the younger ones forget easily and end up going to Hoshikawa to ask for his pudding or half of his sandwich.

Gaara waits until there is no adult in sight, and then he turns to Hoshikawa, who mocks his pose, sitting criss-cross.

As Hinata approaches, she sees Gaara bring out a small bag probably full of food.

"What do you say?" he asks.

Hoshikawa smiles. "Please, can you share with me?"

"And what do I say if I'm too hungry to share?"

Hoshikawa thinks, then says, meekly, "I'm sorry, but I need to eat my food."

"Good." Gaara brings out a collection of onigiri and dumplings. Hoshikawa leans over, staring, then looks back at Gaara. "Go ahead."

"You said you were hungry."

"That was just practice."

So they eat together. Gaara, having felt Hinata's presence long ago, motions her over. It takes Hoshikawa a while, but he scoots over to let her sit with them, offering food.

"Thank you," she says, "but I'm not hungry."

Gaara breaks chopsticks for her and fits them in her hand. "Eat. You haven't all day."

"How do you know that?"

He gives her a look. "I know everything."

"He's the Kazekage," Hoshikawa adds.

When she thinks about it, her stomach is rather empty, so she eats with them, and it feels good and right.

Hinata thinks about the adoption papers still in Gaara's office, in the second drawer.

She thinks about the child-safe Kazekage Tower, and it all clicks, and it all makes sense, and she can't get it out of her head for the rest of the day.

That evening, as Chilla plays for them, she tells him, "What if we adopted Hoshikawa?"

Gaara does not move for a minute. Then he stares at her. Then at the piano. Then at everything, like he's staring at the whole tower, at every room and hallways and entrance and exit, imagining the normal people plus one child.

Worried he might not like the idea, she adds, "Not this instant. Later. Maybe after we're married —"

"Married," he breathes.

She hadn't meant to say that. But she did, and now it's there, along with a possibility of adoption.

"We don't —"

"We could," he says. "Everything. All of it."

She vibrates and blushes. It's so much to talk about, and she doesn't know how, but that doesn't mean it's bad.

"I like Hoshikawa," she whispers.

Gaara fits himself on the seat they share like there's a small child between them, falling asleep to the piano. "So do I."

"And I like you."

His gaze is hungry and yearning, and all this shit about nightmares and guilt and anxiety and sleepless nights — it all disappears in an instant.

"Is that okay?" he asks.

"Yeah." Hinata smiles so he knows she's genuine. "I'd like it. All of it."

He's smiling with her, leaning in to rest his head against hers. In the background, Chilla changes the song to something happy, something hopeful, something good.

...

Konoha is in her dreams. She'd like to chase it away. She'd like to dream only of Gaara and the Tower and how Hoshikawa might one day play in the halls with Temari and Shikamaru's child. They will be more brothers than cousins.

But she dreams of her sister drowning, and Hinata wakes with a start.

Gaara is already there, slipping past the door to rest on his knees at her side. "I heard you," he explains, void of all those pleasant thoughts and feelings that occupied him just hours ago. "I knew it would happen."

"You were up?" Hinata asks.

"I knew it would happen," he repeats.

There's a muffled bleakness that only this room can make, full of all her nightmares and deepest fears. Still, through the night, she can see every doubt rising to Gaara's eyes, and it rips her heart in two.

"Gaara —"

"I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be here," he says. The very words she had hoped not to hear. "This isn't normal. Your subconscious is trying to tell you something. Maybe we should listen."

Her eyes hurt the same way her tongue would if she bit it. For the first time in her life, she hates everything about Konoha and wants nothing to do with it. Damn the restaurants Kurnai used to take her team after a long, hard day of training! Damn the corner stores where Neji used to take her and Hanabi when they had free time! Damn everything there! If all they are going to be is fuel to her nightmares, then she wants nothing to do with them. She wants to stay here. She wants to be in Suna.

"Don't make me leave." Her panic makes her voice shake, and she grabs Gaara's arm and keeps him there. "Please."

He promises nothing. He's as quiet as the walls.

"Let's wait to hear back from the Hokage." It should come any day, and all her hopes are on that single letter. "Maybe if I hear back, the nightmares will stop."

It takes a minute — full of dread and fear — but he eventually nods, and Hinata gulps down her relieved tears and slowly lets him go.

She has time.

Hopefully, she'll figure something out in that span of time.

...

The Hokage's letter comes a day later, accompanied with many others that pile up on the Kazekage's desk.

"Gai says he got everyone to pitch in," Gaara tells her, smiling, pleased with how her face glows prettily and happily in the morning sun.

They go through the letters together, one-by-one. Kurenai attached a photo of herself and Mirai, noting how much she's grown since Hinata had last seen her. Ino's is scented with lavender, noting all the latest gossip about this person and that. Kiba moans about the latest litter his family is taking care of. Shino dutifully lets her know that everyone is safe, healthy, and happy. Shikamaru complains about the weather. Hanabi's is long, telling stories about their father or Konohamaru or Mirai. She's getting stronger, and Hinata holds the letter close to her heart after she's done reading, glad to know her sister is well.

The last letter is from Naruto.

She hesitates, and Gaara, understanding, reads it himself.

It doesn't seem long, but he reads it two more times, then looks at her from across the desk.

"He's brought Uchiha Sasuke back."

He did it.

She had told Gaara about her first and only date with Naruto — how it was a disaster from beginning to end. But the only thing she can think about right now is how determined he was to get Sasuke back. And now he's done it.

A part of her feels misplaced, like she should be there along with the rest of Konoha to greet him. Most of the village does not trust him, but Hinata knows her friends do — Naruto does — and she ought to be there and show him he belongs, that he's welcomed.

But, really, she doesn't have to be there.

He probably barely remembers her, anyhow.

...

But she remembers him.

And that night, she dreams of him — of that twelve-year-old boy. They're standing in the training grounds, and he's looking at her in a way she doesn't remember him ever looking at her. And then there is blood, and his eyes turn a dead gray, and he falls before her with his brother standing before his corpse, staring, daring her.

She wakes up, whispering Sasuke's name, and something sour fills her mouth. She only has a few seconds to crawl to the bathroom before she vomits, sweating and tired, horrified.

Hinata doesn't leave her room until the sun is lighting up the east wall. Then, she dresses and comes out for breakfast, where she pretends she's hungry. Gaara looks like he managed to get some sleep that night. His eyes shine when he sits with her, wondering quietly if she had another nightmare.

And Hinata lies, saying the letters must have done the trick — she slept perfectly fine, without a worry in the world.

The relief on Gaara's face is overwhelming, like the ocean is flooding Suna streets.

She feels sick.

She can't eat, but she forces herself to, and she smiles, and she pretends.

The piano is playing a familiar song that morning. It's the first time she's heard it since arriving with Sasuke, and she had almost wondered if Gaara had gotten rid of Chilla. But it's there, and she hears it — and she knows it's Chilla because only Chilla can play the piano like it's the wind blowing through the tower.

It's a slow song. On those nights of terror, when she was plagued by memories, Gaara would wake Chilla in the dark hours of the morning to have her play this exact song. It's a melody meant to comfort, to ease. Temari had told her, once, that this song would be played when Gaara was a boy with his own demon trapped within him. Their father was not fond of any sort of music, but the pianist would still creep into a hidden chamber of the tower with them to play this very song that plays freely now.

Peaceful. Calming.

Hinata wonders, as she gets ready, if Gaara had Chilla play this particular piece for a specific reason.

What was he expecting to say that would require something to calm her?

It hasn't gotten easier to be in the same room as the Kazekage. He hardly looks at her, hardly speaks to her — and when he does, it's as if she's nothing but a stranger, a mere "Hyuuga Hinata" he's never met before in his life. And she's not sure if she prefers it this way or not, but all Hinata knows is that while he may pretend to have forgotten their past entirely, she hasn't. It lives with her. It hurts her. But, despite it all, she can grit her teeth and push through it. She can stay a few minutes in his office and play politics.

As long as Sasuke's with her, Hinata feels like she can do anything.

But a once tranquil song is now foreboding, looming like a ghost by her door, and Hinata is not sure what to expect.

They stand a moment in front of the door to the Kazekage's office. Chilla makes the piano a powerful bellow pulsing through the halls like they're veins.

Sasuke touches his fingers to her knuckles, a promise he'll stay by her side, and with that, they go inside —

And find the office empty.

Well.

Not empty, actually.

Sasuke pauses, squinting, unsure what to make of the room. But Hinata understands, and she slowly circles around the desk — where, cloaked in the shadow of it, smelling of alcohol and sweat and desert, sits Gaara on the floor. His robes are hardly attached to his body. His eyes look like something out of nightmare; not monster eyes, but dead eyes.

And Hinata understands, and she watches the tremble go through his slouched body, that the calming music isn't meant for her at all.

It's for him.

...

"Hoshino is Hoshikawa," Gaara admits. He sounds like the man they hire to tell family members that their son or girlfriend or husband or mother has died in war. He doesn't want to talk, but he has to, and it's like his words are daggers cutting his tongue with every syllable. "He was renamed after he was adopted."

Hinata still thinks about Hoshikawa. She wonders if that shy boy ever found a family, ever got the love she deserved — the love she wanted to give him, but the chance was taken from her before it could happen. Even with Sasuke, she thinks about that boy; it feels like a betrayal, somehow, but she can't forget him.

And now . . . the boy they have to talk to about a potential Suna betrayer . . . might be that very boy from so long ago.

Sasuke stares at her, unsure. She hasn't told him about Hoshikawa. Not yet.

"Why did they change his name?" Hinata asks.

With a shaky hand, Gaara reaches over his head to drag out a file from his desk. He holds it out to her, and says, "We worried Zaiaku would go after him if he kept his name."

On the file, it reads the address of Hoshika— Hoshino's parents. They're expecting them today.

She'll . . . see him again.

It's been over two years.

Hinata sits across from Gaara, feeling worn and anxious. They sit and listen to the piano, processing, trying to understand what to feel.

...

Through the mirage of sand and people, they all make their way to Hoshino's home.

Gaara is disguised, a mere civilian amongst his people. Only ninja know by the consuming chakra that the Kazekage is amidst the village, but Hinata tries to pretend it's someone entirely different who walks with them. A bread baker. A librarian. An eye doctor.

Sasuke takes her arm and slows her pace so they are a bit aways from Gaara. Then, under his breath and close to her ear, he asks, "Who is Hoshikawa?"

And the idea of lying doesn't touch her head for a second. If anything, Hinata feels guilty she hasn't told him sooner — that this, of all things, is what is making them have this talk now.

"A boy," she whispers, face heating up from shame. "Before — we — we nearly a-adopted him."

All that leaves him is a surprised breath that makes his shoulders fall. When Hinata looks up, he's got that perfect, Uchiha face, and her chest hurts like a tightening fist.

...

The father opens the door, takes several looks around, and allows them inside so Gaara may drop his disguise in peace.

The mother — young, with long, golden hair — says in a calm but equally worried voice, "Are you safe, Lord Kazekage?"

It's a great miracle that the parents are supporters of Gaara, though Hinata suspects that has to do with Hoshino some. Gaara nods and thanks them politely, and they are sat in the den with black tea waiting for them on the small table between them.

The father keeps a steady eye on Sasuke, perhaps recognizing his Uchiha features and wondering why someone from Konoha is here to speak with his son about Suna matters. The mother also recognizes him, but she also recognizes Hinata, and her smile is tight — not in a mean sort of way, but like that of someone who has forgotten how to smile.

"I'll bring him," she says. "He knows you're coming. We told him. I just think he's nervous."

She disappears down a hallway, and the father waits before he leans in and asks, "Is he in danger, Lord Kazekage?"

Gaara keeps his hands deep within his pockets to hide their shaking. "No. He's perfectly safe. We only have a few questions."

"About that man, I heard."

He speaks with venom, and he has to take measures to cool his face as two sets of footsteps come their way. First comes the woman, then a boy hidden behind her skirt. Hinata forgets how to breathe for a second, forcing herself to look away before she collapses on the spot. Gaara is still next to her. So is Sasuke.

When he peeks out, his eyes are the same hazel she remembers. His sandy hair is longer, and his face is less round and more boyish.

She used to daydream about how she might one day watch him grow up — how he'll be the most handsome boy in Suna, right after his father. But there's a two-year gap between the last moment she saw him and now, and that dream, shattered so long ago, breaks one more time — cracking, splitting apart, falling into crumbles.

"Hoshikawa," Hinata whispers.

Hoshino tears up, comes out from hiding, and runs into the Kazekage's arms. "Gaara!"

Small body wrapped in arms, Hoshino cries, and Hinata leans over and runs her hands through his hair and touches his back and tries to comfort him as much as she can.

It takes them all a while to calm down. Soon, Hoshino sits between his mother and father, nervously kicking his feet against the sofa. His eyes are red and glassy, but no tears slip from his face.

"We're here to talk about Zaiaku," Gaara says, softly, in that tone he only ever uses around children.

"I know. Mama told me." Hoshino looks at Hinata now. "Are you coming back to stay in Suna?"

She's not sure what to say, even though the answer is obvious. It's only when the boy's eyes take a curious turn to Sasuke that she manages to find her words. "No, Hoshika — Hoshino. I'm only here to help the Kazekage."

"Because you love him," Hoshino decides.

Both men around her shift, uncomfortable. His mother scolds him gently, reminding him they're not there to talk about Hinata.

"What do I say?" he asks.

"Tell us about how Zaiaku visited you and the children at the orphanage," Gaara says.

It takes him a moment to think, and then Hoshino explains how Zaiaku used to visit the orphanage a while ago — sort of like how Gaara does, only it wasn't the same, because none of the kids really liked him.

"He told us mean things," he tells them, "like how the Kazekage would abandon us. How you — how he doesn't really like us."

Hinata sucks in a hiss, keeping to herself. No matter her past with Gaara, it's an awful lie to say about a man who has dedicated his life to helping every child in need he comes across. "That's not true."

"No one believed it," Hoshino confirms. "He was just a bully — that's what Lili always told me. But he kept coming, and he kept saying those things — especially to me. Because, um —" He looks at Hinata, and everyone in the room knows what he's alluding to. "B-But I didn't believe it neither. Not really. Not until the nightmares, I guess."

Nightmares.

Why does this sound familiar?

"I don't really remember them, but I didn't sleep much. No one else had them — um, not all the time, I mean. And then — um . . . ." As if understanding what he's about to say, his mother holds his hand, and his father holds the other, and Hoshino stops kicking his feet and sits still for a while. "Then Hinata left Suna — and the grown-ups told me Gaara didn't want to adopt me no more — and I guessed — I guessed Zaiaku was right."

Hinata, full of shame, doesn't know where to look. She doesn't want to look at Gaara, she doesn't want to look at Sasuke; not at the parents or Hoshino. Nowhere. Everywhere she looks, there's guilt, and it keeps building up inside of her.

"But — but then they told me Zaiaku wasn't allowed to come talk to us no more — and Gaara — he helped me find Mama and Papa, so I knew it was because he was trying to pr — to protect me."

From what it sounds like, Gaara knew exactly why Zaiaku was prohibited from coming to the orphanage.

So why had he said nothing about it?

Why did they have to come all the way here before she heard about any of this?

"Hoshino," Gaara says — in that same way, again, where his words are knives. "Zaiaku told you something on the last day you saw him. What was it?"

Hoshino rubs his hands up and down his pants, thinking, remembering.

"He said he's saving me," he whispers. "He said the Kazekage already has one prisoner, so he's saving me from being the other."

. . . Prisoner.

Hinata doesn't have to wonder who Zaiaku was referring to when he said that.

She already knows.

...

There's not much to be said after that. Hoshino was adopted, his name was partially changed for the sake of security, and he hasn't been endangered by Zaiaku ever since.

From what it looks like, he's happy with his parents, and Hinata is glad that at least some good came out of this.

They part ways slowly. Hoshino hugs them all, even Sasuke; and upon doing so, he says, "Your eyes are different."

Sasuke, apprehensive, just lets the boy hug his leg.

"Who are you?" Hoshino asks.

"Uchiha Sasuke."

"Do you know Hinata?"

And instead of answering, he says, "You helped the Kazekage a lot, Hoshino. You were brave."

The boy's face goes pink with pride, and Hinata takes in the scene, unable to ignore that rapid patter of her heart.

...

Gaara says nothing at all until they're back in the tower.

His disguise drops, he calls for Chilla to play something, and he disappears into his office.

"I need to talk to him," Hinata says, mostly to herself, but Sasuke naturally overhears and pauses in the hallway, no longer following her. She stops, as well. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean you can't —"

"I should go back to the room," he drones.

Hinata looks over his pose carefully, wondering if he's angry. She wouldn't blame him if he is. He's just met the child she had almost adopted with Gaara. It wouldn't be strange if he felt some sort of way about it; but not once, since going there and coming back, has he made any complaints clear. He's been quiet and patient, and Hinata's not sure what to think.

". . . Are you sure?" she asks.

He gives a strained smile. "If something happens, look for me."

"Sasuke," she calls as he turns away. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She can't answer, and he leaves for their room.

...

Gaara is a mess of nerves, but somehow, he's managed to sit himself at his desk.

Hinata tries to think of a good way to start things off, but she can't, so she just says, "You don't believe that — that I was your prisoner, do you?"

He looks at her like he's trying to figure out how to regard her. She can't be a stranger anymore, not with how this conversation is going. "Not anymore."

Anymore, as in he once had believed it.

Hinata's fists, burning with chakra, clench at her sides. "Lord Kazekage, I stayed willingly." And just for extra measure, she adds, "You made me leave."

There's no way he can combat that, because it's true. Gaara stays quiet.

She waits another moment, realizes he won't say anything, and begs, "Tell me what happened."

His teeth shake. They don't chatter, but they tremble, and it seems the alcohol hasn't worn off yet. But Gaara leans into his chair and waits for his control to come back to him — and when it does, he finally speaks.

"On the day you left, I was told that Zaiaku was harassing the children. I called him in for a meeting, and to my surprise, he confirmed everything I heard was true. So I revoked his position as councilman and prohibited from visiting any orphanage, adoption center, or foster home in Suna. I didn't hear anything for a while. I thought he had stopped — and then someone from the orphanage told me about Hoshino. He was haunted by nightmares." Gaara lifts his head to her. "Nightmares like yours."

She can remember them vividly — horrible things about Konoha and her family.

A small boy dealing with such things — she can't stand to think of it.

"You mean . . . ."

"Zaiaku was the one causing them." He brings out a few more files for her to look over. Paperwork on Zaiaku's arrest. Information about some sort of strange jutsu. A list of all the children he had come in contact with and whether or not they experienced any nightmares. Hoshino's name was on there, in bold, underlined and circled perhaps a million times. "He was using a jutsu I still do not understand. I sent for him to be arrested, and while there was hardly any proof, I was determined to find something." Gaara taps the files about the arrest. "But he got me in a corner — said if I arrested him, he'd never let the nightmares end."

"So you let him go?"

Seeing as Hoshino was nightmare free and Zaiaku was somewhere out there, stirring Suna against the Kazekage, Hinata supposes the answer is clear.

"I'd have liked to kill him." Gaara's tone is deadly serious, and so are his eyes. Even the shake in his arms looks like he's holding himself back. "But I feared the risk that killing him would not end his jutsu, so we let him go. Hoshino's nightmares stopped. I found a family to adopt him so Zaiaku wouldn't find him easily — changed his name and everything."

It's a lot to take in, but there's one thing that just doesn't make sense, no matter how Hinata squints and turns her head.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

The piano dips into its end. There's a stretch of silence, and then Chilla picks up on another piece — an all-too-familiar song about a phoenix in a water cave; about perseverance; about bravery.

Gaara's face twists, and Hinata knows she'll get no answer out of him in this state.

She turns, about to step into the hallway so she might find Chilla and ask her to change the song, but a hot hand grabs her shoulder before she can.

"Don't."

She stares at him, forgetting how he looks when he's close. "Lord Gaara —"

"Don't, Hinata."

There used to be a time where she'd feel beautiful and loved when he'd say her name.

It's not like that anymore, and she moves her shoulder out of his hold.

"It's because I didn't want you to know," he says. "The fact that Zaiaku was the cause of your nightmares — I didn't want you to know."

". . . Why?"

Because there's no reason to hide that information from her, is there? No reason that Hinata can think of, at least. If anything, it would have given her great relief to know that her nightmares had an answer to them — that she hadn't been going mad.

Why would he keep that from her?

. . . Sure, by the time he had figured it out, she was already gone . . . but . . . .

She had the right to know.

Didn't she?

...

The piano tells of a phoenix living with the very thing that will kill it one day.

Gaara is between her and the only way to the piano room. His mouth is sealed shut, but he won't let her take another step closer — like she will die, like she's the phoenix and the piano is her water cave.

He will not answer her question, so Hinata deflates, bows, and leaves.

...

In their room, Sasuke sits at the table, reading over the documents Konoha sent about Tanta.

"You're . . . still here," she breathes before she can stop herself.

He looks up, peering through the dim light coming from the candle by his hand. Hinata quickly kicks off her shoes and joins him by the table, taking his hand in hers and rubbing warmth into his bones.

"I'm sorry. All of that — seeing Hoshino — it wasn't easy for you, and I'm sorry, Sasuke."

He pulls his hand from her, flipping the documents over, before resting his hand on her head.

"Why are you comforting me?" he asks, voice light, though not cheerful by any means. "And why do you expect me to leave?"

Hinata's . . . not sure. Somehow, in her head, she'd expect anyone to leave after being put through something like today. But Sasuke isn't just anyone. He's beyond expectation, and he's always on her side.

Throat clogging up, she coughs, then admits, slowly, "Gaara told me Zaiaku was behind my nightmares. He didn't want me to know."

Sasuke's eyes narrow, pensive, and he rubs her head like he would a cat. Even for a problem that isn't his, he's putting all his energy into it, and Hinata's not sure if she deserves someone like him. She kisses him — chin first, then each of his eyes, trying to take the worry away.

"It doesn't matter, I suppose," she says, holding his face in her hands. "I just hate the secrecy."

This causes a shift in his expression, turning low, crinkling at the wrong parts. She hates to compare the two, but he looks like Gaara when he had heard Chilla play the song about the phoenix. Upset.

Why is Sasuke upset?

"I'm glad you're here," she says, hoping it might help. "I'm glad you found me and that you love me."

Sasuke wraps his arm around her, and she pushes her face into his shoulder, breathing in his smell and warmth, wondering, quietly, what she has done to upset him.