Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE

Sakura sat in her office reviewing the medical file of a patient she'd been treating for over a week. It had been a complex case, but they were finally done with treatment, and she was happy everything went successfully. She always had a sense of fulfilment anytime she successfully treated a patient or brought someone back to life. She loved her job. Heaving a sigh, she closed the file. She loved her job, but why did she feel like something was wrong? She was tired, not just the tiredness of working from 6 a.m. to nearly midnight almost daily. Her life had fallen into a very monotonous, wearisome routine since after the war, and Konoha retained peace.

It had taken a whole year to rebuild and another year for the soil to bear fruit again. The land had been in ruins, so they had to wait for it to be fertile again. Tsunade retained her Hokage post, which she was thankful for.

Naruto was training to be the next Hokage, and she was happy for him. She knew how important this was to him; he constantly complained about how boring it was, and it made her laugh. She supported Naruto through and through in his journey to becoming Hokage. Still, she's assisted Tsunade in enough piles of paperwork to know that it was, unfortunately, a very dull job. She couldn't picture Naruto sitting behind a desk for the rest of his life, but it's been his wish since she knew him, and she'd do whatever she could to help him realize it.

Sasuke returned to the village after the war but went on his redemption journey a week later. Part of her felt like he couldn't stand to live in Konoha after what happened with his brother and clan, and frankly, after hearing the truth, she understood him a lot better now. Their relationship got better, too, and they decided to remain friends. She honestly didn't feel bad about it, maybe a little… she waited for him for so long, letting go wasn't easy. Still, she was okay now. They wrote to each other occasionally.

She had decided to open a mental health clinic for kids with the help of her best friend Ino while still managing the main Konoha hospital with Tsunade. It was a lot of work but worth it.

Sakura was now 19 and feeling more lonely than ever. She'd always been okay with being alone, but nowadays, it was more draining than usual. She was just depressed …plus, seeing her mates pairing up certainly didn't help at all, Naruto and Hinata, Shikamaru and Ino and most shocking of all, Choji and Karui. It still shocked her today how he managed that.

Sakura heaved another sigh. It was not like she didn't try because she most definitely did, but the connection just wasn't there with the guys she met with; even Ino tried setting her up with some of her guy friends, blind dates, you name them, but it just never worked out, she never felt that passion like she did with Sasuke and honestly maybe she was just scared to feel that way again.

She seemed to sigh a lot recently, a true testimony of how burnt out she was. She stood up and pulled off her coat, hung it in her arms, and proceeded to lock her office door and head home. It was 11 p.m. already, and she had to wake up early for a board meeting to approve some hospital bills. She hated the meetings the most; she couldn't even remember the last time she went out and had fun. Ino and the girls always invited her, but she mostly turned it down cause she was busy with work, and on the times Ino got mad and practically dragged her from work, she still had to leave early because of work –

"omg, what am I doing with my life?" She suddenly stopped in her tracks like she had just realized she had to do something. She ran her free hand through her hair with a frustrated sigh.

The night was chilly, and the evening breeze blew her long hair into her eyes and mouth. She had decided to keep her hair long after the war for god knows what… "Rethinking that decision now, though," she thought as she sped up her tracks.

She had finally reached the comfort of her home. Her apartment was a modest but spacious one-bedroom apartment. Dusting her legs on the foot mat, she unlocked the door and entered the living room. As she made her way inside the living room, she thought about just flopping on the light green modern couch she had recently invested in and maybe watch some sitcoms. There was this new ninja animated show she had taken a liking to, but then she waved the thought away.

The meeting by 7 a.m., can't forget that now, she thought to herself. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter by the right of the living room before leaving for her bedroom. Sakura had just taken a hot shower, and as she applied lotion to her skin, she let the towel drop to examine her reflection. She had a lovely figure, that's for sure. Even though she thought her boobs were still a bit too small, her pink hair was reaching her waist now. "A haircut would look good," she thought, but she liked it long; it reminded her of the current peaceful times… her emerald eyes were still as green as ever, oval face and pretty pink lips. She briefly wondered why she was still loveless after a whole 2yrs.

When she was done applying lotion and carrying out her skincare routine, she put on her nightie and tried to sleep on her queen-sized bed, but her thoughts wouldn't let her.

"Maybe what I need is to get out of Konoha, see some fresh faces, and have a change of scenery," she murmured. It was as if she had suddenly seen the light, and she repeated, this time slowly, "A vacation." She sat up slowly on her bed as if in a daze and said, "I don't get it, why didn't I think of this sooner? I can be so dense sometimes."

'Maybe if you didn't lock me away for years, you wouldn't be so miserable now.'

"For fucks sake, not you…not you," Sakura damn near screamed. It had taken her a lot of time and focus to shut down her inner Sakura years ago,

'yes, inner Sakura is back, and I'm going nowhere this time.'

Now that she thought about it, inner never did any harm, plus her life had been more fun compared to the shit it is now.

'your life went to shit without me, huh?'

Sakura didn't respond, but she had a smile on her face, and as she lay down this time, sleep came easy.

The meeting had been just as she had expected, "BORING." She had almost zoned out, but fighting the old heads who constantly tried to cut down hospital costs was her number one priority. She couldn't fathom why Sasuke hadn't just killed them off during his whole avenger thing, especially since they were the primary reason behind all the suffering his clan had endured. Perhaps he had forgotten about them. She made a mental note to remind him during his next visit.

'yes, I love that idea. Can't wait till Sasuke cuts off their wrinkled heads and we help him cover it up,' inner Sakura snickered...

Well, inner, I agree with you for once… even Tsunade was noticeably getting more heated at them cutting down the money for the hospital cause they believed that there was no need to spend that much money on healthcare when the war already ended years ago. Maybe they forgot that people get injured every day, people get sick, pregnant women, etc.

"I can't believe these people," Sakura muttered to herself. After a lot of back and forth about the importance of healthcare and Tsunade's persuasive efforts, they finally settled for something manageable. It wasn't enough, but it was a start. The old heads left the Hokage's office, leaving Sakura alone with Tsunade. She watched as Tsunade pulled a bottle of sake from her drawer and started chugging it down.
"Isn't it a bit too early for that?" It was still 9 a.m., and her master was already drinking, and yet she'd never accept that she had a drinking problem.

The blonde woman laughed as she replied, "There is a famous saying that says that it's never too early for sake."

"What? I never heard of that. Who said it?"

"ME!" she guffawed loudly like she had made the best joke in all of Konoha.

Sakura was not amused.

"HA HA, you're not funny, Tsunade sama", Sakura deadpanned.

'Really? Cause I'm crying real tears here, did you see your face? Haha,' Inner Sakura added.

Her shishou was waist-deep in papers yet to be signed with more surely still arriving, and she still had time to drink …

Ugh, she really didn't get it. She had pressing matters to discuss with her master like drumroll…. 'THE VACATION'.

Sakura remembered the events of the previous night that got her to where she is now.

A Few Hours Earlier,

She had only managed to sleep for three hours, and when she woke up, she felt more excited than ever. Checking the time, she realized it was just 4 a.m. With the extra hours on her hands, she decided to use the next two hours to make plans for her vacation.
So, of course, the first thing when planning a vacation was where?

"Now, where would be a nice place to chill for a vacation while working simultaneously?" she asked herself while tapping on the book on which she had written down a list of villages. She liked to be meticulous about these kinds of things. Obviously, they had to have a good relationship with Konoha, and she had to know someone there …

"So I guess that crosses out Iwagakure, Kumogakure, and Kirigakure," Sakura muttered to herself as she crossed them off her list. That left practically all the villages out except for Sunagakure. She had a good relationship with Konoha and Check, and she had some friends there as well. While she wasn't exactly friends with the sand siblings, they were more like acquaintances. However, she had saved Kankuro's life back then, so perhaps he'd be nice to her.

Temari visited Konoha a lot when she was dating Shikamaru. She usually stayed for a few days before leaving. The Konoha 11 girls always invited her for brunch or a night out at the bar whenever she came, so as a result, they became acquainted.

Temari was closest to Tenten. It was quite an unusual pairing. Perhaps, in some strange way, their fight during the Chunin exams had brought them close. But then, she and Shikamaru had suddenly broken up, and no one knew why.
She had heard about the breakup from Ino, and on that day, she had to admit her best friend seemed oddly happy when she asked about it. Ino brushed it off, and she had forgotten about it. Two weeks later, Ino told her that she and Shikamaru were dating. She was genuinely happy for her friend, knowing that Ino had always loved Shikamaru, even though she had denied it back then. Sakura always knew that Ino would always try to hide her pain anytime she'd see Temari with the man she loved going on countless dates and partying every weekend.

Soon after, Temari stopped visiting entirely, possibly after hearing the news about Shikamaru and Ino dating from Tenten. At the time, Sakura hadn't delved deep into their love triangle. She was a very busy person with her own problems, and she had simply been happy for her friend. But looking back at it now, the whole situation did seem kind of shady.
"Oh Lord, I hope she doesn't hate me too. I'm only Ino's friend," Sakura cried to herself.
"I'm sorry, honey, but Ino is quite possibly her enemy, and you're not just Ino's friend but her best friend. You know the saying, 'The friend of my enemy is my enemy,'" Inner supplied.

Now, that just made Sakura more nervous. Anyway, she wasn't going to judge yet. Temari and Shikamaru had ended things on good terms, and it's not like he cheated with Ino or anything... unless... She shook her head. "Temari probably has someone else now. No need to worry."
As for Gaara, she had no relationship with him at all. They had never really communicated casually for more than five minutes. She had only seen him occasionally because he was one of Naruto's close friends and sometimes visited Konoha to see Naruto or discuss political matters with Tsunade.
Frankly, the longest interaction she'd had with him was during the Chunin Exams when he'd gone berserk and almost slaughtered her and her teammates not long after he had rendered Lee crippled too, jeez just thinking about it made her shudder. She had been so weak back then.

She didn't think he even knew her like that, and if she could use three things to describe him, he would be quiet, stoic, and scary. She was positive she wouldn't see much of him during her time there, which worked well for her.
"He's the Kazekage, so he'd probably be too busy throughout," she thought to herself. Honestly, why couldn't she be like Naruto and have lots of friends everywhere? Even Killer Bee was his friend. Well, that was Naruto, his bright personality attracted everyone.
"Sunagakure it is!" She had already decided what to tell Tsunade, and there was no way she could refuse. "I'm way too smart," she said to herself as she jumped down from her bed and stretched.

A/N: I like to think of inner Sakura as Sakura's intrusive thoughts, but funny lol

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO

"Huhhh! you want to do what now in Suna?" The blonde beauty exclaimed as she stared incredulously at her pink-haired student or rather, ex-student.

Sakura sighed as she sat down. "I said…"Sakura started slowly. "I want a transfer to Suna to help with their medical care. It doesn't even have to be for long; I'll be fine with just 3 months." She added hurriedly.

"Just.. 3 months..." Tsunade repeated as she scoffed. "Sakura 3 months consists of 90 days, which seems plenty to me."

"Oh come on, Tsunade sama you…" Tsunade interrupted with the raise of her left hand, indicating she stopped talking.

Oof, she's being serious now, Sakura thought, but she had prepared for this already, and she won't back down.

"Firstly, what's your reason for this...sudden request?" Tsunade asked as she started signing papers.

Sakura found the conversation progressing more smoothly than she had anticipated. She began her narrative. She emphasized Konoha's outstanding healthcare system and how assisting Suna could greatly benefit the alliance. "I've also heard that Suna's healthcare is pretty shitty. We should be prepared for the future you know, even though I'm not saying anything will happen," Sakura added in a hushed tone. She thought this should seal the deal, and then waited as Tsunade continued to sign documents, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

As minutes dragged on, Sakura's patience waned. It felt like an eternity had passed before Tsunade finally looked up, wearing a mysterious smile that left Sakura perplexed. "Well, you're in luck," Tsunade finally declared.

What…

“Suna actually reached out for assistance with their healthcare," Tsunade began. "I told them I'd consider it because I assumed you'd be reluctant." She propped her left hand under her chin and let out a tired yawn. "Who would've thought you were so eager for the job?"

Coincidences like this always made Sakura a little wary. How is it that, after all these months, the moment I decide to go to Suna, Tsunade coincidentally receives an offer? The world's a strange place."

Tsunade responded, "I'll get back to Suna about their offer tomorrow, so you might be leaving sometime this week." She resumed signing her papers, seemingly nonchalant about the revelation. 

Sakura, however, couldn't hide her surprise. "This week?!" she exclaimed, wondering why it felt like her shishou was in such a hurry to send her away.

"Got a problem with that?" Tsunade asked as she looked up, eyes flashing warningly.

Sakura shrank into her seat. "No", she quipped

"Good."

She didn't want to anger her master. Honestly, things went way better than she thought they would, although she felt annoyed that her well-prepared speech wasn't even needed at the end; she could have just said she wanted to go to Suna, and Tsunade would offer her the job.

"Well… I'll be excusing myself now," Sakura said to Tsunade as she stood up. She was at the door and was about to turn the knob when her master called after her. She looked back, hand still on the knob, now what, she thought to herself.

"I may not get the chance to tell you, or I'll probably forget, but like you said, alliances are important, so do well to behave diplomatically when you're there." Her tone was light, but Sakura could feel the threat behind them

"Hai! shishou." Sakura nodded before scurrying away. Years had gone by, and her master was still as scary as ever.

Meanwhile, in her office, Tsunade laughed as she chugged more sake; her former student was always so easy to scare.

Sakura inhaled the fresh Konoha breeze as she stepped outside the building. One thing she always loved about Konoha was the weather. It was currently around 11 a.m., and the weather was warm and breezy. She loved how airy it got most times, especially when her hair was tied so it didn't get in her mouth or eyes. As she sauntered to her apartment, she got lost in her thoughts.

She had honestly not expected things to move this quickly. Overwhelmed, she realized it was already Monday, and by tomorrow, Tsunade would inform Suna about her decision, marking the finalization of her departure. Naruto and Ino would be shocked, with Naruto likely throwing a fit. Lost in her thoughts, she kicked a pebble on her way, not realizing when she bumped into the very object of her contemplation. Not another coincidence, she thought as she looked up.

"Ohayo, Sakura-chan," Naruto exclaimed in his typical loud voice. She decided to seize the moment.

"Hey Naruto, want to have brunch at Ichiraku's?" Sakura asked with a smile.

Naruto responded with a laugh, "Sakura-chan. I'll never say no to you or ramen."

Sakura chuckled and playfully retorted, "Baka."

"What? You're leaving to stay in Suna for three months!?" Naruto exclaimed dramatically, dropping his chopsticks on the third bowl of ramen he had just consumed. She honestly didn't know how he could eat like that and still maintain a muscular build. Kami was so unfair to women.

"It's not that long, Naruto. You shout like I'm getting married off and living there forever," Sakura countered with an eye roll as she returned to picking at her ramen.

"Are you going to eat that?" Naruto asked.

"No, you can have it," Sakura pushed the bowl to him.

"You waste food, Sakura. That's a sin, you know," Naruto said, stuffing food into his face. "Also, three months is 90 days. That's pretty long. Did the hag force you into this? I'll give her a piece of my mind," he finished with a contented sigh, dropping the bowl.

Sakura palmed her forehead. "No, Naruto. I volunteered."

"Ohhh."

"Yeah, it's not that big of a deal, just helping out with medical stuff," she added to stop Naruto from asking too many questions.

"Sure thing, Sakura-chan. I'm all for it. Just make sure to keep in touch," he said with a grin.

"Of course I will," she replied, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.

After they finished lunch, she asked Naruto about his relationship with Hinata. To her surprise, he said they were thinking about getting married. Who would've thought Naruto would be the first to tie the knot? It was comical.

With the whole day ahead and no particular plans, Sakura decided to head home for some relaxation. She planned to watch TV, grab a meal, and maybe pamper herself with some skincare. She figured she'd start packing for her upcoming journey tomorrow. As she headed home, she thought about how her boring, monotonous life would change soon. At the same time, she felt sad that she'd be leaving the comfort zone she'd known for so long. 

The next morning, Sakura was rudely awakened by a series of loud knocks on her front door. Glancing at her alarm clock, she saw it was already 7 a.m. She quickly got out of bed, put on her housecoat, and rushed to open the door. There stood an ANBU member holding an envelope with the Hokage's seal. She took it, said thanks, and closed the door. She wondered what was so urgent that Tsunade had to send a letter. Returning to her room, she eagerly tore open the envelope and started reading the message.

"Dear Sakura, I responded to Suna's request soon after you left that morning. Fortunately, I received a reply the same evening. They'll send someone to escort you tomorrow morning, so get ready."

"What the actual hell!" Sakura shouted. Was Tsunade in such a rush to get rid of her? Tomorrow morning!? She briefly considered storming over to the Hokage Tower to give Tsunade a piece of her mind but then flopped back on her bed in frustration. What was the point? Nothing would change anyway. Why was Tsunade so eager to send her away?

"Maybe she's tired of seeing you live a sad life. Can't wait to leave," Inner Sakura chimed in.

"Not the time, Inner," Sakura muttered. She hadn't even packed yet, and she hadn't told Ino either. Ino would be furious. Plus, she still had some stuff to wrap up at the hospital, but she didn't care. Tsunade deserved the mess for making her leave so quickly.

Sakura sighed and resigned herself to packing. She began with her medical supplies, the most crucial. She packed every piece of equipment, medical book, poison, and antidote that would fit into the scroll. She always liked to be prepared. As she packed, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through her.

Over two hours had passed, and Sakura was finally packing the last of what she needed. She realized she was a bit slow when it came to packing because she wanted to take everything with her. What if she left something behind and needed it later? She'd feel awful for not taking it.

At last, she finished packing and felt the need for a refreshing shower. In high spirits, she jumped into the bathroom and stood beneath the icy spray. Afterwards, she planned to head to Ino's and break the news.

Stepping out of the shower, she shook water droplets from her glistening cotton candy hair and wrapped herself in a white towel. Then, it hit her that she needed to grab something from her lab — a sunscreen she'd been working on. She'd definitely need it for the Suna weather. Guess she'd be the first to try it out.

Another loud knock on the door snapped Sakura from her thoughts, accompanied by some shouting.

"Forehead, open this door right now!"

"Oh, great! A shouting Ino, just what I needed," Sakura groaned in exasperation. She hurried to open the door, still clad in just a towel.

Her blonde friend barged into the living room and began to vent. "I'm so mad at you right now. You're leaving for Suna on Friday, and you didn't tell me! I had to hear it from Shikamaru, who heard it from Neji, who heard it from Hinata, who heard it from Naruto!" She paused to catch her breath.

Sakura sighed. "It's actually tomorrow." As she walked toward the bedroom, Ino dramatically followed her.

"What? You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for not informing you earlier. I was actually about to come to your place," Sakura replied flatly. She felt suddenly exhausted.

Ino rolled her eyes. "Yeah…sure."

Sakura added, "I would never leave without telling you, you know that." Ino could be impossible sometimes.

Ino sat on Sakura's bed, deep in thought, as Sakura began to get dressed.

"Since you're leaving tomorrow, we should go out and have some fun this evening, don't you think?" Ino looked at Sakura for an answer. Sakura, now fully dressed, flopped on the bed beside her blonde friend.

"I don't think I have a choice there," Sakura replied, and they both shared a laugh.

Ino's eyes lit up with excitement. "I'll let the girls know. Yay, girls' night out!"

"Yayyy," Sakura echoed with a weak fist pump and a tired tone.

"Come on, Forehead, it's going to be a blast," Ino encouraged, playfully nudging Sakura. "Who knows, maybe you'll see a hot guy and finally lose your virginity. Kami knows that's long overdue." Ino teased, causing Sakura's cheeks to flush slightly.

"Ino! Don't say things like that," Sakura protested. But maybe her friend had a point. She'd been too caught up in work and neglected her love life. Occasionally, she indulged in some solo activities in the comfort of her home when she needed a release, but that was it. After Sasuke, she had lost interest in romance. She reminisced about her teenage years when she fantasized about romance and her first time with Sasuke. She cringed at the thought, and it must have shown on her face because Ino nudged her again.

"What's got your face all screwed up?" Ino asked but didn't wait for a reply. "Anyways, I'll swing by at 8 so we can leave together. It's going to be a blast!" Her hazel eyes sparkled as she stood up to leave.

She smoothed her purple skirt. "I'm heading out now, forehead. See you at 8!"

Sakura walked her best friend to the door, and they talked about random stuff before parting. Ino made sure to remind Sakura to wear something nice. Sakura sighed; she'd already packed most of her good outfits and didn't want to mess up her organized packing. She turned her wardrobe upside down to find something suitable and finally settled on an outfit. "This will do," she said to herself with a smile. 

Sakura finally retrieved the sunscreen from the hospital. She was relieved that no one seemed to notice her coming and going. She didn't have the energy to explain herself; that was Tsunade's problem now.

She found herself getting excited for the outing. She had a feeling it was going to be fantastic. She hadn't been out with the girls in a while, which was her fault, of course.

With nothing to do for the day, she decided that taking a stroll was a good idea. After all, she wouldn't be seeing Konoha for a while. Plus, there was plenty of time until the outing, and she didn't know how to occupy herself. She couldn't remember the last time she had this much free time. Not that she didn't like it, but she preferred being productive. Too much free time made her think too much, as it did now.

After strolling for a while, she eventually decided to head home. She was hungry and planned to cook some ramen.

Sitting in her living room, wearing just an oversized shirt, she had binged an entire season of a drama series, and her eyes were hurting. Glancing at the time, it was 3 p.m. She went to double-check her packing, ensuring she wouldn't forget anything. With time to spare afterwards, she continued to binge-watch more shows.

Maybe I should... nah, I shouldn't, Sakura thought.

"You should," Inner convinced her.

"Oh well," Sakura conceded. One glass of sake wouldn't turn her into her shishou. She had nothing better to do anyway. She stood up, grabbed a drink from the fridge along with a glass, and then returned to the couch to continue watching her TV drama. "This isn't so bad," she thought, sipping alcohol and enjoying the show. She rarely got to do this because of her early mornings. She couldn't risk waking up late with a hangover. Before she knew it, one glass turned into three and then five. Her eyes started closing slowly.

It didn't take long before Sakura fell asleep on the couch.

Through a heavy curtain of sleep, Sakura heard the door bang. The sound seemed so far away, and she struggled to wake up but was trapped somewhere in a world between sleep and wakefulness. The loud yell made her jump.

"Forehead, open up!" coupled with more bangs on the door. Damn, Ino was here already. Was it 8 o'clock already? She knew she shouldn't have taken that. "Fuck you, Inner," she muttered to herself as she scrambled to the door.

Sakura opened the door to reveal a casually dressed Ino. Whew. She let out a relieved breath.

"Figured we should dress together," Ino chirped as she waltzed in, giving Sakura a once-over. "You look a mess," she added.

"Thanks, pig," Sakura replied, shutting the door.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3

In a booth filled with laughter and alcohol, four girls sat, each with a drink in hand. Sakura took another swig of her whisky, feeling the familiar sting in her throat. She was starting to feel a slight buzz.

Ino, seated beside her, was noticeably drunk, evident from her slurred words. Hinata, on the other hand, never drank much. Someone had to be the voice of reason and make sure everyone got home safely.

Tenten was almost as drunk as Ino. They had been chatting for a while, mostly about the latest gossip, a subject Ino never seemed to be short of. As Ino's best friend, she had the privilege of hearing all the town's latest news.

"This one is going to shock you all," Ino drawled, making them curious. They waited, eager to hear.

"Kakashi and Shizune," Ino whispered, as if she were sharing a top-secret revelation. Well, technically it was.

"No way," Tenten said in disbelief. Sakura had to admit she was just as shocked. She never saw that combination coming. Shizune didn't seem like Kakashi's type at all, but then again, the man was long due for a significant other. She made a mental note to tease Kakashi mercilessly the next time she saw him, though it wouldn't be anytime soon as he was currently on a mission. She chugged another shot of whisky.

Sakura turned to Hinata, who had been quiet for a while. Hinata was always shy.

"So, Hinata, how's it been going with Naruto? Do you two have any plans yet?" Sakura wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Hinata.

Hinata blushed deeply, as she often did. "A-actually, Naruto-kun and I are planning on getting married," she said quietly, fidgeting with her glass.

Of course, Sakura had known this already, so it came as no surprise to her. She had simply wanted to hear her purple-haired friend say it. "What!" Ino and Tenten exclaimed at the same time, both already a bit tipsy.

Suddenly, Sakura found herself being dragged onto the dance floor by a stumbling Ino, with Tenten and Hinata not far behind. She wasn't the one getting married, so she wondered why she was being pulled onto the dance floor.

"Let's dance to celebrate!" Ino shouted over the loud dance music as she pulled on Hinata and Tenten, who joined her on the dance floor.

Maybe it was the combination of alcohol, the pounding dance music in her ears, and the sound of her friends laughing for no apparent reason, but as she danced with them, Sakura felt incredibly happy.

She woke with a start, her head pounding. As she sat up, she glanced around, her room slightly out of focus. She was sure she was in her own house, but she couldn't remember how she got there.

"Hinata…" she mumbled as she massaged chakra into her head to ease the pain. "That's better," she said to no one in particular. She checked the clock and realized it was already 7 a.m. Sakura groaned as she got out of bed. She needed to prepare in case the escort arrived early.

Stepping out of the steamy shower, she applied some lotion and sunscreen. Her hair was pulled into a low, tight bun. She examined herself in the mirror, wearing a pink fitted tank top with slits at both sides and black spandex shorts that stopped mid-thigh, accentuating her hips. She was satisfied with the result.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. She quickly secured her emergency medical kit on her belt and grabbed the scroll where she had sealed everything she packed. She nodded knowingly to the ANBU member, who informed her that the escort had arrived and was waiting at the gate.

Sakura gave one last look at her cozy home. There was a heaviness in her chest; she knew she would miss her safe haven. She shook off the mounting feeling of trepidation. She had made the right decision; there was nothing to fear.

At the gate, she found Tsunade, Naruto, and Ino, the latter looking hungover. Her eyes welled up; they had all come to see her off, even though it was still early.

Ino hugged her first. "You better write regularly," she began, still in the embrace. "And also, don't be a hermit. Go out and have fun, okay?" she added softly.

Sakura nodded with a wry smile as Ino released her from the embrace. "I'll try. Also, you look like crap." They both laughed.

She hugged Naruto, who told her to take care of herself and that he'd miss her. "You and Hinata better not get married without me being present," she warned playfully.

"Hinata would kill me first if I tried that, Sakura-chan..."

"Naruto, tell Hinata I said thanks for getting me home safely. You've got a good one, Baka," she added with a pat on the shoulder and a small smile.

"Alright, enough now. Sakura is not living in Suna forever; you're keeping the escort waiting," Tsunade cut in sternly.

Sakura took the chance to look at the escort now. She hadn't even noticed him because she had been preoccupied with her friends. All she could make out was brown hair and an ANBU mask. Great...

Tsunade engulfed her in a shoulder-crushing hug while whispering in her ear, "Make Konoha proud," to which Sakura nodded in response.

She turned to leave. Well, this is it...

As her feet crossed the gate with the escort in front, she didn't know exactly how she felt. She spared one last glance to wave at her friends before jumping onto the trees with the Suna ninja, matching his speed. It seemed like they'd be traveling at full speed, and at this rate, they'd reach Suna by evening.

The Suna ninja never spoke, except when he needed to indicate they should stop for a short break, which usually lasted for no more than 10 minutes. They made a total of three breaks throughout the journey, during which Sakura replenished her strength with energy bars and water.

She was parched and felt sandy and sticky, not the best combination. She needed a shower pronto, a steamy shower. She could already imagine it. The gates of Suna were visible already, and they were almost there. As they got closer, she could see the outline of two people at the gate. It was too dark to make out who they were from the distance. How did they guess the exact time she'd arrive? The sneaky ANBU must have sent a message.

As they approached the gate, they slowed down to a walk, and Sakura could see who they were now—the two Sand siblings, Kankuro and Temari. When they finally reached the entrance of the gate, the escort left immediately, and Temari and Kankuro welcomed her.

"Welcome to Suna," Kankuro began with a polite smile and a handshake.

"Thank you! I'm happy to be here," Sakura replied, reciprocating the handshake with a smile.

"How was your journey? Not too stressful, I hope?" Kankuro asked.

"Honestly, not as stressful as I thought," she replied. It had been a while since she had traveled long distances, so it was a bit uncomfortable for her, but nothing she couldn't handle.

"We appreciate you for volunteering to help our health center," Temari continued as they both led Sakura on a slow walk through the city gates.

"It's nothing. Our villages are allied, and we should help each other in any way we can."

They both nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, Gaara couldn't be here to welcome you. Late meeting with the council," Kankuro said.

Sakura waved her hand as she shook her head. "No, no, it's fine. You two are here; that's enough."

"Haha, you sound a bit too relieved," Kankuro teased, while Temari gasped.

Sakura flushed in embarrassment and giggled. "We get it, our brother can be a bit scary," Temari continued as they both laughed.

She joined them in laughter, and as they walked her to her would-be residence, she thought that maybe her time in Suna would actually be fun. Temari and Kankuro were so nice and easy to talk to.

They finally stopped in front of a huge two-story building. All Sakura could think about at this point was a relaxing bath and some food; she was famished.

"This is our family house, so we live here too," Temari began. However, Sakura wasn't really listening; she was too tired.

"A room has been prepared for you upstairs. Let's go in; you must be tired."

Finally…

Sakura was currently dressed in an oversized T-shirt, feeling content. The bath and food had been everything she needed, and she didn't feel like unpacking just yet. She stood and gazed around the room. She had been in such a hurry to shower that she hadn't really taken in her surroundings.

The room was quite spacious, with a queen-sized bed, a study table, and a chair on the right. She walked over to the window on her left, opened it, and felt the chilly breeze hit her face with force. The wisps of her still-damp hair flew about. "This is nice," she smiled quietly.

As the room grew colder, Sakura decided it was time to go to bed. Tomorrow would be filled with a lot of introductions. She would meet Gaara and new people at the hospital. She closed the windows and walked to the bed, plopping down face-first, and closed her eyes in the hopes of a peaceful sleep.

However, groaning in frustration, Sakura sat up. She couldn't sleep; instead, she had been tossing and turning for the past 20 minutes. Maybe it was the excitement of being in a new place or the struggle to adapt to her new environment. For some reason, she was instantly thirsty. She got out of bed and trudged to the door.

Opening the door of her room, she peered into the dark hallway. She stepped out and closed it behind her. It was so dark, but she could make out some light downstairs where the moonlight seeped in from an uncovered window. However, the light failed to reach the hallway in her wing, and she couldn't find the light switch.

As Sakura descended the staircase, she noticed the light coming from downstairs grew slightly stronger. With each step, the feeling of being in an unfamiliar place seemed to grow. The mansion had an eerie quality at night, and the silence seemed to amplify every creak and rustle. She made it downstairs without tripping and rolling down the stairs, thankfully.

In the dimly lit living room, Sakura finally located the fridge. She opened it and grabbed a bottle of water. After satisfying her thirst, she turned to leave. Staying in this place alone was beginning to creep her out; it was deadly silent, and she truly hoped she wasn't alone in this huge house.

As she walked slowly to the stairs, she wondered what Ino and the rest were doing. Probably out somewhere getting wasted, she thought with a wry smile. Just then, her thoughts were interrupted when she came in contact with a hard chest.

"Owww..." she groaned. "Kankuro?" she mumbled as she rubbed her forehead. When she didn't get a reply, she looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

"Well, shit," Inner Sakura chuckled.

Different thoughts ran through her brain as she stared in stupefaction, while seafoam green eyes stared back at her.

"Gaara?"

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR

The feeling of extreme mortification washed over Sakura as if the only escape route was the ground opening up to swallow her whole. She thought to herself incredulously, "What on earth is this situation?" She stood before Gaara in a T-shirt that barely covered her thighs. This was not how she had envisioned her official meeting with the Kazekage to go. She hadn't even known that he lived here. Shouldn't the Kazekage have a separate residence? Then she recalled Temari's words, "We live here too." Of course, that included him. Sakura mentally slapped herself. This was so not in the right state of mind or circumstance to meet Gaara.

In the faint moonlight that filtered through the window, she could make out his customary Kazekage attire, complete with his sand gourd on his back, as always. She briefly wondered if he carried it everywhere with him. Gaara appeared taller and more imposing than she remembered. The awkward silence hung in the air, and she felt her cheeks burning with an intense blush, the kind that would rival even Hinata's.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Sakura Haruno...?" he began, and it sounded more like a question.

Trying to ease the tension, she chuckled nervously. "That's me, in the flesh... I'm really sorry for intruding in your living room like this. I was just incredibly thirsty." She inwardly cursed her own rambling. Great, she thought, now he probably thinks I'm stupid.

The awkward silence that followed felt deafening. If Gaara was aware of her inner panic, he showed no sign of it. His face remained emotionless, and his intense seafoam eyes remained fixed on hers, which only served to unnerve her.

Maintaining eye contact had never been a big deal to Sakura; she did it daily as a doctor. However, with Gaara's piercing gaze on her, she found it nearly impossible to maintain eye contact. She quickly looked away, trying to focus on anything other than his face, though she couldn't help but silently admire his features. "When did Gaara get this handsome?" her inner voice commented. She shook off the thought. Focus, Sakura.

Gaara broke the silence, asking, "...Are the living arrangements to your liking?"

"Thank you, and yes, of course, it’s great."

"Ahh…"

Sakura began fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt and considered excusing herself. Conversations with Sasuke were not even this awkward, and that said something.

"We could go to the hospital tomorrow if you're okay with that... If you need to rest, it’s fine; we could go some other time."

Sakura wasn't thrilled about spending more time with Gaara, but she had no choice, and she wanted to maintain a professional work ethic. "Of course, and tomorrow is fine. That's why I'm here." It felt odd having this conversation with Gaara in such a precarious position. This was probably the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

"We'll meet at my office at 10 a.m. I'll send someone to escort—"

"I know the way!" she blurted out, louder than intended. She quickly added, more softly this time, "I know the way to the tower, and I don't need an escort."

"I see... I'll excuse you then. Goodnight." Gaara nodded politely before turning and heading for the stairs.

Sakura released a breath she didn't realize she was holding and followed him to the stairs. His room just had to be upstairs too. She really had terrible luck.

She wondered why fate was so unkind before resigning herself to her situation and following the redhead. He looked back at her with a quizzical expression. She stared back at him, confused until it dawned on her that he was wondering why she was following him. She giggled in realization before explaining, "My room is upstairs. I guess we're floormates."

He seemed to smile a little before turning and continuing up the stairs. She found her room in the dim light, which allowed her to see Gaara stop in front of another door. She quickly entered her room and closed the door before he could catch her staring, although he probably already had.

She gazed at her bed, and there was no chance of sleep now. The recent events had left her wide awake and brimming with energy. She cast a glance at the enormous scroll she had brought with her. Originally, she had planned to unpack it the next day, but with nothing to do and an excess of energy, she decided to dive right in.

"Might as well get it over with," she muttered to herself before stretching and getting to work.

Examining her completed work, she couldn't help but grin, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The wardrobe was now packed to the brim. She had definitely brought too much, though. As exhaustion washed over her, she let out a yawn. She checked the time; if she slept now, she'd manage to get a solid four hours of rest. With that thought in mind, she switched off the light and collapsed face-down onto her bed, falling into a deep sleep.

Gaara perched on his windowsill, his gaze fixed on the night sky as he lost himself in thought. It was too late for anyone to be out on the streets, and even if they were, they wouldn't see him, thanks to the genjutsu that made his window appear empty. Not much surprised him because, frankly, human behavior was quite predictable. However, he had to admit that the encounter downstairs had caught him off guard even though he had made a conscious effort to conceal his surprise.

And then there were his siblings... he couldn't help but wonder if they had orchestrated this whole situation, especially Temari. At first, he didn't mind that they had brought their guest to his floor instead of the guest quarters. But they had four empty rooms downstairs so it made him suspicious. He briefly recalled his earlier conversation with his sister from earlier in the day.

"Gaara, where should we place the new guest when she arrives?" Temari asked.

"Anywhere you want," Gaara replied distractedly while jotting something down.

"Are you sure?"

He hated distractions and could feel his patience waning. "Do I need to spell it out for you?" he retorted through gritted teeth.

"Okay then," Temari chimed, and he might have noticed the excitement in her eyes and voice if he hadn't been so focused on his task.

Then, when he returned home, he found himself face to face with a girl with pink hair, Sakura Haruno. She was undeniably interesting, and the way she fidgeted under his gaze amused him. She was easy to read, making it clear that he made her uncomfortable, and maybe a bit nervous too. Perhaps it was a bit twisted, but he enjoyed making her uneasy; it was entertaining to watch her nervousness spiral.

"And her fucking sexy legs…" Shukaku added bluntly.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had grown accustomed to Shukaku's directness, so it rarely surprised him. However, he had to agree, albeit with less aggression than the Ichibi inside him. Her legs were undeniably captivating, and he was, after all, a warm-blooded male. It would have been impossible not to notice her looks, especially with the moonlight enhancing her allure. He had never paid much attention to her before, not because he didn't care, but it was common knowledge she was in love with the Uchiha, although he didn't know if that held true currently. And not to mention, she had saved both his and his brother's lives without ever knowing them, a debt he could never truly repay.

A smirk crept onto his face as he gracefully leaped down from the windowsill, his sand catching him softly. He had a feeling that the days ahead would be filled with intriguing encounters.

Sakura's eyes fluttered open as she stretched, looking around in confusion for a moment. Her heart raced as she grabbed the small clock by the bed, and it read 9:10 am.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit!" she muttered under her breath as she hastily flung herself out of bed. She had exactly 30 minutes to get ready.

Without wasting a second, she dashed into the connecting bathroom and took the quickest shower of her life. Twenty-five minutes later, she was fully dressed and ready to go. Sakura put on her usual ninja attire, a pink tank top with slits on both sides and tight black shorts that stopped mid-thigh (similar to her outfit from the Fourth Great Ninja War). She didn't have time to style her hair, so she simply did a middle part and tied it low at the back. Satisfied with her look, she dashed out of the room.

It didn't take long for Sakura to realize that she was lost. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't believe that after bragging about knowing the way to the tower, she ended up getting lost. Today was definitely not her day. Maybe if she had known that the streets of Suna had been reformed and now resembled a complex maze, she would have prepared better.

Sakura sighed in frustration, receiving curious looks from villagers who either recognized her or were simply intrigued by the unfamiliar face in town. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable and agitated, realizing that she had about 15 minutes or less to reach the tower, and she was completely lost. There were plenty of shops lining the streets, so she decided to swallow her pride and ask for directions.

Upon entering the Kazekage's tower, a pretty girl with short brown hair, dark eyes, and fair skin greeted her.

"The Kazekage will see you shortly," she informed Sakura. "His meeting still has about 5 minutes before it ends." She smiled apologetically at Sakura before leading her to what looked like a waiting room.

"I'm Matsuri, by the way... Gaara's assistant," she added with a hint of pride, extending her hand for a handshake. Sakura chalked up the behavior to Matsuri's pride in her job, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Sakura, too, took pride in her own work. She smiled sweetly as she shook Matsuri's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Matsuri," she said, even though Matsuri probably already knew about her. It was polite to introduce yourself regardless. "I'm Sakura Haruno." Matsuri returned the smile, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I know that, I've heard a lot about you," Matsuri said.

"Ohh...Good things I hope."

"I'll let you know when the meeting's over," Matsuri said, ignoring Sakura and leaving the room.

Sakura settled into one of the incredibly soft and comfy wooden-padded chairs. Were all the furniture in Suna this comfortable? All in all, she was glad she arrived on time; she didn't want Gaara to see her as unprofessional. She took her job very seriously.

Her mind wandered back to the conversation with Matsuri. It had been strange. She hoped the girl didn't dislike her; it was too early to be making enemies. Sakura had no plans to make enemies soon. She hoped her stay in Suna would be fun, peaceful, and productive. Her thoughts then drifted back to Konoha and her friends. She already missed them. Ino was probably waking up with a killer hangover that girl had no chill and she was sure Naruto was eating his tenth plate ramen at Ichiraku's. She needed to remember to write to them regularly; otherwise, she'd never hear the end of it, especially from Ino and Naruto.

While deep in thought, she fiddled with the bracelet on her arm, a gift from an old woman who had shown her directions to the tower. Coincidentally, the woman owned a jewelry store and insisted on gifting her a bracelet. Sakura had initially refused but eventually accepted it to not seem rude. The bracelet fit her perfectly, and she liked it.

Matsuri's voice cut through her thoughts as she stood by the doorway. "The Kazekage will see you now."

Sakura nodded and stood up, allowing Matsuri to lead the way. As they climbed the stairs, she noticed that the building had been significantly reformed and looked more refined. She was grateful Matsuri was there to lead the way; otherwise, she might get lost again, which would be embarrassing. She could see other ninjas coming and going, probably receiving or reporting on missions. It made her feel nostalgic.

Suddenly, Matsuri stopped, and Sakura almost bumped into her if she hadn't been paying attention. "I'll be stopping here. The office is straight ahead," Matsuri pointed in the direction.

________________________________________

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE

Gaara’s eyes momentarily left the stack of papers as Sakura entered the room, and his breath hitched. Even though he knew Sakura was attractive, seeing her casually strolling in with that face and body, left him mometarily stunned. He made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was shamelessly checking her out, his eyes lingering on her form.

Sakura, feeling the intensity of his gaze, cleared her throat to refocus his attention. A faint blush stained her cheeks as she tried to convince herself that Gaara was definitely not doing what she thought he was doing. When their eyes met, Gaara's expression remained unreadable, normal guys would show a bit of embarrassment at being caught staring.

A hint of a smirk played on Gaara's lips as he noticed the blush on Sakura's cheeks. She was undeniably cute, and Shukaku, ever the mischievous force within him, couldn't resist suggesting activities that could intensify her blush.

“Keep them to yourself thanks” …Gaara replied inwardly. He was tired, Shukaku was already making his hormones run wild so he definitely didn't need any of his nefarious suggestions especially in regards to Sakura.

"So, how was your first night here" Gaara inquired, rising from his seat

Sakura was flummoxed, was he seriously going to act like she didn’t catch him checking her out, or maybe she had imagined it.

Sakura, still trying to gauge the unusual scenario, replied, "It was…nice”

"Glad to hear that" he said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Shall we?" he added as his hands motioned towards the door

"Of-course" she nodded, turning to toward the door.

"Wow…it's really huge" Sakura exclaimed as she regarded the large spherical building with the kanji for doctor right at the top of the building.

Gaara smiled at her reaction “Naturally, a lot was invested into it but it doesn’t seem to be yielding the expected results.”

Sakura muttered a silent “ohhh”

“Suna has always been lacking behind Konoha in the healthcare sector, I thought it was time for Suna to step up their game, the burden on Konoha will be lessened and Tsunade agrees which is why she sent you”. Gaara finished, looking at Sakura.

Good thing he doesn’t know I literally volunteered.

Sakura thought about what Gaara said, since the war Konoha had made tremendous progress in the healthcare sector, so much that other lands relied on them for help. In between helping the more prominent lands like Suna and helping the smaller lands the strain on Konoha’s staff was a lot. It would change a lot if Suna could pull their own weight in that department and stop relying entirely on Konoha, It would also help the smaller villages as well. Maybe her decision to come here had been noble after all.

What problem could this huge hospital have though…it looked perfect. Sakura thought to herself as they approached the hospital entrance.

"Let's go in so you can assess what the problem is" Gaara said as if reading her thoughts

Gaara led the way as they stepped through the sliding hospital doors that opened and immediately shut behind them.

Sensor door huh…Konoha needed to get one of those, honestly she was impressed , the change was evident from the last time she was here, Gaara really put a lot into this obviously.

Gaara led the way as they stepped through the sliding hospital doors that opened and immediately shut behind them. Sensor door, huh? Konoha needs to get one of those, Sakura thought. She was impressed; the change was evident from the last time she was here. Gaara had clearly invested a lot in this project.

The familiar smell of antiseptic hit her, and she smiled in anticipation of starting her new job here. Sakura's gaze swiveled around the waiting room, taking in the new environment. White walls and tiles, chairs arranged on both sides of the entrance, and the chill from the AC—she didn't mind. It was better than the heat outside. Something that struck Sakura as weird was the sparse number of people in the waiting room, which was a bit strange compared to the bustling Konoha hospital. Even in peaceful times, a hospital is still a hospital and it should have a steady stream of visitors regardless.

The people seated didn't seem to notice that she and the Kazekage had walked in, ahh must be-

"Genjustsu" Gaara completed her thoughts

Okay she was beginning to think Gaara was a mind reader because this was the second time he was completing her thoughts.

Sakura took deep breaths while clutching the metal handrail hard. She had never been fond of elevators as they made her feel dizzy. She had avoided them even in Konoha, always opting for the stairs. Sakura stared at her reflection in the elevator's metal doors and was embarrassed by her frightened expression.

"Are you okay?" Gaara inquired. He could see from her body language and aura that she was uncomfortable and somewhat frightened. He wanted to help but didn't know how.

"Of course, I am," Sakura lied. Her voice came out a bit high-pitched, which was a telltale sign of her unease. She cringed at how she sounded, but she didn't want to come across as a wimp. Her inability to lie effectively had always been a weakness.

She really sucks at lying. Gaara smiled at the realization before doing something that shocked her

He placed his hand at the small of her back and started rubbing small circles, Sakura stiffened at first contact. This had to be a clone, the Gaara she knew would never do something like this, but she couldn't help feeling relaxed.

"I'm sorry …I should have asked if you were comfortable with the elevator first" Gaara interrupted her thoughts while still rubbing her back

Sakura turned sideways to look at him, he looked really concerned "It's fine Kazekage ,really"

"Gaara"

"What?" she replied confused

"Call me Gaara"

"Y-yes, um, Gaara," Sakura stuttered, her cheeks ablaze. "Not fair, you always address me as Haruno Sakura," she mumbled through her blazed cheeks.

Gaara chuckled, like actually laughed, the rare sound resonated through the confined space. Sakura couldn't help but notice how his smile transformed his usually stern features. She couldn’t help but smile as their eyes met.

"Okay then… S-a-k-u-r-a," he drew out each syllable of her name as he said it, keeping his eyes on hers.

As if her face wasn’t red enough, Sakura turned away from him to hide her tomato red face. There was something about the way he said it that made her shiver inside, she didn’t expect the charm from Gaara. She just realized how close he was standing and his hand still on her back. She had long since stopped feeling frightened from the elevator and was now frightened due to something else entirely.

Gaara decided he liked when she blushed, perhaps a bit too much

Sakura glared at her reflection, internally urging the elevator doors to open.  If the elevator didn't open in the next 5 seconds she was going to punch a hole right through the metal doors.

Finally, with a screech, the doors opened at the fifth floor. Sakura breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out of the modern-day vacuum as fast as she could.

They passed by several closed doors before stopping in front of a door that read "Administrator".

Gaara knocked, and the door opened to reveal a tall, tan, and lean man with brown curly hair and the kindest brown eyes Sakura had ever seen. His smile reached his eyes, reminding her of Naruto.

Gaara cleared his throat before making the necessary introductions. "Sakura, this is Keita Miyoshi. He's the hospital administrator and oversees the organizational side of everything regarding the hospital." Sakura nodded in acknowledgment.

"Keita, Sakura Haruno," Gaara said, with no further introductions. Sakura was a well-known name, and they both shook hands with smiles, before a knock on the door interrupted them.

"Come in" Keita called out

The door opened to reveal two anbu members .Sakura wondered what the problem was … they stepped in and whispered something into Gaara's ears who was seated right beside her and if Sakura hadn't been intently studying him she would have missed his eyes widening a bit before going back to normal , the anbu left immediately.

"Is something wrong?" Sakura inquired

"Everything is fine, but unfortunately, I can't continue the tour with you, Keita will have to take you" he finished apologetically.

“Oh…That’s fine” Sakura nodded in understanding, although she wondered what message the anbus had for him to make him suddenly opt out.

"Aww, are you disappointed that Handsome Gaara won't be our tour guide? Cause same," Inner mocked.

“I’m not disappointed” Sakura internally gritted her teeth.

The door shut behind him as he left. Alone with Keita now, Sakura took in the room's ambiance. "I'm not the Kazekage, but I'll give you a better tour," Keita quipped with a tone lightened by humor.

Sakura laughed

"Don't tell him I said that"

"Your secret is safe with me" Sakura promised jokingly.

"I've heard a lot about you Sakura-chan and believe me when I say I'm honored to meet you" he had a look of pure admiration on his face.

Sakura modestly deflected the praise "Oh you flatter me and I'm honored to meet you as well. It's not easy to run a hospital especially one as big as this"

Keita, with a somewhat bored expression, responded, "Not much to manage when there is a lack of people to manage."

She nodded in understanding "Does that have something to do with the lack of staff in the waiting room?"

"You have a keen eye, as expected. How embarrassing for us, it is a major problem here — a lack of nurses, doctors. No one is qualified enough to teach the ones willing to learn, so yeah, it has just been a hot mess," he finished flatly.

"But—" he continued, "You’re here now, and I believe if we work well together, we'd achieve great things," he gave a bright smile before standing and adjusting his coat.

She was genuinely happy that Keita seemed like a great person to work with, and his words fueled her determination.

"First Gaara now a hot and fine co-worker…why didn't we leave konoha sooner" Inner joked.

Sakura and Keita continued to talk as he led her out for the tour, revealing that he hadn't been working in the hospital for long—just two months. Keita was easy to talk to and had a great sense of humor that made the tour engaging. Sakura was shocked to discover the truth behind the lack of staff. The hospital, despite its size, only had five medic-nins. She speculated that when Lady Chiyo passed away, there was no one left to train others. She made a mental note to ask Keita about it later.

They were currently in the last leg of the tour and the one Sakura anticipated the most

"So this is our little green room…" He yawned before continuing "We store a number of medical herbs here and poisons alike that would normally not grow in Suna due to the hot, desert climate"

Sakura walked around the room, absorbing the information. She couldn't wait to compare the herbs she brought and test them against the ones here. Most of them were familiar to her already.

"As you already know, Lady Chiyo was a poisons expert, bested only by your master, Tsunade Senju. So, a lot of the rare herbs we have here now are due to her storage," Keita explained.

Sakura nodded, a tinge of sadness crossing her face. "Yes, lady chiyo was really incredible." Recalling their fight together, it seemed like such a long time ago. Memories of her battle with Lady Chiyo resurfaced, but she shook her head, not wanting to dwell on such thoughts.

Keita, sensing the shift in her mood, tried to lighten things up. "I'm absolutely famished; I could eat a whole lion. What about you?"

Sakura smiled, causing Keita to mirror her expression. "I could eat," she replied simply.

"Let's go then; we can finish the rest later," Keita suggested.

Sakura nodded.

"Ah finally the exit" Keita twisted the handle and opened the door

"Temari…" he started

Sakura was surprised to see Temari at the entrance of the door, it seemed like she was about to open the door as well and she looked surprised to see them both too

Sakura was the first to speak because the both of them were just silent for some reason

"Temari, what brings you here? Is everything alright?" Concern etched across Sakura's features as she speculated that perhaps Temari wasn't feeling well. That was probably it Sakura concluded

Temari fidgeting nervously, responded “Yes of-course I'm fine, very fine actually, just uhmm… came to see someone"

Sakura was sure that was a faint blush on her cheeks which was weird cause Temari never fidgets nor does she ever stumbles on her words, ever…

There definitely had to be more to it than Temari was letting on, but she didn’t want to seem nosy even though she loved a good mystery. She made no show that she suspected anything and only nodded her head in response.

"Sakura and I are heading out for lunch. We'll be back soon." Keita finally spoke, his expression giving away nothing.

Sakura was studying Temari's face and noticed the brief change in Temari's expression as Keita said those words, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Okay then" Temari replied flatly and she coldly brushed past them through the entrance

Interesting...Sakura smiled she had an idea of what was going on.

She and Keita had a wonderful lunch after which they headed back to the hospital to continue the tour and discuss other terms. They finally settled with the decision that she would be in charge of training the students that were willing to learn medical ninjutsu while also helping out in the hospital. Keita didn't agree with her helping out at the hospital saying it would be too much workload but she insisted and he really had no choice. 

The training was supposed to commence on Monday and while she was excited about working at the hospital, there was also a bit of dread because it was definitely going to be a lot of work.

Sakura yawned wearily as she pushed opened the door to the mansion she shared with the sand siblings. It was dark already and her feet hurt from walking around too much. She stumbled straight to the fridge and chugged down the first liquid she could find. Thankfully it turned out to be orange juice. As she turned to take the stairs, her eyes stopped at the hallway leading to kankuro and Temari's room, should she still talk to Temari or just ignore it.

She stood there second guessing before muttering "fuck it" under her breath, deciding to confront whatever had been gnawing at her. She approached Temari's room, hesitated for a moment, then knocked.

'she probably won't even be around'

"Come in," Temari's sultry voice responded

“Great…” Sakura muttered under breath as she swung the door open, revealing Temari in an unusually casual state—propped on her stomach, donned in an oversized tee, and with her hair cascading freely. Sakura couldn't help but stare.

Temari was looking at her from above the magazine that she had been reading.

"Well are you going to come in or not?" Temari questioned bluntly as she closed the magazine she had been reading and sat up.

Sakura flushed briefly in embarrassment, realizing that she had been staring for long.

"Of-course" she replied as she stepped in and shut the door behind her "It's just, I never saw you this casual or with your hair down, so it kinda took me by surprise" Sakura admitted as she walked towards the bed "Can I sit?" she asked.

"Sure"                                                                                                

"Nice room" Sakura was trying to make conversation or at least make the atmosphere lighthearted, it was a bit stiff in here.

"What do you want, Sakura?" Temari's direct question cut through any attempt at small talk.

"Is something going on between you and Keita?" Sakura blurted out…might as well just get it on, since we’re all being direct today.

Temari sharply turned to face her, a furious blush now decorating her face.

"Wow, way to go about it. You really... what's the word? Hit the nail on the head," Inner Sakura mocked.

"W-what? How? W-why do you think something is going on?" Temari stuttered in response.

"I don't know, maybe because you never stutter or blush furiously like that," Sakura pointed dramatically at Temari's face. She continued, a realization dawning on her, "And the few times I happen to witness it had been with Shikamaru, and now Keita." Sakura's eyes widened as she unintentionally let Shikamaru's name slip, and she glanced sideways at Temari, who was suddenly looking the other way.

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…"

It's fine, I'm over him now... I think," she said the last part so softly as she turned to face Sakura that it seemed like she wasn't meant to hear it.

"Oh, Temari..." Sakura began, sensing the pain her friend had been through. She wanted to offer comfort, maybe a hug, knowing how tough breakups could be.

"As for Keita" she sighed "…I don't know what we are now to be honest everything got so complicated" she scoffed frustrated

"You can talk to me, we're the only two girls in this house, so we should look out for each other, right?"

"I guess you're right" She smiled at Sakura in response as she began her story.

After she was done with her story Sakura couldn't help but exclaim, "WOW! That was a lot."

"Ughh... tell me about it," Temari groaned in frustration. "But it felt good to finally tell someone about it," she added. "Thanks, Sakura." Her genuine smile conveyed a sense of relief.

To be honest Temari had gone to the hospital to seek out Keita so when she saw him heading out with Sakura for lunch she'll admit she had been very jealous.

They had both agreed on a non-exclusive relationship which she had suggested because she didn't want her heart broken again, but it seemed to be failing on her part already because she couldn't stand seeing him with other women.

Anyways, let's save my rollercoaster men problems for later. There's a party later tonight at 8; go get some rest because we're definitely going," Temari clapped, standing up and pulling Sakura with her.

"But..." Sakura started to protest, only to be cut off by Temari.

"No buts. You'll find some really hot men there; you'll get to make your choice," Temari said with a wink, playfully pushing Sakura out the door. "Wear something extremely hot," she added before shutting the door.

Sakura could only stand there in disbelief, WTF just happened...

Sakura couldn't believe this she had run from the clutches of one party monster in Konoha , just to jump right into another one, Temari seemed even worse than Ino.

Just great …

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX

Monday came by a bit sooner than Sakura had anticipated, she quickly got dressed not wanting to be late on her first day. Excitement pulsed through her veins at the prospect of meeting the students she would be teaching. As she descended the stairs, she was visibly surprised to encounter Kankuro; she hadn't seen him since the day she arrived in Suna.

"I made coffee" he signaled to the jug of coffee on the dining table where he sat.

"Hmm tempting, but no" she smiled over her shoulder "Maybe next time?" She hastily grabbed water from the fridge, deciding she'd make do with the hospital coffee.

"Early start today?" He questioned over his cup of coffee

"Yeah, first day, have to make a good impression you know" she replied

"Well, good luck then," he gave a short wave. "But I'll have you know, the hospital coffee is shit. I make the best coffee, and you're missing out." A cocky grin spread over his face.

Sakura laughed genuinely, shaking her head softly as she hurried out the door "Goodbye Kankuro!"

A big smile adorned her face as she walked. The day was starting off well, and she was thankful for that. Gaara crossed her mind briefly, he'd been scarce since the day he was supposed to give her the hospital tour and she was a bit concerned. But she quickly pushed the thoughts away, reminding herself, "It's none of my business. He's probably not thinking about me, so why should I be worried?" 

"And why do you want him to think about you" inner questioned slyly

I Do not!

"Mmhmm"

She navigated the route smoothly this time, grateful for the backdoor Keita introduced her to at the hospital. Just the thought of using the elevator again brought on a sense of vertigo, so, for now, she'd stick to the backdoor stairs. She understood that she'd have to get used to it eventually, but today was not that day.

Sakura hummed, a smile playing on her lips as she approached Keita's office, knocking softly—

"Come in" a deep voice resonated.

Sakura peeked her head playfully through the door, and Keita's serious expression transformed into a friendly one as soon as he caught sight of her. He stopped writing on the paper in front of him.

"You're here early" he said in mock surprise "thought you'd still be in recovery mode after Temari turned you into a party monster"

Sakura scoffed at this "Trust me I’m used to this life" Being friends with Ino meant getting used to partying until sundown and waking up early the next day for work.

Keita chuckled "Anyways" Keita started, his expression shifting to business mode "here’s the list of students interested in learning medical ninjutsu".

Sakura took the list from him, raising one eyebrow as she went over the names. "That's... a lot of people," she sighed, already feeling a bit worn down.

"There was a lot of excitement when they learned that Sakura Haruno would be the Instructor. Also, the first class will probably eliminate half of them..." he added with a nonchalant shrug.

Sakura hit his arm playfully "You're so mean Keita" but he was right. The most fundamental part of medical ninjutsu was chakra control and being able to maintain that delicate control for a long period of time is crucial and difficult for just anyone to manage. She just hoped that at least a handful of students will pass, it’s not the quantity but the quality that mattered when it came to medical ninjustsu. Stretching she got up to leave.

"I'll be on my way then, I've got my work cut out for me. Anyways, we'll see for lunch?" Sakura said with her hand on the door handle.

'Definitely, good-luck!" He thrust his fist in encouragement.

Laughing, Sakura swiftly exited his office, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling within her. She took a deep breath before confidently striding towards her class.

"I heard our teacher is going to be Sakura Haruno" whispered a student.

"What! The Sakura Haruno?"

"Wow, wasn’t she Tsunade senju's apprentice."

"Yes, It’s true that’s why mum made sure to enroll me in this class."

"I heard she’s on par with Tsunade Senju now."

"I heard she surpassed her teacher."

"Impossible."

"I’m so excited."

All the murmuring seized as soon as the topic of discussion entered into the class, the pink haired beauty strode into the class with a confidence like never before, and the students gasped and stared in awe at her powerful aura and beauty.

"Good morning, everyone," Sakura started, addressing the packed class.

"I'll cut right to the chase. If you're not advanced in chakra control, then this class is not for you. Medical ninjutsu is not a joke. You hold the life of people in your hands; you're basically a mini-god. So, if you're not serious about this class or you know deep in your heart you don't have what it takes to be a medic nin, then I suggest you don't return for the next class."

She paused for any objections, and when there wasn't any, she continued, "Now that we're done with that... my name is Sakura Haruno, and I'm pleased to meet you," offering a big smile before commencing with the class.

After oral lessons where she explained the basics of medical ninjutsu and recommended a few books for reading, she addressed the class again for the hands-on practicals.

"I'll call out your names from this list; indicate if you hear your name. You'll be grouped into groups of five for the training sessions." Sakura observed the students while she spoke; from their aura, she could already make out the ones that wanted to give up already and the ones that were very determined. Well, this is going to be very interesting.

It was finally time for lunch, so she headed to Keita's office so they could go to lunch together, but it turns out he wasn't around, she was a bit miffed but her guess was something probably came up. She decided to head out for lunch alone.

"Not even a week, and we're already loners. I can't believe," Inner scoffed.

"Shut up?"

She walked dejectedly, not looking where she was going until she hit a hard chest. The owner of the chest tried to steady her by holding her shoulders with both hands. She already knew, even before she looked up, that it was none other than him. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked up at Gaara. They held eye contact for a while before Gaara finally dropped his hands from her shoulders. That was embarrassing. Why did I look at him for that long? She wondered

"G-Gaara," she started, trying to compose herself, "what are you doing here?" Sakura cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Really? He's the Kazekage. Of course, he visits from time to time to see how things are going. Why was she so stupid? Ugh.

"Did I miss the class?" he said, not bothering to answer her question.

"Yeah, but just the first half, we'll continue after lunch."

"Oh… then I hope you don't mind if I watch."

"Of course not. You're welcome anytime," he is really polite, she noted.

"You're headed to lunch?" he asked.

"Yes, I was supposed to go with Keita, but I can't find him anywhere."

Why was she going for lunch with Keita? Gaara thought, his expression glowering. Was Keita interested in her? He suddenly had a malicious intent towards Keita that shocked even him, and that was when he did something he probably would have never done before.

"Shall I join you then?"

Sakura was visibly surprised; he couldn't blame her. He was just as surprised too. Thoughts were running through Sakura's head. He wanted to join her for lunch? It probably doesn't mean anything. Best not to make it a big deal.

"Sure, I'd like that," she chirped. I'd like that? I'd like that? Of all replies, kami, she was hopeless. Sakura walked briskly, trying to escape from the embarrassment, not noticing the small smile that played on Gaara's lips as he followed behind her.

Lunch with Gaara had been surprisingly good and not as awkward as she had thought it would be. He took her to somewhere pristine and even pulled the chair for her. She wanted to scream into her pillow. They mainly talked about the hospital and her work, and then he asked about Naruto. She told him he was getting married soon to the Hyuga heiress, to which he just nodded his head. She had thought he'd be a bit surprised, but then again, everyone probably saw the marriage coming. They ate in comfortable silence after that.

She and Gaara walked back to the hospital after they were done eating. Apparently, Gaara was serious about watching her teach, which made her nervous that he would just be there watching the whole time. He stood by the door, observing while she continued with the class.

"You'll be using your chakra to isolate liquids in this lesson. I'll go first. On my table, we have a glass of coffee and a glass of milk, just like you do on yours."

The students watched intently as Sakura demonstrated by mixing the glass of coffee with the glass of milk.

"Then I'll separate them." Focusing her hands on both sides of the cup, she manipulated the contents with her chakra. It swirled a bit, and in no time, the milk was separated from the coffee. When she finished, she looked up at the students, who were staring back in admiration, making her giggle.

"Now you can try it. The Kazekage is watching, so do your best." She walked around the class to observe the students as they focused hard to separate the coffee from the milk.

"Coffee and milk are both liquids, but their composition is different," she said as she walked around with a clipboard, taking notes of those that were successful. "This lesson can be applied to extracting poison from the body, so work hard, guys. You can do it. Remember, the most fundamental aspect of medical ninjutsu is chakra control."

Gaara watched in awe at the way she commanded the room and encouraged the students. There was a distinct change when she was in her element; the way she commanded the room, her aura was completely different from the usual nervous aura he got whenever he was with her. His eyes followed her movements as she walked to each table to give advice to the students who were struggling. She looked even more attractive, if that was even possible.

The class finally came to an end, and in no time, the classroom was empty, leaving just her and Gaara.

"You're really good at this," Gaara commended from the doorway, making Sakura blush a bit.

"You think so?" Sakura replied, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Gaara nodded his head in response, observing as her eyes light up and the tinge of red that decorated her cheeks at his approval. He liked that he did that to her for some reason.

"I'll take my leave now," he announced. "What about you?"

"I'll stay for a bit to help out with the patients."

"Don't overwork yourself." And before Sakura could comprehend, he was gone. Was Gaara worried about her?

“Omg he totally is” Inner chimed in excited.

Sakura sighed as she left the classroom, noticing an increase in patients today. Not much different from the first day she was here, but still a good sign—it showed that people were slowly becoming more trusting of the hospital. She smiled at the thought; in no time, this place would be booming, not that she was wishing for people to fall ill, of course.

She was currently talking to Mira, one of the nurses that worked in the hospital, the girl looked absolutely frightened.

"What do you mean you don't keep files for patients" Sakura's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. They were more incompetent than she thought. She'd need to have a meeting with them later, but for now—

"From now onwards, open up a file for any patient that steps in here, I'll hold you responsible for any default regarding this, understood?"

"Hai!" she responded before scurrying away in fear

"So mean, Sakura-chan," came the familiar voice, and Sakura rolled her eyes as she turned to face the direction of the voice.

"You missed lunch," Sakura deadpanned with threatening eyes.

"Lemme explain." He put his hands in front of him in defense. "I had an emergency meeting concerning the hospital budget with those hags—plus your day went better than mine anyway. Word on the street is that you went on a lunch date with our handsome Kazekage." He mocked while folding his arms.

"What!—a date?!" Her eyes widened in shock.

"It wasn't?"

"Of course not! Is that what people are saying?"

"I didn't tell you before, but people in Suna are big gossips—plus our Kazekage is really popular among the ladies."

"I guess it can't be helped" Sakura replied. Gaara is really good looking, he literally looks like he dropped down from the sky.

Sakura's thoughts were going haywire at the date part. Was that a date? Can that be classified as a date? Maybe a lunch date? Gaara probably didn't think about it like that.

"But what if he did..." Inner added.

"Hey, don't overthink it; it'll be forgotten in no time." Keita tried to assure her with one of his bright smiles, and Sakura nodded her head at that, banishing any weird thoughts, it was just lunch between two friends. Besides, she had bigger things to focus on like running a hospital.

"When did it get this late?" She wondered, yawning as she packed up her stuff to go home. Actually, Keita kept pushing her to go home, plus the only thing she could think of was her bed at this point, so there was no point in staying in the hospital any longer.

Her eyes struggled to stay open even as she exited the hospital. As soon as she got to her room, she took a quick shower and changed into her nightwear. She didn't bother to check if Kankuro or Temari were around; she was sure Gaara wasn't around. He never was, hopefully he wasn’t overworking himself. Laying gently on her bed, it wasn't long before she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

It was Friday again in no time, the week had run by without incident. The training was going well, although almost half of the students had dropped out due to the difficulty. She saw it coming anyway. There was still a good number of determined students, and that was what mattered. It's not the quantity but the quality, she reminded herself.

"Okay, class, that's it for today. Have a good day," she waved at them as they filtered out of the class. She was just about to pack up and leave as well when she heard sniffles coming from the extreme back of the classroom.

It was a student of hers, Yuki, she recalled. She knew her name because she had been one of the most attentive students, always asking questions. She approached her carefully.

"Hey, Yuki, what's wrong?"

"I-I can't seem to get it right." Sakura sighed at Yuki's reply. Now she knew what the problem was. Yuki had been having trouble with the first test. She wasn't the only one struggling with that test, and she was doing great in the other tests. Sakura couldn't understand why she was so sad.

"But you're doing great with the other tests, Yuki."

"But I want to be an expert like you. If I can't do one test, what does that say about me?" she responded, sniffling some more.

Sakura sat down beside her, which surprised the student. "You know, I wasn't always the expert," she paused. "But I never gave up. I wanted to be of help to my teammates and my village," she added softly, looking Yuki in the eye.

"I want to be of help to my village," Yuki responded.

"Then don't give up." Sakura smiled before getting up, patting Yuki on the shoulder.

The student watched Sakura as she left the classroom, a new wave of determination filling her from the inside out.

"Thank you, Sakura-sama," she whispered.

"How does your arm feel now?"

"Wonderful! it's like nothing happened, you're really the best!" the man exclaimed, making a show of it by flexing his arms.

Sakura smiled as she nodded, taking down some notes.

"Still be careful though; just because you're a shinobi doesn't mean you should be reckless," Sakura advised sternly. This was his third visit already, and it hadn't been long since her work started here.

"Of course… plus I have to be fit; I'm going on a honeymoon with my wife, you see."

Sakura looked up from her note-taking, a notable smile on her face. "Congratulations! I hope you both have fun."

After handing him a prescription note to take to the nurse, Sakura watched from her office door as the man left with his wife who had been waiting outside. They turned to wave at her as they left, and she waved back before stepping back. Sighing, she slumped back in her chair. Everyone seemed to be in love except her.

Someone suddenly burst into her office, taking her by surprise. She looked up and was shocked.

"Temari!?... Is everything okay?" Sakura asked, standing up immediately.

"Oh, nothing, just felt like scaring you," she shrugged.

"Are you serious right now? I thought something bad happened to…Ugh, forget it." She sat back down. "So why'd you barge in like that?"

Temari looked at her questionably for a moment before sitting.

"Are you busy?"

"Well, no… but I will be soon."

"You know what today is though, right?" Temari asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, Friday?" Sakura muttered distractedly as she organized the files on her desk.

"Exactly, so be ready at 8."

"Wait, what?" Sakura stopped mid-arrangement, but the door banged shut, letting her know Temari already left. Oh, hell no. She stood up quickly to chase after Temari, but the girl must be wind itself because there was no explanation as to why she was already turning the corner in the hallway.

"I did not agree to this, Temari!" she screamed into the hallway. Great, now she looked crazy...

Sakura held up two gowns for Temari to see. "Okay, which one, the red or the green?"

Temari studied both for a while from her spot on the vanity table chair. "Hmm, the green really complements your eyes and hair, but red really makes you pop. So, red for me."

She focused her attention back to the mirror as she fixed her hair. "You should definitely wear the green next week, though," she added.

Sakura scoffed in response. "Brave of you to assume I'm going anywhere with you next week."

"Mmhmm," Temari smirked.

Sakura admired herself in the mirror, liking what she saw. She was clad in a red satin body-con dress that stopped mid-thigh. It had a lace-up back and small slits on both sides that really accentuated her legs. Temari had done her hair really well; she loved the high wavy ponytail. She never did different styles with her long hair, and the simple makeup she had done suited her perfectly.

"See, I told you it would look good," Temari looked proud of her work while also looking stunning in her lavender Bardot body-con outfit with a plunging V-neckline.

"Yeah, I should have let you style my hair last time," Sakura pouted playfully. "Wow, we look so hot."

"Yeah, we do," Temari reckoned as she applied more pink lip-gloss on her already glossy lips.

"Come on, let's go," Sakura pulled Temari, who almost stumbled in her stilettos. "Before I get shy and change this outfit," she muttered under her breath for no one to hear, but Temari did anyway.

"Just like you did last time, you mean."

"Shut up."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gaara was currently seated in one of the private booths of the newly opened club. The place was packed with the bourgeois and affluent of Suna, the loud thumping music threatened to split his head into two. Spoilt rich adults were making out in every corner, and the prevalence of expensive drugs had him regretting his decision to attend the event. Scenes like this weren't his usual preference.

Taking another sip of the alcohol in his glass, he half-listened to the person in front of him babbling away. His gaze frequently drifted to the entrance of the club. Lately, he had been getting distracted by what he'd call his latest obsession — the only reason he came to this party, even though he'd hate to admit it.

Gaara was an honest person, even with himself. He had to acknowledge that he was somewhat enamoured by the pink-haired girl who had successfully invaded his thoughts from all corners. He couldn't stop thinking about her. So when Temari mentioned that she'd be coming with Sakura, he knew he’d be here but why? He asked himself, was it curiosity or perhaps interest?

He had no reason to be so interested in her. From the vague memories he could remember about her from his dark anger-filled genin days, she was weak, no special bloodline or any profound powers to interest him compared to her teammates in the legendary team 7 but she worked hard, she had to, and it worked in her favor; she was now a renowned medical ninja and one of the strongest he’d say. Of course, anyone with eyes back then could decipher the love triangle between the popular team 7.

Although a lot of things have changed since those dreaded days, for one, Naruto was now in love with Hinata. Gaara wondered what the situation was between the Uchiha and Sakura. It’s been a while since he had been accepted back into Konoha, although he heard news that the Uchiha always travelled and never actually stayed in Konoha; surely for Sakura, that would be a hard relationship to maintain.

But then again, even with her undeniable beauty and charm that could attract any guy, she always exuded an aura of unattainability. It seemed as though her heart and attention were exclusively reserved for the Uchiha. But again, a lot has changed now and perhaps her feelings too. Why did the possibility that she could still be in love with him make him uneasy? Why is her love life of any business to him?

The person in front of him seemed to notice he wasn't as invested in the conversation because they stopped talking. 

Finally. His head was beginning to hurt from the combination of the loud music and her constant yapping.

"Gaara-san?"

His eyes finally fleeted back from the entrance to look blankly at her face which was flushed probably from having a little too much to drink, she seemed content with his eyes back on her as she just continued on what she was saying.

"I was saying …we should go somewhere more private, don't you think?" she whispered, pressing her chest against the table, giving him a good view of her cleavage in the low-cut dress to emphasize her point. His eyes shifted from her exposed cleavage to her face, his expression seemingly contemplative before shifting back to disinterest.

Gaara sighed; he wasn't drunk enough for this. He thought about just letting her down bluntly; she had been a little clingy as of late and seemed to think that whatever they had was something more than physical. She threw herself at him, and he simply indulged because why not. Initially, she served as a temporary distraction, but now he found himself bored with her.

He'd admit he made a huge mistake mixing business with pleasure, but really there was only so much a warm blooded male could resist. He'd put half the blame in making that decision on his severe boredom, sitting in a desk all day signing and reading though huge piles of papers isn't exactly what you'd call a fulfilling life.

It didn't seem in his best interest to tell her all of that, though. Her bursting out of the club crying would certainly not look good for him, and he wanted to avoid being gossip material in Suna by all means. But he had to let her know their little trysts would have to come to an end; she was getting too attached, and it wasn't good for their professional relationship.

"Matsuri"… he started—before being interrupted by a male voice he recognized immediately.

"Yo, Gaara…" the voice called out. "Hey, Matsuri, mind if I borrow the Kazekage for a minute?"

Matsuri glared in response at being interrupted by Keita but excused them regardless with a childish huff.

"I'll never understand what you see in her," Keita said as he sat in the seat left by Matsuri, not expecting any response.

"There is nothing between us," Gaara responded blithely.

"Maybe you should tell her that, then," Keita murmured to himself. But the twitch in Gaara's eyebrows told him Gaara heard him; Keita only smirked in return.

"You rarely come to these; is there something special happening today?" said Keita as he grabbed Gaara's bottle and poured himself a drink, ignoring the glare Gaara was giving him.

"Maybe."

"Nothing to do with pink hair, I hope," Keita muttered nonchalantly.

Gaara narrowed his eyes dangerously at Keita. Damn him for being so perceptive. Also, what did he mean by that? Did he have something for Sakura? Before he could question Keita about that—

"Yo," another voice blared. Gaara let out a groan at the annoying voice of his brother. Kankuro, and Keita together was not a good combination. His hopes of just sitting and observing had obviously shattered. Maybe he should just leave, but as soon as the thought got into his head, he suddenly heard Kankuro whistle from where he was standing.

"Whew, would you look at that."

Gaara's eyes followed Kankuro's line of vision, and the sight before him almost had him choke on his drink. Gaara's eyes widened; her bubblegum pink hair was in a high ponytail, some were let down in waves that framed her face perfectly. The little satin red dress she wore outlined her perfect curves, and when she turned to whisper something to Temari, if it was possible, his eyes widened further. What the hell is that dress, he thought to himself; her back was bare except for the criss-cross strings. She was flawless. He usually sees her in her ninja wear and regular hairstyle, so this was a big change, one he very much enjoyed seeing.

Gaara looked around and realized he wasn't the only one that noticed her, wouldn’t. His fists tightened involuntarily against his glass cup, as a surge of frustration and possessiveness washed over him. He felt that almost violent rage again to crush the eyes of these men looking at her so hungrily. He noticed Keita was also looking in that direction too, and his jaw tightened. It was difficult but he averted his gaze from her and took another swig of his drink to calm down. What the fuck was wrong with his emotions these days, he pondered.

Meanwhile, Keita was busy salivating at the sight of his blonde bombshell that just stepped into the club. He couldn't wait till they would be alone later.

"People are staring so much, Temari," Sakura whispered, her nerves kicking in as the attention became overwhelming. She didn't know how to walk anymore in the midst of all the attention.

Temari guffawed loudly over the music. "That's because we're hot! C'mon, let's get you loosened up." Temari then grabbed her and dragged her toward the bar section.

"Hey bartender, get us the Suna special," Temari ordered with a grin.

"You got it, coming right up!" the cute bartender replied.

Sakura, warily eyeing the concoction, asked, "What is the Suna special?"

"You'll see," Temari replied with a sly smile playing on her lips.

The bartender cheerfully served their orders, and Sakura cautiously eyed the cup before gulping the whole thing down. She was here to have fun, and fun she shall have.

"More!" she called out to the bartender, who gladly filled her cup again and again. She felt positively buzzed already. Looking up at Temari, who watched her with worried eyes, Sakura asked, "What?"

"Nothing, I'm just shocked. One cup of that, and I'm usually down, and you've downed three already."

"Oh," she shrugged. "I hold my liquor pretty well."

"Yeah, but don't drink too much after this... that shit is pretty strong," Temari warned before ordering something for herself.

The drink really did its job because before she knew it, Sakura was the one dragging Temari to the dance floor. After dancing with Temari and a couple of hot guys who asked her to dance, she had three more drinks, completely ignoring Temari's warning. She wasn't a lightweight, so she wasn't bothered. She kind of lost sight of Temari in the middle of everything, which would normally be a warning sign, but she having so much fun to stop now.

She was currently dancing with a cute guy who had bought a drink for her. He was really sweet when they talked a little at the bar, so she let him touch her when they danced and even grinded on him, only shaking her head and stopping his hands when they went too far south. Soon enough, dizziness set in, and she was fairly certain she needed a break. Trying to look for Temari, she couldn't find her through the crowd on the dance floor, her eyes getting blurry. She said a sloppy goodbye to her cute dance partner and attempted to quietly slip off the dance floor. However, that proved to be unsuccessful as well because she was instantly gripped and pulled back roughly.

"What the…"

"Hey, I didn't get a dance yet," a huge, unpleasant-looking man sneered lecherously at her.

"You, Let go of my arm right NOW!" Sakura said in between controlled breaths as she tried to get out of the man's hold, only to feel it tighten around her.

"What's the rush, babe? I just want a dance." The man leaned in close to take a whiff of her. "You're so fucking hot and cute," he whispered. Sakura shivered in disgust at the audacity of this gross man. She was so going to punch a hole in his head if he didn't let her go now, if she could just find her footing first. Okay, maybe she overdid the drinking a little bit. She had already tried boosting her metabolism, but it didn't seem to be working as fast as it usually did. It had to be the fault of whatever that first drink was. Well, a normal punch would do, although her eyes were blurry, and she wasn't sure of her aim. She prepared herself.

"Get lost," she heard a familiar voice behind her interrupt. The man took one look and let go immediately, scurrying off in fright.

"I had that under control…but thanks," Sakura slurred as she turned to face Gaara.

"I'm sure you did."

She didn't know if he was being sarcastic, but before she could retort, the DJ suddenly switched to an upbeat song that made the crowd go crazy and start jumping everywhere. Sakura giggled at the whole debacle. Suddenly everything was funny to her.

Gaara took one look at Sakura and knew then he had to get her home. She was swaying with every push and shove, leaving her here would be making her prey for all these men looking at her hungrily, probably waiting for her to get drunk all night. He cringed in contempt before grabbing her hand.

Gaara attempted to create a path through the pulsating crowd by pushing through, but even this was too much for him without the use of violence. The overwhelming scent of perfume and sweat clung to the air, amplifying the relentless thumping of the music that threatened to engulf his senses. Gaara held on to Sakura tightly as they finally got pushed to a darker corner of the club—a less crowded and dim area that was hard to see in, but people continued to lose themselves in the rhythm, the cacophony of laughter and bass reverberating against the walls.

Gaara heaved deeply to contain his annoyance. Every brush of random against his skin had him clenching his jaws in annoyance, why the hell was it so fucking crowded. He continued to try to navigate a way out of the dance floor, Sakura a few feet behind him. His frustration kept mounting with each step and just as he teetered on the edge of frustration, Sakura yanked him back with unrestrained laughter.

Sakura's laughter resonated in Gaara's ears as she tugged him with such force that even she lost her balance, threatening to lose her steps. In a reflex, Gaara's arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. The sudden collision of their bodies sent an unexpected jolt through him. For a moment, time seemed to pause, leaving them both momentarily breathless.

Sakura molded herself against Gaara, the rhythmic pulsing of the music echoing through their bodies. The warmth of her proximity sent a cascade of sensations through him—her soft curves fitting perfectly against the hard lines of his frame. After regaining his bearings, he peered down to reprimand her, to assert control over the situation. However, as his eyes locked with hers, her perfect doe eyes hazy from intoxication bore into him with a vulnerability that pierced through his stern resolve. The negative energy that had gripped him moments ago dissipated like smoke. She was undeniably adorable and obviously very drunk. He had to get her home. Where was Temari, anyway? This was supposed to be her job.

He started to pull away when Sakura seized him back into her again. If she kept doing that, he'd start having thoughts that he’d rather not entertain, especially with her inebriated state. As if he wasn't being tortured enough, she started effortlessly swinging her hips from side to side to the pulsating rhythm of the song, much to the disbelief of Gaara.

Her giggles reverberated through the club as she shouted, "C'mon, let's dance! I love this song!"

Dance? Dance?! A concept alien to Gaara, left his face twisted in sheer disbelief. He had never danced in his life and never even thought about trying it. Did this woman know the illegal statement she just made?

A part of him wanted to see more of this carefree, intoxicated version of Sakura. Anytime he saw her, she was always so put together and responsible. Naruto always sang praises about how skilled Sakura in holding her liquor. So, this was quite the surprise. The sensible and gentlemanly side of Gaara urged him to just take her home, to ensure her safety and well-being. The darker side of him, fueled by the dark, shukaku’s primal instincts the part he kept hidden and often ignored sought to lose itself entirely in the intoxicating allure of the moment. However, he quickly quashed those impulses. Taking advantage of her in this vulnerable state was not an option.

Gaara's mental gears shifted into overdrive as Sakura suddenly looped her arms around his neck, drawing him into a proximity that left little room for rational thought. The DJ's switch to a more rhythmic tune added to the electrifying atmosphere. Despite the instinct to disentangle himself, Gaara's arms remained ensconced around her waist, and her rhythmic hip movements synchronized with the music. 

All he could think of was that if he drifted his hand any lower he could probably get an armful of her soft ass, with her back bare albeit the criss-cross, he could feel her soft skin. Everything about her was soft and delicate, fuck he could feel blood pooling in his groin.

Despite the internal warning sirens, Gaara found himself ensnared in the spell of her supple flesh pressed against him. The rational part of him urged an immediate halt to this escalating situation, but an inexplicable force kept him tethered to her body.

"You're not dancing Gaara" she drawled pouting as she did , the action caused his gaze to descend to her lips momentarily captivated before he forcibly tore his eyes away from her lips to her eyes , for a fleeting moment he could swear he perceived a flicker of desire in her eyes.

Okay, that was it, the girl was a temptress.

"Sakura you're drunk, I have to get you home" he uttered, delicately untangling her hands from where they ensnared his neck, silently urging the blood to leave his groin.

"Ohh" she responded with a confused expression, her eyes dazed and unfocused, and her face painted with a flush that somehow enhanced her beauty. The temptation to pull her back and kiss her senseless threatened his resolve. Yeah for his own sanity they need to leave immediately before he did something stupid. Determinedly seizing her hands, he guided them both outside the club.  In a swift motion, he activated his teleportation jutsu, whisking them away to the sanctuary of their home.

 He kept it at the back of his mind that Temari was going to get an earful from him later, how could she leave her like that? But for now, he needed a cold shower and a medal for the level of self-control he practiced tonight.

Chapter Text

Sakura awoke with a groan, her eyes fluttering open to the dimly lit room. As she stretched languidly on the bed, her head pounded in relentless protest. Yesterday must have really been something. She couldn't piece together the night's events without invoking sharper stabs of pain in her head. Peeking under the duvet, she discovered she was still clad in the dress from the night before—ugh, utterly gross. She had to take a bath and try to remember what happened last night. Without thinking twice, she channelled chakra into her throbbing head, feeling some relief; she gingerly rose from the bed. 

Sakura slid the dress off her frame as she made her way to the bathroom. The cold water cascading down her body and onto her scalp was an instant wakeup call and as she massaged her strawberry-scented shampoo into her hair, she began to carefully organize the fragmented timeline of yesterday's escapade. 

First, there was that awful drink she'd never revisit, then a bit of dancing-scratch that, a lot of dancing that would make Ino proud, a few more drinks— then she danced with that cute guy? Yeah, she knew she had found him very attractive but couldn’t exactly remember his face. It all became hazier from that point. A persistent, oversized individual insisting she danced with him, she punched him? No, she tried to and then... Gaara? Hold on, Gaara got her home? "Gaara!" she whispered in a horrified realization. 

Oh, shit, shit shit! She had truly outdone herself this time. The memories flooded back with alarming clarity as soon as she remembered the details with Gaara. She had practically coerced him into dancing, recalling the vivid image of her arm looped around his neck, the provocative dancing, and the desperate need for him to kiss her in that moment. What the hell was wrong with her? How in the world could she face Gaara now? She wanted to scream so badly, yet she suppressed it, considering the proximity of Gaara's room to hers. So, left only with the option of self-loathing, she covered her face in sheer embarrassment, muttering curses under her breath as the chill water continued to cascade over her. She was never leaving her room again.

A few hours later, she was hungry and at first, she ignored her urges, devoted to her decision to never leave her room again due to the embarrassment she still felt. However, the noisy grumbling of her empty stomach kept getting worse and she knew she had to leave her room and get something to eat. 

Also, even though the thought of facing Gaara embarrassed her, Sakura knew she had to thank him for helping her out of a potentially dangerous situation and getting her home safely. She had already decided she would feign ignorance about the other events of the party. Surely, he must have felt embarrassed too, and they could both pretend it never happened. Whether that thought made her feel better or worse about the situation, she couldn't quite tell. With those thoughts swirling in her mind, she opened her door and stepped out, her hair still damp from the shower, cascading around her shoulders as she had let it fall freely to dry.

The aroma of something delicious wafted through the air, guiding her steps toward the kitchen. Quietly descending the stairs, Sakura was surprised to find Kankuro standing at the stove, wearing an apron as he tended to a pot on the stove. He seemed entirely engrossed in his task, unaware of her presence, so Sakura leaned against the doorway and observed.

"Hey," she finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

Kankuro jumped at the sudden sound, turning to see Sakura. "Kami Sakura! You almost gave me a heart attack," he exclaimed, a playful grin forming on his lips.

Sakura chuckled. "Good thing I'm a doctor then," she replied, stepping closer to him. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I'm a man of many talents," Kankuro said with a wink, turning back to the pot on the stove. 

"So what are you making?" she asked, peering over his shoulder

"Oh, just my famous hangover miso soup, and it's almost done," he uttered with pride.

Sakura's smile widened at the mention of food. "That smells amazing," she remarked, licking her lips eagerly. "Can you be any faster with that?"

Kankuro chuckled, stirring the soup a final time before turning off the stove. "Patience, Sakura. Good things come to those who wait," he teased, pouring the steaming soup into bowls.

As he handed her a bowl, Sakura took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting aroma of the miso soup. It was exactly what she needed to soothe her hangover and ease her embarrassment from the previous night.

"That was so good, Kankuro. Where did you learn to cook like that?" Sakura wiped her mouth and reached for her glass of water.

Kankuro chuckled. "Well, someone in this house has to learn. Temari can't cook for shit, and Gaara couldn't be bothered to cook even though he probably can. The housekeeper doesn't come on weekends, so that leaves me. I enjoy it though, so it's okay."

"Wow," truthfully Sakura didn't even know there was a housekeeper; no wonder the house was always neat.

"Where is Temari?" she had totally forgotten about Temari.

"How would I know?" he shrugged.

"You're not worried?" ..." it's just that we went together, and I didn't see her after a while."

Kankuro replied with indifferent shrug. "She's a big girl, she can handle herself."

"Okay…I just hope she's okay."

"The bigger question is how did you get home? I know you definitely got wasted last night." His eyes were fixed on hers, waiting for her answer.

"I'm a big girl, I can handle myself," Sakura shrugged.

"Touché," he smiled.

Sakura stood up and began to pack up the plates. "I'll wash up, go rest."

"Uh no, you're not escaping with that…"

"Go away, Kankuro," she whined.

"Come on, just tell me."

"No."

They had finished washing the dishes, and Kankuro wouldn't stop pressing her for answers, so she finally gave up.

"Fine, it was Gaara. Not a big deal, now leave me alone," Sakura conceded.

Kankuro's face lit up like a Christmas tree at that; he couldn't wait to tease Gaara, his second favourite hobby. He knew his brother had a thing for Sakura even though he’d never outright admit it. 

"Oh, kami, he was going to make it a big deal now," Sakura thought to herself.

"What did Gaara do?" They both turned in shock to see Gaara standing by the doorway.

Just great. The Haruno luck strikes again.

Sakura frantically searched for a means of escape, but Gaara stood at the entrance of the kitchen, so she just squeamishly stood there while Gaara's unwavering gaze pierced through her. She tried her best to meet his gaze, but at last, she resigned to staring at the walls and occasionally the floor. She was beginning to think he was doing this intentionally to make her uncomfortable. Kankuro cleared his throat beside her, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he went to pull a scowling Gaara in.

"Welcome, brother, we were just talking about what a gentleman you are," Kankuro led Gaara to the dining table. "You hungry?" he asked, already dishing out the food while Gaara nodded in reply.

Sakura smiled at Gaara's cute nod. He was like a cute baby... Ugh, now was not the time to be thinking about that.

"Hello! Earth to Sakura," Kankuro waved for her to come sit with them.

"I-I'm sorry, I just realized there is something I need to, uh, check. I- I have some class notes to review but thanks for the meal!" Sakura stammered, darting out the door before Kankuro could say the first two letters of her name. It was clear Kankuro's intentions were to tease them non-stop, and she had to escape.

"Damn, she's fast," Kankuro muttered out loud.

Gaara continued eating his food in silence, his expression betraying nothing. That is until Kankuro started nagging him about what happened between him and Sakura.

“So… Sakura just told me you got her home.” Kankuro had a mischievous smile on his face, teasing Gaara was so fun.

“Did she now…” Gaara replied his expression betraying nothing as he reached for a glass of water. Hopefully, nobody saw him and Sakura that close in the club, or at least nobody was sober enough to remember. It’s barely been a week since she was here, he wouldn’t like for her to become gossip material and people in Suna were vicious gossips. 

"You know I saw you, right?" Kankuro continued his teasing, not satisfied with Gaara’s reactions just yet.

"Saw me doing what?" Gaara sighed, finding his brother's persistence insufferable.

"Throwing death stares at any dude she danced with!? C'mon, it's obvious you're attracted to her, dude!" Kankuro grinned.

Gaara paused eating to glare at Kankuro.

"Your eyes will fall off with all that glaring," Kankuro shrugged.

"Can I eat in peace?"

"Sakura is a nice girl, Gaara...please don't hurt her," the seriousness in Kankuro's voice made Gaara raise his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"And what makes you think I will?"

"Maybe because you've suddenly turned into a raging womanizer," he responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

After the war, his brother, who didn't care about engaging with women or anything of the sort, suddenly changed. The boost in fangirls after the war didn't help either. "Look all I’m saying is don’t just jump into things with her if you’re not sure or just because you’re bored, you know…like with Matsuri”

"Okay," Gaara responded simply as he finished his food and stood up to leave.

"Okay?" What did that even mean? Kankuro wondered.

"I'll think about it," he elaborated coldly with a look over his shoulder, leaving Kankuro with a stupefied expression on his face. He would tell Kankuro the food had been delicious if he wasn't a bit miffed with his whole lecture.

Why did his brother think he could tell him what to do with any woman he wanted?

"Annoying," he muttered out loud to himself, but loud enough for Kankuro to hear.

Kankuro didn't know what bothered him the most; the fact that Gaara didn't deny the accusation of being a womanizer or the fact that he didn't deny being attracted to Sakura. He just prayed for Sakura's sake that it was genuine this time, unlike the ones before.

Sakura was sick of staying in her room as she had been hiding out in her room for hours after the encounter downstairs. She needed a distraction so she had tried reading some scrolls, painstakingly rearranging her medical kit, and writing down some notes for her next class, but all she could think about when she was done with her tasks and alone with her thoughts was Gaara and how she had totally embarrassed herself and how good his hard body had felt against her body at that party. Wait what? This was exactly why she needed a distraction.

Temari was still not back and no-one seemed to be worried because apparently, this was a normal occurrence, not wanting to go downstairs and take a chance of bumping into Gaara, she decided to take a little walk upstairs. She never did get the opportunity to tour the house. Kankuro had mentioned that there was a library, so this would be a good time to check it out. 

Sakura stood in front of the huge double door, which she assumed led to the library. She wondered if they ever made use of the library. The thought of Kankuro picking up a book was comical and Temari didn't seem like the reading type either, but maybe Gaara did some reading, he seemed like the type.

"Might as well check it out", she thought to herself as she pushed the door open and strolled in.  

Upon entering, Sakura was taken aback by the grandeur of the library. The room was spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricate Suna-inspired designs. She noticed several skylights strategically placed throughout the room. This allowed just the right amount of natural light to filter in and cast a gentle glow over the rows of shelves.

Sakura felt a sense of serenity wash over as strolled in between shelves, her fingers delicately trailing over the spines of some medical book. Her thoughts drifted to her training days with Tsunade. The woman had made sure no stones were left unturned during her training, however, in this case, it would be no books were left unturned. 

Sakura rubbed her previously trailing fingers together. The lack of dust was surprising, her eyes scanned other details of the environment as well, for a place with no visitors it was pretty well kept, she observed.

As Sakura reached for a book on the lower level of the shelf, something else caught her eye. Through the narrow gap between the shelves, she glimpsed a study table at the far end, with a stack of books resting upon it. "So, someone has been here recently after all," she mused, curiosity piqued. With determined steps, she made her way to the table, noting the presence of a chair beside it.

Examining the books on the table, she discovered a common theme—they were all about sleep. "The Mechanisms of Sleep," the front cover of one book read. Intrigued, she reached for another, then another, finding each one focused on the same topic. It seemed someone had a keen interest, or perhaps a problem, with sleeping.

Before she could delve further into the books, the sound of someone clearing their throat startled her. Whirling around, Sakura's eyes widened as she found Gaara standing before her. She hadn't noticed his silent approach; how long had he been watching?

“Some kunoichi you are” Inner mocked 

"I see you found the library," he remarked, his gaze briefly flickering to the book in her hand.

Caught off guard, Sakura's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Hastily, she dropped the book as if it were a hot coal, feeling like a child caught red-handed. "I—uh, yes," she stammered, flustered. "I'm sorry for snooping," she added sheepishly, unable to meet his gaze.

"It's fine. I should have put them back after reading, it’s a general library after all" he replied unfazed, moving towards the table to gather the books.

Sakura helped Gaara with putting some of the books back on the shelf. The silence between them was palpable. What to do? She asked herself. Thank him for getting her home safely last night and risking dragging up memories from her uncouth behaviour last night. For all she knows he probably forgot about it already.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" It had come out a lot blunter than she intended but it had been eating at her to ask and as a medic, she couldn't help but be concerned as well. She was totally not trying to avoid talking about the events of last night.

Gaara paused, his eyes flickering with a tinge of surprise at her directness. "It's just …I couldn't help but notice most of the books were about sleep" she added quickly

"Ahh…that." Gaara murmured, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he forced the last book he had onto the shelf. 

Sakura rolled her eyes at his cryptic response of course he wasn't going to reply. What is it with men and replying with mono-syllables? Sasuke crossed her mind briefly before she looked away to force the last book onto the shelf as well.

"I've always had sleeping issues… since childhood"

She swallowed her surprise at his reply, okay so maybe he wasn't entirely like Sasuke.

Her surprise softened into empathy. "But I thought that after the war, the insomnia… wait, you and Shukaku are on good terms now, right?" she asked gently, remembering what Naruto had told her about Gaara’s struggles with his tailed beast back when they were still genin. But that was a long time ago, Naruto had made peace with Kurama and so had Gaara with Shukaku. Both tailed beasts even helped them greatly during the war.

"We are, but for some reason, I still can't sleep, I could try but- when I do, I only sleep for maybe an hour or less and I wake up with this intense fear that makes me feel like a kid again, afraid to fall asleep. The beast tells me it’s fine to sleep but”-

“You don’t believe him?”

“I do- I really do but maybe my subconscious doesn’t”

“Ouch kid… you really hurt my feelings there” Shukaku joked

That explains why he was reading all those books, Sakura was deep in thought and as a result, she was oblivious to Gaara watching her intrigued, her brows were etched in worry as she nibbled at her lips, was she concerned for him? He’d be flattered if she was.

Suddenly she snapped her fingers in discovery, the sudden noise surprising Gaara

"I may have a theory about what the problem is," she exclaimed, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. She had gone through every possible cause and effect, symptom, and scenario in her head and finally came to a probable conclusion. Gaara studied her intently as she began to explain something about PTSD and other potential causes.

He had heard briefly about PTSD before but wasn’t really educated on it so he listened, partially, he tried to listen, however, he found himself distracted by her plush pink lips, the way she’d bite them when she was thinking of something else to add, he had been so close to kissing those lips last night, but kissing her while she was drunk was beneath him, when he did kiss her, he wanted her to be fully aware, he wanted to taste the willingness as she would willfully kiss him back. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her right now. Would be quite fun to see her reaction.

His eyes followed her delicate fingers as they softly tucked some strands of stray hair into the nest behind her ears. There was definitely something about her that seemed to pull him so and while it was frustrating that he had to painfully wait, it was also refreshing to feel like that, perhaps it would end if he tasted her just once. He wondered what Sakura Haruno tasted like…

"-But of course, we don’t know for sure if your sleeping issue is a result of PTSD, but we can start with a head scan to see how things are looking though?" she looked at him for a reply but Gaara was too deep in his licentious thoughts to realize she was trying to seek his approval.

“Gaara?" Her voice cut through his reverie, bringing him back to the present moment.

“Ah… I apologize, I got lost in thought,” Gaara admitted, his gaze lingering on Sakura as she continued to speak.

Sakura waved off his apology, a small smile playing on her lips as she observed him. “No worries,” she replied warmly, "I was just saying that I want to help, But only if you want me to, of course. That's your decision to make." She continued her tone honest and sincere. 

"Sakura," Gaara interjected lightly, trying to capture her attention.

However, her attention was focused on some stray books she noticed on the nearby table, she rushed to pick them up, intending to return them to their rightful spot on the shelf. 

"I can do a scan with chakra now if you’re not busy of course," she went on, undeterred. "But we just got this new equipment that does scans as well."

"Sakura," he tried again, his tone a bit stronger this time, but she remained engrossed in her task, moving towards the shelves.

"I understand if you feel safer with the machine," Sakura continued, her words flowing freely as she began to firmly shove books in between shelves. "I wouldn’t want to im-"

"Sakura!" Gaara cut her off before she could complete the word "impose," his voice firm and insistent.

Startled out of her task, Sakura turned to face him, finally realizing he had been trying to get her attention all along.

"Yes?" Sakura finally turned to him, a slight blush colouring her cheeks as she met his gaze.

"I'd be glad if you helped…," Gaara said, his words laced with sincerity. “Besides, I think your skills greatly surpass the machine by far."

Sakura couldn't shake the warmth spreading through her at his appraisal. It was a relief and genuinely a surprise that he agreed to something as invasive as a chakra scan considering his position as Kazekage, she had been almost 100% sure he’d choose the machine. He was basically letting her poke around his head with her chakra and while she had done chakra scans for various ninjas before but this was Gaara, everyone knew about his trust issues, so yeah this was a big deal for her, she definitely didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy because of her attraction to him or whatever. 

"Okay then, I’ll start with a few questions," she began, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

Gaara nodded, his gaze unwavering and his hands folded against his chest as he awaited her inquiry.

"What have you tried so far? Sleeping meds, tea, herbs?" Sakura asked, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"Anything you can think of really" his tone a bit weary.

Sakura nodded thoughtfully, her professional demeanour slipping seamlessly into place. "I'd like a list."

Gaara marvelled at how easy it was for her to flip on the professional switch. It was as if she had flipped on a switch, effortlessly transitioning into the role of healer while he became the patient.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind a little doctor-patient role play" Shukaku interjected, taunting him with sexual thoughts that he desperately tried to push aside while failing repeatedly.

Sakura's expectant gaze brought him back to the present moment, and he met her eyes with a faint hint of amusement dancing in his own.

"What? You mean now?" Gaara questioned, his tone betraying a touch of incredulity.

She cocked her brows at him as if to say duh. He almost smiled. Cute.

"I don't have a pen or notepad here with me, let's head to my room?" Gaara suggested.

"Okay," she responded absentmindedly her mind still brainstorming remedies to help Gaara.

Sakura followed Gaara into his room almost on autopilot. It wasn't until she heard the soft click of the door shutting behind her that she snapped out of her reverie and realized her current situation. She was alone in Gaara's room, the air seemed charged with a palpable tension, and Sakura couldn't help but feel a flutter of panic rise within her.

Okay- stay calm, she told herself. He was just going to write the list, they’ll do the scan and she'd be gone with quickness, they were practically friends now, friends go in each other’s room. Meanwhile, Gaara appeared unfazed, his demeanour composed as he went about his task.

"You can sit on the couch," Gaara offered, gesturing towards the plush seating arrangement while he walked over to his study table. Sakura nodded in response, her movements stiff and awkward as she made her way to the couch. Sitting down, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. If you had told her a week ago that she’d be in this position she would have laughed in your face.

After she had succeeded in calming herself, Sakura took the opportunity to discreetly observe her surroundings. The room was spacious yet devoid of any personal touches, Shades of sandstone and warm earth tones dominated the decor. Everything seemed to blend into the neutral tones of the desert, it was pretty much what she had expected his room to look like. Her gaze shifted to Gaara, who was engrossed in his task.

"Gaara…" she couldn't hold it anymore she had to apologize for her behaviour last night and at least thank him for his help no matter how embarrassed she was. Gaara was watching her now…waiting

"So…about last night…I-I remember and I'm sorry for you know the whole thing-" She was trying to be as vague as possible with the details. Watching her feet on the floor had never seemed more interesting, anything to not stare into those icy jade eyes.

"I know" he replied catching Sakura off-guard.

'That I remember or that I'm sorry"

"Both," Gaara admitted, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "But especially that you could remember."

Sakura let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, feeling a small sense of relief wash over her. But then Gaara's next question caught her off guard.

"So," he began, his tone casual yet probing as he stood up and stalked closer, "do you remember all that happened?"

Sakura's heart raced as she met his gaze, her mind scrambling for an answer. "Not all, of course," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "I mean, I know I did some embarrassing things, but not the details."

Gaara studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sardonic smile, he spoke again. "That’s a shame, you’re a pretty great dancer”

Sakura covered her face with her hands in embarrassment “please don’t remind me” as Gaara chuckled.

"Are you done with the list?" Sakura asked, eager to move on from the whole party conversation.

Gaara simply nodded as he handed it to her a small smile still playing on his lips.

She went over the list, meticulously scanning through every ingredient every herb, well Gaara didn't lie when he said he tried everything, well…almost everything, which meant there was still hope. She smiled then at the discovery. Gaara who had been watching her the whole time wondered what made her suddenly happy.

"Can you sit on the bed for me?" Sakura's voice cut through the air, her tone confident and commanding.

Gaara cocked his eyebrow in question, surprised by her directness.

"I need a quick head scan," she explained casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Most medic-nins now relied on the newly developed CT scanner for head scans, but experts like Tsunade and Sakura could utilize chakra for a wide range of medical procedures. It required delicate control and consumed a significant amount of chakra, but Sakura wasn’t the best in her field for nothing.

"Right now?" Gaara echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Yes, right now – I believe I mentioned it previously and you agreed?" Sakura replied, her arms folded and her hips cocked to the side. "Sit," she commanded, her eyes gesturing to the bed.

Gaara wasn't accustomed to taking commands from anyone, and he couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to him in such a manner. He felt a twinge of annoyance at her tone, but beneath the surface, something primal stirred within him. There was an undeniable allure to her confidence, a magnetic pull that made him want her underneath him completely surrendered to his will. He needed to regain control of his thoughts before she unravelled him completely.

Suppressing his inner turmoil, Gaara reluctantly complied, taking a seat on the bed. He welcomed the intoxicating feminine scent that enveloped him as Sakura stood before him. She smelled sweet, like strawberries and jasmine, a combination that stirred something unfamiliar within him. He had never entertained the idea of cozying up with any of the women he bedded before, but with Sakura, the thought seemed strangely enticing. He widened his eyes as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

"She definitely bewitched you," Shukaku's voice echoed in his mind, taunting him with his vulnerability.

Gaara clenched his jaw, pushing aside his inner turmoil as Sakura began to speak. "The scan may make you drowsy," she warned, stepping closer until she was standing between his legs. "And this might be uncomfortable," she added, her proximity sending a shiver down his spine.

The worried expression on Gaara's normally impassive face almost elicited a chuckle from Sakura. "Don't be alarmed, it's just my chakra," she reassured him with a smile as she pressed her hands to his head. Normally, Gaara wouldn't allow anyone near his head or body, let alone receive a chakra scan. He never trusted medic-nins, and the mere thought of their chakra invading his body was revolting. But with Sakura, it was different.

As Sakura began to infuse his head with chakra, Gaara's eyes instinctively closed. He had never experienced anything as soothing as Sakura's chakra. Unlike the invasive sensation he felt with other medic-nins, Sakura's chakra flowed like smooth, quiet waves, lulling him into a state of relaxation. He felt an overwhelming urge to... sleep? He wasn't sure. What was she saying about discomfort? This felt like the best sensation he had ever experienced. He heard his name being called, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Well, that was quick," he thought to himself, blinking in surprise at Sakura.

“Good news,” Sakura said, her voice filled with excitement. “Your pineal gland is kind of a mess right now in terms of sleep. It's not producing your sleep juices anymore. My deduction is that the long-term lack of sleep made it that way.”

Gaara looked stupefied. “How is that good news?”

“Because it makes things easier,” Sakura explained eagerly. “Fixing the block might just help you sleep. I still think you need therapy for PTSD, though, because this might not be a long-term solution. But I think it's worth a shot. So, what do you say? Want to give it a try?”

Gaara, barely understanding anything she had said, simply nodded his head. “As long as it works.”

Sakura clapped her hands in excitement. “Okay, let’s get those sleep juices pumping!”

Gaara reclined on the bed, positioning himself to make Sakura's task easier. As she knelt beside him, her hands pressed gently against his head, the soothing flow of her chakra washing over him once more. Almost instinctively, his eyes drifted shut, succumbing to the familiar drowsiness that accompanied her touch.

Time seemed to blur as Gaara continued to drift in and out of consciousness, his senses dulled by the comforting embrace of Sakura's chakra. When he finally roused himself, he found Sakura leaning over him, her expression etched with concern.

"Gaara, can you hear me?" Her voice was soft, her concern evident.

Sakura couldn't shake the sense of exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her. The procedure had taken longer than anticipated, and she had ended up using more chakra than she had intended. Who knew such a tiny gland could be a pain in the ass. Taking a deep breath, she shifted her position on the bed, finding a precarious yet comfortable spot beside him.

She had initially knelt beside Gaara, but the position quickly became painful and awkward. Despite her attempts to find a more comfortable arrangement, she ended up in a slightly awkward but less painful position, with one leg over his, placing her adjacent to him. She wasn't fully straddling him so she reassured herself that it was acceptable given the circumstances. 

Noticing Gaara's closed eyes, Sakura called out to him, her voice tinged with worry. His eyes fluttered open briefly before closing once more, prompting a surge of panic within her. He needed to be fully awake to ensure she hadn't inadvertently messed up anything in his head.

But then, Gaara's lips curved into a lopsided smile, sending a rush of warmth through her. Suddenly aware of their intimate proximity, Sakura's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. If anyone were to walk in, what would they think? She was literally almost straddling Gaara the Kazekage, what the fuck had she been thinking or rather she hadn’t been thinking. She quickly moved to withdraw, but Gaara's eyes fully opened this time, halting her in her tracks.

Panic surged within her as she feared he might misunderstand her intentions but he wasn't saying anything, just staring at her with glazed icy eyes and an unreadable expression. Sakura wanted to ask if he was okay, maybe she had really messed something up, but before she could speak, one of Gaara's hand reached up to cup her cheeks. With a gentle yet firm touch, he pulled her down until their faces were mere inches apart, her long hair cascading like waves by the sides of his face. 

Her mind raced, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of thoughts. Was this a side effect of the procedure? Had she by chance made him go insane? His darkened jade eyes bore into her own emerald gaze, locking her in. She couldn't tear her gaze away; the intensity of his desire was unmistakable

"You smell really good," he whispered, his warm breath against her skin sending shivers down her spine. She felt herself blush furiously under his intense scrutiny and her chest felt like it would pump out of her chest at any moment now. She knew she should move but stayed rooted, she would tell herself it was shock later.

"Do I affect you as much as you affect me?" His voice was low, husky with emotion as his thumb brushed against her cheek, sending a wave of heat through her.

His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips and back again, a brief moment of deliberation passing over his features. He seemed to study her, his eyes intensely searching for something. In that fleeting moment, he found what he sought a subtle smile crossing his features as his hand moved from where it was cupping her face to bury itself in her silky locks at the base of her neck. Realization dawned in Sakura’s widened eyes and she began to protest, her voice barely forming his name on her lips. Before she could find the words, he pulled her down swiftly, swallowing any protest she had on her lips with his.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINE

"Sakura!"

"Huh?... What?" Sakura jumped in her seat, focusing her attention back on her friend, who was watching her with clear exasperation.

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" Temari let out a quiet sigh. "Okay, that's it. What's wrong? You've been off for the past few days. Are you still mad at me—"

"Temari—"

"—for leaving you at the party?" Temari continued.

"What? No! Of course not… I'm just…stressed" Sakura took a sip from the cup she had barely touched, the liquid in it now cold.

"Is this about Gaara?"

Sakura choked on the coffee she had just ingested, her eyes widening. "Wha... what?" She coughed. "Why w-would you even t-think that?" She sputtered.

"Why would you think that?" She repeated more clearly.

"Damn, it's nothing to fuss about," Temari said, handing Sakura a glass of water, which she gratefully took. "If he's stressing you out that much at the hospital, you know you can just talk to him, right? He gave me so much shit for leaving you at the party that day… how crazy is that…" she muttered the last part more to herself.

Sakura let out a sigh of relief. Temari clearly didn't know the reason for her anxiety. She deeply wished she could confide in her, but how could she? This was her brother, for god's sake. It's not like she could just go—

"Hey, Temari, so I sucked face with your brother on his bed, any thoughts?"

She needed to talk to someone. She missed Ino terribly. Despite being a big-mouthed gossip, they told each other everything, and Ino was experienced with guys while Sakura was the opposite despite getting a lot of attention from men. Ino would have told her what to do. Regardless, she needed to get a hold of her emotions and start acting like herself again, but this was all his fault. If he hadn't done what he did, she wouldn't be so agitated and confused right now.  None of that was supposed to happen. She still couldn't believe it did—it felt like some kind of fever dream.

“The good kind” Inner interjected.

Temari's soft voice pulled Sakura out of her reverie. "My brother… he really respects you, you know, even though he may come off as mean sometimes."

"You think ?" Sakura replied, doubtful. Honestly, the only person she thought Gaara actually respected was Naruto.

"I know so."

Temari wasn't stupid. She knew something must have happened between Sakura and Gaara even though she couldn't quite classify it, but Sakura wasn't very good at hiding her emotions. She'd get all jumpy at the mention of Gaara's name, which didn’t happen before, and she tried to avoid him at any cost. Gaara, on the other hand, was an expert at hiding his emotions, making it harder to read him. Her interest was piqued, and she was determined to find out what was going on.

They chatted a bit more, mostly about Temari's love life and Sakura didn't mind at all; she liked that Temari could confide in her about her personal life. She felt bad, wishing she could do the same. Maybe she should. After all, what's there to hide? So Gaara kissed her. Not a big deal. He's probably kissed a lot of girls, even more experienced than her. That thought didn't make her feel any better.

"More like a steamy make-out session," her inner voice retorted.

Sakura picked up her glass of water and took a huge gulp. She was going to do it.

"Listen, uhmm, Temari…" she started to say.

Just then, Sakura's personal alarm went off, indicating that lunchtime was over. Whatever she had wanted to say was forgotten. The moment was gone. She was sure another suitable time to tell her would come.

In the back of her head, she could hear her inner voice mumbling, "Excuses… excuses."

Sakura stretched as she stood up. Temari followed suit, and they walked out of the restaurant together to the outdoor seating area.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Temari asked, watching Sakura.

Sakura smiled softly, shaking her head. "It's nothing. Thanks for lunch."

"Whatever. You're paying next time," Temari deadpanned before walking off to the right. Sakura giggled after her, shaking her head as she herself took her left towards the direction of the hospital to continue the second half of her class.

Sakura watched with a smile on her face as the last of the students filtered out of the class. She was pleased with the progress that was being made so far; the students were learning very fast, and in no time, Suna would have a good number of formidable medic-nins.

The class was empty now, so she packed up her books and made to leave. It was just past 6 PM, so she figured she'd stay back at the hospital and help out a bit before going home. The hospital was getting a lot busier, especially at night. Of course, she was only staying back to help the staff, not because she was avoiding a certain someone. With that thought, she left the classroom, walking briskly to her office.

Dropping the books on her table, she sank into her office chair. Her eyes glanced at the huge file on her desk, so she picked it up and tried to read it, but it was of no use. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of Gaara—his perfect face and perfect body. It just kept getting worse as the days passed. You would think it would be the opposite. She groaned deeply as the memory resurfaced again.

Gaara holding her face in place, locking her in with those cold blue-green eyes, telling her how much he wanted her. The pounding of her heart, all rational thought leaving her as he kissed her. The kiss had been demanding, sensual, as if trying to memorize the feel of her. The uncontrollable desire and heat that pooled at the pit of her stomach as she kissed him back, yes, she had kissed him back with as much fervour. The feel of his hair as she ran her hands through it—she hadn't expected it to be so soft. Somehow, she ended up under him, his hands under her shirt. She could still feel the ghost of his lips where he trailed heated kisses down her neck. She would have had to answer some embarrassing questions if she hadn't figured out the hickeys early on and healed them. She only came to her senses when she felt his hands cup her bare breast. She pushed him away so fast and practically fled with what dignity she had left.

Sakura had returned to Gaara's room when she was sure he wasn't around, leaving some pills and notes on how to take them. The medic in her wouldn’t quit; she had to stop herself countless times from checking on him to ensure he was taking his meds properly and if they were working. Yes, it was the medic in her and not for any other reason.

She realized she was absentmindedly tracing her lips with her fingers and stopped the act instantly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Sakura sighed deeply. Maybe she shouldn't have avoided him the way she did. He was clearly not in his right senses; she was positive it was some sort of side effect of the treatment. That explained his behaviour, but how could she explain hers? She had kissed him back, and she had been very willing. "Do you want me as much as I want you?" His words replayed in her head over and over since that day.

Did he really want her? No, no, no, don’t start. She couldn't allow herself to hope again, to get hurt once more. She managed to convince herself it was just something he said without realizing, just a fluke. Maybe he didn't even remember. After all, he hadn't tried to contact her since then. Perhaps she misheard him. It was just like her to cling to a flimsy rope of hope and then get hurt when it inevitably snapped.

Ultimately, she decided she would stop avoiding Gaara like a coward. She was anything but that. If she saw him, she would act normal, as if nothing had happened. He was the Kazekage, and she was just the volunteer medic.

With that resolution, she pushed thoughts of him out of her mind and tried to focus on her task. She groaned at the bulky file on her table. She was supposed to have finished reading the files and reported back to Keita a long time ago. It seemed to be a record of patients admitted to the hospital in the past month, detailing their visits and treatments. She didn’t know what was special about the files, but Keita wouldn’t have asked her to review them if he didn’t expect her to find something. She opened the file and started to go through it, determined to lose herself in work and forget about Gaara, if only for a little while.

Sakura burst through the door without knocking, startling a busy Keita. Papers scattered from his desk as he jolted upright.

"Kami, Sakura! Do you know what time it is? You nearly gave me a heart attack," he joked, but Sakura didn’t laugh or retort with her usual humour. Instead, she threw the bulky file onto his desk with a loud thud.

"Keita, what does this mean?"

Keita heaved a sigh. "You should probably sit down for this."

Sakura took the seat opposite him, her eyes never leaving his as he began to explain in detail what she had just discovered. As he spoke, her shock deepened, her mind racing through the implications.

When he finished, Sakura sat, shell-shocked. This was bad, really bad, especially if it was what she suspected. Keita waited for the news to sink in before continuing.

"My hypothesis is some kind of drug—"

"Or a virus," she countered, her voice tight with anxiety.

"Now, now, let's not jump to conclusions," he said, glancing around the room as if someone might overhear, though they were alone.

"You're not even sure it's a drug, and I'm the one making assumptions?" she snapped in a hushed tone. His calm demeanor irritated her, it reminded her of Shikamaru's nonchalance, and she had to fight the urge to punch him.

Ignoring her outburst, he continued, "There have been three cases so far, at least since the month I started working here. The good news is, whatever it is, it's not spreading fast. The bad news is we can't pinpoint when it started."

"Why is that?" she asked, trying to reign in her frustration.

"Well, it sucks, but the Suna hospital didn’t keep medical records until you came. The file I gave you is one I compiled myself or tried to since I was appointed here, so it only covers a month and a few weeks. That's not enough data to know for sure when it started."

He let out a yawn, rubbing circles on his temples. She could see now how tired he was—the lines on his face had deepened and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked like he hadn't rested in days. She had been so wrapped up in her own issues that she hadn’t noticed how stressed he was. She felt like a terrible friend.

Sakura deflated into her chair, her expression softening with concern. "Why didn’t you say anything all this while? Gaara doesn’t know, does he?" Poor Keita had been carrying this secret alone, masking his stress with humour.

He sighed, looking more worn out than she had ever seen him. "No, he doesn't. I wasn’t sure at first. The cases happened so far apart… it could just be a coincidence, right?"

But they both knew this was far from a coincidence. That’s why he had given her the file without explaining, hoping she wouldn’t see the pattern either. He rubbed his temples again, trying to soothe his migraine.

"Let me help with that," she said softly.

She urged him to come closer, placing her hands on both sides of his head. She began to push her soothing chakra into his head, and Keita sighed as the tension melted away, his headache easing.

He breathed out in relief. "I really needed that. Thank you, Sakura-chan." He flashed a toothy grin at her.

It was the least she could do for being such a shitty friend.

"You should go home and get some rest. I'll finish up here," she told him.

He refused at first, but after more persistent persuasion from Sakura, he finally relented and went home.

Apparently, in the first case, the woman had stabbed her husband in the shoulder with a kitchen knife, claiming he was going to kill her first. The second case was eerily similar: the woman believed her 13-year-old child was evil and tried to "purify" him, only for the father to intervene just in time. The third woman's case was less violent, but still a case of psychosis and still concerning. Sakura couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason, were there characteristics these women shared that made them susceptible to whatever got to them, drugs or viruses. She had stayed behind, helping the nurses and attending to the last of the patients, but her mind kept replaying the conversation with Keita.

All three cases involved women, with confirmed symptoms including fever, paranoia, insomnia, and violent episodes leading to the endangerment of their loved ones or themselves. In the worst cases, it led to death.

The reaction was most severe in the first two women. She needed to run some tests quickly, but unfortunately, according to Keita, the first two women were dead, and the third was admitted to the Suna Mental Health Facility.

She wished it were just a coincidence, but three women with similar symptoms in a month? No way. Gaara would not be pleased when he heard about this. If they were lucky, it might be a drug being circulated. Heaven forbid it be some type of virus.

Sakura checked the time and saw it was already 1 AM. She hurriedly packed up her stuff and left for home, but not before giving directives to the medics on the overnight shift and bidding them goodnight. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and she needed her rest.

Sakura woke up the next day with only one thing on her mind, to find answers. She needed to do some research. Maybe she'd find some in Grandma Chiyo's books on herbs and poisons, which could be in the library. Important books like that wouldn’t be in the public library, so the plan was to head to the hospital as usual, give her lessons, and then return home to the private library to go through Grandma Chiyo's books. She also needed to talk to Keita. There was something crucial that needed to be done.

"We need to tell Gaara."

Keita let out a deep sigh from across Sakura's office, where he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

"We need to before it happens again… if it happens again."

"I understand," he said, smiling ruefully. "He's gonna be enraged."

"Yeah, he is. But this isn't your fault, Keita. If you hadn't kept your own records, Kami knows we’d never have found out until it was too late. You did well, okay?"

Keita nodded, he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, he had made the most sensible decision in a delicate situation. Still, he didn't have the energy to deal with Gaara's anger.

"Now we just have to nip this in the bud before it spreads. I'm going to do some research at the library to see if I can find anything. We should have a meeting with Gaara tomorrow." Keita watched as she chewed her lips in thought.

"You already arranged for the meeting?" He was amazed at how calmly she was handling this. Last night, she seemed on the verge of combusting, and now she was calmly strategizing. It was fascinating; he could see why Gaara was attracted to her.

"Yeah, I sent a letter to Matsuri to schedule us in for tomorrow. No doubt his schedule will be packed today."

When did she even have time to write and send a letter? He wondered.

"Keita, I think you should speak to some of the older nurses here, the ones that were here before you came," she suggested.

"Good idea, Sakura. We'll see if they remember patients with any of those symptoms."

"It would also be useful if we could get our hands on the Suna Mental Facility records, but that may be impossible, so let’s start with the nurses," Sakura added, considering that there might be other victims who didn’t die but were instead admitted to the facility.

“Nothing is impossible, Sakura,” Keita replied with a determined glint in his eyes.

“Keita,” Sakura warned, her tone firm, “don’t do anything stupid. We need to be as discreet as possible, okay? We don't want people panicking and spreading rumours"

"Yes, ma'am." Keita joked with a small salute, trying to lighten the mood.

Sakura shook her head at him with a smile. "I should get to my classes. I hope we'll be able to find something today."

"Yeah, same here," Keita murmured,

Sakura dragged her feet along the floor as she walked, exhausted from the day's classes. She had returned home as planned, knowing she needed a fresh bath and some food to prep her for a long evening of research in the library. Thankfully, the housekeeper had prepared something she liked, providing a small comfort in her stressful day.

After her bath, Sakura tied her hair in a messy bun and dressed in a green t-shirt and cotton white shorts. Refreshed and energized, she felt ready to tackle her goals. With high spirits, she marched toward the library, hoping Grandma Chiyo's books might hold the answers she needed.

As Sakura approached the huge double doors of the library, a wave of unease washed over her. She knew exactly why—this library was the catalyst for everything that had happened that day. If she hadn’t gone to snoop around, she wouldn’t have run into Gaara or ended up kissing him on his bed. Everything always seemed to circle back to that burning question she’d been avoiding since: Did she regret it? If she could take back that day, would she?

She shook her head violently, trying to dispel the intrusive thoughts. Now was not the time for that. Pushing open the doors, she stepped into the library, marveling at its size. It was almost too big for a private library, making her wonder just how enormous the public library must be.

"Now, where would a book as important as that be kept?" she mused, scanning the shelves and towering stacks.

After nearly an hour of fruitless searching, Sakura was ready to abandon her self-imposed mission. She could just ask Gaara, but that would mean talking to him face to face, alone, and she was far from ready for that. She had put on a strong front for Keita, but the thought of facing Gaara tomorrow filled her with dread. The only thing keeping her from running away from the whole situation was the knowledge that this needed to be done, and the comforting thought that she wouldn’t be alone with Gaara in his office.

Sakura huffed in annoyance, having combed through about fifteen shelves to no avail. It was ridiculous at this point—how hard could it be to find some freaking books? Just as she was about to enter the next section of shelves, she felt it, a familiar chakra presence. "No, no, no," she thought, panicking. She wasn’t ready. Her luck recently was just abysmal.

Even before she turned, she knew it was him. Seeing Gaara in person didn’t make her swoon any less; he was just so astronomically handsome. It was the strangest thing—she wanted to hide under a rock, and at the same time, she wanted to kiss him. Wait, what?

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment before he finally spoke.

"What are you searching for?" he asked, his voice quiet and deep.

Sakura wondered how long he'd been in the library to know she was searching for something and why she hadn't noticed his presence. She wasn't a sensory ninja by any means, but this was absurd. Realizing he was waiting for her to answer, she replied.

"A book."

"What book?" he asked, stalking closer. Sakura resisted the urge to take a step back.

She could lie, but something inside her advised against it.

"Grandma Chiyo's books."

He didn’t reply, which troubled her. She had been positive he would ask why she needed them, but he remained silent. Maybe he was respecting her privacy; Gaara had always been a stickler for manners. He was now within arm’s reach. Her heart rate increased as her eyes finally met his. She tried to gauge his countenance, but he seemed as relaxed as ever, his face betraying no emotion.

She really wished she was a mind reader; she wanted to know what was going on in his head, what he was thinking. Gaara stood in silence, watching her with curiosity. Did he even remember anything? It didn’t seem like he did. Sakura was relieved that the event that had been bothering her for weeks might be forgotten, right?

So why didn’t she feel relieved? Why did the thought of Gaara not remembering their little tryst leave her with a feeling of despondency? Sakura was left confused by these questions running through her head.

"So, uhmm, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to make small talk to distract herself and maybe Gaara. She was genuinely curious as to why he wasn't in his office though—it was highly unusual.

"Looking for something."

Or someone.

She wondered what he was looking for...

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?" she asked, her eyebrows etched with worry.

"Not as much… thank you," he muttered, his eyes still trained on her. She swallowed when he moved to stand directly in front of her. This time, she took a step back before she could stop herself, her back hitting the bookshelf behind her. But then he surprised her by closing the gap she had created. They were standing so close now she could feel his body heat. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest. Oh kami, what was he doing, and why was she still standing there? But her feet wouldn’t budge, and her hands wouldn’t move to push him away. She let out a quiet gasp and shut her eyes when he dipped his head.

She waited one second, two seconds, and when she didn’t feel anything, she opened her eyes to see him looking over her shoulder, slightly crouched. He pulled out a book from the shelf behind her.

"I believe this is the book you're searching for," his breath tickled her ear as he spoke.

Sakura cleared her throat in a bid to recover from her embarrassment. Of course, he wasn’t trying to kiss her. She chided herself internally. It’s not like he remembered or anything, so why would he? She could feel that cloud of glum washing over her again but shook it off. It was better this way. She looked up to see the book he was holding out to her.

"Yes, haha, it’s been in my face this whole time and I didn’t see it." She took the book from him, holding it to her chest. It was quite bigger than she thought it would be—like, really big.

"Everything was compiled into this big book," Gaara said as if reading her thoughts.

"Ohh," she replied, smiling sheepishly and looking everywhere but at him. He was still standing so close, and she didn’t know what to do.

Promptly, he pulled away, stepping back a pace. Sakura hated that she instantly missed the warmth from him.

"I should head back," he said.

Sakura nodded. "And I’ll stay here going through this big book." After a moment of silence, she continued, "So, I guess I’ll, um, see you later?" She muttered quickly, not waiting for a reply as she turned to leave.

"Sakura."

“Yes ?”. She stopped in her tracks.

He leaned down behind her, his lips brushing her ear, and she hoped he didn’t notice her shudder. Her eyes widened when she heard the words he whispered.

"You smell really good."

She turned immediately, but the room was already empty. However, the words echoed in her eardrums repeatedly.

It took a moment before Sakura realized.

"He did remember" she gasped.

Chapter Text

The day was turning out to be the worst ever for Sakura. She had barely clocked into her office when a code blue alarm sounded. There was no chance to breathe or settle in, and as expected, she immediately rushed into the E.R. where the nurses on duty informed her about the situation.

A drunken woman was choking on a tiny piece of shell stuck in her throat. How it got there, she'd never know. Sakura quickly assessed the situation and decided an emergency procedure was necessary. She prepared to perform a laryngoscopy to visualize the obstruction. With steady hands, she used a laryngoscope to locate the foreign body and then carefully extracted the shell piece. Sakura had to admit, these new machines and tools certainly made her work easier compared to the old days.

Thankfully, the woman was now stable and moved to the general ward for further monitoring. Starting the day with an emergency like that was disorienting. It wasn't the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last, but she would never get used to it. Her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline rush. Just another day in the life of a medic, she reminded herself, but from the start she could just tell it was gonna be one of those days.

She had kept her students busy all morning with the fish practical. None of them had been able to revive it yet, but she wasn't worried. It was still too early, and they were already doing well and making fast progress in other areas. She just didn’t feel like having her usual class with her mind trained on other anxiety inducing events at the moment.

Sakura glanced at her timepiece agitated. Keita was still yet to arrive at the hospital for some reason. She just didn't understand why he would choose today of all days to be late, knowing they both had serious matters to discuss. It was almost 10 o'clock and the meeting was at 11 a.m.

She had just finished making her rounds at the general ward and was about to go prepare for the meeting without Keita when she saw him walking briskly towards his office with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Is he serious right now?" she muttered to herself as she followed him at the same pace.

"Where the hell have you been?" she bellowed behind him just as he was about to open his office door.

He turned sharply, visibly shocked at her presence. "Kami, Sakura. Can you stop doing that?"

Sakura ignored him, mouth turned disapprovingly at him. "Did you forget we were supposed to meet two hours ago?"

"Of course I didn't. I've been busy gathering info like we were supposed to," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh… so what did you find out then?"

"Can we at least go into my office first, Sakura?"

"I guess," she scoffed, following him inside. He shut the door behind her and Sakura watched as he arranged papers on his table in one pile, taking sip after sip of his coffee.

"Well?" Sakura was getting impatient.

"Right, right. So, I talked to the nurses like you said, and they knew, well… absolutely nothing." He paused, gingerly taking a sip of his still very hot coffee. Sakura's anxiety grew as she watched him, her patience wearing thin with every passing sip.

"So… I took matters into my own hands and visited the surviving victim at the psychiatric ward where she was transferred," he continued hurriedly, almost as if he thought if he said it fast enough, it would slip by her notice.

Sakura's eyes widened. "You did what? You went to a mental asylum alone?!"

"Let me finish," he said calmly. "She's a bit more stable and coherent now—barely, but I was still able to find out a few things. Things got bad after her honeymoon. She started to lose control of herself and mentioned suddenly being unable to control her anger, even though she doesn't recall being violent in the past—"

"We'll need to confirm that with her spouse," Sakura interjected.

"Of course, I was just getting to that. He replied, his smile growing as he pulled out a notepad. "I got his name and an address."

Sakura couldn't help but smile back at his proud expression, though surprise was evident in her eyes. "How did you manage to pull that off in half a day!?"

Keita's grin turned a bit cheeky. "Nothing a little cash and some good old charm can't accomplish" he said with an exaggerated hair flip.

Sakura laughed. Sakura hadn’t thought of that, she had a more elaborate plan that included, silent sleep bombs, genjutsu and plain old kage bunshin but hey bribery works too. Keita had saved her the stress and resources and for that she was glad, she didn’t still approve of him going alone though.

“So did you find out anything else” what’s done is done, she might as well get all the needed info.

“Yes, there is one more thing, she doesn't remember anything that happened during her violent episodes. It's not much, but I think it’s worth noting. That was all I could gather before she started having another episode."

"Are you kidding?! That's incredibly helpful. Give yourself some credit."

"Don't make me blush," he joked. “Did you find out anything in your research?”

Sakura giggled, feeling a slight weight lift off her shoulders now that they knew more about the illness—if she could call it that. "Well, I’ll say you fared much better than me. There are countless herbs in Grandma Chiyo’s book that have similar effects to the illness; it’s hard to pinpoint, but I’ll keep looking, see if I find anything else." She shrugged.

"It's still a clue though, good job," he commended.

"Oh please, don’t try to compensate me” she said, jokingly, and then setting her threatening eyes on Keita. "And don't take such a huge risk without me again, okay?"

"Fine, fine," he replied.

They discussed a bit more, both agreeing to pay the spouse a visit later in the week. If anyone would have more detailed information, it would be him.

Sakura was feeling better about her day now. Keita had managed to discover clues that could really help. It would be a lot easier explaining things to Gaara now. Although major details like whether it was a drug or some type of viral disease were still up in the air, they would need another surviving patient to make some conclusive analysis. This was such a pain in the ass.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Sakura stood up from where she was seated, deciding that she was just going to take things one step at a time.

"We should get moving, Keita. The meeting is in 10 minutes."

Keita nodded as he gulped down the rest of his coffee, he needed to be heavily caffeinated for this. He hurriedly gathered his notes and ran after Sakura, who had already left him behind. He almost laughed out loud at how much of a stickler for rules she was. He personally didn't care about being late—he'd never been early to any of his official meetings. He just couldn't find it in himself to care. She was adorable, though; he'd give her that. He could see what Gaara saw.

They arrived at the Kazekage's tower five minutes early and ended up having to wait for the ongoing meeting to be over. Keita was so mad at Sakura for making him come so early just to wait; he hated waiting rooms and waiting.

Sakura, on the other hand, was more than happy they made it on time. She'd hate for Gaara to see her as tardy. Thankfully, at 11 o'clock sharp, the previous meeting was over, and it was their turn. Sakura thought it was just fitting to his personality to keep to time this accurately.

As she and Keita walked into the office, she took the chance to make observations, she had been here before but hadn’t bothered to look around. His office was well-lit and very spacious, much more so than the paper work ridden Hokage's office, in contrast, each book was lined up in wooden built in shelves and the huge piles of paper work were stacked neatly on his table.

The only form of decoration was a single cactus flower pot on a table by the windowsill. Various windows gave a nice view of both the village square and the desert. It was picturesque and such a calming view. Sakura thought he could see almost everything from there. Of course, she didn't expect the infrastructure to look the same after years, but wow, the difference was too great. Gaara was really doing a great job developing Suna, that's for sure. Konoha had some serious competition, and they didn't even know it yet.

She felt his eyes on her as soon as she walked into the room, and the pressure of his gaze sent warm waves from her gut to every part of her body. The air seemed to constrict around her, and her stomach was in knots even as she took her seat opposite him. Sakura tried hard not to make eye contact under the guise of admiring the office, but his presence filled the room so palpably that it made her throat tighten. She had to clear her throat softly.

At last, she couldn't help it and raised her face to look at him. If she kept acting weird, Keita might begin to suspect that something was going on. Of course, Gaara's gaze was trained on hers, and their eyes met. Somehow, the air felt hotter than before, especially as she kept thinking back to the previous day in the library. Between that and the kiss, Sakura was conflicted. What did it even mean? The whole night she kept asking herself the same question. Could Gaara possibly be interested in her? No, there was no way. She had to cut that train of thought short. She just wasn't going to do that to herself again. Besides, this was no place to be thinking of such things; she needed to focus on her job. The hard lines on his face didn’t display any emotions, Sakura wondered what he was thinking about at the moment.  

For Kami's sake, Sakura, you came to work, she chided herself.

After she and Keita had settled comfortably in their seats, Sakura cleared her throat to begin. Since she had requested the meeting, she was obligated to start first. Gaara kept his gaze on her, making her nerves worse. Keita, on the other hand, was as oblivious as they come. He was already bored and wanted this to be over soon.

"So, to what do I owe this meeting?" Gaara spoke first, surprising Sakura lightly.

Sakura took a silent deep breath before starting. "I called for this meeting because of something we think you should know."

"And I'm guessing I won't like this thing," Gaara replied, his eyes searching between both Sakura and Keita.

"No, I don't think you will, unfortunately."

Gaara simply nodded and indicated for her to continue.

Sakura recounted everything she knew, including the new information she had recently discovered. Keita also shared his findings. The whole time, Gaara's eyes were trained on her, his expression showing no major change except for perhaps an extra furrowing of his eyebrows.

"So that's basically everything," Sakura finished, heaving a silent breath. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her chest.

A deep silence filled the room; you could have dropped a pin, and it would have echoed. Sakura searched his face for any sign of what he was feeling. Was he angry? Frustrated? Disappointed? Her best guess was angry... Tsunade would be flipping tables by now if she were the one receiving such news. The thought of her shishou almost made her smile.

After what seemed like an hour, Gaara turned to Keita, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"How long have you known?" Gaara asked Keita.

"Uh-oh, angry it is, then," Inner Sakura muttered.

This was what Sakura had been avoiding. In her narration, she had purposely left out that Keita had discovered it earlier, fearing it would be misunderstood. She should have known Gaara would figure it out regardless.

"A little over a month," Keita replied calmly.

"And... you didn't think to mention it since then?" Gaara's voice was controlled, but his anger was clear.

"It's not exactly something that can be reported immediately. I had to be sure."

“The shortage of trusted, qualified medical staff makes it harder to investigate, especially with something as fragile as this,” Sakura added, but Gaara wouldn’t look at her. He was pissed.

Something about Keita's delivery was aggravating Gaara more with each response. She could tell because his eyes grew narrower each time Keita spoke. She didn’t think Keita was intentionally trying to be rude—technically, he was right. To avoid false alarms and panic, Keita made the best possible choice. But she feared that right now, Gaara wasn’t seeing it that way. Sakura thought it best to intervene before the matter escalated further.

"Gaara, I think what Keita is trying to say is that—" Before she could finish her sentence, Gaara turned to her sharply. The suddenness almost made her flinch, his eyes piercing like daggers.

"I didn’t address you yet," his venom-laced voice cut her off. He turned back to Keita, who was almost as visibly shocked as she was.

For a moment, she sat still, stunned. It had happened so fast that she almost couldn’t believe it. She was flabbergasted. Did—did he just shut her down like a bug? She felt like her opinion didn’t matter, that she was insignificant. It brought back memories of her genin self all over again, the Sakura who couldn’t contribute to anything, who always had to be saved. She hadn’t felt this humiliated in a long time, and it hurt so much coming from him. Why had she thought that he somehow saw her as significant? Because of a common kiss? Kami, will she always be this fucking stupid? Her anger kept mounting. Who the hell did he think he was? She was furious at him and at herself. One thing was for sure, she wasn’t going to wait for him to address her with that tone again. Gathering her emotions and mustering the best poker face she had, she stood up gracefully. His eyes immediately followed her, and she looked him straight in the eyes before speaking.

"The reason I called this meeting was to simply pass information on to you, Kazekage." She watched his eye twitch in annoyance at the formal title.

"I believe my work as the volunteer medic here is done. If you’ll excuse me—" She turned and left without looking back.

Silence filled the room again before Keita finally spoke.

"That was unnecessary and rude."

"I don’t care," Gaara responded coldly, but the words didn’t even sound believable to him.

Keita shook his head. Gaara would never stop being stubborn and pushing those he cared about away.

"Look, Sakura and I—especially Sakura—spent half of yesterday researching just to get more information about whatever this is. She didn’t have to. It’s not part of her job description, but she did it anyway because she obviously cares." He finished, causing Gaara's eyes to widen a fraction. She cared about him? He was still processing what he heard, not realizing Keita was trying to hand him a file.

"This contains everything we learned about it." After handing the report to Gaara, he left immediately.

Sakura ended up going home early. It was 5 o'clock sharp by the time she walked through her door. Normally, she'd at least stay and help out for the evening shift, but her mood was too sour to continue. She’d end up transferring the aggression to people who didn't deserve it, and that was counterproductive to her and everyone else.

"You're home early today," a voice spoke, jolting Sakura out of her negative thoughts.

She looked up to see Kankuro, standing by the fridge with a cup of water. He looked like he'd been in the house all day, clad in sweatpants and no shirt. Damn, she'd seen Kankuro shirtless before, albeit under much more life-threatening circumstances, but that was a long time ago. He was certainly more toned and muscled now.

"Sheesh, did all the Suna boys just get hot overnight or something?" Inner Sakura commented.

"Ugh, go put on a shirt already," Sakura chided playfully.

"Like what you see?" he jiggled his eyebrows at her while pretending to flex.

"You wish!" she responded with a small laugh.

He gave her an imperceptible look as the laugh died down and then said something that surprised her a bit.

"Wanna go out to eat?"

"Tired of being the house chef?" Sakura joked.

"Hey, I love my job… but I need a break. So what do you say, huh?" he prodded.

Honestly, she thought it was weird that Kankuro was asking her out to eat, but she hadn't eaten all day, and she was really famished. Besides, who was she to turn down free food?

She smiled at him in response. "Fine… but I need an hour."

She reeked of antiseptic, so a freshening up was needed, plus she had some file organizing to do. The idea of a relaxing dinner with a friend was exactly what she needed to unwind and forget about the horrible day.

Finally, after an hour, Sakura was fully refreshed and ready in a white breezy slip dress and brown sandals. She had decided to dress casually; after all, it wasn't a date… just dinner between two friends. She went downstairs to see Kankuro already waiting for her. He was dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and black pants, not much different from his regular outfit. 'Well, at least he dressed casually too,' Sakura thought to herself.

“You look pretty” he commented.

“Thank you, you look nice too” Sakura smiled.

“I know, that’s why the ladies love me” he replied, mirth in his tone. They were out the door in no time, Kankuro complaining about his stomach grumbling because she took too much time, and Sakura laughing at never ending jokes. The evening air was cool, and the streets were bustling with people finishing up their day.

"So…what do you think about this one?" Kankuro pointed to a restaurant with an elegant facade and a lively crowd inside.

"Too fancy and crowded… big no," Sakura replied, shaking her head to emphasize.

Kankuro groaned. "You said the same about the last two we passed. My stomach is rumbling here" he said, his tone exasperated but playful. "They have the best spicy food in the game right now. Are you sure you want to miss out on that?" He couldn't believe she was saying no to his favorite restaurant.

"I don't like spicy food much," she stated simply, shrugging.

Kankuro looked gob-smacked. "How could anyone not like spicy food?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you like then?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Hmm…" Sakura looked like she was in thought for a moment. "Syrup-coated red bean dumplings!"

Kankuro laughed at how enthusiastic she looked, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Maybe he should have asked from the start. Seeing her so animated made him forget his own hunger momentarily.

"C'mon, I know just the place." Dumplings weren't his thing, but he could compromise for her; he wasn't a picky eater anyway. They walked together, Sakura's earlier frustration melting away with each step. The vibrant street lights cast a warm glow on their path, and the chatter of people around them created a comforting background hum. Kankuro noticed her relaxing and felt a sense of contentment himself.

Gaara stood facing the open windows, lost in thought as the evening breeze brushed against his face. He watched as the sky grew darker and the stalls began to close up for the day. People scurried to and fro, and some restaurants set up more seats outside for their evening customers. Suna was known for its vibrant nightlife, attracting visitors from other lands.

Meanwhile, unfinished paperwork lay scattered on his table. It wasn't like him to leave work unfinished for the leisure of watching the Suna citizens go about their daily lives, but his mind seemed to be hell-bent on lacking focus today. The unsettling news he received could very well lead to a catastrophe if not addressed promptly. He knew that once the elders found out, they would find a way to pin the blame on him. They had never trusted him since the day he stepped in as Kazekage, often referring to him as a double-edge sword, though none dared to say it to his face. He had his ways of uncovering information and knew they had been plotting to overthrow him for some time now.

He needed allies—more help than ever to stop whatever this was from going any further.

Gaara released a deep sigh as various thoughts raced through his mind. One thing was for sure, he had messed up with Sakura. He didn't know why he had snapped at her or why he felt so uncomfortable about it. He had snapped at plenty of people before—his siblings, countless times; Keita, for obvious reasons; even the elders were scared of him. It never affected him in any way, but now he kept thinking back to the flicker of hurt that spread across her face after he snapped. It was brief, and she had tried to hide it, but Sakura wasn’t very good at hiding her feelings. The memory wouldn't stop clouding his mind. Was this… guilt?

His thoughts drifted back to that day in his room. He had previously thought that tasting her just once would curb the effect she had on him, but for what it's worth the rendezvous did nothing to sate him. If anything, it drove him even crazier, and that was why he had kept his distance before he did something insane. Seeing her today had brought back memories that he had been keeping in a tight lid. The taste of her lips, her soft skin, her moans—everything was perfect. She was perfect for him. He wanted more.

She had been in the library yesterday to help him, and he had thrown her help back in her face. But this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't omitted things to cover up for Keita. As if that wasn't enough, she had tried to defend him too! Just thinking about it pissed him off again. She shouldn't have tried to defend Keita. They were too close, and he didn't like it.

Just then, a flash of pink crossed his vision, making him sit upright immediately. At first, he thought it couldn't possibly be her, but he didn't know anyone else with such distinct hair. When she turned, all smiles, he confirmed it—he could identify that smile anywhere. She always had this air of innocent spring around her that made her stand out in the crowd. She looked ethereal clad in a simple white dress that added to her angelic innocence.

She let her hair down, he thought. Earlier in his office, her hair had been in a ponytail. He liked it better down.

She was standing just outside a restaurant, facing the entrance. He recognized the place; it was one of his brother's favorites. She looked dazed for a second before a smile appeared on her face again. She seemed to be conversing with someone, but from his angle, he couldn't identify who it was.

He kept watching, even as the wind blew, sending wisps of pink hair into her face. She reached to tuck them behind her ears—he wanted to do that—but then he watched in shock as a hand reached out before she did, delicately tucking her hair behind her ear. That was when Gaara saw red, because that was definitely the hand of a man.

He had been too entranced by her presence to notice she was conversing with a man. He watched Sakura return a small smile, obviously at the man's action, and that was when he decided he had seen enough.

A dull anger was growing deep inside him, and it was frustrating. The beast inside him wasn't helping either; rather, it was amplifying his negative emotions.

"He's going to take her from you," Shukaku mocked.

Gaara sneered in anger. "No, he won't. He can't—she's MINE."

Chapter Text

Sakura had just finished eating the last of her dumplings and was currently in an intriguing conversation with Kankuro, who had finished eating about 30 minutes ago. He had been watching as Sakura ate her food very slowly, something he never expected from someone with such a demanding job; aren't doctors always on the clock? Luckily, Sakura was not averse to multitasking, engaging in conversation while eating. To his surprise, he found himself engrossed in their amusing discussion.

Sakura was laughing so much from how funny Kankuro was that she was sure the whole restaurant must be wondering about her mental health.

"Come on, you don't expect me to believe that!?" she said in between fits of laughter. "You mean to tell me you have been dating one girl for five years!?" Her face was positively shocked.

Even the kindest person in the universe would find that hard to believe. Back in Konoha, Kankuro had the reputation of being a womanizer. Ino was so sure of his 'philandering' ways that she warned Sakura against him some time ago.

"We broke up last month and I've been single since then but yeah… Geez, I can't believe my pain is funny to you, Sakura… You're so mean to me," he joked, feigning hurt by holding his chest.

Sakura laughed some more, then shook her head before replying, "No, no, it's not that, it's just—your reputation precedes you."

"And pray tell, how does my reputation precede me?" Kankuro asked with a curious smile on his face.

"You won't be getting an answer from me this time," she giggled. "Anyways, so what happened with your girlfriend? I mean, breaking up after five years? It must have been pretty serious." Sakura really just wanted to know; dating for five years was a big deal, and even though Kankuro may not show it, it must have hurt a lot.

He simply shrugged, averting his eyes for the first time. "We simply grew apart, wanted different things."

"Was she shinobi?"

He shook his head, "Nope, a civilian."

"Ohh…" Sakura muttered, feeling a pang of empathy. It usually never worked well that pairing, she was surprised they lasted five years; they must have really loved each other.

Then, shaking his head, Kankuro let out a smile. "Enough about it, which Suna man has caught your eye so far, excluding me of course."

Sakura chuckled, appreciating how he could change up the conversation so smoothly. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" she teased back, feeling a bit lighter.

Sakura was intrigued by Kankuro's love life. She rested her left hand under her chin while taking slow sips of her drink, listening as Kankuro went on and on about various Suna citizens. Getting the gist straight from the source—Ino would die for this.

Suddenly, Sakura had an idea. Gaara’s secretary—surely, Kankuro would have some information about her. Sakura’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. Who was putting up with that snobby girl?

“Hey, so what about Matsuri?” she asked.

As soon as she mentioned her, Kankuro started coughing violently. Sakura had to offer him some water.

“M-Matsuri?”

“Yeah, Matsuri, you know, Gaara’s secretary. She was so snobby to me the other day, I wonder who is putting up with that.”

Oh, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you, Kankuro thought to himself, relieved Sakura didn’t know anything deeper. “Matsuri is just a bitch to everyone, don’t think much about it,” he commented, slyly eluding the question.

It wasn't until later, when they were seated in comfortable silence that Sakura looked at her watch and realized they had stayed out for too long.

As if he read her mind, Kankuro said, “Damn, the sky is almost too dark already.” He was looking outside at the sky. Sakura smiled softly, her eyes drifting outside as well. It wasn’t that dark that you couldn't see anything, but yeah, if they kept sitting here, it would be. She turned back to face Kankuro, who was calling out to the waiter, probably to get the tab.

“Why don’t you wait for me outside while I get the tab?” He was trying too hard not to seem obvious.

Sakura scoffed in amusement. “Just say you want to talk to the pretty waitress, goofball.” Geez, he had been stealing short looks at the waitress since she took their order. If it had been someone else, Sakura might have gotten jealous, but she was actually hoping it worked out for him.

Kankuro scratched his neck, obviously embarrassed at being caught. Sakura almost felt bad for teasing him. “I hope you don't mind,” he said.

Sakura shook her head vehemently. “Of course not, carry on. I'll be waiting outside,” she said as she grabbed her purse and made her way softly outside.

Sakura was standing just outside the restaurant, waiting patiently for Kankuro to be done. She really hoped he wouldn't take too much time—how hard could it be to ask a girl out?

Her attention was diverted as she stood watching some restaurants bring out more seats for their evening crowd. Some stalls were closing up, while street lights began to turn on. It was pretty. She could see why Suna’s nightlife was popular among tourists. People hardly stayed up late in Konoha except on special days or weekends.

Sakura was jerked from her thoughts when she felt soft taps on her right shoulder from behind her. What the…

She turned around slowly to see an unrecognizable man standing right in front of her.

"We meet again," the man said with a slightly amused smile playing on his lips.

Sakura arched her eyebrows in confusion. Was she supposed to know this man? She let her eyes surreptitiously scrutinize him from top to bottom. Damn, he was incredibly handsome with his blonde toffee hair and greyish-brown eyes, but she still didn't know him.

"There is definitely something in the Suna water," Inner Sakura interrupted.

Sakura nodded internally in agreement. The dude was good looking, alright. He did seem familiar, but her mind couldn't come up with anything more than that.

The man, who had been watching her try to figure out his identity, suddenly leaned forward to peer closely at her, the sudden movement making Sakura lean back a bit.

What happened to giving people personal space?

"You don't remember, do you?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips as his eyes searched hers. Sakura couldn't help but notice that his eyes were unnervingly beguiling, clashing strangely with his bright, innocent smile.

No shit, Sherlock. Of course, she didn't remember, Sakura said internally.

"The club, we danced. Remember?" he continued when Sakura offered no response.

Sakura looked dazed for a moment as her mind tried to sift through her jumble of memories for his face. Ten seconds…twenty seconds…Then it finally clicked. Ahhh, she remembered now—the nice guy she danced with at the club a few days ago. She had been drunk off her mind and barely remembered anything except for her embarrassing moment with Gaara for some reason.

Just the thought of his name already reminded her of what happened earlier. Ughhh.

"I barely remember anything from that night," Sakura said, smiling apologetically at him.

"Me and you both…but you're not someone who is easy to forget, you know?" he said, his eyes focused on hers.

Sakura blushed furiously. Oh my god, what a flirt! She cleared her throat.

"Do you tell this to every girl you dance with?" she joked with an eye roll.

"No…you're the first, actually."

"I find that hard to believe," Sakura retorted.

"Why? Because you think I'm hot?"

Sakura scoffed. "A bit of a narcissist, aren't you?" He seemed like the type of man who was well aware of his good looks.

He chuckled deeply at that. "Far from it, but anyways, don't you think you owe me an apology?"

He was funny, and Kankuro was nowhere to be found yet, so she'd indulge this pseudo-stranger for now.

"And pray tell for what reason?" An amused smile spread across her face.

"For abandoning me on the dance floor, of course!" He pouted.

Sakura chuckled at his attempt to be cute. "I didn't abandon you!"

He insisted that she did abandon him. "You can make up for it by attending my party this weekend," he concluded.

Her past self would have refused immediately, but she was trying to turn over a new leaf. Besides, this was why she had come to Suna—to try new things, have fun, and meet new people. Right?

The man seemed to take her silence as an approaching refusal. "You can come with a friend if you wish," he added in a bid to persuade her.

She was just about to reply before a heavy evening wind blew, sending her hair haphazardly into her face. She sighed in annoyance, reaching to push the stray strands back behind her ears.

She was startled when, instead, the man in front of her reached forward to push her hair behind her ears. Call her inexperienced with men, but wasn't this a breach of personal space? She barely knew the guy!

She felt uneasy but decided to ignore it as he didn't seem to think much of it either. "Maybe the men in Suna did this normally?" she wondered.

"So…are you coming?" he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

She was still a bit rattled from what he just did and couldn't believe she was actually considering this. "F-Fine, I—"

"Great!" he said, cutting her off. He grabbed her hand, placing a rectangular card on it.

"Can't wait to see you there, Sakura," he said with a smile and a short wave. Before she could even blink, he was gone.

She was going to say she’d think about it.

He was crazy, that's all Sakura could think as she stood there, still shocked. Wait, how did he know her name? "Hey!" she tried to call out, but he was already gone. That was weird. She didn't even get his name.

Sakura was still standing there, confused, when Kankuro came barreling out.

"Finally!… took you long enough," she said, taking the lead on the way home as she plopped the invitation card in her purse, to be forgotten. An ecstatic Kankuro matched her steps. From the looks of the stupid smile on his face, it seemed like he scored a date.

Overall, it had been a nice evening, and she had Kankuro to thank for that. Her day hadn't started great, but she was glad it could have a nice end.

“Hey,” she called to him.

He turned to her, a grin on his face.

“Thank you for today.”

“You’re welcome, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura smiled in satisfaction as she watched her students leave the classroom. Her classes were going so well; a handful of her students could now revive the fish! They were actually so talented, she thought as she made her way to her office. She didn't have much on her schedule for the day, and her research with Keita was basically on hold for the time being. It had nothing to do with Gaara, okay maybe a little, but it was really because of Keita's busy schedule.

A few days had passed since the incident, but things with Gaara were still quiet. Although he did seem to be in the house more often than usual, much to her surprise.

She kept running into him at random intervals. She could be eating and talking with Kankuro, and he'd appear and sit with them at the dining table. She could be grabbing something downstairs, and there he was as well. It made things awkward, and she'd try to find some silly excuse to leave.

Kankuro was probably already suspecting something was wrong, but he never asked her. Thankfully.

She had been in the library once when he showed up. She grabbed her books and left so fast. It seemed like he had wanted to talk with her, but she wasn't trying to hear it.

She really did miss talking to him, and a lot of times she wanted to find out how his sleep was since he started the medication she had provided, but her hurt feelings would win over her concern, and she would just leave. Obviously, she had overestimated her value to him because of a kiss and a few glances, but as usual, it was her fault for assuming anyways.

Even though she tried to deny it, it was now clear to her that she felt something for him. Maybe it was just a crush. She didn't know what it was yet, but she could just feel its oh-too-sweet stems budding in her heart, slowly taking root.

So, the plan was to nip it at the bud before it became something bigger that would definitely cause her pain, and she was doing that by avoiding him and drowning herself in work. She figured that was enough to curb her persistent thoughts about him.

Her plan was proving to be futile, especially since she kept seeing him every day. Regardless, she was determined to keep things professional between them from now on.

Luckily for her, Temari was taking her shopping today after her shift. She couldn't wait; shopping would certainly help to clear her mind!

Gaara was seated back in his chair, seemingly focused on signing off the huge pile of papers on his table. His lips were set in a grim line, and anyone who saw him now would probably think he was intensely focused. But he really wasn't. Half his mind was somewhere else—specifically on someone with pink hair. Still, he kept signing paper after paper, barely reading through them. Most of them were routine; he knew the writings like the back of his hand.

He raised his head to look at his brother, who had been seated across from him for almost twenty minutes. Gaara had every intention of ignoring Kankuro, but his annoying brother had resorted to tapping his feet noisily, clearly intending to make Gaara acknowledge him.

"What do you need, Kankuro?" Gaara's eyes were dark, and his voice had a chill to it.

"OH! He speaks."

If it were possible, Gaara's eyes darkened further at his brother. Kankuro wasn't scared; the worst Gaara could do was kill him, but he was here with a purpose.

"You know how I hate playing middleman during any one of you and Temari's little fights?" Kankuro tsked.

Gaara sighed. He could already see where this speech was going.

"Exactly, so I'd like you to be the bigger person and stop whatever childish fight you have going on with Sakura."

"Nothing is going on," Gaara replied icily.

"Right, so Sakura is suddenly so repulsed by your presence she has to make up the most outrageous excuses to leave anytime you arrive? Wait, wait, what was the last excuse..." Kankuro tapped his jaw as if trying to remember.

"I don't have time for this," Gaara said, annoyed. Frankly, he didn't need a reminder. He kept trying to approach her, and she kept avoiding him like the plague. At first, he had tried to be indifferent about it, but he couldn't fake it for much longer. He was just plain annoyed at her behavior. How long was she planning on ignoring him? Did he really do something so heinous? She was the one that was trying to keep things from him in the first place! And she even had the audacity to go on dates with other men. Anytime he thought about what he saw on that day, he got mad all over again. Who even was that man with her?

It didn't matter anyway. If Sakura thinks she can successfully avoid him after giving him a taste of what it would be like to have her, then she's got another thing coming.

"Gaara!"

Gaara snapped out of his thoughts at his brother's loud voice. Again. He looked up at Kankuro.

"Look," Kankuro sighed and raised his hand as if in surrender. "All I'm saying is, you did something wrong. Everybody fucks up. Just fucking apologize. I'm tired of being in the middle of it. I know you have the hots for her, so you better fix it before some other dude snags her up."

Gaara's eyes turned hard as ice chips. No man was stealing Sakura from him.

Kankuro chuckled. "Hey! I'm on your side here. And I know you don't like it, but just apologize. I know whatever happened was your fault anyway."

Forget about apologizing. She didn't even want to hear him out. This woman was doing his head in.

“Also, what are your plans with Matsuri?” Kankuro asked, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

Gaara rubbed his temples. “What do you mean, Kankuro?”

“I mean, when are you ending things with her? It’s not going to look good if you want something with Sakura,” Kankuro said matter-of-factly. “Matsuri’s already acting weird towards Sakura and she doesn’t even know you like her yet. She’s gonna lose it when she finds out.”

“For Kami’s sake, can you shut up already?” Gaara groaned. “But what do you mean, acting weird?”

“Sakura mentioned Matsuri being rude to her,” Kankuro shrugged.

Damn Matsuri. Gaara had already been planning to break things off with her, but this pushed it to the top of his list. The past few days had been overwhelming, from the bombshell Sakura and Keita dropped on him to his own issues with Sakura and now Matsuri. He couldn’t catch a fucking break.

Not a day went by when he didn't think about what they had relayed to him. After going through the documents, he realized how wrong everything could go if it wasn’t contained quickly. It was eating him up because for once, he didn’t know what to do. Some Kazekage he was—unable to protect his people.

Kankuro could sense something was off with his brother. Gaara was hardly ever unfocused, even in discussions he disliked. His brother was usually the epitome of concentration.

“Gaara, is there something you’re not telling me?” Kankuro’s eyes searched Gaara’s face for answers.

Gaara looked up at his brother. So far, only three people knew about the situation, including himself. Kankuro was his special advisor, aside from being his brother, and Temari was as involved as Kankuro. If he couldn’t trust his own siblings, who could he trust?

“Send for Temari,” Gaara said, his eyes serious.

Kankuro nodded, sensing this was a delicate matter.

Sakura and Temari had just entered the cool, air-conditioned shopping mall. Sakura reveled in the coolness; the heat outside was overbearing. She gazed around the huge mall as she followed Temari's lead to the clothing section.

As they entered the clothing store, Sakura marveled at the pretty clothes until Temari suddenly hissed, making Sakura look at her.

"What's wrong?" Sakura asked.

"I just realized we have no party to attend, so what's the point in shopping for new clothes?"

"Geez, you had me worried," Sakura shook her head at Temari's theatrics before going back to checking out some clothes. Party, huh? Why did that ring a bell?

"So…what do you think about this?" Temari raised a lavender mini gown to her.

Sakura nodded as she scanned the dress. "It's pretty. You should try it on."

While Temari went to change in the dressing room, Sakura continued browsing. She held a white, silky mini gown to her body in front of a mirror. She liked it, but the neckline was a bit too low. Maybe I should check for something else—

"That white would suit you so well," Temari said from behind her.

Sakura turned to see Temari clad in the lavender gown. Wow, the gown was made for her.

"I love it, Temari. You should definitely take it."

"Ugh, I just wish there was a party to show it off at."

Party—party. Why did it feel like she was forgetting something? Wait—birthday party!

Sakura gasped loud enough for Temari to hear. She had totally forgotten about the invitation.

"What is going on?" Temari asked as Sakura frantically searched her purse.

Sakura smirked victoriously as she pulled out a black card. "Maybe our shopping won't be in vain after all," she squealed.

"Wait, is that—"

"An invitation card. Yes! I totally forgot about it." She slapped a hand on her forehead.

"Not just any invitation card, it's an exclusive one." Temari took the card from Sakura's hand for a closer look. It looked very familiar. "How did you say you got it again?"

Sakura narrated her encounter with the hunk from their first meeting to the unexpected recent encounter.

"And you know the crazy thing is, I don't even know his name!" Sakura giggled from the changing room.

"What does he look like?" Temari asked, having a hunch but wanting to be sure.

"Tall, brown hair, gray eyes? I'm not too sure, it was evening," Sakura said, stepping out of the changing room now clad in the white dress. "So?" She asked as she did a little spin.

"It's perfect," Temari said, though her mind was still on Sakura's story.

"You'll be coming, right? He told me I could bring a plus one." Please say yes. She needed a distraction badly.

"Do you even have to ask?" Temari said, making Sakura squeal in excitement.

Oh, she couldn't wait to see the look on her brothers' faces when she told them that the Ren Satoh had invited Sakura to his birthday party.

Temari and Sakura were walking side by side, shopping bags in hand, when an Anbu member suddenly appeared in front of them. He bowed in greeting before his eyes moved to Temari.

"The Kazekage has requested your presence," he said simply before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"Geez, why can't they just be normal?" Temari said with a sigh.

"Tell me about it," Sakura chuckled as she took Temari's shopping bag from her. "I'll drop this at home for you, then."

"Thanks! I'll see you at home!" Temari said, taking off hurriedly in the opposite direction.

Sakura sighed as she started her walk home alone. She couldn't help but be curious about what Gaara wanted to discuss with Temari.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE

"This summon better be about something serious, Gaara," Temari said, waltzing into Gaara's office.

She paused when she noticed Kankuro was seated as well. Definitely not good news then. If Kankuro was here too, it must be serious. She sighed, preparing herself for the worst as she sat beside him.

"Alright, so clearly this isn't good news," Temari said, glancing between Kankuro and Gaara.

"Don't look at me. Gaara hasn't told me anything yet. I'm just as curious as you." Kankuro turned to Gaara, who was still signing papers furiously. "Come on, brother, spit it out already. Temari is here now."

Gaara paused his pen and observed his siblings before dropping it with a sigh. He was used to solving problems alone and had second thoughts about involving them. Maybe this was a mistake.

"You understand that whatever I say cannot leave this room?" His voice was serious. The office was soundproofed with a special jutsu, but the council had ears and eyes everywhere.

"Of course we do," Temari replied, surprised he even had to ask.

Gaara nodded and pulled out a file from his desk drawer—the one Keita had given him, filled with information about the mysterious and deadly discovery. He placed it in front of them, gesturing for them to open it.

Kankuro took it first, his expression curious but apprehensive. As he read, his eyes grew wider with shock. Impatient, Temari grabbed the file from him, mirroring his reaction as she flipped through the pages.

Gaara remained silent, gauging their reactions and waiting for the information to settle. Finally, Temari put the file down quietly in front of him.

There was a long moment of silence, probably due to shock.

"So..." Kankuro started, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"Keita and Sakura think it may be a drug or worse, a slow-spreading virus. They're not exactly sure what it is yet, but as you can see, it's deadly," Gaara summarized with a frown.

"Wow... that is certainly a lot," Kankuro muttered.

No amount of preparation could have readied Temari for this doomsday news.

"Hold on, Sakura knows about this?" Temari interrupted. "Keita too?" She thought internally. Her brothers didn't know about her 'relationship' with Keita if she could call it that.

Kankuro had the same question. Sakura knew the whole time? He had noticed her on edge for a while, assuming it was over her issues with Gaara, not something this catastrophic. It must have been hard for her to keep it to herself, but he understood the importance of secrecy.

"It could be a coincidence?" Kankuro reasoned. "If it were a virus, there would be more infected people. The last victim was over three weeks ago. And really, a drug? Come on, three of the victims were married women. Don't you think the victims would be the youths if that were the case?"

Temari nodded. "Yeah, but three victims, all women with similar symptoms, it would be careless to call it a coincidence."

Gaara had been silent, taking in his siblings' observations. Their thoughts mirrored his own. He had heard of a small village in the far north that had been wiped out by a deadly virus in a month. And on the issue of drugs, he just couldn't see women in their mid to late 30s abusing anything other than sleeping pills. But like Temari, he thought three was a pattern. He had hoped for fresh perspectives, but their observations were the same as his.

"Jeez, this is bad," Kankuro said after a while.

"Tell us something we don't know," Temari deadpanned.

"I don't see you making any suggestions either, so why don't you shut the hell up, Temari."

Temari rolled her eyes before looking to Gaara, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Look, the way I see it, we lucked out. We have the best medic in the lands here in Suna with us. It could be worse," Temari shrugged.

"She's right," Kankuro agreed, surprising Temari. He looked straight at Gaara. "Chop-chop, Gaara. Get to talking before it's too damn late."

Of course, Temari didn't understand that Kankuro was talking about Gaara fixing things with Sakura.

"We have plans for a party very soon. I could talk to her for you," Temari suggested innocently.

Kankuro almost burst out laughing before it clicked. "Wait, what party? Didn't know there was one any time soon."

Temari smirked, remembering her plan to piss her brothers off.

"Oh, it's an exclusive party for Ren's birthday. Sakura got a 'special' invitation from him, and—"

"WHAT? Ren? As in Ren Satoh?" Kankuro cut her off, shock written all over his face. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope, she told me today when we went shopping." Temari feigned ignorance, peeking at her freshly painted nails. She was enjoying this very much.

Ren Satoh was the sole heir to the Satoh Company, the biggest enterprise in Suna, manufacturing everything from simple books to industrial machinery, even exporting to other lands. In conclusion, Ren was filthy rich. If they had a ranking, Ren would be the second most sought-after bachelor in Suna after Gaara himself. Ren was the embodiment of cockiness and Gaara didn't like him at all. It didn't help that his family thought they were above the rules because of the revenue they brought to Suna, and the council always backed them up.

Every year on his birthday, Ren would throw the biggest exclusive party known to man. Gaara got an invitation every year but discarded it every year.

Gaara set his jaw, his eyes narrowed. How did they meet? Are they friends? They had to be if he was personally handing her an invite. And she eagerly accepted it.

"Apparently they met before at that club opening, but she said she met him again in front of a restaurant where he invited her to his birthday party. Isn't it fate?" Temari fake-gushed to fuel her brothers' annoyance. She didn't hate Ren but didn't like him either. She just didn't care about him in general.

Gaara muted his siblings as they went back and forth. So Ren Satoh was who he saw talking to her the other day. He silently seethed as he recalled Ren tucking Sakura's hair. He was sure of it now. Why did Sakura accept his invitation? How close were they?

"Yo, Gaara, what do you think about all this?" Kankuro asked, drawing Gaara out of his thoughts.

"I don't care," Gaara replied coldly, but his left hand, clenched in anger under his desk, said otherwise.

Temari scoffed, satisfied with annoying Kankuro even if she didn't get much of a reaction from Gaara.

Kankuro could tell Gaara was lying. "You sure? You know what goes on at his parties," he smirked, seeing the slightest twist in Gaara's jaw. Ren always made sure his parties were the talk of the lands even months after.

Gaara served him a murderous glance. "You both are dismissed. I have work to do."

"You should talk to Sakura as soon as possible, Gaara. It's important that we work together right now," Temari said as she stood up, smoothing her skirt. She was already thinking of seeing Keita later. This news… yeah, she needed to unwind.

Kankuro stood up as well, nodding. "Yeah… what she said."

When Gaara offered no response, they sighed and left the office.

As soon as they left, Gaara looked up from the pile he had been pretending to read. His eyebrows furrowed in anger. Oh, he was going to talk to her alright.

Sakura decided to spend the rest of her day bed-rotting after writing to Ino about her life so far in Suna sans Gaara. She had considered writing to Tsunade about the current situation but decided to wait until they had more information. Laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she felt a familiar emptiness gnaw at her.

After a while, the oppressive stillness of her room drove her to action. She decided to head to the library to do more research. The thought of going back to the hospital to help the night shift nurses crossed her mind—they always appreciated the extra help—but the blazing 5 PM sun outside was relentless. Walking under that heat would surely drain whatever energy reserves she had left.

Clad in a casual pink tank top that matched her hair and short black tights, she languidly removed herself from her comfortable bed. In Konoha, she'd never let herself have this much free time. It was nice, but it also felt hollow. Coming to Suna had been a hasty decision, a desperate attempt to fill the void in her life with some excitement.

The war had taken her parents and a part of her soul that she could never seem to reclaim, no matter how many extra shifts or missions she took. Sometimes she'd wake up in a cold sweat, dreams of Sasuke thrusting his fist into her chest haunting her, her hand shakily checking to ensure it was still intact.

Everyone started pairing up, and it was expected that she'd end up with Sasuke, almost as if she had a stamp on her forehead that read "made for Sasuke." She supposed she had brought that on herself, so like a good little soldier, she tried to play her part. She bore her stamp proudly and forgave him because she really did understand—or at least tried to understand—why he needed to leave. But she could never make peace with why he did that to her.

His poke to her forehead had been the first time he ever initiated any physical contact with her. Like a giddy schoolgirl, her heart fluttered, but in the tiny corner of her mind, she began to question if this was really what she wanted. Of course, she discarded the thought, determined to play her expected role as Sasuke's partner.

But it was different. She saw Sasuke in a different light now. It had taken a while to let go of the trauma he brought her, and even longer to realize that the idea of loving Sasuke played a much bigger role in her heart than her actual love for him. Eventually, she saw it, and on his next short visit to Konoha, she declined his offer to join him on his travels and told him she would no longer be waiting for him.

Sasuke surprised her by asking why. She fully expected him to grunt and walk away. She didn't fit in his world, never did. Sasuke was still searching for something, something she didn't think she'd ever be enough to fill. His void was way bigger than hers. Even though being with him could somehow fill her emptiness, she couldn't provide the same for him. He'd never be satisfied.

However, she didn't say all that. Instead, she kissed him on the cheek. "I just want to be focused on myself for once," she said, parting with a joking suggestion that he write to her. That night, she cried herself to sleep, she cried for a week.

Seated in the library, trying to go through a history book with records about dangerous pandemics and epidemics, Sakura wondered why she was suddenly thinking back to this part of her life. She ran her fingers through her hair, which she had allowed to flow freely. It was frustrating that in just a few days here, Gaara had managed to trigger emotions she had thought dormant.

She was still so angry at him, but part of her anger stemmed from the fact that he could kiss her so passionately and then act like she was nothing. It felt juvenile to expect more from an event that happened while he was half asleep. For all she knew, he barely remembered it, or he just didn't care. It was definitely the latter because she could tell he remembered. Well, one thing Sakura had promised herself was that she wasn't going to let her being revolve around another man again. She had been doing well so far, and she planned on keeping it that way. But damn, it was hard not to think about it. Why did he have to go and kiss her? Certainly, no matter how she tried to spin it, you had to be remotely attracted to someone to do that.

Perhaps Gaara was attracted to her. It wouldn't be wishful thinking to believe that. Ino always told her how pretty she was. If he was attracted to her, would that be something she would be willing to indulge in, she asked herself. Obviously, she was attracted to him as well, judging by how she kissed him back that day. Either that or she was just plain horny. She wasn't naive enough not to know some people entered purely physical relationships based on attraction. Ino had advised her to lose her virginity to some random guy, citing that she had lost hers on a solo mission in Kirigakure. Sakura had considered it but couldn't muster up the attraction with any of the guys she had met, much less try to get to the final base with them.

Sakura shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts. "Why am I thinking about this anyway? It's not like I'm going to do anything with Gaara. I'm still pissed at him." With that resolution, she focused her mind on the history book in front of her. It contained records about dangerous pandemics and epidemics caused by different infectious viruses. Quite a few very small villages had been wiped out due to some virus or another. She knew things like that happened. She had been sent on missions to help such villages, but it was still shocking to see the death toll. The more she thought about it, the more she began to doubt the virus theory. It just didn't match with the fast-paced spread of pandemics.

But then, what could it be? she thought, her brain pondering different theories. A recreational drug gone wrong? No, it can't be. Married women with good jobs and seemingly stable families—chances of them doing drugs are low. What is the connection? She had to find the common ground. What did they lack in their lives? Where had they been?

A small knock sounded on the door, distracting her. Sakura raised her head to see who it was, not aware there was someone else at home.

"Oh," Sakura muttered when the door opened to reveal an older, robust woman with a kind face in a black and white apron.

"Lady Sakura, would you like me to serve you now? Lunch is ready."

"No, thank you. I'll serve myself later. I'm quite busy at the moment. Thank you."

The woman nodded respectfully before excusing herself. Sakura breathed out a sigh. She was not used to being served. She had never even had a maid before; getting used to it was going to take some time. She dipped her head to continue reading her history book.

She didn't know how long she had been in the library, but when her stomach growled for the third time, she knew she couldn't ignore her hunger anymore. Stretching as she stood up, she realized it was easy to lose track of time here. The orange hues of sunset emanating from the clerestory windows indicated she had spent way too much time in the library.

She was in the process of placing the books back on the shelf when the library doors shut suddenly, making a noise that startled Sakura so much that she almost dropped the books in her arms.

Sakura looked sharply towards the direction of the noise, her eyes widening when she saw Gaara standing in front of the closed doors.

What is he doing here? Sakura wondered. She was trying to keep her distance, but he was making it hard by showing up everywhere she was. It didn't help that he was so attractive, and every time she saw him, her mind replayed that day in his room.

She groaned internally and swiftly averted her eyes. It didn't matter; she needed to leave as usual. Yes, she was going to pretend she hadn't been thinking of him all day.

With her small notebook and pen in her hands, she made a swift walk for the door. Gaara watched from where he was leaning against one of the bookshelves.

When she reached the entrance door, she twisted the doorknob as she had done so many times before, but to her surprise, it wouldn't open. What the… She tried again and again, but the door still wouldn't budge. Her hands were still on the handle, contemplating what to do, as realization dawned on her that Gaara had locked them in together. Her heart thudded in her chest. She was alone with Gaara in this library.

After calming herself with deep breaths, she turned slowly to face him, her mouth set in a thin line.

"Whatever you think you're doing, it's not funny. I've had a really long day, so open the doors," she said evenly.

His face showed no reaction, but he could feel his mouth threatening to pull into a frown. Be calm, apologize, and leave, he told himself.

"We need to talk about the other day," he said simply, his sea-foam eyes trained on her.

For a second Sakura was confused about what day he meant, was it the day he shut her down in front of Keita or the day he kissed her...

"And this seemed like a good way to do that?" Sakura snapped, her confusion giving way to frustration, referring to him locking her in. "I really do not wish to talk to you."

"You've been avoiding me," Gaara said, disregarding her latter statement.

"And if I was?" Sakura replied, her tone biting, her eyes meeting his, refusing to be intimidated.

Apologize and leave, he kept telling himself. She is angry, so her petulant behaviour is understandable. But the part of him that was riled and aroused by her combative behaviour was stronger, and he found himself wanting to indulge.

"Are you always this petulant when someone doesn't agree with you?" he asked instead.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm… Sakura told herself as she tried and failed repeatedly to calm herself through controlled breaths.

"Petulant?" She snapped, her eyes heated on him. "You realize you didn't just disagree with me. You totally shut me down and disrespected me in front of Keita, and you dare refer to me as petulant? You're unbelievable, Gaara! You expect me to just agree to talk to you because you said so? Why? Because I'm not supposed to talk unless I'm addressed by the Kazekage?" She made a gesture quoting his statement to her.

A small wince crossed his features, but he didn't say anything. He wanted her to let it all out.

She took a breath to steady her raging emotions, tossing her head in frustration. "Do you know how small you made me feel that day? If this is the way you treat the women around you, then frankly, I'm disappointed." Sakura was trying hard to stay composed and not let her eyes well up with angry tears. She didn't want to cry in front of him.

Gaara considered her with more curious, softened jade eyes. She had averted her gaze, her hands folded on her chest. He didn't understand why, but the feeling of guilt kept creeping up on him, and it made him uneasy. He hadn't realized his words had hurt her that much. He understood why she felt the way she did. Being a kunoichi came with struggles he would never understand as a man, and he had unfortunately added to those struggles with his anger. Gaara wasn't one to disrespect the women in his life, so he was indeed disappointed in himself.

"If you have nothing else to say, then I'd like to leave," Sakura said, still with her arms crossed on her chest. She was more calm now, the only indication of anger being the faint red hue on her cheeks and the skin of her collarbones. It was hard not to notice the rise and fall of her ample bosom with each breath she took. Her hands across her chest further accentuated her form. It didn't help that the form-fitting top and tights she wore hugged her slender body, showing every outline, curve, and slope. He imagined how it would feel to trace all those lines with his bare hands, the noises she would make—

Focus.

Gaara sighed in weary resignation. All this back and forth with her was getting him hot in more ways than one. Gaara couldn't remember the last time he had felt the need to apologize to anyone. He knew he still evoked fear among those around him, and he'd admit he used that to his advantage most times. He's had a few, maybe more, relations with the opposite sex than he'd admit, but one constant thing was how eager to please they always were. They never opposed him, even when he was deliberately being mean.

Maybe that's what had been missing. Sakura's defiance and audacity only made her more interesting to him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have addressed you in that manner. I was frustrated and felt like you both hid things from me, but that's not an excuse. I was rude, and I'm sorry."

Sakura was clearly taken aback; she didn't expect an apology from Gaara and a pretty good one at that. He could have just given a surface-level apology, but he didn't. She hated how easily her heart jumped to forgive him but sighed in acceptance—that was really all she had wanted.

"Thank you for apologizing," she mumbled. "Although I don't know why you would think that I or Keita would want to hide something like that."

His lips curled in annoyance. Of course, she was still trying to defend him. "For god's sake, Sakura, he found out a month ago. He had no excuse. Stop trying to stick up for him," he said resolutely.

Sakura knew she should probably leave it. He apologized, and she was okay with that. Things were okay now. Just leave. But she didn't want him going around thinking things were being hidden from him.

"Gaara, he only did that because he was not sure. He's not a medical ninja. He needed more evidence—"

Gaara was pissed now. "Which is why he should have told me immediately. This is not something you wait for. You're a medic. You should know better, but whatever thing you have for Keita makes you blind to see that he was wrong." He bit back at her.

Sakura stared at him as if he had two heads. "What on earth are you talking about?" she questioned. What thing does she have for Keita? Surely he didn't think—

He took a step towards her. "Why do you keep defending him? Do you like him?"

Sakura unknowingly took a step back, the sudden question making her stutter. "W-What? He's my friend," was the only reply her brain could conjure up at the moment. After she regained her composure, she replied more confidently, "And who I like is none of your business, Gaara. Don't be unprofessional."

"Unprofessional."

Gaara mulled the word in his head several times. He supposed his relationship with Sakura had always been more on the professional side. Pleasant greetings from her, a nod from him in acknowledgement. She had hosted him a couple of times during his visits to Konoha, and they would engage in small talk and nothing more. But surely, since being here, she had to be really naïve if she couldn't tell he wanted her. He couldn't help but internally scoff at her silly talks about professionalism. Perhaps he needed to be a bit more direct.

"You didn't care about professionalism when your tongue was down my throat," he replied calmly, his voice devoid of emotions. He had his seafoam eyes trained on her, waiting for her reaction. Riling her up was quickly becoming his favourite thing to do.

Sakura blinked her wide eyes before looking away immediately. She could feel her cheeks heating up with fury, embarrassment, or both. For a minute or two—or five—she did not know what to say.

Gaara's blunt statement hung in the air, the silence between them growing heavier. Sakura felt the weight of his words settle in, the memory of their kiss flashing vividly in her mind. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Sakura's reaction pleased him very much indeed. If her eyes weren't avoiding his like the plague, she would have seen the small smirk on his lips.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" he goaded.

"You-You kissed me first!" she finally managed to croak out with flushed cheeks. Her lips tingled as she remembered the feel of his lips, but her doe eyes glared at him accusingly still.

"I did…" Gaara admitted, taking a step towards her. "But you didn't stop it either…Why?" He had his head cocked to the side as he curiously awaited her reply.

Why? Good question…she had been asking herself the same thing for weeks. Sakura was panicking, her head was blank and she couldn't think of anything meaningful to say. Why was he asking her that? So she said the first thing that popped into her head-

"I- It was a mistake-" she cringed as soon the cliché word left her lips. She suddenly felt the urge to run. Subconsciously, she took a step back but he followed her with another step. Still, she refused to meet his gaze. Being this close was making her dizzy.

"Sakura," his voice was breathy and commanding. He shouldn't say her name like that. It's almost like he wants her, she thought.

Still, it got her, forcing her to look at him. He was closer than she thought and the look she saw in his eyes made her breath hitch. She could recognize that look anywhere; it was the same look from that day in his room. It was like looking in a mirror and it terrified her and excited her at the same time.

He took one step towards her and then another, the sun had fully set and its red hues cast a deep glow through the library, making the setting feel more clandestine than it should be. He was standing right in front of her now, and she could perceive his scent; he smelled just as she expected, like sandalwood and cinnamon.

"Why didn't you stop it?" he asked again, his hands moving to tuck a stray strand behind her ear, cupping her face to meet his. His touch was warm against her cool skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I-I don't know," she whispered, even as her breath grew shorter, and his eyes seemed to pull her in closer and closer. It was happening again, and she was letting it happen again. She could tell him to stop, but she realized with horror that she didn't want him to.

"Sure you do," he replied huskily, staring deeply into her emerald eyes, his fingers rubbing soft circles on the pulse points of her neck where he held her face to his, pulling her closer. The gentle pressure of his fingertips sent waves of heat coursing through her body, pooling in her belly.

Alarmed by her response to him, Sakura flushed crimson. "This is a mistake," she panted. Her breath caressed his seeking lips, warm and shaky.

Strangled breaths escaped her as she tried to will her body to stop its betrayal. Her lips were parted oh so softly, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to capture her lips. "Then"—he spread her lips apart with his—"stop"—and he traced the inside of her lips with his, seeking entrance—"me," he said into her mouth.

Sakura's resolve melted as he sucked on her lips and Gaara closed his eyes to savour the sensation of the lips he had been obsessed with for days. This was what he had been craving, and it was everything he imagined and more. One hand encircled her waist as he pulled her flush against him, her soft curves pressing against his hard frame. She gasped, and he kissed her deeper.

She should be trying to stop him. She had made a pact to stay away from him, for god's sake, but for some reason, she couldn't get her mind to function properly, not with him devouring her mouth like a man possessed. She tried weakly to push him away, but using his unoccupied hand, he grabbed hers and pinned it to the door.

This was improper—but his tongue was in her mouth, and his lips were warm—no, hot against hers. Her eyes were drifting… drifting shut as his lips caressed her into sweet oblivion. The faint sound of their mingled breaths filled the space, the library's silence amplifying every whisper and moan.

Sakura began to respond to his kiss with as much fervour. What was she to do when she was being kissed like that? She could feel his smirk against her lips, but she didn't care anymore. He unpinned her hands from the wall, and her hands fell limply at her sides. Tentatively, her hands reached to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath his shirt, then shoulders, and before she knew it, they were fully encircling his neck, bringing him closer. She was doomed.

Sakura didn't know how they got here. The last thing she remembered was being hoisted up by Gaara in between frenzied kissing, and now she was arranged on Gaara's lap in one of the library chairs, her long legs on either side of him. The old leather creaked softly beneath them, the sound blending with their heavy breaths.

Gaara's free hand travelled to her ribcage, then trailed upwards, dangerously close to her breasts, before sliding back down. His hands slipped under her shirt, touching her bare skin. The contrast between his calloused fingertips and her smooth skin sent shivers through her, and she lightly moaned into the kiss. Her moan was music to his ears; he needed to hear more. Her skin was so soft against his hands.

Sakura broke the kiss and arched into him as he brushed the sides of her breasts, giving him her neck. She moaned again when he began to nibble and kiss along her neck, his breath heavy and warm against her skin. He squeezed her breasts gently, and she became a mewling mess. Gaara might just get addicted to the sounds she was making. Her slender fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer to her. The silky strands of his hair felt like velvet against her fingertips.

Suddenly, her hips shifted, legs tightening around him, bringing her flush with his now painful erection. He hissed, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain, and she could feel her smirk against his skin as she nuzzled his neck. The scent of her hair, a delicate mix of strawberry-scented shampoo and her natural scent, filled his senses, making his head spin. Gaara grunted as she started to plant soft kisses on his neck. Her hips shifted against his hardness again and then again, soon moving rhythmically. Gaara could hardly believe this was real. The Sakura Haruno, here with him, in this moment. She began to pant, and Gaara brought his lips to hers again, swallowing her moans while his other hand squeezed her breasts, twisting one nipple with his fingers.

"Gaara," she cried, breaking away from the kiss as her hips picked up pace. He didn't miss a beat, his mouth latching onto one of her mounds, making her arch her back in pleasure, unconsciously providing him with more leverage.

"Oh, god," she moaned, her hands holding his head against her breasts. With his other hand, he grabbed onto her ass, positioning them to have the friction they sought. Gaara moved his greedy mouth to her other breast. They were the perfect size for his hand, so pretty and just the right fit. He squeezed softly, watching her writhe on top of him. He could only imagine what it would feel like to actually be inside her if this felt so good.

With hazy eyes, she pulled his face to hers, kissing him, it was sloppy and needy and he returned it with equal energy as his hands continued their ministrations on her breasts. Their kisses became more frantic, even more heated as they continued to grind shamelessly against each other.

"I'm going to...I'm going to..." Sakura suddenly cried into his mouth, her body stiffening. Gaara released her mouth and tipped his head back to watch her beautiful face as she rode the wave of release. It was the look on her face, the blissful surrender that pushed him into an unexpected release of his own.

Gaara couldn't remember the last time he came that hard.

She opened her eyes, their gazes locking, neither having anything to say. Their breath mingled, pounding hearts filling the silence in the library. All too soon, the spell was broken by a resounding knock that reverberated through the library doors, pulling them back to reality.            

Chapter Text

  “Bang, bang, bang!” The door rattled violently under Kankuro’s relentless pounding. “I know you’re in there, Gaara!” his voice blared through the room.  

Sakura practically flew off Gaara’s lap, her heart racing. “Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered under her breath, frantically tugging her shirt back into place. It had ridden up during their previous activity, and her hair was a tangled mess that would make it obvious what had just happened. She ran her fingers through it, trying to tame the wild strands, but it was no use. Kankuro would take one look at her and know exactly what was up.  

“Where the hell are my slippers?” she muttered, scanning the floor with growing desperation.  

Meanwhile, Gaara remained seated, calm as ever, watching her with an almost amused expression. He nearly chuckled but knew better—Sakura might kill him if he did. “Calm down, woman. It’s just Kankuro,” he said, his tone soothing but slightly teasing.  

Sakura shot him a look as she finally spotted one slipper half-hidden under a shelf. She yanked it free and slipped it on. “Exactly—it’s Kankuro! He’s going to tease us for life! Frankly, you should be worried. Anyone, literally anyone, would be better than Kankuro finding us,” she whispered urgently, pointing between them. “We’re never going to know peace in this house. We could move to another village, and he’d still find a way to tease us!”  

Gaara chuckled at her exaggeration, though her concerns were valid. “You’re right,” he sighed, thinking about how unbearable it would be to endure Kankuro’s teasing for the rest of his life.  

“Bang!” The door shook again. “For fuck’s sake, Gaara, open the damn door!”  

Sakura looked at Gaara with wide, worried eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll go out first. Keep your chakra masked until I lead him downstairs.”  

Sakura exhaled slowly, relief washing over her. She nodded, ducking behind one of the shelves hidden from the door’s view. “This is ridiculous, but it has to be done. I still have a social integrity to maintain here,” she thought as she crouched down.  

Gaara stood up and opened the door. “Geez, man, what took you so long? What were you doing in there, anyway?” Kankuro asked, his voice laced with suspicion.  

“I was asleep, but your annoying voice woke me up. What do you want?” Gaara’s lie slipped out smoothly, his expression betraying nothing.  

Sakura stifled a giggle. Who knew Gaara could be such a good liar?  

As she listened to their footsteps recede, she heard Kankuro mumble, “I could’ve sworn I heard someone else’s voice in there…”  

“Probably the voices in your head,” Gaara deadpanned.  

Sakura had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from cackling. She waited a few minutes, her heart still pounding, and when she was sure they were downstairs, she bolted to her room.  

As she leaned against the door, her breath finally caught up with her racing heart. Everything that happened began to dawn on her, each moment replaying with vivid clarity. There was no mistake to blame this time, no fleeting excuse to hide behind. He had kissed her, and she had kissed him back.  

" Understatement of the year ," inner Sakura piped up.  

Fine, they had made out and dry-humped each other. Kami, she had dry-humped the Kazekage. If someone had told her a few months ago that this would happen between her and Gaara of all people, she’d have personally escorted them to the psych ward. But here she was, breathless, heart still hammering from the aftermath.  

Her attraction to Gaara was clearly stronger than she’d ever let herself believe. Kami, the things his mouth could do…no girl could resist that. Her body still tingled from the memory of his touch, and they didn’t even have sex. The way his hands had moved over her skin like he knew exactly where she was most sensitive. How was she going to look him in the eyes again?  

Ignore it? No, she banished the thought. They were just two adults, people of the opposite sex who happened to be attracted to each other. This is what people who are attracted to each other do all the time—they kiss, they make out, they… have no-strings-attached sex. Not that she was planning to go that far, but really, what was so wrong with having some sexual fun every once in a while?  

Sakura almost laughed at her thoughts. Ino would be so proud of her. But really, she had enjoyed herself, and she was sure he did too. There was nothing to be ashamed of, she decided. She had explored a side of herself she hadn’t fully acknowledged before, and she liked it. With that final thought, she pushed off from the door and headed to the bathroom, the sticky feeling between her legs reminding her of just how real it had all been.  

The next day, Sakura was up and early for her hospital duties and no she wasn’t avoiding Gaara, she just had a busy schedule which was weird because it was a Saturday, she was supposed to be on her day off but Keita wanted her to meet him at the hospital so they could go meet up with Patient zero’s husband. This was the last surviving patient so hopefully their journey would not be in vain.  

Sakura picked up her hot coffee from the coffee maker, savoring the comforting warmth in her hands as she made her way to Keita’s office. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow on the quiet hallway. It was just over 6 a.m., and the hospital was still in that peaceful lull before the full hustle of the day began.  

As she walked, the faint buzz of conversation reached her ears. Two nurses on the morning shift were chattering, their voices carrying the usual morning gossip. Sakura shook her head at their shenanigans, a small smile tugging at her lips, but she halted when she heard Gaara’s name.  

“Just keep moving ”, she told herself, forcing her feet to take another step. It’s unbecoming to listen to their useless gossip.  

But then she heard Matsuri’s name.  

“Matsuri is so full of herself now, we used to be friends in ninja high,” nurse one said, her voice dripping with disdain.  

“Really?” nurse two questioned, doubtful.  

“Yes, that bitch got picked by the Kazekage and thinks she’s better than everyone.”  

Sakura’s grip on her coffee cup tightened, but she tried to shake off the curiosity bubbling up inside her. This is stupid, she scolded herself. What are you doing listening to this? 

But these nurses could be so mean, she thought. Calling Matsuri a bitch was a bit overboard. From what she had heard back in Konoha, Matsuri was Gaara’s student from even before the war, and they were pretty close—platonically, like she and Naruto close. Although now Matsuri was a full-fledged woman, a pretty one at that, it’s normal that other ladies are threatened.  

“I really should get moving” she thought  

And yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot.  

“You know what, my friend who has a boyfriend in Anbu told me something really strange, but I’m not sure…”  

“Spit it out,” the other nurse urged.  

The second nurse cleared her throat. “Well, she said that they might be, you know…lovers.”  

“Literally everyone knows that, she’s a slut. What more can one expect?”  

Sakura sighed, her heart sinking slightly even as she mentally chastised herself for caring. This is bullshit, she thought, shaking her head as she resumed her walk to Keita’s office. There’s no point in thinking about it. She tried to push the conversation out of her mind, focusing instead on the work ahead. Still, a tiny part of her couldn’t help but wonder—was there any truth to it? She brushed the thought aside as she reached Keita’s door, knocking, forgetting whatever she heard as he told her to come in.  

“Great, I was just waiting for you,” Keita piped as he clasped his sling bag shut. “Just getting my supplies packed.”  

Sakura looked at him like he had two heads. “Supplies? What for? You do know we’re just going to be talking with her husband, right?” If he even agrees to talk to us, that is…  

“We need to be prepared in case the wife spread the disease to him.”  

Sakura rolled her eyes. “It’s been only women so far, remember? Have you been getting any sleep?” Sakura questioned with genuine concern this time.  

“Not you too… Temari already moms me, I don’t need anymore. Come on, let’s go.”  

Sakura raised her hands in defense as Keita swooshed past her. “Geez, definitely not getting any sleep,” she muttered to herself, a small smile playing on her lips as she followed him out.  

As Sakura and Keita trudged down a not-too-lonely lane, they passed by early morning regulars—ninjas returning from missions, some just setting out, and the occasional resident drunk lagging about and muttering to himself. The shops lining the street were mostly still closed, though a few were just beginning to open, their owners moving about in the dim light, preparing for the day ahead.  

A chilly breeze blew past, sending a small shiver through Sakura’s frame. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, the cold air biting at her exposed skin. Suna could be so cold in the mornings and evenings, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of the afternoons. Dressing for the day was always a challenge—today she had opted for a light jacket over her usual attire, hoping it would be enough to keep the cold at bay.  

The smell of freshly baked bread hit her nose, and she instinctively turned toward the source of the scent. It smelled so good that her stomach gave a small, appreciative growl. She made a mental note to pick up some bread on the way back.  

They had been walking for quite some time now, but Sakura hardly noticed, her thoughts miles away. Yesterday had been eventful, to say the least, and she had been unable to get a lick of sleep last night. Every time she closed her eyes, a vivid reenactment of the steamy make-out session with Gaara played out in her mind. It was like a loop she couldn’t escape. She began to wonder if he had used some kind of genjutsu on her to make her unable to forget. Nothing she tried worked—not even counting sheep.  

She tried—really tried—not to dwell on it, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t have much experience with stuff like this. Pining over one man for so many years had made her rusty. Still, none of the few men she’d made out with in Konoha had made her feel the way Gaara did. His kiss had ignited something in her that she didn’t even know existed.  

She’d managed to convince herself that it was normal for adults to do this sort of thing. But then there was the nagging thought: What were his motives? Up until recently, Gaara had barely spoken to her, rarely acknowledged her.  

What if this was all just a game to him? She thought came at her despite her constant eluding. He probably did this kind of thing all the time, Gaara had his pick of women, after all. He was the Kazekage, powerful and ridiculously attractive. She was just… Sakura, the girl who had spent years pining for a man who never truly loved her back. She pushed the thought away, unwilling to let it take root, but the sting of it lingered. This was probably just fun for him.  

She needed to keep reminding herself of that. Stop being so childish and attaching emotions to everything, she scolded herself. This is actually a perfect opportunity to let loose, have some fun, and try something different—that’s what coming to Suna was all about, right?  

And now, there was also that birthday party. The only reason she’d agreed to go was to distract herself from Gaara. Well, look at her now—distracted and confused.  

Keita, noticing her silence, glanced over. "You're quiet today."  

Sakura blinked, snapping back to the present. “Yeah, just... thinking.”  

“Must be some heavy thoughts to keep you this quiet,” Keita teased lightly, though his eyes held a note of concern.  

"I'm just tired, couldn’t sleep last night." Technically it was the truth, he didn’t need to know the details. She added a small smile to reassure him, but he seemed unconvinced.  

"How are things with Gaara?" he asked, tone casual, though Sakura caught the perceptive edge to his words.  

Her heart gave a small lurch at the mention of Gaara, but she quickly regained her composure, silently praying Keita didn’t notice. The question had taken her by surprise, because frankly, she had been asking herself the same thing.  

Her life had taken quite the turn since arriving in Suna. The Gaara she thought she knew seemed to exist only in her imagination. Maybe he had always been this way, and she just hadn’t seen it. The reserved and conservative image of him was now being replaced by a much more complicated reality.  

"What do you mean, how are things?" she replied, finally.  

Keita looked at her with an amused expression, clearly not buying her attempt to dodge the question. "I mean, are you still fighting him?"  

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I was never 'fighting' him," she mumbled, loud enough for Keita to hear.  

"Righttt… you were just 'keeping your distance.'" Keita said, amusement playing on his lips.  

Sakura nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Shut up," she said with a small smile. "Well, since you asked, things with Gaara are... okay. I think."  

"Really?" Keita raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad. Kankuro will be relieved—poor guy was absolutely sick of being caught in the middle of your 'lovers’ spat' with Gaara."  

"L-lovers w-what?!" she sputtered, cheeks flushing red. Oh, she was so going to punch him.  

But Keita, already reading her mind, swiftly dodged, laughing heartily. As funny as it was, he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her famous punch.  

“We’re almost there,” Keita muttered a few minutes later, just as they took a left into what appeared to be a quieter, more residential area.  

"Finally," Sakura breathed out, she really hadn't planned to do a whole cardio this morning.  

Sakura decided to take in her surroundings. This neighborhood was different from the ones they had passed earlier. The houses were built with the same stucco, all bearing very similar modern designs. Each had a well-groomed garden porch and stone pathways leading to the front door. "The streets are sparkly clean," she noted, impressed by the community's sense of order.  

“We’re here,” Keita said, breaking her thoughts.  

They had finally reached the home of Mr. Elma, husband of Mrs. Rie Elma, the only survivor and their most important lead. Confirming details with her husband and hopefully gathering more information about her pre-infection life could be crucial to understanding the symptoms. Apart from being women, what else did these cases have in common?  

As they walked up the pathway, Sakura noticed the forlorn state of the garden—wilted flowers and overgrown weeds were a stark contrast to the well-tended gardens of the neighboring houses. A pang of empathy hit her chest. Perhaps the garden had been something his wife loved to care for, and now, in her absence, it had been left to wither.  

Keita knocked on the door, three soft knocks, and they waited. Just as he raised his hand to knock again, the door creaked open.  

“What do you want?” A gruff-looking man, whom Sakura assumed to be Mr. Elma, spoke from behind the slightly opened door, the keychain still latched. His eyes were sunken, dark circles casting shadows over his tired face, and his unshaven beard added years to his appearance. The harshness in his voice matched the weariness in his eyes.  

Sakura could only imagine the turmoil he was going through. She hoped he would be willing to talk.  

“Mr. Elma, we’re here about your wife,” Sakura said resolutely, deciding not to beat around the bush.  

“Leave me alone,” he muttered, moving to shut the door.  

Sakura had expected a more aggressive reaction. She quickly placed her hand on the door, stopping it from closing. His eyes widened in surprise, then panic, as he tried to force the door shut, but his strength was no match for hers.  

“We’re from the hospital. We just want to help,” Keita said, his tone diplomatic and calm.  

Mr. Elma gave them a skeptical once-over. Sakura sighed softly, pulling out her hospital ID, Keita following suit. His demeanor softened, the hostility in his posture easing slightly.  

“Just ten minutes,” Sakura pleaded, noticing the shift in his resolve.  

The man sighed deeply, the fight leaving him. He unlocked the keychain and opened the door fully.  

“You’re sure you’re not just reporters trying to get a story?” he asked, his voice tinged with lingering suspicion.  

“Nope, definitely not reporters,” Keita replied with a faint smile.  

Sakura sat beside Keita, nursing a steaming cup of hibiscus tea in her hands. The warmth seeped into her skin, warding off the early morning chill. Mr. Elma sat opposite them, his hunched posture and hollow eyes telling a story of deep grief.  

She blew gingerly on her tea before taking a small sip, letting the soothing warmth calm her. Placing the cup gently back on the wooden table, she glanced around the room, noting the carefully chosen decorations. “You have a lovely home,” she said, starting the conversation and genuinely meaning it. The decor suggested someone who loved beauty, who had taken the time to curate their surroundings with care.  

“It used to be nicer when my wife was here,” Mr. Elma replied wearily, his voice heavy with loss. “We’d collect cool stuff from all the villages we visited. She had an eye for these things.”  

“I’m so sorry about your wife,” Sakura said softly. It was clear he loved her deeply, and the loss weighed heavily on him.  

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “So, what do you want to know?” he asked after a moment, his voice tinged with resignation.  

“What was your wife like?” Keita asked, breaking his silence. As usual, Keita was direct, but this time, his tone was softer, more considerate.  

Mr. Elma seemed taken aback by the question, but after a moment, he answered. “My wife—she was the kindest person I’ve ever known. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know?” His voice cracked, and he paused, as if gathering the strength to continue.  

“She was a civilian like me. We both worked at Satoh Corps—I’m a scientist, she worked in marketing. We’ve been married for three years.” He paused, his hands trembling slightly as he took a shaky breath. “She was the sweetest person you’d ever meet... until we got back from a brief vacation earlier this year.”  

“Vacation?” Sakura inquired, leaning forward slightly.  

“My wife loved to travel. We’d visit different villages for short periods. It was her way of experiencing the world, I guess.”  

Sakura nodded, taking in the information. “So, when you got back from the vacation, you started noticing changes in her behavior?”  

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Everything changed when we got back. It started slowly—she would get angry over small things. At first, I thought she was just stressed, but it kept getting worse. It didn’t make sense.”  

“Was she stressing over something from work or home?” Keita asked, his tone gentle but probing.  

Mr. Elma shook his head slowly. “None that I know of.”  

“Then, the paranoia started. She thought everyone was out to get her. At some point, she even believed I was one of those people. It was like her personality took a turn into something unrecognizable.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair, his voice breaking as he continued.  

Sakura and Keita remained silent, letting him take his time.  

“She got fired from work soon after—she had become violent with her co-workers. That’s when everything spiraled out of control. We fought all the time, and I’m ashamed to say it got physical sometimes. She was strong, so strong, there was no deescalating her. We even got reports from our neighbors. There were moments when she seemed like her old self again, but slowly, that other side of her took over completely.”  

“What do you mean by strong?” Sakura asked, her brows furrowing.  

“Physically strong—stronger than me. I tried explaining this to the hospital, but they looked at me like I was crazy. No one would listen to me. They just threw her in the psych ward without looking into it. But I know what happened to her isn’t ordinary. She’s not some psycho. My wife is kind, she—she doesn’t deserve this. Please, help her...” His voice broke as tears began to spill.  

Sakura reached across the table, gently taking his hand in hers. She couldn’t tell him that his wife wasn’t the only victim—not yet, at least. It needed to remain a secret until they knew more. “We’ll do everything we can to help her,” she said softly, her heart aching for him.  

By the time Sakura and Keita said their goodbyes to Mr. Elma, it was almost afternoon. They had spent more time than intended, but it had been worth it. The investigation had been fruitful, and Sakura was almost sure of one thing—this wasn’t some virus. This was man-made.  

"The other two victims that didn't make it..." Sakura started, her mind still on the gravity of their conversation with Mr. Elma.  

"Don't worry about it. I'll check in with their husbands and let you know what I find," Keita interrupted gently.  

Sakura smiled appreciatively at him. "Are you sure? I can join you—"  

He waved his hand dismissively, a reassuring smile on his face. "Just focus on the science stuff, I got this."  

"Okay... if you say so," Sakura replied, a hint of relief in her voice.  

Just then, her stomach growled loudly, breaking the somber mood. Sakura's eyes widened in embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten to eat breakfast, and dinner last night had been skipped entirely.  

"Sounds like someone’s hungry," Keita teased, his tone light.  

"Yeah, I didn’t have breakfast this morning," Sakura admitted, rubbing her belly sheepishly.  

"You're a doctor—you should know better," Keita scolded playfully. "Well… good thing I know this restaurant that serves the best breakfast."  

Sakura chuckled, feeling the weight of the morning lift a little. "Ahhh, what would I do without you, my saving grace?"  

"Absolutely nothing," Keita shot back with a grin.  

Dry humping, huh...He almost chuckled at the thought. He had come undone from something as juvenile as dry humping. He never thought it would be something he’d enjoy so much, but something intimate and sultry about how she did it made him conclude that Sakura was a tease.  

"So, what will you get, Gaara-san? The food here is really great," Matsuri chirped, glancing up from the menu.  

Her high pitched voice had drawn Gaara away from his thoughts  

"I'll have whatever," he replied, his voice flat, eyes drifting to the window beside their booth. He tuned out Matsuri’s excited chatter about the exclusivity of the restaurant, irritation simmering in his chest with each passing second.  

Gaara still wasn’t sure why he’d let Matsuri drag him out for lunch. Guilt, perhaps. Breaking things off with her had been necessary, but he hadn’t expected her to take it so well. When she’d asked, "Can we still be friends?" in that soft, almost nostalgic voice, it had tugged at something in him—a memory of the girl who once looked up to him with admiration, who had been content with friendship before things got... complicated.  

He sighed inwardly, wondering what "friends" meant to her now. Agreeing to this lunch was a mistake; the vibrant atmosphere of the restaurant was grating on his nerves. At least they had a booth, some semblance of privacy, but still...  

His gaze drifted outside, where a small flower shop across the street caught his attention. Men entered and exited, bouquets in hand, likely for their significant others. His mind wandered to Sakura, as it often did lately. What kind of flowers would she like? he mused absently.  

And where had she run off to so early on a Saturday morning? Her chakra signature had been missing from the house, and he knew she didn’t typically work weekends. Was she avoiding him again?  

His thoughts circled back to yesterday—how she’d responded to his kiss, the way her body had fit against his. He hadn’t planned to kiss her, much less anything else, but there was something about her that made him lose control. Maybe it was her defiance, her refusal to be cowed by him like others were. Or maybe it was the way she challenged him, resisted him... made him want her even more.  

An imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he remembered her soft moans, the way she had arched into him. She was intoxicating, and he wanted more. The memory of her breath hitching as his hands explored her body, the feel of her perfect, round bosom pressed against him, what wouldn’t he give to have her perfect round bosom in his hands and mouth again—it was almost too much to handle. He could still feel the softness of her skin under his fingertips, the way she shivered when he touched her. He wanted to feel her writhing beneath him, to hear those sweet, breathless sounds as she came undone in his arms. He liked replaying that scene over and over again in his mind.  

"Uhm, Gaara?"  

Matsuri’s voice jolted him from his less-than-honorable thoughts. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring out the window for far too long.  

"Hmm?"  

"Ren Satoh sent you his birthday invite like he usually does. Should I dispose of it? I know you never attend." Matsuri giggled, clearly expecting the usual response.  

Gaara’s eyes narrowed slightly. Every year, Ren Satoh invited him to that ridiculous birthday party, and every year, he discarded the invite without a second thought. He couldn’t stand the man—cocky, arrogant, and the embodiment of everything Gaara despised. But this year was different. Ren had invited Sakura, his Sakura, and she had agreed to attend for whatever reason.  

The thought of Sakura at that party, surrounded by the likes of Ren and other lecherous men, made his blood simmer. There was no way he could let her go alone.  

"Keep the invite this year," he said, his tone final, ignoring the look of shock on Matsuri’s face.  

The beast within him stirred, “ Such possessiveness ” It taunted him  

Gaara dismissed it. This wasn’t possessiveness—it was simply a matter of ensuring Sakura’s safety. At least, that’s what he told himself.  

Just then, the restaurant door chimed, and a flash of pink and red entered Gaara's vision. Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. Sakura looked beautiful as usual, dressed in her signature red tanktop and tight shorts that stopped just above her knees, her jacket casually draped over one arm due to the lingering heat.  

She was laughing at something, but as the sound faded, her jade eyes began to scan the restaurant, taking in her surroundings.  

Gaara waited—1, 2, 3—and then her eyes met his. Her expression shifted from surprise to something more complex—nervousness, perhaps? Then, she blushed. He loved when she blushed for him.  

"Gaara-san?" Matsuri's voice cut through his thoughts. When he didn’t respond, she followed his gaze, turning to see who or what had captured his attention.  

"Oh, it’s Sakura-san... and Keita," she said aloud, a note of annoyance in her voice.  

Gaara’s focus had been so entirely on Sakura that he hadn’t even noticed Keita entering behind her. His mood dampened instantly.  

She had been with Keita the entire morning? Doing what? It was strange, he knew nothing was probably going on between them, but he still hated seeing them together.  

His gaze returned to Sakura, but she was no longer looking at him. Instead, her expression had darkened, though he couldn’t quite place the emotion. Was she upset?  

Keita waved at their table, then continued chatting with Sakura, much to Gaara's irritation.  

Sakura felt a jolt of surprise at seeing Gaara here. When their eyes met, she realized he had already been watching her. She wanted to look away but found herself unable to. His gaze was like a magnet, pulling her in.  

What was it about him? He could completely unnerve her with just a glance. He rested his chin on his hand, staring at her with an intensity that made her heart race.  

In the vibrant light of the restaurant, his hair seemed a bit more unruly, a shade brighter than usual. How could he be any more good-looking?  

The spell broke when she noticed the blob of brown hair peeking out from the booth, staring at her. He wasn’t alone.  

"Matsuri?" Keita’s voice mirrored her own surprise as he waved to their table.  

Just great. He’s here with Matsuri, his assistant, who clearly harbors some sort of animosity toward her. An unwelcome bitterness spread through Sakura, despite her efforts to suppress it.  

Keita managed to secure a table away from Gaara’s, and she was thankful for that—or at least she told herself she was. As long as she couldn’t see him and his... date. Okay maybe she was exaggerating, she’s his assistant and it’s probably just a friendly lunch date. But even if it wasn’t... why did she care so much?  

She let Keita order for her, her mind too preoccupied with a barrage of questions.  

Why was he here with her on a Saturday? Could there be something going on between them? She chided herself for even entertaining the thought. Her mind involuntarily drifted back to the gossip she’d overheard earlier. Lovers? she had scoffed at the time, dismissing it as idle chatter. But now, seeing Matsuri sitting across from Gaara, her stomach twisted uncomfortably. Could it be true? The thought nagged at her, making her feel small and foolish for even caring.  

Her time in Suna was limited, and it wasn’t like anything serious could ever happen between them. She sighed inwardly, suddenly feeling a wave of despondency that dulled her appetite.  

" You're jealous ," inner Sakura chided.  

"I'm not ," she wanted to deny, but deep down, she knew it was true. A pang of insecurity gnawed at her, leaving her feeling used. At least now she knew where she stood with him.  

"So, what do you think of the place?" Keita’s voice cut through her thoughts, thankfully offering a distraction.  

"Hmmm, it’s very vibrant... I like it," she replied, trying to shake off the lingering hurt. The last thing she wanted was for Keita to notice something was amiss.  

"Wait till you taste the food," he said, his tone light, though she could sense his genuine pleasure that she liked the place.  

"Can’t wait... I'm drooling already," Sakura joked, injecting a touch of sarcasm to mask her emotions.  

"Well, don’t get drool on your shirt," he shot back, chuckling.  

Sakura gasped at his clever comeback, laughing along with him. Trust Keita to lift her spirits, even when she was feeling down. Temari was one lucky woman.  

The entire time, a pair of jade eyes followed their every movement, Gaara's jaw tightening in barely concealed irritation.  

Chapter Text

Afternoons in Suna were oppressively hot, and Sakura had yet to fully adjust to the relentless heat. In Konoha, there was always a breeze, even in the peak of summer, but here, the air felt thick and heavy. It was the kind of heat that clung to you, seeping into your bones, making even the simplest tasks seem exhausting. Beads of sweat dripped from her brow onto the sun-baked training ground as she sat, panting from their intense sparring.

Sakura grunted, pushing herself off the desert floor, wincing slightly at the dull ache in her ribcage where Temari had landed that mean hook. Her hand glowed green as she began to heal the damage, sighing with relief as the pain started to ebb away. Temari sure didn’t hold back.

She glanced over at Temari, who was sprawled out on the ground, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. Despite her own exhaustion, Sakura smiled.

"Here," Sakura said, extending her hand. Temari groaned but took it, hauling herself up with a wince into a sitting position.

Sakura knelt beside her, palms glowing as she carefully mended the bruises she'd inflicted during their spar. A small smile tugged at her lips as Temari let out a long, contented sigh—the familiar warmth of healing chakra evidently soothing her aches.

"Well, that was fun," Temari said, a smile on her face despite her obvious fatigue.

"Yeah, it was," Sakura replied, though her mind was already drifting elsewhere. The fight had been a simple Taijutsu match—no chakra, just hand-to-hand. There was straightforwardness to Taijutsu that she always preferred, this time, it served as a way to channel the frustration and tension that had been building up inside her. But now, with the adrenaline fading, her thoughts inevitably returned to the very thing she had been trying not to think about.

"How's your ribcage?" Temari's voice cut through her thoughts, her brows furrowed with concern.

Sakura offered a small smile and lifted her shirt slightly, revealing smooth, unblemished skin. “All healed up. No worries.” Temari, seemed satisfied, nodding as she stretched her own limbs, testing the areas Sakura had healed.

Sakura couldn’t help but think back to how much her opinion of Temari had shifted since they first met. She had always seen her as brash and a bit intimidating. Memories of the Chunin Exam flickered in her mind —Temari’s brutal defeat of Tenten had left an impression. The image of Tenten crumpled over Temari's fan still brought a wince meanwhile Sakura at that stage of her life could barely keep up with Ino. However, nowadays… She had come to realize that underneath that tough shell she used to protect herself, was someone very kind and caring. She could see now that Temari had changed a lot. They all had. War had a way of doing that to people. She just hoped that one day Temari would be able to fully move on from the pain her previous relationship with Shika caused, and fully experience something beautiful with Keita.

But who was she to say that, she could barely move on from one man and they never dated.

Sakura let her thoughts drift, recalling her own changes. Once, she had been so sure of herself, so certain that charging forward—whether into battle or matters of the heart—was the best approach. She had confessed to Sasuke first, after all, even knowing he didn’t return her feelings. How naive she had been then, so desperate to hold on to an idealized version of him she created in her head from Kami knows where. Then there was that awkward love confession during the war, come to think of it, that ninja had been from the Suna, she had turned him down with the same straightforwardness she had always wielded, still too tethered to Sasuke at the time to even consider anyone else. Sasuke had held her heart so tightly back then—with a firm grip.

But now... Now things were different. She had changed, or was trying to change and somehow, with Gaara, it felt different too. For the first time, she didn’t know how to face it. And that uncertainty gnawed at her, making her feel off-balance in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

"So," Temari began, flexing her arm to test Sakura's healing work, "are you going to tell me why you suddenly asked to spar in the middle of the afternoon, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

Sakura’s heart skipped a beat. She should have known Temari wouldn’t let her off that easily. She let out an awkward cough-laugh, trying to play it off. "It's just this case with Keita. I’m sure Gaara told you about it. We’ve hit a wall, and it's frustrating, you know?"

Temari’s sharp gaze softened with understanding, and Sakura let out a small breath of relief. It wasn’t entirely a lie—the investigation was weighing on her—but the real reason she needed to blow off steam was still a secret she wasn’t ready to share.

As she finished healing Temari’s injuries, she felt the guilt begin to creep in. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide anything from Temari, but how was she supposed to explain what had happened with Gaara? The thought of even beginning that conversation made her cringe. She couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to talk about her confusing feelings for Temari’s brother.

"All done," Sakura said, standing up and stretching, feeling the slight soreness in her muscles from their sparring session. "Let me know if I missed anything."

Temari flexed her limbs again, nodding in approval. "Just a little sore, but you got most of it. I gotta say, sparring with a medic-nin has its perks. I get my ass kicked and healed all in one go."

Sakura chuckled, shaking her head. "You’re lucky. Most people don’t get that kind of treatment."

As they began walking back, Sakura felt the familiar sense of calm that always followed a good workout, but it wasn’t long before Temari broke the silence.

"You know," Temari started, her voice casual but probing, "for a minute there, I thought you wanted to spar because of a boy."

Sakura faltered, nearly tripping over her own feet. She forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt. "A boy? Come on, Temari, I’ve barely been here a few weeks. When would I have time for that?"

Temari gave her a sidelong glance, one brow raised. "I don’t know, you tell me."

Sakura swallowed hard, trying to think of something—anything—that would steer the conversation in a different direction. "I’m just focused on work right now. No time for boys." She lied.

Temari shrugged, seemingly letting it go. "Fair enough. So, where are you headed after this? Wanna grab some food?"

Sakura shook her head, grateful for the change in subject. "I’ve got to stop by the hospital. But it’ll just be for a short while."

Temari gave her a sceptical look. "On your day off?  And don’t get me wrong but you don’t exactly look…"

Sakura glanced down at her sweat-soaked clothes and grime-covered skin, laughing despite herself. "Yeah, I know, but Keita says it’s urgent so I have to go”

Temari nodded seemingly wondering what information Keita had. "Must be serious then." She muttered.

“Yeah hopefully no one’s dying”

As they reached the end of the training ground, they parted ways, and Sakura hurried toward the hospital, mentally bracing herself for the rest of the day. But even as she tried to focus on the tasks ahead, a particular red-haired remained at the back of her mind.

Sakura made her way down the hospital hallway, greeted by the warm smiles and respectful nods of the nurses she passed. Their admiration was evident in their gazes, though if they noticed her frazzled appearance from her earlier sparring, none of them showed it. "Is Keita in today?" she asked a nearby nurse, her voice casual but edged with urgency.

"Yes, Ma'am," the group of nurses replied in unison, almost military in their response.

She nodded in acknowledgement, trying to suppress a sigh. Her legs were still a bit sore, but she had bigger things to think about as she made her way to Keita's office. Without waiting for an invitation, Sakura rapped her knuckles once on his door and entered.

Keita glanced up from behind his fortress of paperwork, his eyebrows quirking in amusement as he gave her a once-over.

"You're late," he remarked dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching. "And you look like you just fought in the Fourth Shinobi War again."

Sakura flopped into the chair opposite him, blowing a stray lock of pink hair out of her face. "Well, I did have a sparring match with Temari," she said with a mock huff of exhaustion. Keita’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of Temari, though he quickly masked it, feigning nonchalance. His eyes, however, betrayed him—they lit up with interest.

"Oh? That sounds... fun," he replied, trying to sound neutral, though Sakura could hear the edge of curiosity in his voice. She stifled a laugh. He wasn't fooling anyone.

“So,” she began, leaning back in the chair, “you said you had something for me?”

"Right…" he muttered, rummaging through the chaos of his desk drawer. He pulled out a sealed bag with two tubes inside, holding it up for her inspection.

Sakura blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Wait... this is the blood sample? How did you get it so fast?"

Keita shrugged as if it were no big deal. "I’ve told you nothing a little bribery can't accomplish in Suna." He said it so casually that she almost didn’t believe him.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion crawling into her tone. "We agreed you wouldn’t go there alone again, Keita. That place is crawling with dangerous people."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, come on. You know how slow the process is with the mental institution. I figured it was easier to go alone without raising any red flags. You, Miss Popular Medic-nin, would’ve drawn too much attention."

Sakura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. He wasn’t wrong, but still— “You should have told me first. But... thanks,” she admitted, taking the sealed tubes from him. Her gaze softened as she glanced at the blood samples.

“Oh, before I forget,” Keita added, rummaging through his cluttered desk, knocking over papers and folders, “I have the initial test reports and incident reports here somewhere…”

Sakura watched, trying not to cringe at the state of his desk. The mess was giving her anxiety, each out-of-place document felt like a prick on her skin, she usually tried not to comment on people’s organization skills but this was beyond-

"Here we go," he finally declared triumphantly, waving the report in her direction. "Not much info, though. They didn’t exactly do any deep analysis before handing her off to the loony house, so it’s pretty bare-bones."

She glanced over the file but frowned at the lack of useful data. She’d do a deep dive later but for now- “You know you’re going to waste more time than you think if you don’t start organizing this mess.” she admonished as she began straightening up some of the scattered papers.

Keita chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he watched her fuss over his papers. "Thanks, Mum”, he teased “But I can assure you, I thrive in chaos.”

"I don’t doubt that for a second” Sakura quipped, shaking her head. “Thank you, by the way, even though I still don't approve of your little solo mission it was smart. If I’d gone with you, they would’ve noticed but next time, at least give me a heads-up."

Keita mock-saluted her. "Yes, Boss."

Her gaze softened again, and she let out a small sigh. "You’ve done more than enough already. I can take it from here. For real this time Keita"

He waved her off. "No worries. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Actually," Sakura hesitated for a second, biting her lip. “Will you be going to the party this evening?”

Keita raised a brow in question, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms. "Ren’s party? Obligated to go, seeing as Temari’s going. You?"

Sakura blinked, Keita had always been tight-lipped about his relationship with Temari, so the casual admission caught her off guard.

You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t already know,” Keita added, rolling his eyes at her shocked expression. “I’m tired of you giving me those weird looks every time her name comes up.”

Sakura stammered, “I do not give you any looks!”

“Yes, yes, you do.”

“Fine,” she conceded, leaning back in her chair. “But I still don’t get why you two are keeping it a secret.”

Keita chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Trust me… it’s not up to me.”

Sakura caught the tinge of sadness in his voice but chose not to pry further but she had a feeling why.

“Anyway,” Keita said, leaning forward again, “are you working on those blood samples today?”

“Definitely not.” Sakura shook her head and stood. “I’m actually planning to enjoy myself at Ren’s party for once. I’ve had enough of this serious stuff for one day.”

Keita smirked. “Fair enough. I’ll see you at the party then.”

She turned to leave but hesitated for a moment. Is Gaara going to the party? The question burned at the back of her mind, but she decided against asking Keita. She didn’t need him teasing her.

“Yeah, see you soon,” she said instead, smoothing her shirt and heading for the door with the blood samples tucked safely in her pouch.

 Keita stood too, stretching his legs. "You better hurry back before Temari skins you alive for being late."

"Don’t gotta tell me twice," Sakura muttered, flashing him a quick smile before shutting the door behind her.

As she hurried to the lab to drop off the blood samples, her mind already drifted to the evening ahead. She wasn’t sure what to expect from Ren’s party, but the nagging thought of whether Gaara would be there crept into her thoughts. She tried to push it aside, wanting to have an evening solely focusing on herself for now. She didn’t know much about Ren and Temari wouldn’t tell her anything but a party was a party and she was ready to crank it up tonight.

Sakura stood before Ren's mansion, feeling her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the view in front of her trumped all her expectations. The mansion loomed like something plucked from a fairy tale and placed into reality. She began to doubt herself. How much did she really know about Ren? Temari had been frustratingly evasive whenever she asked about him. Why did she accept this invitation?

Outside, a line of elegantly dressed guests stretched down the driveway, all eager for a chance to step into the seemingly coveted event. Now she understood why Temari had been so shocked at the invitation. The attendees were wrapped in finery—expensive clothing, and glittering jewelry, each piece likely worth more than Sakura’s monthly salary. Ren’s birthday celebration wasn’t just any party—it was the party of the year in Suna’s elite circles.

She watched as the bouncers hurled away guests with forged invitations, and a strange feeling twisted in her gut. People were willing to risk humiliation for a shot at being part of this world. Why did it matter so much?

When her turn came, she flashed her invitation card to the towering bouncer. He didn’t scan hers for some reason which frightened her at first, but then he moved to the side, and Sakura exhaled, relieved, as she and Temari were ushered inside.

The extravagance outside had been one thing, but the interior was on another level. Chandeliers twinkled from high ceilings, marbled floors reflected the soft glow of a thousand candles, and the scent of luxury hung in the air. She hesitated for a moment, catching her reflection in one of the massive mirrors that lined the hallway. In the white dress Temari had insisted she buy, Sakura hardly recognized herself. The dress clung to her in all the right places, its plunging neckline and thigh-high slit a far cry from her usual attire.

Her hair, styled in long waves, cascaded down her back, and even her makeup—smoky eyes and crimson lips—seemed bold, daring. She looked… like she belonged here. For a brief moment, that gave her the confidence boost she needed.

Temari, sensing her hesitation, leaned in and whispered with a teasing smile, “Relax, you look good enough to eat Sakura. Ren's definitely going to want a piece of that.”

Sakura blushed, swatting at her friend. “Temari, stop it!”

Her friend laughed softly. “Don’t worry, you’ll have fun. Just… try not to make it into the entertainment papers tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sakura muttered. “I can handle myself.” She grabbed a drink from a passing waiter, gulping it down in one fell swoop.

Temari raised an eyebrow. “Starting off strong, I see.”

“It’s just one drink…”

Temari chuckled. “Calm down, I wasn’t judging.” She hesitated, eyes scanning the room again. Sakura caught the movement and smiled.

“You’re looking for him, aren’t you?” she teased. “Go find Keita, Temari. You don’t have to babysit me.”

Temari’s smile was sheepish but relieved. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

With a grateful nod, Temari vanished into the crowd. Sakura took another look around the opulent ballroom, her mind wandering briefly to Gaara. What was he doing at this hour? she wondered. Probably frolicking with his assistant somewhere. The thought hit her like a punch, she had let the gossip get to her, sighed and she shook it off. Tonight wasn’t about him. Tonight was about her.

Up above, Ren leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze fixed on her. That dress… those legs. Since the last party, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head.

Of course, he knew about Sakura Haruno. What hot-blooded male didn’t? So when he first saw her at that party, it had been a shock. At first, he thought she was just visiting Suna. But after digging around, he found out she was on a long-term assignment here. Just his luck.

He hadn’t been able to shake the memory of her—the way she moved, so confident and natural, it nearly drove him insane. The fact that she didn’t know who he was—well, that had been a bit of a letdown. But somehow, that only made him more interested. She wasn’t dazzled by his reputation, which made her a challenge, and Ren loved challenges.

And then there was Gaara. The sly Kazekage had her all to himself in that mansion of his. Ren wasn’t the only one who’d taken notice of how Gaara had brought Sakura in without much noise. The elders didn’t report that to him, and they were always in his father’s ear. Ren grinned to himself—what else was the redhead hiding?

His gaze drifted back to Sakura.

She was more captivating now than he remembered, dressed in that little white dress. Did she dress up for him? He wouldn’t be surprised. It was always the same with kunoichi—strong, powerful, and beautiful. His friends had laughed it off the last time he mentioned her, teasing him about “another kunoichi conquest.” They weren’t wrong. He had more than his share of female ninjas under his belt.

He always told himself each one was different, but once they were in his bed for a few weeks, the thrill faded. They all wanted to resist him at first, and that’s what made the chase so damn exciting. The harder they resisted, the sweeter it felt when they finally gave in.

Sakura was not going to be an exception.

His gaze slid over her like he already owned her. She was oblivious, mingling with strangers, standing out without even trying. That soft pink hair, that toned body—it was like she was born to be noticed. Having a woman like that by his side… not bad at all. He would be envied by his peers far and wide.

Ren leaned back, hands slipping into his pockets. He’d let her enjoy herself for now. No rush.

With Temari gone, Sakura decided to explore on her own. Navigating through the crowd was more difficult than she expected, especially with so many people approaching her to compliment her attire or gush over how much they admired her.

"My daughter attends your classes and won’t stop talking about how much she wants to be like you."

"Really?" Sakura smiled politely, though she was already scanning for an escape route.

It was strange how she'd forgotten her own popularity, but the constant stream of praise and attention was a sharp reminder. She managed to slip away, relief flooding her as she found a quieter hallway with fewer people. It was oddly deserted compared to the bustling main party, and she briefly wondered where the birthday boy had disappeared to. Probably too busy with his elite guests to even remember inviting me. The thought didn’t bother her; it was a big party, after all.

Her wandering brought her to a door with a sign that read RED ROOM. The name alone should have made her pause, but she was three drinks in, and curiosity was stronger than her better judgment. She opened the door, and what she saw on the other side made her mouth open and close several times before she quickly shut it. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

Inside had been a scene straight out of some high-end, bizarre strip club—barely dressed women, contorted in ways Sakura didn’t think was humanly possible, while masked men threw money around like it was confetti. The whole scene was both surreal and mortifying. She prayed no one had seen her, but the laughter behind her dashed that hope.

Turning around, still flushed from embarrassment, she found Ren standing there, a smug grin plastered across his face. Of course, he’d caught her snooping. She really had the worst luck.

“So… like what you see?” Ren teased, his smirk widening.

Sakura, determined not to let him get the upper hand, scoffed. “Meh… I’ve seen better strippers.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. “Really? You attend strip clubs often?”

Sakura sighed, dropping the act. “No… I think I’m scarred for life.” At that, both of them burst into laughter, the tension breaking.

“Are your parties always this… eventful?” Sakura asked once their laughter died down.

Ren chuckled, shaking his head. “Depends on the crowd. I like to make sure there’s something for everyone.” His tone was casual, but the mischievous glint in his eye told her he wasn’t just talking about the party entertainment.

"That makes sense, I suppose." Sakura mulled it over. That was the most rich guy thing she’d ever heard.

“Ah... where are my manners?” Ren said suddenly, his expression softening as he took her right hand. "I forgot to mention how breathtakingly beautiful you look tonight." With that, he placed a small kiss on the back of her hand.

Sakura was thankful for the dim lighting, which helped conceal how red her face had become. "T-thank you," she stammered, hating how she sounded. She quickly regained her composure, adding with more confidence, "You don’t look too bad yourself."

Ren’s chuckle was low and warm. Without letting go of her hand, he led her through the crowd, effortlessly navigating the sea of guests. They were stopped at nearly every turn—everyone wanted to greet the birthday boy and her as well. Sakura couldn’t help but notice his magnetic charisma; he had a way of making every person feel like they were the most important one in the room, even though he probably felt otherwise. His suave demeanour, impeccable style, and natural confidence left a trail of admiration at every stop.

Sakura, meanwhile, was starting to notice the envious looks of the other women in the room. Ren hadn’t let go of her hand once, except to grab her a drink or greet guests, and the attention from the other ladies was not lost on her. She couldn’t help the small part of her that felt proud at the moment. She stole a glance at Ren, and couldn’t help but be drawn in by Ren’s charm. At certain intervals, as if sensing her discomfort he’d turn and ask if she was okay and she’d give a small nod in response. She’d admit she was on edge, she had never been in this position before, and it just wasn’t being ushered around like some accessory- it was the setting itself, sure.

Konoha had hosted big official parties before which she had to attend but they were more or less like hanging out with friends, all her team members were there, with people she knew and after the event, she’d go back to her house to work routine but now she found herself experiencing some cognitive dissonance where she felt like she was supposed to fit in but at the same couldn’t shake off the feeling of being in someone else’s skin, however, practice makes perfect if she indulged in it enough, soon it’ll be part of her, and Ren he had an undeniable way of commanding the space around him, and there was something about the way he held her hand that made her feel… included in his world, even if only for the night.

After what felt like hours, Ren’s grip on her hand remained steady as he guided her away from the bustling party downstairs. Sakura let out a breath of relief as they ascended a grand, sweeping staircase lined with elegant red carpeting, the noise of the party fading into a distant hum as they moved further from the crowd, leaving behind a much more intimate, quiet atmosphere in the plush, dimly lit corridor.

“You’ve been quite the star tonight,” Ren said, his voice light but his gaze lingering on her a little too intently. “How’s it feel being the most popular guest?”

Sakura chuckled softly, shaking her head at his teasing. “It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest. I guess it was unexpected.”

Ren grinned. “You know, people from Konoha tend to keep to themselves. Rarely see any of you exploring outside the village for too long. Makes it easy to underestimate how well-known you are.”

Sakura hummed, mulling over his words. He wasn’t wrong—she thought about how even Naruto, with all his fame and rank, hardly ever ventured far from home unless on missions. It wasn’t just him, either. Konoha ninjas had this unspoken habit of staying rooted in the village. But why? She’d never really questioned it until now.

As they continued walking, Sakura’s eyes drifted over the lavish decor of the hallway. The walls were adorned with exquisite art pieces that must’ve cost a fortune, but something about the space felt... cold. There weren’t any personal touches—no family portraits, no pictures of Ren growing up. With his reputation, she’d half-expected a larger-than-life painting of him somewhere. Instead, the mansion felt oddly hollow and impersonal.

Just as she was about to ask where they were going, they stopped in front of a pair of ornate double doors. Two bodyguards stood on either side of the doors, which were intricately designed with gilded handles. Ren paused, turning to her with a charming smile, his eyes lingering on hers. That smile probably made a lot of girls swoon.

"Welcome to the real party, Sakura," Ren said in a low, inviting tone as he pushed open the doors.

Sakura’s breath hitched. "Wow…" It was all she could manage. The pounding bass of the dance music hit her immediately, neon lights flashing and bouncing off the glossy walls and marble floors. The atmosphere here was a stark contrast to the refined elegance of the party downstairs. This place was alive, thrumming with energy that seeped into her bones, making her feel a strange mix of excitement and unease.

She followed Ren, his hand still clasped firmly in hers. It wasn’t just the music or the lights—it was the sheer excess of it all. The bar stretched long along one wall, where bartenders worked tirelessly, shaking up drinks. Laughter erupted from every corner, voices shouting to be heard over the thumping music, and vigorous dancing from others. These were Ren’s people—heirs, rich kids, the type of people who didn’t have to worry about working for what they had. She could feel their gazes tracking her, some lingering on her pink hair, others noticing her fingers still intertwined with Ren’s.

Sakura’s skin prickled under the attention, this was over-stimulating and she wasn't sure she liked it. She wasn’t used to being on display like this, and definitely not in Suna. Her discomfort started to creep in, but Ren, as if sensing it, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Relax," he murmured close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You’ll have fun. I have something I think you’ll like."

They wove through the crowd, and with each step, Sakura felt both pulled in by Ren’s world and distanced from her own. It was disorienting—the lights, the noise, the people, all of it tugging at her, trying to make her fit. But did she want to? She glanced at Ren’s profile; his confidence was undeniable, magnetic. Yet, a flicker of doubt nagged at her, she found everything almost excessive in a way—where was this going?

Soon, they reached a poker table where three unfamiliar faces were gathered. The mood shifted slightly as they approached, a subtle acknowledgement from the group that Sakura picked up on, like a silent exchange. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being sized up.

"Poker, really?" Sakura rolled her eyes, half impressed. "What? Do you think I’m a gambling addict?" she joked, knowing full well she had inherited some of her shishou Tsunade's talent for it—minus the bad luck, of course.

Ren laughed. "I may have heard a thing or two."

Sakura muttered under her breath, "Seems you did your research."

Ren introduced her to his friends. "Sakura, meet Hiro, Yumi, and Satoshi."

Sakura exchanged pleasantries, but there was a moment—brief but telling—where the friends shared a knowing look with Ren. It wasn’t anything overt, but she could sense it. Something about her, her presence here, was part of a silent conversation she wasn’t privy to.

"The key to being a good player is patience," Sakura said casually, taking a seat at the table. She sipped her champagne, trying to get a feel for the group. She was seated between Ren and another guy—Tento, or was it Tenko? The reigning poker champion, from what she gathered. He was already glaring at her, his ego clearly bruised from losing five times in a row to her.

"-Or just be a shinobi," Tento spat, clearly bitter.

Sakura’s lips twitched in amusement. She’d heard it all before—the resentment some civilians still held towards shinobi, blaming them for the war or thinking they used their powers to cheat the system. But something about his tone set her on edge. She felt Ren lean in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Careful, that one’s always a sore loser."

Sakura leaned back, whispering back, "And also a raging bigot."

Ren chuckled, and she could feel the tension ramp up as Tento’s face twisted in frustration.

"You think you’re hot shit now, huh? Winning a few games by cheating?"

Ren’s expression darkened, and he was about to intervene when Sakura touched his arm, silently asking him to let her handle it. She met Tento’s eyes calmly, though her patience was wearing thin.

"Once again, I won fair and square—five times. Get over it." Her tone was steady, but the underlying challenge was clear.

Before Tento could fire back, one of Ren’s other friends spoke up, "Come on, man, stop being a sore loser. She won, fair and square."

"Yeah, don’t be a mood killer," Yumi added with a roll of her eyes.

Sakura was glad they were sticking up for her, but Tento wasn’t done yet. "So everyone’s just gonna side with this pink-haired bitch because she fought in a war that her kind started?"

A silence fell over the table, thick and heavy. Sakura’s grip on her glass tightened, and Ren was about to step in again when she shot him a look that told him to stay out of it. She turned her attention back to Tento, a cold smile spreading across her face.

"Tento, Tenko, whatever the fuck your name is," she started, watching the flare of anger in his eyes, "I don’t know what your problem is with shinobi, and frankly, I don’t care. Shinobi or not, you’d still be a loser. But call me a bitch one more time, and the only thing you’ll be losing tonight won’t be a poker game."

Her voice was soft but deadly, her eyes sharp and unyielding. The table was still for a beat before Tento, clearly rattled, scrambled to his feet. "I’m heading downstairs," he muttered, practically running away.

The silence hung for a second before one of Ren’s friends started to laugh, and soon, the rest of the table joined in.

As the laughter died down, Sakura spotted familiar faces approaching their table. She felt a wave of relief and maybe even a little emotional—though that could’ve been the alcohol.

“Temari! Keita!” Sakura grinned. “Join us!”

Temari acknowledged Sakura with a smile and gave Ren a curt nod. “Ren.”

“Temari, how long has it been? Six months? A year? That’s not how you treat a friend, you know.” His tone light but carrying something else underneath.

Temari’s eyes narrowed as she gave him a pointed look, ignoring the subtle jab. “We’re not friends, Ren.”

Wait, they’re friends? Sakura blinked, and apparently, her alcohol-loosened lips had let her thoughts slip out loud.

Ren chuckled, leaning back on his chair with a smirk, his eyes stuck on Temari. “Yes, me and Temari go way back—” His eyes gleamed with amusement as if enjoying the tension his words were stirring.

Sakura blinked, feeling like she was missing something. Holy shit, were they more than friends?

"Shut the fuck up, Ren," Temari cut in, her tone biting.

Sakura couldn’t help but giggle at the fiery exchange between Temari and Ren, the alcohol making everything feel a little lighter, a little less serious. But then her gaze drifted to Keita. He was unusually quiet, his jaw clenched. Was he… angry? It was hard to tell if it was just the alcohol distorting things, but something definitely felt off, he wasn’t happy she could tell.

“Alright, no more sitting and chatting around!” Sakura clapped her hands, eager to break the awkwardness. "Poker, anyone?"

The moment Ren’s guard leaned down to whisper something in his ear, Sakura’s focus snapped back to the table. Ren’s smirk widened and she didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“Looks like we’re about to have an interesting guest,” Ren said, his gaze flicking toward the entrance of the room. Sakura followed his line of sight, and her breath caught.

Gaara.

Chapter Text

Gaara?

The Kazekage is here?

The whispers around her barely registered. Temari, Keita, and even some of Ren’s friends murmured his name. The music pulsed in the background, but Sakura's heartbeat pounded louder, threatening to drown it out.

Temari must have lied. She’d said Gaara never came to these events, he found them frivolous so why the fuck was he here then… But the shock on Temari’s face told Sakura the surprise was mutual.

His arrival shifted the room’s energy, the lively party seemingly pausing as his commanding presence filled the space. Instinctively, the crowd parted for him. Sakura stood frozen, her gaze glued to him as his eyes swept across the room with that familiar intensity. She had to admit he looked good and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was excited to see him.

When his gaze landed on her, the air left her lungs. Her chest tightened, her heartbeat syncing with the bass thundering through the speakers.

Ren’s hand on her back suddenly felt heavier—a weight she hadn’t even noticed until now. But now it was intrusive, wrong, like something foreign pressing against her skin. She wanted it gone. Was this guilt? No… she scoffed internally, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She repeated it to herself, but the thought did little to ease the tension coiling in her stomach. Maybe it was the alcohol, had to be.

Gaara’s gaze flicked to Ren’s hand, his expression unreadable, but sharp. A flicker of something—disapproval? Irritation?—passed through his eyes before it was masked by the same calm, quiet intensity that seemed to silence the entire room.

Ren’s hand squeezed her shoulder, “Excuse me, I have to go welcome our guest of honour,” he said, his voice as smooth as ever, with that familiar undercurrent of slyness.

Sakura’s eyes darted between Ren and Gaara. This was going to be a very long night, well… there goes the night that was supposed to be about her.

The moment Gaara walked in, his eyes found her. She sat next to Ren, head tilted as she laughed at something he’d said. Her dress—a white one that shimmered under the soft lights—hugged her figure, making her look ethereal and barely covering anything. With her long hair down, she looked even more captivating.

Gaara’s chest tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as something flared inside him. Something he was becoming quite familiar with lately, something he didn’t want to name. Watching her with Ren—his hand too familiar, his proximity too close—ignited a wave of irrational anger, clawing at him.

Somehow, Ren convinced Gaara to join their table for a round of poker. Gaara sat opposite Sakura, his teal eyes never leaving hers. She had already had a couple of drinks, and under his steady gaze, she felt exposed, like he was stripping away her confidence piece by piece. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on her cards. Losing tonight wasn’t an option.

Ren let out a dramatic sigh beside her, tossing his cards onto the table. “Okay, I fold,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.

Keita chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess the birthday boy isn’t so lucky tonight.” He mocked earning a glare from Ren and a laugh from the table.

One by one, Temari and Keita folded as well, leaving just two players: Sakura and Gaara.

“Now this is intense,” Ren muttered, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

“Careful, Sakura,” Temari chimed in with a playful smirk. “Gaara gets... competitive when he's losing. But the worst part is, you’d never know from that face of his.”

Keita chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, he always plays it cool, but trust me, he hates losing.”

Gaara’s expression stayed unreadable, his eyes never leaving Sakura. She wasn’t even sure if he’d looked at his cards since the game began.

Still, she met his stare with calm confidence, her fingers idly toying with the edge of her remaining chips.

The dealer flipped the turn card: the nine of hearts. The community cards now showed the Ace of Spades, King of Hearts, eight of Hearts, and the Nine.

Sakura glanced down at her hole cards—a ten and queen of hearts. One card away from a flush, and the river could still give her a straight. Her mind raced with calculations, but part of her focus splintered when a shrill voice cut through the room. From the corner of her eye, she saw movement—Matsuri.

Sakura’s stomach twisted as Matsuri made a beeline for Gaara, her giggles cutting through the music.

“Hey, guys!” Matsuri squealed, stumbling toward the table.

Gaara tensed. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked aside as Matsuri draped herself in the seat next to him, her alcohol-soaked giggles grating on his nerves. But he stayed silent. A drunk Matsuri was a problem he didn’t want to deal with—especially not here, but everyone was already desensitized to her antics at parties, and her clinginess toward Gaara barely raised an eyebrow. An eye roll from Keita, a sigh from Temari, and then... back to the game.

His eyes slid back to Sakura, who sat stiffly across the table, her expression unreadable but sharp. Her green eyes cut through the space between them, daring him to react.

She hated this. Hated him? He wasn’t sure, but the energy coming from her was wrong—cold, distant—and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

His hands itched to form fists, but he forced them to stay still, resting on the table. Was this her game? Push and pull until he questioned every move? He had thought—no, hoped—that their moment in the library had shifted something. For a fleeting second, it felt like they were finally in sync, the connection between them locking into place.

But then she slipped away early the next morning, it was fine at first, Keita had informed him they were doing some investigating but then she had spent all day in the hospital after that, it was a fucking Saturday, she never worked on Saturdays and that look in the restaurant, so flippant. She was avoiding him. And now? Now she sat there, letting Ren’s hands linger on her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

This had to be a first for him, to make out with a woman and have her avoid you after…

He couldn’t stand it.

Gaara’s irritation deepened when Matsuri’s hand crept toward his arm. Annoying. Inconsequential. Matsuri didn’t matter—not in that way.

But Sakura?

Sakura constantly consumed his thoughts. Even now, as she sat across from him, the soft curves of her lips drew his eyes. The way she’d nibble on them while deliberating her next move—it was maddening. And her dress, that flimsy excuse of fabric, exposed just enough of her cleavage to keep his imagination working overtime.

He still remembered how her lips had tasted. How her skin had felt under his hands.

God, he needed to get this intoxicating want out of him before he did something crazy—like flip this table, grab her, and drag her to the nearest room to fuck her brains out.

Even he was shocked at the extent of his salacious thoughts.

“Wow, kid, you really have it bad,” Shukaku’s voice slithered through his mind, mockery dripping from every word.

The jealousy, the want—it gnawed at him. He hated it. Loathed it. Yet, it consumed him all the same, making his chest tighten and his body react in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He didn’t want her attention divided. He couldn’t have it scattered between him and someone like Ren. The thought simmered beneath his skin, raw and relentless. It was insulting. Yes, that was it. He felt insulted, being compared to a shallow creature like Ren.

Gaara swallowed hard, his expression a perfect mask of calm indifference while a storm raged inside him. If she wanted to play games, he’d show her just how much better he was at them.

“Matsuri, looking beautiful as ever,” Ren said smoothly, his voice oozing charm. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Well, you know how work gets,” she replied, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “But your parties are always the best, Ren.”

Gaara said nothing.

Sakura forced her gaze away from Matsuri’s hand on Gaara’s arm and back to the table. Her pulse quickened as the dealer revealed the river: a jack of diamonds. A straight.

But her focus was slipping through her fingers, her mind spiraling with thoughts of Gaara. Why did he let Matsuri hang off him like that? Didn’t he realize how unprofessional it looked? Or worse—did he not care? Was she the only one seeing how inappropriate this was? Okay, maybe she was exaggerating a little.

Focus on the game, she scolded herself, forcing her attention back to the cards. Frustration simmered beneath her calm facade. First lunch together, now this. Their casual ease with each other grated on her, even if she knew she was being hypocritical. Gaara had taken her out on lunch before, it probably meant nothing to him and he’d known Matsuri longer—what right did she have to feel this way? But the gossip-

“Check,” Gaara said, his tone neutral.

Sakura tapped her fingers on the table, deliberating. The flush wasn’t guaranteed, and his calm demeanour made it impossible to tell if he held a stronger hand or was simply playing the long game.

“I’ll raise,” she said, sliding a stack of chips forward. The murmurs around the table buzzed in her ears, but she stayed locked in, her confidence outwardly unwavering.

Gaara tilted his head slightly, teal eyes narrowing as though he were trying to read the spaces between her breaths. Without a word, he matched her bet, his movements fluid and deliberate.

Sakura reeled her mind back in. What was it again? Ahh, yes, the dealer had revealed the river card—a jack of diamonds.

Her heart skipped. A straight!

She forced her face into perfect stillness, even as triumph flickered in her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Gaara leaning back slightly, his fingers drumming against the table. Was that hesitation? Or calculated bait?

“Your move,” he said, his voice low and challenging.

She stared back at him, steady, calm, even as her thoughts whirled. Kami, he’s just a player, isn’t he? Baiting me while I think about him all day like some lovesick fool. She felt her cheeks flush but buried it beneath the guise of strategy.

“All in,” Sakura said, her voice smooth, deliberate. She slid her remaining chips forward, earning a fresh wave of murmurs from the crowd.

Gaara’s gaze never wavered, sharp and unrelenting. The weight of his focus was nearly unbearable. Finally, with infuriating slowness, he pushed his chips forward.

“Call,” he said simply.

The dealer motioned for the cards to be revealed.

Gaara turned his cards first: Ace and King of Hearts. A hush fell over the table as the significance sank in—he had a flush, possibly more.

Sakura flipped her hand next: Queen and Ten of Hearts. Gasps rippled through the table.

“Queen-high straight flush!” Ren exclaimed, his voice cutting through the rising chatter. Sakura’s lips curved into a triumphant smirk, but the dealer cleared his throat.

“There’s a tie,” the dealer announced, pointing to the board.

Sakura blinked, her gaze darting to the community cards. Her heart sank as the realization hit her. The straight flush wasn’t just hers—it was his too. The hearts tied them, their hands sharing the same flawless combination.

A ripple of disbelief spread through the table and small crowd around, followed by laughter and cheers.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ren said, leaning back with a whistle. “A tie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen before.”

Sakura’s smirk faltered, replaced by narrowed eyes aimed at Gaara. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming idly on the table. His expression was maddeningly unreadable—except for the faintest twitch of his lips, betraying a flicker of satisfaction.

Her frustration simmered beneath the surface. Was he smirking because they’d tied? Or because he’d somehow anticipated this outcome all along?

“You play well,” he said, his voice low and calm, carrying a weight that made her pulse quicken.

Sakura collected her chips, avoiding his piercing gaze. “Not bad yourself,” she replied evenly, but her chest tightened. How did he always manage to keep her off balance?

Ren’s voice cut through the noise. “Sakura, have you thought about playing professionally? You’ve got some hidden talent there.”

She leaned back in her chair, collecting her winnings with a casual grin. “What can I say? I’ve always been good at playing my cards right.”

Her gaze flicked back to Gaara, and for a moment, the noise around them faded. His expression was still unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes crackled, like a live wire between them.

“Well, you know what? All this poker talk is putting me to sleep. I’m gonna hit the dance floor,” Temari announced, pulling Keita with her, despite his playful protest.

Ren laughed, shoving back his chair. “She’s right. If I see one more card, I’ll gouge my eyes out. What do you say, Sakura? Dance with me?” He extended a hand, confidence dripping from his grin.

Sakura hesitated. Her gaze flicked to Gaara, still unmoving, calm, as if rooted in place. His teal eyes locked onto hers, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name but felt keenly. A pulse of heat thrummed through her, and her fingers twitched—almost reaching for Ren.

Ren’s hand wavered between them. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging,” he teased, his voice easy, but expectant.

Her lips parted, words stalling in her throat. The music’s rhythm seemed louder now, drumming against her chest, but still, she couldn’t shake the weight of Gaara’s stare. But then Matsuri leaned closer to him, her fingers brushing his arm as she refilled his glass with a laugh.

Sakura’s heart tightened. Damn it. “Sure,” she forced out, slipping her hand into Ren’s with a smile that felt too tight. “Why not?”

Gaara’s eyes never left her as she let Ren guide her to the dance floor. He willed himself to look away, but every part of him remained drawn to her like a magnet. The soft curve of her lips, the way her hair moved with each step—it was infuriating.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sharp screech. Matsuri shot him a glance, confusion crossing her face as he brushed past her without a word. He found another booth near the bar, farther from the dance floor, but it wasn’t far enough.

Sakura’s laughter rang out across the room, the sound grating against his nerves. Ren twirled her, and Gaara’s grip tightened on his glass, the crack of his knuckles barely audible over the thumping bass. He quickly downed a shot of whiskey, he wasn’t one to abstain from alcohol, but he wasn’t reckless with it either. Discipline had always been his creed, a cornerstone of his self-control, just like his carefully honed patience. At least, that’s what he used to believe.

Now? He wasn’t so sure.

Of course, Sakura Haruno had to be the exception to every constant in his life. He shouldn’t care this much about what she did with other men. But the thought of it—the mere possibility of it—gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting.

His fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. Discipline be damned.

He threw back another shot. Then another. And another.

The burn down his throat was a welcome distraction, numbing the raw edge of his thoughts. But no matter how much he drank, it couldn’t quiet the storm she’d stirred within him.

Matsuri’s voice broke into his thoughts, shrill and unwanted.

“Gaara-san?” He heard Matsuri’s voice and let out a slow, deliberate sigh.

“Matsuri.” He didn’t bother looking up.

She hovered beside him, her tone shifting to concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, spinning his empty glass between his fingers.

His eyes stayed fixed on the dance floor, tracking every move. If his gaze could set things ablaze, Ren would already be ashes.

Ren spun her again, her hair fanning out in a graceful arc. For a brief moment, her eyes met his.

It was electric.

The world seemed to fall away, the thrum of music fading into the background. Her green eyes locked onto his, and the intensity of her gaze sent a jolt through him.

On the outside, Gaara appeared calm, his expression unshaken, but internally, Shukaku's relentless voice was grating on him.

"That motherfucker! Crush his windpipe! He’ll never speak to your girl again."

His fingers flexed against the table. Not helpful, he thought, but Shukaku's over-the-top suggestion was tempting.

"Yeah, I really should," he muttered under his breath.

Matsuri stumbled toward him, tearing his gaze away from Sakura, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed pink from too much alcohol. “I’ve been calling you forever!” she slurred, her tone too loud, too playful.

Before he could respond, she climbed into the booth beside him, too close for his liking. Gaara clenched his jaw. While he prided himself on being a quiet drunk, Matsuri was the exact opposite.

“You’re drunk,” he said flatly. “Go home.”

Her lips puckered in an exaggerated pout. “But I missed you.”

Her hand reached for his arm. Gaara stilled, eyes narrowing as she clung to him. He inhaled sharply and pried her fingers off, firm but careful. “Go home, Matsuri,” he repeated, his tone clipped.

Her lips quivered and then came the sniffling. Gaara pressed his palm to his temple, muttering something under his breath that might have been a curse.

“I feel like you’ve been mean to me ever since she came,” Matsuri said, her voice wobbling. Her eyes glistened, but her gaze was pointed, almost defiant.

Gaara’s jaw tightened, and his gaze hardened. “Don’t talk about her,” he said, his tone dropping to a dangerous calm. “What happened between us was a mistake. It shouldn’t have gone on as long as it did. If you can’t accept that, then we can’t continue as friends.”

The words cut clean, harsh, but he meant them.

Her eyes widened, the drunken haze lifting slightly as his words landed. “What? No, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—please don’t say that.”

Gaara sighed resignedly, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at Matsuri. She looked so small now, her drunken confidence crumbling under his words. He sighed, leaning back slightly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Matsuri,” he said firmly, his voice low and measured, “you’ve had too much to drink. This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

“But Gaara—” she began, her voice cracking.

“No,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “Go home. We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

She blinked at him, startled by the steel in his voice, before glancing down at her lap. “You’re sending me away?”

“I’m asking you to take care of yourself,” he said firmly. Standing, he gestured for her to follow. “Come on.”

He wasn’t a perfect man, far from it, but he knew he couldn’t leave her like this—not drunk, not vulnerable, and certainly not when he bore part of the blame for her misplaced feelings.

They ventured to a more quitter area of the building, the thrum of the music faded as they turned a corner into a dimly lit hallway. The air felt cooler here, less stifling, and for a moment, Gaara allowed himself a brief exhale.

“Stay here,” he said, motioning to a nearby Anbu guard. “Make sure she gets home safely.”

Sakura had been trying to ignore it, but the sensation of being watched prickled against her skin, sharp and insistent. She resisted the urge to glance around, focusing instead on the music and the steady rhythm of Ren’s guiding hand.

But when Ren spun her around, she couldn’t help it. Her eyes snapped open.

Her gaze collided with his.

Time seemed to freeze as his icy stare bore into her, his lips set in a deep scowl. Instinctively, she stiffened, her body reacting as if she was doing something she shouldn’t be doing. The thought was fleeting, though, replaced by a more bitter realization when she noticed the figure beside him.

Matsuri.

Her delicate hand was wrapped around his arm

Of course, it’s her, Sakura thought bitterly. Always her.

Sakura’s chest tightened, and heat flared behind her eyes. She tried to shake it off, forcing herself to focus on the rhythm of the music, but her pulse hammered too loudly in her ears. Her lips curled into a frown, and her eyes narrowed. She turned away, breaking the hold of his gaze with a sharp pivot, and resumed the dance.

The prickling sensation faded soon after, but the unease lingered.

When she dared to glance again, he was gone. Matsuri was gone too. Sakura’s stomach churned as she caught a glimpse of their retreating figures heading toward the same exit.

Her breath hitched.

Wow. He’s not even trying to hide it anymore.

The thought came unbidden, bitter and barbed. A scoff escaped her lips, but it did little to mask the sinking feeling in her chest. Suddenly, the room felt stifling, the music too loud, the air too thick. She pulled away from Ren mid-spin, muttering something flimsy about a stomachache before wandering off in search of Temari.

She needed to go home

Sakura winced as another sharp pang shot up from her heels. Goddamn it. The stilettos were torture, and dancing in them hadn’t done her any favours. She hobbled down the corridor, scanning the endless stretch of doors while her mind—traitorous as ever—drifted back to Gaara.

He had some nerve. Showing up and frolicking with Matsuri on his arm, giving her that look like she was the one in the wrong. He just had to ruin her night.

Fucking red-haired, brooding, infuriatingly handsome devil.

She’d be damned if she let him touch her again.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," Inner Sakura chimed in smugly.

Sakura scowled at nothing in particular, pushing the thought away as she reached another door. She hesitated before knocking, dreading what might be on the other side. She had already stumbled into enough rooms with entwined bodies for one night. This was getting ridiculous.

But she couldn’t leave without finding Temari. She wouldn’t just ditch her friend at a party—not her style. Knowing Temari, she was probably locked away somewhere with Keita, and Sakura was stuck playing the reluctant search party.

She sighed, telling herself she’d check just three more doors. After that, Temari was on her own.

She reached for the handle of the next door but didn’t make it far. A hand shot out, gripping her wrist. Before she could react, she was pulled into a dimly lit room.

A startled gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled forward, colliding with a hard chest. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her. Her breath hitched, her pulse quickening as her eyes adjusted to the low light.

Icy green eyes bore into hers, sharp and unrelenting.

“Gaara?” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

His hold on her was firm but not harsh, and his expression was impossible to read. Her thoughts scrambled, her chest brushing his as she tried to catch her breath. The warmth of his body seeped through her thin dress, his presence both disorienting and magnetic.

Gaara’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. His anger from moments earlier still simmered beneath the surface, but now that she was here—pressed against him—it shifted into something deeper, darker. She was pressed against him, her scent wrapping around him like a silk thread, binding him in ways he couldn’t untangle. His fingers flexed against her waist, fighting the urge to pull her closer, to claim her.

He had been on the verge of storming the dance floor, ready to do something reckless, but the heat of her body against his cooled the fury in his veins. Instead, it ignited a different fire. It was maddening how she disarmed him like this, without even trying.

Sakura squirmed in his hold, her emerald eyes flicking up to meet his. She stopped abruptly, her breath catching as she searched his gaze. He wasn’t letting her go—not yet.

The feeling of his body so close to hers was dizzying. Memories of their last encounter—the way he’d kissed her, the way his hands had felt against her skin—rushed back unbidden, making her heart race. She barely noticed the quiet click of the door locking behind her.

His heated gaze dropped to her lips, and his head dipped lower. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to close the distance, to let him consume her, but—

No.

She pushed him away, summoning strength she didn’t know she had.

Gaara stumbled back a step, though he caught himself with that infuriating grace of his. A flicker of surprise, then anger, crossed his face, only to be replaced by his usual stoic mask. He said nothing, and that silence pissed her off more than anything else.

“Seriously,” she bit out, breathless, avoiding his gaze, “is locking me in rooms with you your new thing?”

“Do you want it to be?” he replied smoothly.

Her head snapped up at his teasing tone, and she didn’t need to look to know he was smirking. Heat rushed to her face, and she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the flush that spread like wildfire. The motion only made her cleavage more pronounced, and she caught his eyes flicking down briefly before snapping back up.

She groaned inwardly. “Why am I here, Gaara?”

Her voice was softer now, less defensive. It drew him out of his thoughts, and his gaze softened as he met her eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself.

Sakura froze, her blush deepening until she felt like her whole body was on fire. “T-thank you,” she stammered, her voice barely audible.

The silence stretched between them, charged and heavy. She wanted to ask him about Matsuri, about what this thing was between them. Did he feel the same pull she did, or was this just a game for him? The questions burned at the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them down.

Her past had taught her the cost of vulnerability, and she wasn’t ready to pay it again.

Gaara could tell something was wrong. Her tension was written all over her face, and he was done playing these games. He was beginning to understand that with Sakura—if you wanted the truth, you had to push her until she snapped. And he was ready to push. One way or another, she was going to tell him what was really going on.

“I should get back to the party,” she muttered, starting to turn away.

“You’re not running away this time.”

His voice stopped her mid-step, and before she could retort, he cut in again. “You and Ren. What the fuck is that about? Why are you even here?” His tone was calm, but Sakura could hear the mockery—and beneath it, jealousy.

Her head snapped toward him, a sharp scoff escaping her lips. “What do you mean? I was invited. And what’s it to you anyway? He’s nice to me.” She crossed her arms, refusing to back down. “He’s sweet.” Cunningly sweet

Gaara scoffed, the sound sharp enough to set her teeth on edge. “Of course he is,” he said, his voice low and matter-of-fact. “Because he wants to fuck you.”

Her mouth fell open, words failing her as his crude statement knocked the air from her lungs.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he leaned in to murmur near her ear. “I don’t like to share, you know. Stay away from Ren.” His voice was soft, commanding, and laced with a smug satisfaction as her breath hitched.

Sakura blinked, her hands trembling with the effort to hold herself back. “You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m going to listen to you,” she spat, her voice sharp and furious. “You don’t own me. I can do whatever I want with him—even let him fuck me if I feel like it. You hear me?”

His hands shot out, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her flush against him. His glower bore into her, his voice a low growl. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna bet?” Her emerald eyes burned with a silent challenge, daring him to argue. “You have some nerve acting like a jealous boyfriend. Why don’t you go back to your little girlfriend and stay out of my business!”

For the first time, his grip loosened. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, breaking through the anger clouding his judgment. “What are you—” He paused, the pieces clicking into place like a flash of lightning. The scene with Matsuri earlier flashed in his mind—her reaction, her sharpness, the way her eyes had hardened when she’d seen them together.

“Ah,” he murmured, his voice low and almost amused, “so that’s the problem…”

Kami, he had to be the biggest idiot ever.

The realization settled in his chest like a weight, but not an unpleasant one. A smirk curved his lips, slow and deliberate, as his hands slid upward. His fingers brushed against her jaw, lingering just long enough to feel the heat of her skin. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with a gentleness that stood in stark contrast to the fire still crackling between them.

“So you were jealous,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, each word dripping with satisfaction. His gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the raw tension crackling in the air.

Sakura’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing with a mix of outrage and embarrassment. “You’re insufferable,” she snapped, but her voice faltered, her resolve threatening to crumble under the intensity of his stare.

“Am I?” he asked, his smirk widening. The vulnerability behind her anger—the tremble in her voice, the way her breaths came quicker—stirred something primal in him. She cared. More than she wanted to admit. And that knowledge was intoxicating.

“I-I’m not, I wasn’t jealous…”

The denial faltered as he pulled her closer, his hands settling at her waist. Her thoughts grew hazy, clouded by the heat radiating from his body. His eyes burned into hers, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from flicking to his lips.

Damn him.

“You were jealous—that’s good,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine. “Because when I saw you with Ren, I wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, limb by limb, right in front of you.” His breath was hot against her ear, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he meant every word. “And I would do it. You know I would.”

Sakura’s pulse raced. She should feel fear, should recoil at the dark promise in his tone, but all she felt was heat spreading through her body. Instead of stepping away, she leaned into his touch, drawn to the intensity radiating off him.

“There is nothing between me and Ren” Sakura confessed her voice soft.

Gaara sighed, the sound strangely content, as his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. “Your scent drives me insane,” he admitted, his voice softening but no less possessive. “You drive me insane.”

Sakura hesitated, her heart thundering in her chest. She had to ask, had to know. “And Matsuri?”

His movements stilled for a moment as if considering her question. Then his head dipped, nuzzling her neck as though to ground himself in her presence. The sensation sent sparks cascading over her skin, and Sakura’s breath hitched.

 “Gaara…” she whispered, barely able to form the word.

“We’re just friends,” he finally replied, his tone measured, deliberate.

The truth of it hung in the air, heavy but clear. She wanted to feel relieved—should feel relieved—but doubt still clawed at the edges of her thoughts, refusing to let her go. She didn’t get the chance to analyze her feelings.

He pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, then another, trailing lower to her shoulder. Sakura’s resolve crumbled, and she bit her lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape. Her silence felt like a taunt, and it unnerved him.

His teeth grazed her neck, biting softly, and the sound she made—a sharp, breathy moan—was like a spark to dry tinder. His hands tightened around her waist as he growled low in his throat.

“Why deny what we both want?” he murmured, his lips brushing along her jaw.

Sakura’s mind spun. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Gaara had finally unravelled what little restraint she had left, maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe it would only complicate things. But for once, she wanted to lose herself in the moment, to feel something that wasn’t measured or restrained, something that wasn’t a distant dream of someone who never looked back. Her body moved on instinct. Her hand shot up, tangling in his fiery hair, yanking him from her neck to meet her gaze. For a heartbeat, they were locked in a heated stare, her emotions swirling into something she couldn’t name but couldn’t deny either. And then her lips crashed into his.

He stilled for a fraction of a second, stunned by her boldness before his lips curved into a smirk against hers. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he responded with a ferocity that left her breathless. His arms tightened around her, and she lost herself in the storm of his embrace, his lips, his everything.

Sakura felt her legs wrap around his waist as he hoisted her up effortlessly, grinding against her core, sending a surge of pleasure through her body. Her breath hitched, and Gaara’s hand snaked to the back of her head, deepening the kiss with a raw hunger that left her dizzy.

Breaking away for air, Gaara wasted no time, his mouth moving back to her neck while his hands worked at her dress. The thin fabric slipped down her shoulders, exposing more of her skin to his touch. She let out another moan as she ground against the hardness straining against his pants.

In a flash, she found herself lying beneath him on the bed, his body hovering over hers, predatory and primal. His gaze roamed over her half-naked form, clad only in lace, and Sakura felt the heat of his stare like a physical touch. She was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed with desire. Gaara’s eyes darkened, and she knew what he wanted—what they both wanted.

He kissed her again, this time slower, gentler, as though savouring every second. She moaned into the kiss, her hands fumbling for the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He helped her pull it off, tossing it aside. Sakura’s breath hitched at the sight of him—muscles taut, scars faintly visible in the low light. Her hands roamed over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his body.

 “I need to tell you something,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing.

Gaara’s brows knit together, concern flickering across his features. His first thought is that she’s changed her mind, that she wants to stop, and for a moment, his chest tightens. But then he notices the way she avoids his gaze, her cheeks dusted with a faint blush, her lips pressed together in hesitation. It can’t be that—not when she looks this flustered. Relief washes over him, though he swallows hard, trying to keep his composure. A cold shower was definitely not on his agenda tonight.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice rougher than usual, laden with the tension simmering between them.

“I-uhh... well—” She shifts uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. The words seem stuck in her throat, and when they finally come out, they’re so quiet he almost misses them. “I’ve never done this before”

The confession hangs in the air between them, delicate yet heavy, and for a moment, she doesn’t dare look at him. But he hears it—hears every word, clear as day—and something in his expression shifts.

Gaara just stared. To say he was surprised was an understatement. For a split second, he wondered if this was one of those dreams that always left him waking up in a cold sweat, hard and frustrated. He’d had plenty of dreams about Sakura lately, but this? This was real.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, just to be sure.

She nodded softly, her cheeks flushed.

Sakura had always seemed unattainable—untouchable even to him. Everyone knew she only had eyes for the Uchiha, and maybe that’s why he had never considered her in this way until recently. With her many prospects, he had assumed she would have—

But now, here she was, beneath him, trusting him enough to be her first.

The realization struck him hard, not just with lust, but with a strange sense of responsibility and something else he couldn’t quite understand.

He sighed as he moved to sit on the side of the bed, "Let's go home". Gaara’s words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on Sakura like a tidal wave. “Go home?” she repeated, sitting up, her voice soft but trembling. Her heart sank, the earlier warmth between them now replaced by an icy chill. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Her eyes darted away, unable to meet his. The vulnerability in her voice hit Gaara like a physical blow, and for a moment, he froze.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, stepping closer. His hand cupped her chin gently, tilting her face upward so their eyes met. “I just—”

Before he could finish, she pushed his hand away, the sting of rejection flooding her senses. “Don’t,” she snapped, her voice cracking. She stood abruptly, her movements hurried and frantic as she grabbed for her dress lying crumpled on the floor.

Her hands shook as she struggled to slip it back on, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t let him see her cry—but, Kami, she really wanted to.

She just had to be cursed. It wasn’t Gaara’s fault, not really. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to continue. He probably thought she’d be clingy afterwards, or worse, awkward and inexperienced. The idea twisted painfully in her chest.

Ino’s words echoed in her mind, harsh and uninvited: “Most guys think sleeping with a virgin is too much trouble—they get all weird about it. Some of them even think it makes the girl too attached like they’re stuck or something, you have to lose it early.”

Was that what Gaara thought?

“Sakura,” Gaara said, his tone softer now, but she didn’t turn around.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her words sharp and bitter as she slipped on her shoes. “You don’t have to explain, Gaara. I get it.” She trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Gaara moved closer, his brow furrowed, the sight of her like this twisting something deep inside him. “You don't—”

“No,” she cut him off, spinning to face him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “I understand if you don’t want the ‘huge responsibility’ of dealing with me,” she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though it cracked on the last word.

She turned abruptly, heading for the door, but before her fingers could reach the handle, a strong hand grabbed her wrist.

“Sakura,” Gaara said firmly.

“Let go,” she hissed, her voice low but trembling.

“No.”

The world blurred around Sakura, spinning like a whirlwind until her knees nearly gave out. The disorienting sensation settled as quickly as it began, leaving her standing on solid ground—though her heart continued to race.

Blinking to steady herself, she took in the dim surroundings. The warm, muted tones of sand-coloured walls and the minimalist furniture grounded her in an unmistakable familiarity. Gaara’s room.

Her pulse quickened for an entirely different reason now.

“What the hell, Gaara?” she snapped, spinning on her heel to face him. She tried yanking her wrist free from his grasp, but his grip remained firm—not painful, but unyielding. He pulled her closer in a swift, fluid motion, her chest colliding with his, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Goddammit, woman,” he growled, his voice low and rough, but there was no anger in it—only frustration. His teal eyes bored into hers, a tempest of emotions swirling within them. “Do you have to misunderstand everything I do?”

Her lips parted, but no words came.

“You think I don’t want you?” he demanded, his voice dropping even lower, like a rumble of thunder in the pit of her stomach.

Sakura froze, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his intensity. She searched his gaze for any hint of hesitation, but what she saw there was raw and undeniable. “I-I don’t know what to think,” she admitted, her voice wavering. She looked away, the vulnerability in her words making her chest tighten. “You just… stopped. I thought—”

“I didn’t want your first time to be in his house” He couldn’t help the sense of pride that engulfed him when she had told him and he would never forgive himself if he made her have her first time in Ren’s home. It would be with him, in his home, in his sheets. Shukaku was right about one thing, he was possessive.

With his hand cupping her cheek, gentle yet firm, he forced her to look at him, his teal eyes betraying his frustration. His thumb brushed over her jawline, a touch that sent shivers down her spine. “If you think, even for a second, that I don’t want you—” he began, his voice as rough as sandpaper yet carrying a tenderness that made her knees weaken.

“Then what am I supposed to think?” she whispered, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Her tone was soft but carried a tremor that betrayed her inner turmoil. She wanted, no, needed to hear him say it.

“That you make me lose control,” he admitted, his raw confession cutting through the charged air between them.

Sakura’s breath caught, her chest rising and falling as the weight of his words sank in. There was something primal in his gaze now, a depth of want that sent a shiver through her.

Before she could form a response, his lips crashed onto hers. There was no hesitation this time, no slow burn—just raw, unfiltered need.

Sakura gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching for him, one tangling in his hair while the other gripped his shoulder. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him as if he couldn’t stand the space between them.

The kiss was frantic, a collision of lips and tongues that spoke of everything they couldn’t say out loud. Her fingers tugged at his hair, eliciting a low growl from him that made her knees weaken.

Gaara pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead brushing hers. His hands were on her face now, holding her like she was something fragile yet impossible to resist. “Sakura,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Are you sure about this?”

She didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, her hands slid to the nape of his neck, pulling him down as she pressed her lips to his with even more fervour. The intensity of her kiss was all the answer he needed.

Gaara led them to the bed, and before Sakura could react, her knees buckled, and she fell onto the mattress. Her eyes stayed locked on his, watching with bated breath as he pulled his shirt over his head. She almost licked her lips, mesmerized by the sight of his defined body—strong and hard in all the right places.

He loomed over her, his fingers gently threading through her long hair. Bending down, Gaara tilted her chin up, capturing her lips again. Before she could process the next moment, her back met the bed, and Gaara was devouring her lips like a man starved.

This was quickly becoming her favorite thing—kissing him. He was so good at it, making her lose herself every time his tongue massaged hers until she couldn’t breathe.

Gaara hovered over her, his hand trailing down her thigh, leaving a burning path under her flimsy dress. He watched as her thighs shifted, trying to relieve the ache he caused. The expression on her face was enough to fuel his desire tenfold. He wanted to take her now, to lose control and bury himself in her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But he held back. He was going to be her first, and as much as the beast inside him urged him to take her without restraint, he wanted this to feel good—for her, and for him. It was Sakura, after all.

Her dress was slid up and discarded, revealing her perfectly round breasts, just the right size to fill his hand. Gaara cupped a mound, earning a moan from her as her back arched slightly. He breathed over the sensitive skin, watching her shiver. They smelled like vanilla, sweet and intoxicating. Slowly, he licked one of her hardened nipples, eliciting another soft moan from her.

His hands and mouth continued to worship her breasts, leaving Sakura mewling and arching beneath him. He gripped her legs, pulling a gasp from her as he draped them over his shoulders. Right now, all he wanted was to taste her, to feel her in a way he’d only fantasized about.

Gaara hissed as he lowered himself between her legs, eager to memorize every sound, every gasp, and every moan she made.

Sakura was lost in her senses, Gaara’s mouth trailing nips and kisses along her inner thighs, dangerously close to her center. It was so embarrassing that she couldn’t even look. With one hand, he slipped beneath her panties, his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. She jerked, biting her lip to stifle a whimper as pleasure surged through her. She instinctively tried to close her thighs, but his firm grip prevented it.

When his thumb pressed against her clit, she let out a throaty gasp—an attempt at his name, though it barely came out. She tried to move, but his hands on her hips were strong, holding her in place. The slow, torturous rhythm of his thumb had her arching into him, desperate for more, but he held her down, teasing her with agonizing patience. Watching her bite her lip, whimpering for his touch, almost drove him into a frenzy.

Gaara couldn’t believe how wet she was for him. This was for him. His tongue glided over her slit, eliciting a deep moan that only fed his desire. Slowly, he ran his fingers back and forth over her lips, prodding slightly between her folds. The more he teased, the louder her moans grew, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

“Please…” she cried, her hands gripping his shoulders, though she didn’t know what she was begging for.

He wanted to hear her scream his name, feel her nails dig into his shoulders, to have her completely submit to him. Sakura’s cry filled the room as he thrust a finger inside her. “So fucking tight,” he growled, barely containing the thought of how it would feel to have his cock buried inside her instead. The thought alone made his erection throb painfully.

“Open your eyes, Sakura,” he commanded, pulling his finger out, slick with her juices. When she opened her eyes, her face flushed with embarrassment, she watched as he brought his finger to his lips, tasting her. “Like vanilla,” he drawled with a smirk. She covered her eyes, her cheeks flaming red, as he chuckled at her reaction.

Who knew Gaara could be so… She couldn’t finish the thought before he thrust his finger back inside her, building up a punishing pace. When he added another finger, her walls tightened around him, and he almost came undone at the sensation. Erotic sounds spilled from her lips as his tongue flicked over her clit, concentrating on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Whatever control she had over her body was lost. Gaara was in control now. She screamed his name, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, completely at his mercy.

Gaara watched her face, memorizing every arch, every curve of her body as his fingers moved inside her. Her hips bucked against him, but his hands pinned her down, giving her no room to escape the onslaught of pleasure. She was close, and the thought only spurred him on, his fingers thrusting harder.

“Gaara—please,” she moaned when he hit that sweet spot inside her, the desperation in her voice driving him wild. His cock throbbed, begging for release, but he wanted to savour this—he liked hearing her beg.

“What do you want?” he asked, his lips brushing over the curve of her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple. The sound that escaped her lips made him groan against her skin. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak, sucking lightly as his fingers pumped faster.

Sakura’s mind was barely coherent, her thoughts clouded with pleasure. Every word she tried to form came out as some variation of “Yes, please, Gaara.”

Releasing her breast, Gaara nipped at her neck, sending jolts of sensation through her already overstimulated body. “I need to be inside you,” he growled into her ear, his voice deep and husky, dripping with lust. “You want that too, don’t you?” His fingers thrust harder into her core, eliciting another cry from her.

“Yes…” she choked out, barely audible, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her moans grew louder, her hips moving on their own, rocking into his hand.

“Say it,” he urged, his breath hot against her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I want… ahh… you inside me…” she managed, her voice breathless as her body tensed. Her walls clenched around his fingers, and Gaara lowered himself between her legs again.

“Good girl,” he whispered, thrusting his fingers into her at that same relentless pace, hitting the spot that made her moan uncontrollably. “Oh, Kami… I—I…” Her words were lost in the wave of pleasure that overtook her.

Gaara leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss just as her back arched and her walls tightened around his fingers. She screamed into his mouth as her orgasm crashed over her, her body trembling as he carried her through the peak.

Gaara slowly removed his hand, licking his fingers with a deliberate, teasing motion, as if savoring every drop of her taste. Sakura could only watch, wide-eyed and breathless, her body still quivering from the aftermath of her release. Her legs trembled against Gaara's form, while he remained painfully aroused above her, his eyes burning with an intensity she could hardly fathom.

When he finished, he looked down at her with a mixture of pride and raw desire. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. Shifting his hold, Gaara positioned himself between her thighs, which were spread wide and ready for him. The hard length of his erection brushed against her sensitive center, drawing a shiver from her as their gazes locked, unspoken understanding passing between them.

Wordlessly, Sakura wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Gaara leaned down to capture her lips in a heated kiss, his hand moving to guide his erection to her slick entrance. He hissed as the tip of his cock pushed past her folds, her tight walls gripping him instantly.

"So tight," he growled in disbelief, his voice barely audible.

Sakura opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t have to go easy on her—kunoichi training had likely taken care of her hymen—but before she could speak, he thrust his full length into her in one swift motion. The suddenness of it tore a gasp from her throat, the searing pain causing her body to jolt.

Gaara immediately froze, his hand moving to cup her face, concern etched in his features. “Should I—”

“Don’t,” Sakura cut him off with a frantic shake of her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t stop.” She tightened her legs around him, pulling him even deeper, the sensation both agonizing and electrifying.

Gaara let out a guttural hiss, the feeling of her tightness almost unbearable. “Fuck… Sakura,” he groaned, lost in the ecstasy of her body clinging to him. The way her walls gripped him made it nearly impossible to hold back. Slowly, he withdrew, then thrust back in, a little harder this time, pulling a soft gasp from her lips. He repeated the motion, setting a steady pace to let her adjust, but it took every ounce of restraint to not completely lose himself.

With each thrust, Sakura’s moans grew louder, her body beginning to mold to his size, accommodating him in ways that drove him to the edge of control. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she gasped his name. She wanted him deeper-

"Faster," she moaned, the plea slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

Gaara froze for a heartbeat, his breath catching in his throat as her plea echoed in his mind. He felt her body tremble beneath him, her hips shifting, urging him on.

With a low growl, every last bit of restraint snapped. He thrust into her with a primal urgency, each movement deeper and faster as though her words had unleashed something wild within him. Sakura arched her back as he hit a spot that sent a wave of blinding pleasure through her. She was a whimpering mess beneath him, her hands scrambling for purchase as he pounded relentlessly into her.

“Oh, Gaara—wait, please—” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, but Gaara merely smirked, capturing her wrists and pinning them above her head. “I told you, no running away,” he growled as he slung her legs over his shoulder.

The new angle had her seeing stars. His cock drove even deeper, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, reducing her to a string of incoherent moans. “Gaara—shit, I—” She couldn’t take it. His name became a mantra, spilling from her lips like a prayer.

Gaara’s possessiveness flared with every cry of his name. He wanted to own her completely, to be the only one to ever see her like this, trembling and undone beneath him. With a groan, he slammed into her with reckless abandon, one hand sliding up to cup her breast while the other cradled her cheek. His thumb brushed over her lip. “Open your eyes,” he commanded, his voice low and rough.

Sakura’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his heated gaze. She was on the edge, her body teetering on the brink. Her walls began to spasm around him, tightening impossibly around his length. “I—I’m going to—” Her voice broke as her orgasm crashed through her.

She screamed his name as her body convulsed, her core clamping down around him, and Gaara couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning into her neck as he came, his release flooding her. His body shuddered, the sheer intensity of her tightness pushing him into another wave of pleasure.

He bit down on her shoulder to stifle the sound of his own moaning as Sakura's insides clenched around him again, driving her into yet another climax. She writhed beneath him, her entire body trembling uncontrollably as he emptied himself inside her.

When it was over, Gaara collapsed against her, their bodies slick with sweat, his breath hot against her neck. For a moment, neither of them moved, both of them basking in the afterglow of their shared ecstasy.

“You’re mine now,” Gaara whispered, pressing a final kiss to her neck.

Chapter Text

It took some time for Sakura to wake up the next day, her eyelids heavy as they fluttered open. The muted colors of the walls greeted her first, bathed in the soft glow of sunlight seeping through the curtains. Everything felt golden and warm. Her eyes drifted downward to the sheets, soft and brown, snug around her naked body. She tried to shift, only to feel the strong arms anchored around her waist and the soreness that pulsed through her limbs—a stark reminder of the night before.

Heat flooded her face as the memories rushed back. The way Gaara’s hands had roamed her skin, his lips tracing paths of fire. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon still clung to the sheets, mingling with her own. No, it hadn’t been a dream. They had actually done it. She had slept with Gaara. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She hadn’t expected her first time to feel like this—raw, intoxicating, and real in a way that made her body hum. She always imagined her first time would be quick, awkward, just something to get over with, especially in their line of work. Romantic fairy tales had faded long ago when she became a jounin. Seduction missions were often a reality for female ninjas.

But this? This was...unexpected. Gaara had blown her mind. She had unraveled beneath him, not once but twice. That never happened on a first time, right?

Tentatively, she turned in his arms, slow and careful, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. Relief flooded her at the sight of his face—peaceful in sleep, his expression unguarded in a way she rarely saw. The usual intensity was gone, replaced by something softer, almost innocent.

She wondered how often he got to be like this—completely at ease.

Her stomach twisted with something between nervous anticipation and quiet dread. What did this mean? What did she even want it to mean? She didn’t know what she’d say to him when he woke up. What did people talk about after having sex?

The sleep medication must be working a little too well, she thought, eyeing him with a small, nervous smile. It was rare to see him this unguarded. But his sleep gave her a moment to simply look at him, to take in the quiet reality of him beside her. To let herself feel the weight of what they’d done.

And to wonder what it meant.

Her eyes softened as they traced over his face.

She had felt wanted—not just physically, but in a way that reached deeper, threading through her chest and tightening around her heart. He had made her feel seen. And the thought of that made her stomach flutter.

Was she reading too much into it? Was it foolish to let herself hope?

He was Gaara, after all—so unreadable, so him. But last night, in the way he touched her, she’d felt like she was the only thing that mattered. The look in eyes when he had looked at her, that couldn’t have been an act.

She knew she shouldn’t think like this. It was so cliché—the kind of thought that made her want to roll her own eyes. And yet…
You’re not fooling anyone, Inner Sakura whispered.

Her stomach twisted. She did want it to mean something.

Well, she was Sakura. And things meant something for Sakura even when she willed them not to.

But she wasn’t going to be that girl. She wasn’t going to ask What are we? and risk hearing an answer she wasn’t ready for.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

For now, she decided, she was better off not knowing.

If she could manage that.

Gently, her hand moved up, brushing aside a stray lock of his red hair before she could stop herself. Her fingers traced over the sharp lines of the Kanji on his forehead. What made him get this? Was it before or after he found peace?

She was lost in thought, she didn’t notice the shift in his breathing. Not until his fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm, deliberate.

Her breath hitched. Her gaze snapped to his.

Sea-green eyes, once closed, now gleamed with quiet intensity.

“Sakura.”

His voice was a low, husky rumble, still laced with sleep. But there was something more beneath it—something dark and simmering. It lit a fire low in her stomach before she could even process it.

Then, in one smooth motion, he flipped her beneath him.

A startled gasp left her lips as his weight pressed her into the mattress, pinning her hands above her head. Gaara’s smirk was lazy, possessive—completely unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. And damn it, he looked good. His red hair, mussed from sleep, fell haphazardly over his face, making him look infuriatingly gorgeous.

Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about an awkward morning-after conversation.

This was apparently how Gaara preferred to handle things.

Sakura, flustered, pushed against him. “You—what do you think you’re doing?”

His smirk deepened. “Take a guess.”

Her heart hammered with familiar excitement, but she rolled her eyes, trying to regain some control. “Seriously, Gaara, we have to get to work or we’ll both be late.”

He didn’t listen.

Instead, he pressed into her, and Sakura’s breath hitched when she felt just how hard he was.

Her stomach flipped. Heat shot through her body.

Gaara’s eyes darkened in amusement at her reaction. “You like it.”

Her cheeks burned hotter. “You’re insatiable,” she muttered, voice breathless.

He chuckled, dipping his head to her jawline, his lips skimming along her skin. “And yet, you’re not telling me to stop.”

Her flustered mind scrambled for a retort, but words failed her when his mouth trailed lower. Any thoughts about being late to work evaporated the moment his lips found her skin.

Okay, just be normal, Sakura told herself as she walked past the gossiping nurses.

It wasn’t like she had “Hey, I just had sex” stamped on her forehead.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was wearing it all over her face. Her cheeks heated at the memory of the morning—of him.

They’d gone another round before she left.

Gaara was insatiable. She never would’ve guessed he’d be like that, but she wasn’t complaining. Not even a little. And though she’d never admit it, she liked how much he seemed to want her.

She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the nurses enthusiastically greeting her.

“Good morning, Sakura-sama!”

They abandoned whatever task they were pretending to do and practically materialized in front of her.

“We were just about to change the patient beddings,” one of them said, despite having no beddings in sight. “Do you need us to do anything else this morning?”

Sakura sighed. Normally, she’d be irritated that they were standing around, wasting time this early in the day. But she was in such a good mood, she couldn’t be bothered.

She smiled. “There are a few patients waiting at the front. Go see what they need.”

“Of course, Sakura-sama! By the way, you’re looking very radiant today. What’s your secret?”

“Yes, your skin is perfect” the other added. They both nodded enthusiastically as they waited for her reply.

If she’d had coffee, she would’ve spit it out.

Her cheeks burned. “Uh—nothing really. Just a good night’s rest,” she muttered quickly, keeping her voice steady. “Alright, enough chit-chat. Go see about those patients.”

The nurses scurried off, and Sakura exhaled in relief.

Back in her office, she was reviewing notes for her class when a knock sounded at her door.

Keita’s head popped through the opening, grinning—brown hair tousled, warm brown eyes bright with mischief. Sakura almost chuckled when she saw him. “Hey, you. Some crazy party that was yesterday, huh? You look great, and I look like shit.”

Sakura scoffed, ignoring the comment. “Probably ‘cause you spent the whole night with Temari doing God knows what. I looked everywhere for you two.”

“Really? ‘Cause she looked for you, too.” His brow quirked. “Something about how Gaara would have her head if she didn’t make sure you got home safe. But you were already gone. Did you go home alone?”

Her stomach twisted.

She didn’t want to lie. But if she said no, he’d know exactly who she had been with. Either way, she was screwed.

“Well, I—”

Before she could answer, the door flew open.

“Sakura-sama!”

One of the nurses that had just greeted her burst in, breathless.

Both she and Keita startled.

“I’m sorry for barging in, but we have a situation downstairs!”

Sakura was already on her feet, grabbing her coat. “What’s wrong?”

The nurse looked panicked. “There’s a woman in the ER—she’s aggressive, throwing things. The other patients are scared. None of us are able hold her down.”

Sakura and Keita exchanged a sharp look.

Shit.

Of course it had to be today.

She had known—sooner or later—there’d be a case.

But why the hell did it have to be today?

Sakura’s eyes narrowed as she took in the chaotic scene she had just run into. The woman thrashed violently, her face contorted in a combination of pain, terror, and fury. Her once-neat clothes were now wrinkled and disheveled, her body glistening with sweat. Pupils dilated. Breath erratic and labored. The nurses struggled to hold her down, but what caught Sakura’s attention was the man at the woman’s side—definitely her husband. His face was pale, his hands shaking as he tried, and failed, to restrain her. The sheer desperation in his eyes made Sakura’s stomach twist.

Five or six patients hovered nearby, murmuring amongst themselves, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. At least the morning rush hadn’t started yet.

Sakura moved closer, cataloging every symptom: flushed skin, red-rimmed eyes, unnatural strength. Was the sweating due to fever or heat? Was the erratic speech purely delusional? She needed to hear what the woman was saying.

"Be careful, Sakura," Keita muttered behind her.

Sakura barely acknowledged him as she stepped forward. The woman’s voice was hoarse, words tumbling out in a frantic, repetitive chant.

“… too dry… it burns…”

"Shh… what burns?" Sakura asked gently, hands raised in a calming gesture.

The woman’s gaze snapped to hers, wild and frenzied. Her lips trembled. "I—I don’t know what’s happening," she choked out, her voice thick and strained, like she was swallowing gravel. "Something- something is coming"

Sakura’s stomach clenched. Delusions. Fear. But not just that.

She placed a hand on the woman’s forehead—fiery hot. A fever, an intense one. Her muscles spasmed beneath Sakura’s touch, tendons straining like a bowstring pulled too tight. If they didn’t act fast, she’d end up like the others. Dead.

"Stand back!" Sakura commanded, her voice firm.

The medic-nins hesitated, but one by one, they obeyed, releasing their hold. The woman’s body writhed, her breath hitching in short, panicked gasps.

"Can’t… breathe…" Her voice cracked. "Burns…"

Sakura didn’t waste another second. In one swift motion, she pressed two fingers to the woman’s forehead, sending a controlled pulse of chakra through her neural pathways. The woman convulsed once—then went limp.

"Get her to a room upstairs immediately," Sakura ordered. "And bring me a sedative. She won’t be down for long."

As the medics scrambled to carry out her instructions, Sakura turned to the husband. He was still kneeling on the floor, staring at his unconscious wife, his breaths coming in uneven bursts. His hands hovered over her like he didn’t know whether to touch her or let her go.

"Did she say anything before this started?" Sakura pressed, her tone urgent but measured.

His eyes darted up to hers, filled with helplessness. "No, she hasn’t been herself for a while, I—" His voice cracked. "We thought it was just a fever"

Sakura nodded. "I’ll do everything I can."

In the restroom, Sakura splashed cold water onto her face. The shock of it grounded her. Her fingers trembled as she braced herself against the sink.

Okay. Focus. What would Tsunade do?

She forced herself to think clinically. Symptoms first. Unknown illness, so start with what she could see. Fever. Hyperaggression. Chakra instability. That was the pattern. That’s what she had to track.

With three more splashes, she steadied herself and stepped out. Keita was waiting.

“You okay?” he asked, studying her face.

Sakura exhaled sharply. “I have to get back to her—”

“Mai,” Keita said “Her name is Mai.”

Sakura nodded, already shifting into problem-solving mode. “Find out everything you can from her husband. There has to be a link.”

Something wasn’t adding up. Why only women? Why only married women? The questions clawed at her brain as she made her way back to the ER. She didn’t have the answers yet, but she would tear Suna apart before she let another woman die.

Inside the patient room, three medic-nins stood ready. Mai was still unconscious, but whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. The steady beep of the monitor filled the silence—her heart rate was elevated but stable.

Sakura approached the bed, pressing her palm to the woman’s forehead. Still burning up. But her skin was dry, feverish in a way that felt unnatural—like something was searing her from the inside out.

"Draw a blood sample," she instructed one of the nurses, already mentally cycling through treatment options. If the fever spiked any higher, she’d be at risk of organ failure.

They worked in silence, the hours slipping by in a blur of chakra scans, IV fluids, and test after test.

Six hours.

That’s how long it had taken. And still—no real answers.

The fever had gone down, which was something. But it wasn’t enough.

Sakura leaned against the counter, rubbing her temples, replaying every detail in her mind. Mai’s chakra pathways… she had never seen damage like that before. It was as if something had been forcefully pushed through them, tearing delicate channels never meant to endure such strain.

Why?

Why civilian women?

Why civilians in general?

Their chakra was minimal at best, just enough to support their general well-being. They weren’t trained for combat, weren’t meant to endure this kind of pressure. For shinobi, a blockage or surge in their chakra system could be painful—debilitating, even. But for civilians? The damage was catastrophic.

Her gaze flickered back to Mai’s unconscious form. The woman’s breathing was steady now, but her body had been through hell. Whatever this was… it wasn’t an illness. It wasn’t a virus.

This was man-made.

Someone had done this to her.

And if they didn’t figure out how, more women would suffer the same fate.

Sakura was still in the patient’s room, lost in thought, when Keita stepped inside. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told her enough—whatever he’d learned, it wasn’t good.

"Talk," she said, barely looking up.

Keita exhaled sharply. "The husband… wasn’t exactly eager to share at first, but I pressed him. Turns out, Mai’s been off for weeks. It started small—trouble sleeping, losing track of time, paranoia."

Sakura’s frown deepened. "That’s exactly how it started with Rie Elma—the first survivor."

Keita nodded grimly. “Right. But here’s the thing—no mention of the aggression or strength. Today was the first time he saw her get violent.”

Sakura’s fingers curled into a fist. "So the progression was slower…”

"That’s what I thought," Keita said. Then, after a pause, he added

She forced herself to take a breath. Maybe there was an explanation. Some kind of infection? A parasite? But chakra pathways didn’t rupture on their own. Something was being forced into these women.

Keita shifted on his feet. "I think we might have a link."

Sakura’s head snapped up. "What is it?"

He didn’t hesitate this time. "She and her husband went on vacation. Three months ago."

The words hung in the air.

For a second, they didn’t register. Then Sakura’s breath caught.

"Rie and her husband went on vacation too," she whispered.

A cold dread curled in her gut. Finally, something.

If both Rie and Mai had been to the same location, then whatever was infecting these women—it started there. And if they could find it, they could stop it.

Her pulse quickened, exhilaration flickering through the exhaustion. She looked up at Keita, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Keita," she breathed, something close to relief curling in her chest, "I could actually kiss you right now."

Sakura was tired. Her eyes burned from overuse, strained under the dim glow of fluorescent lights as she meticulously analyzed the blood samples. The air was thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic, tinged with something more elusive—a trace of desert sand drifting in through the small window. At least she had a window.

Her lab coat, slightly crumpled from long hours, hung loosely over her shoulders, and her pink hair was messily tied back, stray strands clinging to her forehead. Dark circles underscored the determination in her gaze.

She paused, stretching her stiff neck before glancing outside. The moon hung high, casting an eerie glow over the dunes of Sunagakure—a quiet contrast to the chaos of the day. She should have gone to bed hours ago.

Mai was stable now. The intervals between her “incidents” had stretched from every two hours to four, and the fever was easier to manage. But it wasn’t enough. The night-shift nurses were still on watch, and Sakura was still here, chasing down answers.

"Come on, there has to be a connection."

She muttered the words under her breath, swiping a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she turned back to her microscope.

Then—her gaze sharpened.

Frowning, she adjusted the focus. Something about this… it wasn’t right. At first glance, Mai’s blood and Rie’s were nearly identical—elevated white blood cell counts, clear signs of extreme stress, spikes in adrenaline and cortisol, which explained the paranoia and aggression.

But then she flipped to the chakra scans.

Her breath caught.

Inflamed, overstrained pathways.

Fuck.

A chill ran down her spine.

She needed to check Mai. Now. If this was what she thought it was—

"Keita told me I’d find you here."

The deep voice cut through the silence, steady. Unreadable.

Sakura was startled her breath hitching as she spun around. The sudden movement knocked over a couple of trays, sending vials clattering to the floor in a sharp metallic clang.

Gaara stood in the doorway, his presence filling the small lab with quiet intensity.

Then it clicked.

Shit. She’d forgotten to update him. Again.

Her tired brain immediately jumped to the worst conclusion—he was pissed. He probably thought she was hiding things from him again.

She wiped at her forehead, scrambling for words.

"I—I was going to update you, I swear. But things kept happening, and then I had to analyze the blood samples, and I lost track of—"

"Sakura."

Her rambling died instantly.

She swallowed. "Yes?"

He watched her for a moment, unreadable. Too unreadable. And yet, something about the way his gaze lingered made her stomach twist.

Then, he stepped further inside.

His eyes flickered across the room—the microscope she’d been hunched over, the fallen trays, the scattered notes on the counter. His expression barely shifted, but the slow, measured way he exhaled told her everything.

He wasn’t mad. He was holding something back.

The silence stretched, thick enough to press against her ribs.

She couldn’t take it anymore. "Gaara, what are you doing?"

She expected something sharp. Maybe a reprimand. Instead—

He crouched, reaching for the fallen trays.

Sakura blinked.

His movements were precise, careful as he set them back on the table without a word.

"You shouldn’t touch those without gloves, they might be contaminated," she muttered, more out of habit than anything else.

He didn’t answer. Just straightened. Finally met her gaze.

And for a second—she forgot to breathe.

She hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten until she had to tip her head back to look at him. The space between them had shrunk. Too close.

Her pulse jumped, traitorous and immediate.

They’d been intimate just the night before. That morning. The memory of his hands, his weight pressing her into the mattress, the way he had looked at her—it crashed over her all at once.

She shouldn’t be thinking about this.

Not now.

Not when his eyes were steady, sharp. Not when he wasn’t touching her—but somehow, it still felt like he was.

Sakura swallowed. "Gaara—"

It came out softer than she meant. Breathy. Unsteady. The sound of it startled her.

His eyes darkened. Slow, deliberate, like a shadow rolling in, so subtle, most wouldn’t notice. But she does.

Then, he took another step closer.

Before she could move, his fingers brushed against her cheek. The touch was light—barely there—but it still sent a jolt through her. His thumb hovered near the edge of her jaw, his touch deliberate, like he wasn’t just checking on her. He was assessing her. Taking in the exhaustion, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the strain she refused to acknowledge.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You haven’t rested.”

Sakura exhaled, already bracing herself. “I’m fine.”

His fingers lingered a fraction too long before they dropped, slow and deliberate. His expression didn’t change, but there was something in the way his gaze darkened—an almost imperceptible shift, like he was holding something back.

“That’s not an answer.”

She dragged her face away, turning back to the microscope. Her fingers tightened on the focus knob. “I don’t need sleep. I need to figure this out.”

Gaara exhaled through his nose. Unimpressed. Unmoved.

“Sit.”

She blinked, thrown off by the command. “What?”

He didn’t repeat himself. Just watched her, waiting. The weight of his gaze was unbearable, pinning her in place.

She wanted to argue, to tell him she was fine, but there was something about the way he stood there—his hands loose at his sides, his expression carefully controlled—like he knew she wouldn’t listen but refused to back down anyway.

And for some reason, she found herself obeying. As if the exhaustion had finally caught up to her, she sank onto the stool.

Gaara shifted slightly, brushing past her to examine the blood tests she had been analyzing. His sleeve grazed her arm—a fleeting touch—but she felt it all the same. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t comment on her compliance. Just stood beside her, his presence filling the space in a way that made her hyper-aware of every inch between them.

She should say something. Explain what she’d found.

But for the first time all night, she let herself sit in silence.

“Now,” he said, quieter this time. Steadier. “Tell me.”

Sakura took a slow breath, grounding herself. The warmth of his touch still lingered on her skin, but she pushed past it. Focus.

She straightened slightly, glancing at the notes scattered across the desk. “I ran multiple tests on Mai’s blood,” she began, her voice steadier now. “At first, it looked just like Rie’s—same heightened stress response, same abnormal fluctuations in white blood cell count. But then I checked her chakra scan.”

She reached for the report and slid it toward Gaara. “See these areas?” She pointed at the inflamed pathways highlighted in red. “Her chakra network is under extreme strain, like it’s being forced to overwork itself. That shouldn’t be happening unless she was using jutsu non-stop, but she’s been unconscious for most of the day.”

Gaara frowned, scanning the document. “And Rie’s scan?”

Sakura exhaled, frustration flickering across her face. “No one did one. They threw her in the psych ward with barely an evaluation. I only managed to get a blood sample. But if we scanned her now, I’d bet anything we’d see the same results.”

She bit her lip, staring at Mai’s results. “It’s almost like…” She trailed off, hesitant.

Gaara’s eyes flicked to her. “Like what?”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. “Like their bodies are reacting to an external force. Something that’s pushing their chakra past its limits, keeping them in a constant state of stress…”

Gaara’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Something like the tailed beasts.”

A chill ran down her spine. Hearing it spoken aloud made it feel heavier, more real.

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted, but the thought wouldn’t leave her. “I need more data. I have to analyze their chakra in real-time, not just through samples.”

Gaara studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, “You’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

Sakura blinked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Did you hear a word I just said? Someone could be creating a tailed beast chakra-enhancing drug—for what purpose, we don’t even know yet—and your solution is for me to take a nap?”

Gaara’s frown deepened, though his voice remained steady. “You’re no use to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion, Sakura.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t have to.

Sakura opened her mouth to argue, frustration spiking, but before she could get the words out, a sharp, frantic voice tore through the hallway.

“Sakura sama!”

Both of them turned as a medic burst through the door, breathless. “It’s Mai. She’s having another episode. Her fever has spiked again, and her heart rate is up.”

“Kazekage-sama.” The medic bowed hurriedly upon noticing Gaara’s presence.

“How many hours?” Sakura asked, already moving before the words fully registered, pushing past Gaara as adrenaline overrode every ounce of exhaustion.

“5 hours, Shishou.”

Sakura nodded. A one-hour increase. That was good. They were getting somewhere, finally.

But it wasn’t enough.

Gaara followed as she strode down the hallway, his gaze sharp, measured. He didn’t say anything, but she felt him watching her, assessing.

By the time they reached Mai’s bedside, Sakura had already rolled up her sleeves. Bringing down her fever wasn’t difficult anymore—she’d done it three times today alone. But this time, the unease coiling in her gut wouldn’t let up.

Gaara stood near the foot of the bed, his eyes locked on Mai’s unconscious form. His fingers twitched at his sides—small, barely noticeable. But Sakura caught it before he stilled again, his face unreadable.

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor filled the silence. The sharp bite of antiseptic clung to the air. She’d never minded the smell before, but after hours in this room, it stuck to her skin, turning her stomach.

Her gaze flickered to Gaara.

He was right. She should take a break. He was just worried—for her, for all of this. It was a difficult task being Kazekage, having to answer for every incident, even those beyond his control. But that was exactly why she couldn’t stop.

She flexed her fingers, steeling herself. “Okay, here goes,” she muttered under her breath.

“Should you really be doing this when you’re this exhausted?” Gaara interjected, voice low.

Sakura’s jaw tensed. “I handled an entire platoon of ninja in the war, Gaara. I can handle one fucking patient.”

She pressed her palm to Mai’s stomach, sending her chakra forward in a steady, controlled flow.

The moment it made contact—something pushed back.

Wild. Angry.

Her breath hitched.

It wasn’t normal. It was resisting her. It was hostile.

Her fingers trembled, but she gritted her teeth, pressing harder. I need to know what this is.

Then, all at once, it hit.

A pulse of searing heat flooded her system, foreign chakra clawing up her arm—twisting, invasive, wrong. Her heartbeat staggered, stuttering off-rhythm. A suffocating sensation wrapped around her chest, squeezing.

She couldn’t breathe.

Gaara stiffened.

A sharp, grumbling voice echoed through his skull, rough and irritated.

"You’re messing with something nasty, kid." Shukaku said warningly.

Gaara barely moved, but his fingers curled into a fist.

His voice was lower than usual, lacking its usual manic edge. That alone made something cold settle in Gaara’s chest.

“What is it?”

A deep, uneasy growl. Not fearful. But wary.

"Not natural," Shukaku muttered. "It’s twisting our chakra. I don’t like it."

A sharp inhale—Sakura’s.

Gaara's gaze snapped back to her.

Her shoulders had locked up, muscles rigid, face contorted in strain. The pulse of foreign chakra was pushing deeper into her system.

Gaara’s stomach dropped.

Sakura’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her chakra was starting to fray, unraveling against the invasive force.

"Sakura." Gaara stepped closer, voice even. "Let go."

She didn’t respond.

“Let go, now!”

Still, Sakura persisted. She pushed her chakra in, determined to fight through the pain for answers.

"I ne—need to find out," she ground out through gritted teeth.

The invasive chakra clawed up her arm, hotter now, more forceful—like it had sensed her defiance and decided to retaliate. It surged, flooding her system in a violent wave.

Her vision blurred.

A searing pain lanced through her head, sharp and immediate, like something was burrowing into her skull. Her breath hitched as she felt her own chakra twist in response, yanked toward the foreign force.

No—no, this wasn’t just resistance.

It was almost like it was siphoning her chakra.

Sakura choked on a gasp as her muscles spasmed, a sickening numbness spreading through her limbs. It felt like her own chakra was being pulled from her cells.

Gaara didn’t wait.

A sharp gust of sand snapped across the room, swirling between them as he moved. In the next instant, his hand clamped down on her wrist, severing the connection.

The force rebounded violently. The chakra snapped away like a whip, slamming back into Mai’s body with a deep, gut-wrenching boom of energy.

Sakura collapsed.

Gaara caught her before she hit the ground, his grip firm, unyielding. Her weight was heavier than it should have been—her limbs sluggish, her body drained.

She was barely conscious.

"Sakura!"

Her breath was shallow, her lashes fluttering as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Too much. That was too much.

Gaara’s grip tightened. His entire body was coiled with tension, fury threading through his voice.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

She tried to speak, but her throat was dry, her limbs trembling too hard to move.

Gaara exhaled sharply through his nose, restraining himself. He shifted her against him, steadying her with ease. She can barely stand.

"We’re going home." His tone left no room for argument.

He didn’t wait for her to protest. In one fluid motion, he swept her up, his hold sure and secure as he turned toward the exit.

The environment was silent except for the lingering static in the air, the aftershock of something wrong—something that had hurt her. This was worse than he had thought.

Gaara’s jaw was tight as he stepped into the cool night air. His mind was already turning over the implications, the risk she had just taken.

But above all else—

He was pissed.

Sakura stirred, her mind sluggish. She barely registered the sensation of movement before she realized—she wasn’t walking.

Her head rested against something solid. Warm.

Gaara.

Shit.

She tried to shift, to push herself up, but the moment she moved, a violent dizziness slammed into her.

Gaara didn’t even pause. His grip remained steady, his pace unrelenting.

“Stop—” she rasped weakly. “I can—”

"No, you can’t." His tone was cold. Unyielding.

A fresh wave of exhaustion crashed over her, making it impossible to argue.

She didn’t say anything even as he passed by her room. Her body had given up entirely.

Gaara didn’t hesitate as he carried her to his room. Thankfully, none of his siblings seemed to be home, or he would have a lot of uncomfortable questions to answer.

He lowered her onto his bed with deliberate care, but the moment she settled, he stepped back.

And then, he let loose.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

His voice was low, steady—but the weight behind it was sharp enough to cut.

Sakura exhaled slowly, trying to push herself upright. Fuck, her head.

“I needed—”

"To almost get yourself killed?" His tone sharpened.

Sakura’s patience—already hanging by a thread—snapped.

"I needed to know what it was! Someone has to put themselves at risk to find answers! I’m a medic-nin, and that’s my job! If I didn’t push—”

"That thing was draining you."

Gaara’s voice was clipped, his expression a mask of barely restrained anger.

Sakura rolled her eyes, forcing herself upright. The moment she did, a sharp dizziness slammed into her, her muscles sluggish like they weren’t hers. She forced herself to sit up anyway, leveling him with a glare.

"Gaara, you do know I’m Tsunade’s protégé, right?" She pushed back the exhaustion, forcing steel into her voice. "I felt it too. I would have known when to stop.”

Gaara’s jaw locked, his fingers twitching at his sides before curling into a slow, deliberate fist.

"I had to pull you away from it."

There was something raw in his tone, something that made her chest tighten.

But the frustration bubbling in her drowned it out.

"Look—just because we had sex doesn’t mean you have to play the caring lover."

The second it left her mouth, she regretted it.

The air between them froze.

Gaara went still.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. But something behind his eyes shut.

Sakura swallowed, her pulse hammering in her ears. Sakura swallowed, her pulse hammering in her ears. She had said it to cut—to push him away—but the words felt all wrong the moment they hung between them.

She opened her mouth—to take it back, to say something—

But Gaara beat her to it.

"I think you need some time alone."

He didn’t look at her when he said it.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, the door sliding shut behind him with a quiet, final click.

Sakura exhaled sharply, her hands trembling in her lap.

She had been exhausted before. Now, she just felt sick.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders curling inward.

"You’re such an idiot, Sakura."

She waited.

But Gaara never came back.

And she didn’t blame him.

That was a low blow. She had been embarrassed—ashamed of being seen as weak—and in her own insecurity, she had lashed out. Stupidly.

She had reduced what they’d shared to something meaningless.

The silence in Gaara's room was thick, heavy. Sakura remained on the edge of the bed, the cool fabric of the sheets a stark contrast to the lingering heat of their earlier closeness.

She stared at the floor, the intricate patterns of the rug blurring through the haze of exhaustion and regret. Her fingers traced the lines of the bedspread, each passing minute amplified the weight of her words, the careless cruelty of her dismissal.

Inner Sakura chimed in, a rare moment of agreement. "Idiot. Utter, complete, and total idiot."

Sakura winced, the mental barb landing with a familiar sting. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure a defense, a justification for her outburst. But there was none. She'd lashed out, pure and simple, she had gotten insecure again, a habit she thought she had outgrown.

She rose unsteadily, her legs still weak from the chakra drain. The room swayed slightly, and she braced herself against the bedpost, her hand tightening on the smooth, polished wood.

She had thought about ignoring it, Maybe this was a sign—maybe she should let whatever this was fade before it got more complicated. But she was a bit more mature now, she recognized the familiar claws of self-sabotage, Courtesy of old wounds she thought had healed—wounds shaped by the voice of someone who used to scoff at her weakness. She didn’t want to be that person anymore. Moreover who was kidding, she didn’t think she could stay away from him now.

With a newfound resolve, Sakura moved towards the door. They were going to resolve this tonight. She paused, her hand hovering over the handle. What if he left the house? What if he'd gone to his office? The thought made her hesitate. The thought of facing him, of seeing the unreadable mask he wore when he was truly angry, made her stomach churn but she pushed forward.

She opened the door and stepped out, the dim hallway stretching before her. She took a moment to get her bearings. The house was quiet, the only sound the creak of the wooden floor as she took a step, then another, moving down the hall.

As she walked, she tried to form the words she would say, but each attempt sounded hollow, inadequate. She stopped outside the huge library doors, the door slightly ajar. A faint light spilled out from within so she knew he was in there.

She hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached for the door. She took a deep breath, then pushed it open.

Gaara was at his desk, his back to her, the dim light casting long shadows across his form. He was still, unmoving, his posture rigid. The air in the room was thick with tension. If he noticed her entrance he made no sign of it.

"Gaara," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn't turn.

"I..." she began, the words catching in her throat.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

"I'm sorry," she finally managed, her voice cracking. "That was...unforgivable. I didn't mean it."

"Is that what you think?" His voice was unreadable, but there was an edge beneath it. "That I only care because we had sex?"

Sakura shook her head vehemently “No, I don’t know why I said that, it was stupid”

The air in the room was thick with tension. Sakura's chest tightened.

Gaara’s gaze was steady. “But you still said it. Why?”

Sakura’s throat tightened. Why had she? She knew. Because she was scared, because she was ashamed, because a part of her still echoed with old, unwanted feelings—and she’d lashed out.

She swallowed. “I… I don’t know. I was embarrassed. And I said something stupid.”

Gaara’s gaze flickered, and she could swear she saw a hint of hurt in his eyes. “Embarrassed?”

“I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want you to…” She trailed off, uncertain how to finish the sentence. Think I’m weak.

He looked away, then back. “You hurt me.” He said it plainly, without accusation.

Sakura’s breath hitched. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

A pause. Then, “Let’s go to bed”

Sakura blinked. Relief hit her like a punch to the gut—his words were gruff, but she understood “Let’s”. This was his way of saying they were okay.

She exhaled, steadying herself. “Yeah let’s go.”

Gaara turned and walked out.

Sakura followed.

Chapter Text

The walk back was awkward, filled with an unsure calm. They moved in silence, not quite together, but not apart either. Their footsteps creaked softly against the wooden floorboards, each step careful, as if afraid to disturb the quiet night—where the other two Suna siblings, hopefully, lay sound asleep on the ground floor.

When they reached their doors, only a wall apart, Gaara hesitated.

Then softly; "Your room or mine?"

Sakura looked up at him, grateful that the dark hid the flush in her cheeks. Her stomach fluttered with something she couldn't quite explain.

"...Yours," she whispered.

His room was dim, lit only by a pale wash of moonlight slipping through the curtain's edges. The familiar scent of him wrapped around her as she stepped inside, and her heart beat faster.

She stood there a moment too long after the door clicked shut behind them, unsure of what to do with her hands, her thoughts. The silence wasn't cold; it was just tentative. Careful, like anything could happen at any moment to ruin things. Anything like her outburst today, which was how they got here in the first place.

Gaara had already stepped further in, unfastening his sash with practiced ease. The quiet sound of fabric slipping loose filled the room. Sakura stepped further in, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sleeve, unsure if she should ask for one of his shirts or just... go back to her room and—

He glanced over his shoulder. "Do you want something to sleep in?"

She nodded. "If that's—"

But he was already handing her one. Soft cotton. Warm. She took it quietly, fingers brushing his—briefly.

"Thanks," she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

He nodded, eyes lingering for a moment before turning away to give her space. Sakura thought it was funny; he had already seen every inch of her.

She changed quickly, slipping the shirt over her head. It smelled like him—clean and warm and grounding. She tried really hard not to think deeply about her wearing his shirt and what that meant.

When she turned, Gaara was standing by the bed, his back to her, slipping off his robe. Sakura knew she probably shouldn't stare, but she couldn't help that her eyes stayed glued to his well-defined back.

He turned then, clad only in his simple sleeping pants, and for a moment, their eyes met across the dim room. The earlier tension from their argument, seemed to melt, replaced by something quiet and profound.

She didn’t move, didn’t need to.

Gaara crossed the distance, almost slowly or maybe she was the eager one. There was no tension this time, just intent.

When he reached her, her breath caught as he reached out a hand, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. He tucked it behind her ear, his thumb lingering just enough to make her shiver.

Then he leaned in.

The kiss was soft. Chaste, at first… But then she leaned into him.

And he kissed her again, deeper this time. Her hands came up, skimming his bare sides, seeking more. His fingers curled into the fabric of his own shirt she wore, anchoring himself.

For a moment, it was easy to forget how worn she was. Easy to drown in her warmth, her mouth, the way she exhaled his name.

But then her weight shifted against him—he felt it. The subtle sag of her body, the tremble in her breath. And just like that, he remembered.

She was running on fumes. He felt like an asshole.

He pulled away immediately, “Sorry…you need rest Sakura”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her hands still resting on him. “I want to.”

The words tugged at something deep in him, she was offering herself to him, in his shirt, eyes expectant and wanting and he had to say no.

“You’re exhausted” he murmured. “You need to regain your strength”

She hesitated… then nodded.

He helped guide her beneath the covers, adjusting the fabric draped around her—his shirt. A strange contentment settled in his chest as he lay beside her.

Gaara couldn’t sleep. Sakura had provided a leisure he didn’t think possible, whatever she did to him that day surprisingly worked and he was able to get a decent amount of sleep weekly, and if not he would typically take the pills Sakura gave him but tonight… they wouldn’t help, he knew that.

There was too much noise in his head.

He turned slightly, eyes resting on the woman beside him.

She was deep in sleep, he could tell by the steady rise and fall of her breathing beside him, she looked completely unguarded, the furrow in her brow had smoothed.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
He had always thought so.

And yet now, with her beside him, he felt something close to… unease.

He didn’t understand it.

He wasn’t good with emotions—never had been. Intimacy, vulnerability, softness—those things lived in a realm he didn’t know how to enter.

Her words from earlier still sat in his chest like a stone.
“Just because we had sex doesn’t mean you have to play the caring lover.”

He didn’t understand why he had reacted so viscerally—after all, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

He had originally pursued her out of pure physical want. That was true.
He only knew how to want, physically.

He had wanted her. Had her.
But now… he still wanted her. And it was different. Worse, almost. Better, maybe. Just—more.

He didn’t know what to do with that want, didn't understand how he could crave someone this much.

He wasn’t good at letting things go, he got too possessive, he also knew that.

He held on—sometimes too tightly, even when he shouldn’t.

This thing between him and Sakura… he could already feel it evolving.

And maybe he should stop it now.

But then he looked at her—

The curve of her body beneath his shirt, her face slack in sleep, one hand curled loosely near her chest. She looked so small like this. Peaceful. Trusting.

He could still feel her against him. The way she had moved, the sounds she made. The way she gave.
Not just her body, but something deeper—something she hadn’t even realized she was offering.

And he had taken it.

He’d touched her like she was his. Wanted her like she belonged to him.

Maybe that’s what unsettled him most. He could feel it, his emotions, undecipherable, locked away for years now crackling to the surface.

He should end it now—before it became something he couldn't control.

But when he looked at her again, her lashes fluttering in sleep, her breathing slow and even... he knew he didn’t want to. It was already beyond his control.

Gaara was already dressed when she woke up.

He sat at the desk beside the bed in full official attire, scribbling something down with practiced precision. The early morning light cast a pale glow on the edge of his collar, but the rest of the room remained dim, quiet.

Sakura blinked against sleep, her eyes slow to adjust. For a moment, she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, her brain sluggishly trying to make sense of where she was. Then it hit her—Gaara’s room. Last night. The entire day. All of it.

She let her eyes fall shut again for a breath, trying to reconcile the newness of her life with the one she’d left behind. Everything had changed so fast.

She thought of Konoha—her tiny, quiet apartment, her bed that was always too cold, her rigid routines. Wake, eat, work, sleep. Repeat. It had been safe, but stifling. Predictable.

And now… now she was the kind of woman who went to parties, had wild sex, and woke up in the Kazekage’s bed wearing his shirt.

She felt like she was on a ship with no known destination. She should be worried. And maybe she was. But the sail was smooth, the wind was soft, and every time she started to remember she should be worried, the warmth distracted her again.
This was different. She felt good. And that was what mattered—for now.

Groaning, she sat up and rubbed the back of her neck.
“What time is it?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Seven fifteen,” Gaara replied without looking up. His tone was smooth, unreadable.

She frowned a little at the cool response, but tried again. “So… how did you sleep?”

“Didn’t,” he said, short and to the point.

Sakura stayed quiet for a beat. Guilt curled in her stomach. She’d given Gaara one of her strongest sleep aids, the one she reserved with ninjas with extreme PTSD. It should have worked.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Are the pills not working anymore? I can adjust the dose, or—”

Gaara set his pen down with a soft click, finally meeting her gaze.
“They work fine,” he said quietly. “It’s... something else.”

He didn’t elaborate.

How could he? How could he explain that he’d spent the night tangled in his own thoughts—of her, of them, of the enemy he should’ve seen coming? he felt incompetent. How could he not have seen this coming.

Peace had made him soft, relaxed, he realized. He used to live on edge. But the years since the war had dulled that edge. And now… now, someone had crept into his village’s core. Someone had played a long game—and was finally making their move.

Sakura as if sensing Gaara’s turmoil spoke up “Don’t be too hard on yourself Gaara, you couldn’t have seen this coming”

“I should have,” he muttered. “That’s my job.”

Sakura sighed, heart tugging at how quickly he took the blame.
“What do you plan to do?”

Gaara was quiet for a moment, his eyes lingering on hers—as if deciding how much to share.

“From what Keita told me, the incident drew attention at the hospital, correct?” he asked.

Sakura nodded, waiting for him to continue

“Rumors are already forming. I think that’s what they want, they’ve been planting the seeds and testing with those previous cases.”

“Who?” Sakura asked

Gaara shook his head, “I’m not sure yet, unfortunately”

Gaara was right, the earlier cases had been spaced out too strategically; they were most likely testing out whatever it was they were doing to these women. And now that they were sure of it’s success…

A chill spread through her.
“Then we’re going to see more, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Fucking bastards,” she whispered, throwing the covers off as she stood. “And what do they get from harming innocent civilian women”

But Gaara didn’t respond. His silence stretched long enough that Sakura turned to look at him, brows knitting in confusion.

His eyes weren’t on hers.

They were locked—low, unmoving.

Following his gaze, she felt her stomach flip. The hem of his shirt, loose on her body, had ridden up slightly as she stood—exposing the bare curve of her thigh.

Heat crept up her neck. Suddenly, the air between them felt… different.

His gaze snapped up when he realized she’d caught him staring. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes—guilt, desire, restraint, maybe all three.

“You should eat,” he said quietly, voice low and hoarse. “Yesterday was stressful…for you and today might be worse” But he didn’t move.

For a second, she wondered if he would reach for her. She wanted him to. But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned away—back straight, jaw tense, control etched into every line of his body.

Sakura stepped out of Gaara’s room, her thoughts still spinning—about the enemy, the women, the chaos brewing just beneath the surface. She was so wrapped up in her mind that she didn’t notice the figure in the hall until it was too late.

Temari stood frozen mid-step, scroll in one hand, staring at her like she’d just witnessed a car crash.

“Oh my god—Temari,” Sakura gasped.

She looked down on reflex—and winced.

Gaara’s shirt hung off her like a flag. Oversized. Wrinkled. Bare legs exposed. Yeah, no one was mistaking this for a late-night study session.

Temari blinked. Once. Then again, slower.

Her eyes dragged up from the shirt, to Sakura’s face, and settled there with a quiet kind of disbelief. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Sakura raised a hand awkwardly. “Okay, I can explain.”

Temari just stared.

“I mean—not explain, explain. But…” She sighed. “Okay. Yeah. It’s what it looks like.”

Finally, Temari spoke, voice weirdly even. “I knew you were seeing someone. I just didn’t think it would be my brother.”

Sakura’s stomach dropped.

“How long?” Temari asked.

Sakura hesitated.“Uh… a month? Two months? I’m not sure.”

Temari scoffed. “That’s literally since you got here.” She folded her arms. “I told you everything about me. Everything. And you didn’t think I was trustworthy enough to mention this?”

“It’s not like that,” Sakura said quickly. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything—it just happened and it was very complicated, believe me.”

Temari raised a brow. “Sex with Gaara just happened?”

Sakura opened her mouth. Closed it. “I know it sounds like a terrible excuse.”

Temari let out a sharp breath. “No shit.”

Then, after a beat—she softened. Her voice lost its bite. “I’m not mad, Sakura. I’m just… surprised and maybe hurt that you couldn’t tell me.”

Sakura looked away, guilt creeping in. “I really wanted to. I just… never found the right time. And then things escalated before I realized it.”

Temari tilted her head slightly, studying her. “So where is it now? You two... what? Just hooking up?”

Sakura’s face flamed. “Temari,” she hissed. “Can you not say that so loudly?”

Temari quirked a brow. “We’re literally alone.”

Still red-faced, Sakura pulled her into her room and shut the door.

She turned around and sighed. “Last night wasn’t even like that.”

Temari smirked. “But you have been doing things. Wow. How many places have you two defiled already?”

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, Temari! We haven’t defiled anything! And we didn’t even sleep together until like two days ago. I was in his room because we had a small fight—ugh, and now I’m telling you way too much.”

She groaned, rubbing her hands down her face.

But Temari only grinned, amused - Her eyes glinting with interest. “So, you had a fight and then what did you guys do, cuddle?

Sakura sighed in exasperation “I’m never going to hear the end of this will I?”

Temari chuckled, she leaned against the wall, arms still crossed, watching Sakura carefully.

So Gaara had finally let someone in-

And that someone was Sakura. Temari wasn’t sure what to make of it—she had a hunch that something was going on between them, but she assumed it was a simple crush Gaara had.

Sakura, now chewing her lip, glanced over. “Are you okay with this?”

Temari blinked, like the question had caught her off guard.

Then she shrugged. “It’s not really about what I’m okay with. Gaara does what he wants.”

A beat passed.

“But… for what it’s worth—I don’t hate it.”

Sakura exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Thanks.”

Temari pushed off the wall, heading for the door. “Just don’t get pregnant or anything.”

Sakura laughed, automatic. “Of course not—” The words caught in her throat.

Her smile vanished. Her smile faded. “Shit.”

Temari turned back, brow raised. “What?”

“I forgot,” Sakura whispered. “I forgot to take the pill.”

“You what?”

“I know I was supposed to, but with everything that happened at the hospital—I just… it slipped my mind.”

Temari stared at her. “Please tell me you were at least on it before.”

Sakura hesitated.

Temari squinted, reading her like a page. “Kami. Sakura.”

“I was going to start,” she said quickly. “I meant to. I just hadn’t… needed to be on it before.”

Something in Temari’s expression shifted.

“Wait,” she said. “Was that your first time?”

Sakura blinked, caught.

Temari straightened. “You’re kidding.”

Sakura looked away, face hot. “It… was.”

“So you and Sasuke never—?”

Sakura shook her head. “No. Never.”

Temari stared at her, stunned into momentary silence. Everyone always thought Sasuke and Sakura were inevitable—two opposite currents fated to meet. She never pictured Gaara in that equation. And yet... now that she was looking, she could see it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright. Come on. I have spares in my room.”

As they walked side by side Temari crossed her arms. “I’m surprised Gaara didn’t bring it up.”

Sakura paused, mid-step “He probably assumed I was already on it.”

Temari’s expression twitched—something unreadable passing across her face. She nodded once, more to herself than Sakura.

“Right.”

But her eyes stayed thoughtful as she turned to leave again.

Sakura knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into the hospital.

The waiting room was quiet for once—it was still early—but the few people gathered weren’t just waiting. They were whispering, huddled close, their eyes wide like they’d seen something they couldn’t quite explain.

She didn’t pause.

She took the stairs two at a time and made her way to Keita’s office. It was empty.

As she turned to leave, he appeared at the end of the hall, walking toward her with urgency in his steps.

“Another woman?” she asked, not wasting time.

He nodded. “I was on my way to find you. The nurses said you just got in. The team from yesterday managed to bring her fever down, but…” He hesitated. “She had to be restrained. Strength and erratic behavior. We need your help.”

Sakura’s stomach tightened. So Gaara was right. Whoever’s behind this… they’re moving faster now.

“Seems like you were expecting this,” Keita said, watching her closely.

“Not me. Gaara.” She hesitated, then added, “Keita—what’s the political climate like right now? Around him, I mean.”

Keita frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… Gaara and the people of Suna. How are things really?”

He paused. “Well. Better than it used to be, that's for sure. You might not know this, but Gaara wasn’t exactly popular growing up. People feared him; downright hated him.”

Sakura nodded silently. She remembered the Chūnin Exams. How terrified she’d been of him. How small her own worries had been compared to what he carried.

“It wasn’t until he died protecting this village—and the War—that things changed. People finally saw him. Respected him.” Keita’s voice was firm. “He’s earned his place.”

“But?” she asked.

Keita sighed. “There’s always a ‘but.’ A few people still think he’s unfit to lead. There are beliefs of instability due to him still being the Jinchuriki of the one-tailed beast.”

Sakura pressed her lips together. Few was probably an understatement.

She didn’t say much after that. Just did what was needed—channeling calming chakra into the new patient, carefully avoiding direct skin contact until she could sense their chakra settling.
It felt like walking barefoot across a minefield.

With things bound to get much busier around the hospital, she’d made the decision to bring her students in as assistants.
It was early for them, earlier than she'd planned—but there was no other choice. They would have to adapt, the same way she had, as the situation demanded.

Alongside the other nurses, she split them into small groups, rotating them in to watch as she stabilized the patient’s chakra.
Just mastering that would be a huge help. And she had a feeling she’d soon be handling far more volatile cases than this one.

When she was done, she quietly left and made her way to yesterday’s patient.

She shuddered as she recalled it—how that chakra had tried to eat at hers. It had been vile. Not like the normal tailed beast chakra, not exactly. This one felt… tainted. Like someone had forced it to be something it wasn’t.

Still, it had been worth it because she had a theory now. A fragile thread, but a thread nonetheless.

She stepped into the room.

Rei, yesterday’s patient lay unconscious, her vitals stable, but her body still reacting to something deep beneath the surface. Sakura shut the door behind her and walked to the bedside.

Chakra that dark doesn’t linger without a conduit…

If it really was connected to tailed beast energy, then the host should’ve lost control completely. But these women didn’t. Not fully. Which meant something else was helping the chakra stay hidden. Anchored.

Her fingers moved with clinical precision. She checked the woman’s hands. Arms. Neck. Torso. Nothing.

Then, gently, she turned her on her stomach.

And there it was.

A seal.

Not a standard one. It was jagged, asymmetrical—twisting like a spider web drawn by someone in a frenzy. The lines glowed faintly, like dying embers, but the edges pulsed, unstable and dangerous. One breath too deep, and it could snap.

Sakura stared. The seal was weakening. That had to be what triggered the recent symptoms. And if that was the case…

How many more women out there have this?

Her pulse quickened. This wasn’t a random attack. Someone had planned this for a very long time.

She stepped back, heart pounding.

They were in deep and she was starting to really get pissed.

Gaara assessed the mark carefully, brow tight with unease. It looked nothing like the traditional seals used to bind tailed beasts to human hosts.

Sakura stood across the bed, arms folded, her face composed but tight with focus. Temari was beside her, arms crossed, while Kankurō stood next to Gaara, gaze locked on the pulsing web of ink burned into the woman’s back.

Sakura had wasted no time alerting Gaara the moment she’d made the discovery. Coincidentally, both of his siblings had been with him when the letter arrived.

“I told you this was something nasty, kid,” Shukaku muttered from within. Gaara barely acknowledged him, too focused on the dangerous chakra seeping from the seal.

“That looks... unstable,” Kankurō said, mostly to himself.

The outer lines of the seal pulsed, faint and sickly, as though straining to hold something barely contained. It felt volatile. Violent. Whatever was inside this woman, Sakura knew, it was beyond dangerous.

“What do we do?” Temari finally asked, her voice clipped but uncertain.

Sakura took a slow breath. “We have to break the seal.”

Temari's head whipped toward her. “What?!”

Kankurō blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

Even Gaara’s head snapped toward her—his eyes, for once, betraying his shock.

“I’ve thought it through,” Sakura said calmly. “It’s the only way. The seal’s decaying. If it breaks on its own, we won’t have any control over what gets unleashed. If we act now, we can contain it.”

Temari stepped closer, jaw tense. “Sakura, if you’re wrong—”

“I’m not,” she interrupted. “Look, if it were a real tailed beast, this woman would’ve died the moment it was sealed in her. This is artificial. A replication. But I admit, I don’t fully understand how it works yet.”

“That might make it worse,” Kankurō muttered. “Unpredictable.”

Silence. Heavy. Thick.

Gaara still hadn’t spoken.

Sakura felt the weight of his stare, but didn’t look up.

Finally, he said quietly, “We need to talk.” He gestured to his siblings.

Temari left first, muttering something about needing air. Kankurō followed without a word.

Once they were alone, Gaara said, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Sakura turned to face him. “I know it’s risky,” she said gently, “and I know what happened yesterday wasn’t a great example. But this is different. I’m not inspecting the seal—I’m extracting it. Carefully. Into a new containment seal, it’s a very fast process, if everything goes well.”

Gaara’s jaw tensed. He shook his head.

She stepped closer, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’ve run through every scenario. This is the only path forward. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t sure.”

She reached for his hand, grounding him with her touch. “Gaara. You need to trust me.”

That made him look at her.

The determination in her eyes… it steadied him. But the unease in his chest didn’t leave. Not after what he saw happened to her yesterday. Still—she had said trust.

And he did.

He exhaled slowly, fingers curling around hers. “Tell me what you need.”

Her smile was soft, grateful. “For one, we need someone extremely good with seals.”

“You’ll have him,” he said. Then after a beat, “I’m staying. With you.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but his expression made it clear—this wasn’t a request.

“Fine. But this will take time. I’ve never done anything like this.”

That didn’t help his nerves. But he gave a curt nod.

An hour later, the sealing shinobi arrived.

The seal master was older, with ink-black eyes that looked like they hadn’t blinked in a decade. After a brief discussion—and a few skeptical looks—they began to draw an intricate seal array across the floor.

Sakura stood at the center, giving instructions. Her voice was calm, firm. But inside, her heart raced.

They were about to play with fire. And she was holding the match.

Gaara remained nearby, silent but present. Watching.

It had taken hours to perfect the seal she wanted, Sakura was quite familiar with seals but never had to use them much in practice, it was more an Uzumaki clan specialty. However, she did know a thing or two from her studies in the academy and Katsuyu. It did pay to be a dedicated student.

When the room was ready, Sakura summoned a small division of Katsuyu to help stabilize the patient. She placed her hands just above the seal.

“Everyone clear the room,” she said. “Except Gaara.”

As the others filtered out, Sakura knelt beside the woman. Her fingers glowed soft green as she began to weave chakra into the corrupted seal.

The room dimmed. The air grew heavy. She released a breath.

A low hum began to emanate from the woman’s back—then a high-pitched whine as the seal reacted.

“Katsuyu, now,” Sakura muttered. The slug released a stabilizing pulse into the woman’s spine, keeping her anchored as the seal split open.

The chakra inside thrashed violently. Dark tendrils lashed out, striking the air like whips.

“Almost... got it—”

Then: snap.

The corrupted chakra tore free—an inky, writhing mass suspended midair. Sakura guided it quickly into the new seal the master had etched nearby. It tried to claw at her like yesterday but with expert chakra control she untangled her chakra from it.

With a pulse and hiss, the seal locked shut.

The chakra condensed into a tight black sphere—small, obsidian-like, its surface pulsing faintly.

Silence.

The woman’s body relaxed.

Sakura’s hands dropped. She swayed, only a bit.

Gaara was at her side instantly, steadying her.

She leaned into him, breathing hard. “It worked.” More out of disbelief than exhaustion, she had to be honest, this was a trial and error situation, but it worked.

He looked at the orb, then back at her. “You were right.”

She smiled faintly, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. “I know.”

It felt good to have someone worry about her, someone to lean on to, and someone she could almost believe was her person.

They didn’t leave the room for another hour. Sakura needed to finish assessing the woman’s condition. Her chakra channels had been stabilized, the damage repaired, and the physical injuries healed. She would likely sleep for a few more days—but she’d live.

Sakura tried not to dwell on the mental toll. That part was harder to fix.

The worst part was over.

Gaara stayed through it all, watching, offering support by just being there. She would never have pegged him for that type of guy.

When Sakura was done, she turned—and found Gaara already in front of her.

His eyes met hers, clear and unreadable all at once. Then he reached out and took her hand.

“Sakura…” he said quietly, like he was choosing the word carefully. “Thank you.”

Heat bloomed in her chest and crawled up her neck. She glanced away. “It—it’s no problem,” she muttered. “I was just doing my job.”

Gaara didn’t let go of her hand. “No. You knew what to do when we didn’t.”

She looked down, her throat tightening. She didn’t know why it stung. Maybe because a part of her still didn’t believe it. Still didn’t feel like enough.

“People like you…” she said with a faint laugh, eyes flicking down. “You and Naruto; you do things like this all the time. Save people with your godlike powers and I just make sure everyone stays alive”

Gaara didn’t laugh, instead eyes darkened—not with anger, but with something heavier.

“Don’t do that,” he said, firm but gentle. “You were the only one who could’ve done this.”

His hand on hers tightened, almost like that would jolt her into believing his words.

He wasn’t much of a talker. But he prided himself on being a great observer.
Sakura wore her heart too close to the surface—he used to think that made her weak.
Now, it looked like courage.

And something in her expression… the way she spoke about herself, made silence feel cruel.

“Sakura—” he paused, eyes flicking briefly to their joined hands, “you’re the strongest woman I know. You’re the reason people survive long enough to be saved. When you’re not pummeling things into the ground, that is.”

It was a joke. Light, even. But it hit her harder than it should have.

A second passed—then another. She didn’t laugh.

She wasn’t sure why she hugged him. Only that she needed to.
He stilled, heart knocking once, then again. And as his arms hesitated, then slowly wrapped around her, she realized something:

She’d never hugged Gaara before.
But somehow, it felt right.

For Gaara, the realization hit just as hard. This was what it meant to be needed.

He was warm. Solid. And surprisingly gentle.

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the dampness on his shirt. She hoped he didn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t mention it.

They stepped out into the hallway several minutes later.

To her surprise, Kankurō, Temari, and Keita were all waiting outside, pacing like worried relatives. Both siblings were in full shinobi gear—Temari’s fan slung across her back, Kankurō’s arms crossed tightly over his chest.

The second they saw her and Gaara emerge, they stopped cold.
Eyes wide. Tension thick in the air, as if they’d been bracing for the worst.

“It’s done,” Sakura said, voice soft but sure.

“Thank Kami,” Kankurō exhaled. Temari looked like she finally remembered how to breathe.

“She’ll need time to recover. A lot of it,” Sakura added, glancing back toward the room. “But the seal’s been removed and safely recontained. Whatever was in there... it’s not getting out, we’re just going to have to figure out what it is now.”

A moment of silence passed before Kankurō suddenly announced:

“I’m making dinner. You’re all coming.”

And before anyone could object, he poofed out.

Sakura turned to Temari with a look.

Temari just shrugged.

“I think cooking helps him with stress,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Sakura returned home after overseeing the second extraction. Gaara hadn’t stayed this time—he’d been summoned for an early meeting the next morning. Said he needed to prepare.

She wasn’t surprised. They must’ve caught wind of both incidents. Nothing slipped past them for long.

The nurses had started calling it the Sealed Curse. Juvenile, maybe. But somehow… fitting.

Of course, she knew this wasn’t over. There were still too many questions, too many strange details that didn’t line up.

But for tonight?

She just wanted to eat whatever Kankurō was cooking.
And be among friends.

Kankurō had already started cooking by the time Sakura descended the stairs, freshly showered and smelling faintly of citrus and something floral. The scent of roasted spices and seared vegetables led her straight to the kitchen.

She felt casual—but the mirror had said otherwise. A white cotton dress, soft and light, hugging her in all the right places. The tied straps dipped slightly with movement, framing her collarbones and the soft swell of her chest. The hem hit mid-thigh, and flared just enough when she walked. She wore simple white slippers to complete the look.

Kankurō looked up from the stove, did a double take, and whistled low.

“Well damn,” he grinned, “don’t you look sweet enough to eat.”

Sakura laughed, rolling her eyes. “Behave.”

“I will try my best, but I’m not making any promises” he said, turning off the burner with an exaggerated flourish.

Sakura chuckled some more and leaned in, peeking over his shoulder. “So, Chef, what’s on the menu today?”

“Ah-ah—none of that,” Kankurō said, catching her with a spatula before she could get too close. He nudged her toward the table. “Sit your pretty self down. You’re a guest tonight. No helping.”

Sakura raised a brow. “I live here.”

“Still a guest. Special guest,” he said, digging into the cabinet above. He pulled out a bottle of red and uncorked it. “This is from the Kazekage’s private stash. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She laughed again as he poured her a glass and handed it to her with a half-bow.

“Thanks, Kankurō.”

His expression shifted—still teasing, but gentler now. “No. Thank you. For saving our ass today. For everything, really.”

Sakura blinked, warmth spreading faster than the wine could ever manage. “You don’t have to—”

“Let me,” he cut in, not looking at her as he stirred the pot. “Look I know we’re not the best at saying it out loud in this house, but you we really do appreciate you being here”

Sakura did not miss the emphasis on the “we”

Before she could respond, Temari and Keita stepped into the dining room—Temari in a casual short lavender skirt and v-neck cream top, Keita visibly hesitant. His eyes flicked to Temari, as if silently asking, are you sure about this?

Temari was already heading to the table. “Smells like you actually know what you’re doing, Kankurō.”

“I always know,” he sniffed. “Keita, you drinking?”

“I—uh—sure,” Keita replied, still a bit stiff. He gave Sakura a polite nod. “You look nice.”

Temari shot him a glare, but Sakura only smiled.

“Thanks,” she said, swirling her wine.

That’s when Gaara stepped through the doorway—quiet as always, but unmistakable. His presence didn’t announce itself, it just settled. Sakura didn’t look up right away. She didn’t need to because she felt him before she saw him.

When her eyes lifted, his gaze was already there. Calm and steady as always.

His eyes paused on her for a fraction too long—caught not only by how she looked, but maybe by the fact that she was smiling, wine in hand, surrounded by his family like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sakura held his gaze. Her smile didn’t falter, but it shifted—quieter now, just for him.

Gaara blinked, then moved to take the seat right next to her.

His gaze paused on her dress. Traveled slowly down, then back up. Controlled, composed—but unmistakably hot.

Sakura felt her breath hitch. Just slightly.

Then Kankurō, ever the mood-crusher, clapped his hands. “Well, now that His Highness has graced us, let’s eat!”

Sakura tried not to let Gaara’s presence beside her bother her, but how could she not when she could feel his gaze against her.

Kankuro was busy with the set-up, sliding in plates and cutleries; he took being a host very seriously. Temari and Keita weren’t sitting yet, they kept a reasonable distance and any onlooker would think they were just regular acquaitances while they talked.

Not being able to take it anymore, Sakura turned to him “What?” she said lowly, just enough for just him to hear.

He smiled “You look...” he murmured, voice low enough for her only, “good.”

Sakura’s mouth went dry. “Thanks.” Okay she’ll admit maybe the dress had been a bit much, it looked simple enough with a bow tied just above her breasts which pulled the neckline into a soft dip that revealed the slightest curve of her chest. Not enough to be called revealing. Just enough to be distracting.

The food’s good—surprisingly good—and the wine’s even better. Laughter circles the table in waves, mostly thanks to Kankurō, who’s on his second glass and getting too comfortable with the silence.

Sakura tries to focus on cutting her food, but Gaara’s hand has been sliding slow patterns along her inner thigh for the past three minutes.

Three agonizing minutes. Yes she had been counting.

She grips her fork a little tighter, breath catching every time his fingers inch higher. It’s subtle—hidden beneath the tablecloth—but her body is not subtle in response.

Temari’s saying something about training schedules.

“I swear, I can’t even remember the last time we got a proper D-rank mission for the genins. All the boring stuff’s been snatched up before we even hear about it.”

Keita’s nodding, trying to look like he belongs.

Kankurō’s chewing loudly, then he said in between mouthfuls, “That’s because Ren’s father’s crews get those contracts first. You’ve seen them — hauling in the flashy new chakra tech thingy that does the same work for half the money. I don’t even know anymore. Shouldn’t it be against the laws to do that?”

He looked at Gaara as he said it—half-joking, half-expecting an answer.

The table fell quiet for a beat. Gaara’s hands on her thighs paused but he didn’t take them off. He didn’t even flinch. That kind of control should not have turned her on, but it did.

He didn’t look up from his plate. “The Development Accords were approved across all five nations after the war. Private contracts aren’t illegal.”

“But it’s replacing shinobi,” Temari said flatly, brow furrowed.

“Unethically, after all, Kami knows where they’re getting the chakra from” Kankurō muttered.

Sakura glanced between them, stomach tightening. She could feel the undercurrent now—something sharp and shifting beneath the surface. She wonders, just for a second, if Konoha is seeing the same shift—then Gaara’s hand slips beneath the hem of her dress.

Sakura nearly chokes on her wine.

“You okay?” Temari asks, glancing over.

“Fine,” Sakura says quickly, voice an octave too high. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

She tried not to look at him, not to give him the satisfaction. But she just knows Gaara’s face is utterly composed.

Of course it is.

Kankurō, who has no idea what’s happening under the table, sets down his glass and leans back dramatically.

“So,” he says, grinning wide. “How long have you two been sneaking around?”

The table goes silent.

Sakura’s heart stopped. She froze. Did he mean her and Gaara?

Temari stares. “What?”

Kankurō gestures lazily to Keita. “You and lover boy over there. Thought you were being subtle, but come on. It’s so painfully obvious”

Keita’s face flushes with horror. “Kankurō—”

“I’m not wrong, am I?” he adds, smug now.

Temari looks like she wants to kill someone. “You don’t know anything.”

“I don’t need to. You two have been giving each other googly eyes since you walked in. And I’m pretty sure Keita’s fork has been upside down this whole time.”

Keita curses under his breath and flips it silently.

Sakura would’ve laughed—should’ve laughed—but Gaara’s fingers just ghosted over the edge of her underwear.

Sakura shot him a look, wide-eyed and warning.

He merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say, You’re doing so well. Don’t stop now.

She pressed her legs together—tight—but all that did was trap his fingers against her even harder. And he used it, expertly, cruelly.

Her legs trembled under the table as Gaara’s fingers pressed harder, slow and focused, circling her through the thin lace of her panties. The lace only made it worse—more friction, more sensation, more heat.

She was going to die.

Her breath hitched, her hand shot out to grab the tablecloth—too hard—and her wine glass rattled loudly. She was sure her face was flushed to the high heavens and she bit her lip hard to keep from making any sound.

“Sakura?” Temari asked again, this time genuinely concerned.

“I—I need to go,” Sakura said suddenly, voice breathless as she stood, a little too fast. “I’m done. I mean, with the food. Full. Very full. Thank you.”

No one questioned it—except maybe Temari, who narrowed her eyes just slightly but was dragged back into conversation with Keita and Kankuro. With a drunk Kankuro requesting Keita to prove himself worthy enough to date his sister.

Sakura didn’t look back.

She practically ran upstairs.

And Gaara—Gaara waited exactly three seconds before rising with calm precision and following her out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sakura was already halfway down the hall when she heard the soft click of the stairs behind her. She didn’t bother turning to look.

His footsteps were quiet—but deliberate. Like everything he did.

She flung open her bedroom door and stepped inside, crossing the space in quick, sharp strides. Her pulse was still erratic, skin too hot, head spinning.

She didn’t even get the door shut.

Because he was already there.

He slipped in behind her, calm as ever, and closed it with a quiet click. She spun, arms crossed, her whole body still vibrating from dinner.

“You—” she jabbed a finger at him, “are insufferable.”

Gaara’s eyes didn’t flinch. “You didn’t stop me.”

“I couldn’t stop you! You were under the table! Your whole family was there—what was I supposed to do, punch you in the throat?!”

His eyes dropped to her legs. Then her chest, rising and falling with each breath. That damn dress. “You could’ve not worn that.”

Heat slammed through her so fast it made her dizzy. “You’re unbelievable.”

He stepped closer. “You liked it.”

A shocked scoff left her mouth—half denial, half moan. “You’re an actual menace in heat.”

“You were wet.”

She gasped. “I was not—!”

A lie. Her cheeks flamed harder. It had been exciting. Too exciting. But no way in hell was she admitting it.

He was in front of her now.

One hand slid to the base of her neck, fingers threading into her hair. The kiss that followed hit like lightning—hard, heated, and unapologetic. He walked her back until her shoulders met the wall with a soft thud.

His other hand slipped beneath her dress and into her lace panties like it belonged there.

Sakura kissed him back with equal heat, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his robes, dragging him closer, melting against his mouth.

She was still mad—sort of—but she was also melting because his mouth was sinful and his body was warm and solid and—

“Well… you’re wet now,” he rasped against her lips, voice low and smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

Her body shuddered at the sound.

“Only because—” she gasped, as his fingers started a slow, devastating rhythm, “—because you’re doing that!”

He chuckled against her throat, and the sound wrecked her.

“So… you want me to stop?”

“No.” Her voice cracked on the word. “Don’t.”

His fingers left her center and she almost cursed, but then his hands slid up the backs of her thighs.

And lifted.

Her breath caught as her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. She gripped his shoulders, startled by how easily he carried her—how natural it felt.

He walked her to the bed like he’d done it a thousand times—sure and unhurried, all purpose, no hesitation. When he laid her down, it was with care.

But the second her back hit the mattress, he was on her again.

He kissed her like she was oxygen and he’d been suffocating. She moaned into it, fumbling for the hem of his robes with shaking fingers, desperate to touch skin.

When she finally pushed the fabric off his shoulders, she nearly stopped breathing.

Lean. Defined. All tension and sinew. A body carved by discipline and war, now trembling under her hands.

He groaned when her palms met his chest, rough and low, like it slipped out of him before he could stop it.

“Take it off,” he rasped. His eyes burned, but they didn’t drift from her face.

Sakura sat up, chest rising and falling, and reached for the bow-tied straps of her dress.

She tugged one knot loose. Then the other. The cotton slipped lower over her shoulders, baring flushed skin inch by inch—until the neckline dipped enough to expose one breast, then both.

She didn’t take the dress off.
She didn’t need to.

No bra.

Gaara’s breath visibly stuttered.

“You—” he started, but whatever he meant to say died the second his mouth closed over her breast.

Sakura gasped, back arching, as he sucked slow and deep, tongue flicking over her nipple with maddening precision. His other hand found her other breast, kneading, pinching, coaxing sounds from her she didn’t know she could make.

She couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t think. Her hips shifted restlessly against the sheets, needing more.

He kissed down her body next—lips dragging across her ribs, her stomach, her hips. Reverent, like he was memorizing every inch.

When he reached the edge of her panties, he hooked a finger beneath the lace. Looked up at her.

“Still mad at me?” he murmured.

Sakura blinked at him, flushed and breathless. “Yes,” she whispered. “Very.”

His mouth curved.

“Liar.”

Then he pulled the lace down and lowered his mouth to her.

Sakura’s head fell back, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as his tongue dragged slowly through her folds. The sensation was maddening—soft, wet, precise. He ate her like he was starving. His hands held her thighs open, firm and steady, anchoring her while her body trembled.

“Gaara—fuck—please—”

He didn’t stop. Not even when her voice cracked. Not when her hips bucked. Not even when she came with a strangled moan, thighs clenching around his head as pleasure surged through her in hot, electric waves.

Only when she collapsed back against the sheets, shivering and spent, did he ease up.

He kissed her inner thigh slowly, gently. And for a moment, so still she barely heard it—her heart whispered:

You're lost. You're completely lost.

 “I want you,” she whispered, breathless and hoarse with need.

Gaara stilled above her, his hands braced at her sides. His gaze locked on hers—steady, unreadable, but burning beneath the surface.

Then softly, voice deep and edged with command:
“Show me.”

He flipped her before the words fully registered—strong hands guiding her until she straddled him, thighs parted over his waist, her knees sinking into the sheets.

Her breath hitched. The position alone made her pulse stutter.

“Gaara—” she started, but her voice faltered under the weight of his gaze.

His hands settled on her hips, possessive and grounding. “I need to see how much,” he murmured, his voice like smoke curling around her.

Sakura swallowed hard and looked down at him. His eyes—dark with heat—stayed on hers, even as her hands traced down his abdomen. His skin was hot under her palms, muscles tight beneath her touch. The way he held himself back made her ache.

Sakura reached between them, her fingers curling around him, firm and hot in her grip. He twitched at her touch—jaw tightening, a soft grunt slipping past his lips. She lined him up, and sank down slowly. Inch by agonizing inch until she was seated flush against him. Her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as he filled her—deeper, somehow more overwhelming from this angle. She could feel every ridge, every throb, her thighs trembling as she adjusted to the stretch.

“Fuck,” he hissed, head tipping back against the pillows.

She felt tight around him. Too wet. Too warm. And kami, he filled her just right.

She rarely heard Gaara curse. Now, looking at him like this, she saw, really saw, that she could bring him to the same volatile edge he’d dragged her to.

Sakura’s palms slid over his chest, slow, grounding herself, thighs trembling as the fullness overwhelmed her senses. She splayed her hands over his chest, her fingers flexing against the strong rise and fall of it.

She rolled her hips slowly, experimentally—just once—and felt him throb deep inside her.
Her breath caught. A moan spilled past her lips before she could trap it. She rolled her hips in soft circles again, then faster, bolder, as she found her rhythm. Every grind sent lightning through her nerves. Every moan he made was a reward she wanted more of.

Her hair clung to her damp skin, sticking to her neck and collarbone. The soft tie of her dress had loosened, the neckline gaping just enough to expose one flushed breast, bouncing gently each time she moved. Gaara’s eyes flicked down, devouring the sight, and Sakura’s breath faltered.

It felt so good being filled this way him.

She was starting to believe that he was the only one that could make her feel this way.

She knew that now. Knew it in the way her body responded to his. In the way her heart cracked open with each rise and fall of her hips.

His hands slid up her thighs, gripping hard, urging her faster. She was riding him like she had something to prove—because she did.

The sounds filled the room—her soft gasps, the wet slide of her body moving over his, the low rumble of his breath as he resisted the urge to take over. The headboard creaked slightly in time with her rhythm, steady and building, the tension coiling tighter with every movement.

He let her ride him—hands on her hips, fingers digging in harder when she moved just right. The bounce of her hips was mesmerizing. Each motion drove him deeper, and she cried out softly, leaning forward to brace herself on his chest.

“I want you… so much,” she whispered again, voice trembling almost incoherent.

Gaara’s hands slid up, pushing the fabric of her dress away completely now. Seeing her body bare almost drove him mad. He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over stiffened nipples. She gasped again, back arching, hair falling over her face as she moved faster, chasing the heat building low in her belly.

I feel everything with him.
She started to tremble, thighs quaking as her pace stuttered. The waves were building—hot, desperate. Her body couldn’t take much more.

Gaara sat up suddenly, keeping her in his lap, chest to chest, arms wrapping around her. The new angle made her cry out, her arms flying around his neck for balance. He was everywhere, all around her, buried deep and pulsing inside her.

They moved together like that—messy, desperate, real. She clung to him, sweat slicking their bodies, her whimpers swallowed by his mouth as they chased the end together.

And when she came, it wasn’t a peak—it was a crash. A white-hot, body-wrecking fall that left her shaking in his arms.

He followed a heartbeat later, groaning her name against her shoulder—low and wrecked, like it had been carved out of him.
The sound of it—her name, broken and breathless on his lips—hit something deep in her chest.
Her body shuddered again, overwhelmed. She gripped him tighter, burying her face into the curve of his neck as he emptied into her, his release raw, his grip bruising.

Their breaths mingled, heavy and broken, their bodies slick with sweat and heat and something unspoken.

They stayed like that—chests rising and falling in sync, tangled together.

And in the silence, Sakura rested her head against his shoulder, trying to catch her breath.

She didn’t know what this was becoming.
But right now, with his arms around her and her body still trembling from his touch…

She knew she didn’t want it to stop.

Gaara held her through the aftershocks, her heartbeat still stuttering against his chest. She had said she wanted him—twice—and meant it.
And he felt it now, in the way she clung to him like she didn’t want to leave. He didn’t speak, couldn’t. But as he pressed a kiss into her damp hair, he knew one thing clearly:

He didn’t want this to end, either.

Sakura smiled against his skin “You know we can’t show our face anymore right?”

Gaara’s voice was quiet. “We’ll just blame Kankurō.”

She snorted. “For what, exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Chapter Text

The night beyond Suna belonged to the wind—a hollow, biting wind that whispered through the dunes, past the reach of the Kazekage’s protection. And far from the city’s walls, where cliffs and caves swallowed sound, the future was being rewritten.

“ The girl is a problem .”

A voice—cold, flat, a mask of civility barely hiding contempt.

“ The seal was discovered too early. Expected, from a Legendary Sannin’s student .”

Another voice—nervous, deferential.

“ No matter ,” came the third. Softer, measured. Each word slid into place like a blade. “ Let them cling to their little system. The civilians will lose faith soon enough. We will offer them a better way .”

A pause drifted into the wind, carrying both fear and anticipation through the men seated at the table.

This was set in stone, nothing could stop them now.

“We’ll proceed with the next phase as planned.” 

And then the wind carried the silence away, as if the night itself had swallowed the words.

The meeting chamber, connected to his office, always carried the faint scent of old paper and dried herbs. The smell changed depending on who was in attendance. Gaara either hated it or didn’t notice it—today, he hated it.

Gaara sat at the head of the table, arms folded loosely, gaze steady on the twelve council members before him. Twelve voices. Too many agendas. He had always envied Naruto’s smaller council.

“We’ve heard reports of multiple civilian women affected by what people are calling the ‘cursed seal.’ Care to explain?”

Gaara scoffed inwardly. The name had spread like wildfire—too conveniently. Worse, the narrative now painted him as a man hiding the truth to preserve his image.

“The medical teams, led by Sakura Haruno from the hidden leaf, have the situation under control. Monitoring and treatment protocols are in place and showing success.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the room. Then Tojuro, the council’s second head—and Gaara’s unspoken opposer—leaned forward.

“That’s all well and good,” Tojuro said, leaning forward, “but how did your shinobi miss this threat? Your details are vague. We deserve transparency if we’re to guide properly.”

His words carried support like they always do, earning nods and murmurs of approval from the majority.

Gaara’s expression remained steady.

“The threat is still under investigation. All affected women bear seals. Mandatory checkups for women in every household have already begun to stay ahead.”

Another elder, always aligned with Tojuro, spoke now, his voice sharper than necessary.

“Any mortal casualties gone unreported? This seems to have gone unnoticed for too long.”

Gaara’s gaze shifted, fixing on him like a blade sliding into place.

“The reports you’ve seen are accurate—courtesy of the medics and officials involved. If you know of mortal casualties, perhaps you should share with us where you got that information.”

A beat of silence followed. The elder’s mouth opened, then shut again. His fingers tapped the table once—then stopped when he noticed. His eyes darted briefly to Tojuro, seeking silent reinforcement—but found none. His throat bobbed in a quick swallow.

The tension crackled. Even the most indifferent council members turned toward him now, curious.

That’s when Ebizo, the oldest among them, raised a hand, voice calm but edged with quiet authority.

“Now, now—no need to throw stones. Gaara is handling it. But it is suspicious, isn’t it? How suddenly this came to light. Someone surely benefits from stirring fear. We must stand with our Kazekage to keep Suna safe.”

Gaara’s gaze stayed on the elder a moment longer, watching the man’s composure fray at the edges, before he swept his eyes across the room.

“Fear is a tool—but also a danger. I will root out anyone who seeks to exploit it. Whether they hide in Suna or beyond, they won’t go unchecked. Trust will not be broken under my watch.”

The room fell still, thoughtful and tense. Even Tojuro, for once, had nothing to add.

After that, the days blurred—one after another, each heavier than the last. Meetings. Reports. Inspections. Batch updates. Each dawn brought more questions than answers, and each night Gaara found himself returning to the same place.
Home.

It was strange how easily the mansion had started to feel like home again. For a long time, it had been just another property—another duty. He could count on one hand how often he’d slept there, always choosing the quiet solitude of his office or the vast, open sky. It wasn’t until recently that he’d made peace with sleep at all.

That had all changed with Sakura.

Now, he couldn’t think of a better feeling than coming back to her. Sometimes, he caught himself wondering how he’d ever lived any other way—and how he was supposed to go back to being alone when she left.

He’d been thinking about that more lately.
Time had slipped by like clouds in the sky—quiet, but always moving. Three months into her mission now. Three months since that first day, when he ran into her in the living room.

The more time they spent together, the more he began to notice the smallest things—details that had no business lingering the way they did.

Like the way her emerald eyes lit up when she spoke about her students. Or how her brows would scrunch in concentration, her lip caught between her teeth when she was focused.

And lately… she seemed to worry about him.

He could see it in her eyes—even when she didn’t say anything.

He wasn’t surprised when she walked into his office one night, where he had been hiding away. But something in him stirred anyway—because she’d been thinking of him.

“Temari said you’ve been spending all your nights here,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Gaara looked up from the report he hadn’t read in the past five minutes. “I’ve been working.”

“It’s past midnight,” she countered.

“There’s still work to do.”

“Work that’ll still be here in the morning.”

She was right, he hadn’t achieved anything substantial while being here, but still he couldn’t bring himself to seek sleep while people’s lives were at stake.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, scribbling pointlessly just to keep his hands moving.

He didn’t remember what she said after that—only the faint scent of strawberries as she crossed the room and plucked the pen from his grip.

He had to look up.

“And I vaguely remember someone telling me I’d be no use if I was exhausted,” she said, one brow arched, that teasing smirk on her lips as she perched on the edge of his desk.

He hated how right she was.
And how it affected him that she was so close.

A breath passed between them. He couldn’t tell if it was his or hers.

“You’re good at getting under people’s skin,” he murmured.

“Is that your way of calling me annoying? I’m very touchy about that”

He smiled “Maybe. But it’s working…and I like you worrying about me.”

Her smirk softened, eyes warming. The air between them shifted—suddenly charged, unspoken things hanging heavy.

She unfolded her arms, slid off the desk.

“Well… if you’ve been sufficiently ‘convinced,’ let’s go home.”

Let’s go home. That’s what she said. And it stuck with him—not just the words, but the ease of them. He was used to people tiptoeing around him, but Sakura's comfort with his space, with him, was a disarming thing. It made the air feel different, less heavy.

She squealed when he pulled her onto his lap.

“Gaara! What are you doing—someone could walk in!” she whispered, scandal soft on her lips even though her hands settled naturally on his shoulders.

He was amused—and he didn’t care.

“Let them,” he murmured.

She tried to scowl, but it dissolved into a smile as he lowered his mouth to hers.

The world could be ending, and as long as he had her—warm and soft in his arms—he thinks wouldn’t care.
He didn’t want to think about what that meant. He only wanted to think about the warmth of her laughter against his lips, and how, for the first time in weeks, his office no longer felt cold.

Weeks had passed since then. Gaara hadn’t dared to picture a future with her—not fully, till now. Six months ago, the thought alone would have been unthinkable—laughable, even.

And yet, here she was. Still with him.

Sometimes he caught himself wondering if he was imagining it all. He reminded himself, often that the way she looked at him, the way she cared— could be nothing more than her nature. A medic’s compassion, nothing deeper. He had to, because the alternative was almost too much to believe.

Still, the question pressed at him in the quiet moments: what did she think of all this? Of him?

They hadn’t spoken of the time left on her assignment. He had avoided it. Perhaps she had too. He knew the conversation would come eventually—but maybe he was afraid of what she’d say.

Worse, he wasn’t even sure he had sorted through the tangle of feelings inside him or whether his own feelings were a weakness he couldn’t afford.

Her room was dim when he entered, lit only by moonlight slipping through sheer curtains. The air was warm with leftover steam from her bath, thick with strawberries and vanilla.

She turned as if she’d already been expecting him, hair loose, body wrapped in one of her robes—too short, but perfect all the same.

There hadn’t been many words. Just a look. A pull. A need that neither of them questioned anymore.

Now they lay tangled together, bodies slick from the heat of what they’d just shared. Breath slowing. Limbs heavy.

Gaara’s hand traced the curve of her hip beneath the sheets—slow, grounding himself in her warmth.

“You seem tense today. Tojuro give you a headache this time?” Sakura asked softly, green eyes blinking up at him.

“The papers aren’t helping either,” he murmured. His voice was low, threaded with a fatigue he didn’t bother to hide.

Sakura stilled, then exhaled quietly. “I’ve seen them. I mean, I’ve read them. But Gaara… you can’t let it get to you.”

She hadn’t thought the media in Suna were this active until recently. Or maybe she’d just never paid attention because it hadn’t affected her. But now it did—because it affected him.

For a moment, she wondered if things had been like this in Konoha and she’d simply been blind to it. Was there always this quiet divide between shinobi and civilians? Her head swam with thoughts, but Gaara’s voice pulled her back.

“How are things at the hospital?” he asked. He already knew, but he didn’t want to talk about the papers. Not tonight.

She shifted, resting her head against his chest. “Five more critical cases. They’ve had extractions and are healing—they should be fine. The checkups you ordered have helped. We’ve caught more of the new cases early, and the student medics have gotten better at spotting the seals.”

Gaara’s mouth curved—not quite a smile. “And how are you?”

Sakura blinked up at him, then smiled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Don’t worry. I’m eating well, keeping my chakra levels steady—sensei,” she teased, dragging out the word.

That brought him closer to a real smile. His thumb brushed her hip, slow and deliberate.

“Sensei, huh?” he murmured.

Sakura laughed softly, hiding her face against his chest. “You’re disgusting.”

A comfortable silence settled over them, soft and intimate. Outside, the desert wind stirred the sand.

Another meeting.

Kami, Sakura was sick of these.

She didn’t even know why she had to be here. She gave Gaara detailed reports every day— precise , thorough —but apparently, the council had decided her physical presence was suddenly essential. And Gaara hadn’t been able to object.

She swallowed the urge to sigh and let her gaze drift to the sparse decor of the extended chamber just off Gaara’s office. Desert light filtered through high windows, catching on cacti lined neatly along the sills. There were no personal touches. No warmth. Just sand, stone, and silence.

She could be doing something useful right now. Anything other than sitting here wasting time. Like investigating the sealed chakra taken from the victims—something she still hadn’t fully figured out.

What she had found so far was disturbing: a haphazard but deliberate fusion of various tailed beast chakra. Shukaku could sense traces of his own and others’. The more Sakura studied it, the more convinced she became that she was missing something—some larger pattern just out of reach.

One victim stood out, Rie Elma, someone she was sure had been among the first experiment. It wasn’t clear back then, the case was so bizarre for Suna’s below par medical services and she’d been placed in the psychiatric ward. Extracting her without alerting the council had been a nightmare, the council seemed hell bent on finding casualties to prove Gaara’s alleged incompetence.

But the seal…

It had been different. Stronger. Stable. Like it was meant to last.

A test.

The newer victims, by contrast, had seals so unstable they seemed engineered to break down—fast, messy, explosive.

They were meant to draw attention.

Thank Kami they'd started catching them early. A full rampage would’ve devastated the village. At least Rie Elma’s husband could have some peace of mind now, she still recalled how devasted he had looked when she and Keita had gone to see him. Seemed like there was a flicker light beneath all this darkness.

“Haruno, where are we with the victim count? Any change since the seal checkups were implemented?”

Sakura nearly grit her teeth. They’d know if they actually read the report.

She kept her tone cool. “As stated in the report, the screenings allowed us to identify and treat several new cases before the seals progressed. So far, we’ve avoided fatalities through early intervention.”

A few elders exchanged glances—some approving, others unreadable. One or two wore that too-smooth expression that made her hackles rise.

“Specific numbers, Haruno?” Tojuro’s voice was smooth as oil, but there was an edge beneath it. He leaned forward, fingers steepled. “The public doesn’t read reports. They hear numbers .”

Sakura met his gaze. “Seventeen confirmed cases. Five were critical but stabilized post-extraction. The rest were caught early.”

Tojuro hummed thoughtfully. His eyes flicked sideways, already calculating.

Then:
“Kazekage-sama,” his tone now crisp and performative,
“The seal check-ups are well and good—but reactive, at best. Surely you’ve devised a more effective strategy. Something proactive. It would be… detrimental to our economy if this spreads further.”

There it was. The real dig. Undermining in plain sight.

Gaara answered without missing a beat. “We’re pursuing all leads. A strategy is underway and will be disclosed when finalized.”

The room held its breath.

Tojuro’s eyes narrowed—just a flicker. Then he smiled. Smooth. Lazy. Dangerous. “Of course not, Kazekage-sama. As always, you have everything under control.”

Sakura tensed. The words were technically harmless. The tone , however, was anything but.

As if on cue, another elder leaned forward. She could never remember his name—just his unwavering loyalty to Tojuro.
“The people have been asking many questions,” he said, tone faux-curious. “About leadership. Priorities and Distractions.” his eyes glazed over to Sakura.

Kankurō shifted in his seat. “Careful what you’re implying,” he said, voice quiet—but lethal.

Temari didn’t bother with subtlety. “Say whatever you have to say, or stop wasting time.”

The elder raised his hands. “No accusations, of course. We’re merely voicing what fills the papers. The council can’t be seen as blind to public concern.”

Gaara’s tone didn’t change—but the air around him did. Heavy. Controlled. Dangerous.

“The people’s concerns matter to me.”
  He paused.
  “But I will not allow rumors to distract from protecting them. Anyone who fuels those rumors is working against Suna’s peace. Make no mistake.”

Silence. Thick enough to choke on.

Sakura’s pulse thundered. She glanced at Gaara—and saw it. The stillness. The razor-edge control.

Temari spoke next. “Unless someone’s accusing the Kazekage outright… we’re done here.”

More silence.

Gaara’s voice came last, quiet, final.
“Good. Then let’s focus on what matters.”

Sakura’s pulse hadn’t calmed by the time the meeting ended. But even through the haze of tension, a flush crawled up her spine.

Seeing him like that—commanding, unflinching, immovable—was enough to make her ache. This was the Kazekage. Hers.

No matter how temporary that claim might be.

As the elders trickled out, Kankuro, Temari, and Sakura stayed behind. Keita joined moments later. These debriefs had become routine—not because of protocol, but because Gaara never trusted the elders with the full truth.

They didn’t know the one common thread between victims: each couple had taken a mysterious vacation shortly before symptoms appeared.

No one—not even the patients themselves—remembered where.

Every memory extraction technique had failed.

Like chasing shadows.

They were stuck.

“So... what now?” Kankuro asked, arms crossed.

“The ANBU lost the trail,” Temari muttered. “Whoever did this is good .”

Keita nodded grimly. “And powerful.”

Sakura stayed quiet, thoughts racing. Nothing about this felt natural. Everything left traces—residue, chakra signatures, sensory echoes. But this?

Clean.

Cut too clean.

She glanced at Gaara.

He was still thinking too. That crease between his brows was deeper than usual.

A dangerous idea surfaced. One she knew he wouldn’t like.

“What about Shukaku?”

Gaara looked up slowly. “What about him?”

“You said he could sense the tailed beast chakra mix… maybe—”

“You think he could trace it.”

She nodded. “If it contains even part of his chakra…”

His eyes were unreadable now. Resistance? Or trust?

“I don’t know, Sakura,” he said softly. Hesitant.

She kept her voice gentle. “Conventional tracking’s failing. He might sense something we can’t.”

Temari snorted. “If he doesn’t go berserk first.”

“ Ouch ,” came Shukaku’s dry voice in Gaara’s head.

Kankuro raised a brow. “Could he even pinpoint a location?”

Sakura didn’t answer. She was still looking at Gaara.

“We need every lead.” Her voice dropped. “And he’s helped before… hasn’t he?”

Before Gaara could respond, Keita leaned in.

“There’s a rumor amongst people,” he said. “About a place. A resort. Popular with couples. But… there’s a catch. You have to match a specific profile. Or you won’t get picked. I heard it’s a top destination for honeymoons and romantic escapes- didn’t think much of it before but… ”

Sakura froze.

Her eyes narrowed.

Honeymoons. Romantic getaways. Specific criteria...?

The puzzle was starting to come together, each matching piece finding each other.

“What if it wasn’t a vacation?” she said. “What if it was a tailored lure—built to draw in vulnerable couples.”

She looked at Gaara.

“What if it’s not even a resort at all?”

His gaze locked with hers.

And for a fleeting second…

Recognition.

“A destination targeting couples,” Gaara echoed, his voice low.

Temari frowned. “That must be why the memory searches came up blank. No trace of where they went.”

“Definitely genjutsu,” Kankuro muttered.

Sakura nodded her head. “Not standard genjutsu.Very high-level.” Her voice dropped. “That kind of memory tampering is... almost impossible.”

“It’s possible,” Gaara said, steady. “For an Uchiha.”

Silence fell like a blade.

Temari’s jaw tightened. Kankuro leaned back, expression stony. Even Keita blinked, caught off guard.

Sakura’s teeth clenched before she even realized. The name always triggered something—a flicker of guilt, a spark of anger.

“No,” she said sharply. Her gaze locked on Gaara. “Sasuke’s done terrible things. But this?” Her voice softened slightly. “He wouldn’t prey on civilians. He wouldn’t hide behind illusions like a coward.”

Keita tilted his head, watching her. “You sound certain.”

“Because I am.”

She didn’t look away. Neither did Gaara.

“I wasn’t accusing him,” he said finally, voice calm. “Just stating that someone like him could pull this off. We have to be ready for that.”

The tension eased, but didn’t fully settle.

Sakura let out a quiet breath. “Then let’s focus on what we know. Maybe the memory wipe only targeted the where —not the why . Emotional imprints might still linger.”

Kankuro leaned forward. “So we figure out what kind of place couples would be drawn to… and trace it backwards?”

Gaara nodded, something sharper settling in his posture. “We’ll look into those rumours, Keita—we’ll need your help with that. Quietly. Any resorts or destinations marketed to couples in the last few months. Focus on ones that might’ve bypassed official records.”

Keita gave a curt nod.

“Kankuro, Temari—start cross-referencing those with missing persons reports or unusual behavior. Anything connected to the timeline.”

“You got it,” Kankuro said.

Sakura folded her arms. “I’ll keep working on finding a faster cure.”

With that, the meeting dissolved. Kankuro and Temari left first, Keita trailing behind.

Sakura had just reached the doorway when she heard her name.

“Sakura.”

She paused, turning halfway. “Yes?”

Her voice came out a touch too eager. She regretted it instantly.

Gaara didn’t speak right away. His gaze was steady—quiet, unreadable—but something in it tugged at her. Then he lifted a hand slightly, gesturing for her to stay.

She hesitated. Then stepped back inside and closed the door behind her with a soft click.

Gaara stood near the edge of the table, his posture relaxed, but his attention was laser-sharp.

“About Sasuke,” he said. “I wasn’t accusing him. You know that, right?”

She blinked, surprised by the follow-up. “I know. It just… caught me off guard.”

His eyes didn’t waver. “You still care about him.”

Not a question. Not an accusation. Just a quiet fact.

Sakura looked away, brushing a hand through her hair. “As a friend. Our history is messy, yeah, but… my feelings for him aren’t what you think.”

“What I think?”

She met his eyes again, cheeks heating. “Come on. I know people still think I’m in love with him.”

The words came out in a mutter, half-directed at the floor. She shifted, acutely aware of the stillness pressing in around them.

“Are you?” Gaara asked softly.

Sakura froze. “What?”

“In love with him.”

His voice was quiet—steady—but it hit like a thrown kunai.

She let out a shaky scoff. “No. I... no. I’ve moved on.”

She meant it. But saying it aloud felt strange—like pulling the last thread of something she'd already outgrown. And saying it to Gaara , of all people...

He said nothing. Just watched her, weighing her words. There was no falsehood in them. Relief uncurled inside him, subtle but undeniable.

Then she added—voice barely above a whisper—“If I was… I wouldn’t have slept with you.”

Her cheeks flared hotter. “I’m not like that.”

Suddenly, the room felt warmer.

Sakura averted her gaze, but it didn’t help. When she met his eyes again, the intensity there stole her next thought. It was dark, focused in a way that always made her forget everything else. She could read that look anytime.

She swallowed hard. Her throat felt suddenly dry.

Then—without breaking eye contact—he stepped closer and reached for her wrist.

His fingers curled around it. Gentle, but firm. He pulled her toward him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

She didn’t resist. Warmth spread through her chest as his familiar scent wrapped around her.

She wet her lips, trying to focus—but his eyes followed the motion, and her words stumbled within her.

His other hand slid to her waist and tugged her fully against him. Her breath caught. She felt his body against hers, the heat of his palm skimming beneath the hem of her top like he couldn’t stop himself.

Then—his mouth brushed her neck. Once. Then again, firmer. Then open-mouthed—hot, damp, tasting her skin.

“Gaara…” she whispered, glancing at the door. “What if someone—”

“No one will.”

Flat. Certain. Like the idea didn’t even deserve concern.

But her pulse jumped anyway. “You’re sure?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His hand slipped higher beneath her shirt, thumb grazing her side. His gaze dropped to her lips—then slowly returned to her eyes.

“You don’t want to?”

Smooth. Quiet. Unfair. Especially while his hands were doing that . She wasn’t even sure what he meant exactly, but Kami—yes, she wanted to. She always wanted to. Just not here. Last time, at least, it had been nighttime. If someone walked in on them, she would have to move to a different dimension, hopefully with the help of Sasuke’s Rinnegan.

But before she could gather her thoughts, he spoke again.

“I want you,” he said simply.

Something shifted sharply in her chest. Her cheeks flushed hot, but this time she didn’t look away. How was she supposed to keep her composure when he said things like that, but she liked how much he wanted her, even though it pressed against the edges of her composure, reckless and consuming - she liked it far too much.

“You see me every day,” she murmured, her hands brushing down the solid plane of his chest, pausing just above his waistline. Her gaze stayed locked on his, daring, teasing.

But instead of stopping, her fingers slid lower, slow and deliberate.

His breath hitched. Barely—but she caught it. The tightening of his jaw, the sudden stillness in his frame. Then, with a swift motion, his hand closed around her wrist, halting her. His grip was firm, not harsh—restraining, but charged with heat.

“You’ve become bold,” he murmured, low and rough, a rare note of surprise threading his voice.

Her lips curved. “Whose fault is that?”

His eyes held amusement, but a sharp edge cut through it as he studied her, as though she were a puzzle he could never fully solve. “What you said earlier… Is that your way of telling me you like me?”

Her mouth opened, denial poised on her tongue—but the sound that came out wasn’t a protest. It was a laugh, soft and breathless, tinged with embarrassment. She pressed a hand lightly to his chest, fingers trembling just a little. “You’re—ugh—you’re impossible,” she murmured, words catching as her heartbeat quickened. Of course he had to find a way to get under her skin, to unravel her with a single question.

A low chuckle escaped him then, rare and ridiculously sexy.

Sakura’s lips pursed in a pout, and her cheeks warmed more than usual if that were possible. 

Even as he teased, Gaara couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity behind his eyes—wondering how she’d respond if he pressed.

She wanted to tell him yes. That she would never let herself be with someone she didn’t want, didn’t trust. That she more than liked him. But before she could shape the words, he moved.

He lifted her by the waist like she weighed nothing and set her on the edge of his desk. The cool wood shocked her thighs—or maybe it was the heat of his hands gripping firmly at her legs as he stepped between them. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, legs tightening instinctively around his hips. The look in his eyes made her stomach twist in anticipation. She thought about saying something clever—anything to break the tension—but her need overruled her. She leaned in.

Their lips collided. It wasn’t soft. It was deep, urgent. A clash of tongues and heat and hunger that had no patience for restraint. His mouth was firm, consuming, and Sakura matched him with equal fervor, tugging at his collar until her chest pressed flush against his. The scrape of his lips, the intoxicating pull of his breath against hers, sent a shiver through her spine.

Her moan slipped out when his fingers found the zipper of her vest, tugging it down with deliberate ease. Cool air licked at her heated skin as fabric gave way. When his hands brushed bare flesh—skimming higher until they teased the curve of her breasts—her whole body quivered. He didn’t cup her fully, not yet, but the promise in his touch made her ache.

His grip on her thighs tightened, a rare fracture in his composure, before he dragged her closer across the desk. She caught the shift in his eyes, the way green deepened into something darker, hungrier. It stirred something reckless in her. She kissed him harder, as if the urgency in her chest might break through him if she pressed close enough.

No matter how many times they found themselves in this position, it was never enough. The need to close the space between them, to fuse heat to heat, only grew sharper each time, leaving her craving more instead of sated. Every touch only stoked the fire.

When his hand slid higher along her thigh and deliberately brushed the thin barrier of her underwear, her breath hitched, and she clung to him as if the contact alone could burn through reason.

And then—

A knock. Sharp. Followed by a woman’s voice just beyond the door.

“Gaara-san, I have some reports for you”

Matsuri’s voice

Gaara’s eyes closed for a brief second, his jaw tensing as he let out what could only be described as a frustrated sigh—whether from the interruption, the lingering heat between them, or the fact that she was pulling away, she couldn’t tell.

Sakura slid off the desk in one smooth motion. Her legs felt unsteady, heat still burning in her cheeks as she smoothed her clothes, tried to look unbothered—except she was anything but.

She didn’t think she was the type to get jealous, but Matsuri bothered her, and she knew exactly why. Gaara had said there was nothing between them, but the gossip from weeks ago, coupled with Matsuri’s strange behavior, kept gnawing at her.

Besides, gossip was likely just that: lies. The things they said about Gaara in the news were proof enough. And Matsuri—well, Matsuri had been rude from the very beginning, even before anything had started between her and Gaara.

Still, her chest tightened, her stomach twisting with the thought. Yes, she was overthinking it, but the damage was done; her mood had already soured.

You’re not even his girlfriend.

The thought didn’t help, but still…

She swallowed it down.

“Um… I should get going,” she said lightly, forcing the words out. “Before Keita sends a search party.”

She turned, reaching for the door—

—but Gaara caught her fingers.

She froze, her pulse stumbling at the quiet pressure of his touch.

When she looked back, he wasn’t smiling. Just watching her. Eyes steady. Voice soft.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Something in her eased.
Just a little.

She smiled, gave a small nod, then twisted the doorknob.

Matsuri stood on the other side, a stack of documents in hand. Her eyes widened—first in surprise, then flickered with something else. Sadness. Spite. She masked it quickly.

“Matsuri,” Sakura said with a polite nod.

Matsuri nodded back, curt and silent. Sakura didn’t linger to see more.

The door clicked shut behind her.
Matsuri stepped inside, a file in her hand.

Gaara watched her. Her expression was neutral—too neutral. Since Ren’s party, a quiet strain had settled between them and Gaara had no desire to smooth it over. He had felt responsible for how things ended, but Matsuri had always had a way of turning small kindnesses into expectations. A line had been crossed. They both knew it. There was no going back.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

Gaara’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

Matsuri’s smile was small. Sharp. Prideful “It’s not like I’d say anything,” she said lightly, moving to his desk and setting the file down. “I’m just wondering… what exactly you think is going to happen here. She’s not going to leave her life in Konoha to stay in Suna. You know that. But you still threw everything we had away.”

“What we had,” Gaara said evenly, “was physical. We both understood that.”

“And you think that makes it easier for me? That makes it okay?” Her eyes flashed, glimmering with unshed tears and simmering frustration. “We were fine and she—she just… waltzed in!”

He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I know it’s not easy for you Matsuri…which is why I think you need a break from working too closely with me.”

Her breath caught, a strangled sound, and then she laughed bitterly. “Break? W-What are you talking about?”

“Starting next week,” he said, voice low, controlled, “you’ll be transferred to Shinobi Registration & Records. It’s not a demotion, so rest assured your current pay will not change.”

Matsuri’s mouth opened, then shut again. “You’re… getting rid of me.”

Gaara’s tone didn’t change. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe it was more. It was my responsibility to keep things clear, and I failed at that. His tone softened, though it held no room for reversal. “You are important to me, Matsuri. That has never changed. But not in the way you hoped.”

For a moment, her eyes softened—just for a breath—before her mask slid back into place.

She scoffed then turned for the door, but paused, glancing over her shoulder. “When her assignment ends…” Her voice dipped, syrupy, threaded with something darker. “…you know where to find me.”

Gaara didn’t respond.

The door closed behind her, but the tension stayed.

He sighed…No—Sakura didn’t know.

And now, with Matsuri’s words worming through his thoughts and Sakura’s scent still clinging to the air, the weight of that omission pressed heavier than ever.

He hadn’t meant to deceive her. When she’d asked, the answer had come out without thought, like instinct. It was their first time—he hadn’t wanted to ruin it with a complicated truth. He had ended things with Matsuri that night. Technically.

But Sakura might see it differently.

“ This will surely blow up on your face, kid ”, Shukaku added, like he didn’t already know.

Later that day, Sakura was forcefully extracted from the hospital by Temari, who insisted that fresh air—and freshly made dango—were medically necessary .

At the stand, Sakura chose sweet dango without hesitation. Temari, to her horror, ordered savory.

“Savory dango is an abomination,” Sakura muttered.

“And sweet dango is for the unimaginative,” Temari shot back with smug defiance.

The vendor laid out three skewers on bamboo leaves. Sakura’s mouth watered, but she waited while Temari paid.

Soft koto music drifted from a nearby restaurant—delicate, rhythmic, slow. Sakura sighed, popping a glossy ball into her mouth, savoring its chewy sweetness and licking the sauce from her lips. The setting sun warmed the stone path, casting long shadows across the marketplace. It was that rare, perfect hour—not hot, not cold.

She noticed couples walking side by side, laughter and footsteps mingling in the air. Unknowingly, her thoughts drifted to Gaara. Could things ever work out between them? Could they stroll along a street like this, side by side, unbothered by everything else?

Temari nudged her. “What’s on your mind?”

Sakura smiled faintly, hair lifting in the breeze. “Nothing. Suna has pretty evenings.”

“Hm,” Temari said. “Konoha’s pretty too.”

Sakura paused. Konoha’s nights were different—muted, familiar. Lanterns swayed gently between trees. Ramen carts leaned into the stillness. Everything breathed with a rhythm she could predict.

Suna wasn’t like that. Its nights moved faster—spicier, louder. The wind carried music, sand, and curiosity instead of comfort.

Still, she nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

They walked a little more, chatting quietly as Temari waved to familiar faces. Sakura smiled politely beside her, grateful no one had approached them.

“I’m worried,” Temari said suddenly.

Sakura turned—not from curiosity, exactly, but from surprise. Temari was not the type to express her worry out loud. She glanced down at her half-eaten skewer.

“Me too,” she said softly.

On the surface, everything appeared to be fine. People smiled and waved like always—but something had shifted. Subtle, insistent. Not just the desert breeze.

They were passing a news stall when Temari suddenly stopped. Her eyes locked on the front page.

Sakura followed her gaze.

“Satoh Corp mercenaries rescue civilians from sandstorm – where were the shinobi?”

“Wait—wasn’t that Kankurō’s mission?” Sakura blinked. “He’s not even back yet.”

Temari’s jaw tightened. Without a word, she turned and strode off. Sakura reached for a copy of the paper, eyes scanning it.

Not the first headline like this.

At first, she'd dismissed them as jabs at Gaara’s leadership. But now…

It felt deeper. Coordinated.

Satoh Corp. Again.

She’d seen the name on a shipping crate once. Scribbled in Keita’s field notes another time. Everywhere.

How deep did their reach go?

“Temari, wait,” Sakura called, catching up. Her heart was pounding now.

They turned into a quiet alley, the bustle fading behind them. Temari’s fury radiated off her like heat.

“I just don’t get it!” Temari exploded. “We know what’s going on. We know who’s behind this. So why aren’t we raiding that shithole factory already?”

Sakura swallowed. She understood Temari’s anger. She felt it.

“I think Gaara has a plan,” she said gently. “A direct assault might trigger a trap—or feed into their narrative.”

Temari scoffed. “Then we infiltrate. Like shinobi. Instead, we’re sitting around while they spin this story like we’re helpless.”

Sakura opened her mouth, but Temari was already moving.

“If no one’s going to do something,” she snapped, “then we will. In and out. Quiet.”

Sakura’s stomach turned. “Temari—wait. This is a bad idea. We don’t know what kind of tech they’ve got. What if they want us to take the bait?”

“You don’t have to come,” Temari said without slowing. “But I am. Gaara’s got his hands full—and we’re bleeding ground every damn day.”

She stalked ahead, muttering under her breath.

Sakura hesitated.

This was reckless. Gaara would never approve. Not without intel. Not without backup.

But she couldn’t let Temari go alone.

She jogged forward, falling into step beside her. “Wait.”

Temari didn’t stop, but her stride eased.

“I’m coming with you.”

Temari glanced sideways, unreadable. “You sure?”

“No,” Sakura admitted. “But I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Temari exhaled slowly. Her jaw was still tight—but for a flicker, just a moment, her face softened.

Back at the mansion, Sakura pulled her gear together with a knot in her chest.
She tied her hair into a tight bun, fingers moving on autopilot. How had her day managed to end up with an impromptu mission.

This is a terrible idea, Inner Sakura muttered.

Her eyes drifted to the corner of the room.
And that place is probably rigged to the ceiling with surveillance.

She tightened her gloves. Ready or not, they were doing this.

It was already past midnight when Sakura and Temari finally reached the edge of the village. The desert stretched endlessly before them, cloaked in shadow. Sakura squinted ahead, but she could barely make out anything beyond a few feet.

“These parts are prone to sandstorms,” Temari said, her voice low. “Visibility gets crap fast.”

Perfect. As if this mission didn’t already feel like a mistake, now they were blind too.

“Come on,” Temari added, already picking up speed. “We need to move fast.”

They darted forward, chakra focused under their soles to keep from sinking into the soft, shifting sand. The wind howled low, carrying the sting of grit across their skin. Sakura tucked her cloak tighter around her face as they ran. The desert’s night air bit cold, and she couldn’t tell if the goosebumps on her arms were from the chill—or the dread slowly building in her gut.

“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” Sakura asked, glancing around. They’d been running nearly half an hour, and the terrain had changed to one of just dry tall trees, crumbling paths, and dust-coated leaves.

“I’m sure,” Temari said, but she’d slowed to a cautious jog. Up ahead, a narrow clearing cut between a tangle of fallen trees. The trunks had collapsed over each other, some long fossilized, forming a natural tunnel.

Temari raised her fan and sent a sharp gust through the opening. Not enough to stir suspicion—but just enough to shift the debris.

A humid breeze met them instantly. Warm. Moist.

Sakura blinked.

Then she saw it—light, faint but steady, glowing ahead. It wasn’t firelight. It was white. Industrial.

The deeper they went, the thicker the air became—rich with damp earth and metallic tang. The walls of trees began to thin, and when they broke through the last curtain of branches—

Sakura stopped short.

They stood at the edge of a forested cliffside. Just across the ravine, lit up against the night sky, was a massive factory—its steel walls humming with faint chakra-powered lights. Smoke curled from squat towers, and conveyor belts moved inside with slow, mechanical precision.

To the right, carved into the rock face, thundered a massive waterfall—crashing down into a narrow basin below. The mist from it carried over faintly, clinging to their skin, mixing with the grit of the sand.

The factory sat like a beast on the land—ugly, alive, and watching.

Sakura’s breath caught. “That’s it.”

Temari nodded grimly beside her. “Now we find a way in.”

Sakura crouched low behind a twisted tree root, eyes narrowing on the factory perimeter.

It was less fortified than she expected. She wasn’t sure if that was good news. Maybe they were too comfortable, or worse - expecting two crazy kunoichi’s to try something like this.

Two guards stood at the nearest entrance, black flak jackets layered over dark civilian gear. Not Suna shinobi—Satoh Corp mercs. Their chakra signatures were muted but present, trained enough to handle themselves with those sleek chakra weapons strapped at their sides.

“Shift rotation every fifteen minutes,” Temari whispered, eyes sharp. “That gives us a ten-minute window once they trade posts.”

Sakura nodded. “Okay, so… we take them out. I’ll put them under a genjutsu, and we'll use Transformation Jutsu.”

Temari’s brow lifted.

“We don’t have chakra cloaks or suppressors,” Sakura murmured quickly. “And my hair’s a dead giveaway. The quieter we are, the better. If we get discovered…” her throat tightened. “…we both know it’ll make things worse for Gaara.”

Temari gave her a sidelong glance. “Wow, you’re so worried for him. Should I start calling you the Kazekage’s girlfriend now?”

Heat flickered across Sakura’s face. “I’m not his—”

“Fine,” Temari cut in, smirk flattening into something sharper. “We’ll be quiet. No blood.”

Sakura sighed, then flexed her fingers. “Great.”

They waited. Listened.

At exactly the right moment—when one of the guards yawned and the other looked away—Temari slipped from cover, silent as a shadow. Sakura was right behind her.

Two swift, clean hits.

One guard collapsed with a fan strike to the neck; the other slumped after Sakura pressed two fingers to his spine and released a burst of paralyzing chakra. No time for dramatics—just efficiency.

Temari dragged the bodies behind a mossed-out rock formation. Sakura scanned them quickly—no visible marks, no blood. Still breathing. Perfect.

She pressed her hands together. “Transformation Jutsu.”

In a puff of chakra smoke, their appearances shifted—matching the guards down to the weapons on their hips. Even the slack postures. Sakura blinked once, adjusting to the change. Her voice even sounded different.

Temari rolled her shoulders. “Let’s hope they’re not chatty.”

They approached the factory gate at a casual pace, their movements mimicking the men they replaced. The first scan point beeped green, and no alarms rang out.

Inside the factory walls, it was colder—sterile. Harsh lights buzzed overhead. The halls were vast, slick with polished steel and humming with unseen machinery. Crates lined the corridor edges, each one stamped with the same seal:

Satoh Corp.

Sakura’s gut twisted.

Slipping into the flow was easier than expected. The workers had thinned out by now, leaving mostly mercs on patrol. A brief nod of acknowledgment as they passed was all it took to stay invisible.

Temari leaned in slightly and whispered. “We split up at the cross junction. I’ll check the southeast wing—try to find- I don’t know, just find something.”

Sakura nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

They didn’t say be careful —it was a given.

They moved.

Sakura’s boots barely made a sound on the smooth floor as she slipped into the eastern hallway. The lights flickered in slow intervals, each pulse throwing jagged shadows like warning signs.

So far, it was a bust. Every room she’d checked was filled with paperwork, spare parts, or nothing at all. It looked like a regular factory—though she'd never actually been in one before.

She didn’t have much time. One more sweep.

She turned a corner—and froze in front of an elevator. Industrial. Keypad locked.

Restricted access. 

She wasn’t a fan of elevators still; if she was going to find anything useful, this was probably the only way. However, this one had a lot of buttons, and she wasn’t sure what to do with them. Maybe some floors were restricted?

She jabbed the call button anyway. The doors stayed stubbornly shut. Maybe you needed clearance just to ride.

Figures.

A beat.

Then—footsteps.

“Shit,” she hissed, jabbing the call button again.

The door opened with a soft chime. She stepped in just as a hand caught the sliding door.

She forced her features or rather his features into blank indifference.

A man stepped in beside her, dressed like the one she’d copied. Broad-shouldered. Scar on one cheek. Tired scowl. Another merc.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “You on the new mission? Boss says we’re moving on to C-rank.”

Her heart slammed. C-rank what?

“Yes. Should be good,” she answered, flatly.

It was a generic response but it should work.

He snorted. Sakura stiffened 

“Good? Try fucking awesome. Can’t wait to show those shinobi they’re not the only ones with powers anymore.”

He pulled out a chipped black ID and swiped it. The screen blinked green.

“B2. Project sector,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Sakura stiffened slightly. He thought they were going the same way. Sakura kept her breath even as the elevator descended. Her fingers twitched at her side, chakra humming quietly under her skin.

She didn’t know what “Project Sector” meant, but she was about to find out.

The elevator came to a screeching halt and Sakura considered the man for a moment. Maybe she could try to find out more from him.

Trying to play casual, she asked, “Where are you headed?”

Too stiff. She should’ve practiced the voice more.

He gave her a weird look. “Guard duty, stupid.”

Then huffed and walked off.

Guard duty? Down here? What the hell were they protecting?

She would have followed him, but that would be too risky. The goal was to find something, not put herself in danger, even though she was already doing that.

Sakura’s hand hovered near her thigh pouch. When she confirmed that no one was in sight, she stepped out.

The hallway here was different—sleek, colder. Steel walls replaced the concrete. A low hum vibrated faintly through the air.

She moved quickly, checking each room as she passed. Storage. Server panels. Filing cabinets.

Then she saw it—through a narrow viewing window. A lab.

She almost cursed in relief.

But the door was locked. Ofcourse

She leaned closer, eyes squinting to make out what was inside. Glass jars. Strange orbs suspended in fluid. Then her eyes caught on one table with scrolls and papers with scribblings on them. 

Her eyes widened-

Those markings—they looked like—

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sakura whipped around.

A woman stood at the corridor’s end, posture rigid, brows drawn. She wore a lab coat, perhaps a doctor?

Regardless, she had to do something before this woman exposes her.

Think. Think. She looked past the woman and cursed . Behind the woman, muffled footsteps echoed—another guard coming. No time to knock her out.

“Are you even authorized to be on this floor?” the woman demanded, voice sharp.

No response.

“I’m going to alert your boss if you don’t tell me-”

Sakura’s fingers moved faster than her thoughts. Chakra bloomed from her fingertips.

“Genjutsu,” she whispered.

A pulse of chakra rolled out, subtle but firm. The woman’s eyes widened, her posture slackening as the illusion took hold, eyes widening in silent horror. Sakura didn’t know what illusion she was trapped in—but it would hold.

The second merc cut down another corridor, out of sight.

Perfect.

Sakura crouched and retrieved the woman’s keycard.

She glanced at the lab again. Too risky . Surveillance was likely everywhere. Her window was closing fast.

Three minutes to shift change.

She had miraculously made it to the entrance of the factory with one minute to spare, all the while thinking of that woman, the genjustu should have worn off by now. 

She retraced her steps quickly, rejoining the unconscious guard slumped where she left him. With a soft grunt, she lowered him back into place. Super strength had its perks.

The genjutsu on both mercenaries would wear off in seconds. If they remembered anything, it would just be… falling asleep.

Sakura wiped her brow.

Where the fuck is Temari?

Temari burst out a couple second later, there was no time to chat, they made a dash for it just miniscule seconds before the guards awoke and the next ones arrived to see them disoriented and confused.