Inner Obstacle

BIG THANKS to my beta, Cardcaptor_Eternity! She's the best (and the bravest, tackling my grammar is not for the weak minds, lol)

Story Notes:

Tsuchikage (Nobuhiro ?) = leader of Iwagakure, the Hidden Village of Stone
Mizukage (Jiishin Saemon) = leader of Kirigakure, the Hidden Village of Mist
Raikage (Kosuke ?) = leader of Kumogakure, the Hidden Village of Cloud

… If I had to remember you who the two remaining are, well, it’s not too late to hit the ‘backward’ button. She means to write ‘remind’, not remember. Ed: \slaps forehead/ D’oh!


According to my English/Japanese translator (and you know how fickle those things are), On’jin means something along the line of “The Protector”.


Chapter 2:Present and Past Help


Shortly after the end of the Kage meeting, the leader of Kirigakure no Sato was found heading towards her rented rooms, seemingly lost deep in thoughts, and flanked by a –mandatory in those events- Jounin guard.


Jiishin Saemon was one of the legendary Swordsman, a fact that never failed to amuse her since she was actually a woman, but she had always appreciated humour, especially in the form of irony, so she never try to modify that title.


She had been the Mizukage for the past 18 years, and as such she had known lots of difficult times when dealing with the other countries of the shinobi world, but she had to admit that it was the first time she actually felt that troubled over a meeting that had only pacific purposes.


Truth be told, the last years have been rather peaceful. This was partly due to the downfall of Akatsuki and its leaders, who were more or less behind half of the moves made by the underworld shinobi organization.


But it was mostly due to the fact that shortly after that, the Godaime had stepped down from the role of Hokage and announced Uzumaki Naruto to replace her. The immediate consequence had been that the alliance between Suna and Konoha, which was strong before, was now nearly unbreakable.


It had taken only a couple of meetings between the Kage and various Country Leaders to realize that the bond between the Kazekage and the Hokage ran so deep that it made them impenetrable to all the forms of manipulation, greed or bribery which could lead a country leader to switch alliances. And so, having the two most powerful shinobi nations nearly acting as one on a military level has made the others extremely cautious with diplomatic.


And there was Naruto Uzumaki himself. That man ... was like no other. At first, she had truly wondered if Slug had finally lost her marbles, seeing how the boy seemed to have absolutely no idea of how politics, economy, diplomacy or even basic table manners work. He also had a straightforward mind that was a total handicap in a profession that asked to have a mindset more like a demented corkscrew. Not to mention that he used words like “trust” and “friends” which were normally beaten out of every diplomat-in-training’s head within the first hour of the first lesson at school.


Despite this, she found herself paying more and more attention to him. His sweet madness was somehow contagious, and it seems that he was possessed with the gift of making people share his views, little by little, however far from the original goals they were. Maybe it was due to his endearing honesty and total lack of artifice, but the Mizukage soon realized that she, well, sort of trusted him. Even the Tsuchikage, an old man she would have sworn had been carved directly in solidified cynicism, deception and deceitfulness, seemed to appreciate the young man. That was the power of Uzumaki’s special charm.


And it was part of why she was so anxious today. She had grown to like the boy, and his actions back at the meeting had made no sense. For once, he had been angry, and though he was quite the temperamental kind, his bouts of anger rarely reached that intensity, or quality. And second, he had been angry at Gaara, which had never been heard of before.


Her thoughts were interrupted just as she caught a whiff of two chakra signatures coming from the suite offered by the Hokage. She paused and put her hand on the guard of On’jin, the five foot sword that never left her side.


Then she smiled a bit, recognizing the two entities that were not really hiding in her room. It seemed that she was not the only one to be worried there. She dismissed with a wave of her hand her personal guard, and entered her rooms.


The Tsuchikage was sitting in one of the armchairs, and gave her a benevolent smile. She snorted. Not buying his act of grandfatherly figure for a moment, she asked:


“Where’s the brat?”


“Over here” said one of her other armchairs.


She looked at the furniture where the outlines of a young boy began to appear. She took a seat, and when she turned toward them a pale, wispy boy with light blond hair and yellowish eyes was looking at her. The Tsuchikage watched him with interest, then made a small hand gesture.


The Raikage looked at the kunai that was seemingly sticking out of his chest. “That was not very nice” he commented off-handedly.


“Neither is doing Genjutsu on us.” The Mizukage answered in the same tone. “Where’s the real you?”


“I was speaking about your way of treating the Hokage’s furniture.” His hand went through his chest, pulling at the Kunai that was indeed half-buried into his seat. “But I note that you have still have your –infamous- sword at your side and…” he titled his head toward the old man “… he still has his staff”.


“Touché” smirked the Tsuchikage. “But you can keep an eye on both my staff and Jiishin’s sword, whereas the basis of your little ‘trick’ is the ability to slice our throats from behind, unnoticed ‘til the last second.”


The Raikage opened his mouth to reply with an –undoubtedly- equally smart-ass answer, but the Mizukage, already bored with their bantering, interrupted him.


“As pleasant as your company is, boys,” Both ‘boys’ turned equally sour glares on her, “I doubt you’re here for pointless chit-chat. What do you want to talk about?”


The Raikage raised his pale eyebrows. “Were you actually there during today’s meeting? You know, the one in which the Konoha Leader tried his best to assassinate with his eyes his first ally, the Kazekage? Nobody knows what it was about, so we obviously need to act together to gather some information…”


“Actually,” This time it was the Iwa Leader who interrupted the Raikage. “ I already know ‘what it was about’, as you said, and I merely came to share my data.”


“You already know?” said the Cloud Leader, aghast at the apparent efficiency of the old man’s secret services.


“You’re offering to share the info?” said the Mist Leader, watching his older counterpart as if his white barb was about to sprout roses. “My, Nobuhiro, you’ve grown soft in your old days.”


The Tsuchikage frowned. “I have it from the Head of my Personal Guard, who…directly witnessed the incident.”


The Mizukage leaned towards him a bit. For a second, she would have sworn that the old man was looking uncomfortable.


“Well? What did little Nobuo see?” She asked, remembering that his Head of Security was the old Kage’s nephew, and as such she had known him for years.


The Tsuchikage rose from his seat and walked toward the windows that were offering a beautiful view of the sun setting on Konoha. The two other Kages exchanged a baffled look. The paranoid old man must have been really troubled to turn his back on them during a discussion, offering not only a better opportunity to stab him in the back, but also missing the chance to witness their reaction to what he would say.


“It appears that Nobuo has been entertaining…a carnal relationship with the Kazekage of Suna.”


Jiishin felt her eyes widen like saucers. Before her, the Raikage let out a very undignified teenage guffaw, then put his hand over his mouth with a wince.


“And,” Now the old man looked distinctively uncomfortable “it appears that the Hokage walked on them during their last sexual intercourse.”


“Holy shit,” she breathed. “You think that’s what set him off? Is he some kind of homophobe?” She didn’t know why, but the idea made her slightly nauseous.


The youngest of the Kage shook his head. “Can’t be. Hyuuga Hinata, who works as Uzumaki’s link with the Daimyo’s court, is involved with the Fifth’s assistant, Shizune. Why would he take a lesbian to work closely with him if gay people are ticking him off?”


The Tsuchikage answered tiredly “Men react different to lesbians than to gay males. Who knows? Maybe it’s exciting him and he’s harboring some hope of having sex with her one day. The Hokage is known for being quite the lady’s man, after all.”


“Did you set that up?” Jiishin asked harshly. Thinking about it, it was very odd that the ever-knowing leader of Iwa would ignore something of that importance. It was even stranger considering that it involved both his own nephew and closest Jounin, and the leader of one Shinobi Nation. Now if that was his doing…


“No.” Nobuhiro’s eyes darted back toward the window. He seemed embarrassed again, which actually convinced the Mizukage that he was, for once, being honest. Her fellow Kage had no problem lying through his teeth while looking straight in her eyes. It was telling the truth that appeared to cause him trouble. “He succeeded in carrying on this affair right under my nose.” There was some slight pride in his voice. “I would never have agreed to such a folly, even for spying purposes. Human emotions are too unreliable.”


The Cloud leader sighed. “Back to the Hokage, I can’t believe him to be homophobic. That just doesn’t suit his temperament. If they’re as close as they always seem to be, maybe he was angry because the Kazekage did not tell him or…” his yellowish eyes widened. “Maybe they have an affair of their own, and Uzumaki is jealous?”


The Mizukage rubbed her face in her hands. “I think it might be a bit of both, actually. But whatever their reasons are, what should we do about it?”


“What do you mean ‘what do we do about it?’” The Tsuchikage had turned toward her. “Why do you want us to mingle in their affairs?”


“Well…” the woman looked up at him, slightly surprised. “Isn’t that what we do on a regular basis? Mingling in other nation’s business is basically on the job description, Nobu. And if you haven’t noticed,” she added “Suna and Konoha’s treaty of alliance is at risk here.”


“Which is a good thing” the old man stated decisively. “In case you haven’t noticed” he mimicked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can’t say that I’m overjoyed that such powerful ninja villages are joined at the hips. Too much power resides within those two, Jiishin. Even the Damyo are listening to them. Whenever they talk now, Iwa has to follow their lead, and so do Kumo and Kiri. But what’s good for them is not necessarily good for us.”


“But they bring peace!” interjected the Mizukage, slightly troubled. “Shit, Nobu, I’m not always happy either but ever since Uzumaki took the Hokage position there’s been no big fights between our villages!”


The Iwa leader turned toward her, his expression scornful. “And what good can peace bring to a Shinobi World, woman?”


“We’re bound to disappear.” The Raikage piped up, his voice low. “What use is it to keep such a huge number of shinobi for menial tasks like guarding, plant picking or escorting? Our Clans, Secret Jutsu and Bloodlines will be wasted, no longer needed, to be replaced by merchants.” He looked at the swordswoman. “You can see that. It has already begun.”


She stared back at him, at a lost about what to say, her mind in turmoil. They were right; peace was the biggest enemy for a Ninja Nation. They could not inhabit the same space and timeline, the settling of one meant the disappearance of the other. The clans wouldn’t try as hard to best each others on the battlefield, preferring to establish their dominance on economic or political fields. The Ninja would grow lazy, and would slowly forget about kekkai gekkai and shinobi ways, ready to be absorbed by civilian life.


As the Leader of Kiri no Sato, one of the Five Shinobi Nations, as the Head of a famous clan, and as the bearer of thousands of ancestral shinobi techniques, it would be insane for her to think about following that path.


But…


“She was breathing heavily. The air reeked of smoke, and blood, and the wound on her leg now stung so much –poison on the blade?- that she could barely stand on it. Yet she bent and pushed the bangs out of her sister’s face. Her eyes were blank, devoid of the mirth that usually shone within them. There was no emotions on her face as well, not even the surprise she had seen when the sword had struck her side.


Her Captain materialized next to her.


‘Any rebels left?’ he asked.


She took one last look at her deceased sister’s face, and putting both hands on the handle of her sword, she pulled. The blade left her sister’s body with a wet sound that would still resonate clearly in her mind decades afterward.


‘Not anymore’ she breathed.”


But…


“She watched as the academy teachers cleaned and re-arranged the bodies of the children, before letting the parents take them back. It was the standard procedure, except that they were twice the usual number. She noticed that a good portion of the bodies had been rather dismembered, the mark of a highly effective, but inexperienced killer.


She gazed down at one of the corpses. A pre-teen with dark hair and a freckled face. He could have looked peaceful, merely sleeping, but in reality he just looked very dead, lying here in the gymnasium he had been training in with his school friends not a year ago.


‘Momoshi Zabuza, eh? I wonder who he is, to be able to kill all his comrades like that.’ She said.


Not seeing the rhetorical, one teacher answered, his tone laced with approval.


‘A very good shinobi’”


But…

“‘I think we got them all, Mizukage-sama!’


She nodded and approached the sad heap of corpses that had once been the feared Kaguya Clan. She pulled up the head of Toshimaro, the leader, and looked at his face. Death had washed away all traces of the insane arrogance and bloodlust that had pushed him and his people to declare war to an entire Ninja village. His face was just the expressionless, stiff mask of the dead. She released her hold on his hair and he fell back with a thump.


She turned toward her Jounin. ‘Burn them.’ ”


But…


She was the Kage of the Country with the bloodiest history ever told. She survived Succession War, Civil War, World War and just plain War. She had witnessed the consequences of it enough times and for long enough.


Yet she had hoped, after the relative stability of the past years, and the nominations of three young, and for two of them, peace-thriving Kage. Hoped for a new kind of world, one that wouldn’t drive entire clans to seek battles until extinction, one that wouldn’t lead children to massacre others and gain approval for it, one that wouldn’t bring relatives to kill each other. Silly, surprising hope that had entered her heart, a heart she had thought to be too maimed by a lifetime of killing or ordering people to kill.


She watched the two men, her resolve hardening. The Raikage had a good part of his family annihilated because their lands had the misfortune of being not too far from a perpetually mutating border with Grass. The Tsuchikage had seen his own mother sacrificed and his brother offered as a receptacle for the Gobi, in hopes of increasing the young Iwa Nation’s military power, and was rumoured to have wiped out half of the dignitaries responsible of that decision in retaliation afterward.


The Mizukage smiled. And here they were thinking of deliberately spitting in peace’s face. There lies insanity.


“Stay out of it if you want.” She said simply. “But I have pirate raids threatening my coasts, so I really can’t afford for Suna and Konoha to create havoc now.”


Both men stared at her, their faces set in the usual diplomatic mask. Then the Raikage spoke:


“The new commercial road” he stated “between Suna, Konoha, Oto and Kumo is bringing us a lot of interesting economic prospects. I’d hate to have it go to waste right now.”


Jiishin gaped a bit. She had not expected her youngest counterpart’s support on that point, since boys (especially the younger ones) were rather belligerent. She turned hopefully toward Nobuhiro, who rolled his eyes at her.


“And I suppose,” He sighed “that I’ve got my hands full with that budding terrorist organization that very much wants to blow up my mountains. Having to watch out for Suna and Konoha would be too much trouble.” He glares at the Mizukage from the corner of his eyes, then shook his head and sighted. “I hope you realize what you’re asking from us, woman.”


Jiishin beamed at him. “Don’t worry about it, old man. I’m sure it will be worth the risk.”


“Then, what do we do?” That was from the Raikage.


“Basically, nothing.” The Swordswoman answered him. She raised her hands when both men opened their mouths. “That is, nothing until we learn a bit more about why Uzumaki made such a fuss. We agree that their friendship is strong, and that the kid has the tendency to blow a fuse rather quickly. We just need to not get in their way until they cool off.”


She turned towards the Tsuchikage. “Still, it would be best if you could persuade your nephew to stay away from the Kazekage until the end of the meeting. No need to search for more trouble.”


The old man growled. “You think I wait for your advice on that point? I told my nephew to keep his privates to himself, or he and them were all going to be sent home. In separate directions.” He added with a smirk.


Jiishin snorted. “Well, that’s good. Kosuke?” the young Kumogakure leader met her gaze. “Could you keep an eye on them both? Your spies are the most efficient out there, but for the sake of discretion…”


“I’ll do it myself” he cut. “Will that be all?”


“Well, we also must try our best to not leave them alone together for at least a couple of days, which would be the amount of time needed for Uzumaki’s anger to deflate a bit. He’ll butcher things up even further if he tries to talk to Gaara while still angry.”


“Then I’m going to keep watch.” The Raikage rose from his seat, and abruptly vanished.


The Tsuchikage grunted. “I hate when he does that. Show-off.” And he proceeded to melt through the floor.


The Mizukage watched them leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.


‘Maybe there’s hope for all of us, after all.’

NaruGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaOMGGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaNaru

Gaara knew that holing himself in his suite right after the Council’s session was not the best option. The only way to cope with the events of the afternoon was to find an escape from all the thoughts that were swirling in his head, ready to engulf him in a never-ending brooding session.


He needed to find some menial, tedious and energy-consuming task, the kind that would allow him to focus his mind on something else other than the creeping despair he felt lurking in the recess of his mind, and would leave him too tired to think once he was done.


So he went to Temari’s home for some babysitting.


Six years ago, his sister had been nagging him to be named permanent Suna Ambassador in Konoha (a totally made-up post just for her need, she owed him big for that). He finally relented, and was not surprised when one year after that, he was shoved into a tux and asked to pronounce the words biding his sister to Nara Shikamaru.


He had been surprised, however, when after another year had passed by, Temari had announced him that she intended to start her own family. Kankurou and himself had not thought her to be the kind to enter motherhood while not yet in her mid-twenties. Scratch that, they had not thought her to be the kind to enter motherhood, period.


One niece and a nephew later, he was glad they have been proven wrong. His sister was even pregnant with another Nara spawn, and was claiming everywhere that she fully intended it to be a little red haired boy. Such an affirmation would have been laughable from anyone else, but Gaara had admitted long ago that Temari’s strong mind was apparently able to bend even genetic laws to her will. Indeed, his two year old niece was the spitting image of Temari while the boy was looking like as much as his father as Kankurou resembled theirs. Her sister may be smug about it, but the Kazekage thought that the parallelism between their two families was a bit spooky.


Still, a part of him now understood why his sister had decided to renounce -for now- a promising Jounin career. Compared to their own wretched childhood, seeing how their wannabe look alikes seemed so happy between their loving parents, it really felt like things were finally set right, and that the wounds gained at an early age were starting to heal through them.


Of course, that deep feeling of satisfaction usually lasts only for about ten seconds, which was the maximum amount of time you can spend on reflections and reminiscence when around two kids aged less than three years old.


But that was why watching them for the night was the perfect thing to help him from letting his thoughts return to the disastrous events of the day. By the time he’ll be finished with them (or rather, when they will be finished with him) he’d be too tired to care. Hopefully.


Temari, currently the only grown-up in her home since Shikamaru had been sent on a long mission in Wave, was bored out of her mind. Consequently, she jumped at the chance to have a drink with her female friends.


Of course she had not been so overjoyed that she missed the air of stiffness around her littlest brother. She had asked him twice if he was alright, and twice he let out a “why, yes, thank you” kind of grunt that did not fooled her, if her “We’ll talk about it later” kind of stare was any indication.


She finally relented, then proceed to shout various recommendations and advice while putting on her shoes, doing her make up, searching for her keys, putting on perfume, picking up a handbag, changing her shoes (which no longer match the chosen handbag), searching for her keys again (left next to the bottle of perfume), checking her make up one last time, and kissing the kids (and her startled little brother) goodbye.


Gaara wiped his cheek, watching his sister leave. Maternity had definitely addled her brains: she had tried earlier that week to make him spit on a bit of cloth so that she could rub off a fantasy spot on his chin. Worse, he had let her, since he had been too stunned to protest, but he managed to escape when she had reached for a comb, a maniac glint in her eyes. He hoped that she’ll soon grow out of this phase. He did look like a nerd with his hair flattened.


The feeling of his sand moving startled him out of his daydreaming. It had caught his niece while she was trying to sneak in the garden to play with her –beloved- new swing. It swirled her back, screeching with laughter, to the kitchen. He hoisted his baby nephew higher on his hip and sighed. Yep, ten seconds top. It was going to be a long evening.

NaruGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaOMGGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaNaru


It had been a hellish evening.

Only a couple of hours after Temari’s exit, Gaara could be found in his niece and nephew’s bedroom, slumped over a fluffy pink armchair, the one used by his sister for both story time and when she used to –argh- feed her son. (Apparently, Gaara’s mind was censoring itself when ‘Temari’ and ‘Breastfeeding’ were in the same sentence).


His shirt was soaked from the flood survival training and near drowning experience otherwise known as ‘Bath time’. His body also ached in places that even the most hardcore battles had not managed to awaken, and he was nearly chakra depleted. An evening using his Sand to cushion his niece from all the pointy objects and sharp angles of the house could lead to that.


Compared to the breathing hurricane that was his sister, the boy was very calm. He slept –a lot-, and played and ate very silently, as long as he was in someone’s arms. When Gaara had tried to put him in his high chair to eat, he had let out a long, wailing scream, complete with arms flailing, tears and red face. The Kazekage had finally retrieved him, afraid that his nephew would blow a fuse, or his own eardrums. The toddler had been on his best behaviour ever since, even cooing at his uncle’s death glares.


And yet, he had cling to them, afraid of what was awaiting in the dark recess of his mind, ready to pounce once he’d be free from their overwhelming presence. So he let them play with the Sand Pool he had set in their room for as long as he dared (and removing sand from the carpet’s threads was a bitch). He even twice told ‘Three little kunais and the rusty shuriken’ using voices (though how a rusty shuriken was supposed to sound, he had no idea).


But all too soon, his niece was rubbing her eyes and nodding in sleep, while the boy was already asleep in his arms. And as much as he wished to keep them awake, a heartbroken uncle was no excuse to break curfew. He brought his nephew in his crib and the –feebly protesting- girl in her bed, watching her as she turned from lil’ devil to peaceful angel in less than ten seconds.


In a way, his plan had worked. He was now too tired to properly think, but he also felt somewhat sleepy. So he allowed himself to be comfortable in his seat and closed his eyes, ready to be carried away by the half-meditating, half-slumbering state he still preferred to sleep.


Images, sounds, sensations began to float lazily in the back of his mind, and he tried not let any anchor him – the softness of his nephew’s skin, his sister’s perfume, her cheerful voice as she kissed them goodbye, the too-sweet smell of baby shampoo, the sunny locks of his niece…


Unconsciously, his mind stopped at that particular image, and began to unravel a similar thread. Memories surfaced, not those memories but other, older ones, nearly similar in their distressing intensity and linked to the same person.


Hair, blonde and spiky hair …


NaruGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaOMGGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaNaru

///// “… the Oto Jounin had one hand already in Naruto’s hair, toying with the blonde locks the way she had played with her own dark ones a bit earlier, and was giving the leaf ninja a seductive smile. Naruto brought his face conveniently closer, and whispered something to her. She blushed prettily and laughed, then said something in equally hushed tones.


Gaara wrenched his gaze away from the painful scene, trying to keep his chakra flow as smooth as usual. He needed to keep a hold on it. If he couldn’t manage that, it meant he was bound to gouge that flirty cow’s eyes out anytime.


He knew it had been a mistake to let himself been dragged here. He disliked crowds and he was not really fond of socializing, but Naruto had insisted and nearly begged, and even though he knew what was going to happen, what was happening now, he had relented, as usual.


Tonight was their last night in Oto no Kuni, after a few days spent in negotiating a treaty that would hopefully lead to the opening of a commercial road between Suna, Konoha, Oto and Kumo. Drunk on the feeling of hope that always brought an entente between nations that were traditional enemies, a few Jounin –amongst them, Naruto- had proposed an informal gathering of all the shinobi present in one of Oto’s bar.


Gaara had tried to skip away the whole thing, saying that as the Kazekage he would disturb the ‘informal’ part of things, but Naruto had waved his excuse away and dragged him along. There was indeed enough Suna and Konoha shinobi that knew him well enough not to be uncomfortable in his presence.


However, even if he was now seated with a few persons he was able to interact with, he had lost interest in any form of socializing as soon as Naruto walked in the bar and spotted the beautiful Oto Jounin he had been leering at for days.


The Kazekage knew how that would turn out. Naruto had played that scenario enough times now. So he had tried to focus his mind on his brother’s own attempts at seduction on a giggling Tenten, or on Inuzuka Kiba and Hinata Hyuuga’s playful bantering. But it seemed that his heart needed to see and suffer, because his eyes were brought to his best friend –and first love- like a moth to a flame.


He had let his stare wander again toward the couple, when the Hyuuga girl suddenly stood.


“Well, I need another glass!” she announced. “Who wants a refill? Next round’s on me!”
A chorus of appreciative cheers answered her, and she turned toward Gaara.


“Would you mind coming with me, Gaara-san? I might have my hands a bit full”


Inuzuka barked a laugh. “You need help to bring half a dozen glasses back? What kind of Jounin are you?”


Hinata smiled. “A drunken one. But if you preferred to have half the contents of your drink spilled between the counter and here, well…”


“I’ll come with you.” Gaara interrupted. He stood up and followed the kunoichi. Truth be told, he was a bit curious as to why she asked him, and not Kiba. He studied her from the corner of his eyes. She had changed a lot over the years; she was now walking with an air of confidence and had nearly stopped stuttering.


He listened while she ordered a refill for everyone at their table, and his suspicions increased when he saw that she did not make any mistake in memorizing everybody’s drinks. She was definitely not drunk enough to need his help in carrying glasses. Why did she want him here? He decided to ask her out loud.


She smiled at him “I wanted to lure you away from the table before you attacked that Oto Jounin.”


Gaara felt as if someone had punched him in the guts. Had he been that obvious?


Hinata must have seen him blanch, because she immediately said “Don’t worry, I’m sure that nobody but I noticed. You kept your chakra well under control. I just…know where to look.”


The red head started breathing again. “What do you mean?” he asked.


The kunoichi began to draw patterns on the wooden counter, using spilled liquids as ink. “I don’t know if you’re aware of that, but I used to love him –Naruto- for the longest time.”


Gaara nodded. He remembered his sister mentioning something like that once.


“I followed him, stalked him, even.” She gave a small chuckle. “It was a tad creepy, come to think of it. And he was completely oblivious of it, the entire time. He was confident, determined…everything I wasn’t. I admired him, and loved him for that. He helped me change, and I owe him so much…”


She sighed, and turned to Gaara. “When I watched him, I was happy. But when I went back home, alone, well…not so much. And each time I saw him with Sakura…I could say I was jealous, but the truth was, I was mostly sad. And disgusted with myself, because I never was able to tell him how I really felt. In the end, the pain of loving him overbalanced the joy of being in love.”


She turned back to her wet drawings. “That’s why I can tell you from experience, Gaara-san. You must either confess to him, or forget about it and turn your affections elsewhere. That’s the only possible outcome in that kind of rel…”


He slammed his hand on the counter. She jumped.


“You were from the same village, an old school friend. You were beautiful, and a fucking girl.” He hissed. “You choosing not too confess is a totally different situation than mine, so don’t you dare draw comparisons. If anything, it just shows how pathetically weak you were.”


She flinched, but held her ground. “Either way, it’s the same result, Gaara-san. I couldn’t confess, you don’t want to.”


He sneered at her. “So what’s your remedy then? Ah yes, ‘forget about him’ and chase someone else?” he scoffed. “Some love that was.”


If Hinata was bothered by the way he talked to her, she did not let it show. “I did not stop loving him.” She protested. “I still admire him, and still think he’s a great man, and will be the best of the Hokage. I’ll die for him. I just put some distance, that’s all.”


She was interrupted when the barman came with their drinks. When she looked back at him, she was smiling, and Gaara was disturbed by the happiness he felt radiating from her.


“As for the ‘chasing someone else’, Gaara-san…well this time around it was someone else that was chasing me… and trust me, it changes everything.”


He looked at her, remembering the air of confidence, the absence of stuttering. Nice changes that had not been brought by her school crush. Still, stop loving Naruto? He felt a definite twinge in his chest. There was something nearly cruel in that thought.


Unconsciously, he searched for the blonde tresses in the dim light…and found them nearly twined with the black ones of the Oto Jounin, as their owners were busy making out.


This time, the painful jab he felt at his heart nearly made him brought his hand on his chest. He finally tore his eyes away as the Leaf nin began to suckle his way down the woman’s throat. Avoiding Hinata’s compassionate gaze, he focused his slightly blurry vision on the row of glasses in front of him. Finally finding his own, he gulped the contents in one go.


“You still want me to confess?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.


Hinata blinked. “Yes, actually.” She continued when Gaara let out a mirthless laugh. “Gaara-san, I used to like boys, and the person I’m in love with now is a woman. People can change.”


“Not him, he won’t.” The Kazekage answered, guts twisting, thinking of all the girls the blond Jounin had nearly fucked before him, oblivious of the dismay he was causing in his best friend.


He pushed himself away from the counter. “Okay, I’m out of here. Tell Kankurou I felt a bit tired, nothing else, and persuade him not to come after me.” He smiled a bit. “I feel like his flirting might lead to something this time.”


Hinata nodded. “All right, but Gaara-san? I really need your help with those drinks…here” she extended her arms towards him. He pick up the glasses and began to line them on her arms, smiling a bit when a bit when he felt chakra flare, gluing the drinks to her. She opened her arms wide and he finished the touch by putting a tall Beer mug on her head.


He smiled a bit more at the picture she made. “You look like a scarecrow with your arms like that.”


She giggled a bit. “I was trying for Goddess of Drunkard but that will do. Thank you, Gaara-san.”


He shrugged, a bit embarrassed. Some part of it wanted to return the thanks for the –what? kind of advice?- she gave him. But he didn’t know how, so he just nodded to her and made a beeline for the exit, his sand gourd reshaping itself on his back as he went.


Otogakure no Sato was located on top of a small mound, but it was still in the middle of something that was a little more than an organized swamp. The warm dampness of the day morphed into a chilly fog at night, so the Kazekage sped up his steps, hating both the cold and the humidity.


It was just like the old days with Shukaku. His head felt so full he wondered why it hasn’t exploded by now. Hinata’s voice, his own, images of Naruto and old memories…all of it was jumbled in a mess that did not make sense anymore. Kankurou had told him that it was normal, that it was what ‘having a lot on your mind’ was, but Gaara had neared at some point ‘clinically insane’ and was appealed at the similarities between the two states of mind.


But as always, Naruto’s face began to swim to the surface of his mind. He remembered, how he had discovered, shortly after his rescue from the clutches of Akatsuki that he was probably in love with the blond shinobi who refused to leave his thoughts. He remembered how happy he had been that his first love was for someone who was, in his eyes, so worthy of it.


That had been the best part. It was the time when his teenage, naïve self had thought that as long as he’ll have his most precious person’s friendship everything would be alright in his world. What was the point in confession, when you know that you share a unique bond with the one you love?


Then Naruto hit puberty. He recalled the growing distress he had felt when he noted that other persons than him were beginning to see his blonde friend as an object worthy of romantic feelings. The worst was when he realized that Naruto was letting go of his obsession of Sakura to consider those people, too…while never, once, looking in his direction.


That was the time when Gaara had been forced to contemplate the fact that their friendship, unique as it was, could be shaken by an even greater force, and that he wouldn’t be the person who understood Naruto the best anymore.


Then Gaara hit puberty. He had begun to realize how the Leaf Jounin had shot up in the last few years, and how his shoulders had broadened, giving his once chubby friend the silhouette of a well-built man. He also noticed how his blond hair had grew, now caressing his whiskered cheeks in an unkempt-but-sexy way…whiskered cheeks that had lost enough baby fat to uncover a strong and manly jaw line.


He was prompt to note that with each of all those little realizations, came some sort of fluttery feeling in his chest that made him feel weak, that made him feel tingly, that made him feel thrumming with needs all linked to Naruto.


The worst was when Naruto began to monopolize his dreams, too. That was the moment when Gaara had seriously started to fight for his attraction, because the dichotomy between the Naruto of the day –all loud and boisterous and painfully friendly- and the Naruto of the night –all for Gaara to touch with his tantalizing manly body- was starting to make him ill.


That malaise stemmed mostly from guilt, from having such impure thoughts about this best friend, from being weak enough to let something like lust taint their relation. But there was also no small amount of fear: fear of what the blond shinobi would do, if he’d known about that. Would he still be Gaara’s friend? Would he stop blessing him and torturing him with all those friendly touches? Would he reject him? Would his blinding smile turn into a grimace of disgust? Each time the Kazekage dared to think of it, his heart was clenching and his mind shutting down in panic


‘In the end, the pain of loving him overbalanced the joy of being in love.’


He sighed; Hinata’s words were making sense. That was exactly what was happening to him, wasn’t it? He was so afraid of Naruto figuring him out, he couldn’t bring himself to freely enjoy the time spend with him anymore, for fear of betraying himself and his feelings. He was sure it was bound to happen. Thank gods Naruto was dense, but even he was bound to remark that his best friend seemed to be sometimes struck with the same symptoms as the swooning girls he usually flirted with.


He thought back to Hinata’s advice. Should he give it a chance? Could he really stop loving Naruto? Or wouldn’t it be best to transfer some of his lust elsewhere, and keep his feelings for him pure? Was that even possible?


His never ending loop of questions was abruptly cut when the foggy atmosphere around him shifted. He tensed and then relaxed again, recognizing the rapidly approaching chakra. In a whirlwind of droplets, displaced air and dead leaves, the Number One Surprising Ninja of Konoha materialized next to him


‘Whaaaa… Gaara, man, I nearly lost track of you! What possessed you to walk so fast?’


The red head glared. ‘I did not expect to be followed! Didn’t your friend Hyuuga pass
my message along?’


‘Well, yeah, she told me you were tired and stuff, so I had to check on you! You can’t just go off alone in a foreign village like that! What if you get attacked? Kankurou was upset too, but I told him I’d go…come on, if you’re feeling weak…’


‘I am NOT feeling weak!’ he snapped. ‘and even so I can take of myself!’ He shook his head, exasperated. Typical Naruto: he went away to shake out his influence and the idiot decided to go all clingy on him. But then, it also meant…


‘What about the Oto girl?’ He tried to ask casually. ‘Aren’t you upset that you had to leave her so soon?’


Naruto made a dismissing gesture. ‘Naaah. Sticking with your friends is more important.’ He grinned. Gaara felt quietly elated.


‘B’sides, she had time to give me head in the bathroom- Ouch!!!’ He glared at the retreating back of his friend, rubbing the spot where a Sand Fist had none-too-gently knocked him. ‘What was that for?’ he yelled.


‘You, Uzumaki, are a pig.’ The redhead hissed. Naruto blinked, and then hurried after his friend.


‘Come on, Gaara, that was a joke! She actually turned all snotty and sulky when I told her I had to leave. Heh, I don’t care, she was a slobbery kisser anyway.’


‘That was not funny’ commented Gaara. He was angry with himself. What had gotten into him, to react that way?


‘Jeez, if I hadn’t seen your brother trying to find all of Tenten’s hidden weapons with his tongue, I would have thought that all the Suna shinobi were prudes.’


Gaara did not deem that remark worthy of an answer. They continued in silence for a couple of minutes, until Gaara suddenly felt a strong arm circle his shoulders. He then was brought against a large chest. A bit wary, he raised his eyes –god, he hated how Naruto had grown taller than him- to met his friend’s gaze. The blond shinobi looked slightly concerned.


‘You okay, Gaara?’ he asked. ‘You look a bit pale. Maybe it’s more than tiredness?’


The Kazekage could only feebly shake his head, mouth suddenly dry. Naruto was SO close. He could feel the slight tingling of the other’s breath on his face. He could clearly see the blond stubble that was adorning his chin, and he could smell his scent, a mix of cloves and peppermint and maybe a hint of sandalwood. Most importantly, he could feel that weak and fluttery feeling again growing in his chest, growing as well as the desire to lean just a bit, and kiss those familiar yet tempting lips, and finally end the questions, hesitations and self-loathing, and…


Gaara sucked in a sharp breath. Naruto was leaning toward him and his tanned hand was cupping his cheek…


‘Do you feel feverish? I swear, you’re a bit red…’ the hand moved upward, now palming his forehead, searching for suspicious heat. Gaara blinked, and wrenched himself away from Naruto’s arms, feeling humiliated, sad, and angry at himself.


‘Stop your damn coddling, Uzumaki!’ he snarled. ‘I told you I’m fucking FINE!”


‘Well, OKAY.” The blonde huffed. His tone actually sounded a bit hurt. But when Gaara resumed walking, he immediately followed him, though he kept grumbling under his breath. The words ‘ungrateful tanuki’ reached a few time the redhead’s ears before he gave in.


‘Naruto?’


‘What?’


Gaara picked from his tunic one of the dead leaves the blonde shinobi had showered him with earlier. ‘That was a sloppy space-time jutsu, by the way.’


‘WHAT?’ the Leaf Nin screeched indignantly. ‘It was a perfectly well-executed move! And I’ll let you know YOU nearly scrub my skin raw with your sand each time YOU try to teleport-‘


Gaara smiled inwardly, letting his friend rant at his leisure. It was his very peculiar way of saying ‘sorry for snapping at you’, and only Naruto could possibly see it as the apology it was, but it was working. Soon Gaara felt an arm creep around his shoulders, and hating himself for it, he did not shake it away.


He listened to his friend’s babbling, but his mind was elsewhere. He was determined to try some bit of Hinata’s advice. His attitude was already causing a strain in his relation with Naruto, and the blonde was not even aware of his feelings. He did not want to live in pain forever, nor for Naruto to hate him. But how does one gets ‘chased’ by someone? His thoughts went back to the last Iwa delegation that came to the Sand. Wasn’t there…


An insistent tug on his hair stopped his thinking. Naruto was chanting ‘earth to Gaara, earth to Gaara’.


‘Yes?’


Naruto gave him an evil smile. ‘Your hair is all curly!’


‘What? No!’ Gaara shook the damn humidity of his hair, grumbling. Naruto burst out laughing. The Kazekage gave him the evil eye, but there was no real heat behind it. He was too busy rejoicing in the slight happy feeling that the sight of Naruto’s cheerful, carefree face always brought to his heart.


Then Naruto’s expression twisted into an ugly snarl, and the full blaze of his angry red eyes was directed at him while he tossed his Kage robes in his face…” /////

…and Gaara gasped, jolted away from his half-dreaming, half-reminiscing state to find himself in his niece’s bedroom. He brought his hand to his chest, a strangled whine escaping his lips.


It was over. All his efforts had been in vain, Naruto had discovered his secrets in the worst way possible and Gaara had been rejected in the worst possible way.


He had tried to stop loving Naruto, and he had failed. He had tried reigning in his lust, and he had failed. But the suffering he had felt then was nothing to the agony he felt now.


Though, amidst all the emotions tearing up at him, there was a new one, freshly awaken and raising its head.


It was anger.


Anger that for once, was not aimed at himself.

NaruGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaOMGGaaNaruGaaNaruGaaNaru


Temari sped up her steps, wanting to go back home as fast as possible. It was not because, as one could assume, she had left her two young children in the care of her ex-psychopath and still socially inept little brother. When confronted to little kids, especially the ones from his blood, her little brother was a socially inept person who tried. She linked that fact to his traumatic childhood, when all the other children were running away screaming each time he appeared.


As a result, Gaara could not bear the sight of any ankle-biter being afraid of him. He never raised his voice, shouted or, God forbid, hit any of them. One of the amusing effects of this was that each time the Kazekage had to go to Suna Academy, he would go back home with his hair ruffled and robes askew, sticky and covered in snot because he had let children barely bigger than three kunai climb all over him.


The only threat he may present for children was the one stemming from a too long exposition to the sight of the almighty ruler of a shinobi village lacking the authority to prevent a five year old from putting plasticine in his hair. The Kazekage’s sister could only hope that the next generation of Suna’s shinobi wouldn’t grow with a total lack of regard for its rulers.


Temari sighed, and started to search for her keys. She really had wanted a ‘Girl’s Night’, with nice gossiping and a big amount of giggling. Motherhood was truly a wonderful thing, but it lacked a bit of…carefreeness. Even if she wasn’t able to have anything alcoholic, she could still let herself relax while listening to the interesting lives of her childless friends.


Alas, when she had entered their usual bar, neither Tenten (away on a mission) nor Sakura (called for an emergency) were there, and Ino was already well on her way of getting smashed under the eyes of a worried Hinata. She had looked at the Hyuuga girl, who only shrugged, answering Temari’s implicit question as to why Ino was already drunk.


She had not pressured the blond with questions, thinking that it was probably boyfriend trouble and if Ino wanted to talk about it, well, she’ll just have to turn around.


She eventually did just that, and that was when Temari suddenly felt the desire to rush back home. Ino had said little (or rather, she was not able to decipher much of her drunken slur), but there was apparently been a fight of sort between her little brother and Naruto. The idea was ludicrous in itself, Gaara had a crush the size of Suna on the blond oaf (not that she would say that to Ino, or anyone) and would never get angry at him, but then she remembered how tense he had seemed when he came to her home.


But as much as she had wanted to go back to her brother, there was first the delicate task of prying Ino Yamanaka away from the bar (something that was never easy, even when she was not hogging the karaoke stage) and return safely to her home. They eventually succeeded, mostly using good old drunken logic (she’ll have to thank Kankurou for that particular training) and discreet Gentle Fist moves.


Temari finally opened the door of her home. The house was silent, but light was flooding from the kitchen. She stopped at the threshold, her heart sinking. Her baby brother was sitting at the table with an untouched cup of tea before him, and she could just see at his dropped shoulders, and faraway look, that Ino had been right. He had indeed fought with Naruto.


“You’re early.” He stated.


“Well, Ino was dead drunk, so it was not really interesting. I heard…that she had a very bad day at work?” she ventured, her questioning tone letting an opening for him if he wished to offer her explanations.


“Ah.” He just said.


Temari opened her mouth, but he beat her to it.


“Did you know that your son is a kind of human banshee? Each time I tried to untwine him from my arms he would pierce my eardrums in retaliation.” He droned on in his even voice, not looking at her


She had to smile at this. “It’s a Nara thing apparently, or so Yoshino says. It seems that all the males Nara babies opened their mouth at birth to let out their first cry…and only shut them around their third birthdays.”


Gaara appeared to mull this over. “I don’t know, it sounds like a good description of Kankurou to me. Except the bit about shutting up, of course.”


She let out a quiet chuckle at this, even though a real pang of nostalgia shot through her at the mention of the eldest of her brothers. She suddenly wished that he was there, and not only because she hadn’t seen the little punk in far too long - he was one of the rare people that could have a true conversation with Gaara. She was only good at worrying, whereas the crafty puppeteer could coax almost anything from his little brother and, unlike her, he would not allow himself to be sidetracked.


“Gaara, what the fuck happened with Uzumaki today?” There. Probably not as sly as what Kankurou would have said, and probably blunt enough to cause Gaara to shut down completely, but if not, well, maybe she’ll get straight answers that way.


Her brother immediately tensed, but after a moment of indecision, he let out a huge sigh.


“Naruto saw me with Nobuo, in a rather compromising position, no less, and he…was most displeased.”


“What?!”


She listened as he told her the events of his day, but she could barely believe him. Of course, she had known about the Iwa Jounin. Kankurou updated her about their brother week by week, and she knew that the two had been dating on and off for a while now.


She absent-mindedly rubbed her slightly curving belly. The point that didn’t make sense at all was Naruto… his words and actions were harsh and underlined a slight cruelty she did not think he was capable of.


“Are you sure it was him?” she asked for the second time.


“Believe me, Uzumaki can be a right bastard when he chooses to.” Gaara’s face grew somber. “Except this time, he went too far.”


The wind kunoichi met her brother’s eyes, slightly worried. She was about to ask him what he meant, when she was interrupted by loud knocking.


“Who the fuck would come at this hour?” she grumbled, but the question was rhetoric. She only knew one person who knocked a door that way -it was more like pummeling it to submission.


Judging by the way Gaara had immediately stood up, his face tense, he had recognized the visitor too.


It was Naruto.


- TBC –